produced from page images provided by the digital and multimedia center, michigan state university libraries "imperialism" and "the tracks of our forefathers" a paper read by charles francis adams _before the lexington, massachusetts, historical society_ tuesday, december , "in a word, many wise men thought it a time wherein those two miserable adjuncts, which nerva was deified for uniting, _imperium et libertas_, were as well reconciled as is possible."--_clarendon's history of the rebellion, b. . § ._ "i put my foot in the tracks of our forefathers, where i can neither wander nor stumble."--_burke's speech on conciliation with america._ boston dana estes & company summer street "imperialism" and "the tracks of our forefathers." what the feast of the passover was to the children of israel, that the days between the nineteenth of december and the fourth of january--the yuletide--are and will remain to the people of new england. the passover began "in the first month on the fourteenth day of the month at even," and it lasted one week, "until the one and twentieth day of the month at even." it was the period of the sacrifice of the paschal lamb, and the feast of unleavened bread; and of it as a commemoration it is written, "when your children shall say unto you, what mean ye by this service? that ye shall say, it is the sacrifice of the lord's passover, who passed over the houses of the children of israel in egypt, when he smote the egyptians. now the sojourning of the children of israel, who dwelt in egypt, was four hundred and thirty years." and thus, by their yearly passover, were the jewish congregations of old put in mind what farewell they took of the land of egypt. so our own earliest records tell us that it was on the morning of saturday, of what is now the nineteenth of december, that the little exploring party from the _mayflower_, then lying at her anchor in provincetown harbor, after a day and night of much trouble and danger, sorely buffeted by wind and wave in rough new england's december seas, found themselves on an island in plymouth bay. it was a mild, "faire sunshining day. and this being the last day of the weeke, they prepared ther to keepe the sabath. on munday they sounded the harbor, and marched into the land, and found a place fitt for situation. so they returned to their shipp againe [at provincetown] with this news. on the twenty-fifth of december they weyed anchor to goe to the place they had discovered, and came within two leagues of it, but were faine to bear up againe; but the twenty-sixth day, the winde came faire, and they arrived safe in this harbor. and after wards tooke better view of the place, and resolved wher to pitch their dwelling; and the fourth day [of january] begane to erecte the first house for commone use to receive them and their goods." such, in the quaint language of bradford, is the calendar of new england's passover; and, beginning on the nineteenth of december, it ends on the fourth of january, covering as nearly as may be the christmas holyday period. is there any better use to which the passover anniversary can be put than to retrospection? "and when your children shall say unto you, what mean you by this service? ye shall say, it is the sacrifice of the lord's passover, when he smote the egyptians, and delivered our houses." so the old story is told again, being thus kept ever green in memory; and, in telling it, the experiences of the past are brought insensibly to bear on the conditions of the present. thus, once a year, like the israelites of old, we, as a people, may take our bearings and verify our course, as we plunge on out of the infinite past into the unknowable future. it is a useful practice; and we are here this first evening of our passover period to observe it. this, too, is an historical society,--that of lexington, "a name," as, when arraigned before the tribunal of the french terror, danton said of his own, "tolerably known in the revolution;" and i am invited to address you because i am president of the massachusetts historical society, the most venerable organization of the sort in america, perhaps in the world. thus, to-night, though we shall necessarily have to touch on topics of the day, and topics exciting the liveliest interest and most active discussion, we will in so doing look at them,--not as politicians or as partisans, nor from the commercial or religious side, but solely from the historical point of view. we shall judge of the present in its relations to the past. and, unquestionably, there is great satisfaction to be derived from so doing; the mere effort seems at once to take us into another atmosphere,--an atmosphere as foreign to unctuous cant as it is to what is vulgarly known as "electioneering taffy." this evening we pass away from the noisy and heated turmoil of partisan politics, with its appeals to prejudice, passion, and material interest, into the cool of a quiet academic discussion. it is like going out of some turbulent caucus, or exciting ward-room debate, and finding oneself suddenly confronted by the cold, clear light of the december moon, shining amid the silence of innumerable stars. addressing ourselves, therefore, to the subject in hand, the question at once suggests itself,--what year in recent times has been in a large way more noteworthy and impressive, when looked at from the purely historical point of view, than this year of which we are now observing the close? the first passover of the israelites ended a drama of more than four centuries' duration, for "the sojourning of the children of israel, who dwelt in egypt, was four hundred and thirty years; and at the end of the four hundred and thirty years all the hosts of the lord went out from the land of egypt." so the passover we now celebrate commemorates the closing of another world drama of almost precisely the same length, and one of deepest significance, as well as unsurpassed historic interest. these world dramas are lengthy affairs; for, while we men are always in a hurry, the almighty never is: on the contrary, as the psalmist observed, so now, "a thousand years in his sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night." the drama i have referred to as this week brought to its close, is that known in history as spanish domination in america. it began, as we all know, on the twenty-first of october, ; it has been continuous through six years over four centuries. it now passes into history; the verdict may be made up. so far as i personally am concerned,--a matter needless to say of very trifling consequence,--this verdict was rendered a year ago. it was somewhat rhadamanthine; but a twelve-month of further reflection has shown no cause in any respect to revise it. in referring to what was then plainly impending, in december, , before the blowing up of the battleship _maine_, before a conflict had become inevitable, i used this language in a paper read to the massachusetts historical society: "when looking at the vicissitudes of human development, we are apt to assume a certain air of optimism, and take advancement as the law of being, as a thing of course, indisputable. we are charitable, too; and to deny to any given race or people some degree of use in the economy of nature, or the plan of creation, is usually regarded as indicative of narrowness of view. the fatal, final word "pessimist" is apt to be whispered in connection with the name of one who ventures to suggest a doubt of this phase of the doctrine known as universalism. and yet, at this time when, before our eyes, it is breathing its last, i want some one to point out a single good thing in law, or science, or art, or literature,--material, moral or intellectual,--which has resulted to the race of man upon earth from spanish domination in america. i have tried to think of one in vain. it certainly has not yielded an immortality, an idea, or a discovery; it has, in fact, been one long record of reaction and retrogression, than which few pages in the record of mankind have been more discouraging or less fruitful of good. what is now taking place in cuba is historical. it is the dying out of a dominion, the influence of which will be seen and felt for centuries in the life of two continents; just as what is taking place in turkey is the last fierce flickering up of asiatic rule in europe, on the very spot where twenty-four centuries ago asiatic rule in europe was thought to have been averted forever. the two, ottoman rule in europe, and spanish rule in america, now stand at the bar of history; and, scanning the long four-century record of each, i have been unable to see what either has contributed to the accumulated possessions of the human race, or why both should not be classed among the many instances of the arrested civilization of a race, developing by degrees an irresistible tendency to retrogression." this, one year ago; and while the embers of the last greco-turkish struggle, still white, were scarcely cold on the plain of marathon. the time since passed has yielded fresh proof in support of this harsh judgment; for, if there is one historical law better and more irreversibly established than another, it is that, in the case of nations even more than in the case of individuals, their sins will find them out,--the day of reckoning may not be escaped. noticeably, has this proved so in the case of spain. the year may be said to have found that country at the apex of her greatness. america had then been newly discovered; the moor was just subdued. nearly half a century before ( ) the roman empire had fallen, and, with the storming of constantinople by the saracens, disappeared from the earth. that event, it may be mentioned in passing, closed another world drama continuous through twenty-two centuries,--upon the whole the most wonderful of the series. and so, when roman empire vanished, that of spain began. it was ushered in by the landfall of columbus; and when, just three hundred years later, in , the subject was discussed in connection with its third centennial, the general verdict of european thinkers was that the discovery of america had, upon the whole, been to mankind the reverse of beneficent. this conclusion has since been commented upon with derision; yet, when made, it was right. the united states had in just struggled into existence, and its influence on the course of human events had not begun to make itself felt. those who considered the subject had before them, therefore, only spanish domination in america, and upon that their verdict cannot be gainsaid; for, from the year down, the history of spain and spanish domination has undeniably been one long series of crimes and violations of natural law, the penalty for which has not apparently even yet been exacted in full. of those national crimes four stand out in special prominence, constituting counts in a national indictment than which history shows few more formidable. these four were: ( ) the expulsion, first, of the jews, and then of the moors, or moriscoes, from spain, late in the fifteenth and early in the sixteenth centuries; ( ) the annals of "the council of blood" in the netherlands, and the eighty years of internecine warfare through which holland fought its way out from under spanish rule; ( ) the inquisition, the most ingenious human machinery ever invented to root out and destroy whatever a people had that was intellectually most alert, inquisitive, and progressive; and, finally ( ), the policy of extermination, and, where not of extermination, of cruel oppression, systematically pursued towards the aborigines of america. into the grounds on which the different counts of this indictment rest it would be impossible now to enter. were it desirable so to do, time would not permit. suffice it to say, the penalty had to be paid to the uttermost farthing; and one large instalment fell due, and was mercilessly exacted, during the year now drawing to its close. spanish domination in america ceased,--the drama ended as it was entering on its fifth century,--and it can best be dismissed with the solemn words of abraham lincoln, uttered more than thirty years ago, when contemplating a similar expiation we were ourselves paying in blood and grief for a not dissimilar violation of an everlasting law,--"yet, if god wills that this mighty scourge continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsmen's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn by the lash shall be paid by another drawn by the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, 'the judgments of the lord are true and righteous altogether!'" but not only is this year memorable as witnessing the downfall and complete extirpation of that spanish rule in america which began with columbus, but the result, when it at last came about, was marked by incidents more curiously fitting and dramatic than it would have been possible for a shakspeare to have conceived. columbus, as we all know, stumbled, as it were, on america as he sailed west in search of asia,--cipango he was looking for, and he found cuba. it is equally well known that he never discovered his mistake. when fourteen years later he died, it was in the faith that, through him, europe had by a westward movement established itself in the archipelagoes of asia. and now, at last, four centuries afterward, the blow which did most to end the american domination he established was struck in asiatic waters; and, through it and the descendants of another race, america seems on the threshold of realizing the mistaken belief of columbus, and by a westward movement establishing the european in that very archipelago columbus failed to reach. the ways of providence are certainly not less singular than slow in movement. but the year just ending was veritably one of surprises,--for the historical student it would, indeed, seem as if was destined to pass into the long record as almost the year of surprises. we now come to the consideration of some of these wholly unanticipated results from the american point of view. and in entering on this aspect of the question, it is necessary once more to remind you that we are doing it in the historical spirit, and from the historical point of view. we are stating facts not supposed to admit of denial. the argument and inferences to be drawn from those facts do not belong to this occasion. some will reach one conclusion as to the future, and the bearing those facts have upon its probable development, and some will reach another conclusion; with these conclusions we have nothing to do. our business is exclusively with the facts. speaking largely, but still with all necessary historical accuracy, america has been peopled, and its development, up to the present time, worked out through two great stocks of the european family,--the spanish-speaking stock, and the english-speaking stock. in their development these two have pursued lines, clearly marked, but curiously divergent. leaving the spanish-speaking branch out of the discussion, as unnecessary to it, it may without exaggeration be said of the english-speaking branch that, from the beginning down to this year now ending, its development has been one long protest against, and divergence from, old world methods and ideals. in the case of those descended from the forefathers,--as we always designate the plymouth colony,--this has been most distinctly marked, ethnically, politically, industrially. america was the sphere where the european, as a colonist, a settler, first came on a large scale in contact with another race. heretofore, in the old world, when one stock had overrun another,--and history presented many examples of it,--the invading stock, after subduing, and to a great extent driving out, the stock which had preceded in the occupancy of a region, settled gradually down into a common possession, and, in the slow process of years, an amalgamation of stocks, more or less complete, took place. in america, with the anglo-saxon, and especially those of the new england type, this was not the case. unlike the frenchman at the north, or the spaniard at the south, the anglo-saxon showed no disposition to ally himself with the aborigines,--he evinced no faculty of dealing with inferior races, as they are called, except through a process of extermination. here in massachusetts this was so from the outset. nearly every one here has read longfellow's poem, "the courtship of miles standish," and calls to mind the short, sharp conflict between the plymouth captain and the indian chief, pecksuot, and how those god-fearing pilgrims ruthlessly put to death by stabbing and hanging a sufficient number of the already plague-stricken and dying aborigines. that episode occurred in april, , only a little more than two years after the landing we to-night celebrate, and was, so far as new england is concerned, the beginning of a series of wars which did not end until the indian ceased to be an element in our civilization. when john robinson, the revered pastor of the plymouth church, received tidings at leyden of that killing near plymouth,--for robinson never got across the atlantic,--he wrote: "oh, how happy a thing had it been, if you had converted some before you had killed any! there is cause to fear that, by occasion, especially of provocation, there may be wanting that tenderness of the life of man (made after god's image) which is meet. it is also a thing more glorious in men's eyes, than pleasing in god's or convenient for christians, to be a terror to poor, barbarous people." this all has a very familiar sound. it is the refrain of nearly three centuries; but, as an historical fact, it is undeniable that, from down to the year now ending, the american anglo-saxon has in his dealings with what are known as the "inferior races" lacked "that tenderness of the life of man which is meet," and he has made himself "a terror to poor, barbarous people." how we of massachusetts carried ourselves towards the aborigines here, the fearful record of the pequot war remains everlastingly to tell. how the country at large has carried itself in turn towards indian, african, and asiatic is matter of history. and yet it is equally matter of history that this carriage, term it what you will,--unchristian, brutal, exterminating,--has been the salvation of the race. it has saved the anglo-saxon stock from being a nation of half-breeds,--miscegenates, to coin a word expressive of an idea. the canadian half-breed, the mexican, the mulatto, say what men may, are not virile or enduring races; and that the anglo-saxon is none of these, and is essentially virile and enduring, is due to the fact that the less developed races perished before him. nature is undeniably often brutal in its methods. again, and on the other hand, the anglo-saxon when he came to america left behind him, so far as he himself was concerned, feudalism and all things pertaining to caste, including what was then known in england, and is still known in germany, as divine right. when he at last enunciated his political faith he put in the forefront of his declaration as "self-evident truths," the principles "that all men are created equal;" that they are endowed with "certain inalienable rights," among them "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness;" and that governments derived "their just powers from the consent of the governed." now what was meant here by the phrase "all men are created equal?" we know they are not. they are not created equal in physical or mental endowment; nor are they created with equal opportunity. the world bristles with inequalities, natural and artificial. this is so; and yet the declaration is none the less true;--true when made; true now; true for all future time. the reference was to the inequalities which always had marked, then did, and still do, mark, the political life of the old world,--to caste, divine right, privilege. it declared that all men were created equal before the law, as before the lord;[ ] and that, whether european, american, asiatic, or african, they were endowed with an inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. and to this truth, as he saw it, lincoln referred in those memorable words i have already cited bearing on our national crime in long forgetfulness of our own immutable principles. the fundamental, primal principle was indeed more clearly voiced by lincoln than it has been voiced before, or since, in declaring again, and elsewhere that to our nation, dedicated "to the proposition that all men are created equal," has by providence been assigned the momentous task of "testing whether any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure," and "that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." the next cardinal principle in our policy as a race--that instinctive policy i have already referred to as divergent from old world methods and ideals--was most dearly enunciated by washington in his farewell address, that "the great rule for us in regard to foreign nations is, in extending our commercial relations, to have with them as little political connection as possible;" that it was "unwise in us to implicate ourselves by artificial ties in the ordinary vicissitudes of [old world] policies, or the ordinary combinations and collisions of her friendships or enmities. our detached and distant situation invites and enables us to pursue a different course.... taking care always to keep ourselves by suitable establishments on a respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary alliances for extraordinary emergencies." accepting this as firm ground from which to act, we afterwards put forth what is known as the monroe doctrine. having announced that our purpose was, in homely language, to mind our own business, we warned the outer world that we did not propose to permit by that outer world any interference in what did not concern it. america was our field,--a field amply large for our development. it was therefore declared that, while we had never taken any part, nor did it comport with our policy to do so, in the wars of european politics, with the movements in this hemisphere we are, of necessity, more intimately connected. "we owe it, therefore, to candor to declare that we should consider any attempt [on the part of european powers] to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety." on these principles of government and of foreign policy we have as a people now acted for more than seventy years. they have been exemplified and developed in various directions, and resulted in details--commercial, economic, and ethnic--which have given rise to political issues, long and hotly contested, but which, in their result from the purely historical point of view, do not admit of dispute. commercially, we have adopted what is known as a system protective both of our industries and our labor. economically, we have carefully eschewed large and costly armaments, and expensive governmental methods. ethnically, we have avowed our desire to have as little contact as possible with less developed races, lamenting the presence of the african, and severely excluding the asiatic. these facts, whether we as individuals and citizens wholly approve--or do not approve at all--of the course pursued and the results reached, admit of no dispute. neither can it be denied that our attitude, whether it in all respects commanded the respect of foreign nations, or failed to command it, was accepted, and has prevailed. striking illustrations of this at once suggest themselves. in one respect especially was our attitude peculiar, and in its peculiarity we took great pride. it was largely moral; but, though largely moral, it had behind it the consciousness of strength in ourselves, and its recognition by others. in great degree, and relatively, an unarmed people, we looked with amaze, which had in it something of amusement, at the constantly growing armaments and war budgets of the nations of europe. we saw them, like the warriors of the middle ages, crushed under the weight of their weapons of offence, and their preparations for defence. meanwhile, fortunate in our geographical position,--weak for offence, but, in turn, unassailable,--we went in and out much as an unarmed man, relying on his character, his recognized force, position, and peaceful calling, daily moves about in our frontier settlements and mining camps amid throngs of men armed to the teeth with revolvers and bowie knives. yet, evidence was not lacking of the consideration yielded to us when we were called upon, or felt called upon, to assert ourselves. i will not refer to the episode of , when, in accordance with the principles of the monroe doctrine, we intimated to france that her immediate withdrawal from mexico was desired; for then we had not laid down the arms we had taken up in the rebellion. but, without remonstrance even, france withdrew. in , under circumstances not without grounds of aggravation against us, a mob in valparaiso assaulted some seamen from our ships of war. instant apology and redress were demanded; and the demand was complied with. yet later, the course pursued by us in the venezuela matter is too fresh in memory to call for more than a reference. these are all matters of history. when did our word fail to carry all desired weight? such were our standing, our traditional policy, and our record at the beginning of the year now ending. no proposition advanced admits, it is believed, of dispute historically. into the events of the year it is not necessary to enter in any detail. they are in the minds of all. it is sufficient to say that the primary object for which we entered upon the late war with spain was to bring to an end the long and altogether bad record of spanish rule in america. in taking the steps deemed necessary to effect this result, congress went out of its way, and publicly and formally put upon record its disclaimer of any intention to enter upon a war of conquest, asserting its determination, when spanish domination was ended, to leave the government of cuba, and presumably of any other islands similarly acquired, to the people thereof. as an incident to our naval operations on the pacific, the island of hawaii was then annexed to the united states as an extra-territorial possession, or coaling station, this being effected by a joint resolution of the two houses of congress, under the precedent of established in the case of texas,--a method of procedure the constitutionality of which was at the time formally called in question by the state of massachusetts, and against which mr. webster made vigorous protest in the senate. in thus possessing ourselves of hawaii, the consent of the native inhabitants was not considered necessary; we dealt wholly with an oligarchical _de facto_ government, representing the foreign element, mainly american, there resident. shortly after the acquisition of hawaii, we, as the result of brilliant naval operations and successes, acquired possession of the harbor of manila, in the philippine archipelago, and finally the city and some adjacent territory were surrendered to us. a treaty was then negotiated, the power of spain being completely broken, under which she abandoned all claims of sovereignty, not only over the island of cuba, the original cause of war, but over various other islands in the philippine, as well as in the west indian, archipelagoes. these islands, in all said to be some , to , in number, are moreover not only inhabited by both natives and foreigners to the estimated number of ten to twelve million of souls, but they contain large cities and communities speaking different tongues, living under other laws, and having customs, manners, and traditions wholly unlike our own, and which, in the case of the philippines, do not admit of assimilation. situated in the tropics also, they cannot gradually become colonized by americans, with or without the disappearance of the native population. the american can only go there for temporary residence. a wholly new problem was thus suddenly presented to the people of the united states. on the one hand, it is asserted that, by destroying spanish government in these islands, the united states has assumed responsibility for them, both to the inhabitants and to the world. this is a moral obligation. on the other hand, trade and commercial inducements are held out which would lead us to treat these islands simply as a commencement--the first instalment--in a system of unlimited extra-territorial dependencies and imperial expansion. with these responsibilities and obligations we here this evening have nothing to do, any more than we have to do with the expediency or probable results of the policy of colonial expansion, when once fairly adopted and finally entered upon. these hereafter will be, but are not yet, historical questions; and we are merely historical inquirers. we, therefore, no matter what others may do, must try to confine ourselves to our own proper business and functions. my purpose, therefore, is not to argue for or against what is now proposed, but simply to test historically some of the arguments i have heard most commonly advanced in favor of the proposed policy of expansion, and thus see to what they apparently lead in the sequence of human, and more especially of american, events. do they indicate an historic continuity? or do they result in what is geologically known as a "fault,"--a movement, as the result of force, through which a stratum, once continuous, becomes disconnected? in the first place, then, as respects the inhabitants of the vastly greater number of the dependencies already acquired, and, under the policy of imperialistic expansion, hereafter to be acquired. it is argued that we, as a people at once dominant and christian, are under an obligation to avail ourselves of the opportunity the almighty, in his infinite wisdom, has thrust upon us,--some say the plain call he has uttered to us,--to go forth, and impart to the barbarian and the heathen the blessings of liberty and the bible. a mission is imposed upon us. viewed in the cold, pitiless light of history,--and that is the only way we here can view them,--"divine missions" and "providential calls" are questionable things; things the assumption and fulfilment of which are apt to be at variance. so far as the american is concerned, as i have already pointed out, the historic precedents are not encouraging. whatever his theories, ethnical, political, or religious, his practice has been as pronounced as it was masterful. from the earliest days at wessagusset and in the pequot war, down to the very last election held in north carolina,--from to ,--the knife and the shotgun have been far more potent and active instruments in his dealings with the inferior races than the code of liberty or the output of the bible society. the record speaks for itself. so far as the indian is concerned, the story has been told by mrs. jackson in her earnest, eloquent protest, entitled "a century of dishonor." it has received epigrammatic treatment in the saying tersely enunciated by one of our military commanders, and avowedly accepted by the others, that "the only good indian is a dead indian." so far as the african is concerned, the similar apothegm once was that "the black man has no rights the white man is bound to respect;" or, as stephen a. douglas defined his position before an applauding audience, "i am for the white man as against the black man, and for the black man against the alligator." recent lynching and shotgun experiences, too fresh in memory to call for reminder, and too painful in detail to describe, give us at least reason to pause before we leave our own hearthstone to seek new and distant fields for missionary labors. it remains to consider the asiatic. the racial antipathy of the american towards him has been more intense than towards any other species of the human race. this, as an historical fact, has been recently imbedded in our statute-book, having previously been illustrated in a series of outrages and massacres, with the sickening details of some of which it was at one time my misfortune to be officially familiar. under these circumstances, so far as the circulation of the bible and the extension of the blessings of liberty are concerned, history affords small encouragement to the american to assume new obligations. he has been, and now is, more than merely delinquent in the fulfilment of obligations heretofore thrust upon him, or knowingly assumed. in this respect his instinct has proved much more of a controlling factor than his ethics,--the shotgun has unfortunately been more constantly in evidence than the bible. as a prominent "expansionist" new england member of the present congress has recently declared in language, brutal perhaps in directness, but withal commendably free from cant: "china is succumbing to the inevitable, and the united states, if she would not retire to the background, must advance along the line with the other great nations. she must acquire new territory, providing new markets over which she must maintain control. the anglo-saxon advances into the new regions with a bible in one hand and a shotgun in the other. the inhabitants of those regions that he cannot convert with the aid of the bible and bring into his markets, he gets rid of with the shotgun. it is but another demonstration of the survival of the fittest." (hon. c.a. sulloway, rochester, n.h., nov. , .) next as regards our fundamental principles of equality of human rights, and the consent of the governed as the only just basis of all government. the presence of the inferior races on our own soil, and our new problems connected with them in our dependencies, have led to much questioning of the correctness of those principles, which, for its outspoken frankness, at least, is greatly to be commended. it is argued that these, as principles, in the light of modern knowledge and conditions, are of doubtful general truth and limited application. true, when confined and carefully applied to citizens of the same blood and nationality; questionable, when applied to human beings of different race in one nationality; manifestly false, in the case of races less developed, and in other, especially tropical, countries.[ ] as fundamental principles, it is admitted, they were excellent for a young people struggling into recognition and limiting its attention narrowly to what only concerned itself; but have we not manifestly outgrown them, now that we ourselves have developed into a great world power? for such there was and necessarily always will be, as between the superior and the inferior races, a manifest common sense foundation in caste, and in the rule of might when it presents itself in the form of what we are pleased to call manifest destiny. as to government being conditioned on the consent of the governed, it is obviously the bounden duty of the superior race to hold the inferior race in peaceful tutelage, and protect it against itself; and, furthermore, when it comes to deciding the momentous question of what races are superior and what inferior, what dominant and what subject, that is of necessity a question to be settled between the superior race and its own conscience; and one in regard to the correct settlement of which it indicates a tendency at once unpatriotic and "pessimistic," to assume that america could by any chance decide otherwise than correctly. upon that score we must put implicit confidence in the sound instincts and christian spirit of the dominant, that is, the stronger race. it is the same with that other fundamental principle with which the name of lexington is, from the historical point of view, so closely associated,--i refer, of course, to the revolutionary contention that representation is a necessary adjunct to taxation. this principle also, it is frankly argued, we have outgrown, in presence of our new responsibilities; and, as between the superior and inferior races, it is subject to obvious limitations. here again, as between the policy of the "open door" and the closed-colonial-market policy, the superior race is amenable to its own conscience only. it will doubtless on all suitable and convenient occasions bear in mind that it is a "trustee for civilization." finally, as respects entangling foreign alliances, and their necessary consequents, costly and burdensome armaments and large standing armies, we are again advised that, having ceased to be children, we should put away childish things. having become a great world power we must become a corresponding war power. we are assured by high authority that, were washington now alive, it cannot be questioned he would in all these respects modify materially the views expressed in the farewell address, as being obviously inapplicable to existing conditions. under these circumstances, and in view of the obligations we have assumed, the president, and secretaries of war and the navy, recommend an establishment the annual cost of which ($ , , ), exclusive of military pensions, is in excess of the largest of those european war budgets, over the crushing influence of which we have expressed a traditional wonder, not unmixed with pity for the unfortunate tax-payer. historically speaking, i believe these are all facts, susceptible of verification. i do not mean to say that the arguments developing obvious limitations in the application of the principles of the declaration and the constitution have been avowedly accepted by our representatives, or officially incorporated into our domestic and foreign policy. i do assert as an historical fact that these arguments have been advanced, and are meeting, both in congress and with the press, a large degree of acceptance. and hence comes a singular and most significant conclusion from which, historically, there seems to be no escape. it may or it may not be fortunate and right; it may or it may not lead to beneficent future results; it may or it may not contribute to the good of mankind. those questions belong elsewhere than in the rooms of an historical society. upon them we are not called to pass,--they belong to the politician, the publicist, the philosopher, not to us. but, as historical investigators, and so observing the sequence of events, it cannot escape our notice that on every one of the fundamental principles discussed,--whether ethnic, economical, or political,--we abandon the traditional and distinctively american grounds and accept those of europe, and especially of great britain, which heretofore we have made it the basis of our faith to deny and repudiate. with this startling proposition in mind, consider again the several propositions advanced; and first, as regards the so-called inferior races. our policy towards them, instinctive and formulated, has been either to exclude or destroy, or to leave them in the fullness of time to work out their own destiny, undisturbed by us; fully believing that, in this way, we in the long run best subserved the interests of mankind. europe, and great britain especially, adopted the opposite policy. they held that it was incumbent on the superior to go forth and establish dominion over the inferior race, and to hold and develop vast imperial possessions and colonial dependencies. they saw their interest and duty in developing systems of docile tutelage; we sought our inspirations in the rough school of self-government. under this head the result then is distinct, clean cut, indisputable. to this conclusion have we come at last. the old world, europe and great britain, were, after all, right, and we of the new world have been wrong. from every point of view,--religious, ethnic, commercial, political,--we cannot, it is now claimed, too soon abandon our traditional position and assume theirs. again, europe and great britain have never admitted that men were created equal, or that the consent of the governed was a condition of government. they have, on the contrary, emphatically denied both propositions. we now concede that, after all, there was great basis for their denial; that, certainly, it must be admitted, our forefathers were hasty at least in reaching their conclusions,--they generalized too broadly. we do not frankly avow error, and we still think the assent of the governed to a government a thing desirable to be secured, under suitable circumstances and with proper limitations; but, if it cannot conveniently be secured, we are advised on new england senatorial authority that "the consent of some of the governed" will be sufficient, we ourselves selecting those proper to be consulted. thus in such cases as certain islands of the antilles, hawaii, and the communities of asia, we admit that, so far as the principles at the basis of the declaration are concerned, great britain was right, and our ancestors were, not perhaps wrong, but too general, and of the eighteenth century, in their statements. to that extent, we have outgrown the declaration of , and have become as wise now as great britain was then. at any rate we are not above learning. as was long ago said,--"only dead men and idiots never change;" and the people of the united states are nothing unless open-minded. so, also, as respects the famous boston "tea-party," and taxation without representation. great britain then affirmed this right in the case of colonies and dependencies. taught by the lesson of our war of independence, she has since abandoned it. we now take it up, and are to-day, as one of the new obligations towards the heathen imposed upon us by providence, formulating systems of imposts and tariffs for our new dependencies, wholly distinct from our own, and directly inhibited by our constitution, in regard to which systems those dependencies have no representative voice. they are not to be consulted as to the kind of door, "open" or "closed," behind which they are to exist. in taking this position it is difficult to see why we must not also incidentally admit that, in the great contention preceding our war of independence, the first armed clash of which resounded here in lexington, great britain was more nearly right than the exponents of the principles for which those "embattled farmers" contended. again, consider the monroe doctrine, entangling foreign alliances, and the consequent and costly military and naval establishments. the monroe doctrine had two sides, the abstention of the old world from interference in american affairs, based on our abstention from interference in the affairs of the old world. but it is now argued we have outgrown the monroe doctrine, or at least the latter branch of it. it is certainly so considered in europe; for, only a few days ago, so eminent an authority as lord farrar exultingly exclaimed in addressing the cobden club,--"america has burned the swaddling clothes of the monroe doctrine." indeed we have, in discussion at least, gone far in advance of the mere burning of cast-off infantile clothing, and alliances with great britain and japan, as against france and russia, are freely mooted, with a view to the forcible partition of china, to which we are to be a party, and of it a beneficiary. for it is already avowed that the philippines are but a "stopping-place" on the way to the continent of asia; and china, unlike poland, is inhabited by an "inferior race," in regard to whom, as large possible consumers of surplus products, providence has imposed on us obvious obligations, material as well as benevolent and religious, which it would be unlike ourselves to disregard. it is the mandate of duty, we are told,--the nations of europe obey it, and can we do less than they? "isolation" it is then argued is but another name for an attention to one's own business which may well become excessive, and result in selfishness. it is true that the nations of the old world have not heretofore erred conspicuously in this respect; and as the "balance of power" was the word-juggle with which to conjure up wars and armaments in the eighteenth century, so the "division of trade" may not impossibly prove the similar conjuring word-juggle of the twentieth century. nevertheless, "isolation" is not compatible with the policy of a great nation under a call to assert itself as a world power. then follows the familiar argument in favor of costly military and naval establishments. but, upon this head it is needless to restate our traditional policy,--our jealousy as a people of militarism and large standing armies, to be used, if occasion calls, as a reserve police. our record thereon is so plain that repetition grows tedious. the record of europe, and especially of great britain as distinguished from other european powers, has been equally plain, and is no less indisputable. in this respect, also, always under compulsion, we now admit our error. costly armies are necessary to the maintenance of order, heaven's first law; and world powers cannot maintain peace, and themselves, without powerful navies and frequent coaling stations. finally, even on such matters as the protective system and the encouragement of american labor, as against the "pauper labor" of europe and of the inferior races, great britain has for half a century now advocated the principle of unrestricted industry and free trade,--that is the "open door" policy logically carried to its final results. we have denied it, establishing what we in time grew to call the distinctive american system. it is, however, now asserted that "trade follows the flag," and that, as respects dependencies at least, the "open door" policy is the best policy. if "trade follows the flag" in dependencies, and, by so doing, affords the american producer all needful protection and every fair advantage in those dependencies, it is not at once apparent why it fails so to do at home. is it less docile to the flag, less in harmony with and subservient to it, in the united states, within our own limits, than in remote lands under that flag beyond the seas? and, if so, how is such an apparent anomaly accounted for? but with this question we are not concerned. that problem is for the economist to solve, for in character it is commercial, not historical. the point with us is that again, as regards the "open door,"--free trade and no favor, so far as all outside competition is concerned, american labor and "pauper" labor being equally outside,--on this long and hotly contested point, also, england appears on the face of things to have had after all much the best of the argument. as regards "pauper labor," indeed, the reversal contemplated of established policy in favor of european methods is specially noteworthy. the labor of asia is undeniably less well paid even than that of europe; but it is now proposed, by a single act, to introduce into our industrial system ten millions of asiatics, either directly, or through their products sold in open competition with our own; or, if we do not do that, to hold them, ascribed to the soil in a sort of old saxon serfdom, with the function assigned them of consuming our surplus products, but without in return sending us theirs. the great counterbalancing consideration will not, of course, be forgotten that, like the english in india, we also bestow on them the blessings of liberty and the bible; provided, always, that liberty does not include freedom to go to the united states, and the bible does include the excellent old time and old world precept (coloss. : ), "servants, obey in all things your masters." it is the same in other respects. it seems to be admitted by the president, and by the leading authorities on the imperialistic policy, that it can only be carried to successful results through the agency of a distinct governing class. accordingly administration through the agency of military or naval officers is strongly urged both by the president and by captain mahan. other advocates of the policy urge its adoption on the ground, very distinctly avowed, that it will necessitate an established, recognized civil service, modelled, they add, on that of great britain. if, they then argue, great britain can extend--as, indeed, she unquestionably has extended--her system of dependencies all over the globe, developing them into the most magnificent empire the world ever saw, it is absurd, unpatriotic, and pessimistic to doubt that we can do the same. are we not of the same blood, and the same speech? this is all historically true. historically it is equally true that, to do it, we must employ means similar to those great britain has employed. in other words, modelling ourselves on great britain, we must slowly and methodically develop and build up a recognized and permanent governing and official class. the heathen and barbarian need to be studied, and dealt with intelligently and on a system; they cannot be successfully managed on any principle of rotation in office, much less one which ascribes the spoils of office to the victors at the polls. what these advocates of imperialism say is unquestionably true: the political methods now in vogue in american cities are not adapted to the government of dependencies. the very word "imperial" is, indeed, borrowed from the old world. as applied to a great system of colonial dominion and foreign dependencies it is english, and very modern english, also, for it was first brought into vogue by the late earl of beaconsfield in , when, by act of parliament introduced by him, the queen of england was made empress of india. it was then he enunciated that doctrine of _imperium et libertas_, the adoption of which we are now considering. while it may be wise and sound, it indisputably is british. thus, curiously enough, whichever way we turn and however we regard it, at the close of more than a century of independent existence we find ourselves, historically speaking, involved in a mesh of contradictions with our past. under a sense of obligation, impelled by circumstances, perhaps to a degree influenced by ambition and commercial greed, we have one by one abandoned our distinctive national tenets, and accepted in their place, though in some modified forms, the old-time european tenets and policies, which we supposed the world, actuated largely by our example, was about forever to discard. our whole record as a people is, of course, then ransacked and subjected to microscopic investigation, and every petty disregard of principle, any wrong heretofore silently, perhaps sadly, ignored, each unobserved or disregarded innovation of the past, is magnified into a precedent justifying anything and everything in the future. if we formerly on some occasion swallowed a gnat, why now, is it asked, strain at a camel? truths once accepted as "self-evident," since become awkward of acceptance, were ever thus pettifogged out of the path, and fundamental principles have in this way prescriptively been tampered with. it is now nearly a century and a quarter ago, when great britain was contemplating the subjection of her american dependencies, that edmund burke denounced "tampering" with the "ingenuous and noble roughness of truly constitutional materials," as "the odious vice of restless and unstable minds." historically speaking it is not unfair to ask if this is less so in the united states in than it was in great britain in . what is now proposed, therefore, examined in connection with our principles and traditional policy as a nation, does apparently indicate a break in continuity,--historically, it will probably constitute what is known in geology as a "fault." indeed, it is almost safe to say that history hardly records any change of base and system on the part of a great people at once so sudden, so radical, and so pregnant with consequences. to the optimist,--he who has no dislike to "old jewry," as the proper receptacle for worn-out garments, personal or political,--the outlook is inspiring. he insensibly recalls and repeats those fine lines of tennyson: "to-day i saw the dragon-fly come from the wells where he did lie. "an inner impulse rent the veil of his old husk: from head to tail came out clear plates of sapphire mail. "he dried his wings: like gauze they grew: thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew a living flash of light he flew." to others, older perhaps, but at any rate more deeply impressed with the difference apt to develop between dreams and actualities, the situation calls to mind a comparison, more historical it is true, but less inspiriting so far as a commitment to the new policy is concerned. at the risk, possibly, of offending some of those present, i will venture to institute it. in the fourth chapter of the gospel according to st. matthew, i find this incident recorded: "the devil taketh him [the saviour] up into an exceeding high mountain, and showeth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; and saith unto him, all these things will i give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me. then saith jesus unto him, get thee hence, satan. then the devil leaveth him, and, behold, angels came and ministered unto him." now, historically speaking, and as a matter of scriptural exegesis, that this passage should be accepted literally is not supposable. satan, on the occasion referred to, must not be taken to have presented himself to the saviour _in propriâ personâ_ with his attributes of horns, tail, and cloven hoof, and made an outright proposition of extra-territorial sovereignty. it was a parable. he who had assumed a lofty moral attitude was tempted by worldly inducements to adopt a lower attitude,--that, in a word, common among men. it was a whispering to christ of what among nations, is known as "manifest destiny;" in that case, however, as possibly in others, it so chanced that the whispering was not from the almighty, but from satan. now if, instead of recognizing the source whence the temptation came, and sternly saying, "get thee hence, satan," christ had seen the proposition as a new mission,--thought, in fact, that he heard a distinct call to duty,--and so, accepting a responsibility thrust upon him, had hurried down from the "exceeding high mountain," and proceeded at once to lay in a supply of weapons and to don defensive armor, renouncing his peaceful mission, he would have done exactly--what mohammed did six centuries later! i do not for a moment mean to suggest that, as respects the voice of "manifest destiny," there is any similarity between the case of the saviour and that which we, as a people, are now considering. i am not a prophet, nor do i claim prophetic insight. we are merely historical investigators, and, as such, not admitted into the councils of the almighty. others doubtless are, or certainly claim to be. they know every time, and at once, whether it is the inspiration of god or the devil; and forthwith proclaim it from the house-tops. we must admit--at any rate no evidence in our possession enables us to deny--the confidential relations such claim to have with either or both of the agencies in question,--the divine or the infernal. all i now have in mind is to call attention to the obvious similarity of the positions. as compared with the ideals and tenets then in vogue,--principles of manhood, equality before the law, freedom, peace on earth, and good-will to men,--the united states, heretofore and seen in a large way, has, among nations, assumed a peculiar, and, from the moral point of view, unquestionably a lofty attitude. speaking historically it might, and with no charge of levity, be compared with a similar moral attitude assumed among men eighteen centuries before by the saviour. it discountenanced armaments and warfare; it advocated arbitrations, and bowed to their awards; spreading its arms and protection over the new world, it refused to embroil itself in the complications of the old; above all, it set a not unprofitable example to the nations of benefits incident to minding one's own business, and did not arrogate to itself the character of a favorite and inspired instrument in the hands of god. it even went so far as to assume that, in working out the inscrutable ways of providence, character, self-restraint, and moral grandeur were in the long run as potent in effecting results as iron-clads and gatling-guns. those who now advocate a continuance of this policy are, as neatly as wittily, referred to in discussion, "for want of a better name," as "little americans," just as in history the believers in the long-run efficacy of the doctrines of christ might be termed "little gospellers," to distinguish them from the admirers of the later, but more brilliant and imperial, dispensation of mohammed. that the earlier, and less immediately ambitious, doctrine was, in the case of the united states, only temporary, and is now outgrown, and must, therefore, be abandoned in favor of old world methods, especially those pursued with such striking success by great britain, is possible. as historical investigators we have long since learned that it is the unexpected which in the development of human affairs is most apt to occur. who, for instance, in our own recent history could ever have foreseen that, in the inscrutable ways of the almighty, the great triumph of slavery in the annexation of texas, and the spoliation of that inferior race which inhabited mexico, was, within fifteen years only, to result in what lincoln called that "terrible war" in which every drop of blood ever drawn by the lash was paid by another drawn by the sword? again, in may, , a representative of south carolina struck down a senator from massachusetts in the senate-chamber at washington; in january, , massachusetts battalions bivouacked beside the smoking ruins of south carolina's capital. verily, as none know better than we, the ways of providence are mysterious, and past finding out. none the less, though it cannot be positively asserted that the world would not have been wiser, more advanced, and better ordered had christ, when on that "exceeding high mountain," heard in the words then whispered in his ear a manifest call of duty, and felt a responsibility thrust upon him to secure the kingdoms of the earth for the blessings of liberty and the bible by so small a sacrifice as making an apparently meaningless obeisance to satan, yet we can certainly say that the world would now have been very different from what it is had he so done. and so in the case of the united states, though we cannot for a moment assert that its fate and the future of the world will not be richer, better, and brighter from its abandonment of new world traditions and policies in favor of the traditions and policies of the old world, we can say without any hesitation that the course of history will be greatly changed by the so doing. in any event the experiment will be one of surpassing interest to the historical observer. some years ago james russell lowell was asked by the french historian, guizot, how long the republic of the united states might reasonably be expected to endure. mr. lowell's reply has always been considered peculiarly happy. "so long," said he, "as the ideas of its founders continue dominant." in due course of time we, or those who follow us, will know whether mr. lowell diagnosed the situation correctly, or otherwise. meanwhile, i do not know how i can better bring to an end this somewhat lengthy contribution to the occasion, than by repeating, as singularly applicable to the conditions in which we find ourselves, these verses from a recent poem, than which i have heard none in the days that now are which strike a deeper or a truer chord, or one more appropriate to this new england paschal eve: "the tumult and the shouting dies, the captains and the kings depart; still stands thine ancient sacrifice, an humble and a contrite heart. lord god of hosts, be with us yet, lest we forget--lest we forget! "far-called our navies melt away, on dune and headline sinks the fire-- lo, all our pomp of yesterday is one with nineveh and tyre! judge of the nations, spare us yet, lest we forget--lest we forget! "if, drunk with sight of power, we loose wild tongues that have not thee in awe, such boasting as the gentiles use or lesser breeds without the law-- lord god of hosts, be with us yet, lest we forget--lest we forget! "for heathen heart that puts her trust in reeking tube and iron shard-- all valiant dust that builds on dust, and guarding calls not thee to guard-- for frantic boast and foolish word, thy mercy on thy people, lord! amen." taken in connection with the foregoing paper, the following-letter, addressed to the hon. carl schurz, is self-explanatory: boston, december , . my dear mr. schurz: in a recent letter you kindly suggest that i submit to you a sketch of what, i think, should be said in an address such as it is proposed should now be put forth by the anti-imperialist league to the people of the united states. i last evening read a paper before the lexington historical society, in which i discussed the question of extra-territorial expansion from the historical point of view. a copy of this paper i hope soon to forward you. meanwhile, there is one aspect, and, to my mind, the all-important aspect of the question, which, in addressing an historical society, was not germane. i refer to the question of a practical policy to be pursued by us, as a nation, under existing conditions. that spain has abandoned all claim of sovereignty over the philippine islands admits of no question. whether the united states has accepted the sovereignty thus abandoned is still an open question; but this i do not regard as material. nevertheless, we are confronted by a fact; and, whenever we criticise the policy up to this time pursued; we are met with an inquiry as to what we have to propose in place of it. we are invited to stop finding fault with others, and to suggest some feasible alternative policy ourselves. to this we must, therefore, in fairness, address ourselves. it is, in my judgment, useless to attempt to carry on the discussion merely in the negative form. as opponents of an inchoate policy we must, in place of what we object to, propose something positive, or we must abandon the field. accepting the alternative, i now want to suggest a positive policy for the consideration of those who feel as we feel. i wish your judgment upon it. there has, it seems to me, been a great deal of idle "duty," "mission," and "call" talk on the subject of our recent acquisition of "islands beyond the sea," and the necessity of adopting some policy, commonly described as "imperial," in dealing with them. this policy is, in the minds of most people who favor it, to be indirectly modelled on the policy heretofore so successfully pursued under somewhat similar conditions by great britain. it involves, as i tried to point out in the lexington paper i have referred to, the abandonment or reversal of all the fundamental principles of our government since its origin, and of the foreign policy we have heretofore pursued. this, i submit, is absolutely unnecessary. another and substitute policy, purely american, as contradistinguished from the european or british, known as "imperial," policy, can readily be formulated. this essentially american policy would be based both upon our cardinal political principles, and our recent foreign experiences. it is commonly argued that, having destroyed the existing government in cuba, porto rico, and the philippines, we have assumed a political responsibility, and are under a moral obligation to provide another government in place of that which by our action has ceased to exist. what has been our course heretofore under similar circumstances? precedents, i submit, at once suggest themselves. precedents, too, directly in point, and within your and my easy recollection. i refer to the course pursued by us towards mexico in the year , and again in ; towards hayti for seventy years back; and towards venezuela as recently as three years ago. it is said that the inhabitants of the islands of the antilles, and much more those of the philippine archipelago, are as yet unfitted to maintain a government; and that they should be kept in a condition of "tutelage" until they are fitted so to do. it is further argued that a stable government is necessary, and that it is out of the question for us to permit a condition of chronic disturbance and scandalous unrest to exist so near our own borders as cuba and porto rico. yet how long, i would ask, did that condition exist in mexico? and with what results? how long has it existed in hayti? has the government of venezuela ever been "stable"? have we found it necessary or thought it best to establish a governmental protectorate in any of those immediately adjacent regions? what has been, historically, our policy--the american, as distinguished from the european and british policy--towards those communities,--two of them spanish, one african? so far as foreign powers are concerned, we have laid down the principle of "hands-off." so far as their own government was concerned, we insisted that the only way to learn to walk was to try to walk, and that the history of mankind did not show that nations placed under systems of "tutelage,"--taught to lean for support on a superior power,--ever acquired the faculty of independent action. of this, with us, fundamental truth, the british race itself furnishes a very notable example. in the forty-fourth year of the christian era the island of great britain was occupied by what the "imperial" romans adjudged to be an inferior race. to the romans the britons unquestionably were inferior. every child's history contains an account of the course then pursued by the superior towards that inferior race, and its results. the romans occupied great britain, and they occupied it hard upon four centuries, holding the people in "tutelage," and protecting them against themselves, as well as against their enemies. with what result? so emasculated and incapable of self-government did the people of england become during their "tutelage" that, when rome at last withdrew, they found themselves totally unfitted for self-government, much more for facing a foreign enemy. as the last, and best, historian of the english people tells us, the purely despotic system of the imperial government "by crushing all local independence, crushed all local vigor. men forgot how to fight for their country when they forgot how to govern it."[ ] the end was that, through six centuries more, england was overrun, first by those of one race, and then by those of another, until the normans established themselves in it as conquerors; and then, and not until then, the deteriorating effect of a system of long continued "tutelage" ceased to be felt, and the islanders became by degrees the most energetic, virile, and self-sustaining of races. as nearly, therefore, as can be historically stated, it took eight centuries for the people of england to overcome the injurious influence of four centuries of just such a system as it is now proposed by us to inflict on the philippines.[ ] hindostan would furnish another highly suggestive example of the educational effects of "tutelage" on a race. after a century and a half of that british "tutelage," what progress has india made towards fitness for self-government? is the end in sight? from the historical point of view, it is instructive to note the exactly different results reached through the truly american policy we have pursued in the not dissimilar cases of hayti and mexico. while hayti, it is true, has failed to make great progress in one century, it has made quite as much progress as england made during any equal period immediately after rome withdrew from it. and that degree of slowness in growth, which with equanimity has been endured by us in hayti, could certainly be endured by us in islands on the coast of asia. it cannot be gainsaid that, through our insisting on the policy of non-interference ourselves, and of non-interference by european nations, hayti has been brought into a position where it is on the high road to better things in future. that has been the result of the prescriptive american policy. with mexico, the case is far stronger. we all know that in , after our war of spoliation, we had to bolster up a semblance of a government for mexico, with which to negotiate a treaty of peace. mexico at that time was reduced by us to a condition of utter anarchy. under the theory now gaining in vogue, it would then have been our plain duty to make of mexico an extra-territorial dependency, and protect it against itself. we wisely took a different course. like other spanish communities in america, mexico than passed through a succession of revolutions, from which it became apparent the people were not in a fit condition for self-government. nevertheless, sternly insisting on non-interference by outside powers, we ourselves wisely left that country to work out its own salvation in its own way. in , when the united states was involved in the war of the rebellion, the europeans took advantage of the situation to invade mexico, and to establish there a "stable government." they undertook to protect that people against themselves, and to erect for them a species of protectorate, such as we now propose for the philippines. as soon as our war was over, we insisted upon the withdrawal of europe from mexico. what followed is matter of recent history. it is unnecessary to recall it. we did not reduce mexico into a condition of "tutelage," or establish over it a "protectorate" of our own. we, on the contrary, insisted that it should stand on its own legs; and, by so doing, learn to stand firmly on them, just as a child learns to walk, by being compelled to try to walk, not by being kept everlastingly in "leading strings." this was the american, as contradistinguished from the european policy; and mexico to-day walks firmly. finally take the case of venezuela in . i believe i am not mistaken when i say that, during the twenty-five preceding years, venezuela had undergone almost as many revolutions. it certainly had not enjoyed a stable government. through disputes over questions of boundary, great britain proposed to confer that indisputable blessing upon a considerable region. we interfered under a most questionable extension of the monroe doctrine, and asserted the principle of "hands-off." having done this,--having in so far perpetuated what we now call the scandal of anarchy,--we did not establish "tutelage," or a protectorate, ourselves. we wisely left venezuela to work out its destiny in its own way, and in the fullness of time. that policy was far-seeing, beneficent, and strictly american in . why, then, make almost indecent haste to abandon it in ? instead, therefore, of finding our precedents in the experience of england, or that of any other european power, i would suggest that the true course for this country now to pursue is exactly the course we have heretofore pursued under similar conditions. let us be true to our own traditions, and follow our own precedents. having relieved the spanish islands from the dominion of spain, we should declare concerning them a policy of "hands-off," both on our own part and on the part of other powers. we should say that the independence of those islands is morally guaranteed by us as a consequence of the treaty of paris, and then leave them just as we have left hayti, and just as we left mexico and venezuela, to adopt for themselves such form of government as the people thereof are ripe for. in the cases of mexico and venezuela, and in the case of hayti, we have not found it necessary to interfere ever or at all. it is not yet apparent why we should find it necessary to interfere with islands so much more remote from us than hayti, and than mexico and venezuela, as are the philippines. in this matter we can thus well afford to be consistent, as well as logical. our fundamental principles, those of the declaration, the constitution, and the monroe doctrine, have not yet been shown to be unsound--why should we be in such a hurry to abandon them? our precedents are close at hand, and satisfactory--why look away from them to follow those of great britain? why need we, all of a sudden, be so very english and so altogether french, even borrowing their nomenclature of "imperialism?" why can not we, too, in the language of burke, be content to set our feet "in the tracks of our forefathers, where we can neither wander nor stumble?" the only difficulty in the way of our so doing seems to be that we are in such a desperate hurry; while natural influences and methods, though in the great end indisputably the wisest and best, always require time in which to work themselves out to their results. wiser than the almighty in our own conceit, we think to get there at once; the "there" in this case being everlasting "tutelage," as in india, instead of ultimate self-government, as in mexico. the policy heretofore pursued by us in such cases,--the policy of "hands-off," and "walk alone," is distinctly american; it is not european, not even british. it recognizes the principles of our declaration of independence. it recognizes the truth that all just government exists by the consent of the governed. it recognizes the existence of the monroe doctrine. in a word, it recognizes every principle and precedent, whether natural or historical, which has from the beginning lain at the foundation of our american polity. it does not attempt the hypocritical contradiction in terms, of pretending to elevate a people into a self-sustaining condition through the leading-string process of "tutelage." it appeals to our historical experience, applying to present conditions the lessons of hayti, mexico, and venezuela. in dealing with those cases, we did not find a great standing army or an enormous navy necessary; and, if not then, why now? why such a difference between the philippines and hayti? is cuba larger or nearer to us than mexico? when, therefore, in future they ask us what course and policy we anti-imperialists propose, our answer should be that we propose to pursue towards the islands of antilles and the philippines the same common-sense course and truly american policy which were by us heretofore pursued with such signal success in the cases of hayti, mexico, and venezuela, all inhabited by people equally unfit for self-government, and geographically much closer to ourselves. we propose to guarantee them against outside meddling, and, above all, from "tutelage," and make them, by walking, learn to walk alone. this, i submit, is not only an answer to the question so frequently put to us, but a positive policy following established precedents, and, what is more, purely american, as distinguished from a european or british, policy and precedents. i remain, etc., charles francis adams. _hon. carl schurz, e. th street, new york city._ footnotes: [ ] "obviously, men are not born equal in physical strength or in mental capacity, in beauty of form or health of body. diversity or inequality in these respects is the law of creation. but this inequality is in no particular inconsistent with complete civil or political equality. "the equality declared by our fathers in and made the fundamental law of massachusetts in , was _equality before the law_. its object was to efface all political or civil distinctions, and to abolish all institutions founded upon _birth_. 'all men are _created_ equal,' says the declaration of independence. 'all men are _born_ free and equal,' says the massachusetts bill of rights. these are not vain words. within the sphere of their influence, no person can be _created_, no person can be _born_, with civil or political privileges not enjoyed equally by all his fellow-citizens; nor can any institutions be established, recognizing distinctions of birth. here is the great charter of every human being drawing vital breath upon this soil, whatever may be his conditions, and whoever may be his parents. he may be poor, weak, humble, or black,--he may be of caucasian, jewish, indian, or ethiopian race,--he may be born of french, german, english, or irish extraction; but before the constitution of massachusetts all these distinctions disappear. he is not poor, weak, humble, or black; nor is he caucasian, jew, indian, or ethiopian; nor is he french, german, english, or irish; he is a man, the equal of all his fellow-men. he is one of the children of the state, which, like an impartial parent, regards all its offspring with an equal care. to some it may justly allot higher duties, according to higher capacities; but it welcomes all to its equal hospitable board. the state, imitating the divine justice, is no respecter of persons."--_works of charles sumner, vol. ii., pp. - _. [ ] historically speaking, the assertion in the declaration of independence has been fruitful of dispute. the very evening the present paper was read at lexington the mayor of boston, in a public address elsewhere, alluded to the "imprudent generalizations of our forefathers," referring, doubtless, to what rufus choate, forty-two years before, described as "the glittering and sounding generalities of natural right" to be found in the declaration, "that passionate and eloquent manifesto." mr. calhoun declared ( ) that the claim of human equality set forth in the declaration was "the most false and dangerous of all political errors," which, after resting a long time "dormant," had, in the process of time, begun "to germinate and produce its poisonous fruits." mr. pettit, a senator from indiana, pronounced it in , "a self-evident lie." in the famous lincoln-douglas debate in illinois ( ) the question reappeared, mr. douglas contending that the declaration applied only to "the white people of the united states;" while mr. lincoln, in reply, asserted that "the entire records of the world, from the date of the declaration of independence up to within three years ago, may be searched in vain for one single affirmation, from one single man, that the negro was not included in the declaration." the contention of mr. douglas had recently again made its appearance in the press as something too indisputable to admit of discussion. it is asserted that, in penning the declaration, mr. jefferson could not possibly have intended to include those then actually held as slaves. on this point mr. jefferson himself should, it would seem, be accepted as a competent witness. referring to the denial of his "inalienable rights" to the african, he declared at a later day, "i tremble for my country, when i reflect that god is just." what he meant will, however, probably continue matter for confident newspaper assertions just so long as anybody in this country wants to make out, as did stephen a. douglas in , a plausible pretext for subjugating somebody else,--indian, african, or asiatic. as mr. lincoln expressed it, "the assertion that all men are created equal was of no practical use in effecting our separation from great britain, and it was placed in the declaration, not for that but for future use. its author meant it to be, as, thank god, it is now proving itself, a stumbling block to all those who, in after times, might seek to turn a free people back into the paths of despotism. they knew the proneness of prosperity to breed tyrants, and they meant, when such should reappear in this fair land, and commence their vocation, they should find left for them at least one hard nut to crack."--_works_, vol. i., p. . [ ] green's short history (ill. ed.). vol. i. p. . [ ] the roman legions were withdrawn from great britain in ; magna charta was signed in june, , and the reign of french kings over england came to a close in . it is a striking illustration of the deliberation with which natural processes work themselves out, that the period which elapsed between the withdrawal of rome from england, and the recovery of england by the english, should have exceeded by more than a century the time which has as yet elapsed since england was thus recovered. transcribed from the t. fisher unwin ltd. edition by david price, email ccx @coventry.ac.uk almayer's folly: a story of an eastern river by joseph conrad qui de nous n'a eu sa terre promise, son jour d'extase et sa fin en exil?--amiel. _london_: t. fisher unwin, ltd. adelphi terrace _first edition_ . . . _second impression_, _third_ ,, _fourth_ ,, to the memory of t. b. chapter i. "kaspar! makan!" the well-known shrill voice startled almayer from his dream of splendid future into the unpleasant realities of the present hour. an unpleasant voice too. he had heard it for many years, and with every year he liked it less. no matter; there would be an end to all this soon. he shuffled uneasily, but took no further notice of the call. leaning with both his elbows on the balustrade of the verandah, he went on looking fixedly at the great river that flowed--indifferent and hurried--before his eyes. he liked to look at it about the time of sunset; perhaps because at that time the sinking sun would spread a glowing gold tinge on the waters of the pantai, and almayer's thoughts were often busy with gold; gold he had failed to secure; gold the others had secured--dishonestly, of course--or gold he meant to secure yet, through his own honest exertions, for himself and nina. he absorbed himself in his dream of wealth and power away from this coast where he had dwelt for so many years, forgetting the bitterness of toil and strife in the vision of a great and splendid reward. they would live in europe, he and his daughter. they would be rich and respected. nobody would think of her mixed blood in the presence of her great beauty and of his immense wealth. witnessing her triumphs he would grow young again, he would forget the twenty-five years of heart-breaking struggle on this coast where he felt like a prisoner. all this was nearly within his reach. let only dain return! and return soon he must--in his own interest, for his own share. he was now more than a week late! perhaps he would return to-night. such were almayer's thoughts as, standing on the verandah of his new but already decaying house--that last failure of his life--he looked on the broad river. there was no tinge of gold on it this evening, for it had been swollen by the rains, and rolled an angry and muddy flood under his inattentive eyes, carrying small drift-wood and big dead logs, and whole uprooted trees with branches and foliage, amongst which the water swirled and roared angrily. one of those drifting trees grounded on the shelving shore, just by the house, and almayer, neglecting his dream, watched it with languid interest. the tree swung slowly round, amid the hiss and foam of the water, and soon getting free of the obstruction began to move down stream again, rolling slowly over, raising upwards a long, denuded branch, like a hand lifted in mute appeal to heaven against the river's brutal and unnecessary violence. almayer's interest in the fate of that tree increased rapidly. he leaned over to see if it would clear the low point below. it did; then he drew back, thinking that now its course was free down to the sea, and he envied the lot of that inanimate thing now growing small and indistinct in the deepening darkness. as he lost sight of it altogether he began to wonder how far out to sea it would drift. would the current carry it north or south? south, probably, till it drifted in sight of celebes, as far as macassar, perhaps! macassar! almayer's quickened fancy distanced the tree on its imaginary voyage, but his memory lagging behind some twenty years or more in point of time saw a young and slim almayer, clad all in white and modest-looking, landing from the dutch mail-boat on the dusty jetty of macassar, coming to woo fortune in the godowns of old hudig. it was an important epoch in his life, the beginning of a new existence for him. his father, a subordinate official employed in the botanical gardens of buitenzorg, was no doubt delighted to place his son in such a firm. the young man himself too was nothing loth to leave the poisonous shores of java, and the meagre comforts of the parental bungalow, where the father grumbled all day at the stupidity of native gardeners, and the mother from the depths of her long easy-chair bewailed the lost glories of amsterdam, where she had been brought up, and of her position as the daughter of a cigar dealer there. almayer had left his home with a light heart and a lighter pocket, speaking english well, and strong in arithmetic; ready to conquer the world, never doubting that he would. after those twenty years, standing in the close and stifling heat of a bornean evening, he recalled with pleasurable regret the image of hudig's lofty and cool warehouses with their long and straight avenues of gin cases and bales of manchester goods; the big door swinging noiselessly; the dim light of the place, so delightful after the glare of the streets; the little railed-off spaces amongst piles of merchandise where the chinese clerks, neat, cool, and sad-eyed, wrote rapidly and in silence amidst the din of the working gangs rolling casks or shifting cases to a muttered song, ending with a desperate yell. at the upper end, facing the great door, there was a larger space railed off, well lighted; there the noise was subdued by distance, and above it rose the soft and continuous clink of silver guilders which other discreet chinamen were counting and piling up under the supervision of mr. vinck, the cashier, the genius presiding in the place--the right hand of the master. in that clear space almayer worked at his table not far from a little green painted door, by which always stood a malay in a red sash and turban, and whose hand, holding a small string dangling from above, moved up and down with the regularity of a machine. the string worked a punkah on the other side of the green door, where the so-called private office was, and where old hudig--the master--sat enthroned, holding noisy receptions. sometimes the little door would fly open disclosing to the outer world, through the bluish haze of tobacco smoke, a long table loaded with bottles of various shapes and tall water-pitchers, rattan easy-chairs occupied by noisy men in sprawling attitudes, while the master would put his head through and, holding by the handle, would grunt confidentially to vinck; perhaps send an order thundering down the warehouse, or spy a hesitating stranger and greet him with a friendly roar, "welgome, gapitan! ver' you gome vrom? bali, eh? got bonies? i vant bonies! vant all you got; ha! ha! ha! gome in!" then the stranger was dragged in, in a tempest of yells, the door was shut, and the usual noises refilled the place; the song of the workmen, the rumble of barrels, the scratch of rapid pens; while above all rose the musical chink of broad silver pieces streaming ceaselessly through the yellow fingers of the attentive chinamen. at that time macassar was teeming with life and commerce. it was the point in the islands where tended all those bold spirits who, fitting out schooners on the australian coast, invaded the malay archipelago in search of money and adventure. bold, reckless, keen in business, not disinclined for a brush with the pirates that were to be found on many a coast as yet, making money fast, they used to have a general "rendezvous" in the bay for purposes of trade and dissipation. the dutch merchants called those men english pedlars; some of them were undoubtedly gentlemen for whom that kind of life had a charm; most were seamen; the acknowledged king of them all was tom lingard, he whom the malays, honest or dishonest, quiet fishermen or desperate cut-throats, recognised as "the rajah-laut"--the king of the sea. almayer had heard of him before he had been three days in macassar, had heard the stories of his smart business transactions, his loves, and also of his desperate fights with the sulu pirates, together with the romantic tale of some child--a girl--found in a piratical prau by the victorious lingard, when, after a long contest, he boarded the craft, driving the crew overboard. this girl, it was generally known, lingard had adopted, was having her educated in some convent in java, and spoke of her as "my daughter." he had sworn a mighty oath to marry her to a white man before he went home and to leave her all his money. "and captain lingard has lots of money," would say mr. vinck solemnly, with his head on one side, "lots of money; more than hudig!" and after a pause--just to let his hearers recover from their astonishment at such an incredible assertion--he would add in an explanatory whisper, "you know, he has discovered a river." that was it! he had discovered a river! that was the fact placing old lingard so much above the common crowd of sea-going adventurers who traded with hudig in the daytime and drank champagne, gambled, sang noisy songs, and made love to half-caste girls under the broad verandah of the sunda hotel at night. into that river, whose entrances himself only knew, lingard used to take his assorted cargo of manchester goods, brass gongs, rifles and gunpowder. his brig _flash_, which he commanded himself, would on those occasions disappear quietly during the night from the roadstead while his companions were sleeping off the effects of the midnight carouse, lingard seeing them drunk under the table before going on board, himself unaffected by any amount of liquor. many tried to follow him and find that land of plenty for gutta-percha and rattans, pearl shells and birds' nests, wax and gum-dammar, but the little _flash_ could outsail every craft in those seas. a few of them came to grief on hidden sandbanks and coral reefs, losing their all and barely escaping with life from the cruel grip of this sunny and smiling sea; others got discouraged; and for many years the green and peaceful-looking islands guarding the entrances to the promised land kept their secret with all the merciless serenity of tropical nature. and so lingard came and went on his secret or open expeditions, becoming a hero in almayer's eyes by the boldness and enormous profits of his ventures, seeming to almayer a very great man indeed as he saw him marching up the warehouse, grunting a "how are you?" to vinck, or greeting hudig, the master, with a boisterous "hallo, old pirate! alive yet?" as a preliminary to transacting business behind the little green door. often of an evening, in the silence of the then deserted warehouse, almayer putting away his papers before driving home with mr. vinck, in whose household he lived, would pause listening to the noise of a hot discussion in the private office, would hear the deep and monotonous growl of the master, and the roared-out interruptions of lingard--two mastiffs fighting over a marrowy bone. but to almayer's ears it sounded like a quarrel of titans--a battle of the gods. after a year or so lingard, having been brought often in contact with almayer in the course of business, took a sudden and, to the onlookers, a rather inexplicable fancy to the young man. he sang his praises, late at night, over a convivial glass to his cronies in the sunda hotel, and one fine morning electrified vinck by declaring that he must have "that young fellow for a supercargo. kind of captain's clerk. do all my quill-driving for me." hudig consented. almayer, with youth's natural craving for change, was nothing loth, and packing his few belongings, started in the _flash_ on one of those long cruises when the old seaman was wont to visit almost every island in the archipelago. months slipped by, and lingard's friendship seemed to increase. often pacing the deck with almayer, when the faint night breeze, heavy with aromatic exhalations of the islands, shoved the brig gently along under the peaceful and sparkling sky, did the old seaman open his heart to his entranced listener. he spoke of his past life, of escaped dangers, of big profits in his trade, of new combinations that were in the future to bring profits bigger still. often he had mentioned his daughter, the girl found in the pirate prau, speaking of her with a strange assumption of fatherly tenderness. "she must be a big girl now," he used to say. "it's nigh unto four years since i have seen her! damme, almayer, if i don't think we will run into sourabaya this trip." and after such a declaration he always dived into his cabin muttering to himself, "something must be done--must be done." more than once he would astonish almayer by walking up to him rapidly, clearing his throat with a powerful "hem!" as if he was going to say something, and then turning abruptly away to lean over the bulwarks in silence, and watch, motionless, for hours, the gleam and sparkle of the phosphorescent sea along the ship's side. it was the night before arriving in sourabaya when one of those attempts at confidential communication succeeded. after clearing his throat he spoke. he spoke to some purpose. he wanted almayer to marry his adopted daughter. "and don't you kick because you're white!" he shouted, suddenly, not giving the surprised young man the time to say a word. "none of that with me! nobody will see the colour of your wife's skin. the dollars are too thick for that, i tell you! and mind you, they will be thicker yet before i die. there will be millions, kaspar! millions i say! and all for her--and for you, if you do what you are told." startled by the unexpected proposal, almayer hesitated, and remained silent for a minute. he was gifted with a strong and active imagination, and in that short space of time he saw, as in a flash of dazzling light, great piles of shining guilders, and realised all the possibilities of an opulent existence. the consideration, the indolent ease of life--for which he felt himself so well fitted--his ships, his warehouses, his merchandise (old lingard would not live for ever), and, crowning all, in the far future gleamed like a fairy palace the big mansion in amsterdam, that earthly paradise of his dreams, where, made king amongst men by old lingard's money, he would pass the evening of his days in inexpressible splendour. as to the other side of the picture--the companionship for life of a malay girl, that legacy of a boatful of pirates--there was only within him a confused consciousness of shame that he a white man--still, a convent education of four years!--and then she may mercifully die. he was always lucky, and money is powerful! go through it. why not? he had a vague idea of shutting her up somewhere, anywhere, out of his gorgeous future. easy enough to dispose of a malay woman, a slave, after all, to his eastern mind, convent or no convent, ceremony or no ceremony. he lifted his head and confronted the anxious yet irate seaman. "i--of course--anything you wish, captain lingard." "call me father, my boy. she does," said the mollified old adventurer. "damme, though, if i didn't think you were going to refuse. mind you, kaspar, i always get my way, so it would have been no use. but you are no fool." he remembered well that time--the look, the accent, the words, the effect they produced on him, his very surroundings. he remembered the narrow slanting deck of the brig, the silent sleeping coast, the smooth black surface of the sea with a great bar of gold laid on it by the rising moon. he remembered it all, and he remembered his feelings of mad exultation at the thought of that fortune thrown into his hands. he was no fool then, and he was no fool now. circumstances had been against him; the fortune was gone, but hope remained. he shivered in the night air, and suddenly became aware of the intense darkness which, on the sun's departure, had closed in upon the river, blotting out the outlines of the opposite shore. only the fire of dry branches lit outside the stockade of the rajah's compound called fitfully into view the ragged trunks of the surrounding trees, putting a stain of glowing red half-way across the river where the drifting logs were hurrying towards the sea through the impenetrable gloom. he had a hazy recollection of having been called some time during the evening by his wife. to his dinner probably. but a man busy contemplating the wreckage of his past in the dawn of new hopes cannot be hungry whenever his rice is ready. time he went home, though; it was getting late. he stepped cautiously on the loose planks towards the ladder. a lizard, disturbed by the noise, emitted a plaintive note and scurried through the long grass growing on the bank. almayer descended the ladder carefully, now thoroughly recalled to the realities of life by the care necessary to prevent a fall on the uneven ground where the stones, decaying planks, and half-sawn beams were piled up in inextricable confusion. as he turned towards the house where he lived--"my old house" he called it--his ear detected the splash of paddles away in the darkness of the river. he stood still in the path, attentive and surprised at anybody being on the river at this late hour during such a heavy freshet. now he could hear the paddles distinctly, and even a rapidly exchanged word in low tones, the heavy breathing of men fighting with the current, and hugging the bank on which he stood. quite close, too, but it was too dark to distinguish anything under the overhanging bushes. "arabs, no doubt," muttered almayer to himself, peering into the solid blackness. "what are they up to now? some of abdulla's business; curse him!" the boat was very close now. "oh, ya! man!" hailed almayer. the sound of voices ceased, but the paddles worked as furiously as before. then the bush in front of almayer shook, and the sharp sound of the paddles falling into the canoe rang in the quiet night. they were holding on to the bush now; but almayer could hardly make out an indistinct dark shape of a man's head and shoulders above the bank. "you abdulla?" said almayer, doubtfully. a grave voice answered-- "tuan almayer is speaking to a friend. there is no arab here." almayer's heart gave a great leap. "dain!" he exclaimed. "at last! at last! i have been waiting for you every day and every night. i had nearly given you up." "nothing could have stopped me from coming back here," said the other, almost violently. "not even death," he whispered to himself. "this is a friend's talk, and is very good," said almayer, heartily. "but you are too far here. drop down to the jetty and let your men cook their rice in my campong while we talk in the house." there was no answer to that invitation. "what is it?" asked almayer, uneasily. "there is nothing wrong with the brig, i hope?" "the brig is where no orang blanda can lay his hands on her," said dain, with a gloomy tone in his voice, which almayer, in his elation, failed to notice. "right," he said. "but where are all your men? there are only two with you." "listen, tuan almayer," said dain. "to-morrow's sun shall see me in your house, and then we will talk. now i must go to the rajah." "to the rajah! why? what do you want with lakamba?" "tuan, to-morrow we talk like friends. i must see lakamba to-night." "dain, you are not going to abandon me now, when all is ready?" asked almayer, in a pleading voice. "have i not returned? but i must see lakamba first for your good and mine." the shadowy head disappeared abruptly. the bush, released from the grasp of the bowman, sprung back with a swish, scattering a shower of muddy water over almayer, as he bent forward, trying to see. in a little while the canoe shot into the streak of light that streamed on the river from the big fire on the opposite shore, disclosing the outline of two men bending to their work, and a third figure in the stern flourishing the steering paddle, his head covered with an enormous round hat, like a fantastically exaggerated mushroom. almayer watched the canoe till it passed out of the line of light. shortly after the murmur of many voices reached him across the water. he could see the torches being snatched out of the burning pile, and rendering visible for a moment the gate in the stockade round which they crowded. then they went in apparently. the torches disappeared, and the scattered fire sent out only a dim and fitful glare. almayer stepped homewards with long strides and mind uneasy. surely dain was not thinking of playing him false. it was absurd. dain and lakamba were both too much interested in the success of his scheme. trusting to malays was poor work; but then even malays have some sense and understand their own interest. all would be well--must be well. at this point in his meditation he found himself at the foot of the steps leading to the verandah of his home. from the low point of land where he stood he could see both branches of the river. the main branch of the pantai was lost in complete darkness, for the fire at the rajah's had gone out altogether; but up the sambir reach his eye could follow the long line of malay houses crowding the bank, with here and there a dim light twinkling through bamboo walls, or a smoky torch burning on the platforms built out over the river. further away, where the island ended in a low cliff, rose a dark mass of buildings towering above the malay structures. founded solidly on a firm ground with plenty of space, starred by many lights burning strong and white, with a suggestion of paraffin and lamp- glasses, stood the house and the godowns of abdulla bin selim, the great trader of sambir. to almayer the sight was very distasteful, and he shook his fist towards the buildings that in their evident prosperity looked to him cold and insolent, and contemptuous of his own fallen fortunes. he mounted the steps of his house slowly. in the middle of the verandah there was a round table. on it a paraffin lamp without a globe shed a hard glare on the three inner sides. the fourth side was open, and faced the river. between the rough supports of the high-pitched roof hung torn rattan screens. there was no ceiling, and the harsh brilliance of the lamp was toned above into a soft half- light that lost itself in the obscurity amongst the rafters. the front wall was cut in two by the doorway of a central passage closed by a red curtain. the women's room opened into that passage, which led to the back courtyard and to the cooking shed. in one of the side walls there was a doorway. half obliterated words--"office: lingard and co."--were still legible on the dusty door, which looked as if it had not been opened for a very long time. close to the other side wall stood a bent- wood rocking-chair, and by the table and about the verandah four wooden armchairs straggled forlornly, as if ashamed of their shabby surroundings. a heap of common mats lay in one corner, with an old hammock slung diagonally above. in the other corner, his head wrapped in a piece of red calico, huddled into a shapeless heap, slept a malay, one of almayer's domestic slaves--"my own people," he used to call them. a numerous and representative assembly of moths were holding high revels round the lamp to the spirited music of swarming mosquitoes. under the palm-leaf thatch lizards raced on the beams calling softly. a monkey, chained to one of the verandah supports--retired for the night under the eaves--peered and grinned at almayer, as it swung to one of the bamboo roof sticks and caused a shower of dust and bits of dried leaves to settle on the shabby table. the floor was uneven, with many withered plants and dried earth scattered about. a general air of squalid neglect pervaded the place. great red stains on the floor and walls testified to frequent and indiscriminate betel-nut chewing. the light breeze from the river swayed gently the tattered blinds, sending from the woods opposite a faint and sickly perfume as of decaying flowers. under almayer's heavy tread the boards of the verandah creaked loudly. the sleeper in the corner moved uneasily, muttering indistinct words. there was a slight rustle behind the curtained doorway, and a soft voice asked in malay, "is it you, father?" "yes, nina. i am hungry. is everybody asleep in this house?" almayer spoke jovially and dropped with a contented sigh into the armchair nearest to the table. nina almayer came through the curtained doorway followed by an old malay woman, who busied herself in setting upon the table a plateful of rice and fish, a jar of water, and a bottle half full of genever. after carefully placing before her master a cracked glass tumbler and a tin spoon she went away noiselessly. nina stood by the table, one hand lightly resting on its edge, the other hanging listlessly by her side. her face turned towards the outer darkness, through which her dreamy eyes seemed to see some entrancing picture, wore a look of impatient expectancy. she was tall for a half- caste, with the correct profile of the father, modified and strengthened by the squareness of the lower part of the face inherited from her maternal ancestors--the sulu pirates. her firm mouth, with the lips slightly parted and disclosing a gleam of white teeth, put a vague suggestion of ferocity into the impatient expression of her features. and yet her dark and perfect eyes had all the tender softness of expression common to malay women, but with a gleam of superior intelligence; they looked gravely, wide open and steady, as if facing something invisible to all other eyes, while she stood there all in white, straight, flexible, graceful, unconscious of herself, her low but broad forehead crowned with a shining mass of long black hair that fell in heavy tresses over her shoulders, and made her pale olive complexion look paler still by the contrast of its coal-black hue. almayer attacked his rice greedily, but after a few mouthfuls he paused, spoon in hand, and looked at his daughter curiously. "did you hear a boat pass about half an hour ago nina?" he asked. the girl gave him a quick glance, and moving away from the light stood with her back to the table. "no," she said, slowly. "there was a boat. at last! dain himself; and he went on to lakamba. i know it, for he told me so. i spoke to him, but he would not come here to-night. will come to-morrow, he said." he swallowed another spoonful, then said-- "i am almost happy to-night, nina. i can see the end of a long road, and it leads us away from this miserable swamp. we shall soon get away from here, i and you, my dear little girl, and then--" he rose from the table and stood looking fixedly before him as if contemplating some enchanting vision. "and then," he went on, "we shall be happy, you and i. live rich and respected far from here, and forget this life, and all this struggle, and all this misery!" he approached his daughter and passed his hand caressingly over her hair. "it is bad to have to trust a malay," he said, "but i must own that this dain is a perfect gentleman--a perfect gentleman," he repeated. "did you ask him to come here, father?" inquired nina, not looking at him. "well, of course. we shall start on the day after to-morrow," said almayer, joyously. "we must not lose any time. are you glad, little girl?" she was nearly as tall as himself, but he liked to recall the time when she was little and they were all in all to each other. "i am glad," she said, very low. "of course," said almayer, vivaciously, "you cannot imagine what is before you. i myself have not been to europe, but i have heard my mother talk so often that i seem to know all about it. we shall live a--a glorious life. you shall see." again he stood silent by his daughter's side looking at that enchanting vision. after a while he shook his clenched hand towards the sleeping settlement. "ah! my friend abdulla," he cried, "we shall see who will have the best of it after all these years!" he looked up the river and remarked calmly: "another thunderstorm. well! no thunder will keep me awake to-night, i know! good-night, little girl," he whispered, tenderly kissing her cheek. "you do not seem to be very happy to-night, but to-morrow you will show a brighter face. eh?" nina had listened to her father with her face unmoved, with her half-closed eyes still gazing into the night now made more intense by a heavy thunder-cloud that had crept down from the hills blotting out the stars, merging sky, forest, and river into one mass of almost palpable blackness. the faint breeze had died out, but the distant rumble of thunder and pale flashes of lightning gave warning of the approaching storm. with a sigh the girl turned towards the table. almayer was in his hammock now, already half asleep. "take the lamp, nina," he muttered, drowsily. "this place is full of mosquitoes. go to sleep, daughter." but nina put the lamp out and turned back again towards the balustrade of the verandah, standing with her arm round the wooden support and looking eagerly towards the pantai reach. and motionless there in the oppressive calm of the tropical night she could see at each flash of lightning the forest lining both banks up the river, bending before the furious blast of the coming tempest, the upper reach of the river whipped into white foam by the wind, and the black clouds torn into fantastic shapes trailing low over the swaying trees. round her all was as yet stillness and peace, but she could hear afar off the roar of the wind, the hiss of heavy rain, the wash of the waves on the tormented river. it came nearer and nearer, with loud thunder-claps and long flashes of vivid lightning, followed by short periods of appalling blackness. when the storm reached the low point dividing the river, the house shook in the wind, and the rain pattered loudly on the palm-leaf roof, the thunder spoke in one prolonged roll, and the incessant lightning disclosed a turmoil of leaping waters, driving logs, and the big trees bending before a brutal and merciless force. undisturbed by the nightly event of the rainy monsoon, the father slept quietly, oblivious alike of his hopes, his misfortunes, his friends, and his enemies; and the daughter stood motionless, at each flash of lightning eagerly scanning the broad river with a steady and anxious gaze. chapter ii. when, in compliance with lingard's abrupt demand, almayer consented to wed the malay girl, no one knew that on the day when the interesting young convert had lost all her natural relations and found a white father, she had been fighting desperately like the rest of them on board the prau, and was only prevented from leaping overboard, like the few other survivors, by a severe wound in the leg. there, on the fore-deck of the prau, old lingard found her under a heap of dead and dying pirates, and had her carried on the poop of the _flash_ before the malay craft was set on fire and sent adrift. she was conscious, and in the great peace and stillness of the tropical evening succeeding the turmoil of the battle, she watched all she held dear on earth after her own savage manner, drift away into the gloom in a great roar of flame and smoke. she lay there unheeding the careful hands attending to her wound, silent and absorbed in gazing at the funeral pile of those brave men she had so much admired and so well helped in their contest with the redoubtable "rajah-laut." * * * * * the light night breeze fanned the brig gently to the southward, and the great blaze of light got smaller and smaller till it twinkled only on the horizon like a setting star. it set: the heavy canopy of smoke reflected the glare of hidden flames for a short time and then disappeared also. she realised that with this vanishing gleam her old life departed too. thenceforth there was slavery in the far countries, amongst strangers, in unknown and perhaps terrible surroundings. being fourteen years old, she realised her position and came to that conclusion, the only one possible to a malay girl, soon ripened under a tropical sun, and not unaware of her personal charms, of which she heard many a young brave warrior of her father's crew express an appreciative admiration. there was in her the dread of the unknown; otherwise she accepted her position calmly, after the manner of her people, and even considered it quite natural; for was she not a daughter of warriors, conquered in battle, and did she not belong rightfully to the victorious rajah? even the evident kindness of the terrible old man must spring, she thought, from admiration for his captive, and the flattered vanity eased for her the pangs of sorrow after such an awful calamity. perhaps had she known of the high walls, the quiet gardens, and the silent nuns of the samarang convent, where her destiny was leading her, she would have sought death in her dread and hate of such a restraint. but in imagination she pictured to herself the usual life of a malay girl--the usual succession of heavy work and fierce love, of intrigues, gold ornaments, of domestic drudgery, and of that great but occult influence which is one of the few rights of half-savage womankind. but her destiny in the rough hands of the old sea-dog, acting under unreasoning impulses of the heart, took a strange and to her a terrible shape. she bore it all--the restraint and the teaching and the new faith--with calm submission, concealing her hate and contempt for all that new life. she learned the language very easily, yet understood but little of the new faith the good sisters taught her, assimilating quickly only the superstitious elements of the religion. she called lingard father, gently and caressingly, at each of his short and noisy visits, under the clear impression that he was a great and dangerous power it was good to propitiate. was he not now her master? and during those long four years she nourished a hope of finding favour in his eyes and ultimately becoming his wife, counsellor, and guide. those dreams of the future were dispelled by the rajah laut's "fiat," which made almayer's fortune, as that young man fondly hoped. and dressed in the hateful finery of europe, the centre of an interested circle of batavian society, the young convert stood before the altar with an unknown and sulky-looking white man. for almayer was uneasy, a little disgusted, and greatly inclined to run away. a judicious fear of the adopted father-in-law and a just regard for his own material welfare prevented him from making a scandal; yet, while swearing fidelity, he was concocting plans for getting rid of the pretty malay girl in a more or less distant future. she, however, had retained enough of conventual teaching to understand well that according to white men's laws she was going to be almayer's companion and not his slave, and promised to herself to act accordingly. so when the _flash_ freighted with materials for building a new house left the harbour of batavia, taking away the young couple into the unknown borneo, she did not carry on her deck so much love and happiness as old lingard was wont to boast of before his casual friends in the verandahs of various hotels. the old seaman himself was perfectly happy. now he had done his duty by the girl. "you know i made her an orphan," he often concluded solemnly, when talking about his own affairs to a scratch audience of shore loafers--as it was his habit to do. and the approbative shouts of his half-intoxicated auditors filled his simple soul with delight and pride. "i carry everything right through," was another of his sayings, and in pursuance of that principle he pushed the building of house and godowns on the pantai river with feverish haste. the house for the young couple; the godowns for the big trade almayer was going to develop while he (lingard) would be able to give himself up to some mysterious work which was only spoken of in hints, but was understood to relate to gold and diamonds in the interior of the island. almayer was impatient too. had he known what was before him he might not have been so eager and full of hope as he stood watching the last canoe of the lingard expedition disappear in the bend up the river. when, turning round, he beheld the pretty little house, the big godowns built neatly by an army of chinese carpenters, the new jetty round which were clustered the trading canoes, he felt a sudden elation in the thought that the world was his. but the world had to be conquered first, and its conquest was not so easy as he thought. he was very soon made to understand that he was not wanted in that corner of it where old lingard and his own weak will placed him, in the midst of unscrupulous intrigues and of a fierce trade competition. the arabs had found out the river, had established a trading post in sambir, and where they traded they would be masters and suffer no rival. lingard returned unsuccessful from his first expedition, and departed again spending all the profits of the legitimate trade on his mysterious journeys. almayer struggled with the difficulties of his position, friendless and unaided, save for the protection given to him for lingard's sake by the old rajah, the predecessor of lakamba. lakamba himself, then living as a private individual on a rice clearing, seven miles down the river, exercised all his influence towards the help of the white man's enemies, plotting against the old rajah and almayer with a certainty of combination, pointing clearly to a profound knowledge of their most secret affairs. outwardly friendly, his portly form was often to be seen on almayer's verandah; his green turban and gold-embroidered jacket shone in the front rank of the decorous throng of malays coming to greet lingard on his returns from the interior; his salaams were of the lowest, and his hand- shakings of the heartiest, when welcoming the old trader. but his small eyes took in the signs of the times, and he departed from those interviews with a satisfied and furtive smile to hold long consultations with his friend and ally, syed abdulla, the chief of the arab trading post, a man of great wealth and of great influence in the islands. it was currently believed at that time in the settlement that lakamba's visits to almayer's house were not limited to those official interviews. often on moonlight nights the belated fishermen of sambira saw a small canoe shooting out from the narrow creek at the back of the white man's house, and the solitary occupant paddle cautiously down the river in the deep shadows of the bank; and those events, duly reported, were discussed round the evening fires far into the night with the cynicism of expression common to aristocratic malays, and with a malicious pleasure in the domestic misfortunes of the orang blando--the hated dutchman. almayer went on struggling desperately, but with a feebleness of purpose depriving him of all chance of success against men so unscrupulous and resolute as his rivals the arabs. the trade fell away from the large godowns, and the godowns themselves rotted piecemeal. the old man's banker, hudig of macassar, failed, and with this went the whole available capital. the profits of past years had been swallowed up in lingard's exploring craze. lingard was in the interior--perhaps dead--at all events giving no sign of life. almayer stood alone in the midst of those adverse circumstances, deriving only a little comfort from the companionship of his little daughter, born two years after the marriage, and at the time some six years old. his wife had soon commenced to treat him with a savage contempt expressed by sulky silence, only occasionally varied by a flood of savage invective. he felt she hated him, and saw her jealous eyes watching himself and the child with almost an expression of hate. she was jealous of the little girl's evident preference for the father, and almayer felt he was not safe with that woman in the house. while she was burning the furniture, and tearing down the pretty curtains in her unreasoning hate of those signs of civilisation, almayer, cowed by these outbursts of savage nature, meditated in silence on the best way of getting rid of her. he thought of everything; even planned murder in an undecided and feeble sort of way, but dared do nothing--expecting every day the return of lingard with news of some immense good fortune. he returned indeed, but aged, ill, a ghost of his former self, with the fire of fever burning in his sunken eyes, almost the only survivor of the numerous expedition. but he was successful at last! untold riches were in his grasp; he wanted more money--only a little more torealise a dream of fabulous fortune. and hudig had failed! almayer scraped all he could together, but the old man wanted more. if almayer could not get it he would go to singapore--to europe even, but before all to singapore; and he would take the little nina with him. the child must be brought up decently. he had good friends in singapore who would take care of her and have her taught properly. all would be well, and that girl, upon whom the old seaman seemed to have transferred all his former affection for the mother, would be the richest woman in the east--in the world even. so old lingard shouted, pacing the verandah with his heavy quarter- deck step, gesticulating with a smouldering cheroot; ragged, dishevelled, enthusiastic; and almayer, sitting huddled up on a pile of mats, thought with dread of the separation with the only human being he loved--with greater dread still, perhaps, of the scene with his wife, the savage tigress deprived of her young. she will poison me, thought the poor wretch, well aware of that easy and final manner of solving the social, political, or family problems in malay life. to his great surprise she took the news very quietly, giving only him and lingard a furtive glance, and saying not a word. this, however, did not prevent her the next day from jumping into the river and swimming after the boat in which lingard was carrying away the nurse with the screaming child. almayer had to give chase with his whale-boat and drag her in by the hair in the midst of cries and curses enough to make heaven fall. yet after two days spent in wailing, she returned to her former mode of life, chewing betel-nut, and sitting all day amongst her women in stupefied idleness. she aged very rapidly after that, and only roused herself from her apathy to acknowledge by a scathing remark or an insulting exclamation the accidental presence of her husband. he had built for her a riverside hut in the compound where she dwelt in perfect seclusion. lakamba's visits had ceased when, by a convenient decree of providence and the help of a little scientific manipulation, the old ruler of sambir departed this life. lakamba reigned in his stead now, having been well served by his arab friends with the dutch authorities. syed abdulla was the great man and trader of the pantai. almayer lay ruined and helpless under the close-meshed net of their intrigues, owing his life only to his supposed knowledge of lingard's valuable secret. lingard had disappeared. he wrote once from singapore saying the child was well, and under the care of a mrs. vinck, and that he himself was going to europe to raise money for the great enterprise. "he was coming back soon. there would be no difficulties," he wrote; "people would rush in with their money." evidently they did not, for there was only one letter more from him saying he was ill, had found no relation living, but little else besides. then came a complete silence. europe had swallowed up the rajah laut apparently, and almayer looked vainly westward for a ray of light out of the gloom of his shattered hopes. years passed, and the rare letters from mrs. vinck, later on from the girl herself, were the only thing to be looked to to make life bearable amongst the triumphant savagery of the river. almayer lived now alone, having even ceased to visit his debtors who would not pay, sure of lakamba's protection. the faithful sumatrese ali cooked his rice and made his coffee, for he dared not trust any one else, and least of all his wife. he killed time wandering sadly in the overgrown paths round the house, visiting the ruined godowns where a few brass guns covered with verdigris and only a few broken cases of mouldering manchester goods reminded him of the good early times when all this was full of life and merchandise, and he overlooked a busy scene on the river bank, his little daughter by his side. now the up-country canoes glided past the little rotten wharf of lingard and co., to paddle up the pantai branch, and cluster round the new jetty belonging to abdulla. not that they loved abdulla, but they dared not trade with the man whose star had set. had they done so they knew there was no mercy to be expected from arab or rajah; no rice to be got on credit in the times of scarcity from either; and almayer could not help them, having at times hardly enough for himself. almayer, in his isolation and despair, often envied his near neighbour the chinaman, jim- eng, whom he could see stretched on a pile of cool mats, a wooden pillow under his head, an opium pipe in his nerveless fingers. he did not seek, however, consolation in opium--perhaps it was too expensive--perhaps his white man's pride saved him from that degradation; but most likely it was the thought of his little daughter in the far-off straits settlements. he heard from her oftener since abdulla bought a steamer, which ran now between singapore and the pantai settlement every three months or so. almayer felt himself nearer his daughter. he longed to see her, and planned a voyage to singapore, but put off his departure from year to year, always expecting some favourable turn of fortune. he did not want to meet her with empty hands and with no words of hope on his lips. he could not take her back into that savage life to which he was condemned himself. he was also a little afraid of her. what would she think of him? he reckoned the years. a grown woman. a civilised woman, young and hopeful; while he felt old and hopeless, and very much like those savages round him. he asked himself what was going to be her future. he could not answer that question yet, and he dared not face her. and yet he longed after her. he hesitated for years. his hesitation was put an end to by nina's unexpected appearance in sambir. she arrived in the steamer under the captain's care. almayer beheld her with surprise not unmixed with wonder. during those ten years the child had changed into a woman, black-haired, olive-skinned, tall, and beautiful, with great sad eyes, where the startled expression common to malay womankind was modified by a thoughtful tinge inherited from her european ancestry. almayer thought with dismay of the meeting of his wife and daughter, of what this grave girl in european clothes would think of her betel-nut chewing mother, squatting in a dark hut, disorderly, half naked, and sulky. he also feared an outbreak of temper on the part of that pest of a woman he had hitherto managed to keep tolerably quiet, thereby saving the remnants of his dilapidated furniture. and he stood there before the closed door of the hut in the blazing sunshine listening to the murmur of voices, wondering what went on inside, wherefrom all the servant-maids had been expelled at the beginning of the interview, and now stood clustered by the palings with half-covered faces in a chatter of curious speculation. he forgot himself there trying to catch a stray word through the bamboo walls, till the captain of the steamer, who had walked up with the girl, fearing a sunstroke, took him under the arm and led him into the shade of his own verandah: where nina's trunk stood already, having been landed by the steamer's men. as soon as captain ford had his glass before him and his cheroot lighted, almayer asked for the explanation of his daughter's unexpected arrival. ford said little beyond generalising in vague but violent terms upon the foolishness of women in general, and of mrs. vinck in particular. "you know, kaspar," said he, in conclusion, to the excited almayer, "it is deucedly awkward to have a half-caste girl in the house. there's such a lot of fools about. there was that young fellow from the bank who used to ride to the vinck bungalow early and late. that old woman thought it was for that emma of hers. when she found out what he wanted exactly, there was a row, i can tell you. she would not have nina--not an hour longer--in the house. fact is, i heard of this affair and took the girl to my wife. my wife is a pretty good woman--as women go--and upon my word we would have kept the girl for you, only she would not stay. now, then! don't flare up, kaspar. sit still. what can you do? it is better so. let her stay with you. she was never happy over there. those two vinck girls are no better than dressed-up monkeys. they slighted her. you can't make her white. it's no use you swearing at me. you can't. she is a good girl for all that, but she would not tell my wife anything. if you want to know, ask her yourself; but if i was you i would leave her alone. you are welcome to her passage money, old fellow, if you are short now." and the skipper, throwing away his cigar, walked off to "wake them up on board," as he expressed it. almayer vainly expected to hear of the cause of his daughter's return from his daughter's lips. not that day, not on any other day did she ever allude to her singapore life. he did not care to ask, awed by the calm impassiveness of her face, by those solemn eyes looking past him on the great, still forests sleeping in majestic repose to the murmur of the broad river. he accepted the situation, happy in the gentle and protecting affection the girl showed him, fitfully enough, for she had, as she called it, her bad days when she used to visit her mother and remain long hours in the riverside hut, coming out as inscrutable as ever, but with a contemptuous look and a short word ready to answer any of his speeches. he got used even to that, and on those days kept quiet, although greatly alarmed by his wife's influence upon the girl. otherwise nina adapted herself wonderfully to the circumstances of a half-savage and miserable life. she accepted without question or apparent disgust the neglect, the decay, the poverty of the household, the absence of furniture, and the preponderance of rice diet on the family table. she lived with almayer in the little house (now sadly decaying) built originally by lingard for the young couple. the malays eagerly discussed her arrival. there were at the beginning crowded levees of malay women with their children, seeking eagerly after "ubat" for all the ills of the flesh from the young mem putih. in the cool of the evening grave arabs in long white shirts and yellow sleeveless jackets walked slowly on the dusty path by the riverside towards almayer's gate, and made solemn calls upon that unbeliever under shallow pretences of business, only to get a glimpse of the young girl in a highly decorous manner. even lakamba came out of his stockade in a great pomp of war canoes and red umbrellas, and landed on the rotten little jetty of lingard and co. he came, he said, to buy a couple of brass guns as a present to his friend the chief of sambir dyaks; and while almayer, suspicious but polite, busied himself in unearthing the old popguns in the godowns, the rajah sat on an armchair in the verandah, surrounded by his respectful retinue waiting in vain for nina's appearance. she was in one of her bad days, and remained in her mother's hut watching with her the ceremonious proceedings on the verandah. the rajah departed, baffled but courteous, and soon almayer began to reap the benefit of improved relations with the ruler in the shape of the recovery of some debts, paid to him with many apologies and many a low salaam by debtors till then considered hopelessly insolvent. under these improving circumstances almayer brightened up a little. all was not lost perhaps. those arabs and malays saw at last that he was a man of some ability, he thought. and he began, after his manner, to plan great things, to dream of great fortunes for himself and nina. especially for nina! under these vivifying impulses he asked captain ford to write to his friends in england making inquiries after lingard. was he alive or dead? if dead, had he left any papers, documents; any indications or hints as to his great enterprise? meantime he had found amongst the rubbish in one of the empty rooms a note-book belonging to the old adventurer. he studied the crabbed handwriting of its pages and often grew meditative over it. other things also woke him up from his apathy. the stir made in the whole of the island by the establishment of the british borneo company affected even the sluggish flow of the pantai life. great changes were expected; annexation was talked of; the arabs grew civil. almayer began building his new house for the use of the future engineers, agents, or settlers of the new company. he spent every available guilder on it with a confiding heart. one thing only disturbed his happiness: his wife came out of her seclusion, importing her green jacket, scant sarongs, shrill voice, and witch-like appearance, into his quiet life in the small bungalow. and his daughter seemed to accept that savage intrusion into their daily existence with wonderful equanimity. he did not like it, but dared say nothing. chapter iii. the deliberations conducted in london have a far-reaching importance, and so the decision issued from the fog-veiled offices of the borneo company darkened for almayer the brilliant sunshine of the tropics, and added another drop of bitterness to the cup of his disenchantments. the claim to that part of the east coast was abandoned, leaving the pantai river under the nominal power of holland. in sambir there was joy and excitement. the slaves were hurried out of sight into the forest and jungle, and the flags were run up to tall poles in the rajah's compound in expectation of a visit from dutch man-of-war boats. the frigate remained anchored outside the mouth of the river, and the boats came up in tow of the steam launch, threading their way cautiously amongst a crowd of canoes filled with gaily dressed malays. the officer in command listened gravely to the loyal speeches of lakamba, returned the salaams of abdulla, and assured those gentlemen in choice malay of the great rajah's--down in batavia--friendship and goodwill towards the ruler and inhabitants of this model state of sambir. almayer from his verandah watched across the river the festive proceedings, heard the report of brass guns saluting the new flag presented to lakamba, and the deep murmur of the crowd of spectators surging round the stockade. the smoke of the firing rose in white clouds on the green background of the forests, and he could not help comparing his own fleeting hopes to the rapidly disappearing vapour. he was by no means patriotically elated by the event, yet he had to force himself into a gracious behaviour when, the official reception being over, the naval officers of the commission crossed the river to pay a visit to the solitary white man of whom they had heard, no doubt wishing also to catch a glimpse of his daughter. in that they were disappointed, nina refusing to show herself; but they seemed easily consoled by the gin and cheroots set before them by the hospitable almayer; and sprawling comfortably on the lame armchairs under the shade of the verandah, while the blazing sunshine outside seemed to set the great river simmering in the heat, they filled the little bungalow with the unusual sounds of european languages, with noise and laughter produced by naval witticisms at the expense of the fat lakamba whom they had been complimenting so much that very morning. the younger men in an access of good fellowship made their host talk, and almayer, excited by the sight of european faces, by the sound of european voices, opened his heart before the sympathising strangers, unaware of the amusement the recital of his many misfortunes caused to those future admirals. they drank his health, wished him many big diamonds and a mountain of gold, expressed even an envy of the high destinies awaiting him yet. encouraged by so much friendliness, the grey- headed and foolish dreamer invited his guests to visit his new house. they went there through the long grass in a straggling procession while their boats were got ready for the return down the river in the cool of the evening. and in the great empty rooms where the tepid wind entering through the sashless windows whirled gently the dried leaves and the dust of many days of neglect, almayer in his white jacket and flowered sarong, surrounded by a circle of glittering uniforms, stamped his foot to show the solidity of the neatly-fitting floors and expatiated upon the beauties and convenience of the building. they listened and assented, amazed by the wonderful simplicity and the foolish hopefulness of the man, till almayer, carried away by his excitement, disclosed his regret at the non-arrival of the english, "who knew how to develop a rich country," as he expressed it. there was a general laugh amongst the dutch officers at that unsophisticated statement, and a move was made towards the boats; but when almayer, stepping cautiously on the rotten boards of the lingard jetty, tried to approach the chief of the commission with some timid hints anent the protection required by the dutch subject against the wily arabs, that salt water diplomat told him significantly that the arabs were better subjects than hollanders who dealt illegally in gunpowder with the malays. the innocent almayer recognised there at once the oily tongue of abdulla and the solemn persuasiveness of lakamba, but ere he had time to frame an indignant protest the steam launch and the string of boats moved rapidly down the river leaving him on the jetty, standing open-mouthed in his surprise and anger. there are thirty miles of river from sambir to the gem-like islands of the estuary where the frigate was awaiting the return of the boats. the moon rose long before the boats had traversed half that distance, and the black forest sleeping peacefully under her cold rays woke up that night to the ringing laughter in the small flotilla provoked by some reminiscence of almayer's lamentable narrative. salt-water jests at the poor man's expense were passed from boat to boat, the non-appearance of his daughter was commented upon with severe displeasure, and the half-finished house built for the reception of englishmen received on that joyous night the name of "almayer's folly" by the unanimous vote of the lighthearted seamen. for many weeks after this visit life in sambir resumed its even and uneventful flow. each day's sun shooting its morning rays above the tree- tops lit up the usual scene of daily activity. nina walking on the path that formed the only street in the settlement saw the accustomed sight of men lolling on the shady side of the houses, on the high platforms; of women busily engaged in husking the daily rice; of naked brown children racing along the shady and narrow paths leading to the clearings. jim- eng, strolling before his house, greeted her with a friendly nod before climbing up indoors to seek his beloved opium pipe. the elder children clustered round her, daring from long acquaintance, pulling the skirts of her white robe with their dark fingers, and showing their brilliant teeth in expectation of a shower of glass beads. she greeted them with a quiet smile, but always had a few friendly words for a siamese girl, a slave owned by bulangi, whose numerous wives were said to be of a violent temper. well-founded rumour said also that the domestic squabbles of that industrious cultivator ended generally in a combined assault of all his wives upon the siamese slave. the girl herself never complained--perhaps from dictates of prudence, but more likely through the strange, resigned apathy of half-savage womankind. from early morning she was to be seen on the paths amongst the houses--by the riverside or on the jetties, the tray of pastry, it was her mission to sell, skilfully balanced on her head. during the great heat of the day she usually sought refuge in almayer's campong, often finding shelter in a shady corner of the verandah, where she squatted with her tray before her, when invited by nina. for "mem putih" she had always a smile, but the presence of mrs. almayer, the very sound of her shrill voice, was the signal for a hurried departure. to this girl nina often spoke; the other inhabitants of sambir seldom or never heard the sound of her voice. they got used to the silent figure moving in their midst calm and white-robed, a being from another world and incomprehensible to them. yet nina's life for all her outward composure, for all the seeming detachment from the things and people surrounding her, was far from quiet, in consequence of mrs. almayer being much too active for the happiness and even safety of the household. she had resumed some intercourse with lakamba, not personally, it is true (for the dignity of that potentate kept him inside his stockade), but through the agency of that potentate's prime minister, harbour master, financial adviser, and general factotum. that gentleman--of sulu origin--was certainly endowed with statesmanlike qualities, although he was totally devoid of personal charms. in truth he was perfectly repulsive, possessing only one eye and a pockmarked face, with nose and lips horribly disfigured by the small-pox. this unengaging individual often strolled into almayer's garden in unofficial costume, composed of a piece of pink calico round his waist. there at the back of the house, squatting on his heels on scattered embers, in close proximity to the great iron boiler, where the family daily rice was being cooked by the women under mrs. almayer's superintendence, did that astute negotiator carry on long conversations in sulu language with almayer's wife. what the subject of their discourses was might have been guessed from the subsequent domestic scenes by almayer's hearthstone. of late almayer had taken to excursions up the river. in a small canoe with two paddlers and the faithful ali for a steersman he would disappear for a few days at a time. all his movements were no doubt closely watched by lakamba and abdulla, for the man once in the confidence of rajah laut was supposed to be in possession of valuable secrets. the coast population of borneo believes implicitly in diamonds of fabulous value, in gold mines of enormous richness in the interior. and all those imaginings are heightened by the difficulty of penetrating far inland, especially on the north-east coast, where the malays and the river tribes of dyaks or head-hunters are eternally quarrelling. it is true enough that some gold reaches the coast in the hands of those dyaks when, during short periods of truce in the desultory warfare, they visit the coast settlements of malays. and so the wildest exaggerations are built up and added to on the slight basis of that fact. almayer in his quality of white man--as lingard before him--had somewhat better relations with the up-river tribes. yet even his excursions were not without danger, and his returns were eagerly looked for by the impatient lakamba. but every time the rajah was disappointed. vain were the conferences by the rice-pot of his factotum babalatchi with the white man's wife. the white man himself was impenetrable--impenetrable to persuasion, coaxing, abuse; to soft words and shrill revilings; to desperate beseechings or murderous threats; for mrs. almayer, in her extreme desire to persuade her husband into an alliance with lakamba, played upon the whole gamut of passion. with her soiled robe wound tightly under the armpits across her lean bosom, her scant grayish hair tumbled in disorder over her projecting cheek-bones, in suppliant attitude, she depicted with shrill volubility the advantages of close union with a man so good and so fair dealing. "why don't you go to the rajah?" she screamed. "why do you go back to those dyaks in the great forest? they should be killed. you cannot kill them, you cannot; but our rajah's men are brave! you tell the rajah where the old white man's treasure is. our rajah is good! he is our very grandfather, datu besar! he will kill those wretched dyaks, and you shall have half the treasure. oh, kaspar, tell where the treasure is! tell me! tell me out of the old man's surat where you read so often at night." on those occasions almayer sat with rounded shoulders bending to the blast of this domestic tempest, accentuating only each pause in the torrent of his wife's eloquence by an angry growl, "there is no treasure! go away, woman!" exasperated by the sight of his patiently bent back, she would at last walk round so as to face him across the table, and clasping her robe with one hand she stretched the other lean arm and claw- like hand to emphasise, in a passion of anger and contempt, the rapid rush of scathing remarks and bitter cursings heaped on the head of the man unworthy to associate with brave malay chiefs. it ended generally by almayer rising slowly, his long pipe in hand, his face set into a look of inward pain, and walking away in silence. he descended the steps and plunged into the long grass on his way to the solitude of his new house, dragging his feet in a state of physical collapse from disgust and fear before that fury. she followed to the head of the steps, and sent the shafts of indiscriminate abuse after the retreating form. and each of those scenes was concluded by a piercing shriek, reaching him far away. "you know, kaspar, i am your wife! your own christian wife after your own blanda law!" for she knew that this was the bitterest thing of all; the greatest regret of that man's life. all these scenes nina witnessed unmoved. she might have been deaf, dumb, without any feeling as far as any expression of opinion went. yet oft when her father had sought the refuge of the great dusty rooms of "almayer's folly," and her mother, exhausted by rhetorical efforts, squatted wearily on her heels with her back against the leg of the table, nina would approach her curiously, guarding her skirts from betel juice besprinkling the floor, and gaze down upon her as one might look into the quiescent crater of a volcano after a destructive eruption. mrs. almayer's thoughts, after these scenes, were usually turned into a channel of childhood reminiscences, and she gave them utterance in a kind of monotonous recitative--slightly disconnected, but generally describing the glories of the sultan of sulu, his great splendour, his power, his great prowess; the fear which benumbed the hearts of white men at the sight of his swift piratical praus. and these muttered statements of her grandfather's might were mixed up with bits of later recollections, where the great fight with the "white devil's" brig and the convent life in samarang occupied the principal place. at that point she usually dropped the thread of her narrative, and pulling out the little brass cross, always suspended round her neck, she contemplated it with superstitious awe. that superstitious feeling connected with some vague talismanic properties of the little bit of metal, and the still more hazy but terrible notion of some bad djinns and horrible torments invented, as she thought, for her especial punishment by the good mother superior in case of the loss of the above charm, were mrs. almayer's only theological luggage for the stormy road of life. mrs. almayer had at least something tangible to cling to, but nina, brought up under the protestant wing of the proper mrs. vinck, had not even a little piece of brass to remind her of past teaching. and listening to the recital of those savage glories, those barbarous fights and savage feasting, to the story of deeds valorous, albeit somewhat bloodthirsty, where men of her mother's race shone far above the orang blanda, she felt herself irresistibly fascinated, and saw with vague surprise the narrow mantle of civilised morality, in which good-meaning people had wrapped her young soul, fall away and leave her shivering and helpless as if on the edge of some deep and unknown abyss. strangest of all, this abyss did not frighten her when she was under the influence of the witch-like being she called her mother. she seemed to have forgotten in civilised surroundings her life before the time when lingard had, so to speak, kidnapped her from brow. since then she had had christian teaching, social education, and a good glimpse of civilised life. unfortunately her teachers did not understand her nature, and the education ended in a scene of humiliation, in an outburst of contempt from white people for her mixed blood. she had tasted the whole bitterness of it and remembered distinctly that the virtuous mrs. vinck's indignation was not so much directed against the young man from the bank as against the innocent cause of that young man's infatuation. and there was also no doubt in her mind that the principal cause of mrs. vinck's indignation was the thought that such a thing should happen in a white nest, where her snow-white doves, the two misses vinck, had just returned from europe, to find shelter under the maternal wing, and there await the coming of irreproachable men of their destiny. not even the thought of the money so painfully scraped together by almayer, and so punctually sent for nina's expenses, could dissuade mrs. vinck from her virtuous resolve. nina was sent away, and in truth the girl herself wanted to go, although a little frightened by the impending change. and now she had lived on the river for three years with a savage mother and a father walking about amongst pitfalls, with his head in the clouds, weak, irresolute, and unhappy. she had lived a life devoid of all the decencies of civilisation, in miserable domestic conditions; she had breathed in the atmosphere of sordid plottings for gain, of the no less disgusting intrigues and crimes for lust or money; and those things, together with the domestic quarrels, were the only events of her three years' existence. she did not die from despair and disgust the first month, as she expected and almost hoped for. on the contrary, at the end of half a year it had seemed to her that she had known no other life. her young mind having been unskilfully permitted to glance at better things, and then thrown back again into the hopeless quagmire of barbarism, full of strong and uncontrolled passions, had lost the power to discriminate. it seemed to nina that there was no change and no difference. whether they traded in brick godowns or on the muddy river bank; whether they reached after much or little; whether they made love under the shadows of the great trees or in the shadow of the cathedral on the singapore promenade; whether they plotted for their own ends under the protection of laws and according to the rules of christian conduct, or whether they sought the gratification of their desires with the savage cunning and the unrestrained fierceness of natures as innocent of culture as their own immense and gloomy forests, nina saw only the same manifestations of love and hate and of sordid greed chasing the uncertain dollar in all its multifarious and vanishing shapes. to her resolute nature, however, after all these years, the savage and uncompromising sincerity of purpose shown by her malay kinsmen seemed at last preferable to the sleek hypocrisy, to the polite disguises, to the virtuous pretences of such white people as she had had the misfortune to come in contact with. after all it was her life; it was going to be her life, and so thinking she fell more and more under the influence of her mother. seeking, in her ignorance, a better side to that life, she listened with avidity to the old woman's tales of the departed glories of the rajahs, from whose race she had sprung, and she became gradually more indifferent, more contemptuous of the white side of her descent represented by a feeble and traditionless father. almayer's difficulties were by no means diminished by the girl's presence in sambir. the stir caused by her arrival had died out, it is true, and lakamba had not renewed his visits; but about a year after the departure of the man-of-war boats the nephew of abdulla, syed reshid, returned from his pilgrimage to mecca, rejoicing in a green jacket and the proud title of hadji. there was a great letting off of rockets on board the steamer which brought him in, and a great beating of drums all night in abdulla's compound, while the feast of welcome was prolonged far into the small hours of the morning. reshid was the favourite nephew and heir of abdulla, and that loving uncle, meeting almayer one day by the riverside, stopped politely to exchange civilities and to ask solemnly for an interview. almayer suspected some attempt at a swindle, or at any rate something unpleasant, but of course consented with a great show of rejoicing. accordingly the next evening, after sunset, abdulla came, accompanied by several other grey-beards and by his nephew. that young man--of a very rakish and dissipated appearance--affected the greatest indifference as to the whole of the proceedings. when the torch-bearers had grouped themselves below the steps, and the visitors had seated themselves on various lame chairs, reshid stood apart in the shadow, examining his aristocratically small hands with great attention. almayer, surprised by the great solemnity of his visitors, perched himself on the corner of the table with a characteristic want of dignity quickly noted by the arabs with grave disapproval. but abdulla spoke now, looking straight past almayer at the red curtain hanging in the doorway, where a slight tremor disclosed the presence of women on the other side. he began by neatly complimenting almayer upon the long years they had dwelt together in cordial neighbourhood, and called upon allah to give him many more years to gladden the eyes of his friends by his welcome presence. he made a polite allusion to the great consideration shown him (almayer) by the dutch "commissie," and drew thence the flattering inference of almayer's great importance amongst his own people. he--abdulla--was also important amongst all the arabs, and his nephew reshid would be heir of that social position and of great riches. now reshid was a hadji. he was possessor of several malay women, went on abdulla, but it was time he had a favourite wife, the first of the four allowed by the prophet. and, speaking with well-bred politeness, he explained further to the dumbfounded almayer that, if he would consent to the alliance of his offspring with that true believer and virtuous man reshid, she would be the mistress of all the splendours of reshid's house, and first wife of the first arab in the islands, when he--abdulla--was called to the joys of paradise by allah the all-merciful. "you know, tuan," he said, in conclusion, "the other women would be her slaves, and reshid's house is great. from bombay he has brought great divans, and costly carpets, and european furniture. there is also a great looking-glass in a frame shining like gold. what could a girl want more?" and while almayer looked upon him in silent dismay abdulla spoke in a more confidential tone, waving his attendants away, and finished his speech by pointing out the material advantages of such an alliance, and offering to settle upon almayer three thousand dollars as a sign of his sincere friendship and the price of the girl. poor almayer was nearly having a fit. burning with the desire of taking abdulla by the throat, he had but to think of his helpless position in the midst of lawless men to comprehend the necessity of diplomatic conciliation. he mastered his impulses, and spoke politely and coldly, saying the girl was young and as the apple of his eye. tuan reshid, a faithful and a hadji, would not want an infidel woman in his harem; and, seeing abdulla smile sceptically at that last objection, he remained silent, not trusting himself to speak more, not daring to refuse point- blank, nor yet to say anything compromising. abdulla understood the meaning of that silence, and rose to take leave with a grave salaam. he wished his friend almayer "a thousand years," and moved down the steps, helped dutifully by reshid. the torch-bearers shook their torches, scattering a shower of sparks into the river, and the cortege moved off, leaving almayer agitated but greatly relieved by their departure. he dropped into a chair and watched the glimmer of the lights amongst the tree trunks till they disappeared and complete silence succeeded the tramp of feet and the murmur of voices. he did not move till the curtain rustled and nina came out on the verandah and sat in the rocking-chair, where she used to spend many hours every day. she gave a slight rocking motion to her seat, leaning back with half-closed eyes, her long hair shading her face from the smoky light of the lamp on the table. almayer looked at her furtively, but the face was as impassible as ever. she turned her head slightly towards her father, and, speaking, to his great surprise, in english, asked-- "was that abdulla here?" "yes," said almayer--"just gone." "and what did he want, father?" "he wanted to buy you for reshid," answered almayer, brutally, his anger getting the better of him, and looking at the girl as if in expectation of some outbreak of feeling. but nina remained apparently unmoved, gazing dreamily into the black night outside. "be careful, nina," said almayer, after a short silence and rising from his chair, "when you go paddling alone into the creeks in your canoe. that reshid is a violent scoundrel, and there is no saying what he may do. do you hear me?" she was standing now, ready to go in, one hand grasping the curtain in the doorway. she turned round, throwing her heavy tresses back by a sudden gesture. "do you think he would dare?" she asked, quickly, and then turned again to go in, adding in a lower tone, "he would not dare. arabs are all cowards." almayer looked after her, astonished. he did not seek the repose of his hammock. he walked the floor absently, sometimes stopping by the balustrade to think. the lamp went out. the first streak of dawn broke over the forest; almayer shivered in the damp air. "i give it up," he muttered to himself, lying down wearily. "damn those women! well! if the girl did not look as if she wanted to be kidnapped!" and he felt a nameless fear creep into his heart, making him shiver again. chapter iv. that year, towards the breaking up of the south-west monsoon, disquieting rumours reached sambir. captain ford, coming up to almayer's house for an evening's chat, brought late numbers of the _straits times_ giving the news of acheen war and of the unsuccessful dutch expedition. the nakhodas of the rare trading praus ascending the river paid visits to lakamba, discussing with that potentate the unsettled state of affairs, and wagged their heads gravely over the recital of orang blanda exaction, severity, and general tyranny, as exemplified in the total stoppage of gunpowder trade and the rigorous visiting of all suspicious craft trading in the straits of macassar. even the loyal soul of lakamba was stirred into a state of inward discontent by the withdrawal of his license for powder and by the abrupt confiscation of one hundred and fifty barrels of that commodity by the gunboat _princess amelia_, when, after a hazardous voyage, it had almost reached the mouth of the river. the unpleasant news was given him by reshid, who, after the unsuccessful issue of his matrimonial projects, had made a long voyage amongst the islands for trading purposes; had bought the powder for his friend, and was overhauled and deprived of it on his return when actually congratulating himself on his acuteness in avoiding detection. reshid's wrath was principally directed against almayer, whom he suspected of having notified the dutch authorities of the desultory warfare carried on by the arabs and the rajah with the up-river dyak tribes. to reshid's great surprise the rajah received his complaints very coldly, and showed no signs of vengeful disposition towards the white man. in truth, lakamba knew very well that almayer was perfectly innocent of any meddling in state affairs; and besides, his attitude towards that much persecuted individual was wholly changed in consequence of a reconciliation effected between him and his old enemy by almayer's newly- found friend, dain maroola. almayer had now a friend. shortly after reshid's departure on his commercial journey, nina, drifting slowly with the tide in the canoe on her return home after one of her solitary excursions, heard in one of the small creeks a splashing, as if of heavy ropes dropping in the water, and the prolonged song of malay seamen when some heavy pulling is to be done. through the thick fringe of bushes hiding the mouth of the creek she saw the tall spars of some european-rigged sailing vessel overtopping the summits of the nipa palms. a brig was being hauled out of the small creek into the main stream. the sun had set, and during the short moments of twilight nina saw the brig, aided by the evening breeze and the flowing tide, head towards sambir under her set foresail. the girl turned her canoe out of the main river into one of the many narrow channels amongst the wooded islets, and paddled vigorously over the black and sleepy backwaters towards sambir. her canoe brushed the water-palms, skirted the short spaces of muddy bank where sedate alligators looked at her with lazy unconcern, and, just as darkness was setting in, shot out into the broad junction of the two main branches of the river, where the brig was already at anchor with sails furled, yards squared, and decks seemingly untenanted by any human being. nina had to cross the river and pass pretty close to the brig in order to reach home on the low promontory between the two branches of the pantai. up both branches, in the houses built on the banks and over the water, the lights twinkled already, reflected in the still waters below. the hum of voices, the occasional cry of a child, the rapid and abruptly interrupted roll of a wooden drum, together with some distant hailing in the darkness by the returning fishermen, reached her over the broad expanse of the river. she hesitated a little before crossing, the sight of such an unusual object as an european-rigged vessel causing her some uneasiness, but the river in its wide expansion was dark enough to render a small canoe invisible. she urged her small craft with swift strokes of her paddle, kneeling in the bottom and bending forward to catch any suspicious sound while she steered towards the little jetty of lingard and co., to which the strong light of the paraffin lamp shining on the whitewashed verandah of almayer's bungalow served as a convenient guide. the jetty itself, under the shadow of the bank overgrown by drooping bushes, was hidden in darkness. before even she could see it she heard the hollow bumping of a large boat against its rotten posts, and heard also the murmur of whispered conversation in that boat whose white paint and great dimensions, faintly visible on nearer approach, made her rightly guess that it belonged to the brig just anchored. stopping her course by a rapid motion of her paddle, with another swift stroke she sent it whirling away from the wharf and steered for a little rivulet which gave access to the back courtyard of the house. she landed at the muddy head of the creek and made her way towards the house over the trodden grass of the courtyard. to the left, from the cooking shed, shone a red glare through the banana plantation she skirted, and the noise of feminine laughter reached her from there in the silent evening. she rightly judged her mother was not near, laughter and mrs. almayer not being close neighbours. she must be in the house, thought nina, as she ran lightly up the inclined plane of shaky planks leading to the back door of the narrow passage dividing the house in two. outside the doorway, in the black shadow, stood the faithful ali. "who is there?" asked nina. "a great malay man has come," answered ali, in a tone of suppressed excitement. "he is a rich man. there are six men with lances. real soldat, you understand. and his dress is very brave. i have seen his dress. it shines! what jewels! don't go there, mem nina. tuan said not; but the old mem is gone. tuan will be angry. merciful allah! what jewels that man has got!" nina slipped past the outstretched hand of the slave into the dark passage where, in the crimson glow of the hanging curtain, close by its other end, she could see a small dark form crouching near the wall. her mother was feasting her eyes and ears with what was taking place on the front verandah, and nina approached to take her share in the rare pleasure of some novelty. she was met by her mother's extended arm and by a low murmured warning not to make a noise. "have you seen them, mother?" asked nina, in a breathless whisper. mrs. almayer turned her face towards the girl, and her sunken eyes shone strangely in the red half-light of the passage. "i saw him," she said, in an almost inaudible tone, pressing her daughter's hand with her bony fingers. "a great rajah has come to sambir--a son of heaven," muttered the old woman to herself. "go away, girl!" the two women stood close to the curtain, nina wishing to approach the rent in the stuff, and her mother defending the position with angry obstinacy. on the other side there was a lull in the conversation, but the breathing of several men, the occasional light tinkling of some ornaments, the clink of metal scabbards, or of brass siri-vessels passed from hand to hand, was audible during the short pause. the women struggled silently, when there was a shuffling noise and the shadow of almayer's burly form fell on the curtain. the women ceased struggling and remained motionless. almayer had stood up to answer his guest, turning his back to the doorway, unaware of what was going on on the other side. he spoke in a tone of regretful irritation. "you have come to the wrong house, tuan maroola, if you want to trade as you say. i was a trader once, not now, whatever you may have heard about me in macassar. and if you want anything, you will not find it here; i have nothing to give, and want nothing myself. you should go to the rajah here; you can see in the daytime his houses across the river, there, where those fires are burning on the shore. he will help you and trade with you. or, better still, go to the arabs over there," he went on bitterly, pointing with his hand towards the houses of sambir. "abdulla is the man you want. there is nothing he would not buy, and there is nothing he would not sell; believe me, i know him well." he waited for an answer a short time, then added-- "all that i have said is true, and there is nothing more." nina, held back by her mother, heard a soft voice reply with a calm evenness of intonation peculiar to the better class malays-- "who would doubt a white tuan's words? a man seeks his friends where his heart tells him. is this not true also? i have come, although so late, for i have something to say which you may be glad to hear. to-morrow i will go to the sultan; a trader wants the friendship of great men. then i shall return here to speak serious words, if tuan permits. i shall not go to the arabs; their lies are very great! what are they? chelakka!" almayer's voice sounded a little more pleasantly in reply. "well, as you like. i can hear you to-morrow at any time if you have anything to say. bah! after you have seen the sultan lakamba you will not want to return here, inchi dain. you will see. only mind, i will have nothing to do with lakamba. you may tell him so. what is your business with me, after all?" "to-morrow we talk, tuan, now i know you," answered the malay. "i speak english a little, so we can talk and nobody will understand, and then--" he interrupted himself suddenly, asking surprised, "what's that noise, tuan?" almayer had also heard the increasing noise of the scuffle recommenced on the women's side of the curtain. evidently nina's strong curiosity was on the point of overcoming mrs. almayer's exalted sense of social proprieties. hard breathing was distinctly audible, and the curtain shook during the contest, which was mainly physical, although mrs. almayer's voice was heard in angry remonstrance with its usual want of strictly logical reasoning, but with the well-known richness of invective. "you shameless woman! are you a slave?" shouted shrilly the irate matron. "veil your face, abandoned wretch! you white snake, i will not let you!" almayer's face expressed annoyance and also doubt as to the advisability of interfering between mother and daughter. he glanced at his malay visitor, who was waiting silently for the end of the uproar in an attitude of amused expectation, and waving his hand contemptuously he murmured-- "it is nothing. some women." the malay nodded his head gravely, and his face assumed an expression of serene indifference, as etiquette demanded after such an explanation. the contest was ended behind the curtain, and evidently the younger will had its way, for the rapid shuffle and click of mrs. almayer's high-heeled sandals died away in the distance. the tranquillised master of the house was going to resume the conversation when, struck by an unexpected change in the expression of his guest's countenance, he turned his head and saw nina standing in the doorway. after mrs. almayer's retreat from the field of battle, nina, with a contemptuous exclamation, "it's only a trader," had lifted the conquered curtain and now stood in full light, framed in the dark background on the passage, her lips slightly parted, her hair in disorder after the exertion, the angry gleam not yet faded out of her glorious and sparkling eyes. she took in at a glance the group of white-clad lancemen standing motionless in the shadow of the far-off end of the verandah, and her gaze rested curiously on the chief of that imposing _cortege_. he stood, almost facing her, a little on one side, and struck by the beauty of the unexpected apparition had bent low, elevating his joint hands above his head in a sign of respect accorded by malays only to the great of this earth. the crude light of the lamp shone on the gold embroidery of his black silk jacket, broke in a thousand sparkling rays on the jewelled hilt of his kriss protruding from under the many folds of the red sarong gathered into a sash round his waist, and played on the precious stones of the many rings on his dark fingers. he straightened himself up quickly after the low bow, putting his hand with a graceful ease on the hilt of his heavy short sword ornamented with brilliantly dyed fringes of horsehair. nina, hesitating on the threshold, saw an erect lithe figure of medium height with a breadth of shoulder suggesting great power. under the folds of a blue turban, whose fringed ends hung gracefully over the left shoulder, was a face full of determination and expressing a reckless good-humour, not devoid, however, of some dignity. the squareness of lower jaw, the full red lips, the mobile nostrils, and the proud carriage of the head gave the impression of a being half-savage, untamed, perhaps cruel, and corrected the liquid softness of the almost feminine eye, that general characteristic of the race. now, the first surprise over, nina saw those eyes fixed upon her with such an uncontrolled expression of admiration and desire that she felt a hitherto unknown feeling of shyness, mixed with alarm and some delight, enter and penetrate her whole being. confused by those unusual sensations she stopped in the doorway and instinctively drew the lower part of the curtain across her face, leaving only half a rounded cheek, a stray tress, and one eye exposed, wherewith to contemplate the gorgeous and bold being so unlike in appearance to the rare specimens of traders she had seen before on that same verandah. dain maroola, dazzled by the unexpected vision, forgot the confused almayer, forgot his brig, his escort staring in open-mouthed admiration, the object of his visit and all things else, in his overpowering desire to prolong the contemplation of so much loveliness met so suddenly in such an unlikely place--as he thought. "it is my daughter," said almayer, in an embarrassed manner. "it is of no consequence. white women have their customs, as you know tuan, having travelled much, as you say. however, it is late; we will finish our talk to-morrow." dain bent low trying to convey in a last glance towards the girl the bold expression of his overwhelming admiration. the next minute he was shaking almayer's hand with grave courtesy, his face wearing a look of stolid unconcern as to any feminine presence. his men filed off, and he followed them quickly, closely attended by a thick-set, savage-looking sumatrese he had introduced before as the commander of his brig. nina walked to the balustrade of the verandah and saw the sheen of moonlight on the steel spear-heads and heard the rhythmic jingle of brass anklets as the men moved in single file towards the jetty. the boat shoved off after a little while, looming large in the full light of the moon, a black shapeless mass in the slight haze hanging over the water. nina fancied she could distinguish the graceful figure of the trader standing erect in the stern sheets, but in a little while all the outlines got blurred, confused, and soon disappeared in the folds of white vapour shrouding the middle of the river. almayer had approached his daughter, and leaning with both arms over the rail, was looking moodily down on the heap of rubbish and broken bottles at the foot of the verandah. "what was all that noise just now?" he growled peevishly, without looking up. "confound you and your mother! what did she want? what did you come out for?" "she did not want to let me come out," said nina. "she is angry. she says the man just gone is some rajah. i think she is right now." "i believe all you women are crazy," snarled almayer. "what's that to you, to her, to anybody? the man wants to collect trepang and birds' nests on the islands. he told me so, that rajah of yours. he will come to-morrow. i want you both to keep away from the house, and let me attend to my business in peace." dain maroola came the next day and had a long conversation with almayer. this was the beginning of a close and friendly intercourse which, at first, was much remarked in sambir, till the population got used to the frequent sight of many fires burning in almayer's campong, where maroola's men were warming themselves during the cold nights of the north- east monsoon, while their master had long conferences with the tuan putih--as they styled almayer amongst themselves. great was the curiosity in sambir on the subject of the new trader. had he seen the sultan? what did the sultan say? had he given any presents? what would he sell? what would he buy? those were the questions broached eagerly by the inhabitants of bamboo houses built over the river. even in more substantial buildings, in abdulla's house, in the residences of principal traders, arab, chinese, and bugis, the excitement ran high, and lasted many days. with inborn suspicion they would not believe the simple account of himself the young trader was always ready to give. yet it had all the appearance of truth. he said he was a trader, and sold rice. he did not want to buy gutta-percha or beeswax, because he intended to employ his numerous crew in collecting trepang on the coral reefs outside the river, and also in seeking for bird's nests on the mainland. those two articles he professed himself ready to buy if there were any to be obtained in that way. he said he was from bali, and a brahmin, which last statement he made good by refusing all food during his often repeated visits to lakamba's and almayer's houses. to lakamba he went generally at night and had long audiences. babalatchi, who was always a third party at those meetings of potentate and trader, knew how to resist all attempts on the part of the curious to ascertain the subject of so many long talks. when questioned with languid courtesy by the grave abdulla he sought refuge in a vacant stare of his one eye, and in the affectation of extreme simplicity. "i am only my master's slave," murmured babalatchi, in a hesitating manner. then as if making up his mind suddenly for a reckless confidence he would inform abdulla of some transaction in rice, repeating the words, "a hundred big bags the sultan bought; a hundred, tuan!" in a tone of mysterious solemnity. abdulla, firmly persuaded of the existence of some more important dealings, received, however, the information with all the signs of respectful astonishment. and the two would separate, the arab cursing inwardly the wily dog, while babalatchi went on his way walking on the dusty path, his body swaying, his chin with its few grey hairs pushed forward, resembling an inquisitive goat bent on some unlawful expedition. attentive eyes watched his movements. jim-eng, descrying babalatchi far away, would shake off the stupor of an habitual opium smoker and, tottering on to the middle of the road, would await the approach of that important person, ready with hospitable invitation. but babalatchi's discretion was proof even against the combined assaults of good fellowship and of strong gin generously administered by the open- hearted chinaman. jim-eng, owning himself beaten, was left uninformed with the empty bottle, and gazed sadly after the departing form of the statesman of sambir pursuing his devious and unsteady way, which, as usual, led him to almayer's compound. ever since a reconciliation had been effected by dain maroola between his white friend and the rajah, the one-eyed diplomatist had again become a frequent guest in the dutchman's house. to almayer's great disgust he was to be seen there at all times, strolling about in an abstracted kind of way on the verandah, skulking in the passages, or else popping round unexpected corners, always willing to engage mrs. almayer in confidential conversation. he was very shy of the master himself, as if suspicious that the pent-up feelings of the white man towards his person might find vent in a sudden kick. but the cooking shed was his favourite place, and he became an habitual guest there, squatting for hours amongst the busy women, with his chin resting on his knees, his lean arms clasped round his legs, and his one eye roving uneasily--the very picture of watchful ugliness. almayer wanted more than once to complain to lakamba of his prime minister's intrusion, but dain dissuaded him. "we cannot say a word here that he does not hear," growled almayer. "then come and talk on board the brig," retorted dain, with a quiet smile. "it is good to let the man come here. lakamba thinks he knows much. perhaps the sultan thinks i want to run away. better let the one- eyed crocodile sun himself in your campong, tuan." and almayer assented unwillingly muttering vague threats of personal violence, while he eyed malevolently the aged statesman sitting with quiet obstinacy by his domestic rice-pot. chapter v. at last the excitement had died out in sambir. the inhabitants got used to the sight of comings and goings between almayer's house and the vessel, now moored to the opposite bank, and speculation as to the feverish activity displayed by almayer's boatmen in repairing old canoes ceased to interfere with the due discharge of domestic duties by the women of the settlement. even the baffled jim-eng left off troubling his muddled brain with secrets of trade, and relapsed by the aid of his opium pipe into a state of stupefied bliss, letting babalatchi pursue his way past his house uninvited and seemingly unnoticed. so on that warm afternoon, when the deserted river sparkled under the vertical sun, the statesman of sambir could, without any hindrance from friendly inquirers, shove off his little canoe from under the bushes, where it was usually hidden during his visits to almayer's compound. slowly and languidly babalatchi paddled, crouching low in the boat, making himself small under his as enormous sun hat to escape the scorching heat reflected from the water. he was not in a hurry; his master, lakamba, was surely reposing at this time of the day. he would have ample time to cross over and greet him on his waking with important news. will he be displeased? will he strike his ebony wood staff angrily on the floor, frightening him by the incoherent violence of his exclamations; or will he squat down with a good-humoured smile, and, rubbing his hands gently over his stomach with a familiar gesture, expectorate copiously into the brass siri-vessel, giving vent to a low, approbative murmur? such were babalatchi's thoughts as he skilfully handled his paddle, crossing the river on his way to the rajah's campong, whose stockades showed from behind the dense foliage of the bank just opposite to almayer's bungalow. indeed, he had a report to make. something certain at last to confirm the daily tale of suspicions, the daily hints of familiarity, of stolen glances he had seen, of short and burning words he had overheard exchanged between dain maroola and almayer's daughter. lakamba had, till then, listened to it all, calmly and with evident distrust; now he was going to be convinced, for babalatchi had the proof; had it this very morning, when fishing at break of day in the creek over which stood bulangi's house. there from his skiff he saw nina's long canoe drift past, the girl sitting in the stern bending over dain, who was stretched in the bottom with his head resting on the girl's knees. he saw it. he followed them, but in a short time they took to the paddles and got away from under his observant eye. a few minutes afterwards he saw bulangi's slave-girl paddling in a small dug-out to the town with her cakes for sale. she also had seen them in the grey dawn. and babalatchi grinned confidentially to himself at the recollection of the slave-girl's discomposed face, of the hard look in her eyes, of the tremble in her voice, when answering his questions. that little taminah evidently admired dain maroola. that was good! and babalatchi laughed aloud at the notion; then becoming suddenly serious, he began by some strange association of ideas to speculate upon the price for which bulangi would, possibly, sell the girl. he shook his head sadly at the thought that bulangi was a hard man, and had refused one hundred dollars for that same taminah only a few weeks ago; then he became suddenly aware that the canoe had drifted too far down during his meditation. he shook off the despondency caused by the certitude of bulangi's mercenary disposition, and, taking up his paddle, in a few strokes sheered alongside the water- gate of the rajah's house. that afternoon almayer, as was his wont lately, moved about on the water- side, overlooking the repairs to his boats. he had decided at last. guided by the scraps of information contained in old lingard's pocket- book, he was going to seek for the rich gold-mine, for that place where he had only to stoop to gather up an immense fortune and realise the dream of his young days. to obtain the necessary help he had shared his knowledge with dain maroola, he had consented to be reconciled with lakamba, who gave his support to the enterprise on condition of sharing the profits; he had sacrificed his pride, his honour, and his loyalty in the face of the enormous risk of his undertaking, dazzled by the greatness of the results to be achieved by this alliance so distasteful yet so necessary. the dangers were great, but maroola was brave; his men seemed as reckless as their chief, and with lakamba's aid success seemed assured. for the last fortnight almayer was absorbed in the preparations, walking amongst his workmen and slaves in a kind of waking trance, where practical details as to the fitting out of the boats were mixed up with vivid dreams of untold wealth, where the present misery of burning sun, of the muddy and malodorous river bank disappeared in a gorgeous vision of a splendid future existence for himself and nina. he hardly saw nina during these last days, although the beloved daughter was ever present in his thoughts. he hardly took notice of dain, whose constant presence in his house had become a matter of course to him now they were connected by a community of interests. when meeting the young chief he gave him an absent greeting and passed on, seemingly wishing to avoid him, bent upon forgetting the hated reality of the present by absorbing himself in his work, or else by letting his imagination soar far above the tree-tops into the great white clouds away to the westward, where the paradise of europe was awaiting the future eastern millionaire. and maroola, now the bargain was struck and there was no more business to be talked over, evidently did not care for the white man's company. yet dain was always about the house, but he seldom stayed long by the riverside. on his daily visits to the white man the malay chief preferred to make his way quietly through the central passage of the house, and would come out into the garden at the back, where the fire was burning in the cooking shed, with the rice kettle swinging over it, under the watchful supervision of mrs. almayer. avoiding that shed, with its black smoke and the warbling of soft, feminine voices, dain would turn to the left. there, on the edge of a banana plantation, a clump of palms and mango trees formed a shady spot, a few scattered bushes giving it a certain seclusion into which only the serving women's chatter or an occasional burst of laughter could penetrate. once in, he was invisible; and hidden there, leaning against the smooth trunk of a tall palm, he waited with gleaming eyes and an assured smile to hear the faint rustle of dried grass under the light footsteps of nina. from the very first moment when his eyes beheld this--to him--perfection of loveliness he felt in his inmost heart the conviction that she would be his; he felt the subtle breath of mutual understanding passing between their two savage natures, and he did not want mrs. almayer's encouraging smiles to take every opportunity of approaching the girl; and every time he spoke to her, every time he looked into her eyes, nina, although averting her face, felt as if this bold-looking being who spoke burning words into her willing ear was the embodiment of her fate, the creature of her dreams--reckless, ferocious, ready with flashing kriss for his enemies, and with passionate embrace for his beloved--the ideal malay chief of her mother's tradition. she recognised with a thrill of delicious fear the mysterious consciousness of her identity with that being. listening to his words, it seemed to her she was born only then to a knowledge of a new existence, that her life was complete only when near him, and she abandoned herself to a feeling of dreamy happiness, while with half-veiled face and in silence--as became a malay girl--she listened to dain's words giving up to her the whole treasure of love and passion his nature was capable of with all the unrestrained enthusiasm of a man totally untrammelled by any influence of civilised self-discipline. and they used to pass many a delicious and fast fleeting hour under the mango trees behind the friendly curtain of bushes till mrs. almayer's shrill voice gave the signal of unwilling separation. mrs. almayer had undertaken the easy task of watching her husband lest he should interrupt the smooth course of her daughter's love affair, in which she took a great and benignant interest. she was happy and proud to see dain's infatuation, believing him to be a great and powerful chief, and she found also a gratification of her mercenary instincts in dain's open-handed generosity. on the eve of the day when babalatchi's suspicions were confirmed by ocular demonstration, dain and nina had remained longer than usual in their shady retreat. only almayer's heavy step on the verandah and his querulous clamour for food decided mrs. almayer to lift a warning cry. maroola leaped lightly over the low bamboo fence, and made his way stealthily through the banana plantation down to the muddy shore of the back creek, while nina walked slowly towards the house to minister to her father's wants, as was her wont every evening. almayer felt happy enough that evening; the preparations were nearly completed; to-morrow he would launch his boats. in his mind's eye he saw the rich prize in his grasp; and, with tin spoon in his hand, he was forgetting the plateful of rice before him in the fanciful arrangement of some splendid banquet to take place on his arrival in amsterdam. nina, reclining in the long chair, listened absently to the few disconnected words escaping from her father's lips. expedition! gold! what did she care for all that? but at the name of maroola mentioned by her father she was all attention. dain was going down the river with his brig to-morrow to remain away for a few days, said almayer. it was very annoying, this delay. as soon as dain returned they would have to start without loss of time, for the river was rising. he would not be surprised if a great flood was coming. and he pushed away his plate with an impatient gesture on rising from the table. but now nina heard him not. dain going away! that's why he had ordered her, with that quiet masterfulness it was her delight to obey, to meet him at break of day in bulangi's creek. was there a paddle in her canoe? she thought. was it ready? she would have to start early--at four in the morning, in a very few hours. she rose from her chair, thinking she would require rest before the long pull in the early morning. the lamp was burning dimly, and her father, tired with the day's labour, was already in his hammock. nina put the lamp out and passed into a large room she shared with her mother on the left of the central passage. entering, she saw that mrs. almayer had deserted the pile of mats serving her as bed in one corner of the room, and was now bending over the opened lid of her large wooden chest. half a shell of cocoanut filled with oil, where a cotton rag floated for a wick, stood on the floor, surrounding her with a ruddy halo of light shining through the black and odorous smoke. mrs. almayer's back was bent, and her head and shoulders hidden in the deep box. her hands rummaged in the interior, where a soft clink as of silver money could be heard. she did not notice at first her daughter's approach, and nina, standing silently by her, looked down on many little canvas bags ranged in the bottom of the chest, wherefrom her mother extracted handfuls of shining guilders and mexican dollars, letting them stream slowly back again through her claw-like fingers. the music of tinkling silver seemed to delight her, and her eyes sparkled with the reflected gleam of freshly- minted coins. she was muttering to herself: "and this, and this, and yet this! soon he will give more--as much more as i ask. he is a great rajah--a son of heaven! and she will be a ranee--he gave all this for her! who ever gave anything for me? i am a slave! am i? i am the mother of a great ranee!" she became aware suddenly of her daughter's presence, and ceased her droning, shutting the lid down violently; then, without rising from her crouching position, she looked up at the girl standing by with a vague smile on her dreamy face. "you have seen. have you?" she shouted, shrilly. "that is all mine, and for you. it is not enough! he will have to give more before he takes you away to the southern island where his father is king. you hear me? you are worth more, granddaughter of rajahs! more! more!" the sleepy voice of almayer was heard on the verandah recommending silence. mrs. almayer extinguished the light and crept into her corner of the room. nina laid down on her back on a pile of soft mats, her hands entwined under her head, gazing through the shutterless hole, serving as a window at the stars twinkling on the black sky; she was awaiting the time of start for her appointed meeting-place. with quiet happiness she thought of that meeting in the great forest, far from all human eyes and sounds. her soul, lapsing again into the savage mood, which the genius of civilisation working by the hand of mrs. vinck could never destroy, experienced a feeling of pride and of some slight trouble at the high value her worldly-wise mother had put upon her person; but she remembered the expressive glances and words of dain, and, tranquillised, she closed her eyes in a shiver of pleasant anticipation. there are some situations where the barbarian and the, so-called, civilised man meet upon the same ground. it may be supposed that dain maroola was not exceptionally delighted with his prospective mother-in- law, nor that he actually approved of that worthy woman's appetite for shining dollars. yet on that foggy morning when babalatchi, laying aside the cares of state, went to visit his fish-baskets in the bulangi creek, maroola had no misgivings, experienced no feelings but those of impatience and longing, when paddling to the east side of the island forming the back-water in question. he hid his canoe in the bushes and strode rapidly across the islet, pushing with impatience through the twigs of heavy undergrowth intercrossed over his path. from motives of prudence he would not take his canoe to the meeting-place, as nina had done. he had left it in the main stream till his return from the other side of the island. the heavy warm fog was closing rapidly round him, but he managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of a light away to the left, proceeding from bulangi's house. then he could see nothing in the thickening vapour, and kept to the path only by a sort of instinct, which also led him to the very point on the opposite shore he wished to reach. a great log had stranded there, at right angles to the bank, forming a kind of jetty against which the swiftly flowing stream broke with a loud ripple. he stepped on it with a quick but steady motion, and in two strides found himself at the outer end, with the rush and swirl of the foaming water at his feet. standing there alone, as if separated from the world; the heavens, earth; the very water roaring under him swallowed up in the thick veil of the morning fog, he breathed out the name of nina before him into the apparently limitless space, sure of being heard, instinctively sure of the nearness of the delightful creature; certain of her being aware of his near presence as he was aware of hers. the bow of nina's canoe loomed up close to the log, canted high out of the water by the weight of the sitter in the stern. maroola laid his hand on the stem and leaped lightly in, giving it a vigorous shove off. the light craft, obeying the new impulse, cleared the log by a hair's breadth, and the river, with obedient complicity, swung it broadside to the current, and bore it off silently and rapidly between the invisible banks. and once more dain, at the feet of nina, forgot the world, felt himself carried away helpless by a great wave of supreme emotion, by a rush of joy, pride, and desire; understood once more with overpowering certitude that there was no life possible without that being he held clasped in his arms with passionate strength in a prolonged embrace. nina disengaged herself gently with a low laugh. "you will overturn the boat, dain," she whispered. he looked into her eyes eagerly for a minute and let her go with a sigh, then lying down in the canoe he put his head on her knees, gazing upwards and stretching his arms backwards till his hands met round the girl's waist. she bent over him, and, shaking her head, framed both their faces in the falling locks of her long black hair. and so they drifted on, he speaking with all the rude eloquence of a savage nature giving itself up without restraint to an overmastering passion, she bending low to catch the murmur of words sweeter to her than life itself. to those two nothing existed then outside the gunwales of the narrow and fragile craft. it was their world, filled with their intense and all-absorbing love. they took no heed of thickening mist, or of the breeze dying away before sunrise; they forgot the existence of the great forests surrounding them, of all the tropical nature awaiting the advent of the sun in a solemn and impressive silence. over the low river-mist hiding the boat with its freight of young passionate life and all-forgetful happiness, the stars paled, and a silvery-grey tint crept over the sky from the eastward. there was not a breath of wind, not a rustle of stirring leaf, not a splash of leaping fish to disturb the serene repose of all living things on the banks of the great river. earth, river, and sky were wrapped up in a deep sleep, from which it seemed there would be no waking. all the seething life and movement of tropical nature seemed concentrated in the ardent eyes, in the tumultuously beating hearts of the two beings drifting in the canoe, under the white canopy of mist, over the smooth surface of the river. suddenly a great sheaf of yellow rays shot upwards from behind the black curtain of trees lining the banks of the pantai. the stars went out; the little black clouds at the zenith glowed for a moment with crimson tints, and the thick mist, stirred by the gentle breeze, the sigh of waking nature, whirled round and broke into fantastically torn pieces, disclosing the wrinkled surface of the river sparkling in the broad light of day. great flocks of white birds wheeled screaming above the swaying tree-tops. the sun had risen on the east coast. dain was the first to return to the cares of everyday life. he rose and glanced rapidly up and down the river. his eye detected babalatchi's boat astern, and another small black speck on the glittering water, which was taminah's canoe. he moved cautiously forward, and, kneeling, took up a paddle; nina at the stern took hers. they bent their bodies to the work, throwing up the water at every stroke, and the small craft went swiftly ahead, leaving a narrow wake fringed with a lace-like border of white and gleaming foam. without turning his head, dain spoke. "somebody behind us, nina. we must not let him gain. i think he is too far to recognise us." "somebody before us also," panted out nina, without ceasing to paddle. "i think i know," rejoined dain. "the sun shines over there, but i fancy it is the girl taminah. she comes down every morning to my brig to sell cakes--stays often all day. it does not matter; steer more into the bank; we must get under the bushes. my canoe is hidden not far from here." as he spoke his eyes watched the broad-leaved nipas which they were brushing in their swift and silent course. "look out, nina," he said at last; "there, where the water palms end and the twigs hang down under the leaning tree. steer for the big green branch." he stood up attentive, and the boat drifted slowly in shore, nina guiding it by a gentle and skilful movement of her paddle. when near enough dain laid hold of the big branch, and leaning back shot the canoe under a low green archway of thickly matted creepers giving access to a miniature bay formed by the caving in of the bank during the last great flood. his own boat was there anchored by a stone, and he stepped into it, keeping his hand on the gunwale of nina's canoe. in a moment the two little nutshells with their occupants floated quietly side by side, reflected by the black water in the dim light struggling through a high canopy of dense foliage; while above, away up in the broad day, flamed immense red blossoms sending down on their heads a shower of great dew-sparkling petals that descended rotating slowly in a continuous and perfumed stream; and over them, under them, in the sleeping water; all around them in a ring of luxuriant vegetation bathed in the warm air charged with strong and harsh perfumes, the intense work of tropical nature went on: plants shooting upward, entwined, interlaced in inextricable confusion, climbing madly and brutally over each other in the terrible silence of a desperate struggle towards the life-giving sunshine above--as if struck with sudden horror at the seething mass of corruption below, at the death and decay from which they sprang. "we must part now," said dain, after a long silence. "you must return at once, nina. i will wait till the brig drifts down here, and shall get on board then." "and will you be long away, dain?" asked nina, in a low voice. "long!" exclaimed dain. "would a man willingly remain long in a dark place? when i am not near you, nina, i am like a man that is blind. what is life to me without light?" nina leaned over, and with a proud and happy smile took dain's face between her hands, looking into his eyes with a fond yet questioning gaze. apparently she found there the confirmation of the words just said, for a feeling of grateful security lightened for her the weight of sorrow at the hour of parting. she believed that he, the descendant of many great rajahs, the son of a great chief, the master of life and death, knew the sunshine of life only in her presence. an immense wave of gratitude and love welled forth out of her heart towards him. how could she make an outward and visible sign of all she felt for the man who had filled her heart with so much joy and so much pride? and in the great tumult of passion, like a flash of lightning came to her the reminiscence of that despised and almost forgotten civilisation she had only glanced at in her days of restraint, of sorrow, and of anger. in the cold ashes of that hateful and miserable past she would find the sign of love, the fitting expression of the boundless felicity of the present, the pledge of a bright and splendid future. she threw her arms around dain's neck and pressed her lips to his in a long and burning kiss. he closed his eyes, surprised and frightened at the storm raised in his breast by the strange and to him hitherto unknown contact, and long after nina had pushed her canoe into the river he remained motionless, without daring to open his eyes, afraid to lose the sensation of intoxicating delight he had tasted for the first time. now he wanted but immortality, he thought, to be the equal of gods, and the creature that could open so the gates of paradise must be his--soon would be his for ever! he opened his eyes in time to see through the archway of creepers the bows of his brig come slowly into view, as the vessel drifted past on its way down the river. he must go on board now, he thought; yet he was loth to leave the place where he had learned to know what happiness meant. "time yet. let them go," he muttered to himself; and he closed his eyes again under the red shower of scented petals, trying to recall the scene with all its delight and all its fear. he must have been able to join his brig in time, after all, and found much occupation outside, for it was in vain that almayer looked for his friend's speedy return. the lower reach of the river where he so often and so impatiently directed his eyes remained deserted, save for the rapid flitting of some fishing canoe; but down the upper reaches came black clouds and heavy showers heralding the final setting in of the rainy season with its thunderstorms and great floods making the river almost impossible of ascent for native canoes. almayer, strolling along the muddy beach between his houses, watched uneasily the river rising inch by inch, creeping slowly nearer to the boats, now ready and hauled up in a row under the cover of dripping kajang-mats. fortune seemed to elude his grasp, and in his weary tramp backwards and forwards under the steady rain falling from the lowering sky, a sort of despairing indifference took possession of him. what did it matter? it was just his luck! those two infernal savages, lakamba and dain, induced him, with their promises of help, to spend his last dollar in the fitting out of boats, and now one of them was gone somewhere, and the other shut up in his stockade would give no sign of life. no, not even the scoundrelly babalatchi, thought almayer, would show his face near him, now they had sold him all the rice, brass gongs, and cloth necessary for his expedition. they had his very last coin, and did not care whether he went or stayed. and with a gesture of abandoned discouragement almayer would climb up slowly to the verandah of his new house to get out of the rain, and leaning on the front rail with his head sunk between his shoulders he would abandon himself to the current of bitter thoughts, oblivious of the flight of time and the pangs of hunger, deaf to the shrill cries of his wife calling him to the evening meal. when, roused from his sad meditations by the first roll of the evening thunderstorm, he stumbled slowly towards the glimmering light of his old house, his half-dead hope made his ears preternaturally acute to any sound on the river. several nights in succession he had heard the splash of paddles and had seen the indistinct form of a boat, but when hailing the shadowy apparition, his heart bounding with sudden hope of hearing dain's voice, he was disappointed each time by the sulky answer conveying to him the intelligence that the arabs were on the river, bound on a visit to the home-staying lakamba. this caused him many sleepless nights, spent in speculating upon the kind of villainy those estimable personages were hatching now. at last, when all hope seemed dead, he was overjoyed on hearing dain's voice; but dain also appeared very anxious to see lakamba, and almayer felt uneasy owing to a deep and ineradicable distrust as to that ruler's disposition towards himself. still, dain had returned at last. evidently he meant to keep to his bargain. hope revived, and that night almayer slept soundly, while nina watched the angry river under the lash of the thunderstorm sweeping onward towards the sea. chapter vi. dain was not long in crossing the river after leaving almayer. he landed at the water-gate of the stockade enclosing the group of houses which composed the residence of the rajah of sambir. evidently somebody was expected there, for the gate was open, and men with torches were ready to precede the visitor up the inclined plane of planks leading to the largest house where lakamba actually resided, and where all the business of state was invariably transacted. the other buildings within the enclosure served only to accommodate the numerous household and the wives of the ruler. lakamba's own house was a strong structure of solid planks, raised on high piles, with a verandah of split bamboos surrounding it on all sides; the whole was covered in by an immensely high-pitched roof of palm-leaves, resting on beams blackened by the smoke of many torches. the building stood parallel to the river, one of its long sides facing the water-gate of the stockade. there was a door in the short side looking up the river, and the inclined plank-way led straight from the gate to that door. by the uncertain light of smoky torches, dain noticed the vague outlines of a group of armed men in the dark shadows to his right. from that group babalatchi stepped forward to open the door, and dain entered the audience chamber of the rajah's residence. about one- third of the house was curtained off, by heavy stuff of european manufacture, for that purpose; close to the curtain there was a big arm- chair of some black wood, much carved, and before it a rough deal table. otherwise the room was only furnished with mats in great profusion. to the left of the entrance stood a rude arm-rack, with three rifles with fixed bayonets in it. by the wall, in the shadow, the body-guard of lakamba--all friends or relations--slept in a confused heap of brown arms, legs, and multi-coloured garments, from whence issued an occasional snore or a subdued groan of some uneasy sleeper. an european lamp with a green shade standing on the table made all this indistinctly visible to dain. "you are welcome to your rest here," said babalatchi, looking at dain interrogatively. "i must speak to the rajah at once," answered dain. babalatchi made a gesture of assent, and, turning to the brass gong suspended under the arm-rack, struck two sharp blows. the ear-splitting din woke up the guard. the snores ceased; outstretched legs were drawn in; the whole heap moved, and slowly resolved itself into individual forms, with much yawning and rubbing of sleepy eyes; behind the curtains there was a burst of feminine chatter; then the bass voice of lakamba was heard. "is that the arab trader?" "no, tuan," answered babalatchi; "dain has returned at last. he is here for an important talk, bitcharra--if you mercifully consent." evidently lakamba's mercy went so far--for in a short while he came out from behind the curtain--but it did not go to the length of inducing him to make an extensive toilet. a short red sarong tightened hastily round his hips was his only garment. the merciful ruler of sambir looked sleepy and rather sulky. he sat in the arm-chair, his knees well apart, his elbows on the arm-rests, his chin on his breast, breathing heavily and waiting malevolently for dain to open the important talk. but dain did not seem anxious to begin. he directed his gaze towards babalatchi, squatting comfortably at the feet of his master, and remained silent with a slightly bent head as if in attentive expectation of coming words of wisdom. babalatchi coughed discreetly, and, leaning forward, pushed over a few mats for dain to sit upon, then lifting up his squeaky voice he assured him with eager volubility of everybody's delight at this long-looked-for return. his heart had hungered for the sight of dain's face, and his ears were withering for the want of the refreshing sound of his voice. everybody's hearts and ears were in the same sad predicament, according to babalatchi, as he indicated with a sweeping gesture the other bank of the river where the settlement slumbered peacefully, unconscious of the great joy awaiting it on the morrow when dain's presence amongst them would be disclosed. "for"--went on babalatchi--"what is the joy of a poor man if not the open hand of a generous trader or of a great--" here he checked himself abruptly with a calculated embarrassment of manner, and his roving eye sought the floor, while an apologetic smile dwelt for a moment on his misshapen lips. once or twice during this opening speech an amused expression flitted across dain's face, soon to give way, however, to an appearance of grave concern. on lakamba's brow a heavy frown had settled, and his lips moved angrily as he listened to his prime minister's oratory. in the silence that fell upon the room when babalatchi ceased speaking arose a chorus of varied snores from the corner where the body-guard had resumed their interrupted slumbers, but the distant rumble of thunder filling then nina's heart with apprehension for the safety of her lover passed unheeded by those three men intent each on their own purposes, for life or death. after a short silence, babalatchi, discarding now the flowers of polite eloquence, spoke again, but in short and hurried sentences and in a low voice. they had been very uneasy. why did dain remain so long absent? the men dwelling on the lower reaches of the river heard the reports of big guns and saw a fire-ship of the dutch amongst the islands of the estuary. so they were anxious. rumours of a disaster had reached abdulla a few days ago, and since then they had been waiting for dain's return under the apprehension of some misfortune. for days they had closed their eyes in fear, and woke up alarmed, and walked abroad trembling, like men before an enemy. and all on account of dain. would he not allay their fears for his safety, not for themselves? they were quiet and faithful, and devoted to the great rajah in batavia--may his fate lead him ever to victory for the joy and profit of his servants! "and here," went on babalatchi, "lakamba my master was getting thin in his anxiety for the trader he had taken under his protection; and so was abdulla, for what would wicked men not say if perchance--" "be silent, fool!" growled lakamba, angrily. babalatchi subsided into silence with a satisfied smile, while dain, who had been watching him as if fascinated, turned with a sigh of relief towards the ruler of sambir. lakamba did not move, and, without raising his head, looked at dain from under his eyebrows, breathing audibly, with pouted lips, in an air of general discontent. "speak! o dain!" he said at last. "we have heard many rumours. many nights in succession has my friend reshid come here with bad tidings. news travels fast along the coast. but they may be untrue; there are more lies in men's mouths in these days than when i was young, but i am not easier to deceive now." "all my words are true," said dain, carelessly. "if you want to know what befell my brig, then learn that it is in the hands of the dutch. believe me, rajah," he went on, with sudden energy, "the orang blanda have good friends in sambir, or else how did they know i was coming thence?" lakamba gave dain a short and hostile glance. babalatchi rose quietly, and, going to the arm-rack, struck the gong violently. outside the door there was a shuffle of bare feet; inside, the guard woke up and sat staring in sleepy surprise. "yes, you faithful friend of the white rajah," went on dain, scornfully, turning to babalatchi, who had returned to his place, "i have escaped, and i am here to gladden your heart. when i saw the dutch ship i ran the brig inside the reefs and put her ashore. they did not dare to follow with the ship, so they sent the boats. we took to ours and tried to get away, but the ship dropped fireballs at us, and killed many of my men. but i am left, o babalatchi! the dutch are coming here. they are seeking for me. they are coming to ask their faithful friend lakamba and his slave babalatchi. rejoice!" but neither of his hearers appeared to be in a joyful mood. lakamba had put one leg over his knee, and went on gently scratching it with a meditative air, while babalatchi, sitting cross-legged, seemed suddenly to become smaller and very limp, staring straight before him vacantly. the guard evinced some interest in the proceedings, stretching themselves full length on the mats to be nearer the speaker. one of them got up and now stood leaning against the arm-rack, playing absently with the fringes of his sword-hilt. dain waited till the crash of thunder had died away in distant mutterings before he spoke again. "are you dumb, o ruler of sambir, or is the son of a great rajah unworthy of your notice? i am come here to seek refuge and to warn you, and want to know what you intend doing." "you came here because of the white man's daughter," retorted lakamba, quickly. "your refuge was with your father, the rajah of bali, the son of heaven, the 'anak agong' himself. what am i to protect great princes? only yesterday i planted rice in a burnt clearing; to-day you say i hold your life in my hand." babalatchi glanced at his master. "no man can escape his fate," he murmured piously. "when love enters a man's heart he is like a child--without any understanding. be merciful, lakamba," he added, twitching the corner of the rajah's sarong warningly. lakamba snatched away the skirt of the sarong angrily. under the dawning comprehension of intolerable embarrassments caused by dain's return to sambir he began to lose such composure as he had been, till then, able to maintain; and now he raised his voice loudly above the whistling of the wind and the patter of rain on the roof in the hard squall passing over the house. "you came here first as a trader with sweet words and great promises, asking me to look the other way while you worked your will on the white man there. and i did. what do you want now? when i was young i fought. now i am old, and want peace. it is easier for me to have you killed than to fight the dutch. it is better for me." the squall had now passed, and, in the short stillness of the lull in the storm, lakamba repeated softly, as if to himself, "much easier. much better." dain did not seem greatly discomposed by the rajah's threatening words. while lakamba was speaking he had glanced once rapidly over his shoulder, just to make sure that there was nobody behind him, and, tranquillised in that respect, he had extracted a siri-box out of the folds of his waist- cloth, and was wrapping carefully the little bit of betel-nut and a small pinch of lime in the green leaf tendered him politely by the watchful babalatchi. he accepted this as a peace-offering from the silent statesman--a kind of mute protest against his master's undiplomatic violence, and as an omen of a possible understanding to be arrived at yet. otherwise dain was not uneasy. although recognising the justice of lakamba's surmise that he had come back to sambir only for the sake of the white man's daughter, yet he was not conscious of any childish lack of understanding, as suggested by babalatchi. in fact, dain knew very well that lakamba was too deeply implicated in the gunpowder smuggling to care for an investigation the dutch authorities into that matter. when sent off by his father, the independent rajah of bali, at the time when the hostilities between dutch and malays threatened to spread from sumatra over the whole archipelago, dain had found all the big traders deaf to his guarded proposals, and above the temptation of the great prices he was ready to give for gunpowder. he went to sambir as a last and almost hopeless resort, having heard in macassar of the white man there, and of the regular steamer trading from singapore--allured also by the fact that there was no dutch resident on the river, which would make things easier, no doubt. his hopes got nearly wrecked against the stubborn loyalty of lakamba arising from well-understood self-interest; but at last the young man's generosity, his persuasive enthusiasm, the prestige of his father's great name, overpowered the prudent hesitation of the ruler of sambir. lakamba would have nothing to do himself with any illegal traffic. he also objected to the arabs being made use of in that matter; but he suggested almayer, saying that he was a weak man easily persuaded, and that his friend, the english captain of the steamer, could be made very useful--very likely even would join in the business, smuggling the powder in the steamer without abdulla's knowledge. there again dain met in almayer with unexpected resistance; lakamba had to send babalatchi over with the solemn promise that his eyes would be shut in friendship for the white man, dain paying for the promise and the friendship in good silver guilders of the hated orang blanda. almayer, at last consenting, said the powder would be obtained, but dain must trust him with dollars to send to singapore in payment for it. he would induce ford to buy and smuggle it in the steamer on board the brig. he did not want any money for himself out of the transaction, but dain must help him in his great enterprise after sending off the brig. almayer had explained to dain that he could not trust lakamba alone in that matter; he would be afraid of losing his treasure and his life through the cupidity of the rajah; yet the rajah had to be told, and insisted on taking a share in that operation, or else his eyes would remain shut no longer. to this almayer had to submit. had dain not seen nina he would have probably refused to engage himself and his men in the projected expedition to gunong mas--the mountain of gold. as it was he intended to return with half of his men as soon as the brig was clear of the reefs, but the persistent chase given him by the dutch frigate had forced him to run south and ultimately to wreck and destroy his vessel in order to preserve his liberty or perhaps even his life. yes, he had come back to sambir for nina, although aware that the dutch would look for him there, but he had also calculated his chances of safety in lakamba's hands. for all his ferocious talk, the merciful ruler would not kill him, for he had long ago been impressed with the notion that dain possessed the secret of the white man's treasure; neither would he give him up to the dutch, for fear of some fatal disclosure of complicity in the treasonable trade. so dain felt tolerably secure as he sat meditating quietly his answer to the rajah's bloodthirsty speech. yes, he would point out to him the aspect of his position should he--dain--fall into the hands of the dutch and should he speak the truth. he would have nothing more to lose then, and he would speak the truth. and if he did return to sambir, disturbing thereby lakamba's peace of mind, what then? he came to look after his property. did he not pour a stream of silver into mrs. almayer's greedy lap? he had paid, for the girl, a price worthy of a great prince, although unworthy of that delightfully maddening creature for whom his untamed soul longed in an intensity of desire far more tormenting than the sharpest pain. he wanted his happiness. he had the right to be in sambir. he rose, and, approaching the table, leaned both his elbows on it; lakamba responsively edged his seat a little closer, while babalatchi scrambled to his feet and thrust his inquisitive head between his master's and dain's. they interchanged their ideas rapidly, speaking in whispers into each other's faces, very close now, dain suggesting, lakamba contradicting, babalatchi conciliating and anxious in his vivid apprehension of coming difficulties. he spoke most, whispering earnestly, turning his head slowly from side to side so as to bring his solitary eye to bear upon each of his interlocutors in turn. why should there be strife? said he. let tuan dain, whom he loved only less than his master, go trustfully into hiding. there were many places for that. bulangi's house away in the clearing was best. bulangi was a safe man. in the network of crooked channels no white man could find his way. white men were strong, but very foolish. it was undesirable to fight them, but deception was easy. they were like silly women--they did not know the use of reason, and he was a match for any of them--went on babalatchi, with all the confidence of deficient experience. probably the dutch would seek almayer. maybe they would take away their countryman if they were suspicious of him. that would be good. after the dutch went away lakamba and dain would get the treasure without any trouble, and there would be one person less to share it. did he not speak wisdom? will tuan dain go to bulangi's house till the danger is over, go at once? dain accepted this suggestion of going into hiding with a certain sense of conferring a favour upon lakamba and the anxious statesman, but he met the proposal of going at once with a decided no, looking babalatchi meaningly in the eye. the statesman sighed as a man accepting the inevitable would do, and pointed silently towards the other bank of the river. dain bent his head slowly. "yes, i am going there," he said. "before the day comes?" asked babalatchi. "i am going there now," answered dain, decisively. "the orang blanda will not be here before to-morrow night, perhaps, and i must tell almayer of our arrangements." "no, tuan. no; say nothing," protested babalatchi. "i will go over myself at sunrise and let him know." "i will see," said dain, preparing to go. the thunderstorm was recommencing outside, the heavy clouds hanging low overhead now. there was a constant rumble of distant thunder punctuated by the nearer sharp crashes, and in the continuous play of blue lightning the woods and the river showed fitfully, with all the elusive distinctness of detail characteristic of such a scene. outside the door of the rajah's house dain and babalatchi stood on the shaking verandah as if dazed and stunned by the violence of the storm. they stood there amongst the cowering forms of the rajah's slaves and retainers seeking shelter from the rain, and dain called aloud to his boatmen, who responded with an unanimous "ada! tuan!" while they looked uneasily at the river. "this is a great flood!" shouted babalatchi into dain's ear. "the river is very angry. look! look at the drifting logs! can you go?" dain glanced doubtfully on the livid expanse of seething water bounded far away on the other side by the narrow black line of the forests. suddenly, in a vivid white flash, the low point of land with the bending trees on it and almayer's house, leaped into view, flickered and disappeared. dain pushed babalatchi aside and ran down to the water-gate followed by his shivering boatmen. babalatchi backed slowly in and closed the door, then turned round and looked silently upon lakamba. the rajah sat still, glaring stonily upon the table, and babalatchi gazed curiously at the perplexed mood of the man he had served so many years through good and evil fortune. no doubt the one-eyed statesman felt within his savage and much sophisticated breast the unwonted feelings of sympathy with, and perhaps even pity for, the man he called his master. from the safe position of a confidential adviser, he could, in the dim vista of past years, see himself--a casual cut-throat--finding shelter under that man's roof in the modest rice-clearing of early beginnings. then came a long period of unbroken success, of wise counsels, and deep plottings resolutely carried out by the fearless lakamba, till the whole east coast from poulo laut to tanjong batu listened to babalatchi's wisdom speaking through the mouth of the ruler of sambir. in those long years how many dangers escaped, how many enemies bravely faced, how many white men successfully circumvented! and now he looked upon the result of so many years of patient toil: the fearless lakamba cowed by the shadow of an impending trouble. the ruler was growing old, and babalatchi, aware of an uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach, put both his hands there with a suddenly vivid and sad perception of the fact that he himself was growing old too; that the time of reckless daring was past for both of them, and that they had to seek refuge in prudent cunning. they wanted peace; they were disposed to reform; they were ready even to retrench, so as to have the wherewithal to bribe the evil days away, if bribed away they could be. babalatchi sighed for the second time that night as he squatted again at his master's feet and tendered him his betel-nut box in mute sympathy. and they sat there in close yet silent communion of betel-nut chewers, moving their jaws slowly, expectorating decorously into the wide- mouthed brass vessel they passed to one another, and listening to the awful din of the battling elements outside. "there is a very great flood," remarked babalatchi, sadly. "yes," said lakamba. "did dain go?" "he went, tuan. he ran down to the river like a man possessed of the sheitan himself." there was another long pause. "he may get drowned," suggested lakamba at last, with some show of interest. "the floating logs are many," answered babalatchi, "but he is a good swimmer," he added languidly. "he ought to live," said lakamba; "he knows where the treasure is." babalatchi assented with an ill-humoured grunt. his want of success in penetrating the white man's secret as to the locality where the gold was to be found was a sore point with the statesman of sambir, as the only conspicuous failure in an otherwise brilliant career. a great peace had now succeeded the turmoil of the storm. only the little belated clouds, which hurried past overhead to catch up the main body flashing silently in the distance, sent down short showers that pattered softly with a soothing hiss over the palm-leaf roof. lakamba roused himself from his apathy with an appearance of having grasped the situation at last. "babalatchi," he called briskly, giving him a slight kick. "ada tuan! i am listening." "if the orang blanda come here, babalatchi, and take almayer to batavia to punish him for smuggling gunpowder, what will he do, you think?" "i do not know, tuan." "you are a fool," commented lakamba, exultingly. "he will tell them where the treasure is, so as to find mercy. he will." babalatchi looked up at his master and nodded his head with by no means a joyful surprise. he had not thought of this; there was a new complication. "almayer must die," said lakamba, decisively, "to make our secret safe. he must die quietly, babalatchi. you must do it." babalatchi assented, and rose wearily to his feet. "to-morrow?" he asked. "yes; before the dutch come. he drinks much coffee," answered lakamba, with seeming irrelevancy. babalatchi stretched himself yawning, but lakamba, in the flattering consciousness of a knotty problem solved by his own unaided intellectual efforts, grew suddenly very wakeful. "babalatchi," he said to the exhausted statesman, "fetch the box of music the white captain gave me. i cannot sleep." at this order a deep shade of melancholy settled upon babalatchi's features. he went reluctantly behind the curtain and soon reappeared carrying in his arms a small hand-organ, which he put down on the table with an air of deep dejection. lakamba settled himself comfortably in his arm-chair. "turn, babalatchi, turn," he murmured, with closed eyes. babalatchi's hand grasped the handle with the energy of despair, and as he turned, the deep gloom on his countenance changed into an expression of hopeless resignation. through the open shutter the notes of verdi's music floated out on the great silence over the river and forest. lakamba listened with closed eyes and a delighted smile; babalatchi turned, at times dozing off and swaying over, then catching himself up in a great fright with a few quick turns of the handle. nature slept in an exhausted repose after the fierce turmoil, while under the unsteady hand of the statesman of sambir the trovatore fitfully wept, wailed, and bade good-bye to his leonore again and again in a mournful round of tearful and endless iteration. chapter vii. the bright sunshine of the clear mistless morning, after the stormy night, flooded the main path of the settlement leading from the low shore of the pantai branch of the river to the gate of abdulla's compound. the path was deserted this morning; it stretched its dark yellow surface, hard beaten by the tramp of many bare feet, between the clusters of palm trees, whose tall trunks barred it with strong black lines at irregular intervals, while the newly risen sun threw the shadows of their leafy heads far away over the roofs of the buildings lining the river, even over the river itself as it flowed swiftly and silently past the deserted houses. for the houses were deserted too. on the narrow strip of trodden grass intervening between their open doors and the road, the morning fires smouldered untended, sending thin fluted columns of smoke into the cool air, and spreading the thinnest veil of mysterious blue haze over the sunlit solitude of the settlement. almayer, just out of his hammock, gazed sleepily at the unwonted appearance of sambir, wondering vaguely at the absence of life. his own house was very quiet; he could not hear his wife's voice, nor the sound of nina's footsteps in the big room, opening on the verandah, which he called his sitting-room, whenever, in the company of white men, he wished to assert his claims to the commonplace decencies of civilisation. nobody ever sat there; there was nothing there to sit upon, for mrs. almayer in her savage moods, when excited by the reminiscences of the piratical period of her life, had torn off the curtains to make sarongs for the slave-girls, and had burnt the showy furniture piecemeal to cook the family rice. but almayer was not thinking of his furniture now. he was thinking of dain's return, of dain's nocturnal interview with lakamba, of its possible influence on his long-matured plans, now nearing the period of their execution. he was also uneasy at the non-appearance of dain who had promised him an early visit. "the fellow had plenty of time to cross the river," he mused, "and there was so much to be done to-day. the settling of details for the early start on the morrow; the launching of the boats; the thousand and one finishing touches. for the expedition must start complete, nothing should be forgotten, nothing should--" the sense of the unwonted solitude grew upon him suddenly, and in the unusual silence he caught himself longing even for the usually unwelcome sound of his wife's voice to break the oppressive stillness which seemed, to his frightened fancy, to portend the advent of some new misfortune. "what has happened?" he muttered half aloud, as he shuffled in his imperfectly adjusted slippers towards the balustrade of the verandah. "is everybody asleep or dead?" the settlement was alive and very much awake. it was awake ever since the early break of day, when mahmat banjer, in a fit of unheard-of energy, arose and, taking up his hatchet, stepped over the sleeping forms of his two wives and walked shivering to the water's edge to make sure that the new house he was building had not floated away during the night. the house was being built by the enterprising mahmat on a large raft, and he had securely moored it just inside the muddy point of land at the junction of the two branches of the pantai so as to be out of the way of drifting logs that would no doubt strand on the point during the freshet. mahmat walked through the wet grass saying bourrouh, and cursing softly to himself the hard necessities of active life that drove him from his warm couch into the cold of the morning. a glance showed him that his house was still there, and he congratulated himself on his foresight in hauling it out of harm's way, for the increasing light showed him a confused wrack of drift-logs, half-stranded on the muddy flat, interlocked into a shapeless raft by their branches, tossing to and fro and grinding together in the eddy caused by the meeting currents of the two branches of the river. mahmat walked down to the water's edge to examine the rattan moorings of his house just as the sun cleared the trees of the forest on the opposite shore. as he bent over the fastenings he glanced again carelessly at the unquiet jumble of logs and saw there something that caused him to drop his hatchet and stand up, shading his eyes with his hand from the rays of the rising sun. it was something red, and the logs rolled over it, at times closing round it, sometimes hiding it. it looked to him at first like a strip of red cloth. the next moment mahmat had made it out and raised a great shout. "ah ya! there!" yelled mahmat. "there's a man amongst the logs." he put the palms of his hand to his lips and shouted, enunciating distinctly, his face turned towards the settlement: "there's a body of a man in the river! come and see! a dead--stranger!" the women of the nearest house were already outside kindling the fires and husking the morning rice. they took up the cry shrilly, and it travelled so from house to house, dying away in the distance. the men rushed out excited but silent, and ran towards the muddy point where the unconscious logs tossed and ground and bumped and rolled over the dead stranger with the stupid persistency of inanimate things. the women followed, neglecting their domestic duties and disregarding the possibilities of domestic discontent, while groups of children brought up the rear, warbling joyously, in the delight of unexpected excitement. almayer called aloud for his wife and daughter, but receiving no response, stood listening intently. the murmur of the crowd reached him faintly, bringing with it the assurance of some unusual event. he glanced at the river just as he was going to leave the verandah and checked himself at the sight of a small canoe crossing over from the rajah's landing-place. the solitary occupant (in whom almayer soon recognised babalatchi) effected the crossing a little below the house and paddled up to the lingard jetty in the dead water under the bank. babalatchi clambered out slowly and went on fastening his canoe with fastidious care, as if not in a hurry to meet almayer, whom he saw looking at him from the verandah. this delay gave almayer time to notice and greatly wonder at babalatchi's official get-up. the statesman of sambir was clad in a costume befitting his high rank. a loudly checkered sarong encircled his waist, and from its many folds peeped out the silver hilt of the kriss that saw the light only on great festivals or during official receptions. over the left shoulder and across the otherwise unclad breast of the aged diplomatist glistened a patent leather belt bearing a brass plate with the arms of netherlands under the inscription, "sultan of sambir." babalatchi's head was covered by a red turban, whose fringed ends falling over the left cheek and shoulder gave to his aged face a ludicrous expression of joyous recklessness. when the canoe was at last fastened to his satisfaction he straightened himself up, shaking down the folds of his sarong, and moved with long strides towards almayer's house, swinging regularly his long ebony staff, whose gold head ornamented with precious stones flashed in the morning sun. almayer waved his hand to the right towards the point of land, to him invisible, but in full view from the jetty. "oh, babalatchi! oh!" he called out; "what is the matter there? can you see?" babalatchi stopped and gazed intently at the crowd on the river bank, and after a little while the astonished almayer saw him leave the path, gather up his sarong in one hand, and break into a trot through the grass towards the muddy point. almayer, now greatly interested, ran down the steps of the verandah. the murmur of men's voices and the shrill cries of women reached him quite distinctly now, and as soon as he turned the corner of his house he could see the crowd on the low promontory swaying and pushing round some object of interest. he could indistinctly hear babalatchi's voice, then the crowd opened before the aged statesman and closed after him with an excited hum, ending in a loud shout. as almayer approached the throng a man ran out and rushed past him towards the settlement, unheeding his call to stop and explain the cause of this excitement. on the very outskirts of the crowd almayer found himself arrested by an unyielding mass of humanity, regardless of his entreaties for a passage, insensible to his gentle pushes as he tried to work his way through it towards the riverside. in the midst of his gentle and slow progress he fancied suddenly he had heard his wife's voice in the thickest of the throng. he could not mistake very well mrs. almayer's high-pitched tones, yet the words were too indistinct for him to understand their purport. he paused in his endeavours to make a passage for himself, intending to get some intelligence from those around him, when a long and piercing shriek rent the air, silencing the murmurs of the crowd and the voices of his informants. for a moment almayer remained as if turned into stone with astonishment and horror, for he was certain now that he had heard his wife wailing for the dead. he remembered nina's unusual absence, and maddened by his apprehensions as to her safety, he pushed blindly and violently forward, the crowd falling back with cries of surprise and pain before his frantic advance. on the point of land in a little clear space lay the body of the stranger just hauled out from amongst the logs. on one side stood babalatchi, his chin resting on the head of his staff and his one eye gazing steadily at the shapeless mass of broken limbs, torn flesh, and bloodstained rags. as almayer burst through the ring of horrified spectators, mrs. almayer threw her own head-veil over the upturned face of the drowned man, and, squatting by it, with another mournful howl, sent a shiver through the now silent crowd. mahmat, dripping wet, turned to almayer, eager to tell his tale. in the first moment of reaction from the anguish of his fear the sunshine seemed to waver before almayer's eyes, and he listened to words spoken around him without comprehending their meaning. when, by a strong effort of will, he regained the possession of his senses, mahmat was saying-- "that is the way, tuan. his sarong was caught in the broken branch, and he hung with his head under water. when i saw what it was i did not want it here. i wanted it to get clear and drift away. why should we bury a stranger in the midst of our houses for his ghost to frighten our women and children? have we not enough ghosts about this place?" a murmur of approval interrupted him here. mahmat looked reproachfully at babalatchi. "but the tuan babalatchi ordered me to drag the body ashore"--he went on looking round at his audience, but addressing himself only to almayer--"and i dragged him by the feet; in through the mud i have dragged him, although my heart longed to see him float down the river to strand perchance on bulangi's clearing--may his father's grave be defiled!" there was subdued laughter at this, for the enmity of mahmat and bulangi was a matter of common notoriety and of undying interest to the inhabitants of sambir. in the midst of that mirth mrs. almayer wailed suddenly again. "allah! what ails the woman!" exclaimed mahmat, angrily. "here, i have touched this carcass which came from nobody knows where, and have most likely defiled myself before eating rice. by orders of tuan babalatchi i did this thing to please the white man. are you pleased, o tuan almayer? and what will be my recompense? tuan babalatchi said a recompense there will be, and from you. now consider. i have been defiled, and if not defiled i may be under the spell. look at his anklets! who ever heard of a corpse appearing during the night amongst the logs with gold anklets on its legs? there is witchcraft there. however," added mahmat, after a reflective pause, "i will have the anklet if there is permission, for i have a charm against the ghosts and am not afraid. god is great!" a fresh outburst of noisy grief from mrs. almayer checked the flow of mahmat's eloquence. almayer, bewildered, looked in turn at his wife, at mahmat, at babalatchi, and at last arrested his fascinated gaze on the body lying on the mud with covered face in a grotesquely unnatural contortion of mangled and broken limbs, one twisted and lacerated arm, with white bones protruding in many places through the torn flesh, stretched out; the hand with outspread fingers nearly touching his foot. "do you know who this is?" he asked of babalatchi, in a low voice. babalatchi, staring straight before him, hardly moved his lips, while mrs. almayer's persistent lamentations drowned the whisper of his murmured reply intended only for almayer's ear. "it was fate. look at your feet, white man. i can see a ring on those torn fingers which i know well." saying this, babalatchi stepped carelessly forward, putting his foot as if accidentally on the hand of the corpse and pressing it into the soft mud. he swung his staff menacingly towards the crowd, which fell back a little. "go away," he said sternly, "and send your women to their cooking fires, which they ought not to have left to run after a dead stranger. this is men's work here. i take him now in the name of the rajah. let no man remain here but tuan almayer's slaves. now go!" the crowd reluctantly began to disperse. the women went first, dragging away the children that hung back with all their weight on the maternal hand. the men strolled slowly after them in ever forming and changing groups that gradually dissolved as they neared the settlement and every man regained his own house with steps quickened by the hungry anticipation of the morning rice. only on the slight elevation where the land sloped down towards the muddy point a few men, either friends or enemies of mahmat, remained gazing curiously for some time longer at the small group standing around the body on the river bank. "i do not understand what you mean, babalatchi," said almayer. "what is the ring you are talking about? whoever he is, you have trodden the poor fellow's hand right into the mud. uncover his face," he went on, addressing mrs. almayer, who, squatting by the head of the corpse, rocked herself to and fro, shaking from time to time her dishevelled grey locks, and muttering mournfully. "hai!" exclaimed mahmat, who had lingered close by. "look, tuan; the logs came together so," and here he pressed the palms of his hands together, "and his head must have been between them, and now there is no face for you to look at. there are his flesh and his bones, the nose, and the lips, and maybe his eyes, but nobody could tell the one from the other. it was written the day he was born that no man could look at him in death and be able to say, 'this is my friend's face.'" "silence, mahmat; enough!" said babalatchi, "and take thy eyes off his anklet, thou eater of pigs flesh. tuan almayer," he went on, lowering his voice, "have you seen dain this morning?" almayer opened his eyes wide and looked alarmed. "no," he said quickly; "haven't you seen him? is he not with the rajah? i am waiting; why does he not come?" babalatchi nodded his head sadly. "he is come, tuan. he left last night when the storm was great and the river spoke angrily. the night was very black, but he had within him a light that showed the way to your house as smooth as a narrow backwater, and the many logs no bigger than wisps of dried grass. therefore he went; and now he lies here." and babalatchi nodded his head towards the body. "how can you tell?" said almayer, excitedly, pushing his wife aside. he snatched the cover off and looked at the formless mass of flesh, hair, and drying mud, where the face of the drowned man should have been. "nobody can tell," he added, turning away with a shudder. babalatchi was on his knees wiping the mud from the stiffened fingers of the outstretched hand. he rose to his feet and flashed before almayer's eyes a gold ring set with a large green stone. "you know this well," he said. "this never left dain's hand. i had to tear the flesh now to get it off. do you believe now?" almayer raised his hands to his head and let them fall listlessly by his side in the utter abandonment of despair. babalatchi, looking at him curiously, was astonished to see him smile. a strange fancy had taken possession of almayer's brain, distracted by this new misfortune. it seemed to him that for many years he had been falling into a deep precipice. day after day, month after month, year after year, he had been falling, falling, falling; it was a smooth, round, black thing, and the black walls had been rushing upwards with wearisome rapidity. a great rush, the noise of which he fancied he could hear yet; and now, with an awful shock, he had reached the bottom, and behold! he was alive and whole, and dain was dead with all his bones broken. it struck him as funny. a dead malay; he had seen many dead malays without any emotion; and now he felt inclined to weep, but it was over the fate of a white man he knew; a man that fell over a deep precipice and did not die. he seemed somehow to himself to be standing on one side, a little way off, looking at a certain almayer who was in great trouble. poor, poor fellow! why doesn't he cut his throat? he wished to encourage him; he was very anxious to see him lying dead over that other corpse. why does he not die and end this suffering? he groaned aloud unconsciously and started with affright at the sound of his own voice. was he going mad? terrified by the thought he turned away and ran towards his house repeating to himself, i am not going mad; of course not, no, no, no! he tried to keep a firm hold of the idea. not mad, not mad. he stumbled as he ran blindly up the steps repeating fast and ever faster those words wherein seemed to lie his salvation. he saw nina standing there, and wished to say something to her, but could not remember what, in his extreme anxiety not to forget that he was not going mad, which he still kept repeating mentally as he ran round the table, till he stumbled against one of the arm-chairs and dropped into it exhausted. he sat staring wildly at nina, still assuring himself mentally of his own sanity and wondering why the girl shrank from him in open-eyed alarm. what was the matter with her? this was foolish. he struck the table violently with his clenched fist and shouted hoarsely, "give me some gin! run!" then, while nina ran off, he remained in the chair, very still and quiet, astonished at the noise he had made. nina returned with a tumbler half filled with gin, and found her father staring absently before him. almayer felt very tired now, as if he had come from a long journey. he felt as if he had walked miles and miles that morning and now wanted to rest very much. he took the tumbler with a shaking hand, and as he drank his teeth chattered against the glass which he drained and set down heavily on the table. he turned his eyes slowly towards nina standing beside him, and said steadily-- "now all is over, nina. he is dead, and i may as well burn all my boats." he felt very proud of being able to speak so calmly. decidedly he was not going mad. this certitude was very comforting, and he went on talking about the finding of the body, listening to his own voice complacently. nina stood quietly, her hand resting lightly on her father's shoulder, her face unmoved, but every line of her features, the attitude of her whole body expressing the most keen and anxious attention. "and so dain is dead," she said coldly, when her father ceased speaking. almayer's elaborately calm demeanour gave way in a moment to an outburst of violent indignation. "you stand there as if you were only half alive, and talk to me," he exclaimed angrily, "as if it was a matter of no importance. yes, he is dead! do you understand? dead! what do you care? you never cared; you saw me struggle, and work, and strive, unmoved; and my suffering you could never see. no, never. you have no heart, and you have no mind, or you would have understood that it was for you, for your happiness i was working. i wanted to be rich; i wanted to get away from here. i wanted to see white men bowing low before the power of your beauty and your wealth. old as i am i wished to seek a strange land, a civilisation to which i am a stranger, so as to find a new life in the contemplation of your high fortunes, of your triumphs, of your happiness. for that i bore patiently the burden of work, of disappointment, of humiliation amongst these savages here, and i had it all nearly in my grasp." he looked at his daughter's attentive face and jumped to his feet upsetting the chair. "do you hear? i had it all there; so; within reach of my hand." he paused, trying to keep down his rising anger, and failed. "have you no feeling?" he went on. "have you lived without hope?" nina's silence exasperated him; his voice rose, although he tried to master his feelings. "are you content to live in this misery and die in this wretched hole? say something, nina; have you no sympathy? have you no word of comfort for me? i that loved you so." he waited for a while for an answer, and receiving none shook his fist in his daughter's face. "i believe you are an idiot!" he yelled. he looked round for the chair, picked it up and sat down stiffly. his anger was dead within him, and he felt ashamed of his outburst, yet relieved to think that now he had laid clear before his daughter the inner meaning of his life. he thought so in perfect good faith, deceived by the emotional estimate of his motives, unable to see the crookedness of his ways, the unreality of his aims, the futility of his regrets. and now his heart was filled only with a great tenderness and love for his daughter. he wanted to see her miserable, and to share with her his despair; but he wanted it only as all weak natures long for a companionship in misfortune with beings innocent of its cause. if she suffered herself she would understand and pity him; but now she would not, or could not, find one word of comfort or love for him in his dire extremity. the sense of his absolute loneliness came home to his heart with a force that made him shudder. he swayed and fell forward with his face on the table, his arms stretched straight out, extended and rigid. nina made a quick movement towards her father and stood looking at the grey head, on the broad shoulders shaken convulsively by the violence of feelings that found relief at last in sobs and tears. nina sighed deeply and moved away from the table. her features lost the appearance of stony indifference that had exasperated her father into his outburst of anger and sorrow. the expression of her face, now unseen by her father, underwent a rapid change. she had listened to almayer's appeal for sympathy, for one word of comfort, apparently indifferent, yet with her breast torn by conflicting impulses raised unexpectedly by events she had not foreseen, or at least did not expect to happen so soon. with her heart deeply moved by the sight of almayer's misery, knowing it in her power to end it with a word, longing to bring peace to that troubled heart, she heard with terror the voice of her overpowering love commanding her to be silent. and she submitted after a short and fierce struggle of her old self against the new principle of her life. she wrapped herself up in absolute silence, the only safeguard against some fatal admission. she could not trust herself to make a sign, to murmur a word for fear of saying too much; and the very violence of the feelings that stirred the innermost recesses of her soul seemed to turn her person into a stone. the dilated nostrils and the flashing eyes were the only signs of the storm raging within, and those signs of his daughter's emotion almayer did not see, for his sight was dimmed by self- pity, by anger, and by despair. had almayer looked at his daughter as she leant over the front rail of the verandah he could have seen the expression of indifference give way to a look of pain, and that again pass away, leaving the glorious beauty of her face marred by deep-drawn lines of watchful anxiety. the long grass in the neglected courtyard stood very straight before her eyes in the noonday heat. from the river-bank there were voices and a shuffle of bare feet approaching the house; babalatchi could be heard giving directions to almayer's men, and mrs. almayer's subdued wailing became audible as the small procession bearing the body of the drowned man and headed by that sorrowful matron turned the corner of the house. babalatchi had taken the broken anklet off the man's leg, and now held it in his hand as he moved by the side of the bearers, while mahmat lingered behind timidly, in the hopes of the promised reward. "lay him there," said babalatchi to almayer's men, pointing to a pile of drying planks in front of the verandah. "lay him there. he was a kaffir and the son of a dog, and he was the white man's friend. he drank the white man's strong water," he added, with affected horror. "that i have seen myself." the men stretched out the broken limbs on two planks they had laid level, while mrs. almayer covered the body with a piece of white cotton cloth, and after whispering for some time with babalatchi departed to her domestic duties. almayer's men, after laying down their burden, dispersed themselves in quest of shady spots wherein to idle the day away. babalatchi was left alone by the corpse that laid rigid under the white cloth in the bright sunshine. nina came down the steps and joined babalatchi, who put his hand to his forehead, and squatted down with great deference. "you have a bangle there," said nina, looking down on babalatchi's upturned face and into his solitary eye. "i have, mem putih," returned the polite statesman. then turning towards mahmat he beckoned him closer, calling out, "come here!" mahmat approached with some hesitation. he avoided looking at nina, but fixed his eyes on babalatchi. "now, listen," said babalatchi, sharply. "the ring and the anklet you have seen, and you know they belonged to dain the trader, and to no other. dain returned last night in a canoe. he spoke with the rajah, and in the middle of the night left to cross over to the white man's house. there was a great flood, and this morning you found him in the river." "by his feet i dragged him out," muttered mahmat under his breath. "tuan babalatchi, there will be a recompense!" he exclaimed aloud. babalatchi held up the gold bangle before mahmat's eyes. "what i have told you, mahmat, is for all ears. what i give you now is for your eyes only. take." mahmat took the bangle eagerly and hid it in the folds of his waist-cloth. "am i a fool to show this thing in a house with three women in it?" he growled. "but i shall tell them about dain the trader, and there will be talk enough." he turned and went away, increasing his pace as soon as he was outside almayer's compound. babalatchi looked after him till he disappeared behind the bushes. "have i done well, mem putih?" he asked, humbly addressing nina. "you have," answered nina. "the ring you may keep yourself." babalatchi touched his lips and forehead, and scrambled to his feet. he looked at nina, as if expecting her to say something more, but nina turned towards the house and went up the steps, motioning him away with her hand. babalatchi picked up his staff and prepared to go. it was very warm, and he did not care for the long pull to the rajah's house. yet he must go and tell the rajah--tell of the event; of the change in his plans; of all his suspicions. he walked to the jetty and began casting off the rattan painter of his canoe. the broad expanse of the lower reach, with its shimmering surface dotted by the black specks of the fishing canoes, lay before his eyes. the fishermen seemed to be racing. babalatchi paused in his work, and looked on with sudden interest. the man in the foremost canoe, now within hail of the first houses of sambir, laid in his paddle and stood up shouting-- "the boats! the boats! the man-of-war's boats are coming! they are here!" in a moment the settlement was again alive with people rushing to the riverside. the men began to unfasten their boats, the women stood in groups looking towards the bend down the river. above the trees lining the reach a slight puff of smoke appeared like a black stain on the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky. babalatchi stood perplexed, the painter in his hand. he looked down the reach, then up towards almayer's house, and back again at the river as if undecided what to do. at last he made the canoe fast again hastily, and ran towards the house and up the steps of the verandah. "tuan! tuan!" he called, eagerly. "the boats are coming. the man-of- war's boats. you had better get ready. the officers will come here, i know." almayer lifted his head slowly from the table, and looked at him stupidly. "mem putih!" exclaimed babalatchi to nina, "look at him. he does not hear. you must take care," he added meaningly. nina nodded to him with an uncertain smile, and was going to speak, when a sharp report from the gun mounted in the bow of the steam launch that was just then coming into view arrested the words on her parted lips. the smile died out, and was replaced by the old look of anxious attention. from the hills far away the echo came back like a long-drawn and mournful sigh, as if the land had sent it in answer to the voice of its masters. chapter viii. the news as to the identity of the body lying now in almayer's compound spread rapidly over the settlement. during the forenoon most of the inhabitants remained in the long street discussing the mysterious return and the unexpected death of the man who had become known to them as the trader. his arrival during the north-east monsoon, his long sojourn in their midst, his sudden departure with his brig, and, above all, the mysterious appearance of the body, said to be his, amongst the logs, were subjects to wonder at and to talk over and over again with undiminished interest. mahmat moved from house to house and from group to group, always ready to repeat his tale: how he saw the body caught by the sarong in a forked log; how mrs. almayer coming, one of the first, at his cries, recognised it, even before he had it hauled on shore; how babalatchi ordered him to bring it out of the water. "by the feet i dragged him in, and there was no head," exclaimed mahmat, "and how could the white man's wife know who it was? she was a witch, it was well known. and did you see how the white man himself ran away at the sight of the body? like a deer he ran!" and here mahmat imitated almayer's long strides, to the great joy of the beholders. and for all his trouble he had nothing. the ring with the green stone tuan babalatchi kept. "nothing! nothing!" he spat down at his feet in sign of disgust, and left that group to seek further on a fresh audience. the news spreading to the furthermost parts of the settlement found out abdulla in the cool recess of his godown, where he sat overlooking his arab clerks and the men loading and unloading the up-country canoes. reshid, who was busy on the jetty, was summoned into his uncle's presence and found him, as usual, very calm and even cheerful, but very much surprised. the rumour of the capture or destruction of dain's brig had reached the arab's ears three days before from the sea-fishermen and through the dwellers on the lower reaches of the river. it had been passed up-stream from neighbour to neighbour till bulangi, whose clearing was nearest to the settlement, had brought that news himself to abdulla whose favour he courted. but rumour also spoke of a fight and of dain's death on board his own vessel. and now all the settlement talked of dain's visit to the rajah and of his death when crossing the river in the dark to see almayer. they could not understand this. reshid thought that it was very strange. he felt uneasy and doubtful. but abdulla, after the first shock of surprise, with the old age's dislike for solving riddles, showed a becoming resignation. he remarked that the man was dead now at all events, and consequently no more dangerous. where was the use to wonder at the decrees of fate, especially if they were propitious to the true believers? and with a pious ejaculation to allah the merciful, the compassionate, abdulla seemed to regard the incident as closed for the present. not so reshid. he lingered by his uncle, pulling thoughtfully his neatly trimmed beard. "there are many lies," he murmured. "he has been dead once before, and came to life to die again now. the dutch will be here before many days and clamour for the man. shall i not believe my eyes sooner than the tongues of women and idle men?" "they say that the body is being taken to almayer's compound," said abdulla. "if you want to go there you must go before the dutch arrive here. go late. it should not be said that we have been seen inside that man's enclosure lately." reshid assented to the truth of this last remark and left his uncle's side. he leaned against the lintel of the big doorway and looked idly across the courtyard through the open gate on to the main road of the settlement. it lay empty, straight, and yellow under the flood of light. in the hot noontide the smooth trunks of palm trees, the outlines of the houses, and away there at the other end of the road the roof of almayer's house visible over the bushes on the dark background of forest, seemed to quiver in the heat radiating from the steaming earth. swarms of yellow butterflies rose, and settled to rise again in short flights before reshid's half-closed eyes. from under his feet arose the dull hum of insects in the long grass of the courtyard. he looked on sleepily. from one of the side paths amongst the houses a woman stepped out on the road, a slight girlish figure walking under the shade of a large tray balanced on its head. the consciousness of something moving stirred reshid's half-sleeping senses into a comparative wakefulness. he recognised taminah, bulangi's slave-girl, with her tray of cakes for sale--an apparition of daily recurrence and of no importance whatever. she was going towards almayer's house. she could be made useful. he roused himself up and ran towards the gate calling out, "taminah o!" the girl stopped, hesitated, and came back slowly. reshid waited, signing to her impatiently to come nearer. when near reshid taminah stood with downcast eyes. reshid looked at her a while before he asked-- "are you going to almayer's house? they say in the settlement that dain the trader, he that was found drowned this morning, is lying in the white man's campong." "i have heard this talk," whispered taminah; "and this morning by the riverside i saw the body. where it is now i do not know." "so you have seen it?" asked reshid, eagerly. "is it dain? you have seen him many times. you would know him." the girl's lips quivered and she remained silent for a while, breathing quickly. "i have seen him, not a long time ago," she said at last. "the talk is true; he is dead. what do you want from me, tuan? i must go." just then the report of the gun fired on board the steam launch was heard, interrupting reshid's reply. leaving the girl he ran to the house, and met in the courtyard abdulla coming towards the gate. "the orang blanda are come," said reshid, "and now we shall have our reward." abdulla shook his head doubtfully. "the white men's rewards are long in coming," he said. "white men are quick in anger and slow in gratitude. we shall see." he stood at the gate stroking his grey beard and listening to the distant cries of greeting at the other end of the settlement. as taminah was turning to go he called her back. "listen, girl," he said: "there will be many white men in almayer's house. you shall be there selling your cakes to the men of the sea. what you see and what you hear you may tell me. come here before the sun sets and i will give you a blue handkerchief with red spots. now go, and forget not to return." he gave her a push with the end of his long staff as she was going away and made her stumble. "this slave is very slow," he remarked to his nephew, looking after the girl with great disfavour. taminah walked on, her tray on the head, her eyes fixed on the ground. from the open doors of the houses were heard, as she passed, friendly calls inviting her within for business purposes, but she never heeded them, neglecting her sales in the preoccupation of intense thinking. since the very early morning she had heard much, she had also seen much that filled her heart with a joy mingled with great suffering and fear. before the dawn, before she left bulangi's house to paddle up to sambir she had heard voices outside the house when all in it but herself were asleep. and now, with her knowledge of the words spoken in the darkness, she held in her hand a life and carried in her breast a great sorrow. yet from her springy step, erect figure, and face veiled over by the everyday look of apathetic indifference, nobody could have guessed of the double load she carried under the visible burden of the tray piled up high with cakes manufactured by the thrifty hands of bulangi's wives. in that supple figure straight as an arrow, so graceful and free in its walk, behind those soft eyes that spoke of nothing but of unconscious resignation, there slept all feelings and all passions, all hopes and all fears, the curse of life and the consolation of death. and she knew nothing of it all. she lived like the tall palms amongst whom she was passing now, seeking the light, desiring the sunshine, fearing the storm, unconscious of either. the slave had no hope, and knew of no change. she knew of no other sky, no other water, no other forest, no other world, no other life. she had no wish, no hope, no love, no fear except of a blow, and no vivid feeling but that of occasional hunger, which was seldom, for bulangi was rich and rice was plentiful in the solitary house in his clearing. the absence of pain and hunger was her happiness, and when she felt unhappy she was simply tired, more than usual, after the day's labour. then in the hot nights of the south-west monsoon she slept dreamlessly under the bright stars on the platform built outside the house and over the river. inside they slept too: bulangi by the door; his wives further in; the children with their mothers. she could hear their breathing; bulangi's sleepy voice; the sharp cry of a child soon hushed with tender words. and she closed her eyes to the murmur of the water below her, to the whisper of the warm wind above, ignorant of the never-ceasing life of that tropical nature that spoke to her in vain with the thousand faint voices of the near forest, with the breath of tepid wind; in the heavy scents that lingered around her head; in the white wraiths of morning mist that hung over her in the solemn hush of all creation before the dawn. such had been her existence before the coming of the brig with the strangers. she remembered well that time; the uproar in the settlement, the never-ending wonder, the days and nights of talk and excitement. she remembered her own timidity with the strange men, till the brig moored to the bank became in a manner part of the settlement, and the fear wore off in the familiarity of constant intercourse. the call on board then became part of her daily round. she walked hesitatingly up the slanting planks of the gangway amidst the encouraging shouts and more or less decent jokes of the men idling over the bulwarks. there she sold her wares to those men that spoke so loud and carried themselves so free. there was a throng, a constant coming and going; calls interchanged, orders given and executed with shouts; the rattle of blocks, the flinging about of coils of rope. she sat out of the way under the shade of the awning, with her tray before her, the veil drawn well over her face, feeling shy amongst so many men. she smiled at all buyers, but spoke to none, letting their jests pass with stolid unconcern. she heard many tales told around her of far-off countries, of strange customs, of events stranger still. those men were brave; but the most fearless of them spoke of their chief with fear. often the man they called their master passed before her, walking erect and indifferent, in the pride of youth, in the flash of rich dress, with a tinkle of gold ornaments, while everybody stood aside watching anxiously for a movement of his lips, ready to do his bidding. then all her life seemed to rush into her eyes, and from under her veil she gazed at him, charmed, yet fearful to attract attention. one day he noticed her and asked, "who is that girl?" "a slave, tuan! a girl that sells cakes," a dozen voices replied together. she rose in terror to run on shore, when he called her back; and as she stood trembling with head hung down before him, he spoke kind words, lifting her chin with his hand and looking into her eyes with a smile. "do not be afraid," he said. he never spoke to her any more. somebody called out from the river bank; he turned away and forgot her existence. taminah saw almayer standing on the shore with nina on his arm. she heard nina's voice calling out gaily, and saw dain's face brighten with joy as he leaped on shore. she hated the sound of that voice ever since. after that day she left off visiting almayer's compound, and passed the noon hours under the shade of the brig awning. she watched for his coming with heart beating quicker and quicker, as he approached, into a wild tumult of newly-aroused feelings of joy and hope and fear that died away with dain's retreating figure, leaving her tired out, as if after a struggle, sitting still for a long time in dreamy languor. then she paddled home slowly in the afternoon, often letting her canoe float with the lazy stream in the quiet backwater of the river. the paddle hung idle in the water as she sat in the stern, one hand supporting her chin, her eyes wide open, listening intently to the whispering of her heart that seemed to swell at last into a song of extreme sweetness. listening to that song she husked the rice at home; it dulled her ears to the shrill bickerings of bulangi's wives, to the sound of angry reproaches addressed to herself. and when the sun was near its setting she walked to the bathing-place and heard it as she stood on the tender grass of the low bank, her robe at her feet, and looked at the reflection of her figure on the glass-like surface of the creek. listening to it she walked slowly back, her wet hair hanging over her shoulders; laying down to rest under the bright stars, she closed her eyes to the murmur of the water below, of the warm wind above; to the voice of nature speaking through the faint noises of the great forest, and to the song of her own heart. she heard, but did not understand, and drank in the dreamy joy of her new existence without troubling about its meaning or its end, till the full consciousness of life came to her through pain and anger. and she suffered horribly the first time she saw nina's long canoe drift silently past the sleeping house of bulangi, bearing the two lovers into the white mist of the great river. her jealousy and rage culminated into a paroxysm of physical pain that left her lying panting on the river bank, in the dumb agony of a wounded animal. but she went on moving patiently in the enchanted circle of slavery, going through her task day after day with all the pathos of the grief she could not express, even to herself, locked within her breast. she shrank from nina as she would have shrunk from the sharp blade of a knife cutting into her flesh, but she kept on visiting the brig to feed her dumb, ignorant soul on her own despair. she saw dain many times. he never spoke, he never looked. could his eyes see only one woman's image? could his ears hear only one woman's voice? he never noticed her; not once. and then he went away. she saw him and nina for the last time on that morning when babalatchi, while visiting his fish baskets, had his suspicions of the white man's daughter's love affair with dain confirmed beyond the shadow of doubt. dain disappeared, and taminah's heart, where lay useless and barren the seeds of all love and of all hate, the possibilities of all passions and of all sacrifices, forgot its joys and its sufferings when deprived of the help of the senses. her half-formed, savage mind, the slave of her body--as her body was the slave of another's will--forgot the faint and vague image of the ideal that had found its beginning in the physical promptings of her savage nature. she dropped back into the torpor of her former life and found consolation--even a certain kind of happiness--in the thought that now nina and dain were separated, probably for ever. he would forget. this thought soothed the last pangs of dying jealousy that had nothing now to feed upon, and taminah found peace. it was like the dreary tranquillity of a desert, where there is peace only because there is no life. and now he had returned. she had recognised his voice calling aloud in the night for bulangi. she had crept out after her master to listen closer to the intoxicating sound. dain was there, in a boat, talking to bulangi. taminah, listening with arrested breath, heard another voice. the maddening joy, that only a second before she thought herself incapable of containing within her fast-beating heart, died out, and left her shivering in the old anguish of physical pain that she had suffered once before at the sight of dain and nina. nina spoke now, ordering and entreating in turns, and bulangi was refusing, expostulating, at last consenting. he went in to take a paddle from the heap lying behind the door. outside the murmur of two voices went on, and she caught a word here and there. she understood that he was fleeing from white men, that he was seeking a hiding-place, that he was in some danger. but she heard also words which woke the rage of jealousy that had been asleep for so many days in her bosom. crouching low on the mud in the black darkness amongst the piles, she heard the whisper in the boat that made light of toil, of privation, of danger, of life itself, if in exchange there could be but a short moment of close embrace, a look from the eyes, the feel of light breath, the touch of soft lips. so spoke dain as he sat in the canoe holding nina's hands while waiting for bulangi's return; and taminah, supporting herself by the slimy pile, felt as if a heavy weight was crushing her down, down into the black oily water at her feet. she wanted to cry out; to rush at them and tear their vague shadows apart; to throw nina into the smooth water, cling to her close, hold her to the bottom where that man could not find her. she could not cry, she could not move. then footsteps were heard on the bamboo platform above her head; she saw bulangi get into his smallest canoe and take the lead, the other boat following, paddled by dain and nina. with a slight splash of the paddles dipped stealthily into the water, their indistinct forms passed before her aching eyes and vanished in the darkness of the creek. she remained there in the cold and wet, powerless to move, breathing painfully under the crushing weight that the mysterious hand of fate had laid so suddenly upon her slender shoulders, and shivering, she felt within a burning fire, that seemed to feed upon her very life. when the breaking day had spread a pale golden ribbon over the black outline of the forests, she took up her tray and departed towards the settlement, going about her task purely from the force of habit. as she approached sambir she could see the excitement and she heard with momentary surprise of the finding of dain's body. it was not true, of course. she knew it well. she regretted that he was not dead. she should have liked dain to be dead, so as to be parted from that woman--from all women. she felt a strong desire to see nina, but without any clear object. she hated her, and feared her and she felt an irresistible impulse pushing her towards almayer's house to see the white woman's face, to look close at those eyes, to hear again that voice, for the sound of which dain was ready to risk his liberty, his life even. she had seen her many times; she had heard her voice daily for many months past. what was there in her? what was there in that being to make a man speak as dain had spoken, to make him blind to all other faces, deaf to all other voices? she left the crowd by the riverside, and wandered aimlessly among the empty houses, resisting the impulse that pushed her towards almayer's campong to seek there in nina's eyes the secret of her own misery. the sun mounting higher, shortened the shadows and poured down upon her a flood of light and of stifling heat as she passed on from shadow to light, from light to shadow, amongst the houses, the bushes, the tall trees, in her unconscious flight from the pain in her own heart. in the extremity of her distress she could find no words to pray for relief, she knew of no heaven to send her prayer to, and she wandered on with tired feet in the dumb surprise and terror at the injustice of the suffering inflicted upon her without cause and without redress. the short talk with reshid, the proposal of abdulla steadied her a little and turned her thoughts into another channel. dain was in some danger. he was hiding from white men. so much she had overheard last night. they all thought him dead. she knew he was alive, and she knew of his hiding- place. what did the arabs want to know about the white men? the white men want with dain? did they wish to kill him? she could tell them all--no, she would say nothing, and in the night she would go to him and sell him his life for a word, for a smile, for a gesture even, and be his slave in far-off countries, away from nina. but there were dangers. the one-eyed babalatchi who knew everything; the white man's wife--she was a witch. perhaps they would tell. and then there was nina. she must hurry on and see. in her impatience she left the path and ran towards almayer's dwelling through the undergrowth between the palm trees. she came out at the back of the house, where a narrow ditch, full of stagnant water that overflowed from the river, separated almayer's campong from the rest of the settlement. the thick bushes growing on the bank were hiding from her sight the large courtyard with its cooking shed. above them rose several thin columns of smoke, and from behind the sound of strange voices informed taminah that the men of the sea belonging to the warship had already landed and were camped between the ditch and the house. to the left one of almayer's slave-girls came down to the ditch and bent over the shiny water, washing a kettle. to the right the tops of the banana plantation, visible above the bushes, swayed and shook under the touch of invisible hands gathering the fruit. on the calm water several canoes moored to a heavy stake were crowded together, nearly bridging the ditch just at the place where taminah stood. the voices in the courtyard rose at times into an outburst of calls, replies, and laughter, and then died away into a silence that soon was broken again by a fresh clamour. now and again the thin blue smoke rushed out thicker and blacker, and drove in odorous masses over the creek, wrapping her for a moment in a suffocating veil; then, as the fresh wood caught well alight, the smoke vanished in the bright sunlight, and only the scent of aromatic wood drifted afar, to leeward of the crackling fires. taminah rested her tray on a stump of a tree, and remained standing with her eyes turned towards almayer's house, whose roof and part of a whitewashed wall were visible over the bushes. the slave-girl finished her work, and after looking for a while curiously at taminah, pushed her way through the dense thicket back to the courtyard. round taminah there was now a complete solitude. she threw herself down on the ground, and hid her face in her hands. now when so close she had no courage to see nina. at every burst of louder voices from the courtyard she shivered in the fear of hearing nina's voice. she came to the resolution of waiting where she was till dark, and then going straight to dain's hiding-place. from where she was she could watch the movements of white men, of nina, of all dain's friends, and of all his enemies. both were hateful alike to her, for both would take him away beyond her reach. she hid herself in the long grass to wait anxiously for the sunset that seemed so slow to come. on the other side of the ditch, behind the bush, by the clear fires, the seamen of the frigate had encamped on the hospitable invitation of almayer. almayer, roused out of his apathy by the prayers and importunity of nina, had managed to get down in time to the jetty so as to receive the officers at their landing. the lieutenant in command accepted his invitation to his house with the remark that in any case their business was with almayer--and perhaps not very pleasant, he added. almayer hardly heard him. he shook hands with them absently and led the way towards the house. he was scarcely conscious of the polite words of welcome he greeted the strangers with, and afterwards repeated several times over again in his efforts to appear at ease. the agitation of their host did not escape the officer's eyes, and the chief confided to his subordinate, in a low voice, his doubts as to almayer's sobriety. the young sub-lieutenant laughed and expressed in a whisper the hope that the white man was not intoxicated enough to neglect the offer of some refreshments. "he does not seem very dangerous," he added, as they followed almayer up the steps of the verandah. "no, he seems more of a fool than a knave; i have heard of him," returned the senior. they sat around the table. almayer with shaking hands made gin cocktails, offered them all round, and drank himself, with every gulp feeling stronger, steadier, and better able to face all the difficulties of his position. ignorant of the fate of the brig he did not suspect the real object of the officer's visit. he had a general notion that something must have leaked out about the gunpowder trade, but apprehended nothing beyond some temporary inconveniences. after emptying his glass he began to chat easily, lying back in his chair with one of his legs thrown negligently over the arm. the lieutenant astride on his chair, a glowing cheroot in the corner of his mouth, listened with a sly smile from behind the thick volumes of smoke that escaped from his compressed lips. the young sub-lieutenant, leaning with both elbows on the table, his head between his hands, looked on sleepily in the torpor induced by fatigue and the gin. almayer talked on-- "it is a great pleasure to see white faces here. i have lived here many years in great solitude. the malays, you understand, are not company for a white man; moreover they are not friendly; they do not understand our ways. great rascals they are. i believe i am the only white man on the east coast that is a settled resident. we get visitors from macassar or singapore sometimes--traders, agents, or explorers, but they are rare. there was a scientific explorer here a year or more ago. he lived in my house: drank from morning to night. he lived joyously for a few months, and when the liquor he brought with him was gone he returned to batavia with a report on the mineral wealth of the interior. ha, ha, ha! good, is it not?" he ceased abruptly and looked at his guests with a meaningless stare. while they laughed he was reciting to himself the old story: "dain dead, all my plans destroyed. this is the end of all hope and of all things." his heart sank within him. he felt a kind of deadly sickness. "very good. capital!" exclaimed both officers. almayer came out of his despondency with another burst of talk. "eh! what about the dinner? you have got a cook with you. that's all right. there is a cooking shed in the other courtyard. i can give you a goose. look at my geese--the only geese on the east coast--perhaps on the whole island. is that your cook? very good. here, ali, show this chinaman the cooking place and tell mem almayer to let him have room there. my wife, gentlemen, does not come out; my daughter may. meantime have some more drink. it is a hot day." the lieutenant took the cigar out of his mouth, looked at the ash critically, shook it off and turned towards almayer. "we have a rather unpleasant business with you," he said. "i am sorry," returned almayer. "it can be nothing very serious, surely." "if you think an attempt to blow up forty men at least, not a serious matter you will not find many people of your opinion," retorted the officer sharply. "blow up! what? i know nothing about it," exclaimed almayer. "who did that, or tried to do it?" "a man with whom you had some dealings," answered the lieutenant. "he passed here under the name of dain maroola. you sold him the gunpowder he had in that brig we captured." "how did you hear about the brig?" asked almayer. "i know nothing about the powder he may have had." "an arab trader of this place has sent the information about your goings on here to batavia, a couple of months ago," said the officer. "we were waiting for the brig outside, but he slipped past us at the mouth of the river, and we had to chase the fellow to the southward. when he sighted us he ran inside the reefs and put the brig ashore. the crew escaped in boats before we could take possession. as our boats neared the craft it blew up with a tremendous explosion; one of the boats being too near got swamped. two men drowned--that is the result of your speculation, mr. almayer. now we want this dain. we have good grounds to suppose he is hiding in sambir. do you know where he is? you had better put yourself right with the authorities as much as possible by being perfectly frank with me. where is this dain?" almayer got up and walked towards the balustrade of the verandah. he seemed not to be thinking of the officer's question. he looked at the body laying straight and rigid under its white cover on which the sun, declining amongst the clouds to the westward, threw a pale tinge of red. the lieutenant waited for the answer, taking quick pulls at his half-extinguished cigar. behind them ali moved noiselessly laying the table, ranging solemnly the ill-assorted and shabby crockery, the tin spoons, the forks with broken prongs, and the knives with saw-like blades and loose handles. he had almost forgotten how to prepare the table for white men. he felt aggrieved; mem nina would not help him. he stepped back to look at his work admiringly, feeling very proud. this must be right; and if the master afterwards is angry and swears, then so much the worse for mem nina. why did she not help? he left the verandah to fetch the dinner. "well, mr. almayer, will you answer my question as frankly as it is put to you?" asked the lieutenant, after a long silence. almayer turned round and looked at his interlocutor steadily. "if you catch this dain what will you do with him?" he asked. the officer's face flushed. "this is not an answer," he said, annoyed. "and what will you do with me?" went on almayer, not heeding the interruption. "are you inclined to bargain?" growled the other. "it would be bad policy, i assure you. at present i have no orders about your person, but we expected your assistance in catching this malay." "ah!" interrupted almayer, "just so: you can do nothing without me, and i, knowing the man well, am to help you in finding him." "this is exactly what we expect," assented the officer. "you have broken the law, mr. almayer, and you ought to make amends." "and save myself?" "well, in a sense yes. your head is not in any danger," said the lieutenant, with a short laugh. "very well," said almayer, with decision, "i shall deliver the man up to you." both officers rose to their feet quickly, and looked for their side-arms which they had unbuckled. almayer laughed harshly. "steady, gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "in my own time and in my own way. after dinner, gentlemen, you shall have him." "this is preposterous," urged the lieutenant. "mr. almayer, this is no joking matter. the man is a criminal. he deserves to hang. while we dine he may escape; the rumour of our arrival--" almayer walked towards the table. "i give you my word of honour, gentlemen, that he shall not escape; i have him safe enough." "the arrest should be effected before dark," remarked the young sub. "i shall hold you responsible for any failure. we are ready, but can do nothing just now without you," added the senior, with evident annoyance. almayer made a gesture of assent. "on my word of honour," he repeated vaguely. "and now let us dine," he added briskly. nina came through the doorway and stood for a moment holding the curtain aside for ali and the old malay woman bearing the dishes; then she moved towards the three men by the table. "allow me," said almayer, pompously. "this is my daughter. nina, these gentlemen, officers of the frigate outside, have done me the honour to accept my hospitality." nina answered the low bows of the two officers by a slow inclination of the head and took her place at the table opposite her father. all sat down. the coxswain of the steam launch came up carrying some bottles of wine. "you will allow me to have this put upon the table?" said the lieutenant to almayer. "what! wine! you are very kind. certainly, i have none myself. times are very hard." the last words of his reply were spoken by almayer in a faltering voice. the thought that dain was dead recurred to him vividly again, and he felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his throat. he reached for the gin bottle while they were uncorking the wine and swallowed a big gulp. the lieutenant, who was speaking to nina, gave him a quick glance. the young sub began to recover from the astonishment and confusion caused by nina's unexpected appearance and great beauty. "she was very beautiful and imposing," he reflected, "but after all a half-caste girl." this thought caused him to pluck up heart and look at nina sideways. nina, with composed face, was answering in a low, even voice the elder officer's polite questions as to the country and her mode of life. almayer pushed his plate away and drank his guest's wine in gloomy silence. chapter ix. "can i believe what you tell me? it is like a tale for men that listen only half awake by the camp fire, and it seems to have run off a woman's tongue." "who is there here for me to deceive, o rajah?" answered babalatchi. "without you i am nothing. all i have told you i believe to be true. i have been safe for many years in the hollow of your hand. this is no time to harbour suspicions. the danger is very great. we should advise and act at once, before the sun sets." "right. right," muttered lakamba, pensively. they had been sitting for the last hour together in the audience chamber of the rajah's house, for babalatchi, as soon as he had witnessed the landing of the dutch officers, had crossed the river to report to his master the events of the morning, and to confer with him upon the line of conduct to pursue in the face of altered circumstances. they were both puzzled and frightened by the unexpected turn the events had taken. the rajah, sitting crosslegged on his chair, looked fixedly at the floor; babalatchi was squatting close by in an attitude of deep dejection. "and where did you say he is hiding now?" asked lakamba, breaking at last the silence full of gloomy forebodings in which they both had been lost for a long while. "in bulangi's clearing--the furthest one, away from the house. they went there that very night. the white man's daughter took him there. she told me so herself, speaking to me openly, for she is half white and has no decency. she said she was waiting for him while he was here; then, after a long time, he came out of the darkness and fell at her feet exhausted. he lay like one dead, but she brought him back to life in her arms, and made him breathe again with her own breath. that is what she said, speaking to my face, as i am speaking now to you, rajah. she is like a white woman and knows no shame." he paused, deeply shocked. lakamba nodded his head. "well, and then?" he asked. "they called the old woman," went on babalatchi, "and he told them all--about the brig, and how he tried to kill many men. he knew the orang blanda were very near, although he had said nothing to us about that; he knew his great danger. he thought he had killed many, but there were only two dead, as i have heard from the men of the sea that came in the warship's boats." "and the other man, he that was found in the river?" interrupted lakamba. "that was one of his boatmen. when his canoe was overturned by the logs those two swam together, but the other man must have been hurt. dain swam, holding him up. he left him in the bushes when he went up to the house. when they all came down his heart had ceased to beat; then the old woman spoke; dain thought it was good. he took off his anklet and broke it, twisting it round the man's foot. his ring he put on that slave's hand. he took off his sarong and clothed that thing that wanted no clothes, the two women holding it up meanwhile, their intent being to deceive all eyes and to mislead the minds in the settlement, so that they could swear to the thing that was not, and that there could be no treachery when the white-men came. then dain and the white woman departed to call up bulangi and find a hiding-place. the old woman remained by the body." "hai!" exclaimed lakamba. "she has wisdom." "yes, she has a devil of her own to whisper counsel in her ear," assented babalatchi. "she dragged the body with great toil to the point where many logs were stranded. all these things were done in the darkness after the storm had passed away. then she waited. at the first sign of daylight she battered the face of the dead with a heavy stone, and she pushed him amongst the logs. she remained near, watching. at sunrise mahmat banjer came and found him. they all believed; i myself was deceived, but not for long. the white man believed, and, grieving, fled to his house. when we were alone i, having doubts, spoke to the woman, and she, fearing my anger and your might, told me all, asking for help in saving dain." "he must not fall into the hands of the orang blanda," said lakamba; "but let him die, if the thing can be done quietly." "it cannot, tuan! remember there is that woman who, being half white, is ungovernable, and would raise a great outcry. also the officers are here. they are angry enough already. dain must escape; he must go. we must help him now for our own safety." "are the officers very angry?" inquired lakamba, with interest. "they are. the principal chief used strong words when speaking to me--to me when i salaamed in your name. i do not think," added babalatchi, after a short pause and looking very worried--"i do not think i saw a white chief so angry before. he said we were careless or even worse. he told me he would speak to the rajah, and that i was of no account." "speak to the rajah!" repeated lakamba, thoughtfully. "listen, babalatchi: i am sick, and shall withdraw; you cross over and tell the white men." "yes," said babalatchi, "i am going over at once; and as to dain?" "you get him away as you can best. this is a great trouble in my heart," sighed lakamba. babalatchi got up, and, going close to his master, spoke earnestly. "there is one of our praus at the southern mouth of the river. the dutch warship is to the northward watching the main entrance. i shall send dain off to-night in a canoe, by the hidden channels, on board the prau. his father is a great prince, and shall hear of our generosity. let the prau take him to ampanam. your glory shall be great, and your reward in powerful friendship. almayer will no doubt deliver the dead body as dain's to the officers, and the foolish white men shall say, 'this is very good; let there be peace.' and the trouble shall be removed from your heart, rajah." "true! true!" said lakamba. "and, this being accomplished by me who am your slave, you shall reward with a generous hand. that i know! the white man is grieving for the lost treasure, in the manner of white men who thirst after dollars. now, when all other things are in order, we shall perhaps obtain the treasure from the white man. dain must escape, and almayer must live." "now go, babalatchi, go!" said lakamba, getting off his chair. "i am very sick, and want medicine. tell the white chief so." but babalatchi was not to be got rid of in this summary manner. he knew that his master, after the manner of the great, liked to shift the burden of toil and danger on to his servants' shoulders, but in the difficult straits in which they were now the rajah must play his part. he may be very sick for the white men, for all the world if he liked, as long as he would take upon himself the execution of part at least of babalatchi's carefully thought-of plan. babalatchi wanted a big canoe manned by twelve men to be sent out after dark towards bulangi's clearing. dain may have to be overpowered. a man in love cannot be expected to see clearly the path of safety if it leads him away from the object of his affections, argued babalatchi, and in that case they would have to use force in order to make him go. would the rajah see that trusty men manned the canoe? the thing must be done secretly. perhaps the rajah would come himself, so as to bring all the weight of his authority to bear upon dain if he should prove obstinate and refuse to leave his hiding-place. the rajah would not commit himself to a definite promise, and anxiously pressed babalatchi to go, being afraid of the white men paying him an unexpected visit. the aged statesman reluctantly took his leave and went into the courtyard. before going down to his boat babalatchi stopped for a while in the big open space where the thick-leaved trees put black patches of shadow which seemed to float on a flood of smooth, intense light that rolled up to the houses and down to the stockade and over the river, where it broke and sparkled in thousands of glittering wavelets, like a band woven of azure and gold edged with the brilliant green of the forests guarding both banks of the pantai. in the perfect calm before the coming of the afternoon breeze the irregularly jagged line of tree-tops stood unchanging, as if traced by an unsteady hand on the clear blue of the hot sky. in the space sheltered by the high palisades there lingered the smell of decaying blossoms from the surrounding forest, a taint of drying fish; with now and then a whiff of acrid smoke from the cooking fires when it eddied down from under the leafy boughs and clung lazily about the burnt-up grass. as babalatchi looked up at the flagstaff over-topping a group of low trees in the middle of the courtyard, the tricolour flag of the netherlands stirred slightly for the first time since it had been hoisted that morning on the arrival of the man-of-war boats. with a faint rustle of trees the breeze came down in light puffs, playing capriciously for a time with this emblem of lakamba's power, that was also the mark of his servitude; then the breeze freshened in a sharp gust of wind, and the flag flew out straight and steady above the trees. a dark shadow ran along the river, rolling over and covering up the sparkle of declining sunlight. a big white cloud sailed slowly across the darkening sky, and hung to the westward as if waiting for the sun to join it there. men and things shook off the torpor of the hot afternoon and stirred into life under the first breath of the sea breeze. babalatchi hurried down to the water-gate; yet before he passed through it he paused to look round the courtyard, with its light and shade, with its cheery fires, with the groups of lakamba's soldiers and retainers scattered about. his own house stood amongst the other buildings in that enclosure, and the statesman of sambir asked himself with a sinking heart when and how would it be given him to return to that house. he had to deal with a man more dangerous than any wild beast of his experience: a proud man, a man wilful after the manner of princes, a man in love. and he was going forth to speak to that man words of cold and worldly wisdom. could anything be more appalling? what if that man should take umbrage at some fancied slight to his honour or disregard of his affections and suddenly "amok"? the wise adviser would be the first victim, no doubt, and death would be his reward. and underlying the horror of this situation there was the danger of those meddlesome fools, the white men. a vision of comfortless exile in far-off madura rose up before babalatchi. wouldn't that be worse than death itself? and there was that half-white woman with threatening eyes. how could he tell what an incomprehensible creature of that sort would or would not do? she knew so much that she made the killing of dain an impossibility. that much was certain. and yet the sharp, rough-edged kriss is a good and discreet friend, thought babalatchi, as he examined his own lovingly, and put it back in the sheath, with a sigh of regret, before unfastening his canoe. as he cast off the painter, pushed out into the stream, and took up his paddle, he realised vividly how unsatisfactory it was to have women mixed up in state affairs. young women, of course. for mrs. almayer's mature wisdom, and for the easy aptitude in intrigue that comes with years to the feminine mind, he felt the most sincere respect. he paddled leisurely, letting the canoe drift down as he crossed towards the point. the sun was high yet, and nothing pressed. his work would commence only with the coming of darkness. avoiding the lingard jetty, he rounded the point, and paddled up the creek at the back of almayer's house. there were many canoes lying there, their noses all drawn together, fastened all to the same stake. babalatchi pushed his little craft in amongst them and stepped on shore. on the other side of the ditch something moved in the grass. "who's that hiding?" hailed babalatchi. "come out and speak to me." nobody answered. babalatchi crossed over, passing from boat to boat, and poked his staff viciously in the suspicious place. taminah jumped up with a cry. "what are you doing here?" he asked, surprised. "i have nearly stepped on your tray. am i a dyak that you should hide at my sight?" "i was weary, and--i slept," whispered taminah, confusedly. "you slept! you have not sold anything to-day, and you will be beaten when you return home," said babalatchi. taminah stood before him abashed and silent. babalatchi looked her over carefully with great satisfaction. decidedly he would offer fifty dollars more to that thief bulangi. the girl pleased him. "now you go home. it is late," he said sharply. "tell bulangi that i shall be near his house before the night is half over, and that i want him to make all things ready for a long journey. you understand? a long journey to the southward. tell him that before sunset, and do not forget my words." taminah made a gesture of assent, and watched babalatchi recross the ditch and disappear through the bushes bordering almayer's compound. she moved a little further off the creek and sank in the grass again, lying down on her face, shivering in dry-eyed misery. babalatchi walked straight towards the cooking-shed looking for mrs. almayer. the courtyard was in a great uproar. a strange chinaman had possession of the kitchen fire and was noisily demanding another saucepan. he hurled objurgations, in the canton dialect and bad malay, against the group of slave-girls standing a little way off, half frightened, half amused, at his violence. from the camping fires round which the seamen of the frigate were sitting came words of encouragement, mingled with laughter and jeering. in the midst of this noise and confusion babalatchi met ali, an empty dish in his hand. "where are the white men?" asked babalatchi. "they are eating in the front verandah," answered ali. "do not stop me, tuan. i am giving the white men their food and am busy." "where's mem almayer?" "inside in the passage. she is listening to the talk." ali grinned and passed on; babalatchi ascended the plankway to the rear verandah, and beckoning out mrs. almayer, engaged her in earnest conversation. through the long passage, closed at the further end by the red curtain, they could hear from time to time almayer's voice mingling in conversation with an abrupt loudness that made mrs. almayer look significantly at babalatchi. "listen," she said. "he has drunk much." "he has," whispered babalatchi. "he will sleep heavily to-night." mrs. almayer looked doubtful. "sometimes the devil of strong gin makes him keep awake, and he walks up and down the verandah all night, cursing; then we stand afar off," explained mrs. almayer, with the fuller knowledge born of twenty odd years of married life. "but then he does not hear, nor understand, and his hand, of course, has no strength. we do not want him to hear to-night." "no," assented mrs. almayer, energetically, but in a cautiously subdued voice. "if he hears he will kill." babalatchi looked incredulous. "hai tuan, you may believe me. have i not lived many years with that man? have i not seen death in that man's eyes more than once when i was younger and he guessed at many things. had he been a man of my own people i would not have seen such a look twice; but he--" with a contemptuous gesture she seemed to fling unutterable scorn on almayer's weak-minded aversion to sudden bloodshed. "if he has the wish but not the strength, then what do we fear?" asked babalatchi, after a short silence during which they both listened to almayer's loud talk till it subsided into the murmur of general conversation. "what do we fear?" repeated babalatchi again. "to keep the daughter whom he loves he would strike into your heart and mine without hesitation," said mrs. almayer. "when the girl is gone he will be like the devil unchained. then you and i had better beware." "i am an old man and fear not death," answered babalatchi, with a mendacious assumption of indifference. "but what will you do?" "i am an old woman, and wish to live," retorted mrs. almayer. "she is my daughter also. i shall seek safety at the feet of our rajah, speaking in the name of the past when we both were young, and he--" babalatchi raised his hand. "enough. you shall be protected," he said soothingly. again the sound of almayer's voice was heard, and again interrupting their talk, they listened to the confused but loud utterance coming in bursts of unequal strength, with unexpected pauses and noisy repetitions that made some words and sentences fall clear and distinct on their ears out of the meaningless jumble of excited shoutings emphasised by the thumping of almayer's fist upon the table. on the short intervals of silence, the high complaining note of tumblers, standing close together and vibrating to the shock, lingered, growing fainter, till it leapt up again into tumultuous ringing, when a new idea started a new rush of words and brought down the heavy hand again. at last the quarrelsome shouting ceased, and the thin plaint of disturbed glass died away into reluctant quietude. babalatchi and mrs. almayer had listened curiously, their bodies bent and their ears turned towards the passage. at every louder shout they nodded at each other with a ridiculous affectation of scandalised propriety, and they remained in the same attitude for some time after the noise had ceased. "this is the devil of gin," whispered mrs. almayer. "yes; he talks like that sometimes when there is nobody to hear him." "what does he say?" inquired babalatchi, eagerly. "you ought to understand." "i have forgotten their talk. a little i understood. he spoke without any respect of the white ruler in batavia, and of protection, and said he had been wronged; he said that several times. more i did not understand. listen! again he speaks!" "tse! tse! tse!" clicked babalatchi, trying to appear shocked, but with a joyous twinkle of his solitary eye. "there will be great trouble between those white men. i will go round now and see. you tell your daughter that there is a sudden and a long journey before her, with much glory and splendour at the end. and tell her that dain must go, or he must die, and that he will not go alone." "no, he will not go alone," slowly repeated mrs. almayer, with a thoughtful air, as she crept into the passage after seeing babalatchi disappear round the corner of the house. the statesman of sambir, under the impulse of vivid curiosity, made his way quickly to the front of the house, but once there he moved slowly and cautiously as he crept step by step up the stairs of the verandah. on the highest step he sat down quietly, his feet on the steps below, ready for flight should his presence prove unwelcome. he felt pretty safe so. the table stood nearly endways to him, and he saw almayer's back; at nina he looked full face, and had a side view of both officers; but of the four persons sitting at the table only nina and the younger officer noticed his noiseless arrival. the momentary dropping of nina's eyelids acknowledged babalatchi's presence; she then spoke at once to the young sub, who turned towards her with attentive alacrity, but her gaze was fastened steadily on her father's face while almayer was speaking uproariously. " . . . disloyalty and unscrupulousness! what have you ever done to make me loyal? you have no grip on this country. i had to take care of myself, and when i asked for protection i was met with threats and contempt, and had arab slander thrown in my face. i! a white man!" "don't be violent, almayer," remonstrated the lieutenant; "i have heard all this already." "then why do you talk to me about scruples? i wanted money, and i gave powder in exchange. how could i know that some of your wretched men were going to be blown up? scruples! pah!" he groped unsteadily amongst the bottles, trying one after another, grumbling to himself the while. "no more wine," he muttered discontentedly. "you have had enough, almayer," said the lieutenant, as he lighted a cigar. "is it not time to deliver to us your prisoner? i take it you have that dain maroola stowed away safely somewhere. still we had better get that business over, and then we shall have more drink. come! don't look at me like this." almayer was staring with stony eyes, his trembling fingers fumbling about his throat. "gold," he said with difficulty. "hem! a hand on the windpipe, you know. sure you will excuse. i wanted to say--a little gold for a little powder. what's that?" "i know, i know," said the lieutenant soothingly. "no! you don't know. not one of you knows!" shouted almayer. "the government is a fool, i tell you. heaps of gold. i am the man that knows; i and another one. but he won't speak. he is--" he checked himself with a feeble smile, and, making an unsuccessful attempt to pat the officer on the shoulder, knocked over a couple of empty bottles. "personally you are a fine fellow," he said very distinctly, in a patronising manner. his head nodded drowsily as he sat muttering to himself. the two officers looked at each other helplessly. "this won't do," said the lieutenant, addressing his junior. "have the men mustered in the compound here. i must get some sense out of him. hi! almayer! wake up, man. redeem your word. you gave your word. you gave your word of honour, you know." almayer shook off the officer's hand with impatience, but his ill-humour vanished at once, and he looked up, putting his forefinger to the side of his nose. "you are very young; there is time for all things," he said, with an air of great sagacity. the lieutenant turned towards nina, who, leaning back in her chair, watched her father steadily. "really i am very much distressed by all this for your sake," he exclaimed. "i do not know;" he went on, speaking with some embarrassment, "whether i have any right to ask you anything, unless, perhaps, to withdraw from this painful scene, but i feel that i must--for your father's good--suggest that you should--i mean if you have any influence over him you ought to exert it now to make him keep the promise he gave me before he--before he got into this state." he observed with discouragement that she seemed not to take any notice of what he said sitting still with half-closed eyes. "i trust--" he began again. "what is the promise you speak of?" abruptly asked nina, leaving her seat and moving towards her father. "nothing that is not just and proper. he promised to deliver to us a man who in time of profound peace took the lives of innocent men to escape the punishment he deserved for breaking the law. he planned his mischief on a large scale. it is not his fault if it failed, partially. of course you have heard of dain maroola. your father secured him, i understand. we know he escaped up this river. perhaps you--" "and he killed white men!" interrupted nina. "i regret to say they were white. yes, two white men lost their lives through that scoundrel's freak." "two only!" exclaimed nina. the officer looked at her in amazement. "why! why! you--" he stammered, confused. "there might have been more," interrupted nina. "and when you get this--this scoundrel will you go?" the lieutenant, still speechless, bowed his assent. "then i would get him for you if i had to seek him in a burning fire," she burst out with intense energy. "i hate the sight of your white faces. i hate the sound of your gentle voices. that is the way you speak to women, dropping sweet words before any pretty face. i have heard your voices before. i hoped to live here without seeing any other white face but this," she added in a gentler tone, touching lightly her father's cheek. almayer ceased his mumbling and opened his eyes. he caught hold of his daughter's hand and pressed it to his face, while nina with the other hand smoothed his rumpled grey hair, looking defiantly over her father's head at the officer, who had now regained his composure and returned her look with a cool, steady stare. below, in front of the verandah, they could hear the tramp of seamen mustering there according to orders. the sub-lieutenant came up the steps, while babalatchi stood up uneasily and, with finger on lip, tried to catch nina's eye. "you are a good girl," whispered almayer, absently, dropping his daughter's hand. "father! father!" she cried, bending over him with passionate entreaty. "see those two men looking at us. send them away. i cannot bear it any more. send them away. do what they want and let them go." she caught sight of babalatchi and ceased speaking suddenly, but her foot tapped the floor with rapid beats in a paroxysm of nervous restlessness. the two officers stood close together looking on curiously. "what has happened? what is the matter?" whispered the younger man. "don't know," answered the other, under his breath. "one is furious, and the other is drunk. not so drunk, either. queer, this. look!" almayer had risen, holding on to his daughter's arm. he hesitated a moment, then he let go his hold and lurched half-way across the verandah. there he pulled himself together, and stood very straight, breathing hard and glaring round angrily. "are the men ready?" asked the lieutenant. "all ready, sir." "now, mr. almayer, lead the way," said the lieutenant almayer rested his eyes on him as if he saw him for the first time. "two men," he said thickly. the effort of speaking seemed to interfere with his equilibrium. he took a quick step to save himself from a fall, and remained swaying backwards and forwards. "two men," he began again, speaking with difficulty. "two white men--men in uniform--honourable men. i want to say--men of honour. are you?" "come! none of that," said the officer impatiently. "let us have that friend of yours." "what do you think i am?" asked almayer, fiercely. "you are drunk, but not so drunk as not to know what you are doing. enough of this tomfoolery," said the officer sternly, "or i will have you put under arrest in your own house." "arrest!" laughed almayer, discordantly. "ha! ha! ha! arrest! why, i have been trying to get out of this infernal place for twenty years, and i can't. you hear, man! i can't, and never shall! never!" he ended his words with a sob, and walked unsteadily down the stairs. when in the courtyard the lieutenant approached him, and took him by the arm. the sub-lieutenant and babalatchi followed close. "that's better, almayer," said the officer encouragingly. "where are you going to? there are only planks there. here," he went on, shaking him slightly, "do we want the boats?" "no," answered almayer, viciously. "you want a grave." "what? wild again! try to talk sense." "grave!" roared almayer, struggling to get himself free. "a hole in the ground. don't you understand? you must be drunk. let me go! let go, i tell you!" he tore away from the officer's grasp, and reeled towards the planks where the body lay under its white cover; then he turned round quickly, and faced the semicircle of interested faces. the sun was sinking rapidly, throwing long shadows of house and trees over the courtyard, but the light lingered yet on the river, where the logs went drifting past in midstream, looking very distinct and black in the pale red glow. the trunks of the trees in the forest on the east bank were lost in gloom while their highest branches swayed gently in the departing sunlight. the air felt heavy and cold in the breeze, expiring in slight puffs that came over the water. almayer shivered as he made an effort to speak, and again with an uncertain gesture he seemed to free his throat from the grip of an invisible hand. his bloodshot eyes wandered aimlessly from face to face. "there!" he said at last. "are you all there? he is a dangerous man." he dragged at the cover with hasty violence, and the body rolled stiffly off the planks and fell at his feet in rigid helplessness. "cold, perfectly cold," said almayer, looking round with a mirthless smile. "sorry can do no better. and you can't hang him, either. as you observe, gentlemen," he added gravely, "there is no head, and hardly any neck." the last ray of light was snatched away from the tree-tops, the river grew suddenly dark, and in the great stillness the murmur of the flowing water seemed to fill the vast expanse of grey shadow that descended upon the land. "this is dain," went on almayer to the silent group that surrounded him. "and i have kept my word. first one hope, then another, and this is my last. nothing is left now. you think there is one dead man here? mistake, i 'sure you. i am much more dead. why don't you hang me?" he suggested suddenly, in a friendly tone, addressing the lieutenant. "i assure, assure you it would be a mat--matter of form altog--altogether." these last words he muttered to himself, and walked zigzaging towards his house. "get out!" he thundered at ali, who was approaching timidly with offers of assistance. from afar, scared groups of men and women watched his devious progress. he dragged himself up the stairs by the banister, and managed to reach a chair into which he fell heavily. he sat for awhile panting with exertion and anger, and looking round vaguely for nina; then making a threatening gesture towards the compound, where he had heard babalatchi's voice, he overturned the table with his foot in a great crash of smashed crockery. he muttered yet menacingly to himself, then his head fell on his breast, his eyes closed, and with a deep sigh he fell asleep. that night--for the first time in its history--the peaceful and flourishing settlement of sambir saw the lights shining about "almayer's folly." these were the lanterns of the boats hung up by the seamen under the verandah where the two officers were holding a court of inquiry into the truth of the story related to them by babalatchi. babalatchi had regained all his importance. he was eloquent and persuasive, calling heaven and earth to witness the truth of his statements. there were also other witnesses. mahmat banjer and a good many others underwent a close examination that dragged its weary length far into the evening. a messenger was sent for abdulla, who excused himself from coming on the score of his venerable age, but sent reshid. mahmat had to produce the bangle, and saw with rage and mortification the lieutenant put it in his pocket, as one of the proofs of dain's death, to be sent in with the official report of the mission. babalatchi's ring was also impounded for the same purpose, but the experienced statesman was resigned to that loss from the very beginning. he did not mind as long as he was sure, that the white men believed. he put that question to himself earnestly as he left, one of the last, when the proceedings came to a close. he was not certain. still, if they believed only for a night, he would put dain beyond their reach and feel safe himself. he walked away fast, looking from time to time over his shoulder in the fear of being followed, but he saw and heard nothing. "ten o'clock," said the lieutenant, looking at his watch and yawning. "i shall hear some of the captain's complimentary remarks when we get back. miserable business, this." "do you think all this is true?" asked the younger man. "true! it is just possible. but if it isn't true what can we do? if we had a dozen boats we could patrol the creeks; and that wouldn't be much good. that drunken madman was right; we haven't enough hold on this coast. they do what they like. are our hammocks slung?" "yes, i told the coxswain. strange couple over there," said the sub, with a wave of his hand towards almayer's house. "hem! queer, certainly. what have you been telling her? i was attending to the father most of the time." "i assure you i have been perfectly civil," protested the other warmly. "all right. don't get excited. she objects to civility, then, from what i understand. i thought you might have been tender. you know we are on service." "well, of course. never forget that. coldly civil. that's all." they both laughed a little, and not feeling sleepy began to pace the verandah side by side. the moon rose stealthily above the trees, and suddenly changed the river into a stream of scintillating silver. the forest came out of the black void and stood sombre and pensive over the sparkling water. the breeze died away into a breathless calm. seamanlike, the two officers tramped measuredly up and down without exchanging a word. the loose planks rattled rhythmically under their steps with obstrusive dry sound in the perfect silence of the night. as they were wheeling round again the younger man stood attentive. "did you hear that?" he asked. "no!" said the other. "hear what?" "i thought i heard a cry. ever so faint. seemed a woman's voice. in that other house. ah! again! hear it?" "no," said the lieutenant, after listening awhile. "you young fellows always hear women's voices. if you are going to dream you had better get into your hammock. good-night." the moon mounted higher, and the warm shadows grew smaller and crept away as if hiding before the cold and cruel light. chapter x. "it has set at last," said nina to her mother pointing towards the hills behind which the sun had sunk. "listen, mother, i am going now to bulangi's creek, and if i should never return--" she interrupted herself, and something like doubt dimmed for a moment the fire of suppressed exaltation that had glowed in her eyes and had illuminated the serene impassiveness of her features with a ray of eager life during all that long day of excitement--the day of joy and anxiety, of hope and terror, of vague grief and indistinct delight. while the sun shone with that dazzling light in which her love was born and grew till it possessed her whole being, she was kept firm in her unwavering resolve by the mysterious whisperings of desire which filled her heart with impatient longing for the darkness that would mean the end of danger and strife, the beginning of happiness, the fulfilling of love, the completeness of life. it had set at last! the short tropical twilight went out before she could draw the long breath of relief; and now the sudden darkness seemed to be full of menacing voices calling upon her to rush headlong into the unknown; to be true to her own impulses, to give herself up to the passion she had evoked and shared. he was waiting! in the solitude of the secluded clearing, in the vast silence of the forest he was waiting alone, a fugitive in fear of his life. indifferent to his danger he was waiting for her. it was for her only that he had come; and now as the time approached when he should have his reward, she asked herself with dismay what meant that chilling doubt of her own will and of her own desire? with an effort she shook off the fear of the passing weakness. he should have his reward. her woman's love and her woman's honour overcame the faltering distrust of that unknown future waiting for her in the darkness of the river. "no, you will not return," muttered mrs. almayer, prophetically. "without you he will not go, and if he remains here--" she waved her hand towards the lights of "almayer's folly," and the unfinished sentence died out in a threatening murmur. the two women had met behind the house, and now were walking slowly together towards the creek where all the canoes were moored. arrived at the fringe of bushes they stopped by a common impulse, and mrs. almayer, laying her hand on her daughter's arm, tried in vain to look close into the girl's averted face. when she attempted to speak her first words were lost in a stifled sob that sounded strangely coming from that woman who, of all human passions, seemed to know only those of anger and hate. "you are going away to be a great ranee," she said at last, in a voice that was steady enough now, "and if you be wise you shall have much power that will endure many days, and even last into your old age. what have i been? a slave all my life, and i have cooked rice for a man who had no courage and no wisdom. hai! i! even i, was given in gift by a chief and a warrior to a man that was neither. hai! hai!" she wailed to herself softly, lamenting the lost possibilities of murder and mischief that could have fallen to her lot had she been mated with a congenial spirit. nina bent down over mrs. almayer's slight form and scanned attentively, under the stars that had rushed out on the black sky and now hung breathless over that strange parting, her mother's shrivelled features, and looked close into the sunken eyes that could see into her own dark future by the light of a long and a painful experience. again she felt herself fascinated, as of old, by her mother's exalted mood and by the oracular certainty of expression which, together with her fits of violence, had contributed not a little to the reputation for witchcraft she enjoyed in the settlement. * * * * * "i was a slave, and you shall be a queen," went on mrs. almayer, looking straight before her; "but remember men's strength and their weakness. tremble before his anger, so that he may see your fear in the light of day; but in your heart you may laugh, for after sunset he is your slave." "a slave! he! the master of life! you do not know him, mother." mrs. almayer condescended to laugh contemptuously. "you speak like a fool of a white woman," she exclaimed. "what do you know of men's anger and of men's love? have you watched the sleep of men weary of dealing death? have you felt about you the strong arm that could drive a kriss deep into a beating heart? yah! you are a white woman, and ought to pray to a woman-god!" "why do you say this? i have listened to your words so long that i have forgotten my old life. if i was white would i stand here, ready to go? mother, i shall return to the house and look once more at my father's face." "no!" said mrs. almayer, violently. "no, he sleeps now the sleep of gin; and if you went back he might awake and see you. no, he shall never see you. when the terrible old man took you away from me when you were little, you remember--" "it was such a long time ago," murmured nina. "i remember," went on mrs. almayer, fiercely. "i wanted to look at your face again. he said no! i heard you cry and jumped into the river. you were his daughter then; you are my daughter now. never shall you go back to that house; you shall never cross this courtyard again. no! no!" her voice rose almost to a shout. on the other side of the creek there was a rustle in the long grass. the two women heard it, and listened for a while in startled silence. "i shall go," said nina, in a cautious but intense whisper. "what is your hate or your revenge to me?" she moved towards the house, mrs. almayer clinging to her and trying to pull her back. "stop, you shall not go!" she gasped. nina pushed away her mother impatiently and gathered up her skirts for a quick run, but mrs. almayer ran forward and turned round, facing her daughter with outstretched arms. "if you move another step," she exclaimed, breathing quickly, "i shall cry out. do you see those lights in the big house? there sit two white men, angry because they cannot have the blood of the man you love. and in those dark houses," she continued, more calmly as she pointed towards the settlement, "my voice could wake up men that would lead the orang blanda soldiers to him who is waiting--for you." she could not see her daughter's face, but the white figure before her stood silent and irresolute in the darkness. mrs. almayer pursued her advantage. "give up your old life! forget!" she said in entreating tones. "forget that you ever looked at a white face; forget their words; forget their thoughts. they speak lies. and they think lies because they despise us that are better than they are, but not so strong. forget their friendship and their contempt; forget their many gods. girl, why do you want to remember the past when there is a warrior and a chief ready to give many lives--his own life--for one of your smiles?" while she spoke she pushed gently her daughter towards the canoes, hiding her own fear, anxiety, and doubt under the flood of passionate words that left nina no time to think and no opportunity to protest, even if she had wished it. but she did not wish it now. at the bottom of that passing desire to look again at her father's face there was no strong affection. she felt no scruples and no remorse at leaving suddenly that man whose sentiment towards herself she could not understand, she could not even see. there was only an instinctive clinging to old life, to old habits, to old faces; that fear of finality which lurks in every human breast and prevents so many heroisms and so many crimes. for years she had stood between her mother and her father, the one so strong in her weakness, the other so weak where he could have been strong. between those two beings so dissimilar, so antagonistic, she stood with mute heart wondering and angry at the fact of her own existence. it seemed so unreasonable, so humiliating to be flung there in that settlement and to see the days rush by into the past, without a hope, a desire, or an aim that would justify the life she had to endure in ever-growing weariness. she had little belief and no sympathy for her father's dreams; but the savage ravings of her mother chanced to strike a responsive chord, deep down somewhere in her despairing heart; and she dreamed dreams of her own with the persistent absorption of a captive thinking of liberty within the walls of his prison cell. with the coming of dain she found the road to freedom by obeying the voice of the new-born impulses, and with surprised joy she thought she could read in his eyes the answer to all the questionings of her heart. she understood now the reason and the aim of life; and in the triumphant unveiling of that mystery she threw away disdainfully her past with its sad thoughts, its bitter feelings, and its faint affections, now withered and dead in contact with her fierce passion. mrs. almayer unmoored nina's own canoe and, straightening herself painfully, stood, painter in hand, looking at her daughter. "quick," she said; "get away before the moon rises, while the river is dark. i am afraid of abdulla's slaves. the wretches prowl in the night often, and might see and follow you. there are two paddles in the canoe." nina approached her mother and hesitatingly touched lightly with her lips the wrinkled forehead. mrs. almayer snorted contemptuously in protest against that tenderness which she, nevertheless, feared could be contagious. "shall i ever see you again, mother?" murmured nina. "no," said mrs. almayer, after a short silence. "why should you return here where it is my fate to die? you will live far away in splendour and might. when i hear of white men driven from the islands, then i shall know that you are alive, and that you remember my words." "i shall always remember," returned nina, earnestly; "but where is my power, and what can i do?" "do not let him look too long in your eyes, nor lay his head on your knees without reminding him that men should fight before they rest. and if he lingers, give him his kriss yourself and bid him go, as the wife of a mighty prince should do when the enemies are near. let him slay the white men that come to us to trade, with prayers on their lips and loaded guns in their hands. ah!"--she ended with a sigh--"they are on every sea, and on every shore; and they are very many!" she swung the bow of the canoe towards the river, but did not let go the gunwale, keeping her hand on it in irresolute thoughtfulness. nina put the point of the paddle against the bank, ready to shove off into the stream. "what is it, mother?" she asked, in a low voice. "do you hear anything?" "no," said mrs. almayer, absently. "listen, nina," she continued, abruptly, after a slight pause, "in after years there will be other women--" a stifled cry in the boat interrupted her, and the paddle rattled in the canoe as it slipped from nina's hands, which she put out in a protesting gesture. mrs. almayer fell on her knees on the bank and leaned over the gunwale so as to bring her own face close to her daughter's. "there will be other women," she repeated firmly; "i tell you that, because you are half white, and may forget that he is a great chief, and that such things must be. hide your anger, and do not let him see on your face the pain that will eat your heart. meet him with joy in your eyes and wisdom on your lips, for to you he will turn in sadness or in doubt. as long as he looks upon many women your power will last, but should there be one, one only with whom he seems to forget you, then--" "i could not live," exclaimed nina, covering her face with both her hands. "do not speak so, mother; it could not be." "then," went on mrs. almayer, steadily, "to that woman, nina, show no mercy." she moved the canoe down towards the stream by the gunwale, and gripped it with both her hands, the bow pointing into the river. "are you crying?" she asked sternly of her daughter, who sat still with covered face. "arise, and take your paddle, for he has waited long enough. and remember, nina, no mercy; and if you must strike, strike with a steady hand." she put out all her strength, and swinging her body over the water, shot the light craft far into the stream. when she recovered herself from the effort she tried vainly to catch a glimpse of the canoe that seemed to have dissolved suddenly into the white mist trailing over the heated waters of the pantai. after listening for a while intently on her knees, mrs. almayer rose with a deep sigh, while two tears wandered slowly down her withered cheeks. she wiped them off quickly with a wisp of her grey hair as if ashamed of herself, but could not stifle another loud sigh, for her heart was heavy and she suffered much, being unused to tender emotions. this time she fancied she had heard a faint noise, like the echo of her own sigh, and she stopped, straining her ears to catch the slightest sound, and peering apprehensively towards the bushes near her. "who is there?" she asked, in an unsteady voice, while her imagination peopled the solitude of the riverside with ghost-like forms. "who is there?" she repeated faintly. there was no answer: only the voice of the river murmuring in sad monotone behind the white veil seemed to swell louder for a moment, to die away again in a soft whisper of eddies washing against the bank. mrs. almayer shook her head as if in answer to her own thoughts, and walked quickly away from the bushes, looking to the right and left watchfully. she went straight towards the cooking-shed, observing that the embers of the fire there glowed more brightly than usual, as if somebody had been adding fresh fuel to the fires during the evening. as she approached, babalatchi, who had been squatting in the warm glow, rose and met her in the shadow outside. "is she gone?" asked the anxious statesman, hastily. "yes," answered mrs. almayer. "what are the white men doing? when did you leave them?" "they are sleeping now, i think. may they never wake!" exclaimed babalatchi, fervently. "oh! but they are devils, and made much talk and trouble over that carcase. the chief threatened me twice with his hand, and said he would have me tied up to a tree. tie me up to a tree! me!" he repeated, striking his breast violently. mrs. almayer laughed tauntingly. "and you salaamed and asked for mercy. men with arms by their side acted otherwise when i was young." "and where are they, the men of your youth? you mad woman!" retorted babalatchi, angrily. "killed by the dutch. aha! but i shall live to deceive them. a man knows when to fight and when to tell peaceful lies. you would know that if you were not a woman." but mrs. almayer did not seem to hear him. with bent body and outstretched arm she appeared to be listening to some noise behind the shed. "there are strange sounds," she whispered, with evident alarm. "i have heard in the air the sounds of grief, as of a sigh and weeping. that was by the riverside. and now again i heard--" "where?" asked babalatchi, in an altered voice. "what did you hear?" "close here. it was like a breath long drawn. i wish i had burnt the paper over the body before it was buried." "yes," assented babalatchi. "but the white men had him thrown into a hole at once. you know he found his death on the river," he added cheerfully, "and his ghost may hail the canoes, but would leave the land alone." mrs. almayer, who had been craning her neck to look round the corner of the shed, drew back her head. "there is nobody there," she said, reassured. "is it not time for the rajah war-canoe to go to the clearing?" "i have been waiting for it here, for i myself must go," explained babalatchi. "i think i will go over and see what makes them late. when will you come? the rajah gives you refuge." "i shall paddle over before the break of day. i cannot leave my dollars behind," muttered mrs. almayer. they separated. babalatchi crossed the courtyard towards the creek to get his canoe, and mrs. almayer walked slowly to the house, ascended the plankway, and passing through the back verandah entered the passage leading to the front of the house; but before going in she turned in the doorway and looked back at the empty and silent courtyard, now lit up by the rays of the rising moon. no sooner she had disappeared, however, than a vague shape flitted out from amongst the stalks of the banana plantation, darted over the moonlit space, and fell in the darkness at the foot of the verandah. it might have been the shadow of a driving cloud, so noiseless and rapid was its passage, but for the trail of disturbed grass, whose feathery heads trembled and swayed for a long time in the moonlight before they rested motionless and gleaming, like a design of silver sprays embroidered on a sombre background. mrs. almayer lighted the cocoanut lamp, and lifting cautiously the red curtain, gazed upon her husband, shading the light with her hand. almayer, huddled up in the chair, one of his arms hanging down, the other thrown across the lower part of his face as if to ward off an invisible enemy, his legs stretched straight out, slept heavily, unconscious of the unfriendly eyes that looked upon him in disparaging criticism. at his feet lay the overturned table, amongst a wreck of crockery and broken bottles. the appearance as of traces left by a desperate struggle was accentuated by the chairs, which seemed to have been scattered violently all over the place, and now lay about the verandah with a lamentable aspect of inebriety in their helpless attitudes. only nina's big rocking- chair, standing black and motionless on its high runners, towered above the chaos of demoralised furniture, unflinchingly dignified and patient, waiting for its burden. with a last scornful look towards the sleeper, mrs. almayer passed behind the curtain into her own room. a couple of bats, encouraged by the darkness and the peaceful state of affairs, resumed their silent and oblique gambols above almayer's head, and for a long time the profound quiet of the house was unbroken, save for the deep breathing of the sleeping man and the faint tinkle of silver in the hands of the woman preparing for flight. in the increasing light of the moon that had risen now above the night mist, the objects on the verandah came out strongly outlined in black splashes of shadow with all the uncompromising ugliness of their disorder, and a caricature of the sleeping almayer appeared on the dirty whitewash of the wall behind him in a grotesquely exaggerated detail of attitude and feature enlarged to a heroic size. the discontented bats departed in quest of darker places, and a lizard came out in short, nervous rushes, and, pleased with the white table-cloth, stopped on it in breathless immobility that would have suggested sudden death had it not been for the melodious call he exchanged with a less adventurous friend hiding amongst the lumber in the courtyard. then the boards in the passage creaked, the lizard vanished, and almayer stirred uneasily with a sigh: slowly, out of the senseless annihilation of drunken sleep, he was returning, through the land of dreams, to waking consciousness. almayer's head rolled from shoulder to shoulder in the oppression of his dream; the heavens had descended upon him like a heavy mantle, and trailed in starred folds far under him. stars above, stars all round him; and from the stars under his feet rose a whisper full of entreaties and tears, and sorrowful faces flitted amongst the clusters of light filling the infinite space below. how escape from the importunity of lamentable cries and from the look of staring, sad eyes in the faces which pressed round him till he gasped for breath under the crushing weight of worlds that hung over his aching shoulders? get away! but how? if he attempted to move he would step off into nothing, and perish in the crashing fall of that universe of which he was the only support. and what were the voices saying? urging him to move! why? move to destruction! not likely! the absurdity of the thing filled him with indignation. he got a firmer foothold and stiffened his muscles in heroic resolve to carry his burden to all eternity. and ages passed in the superhuman labour, amidst the rush of circling worlds; in the plaintive murmur of sorrowful voices urging him to desist before it was too late--till the mysterious power that had laid upon him the giant task seemed at last to seek his destruction. with terror he felt an irresistible hand shaking him by the shoulder, while the chorus of voices swelled louder into an agonised prayer to go, go before it is too late. he felt himself slipping, losing his balance, as something dragged at his legs, and he fell. with a faint cry he glided out of the anguish of perishing creation into an imperfect waking that seemed to be still under the spell of his dream. "what? what?" he murmured sleepily, without moving or opening his eyes. his head still felt heavy, and he had not the courage to raise his eyelids. in his ears there still lingered the sound of entreating whisper.--"am i awake?--why do i hear the voices?" he argued to himself, hazily.--"i cannot get rid of the horrible nightmare yet.--i have been very drunk.--what is that shaking me? i am dreaming yet--i must open my eyes and be done with it. i am only half awake, it is evident." he made an effort to shake off his stupor and saw a face close to his, glaring at him with staring eyeballs. he closed his eyes again in amazed horror and sat up straight in the chair, trembling in every limb. what was this apparition?--his own fancy, no doubt.--his nerves had been much tried the day before--and then the drink! he would not see it again if he had the courage to look.--he would look directly.--get a little steadier first.--so.--now. he looked. the figure of a woman standing in the steely light, her hands stretched forth in a suppliant gesture, confronted him from the far-off end of the verandah; and in the space between him and the obstinate phantom floated the murmur of words that fell on his ears in a jumble of torturing sentences, the meaning of which escaped the utmost efforts of his brain. who spoke the malay words? who ran away? why too late--and too late for what? what meant those words of hate and love mixed so strangely together, the ever-recurring names falling on his ears again and again--nina, dain; dain, nina? dain was dead, and nina was sleeping, unaware of the terrible experience through which he was now passing. was he going to be tormented for ever, sleeping or waking, and have no peace either night or day? what was the meaning of this? he shouted the last words aloud. the shadowy woman seemed to shrink and recede a little from him towards the doorway, and there was a shriek. exasperated by the incomprehensible nature of his torment, almayer made a rush upon the apparition, which eluded his grasp, and he brought up heavily against the wall. quick as lightning he turned round and pursued fiercely the mysterious figure fleeing from him with piercing shrieks that were like fuel to the flames of his anger. over the furniture, round the overturned table, and now he had it cornered behind nina's chair. to the left, to the right they dodged, the chair rocking madly between them, she sending out shriek after shriek at every feint, and he growling meaningless curses through his hard set teeth. "oh! the fiendish noise that split his head and seemed to choke his breath.--it would kill him.--it must be stopped!" an insane desire to crush that yelling thing induced him to cast himself recklessly over the chair with a desperate grab, and they came down together in a cloud of dust amongst the splintered wood. the last shriek died out under him in a faint gurgle, and he had secured the relief of absolute silence. he looked at the woman's face under him. a real woman! he knew her. by all that is wonderful! taminah! he jumped up ashamed of his fury and stood perplexed, wiping his forehead. the girl struggled to a kneeling posture and embraced his legs in a frenzied prayer for mercy. "don't be afraid," he said, raising her. "i shall not hurt you. why do you come to my house in the night? and if you had to come, why not go behind the curtain where the women sleep?" "the place behind the curtain is empty," gasped taminah, catching her breath between the words. "there are no women in your house any more, tuan. i saw the old mem go away before i tried to wake you. i did not want your women, i wanted you." "old mem!" repeated almayer. "do you mean my wife?" she nodded her head. "but of my daughter you are not afraid?" said almayer. "have you not heard me?" she exclaimed. "have i not spoken for a long time when you lay there with eyes half open? she is gone too." "i was asleep. can you not tell when a man is sleeping and when awake?" "sometimes," answered taminah in a low voice; "sometimes the spirit lingers close to a sleeping body and may hear. i spoke a long time before i touched you, and i spoke softly for fear it would depart at a sudden noise and leave you sleeping for ever. i took you by the shoulder only when you began to mutter words i could not understand. have you not heard, then, and do you know nothing?" "nothing of what you said. what is it? tell again if you want me to know." he took her by the shoulder and led her unresisting to the front of the verandah into a stronger light. she wrung her hands with such an appearance of grief that he began to be alarmed. "speak," he said. "you made noise enough to wake even dead men. and yet nobody living came," he added to himself in an uneasy whisper. "are you mute? speak!" he repeated. in a rush of words which broke out after a short struggle from her trembling lips she told him the tale of nina's love and her own jealousy. several times he looked angrily into her face and told her to be silent; but he could not stop the sounds that seemed to him to run out in a hot stream, swirl about his feet, and rise in scalding waves about him, higher, higher, drowning his heart, touching his lips with a feel of molten lead, blotting out his sight in scorching vapour, closing over his head, merciless and deadly. when she spoke of the deception as to dain's death of which he had been the victim only that day, he glanced again at her with terrible eyes, and made her falter for a second, but he turned away directly, and his face suddenly lost all expression in a stony stare far away over the river. ah! the river! his old friend and his old enemy, speaking always with the same voice as he runs from year to year bringing fortune or disappointment happiness or pain, upon the same varying but unchanged surface of glancing currents and swirling eddies. for many years he had listened to the passionless and soothing murmur that sometimes was the song of hope, at times the song of triumph, of encouragement; more often the whisper of consolation that spoke of better days to come. for so many years! so many years! and now to the accompaniment of that murmur he listened to the slow and painful beating of his heart. he listened attentively, wondering at the regularity of its beats. he began to count mechanically. one, two. why count? at the next beat it must stop. no heart could suffer so and beat so steadily for long. those regular strokes as of a muffled hammer that rang in his ears must stop soon. still beating unceasing and cruel. no man can bear this; and is this the last, or will the next one be the last?--how much longer? o god! how much longer? his hand weighed heavier unconsciously on the girl's shoulder, and she spoke the last words of her story crouching at his feet with tears of pain and shame and anger. was her revenge to fail her? this white man was like a senseless stone. too late! too late! "and you saw her go?" almayer's voice sounded harshly above her head. "did i not tell you?" she sobbed, trying to wriggle gently out from under his grip. "did i not tell you that i saw the witchwoman push the canoe? i lay hidden in the grass and heard all the words. she that we used to call the white mem wanted to return to look at your face, but the witchwoman forbade her, and--" she sank lower yet on her elbow, turning half round under the downward push of the heavy hand, her face lifted up to him with spiteful eyes. "and she obeyed," she shouted out in a half-laugh, half-cry of pain. "let me go, tuan. why are you angry with me? hasten, or you shall be too late to show your anger to the deceitful woman." almayer dragged her up to her feet and looked close into her face while she struggled, turning her head away from his wild stare. "who sent you here to torment me?" he asked, violently. "i do not believe you. you lie." he straightened his arm suddenly and flung her across the verandah towards the doorway, where she lay immobile and silent, as if she had left her life in his grasp, a dark heap, without a sound or a stir. "oh! nina!" whispered almayer, in a voice in which reproach and love spoke together in pained tenderness. "oh! nina! i do not believe." a light draught from the river ran over the courtyard in a wave of bowing grass and, entering the verandah, touched almayer's forehead with its cool breath, in a caress of infinite pity. the curtain in the women's doorway blew out and instantly collapsed with startling helplessness. he stared at the fluttering stuff. "nina!" cried almayer. "where are you, nina?" the wind passed out of the empty house in a tremulous sigh, and all was still. almayer hid his face in his hands as if to shut out a loathsome sight. when, hearing a slight rustle, he uncovered his eyes, the dark heap by the door was gone. chapter xi. in the middle of a shadowless square of moonlight, shining on a smooth and level expanse of young rice-shoots, a little shelter-hut perched on high posts, the pile of brushwood near by and the glowing embers of a fire with a man stretched before it, seemed very small and as if lost in the pale green iridescence reflected from the ground. on three sides of the clearing, appearing very far away in the deceptive light, the big trees of the forest, lashed together with manifold bonds by a mass of tangled creepers, looked down at the growing young life at their feet with the sombre resignation of giants that had lost faith in their strength. and in the midst of them the merciless creepers clung to the big trunks in cable-like coils, leaped from tree to tree, hung in thorny festoons from the lower boughs, and, sending slender tendrils on high to seek out the smallest branches, carried death to their victims in an exulting riot of silent destruction. on the fourth side, following the curve of the bank of that branch of the pantai that formed the only access to the clearing, ran a black line of young trees, bushes, and thick second growth, unbroken save for a small gap chopped out in one place. at that gap began the narrow footpath leading from the water's edge to the grass-built shelter used by the night watchers when the ripening crop had to be protected from the wild pigs. the pathway ended at the foot of the piles on which the hut was built, in a circular space covered with ashes and bits of burnt wood. in the middle of that space, by the dim fire, lay dain. he turned over on his side with an impatient sigh, and, pillowing his head on his bent arm, lay quietly with his face to the dying fire. the glowing embers shone redly in a small circle, throwing a gleam into his wide-open eyes, and at every deep breath the fine white ash of bygone fires rose in a light cloud before his parted lips, and danced away from the warm glow into the moonbeams pouring down upon bulangi's clearing. his body was weary with the exertion of the past few days, his mind more weary still with the strain of solitary waiting for his fate. never before had he felt so helpless. he had heard the report of the gun fired on board the launch, and he knew that his life was in untrustworthy hands, and that his enemies were very near. during the slow hours of the afternoon he roamed about on the edge of the forest, or, hiding in the bushes, watched the creek with unquiet eyes for some sign of danger. he feared not death, yet he desired ardently to live, for life to him was nina. she had promised to come, to follow him, to share his danger and his splendour. but with her by his side he cared not for danger, and without her there could be no splendour and no joy in existence. crouching in his shady hiding-place, he closed his eyes, trying to evoke the gracious and charming image of the white figure that for him was the beginning and the end of life. with eyes shut tight, his teeth hard set, he tried in a great effort of passionate will to keep his hold on that vision of supreme delight. in vain! his heart grew heavy as the figure of nina faded away to be replaced by another vision this time--a vision of armed men, of angry faces, of glittering arms--and he seemed to hear the hum of excited and triumphant voices as they discovered him in his hiding-place. startled by the vividness of his fancy, he would open his eyes, and, leaping out into the sunlight, resume his aimless wanderings around the clearing. as he skirted in his weary march the edge of the forest he glanced now and then into its dark shade, so enticing in its deceptive appearance of coolness, so repellent with its unrelieved gloom, where lay, entombed and rotting, countless generations of trees, and where their successors stood as if mourning, in dark green foliage, immense and helpless, awaiting their turn. only the parasites seemed to live there in a sinuous rush upwards into the air and sunshine, feeding on the dead and the dying alike, and crowning their victims with pink and blue flowers that gleamed amongst the boughs, incongruous and cruel, like a strident and mocking note in the solemn harmony of the doomed trees. a man could hide there, thought dain, as he approached a place where the creepers had been torn and hacked into an archway that might have been the beginning of a path. as he bent down to look through he heard angry grunting, and a sounder of wild pig crashed away in the undergrowth. an acrid smell of damp earth and of decaying leaves took him by the throat, and he drew back with a scared face, as if he had been touched by the breath of death itself. the very air seemed dead in there--heavy and stagnating, poisoned with the corruption of countless ages. he went on, staggering on his way, urged by the nervous restlessness that made him feel tired yet caused him to loathe the very idea of immobility and repose. was he a wild man to hide in the woods and perhaps be killed there--in the darkness--where there was no room to breathe? he would wait for his enemies in the sunlight, where he could see the sky and feel the breeze. he knew how a malay chief should die. the sombre and desperate fury, that peculiar inheritance of his race, took possession of him, and he glared savagely across the clearing towards the gap in the bushes by the riverside. they would come from there. in imagination he saw them now. he saw the bearded faces and the white jackets of the officers, the light on the levelled barrels of the rifles. what is the bravery of the greatest warrior before the firearms in the hand of a slave? he would walk toward them with a smiling face, with his hands held out in a sign of submission till he was very near them. he would speak friendly words--come nearer yet--yet nearer--so near that they could touch him with their hands and stretch them out to make him a captive. that would be the time: with a shout and a leap he would be in the midst of them, kriss in hand, killing, killing, killing, and would die with the shouts of his enemies in his ears, their warm blood spurting before his eyes. carried away by his excitement, he snatched the kriss hidden in his sarong, and, drawing a long breath, rushed forward, struck at the empty air, and fell on his face. he lay as if stunned in the sudden reaction from his exaltation, thinking that, even if he died thus gloriously, it would have to be before he saw nina. better so. if he saw her again he felt that death would be too terrible. with horror he, the descendant of rajahs and of conquerors, had to face the doubt of his own bravery. his desire of life tormented him in a paroxysm of agonising remorse. he had not the courage to stir a limb. he had lost faith in himself, and there was nothing else in him of what makes a man. the suffering remained, for it is ordered that it should abide in the human body even to the last breath, and fear remained. dimly he could look into the depths of his passionate love, see its strength and its weakness, and felt afraid. the sun went down slowly. the shadow of the western forest marched over the clearing, covered the man's scorched shoulders with its cool mantle, and went on hurriedly to mingle with the shadows of other forests on the eastern side. the sun lingered for a while amongst the light tracery of the higher branches, as if in friendly reluctance to abandon the body stretched in the green paddy-field. then dain, revived by the cool of the evening breeze, sat up and stared round him. as he did so the sun dipped sharply, as if ashamed of being detected in a sympathising attitude, and the clearing, which during the day was all light, became suddenly all darkness, where the fire gleamed like an eye. dain walked slowly towards the creek, and, divesting himself of his torn sarong, his only garment, entered the water cautiously. he had had nothing to eat that day, and had not dared show himself in daylight by the water-side to drink. now, as he swam silently, he swallowed a few mouthfuls of water that lapped about his lips. this did him good, and he walked with greater confidence in himself and others as he returned towards the fire. had he been betrayed by lakamba all would have been over by this. he made up a big blaze, and while it lasted dried himself, and then lay down by the embers. he could not sleep, but he felt a great numbness in all his limbs. his restlessness was gone, and he was content to lay still, measuring the time by watching the stars that rose in endless succession above the forests, while the slight puffs of wind under the cloudless sky seemed to fan their twinkle into a greater brightness. dreamily he assured himself over and over again that she would come, till the certitude crept into his heart and filled him with a great peace. yes, when the next day broke, they would be together on the great blue sea that was like life--away from the forests that were like death. he murmured the name of nina into the silent space with a tender smile: this seemed to break the spell of stillness, and far away by the creek a frog croaked loudly as if in answer. a chorus of loud roars and plaintive calls rose from the mud along the line of bushes. he laughed heartily; doubtless it was their love-song. he felt affectionate towards the frogs and listened, pleased with the noisy life near him. when the moon peeped above the trees he felt the old impatience and the old restlessness steal over him. why was she so late? true, it was a long way to come with a single paddle. with what skill and what endurance could those small hands manage a heavy paddle! it was very wonderful--such small hands, such soft little palms that knew how to touch his cheek with a feel lighter than the fanning of a butterfly's wing. wonderful! he lost himself lovingly in the contemplation of this tremendous mystery, and when he looked at the moon again it had risen a hand's breadth above the trees. would she come? he forced himself to lay still, overcoming the impulse to rise and rush round the clearing again. he turned this way and that; at last, quivering with the effort, he lay on his back, and saw her face among the stars looking down on him. the croaking of frogs suddenly ceased. with the watchfulness of a hunted man dain sat up, listening anxiously, and heard several splashes in the water as the frogs took rapid headers into the creek. he knew that they had been alarmed by something, and stood up suspicious and attentive. a slight grating noise, then the dry sound as of two pieces of wood struck against each other. somebody was about to land! he took up an armful of brushwood, and, without taking his eyes from the path, held it over the embers of his fire. he waited, undecided, and saw something gleam amongst the bushes; then a white figure came out of the shadows and seemed to float towards him in the pale light. his heart gave a great leap and stood still, then went on shaking his frame in furious beats. he dropped the brushwood upon the glowing coals, and had an impression of shouting her name--of rushing to meet her; yet he emitted no sound, he stirred not an inch, but he stood silent and motionless like chiselled bronze under the moonlight that streamed over his naked shoulders. as he stood still, fighting with his breath, as if bereft of his senses by the intensity of his delight, she walked up to him with quick, resolute steps, and, with the appearance of one about to leap from a dangerous height, threw both her arms round his neck with a sudden gesture. a small blue gleam crept amongst the dry branches, and the crackling of reviving fire was the only sound as they faced each other in the speechless emotion of that meeting; then the dry fuel caught at once, and a bright hot flame shot upwards in a blaze as high as their heads, and in its light they saw each other's eyes. neither of them spoke. he was regaining his senses in a slight tremor that ran upwards along his rigid body and hung about his trembling lips. she drew back her head and fastened her eyes on his in one of those long looks that are a woman's most terrible weapon; a look that is more stirring than the closest touch, and more dangerous than the thrust of a dagger, because it also whips the soul out of the body, but leaves the body alive and helpless, to be swayed here and there by the capricious tempests of passion and desire; a look that enwraps the whole body, and that penetrates into the innermost recesses of the being, bringing terrible defeat in the delirious uplifting of accomplished conquest. it has the same meaning for the man of the forests and the sea as for the man threading the paths of the more dangerous wilderness of houses and streets. men that had felt in their breasts the awful exultation such a look awakens become mere things of to-day--which is paradise; forget yesterday--which was suffering; care not for to-morrow--which may be perdition. they wish to live under that look for ever. it is the look of woman's surrender. he understood, and, as if suddenly released from his invisible bonds, fell at her feet with a shout of joy, and, embracing her knees, hid his head in the folds of her dress, murmuring disjointed words of gratitude and love. never before had he felt so proud as now, when at the feet of that woman that half belonged to his enemies. her fingers played with his hair in an absent-minded caress as she stood absorbed in thought. the thing was done. her mother was right. the man was her slave. as she glanced down at his kneeling form she felt a great pitying tenderness for that man she was used to call--even in her thoughts--the master of life. she lifted her eyes and looked sadly at the southern heavens under which lay the path of their lives--her own, and that man's at her feet. did he not say himself is that she was the light of his life? she would be his light and his wisdom; she would be his greatness and his strength; yet hidden from the eyes of all men she would be, above all, his only and lasting weakness. a very woman! in the sublime vanity of her kind she was thinking already of moulding a god from the clay at her feet. a god for others to worship. she was content to see him as he was now, and to feel him quiver at the slightest touch of her light fingers. and while her eyes looked sadly at the southern stars a faint smile seemed to be playing about her firm lips. who can tell in the fitful light of a camp fire? it might have been a smile of triumph, or of conscious power, or of tender pity, or, perhaps, of love. she spoke softly to him, and he rose to his feet, putting his arm round her in quiet consciousness of his ownership; she laid her head on his shoulder with a sense of defiance to all the world in the encircling protection of that arm. he was hers with all his qualities and all his faults. his strength and his courage, his recklessness and his daring, his simple wisdom and his savage cunning--all were hers. as they passed together out of the red light of the fire into the silver shower of rays that fell upon the clearing he bent his head over her face, and she saw in his eyes the dreamy intoxication of boundless felicity from the close touch of her slight figure clasped to his side. with a rhythmical swing of their bodies they walked through the light towards the outlying shadows of the forests that seemed to guard their happiness in solemn immobility. their forms melted in the play of light and shadow at the foot of the big trees, but the murmur of tender words lingered over the empty clearing, grew faint, and died out. a sigh as of immense sorrow passed over the land in the last effort of the dying breeze, and in the deep silence which succeeded, the earth and the heavens were suddenly hushed up in the mournful contemplation of human love and human blindness. they walked slowly back to the fire. he made for her a seat out of the dry branches, and, throwing himself down at her feet, lay his head in her lap and gave himself up to the dreamy delight of the passing hour. their voices rose and fell, tender or animated as they spoke of their love and of their future. she, with a few skilful words spoken from time to time, guided his thoughts, and he let his happiness flow in a stream of talk passionate and tender, grave or menacing, according to the mood which she evoked. he spoke to her of his own island, where the gloomy forests and the muddy rivers were unknown. he spoke of its terraced fields, of the murmuring clear rills of sparkling water that flowed down the sides of great mountains, bringing life to the land and joy to its tillers. and he spoke also of the mountain peak that rising lonely above the belt of trees knew the secrets of the passing clouds, and was the dwelling-place of the mysterious spirit of his race, of the guardian genius of his house. he spoke of vast horizons swept by fierce winds that whistled high above the summits of burning mountains. he spoke of his forefathers that conquered ages ago the island of which he was to be the future ruler. and then as, in her interest, she brought her face nearer to his, he, touching lightly the thick tresses of her long hair, felt a sudden impulse to speak to her of the sea he loved so well; and he told her of its never-ceasing voice, to which he had listened as a child, wondering at its hidden meaning that no living man has penetrated yet; of its enchanting glitter; of its senseless and capricious fury; how its surface was for ever changing, and yet always enticing, while its depths were for ever the same, cold and cruel, and full of the wisdom of destroyed life. he told her how it held men slaves of its charm for a lifetime, and then, regardless of their devotion, swallowed them up, angry at their fear of its mystery, which it would never disclose, not even to those that loved it most. while he talked, nina's head had been gradually sinking lower, and her face almost touched his now. her hair was over his eyes, her breath was on his forehead, her arms were about his body. no two beings could be closer to each other, yet she guessed rather than understood the meaning of his last words that came out after a slight hesitation in a faint murmur, dying out imperceptibly into a profound and significant silence: "the sea, o nina, is like a woman's heart." she closed his lips with a sudden kiss, and answered in a steady voice-- "but to the men that have no fear, o master of my life, the sea is ever true." over their heads a film of dark, thread-like clouds, looking like immense cobwebs drifting under the stars, darkened the sky with the presage of the coming thunderstorm. from the invisible hills the first distant rumble of thunder came in a prolonged roll which, after tossing about from hill to hill, lost itself in the forests of the pantai. dain and nina stood up, and the former looked at the sky uneasily. "it is time for babalatchi to be here," he said. "the night is more than half gone. our road is long, and a bullet travels quicker than the best canoe." "he will be here before the moon is hidden behind the clouds," said nina. "i heard a splash in the water," she added. "did you hear it too?" "alligator," answered dain shortly, with a careless glance towards the creek. "the darker the night," he continued, "the shorter will be our road, for then we could keep in the current of the main stream, but if it is light--even no more than now--we must follow the small channels of sleeping water, with nothing to help our paddles." "dain," interposed nina, earnestly, "it was no alligator. i heard the bushes rustling near the landing-place." "yes," said dain, after listening awhile. "it cannot be babalatchi, who would come in a big war canoe, and openly. those that are coming, whoever they are, do not wish to make much noise. but you have heard, and now i can see," he went on quickly. "it is but one man. stand behind me, nina. if he is a friend he is welcome; if he is an enemy you shall see him die." he laid his hand on his kriss, and awaited the approach of his unexpected visitor. the fire was burning very low, and small clouds--precursors of the storm--crossed the face of the moon in rapid succession, and their flying shadows darkened the clearing. he could not make out who the man might be, but he felt uneasy at the steady advance of the tall figure walking on the path with a heavy tread, and hailed it with a command to stop. the man stopped at some little distance, and dain expected him to speak, but all he could hear was his deep breathing. through a break in the flying clouds a sudden and fleeting brightness descended upon the clearing. before the darkness closed in again, dain saw a hand holding some glittering object extended towards him, heard nina's cry of "father!" and in an instant the girl was between him and almayer's revolver. nina's loud cry woke up the echoes of the sleeping woods, and the three stood still as if waiting for the return of silence before they would give expression to their various feelings. at the appearance of nina, almayer's arm fell by his side, and he made a step forward. dain pushed the girl gently aside. "am i a wild beast that you should try to kill me suddenly and in the dark, tuan almayer?" said dain, breaking the strained silence. "throw some brushwood on the fire," he went on, speaking to nina, "while i watch my white friend, lest harm should come to you or to me, o delight of my heart!" almayer ground his teeth and raised his arm again. with a quick bound dain was at his side: there was a short scuffle, during which one chamber of the revolver went off harmlessly, then the weapon, wrenched out of almayer's hand, whirled through the air and fell in the bushes. the two men stood close together, breathing hard. the replenished fire threw out an unsteady circle of light and shone on the terrified face of nina, who looked at them with outstretched hands. "dain!" she cried out warningly, "dain!" he waved his hand towards her in a reassuring gesture, and, turning to almayer, said with great courtesy-- "now we may talk, tuan. it is easy to send out death, but can your wisdom recall the life? she might have been harmed," he continued, indicating nina. "your hand shook much; for myself i was not afraid." "nina!" exclaimed almayer, "come to me at once. what is this sudden madness? what bewitched you? come to your father, and together we shall try to forget this horrible nightmare!" he opened his arms with the certitude of clasping her to his breast in another second. she did not move. as it dawned upon him that she did not mean to obey he felt a deadly cold creep into his heart, and, pressing the palms of his hands to his temples, he looked down on the ground in mute despair. dain took nina by the arm and led her towards her father. "speak to him in the language of his people," he said. "he is grieving--as who would not grieve at losing thee, my pearl! speak to him the last words he shall hear spoken by that voice, which must be very sweet to him, but is all my life to me." he released her, and, stepping back a few paces out of the circle of light, stood in the darkness looking at them with calm interest. the reflection of a distant flash of lightning lit up the clouds over their heads, and was followed after a short interval by the faint rumble of thunder, which mingled with almayer's voice as he began to speak. "do you know what you are doing? do you know what is waiting for you if you follow that man? have you no pity for yourself? do you know that you shall be at first his plaything and then a scorned slave, a drudge, and a servant of some new fancy of that man?" she raised her hand to stop him, and turning her head slightly, asked-- "you hear this dain! is it true?" "by all the gods!" came the impassioned answer from the darkness--"by heaven and earth, by my head and thine i swear: this is a white man's lie. i have delivered my soul into your hands for ever; i breathe with your breath, i see with your eyes, i think with your mind, and i take you into my heart for ever." "you thief!" shouted the exasperated almayer. a deep silence succeeded this outburst, then the voice of dain was heard again. "nay, tuan," he said in a gentle tone, "that is not true also. the girl came of her own will. i have done no more but to show her my love like a man; she heard the cry of my heart, and she came, and the dowry i have given to the woman you call your wife." almayer groaned in his extremity of rage and shame. nina laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, and the contact, light as the touch of a falling leaf, seemed to calm him. he spoke quickly, and in english this time. "tell me," he said--"tell me, what have they done to you, your mother and that man? what made you give yourself up to that savage? for he is a savage. between him and you there is a barrier that nothing can remove. i can see in your eyes the look of those who commit suicide when they are mad. you are mad. don't smile. it breaks my heart. if i were to see you drowning before my eyes, and i without the power to help you, i could not suffer a greater torment. have you forgotten the teaching of so many years?" "no," she interrupted, "i remember it well. i remember how it ended also. scorn for scorn, contempt for contempt, hate for hate. i am not of your race. between your people and me there is also a barrier that nothing can remove. you ask why i want to go, and i ask you why i should stay." he staggered as if struck in the face, but with a quick, unhesitating grasp she caught him by the arm and steadied him. "why you should stay!" he repeated slowly, in a dazed manner, and stopped short, astounded at the completeness of his misfortune. "you told me yesterday," she went on again, "that i could not understand or see your love for me: it is so. how can i? no two human beings understand each other. they can understand but their own voices. you wanted me to dream your dreams, to see your own visions--the visions of life amongst the white faces of those who cast me out from their midst in angry contempt. but while you spoke i listened to the voice of my own self; then this man came, and all was still; there was only the murmur of his love. you call him a savage! what do you call my mother, your wife?" "nina!" cried almayer, "take your eyes off my face." she looked down directly, but continued speaking only a little above a whisper. "in time," she went on, "both our voices, that man's and mine, spoke together in a sweetness that was intelligible to our ears only. you were speaking of gold then, but our ears were filled with the song of our love, and we did not hear you. then i found that we could see through each other's eyes: that he saw things that nobody but myself and he could see. we entered a land where no one could follow us, and least of all you. then i began to live." she paused. almayer sighed deeply. with her eyes still fixed on the ground she began speaking again. "and i mean to live. i mean to follow him. i have been rejected with scorn by the white people, and now i am a malay! he took me in his arms, he laid his life at my feet. he is brave; he will be powerful, and i hold his bravery and his strength in my hand, and i shall make him great. his name shall be remembered long after both our bodies are laid in the dust. i love you no less than i did before, but i shall never leave him, for without him i cannot live." "if he understood what you have said," answered almayer, scornfully, "he must be highly flattered. you want him as a tool for some incomprehensible ambition of yours. enough, nina. if you do not go down at once to the creek, where ali is waiting with my canoe, i shall tell him to return to the settlement and bring the dutch officers here. you cannot escape from this clearing, for i have cast adrift your canoe. if the dutch catch this hero of yours they will hang him as sure as i stand here. now go." he made a step towards his daughter and laid hold of her by the shoulder, his other hand pointing down the path to the landing-place. "beware!" exclaimed dain; "this woman belongs to me!" nina wrenched herself free and looked straight at almayer's angry face. "no, i will not go," she said with desperate energy. "if he dies i shall die too!" "you die!" said almayer, contemptuously. "oh, no! you shall live a life of lies and deception till some other vagabond comes along to sing; how did you say that? the song of love to you! make up your mind quickly." he waited for a while, and then added meaningly-- "shall i call out to ali?" "call out," she answered in malay, "you that cannot be true to your own countrymen. only a few days ago you were selling the powder for their destruction; now you want to give up to them the man that yesterday you called your friend. oh, dain," she said, turning towards the motionless but attentive figure in the darkness, "instead of bringing you life i bring you death, for he will betray unless i leave you for ever!" dain came into the circle of light, and, throwing his arm around nina's neck, whispered in her ear--"i can kill him where he stands, before a sound can pass his lips. for you it is to say yes or no. babalatchi cannot be far now." he straightened himself up, taking his arm off her shoulder, and confronted almayer, who looked at them both with an expression of concentrated fury. "no!" she cried, clinging to dain in wild alarm. "no! kill me! then perhaps he will let you go. you do not know the mind of a white man. he would rather see me dead than standing where i am. forgive me, your slave, but you must not." she fell at his feet sobbing violently and repeating, "kill me! kill me!" "i want you alive," said almayer, speaking also in malay, with sombre calmness. "you go, or he hangs. will you obey?" dain shook nina off, and, making a sudden lunge, struck almayer full in the chest with the handle of his kriss, keeping the point towards himself. "hai, look! it was easy for me to turn the point the other way," he said in his even voice. "go, tuan putih," he added with dignity. "i give you your life, my life, and her life. i am the slave of this woman's desire, and she wills it so." there was not a glimmer of light in the sky now, and the tops of the trees were as invisible as their trunks, being lost in the mass of clouds that hung low over the woods, the clearing, and the river. every outline had disappeared in the intense blackness that seemed to have destroyed everything but space. only the fire glimmered like a star forgotten in this annihilation of all visible things, and nothing was heard after dain ceased speaking but the sobs of nina, whom he held in his arms, kneeling beside the fire. almayer stood looking down at them in gloomy thoughtfulness. as he was opening his lips to speak they were startled by a cry of warning by the riverside, followed by the splash of many paddles and the sound of voices. "babalatchi!" shouted dain, lifting up nina as he got upon his feet quickly. "ada! ada!" came the answer from the panting statesman who ran up the path and stood amongst them. "run to my canoe," he said to dain excitedly, without taking any notice of almayer. "run! we must go. that woman has told them all!" "what woman?" asked dain, looking at nina. just then there was only one woman in the whole world for him. "the she-dog with white teeth; the seven times accursed slave of bulangi. she yelled at abdulla's gate till she woke up all sambir. now the white officers are coming, guided by her and reshid. if you want to live, do not look at me, but go!" "how do you know this?" asked almayer. "oh, tuan! what matters how i know! i have only one eye, but i saw lights in abdulla's house and in his campong as we were paddling past. i have ears, and while we lay under the bank i have heard the messengers sent out to the white men's house." "will you depart without that woman who is my daughter?" said almayer, addressing dain, while babalatchi stamped with impatience, muttering, "run! run at once!" "no," answered dain, steadily, "i will not go; to no man will i abandon this woman." "then kill me and escape yourself," sobbed out nina. he clasped her close, looking at her tenderly, and whispered, "we will never part, o nina!" "i shall not stay here any longer," broke in babalatchi, angrily. "this is great foolishness. no woman is worth a man's life. i am an old man, and i know." he picked up his staff, and, turning to go, looked at dain as if offering him his last chance of escape. but dain's face was hidden amongst nina's black tresses, and he did not see this last appealing glance. babalatchi vanished in the darkness. shortly after his disappearance they heard the war canoe leave the landing-place in the swish of the numerous paddles dipped in the water together. almost at the same time ali came up from the riverside, two paddles on his shoulder. "our canoe is hidden up the creek, tuan almayer," he said, "in the dense bush where the forest comes down to the water. i took it there because i heard from babalatchi's paddlers that the white men are coming here." "wait for me there," said almayer, "but keep the canoe hidden." he remained silent, listening to ali's footsteps, then turned to nina. "nina," he said sadly, "will you have no pity for me?" there was no answer. she did not even turn her head, which was pressed close to dain's breast. he made a movement as if to leave them and stopped. by the dim glow of the burning-out fire he saw their two motionless figures. the woman's back turned to him with the long black hair streaming down over the white dress, and dain's calm face looking at him above her head. "i cannot," he muttered to himself. after a long pause he spoke again a little lower, but in an unsteady voice, "it would be too great a disgrace. i am a white man." he broke down completely there, and went on tearfully, "i am a white man, and of good family. very good family," he repeated, weeping bitterly. "it would be a disgrace . . . all over the islands, . . . the only white man on the east coast. no, it cannot be . . . white men finding my daughter with this malay. my daughter!" he cried aloud, with a ring of despair in his voice. he recovered his composure after a while and said distinctly-- "i will never forgive you, nina--never! if you were to come back to me now, the memory of this night would poison all my life. i shall try to forget. i have no daughter. there used to be a half-caste woman in my house, but she is going even now. you, dain, or whatever your name may be, i shall take you and that woman to the island at the mouth of the river myself. come with me." he led the way, following the bank as far as the forest. ali answered to his call, and, pushing their way through the dense bush, they stepped into the canoe hidden under the overhanging branches. dain laid nina in the bottom, and sat holding her head on his knees. almayer and ali each took up a paddle. as they were going to push out ali hissed warningly. all listened. in the great stillness before the bursting out of the thunderstorm they could hear the sound of oars working regularly in their row-locks. the sound approached steadily, and dain, looking through the branches, could see the faint shape of a big white boat. a woman's voice said in a cautious tone-- "there is the place where you may land white men; a little higher--there!" the boat was passing them so close in the narrow creek that the blades of the long oars nearly touched the canoe. "way enough! stand by to jump on shore! he is alone and unarmed," was the quiet order in a man's voice, and in dutch. somebody else whispered: "i think i can see a glimmer of a fire through the bush." and then the boat floated past them, disappearing instantly in the darkness. "now," whispered ali, eagerly, "let us push out and paddle away." the little canoe swung into the stream, and as it sprung forward in response to the vigorous dig of the paddles they could hear an angry shout. "he is not by the fire. spread out, men, and search for him!" blue lights blazed out in different parts of the clearing, and the shrill voice of a woman cried in accents of rage and pain-- "too late! o senseless white men! he has escaped!" chapter xii. "that is the place," said dain, indicating with the blade of his paddle a small islet about a mile ahead of the canoe--"that is the place where babalatchi promised that a boat from the prau would come for me when the sun is overhead. we will wait for that boat there." almayer, who was steering, nodded without speaking, and by a slight sweep of his paddle laid the head of the canoe in the required direction. they were just leaving the southern outlet of the pantai, which lay behind them in a straight and long vista of water shining between two walls of thick verdure that ran downwards and towards each other, till at last they joined and sank together in the far-away distance. the sun, rising above the calm waters of the straits, marked its own path by a streak of light that glided upon the sea and darted up the wide reach of the river, a hurried messenger of light and life to the gloomy forests of the coast; and in this radiance of the sun's pathway floated the black canoe heading for the islet which lay bathed in sunshine, the yellow sands of its encircling beach shining like an inlaid golden disc on the polished steel of the unwrinkled sea. to the north and south of it rose other islets, joyous in their brilliant colouring of green and yellow, and on the main coast the sombre line of mangrove bushes ended to the southward in the reddish cliffs of tanjong mirrah, advancing into the sea, steep and shadowless under the clear, light of the early morning. the bottom of the canoe grated upon the sand as the little craft ran upon the beach. ali leaped on shore and held on while dain stepped out carrying nina in his arms, exhausted by the events and the long travelling during the night. almayer was the last to leave the boat, and together with ali ran it higher up on the beach. then ali, tired out by the long paddling, laid down in the shade of the canoe, and incontinently fell asleep. almayer sat sideways on the gunwale, and with his arms crossed on his breast, looked to the southward upon the sea. after carefully laying nina down in the shade of the bushes growing in the middle of the islet, dain threw himself beside her and watched in silent concern the tears that ran down from under her closed eyelids, and lost themselves in that fine sand upon which they both were lying face to face. these tears and this sorrow were for him a profound and disquieting mystery. now, when the danger was past, why should she grieve? he doubted her love no more than he would have doubted the fact of his own existence, but as he lay looking ardently in her face, watching her tears, her parted lips, her very breath, he was uneasily conscious of something in her he could not understand. doubtless she had the wisdom of perfect beings. he sighed. he felt something invisible that stood between them, something that would let him approach her so far, but no farther. no desire, no longing, no effort of will or length of life could destroy this vague feeling of their difference. with awe but also with great pride he concluded that it was her own incomparable perfection. she was his, and yet she was like a woman from another world. his! his! he exulted in the glorious thought; nevertheless her tears pained him. with a wisp of her own hair which he took in his hand with timid reverence he tried in an access of clumsy tenderness to dry the tears that trembled on her eyelashes. he had his reward in a fleeting smile that brightened her face for the short fraction of a second, but soon the tears fell faster than ever, and he could bear it no more. he rose and walked towards almayer, who still sat absorbed in his contemplation of the sea. it was a very, very long time since he had seen the sea--that sea that leads everywhere, brings everything, and takes away so much. he had almost forgotten why he was there, and dreamily he could see all his past life on the smooth and boundless surface that glittered before his eyes. dain's hand laid on almayer's shoulder recalled him with a start from some country very far away indeed. he turned round, but his eyes seemed to look rather at the place where dain stood than at the man himself. dain felt uneasy under the unconscious gaze. "what?" said almayer. "she is crying," murmured dain, softly. "she is crying! why?" asked almayer, indifferently. "i came to ask you. my ranee smiles when looking at the man she loves. it is the white woman that is crying now. you would know." almayer shrugged his shoulders and turned away again towards the sea. "go, tuan putih," urged dain. "go to her; her tears are more terrible to me than the anger of gods." "are they? you will see them more than once. she told me she could not live without you," answered almayer, speaking without the faintest spark of expression in his face, "so it behoves you to go to her quick, for fear you may find her dead." he burst into a loud and unpleasant laugh which made dain stare at him with some apprehension, but got off the gunwale of the boat and moved slowly towards nina, glancing up at the sun as he walked. "and you go when the sun is overhead?" he said. "yes, tuan. then we go," answered dain. "i have not long to wait," muttered almayer. "it is most important for me to see you go. both of you. most important," he repeated, stopping short and looking at dain fixedly. he went on again towards nina, and dain remained behind. almayer approached his daughter and stood for a time looking down on her. she did not open her eyes, but hearing footsteps near her, murmured in a low sob, "dain." almayer hesitated for a minute and then sank on the sand by her side. she, not hearing a responsive word, not feeling a touch, opened her eyes--saw her father, and sat up suddenly with a movement of terror. "oh, father!" she murmured faintly, and in that word there was expressed regret and fear and dawning hope. "i shall never forgive you, nina," said almayer, in a dispassionate voice. "you have torn my heart from me while i dreamt of your happiness. you have deceived me. your eyes that for me were like truth itself lied to me in every glance--for how long? you know that best. when you were caressing my cheek you were counting the minutes to the sunset that was the signal for your meeting with that man--there!" he ceased, and they both sat silent side by side, not looking at each other, but gazing at the vast expanse of the sea. almayer's words had dried nina's tears, and her look grew hard as she stared before her into the limitless sheet of blue that shone limpid, unwaving, and steady like heaven itself. he looked at it also, but his features had lost all expression, and life in his eyes seemed to have gone out. the face was a blank, without a sign of emotion, feeling, reason, or even knowledge of itself. all passion, regret, grief, hope, or anger--all were gone, erased by the hand of fate, as if after this last stroke everything was over and there was no need for any record. those few who saw almayer during the short period of his remaining days were always impressed by the sight of that face that seemed to know nothing of what went on within: like the blank wall of a prison enclosing sin, regrets, and pain, and wasted life, in the cold indifference of mortar and stones. "what is there to forgive?" asked nina, not addressing almayer directly, but more as if arguing with herself. "can i not live my own life as you have lived yours? the path you would have wished me to follow has been closed to me by no fault of mine." "you never told me," muttered almayer. "you never asked me," she answered, "and i thought you were like the others and did not care. i bore the memory of my humiliation alone, and why should i tell you that it came to me because i am your daughter? i knew you could not avenge me." "and yet i was thinking of that only," interrupted almayer, "and i wanted to give you years of happiness for the short day of your suffering. i only knew of one way." "ah! but it was not my way!" she replied. "could you give me happiness without life? life!" she repeated with sudden energy that sent the word ringing over the sea. "life that means power and love," she added in a low voice. "that!" said almayer, pointing his finger at dain standing close by and looking at them in curious wonder. "yes, that!" she replied, looking her father full in the face and noticing for the first time with a slight gasp of fear the unnatural rigidity of his features. "i would have rather strangled you with my own hands," said almayer, in an expressionless voice which was such a contrast to the desperate bitterness of his feelings that it surprised even himself. he asked himself who spoke, and, after looking slowly round as if expecting to see somebody, turned again his eyes towards the sea. "you say that because you do not understand the meaning of my words," she said sadly. "between you and my mother there never was any love. when i returned to sambir i found the place which i thought would be a peaceful refuge for my heart, filled with weariness and hatred--and mutual contempt. i have listened to your voice and to her voice. then i saw that you could not understand me; for was i not part of that woman? of her who was the regret and shame of your life? i had to choose--i hesitated. why were you so blind? did you not see me struggling before your eyes? but, when he came, all doubt disappeared, and i saw only the light of the blue and cloudless heaven--" "i will tell you the rest," interrupted almayer: "when that man came i also saw the blue and the sunshine of the sky. a thunderbolt has fallen from that sky, and suddenly all is still and dark around me for ever. i will never forgive you, nina; and to-morrow i shall forget you! i shall never forgive you," he repeated with mechanical obstinacy while she sat, her head bowed down as if afraid to look at her father. to him it seemed of the utmost importance that he should assure her of his intention of never forgiving. he was convinced that his faith in her had been the foundation of his hopes, the motive of his courage, of his determination to live and struggle, and to be victorious for her sake. and now his faith was gone, destroyed by her own hands; destroyed cruelly, treacherously, in the dark; in the very moment of success. in the utter wreck of his affections and of all his feelings, in the chaotic disorder of his thoughts, above the confused sensation of physical pain that wrapped him up in a sting as of a whiplash curling round him from his shoulders down to his feet, only one idea remained clear and definite--not to forgive her; only one vivid desire--to forget her. and this must be made clear to her--and to himself--by frequent repetition. that was his idea of his duty to himself--to his race--to his respectable connections; to the whole universe unsettled and shaken by this frightful catastrophe of his life. he saw it clearly and believed he was a strong man. he had always prided himself upon his unflinching firmness. and yet he was afraid. she had been all in all to him. what if he should let the memory of his love for her weaken the sense of his dignity? she was a remarkable woman; he could see that; all the latent greatness of his nature--in which he honestly believed--had been transfused into that slight, girlish figure. great things could be done! what if he should suddenly take her to his heart, forget his shame, and pain, and anger, and--follow her! what if he changed his heart if not his skin and made her life easier between the two loves that would guard her from any mischance! his heart yearned for her. what if he should say that his love for her was greater than . . . "i will never forgive you, nina!" he shouted, leaping up madly in the sudden fear of his dream. this was the last time in his life that he was heard to raise his voice. henceforth he spoke always in a monotonous whisper like an instrument of which all the strings but one are broken in a last ringing clamour under a heavy blow. she rose to her feet and looked at him. the very violence of his cry soothed her in an intuitive conviction of his love, and she hugged to her breast the lamentable remnants of that affection with the unscrupulous greediness of women who cling desperately to the very scraps and rags of love, any kind of love, as a thing that of right belongs to them and is the very breath of their life. she put both her hands on almayer's shoulders, and looking at him half tenderly, half playfully, she said-- "you speak so because you love me." almayer shook his head. "yes, you do," she insisted softly; then after a short pause she added, "and you will never forget me." almayer shivered slightly. she could not have said a more cruel thing. "here is the boat coming now," said dain, his arm outstretched towards a black speck on the water between the coast and the islet. they all looked at it and remained standing in silence till the little canoe came gently on the beach and a man landed and walked towards them. he stopped some distance off and hesitated. "what news?" asked dain. "we have had orders secretly and in the night to take off from this islet a man and a woman. i see the woman. which of you is the man?" "come, delight of my eyes," said dain to nina. "now we go, and your voice shall be for my ears only. you have spoken your last words to the tuan putih, your father. come." she hesitated for a while, looking at almayer, who kept his eyes steadily on the sea, then she touched his forehead in a lingering kiss, and a tear--one of her tears--fell on his cheek and ran down his immovable face. "goodbye," she whispered, and remained irresolute till he pushed her suddenly into dain's arms. "if you have any pity for me," murmured almayer, as if repeating some sentence learned by heart, "take that woman away." he stood very straight, his shoulders thrown back, his head held high, and looked at them as they went down the beach to the canoe, walking enlaced in each other's arms. he looked at the line of their footsteps marked in the sand. he followed their figures moving in the crude blaze of the vertical sun, in that light violent and vibrating, like a triumphal flourish of brazen trumpets. he looked at the man's brown shoulders, at the red sarong round his waist; at the tall, slender, dazzling white figure he supported. he looked at the white dress, at the falling masses of the long black hair. he looked at them embarking, and at the canoe growing smaller in the distance, with rage, despair, and regret in his heart, and on his face a peace as that of a carved image of oblivion. inwardly he felt himself torn to pieces, but ali--who now aroused--stood close to his master, saw on his features the blank expression of those who live in that hopeless calm which sightless eyes only can give. the canoe disappeared, and almayer stood motionless with his eyes fixed on its wake. ali from under the shade of his hand examined the coast curiously. as the sun declined, the sea-breeze sprang up from the northward and shivered with its breath the glassy surface of the water. "dapat!" exclaimed ali, joyously. "got him, master! got prau! not there! look more tanah mirrah side. aha! that way! master, see? now plain. see?" almayer followed ali's forefinger with his eyes for a long time in vain. at last he sighted a triangular patch of yellow light on the red background of the cliffs of tanjong mirrah. it was the sail of the prau that had caught the sunlight and stood out, distinct with its gay tint, on the dark red of the cape. the yellow triangle crept slowly from cliff to cliff, till it cleared the last point of land and shone brilliantly for a fleeting minute on the blue of the open sea. then the prau bore up to the southward: the light went out of the sail, and all at once the vessel itself disappeared, vanishing in the shadow of the steep headland that looked on, patient and lonely, watching over the empty sea. almayer never moved. round the little islet the air was full of the talk of the rippling water. the crested wavelets ran up the beach audaciously, joyously, with the lightness of young life, and died quickly, unresistingly, and graciously, in the wide curves of transparent foam on the yellow sand. above, the white clouds sailed rapidly southwards as if intent upon overtaking something. ali seemed anxious. "master," he said timidly, "time to get house now. long way off to pull. all ready, sir." "wait," whispered almayer. now she was gone his business was to forget, and he had a strange notion that it should be done systematically and in order. to ali's great dismay he fell on his hands and knees, and, creeping along the sand, erased carefully with his hand all traces of nina's footsteps. he piled up small heaps of sand, leaving behind him a line of miniature graves right down to the water. after burying the last slight imprint of nina's slipper he stood up, and, turning his face towards the headland where he had last seen the prau, he made an effort to shout out loud again his firm resolve to never forgive. ali watching him uneasily saw only his lips move, but heard no sound. he brought his foot down with a stamp. he was a firm man--firm as a rock. let her go. he never had a daughter. he would forget. he was forgetting already. ali approached him again, insisting on immediate departure, and this time he consented, and they went together towards their canoe, almayer leading. for all his firmness he looked very dejected and feeble as he dragged his feet slowly through the sand on the beach; and by his side--invisible to ali--stalked that particular fiend whose mission it is to jog the memories of men, lest they should forget the meaning of life. he whispered into almayer's ear a childish prattle of many years ago. almayer, his head bent on one side, seemed to listen to his invisible companion, but his face was like the face of a man that has died struck from behind--a face from which all feelings and all expression are suddenly wiped off by the hand of unexpected death. * * * * * they slept on the river that night, mooring their canoe under the bushes and lying down in the bottom side by side, in the absolute exhaustion that kills hunger, thirst, all feeling and all thought in the overpowering desire for that deep sleep which is like the temporary annihilation of the tired body. next day they started again and fought doggedly with the current all the morning, till about midday they reached the settlement and made fast their little craft to the jetty of lingard and co. almayer walked straight to the house, and ali followed, paddles on shoulder, thinking that he would like to eat something. as they crossed the front courtyard they noticed the abandoned look of the place. ali looked in at the different servants' houses: all were empty. in the back courtyard there was the same absence of sound and life. in the cooking-shed the fire was out and the black embers were cold. a tall, lean man came stealthily out of the banana plantation, and went away rapidly across the open space looking at them with big, frightened eyes over his shoulder. some vagabond without a master; there were many such in the settlement, and they looked upon almayer as their patron. they prowled about his premises and picked their living there, sure that nothing worse could befall them than a shower of curses when they got in the way of the white man, whom they trusted and liked, and called a fool amongst themselves. in the house, which almayer entered through the back verandah, the only living thing that met his eyes was his small monkey which, hungry and unnoticed for the last two days, began to cry and complain in monkey language as soon as it caught sight of the familiar face. almayer soothed it with a few words and ordered ali to bring in some bananas, then while ali was gone to get them he stood in the doorway of the front verandah looking at the chaos of overturned furniture. finally he picked up the table and sat on it while the monkey let itself down from the roof-stick by its chain and perched on his shoulder. when the bananas came they had their breakfast together; both hungry, both eating greedily and showering the skins round them recklessly, in the trusting silence of perfect friendship. ali went away, grumbling, to cook some rice himself, for all the women about the house had disappeared; he did not know where. almayer did not seem to care, and, after he finished eating, he sat on the table swinging his legs and staring at the river as if lost in thought. after some time he got up and went to the door of a room on the right of the verandah. that was the office. the office of lingard and co. he very seldom went in there. there was no business now, and he did not want an office. the door was locked, and he stood biting his lower lip, trying to think of the place where the key could be. suddenly he remembered: in the women's room hung upon a nail. he went over to the doorway where the red curtain hung down in motionless folds, and hesitated for a moment before pushing it aside with his shoulder as if breaking down some solid obstacle. a great square of sunshine entering through the window lay on the floor. on the left he saw mrs. almayer's big wooden chest, the lid thrown back, empty; near it the brass nails of nina's european trunk shone in the large initials n. a. on the cover. a few of nina's dresses hung on wooden pegs, stiffened in a look of offended dignity at their abandonment. he remembered making the pegs himself and noticed that they were very good pegs. where was the key? he looked round and saw it near the door where he stood. it was red with rust. he felt very much annoyed at that, and directly afterwards wondered at his own feeling. what did it matter? there soon would be no key--no door--nothing! he paused, key in hand, and asked himself whether he knew well what he was about. he went out again on the verandah and stood by the table thinking. the monkey jumped down, and, snatching a banana skin, absorbed itself in picking it to shreds industriously. "forget!" muttered almayer, and that word started before him a sequence of events, a detailed programme of things to do. he knew perfectly well what was to be done now. first this, then that, and then forgetfulness would come easy. very easy. he had a fixed idea that if he should not forget before he died he would have to remember to all eternity. certain things had to be taken out of his life, stamped out of sight, destroyed, forgotten. for a long time he stood in deep thought, lost in the alarming possibilities of unconquerable memory, with the fear of death and eternity before him. "eternity!" he said aloud, and the sound of that word recalled him out of his reverie. the monkey started, dropped the skin, and grinned up at him amicably. he went towards the office door and with some difficulty managed to open it. he entered in a cloud of dust that rose under his feet. books open with torn pages bestrewed the floor; other books lay about grimy and black, looking as if they had never been opened. account books. in those books he had intended to keep day by day a record of his rising fortunes. long time ago. a very long time. for many years there has been no record to keep on the blue and red ruled pages! in the middle of the room the big office desk, with one of its legs broken, careened over like the hull of a stranded ship; most of the drawers had fallen out, disclosing heaps of paper yellow with age and dirt. the revolving office chair stood in its place, but he found the pivot set fast when he tried to turn it. no matter. he desisted, and his eyes wandered slowly from object to object. all those things had cost a lot of money at the time. the desk, the paper, the torn books, and the broken shelves, all under a thick coat of dust. the very dust and bones of a dead and gone business. he looked at all these things, all that was left after so many years of work, of strife, of weariness, of discouragement, conquered so many times. and all for what? he stood thinking mournfully of his past life till he heard distinctly the clear voice of a child speaking amongst all this wreck, ruin, and waste. he started with a great fear in his heart, and feverishly began to rake in the papers scattered on the floor, broke the chair into bits, splintered the drawers by banging them against the desk, and made a big heap of all that rubbish in one corner of the room. he came out quickly, slammed the door after him, turned the key, and, taking it out, ran to the front rail of the verandah, and, with a great swing of his arm, sent the key whizzing into the river. this done he went back slowly to the table, called the monkey down, unhooked its chain, and induced it to remain quiet in the breast of his jacket. then he sat again on the table and looked fixedly at the door of the room he had just left. he listened also intently. he heard a dry sound of rustling; sharp cracks as of dry wood snapping; a whirr like of a bird's wings when it rises suddenly, and then he saw a thin stream of smoke come through the keyhole. the monkey struggled under his coat. ali appeared with his eyes starting out of his head. "master! house burn!" he shouted. almayer stood up holding by the table. he could hear the yells of alarm and surprise in the settlement. ali wrung his hands, lamenting aloud. "stop this noise, fool!" said almayer, quietly. "pick up my hammock and blankets and take them to the other house. quick, now!" the smoke burst through the crevices of the door, and ali, with the hammock in his arms, cleared in one bound the steps of the verandah. "it has caught well," muttered almayer to himself. "be quiet, jack," he added, as the monkey made a frantic effort to escape from its confinement. the door split from top to bottom, and a rush of flame and smoke drove almayer away from the table to the front rail of the verandah. he held on there till a great roar overhead assured him that the roof was ablaze. then he ran down the steps of the verandah, coughing, half choked with the smoke that pursued him in bluish wreaths curling about his head. on the other side of the ditch, separating almayer's courtyard from the settlement, a crowd of the inhabitants of sambir looked at the burning house of the white man. in the calm air the flames rushed up on high, coloured pale brick-red, with violet gleams in the strong sunshine. the thin column of smoke ascended straight and unwavering till it lost itself in the clear blue of the sky, and, in the great empty space between the two houses the interested spectators could see the tall figure of the tuan putih, with bowed head and dragging feet, walking slowly away from the fire towards the shelter of "almayer's folly." in that manner did almayer move into his new house. he took possession of the new ruin, and in the undying folly of his heart set himself to wait in anxiety and pain for that forgetfulness which was so slow to come. he had done all he could. every vestige of nina's existence had been destroyed; and now with every sunrise he asked himself whether the longed-for oblivion would come before sunset, whether it would come before he died? he wanted to live only long enough to be able to forget, and the tenacity of his memory filled him with dread and horror of death; for should it come before he could accomplish the purpose of his life he would have to remember for ever! he also longed for loneliness. he wanted to be alone. but he was not. in the dim light of the rooms with their closed shutters, in the bright sunshine of the verandah, wherever he went, whichever way he turned, he saw the small figure of a little maiden with pretty olive face, with long black hair, her little pink robe slipping off her shoulders, her big eyes looking up at him in the tender trustfulness of a petted child. ali did not see anything, but he also was aware of the presence of a child in the house. in his long talks by the evening fires of the settlement he used to tell his intimate friends of almayer's strange doings. his master had turned sorcerer in his old age. ali said that often when tuan putih had retired for the night he could hear him talking to something in his room. ali thought that it was a spirit in the shape of a child. he knew his master spoke to a child from certain expressions and words his master used. his master spoke in malay a little, but mostly in english, which he, ali, could understand. master spoke to the child at times tenderly, then he would weep over it, laugh at it, scold it, beg of it to go away; curse it. it was a bad and stubborn spirit. ali thought his master had imprudently called it up, and now could not get rid of it. his master was very brave; he was not afraid to curse this spirit in the very presence; and once he fought with it. ali had heard a great noise as of running about inside the room and groans. his master groaned. spirits do not groan. his master was brave, but foolish. you cannot hurt a spirit. ali expected to find his master dead next morning, but he came out very early, looking much older than the day before, and had no food all day. so far ali to the settlement. to captain ford he was much more communicative, for the good reason that captain ford had the purse and gave orders. on each of ford's monthly visits to sambir ali had to go on board with a report about the inhabitant of "almayer's folly." on his first visit to sambir, after nina's departure, ford had taken charge of almayer's affairs. they were not cumbersome. the shed for the storage of goods was empty, the boats had disappeared, appropriated--generally in night-time--by various citizens of sambir in need of means of transport. during a great flood the jetty of lingard and co. left the bank and floated down the river, probably in search of more cheerful surroundings; even the flock of geese--"the only geese on the east coast"--departed somewhere, preferring the unknown dangers of the bush to the desolation of their old home. as time went on the grass grew over the black patch of ground where the old house used to stand, and nothing remained to mark the place of the dwelling that had sheltered almayer's young hopes, his foolish dream of splendid future, his awakening, and his despair. ford did not often visit almayer, for visiting almayer was not a pleasant task. at first he used to respond listlessly to the old seaman's boisterous inquiries about his health; he even made efforts to talk, asking for news in a voice that made it perfectly clear that no news from this world had any interest for him. then gradually he became more silent--not sulkily--but as if he was forgetting how to speak. he used also to hide in the darkest rooms of the house, where ford had to seek him out guided by the patter of the monkey galloping before him. the monkey was always there to receive and introduce ford. the little animal seemed to have taken complete charge of its master, and whenever it wished for his presence on the verandah it would tug perseveringly at his jacket, till almayer obediently came out into the sunshine, which he seemed to dislike so much. one morning ford found him sitting on the floor of the verandah, his back against the wall, his legs stretched stiffly out, his arms hanging by his side. his expressionless face, his eyes open wide with immobile pupils, and the rigidity of his pose, made him look like an immense man-doll broken and flung there out of the way. as ford came up the steps he turned his head slowly. "ford," he murmured from the floor, "i cannot forget." "can't you?" said ford, innocently, with an attempt at joviality: "i wish i was like you. i am losing my memory--age, i suppose; only the other day my mate--" he stopped, for almayer had got up, stumbled, and steadied himself on his friend's arm. "hallo! you are better to-day. soon be all right," said ford, cheerfully, but feeling rather scared. almayer let go his arm and stood very straight with his head up and shoulders thrown back, looking stonily at the multitude of suns shining in ripples of the river. his jacket and his loose trousers flapped in the breeze on his thin limbs. "let her go!" he whispered in a grating voice. "let her go. to-morrow i shall forget. i am a firm man, . . . firm as a . . . rock, . . . firm . . ." ford looked at his face--and fled. the skipper was a tolerably firm man himself--as those who had sailed with him could testify--but almayer's firmness was altogether too much for his fortitude. next time the steamer called in sambir ali came on board early with a grievance. he complained to ford that jim-eng the chinaman had invaded almayer's house, and actually had lived there for the last month. "and they both smoke," added ali. "phew! opium, you mean?" ali nodded, and ford remained thoughtful; then he muttered to himself, "poor devil! the sooner the better now." in the afternoon he walked up to the house. "what are you doing here?" he asked of jim-eng, whom he found strolling about on the verandah. jim-eng explained in bad malay, and speaking in that monotonous, uninterested voice of an opium smoker pretty far gone, that his house was old, the roof leaked, and the floor was rotten. so, being an old friend for many, many years, he took his money, his opium, and two pipes, and came to live in this big house. "there is plenty of room. he smokes, and i live here. he will not smoke long," he concluded. "where is he now?" asked ford. "inside. he sleeps," answered jim-eng, wearily. ford glanced in through the doorway. in the dim light of the room he could see almayer lying on his back on the floor, his head on a wooden pillow, the long white beard scattered over his breast, the yellow skin of the face, the half-closed eyelids showing the whites of the eye only. . . . he shuddered and turned away. as he was leaving he noticed a long strip of faded red silk, with some chinese letters on it, which jim-eng had just fastened to one of the pillars. "what's that?" he asked. "that," said jim-eng, in his colourless voice, "that is the name of the house. all the same like my house. very good name." ford looked at him for awhile and went away. he did not know what the crazy-looking maze of the chinese inscription on the red silk meant. had he asked jim-eng, that patient chinaman would have informed him with proper pride that its meaning was: "house of heavenly delight." in the evening of the same day babalatchi called on captain ford. the captain's cabin opened on deck, and babalatchi sat astride on the high step, while ford smoked his pipe on the settee inside. the steamer was leaving next morning, and the old statesman came as usual for a last chat. "we had news from bali last moon," remarked babalatchi. "a grandson is born to the old rajah, and there is great rejoicing." ford sat up interested. "yes," went on babalatchi, in answer to ford's look. "i told him. that was before he began to smoke." "well, and what?" asked ford. "i escaped with my life," said babalatchi, with perfect gravity, "because the white man is very weak and fell as he rushed upon me." then, after a pause, he added, "she is mad with joy." "mrs. almayer, you mean?" "yes, she lives in our rajah's house. she will not die soon. such women live a long time," said babalatchi, with a slight tinge of regret in his voice. "she has dollars, and she has buried them, but we know where. we had much trouble with those people. we had to pay a fine and listen to threats from the white men, and now we have to be careful." he sighed and remained silent for a long while. then with energy: "there will be fighting. there is a breath of war on the islands. shall i live long enough to see? . . . ah, tuan!" he went on, more quietly, "the old times were best. even i have sailed with lanun men, and boarded in the night silent ships with white sails. that was before an english rajah ruled in kuching. then we fought amongst ourselves and were happy. now when we fight with you we can only die!" he rose to go. "tuan," he said, "you remember the girl that man bulangi had? her that caused all the trouble?" "yes," said ford. "what of her?" "she grew thin and could not work. then bulangi, who is a thief and a pig-eater, gave her to me for fifty dollars. i sent her amongst my women to grow fat. i wanted to hear the sound of her laughter, but she must have been bewitched, and . . . she died two days ago. nay, tuan. why do you speak bad words? i am old--that is true--but why should i not like the sight of a young face and the sound of a young voice in my house?" he paused, and then added with a little mournful laugh, "i am like a white man talking too much of what is not men's talk when they speak to one another." and he went off looking very sad. * * * * * the crowd massed in a semicircle before the steps of "almayer's folly," swayed silently backwards and forwards, and opened out before the group of white-robed and turbaned men advancing through the grass towards the house. abdulla walked first, supported by reshid and followed by all the arabs in sambir. as they entered the lane made by the respectful throng there was a subdued murmur of voices, where the word "mati" was the only one distinctly audible. abdulla stopped and looked round slowly. "is he dead?" he asked. "may you live!" answered the crowd in one shout, and then there succeeded a breathless silence. abdulla made a few paces forward and found himself for the last time face to face with his old enemy. whatever he might have been once he was not dangerous now, lying stiff and lifeless in the tender light of the early day. the only white man on the east coast was dead, and his soul, delivered from the trammels of his earthly folly, stood now in the presence of infinite wisdom. on the upturned face there was that serene look which follows the sudden relief from anguish and pain, and it testified silently before the cloudless heaven that the man lying there under the gaze of indifferent eyes had been permitted to forget before he died. abdulla looked down sadly at this infidel he had fought so long and had bested so many times. such was the reward of the faithful! yet in the arab's old heart there was a feeling of regret for that thing gone out of his life. he was leaving fast behind him friendships, and enmities, successes, and disappointments--all that makes up a life; and before him was only the end. prayer would fill up the remainder of the days allotted to the true believer! he took in his hand the beads that hung at his waist. "i found him here, like this, in the morning," said ali, in a low and awed voice. abdulla glanced coldly once more at the serene face. "let us go," he said, addressing reshid. and as they passed through the crowd that fell back before them, the beads in abdulla's hand clicked, while in a solemn whisper he breathed out piously the name of allah! the merciful! the compassionate! [transcriber's note: transliterated greek is surrounded by plus signs, e.g. "+agôníai+". italicized text is surrounded by _underscores_. in the phrase "_sov[)a]v sov[=e]v_", "[)a]" represents a-breve, "[=e]" represents e-macron. "[oe]" represents the oe-ligature pair.] [frontispiece: j. a. cramb] the origins and destiny of imperial britain nineteenth century europe by the late j. a. cramb, m.a. professor of modern history, queen's college, london with a biographical note and portrait of the author london: john murray, albemarle street, w. _all rights reserved_ [illustration: greek text] "for the noveltie and strangenesse of the matter which i determine and deliberate to entreat upon, is of efficacie and force enough to draw the mindes both of young and olde to the diligent reading and digesting of these labours. for what man is there so despising knowledge, or any so idle and slothfull to be found, which will eschew or avoide by what policies or by what kinde of government the most part of nations in the universall world were vanquished, subdued and made subject unto the one empire of the romanes, which before that time was never seen or heard? or who is there that hath such earnest affection to other discipline or studie, that he suposeth any kind of knowledge to be of more value or worthy to be esteemed before this?" _the histories of the most famous chronographer_, polybius. (englished by c. w., and imprinted at london, anno ). preface the following pages are a reprint of a course of lectures delivered in may, june, and july, . their immediate inspiration was the war in south africa (two of the lectures deal directly with that war), but in these pages, written fifteen years ago, will be found foreshadowed the ideals and deeds of the present hour. when the book first appeared, mr. cramb wrote that he "had been induced to publish these reflections by the belief or the hope that at the present grave crisis they might not be without service to his country." in the same hope his lectures are now reprinted. biographical note john adam cramb was born at denny, in scotland, on the th of may, . on leaving school he went to glasgow university, where he graduated in , taking st class honours in classics. in the same year he was appointed to the luke fellowship in english literature. he also studied at bonn university. he subsequently travelled on the continent, and in married the third daughter of the late mr. edward w. selby lowndes of winslow, and left one son. from to he was lecturer in modern history at queen margaret college, glasgow. settling in london in he contributed several articles to the _dictionary of national biography_, and also occasional reviews to periodicals. for many years he was an examiner for the civil service commission. in he was appointed lecturer and in professor of modern history at queen's college, london, where he lectured until his death. he was also an occasional lecturer on military history at the staff college, camberley, and at york, chatham, and other centres. in london he gave private courses on history, literature, and philosophy. his last series of lectures was delivered in february and march, , the subject being the relations between england and germany. in response to many requests he was engaged in preparing these lectures for publication when, in october, , he died. contents part i the testimony of the past lecture i section what is imperialism? . the unconscious and the conscious in history . ancient and modern imperialism . the mandate of destiny lecture ii the development of the political ideal . of the action of states and of individuals . the law of tragedy as applied to history . the law of tragedy: its second aspect lecture iii the development of the religious ideal . religion and imperialism . the place of religion in english history . distinction of the religion of the vikings . world-historic significance of the english reformation . the testimony of the past: a final consideration part ii the destiny of imperial britain lecture iv the war in south africa . historical significance of the war in south africa . nationality and imperialism . the war of a democracy . cosmopolitanism and jingoism . militarism lecture v what is war? . the place of war in world-history . definition of war . count tolstoi and carlyle upon war . count tolstoi as representative of the slavonic genius . the teachings of christ and war . the ideal of universal peace . imperialism and war lecture vi the vicissitudes of states and empires . the metaphysical origin of the state . the state, empires, and art . the fall of empires: the theory of retribution . the fall of empires: the cyclic theory . what is meant by the "fall of an empire"? lecture vii the destiny of imperial britain and the destiny of man . the present stage in the history of imperial britain . the destiny of man . the four periods of modern history . the ideal of the fourth age . the "act" and the "thought" . britain's world-mission: the witness of the dead to the mandate of the present nineteenth century europe . dominion of the ideal of liberty . nationality and modern republicanism . the ideals of a new age part i the testimony of the past reflections on the origins and destiny of imperial britain lecture i what is imperialism? [_tuesday, may_ _th_, ] the present age has rewritten the annals of the world, and set its own impress on the traditions of humanity. in no period has the burden of the past weighed so heavily upon the present, or the interpretation of its speculative import troubled the heart so profoundly, so intimately, so monotonously. how remote we stand from the times when raleigh could sit down in the tower, and with less anxiety about his documents, state records, or stone monuments than would now be imperative in compiling the history of a county, proceed to write the history of the world! and in speculation it is the tale, the _fabula_, the procession of impressive incidents and personages, which enthralls him, and with perfect fitness he closes his work with the noblest invocation to death that literature possesses. but beneath the variety or pathos of the tale the present age ever apprehends a deeper meaning, or is oppressed by a sense of mystery, of wonder, or of sorrow unrevealed, which defies tears. this revolution in our conception of history, this boundless industry which in germany, france, england, italy, has led to the printing of mountains of forgotten memoirs, correspondences, state papers, this endless sifting of evidence, this treasuring above riches of the slight results slowly and patiently drawn, is neither accident, nor transient caprice, nor antiquarian frenzy, but a phase of the guiding impulse, the supreme instinct of this age--the ardour to know all, to experience all, to be all, to suffer all, in a word, to know the truth of things--if haply there come with it immortal life, even if there come with it silence and utter death. the deepened significance of history springs thus from the deepened significance of life, and the passion of our interest in the past from the passion of our interest in the present. the half-effaced image on a coin, the illuminated margin of a mediaeval manuscript, the smile on a fading picture--if these have become, as it were, fountains of unstable reveries, perpetuating the wonder which is greater than knowledge, it is a power from the present that invests them with this magic. life has become more self-conscious; not of the narrow self merely, but of that deeper self, the mystic presence which works behind the veil. world-history is no more the fairy tale whose end is death, but laden with eternal meanings, significances, intimations, swift gleams of the timeless manifesting itself in time. and the distinguishing function of history as a science lies in its ceaseless effort not only to lay bare, to crystallize the moments of all these manifestations, but to discover their connecting bond, the ties that unite them to each other and to the one, the hidden source of these varied manifestations, whether revealed as transcendent thought, art, or action. hence, as in prosecuting elsewhere our inquiry into the origin of the french monarchy or the decline of oligarchic venice, we examined not only the characters, incidents, policies immediately connected with the subject, but attempted an answer to the question--what is the place of these incidents in the universal scheme of things? so in the treatment of the theme now before us, the origins of imperial britain, pursuing a similar plan, we have to consider not merely the relations of imperial britain to the england and scotland of earlier times, but its relations to mediaeval europe, and to determine so far as is possible its place amongst the world-empires of the past. i use the phrase "imperial britain," and not "british empire," because from the latter territorial associations are inseparable. it designates india, canada, egypt, and the like. but by "imperial britain" i wish to indicate the informing spirit, the unseen force from within the race itself, which in the past has shapen and in the present continues to shape this outward, this material frame of empire. with the rise of this spirit, this consciousness within the british race of its destiny as an imperial people, no event in recent history can fitly be compared. the unity of germany under the hohenzollern is an imposing, a far-reaching achievement. the aspirations of the period of the _aufklärung_--lessing, schiller, arndt, and fichte--find in this edifice their political realization. but the incident is not unprecedented. even the writings of friedrich gentz are not by it made obsolete. it has affected the european state-system as the sudden unity of spain under ferdinand or the completion of the french monarchy under louis xiv affected it. but in this unobserved, this silent growth of imperial britain--so unobserved that it presents itself even now as an unreal, a transient thing--a force intrudes into the state-systems of the world which, whether we view it in its effects upon the present age or seek to gauge its significance to the future, has few, if any, parallels in history. § i. the unconscious and the conscious in history what is the nature of this consciousness? what is its historical basis? is it possible to trace the process by which it has emerged? in the history of every conscious organism, a race, a state, or an individual, there is a certain moment when the unconscious desire, purpose, or ideal passes into the conscious. life's end is then manifest. the ideal unsuspected hitherto, or dimly discerned, now becomes the fixed law of existence. such moments inevitably are difficult to localize. bonaparte in fascinates the younger robespierre--"he has so much of the future in his mind." but it is neither toulon, nor vendémiaire, nor lodi, but the marshes of arcola, two years after robespierre has fallen on the scaffold, that reveal napoleon to himself. so diderot perceives the true bent of rousseau's genius long before the dijon essay reveals it to the latter himself and to france. polybius discovers in the war of regulus and of mylae the beginning of rome's imperial career, but a juster instinct leads livy to devote his most splendid paragraphs to the heroism in defeat of thrasymene and cannae. it was the singular fate of camoens to voice the ideal of his race, to witness its glory, and to survive its fall. the prose of osorius[ ] does but prolong the echoes of camoens' mighty line. within a single generation, portugal traces the bounds of a world-empire, great and impressive; the next can hardly discover the traces. but to the limning of that sketch all the past of portugal was necessary, though then it emerged for the first time from the unconscious to the conscious. similarly in the england of the seventeenth century the conscious deliberate resolve to be itself the master of its fate takes complete possession of the nation. this is the ideal which gives essential meaning to the petition of right, to the grand remonstrance, to the return at the restoration to the "principles of "; it is this which gives a common purpose to the lives of eliot, pym, shaftesbury, and somers. it is the unifying motive of the politics of the whole seventeenth century. the eighteenth expands or curtails this, but originates nothing. an ideal from the past controls the genius of the greatest statesmen of the eighteenth century. but from the closing years of the century to the present hour another ideal, at first existing unperceived side by side with the former, has slowly but insensibly advanced, obscure in its origins and little regarded in its first developments, but now impressing the whole earth by its majesty--the ideal of imperial britain. it is vain or misleading for the most part to fix precisely the first beginnings of great movements in history. nevertheless it is often convenient to select for special study even arbitrarily some incident or character in which that movement first conspicuously displays itself. and if the question were asked--when does monarchical or constitutional england first distinctively pass into imperial britain? i should point to the close of the eighteenth century, to the heroic patience with which the twenty-two years' war against france was borne, hard upon the disaster of yorktown and the loss of an empire; and further, if you proceeded to search in speculative politics or actual speeches for a deliberate expression of this transition, i should select as a conspicuous instance edmund burke's great impeachment of warren hastings. there this first awakening consciousness of an imperial destiny declares itself in a very dramatic and pronounced form indeed. yet burke's range in speculative politics, compared with that of such a writer as montesquieu, is narrow. his conception of history at its highest is but an anticipation of the picturesque but pragmatic school of which macaulay is coryphaeus. in religion he revered the traditions, and acquiesced in the commonplaces of his time. his literary sympathies were less varied, his taste less sure than those of charles james fox. in constitutional politics he clung obstinately to the ideals of the past; to parliamentary reform he was hostile or indifferent. as pitt was the first great statesman of the nineteenth century, so burke was the last of the great statesmen of the seventeenth century; for it is to the era of pym and of shaftesbury that, in his constitutional theories, burke strictly belongs. but if his range was narrow, he is master there. "within that circle none durst walk but he." no cause in world-history has inspired a nobler rhetoric, a mightier language. and if he is a reactionary in constitutional politics, in his impeachment of hastings he is the prophet of a new era, the annunciator of an ideal which the later nineteenth century slowly endeavours to realize--an empire resting not on violence, but on justice and freedom. this ideal influences the action, the policy, of statesmen earlier in the century; but in chatham its precise character, that which differentiates the ideal of britain from that, say, of rome, is less clear than in burke. and in the seventeenth century, unless in a latent _unconscious_ form, it can hardly be traced at all. in the speculative politics of that century we encounter it again and again; but in practical politics it has no part. i could not agree with lord rosebery when in an address he spoke of cromwell as "a great briton." cromwell is a great englishman, but neither in his actions nor in his policy, neither in his letters, nor in any recorded utterance, public or private, does he evince definite sympathy with, or clear consciousness of the distinctive ideal of imperial britain. his work indeed leads towards this end, as the work of raleigh, of the elder essex, or of grenville, leads towards it, but not consciously, not deliberately. in burke, however, and in his younger contemporaries, the conscious influence, the formative power of a higher ideal, of wider aspirations than moulded the actual statesmanship of the past, can no longer escape us. the empire is being formed, its material bounds marked out, here definitely, there lost in receding vistas. on the battlefield or in the senate-house, or at the counter of merchant adventurers, this work is slowly elaborating itself. and within the nation at large the ideal which is to be the spirit, the life of the empire is rising into ever clearer consciousness. its influence throws a light upon the last speeches of the younger pitt. if the impeachment be burke's _chef d'oeuvre_, pitt never reached a mightier close than in the speech which ended as the first grey light touched the eastern windows of westminster, suggesting on the instant one of the happiest and most pathetic quotations ever made within those walls.[ ] the ideal makes great the life of wilberforce; it exalts canning; and clarkson, romilly, cobbett, bentham is each in his way its exponent. "the cry of the children" derived an added poignancy from the wider pity which, after errors and failures more terrible than crimes, extended itself to the suffering in the indian village, in the african forest, or by the nile. the chartist demanded the rights of englishmen, and found the strength of his demand not diminished, but heightened, by the elder battle-cry of the "rights of man." thus has this ideal, grown conscious, gradually penetrated every phase of our public life. it removes the disabilities of religion; enfranchises the millions, that they by being free may bring freedom to others. in the great renunciation of it borrows a page from roman annals, and sets the name of peel with that of caius gracchus. it imparts to modern politics an inspiration and a high-erected effort, the power to falter at no sacrifice, dread no responsibility. thus, then, as in the seventeenth century the ideal of national and constituted freedom takes complete possession of the english people, so in the nineteenth this ideal of imperial britain, risen at last from the sphere of the unconscious to the conscious, has gradually taken possession of all the avenues and passages of the empire's life, till at the century's close there is not a man capable of sympathies beyond his individual walk whom it does not strengthen and uplift. § . ancient and modern imperialism definitions are perilous, yet we must now attempt to define this ideal, to frame an answer to the question--what is the nature of this ideal which has thus arisen, of this imperialism which is insensibly but surely taking the place of the narrower patriotism of england, of scotland, and of ireland? imperialism, i should say, is patriotism transfigured by a light from the aspirations of universal humanity; it is the passion of marathon, of flodden or trafalgar, the ardour of a de montfort or a grenville, intensified to a serener flame by the ideals of a condorcet, a shelley, or a fichte. this is the ideal, and in the resolution deliberate and conscious to realize this ideal throughout its dominions, from bound to bound, in the voluntary submission to this as to the primal law of its being, lies what may be named the destiny of imperial britain. as the artist by the very law of his being is compelled to body forth his conceptions in colour, in words, or in marble, so the race dowered with the genius for empire is compelled to dare all, to suffer all, to sacrifice all for the fulfilment of its fate-appointed task. this is the distinction, this the characteristic of the empires, the imperial races of the past, of the remote, the shadowy empires of media, of assyria, of the nearer empires of persia, macedon, and rome. to spread the name, and with the name the attributes, the civilizing power of hellas, throughout the world is the ideal of macedon. similarly of rome: to subdue the world, to establish there her peace, governing all in justice, marks the rome of julius, of vespasian, of trajan. and in this measureless devotion to a cause, in this surplus energy, and the necessity of realizing its ideals in other races, in other peoples, lies the distinction of the imperial state, whether city or nation. the origin of these characteristics in british imperialism we shall examine in a later lecture. let me now endeavour to set the distinctive ideal of britain before you in a clearer light. observe, first of all, that it is essentially british. it is not roman, not hellenic. the roman ideal moulds every form of imperialism in europe, and even to a certain degree in the east, down to the eighteenth century. the theory of the mediaeval empire derives immediately from rome. the roman justice disguised as righteousness easily warrants persecution, papal or imperial. the revocation of the edict of passau by a hapsburg, and the revocation of the edict of nantes by a bourbon, trace their origin without a break to that emperor to whom dante assigns so great a part in the _paradiso_.[ ] lord beaconsfield, with the levity in matters of scholarship which he sometimes displayed, once ascribed the phrase _imperium ac libertas_ to a roman historian. the voluntary or accidental error is nothing; but the conception of roman imperialism which it popularized is worth considering. it is false to the genius of rome. it is not that the phrase nowhere occurs in a roman historian; but no statesman, no roman historian, not sulla, not caesar, nor marcus, could ever have bracketed these words. _imperium ac justitia_ he might have said; but he could never have used together the conceptions of empire and freedom. the peoples subdued by rome--spain, gaul, africa--received from rome justice, and for this gift blessed rome's name, deifying her genius. but the ideal of freedom, the freedom that allows or secures for every soul the power to move in the highest path of its being, this is no pre-occupation of a roman statesman! yet it is in this ideal of freedom that the distinction, or at least a distinction of modern, as opposed to roman or hellenic, europe consists; in the effort, that is to say, to spiritualize the conception of outward justice, of outward freedom, to rescue individual life from the incubus of the state, transfiguring the state itself by the larger freedom, the higher justice, which sophocles seeks in vain throughout hellas, which virgil in rome can nowhere find. the common traits in the kreon of tragedy and the kritias of history, in the hero of the _aeneid_ and the triumvir octavianus, are not accident, but arise from the revolt of the higher freedom of art, conscious or unconscious, against the essential egoism of the wrong masking as right of the ancient state. and it is in the empire of britain that this effort of modern europe is realized, not only in the highest, but in the most original and varied forms. the power of the roman ideal, on the other hand, saps the preceding empires of modern europe down to the seventeenth century, the empire of the german caesars, the papacy itself, venice, spain, bourbon france. consider how completely the ideals of these states are enshrined in the _de monarchia_, and how closely the _de monarchia_ knits itself to caesarian and to consular rome! the political history of venice, stripped of its tinsel and melodrama, is tedious as a twice-told tale. her art, her palaces, are her own eternally, a treasury inexhaustible as the light and mystery of the waters upon which she rests like a lily, the changeful element multiplying her structured loveliness and the opalescent hues of her sky. but in politics venice has not enriched the world with a single inspiring thought which rome had not centuries earlier illustrated more grandly, more simply, and with yet profounder meanings. spain falls, not as carlyle imagines, because it "rejects the faith proffered by the visiting angel"--a protestant spain is impossible--but because spain seeks to stifle in the netherlands, in europe at large, that freedom which modern europe had come to regard as dearer than life--freedom to worship god after the manner nearest to its heart. but disaster taught spain nothing-- [illustration: greek text] alas, for mortal history! in happy fortune a shadow might overturn its height; whilst of disaster a wet sponge at a stroke effaces the lesson; and 'tis this last i deem life's greater woe. the embittered wisdom of aeschylus finds in all history no more shining comment than the decline of spain.[ ] the gloomy resolution of the austrian ferdinand ii, the internecine war of thirty years which he provokes, sullenly pursues, and in dying bequeaths to his son, are visited upon his house at leuthen, marengo, austerlitz, and in the overthrow of the empire devised ten centuries before by leo iii and charlemagne. and with the revocation, with le tellier and the bull _unigenitus_, the procession of the french kings begins, which ends in the place de la révolution:--"son of st. louis, ascend to heaven." from this thraldom to the past, to the ideal of rome, imperial britain, first amongst modern empires, completely breaks. for it is a new empire which imperial britain presents to our scrutiny, a new empire moulded by a new ideal. let me illustrate this by a contrast--a contrast between two armies and what each brings to the vanquished. who that has read the historian of alva can forget the march of his army through the summer months some three hundred and thirty years ago? that army, the most perfect that any captain had led since the roman legions left the world, defies from the gorges of savoy, and division behind division advances through the passes and across the plains of burgundy and lorraine. one simile leaps to the pen of every historian who narrates that march, the approach of some vast serpent, the glancing of its coils unwinding still visible through the june foliage, fateful, stealthy, casting upon its victim the torpor of its irresistible strength. and to the netherlands what does that army bring? death comes with it--death in the shape most calculated to break the resolution of the most dauntless--the rack, the solitary dungeon, the awful apparel of the inquisition torture-chamber, the _auto-da-fé_, and upon the evening air that odour of the burning flesh of men wherewith philip of spain hallowed his second bridals. these things accompany the march of alva. and that army of ours which day by day advances not less irresistibly across the veldt of africa, what does that army portend? that army brings with it not the rack, nor the dungeon, nor the dread _auto-da-fé_; it brings with it, and not to one people only but to the vast complexity of peoples within her bounds, the assurance of england's unbroken might, of her devotion to that ideal which has exercised a conscious sway over the minds of three generations of her sons, and quickened in the blood of the unreckoned generations of the past--an ideal, shall i say, akin to that of the prophet of the french revolution, diderot, "_élargissez dieu!_"--to liberate god within men's hearts, so that man's life shall be free, of itself and in itself, to set towards the lodestar of its being, harmony with the divine. and it brings to the peoples of africa, to whom the coming of this army is for good or evil so eventful, so fraught with consequences to the future ages of their race, some assurance from the designs, the purposes which this island has in early or recent times pursued, that the same or yet loftier purposes shall guide us still; whilst to the nations whose eyes are fastened upon that army it offers some cause for gratulation or relief, that in this problem, whose vast issues, vista receding behind vista, men so wide apart as napoleon i. and victor hugo pondered spell-bound; that in this arena where conflicts await us beside which, in renunciation, triumph, or despair, this of to-day seems but a toy; that in this crisis, a crisis in which the whole earth is concerned, the empire has intervened, definitely and for all time, which more than any other known to history represents humanity, and in its dealings with race distinctions and religious distinctions does more than any other represent the principle that "god has made of one blood all the nations of the earth." § . the mandate of destiny in these two armies then, and in what each brings to the vanquished, the contrast between two forms of imperialism outlines itself sharply. the earlier, that of the ancient world, little modified by mediaeval experiments, limits itself to concrete, to external justice, imparted to subject peoples from above, from some beneficent monarch or tyrant; the later, the imperialism of the modern world, the imperialism of britain, has for its end the larger freedom, the higher justice whose root is in the soul not of the ruler but of the race. the former nowhere looks beyond justice; this sees in justice but a means to an end. it aims through freedom to secure that men shall find justice, not as a gift from britain, but as they find the air around them, a natural presence. justice so conceived is not an end in itself, but a condition of man's being. in the ancient world, government ever tends to identify itself with the state, even when, as in rome or persia, that state is imperial. in the modern, government with concrete justice, civic freedom as its aims, ever tends to become but a function of the state whose ideal is higher. the vision of the _de monarchia_--one god, one law, one creed, one emperor, semi-divine, far-off, immaculate, guiding the round world in justice, the crowning expression of rome's ideal by a great poet whose imagination was on fire with the memory of rome's grandeur--does but describe after all an exterior justice, a justice showered down upon men by a beneficent tyrant, a frederick i, inspired by the sagas of siegfried and of charlemagne, or the second frederick, the "wonder of the world" to the thirteenth century, and ever alluring, yet ever eluding, the curiosity of the nineteenth; or a henry vii, ineffectual and melancholic. such "justice" passes easily by its own excess into the injustice which dispatches alva's army or finds bizarre expression in the phrase of "le roi soleil,"--"the state? i am the state." the ideal of modern life, the ideal of which britain is the supreme representative amongst existing empires, starting not from justice but from freedom, may be traced beyond the french revolution and the reformation, back even to the command "render unto caesar." that word thrust itself like a wedge into the ancient unity of the state and god. it carried with it not merely the doom of the roman empire, but of the whole fabric of the ancient relations of state and individual. yet sophocles felt the injustice of this justice four centuries before, as strongly as tertullian, the marat of dying rome, felt it two centuries after that command was uttered. such then is the character of the ideal. and in the resolution as a people, for the furtherance of its great ends, to do all, to suffer all, as rome resolved, lies what may be described as the destiny of imperial britain. none more impressive, none loftier has ever arisen within the consciousness of a people. and to england through all her territories and seas the moment for that resolution is now. if ever there came to any city, race, or nation, clear and high through the twilight spaces, across the abysses where the stars wander, the call of its fate, it is now! there is an arab fable of the white steed of destiny, with the thunder mane and the hoofs of lightning, that to every man, as to every people, comes _once_. glory to that man, to that race, who dares to mount it! and that steed, is it not nearing england now? hark! the ringing of its hoofs is borne to our ears on the blast! temptations to fly from this decision, to shrink from the great resolve, to temporize, to waver, have at such moments ever presented themselves to men and to nations. even now they present themselves, manifold, subtly disguised, insidiously persuasive, as exhortations to humility, for instance, as appeals to the deference due to the opinion of other states. but in the faith, the undying faith, that it, and it alone, can perform the fate-appointed task, dwells the virtue of every imperial race that history knows. how shall any empire, any state, conscious of its destiny, imitate the self-effacement prescribed to the individual--"in honour preferring one another"? this in an imperial state were the premonition of decay, the presage of death. but there is one great pledge, a solemn warrant of her resolve to swerve not, to blench not, which england has already offered. that pledge is elandslaagte, it is enslin, the modder, and the bloody agony of magersfontein. for it grows ever clearer as month succeeds month that it is by the invincible force of this ideal, this of imperial britain, that we have waged this war and fought these battles in south africa. if it be not for this cause, it is for a cause so false to all the past, from agincourt to balaklava, that it has but to be named to carry with it its own refutation. there is a kind of tragic elevation in the very horror of the march of attila, of ginghis khan, or of timour. but to assemble a host from all the quarters of this wide empire, to make africa, as it were, the rendezvous of the earth, for the sake of a few gold, a few diamond mines, what language can equal a design thus base, ambition thus sordid? and if we call to memory the dead who have fallen in this war, those who at its beginning were with us in the radiance of their manhood, but now, still in the grave, all traces of life's majesty not yet gone from their brow, and if those dead lips ask us, "why are we thus? and in what cause have we died?" were it not a hard thing for britain, for europe, indeed for all the world, if the only answer we could make to the question should be, "it is for the mines, it is for the mines!" no man can believe that; no man, save him whose soul faction has sealed in impenetrable night! the imagination recoils revolted, terror-struck. great enterprises have ever attracted some base adherents, and these by their very presence seem to sully every achievement recorded of nations or cities. but to arraign the fountain and the end of the high action because of this baser alloy? to impeach on this account all the valour, all the wisdom long approved? reply is impossible; the thing simply is not british. indeed, in very deed, it is for another cause, and for another ideal--an ideal that, gathering to itself down the ages the ardour of their battle-cries, falls in all the splendour of a new hope about the path of england now. for this these men have died, from the first battle of the war to that fought yesterday. and it is this knowledge, this certainty, which gives us heart to acquiesce, as each of us is compelled to acquiesce, in the presence of that army in south africa. they have fallen, fighting for all that has made our race great in the past, for this, the mandate of destiny to our race in the future. they have fallen, those youths, self-devoted to death, with a courage so impetuous, casting their youth away as if it were a thing of no account, a careless trifle, life and all its promises! but yesterday in the flush of strength and beauty; to-night the winds from tropic seas stir the grass above their graves, the southern stars look down upon the place of their rest. for this ideal they have died--"in their youth," to borrow the phrase of a greek orator, "torn from us like the spring from the year." fallen in this cause, in battle for this ideal, behold them advance to greet the great dead who fell in the old wars! see, through the mists of time, valhalla, its towers and battlements, uplift themselves, and from their places the phantoms of the mighty heroes of all ages rise to greet these english youths who enter smiling, the blood yet trickling from their wounds! behold, achilles turns, unbending from his deep disdain; rustum, timoleon, hannibal, and those of later days who fell at brunanburh, senlac, and trafalgar, turn to welcome the dead whom we have sent thither as the _avant-garde_ of our faith, that in this cause is our destiny in this the mandate of our fate. [ ] the latin work of osorius, _de rebus gestis emmanuelis regis lusitaniae_, appeared in , two years later than _os lusiadas_. the twelve books of osorius cover the twenty-six years between and , thus traversing parts of the same ground as camoens. but the hero of osorius is alboquerque. his affectation of ciceronianism, the literary vice of the age, casts a suspicion upon the sincerity of many of his epithets and paragraphs, yet the work as a whole is composed with his eyes upon his subject. seven years after the latin, a french translation, a beautifully printed folio from estienne's press, was published, containing eight additional books, by lopez de castanedo and others, bringing the history down to . [ ] the first of pitt's two remarkable speeches in the great debate of april, , on the abolition of the slave-trade was made on april and pitt, according to a pamphlet report printed by phillips immediately afterwards, rose after an all-night sitting to speak at four o'clock on tuesday morning (april rd). the close of the speech is thus reported: "if we listen to the voice of reason and duty, and pursue this night the line of conduct which they prescribe, some of us may live to see a reverse of that picture, from which we now turn our eyes with pain and regret. we may live to behold the natives of africa engaged in the calm occupations of industry, in the pursuits of a just and legitimate commerce. we may behold the beams of science and philosophy breaking in upon their land, which at some happy period in still later times may blaze with full lustre, and joining their influence to that of pure religion, may illumine and invigorate the most distant extremities of that immense continent. then may we hope that even africa, though last of all the quarters of the globe, shall enjoy at length, in the evening of her days, those blessings which have descended so plentifully upon us in a much earlier period of the world. then also will europe, participating in her improvements and prosperity, receive an ample recompense for the tardy kindness (if kindness it can be called) of no longer hindering that continent from extricating herself out of the darkness which in other more fortunate regions has been so much more speedily dispelled-- non primus equis oriens afflavit anhelis, illic sera rubens accendit lumina vesper. then, sir, may be applied to africa those words, originally indeed used with a different view-- his demum exactis-- devenere locos laetos, et amoena vireta fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas; largior hie campos aether, et lumine vestit purpureo." pitt's second speech, of which only a brief impassioned fragment remains, was delivered on april th (_parl. hist._ xxix, pp. - ). [ ] justinian not only in his policy but in his laws sums the history of the three preceding centuries, and determines the history of the centuries which follow. to dante he represents at once the subtleties of jurisprudence and theology. the eagle's hymn in the _paradiso_ (cantos xix, xx) defines the limitations and the glory of roman and mediaeval imperialism. the essence of the entire treatise _de monarchia_ is in these cantos; and canto vi, where justinian in person speaks, is informed by the same spirit. [ ] portugal in the first half of the sixteenth century presents a further instance of an empire actuated by the same ideals as those of spain. within a single century, almost within the memory of a single life, portugal appears successively as a strong united nation, an empire of great and far-stretched renown, and then, by a revolution in fortune of which there are few examples, as a vanquished and subject state. her merchants were princes, her monarchs, john ii, emmanuel, john iii, and sebastian, were in riches kings of the kings of europe. but during the brief period of portugal's glory, tyranny and bigotry went hand in hand. to the pride of her conquistadores was added the fanaticism of xavier and his retinue, and in the very years when within the same region baber and akbar were raising the wise and tolerant administration of the first moguls, the inquisition, with its priests, incantations, and torture-chambers, was established at goa. the resemblance in feature, bearing, and in character between the gilberts, the grenvilles, and the alboquerques and almeidas is indisputable; but certain ineffaceable and intrinsic distinctions ultimately force themselves upon the mind. and these distinctions mark the divergence between the fate and the designs of england and the fate and the designs of lusitania, between the empire of portugal and that of britain. indeed, upon the spirit of mediaeval imperialism the work of osorius is hardly less illuminating than the deliberate treatise of dante. lecture ii the development of the political ideal [_tuesday, may_ _th_, ] man's path lies between the living and the dead, and history seems to move between two hemispheres that everywhere touch yet unite nowhere, the past, shadowy, vast, illimitable, that at each moment ends, the future not less shadowy, vast, illimitable, that at each moment begins. the question, "what is history?" is but the question, "what is life?" transferred from the domain of the present to the domain of the past. to understand the whorl of a shell would require an intelligence that has grasped the universe, and for the knowledge of the history of an hour the aeons of the fathomless past were not excessive as a preliminary study. massillon's injunction, "look thou within," does but discover to our view in nerve-centres, in emotional or in instinctive tendencies, hieroglyphics graven by long vanished ancestral generations. but nature, to guard man from despair, has fashioned him a contemporary of the remotest ages. the beam of light, however far into space it travel, yet remains unsevered from the orb whence it sprang, and man, the youngest-born of time, is yet one with the source whence he came. as age flies past after age, the immanence of the divine grows more, not less insistent. each moment indeed is rooted in the dateless past inextricably; but to its interpretation the soul comes, a wanderer from aeons not less distant, laden with the presaging memories, experiences, innumerable auxiliaries unseen, which the past itself has supplied for its own conquest or that of the present. trusting to these, man is unmoved at the narrowness of his conscious sovereignty, as the eye is unmoved at the narrow bounds that hedge its vision, and finds peace where he would otherwise have found but despair. those affinities, those intimate relations of the past and present, are the basis of speculative politics. a judgment upon a movement in the present, an opinion hazarded upon the curve which a state, a nation, or an empire will describe in the future, is of little value unless from a wide enough survey the clear sanction of the past can be alleged in its support. assuming therefore that in the ideal delineated above we have the ideal of a race destined to empire, and at last across the centuries grown conscious of that destiny, the question confronts us--is it possible out of the past, not surveying it from the vantage-ground of the present merely, but as it were living into the present from the past, to foreshadow the rise of this consciousness? or turning back in the light of this consciousness to the past, is there offered by the past a justification of this interpretation of the present, of this movement styled "imperialism"? the heart of the matter lies in the transformation of mediaeval patriotism into modern imperialism, in the evolution or development which out of the englishman of the earlier centuries has produced the englishman of the present, moved by other and higher political ends. is there any incident or series of incidents in our history, of magnitude enough profoundly to affect the national consciousness, to which we may look for the causes, or for the formative spirit, of this change? and in their effect upon the national consciousness of britain have these incidents followed any law traceable in other nations or empires? § i. of the action of states and of individuals there is a kind of criticism directed against politics which, year by year or month by month, makes the discovery that between the code which regulates the action of states and the code which regulates the actions of individuals divergencies or contradictions are constantly arising. war violates the ordinances of religion; diplomacy, the ordinances of truth; expediency, those of justice. and the conclusion is drawn that whatever be the softening influences of civilization upon the relations of private life, within the sphere of politics, barbarism, brutally aggressive or craftily obsequious, reigns undisturbed. era succeeds era, faiths rise and set, statesmen and thinkers, prophets and martyrs, act, speak, suffer, die, and are seen no more; but, scornful of all their strivings, the great anarch still stands sullen and unaltered by the centuries. and these critics, undeterred by burke's hesitation to "draw up an indictment against a whole nation," make bold to arraign humanity itself, charging alike the present and the past with perpetual self-contradiction, an hypocrisy that never dies. underlying this impeachment of nations and states in their relations to each other the assumption at once reveals itself, that every state, whether civic, national, or imperial, is but an aggregate of the individuals that compose it, and should accordingly be regulated in its actions by the same laws, the same principles of conduct, as control the actions of individuals. and he therefore is the greatest statesman who constrains the state as nearly as possible into the line prescribed to the individual--whatever ruin and disaster attend the rash adventure! the perplexity is old as the embassy of carneades, young as the self-communings of mazzini. yet certain terms, current enough amongst those who deliver or at least acquiesce in this indictment (such as "organism" or "organic unity" as applied to the state), might of themselves suggest a reconsideration of the axiom that the state is but an aggregate of individuals. the unity of an organism, though arising from the constituent parts, is yet distinct from the unity of those parts. even in chemistry the laws which regulate the molecule are not the laws which regulate the constituent atoms. and in that highest and most complex of all unities, the state, we find, as we might expect to find, laws of another range, and a remoter purport, obscurer to us in their origins, more mysterious in their tendencies, than the laws which meet us in the unities which compose it. in the region in which states act and interact, whether with plato we regard it as more divine, or as rousseau passionately insists, as lower, the laws which are valid must at least be _other_ than the laws valid amongst individuals. the orbit described by the life of the state is of a wider, a mightier sweep than the orbit of the separate life. the life which the individual surrenders to the state is not one with the life which he receives in return; yet even of this interchange no analysis has yet laid bare the conditions. these considerations are not designed to imply that in the relations between states the code of individual ethics is necessarily annulled; but to suggest that the laws which regulate the actions or the suffering of states, as such, have too peremptorily been assumed to be, by nature and the ground-plan of the universe, identical with the laws of individual life, its actions or its sufferings, and that it is something of a _petitio principii_, in the present stage of our knowledge, to judge the one by the standards applicable only to the other. the profoundest students of the actions of states have in all times been aware, not of the fixed antagonism, but of the essential distinction, between the two codes. every principle of machiavelli is implicit in thucydides, and sulla, whom montesquieu selects as the supreme type of roman grandeur, does but follow principles which reappear in the politics of an innocent iii or a richelieu, a cromwell or an oxenstiern.[ ] the loss of sulla's _commentaries_[ ] is irreparable as the loss of the fifth book of the _annals_ of tacitus or the burnt _memoirs_ of shaftesbury; in the literature of politics it is a disaster without a parallel. what sulla felt as a first, most living impulse appears in later times as a colder, a critical judgment. it is thus that it presents itself to machiavelli, not the writer of that _jeu d'esprit_, _il principe_, perplexing as _hamlet_, and as variously interpreted, but the author of the stately periods of the _istorie_ and the _discorsi_, the haughtiest of speculators, and in politics the profoundest of modern thinkers. m. sorel encounters little difficulty in proving that the diplomacy of europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is but an exposition of the principles of the _discorsi_; frederick the great, who started his literary activity by the refutation of the _prince_, began and ended his political career as if his one aim were to illustrate the maxims that in the rashness of inexperience he had condemned; and within living memory, the vindicator of oliver cromwell found in the composition of the same frederick's history the solace and the torment of his last and greatest years. to press this inquiry further would be foreign to the present subject; enough has been said to indicate that from whatever deep unity they may spring, the laws which determine the life of a state, as displayed in history, are not identical with the laws of individual life. the region of art, however, seems to offer a neutral territory, where it is possible to obtain some perception, or _ahnung_ as a german would say, of the operation in the life of states of a law which bears directly upon the problem before us. § . the law of tragedy as applied to history in the history of past empires, their rise and decline, in the history of this empire of britain from the coming of cerdic and cynric to the present momentous crisis, there reveals itself a force, an influence, not without analogy to the influence ascribed by aristotle to attic tragedy. the function of tragedy he defined as the purification of the soul by compassion and by terror--+di eléou kaì phóbou kátharsis+.[ ] critics and commentators still debate the precise meaning of the definition; but my interpretation, or application of it to the present inquiry is this, that by compassion and terror the soul is exalted above compassion and terror, is lifted above the touch of pity or of fear, attaining to a state like that portrayed by dante-- io son fatta da dio, sua merce, tale, che la vostra miseria non mi tange ne fiamma d' esto incendio non m' assale.[ ] in the tragic hour the soul is thus vouchsafed a deeper vision, discerns a remoter, serener, mightier ideal which henceforth it pursues unalterably, undeviatingly, as if swept on by a law of nature itself. sorrow, thus conceived, is the divinest thought within the divine mind, and when manifested in that most complex of unities, the consciousness of a state, the soul of a race, it assumes proportions that by their very vagueness inspire but a deeper awe, presenting a study the loftiest that can engage the human intellect. genius for empire in a race supplies that impressiveness with which a heroic or royal origin invests the protagonist of a tragedy, an agamemnon or a theseus. hence, though traceable in all, the operation of this law, analogous to the law of tragedy, displays itself in the history of imperial cities or nations in grander and more imposing dimensions. nowhere, for instance, are its effects exhibited in a more impressive manner than in the fall of imperial athens--most poignantly perhaps in that hour of her history which transforms the character of athenian politics, when amid the happy tumult of the autumn vintage, the choric song, the procession, the revel of the oschophoria, there came a rumour of the disaster at syracuse, which, swiftly silenced, started to life again, a wild surmise, then panic, and the dread certainty of ruin. that hour was but the essential agony of a soul-conflict which, affecting a generation, marks the transformation of the athens of kimon and ephialtes, of kleon and kritias, into the athens[ ] of plato and isocrates, of demosthenes and phocion. in the writings of such men, in their speculations upon politics, one pervading desire encounters us, alike in the grave serenity of the laws, the impassioned vehemence of the _crown_, in the measured cadences of the _panegyric_, the effort to lead athens towards some higher enterprise, to secure for athens and for hellas some uniting power, civic or imperial, another empire than that which fell in sicily, and moved by a loftier ideal. the serious admiration of thucydides for sparta, the ironic admiration of socrates, plato's appeals to crete and to ancient lacedsemon, these are not renegadism, not disloyalty to athens, but fidelity to another athens than that of kleon or of kritias. history never again beheld such a band of pamphleteers![ ] in the history of rome, during the second war against carthage, a similar moment occurs. after cannae, rome lies faint from haemorrhage, but rises a new city. the rome of gracchus and of drusus is greater than the rome of the decemvirs. it is not the inevitable change which centuries bring; another, a higher purpose has implanted itself within rome's life as a state. the rome of gracchus and of drusus announces imperial rome, the rome of the caesars. so in the history of islam, from the anguish and struggles of the eighth century, the islam of haroun and mutasim arises, imparting even to dying persia, as it were, a second prime, by the wisdom and imaginative justice of its sway. in the development of imperial britain, the conflict which in the life-history of these two states, athens and rome, has its essential agony at cannae or at syracuse, the conflict which affects the national consciousness as the hour of tragic insight affects the individual life, finds its parallel in the fifteenth century. after the short-lived glory of agincourt and the vain coronation at paris, humiliation follows humiliation, calamity follows calamity. the empire purchased by the war of a century is lost in a day; and england's chivalry, as if stung to madness by the magnitude of the disaster, turns its mutilating swords, like paris after sedan, against itself. the havoc of civil war prolongs the rancour and the shame of foreign defeat, so that rheims, chatillon, wakefield, barnet, and tewkesbury, with other less remembered woes, seem like moments in one long tempest of fiery misery that breaks over england, stilled at last in the desperate lists at bosworth. this period neglected, perhaps wisely neglected, by the political historian, is yet the period to which we must turn for the secret sources of that revolution in its political character which, furthered by the incidents that fortune reserved for her, has gradually fashioned out of the england of the angevins the imperial britain of to-day. in england it is possible to trace the operation of this transforming power, which i have compared to the transforming power of tragedy, in a very complete manner. it reveals itself, for instance, in two different modes or aspects, which, for the sake of clearness, may be dealt with separately. in the first of these aspects, deeply and permanently affecting the national consciousness, which as we have seen is distinct from the sum of the units composing it, the law of tragedy appears as the influence of suffering, of "terror" in the mystic transcendental sense of the word, of reverent fear, yet with it, serene and dauntless courage. this influence now makes itself felt in english politics, in english religion, in english civic life. if we consider the history of england prior to this epoch, it might at first sight appear as if here were a race emphatically not destined for empire. not in her dealings with conquered france, not in ireland, not in scotland, does england betray, in her national consciousness, any sympathy even with that aspiration towards concrete justice which marks the imperial character of persia and of rome. england seems fated to add but one record more to the tedious story of unintelligent tyrant states, illustrating the theme--+húbris phyteúei tyrannón+--"insolence begets the tyrant!" even to her contemporary, venice, the mind turns from england with relief; whilst in the government of khorassan by the earlier abbassides we encounter an administration singularly free from the defects that vitiate imperial rome at its zenith. and now in the days of the first tudors all england's efforts at empire have come to nothing. knut's empire sinks with him; norman and plantagenet follow; but of their imperial policy the dying words of mary tudor, "calais will be found graven on my heart," form the epitaph. it was not merely the loss of calais that oppressed the dying queen, but she felt instinctively, obscurely, prophetically that here was an end to the empire which her house had inherited from norman and plantagenet. but in the national consciousness, the consciousness of the state, a change is now apparent. as athens rose from syracuse, a new athens, as rome rose from cannae, a new city, to conquer by being conquered, so from the lost dreams of empire over france, over scotland, england arises a new nation. this declares itself in the altered course of her policy alike in france, ireland, and scotland. in ireland, for instance, an incomplete yet serious and high-purposed effort is made to bring, if not justice, at least law to the hapless populations beyond the pale. henry viii again, like edward i, is a masterful king. in politics, in constructive genius, he even surpasses edward i. he abandons the folly of an empire in france, and though against scotland he achieves a triumph signal as that of edward, he has no thought of reverting to the plantagenet policy. he defeats the scots at flodden; but he has the power of seeing that in spite of his victory they are not defeated at all. king james iv lies dead there, with all his earls around him, like a berserker warrior, his chiefs slain around him, "companions," _comites_ indeed, in that title's original meaning. but the spirit of the nation is quickened, not broken, and henry viii, recognising this, steadily pursues the policy which leads to , when these two peoples, by a mutual renunciation, both schooled in misery, and with the hebrew phrase, "well versed in suffering, and in sorrow deeply skilled," working so to speak in their very blood, are united. the puritan wars, and the struggle for an ideal higher than that of nationality, cement the union. in the development of the life of a state, the distance in time between causes and their visible effects often makes the sequence obscure or sink from sight altogether. as in geology the century is useless as a unit to measure the periods with which that science deals, and as in astronomy the mile is useless as a standard for the interstellar spaces; so in history, in tracing the organic changes within the conscious life of a state, the lustrum, the dekaetis, or even the generation, would sometimes be a less misleading unit than the year. the england of elizabeth drew the first outline of the empire of the future; but five generations were to pass before the britain of chatham[ ] could apply itself with a single-hearted resolution to fill that outline in, and yet three other generations before this people as a whole was to become completely conscious of its high destiny. freedom of religion and constitutional liberty had to be placed beyond the peril of encroachment or overthrow, before the imperial enterprise could be unreservedly pursued; but the deferment of the task has nerved rather than weakened the energy of her resolve. had england fallen in the maryborough wars, she would have left a name hardly more memorable than that of venice or carthage, illustrious indeed, but without a claim to original or creative imperialism. but if she were to perish now, it would be in the pursuance of a design which has no example in the recorded annals of man. similarly in rome, two centuries sever the rome which rose from cannae from the rome which administered egypt and hispania. and in islam four generations languish in misery before the true policy of the abbassides displays itself, striking into the path which it never abandoned. in england then the influence of this epoch of tragic insight, and of its transforming force, advances imperceptibly, unnoted across two generations, yet the true sequence of cause and effect is unquestionable. the england which, towards the close of the eighteenth century, presents itself like a fate amongst the peoples of india, bears within itself the wisdom which in the long run will save it from the errors, and turn it from the path, which the england of the plantagenets followed in ireland and in france. the national consciousness of england, stirred to its depths by its own suffering, its own defeats, its own humiliations, comes there in india within the influence of that which in the life of a state, however little it may affect the individual life as such, is the deepest of all suffering. england stands then in the presence of a race whose life is in the memories of its past; its literature, its arts, its empires that rise and dissolve like dreams; its religions, its faiths, with all their strange analogies, dim suggestions, mysterious as a sea cavern full of sounds. hard upon this experience in india comes that of the farther east, comes that of egypt, that of africa in the nineteenth century. how can such a fortune fail to change the heart, the consciousness of a race, imparting to it forces from these wider horizons, deepening its own life by the contact with this manifold environment? he who might have been a de montfort, a grenville, or a raleigh, is now by these presences uplifted to other ideals, and by these varied and complex influences of suffering, and the presence of suffering, raised from the sphere of concrete freedom and concrete justice to the higher realm ruled by imaginative freedom, imaginative justice, which sophocles, in the choral ode of the _oedipus_, delineates, "the laws of sublimer range, whose home is the pure ether, whose origin is god alone." § . the law of tragedy: its second aspect the second mode or aspect in which the law of tragedy as applied to history reveals itself in the life of a state, corresponds to the moment of intenser vision in the individual life, when the soul, exalted by "compassion and terror," discerns the deeper truth, the serener ideal which henceforth it pursues as if impelled by the fixed law of its being. there is a word coined by aristotle which comes down the ages to us, bringing with it as it were the sound of the griding of the spartan swords as they leapt from their scabbards on the morning of thermopylae, the +enérgeia tês psychês+--the energy of the soul. this energy of the soul in aristotle is the _vertù_ of machiavelli, the spring of political wisdom, the foundation of the greatness of a state. it is the immortal energy which arises within the consciousness of a nation, or in the soul of an individual, as the result of that hour of insight, of pity, of anguish, or contrition. it is the heroism which adverse fortune greatens, which antagonism but excites to yet sublimer daring. in rome this displays itself, both in policy and in war, in the centuries that immediately succeed cannae. nothing in history is more worthy of attention than the impression which rome in this epoch of her history made upon the minds of men, above all, upon the mind of hellas. its expression in polybius is remarkable. polybius, if not one of the greatest of thinkers on politics, has a place with the greatest political historians for all time. it was his work which chatham placed in the hands of his son, the younger pitt, as the supreme guide in political history. polybius has every inducement to abhor rome, to judge her actions with jealous and unfriendly eyes. his father was the companion of philopoemen, the heroic leader of the achaean league, sometimes styled "the last of the greeks," the kosciusko of the old world. polybius himself is a hostage in rome, the representative of a defeated race, a lost cause; and yet after years of study of his conquerors, possessing every means for a just estimate of their actions and motives in the senate, on the battlefield, in the intimacies of private life, the conviction of his heart becomes that there in rome is a people divinely appointed to the government, not of hellas merely, but of the whole earth. the message of his history, composed with scrupulous care, and a critical method rare in that age, is that the very stars in their courses fight for rome, whether she wages war against greek or against barbarian, that hers is the domination of the earth, the empire of the world, and it is to the eternal honour of greece that it accepted this message. the romano-hellenic empire is born. other men arise both to the east and to the west of the adriatic, in whom the greek and roman genius are fused, who pursue the ideal and amplify or adorn the thought which polybius was the first to express immortally. it inspires the rhetoric of cicero; and falls with a kind of glory on the verse of virgil-- excudent alii spirantia mollius aera, credo equidem, vivos ducent de marmore vultus, orabunt causas melius, caelique meatus describent radio et surgentia sidera dicent: tu regere imperio populos romane memento; hae tibi erunt artes; pacisque imponere morem, parcere subjectis et debellare superbos. the tutor of hadrian makes it the informing idea of his parallel "lives," and gives form and feature to a grandeur that else were incredible. it appears in the duller work of the industrious dion cassius, and in the fourth century forges some of the noblest verse of claudian. and as we have seen, it is enshrined nine centuries after claudian in the splendid eloquence of the _de monarchia_, and yields such spent, such senile life as they possess, to the empires of hapsburg and bourbon. thus this divine energy, which after cannae uplifts rome, riveting the sympathies of polybius, outlives rome itself, still controlling the imaginations of men, until its last flicker in the eighteenth century. where in the history of england, in the life of england as a state, does this energy, exalted by the hour of tragic vision, manifest itself? recollect our problem; it is by analysis, comparison, and contrast, to discover what is the testimony of the past to britain's title-deeds of empire. great races, like great individuals, resemble the giants in the old myth, the _gigantes_, the earth-born, sons of gaia, who, thrown in the wrestle, touched her bosom, and rose stronger than before defeat. england stood this test in the sixteenth century, rising from that long humiliating war with france, that not less humiliating war with scotland, greater than before her defeat. this energy of the soul, quickened by tragic insight, displays itself not merely in the armada struggle but before that struggle, under various forms in pre-armada england. the spirit of the sea-wolves of early times, of the sailors who in the fourteenth century fought at sluys, and made the levant an english lake, lives again in the tudor mariners. but it has been transformed, and sets towards other and greater endeavours, planning a mightier enterprise. these adventurers make it plain that on the high seas is the path of england's peace; that the old policy of the plantagenet kings, with all its heroism and indisputable greatness, had been a false policy; that england's empire was not to be sought on the plains of france; that gilbert, drake, raleigh, and frobisher have found the way to the empire which the plantagenets blindly groped after. as camoens in portugal invents a noble utterance for the genius of his nation, for the times of vasco da gama and of emmanuel the great, so this spirit of pre-armada england, of england which as yet has but the memory of battles gained and lost wars, finds triumphant expression in marlowe and his elder contemporaries. marlowe's[ ] great dialect seems to fall naturally from the lips of the heroes of hakluyt's _voyages_, that work which still impresses the imagination like the fragments of some rude but mighty epic, and in their company the exaggeration, the emphasis of _tamburlaine_ are hardly perceptible. in martin frobisher, for instance, how the purpose which determines his career illumines for us the england of the first years of elizabeth! frobisher in early manhood torments his heart with the resentful reflection, "what a blockish thing it has been on the part of england to permit the genovese columbus to discover america!" that task was clearly england's! "and now there being nothing great left to be done," the sole work frobisher finds worth attempting is the discovery of the northwest passage to cathay. upon this he spends the pith of his manhood year by year, and the result of all the labours of this sea-hercules, well! it is perhaps to be sought in those dim beings, "half-man, half-fish," whom he brings back from some voyage, those forlorn esquimaux who, seen in london streets, and long remembered, suggested to the dreaming soul of shakespeare caliban and his island. frobisher's watchword on the high seas is memorable. in the northern latitudes, under the spectral stars, the sentinel of the _michael_ gives the challenge "for god the lord," and sentinel replies, "and christ his sonne." the repulse of spain is but the culminating achievement of this energy of the soul which greatens the life of england already in pre-armada times. and simultaneously with the conflict against spain this same energy attests its presence in a form assuredly not less divine within the souls of those who rear that unseen empire, whose foundations are laid eternally in the thoughts of men, the empire reared by shakespeare, webster, beaumont, and milton. in the seventeenth century it inspires the statesmen of england not only with the ardour for constitutional freedom, but engages them in ceaseless and not unavailing efforts towards a deeper conception of justice and of liberty, foreshadowing unconsciously the ideals of later times. if the thirty years' war did nothing else for england it implanted in her great statesmen a profound distrust of the imperial systems of the bourbons and the hapsburgs. eliot, for instance, in the work entitled _the monarchy of man_, lofty in its form as in its thought, written in his prison, though studying plato and the older ideals of empire, is yet obscurely searching after a new ideal. we encounter a similar effort in the great montrose, capable of that scottish campaign, and of writing one of the finest love-songs in the language, capable also of some very vivid thoughts on statesmanship. in natures like eliot and montrose, the height of the ideal determines the steadfastness of the action. and that ideal, i repeat, is distinct from plato's, distinct from dante's, and from that of the bourbon and hapsburg empires, in which dante's conception is but rudely or imperfectly developed. the ideal of these english statesmen is framed upon another conception of justice, another conception of freedom, equally sublime, and more catholic and humane. whatever its immediate influence upon certain of their contemporaries, over their own hearts it was all-powerful. the very vividness with which they conceive the ideal, and the noble constancy with which they pursue it, link the high purposes of these two men to the purposes of milton, of cromwell, of selden, and of falkland. the perfect state, the scope of its laws, government, religion, to each is manifest, though the path that leads thither may seem now through monarchy, now through a republic, or at other times indistinct, or lost altogether in the bewildering maze of adverse interests. from the remote nature of their quest arises much of the apparent inconsistency in the political life of that era. the parting of pym and strafford acquires an added, a tragic poignancy from the consciousness in the heart of each that the star which leads him on is the star of england's destiny. hence, too, the suspicion attached to men like selden and falkland of being mere theoricians in advance of their time,--an accusation fatal to statesmanship. but the advent of that age was marked by so much that was novel in religion,[ ] in state, in foreign and domestic policy, the new direction of imperial enterprise, the unity of two nations, ancient and apparently irreconcilable foes, the jarring creeds, convulsing the life of both these nations, for both were deeply religious, that it were rash to accuse of rashness any actor in those times. but it is the adventurous daring of their spirits, the swift glance searching the horizons of the future, it is that very energy of the soul of which i have spoken which render these statesmen obnoxious to the suspicion of theory. the temper of selden, indeed, in harmony with the thoughtful and melancholy cast of his features, disposed him to subtlety and niceness of argument, and with a division pending, often deprived his words of a force which homelier orators could command. and yet his career is a presage of the future. toleration in religion, freedom of the press, the supremacy of the seas, the _habeas corpus_, are all lines along which his thought moves, not so much distancing as leading the practical statesmen of his generation. and there is a curious fitness in the dedication to him in of edward pococke's arabic studies, which nearly a century and a half later were to form the basis of gibbon's great chapters. but the year of _mare clausum_ is at once the greatest in selden's life, and the last months of greatness in the life of his royal master.[ ] but theory is a charge which has ever been urged against revolutionists. revolution is the child of speculation. the men of the seventeenth century are discoverers in politics. their mark is a wider empire than that of vasco da gama and his king, a realm more wondrous than that of aeëtes. but da gama did not steer forthright to the indies, nor jason to the colchian strand, though each knew clearly the goal he sought, just as wentworth and selden, falkland and montrose, eliot and milton, knew the state they were steering for, though each may have wavered in his own mind as to the course, and at last parted fatally from his companions. practical does not always mean commonplace, and in the light of their deeds it seems superfluous to discuss whether the writer of _defensio pro populo anglicano_, the destroyer of the campbells, or the accuser of buckingham, were practical politicians. in their lives, in the shaping of their careers, the visionary is actualized, the ideal real, in that fidelity of soul which leaves one dead on the battlefield, another on the gibbet, thirty feet high, "honoured thus in death," as he remarked pleasantly, a third to the dreary martyrdom of the tower, a fourth to that dread visitation, endured with stoic grandeur, and yet at times forcing from his lips the cry of anguish which thrills the verse of _samson agonistes_-- o dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, irrecoverably dark, total eclipse, without all hope of day. but not in vain. the tireless centuries have accomplished the task these men initiated, have travelled the path they set forth in, have completed the journey which they began. we find the same pre-occupation with some wider conception of justice, empire, and freedom in the younger barclay, the author of _argenis_, written in latin but read in many languages, studied by richelieu and moulding his later, wiser policy towards the huguenots, read, above all, by fenelon, who rises from it to write _télémaque_. it meets us in the last work of algernon sidney, which, like eliot's treatise, bears about it the air of a martyr's cell. we find it again explicitly in the _oceana_ of harrington, in the fragmentary writings of shaftesbury, and in actual politics it finds triumphant expression at last in the eloquence that was like a battle-cry, in the energy that at moments seems superhuman, the wisdom, the penetrating foresight, of the mightiest of all england's statesmen-orators, the elder pitt. it burns in clear flame in the men who come after him, in his own son, only less great than his great sire; in charles james fox and in windham, who in the great debate[ ] of fought obstinately to save the cape when nelson and st. vincent would have flung it away; in canning, wilberforce, in romilly; in poets like shelley, and thinkers like john stuart mill. the revolution in parliamentary representation during the present century, a revolution which, extending over more than fifty years, from to , may even be compared in its momentous consequences with the revolution of - , though constitutional in design, yet forms an integral part of the wider movement whose course across the centuries we have indicated. the leaders in this revolution, men like russell and grey, complete the work which eliot, wentworth, and pym began. they ask the question, else unasked, they answer the question, else unanswered--how shall a people, not itself free, a people disqualified and disfranchised, become the harbinger of a new era to other peoples, or the herald of the higher freedom to the ancient races of india--aryans, of like blood with our own, moving forever as in a twilight air, woven of the pride, the pathos, all the sombre yet undecaying memories of their fabulous past--to the moslem populations whose "book" proclaimed the political equality of men twelve centuries before mirabeau spoke or the bastille fell? this, then, is the testimony of the past, and the witness of the dead is this. thus it has arisen, this ideal, the ideal of britain as distinct from the ideal of rome, of islam, or of persia--thus it has arisen, this empire, unexampled in present and without a precedent in former times; for athens under pericles was but a masked despotism, and the republic-empire of islam passed swifter than a dream. thus it has arisen, this imperial britain, from the dark unconscious emerging to the conscious, not like an empire of mist uprising under the wands of magic-working architects, but based on heroisms, endurances, lofty ideals frustrate yet imperishable, patient thought slowly elaborating itself through the ages--the sea-wolves' battle fury, the splendour of chivalry, the crusader's dazzling hope, the immortal ardour of norman and plantagenet kings, baffled, foiled, but still in other forms returning to uplift the spirit of succeeding times, the unconquered hearts of tudor mariners rejoicing in the battle onset and the storm, the strung thought, the intense vision of statesmen of the later centuries, eliot, chatham, canning, and at the last, deep-toned, far-echoing as the murmur of forests and cataracts, the sanctioning voices of enfranchised millions accepting their destiny, resolute! this is the achievement of the ages, this the greatest birth of time. for in the empires of the past there is not an ideal, not a structural design which these warriors, monarchs, statesmen have not, deliberately or unconsciously, rejected, or, as in an alembic, transmuted to finer purposes and to nobler ends. [ ] goethe asserts that spinozism transmuted into a creed by analytic reflection is simply machiavelism. [ ] the twenty-two books of sulla's memoirs, _rerum suarum gestarum commentarii_, were dedicated to his friend lucullus; they were still in existence in the time of tacitus and plutarch, though the fragments which now remain serve but to mock us with regret for the loss. of sulla's verses--like many cultured romans of that age, the conqueror of caius marius amused his leisure with writing greek epigrams--exactly so much has survived as of the troubadour songs of richard i of england, or of frederick ii of jerusalem and sicily. sulla's remark on the young caesar is for the youth of caius julius as illuminating as richelieu's on condé or as pasquale paoli's on bonaparte. [ ] aristotle refers only to the effect on the spectators; but the continued existence of the state makes it at once actor and spectator in the tragedy. the transforming power is thus more intimate and profound. [ ] "god in his mercy such created me "that misery of yours attains me not, "nor any flame assails me of this burning." [ ] in illustration of this position a contrast might be drawn between the policy of athens in melos, as set forth by thucydides in the singular dialogue of the fifth book, and the part assigned to justice by a writer equally impersonal, grave, and unimpassioned--the author of the _politics_--in the recurrence throughout that work of such phrases as "the state which is founded on justice alone can stand." "man when perfected (+teleôthén+) is the noblest thing that lives, but separated from justice (+chôristhèn nómou kaì díkês+) the basest of all." "virtue cannot be the ruin of those who possess it, nor justice the destruction of a city." the tragedies of sophocles that are of a later date than b.c. betray an attitude towards political life distinct from that which characterizes his earlier works. the shading-in of the life of the state into that of the individual defies analysis, and it were hazardous to affirm what traits of thought ought to be referred to the genius of the state as distinct from the individual; but it appears as difficult to imagine _before_ syracuse, the vehement insistence upon justice, the impassioned idealization which characterize plato, socrates, and demosthenes, as it is difficult _after_ syracuse to imagine the political temper of a pericles or an anaxagoras. [ ] the greek orators and philosophers of the fourth century b.c. had before them a problem not without resemblances to that which confronted the hebrew prophets of judaea in the seventh. even their most speculative writings had a practical end, a goal which they considered attainable by hellas, or by athens. the disappearance of socrates from the _laws_, the increased seriousness of the treatment of sparta and of crete, the original and paragon of lacedaemon, may indicate a concession to the prejudices of a generation which had grown up since aegospotami, and a last effort by plato to bring his teaching home to the common life of athens and of hellas. so in the england of the seventeenth century the political writings of bacon and hobbes, of milton and harrington, though speculative in form, are most practical in their aims. hobbes' first literary effort indeed, his version of thucydides, is planned as a warning to england against civil discord and its ills. this was in --fatal date! [ ] the elder pitt may be regarded as the first great minister of the english _people_ as distinguished from men like thomas cromwell, stratford, or clarendon, who strictly were ministers of the king. "it rains gold-boxes," horace walpole writes when, in april, . pitt was dismissed, and it was these tokens of his popularity with the merchants of england, not the recognition of his genius by the king, which led to his return to office in june. the events of the period of four years and ten months during which this man was dictator of the house of commons and of england are so graven on all hearts that a mere enumeration in order of time suffices to recall moving incidents, characters, and scenes of epic grandeur:--december th, , pitt-devonshire ministry formed, highland regiments raised, national militia organized. , clive's victory at plassey, june rd, and conquest of bengal. , june rd, destruction of forts at cherbourg, three ships of war, privateers burned to the sea-line; november th, fort duquesne captured; december th, conquest of goree. , "year of victories"; february th, pocock relieves madras; may st, capture of guadaloupe; july th, r. rodney at havre destroys the flat-bottomed armada; july st, wolfe's repulse at beaufort; august th, boscawen destroys french fleet in lagos bay; september nd, pocock defeats d'aché; september th, wolfe's last letter to pitt; september th, a.m., plains of abraham and conquest of canada; november th, hawke defeats conflans in quiberon bay, "lay me alongside the french admiral." , january nd, eyre-coote defeats lally at wandewash, conquest of carnatic. , january th, english enter pondicherry; bellisle citadel reduced, "quebec over again," june th; october th, pitt resigns. it is doubtful whether, since the eleventh century and hildebrand and william the conqueror, the european stage has been occupied simultaneously by two such men as chatham and the king of prussia. [ ] the same delight in power, the same glory in dominion, pulsate in the lusiads and in the dramas of marlowe, but marlowe was by far the wider in his intellectual range. worlds were open to his glance beyond the indies and cathay that were shut to camoens. yet camoens is a heroic figure. he found it easy to delineate vasco da gama; he had but to speak with his own voice, and utter simply his own heart's desires, hates, musings, and vasco da gama's sister would have turned to listen, thinking she heard the accents, the trick, the very manner that betrayed the hero. [ ] burnet is incredibly vain, unredeemed by boswell's hero-worship; yet his book reflects the medley, the fervour, the vehemence, crimes, hopes of this time. in one sentence nineteen religions are named as co-existing in scotland. [ ] the _mare clausum_ was framed as an answer to grotius' _mare liberum_, which had been printed, perhaps without grotius' consent, in . selden's tract, printed in november, , is a folio of pages, in which, setting forth precedent on precedent, he claims for england, as by law and ancient custom established, that same supremacy over the high seas as the portuguese had exercised over the eastern waters, and venice over the adriatic. the king's enthusiasm was kindled. the work was issued with all the circumstance of a state paper, and it came upon foreign courts like a declaration of policy, the resolve at length to enforce the time-honoured and indefeasible rights of england. copies were with due ceremony deposited in the exchequer and at the admiralty. a fleet was equipped, and as an atonement for the wrongs done to the elder northumberland, the king gave the command to his son, whose portrait as admiral forms one of the noblest of vandyck's canvases. but northumberland, though brave to a fault, was no seaman, and the whole enterprise threatened to end in ridicule. stung to the quick, charles again turned to the nation. but in the nine intervening years since the nation's heart had left him. to his demand for supplies to strengthen the fleet came hampden's refusal. the trial was the prelude to the grand remonstrance, to naseby, and to whitehall, where, as if swept thither by the crowded events of some fantastic dream, he awoke from his visions of england's greatness and the empire of the seas, alone on a scaffold, surrounded by a ring of english eyes, looking hate, sullen indifference, or cold resolution. leave him still loftier than the world suspects, living or dying. after all he was a king, and in his veins the blood of mary stuart still beat. an english version of selden's treatise appeared in the time of cromwell. the translator was marchamont nedham. the dedication to the supreme authority of the nation, the parliament of the commonwealth of england, is dated november th, . [ ] the preliminaries to the peace of amiens were signed on october st, . parliament opened on october th, and after the king's speech, windham compared his position amid the general rejoicings of the house at the prospect of an end to the war, to hamlet's at the wedding-feast of claudius. in the debate of november rd, pitt declared himself resigned to the loss of the cape by the retention of ceylon, while the opinion of fox was, that by this surrender we should have the benefit of the colony without its expenses. nelson, with the glory of his victory at copenhagen just six months old, maintained that in the days when indiamen were heavy ships the cape had its uses, but now that they were coppered, and sailed well, the cape was a mere tavern that served to delay the voyage. the opening of windham's speech on the th, "we are a conquered nation, england gives all, france nothing," defines his position (_parl. hist._ xxxvi, pp. - ). windham was one of the few statesmen who, even before the consulate had passed into the empire, understood the gravity of our relations to france. every month added proof of the accuracy of his presentiments, but once understood by england there was no faltering. prussia, austria, the czar, all acknowledged the new empire, and made peace or alliance with its despot, but from the rupture of the peace of amiens england waged a war without truce till elba and ste. hélène. lecture iii the development of the religious ideal [_tuesday, may_ _nd_, ] in the history of the religion of an imperial race, it is not only the development of the ideal within the consciousness of the race itself that we have to consider, but the advance or decline in its conceptions of the religions of the peoples within the zone of its influence or dominion. for such a study the materials are only in appearance less satisfactory than for the study of the political ideal of a race. it is penetratingly observed by la rochefoucauld that the history of the fronde can never be accurately written, because the persons in that drama were actuated by motives so base that even in the height of performance each actor of the deeds was striving to make a record of them impossible. the reflection might be extended to other political revolutions, and to other incidents than the fronde. ranke's indefatigable zeal, his anxiety "in history always to see the thing as in very deed it enacted itself," never carried him nearer his object than the impression of an impression. no state papers, no documents, the most authentic, can take us further. but in this very strife, this zeal for the true for ever baffled yet for ever renewed, one of the noblest attributes of the present age discovers itself. indisputable facts are often the sepulchres of thought, and truth after all, not certainty, is the historian's goal. it might even be urged that the records of religion, the martyr's resolution, the saint's fervour, the reformer's aspiration, the prophet's faith, offer a surer hope of attaining this goal than the records of politics. § . religion and imperialism religion forms an integral part of a nation's life, and in the development of the ideal of imperial britain on its religious side, the same transforming forces, the same energy of the soul, the operation of the same law analogous to the law of tragedy already described, which manifest themselves in politics, are here apparent. the persecuting intolerant england of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, after passing through the puritan struggle of the seventeenth, the scepticism or indifference of later times, appears at last in the closing years of the nineteenth century as the supreme representative, if not the creator, of an ideal hardly less humane than that of the humanists themselves--who recognized in every cry of the heart a prayer, silent or spoken, to the god of all the earth, of all peoples, and of all times. the rome of the antonines had even in this sphere no loftier ideal, no fairer vision, than that which now seems to float before imperial britain, no wider sympathy, not merely with the sects of its own faith, but with the religions of other races within its dominions, once hostile to its own. by slow degrees england has arisen, first to the perception of the truth in other sects, and then to a perception of the truth in other faiths. in lesser creeds, and amongst decaying races, tolerance is sometimes the equivalent of irreligion, but the effort to recognize so far as possible the principle, implicit in montesquieu, that a man is born of this religion or of that, has, in all ages, been the stamp of imperial races. upon the character of the race and the character of its religion, depend the answer to the question whether by empire the religion of the imperial race shall be exalted or debased. as in politics so in religion it is to the fifteenth century--the tragic insight born of defeat, disaster, and soul-anguish--that we must turn for the causes, for the origins of that transformation in the life of the nation which has resulted in the conscious ideal of the britain of to-day. the "separation" from rome fifty years after bosworth had no conscious imperial purpose, but it rescued the rising empire of england from the taint of medievalism which sapped the empires of spain, of the bourbons, and of the hapsburgs. the reformation in england owes much of its character amongst the people at large, apart from the government, above all in the heroic age of the reformation in england--the puritan wars--to that earlier convulsion in the nation's consciousness, to the period of anguish and defeat of which we have spoken at some length already. but for the remoter origins and causes of the whole movement styled "the english reformation" we must search not in any one period or occurrence, but in the character of the race itself. the english reformation does not begin with henry viii any more than the scottish reformation begins with john knox: it springs from the heart of the race, from the intensity, the tragic earnestness with which in all periods england has conceived the supreme questions of man's destiny, man's relation to the divine, the "whence?" and the "whither?" of human life. and it is the seriousness with which england regards its own religion, and the imaginative sympathy which gives it the power of recognizing the sincerity of other religions beneath its sway, which distinguish imperial britain from the empires of the past. § . the place of religion in english history in the roman empire, for instance, the tolerance of the republic passes swiftly into the disregard of the caesars of the julian line, into the capricious or ineffectual persecution of later dynasties. rome never endeavours in this sphere to lead its subject peoples to any higher vision. when that effort is made, rome itself is dying. alaric and the fifth century have come. for rome the drama of a thousand years is ended: rome is moribund and has but strength to die greatly, tragically. would you see the end of rome as in a figure darkly? over a dead roman a goth bends, and by the flare of a torch seeks to read on the still brow the secret of his own destiny. in the empire of persia and the great days of the sassanides, in kurush, who destroys the median empire, and spreads wider the religion of the vanquished, the religion of zerdusht, the symbolic worship of flame, loveliest of inanimate things--even there no sustained, no deliberate effort towards an ideal amongst the peoples beneath the persian sway can be discovered. islam starts with religious aspirations, the most lofty, the most beneficent, but the purity of her ideals dies with ali. at damascus and at bagdad an autocratic system warped by contact with rome infects the religious; the result is a theocracy in which the purposes of mohammed, at least on their political side, are abandoned, lost at last in the gloomy and often ferocious despotism of the ottoman turks. consider in contrast with these empires the question--what is the distinction in this phase of human life of the empire of britain, of its history? steadily growing from its first beginnings--shall i say, from that great battle of the winwaed, where three kings are in conflict and the slayer of two lies dead--steadily growing, on to the present hour, as in politics so in religion, the effort sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious, but persistent, continuous, towards an ever purer, higher, nobler conception of man's relations to the divine. from this effort arises the reformation, from this effort arises in the way of a thousand years the empire based on the higher justice, the imaginative justice, the higher freedom, the imaginative freedom. thus even in the earliest periods of our history, during the struggle between christianism and the religion of thor and woden, england shows far more violence, more earnestness, more fury on both sides, than is found anywhere else in europe. glance, for instance, at this struggle in germany. witikind[ ] the saxon arises as the champion of the old gods against christianity. charlemagne with his frankish cavalry comes down amongst the saxons. his march surpasses the march of caesar, or of constantine against rome. witikind does rise to the heights of heroism against charlemagne twice; but in the end he surrenders, gives in, and dies a hanger-on at the court of his conqueror. mercia, the kingdom of the mid-english, that too produces its champion of the old gods against the religion of christ--penda. there is no surrender here; two kings, i repeat, he slays, and grown old in war, he rouses himself like a hoary old lion of the forest to fight his last battle. an _intransigeant_, an irreconcilable, this king penda, fighting his last battle against this new and hated thing, this christianism! he lies dead there--he becomes no hanger-on. there you have the spirit of the race. it displays itself in a form not less impressive in the well-known incident in the very era of penda, described by bede. king eadwine sits in council to discuss the message of christ, the mansions that await the soul of man, the promise of a life beyond death; and coifi, one of the councillors, rising, speaks thus: "so seemeth to me the life of man, o king, as when in winter-tide, seated with your thanes around you, out of the storm that rages without a sparrow flies into the hall, and fluttering hither and thither a little, in the warmth and light, passes out again into the storm and darkness. such is man's life, but whence it cometh and whither it goeth we know not." "we ne kunnen," as alfred the great, its first translator, ends the passage. who does not see--notwithstanding the difference of time, place, character, and all stage circumstance--who does not see rise before him the judgment-hall of socrates, hear the solemn last words to his judges: "i go to death, and you to life, but which of us goeth to the better is known to god alone--+adêlon pantì plén é tô theô+"? such is the stern and high manner in which this conflict in england between the religions of woden and christ is conducted. there in the seventh century is the depth of heart, the energy of soul, the pity and the insight which appear in other forms in after ages. the roll of english names in the _acta sanctorum_ is the living witness of the sincerity, the intensity with which the same men who fought to the death for woden at the winwaed, or speculated with coifi on the eternal mystery, accepted the faith which rome taught, the ideal from galilee transmuted by roman imagination, roman statesmanship. the saintly ideal lay on them like a spell: earth existed but to die in, life was given but to pray for death. rome taught the saxon and the jute that all they had hitherto prayed for, glory in battle, earthly power and splendour, must be renounced, and become but as the sound of bells from a city buried deep beneath the ocean. instead of defiance, rome taught them reverence; instead of pride, self-abasement; instead of the worship of delight, the worship of sorrow. in this faith the saxon and the jute strove with tragic seriousness to live. but the old faith died hard, or lived on side by side with the new, far into the middle age. literature reflects the inner struggles of the period: the war-song of brunanburh, the mystic light which hangs upon the verses of caedmon, the melancholy of cynewulf's lyrics. yet what a contrast is the england delineated by bede with visigothic spain, with lombard italy, or frankish gaul, as delineated by gregory of tours! thus these angles, jutes, and saxons, slowly disciplining themselves to the new ideal--to them in the ninth century come the vikings. they are not less conspicuous in valour, nor less profoundly sensitive to the wonder and mystery of life, the poets in other lands of the eddas and of the northern myths. england as we know it is not yet formed. amongst the formative influences of english religion and english freedom, and ultimately of this ideal of modern times, must be reckoned the viking and the norseman, the followers of guthrum, of ivar, of hrolf, not less than the followers of cerdic and of cymric. to the religious consciousness of the jutes, angles and saxons, the vikings bring a religious consciousness as deep and serious. the struggle against the danes and normans is not a struggle of english against foreigners; it is a conflict for political supremacy amongst men of the same race, who ultimately grow together into the england of the fourteenth century. in the light of the future, the struggle of the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries does but continue the conflicts of the heptarchic kings. to this land of england the vikings have the right which the followers of cerdic and cynric had--the right of supremacy, the right which the _will_ to possess it and the resolution to die for that will, confers. § . distinction of the religion of the vikings the religion of the vikings was the converse of their courage. aristotle remarks profoundly that the race which cannot quit itself like a man in war cannot do any great thing in philosophy. religion is the philosophy of the warrior. and the scanty records of the vikings, the character of knut, for instance, or that of the conqueror, attest the principle that the thoughts of the valiant about god penetrate more deeply than the thoughts of the dastard. the normans, who close the english _welt-wanderung_, who close the merely formative period of england, illustrate this conspicuously. if the sombre fury of the winwaed displays the stern depths of religious conviction in the vanguard of our race, if the eddas and myths argue a religious earnestness not less deep in the vikings, the high seriousness of the religious emotion of the norseman is not less clearly attested. europe of the eleventh century holds three men, each of heroic proportions, each a teuton in blood--hildebrand, robert guiscard, and william the conqueror. in intellectual vision, in spiritual insight, hildebrand has few parallels in history. he is the founder of the mediaeval papacy, realizing in its orders of monks, priests, and crusaders a state not without singular resemblances to that which plato pondered. like napoleon and like buonarroti, hildebrand had the power, during the execution of one gigantic design, of producing others of not less astonishing vastness, to reinforce or supplant the first should it fail. one of his designs originated in the impression which norman genius made upon him. it was to transform this race, the tyrants of the baltic and the english seas, the dominators of the mediterranean and the aegean, into omnipresent emissaries and soldiers of the theocratic state whose centre was rome. but the vastness of his original design broke even the mighty will of hildebrand; his purpose with regard to the norseman remains like some abandoned sketch by buonarroti or tintoretto. yet no ruler of men had a profounder knowledge of character, and with the viking nature circumstance had rendered him peculiarly familiar. the judgment of orderic and of william of malmesbury confirms the impression of hildebrand. but the normans have been their own witnesses, the cathedrals which they raised from the seine to the tyne are epics in stone, inspired by no earthly muse, fit emblems of the rock-like endurance and soaring valour of our race. there is a way of writing the history of senlac which voltaire, thierry, michelet, and guizot dote upon, infecting certain english historians with their complacency, as if the norse vikings were the descendants of chlodovech, and the conquest of england were the glory of france. the absurdity was crowned in , when napoleon turned the attention of his subjects to the history of , as an auspicious study for the partners of his great enterprise against the england of pitt! how many franks, one asks, followed the red banner of the bastard to senlac, or, leaning on their shields, watched the coronation at westminster? nor was it in the valley of the seine that the norsemen acquired their genius for religion, for government, for art. to the followers of hrolf the empire of charlemagne had the halo which the empire of rome had to the followers of alaric, and in that spirit they adopted its language and turned its laws to their own purposes. but jutes and angles and saxons, ostmen and danes, were, if less assiduous, not less earnest pupils in the same school as the norsemen: to all alike, the remnant of the frankish realm of charles lay nearest, representing rome and the glory of the caesars. nature and her affinities drew the normans to the west, across the salt plains whither for six hundred years the most adventurous of their own blood had preceded them. they closed the movement towards the sunset which jute and saxon began; they are the last, the youngest, and in politics the most richly gifted; yet in other departments of human activity not more richly gifted than their kindred who produced cynewulf and caedmon, aidan and bede, coifi and dunstan. and who shall affirm from what branch of the stock the architects of the sky-searching cathedrals sprang? senlac is thus in the line of heptarchic battles; it is the last struggle for the political supremacy over all england amongst those various sections of the northern races who in the way of six hundred years make england, and who in their religious and political character lay the unseen foundations of imperial britain. two traits of the norman character impress the greatest of their contemporary historians, william of malmesbury--the norman love of battle and the norman love of god. upon these two ideas the history of the middle age turns. the crusader, the monk, the troubadour, the priest, the mystic, the dreamer and the saint, the wandering scholar and the scholastic philosopher, all derive thence. chivalry is born. the knight beholds in his lady's face on earth the image of our lady in heaven, the virgin-mother of the redeemer of men. from the grave of his dead mistress ramon lull withdraws to a hermit's cell to ponder the beauty that is imperishable; and over the grave of beatrice, dante rears a shrine, a temple more awful, more sublime than any which even that age has carved in stone. into this theatre of tossing life, the nation which the followers of cerdic and knut and of william the conqueror have formed enters greatly. in thought, in action, in art, something of the mighty rôle which the future centuries reserve for her is portended. the immortal energy, the love of war, the deep religious fervour of england find in the crusades, as by god's own assignment, the task of her heart's desire. we have but to turn to the churches of england, to study the templars carved upon their sepulchres, to know that in that great tournament of the world the part of the franks, if the noisier and more continuous, was not more earnest. how singular is the chance, if it be chance, which confronts the followers of the new faith with a penda, and the followers of the crescent with a richard lion-heart! upon the shifting arabic imagination he alone of the infidels exercises enduring sway. the hero of tasso has no place in arab history, but the memory of richard is there imperishably. richard's services to england are not the theme of common praise, yet, if we estimate the greatness of a king by another standard than roods of conquered earth, or roods of parchment blackened with unregarded statutes, richard i, crusader and poet, must be reckoned amongst the greatest of his great line, and his name to the europe of the middle age was like the blast of a trumpet announcing the england of the years to come. § . world-historic significance of the english reformation the crusader of the twelfth century follows the saint of an earlier age, and in the thirteenth, england, made one in political and constitutional ideals, attains a source of profounder religious unity. the consciousness that not to rome, but to galilee itself she may turn for the way, the truth, the light, has arisen. in the steady development, in the ever-deepening power of this consciousness, lies the unwritten history of the english reformation. the race resolves no more to trust to other witness, but with its own eyes to look upon the truth. political history has its effect upon the growth of this conviction. in the fourteenth century, for instance, the papacy is at avignon. edward i in the beginning of that century withstands boniface viii, the last great pontiff in whom the temper and resolution of hildebrand appear, as william the conqueror had withstood gregory vii. the statute of _praemunire_, a generation later, prepares the way for wyclif. the papacy is now but an appanage of the valois monarchs. how shall england, conqueror of those monarchs at creçy and on other fields, reverence rome, the dependent of a defeated antagonist? the same bright energy of the soul, the same awe, rooted in the blood of our race, which manifest themselves in the early and middle ages, determine the character of the religious history of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. in the fifteenth century, suffering and the presence of suffering, the law of tragedy of which we have spoken, add their transforming power to spiritual life. as in political life the sympathy with the wrongs of others grows into imaginative justice, so sympathy with the faiths of others, which springs from the consciousness of the first great illusion lost, and sorrow for a vanished ideal, grows into tolerance for the creeds and religions of others. for only a race deep-centred in its own faith, yet sensitive to the faith that is in others, can understand the religion of others; only such a race can found an empire characterized at once by freedom and by faith. the very ardour of the belief of the race in the ideal from rome--a semitic ideal, transmuted by roman genius and policy--swept the teutonic imagination beyond the ideal, seeking its sources where rome herself had sought them. this is the impulse which binds the whole english reformation, the whole movement of english religious thought from wyclif to cromwell and milton, to wordsworth and carlyle. it is this common impulse of the race which henry viii relies upon, and because he is in this their leader the english people forgets his absolutism, his cruel anger, his bloody revenges. the character of the english reformation after the first tumultuous conflicts, the fierce essays of royal theocracy and jesuit reactionism, set steadily towards liberty of conscience. this spirit is glorified in puritanism, the true heroic age of the reformation. it appears, for example, in oliver cromwell himself. cromwell is one of the disputed figures in our history, and every english historian has drawn his own cromwell. but to foreign historians we may look for a judgment less partial, less personal. dr. döllinger, for instance, to whom wide sympathy and long and profound study of history have given the right, which can only be acquired by vigil and fasting, to speak about the characters of the past--he who by his position as romanist is no pledged admirer, describes cromwell as the "prophet of liberty of conscience."[ ] this is the deliberate judgment of döllinger. it was the judgment of the peasants of the vaudois two hundred and fifty years ago! somewhat the same impression was made by cromwell upon voltaire, victor hugo, and guizot. again in the seventeenth century, in the _irene_ of drummond, and in the remarkable work of barclay, the _argenis_,[ ] in its whole conception of the religious { } life, of monasticism, as in its idealization of the character of the great henri quatre, you find the same desire for a wider ideal, not less in religion than in politics. we encounter it later in shaftesbury and in locke. it is the essential thought of the work of thomas hobbes. it is supremely and beautifully expressed in algernon sidney, the martyr of constitutional freedom and of tolerance. and what is the faith of algernon sidney? one who knew him well, though opposed to his party, said of him, "he regards christianity as a kind of divine philosophy of the mind." community of religious not less than of political aims binds closer the friendship of locke and shaftesbury. in the preparation of a constitution for the carolinas they found the opportunity which corsica offered to rousseau. in the _letters on toleration_[ ] locke did but expand the principles upon which, with shaftesbury's aid, he elaborated the government of the new state. the record office has no more precious document than the draught of that work, the margins covered with corrections in the handwriting of these two men, the one the greatest of the restoration statesmen, the other ranking amongst the greatest speculative thinkers of his own or any age. one suggested formula after another is traceable there, till at length the decision is made, that from the citizens of the new state shall be exacted, not adherence to this creed or to that, but simply the declaration, "there is a god." algernon sidney aids penn in performing a similar task for pennsylvania, and their joint work is informed by the same spirit as the "constitutions" of locke and shaftesbury. thus in religion the men of the seventeenth century occupy a position analogous to their position in politics, already delineated. in politics, as we have seen, they establish a constitutional government, and make sure the path to the wider freedom of the future. in religion they fix the principles of that philosophic tolerance which the later centuries develop and apply. both in politics and in religion they turn aside from the mediaeval imperialism of bourbon and hapsburg, consciously or unconsciously preparing the foundations of the imperialism of to-day. if the divines, scholars, poets, and wits who met and talked under the roof of the young lord falkland at tew represent in their religious and civil perplexities the spirit of the seventeenth century, within the intersecting circles of pope and bolingbroke, swift and addison, may be found in one form or another all the varied impulses of the eighteenth--intellectual, political, scientific, literary, or religious. england had succeeded to the place which holland filled in the days of descartes and spinoza--the refuge of the oppressed, the home of political and religious freedom, the study of montesquieu, the asylum of voltaire.[ ] yet between the england of the eighteenth and the england of the seventeenth century there is no such deep gulf fixed as carlyle at one period of his literary activity imagined. the one is the organic inevitable growth of the other. the england which fought at blenheim, fontenoy, and quebec is the same england as fought at marston moor and dunbar. chatham rescued it from a deeper abasement than that into which it had fallen in the days of the cavalier parliaments, and it followed him to heights unrecked of by cromwell. nor is the religious character of the century less profound, less earnestly reverent, when rightly studied. even its scepticism, its fiery denials, or vehement inquiry--a woolston's, for instance, or a cudworth's, like a shelley's or a james thomson's[ ] long afterwards--spring from no love of darkness, but from the immortal ardour for the light, for truth, even if there come with it silence and utter death. and from this same ardour arises that extraordinary outburst of varied intellectual and religious effort, critical or constructive, which makes the revolutionary and the georgian eras comparable in energy, if not in height of speculative inquiry, to the great period of the _aufklärung_ in germany. kant acknowledged his indebtedness to hume. rousseau, voltaire, condillac, and helvetius are in philosophic theory but pupils of locke. towards the close of the century appeared gibbon's great work, the _decline and fall_, a prose epic in seventy-one books, upon the last victories, the last triumphs, and the long, reluctant death-struggles of the roman empire, the insidious advance of inner decay, the ever-renewed assaults of foreign violence, the goth, the saracen, the mongol, and at the close, the leaguering lines of mahomet, the farewell to the greeks of the last of the constantines, the ottomans in the palaces of the caesars, and the melancholy musings of an italian scholar over the ruins on the seven hills. an epic in prose--and every one of its books might be compared to the gem-encrusted hilt of a sword, and each wonderfully wrought jewel is a sentence; but the point of the sword, like that of the cherubim, is everywhere turned against superstition, bigotry, and religious wrong. david hume's philosophy was more read[ ] in france than in scotland or england, but hume wrote one book here widely read, his _history of england_. it has been superseded, but it did what it aimed at doing. there are certain books which, when they have done their work, are forgotten, the _dialectique_ of ramus, for instance. this is not to be regretted. hume's _history of england_ is one of these books. for nearly four generations it was the only history of england that english men and women read. it was impossible that a man like hume, the central principle of whose life was the same as that of locke, shaftesbury, gibbon--the desire for a larger freedom for man's thought--it was impossible for him to write without saturating every page with that purpose, and it was impossible that three generations could read that _history_ without being insensibly, unconsciously transformed, their aspirations elevated, their judgments moulded by contact with such a mind as that of hume. recently the work of the great intellects of these two centuries bears fruit in our changed attitude towards ireland, in the emancipation of the catholics there; in our changed attitude towards the jews, towards the peoples of india, towards islam. edward gibbon and hume laid the foundation of that college which is rising at khartoum for the teaching of mohammedanism under the queen. it was not only lord kitchener who built it; john locke, john milton built it. the saint, the crusader, the monk, reformer, puritan, and nonjuror lead in unbroken succession to the critic, the speculative thinker, the analytic or synthetic philosopher of the eighteenth and the nineteenth century, these representing imperial britain, as the former represent national or feudal england. erigena in the ninth century surveying all things as from a tall rock, dunstan, roger bacon wasting in a prison "through the incurable stupidity of the world," as he briefly explains it, michael scott, hooker, bacon, glanvil, milton, and locke, formed by england, these men have in turn guided or informed the highest aspirations, the very heart of the race. the greatest empire in the annals of mankind is at once the most earnestly religious and the most tolerant. her power is deep-based as the foundations of the rocks, her glance wide as the boundaries of the world, far-searching as the aeons of time. yet it is not only from within, but from without, that this transformation in the spirit of england has been effected; not only from within by the work of a sidney, a gibbon, but from without by the influence, imperceptible yet sure, of the faiths and creeds of the oriental peoples she conquers. the work of the arabists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, such men as the pocockes,[ ] father and son, ockley and sale, supplements or expands the teaching of locke and of hume. the industry of ross, the enthusiastic studies of sir william jones, brought the power of persian and indian thought to bear upon the english mind, and the efforts of all these men seem to converge in one of the greatest literary monuments of the present century--_the sacred books of the east_. thus then we have seen this immortal "energy of the soul" in religion and thought, as in politics, manifest itself in like aspirations towards imaginative freedom, the higher freedom and the higher justice, summed in the phrase "elargissez dieu," that man's soul, dowered with the unfettered use of all its faculties, may set towards the lodestar of its being, harmony with the divine, whether it be through freedom in religious life or in political life or in any other form of life. for all life, all being, is organic, ceaselessly transformed, ceaselessly transforming, ceaseless action and interaction, like that vision of goethe's of the golden chalices ascending and descending perpetually between heaven and this dark earth of ours. § . the testimony of the past: a final consideration before leaving this part of our subject, the testimony of the past, there is one more question to consider, though with brevity. the great empires or imperial races of the past, hellas, rome, egypt, persia, islam, represent each a distinct ideal--in each a separate aspect of the human soul, as the characterizing attribute of the race, seems incarnate. in hellas, for example, it is beauty, +tò kalón+; in rome, it is power; in egypt, mystery, as embodied in her temples, half-underground, or in the sphinx that guards the sepulchres of her kings; whilst in persia, beauty and aspiration seem to unite in that mystic curiosity which is the feature at once of her religion, her architecture, her laws, of magian ritual and gnostic theurgy. other races possess these qualities, love of beauty, the sense of mystery; but in hellas and in egypt they differentiate the race and all the sections of the race. what characteristic, then, common to the whole teutonic race, does this empire of britain represent? apart altogether from its individual ideal, political or religious, what attribute of the race, distinguishing it from other races, the hellenic, the roman, the persian, does it eminently possess? compare, first of all, the beginnings of the people of england with the beginnings of the hellenic people, or better, perhaps, with the beginnings of rome. who founded the roman state? there is one fact about which the most recent authorities agree with the most ancient, that rome was founded much as athens was founded, by desperate men from every city, district, region, in italy. the outlaw, the refugee from justice or from private vengeance, the landless man and the homeless man--these gathered in the "broad plain," or migrated together to the seven hills, and by the very extent of the walk which they traced marked the plan which the rome of the caesars filled in. this process may have extended over a century--over two centuries; rome drawing to itself ever new bands of adventurers, desperate in valour and in fortune as the first. who are the founders of england, of imperial britain? they are those "co-seekers," _conqu[oe]stores_, i have spoken of, who came with cerdic and with cynric, the chosen men, that is to say, the most adventurous, most daring, most reckless--the fittest men of the whole teutonic kindred; and not for two centuries merely, but for six centuries, this "land of the angles," stretching from the forth and clyde to the channel, from eadwine's burgh to andredeswald, draws to itself, and is gradually ever peopled closer and closer with, vikings and danes, norsemen and ostmen, followers of guthrum, and followers of hrolf, followers of ivar and followers of william i. they come in "hundreds," they come in thousands. into england, as into some vast crucible, the valour of the earth pours itself for six hundred years, till, molten and fused together, it arises at last one and undivided, the english nation. such was the foundation, such the building of the empire, and these are the title-deeds which even in its first beginnings this land can show. and of the inner race character as representative of the whole teutonic kindred, the testimony is not less sure. what a heaven of light falls upon the hellas of the isles, that period of its history which does not begin, but ends with the iliad and with the odyssey--works that sum up an old civilization! already is born that beauty which, whether in religion, or in art, or in life, hellas made its own for ever. and it is not difficult to trace back the descent of the ideal of virgil and of cicero to the shepherds and outlaws of the seven hills. the infinite curiosity of persia, the worshipper of flame, is anticipated on its earliest monuments, and the mystery of egypt is coeval with its first appearance in history. but of england and the teutonic race what shall one say? a characteristic universal in teutonic history is the extent to which the speculative or metaphysical pervades the practical, the political, and social conditions of life. freedom and deathless courage are its inheritance; but these throughout its history are accompanied by certain vaguer tendencies of thought and aspiration, the touch of things unseen, those impulses beyond the finite towards the infinite, which display themselves so conspicuously in later ages. in the united power of these two worlds, the visible and the invisible, upon the teutonic imagination, in this alternate sway of reality and illusion, must be sought the characteristic of this race. in the faust legend, which, in one form or another, the race has made its own, it attains a supreme embodiment. in the oriental imagination the sense of the transiency of life passes swiftly into a disdain for life itself, and displays itself in a courage which arises less from hope than from apathy or despair. but the death-defiant courage of the viking springs from no disdain of life, but from the scorn of death, hazarding life rather than the hope upon which his life is set. this characteristic can be traced throughout the range of teutonic art and teutonic literature, and even in action. the spirit which originates the _völker-wanderung_, for instance, reappears in the half-unconscious impulses, the instinctive bent of the race, which lead the brave of europe generation by generation for two hundred years to the crusades. they found the grave empty, but the craving of the heart was stayed, the yearning towards asgard, the sun-bright eastern land, where were balder and the anses, and the rivers and meadows unfading, whence ages ago their race had journeyed to the forest-gloom and mists by the danube and the rhine, by the elbe and the thames. thus, then, as beauty is impersonated in hellas, mystery in egypt, so this attribute which we may name reverie is impersonated in the teutonic race. and in the anglo-saxon branch of the great teutonic kindred, this attribute, this reverie, the divided sway of the actual and of the dream-world, attests its presence and its power from the earliest epochs. it has left its impress, its melancholy, its restlessness, its infinite regret, upon the verse of cynewulf and caedmon, whilst in the devotion of the saint, the scholar, the hermit, and of much of the common life of the time to the ideal of calvary, its presence falls like a mystic light upon the turbulence and battle-fury of the eighth and ninth centuries. it adds the glamour as from a distant and enchanted past to chivalrous romance and to the crusader's and the pilgrim's high endeavour. it cast its spell upon the tudor mariners and made the ocean their inheritance. in later times it reappears as the world-impulse which has made our race a native of every climate, yet jealous of its traditions, proud of its birth, unsubdued by its environment. if in the circuit they marked out for the walls of early rome its first founders seemed to anticipate the eternal city, so on the high seas the founders of england, jute, viking, and norseman seem to foreshadow the empire of the world, and by the surge or in the forest solitude, already to meditate the terror, the sorrow, and the mystery, and the coming harmonies, of _faustus_ and _lear_, of _hamlet_ and _adonais_. [ ] i have retained the familiar spelling of the saxon hero's name. giesebrecht, who discovers in the stand against charlemagne something of the spirit of arminius, _etwas vom geiste armins_ (_d.k.i._, p. ), uses the form "widukind," and the same form has the sanction of waitz (_verfassungsgeschichte_, iii, p. ). yet the form widu-kind is probably no more than a chronicler's theory of the derivation of the name. [ ] döllinger's characterization of cromwell is remarkable--"aber er (_i.e._, cromwell) hat, zuerst unter den mächtigen, ein religiöses princip aufgestellt und, soweit sein arm reichte, zur geltung gebracht, welches, im gegensatz gegen die grossen historischen kirchen und gegen den islam, keim und stoff zu einer abgesonderten religion in sich trug:--das princip der gewissensfreiheit, der verwerfung alles religiösen zwanges." proceeding to expand this idea, döllinger again describes cromwell as the annunciator of the doctrine of the inviolability of conscience, so vast in its significance to the modern world, and adds: "es war damals von weittragender bedeutung, dass der beherrscher eines mächtigen reiches diese neue lehre verkündete, die dann noch fast anderthalb jahrhunderte brauchte, bis sie in der öffentlichen meinung so erstarkte, dass auch ihre noch immer zahlreichen gegner sich vor ihr beugen müssen. die evangelische union, welche jetzt zwei welttheile umfasst und ein früher unbekanntes und für unmöglich gehaltenes princip der einigung verschiedener kirchen glücklich verwirklicht hat, darf wohl cromwell als ihren propheten und vorbereitenden gründer betrachten."--_akademische vorträge_, , vol. iii, pp. , . [ ] the _argenis_ was published in ; but amongst the ideas on religion, carefully elaborated or obscurely suggested, which throng its pages, we find curious anticipations of the position of locke and even of hume, just as in politics, in the remarks on elective monarchy put in the lips of the cardinal ubaldini, or in the conceptions of justice and law, barclay reveals a sympathy with principles which appealed to algernon sidney or were long afterwards developed by beccaria. in the motion of the stars barclay sees the proof of the existence of god, and requires no other. the _argenis_, unfortunately for english literature, was written at a time when men still wavered between the vernacular and latin as a medium of expression. [ ] the spirit and tendency of locke's work appear in the short preface to the english version of the latin _epistola de tolerantia_, which had already met with a general approbation in france and holland ( ). "this narrowness of spirit on all sides has undoubtedly been the principal occasion of our miseries and confusions. but whatever has been the occasion, it is now high time to seek for a thorough cure. we have need of more generous remedies than what have yet been made use of in our distemper. it is neither declarations of indulgence, nor acts of comprehension, such as have yet been practised, or projected amongst us, that can do the work. the first will but palliate, the second increase our evil. absolute liberty, just and true liberty, equal and impartial liberty, is the thing that we stand in need of." the second letter, styled "a second letter concerning toleration," is dated may th, --the year of the publication of his _essay on the human understanding_; the third, the longest, and in some respects the most eloquent, "a third letter for toleration," bears the date june th, . [ ] voltaire ridiculed certain peculiarities of shakespeare when mediocre french writers and critics began to find in his "barbarities" an excuse for irreverence at the expense of racine, but he never tires of reiterating his admiration for the country of locke and hume, of bolingbroke and newton. a hundred phrases could be gathered from his correspondence extending over half a century, in which this finds serious or extravagant utterance. even in the last decades of his life, when he sees the france of the future arising, he writes to madame du deffand: "how trivial we are compared with the greeks, the romans, and the english"; and to helvétius, about the same period ( ), he admits the profound debts which france and europe owe to the adventurous thought of england. he even forces frederick the great into reluctant but definite acquiescence with his enthusiasm--"yes, you are right; you french have grace, the english have the depth, and we germans, we have caution." [ ] james thomson, who distinguished himself from the author of the _seasons_, and defined his own literary aims by the initials b. v., _i.e._, bysshe vonalis (novalis), though possessing neither the wide scholarship nor the depth of thought of leopardi, occasionally equals the great italian in felicity of phrase and in the poignant expression of the world-sorrow. several of the more violent pamphlets on religious themes ascribed to him are of doubtful authenticity. he died in , the year after the death of carlyle. [ ] hume's disappointment at the reception accorded to the first quarto of his _history of england_ must be measured by the standard of the hopes he had formed. conscious of genius, and not without ambition, he had reached middle life nameless, and save in a narrow circle unacknowledged. but the appearance of his _history_, two years later than his _political discourses_, was synchronous with the darkest hours in english annals since . an english fleet had to quit the channel before the combined navies of france and spain; braddock was defeated at fort duquesne; minorca was lost. at this period the tide of ill-feeling between the scotch and the english ran bitter and high. the taunts of individuals were but the explosions of a resentment deep-seated and strong. london had not yet forgotten the panic which the march of the pretender had roused. to the scottish nation the massacre at culloden seemed an act of revenge--savage, pre-meditated, and impolitic. the ministry of chatham changed all this. he raised an army from the clans who ten years before had marched to the heart of england; ended the privileges of the coterie of whig families, bestowing the posts of danger and power not upon the fearless but frequently incapable sons of the great houses, but upon the talent bred in the ranks of english merchants. hume's work was thus caught in the stream of chatham's victories, and a ray from the glory of the nation was reflected upon its historian. the general verdict was ratified by the concord of the best judgments. gibbon despaired of rivalling its faultless lucidity; burke turned from a projected history to write in hume's manner the events of the passing years, founding the _annual register_. its outspoken toryism was welcome to a generation weary of the "venetian oligarchy," this epoch, if any, meriting beaconsfield's epithet. the work had the fortune which gibbon and montesquieu craved for their own--it was read in the boudoir as much as in the study. nor did its power diminish. it contained the best writing, the deepest thought, the most vivid portraiture, devoted to men and things english, over a continuous period, until the works of carlyle and macaulay. [ ] the significance of these men's work may be estimated by the ignorance even of scholars and tolerant thinkers. spinoza, for instance, in , describes islam as a faith that has known no schism; and twenty years earlier pascal brands mohammed as forbidding all study! part ii the destiny of imperial britain lecture iv the war in south africa [_tuesday, may_ _th_, ] hitherto we have been engaged with the past, with the slow growth across the centuries of those political or religious ideals which now control the destinies of this empire, a movement towards an ever higher conception of man's relations towards the divine, towards other men, and towards the state. to-day a subject of more pressing interest confronts us, but a subject more involved also in the prejudices and sympathies which the violence of pity or anger, surprise or alarm, arouses, woven more closely to the living hopes, regrets, and fears which compose the instant of man's life. we are in the thick of the deed--how are we to judge it? how conjure the phantoms inimical to truth, which tacitus found besetting his path as he prepared to narrate the civil struggles of galba and otho thirty years after the event? yet one aspect of the subject seems free and accessible, and to this aspect i propose to direct your attention. the separate incidents of the war, and the actions of individuals, statesmen, soldiers, politicians, journalists, and officials, civil or military, the wisdom or the rashness, the energy or the sloth, the wavering or the resolution, ancient experience grown half prophetic with the years, alert vigour, quick to perceive, unremitting in pursuit, or ingenuous surprise tardily awaking from the dream of a world which is not this--all these will fall within the domain of history some centuries hence when what men saw has been sifted from what they merely desired to see or imagined they saw. but the place of the war in the general life of this state, and the purely psychological question, how is the idea of this war, in plato's sense of that word, related to the idea of imperial britain?--these it is possible even now to consider, _sine ira et studio_. what is its historical significance compared with the wars of the past, what is the presage of this great war--if it be a great war--for the future? § i. the historical significance of the war in south africa now the magnitude of a war does not depend upon the numbers, relative or absolute, of the opposing forces. fewer men fell at salamis than at towton, and in the battle of bedr[ ] the total force engaged did not exceed two thousand, yet mohammed's victory changed the history of the world. the followers of andreas hofer were but a handful compared with the army which marched with de saxe to toumay, but the achievement of the tyrolese is enduring as fontenoy. war is the supreme act in the life of a state, and it is the motives which impel, the ideal which is pursued, that determine the greatness or insignificance of that act. it is the cause, the principles in collision which make it for ever glorious, or swiftly forgotten. what, then, are the principles at issue in the present war? the war in south africa, as we saw in the opening lecture, is the first event or series of events upon a great scale, the genesis of which lies in this force named imperialism. it is the first conspicuous expression of this ideal in the world of action--of heroic action, which now as always implies heroic suffering. no other war in our history is in its origins and its aims so evidently the realization, so exclusively the result of this imperial ideal. whatever may have been the passing designs of the government, lofty or trivial, whatever the motives of individual politicians, this is the cause and this the ideal by which, consciously or unconsciously, the decision of the state has been prescribed and controlled. but the present war is not merely a war for an idea, which of itself would be enough to make the war, in m. thiers' refrain, _digue de l'attention des hommes_; but, like the wars of the sixteenth century or the french revolutionary wars, it is a war between two ideals, between two principles that strike deep into the life-history of modern states. in the religious wars of the sixteenth century the principle of freedom was arrayed against the principle of authority. the conflict rolled hither and thither for two centuries, and was illustrated by the valour and genius of europe, by characters and incidents of imposing grandeur, sublime devotion, or moving pity. so in the war of the french revolution the dying principle of monarchism was arrayed against the principle of democracy, and the tragic heroism with which the combatants represented these principles, whether austria, russia, spain, england, germany, or france, makes that war one of the most precious memories of mankind. in the tragedies of art, in stage-drama, the conflict, the struggle is between two principles, two forces, one base, the other exalted. but in the world-drama a conflict of a profounder kind reveals itself, the conflict between heroism and heroism, between ideal and ideal, often equally lofty, equally impressive. such is the eternal contrast between the tragic in art and the tragic in history, and this characteristic of these two great conflicts of the sixteenth and the eighteenth centuries reappears in the present war. there also two principles equally lofty and impressive are at strife--the dying principle of nationality, and the principle which, for weal or woe, is that of the future, the principle of imperialism. these are the forces contending against each other on the sterile veldt; this is the first act of the drama whose _dénouement_--who dare foretell? what distant generation shall behold _that_ curtain? § . nationality and imperialism in political life, in the life-history of states, as in religious, as in intellectual and social history, change and growth, or what we now name evolution, are perpetual, continuous, unresting. the empire which has ceased to advance has begun to recede. motion is the law of its being, if not towards a fuller life, motion toward death. thus in a race dowered with the genius for empire, as rome was, as britain is, imperialism is the supreme, the crowning form, which in this process of evolution it attains. the civic, the feudal, or the oligarchic state passes into the national, the national into the imperial, by slow or swift gradations, but irresistibly, as by a fixed law of nature. no great statesman is ever in advance of, or ever behind, his age. the patriot is he who is most faithful to the highest form, to the actualized ideal of his time. eliot in the seventeenth century died for the constitutional rights of a nation; in the thirteenth he would have stood with the feudal lords at runnymede; in the nineteenth he would have added his great name to imperialism. the national is thus but a phase in the onward movement of an imperial state, of a race destined to empire. in such a state, nationality has no peculiar sanctity, no fixed, immutable influence, no absolute sway. the term national, indeed, has recently acquired in politics and in literature something of the halo which in the beginning of the century belonged to the idea of liberty alone. the part which it has played in bohemia and hungary, belgium and holland, servia and bulgaria, and, above all, in the unity of italy and the realization after four centuries of machiavelli's dream, is a living witness of its power. in the middle age the two ideas, nationality and independence, were inseparable, but with the completion of the state system of europe, the rise of prussia and the transformation of the half-oriental muscovy into the empire of the czars, and with the growth in european politics of the balance-of-power[ ] theory, a disruption occurred between these ideas, and a series of protected nationalities arose. indeed, as we recede from the event, the revolution of presents itself ever more definitely as it appeared to certain of its actors, and to a few of the more speculative onlookers, as but an aftermath of and , as the net return, the practical result to france and to europe of the glorious sacrifices and hopes of the revolutionary era. nationality was the occasion and the excuse of ; but the ideal was a shadow from the past. the men of that time do not differ more widely from the men of than somers and halifax differ from the great figures of the earlier revolution, pym, strafford, and cromwell.[ ] the amazing confusion which attends the efforts of french and german publicists to expand the concept of the nation supports the evidence of history that the great _rôle_ which it has played is transient and accidental, and that it is not the final and definite form towards which the life of a state moves. it is one thing to exalt the grandeur of this ideal for italy or for france, but it is another to assume that it has final and equal grandeur in every land and to every state. nor are the endeavours of such writers as mancini or bluntschli to trace the principle of nationality to the deepest impulses of man's life more auspicious. not to humanity, but to imperial rome, must be ascribed the origin of nationality as the prevailing form in the state system of modern europe. for roman policy was, so to speak, a destiny, not merely to the present, but to the future world. rome effaced the distinctions, the fretting discords of celtic tribes, and traced the bounds of that gallia which meerwing and karling, capet and bourbon, made it their ambition to reach, and their glory to maintain. to the cities of the italian allies rome granted immunities, privileges, of municipal independence; and from the gift, as from a seed of hate, grew the interminable strife, the petty wars of the middle age. for this, machiavelli, in many a bitter paragraph, has execrated the papacy--"the stone thrust into the side of italy to keep the wound open"--but the political creed of the great ghibellines, farinata, or dante himself, shows that italian republicanism, like french nationality, derives not from papal, but from imperial rome. the study of holland, of the history of denmark, of prussia, of sweden, of scotland, does but illustrate the observation that in the principle of nationality, whether in its origin or its ends, no ideal wide as humanity is involved, nothing that is not transient, local, or derived. poetry and heroism have in the past clothed it with undying fame; but recent history, by instance and by argument from europe and from other continents, has proved that a young nation may be old in corruption, and a small state great in oppression, that right is not always on the side of weakness, nor injustice with the strong. not for the first time in history are these two principles, nationality and imperialism, or principles strikingly analogous, arrayed against each other. modern europe, as we have seen, is a complexus of states, of which the nation is the constituent unit. ancient hellas presents a similar complexus of states, of which the unit was not the nation but the city. there, after the persian wars, these communities present a conflict of principles similar to this which now confronts us, a conflict between the ideals of civic independence and civic imperialism. and the conflict is attended by similar phenomena, covert hostility, jealous execration, and finally, universal war. the issue is known. the defeat of athens at syracuse, involving inevitably the fall of her empire, was a disaster to humanity. the spring of athenian energy was broken, and the one state which hellas ever produced capable at once of government and of a lofty ideal, intellectual and political, was a ruin. neither sparta nor macedon could take its place, and after the lingering degradation of two centuries hellas succumbs to rome. a disaster in south africa would have been just such a disaster as this, but on a wider and more terrible scale. for this empire is built upon a design more liberal even than that of athens or the rome of the antonines. britain conquers, but by the testimony of men of all races who have found refuge within her confines, she conquers less for herself than for humanity. "the earth is man's" might be her watchword, and, as if she had caught the ocean's secret, her empire is the highway of nations. that province, that territory, that state which is added to her sway, seems thereby redeemed for humanity rather than conquered for her own sons. this, then, is the first characteristic of the war, a conflict between the two principles, the moribund principle of nationality--in the transvaal an oppressive, an artificial nationality--and the vital principle of the future. § . the war of a democracy but the war in south africa has a second characteristic not less significant. it is the first great war waged by the completely constituted democracy of . in the third reform bill, as we have seen, the efforts of six centuries of constitutional history find their realization. the heroic action and the heroic insight, the energy, the fortitude, the suffering, from the days of langton and de montfort, bigod and morton, to those of canning and peel, russell and bright, attain in this act their consummation and their end. the wars waged by the unreformed or partially reformed constituencies continue in their constitutional character the wars waged by the monarchy or by the whig or tory oligarchies of last century. but in the present conflict a democracy, at once imperial, self-governing and warlike, and actuated by the loftiest ideals, confronts the world. twice and twice only in recorded history have these qualities appeared together and simultaneously in one people, in the athens of pericles and the islam of omar.[ ] revolutionary france was inspired by a dazzling dream, an exalted purpose, but its imperialism was the creation of the genius or the ambition of the individual; it was not rooted in the heart of the race. it was not clive merely who gained india for england. french incapacity for the government of others, for empire, in a word, fought on our side. napoleon knew this. what a study are those bulletins of his! after austerlitz, after jena, eyiau, friedland, one iteration, assurance and reassurance, "this is the last, the very last campaign!" and so on till waterloo. his corsican intensity, the superhuman power of that mighty will, transformed the character of the french race, but not for ever. the celtic element was too strong for him, and in the french noblesse he found an index to the whole nation. the sarcasm, which if he did not utter he certainly prompted, has not lost its edge--"i showed them the path to glory and they refused to tread it; i opened my drawing-room doors and they rushed in, in crowds." there is nothing more tragic in history than the spectacle of this man of unparalleled administrative and political genius, fettered by the past, and at length grown desperate, abandoning himself to his weird. the march into russia is the return upon the daimonic spirit of its primitive instincts. the beneficent ruler is merged once more in the visionary of earlier times, dreaming by the nile, or asleep on the heel of a cannon on board the _muiron_.[ ] napoleon was fighting for a dead ideal with the strength of the men who had overthrown that ideal--how should he prosper? conquest of england, spain, austria, the rhine frontier, holland, belgium, point by point his policy repeats bourbon policy, the policy that led louis xvi to the scaffold and himself to ste hélène. yet his first battles were for liberty, and his last made the return of mediaeval despotism impossible. dying, he bequeaths imperialism to france as euphorion leaves his vesture in the hands of faust and helena. how fatal was that gift of a spurious imperialism metz, sedan, and paris made clear to all men. the rome of the caesars presents successively a veiled despotism, a capricious military tyranny, or an oriental absolutism. the "serrar del consiglio" made venice and her empire the paragon of oligarchic states. the rise of the empire of spain seems in its national enthusiasm to offer a closer parallel to this of britain. but a ruthless fanaticism, religious and political, stains from the outset the devotion of the spanish people to their hapsburg monarchs. spain fought with grandeur, heroism, and with chivalrous resolution; but her dark purpose, the suppression throughout europe of freedom of the soul, made her valour frustrate and her devotion vain. she warred against the light, and the enemies of spain were the friends of humanity, the benefactors of races and generations unborn. what criterion of truth, what principle even of party politics, can then incite a statesman and an historian to assert and to re-assert that in our war in south africa we are acting as the spanish acted against the ancestors of the dutch, and that our fate and our retribution will be as the fate and the retribution of spain? england's ideal is not the ideal of spain, nor are her methods the methods of spain. the war in africa--is it then a war waged for the destruction of religious freedom throughout the world, or will the triumph of england establish the inquisition in pretoria? but, it is urged, "the dutch have never been conquered, they are of the same stubborn, unyielding stock as our own." in the sense that they are teutons, the dutch are of the same stock as the english; but the characteristics of the batavian are not those of the jute, the viking, and the norseman. the best blood of the teutonic race for six centuries went to the making of england. at the period when the batavians were the contented dependents of burgundy or flanders, the english nation was being schooled by struggle and by suffering for the empire of the future. as for the former clause of the assertion, it is accurate of no race, no nation. the history of the united provinces does not close with john de witt and william iii. can those critics of the war who still point to william the silent, and to the broken dykes, and to leyden, have reviewed, even in schlosser, the history of holland in the eighteenth century, the part of the dutch in frederick's wars, the turpitudes of the peace of , unequalled in modern history, and in world-history never surpassed, or of the surrender of namur to joseph ii, or of the braggadocio patriotism which that monarch tested by sending his ship down the scheldt, or of the capitulation of amsterdam to brunswick? the heroic period of the united provinces in action, art, and literature began and ended in the deep-hearted resolution of the race to perish rather than forgo the right to worship god in their own way. in the history of this state, from philip ii to louis xiv, religious oppression seems to play a part almost like that of individual genius in macedon or in modern france. when that force is withdrawn, there is an end to the greatness of holland, as when a charlemagne, an alexander, or a napoleon dies, the greatness of their empires dies also. in the passion for political greatness as such, the dutch have never found the spur, the incitement to heroic action or to heroic self-renunciation which religion for a time supplied. from false judgments false deeds follow, else it were but harsh ingratitude to recall, or even to remember, the decay, the humiliations of the land within whose borders rembrandt and spinoza, vondel and grotius, cornelius and john de witt lived, worked, and suffered. but in the empire which fell at syracuse we encounter resemblances to the democratic empire of britain, deeper and more organic, and of an impressive and even tragic significance. for though the stage on which athens acts her part is narrower, the idea which informs the action is not less elevated and serene. a purpose yet more exultant, a hope as living, and an impulse yet more mystic and transcendent, sweeps the warriors of islam beyond the euphrates eastward to the indus, then through syria, beyond the nile to carthage and the western sea, tracing within the quarter of a century dominated by the genius of omar the bounds of an empire which rome scarce attains in two hundred years. but this empire-republic, the islam of omar, passes swifter than a dream; the tyranny and the crimes of the palaces of damascus and bagdad succeed. and now after twelve centuries a democratic empire, raised up and exalted for ends as mystic and sublime as those of athens and the islam of omar, appears upon the world-stage, and the question of questions to every student of speculative politics at the present hour is--whither will this portent direct its energies? will it press onward towards some yet mightier endeavour, or, mastered by some hereditary taint, sink torpid and neglectful, leaving its vast, its practically inexhaustible forces to waste unused? the deeds on the battlefield, the spirit which fires the men from every region of that empire and from every section of that society of nations, the attitude which has marked that people and that race towards the present war, are not without deep significance. now at last the name english people is co-extensive and of equal meaning with the english race. the distinctions of rank, of intellectual or social environment, of birth, of political or religious creeds, professions, are all in that great act forgotten and are as if they were not. rivals in valour, emulous in self-renunciation, contending for the place of danger, hardship, trial, they seem as if every man felt within his heart the emotion of aeschines seeing the glory of macedon--"our life scarce seemed that of mortals, nor the achievements of our time." contemplating this spectacle, this empire thrilled throughout its vast bulk, from bound to bound of its far-stretched greatness, with one hope, one energy, one aspiration and one fear, one sorrow and one joy, is not this some warrant, is not this some presage of the future, and of the course which this people will pursue? let us pause here for a moment upon the transformation which this word english people has undergone. when froissart, for instance, in the fourteenth century, speaks of the english people, he sees before him the chivalrous nobles of the type of chandos or talbot, the black prince or de bohun. the work of the archers at creçy and poitiers extended the term to english yeomen, and with the rise of towns and the spread of maritime adventure the merchant and the trader are included under the same great designation as feudal knight and baron. puritanism and the civil wars widened the term still further, but as late as the time of chatham its general use is restricted to the ranks which it covered in the sixteenth century. thus when chatham or burke speaks of the english people, it is the merchants of a town like bristol, as opposed to the english nobles, that he has in view. and wellington declared that eton and harrow bred the spirit which overcame napoleon, which stormed badajoz, and led the charge at waterloo. the duke's hostility to reform, his reluctance to extend the term, with its responsibilities and its privileges, its burdens and its glory, to the whole race, is intelligible enough. but in this point the admirers of the duke were wiser or more reckless than their hero, and the followers of pitt than the followers of chatham. the hazard of enfranchising the millions, of extending the word people to include every man of british blood, was a great, a breathless hazard. might not a mob arise like that which gathered round the jacobins, or by their fury and their rage added another horror to the horror of the victim on the tumbril, making the guillotine a welcome release? but the hazard has been made, the enfranchisement is complete, and it is a winning hazard. to eton and harrow, as nurseries of valour, the duke would now require to add every national, every village school, from bethnal green to ballycroy! _populus anglicanus_--it has risen in its might, and sent forth its sons, and not a man of them but seems on fire to rival the gallantry, the renunciation of chandos and talbot, of sidney and wolfe. has not the present war given a harvest of instances? the soldier after spion kop, his jaw torn off, death threatening him, signs for paper and pencil to write, not a farewell message to wife or kin, but wolfe's question on the plains of abraham--"have we won?" another, his side raked by a hideous wound, dying, breathes out the undying resolution of his heart, "roll me aside, men, and go on!" nor less heroic that sergeant, ambushed and summoned at great odds to surrender. "never!" was the brief imperative response, and made tranquil by that word and that defiance, shot through the heart, he falls dead. this is the spirit of the ranks, this the bearing in death, this the faith in england's ideal of the enfranchised masses. nor has the spirit of eton and harrow abated. neither the peninsular nor the marlborough wars, conspicuous by their examples of daring, exhibit anything that within a brief space quite equals the self-immolating valour displayed in the disastrous openings of this war by those youths, the _gens fabia_ of modern days, prodigal of their blood, rushing into the mauser hailstorm, as if in jest each man had sworn to make the sterile veldt blossom like the rose, fertilizing it with the rich drops of his heart, since the rain is powerless! § . cosmopolitanism and jingoism nor is this heroism, and the devotion which inspires it, shut within the tented field or confined to the battle-line. the eyes of the race are upon that drama, and the heart of the race beats within the breasts of the actors. there is something roman in the nation's unmoved purpose, the concentration of its whole force upon one fixed mark, disregarding the judgment of men, realizing, however bitter the wisdom, that the empire which the sword and the death-defiant valour of the past have upraised can be maintained only by the sword and a valour not less death-defiant, a self-renunciation not less heroic. such manifestations of heroism and of a zealous ardour, unexampled in its extent and its intensity, offer assuredly, i repeat, some augury, some earnest of that which is to come, some pledge to the new century rising like a planet tremulous on the horizon's verge. but a widespread error still confounds this imperial patriotism with cosmopolitanism, this resolution of a great people with jingoism. now what is cosmopolitanism? it is an attitude of mind purely negative; it is a characteristic of protected nationalities, and of decayed races. it passes easily into political indifference, political apathy. it is the negation of patriotism; but it offers no constructive ideal in its stead. imperialism is active, is constructive.[ ] it is the passion of marathon and trafalgar, it is the patriotism of a de montfort or a grenville, at once intensified and heightened by the aspirations of humanity, by the ideals of a shelley, a wilberforce, or a canning. but between mere war-fever, jingoism, and such free, unfettered enthusiasm, a nation's unaltering loyalty in defeat or in triumph to an ideal born of its past, and its joy in the actions in which this ideal is realized, the gulf is wide. napoleon knew this. nothing in history is more illuminating than the bitter remark with which he turned away from the sight of the enthusiasm with which vienna welcomed its defeated sovereign, francis ii. all his victories could not purchase him _that_! would the critics of "music-hall madness" prefer to see a city stand sullen, silent, indifferent, cursing in the bitterness of its heart the government, the army, the empire? or would they have it like the roman mob of the first caesars, cluster in crowds, careless of empire, battles, or the glory of rome's name, shouting for a loaf of bread and a circus ticket? between the cries, the laughter, the tears of a mob and the speech or the silence of a statesman there is a great space; but it were rash to assume that the dissonant clamour of the crowds is but an ignorant or a transient frenzy. in religion itself have we not similar variety of expression? those faces gathered under the trees or in a public thoroughfare--the expression of emotion there is not that which we witness, say, in santa croce, at prime, when the first light falls through the windows on giotto's frescoes, herod and francis, st. louis and the soldan, and on the few, the still worshippers--but dare we assert that this alone is sincere, the other unfelt because loud? § . militarism and yet beneath this joy, the tumultuous joy of this hour of respite from a hope that in the end became harder to endure than despair, there is perhaps not a single heart in this empire which does not at moments start as at some menacing, some sinister sound, a foreboding of evil which it endeavours to shake off but cannot, for it returns, louder and more insistent, tyrannously demanding the attention of the most reluctant. once more on this old earth of ours is witnessed the spectacle of a vast people stirred by one ideal impulse, prepared for all sacrifices for that ideal, prepared to face war, and the outcry of a misunderstanding or envious antagonism. whither is this impulse to be directed? what minister or parliament is to dare the responsibility of turning this movement, this great and spontaneous movement, to this people's salvation, to this empire's high purposes? how shall its bounds be made secure against encroachment, its own shores from coalesced foes? let me approach this matter from the standpoint of history, the sole standpoint from which i have the right--to use a current phrase--to speak as an expert. first of all let me say, that an axiom or maxim which appears to guide the utterances if not the actions of statesmen, the maxim that the british people will under no circumstances tolerate any form of compulsory service for war, is unjustified by history. it has no foundation in history at all. nothing in the past justifies the ascription of such a limit to the devotion of this people. of an ancient lineage, but young in empire, proud, loving freedom, not disdainful of glory, perfectly fearless--who shall assign bounds to its devotion or determine the limits of its endurance? i go further, i affirm that the records of the past, the heroic sacrifices which england made in the sixteenth, in the seventeenth century, and in later times, justify the contrary assumption, justify the assumption that at this crisis--this grave and momentous crisis, a crisis such as i think no council of men has had to face for many centuries, perhaps not since the embassy of the goths to the emperor valens--the ministry or cabinet which but dares, dares to trust this people's resolution, will find that this enthusiasm is not that of men overwrought with war-fever, but the deep-seated purpose of a people strong to defend the heritage of its fathers, and not to swerve from the path which fate itself has marked out for it amongst the empires of the earth. this, i maintain, is the verdict of history upon the matter. there is a second prominent argument against compulsory service, an argument drawn by analogy from the circumstances of other nations. men point to rennes, to the petty tyrannies of military upstarts over civilians in germany, and cry, "behold what awaits you from conscription!" such arguments have precisely the same value as the arguments against parliamentary reform fifty years ago, based on the terror of jacobinism. we might as well condemn all free institutions because of tammany hall, as condemn compulsory service because of its abuses in other countries. and an appeal to the pretorians of rome or to the janizzaries of the ottoman empire would be as relevant as an appeal for warning to the major-generals of oliver cromwell. nor is there any fixed and necessary hostility between militarism and art, between militarism and culture, as the athens of plato and of sophocles, a military state, attests. all institutions are transfigured by the ideal which calls them into being. and this ideal of imperial britain--to bring to the peoples of the earth beneath her sway the larger freedom and the higher justice--the world has known none fairer, none more exalted, since that for which godfrey and richard fought, for which barbarossa and st. louis died. there is nothing in our annals which warrants evil presage from the spread of militarism, nothing which precludes the hope, the just confidence that our very blood and the ineffaceable character of our race will save us from any mischief that militarism may have brought to others, and that in the future another chivalry may arise which shall be to other armies and other systems what the imperial parliament is to the parliaments of the world--a paragon and an example. with us the decision rests. if we should decide wrongly--it is not the loss of prestige, it is not the narrowed bounds we have to fear, it is the judgment of the dead, the despair of the living, of the inarticulate myriads who have trusted to us, it is the arraigning eyes of the unborn. who can confront this unappalled? [ ] the battle of bedr was fought in the second year of the hegira, a.d. , in a valley near the red sea, between mecca and medina. the victory sealed the faith not only of his followers but of mohammed himself in his divine mission. mohammed refers to this triumph in surah after surah of the koran, as napoleon lingers over the memory of arcola, of lodi, or toulon. [ ] gentz' work on the balance of power, _fragmente aus der neuesten geschichte des politischen gleichgevaichtes in europa_, dresden, , is still, not only from its environment, but from its conviction, the classic on this subject. it gained him the friendship of metternich, and henceforth he became the constant and often reckless and violent exponent of austrian principles. but he was sincere. to the charge of being the aretino of the holy alliance, gentz could retort with mirabeau that he was paid, not bought. the friendship of rahel and varnhagen von ense acquits him of suspicion. nor is his undying hostility to the revolution more surprising than that of burke, whom he translated, or of rivarol, whose elusive but studied grace of style he not unsuccessfully imitated. gentz, who was in his twelfth year at bunker's hill, in his twenty-sixth when the bastille fell, lived just long enough to see the revolution of and the flight of charles x. but the shock of the revolution of july seemed but a test of the strength of the fabric which he had aided metternich to rear. so that as life closed gentz could look around on a completed task. napoleon slept at st. helena, his child, _le fils de l'homme_, was in a seclusion that would shortly end in the grave, canning was dead and byron, heine was in exile, chateaubriand, a peer; _quotusquisque reliquus qui rempublicam vidisset_? who was there any longer to remember marengo and austerlitz, wagram, and schönbrunn? and yet exactly seven months and nineteen days after gentz breathed his last, the first reformed parliament met at westminster, january th, , announcing the advent to power of a democracy even mightier than that of . [ ] it is hardly necessary to indicate that allusions to the "glorious but bloodless" revolution of are unwarranted and pointless when designed to tarnish, by the contrast they imply, the french revolution of . it was the bloody struggle of - that made possible. the true comparison--if any comparison be possible between revolutions so widely different in their aims and results, though following each other closely in the outward sequence of incident and character--would be between the puritan struggle and the first revolutionary period in france, and between and the flight of james ii, and and the abdication of charles x. both guizot, whose memoirs of the english revolution had appeared in , and his master louis philippe intended that france should draw this comparison--the latter by the title "king of the french" adroitly touching the imagination or the vanity, whilst deceiving the intelligence, of the nation. [ ] i have employed the phrase "islam of omar" throughout the present work as a means of designating the period of nine-and-twenty years between the death of mohammed, th rabi i. a.h., june th, a.d. , and the assassination of ali, th hamzan, a.h., january th, a.d. . even in the lifetime of mohammed the genius and personality of omar made themselves distinctly felt. during the caliphate of abu bekr the power of omar was analogous to that of hildebrand during the two pontificates which immediately precede his own. omar's is the determining force, the will, and throughout his own, and the caliphates of osman and ali which follow, that force and that will impart its distinction and its direction to the course of the political life of islam. the nature and extent of the sway of this extraordinary mind mark an epoch in world-history not less memorable than the rome of sulla or the athens of pericles. from the arab historians a portrait that is fairly convincing can be arranged, and the threat or promise with which he is said to have announced the purpose for which he undertook the caliphate is consonant with the impression of his appearance and manners which tradition has preserved--"he that is weakest among you shall be, in my sight, as the strongest until i have made good his rights unto him; but he that is strongest shall i deal with like the weakest until he submit himself to the law." [ ] thwarted in his schemes of world-conquest in the east by nelson and sir sidney smith, bonaparte returned to pursue in europe the same visionary but mighty designs. in napoleon's career the voyage on the frigate _muiron_ marks the moment analogous to caesar's return from gaul, january, b.c. but caius julius crossed the rubicon at the head of fifty thousand men. bonaparte returned from egypt alone. the best soldiers of his staff indeed accompanied him, lannes, the "roland" of the battles of the empire, murat, bessières, marmont, lavalette, but to a resolute government this would but have blackened his desertion of kleber and the army of the pyramids. the adventure appears more desperate than caesar's; but speculation, anxiety, even hope, awaited napoleon at paris. moreau was no pompey. the sequence of dates is interesting. on the night of august nd, , bonaparte went on board the frigate; five weeks later, having just missed nelson, he reached ajaccio; on october th he lands at fréjus, on the th he is at paris, and resumes his residence in rue de la victoire. three weeks later, on november th, occurs the incident known to history as th brumaire. [ ] the empire of rome, of alexander, of britain, is not even the antagonist of what is essential in cosmopolitanism. rome, hellas, britain possess by god or fate the power to govern to a _more excellent_ degree than other states--imperialism is the realization of this power. cosmopolitanism's _laissez-faire_ is anarchism or it is the betrayal of humanity. lecture v what is war? [_tuesday, june_ _th_, ] assuming then that the imperialistic is the supreme form in the political development of the national as of the civic state, and that to the empires of the world belongs the government of the world in the future, and that in britain a mode of imperialism which may be described as democratic displays itself--a mode which in human history is rarely encountered, and never save at crises and fraught with consequences memorable to all time--the problem meets us, will this form of government make for peace or for war, considering peace and war not as mutual contradictories but as alternatives in the life of a state? even a partial solution of this problem requires a consideration of the question "what is war?" § . the place of war in world-history the question "what is war?" has been variously answered, according as the aim of the writer is to illustrate its methods historically, or from the operations of the wars of the past to deduce precepts for the tactics or the strategy of the present, or as in the writings of aristotle and grotius, of montesquieu and bluntschli, to assign the limits of its fury, or fix the basis of its ethics, its distinction as just or unjust. but another aspect of the question concerns us here--what is war in itself and by itself? and what is its place in the life-history of a state considered as an entity, an organic unity, distinct from the unities which compose it? is war a fixed or a transient condition of the political life of man, and if permanent, does its relation to the world-force admit of description and definition? if we were to adopt the method by which aristotle endeavoured to arrive at a correct conception of the nature of a state, and review the part which war has played in world-history, and, disregarding the mechanical enumeration of causes and effects, if we were to examine the motives, impulses, or ideals embodied in the great conflicts of world-history, the question whether war be a necessary evil, an infliction to which humanity must resign itself, would be seen to emerge in another shape--whether war be an evil at all; whether in the life-history of a state it be not an attestation of the self-devotion of that state to the supreme end of its being, even of its power of consecration to the highest good? every great war known to history resolves itself ultimately into the conflict of two ideals. the cavalier fights in triumph or defeat in a cause not less exalted than that of the puritan, and salamis acquires a profounder significance when considered, not from the standpoint of athens and themistocles merely, but from the camp of xerxes, and the ruins of the mighty designs of cyrus and hystaspes, an incident which aeschylus found tragic enough to form a theme for one of his loftiest trilogies.[ ] the wars against pisa and venice light with intermittent gleams the else sordid annals of genoa; and through the grandeur and ferocity of a century of war rome moves to world-empire, and carthage to a death which throws a lustre over her history, making its least details memorable, investing its merchants with an interest beyond that of princes, and bequeathing to mankind the names of hamilcar and hannibal as a strong argument of man's greatness if all other records were to perish. _qui habet tenam habet bellum_ is but a half-truth. no war was ever waged for material ends only. territory is a trophy of battle, but the origin of war is rooted in the character, the political genius, the imagination of the race. one of the profoundest of modern investigators in mediaeval history, dr. georg waitz, insists on the attachment of the teutonic kindred to the soil, and on the measures by which in the primitive constitutions the war-instinct was checked.[ ] the observation of waitz is just, but a change in environment develops the latent qualities of a race. the restless and melancholy surge, the wide and desolate expanse of the north sea exalted the imagination of the viking as the desert the imagination of the arab. not the cry of "new lands" merely, but the adventurous heart of his race, lured on by the magic of the sea, its receding horizons, its danger and its change, spread the fame and the terror of the norsemen from the basilicas, the marbles, and the thronging palaces of byzantium to the solitary homestead set in the english forest-clearing, or in the wastes of ireland which the zeal of her monasteries was slowly reclaiming. to the glamour of war for its own sake the crusades brought the transforming power of a new ideal. the cry "_deus vult!_" at clermont marks for the whole teutonic race the final transition from the type of alaric and chlodovech, of cerdic and hrolf, to that of godfrey and tancred, richard lion-heart and saint louis, from the sagas and the war-songs of the northern skalds to the chivalrous verse of the troubadours, a bertrand or a rudel, to the epic narrative of the crusades which transfigures at moments the prose of william of tyre or of orderic, of geoffrey de vinsauf or of joinville. the wide acceptance of the territorial theory of the origin of war as an explanation of war, and the enumeration by historians of causes and results in territory or taxation, can be ascribed only to that indolence of the human mind, the subtle inertia which, as tacitus affirms, lies in wait to mar all high endeavour--"subit quippe etiam ipsius inertiae dulcedo, et invisa primo desidia postremo amatur." the wars of the hebrews, if territorial in their apparent origin, reveal in their course their true origin in the heart of the race, the consciousness of the high destiny reserved for it amongst the semitic kindred, amongst the nations of the earth. if ever there were a race which seemed destined to found a world-empire by the sword it is the hebrew. they make war with roman relentlessness and with more than roman ideality, the lord god of hosts guiding their march or their retreat by day and by night ceaselessly. every battle is a lake regillus, and for the great twin brethren it is jehovah sabaoth that nerves the right arm of his faithful. the forms of gideon and joshua, though on a narrower stage, have a place with those other captains of their race--hannibal, bar-cochab, khalid, amr, saad,[ ] and mothanna. the very spirit of war seems to shape their poetry from the first chant for the defeat of egypt to that last song of constancy in overthrow, of unconquerable resolve and sure vengeance, a march music befitting judas maccabaeus and his men, beside which all other war-songs, even the "marseillaise," appear of no account--the _al naharoth babel_--"let my sword-hand forget, if i forget thee, o jerusalem"--passing from the mood of pity through words that are like the flash of spears to a rapture of revenge known only to the injured spirits of the great when baulked of their god-appointed fate. yet on the shores of the western sea the career of this race abruptly ends, as if in palestine they found a capua, as the crusaders long afterwards, templars and hospitallers, found in that languid air, the syrian clime, a capua. thus the hebrews missed the world-empire which the arabs gained, but even out of their despair created another empire, the empire of thought; and the power to found this empire, whether expressed in the character of their warriors, or in that unparalleled conviction which marks the hebrew in the remotest lands and most distant centuries, the certainty of his return, the refusal, unyielding, to believe that he has missed the great meed which, there in palestine, there in the capua of his race, seemed within his grasp, but attests further that it is in no lust for territory that these wars originate. in the historical and speculative literature of hellas and rome war occupies a position essentially identical with that which it occupies in the hebrew. it is the assertion of right by violence, or it is the pursuit of a fate-appointed end. aristotle, with his inveterate habit of subjecting all things--art, statesmanship, poetry--to ethics, regards war as a valuable discipline to the state, a protection against the enervating influence of peace. as the life of the individual is divided between business and leisure, so, according to aristotle, the life of the state is divided between war and peace. but to greatness in peace, greatness in war is a primal condition. the state which cannot quit itself greatly in war will achieve nothing great in peace. "the slave," he bitterly remarks, "knows no leisure, and the state which sets peace above war is in the condition of a slave." aristotle does not mean that the slave is perpetually at work, or that war is the sole duty of a great state, but as the soul destined to slavery is incapable even in leisure of the contemplations of the soul destined to freedom, so to the nation which shrinks from war the greatness that belongs to peace can never come. courage, plato defines as "the knowledge of the things that a man should fear and that he should not fear," and in a state, a city, or an empire courage consists in the unfaltering pursuit of its being's end against all odds, when once that end is manifest. this ideal element, this formative principle, underlies the hellenic conception of war throughout its history, from its first glorification in achilles to the last combats of the achaean league--from the divine beauty of the youthful achilles, dazzling as the lightning and like the lightning pitiless, yet redeemed to pathos by the certainty of the quick doom that awaits him, on to the last bright forms which fall at leuctra, mantinea, and ipsus. it requires a steadfast gaze not to turn aside revolted from the destroying fury of greeks against greeks--athens, thebes, sparta, corinth, and macedon--and yet even their claim to live, their greatness, did in this consist, that for so light yet so immortal a cause they were content to resign the sweet air and the sight of the sun, and of this wondrous fabric of a world in which their presence, theirs, the children of hellas, was the divinest wonder of all. of the grandeur and elevation which rome imparted to war and to man's nature it is superfluous to speak. as in statesmanship, so in war, he who would greatly praise another describes his excellence as roman, and thinks that all is said. the silver eagle which caius marius gave as an ensign to the legions is for once in history the fit emblem of the race that bore it to victory and world-dominion. history by fate or chance added a touch of the supernatural to the action of marius. the silver eagle announced the empire of the caesars; the substitution of the _labarum_ by constantine heralded its decline. with the emblem of humiliation and peace, the might of rome sinks, yet throughout the centuries that follow, returns of galvanic life, recollections of its ancient valour--as in stilicho, belisarius, heraclius, and zimisces[ ]--bear far into the middle age the dread name of the roman legion, though the circuit of the eagle's flight, once wide as the ambient air, is then narrowed to a league or two on either side of the bosphorus. § . definition of war to push the survey further would but add to the instances, without deepening the impression, of the measureless power of the ideal element in war, alike in the history of the great races of the past and of the present. even the wars which seem most arbitrary and, to the judgment of their contemporaries, purposeless, acquire, upon a deeper scrutiny and in after ages, a profound enough significance. behind the immediate occasion, trivial or capricious, sordid or grandiose, the destiny of the race, like the nemesis of greek tragedy, advancing relentlessly, pursuing its own far-off and lofty ends, constantly reveals itself. war, therefore, i would define as a phase in the life-effort of the state towards completer self-realization, a phase of the eternal nisus, the perpetual omnipresent strife of all being towards self-fulfilment. destruction is not its aim, but the intensification of the life, whether of the conquering or of the conquered state. war is thus a manifestation of the world-spirit in the form the most sublime and awful that can enthrall the contemplation of man. it is an action radiating from the same source as the heroisms, the essential agonies, +agôníai+, conflicts, of all life. "in this theatre of a world," as calderon avers, "all are actors, _todos son representantes_." there too the state enacts its tragedy. nation, city, or empire, it too is a _representante_. though the stage is of more imposing dimensions, the force of which each wears the mask is one with the force which sets the stars their path and guides the soul of man to its appointed goal. a war then is in the development of the consciousness of the state analogous to those moments in the individual career when, in hamlet's phrase, his fate "crying out," death is preferable to a disregard of the summoner. the state, the nation, or the empire hazards death, is content to resign existence itself, if so be it fulfil but its destiny, and swerve not from its being's law. not to be envied is that man who, in the solemn prayer of two embattled hosts, can discern but an organized hypocrisy, a mockery, an insult to god! god is the god of all the earth, but dark are the ways, obscure and tangled the forest-paths, in which he makes his children walk. a mockery? that cry for guidance in the dread ordeal, that prayer by the hosts, which is but the formulated utterance of the still, the unwhispered prayer in the heart of each man on the tented field--"through death to life, even through death to life, as my country fares on its great path through the thickening shadows to the greater light, to the higher freedom!"--is this a mockery? yet such is the prayer of armies. war so considered ceases to be an action continually to be deplored, regretted, or forgiven, ceases to be the offspring of human weakness or human crime, and the sentence of the greek orator recovers its living and consoling power--"of the dead who have fallen in battle the wide earth itself is the sepulchre; their tomb is not the grave in which they are laid, but the undying memory of the generations that come after them. they perish, snatched in a moment, in the height of achievement, not from their fear, but from their renown. fortunate! and you who have lost them, you, who as mortal have been born subject unto disaster, how fortunate are you to whom sorrow comes in so glorious a shape!" thus the great part which war has played in human history, in art, in poetry, is not, as rousseau maintains, an arraignment of the human heart, not necessarily the blazon of human depravity, but a testimony to man's limitless capacity for devotion to other ends than existence for existence' sake--his pursuit of an ideal, perpetually. § . count tolstoi and carlyle upon war those critics of the relations of state to state, of nation to nation, to whom i have more than once referred, have recently found in their condemnation of diplomacy and war a remarkable and powerful ally. amongst the rulers of thought, the sceptred sovereigns of the modern mind, count tolstoi occupies, in the beginning of the twentieth century, a unique position, not without exterior resemblance to that of goethe in the beginning of the nineteenth, or to that of voltaire in the great days of louis xv. in the gray and neutral region where the spheres of religion and ethics meet and blend, his words, almost as soon as spoken, rivet the attention, quicken the energies, or provoke the hostility of one-half the world--when he speaks, he speaks not to russia merely, but to europe, to america, and to the wide but undefined limits of greater britain. of no other living writer can this be said. carlyle had no such extended sway in his lifetime, nor had hugo so instantly a universal hearing. how then does tolstoi regard war? for on this high matter the judgment of such a man cannot but claim earnest scrutiny. examining his writings, even from _the cossacks_, through such a masterpiece as _war and peace_, colossal at once in design and in execution, on to his latest philosophical pamphlets or paragraphs, one phase at least of his thought reveals itself--gradually increasing vehemence in the expression of his abhorrence of all war as the instrument of oppression, the enemy of man's advance to the ideal state, forbidden by god, forbidden above all by christ, and by its continued existence turning our professed faith in christ into a derision. this general impression is deepened by his treatment of individual incidents and characters. has count tolstoi a campaign to narrate, or a battle, say the borodino, to describe? that which rivets his attention, absorbs his energies, is the fatuity of all the generals indiscriminately, even of kutusov; it is the supremacy of hazard; and in the hour of battle itself he sees no heroisms, no devotions, or he turns aside from such spectacles to fasten his gaze upon the shuddering heart, the blanched countenance, the agonizing effort of the combatants to conquer their own terror, their own dismay; and to close the scene he throws wide the hospital, and points to the wounds, the mutilated bodies, the amputated limbs yet quivering, to the fever, and the revel of death. has he the enigma of modern times to solve, napoleon i? in napoleon, who in the sphere of action is to modern history what shakespeare is in the sphere of art, tolstoi sees no more than the clerical harlequin, abbé de pradt, sees, a stage conqueror, a charlatan devoured by vanity, without greatness, dignity, without genius for war yet impatient of peace, shallow of intellect, tricking and tricked by all around him, dooming myriads to death for the amusement of an hour, yet on the dread morning of borodino anxious only about the quality of the eau de cologne with which he lavishly sprinkles his handkerchief, vest, and coat. and the campaigns of napoleon, republican, consular, imperial? lodi, arcola, marengo, austerlitz, eyiau, friedland, wagram, borodino, leipzig, champaubert, and montmirail? these all are the deeds of chance, of happy chance, the guide that is no guide, of the eyeless, brutal, dark, unthinking force resident in masses of men. this is tolstoi's conception of the man who is to the aryan race what hannibal is to the semitic--its crowning glory in war. consider in contrast with this the attitude towards war of a thinker, a visionary, not less great than tolstoi--carlyle. like tolstoi, carlyle is above all things a prophet, that is to say, he feels as the hebrew prophet felt deeply and with resentful passionateness, the contrast between what his race, nation, or people is, and what, by god's decrees, it is meant to be. yet what is carlyle's judgment upon war? his work is the witness. after the brief period of goethe-worship, from on through forty years of monastic seclusion and labour not monastic, but as of a literary hercules, the shaping thought of his work, tyrannous and all-pervading, is that of the might, the majesty, and the mystery of war. one flame-picture after another sets this principle forth. what a contrast are his battle-paintings to those of tolstoi! consider the long array of them from the first engagements of the french revolutionary chiefs at valmy and jemappes. these represent carlyle in the flush of manhood. his fiftieth year ushers in the battle-pictures of the civil war--marston moor, naseby, and dunbar, when cromwell defeats the men of carlyle's own nation. the greatest epoch of carlyle's life, the epoch of the writing of _frederick_, is also that of the mightiest series of his battle-paintings. and finally, when his course is nearly run, he rouses himself to write the last of all his battles, yet at once in characterization and vividness of heroic vision one of his finest, the death of the great berserker, olaf tryggvason, the old norse king. in the last sea-fight of olaf there flames up within carlyle's spirit, now in extreme age,[ ] the same glory and delight in war as in the days of his early manhood when he wrote valmy and jemappes. since the heroic age there are no such battle-pictures as these. the spirit of war that leaps and laughs within these pages is the spirit of homer and firdusi, of _beowulf_ and the _song of roland_, and when it sank, it was like the going down of a sun. the breath that blows through the _iliad_ stirs the pages of _cromwell_ and of _frederick_; mollwitz, rossbach, leuthen, zorndorf, leignitz, and torgau, these are to the delineation, the exposition of modern warfare, the warfare of strategy and of tactics, what the combats drawn by homer are to the warfare of earlier times. now in a mind not less profoundly religious than that of tolstoi, not less fixedly conscious of the eternal behind the transient, of the presence unseen that shapes all this visible universe, whence comes this exaltation of war, this life-long pre-occupation with the circumstance of war? to carlyle, nineteen centuries after christ, as to thucydides, four centuries before christ, war is the supreme expression of the energy of a state as such, the supreme, the tragic hour, in the life-history of the city, the nation, as such. to carlyle war is therefore neither anti-religious nor inhuman, but the evidence in the life of a state of a self-consecration to an ideal end; it is that manifestation of the world-spirit of which i have spoken above--a race, a nation, an empire, conscious of its destiny, hazarding all upon the fortunes of the stricken field! carlyle, as his writings, as his recorded actions approve, was not less sensitive than tolstoi to the pity of human life, to the "tears of things" as virgil would say; but are there not in every city, in every town, hospitals, wounds, mangled limbs, fevers, that make of every day of this sad earth of ours a day after borodino? the life that pants out its spirit, exultant on the battlefield, knows but its own suffering; it is the eye of the onlooker which discovers the united agony. it was a profounder vision, a wider outlook, not a harder heart, which made carlyle[ ] apparently blind to that side of war which alone rivets the attention of tolstoi--the pathological. and yet tolstoi and his house have for generations been loyal to the czars; he has proved that loyalty on the battlefield as his fathers before him have done. tolstoi has no system to crown, like auguste comte or mr. herbert spencer, with the coping-stone of universal peace and a world all sunk in bovine content. whither then shall we turn for an explanation of his arraignment of war? § . count tolstoi as representative of the slavonic genius considering tolstoi as a world-ruler, as goethe was, as voltaire was, a characteristic differentiating him from such men at once betrays itself. the nimble spirit of voltaire in its airy imaginings seems a native, or at least a charming visitant, of every clime, of every epoch; goethe, impelled more by his innate disposition than by any plan of culture, draws strength and inspiration from a circuit even wider than voltaire's--greece, rome, persia, italy, the middle age, mediaeval germany; carlyle's work made him, at least in spirit, a native of france for three or four years, and for twelve a german; even dr. henrik ibsen in his hot youth essayed a _catiline_, and in later life seeks the subject of what is perhaps his masterpiece, the _emperor and galilean_, in the rome of the fourth century. but in russia tolstoi begins, and in russia he ends. as volume after volume proceeds from his prolific pen--essays, treatises theological or social, tales, novels, diaries, or confessions--all alike are russian in scenery, russian in character, russian in temperament, russian in their aspirations, their hopes, or their despairs. nowhere is there a trace of hellas, rome does not exist for him, the middle age which allured hugo has for tolstoi no glamour. in this he but resembles the russian writers from krilov to the present day. it is equally true of gogol, of poushkine, of tourgenieff, of herzen, of lermontoff, of dostoievsky. if tourgenieff has placed the scene of one of his four longer works at baden, yet it is in the russian coterie that the tragedy of irene pavlovna unfolds itself. thus confined in his range, and in his inspiration, to his own race, the work of a russian artist, or thinker, springs straight from the heart of the race itself. when therefore tolstoi speaks on war, he voices not his own judgment merely but the judgment of the race. in his conception of war the force of the slavonic race behind him masters his own individual genius. capacity in a race for war is distinct from valour. amongst the aryan peoples, the slav, the hindoo, the celt display valour, contempt for life unsurpassed, but unlike the roman or the teuton they have never by war sought the achievement of a great political design, or subordinated the other claims of existence, whether of the nation or the individual, for the realization of a great political ideal. thus the history of the two western divisions of the slavonic race, poland and bohemia, reads like the history of ireland. it is studded with combats, but there is no war. the downfall of bohemia, the surrender of prague, the weissenberg, are but an illustration of this thesis. and three centuries earlier ottokar and his flaunting chivalry go down before the charge of rudolf of hapsburg, like vercingetorix before caius julius. ziska's cry of havoc to all the earth is not redeemed by fanaticism and has no intelligible end. and the noblest figure in czech history, george of podiebrad, whose portrait palacky[ ] has etched with laborious care and unerring insight, is essentially a statesman, not a warrior. similarly the history of the russian slav has marked organic resemblances with that of the poles and the czechs. his sombre courage, his enduring fortitude, are a commonplace. eyiau and friedland attested this, and many a later field, and the chronicle of his recent wars, from potiamkin to skobeleff, from kutusov to todleben, illustrate the justice of napoleon's verdict, "unparalleled heroism in defence." and yet out of the sword the slav has never forged an instrument for the perfection of a great political ideal. war has served the oppression, the ambition of his governments, not the aspirations of his race. conceived as the effort within the life of the state towards a higher self-realization, the slav knows not war. he has used war for defence in a manner memorable for ever to men, or for cold and pitiless aggression, but in the service of a constructive ideal, stretched across generations or across centuries, he has never used it. even the conquest of siberia, from the first advance of the novgorod merchants in the eleventh century, through the wars of ivan iv, and his successors, attests this. the don cossacks destroy the last remnant of the mighty mongol dynasty, a fragment flung off from the convulsion of the thirteenth century, ruled by a descendant of ginghis. the government of the czars astutely annexes the fruits of cossack valour, but in the administration of its first remarkable conquest the irremediable defect of the slavonic race declares itself. the innate energy, the determining genius for constructive politics which marks races destined for empire, everywhere is wanting. indeed the very despotism of the czars, alien in blood, foreign in character, derives its present security, as once its origin, from the immovable languor, the unconquerable tendency of the slav towards political indifferentism. nihilism, the tortured revolt against a secular wrong, is but a morbid expression of emotions and aspirations that have marked the slav throughout history. catherine the great felt this. its spirit baulked her enterprise in the very hour when voltaire urged that now if ever was the opportunity to recover constantinople from "the fanaticism of the moslem." the impressive designs of nicholas i left the heart of the race untouched, and in recent times the cynicism which has occasionally startled or revolted europe is but a pseudo-machiavellianism. it does not originate, like the policy which a polybius or a machiavelli, a richelieu or a mirabeau have described or practised, in the pursuit of a majestic design before whose ends all must yield, but from the absence of such design, betraying the _camerilla_ which has neither race nor nation, people nor city, behind it. russia's mightiest adversary, napoleon, knew the character of the race more intimately than its idol, napoleon's adroit flatterer and false friend, the czar alexander, knew it; yet the enthusiast of _valérie_, supple and calculating even in his mysticism, is still the noblest representative of the oppressive policy of two hundred years.[ ] such is the light which the temperament of his race and its history throw upon count tolstoi's arraignment of war. the government perceives in the solitary thinker its adversary, but an adversary who, unlike a bakounine, a nekrasoff, or a herzen, gives form and utterance not to the theories, the social or political doctrines of an individual or a party, but to the universal instincts of the whole slavonic people. therefore he will not die in exile. the bigotry of a priest may deny his remains a hallowed resting-place, but the government, instructed by the craft of nicholas i, and the fate of alexander iii, will allow the creator of anna karenina, of natascha, and of ivan illyitch, to breathe to the last the air of the steppes. § . the teachings of christ and war there remains an aspect of this question, frequently dealt with in the writings of tolstoi, but by no means confined to these writings, to which i must allude briefly. there are many men within these islands, if i mistake not, who regard with pride and emotion the acts of england in this great crisis, but nevertheless are oppressed with a vague consciousness that war, for whatever cause waged, is, as tolstoi declares, directly hostile to the commands, to the authority of christ. this is a subject which i approach with reluctance, with reverence, more for the sake of those amongst you upon whom such conviction may have weighed, than from any value i attach to the suggestions i have now to offer. first of all, as we have seen from this brief survey of the wars of the past, the most religious of the great races of the world, and the most religious amongst the divisions of those races--the hebrews, the romans, the teutons, the saracens, the osmanii--have been the most warlike and have pursued in war the loftiest political ends. this fact is significant, because war, like religion and like language, represents not the individual but the race, the city, or the nation. in a work of art, the _phaedrus_ of plato or the _bacchus and ariadne_ of titian, the genius of the individual is, in appearance at least, sovereign and despotic. but as a language represents the happy moments of inspiration of myriads of unremembered poets, who divined the fit sound, the perfect word, harmonious or harsh, to embody for ever, and to all succeeding generations of the race, its recurring moods of desire or delight, of pain, or sorrow, or fear; and as in a religion the heart-aspirations towards the divine of a long series of generations converge, by genius or fortune, into a flame-like intensity in a zerdusht, a mohammed, or a gautama buddha; so war represents the action, the deed, not of the individual but of the race. religion incarnates the thought, language the imagination, war the resolution, the _will_, of a race. reflecting then on the part which war has played in the history of the most deeply religious races, and of those states in which the attributes of awe, of reverence are salient features, it is surely idle enough to essay an arraignment of war as opposed to religion in general? secondly, with regard to a particular religion, the christian, it is remarkable that count tolstoi, who has striven so nobly to reach the faith beyond the creeds, and in his volume entitled _my religion_ has thrown out several illuminating ideas upon the teachings of christ as distinct from those of later creeds or sects, should not have perceived, or should have ignored the circumstance that in the actual utterances of christ there is not to be found one word, not one syllable, condemnatory of war between nation and nation, between state and state. the _locus classicus_, "all that take the sword," etc., is aimed at the impetuosity of the person addressed, or at its outmost range against civic revolt. it is only by wrenching the words from their context that it becomes possible to extend their application to the relations of one state to another. the organic unity, named a state, is not identical with the units which compose it, nor is it a mere aggregate of those units. if there is a lesson which history enforces it is this lesson. and upon the laws which regulate those unities named states, christ nowhere breathes a word. the violence of faction or enthusiasm have indeed forced such decision from his utterances. camille desmoulins, in a moment of rash and unreasoning rhetoric, styled him "le bon sans-culotte," and in the days of the _internationale_, michel bakounine traced the beginnings of nihilism to galilee; just as in recent times the anarchist, the socialist have in his sanction sought the justification of their crimes or their fantasies. but in his whole teaching there is nothing that affects the politics of state and state. ethics and metaphysics were outlined in his utterances, but not politics. his solitary reference to war as such contains no reprobation; a perverse ingenuity might even twist it into a maxim of prudence, a tacit assent to war. and the peace upon which christ dwells in one great phrase after another is not the amity of states, but a profounder, a more intimate thing. it is the peace on which the hebrew and the arab poets insist, the peace which arises within the soul, ineffable, wondrous, from a sense of reconciliation, of harmony with the divine, a peace which may, which does, exist on the battlefield as in the hermit's cell, in the fury of the onset as deep and tranquil as in the heart of him who rides alone in the desert beneath the midnight stars. tolstoi's criticism here arises from his extension to the more complex and intricate unity of the state of the same laws which regulate the simpler unity of the individuals who compose the state. and of such a war as this in which britain is now engaged, a war in its origin and course determined by that ideal which in these lectures i have sketched, a war whose end is the larger freedom, the higher justice, a war whose aim is not merely peace, but the full, the living development of those conditions of man's being without which peace is but an empty name, a war whose end is to deepen the life not only of the conquering, but of the conquered state--who shall assert, in the face of christ's reserve, that such a war is contrary to the teachings of galilee? finally, as the complement of this condemnation of war as the enemy of religion, men are exhorted, by the refusal of military service or other means, to strive as for the attainment of some fair vision towards the establishment of the empire of perpetual peace. the advent of this new era, it is announced, is at hand. § . the ideal of universal peace now the origins of this ideal are clear. it is ancient as life, and before man was, it was. it is the transference to the sphere of states of the deepest instinctive yearning of all being, from the rock to the soul of man, the yearning towards peace, towards the rest, the immortal leisure which, to apply the phrase of aristotle, the soul shall know in death, the deeper vision, the unending contemplation, the _theôria_ of eternity. the error of its enthusiasts, from saint-pierre and vauvenargues to herbart and count tolstoi, lies in the interpretation of this cosmic desire, deep as the wells of existence itself, and in the extension to the conditioned of a phase of the unconditioned. will war then never cease? will universal peace be for ever but a dream? upon this question, a consideration of the ideal itself, of the forms in which at various epochs it has presented itself, and of the crises at which, appearing or reappearing, it most profoundly engages the imagination of a race, is instructive. in hebrew history, for instance, it arises in the hour of defeat, in the consternation of a great race struck by irretrievable disaster. "how beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace!" in this and in other splendid pages of isaiah we possess the first distinct enunciation of this ideal in world-history, and with what a transforming radiance it is invested! in what a majesty of light and insufferable glory it is uplifted! but it is a vision of the future, to be accomplished in ages undreamed of yet. it is the throb of the hebrew soul beyond this earthly sphere and beyond this temporal dominion, to the immortal spheres of being, inviolate of time. yet even this vision, though co-terminous with the world, centres in judaea--in the triumph of the hebrew race and the overthrow of all its adversaries. similarly, to plato and to isocrates, to aristotle and to aeschines, if peace is to be extended to all the earth "like a river," hellas is the fountain from which it must flow. it is an imperial peace bounded by hellenic civilization, culture, laws. it is a peace forged upon war. rome with her genius for actuality discovers this. "pray for the peace of jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee. peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces. for my brethren and companions' sakes, i will now say, 'peace be within thee.'" substituting hellas for jerusalem, this is the prayer of a greek of the age of isocrates, of cleanthes, and of alexander. rome by war ends war, and establishes the _pax romana_ within her dominions, spain, gaul, africa, asia, syria, egypt. disregarding the dying counsels of augustus, rome remains at truceless war with the world outside those limits. st. just's proud resignation, "for the revolutionist there is no rest but the grave," is for ever true of those races dowered with the high and tragic doom of empire. to pause is disaster; to recede, destruction. rome understood this, and her history is its great comment. to islam the point at which she can bestow her peace upon men is not less clear, fixed by a power not less unalterable and high. neither haroun nor al-maimoun could, with all their authority and statecraft, stay the steep course of islam; for the wisdom of a race is wiser than the wisdom of a man, and the sword which, in abu bekr's phrase, the lord has drawn, islam sheathes but on the day of judgment. then and then only shall the holy war end. the peace of islam, _shalom_, which is its designation, is the serenity of soul of the warriors of god whose life is a warfare unending. and virgil--in that early masterpiece, which in the middle age won for all his works the felicity or the misfortune attached to the suspicion of an inspiration other than castalian, and drew to his grave pilgrims fired by an enthusiasm whose fountain was neither the ballad-burthen music of the _georgics_, nor the measureless pathos and pity for things human of the _aeneid_--has sung the tranquil beauty of the saturnian age; yet the peace which suggests his prophetic memory or hope is but the peace of octavianus, the end of civil discord, of the proscriptions, the conflicts of pharsalia, philippi, actium, a moment's respite to a war-fatigued world. passing from the ancient world to the modern, we encounter in the middle age within europe that which is known amongst mediaeval latinists as the _treva_ or _treuga dei_. this "truce of god" was a decree promulgated throughout europe for the cessation at certain sacred times of that feudal strife, that war of one noble against another which darkens our early history. it is the mediaeval equivalent of the pax romana and is but dimly related to any ideal of universal peace. hildebrand, who gave this truce of god more support than any other pope in the middle age, lights the fire of the crusades, giving to war one of the greatest consecrations that war has ever received. and the attitude of mediaeval europe towards eternal peace is the attitude of judaea, of hellas, and of rome.[ ] this is conspicuous in saint bernard, the last of the fathers, and three centuries later in pius ii, the last of the crusading pontiffs, the desire of whose life was to go even in his old age upon a crusade. this desire uplifts and bears him to his last resting-place in ancona, where the old man, in his dying dreams, hears the tramp of legions that never came, sees upon the adriatic the sails of galleys that were to bear the crusaders to palestine--yet there were neither armies nor ships, it was but the fever of his dream. during the reformation the ideal of universal peace is unregarded. the wars of religion, the world's debate, become the war of creeds. "i am not come to bring peace among you, but a sword." luther, for instance, declares war against the revolted peasants of germany with all the ardour and fury with which innocent iii denounced war against the albigenses. war in the language and thoughts of calvin is what it became to oliver cromwell, to the huguenots, and to the scottish covenanters, to jean chevallier and the insurgents of the cevennes. as luther in the sixteenth century represents the religious side of the reformation, so grotius in the seventeenth century represents the position of the legists of the reformation. in his work, _de jure belli ac pacis_, universal peace as an object of practical politics is altogether set aside. war is accepted as existent between nation and nation, state and state, and grotius lays down the laws which regulate it. similar attempts had been made in the religious councils of greece, and when the first great saracen army was starting upon its conquests, the first of the khalifs delivered to that army instructions which in their humanity have never been surpassed; the utmost observances of chivalry or modern times are there anticipated. but the treatise of grotius is the first elaboration of the subject in the method of his contemporary, verulam--the method of the science of the future. in the eighteenth century the singular work of the mild and amiable enthusiast, the abbé de saint-pierre,[ ] made a profound impression upon the thought not only of his own but of succeeding generations. kings, princes, philosophers, sat in informal conference debating the same argument as has recently occupied the dignitaries at the hague. it inspired some of the most earnest pages of d'alembert and of the encyclopédie. it drew from voltaire some happy invective, affording the opportunity of airing once more his well-loved but worthless paradox on the trivial causes from which the great actions of history arise. saint-pierre's ideal informs the early chapters of gibbon's history, but its influence disappears as the work advances. it charmed the fancy of rousseau, and, by a curious irony, he inflamed by his impassioned argument that war for freedom which is to the undying glory of france.[ ] frederick the great in his extreme age wrote to voltaire: "running over the pages of history i see that ten years never pass without a war. this intermittent fever may have moments of respite, but cease, never!" this is the last word of the eighteenth century upon the dream of universal peace--a word spoken by one of the greatest of kings, looking out with dying eyes upon a world about to close in one of the deadliest yet most heroic and memorable conflicts set down in the annals of our race. the hundred days are its epilogue--the war of twenty-five years ending in that great manner! then, like a pallid dawn, the ideal once more arises. congress after congress meets in ornamental debate, till six can be reckoned, or even seven, culminating in the recent conference at the hague. its derisive results, closing the debate of the nineteenth, as frederick's words sum the debate of the eighteenth century, are too fresh in all men's memories to require a syllable of comment. thus then it appears from a glance at its history that this ideal of universal peace has stirred the imagination most deeply, first of all in the ages when an empire, whether persian, hebraic, hellenic, or roman, conterminous with earth, wide as the inhabited world, was still in appearance realizable; or, again, in periods of defeat, or of civil strife, as in the closing age of the roman oligarchy; or in the moments of exhaustion following upon long-continued and desolating war, as in modern europe after the last phases of the reformation conflict, the wars of tilly and wallenstein, of marlborough and eugène, and of frederick. the familiar poetry in praise of peace, and the utopias, the composition of which has amused the indolence of scholars or the leisure of statesmen, originate in such hours or in such moods. on the other hand, the criticism of war, scornful or ironic, of the great thinkers and speculative writers of modern times, when it is not merely the phantom of their logic, an _eidôlon specus_ created by their system, arises in the most impressive instances less from admiration or desire or hope of perpetual peace than from the arraignment of all life, and all the ideals, activities, and purposes of men. hence the question whether war be a permanent condition of human life is answered by implication. for the history of the ideal of universal peace but re-enforces that definition of war set forth above, as a manifestation of the world-spirit, co-extensive with being, and as such, inseparable from man's life here and now. in all these great wars which we have touched upon, the conflict of two ideas, in the platonic sense of the word, unveils itself, but both ideas are ultimately phases of one idea. it is by conflict alone that life realizes itself. that is the be-all and end-all of life as such, of being as such. from the least developed forms of structural or organic nature to the highest form in which the world-force realizes itself, the will and imagination of man, this law is absolute. the very magic of the stars, their influence upon the human heart, derives something of its potency, one sometimes fancies, from the vast, the silent, mighty strife, the victorious energy, which brings their rays across the abysses and orbits of the worlds. what is the art of hellas but the conquest of the rock, the marble, and the fixing there in perennial beauty, perennial calm, the thought born from the travail of the sculptor's brain, or from the unrecorded struggle of dark forces in the past, which emerge now in a vision of transcendent rapture and light? by this conflict, multiplex or simple, the conquering energy of the form, the defeated energy of the material, the serenity of the statues of phidias, of the tragedies of sophocles, is attained. they are the symbol, the visible embodiment of the moment of deepest vision, and of the deepest agony now at rest there, a loveliness for ever. and as the aeons recede, as the intensity of the idea of the divine within man increases, so does this conflict, this _agonia_ increase. it is in the heart of the tempest that the deepest peace dwells. the power, the place of conflict, thus great in art, is in the region of emotional, of intellectual and of moral life, admittedly supreme. doubt, contrition of soul, and the other modes of spiritual _agonia_, are not these equivalent with the life, not death, of the soul? and those moments of serenest peace, when the desire of the heart is one with the desire of the world-soul, are not these attained by conflict? in the life of the state, the soul of the state, as composed of such monads, such constituent forms and organic elements, each penetrated and impelled by the divine, self-realizing, omnipresent _nisus_, how vain to hope, to desire, to pray, that _there_ this mystic all-pervading force, this onward-striving, this conflict, which is as it were the very essence and necessary law of being, should pause and have an end! war may change its shape, the struggle here intensifying, there abating; it may be uplifted by ever loftier purposes and nobler causes--but cease? how shall it cease? indeed, in the light of history, universal peace appears less as a dream than as a nightmare which shall be realized only when the ice has crept to the heart of the sun, and the stars, left black and trackless, start from their orbits. § . imperialism and war if war then be a permanent factor in the life of states, how, it may be asked, will it be affected by imperialism and by such an ideal as this of imperial britain? the effects upon war, will, i should say, be somewhat of this nature. it will greaten and exalt the character of war. not only in constitutional, but in foreign politics, the roots of the present lie deep in the past. in the wars of an imperial state the ideals of all the wars of the past still live, adding a fuller life to the life of the present. from the earliest tribal forays, slowly broadening through the struggles of feudalism and plantagenet kings to the wars of the nation, one creative purpose, one informing principle links century to century, developing itself at last in the wars of empire, wars for the larger freedom, the higher justice. and this ideal differs from the ideal of primitive times as the vast complexity of races, peoples, religions, climates, traditions, literatures, arts, manners, laws, which the word "britain" now conceals, differs from the 'companies' and 'hundreds' of daring warriors who followed the fortunes of a cerdic or an uffa. for the state which by conquest or submission is merged in the life of another state does not thereby evade that law of conflict of which i have spoken, but becomes subject to that law in the life of the greater state, national or imperial, of which it now forms a constituent and organic part. and looming already on the horizon, the wars of races rise portentous, which will touch to purposes yet higher and more mystic the wars of empires--as these have greatened the wars of nationalities, these again the wars of feudal kings, of principalities, of cities, of tribes or clans. secondly, this ideal of imperial britain will greaten and exalt the action of the soldier, hallowing the death on the battlefield with the attributes at once of the hero and the martyr. thus, when m. bloch and similar writers delineate war as robbed by modern inventions of its pomp and circumstance, when they expatiate upon the isolation resulting from a battle-line extended across leagues, and upon the "zone of death" separating the opposing hosts, one asks in perplexity, to what end does m. bloch consider that war was waged in the past? for the sake of such emotional excitement or parade as are now by smokeless powder, maxims, long-range rifles, and machine guns abolished? these are but the trappings, the outward vesture of war; the cause, the sacred cause, is by this transformation in the methods of war all untouched. was there then no "zone of death" between the armies at eyiau or at gravelotte? let but the cause be high, and men will find means to cross that zone, now as then--by the sapper's art if by no other! and as the pride and ostentation of battle are effaced, its inner glory and dread sanctity are the more evinced. the battlefield is an altar; the sacrifice the most awful that the human eye can contemplate or the imagination with all its efforts invent. "the drum," says a french moralist, "is the music of battle, because it deadens thought." but in modern warfare the faculties are awake. solitude is the touchstone of valour, and the modern soldier cast in upon himself, undazzled, unblinded, faces death singly. fighting for ideal ends, he dies for men and things that are not yet; he dies, knowing in his heart that they may never be at all. courage and self-renunciation have attained their height. nor have strategy and the mechanical appliances of modern warfare turned the soldier into a machine, an automaton, devoid of will and self-directing energy. contemporary history makes it daily clearer that in modern battles brain and nerve count as heavily as they ever did in the combats by the scamander or the simois. another genius and another epic style than those of homer may be requisite fitly to celebrate them, but the theme assuredly is not less lofty, the heroism less heroic, the triumph or defeat less impressive. twice, and twice only, is man inevitably alone--in the hour of death and the hour of his birth. man, alone always, is then supremely alone. in that final solitude what are pomp and circumstance to the heart? that which strengthens a man then, whether on the battlefield or at the stake or in life's unrecorded martyrdoms, is not the cry of present onlookers nor the hope of remembering fame, but the faith for which he has striven, or his conception of the purposes, the ends in which the nation for which he is dying, lives and moves and has its being. made strong by this, he endures the ordeal, the hazard of death, in the full splendour of the war, or at its sullen, dragging close, or in the battle's onset, or on patrol, the test of the dauntless, surrendering the sight of the sun, the coming of spring, and all that the arts and various wisdom of the centuries have added of charm or depth to nature's day. and in the great hour, whatever his past hours have been, consecrate to duty or to ease, to the loftiest or to the least-erected aims, whether he is borne on triumphant to the dread pause, the vigil which is the night after a battle, or falling he sinks by a fatal touch, and the noise of victory is hushed in the coming of the great silence, and the darkness swoons around him, and the cry "press on!" stirs no pulsation any longer--in that great hour he is lifted to the heights of the highest, the prophet's rapt vision, the poet's moment of serenest inspiration, or what else magnifies or makes approximate to the divine this mortal life of ours. war thus greatened in character by its ideal, the phrase of the greek orator, let me repeat, is no longer an empty sound, but vibrates with its original life--"how fortunate the dead who have fallen in battle! and how fortunate are you to whom sorrow comes in so glorious a shape!" an added solemnity invests the resolutions of senates, and the prayer on the battlefield, "through death to life," acquires a sincerity more moving and a simplicity more heroic. and these, i imagine, will be the results of imperialism and of this deepening consciousness of its destiny in imperial britain, whether in war which is the act of the state as a whole, or in the career of the soldier which receives its consummation there in the death on the battlefield. [ ] the sea and the invincible might of athens on the waves formed the connecting ideas of the three dramas, _phineus, persae, glaucus_. the trilogy was produced in or b.c., whilst the memory of salamis was still fresh in every heart. the phoenissae, the "women of sidon," a tragedy on the same theme by phrynichus, had been acted five years earlier. the distinction of these works lay in the presentation to the conquering state of a great victory as a tragedy in the life of the vanquished. the cry in the _persae_, "+ôpaides hellénôíte+", still echoes with singular fidelity across , years in the war-song of _modern_ greece: "+deúte paides ton hellénôn+." [ ] thus in speaking of the ancient life of the teutonic peoples: "doch alles das (neigung zum kampf mit den nachbarn und zu kriegerischen zügen in die ferne) hat nicht gehindert, dass, wo die deutschen sich niederliessen, alsbald bestimmte ordnungen des öffentlichen und rechtlichen lebens begründet wurden."--_verfassungsgeschichte_, rd ed., i, p. ; _cf._ also i, pp. - : "es hat nicht eigene kriegsvölker gegeben, gebildet durch und für den krieg, nicht kriegsstaaten in solchem sinn, dass alles ganz und allein für den krieg berechnet gewesen wäre, nicht einmal auf die dauer kriegsfürsten, deren herrschaft nur in kriegführung und heeresmacht ihren grund gehabt." [ ] the lapse of ages, enthusiasm, or carelessness, tribal jealousies or the accidental predilections of an individual poet or historian, combine to render the early history of the arabs, so far as precision in dates, the definite order and mutual relations of events, characters, and localities are concerned, perplexing and insecure, or tantalizing by the wealth of detail, impressive indeed, but eluding the test of historical criticism. their tactics and the composition of their armies make the precise share of this or that general in determining the result of a battle or a campaign difficult to estimate. yet by (he concord of authorities the glory of the overthrow of the empire of the sassanides seems to be the portion, first of mothanna, who sustained the fortunes of islam at a most critical hour, a.h. - , and by his victory at boawib just warded off a great disaster; and secondly of saad, the victor of kadesia, a.h. , a.d. - , the conqueror and first administrator of irak. the claims of amr, or amrou, to the conquest of egypt, pelusium, memphis, alexandria, a.d. , admit of hardly a doubt; whilst the distinction of khalid, "the sword of god," in the syrian war at the storming of damascus and in the crushing defeat of heraclius at the yermuk, august, a.d. , may justly entitle him to the designation--if that description can be applied to any one of the devoted band--of "conqueror of syria." [ ] "the twelve years of their military command (_i.e._, of nicephorus and zimisces) form the most splendid period of the byzantine annals. the sieges of mopsuestia and tarsus in silicia first exercised the skill and perseverance of their troops, on whom at this moment i shall not hesitate to bestow the name of romans."--gibbon, chap. lii. the reign of zimisces, a.d. - , forms the subject of the opening chapters, pp. - , of schlumberger's massive work, _l'épopée byzantine à la fin du dixième siècle_, paris, , which exhausts every resource of modern research into this period. zimisces' rise to power, and the career of the other heroic figure of the tenth century in byzantine history are dealt with not less exhaustively in schlumberger's earlier volume, _un empereur byzantin_, paris, . [ ] carlyle was in his seventy-seventh year when he completed the _early kings of norway_. "finished yesterday that long rigmarole upon the norse kings" is the comment in his journal under date february th, .--froude, _carlyle's life in london_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] mr. herbert spencer's characterization of carlyle as a devil-worshipper (_data of ethics_, § ) must be regarded less as an effort in serious criticism than as the retort, perhaps the just retort, of the injured evolutionist and utilitarian to the pig philosophy of the eighth of the _latter-day pamphlets_. [ ] the revolution of made the appearance of palacky's work in the native language of bohemia possible. two volumes had already been issued in german. if ever the work of a scholar and an historian had the effect of a national song, this virtue may be ascribed to the czech version of palacky's _geschichte böhmens_. after two centuries of subjection to the hapsburgs and apparent oblivion of her past, bohemia awoke and discovered that she had a history. of the seven volumes of the german edition, the period dominated by the personality of george of podiebrad forms the subject of the fourth (prague, - ). [ ] france has given the world the revolution; germany, the reformation; italy, modern art; but russia? "we," tourgenieff once said, "we have given the samovar." but that poet's own works, the symphonies of tschaikowsky, the one novel of dostoievsky, have changed all this. [ ] nevertheless the truce of god is one of the noblest efforts of mediaeval europe. it drew its origins from southern france, arising partly from the misery of the people oppressed by the constant and bloody strife of feudal princes and barons, heightened at that time by the fury of a pestilence, partly also from a widespread and often fixed and controlling persuasion that with the close of the century the thousand years of the apocalypse would be fulfilled, and that with the year a.d. the day of judgment would dawn. ducange has collected the evidence bearing on the use of the latin term, and semichon's admirable work, _la paix et la trève de dieu, première édition_, , _deuxième édition revue et augmentée_, , sketches the growth of the movement. with the eleventh century, though the social misery is unaltered, the force of the mystic impulse is lost; at the synod of tuluges in the days of the week on which the truce must be observed are limited to two. but towards the close of the century the rising power of hildebrand and the crusading enthusiasm gave the movement new life, and the days during which all war was forbidden were extended to four of the seven days of the week, those sacred to the last supper, death, sepulture, and resurrection. with the decline of the crusading spirit and the rise of monarchical principles the influence and use of the treuga waned. the verses of the troubadour, bertrand le born, are celebrated--"peace is not for me, but war, war alone! what to me are mondays and tuesdays? and the weeks, months, and years, all are alike to me." the stanza fitly expresses the way in which the truce had come to be regarded by feudal society towards the close of the twelfth century. [ ] st.-pierre's work appeared in , three years after malplaquet, the most sanguinary struggle of the marlborough wars. it is thus synchronous with the last gloomy years of louis xiv, when france, and her king also, seemed sinking into the mortal lethargy of jesuitism. st.-simon in his early volumes has written the history of these years. voltaire accuses st.-pierre of originating or encouraging the false impression that he had derived his theory from the dauphin, the pupil of fenelon and the marcellus of the french monarchy. an english translation of st.-pierre's treatise was published in with the following characteristic title-page: "a project for settling an everlasting peace in europe, first proposed by henry iv of france, and approved of by queen elizabeth and most of the princes of europe, and now discussed at large and made practicable by the abbot st. pierre of the french academy." [ ] as late as we find priestley looking to the french revolution as the precursor of the era of universal peace. in a discourse delivered at "the meeting house in the old-jewry, th april, ," he describes the "glorious enthusiasm which has for its objects the flourishing of science and the extinction of wars." france, he declares, "has ensured peace to itself and to other nations at the same time, cutting off almost every possible cause of war," and enables us "to prognosticate the approach of the happy times in which the sure prophecies of scripture inform us that wars shall cease and universal peace and harmony take place." lecture vi the vicissitudes of states and empires [_tuesday, july_ _rd_, ] having considered in the first lecture a definition of imperialism, and traced in the second and third the development in religion and in politics of the ideal of imperial britain, and having afterwards examined the relations of this ideal to the supreme questions of war and peace, an inquiry not less momentous, but from its intangible and even mystic character less capable of definite resolution, now demands attention. how is this ideal of the imperialistic state related to that from which all states originally derive? how is it related to the divine? from the consideration of this problem two others arise, that of the vicissitudes of states and empires, and that of the destiny of this empire of imperial britain. from the analogy of the past is it possible to apprehend even dimly the curve which this empire, moved by a new ideal, and impelled by the deepening consciousness of its destiny, will describe amongst the nations and the peoples of the earth? empire, we have seen, is the highest expression of the soul of the state; it is the complete, the final consummation of the life of the state. but the state, the soul of the state, is in itself but a unity that is created from the units, the individuals which compose it. nevertheless the unity of the state which results from those units is not the same unity, nor is it subject to, or governed by, the same laws as regulate the life of the individual. not only the arraignment of the maxims of statesmen as immoral, but the theories, fantastic or profound, of the rise and fall of states, are marred or rendered idle utterly by the initial confusion of the organic unity of the state with the unity of the individual. but though no composite unity is governed by the same laws as govern its constituent atoms, nevertheless that unity must partake of the nature of its constituent atoms, change as they change, mutually transforming and transformed. so is this unity of the state influenced by the units which compose it, which are the souls of men. § i. the metaphysical origin of the state consider then, first of all, in relation to the consciousness which is the attribute of the life of the state, the consciousness which is the soul of man. in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, as we have seen, the saintly ideal which had hitherto controlled man's life dies to the higher thought of europe. the saint gives place to the crusader and scholastic, and the imagination of the time acknowledges the spell of oriental paganism and oriental culture. certain of the most remarkable minds of that epoch, men like berengarius of tours, for instance, or st. victor, and amalrich, are profoundly troubled by a problem of the following nature. how shall the justice of god be reconciled with the destiny he assigns to the souls of men? they are sent forth from their rest in the divine to dwell in habitations of mortal flesh, incurring reprobation and exile everlasting, or after a season returning, according as they are appointed to a life dark to the sacrifice on calvary, or to a life by that blood redeemed. by what law or criterion of right does god send forth those souls, emanations of his divinity, to a doom of misery or bliss, according as they are attached to a body north of the mediterranean, or southward of that sea, within the sway of the falsest of false prophets, mohammed? this trouble in the heart of the eleventh century arose from the insight which compassion gives; the european imagination, at rest with regard to its own safety, is for the first time perplexed by the fate of men of an alien race and faith, whose heroism it has nevertheless learnt to revere, as in after-times it was perplexed in pondering the fate of greece and rome, whose art and thought it vainly strove to imitate. underlying this trouble in their hearts is the assumption to which plato and certain of his sect have leanings, that within the divine there is as it were a treasury of souls from which individual essences are sped hither, to dwell within each mortal body immediately on its birth. now in an earlier age than the age of berengarius and st. victor, there arose within alexandria one whose thought in its range, in the sweep of its orbit, was perhaps the widest and most distant amongst the children of men. in the most remarkable and sublime of his six _enneads_, another theory upon the same subject occurs.[ ] the fate of the soul in passing from its home with the everlasting is like the fate of a child which in infancy has been removed from its parents and reared in a foreign land. the child forgets its country and its kindred as the soul forgets in the joy of its freedom the felicity it knew when one with the divine. but after the lapse of years if the child return amongst its kindred, at first indeed it shall not know them, but now a word, now a gesture, or again a trick of the hand, a cadence of the voice, will come to it like the murmur of forgotten seas by whose shores it once had dwelt, awaking within it strange memories, and gradually by the accumulation of these the truth will at last flash in upon the child--"behold my father and my brethren!" so the soul of man, though knowing not whence it came, is by the teachings of divine wisdom, and by inspired thinkers, quickened to a remembrance of its heavenly origin, and its life henceforth becomes an ever-increasing, ever more vivid memory of the tranced peace, the bliss that it knew there within the everlasting. let me attempt to apply this thought of the egyptian mystic to the problem before us. disregarding the theory of an infinite series of successive incarnations from the inexhaustible treasury of the divine, permit me to recall the observations made in an earlier lecture on the contrast between the limited range of man's consciousness, and the measureless past stretching behind him, the infinite spaces around him. judged by the perfect ideal of knowledge, the universe is necessary to the understanding of a flower, and the dateless past to the intelligence of the history of a day. but as the beam of light never severs itself from its fountain, as the faintest ray that falls within the caverns of the sea remains united with the orb whence it sprang, so the soul of man has grown old along with nature, and acquainted from its foundations with the fabric of the universe. therefore when it confronts some simple object of sense or emotion, or the more intricate movements and events of history, or the rushing storm of the present, the soul has about it strange intimacies, it has within it preparations drawn from that fellowship with nature throughout the aeons, the abysses of eternity. and as the aeons advance, the soul grows ever more conscious of the end of all its striving, and its serenity deepens as the certainty of the ultimate attainment of that end increases. baulked of its knowledge of an hour by its ignorance of eternity, it attains its rest in the infinite, which seeking it shall find, piercing through every moment of the transient to the eternal. what are the spaces and the labyrinthian dance of the worlds to the soul which is ever more profoundly absorbed, remembering, knowing, or in vision made prescient of its identity with the soul of the universe? and as the ages recede, the immanence of the divine becomes more consciously, more pervadingly present. earth deepens in mystery; premonitions of its destiny visit the soul, falling manifold as the shadows of twilight, or in mysterious tones far-borne and deep as the chords struck by the sweeping orbs in space. the soul thus neglects the finite save as an avenue to the infinite, and holds knowledge in light esteem unless as a path to the wonder, the ecstasy, and the wisdom which are beyond knowledge. the past is dead, the present is a dream, the future is not yet, but in the eternal now the soul is one with that reality of which the remotest pasts, the farthest presents, the most distant futures, are but changing phases. if then we regard the soul, its origin and its destiny, in this manner, what a wonder of light invests its history within time! banished from its primal abode beyond the crystal walls of space, with what achievements has not the exile graced the earth, its habitation! wondrous indeed is man's course across the earth, and with what shall the works of his soul be compared? from those first uncertainties, those faltering elations, the vision, dimly discerned as yet, lures him with tremulous ecstasies to eternise the fleeting, and in columned enclosure and fretted canopy to uprear an image which he can control of the arch of heaven and the unsustained architecture of the stars. these out-reach his mortal grasp, outwearying his scrutiny, blinding his intelligence; but, master of the image, his soul knows again by reflection the felicity which it knew when one with the shaper of the worlds. and thus the soul mounts, steep above steep, from the rudely hewn granite to the breathing marbles of the parthenon, to the hues of titian, to the forests in stone, the domes and minarets, and the gemmed splendour of later races, to the drifted snows of the taj-mahal, iridescent with diamond and pearl. yea, from those first imaginings, caught from the brooding rocks, and moulded in the substance of the rocks, still it climbs, instructed by the winds, the ocean's tidal rhythm, and the tumultuous transports of the human voice, its raptures, sorrows, or despairs, to the newer wonder, the numbered cadences of poetry, the verse of homer, sophocles, and shakespeare. and at the last, lessoned by those ancient instructors, winds and tides, and the ever-moving spheres of heaven, how does the soul attain its glory, and in music, the art of arts, the form of forms, poise on the starry battlements of god's dread sanctuary, tranced in prayer, in wonder ineffable, at the long pilgrimage accomplished at last--in the _adagio_ of the great concerto, in the _requiem_, or those later strains of transhuman sadness and serenity trans-human, in which the soul hears again the song sung by the first star that ever left the shaping hands of god and took its way alone through the lonely spaces, pursuing an untried path across the dark, the silent abysses--how dark, how silent!--a moving harmony, foreboding even then in its first separate delight and sorrow of estrangement all the anguish and all the ecstasy that the unborn universes of which it is the herald and precursor yet shall know! aristotle indeed affirms that in the universe there are many things more excellent than man, the planets, for instance. he is thinking of the mighty yet perfect curve which they describe, though with all the keenness of his analytic perception, he is in this judgment not unaffected by the fancy, current in his time, that those planets are living things each with its attendant soul, which shapes its orbit and that fixed path athwart the night. how much higher a will that steadfast motion argues than the wavering purposes, the unstable desires of human life. but we know that the planet with all its mighty curve is but as the stage to the piece enacted thereon; it is the moving theatre on which the drama of life, from its first dark unconscious motions to the freest energy of the soul in its airy imaginings, is accomplished. and the thought of pascal which might be a rejoinder to this of aristotle is well known, that though the universe rise up against man to destroy him, yet man is greater than the universe, because he knows that he dies, but of its power to destroy the universe knows nothing. if this then be the origin of the individual soul, and if its recorded and unrecorded history and action in the universe be of this height, it is not astonishing that the laws and operations of the soul of the state, which is of an order yet more complex and mysterious, should baffle investigation, and foil the most assiduous efforts to reduce them to a system, and compel speculation to have recourse to such false analogies and misleading resemblances as those to which reference has in these lectures more than once been made. § . the state, empires, and art thus we trace the unity of the state to the unity of the individual soul, and thence to the divine unity. the soul of the state is the higher, the more complex unity, and it is not merely in the actions of the individual in relation to or as an organic part of the state that we must seek for the entire influence of the state upon individual life, or for the perfect expression of the abstract energy of the state in itself and by itself. man in such relations does often merit the reprobation of rousseau, and his theory of the deteriorating effects of a complex unity upon the single unity of the individual soul seems often to find justification. similarly, the exclusive admiration of many unwitting disciples of rousseau for the deeds of the individual as opposed to the deeds of the state, for art as opposed to politics, discovers in a first study of these relations strong support. but the artist is not isolated and self-dependent. if the supreme act of a race is war, if its supreme thought is its religion, and its supreme poems, its language--deeds, thoughts, and poems to which the whole race has contributed--so in manifold, potent, if unperceived ways the state affects those energizings in art and thought which seem most independent of the state. the sentence of aristotle is familiar, "the solitary man is either a brute or a god," but the solitariness whether of the thebaid or of fonte avellano, of romualdo, damiani, or of that yogi, who, to exhibit his hate and scorn of life, flung himself into the flames in the presence of alexander, is yet indebted and bound by ties invisible, mystic, innumerable, to the state, to the race, for the structural design of the soul itself, for that very pride, that isolating power which seems most to sever it from the state.[ ] and who shall determine the limits of the unconscious life which in that lonely contemplation or that lonelier scorn, the soul receives from the state? for from the same source the component and the composite, the constituent and the constituted unity alike arise, and the immanence that is in each is one. "whither shall i go from thy spirit? or whither shall i flee from thy presence? if i ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if i make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. if i take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. if i say, surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to thee." the everyday topic which makes man "the creature of his time" derives whatever truth it possesses from this unity, but sophocles did not write the _ajax_ because miltiades fought at marathon, nor tirso, _el condennado_ because cortez defeated montezuma. whatever law connect greatness in art and greatness in action, it is not the law of cause and effect, of necessary succession in time. they are the mutually dependent manifestations of the same immortal energy which uplifts the whole state, whose motions arise from beyond time, the roots of whose being are beyond the region of cause and effect. consider now as an illustration of the interdependence of the soul of the individual and of the state, and of the immanence in each of the divine, the relation which world-history reveals as existing between the higher manifestations of the life of the individual and of the state. the greatest achievements of individual men, whether in action, or in art, or in thought, are, it will generally be found, coincident with, and synchronous with, the highest form which in its development the state assumes, that is, with some form or mode of empire. for it is not merely the art of phidias, of sophocles, that springs from the energy aroused by the persian invasions; the energy which finds expression in the empire of athens is to be traced thither, empire and art arising from the same exaltation of the state and of the individual. but they are not related as cause and effect, nor is the art of sophocles _caused_ by marathon; but the _agamemnon_ and salamis, the parthenon and the _ajax_, are incarnations in words, in deeds, or in marble of the divine idea immanent in the whole race of the hellenes. a race capable of empire, the civic form of imperialism, thus arises simultaneously with its greatest achievements in art. similarly in the civic state of mediaeval florence, the age of leonardo and of savonarola is also the age of lorenzo, when in politics florence competes with venice and the borgias for the hegemony of italy, and the actual bounds of her civic empire are at their widest. so in venetian history empire and art reach their height together, and the age which succeeds that of giorgione and of titian is an end not only to the painting but to the political greatness of venice. as in civic so in national empires. in spain, charles v and the philips are the tyrants of the greatest single military power and of the first nation of the earth, and have as their subjects rojas and tirso, lope and cervantes, calderon and velasquez. racine and molière serve _le grand monarque_, as apelles served alexander. the mariners who sketched the bounds of this empire, which is at last attaining to the full consciousness of its mighty destinies, were the contemporaries of marlowe and webster, of beaumont and ford. napoleon's fretful impatience that its victories should have as their literary accompaniments only the wan tragedies of joseph chénier and the unleavened odes of millevoye was just. an empire so glorious, if based on the people's will, should not have found in the genius of the age its sworn antagonist. this stamped his empire as spurious. but these simultaneous phenomena, these supreme attainments at once in action and in art, are not connected as cause and effect. for the roots of their identity we must search deeper. the transcendent deed and the work of art alike have their origin in the _élan_ of the soul, the diviner vision or the diviner desire. the will which becomes the deed, the vision which becomes the poem or the picture, are here as yet one; and this _élan_, this energy of the soul, what is it but the energy of the infinite within the finite, of the eternal within time? art in whatever perfection it attains is but an illustration, imperfect, of the spirit of man. the greatest books that ever were written, the most exquisite sculptures that ever were carved, the most delicate temples that ever were reared, the richest paintings that ever came from titian are all in themselves ultimately but the dust of the soul of him who composes them, builds them, carves them. the unrevealed and the unrevealable is the soul itself that in such works is dimly adumbrated. the most perfect statue is but an imperfect semblance of the beauty which the sculptor beheld, though intensifying and reacting upon, and even in a sense consummating, that inward vision; and the sublimest energy of imperial rome derives its tragic height from the degree to which it realizes the energy of the race. in the islam of omar this law displays itself supremely, and with a flame-like vividness. there the divine origin of the state which in the athens of pericles is hidden or revealed in the myriad forms of art, plastic or poetic, in the rome of sulla or caesar in tragic action, displays itself in naked purity and in majesty unadorned. if artistic loveliness marks the age of sophocles, tragic grandeur the rome of augustus, mystic sublimity is the feature of the islam of omar. the thought and the deed, +lógos kaì poíêsis+, here are one. § . the fall of empires: the theory of retribution we have now reached the final stage of our inquiry. is there any law by which the vicissitudes of the states, whose origin has been traced through the individual to a remoter and more awful source, are fixed and directed? and can the decay of empires, those supreme forms in the development of states, be resolved into its determining causes, or do we here confront a movement which is beyond the sphere ruled by cause and effect? in western europe a broken arch and some fragments of stone are often all that mark the place where stood some perfect achievement of mediaeval architecture, a feudal stronghold or an abbey. but on the lower plains of the euphrates and tigris, a ruin hardly more conspicuous may denote the seat of an empire. such a region, fronting the desert, formed a fit theatre for man's first speculations upon his own destiny and that of the nations. those two inquiries have proceeded together. his vision of the universe, original or accepted, inevitably shapes and transforms the poet's, the prophet's, or the historian's vision of any portion of that universe, however limited in time and space. hebrew literature, affected by the revolutions of assyria, chaldaea, media, and egypt, already discloses two theories which, modified or applied, mould man's thought when bent to this problem down to the present hour. round one or other of these conceptions the speculations of over two thousand years naturally group themselves. the first of these theories, which may be styled the theory of retribution, attributes the decay of empires to the visitation of a divine vengeance. the fall of an empire is the punishment of sin and of wrong-doing. the pride and iniquity of the few, or the corruption and ethical degeneration of the mass, involves the ruin of the state. regardless of the contradictions to this law in the life of the individual, its supremacy in the life of empires has throughout man's history been decreed and proclaimed. hebrew thought was perplexed and amazed from the remotest periods at the felicity of the oppressor and the unjust man, and the misery of the good. but the sublime and inspired rhetoric of isaiah rests upon the assumption that the punishment of wrong, uncertain amongst men, is sure amongst nations and states. in a more ethical form this conception is easily traced throughout greek and roman thought. in st. augustine it reappears in its original shape, and invested with the dignity, the fulness, and the precision of an historical argument. a roman by birth, culture, and youthful sympathies, loving the sad cadences of virgil like a passion, admitted by cicero to an intimacy with hellenic thought, he is, later in life, attracted, fascinated, and finally subdued by the ideal of the nazarene, and by the poetry and history behind it. he sees rome fall; and what the fate of babylon was to the hebrew prophet the fate of rome becomes to augustinus--the symbol of divine wrath, the punishment of her pride, her idolatry, and her sin. rome falls as babylon, as assyria fell; but in the _de civitate_, to which he devotes some fifteen years of his life, is delineated the city which shall not pass away.[ ] the destruction of rome, limited in time and space, coalesces with the wider thought of the stoics, the destruction of the world. so to the middle age the fall of rome was but an argument for the theme of the passing away of earth itself and all earthly things like a scroll. before its imagination, as along a highroad, moved a procession of empires--assyria, media, babylon, greece, rome, persia, and at the last, as a shadowy dream of all these, the empire of charlemagne and of the othos. their successive falls point to man's obstinacy in sin, and the recurrence of the event to the nearness of the judgment. the treatises of damiani, otho of freisingen,[ ] and of the cardinal lothar, formulate the argument, and as late as the seventeenth century bossuet dedicates to this same theme an eloquence not less impressive and finished than that of augustine himself. in recent times this theory influences strongly the historical conceptions of ruskin and carlyle. it is the informing thought of ruskin's greatest work, _the stones of venice_. the value of that work is imperishable, because the documents upon which it is based are by the wasting force of wind and sun and sea daily passing beyond scrutiny or comparison. yet its philosophy is but an echo of the philosophy of carlyle's second period, and as ever, the disciple exaggerates the teachings of the master. the bent of carlyle's genius was nearer that of rousseau than he ever permitted himself to imagine. in the cromwelliad carlyle elaborates the fancy that the one great and heroic period of english history is that of cromwell, and that in a return to the principles of that era lies the salvation of england. similarly ruskin allots to venice its great and heroic period, ascribing that greatness to the fidelity of the people of venice to the standard of st. mark and the ideal of christianism of which that standard was the emblem. but in the sixteenth century venice swerved from this ideal, and her fall is the consequence. in all such speculations a method has been applied to the state identical with that indicated in the second lecture. they exhibit the effort of the human mind to discover in the universe the evolution of a design in harmony with its own conception of what individual life is or ought to be. genius, beauty, virtue, the breast consecrated to lofty aims, are still the dearest target to disaster, and to the blind assaults of fate and man. in individual life, therefore, the primitive conception has been modified, but in the wider and more intricate life of a state the endless variety of incidents, characters, fortunes, the succession of centuries, and of modes of thought, literatures, arts, creeds, the revolutions in political ideals, offer so complex a mass of phenomena that the breakdown of the theory, patent at once in the narrower sphere of observation, is here obscured and shielded from detection. man's intellect is easily the dupe of the heart's desire, and in the brief span of human life willingly carries a fiction to the grave. and he who defends a pleasing dream is necessarily honoured amongst men more than the visionary whose course is towards the glacier heights and the icy solitudes of thought. § . the fall of empires: the cyclic theory the second theory is that of a cycle in human affairs, which controls the rise and fall of empires by a law similar to that of the seasons and the revolutions of the heavenly bodies. this theory varies little; the metaphors, the figures by which it is darkened or made clearer change, but the essential idea remains one in the great myth of plato or in the indian epics, in the rigid steel-clasped system of vico, or in the sentimental musings of volney. the vicissitudes are no more determined by the neglect or performance of religious rites or certain ethical rules. man's life is regarded as part of the universal scheme of things, and the fate of empires as subject to natural laws. the mode in which this theory originates thus connects itself at once with the mode of the chaldean astrology and modern evolution. it appears late in the development of hebrew thought, and finds its most remarkable expression in the fragment, the writer of which is now not unfrequently spoken of as "khoëleth."[ ] "one generation passeth away and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth for ever. the sun also riseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place, where he arose. the wind goeth towards the south and turneth about unto the north, it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. the thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done, is that which shall be done, and there is no new thing under the sun. is there anything whereof it may be said, see, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us. there is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after." the writings of machiavelli reveal a mind based on the same deeps as khoëleth, brooding on the same world-wide things. like him, he looks out into the black and eyeless storm, the ceaseless drift of atoms; like him, he surveys the states and empires of the past, and sees in their history, their revolutions, their rise and decline, but the history of the wind which, in the hebrew phrase, goes circling in its circles, _sov[)a]v sov[=e]v_, and returneth to the place whence it came, and universal darkness awaits the world, and oblivion universal the tedious story of man. in work after work of machiavelli, letters, tales, dramas, historical and political treatises, this conception recurs. it is the central and informing thought of his life as a philosophical thinker. but unlike vico, machiavelli avoids becoming the slave of a theory. he shadows forth this system of some dim cycle in human affairs as a conception in which his own mind finds quiescence if not rest. its precise character he nowhere describes. amongst philosophical historians tacitus occupies a unique position. he rivals dante in the cumulative effect of sombre detail and in the gloomy energy which hate supplies. in depth and variety of creative insight he approaches balzac,[ ] whilst in his peculiar province, the psychology of death, he stands alone. his is the most profoundly imaginative nature that rome produced. three centuries before the fall of rome he appears to apprehend or to forbode that event, and he turns to a consideration of the customs of the teutonic race as if already in the first century he discerned the very manner of the cataclysm of the fourth. both his great works, the _histories_ and the _annals_, read at moments like variations and developments of the same tragic theme, the "wrath of the gods against rome," the _deûm ira in rem romanam_ of the _annals_; whilst in the _histories_ the theory of retribution appears in the reflection, _non esse curae deis securitatem nostrum, esse ultionem_, with which he closes his preliminary survey of the havoc and civil fury of the times of galba--"not our preservation, but their own vengeance, do the gods desire." it is as if, transported in imagination far into the future, tacitus looked back and pronounced the judgment of rome in a spirit not dissimilar from that of saint augustine. yet the rome of trajan and of the antonines, of severus and of aurelian, was to come, and, as if distrusting his rancour and the wounded pride of an oligarch, tacitus betrays in other passages habits of thought and speculation of a widely different bearing. his sympathies with the stoic sect were instinctive, but in his reserve and deep reticence he resembles, not seneca, but machiavelli or thucydides. a passage in the _annals_ may fitly represent the impression of reserve which these three mighty spirits, tacitus, thucydides, and machiavelli, at moments convey. "sed mihi haec ac talia audienti in incerto judicium est, fatone res mortalium et necessitate immutabili an forte volvantur; quippe sapientissimos veterum, quique sectam eorum aemulantur, diversos reperias, ac multis insitam opinionem non initia nostri, non finem, non denique homines dis curae; ideo creberrime tristia in bonos, laeta apud deteriores esse; contra alii fatum quidem congruere rebus putant, sed non e vagis stellis, verum apud principia et nexus naturalium causarum; ac tamen electionem vitae nobis relinquunt, quam ubi elegeris, certum imminentium ordinem; neque mala vel bona quae vulgus putet."[ ] and yet the theory of retribution had not been without its influence upon thucydides. it even forces the structure of his later books into the regularity of a tragedy, in which athens is the protagonist, and a verse of sophocles the theme. but his earlier and greater manner prevails, and from the study of his work the mind passes easily to the contemplation of the doom which awaited the destroyers of athens, the monstrous tyrannies in syracuse, and lacedaemon's swift ruin. another phase of the position of tacitus deserves attention. it was a habit of writers of the eighteenth century, in treating of the vicissitudes of empires, to state one problem and solve another. the question asked was, "is there a law regulating the fall of empires?"; but the question answered, satisfactorily or unsatisfactorily, was, "is there a remedy?" like the elder cato, tacitus seems in places to refer the ruin which he anticipated to rome's departure from the austerity and simplicity of the early centuries. in the luxury of the caesars he discerns but another condemnation of the policy of caius julius. the use which gibbon has made of this argument is celebrated. in gibbon's life, indeed, regret for the empire, for the rome of trajan and of marcus, exercises as strong a sway, artistically, as regret for the republic exercises over the art and thought of tacitus. both desiderate a world which is not now, musing with fierce bitterness or cold resignation upon that which was once but is no longer. both ponder the question, "how could the disaster have been averted? how could the decline of rome have been stayed?" tacitus is the greater poet--more penetrating in vision, a greater master of his medium, profounder in his insight into the human heart. but a common atmosphere of elegy pervades the work of both, and if gibbon again and again forgets the inquiry with which he set out, the charm of his work gains thereby. a pensive melancholy akin to that of petrarch's _trionfi_, or the _antiquités de rome_ of joachim du bellay, redeems from monotony, by the emotion it communicates, the over-stately march of many a balanced period.[ ] but it were as vain to seek in tasso for a philosophic theory of the crusades as seek in gibbon a philosophic theory of the decline of empires. his artistic purpose was strengthened to something like a prophetic purpose by the environment of his age, the incidents of his life, and the bent of his own intellect. he combats the same enemy as voltaire waged truceless war upon--the subtle, intangible, omnipresent spirit of insincerity, hypocrisy, and superstition, from which the bigotry and religious oppression of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries derived their power. and gibbon's indebtedness to voltaire is amazing. there is scarcely a living conception in the _decline and fall_ which cannot be traced to that nimble, varied, and all-illuminating spirit. even the ironic method of the two renowned chapters was prompted by a section in the _essai sur les moeurs_. thus to the theory of tacitus, the departure from the ancient simplicity of life, gibbon adds the theory of zosimus.[ ] with zosimus he affirms that the triumph of christianism sealed the fate of rome, and in the emperor julian gibbon finds the same heroic but ill-starred defender of the past, as tacitus found in the unfortunate germanicus. this conception informs gibbon's work throughout, prompting alike the furtive, malignant, or tasteless sketches of the great pontiffs and the great caesars, and the finish, the studied care, the vivid detail lavished upon the portraits of their enemies. half-seriously, half-smiling at his own enthusiasm, he seems to discern in mohammed, in saladin, and the ottoman power, the avengers of julian and the rome of the antonines. and thus ruskin, inspired by a mood of his great teacher, traces the decline of venice to its abandonment of christianism, and gibbon, influenced by voltaire and the environment of his age, traces the fall of rome to the adoption of christianism. § . what is meant by the "fall of an empire"? underlying both these classes of theories, the retributive and the cyclic, and underlying much of the speculation both of the eighteenth and of the nineteenth century upon the subject, is the assumption that the decay of empires is accidental, or arises from causes that can be averted, or from the operation of forces that can be modified. the mediaeval conception of one empire upon the earth, which yet shall endure forever in righteousness, influences even the mind of gibbon. he had studied polybius, and rome's indefeasible right to the government of the world was the faith which polybius had announced. and in the hour of judaea's humiliation and ruin her prophets had still proclaimed a similar hope of everlasting dominion to israel. but, as the centuries advance, it grows ever clearer that regret or surprise at the passing of empires is like regret or surprise at the passing of youth. man might as well start once more to discover the elixir of life and alchemy's secrets as hope to found an empire that shall not pass away. to ponder too curiously the question why a state declines is like pondering too curiously the question why a man dies. in the vicissitudes of states we are on the threshold of the same mystery as in the vicissitudes of nature and of human life. the tracts and regions governed by cause and effect are behind us. an empire, like a work of art, is an end in itself, but duration in the former is an integral portion or phase of that end. from the concept, "empire," duration is inseparable, and the extent of that duration is involved in the concept itself. duration and modes, religious or ethical, are alike determined from within, from the divine thought realizing itself through the individual in the state. the curve of an empire's history is directed by no self-existent, isolated causes. it is a portion of the universe, evading analysis as the beauty of a statue evades analysis, lost in the vastness of nature, in the labyrinths of the soul which created and of the soul which contemplates its perfection. therefore regret for the fall of an empire, unless, as in the works of a gibbon or a tacitus, it aids in transforming the present nearer to the heart's desire, is vain enough. the eros of praxiteles and the athênê of scopas, like the cena of leonardo and the martyr of titian, are beyond our reach, and with all our industry we shall hardly recover the ninety tragedies of aeschylus. but the moment within the soul of the artist which these works enshrined, which by their inception and completion they did but strengthen and prolong, that moment of vision has not passed away. it has become part of the eternal, as the aspirations, fortitudes, heroisms, endurances, great aims which rome or hellas impersonates have become part of the eternal. man, born into a world which was not made for him, is perplexed, until in such moments the end for which he was himself fashioned is revealed. the artist, the hero, and the prophet give of their peace unto the world. yet is this gift but a secondary thing, and subject to cause, and time, and change. in the consummation of the life of a state the world-soul realizes itself in a moment analogous to this moment in art. the form perishes, nation, city, empire; but the creative thought, the soul of the state, endures. as the marble or poem represents the supreme hour in the individual life, the ideal long pursued imaged there, perfect or imperfect, so the state represents the ideal pursued by the race. it is the embodiment in living immaterial substance of the creative purpose of the race, of the individual, and ultimately of the divine. the state is immaterial; no visible form betrays it. athênê or roma are but the arbitrary emblems of an invisible, ever changing life, most subtle, most complex, yet indivisibly one, woven each day anew from myriads of aspirations, designs, ideals, recorded or unrecorded. those heroic personalities, a hildebrand, a napoleon, a cromwell, a richelieu, who usurp the attributes of the state, do but interpret the state to itself, rudely or faultlessly. philip and alexander, baber and akbar, are the men who respond to, who feel more profoundly than other men, the ideal, the impulse which beats at the heart of the race. the divine thought is in them more immanent than in other men. to akbar the vision of the continent from himalaya to either sea, all brought to the feet of mohammed, of islam, impersonated in himself, is an ethereal vision like that which leads alexander eastward beyond the tigris to spread far the name of hellas. akbar started as his grandfather had started, and baber's faith was not less sincere.[ ] but the contact with other races and other creeds diverted or heightened this first purpose of the mongol, and at the pinnacle of earthly power, akbar met and yielded to the temptation, which dazzled for a moment even the steady gaze of napoleon. apprehending the unity beneath the diversity of the religions of his various subjects, hindoo, persian, mohammedan, christian, akbar dared the lofty enterprise and essayed to extract the common truth of all, selecting, as julian had done, twelve centuries before him, the sun as the symbol of universal beneficence, and truth, and life. he failed, but failed greatly. the distinctions of a great state, art, action, empire, supremacy in thought, supremacy in deed, supremacy in conception of the ideal of humanity, like rays emanating from the same divine centre, thither converge again. any attempt to explain their succession and decay in terms of a mechanical law must thus lead either to the reserve of machiavelli, to the outworn fantasies of bossuet, or to such formulas as those of ruskin and gibbon, in which synchronous phenomena are woven into a chain of causes and effects. even in the sphere of individual existence death is but a mode of human thought, a name which has no counterpart in the frame of things. as life is but a mode of the divine thought, so death is but a mode of human thought, a creation of the intellect the more vividly to realize itself and life. every effect is in turn a cause. therefore every cause is eternal, an infinite series, existing at once successive and simultaneous; for the effect is not the death of, but the continued life of the cause. universes and the soul of man are but self-transformations of the first last cause, the one, the cause within cause immortal, effect within effect unending. "man," it has been said, "is the inventor of nothingness. nature and the universe know it not." the past wields over the present a power which could never be derived from death and nothingness. no age, as was pointed out in the first lecture, has felt this power so intimately as the present. as if we had a thousand lives to live, we consume the present in the study of the past, and sink from sight ourselves while still contemplating the scenes designed for other eyes. even our most living impulses we interpret as if they were sacred runes carved by long-vanished hands, so that it seems as if the dead alone lived, and the living alone were dead. but the soul unifies all things, and is then most in the present when most deeply absorbed in the past. the soul of man is the true logos of the universe. it is the contemporary of all the ages, and to none of the aeons is it a stranger. it heard the informing voice which instructed the planets in their paths, which moulded the rocks, the bones of the earth, and cast the sea and the far-stretched plains and the hills about them like a covering of flesh. therefore time and death and nothingness are but shadows, which the intellect of man sets over against the substance which lives and is eternally. and thus in the vicissitudes of states, even more impressively than elsewhere in the universal process of transformation which nature is, the daring metaphor of the hebrew, "as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed," seems realized. the death of a state, the fall of an empire, are but phases in their history, by which a complete self-realization is attained, or the perpetuation of their ideals under other forms, as egypt in hellas, hellas in rome, is secured. in portugal's short span of empire, her day of brief and troubled splendour, her monarchs realize, even at the hazard of a temporary eclipse of the nation's independence, the aspirations of the race, which slowly arising, and growing in force and intensity, had become the fixed, tyrannous desire of a people, until, in camoens' terse phrase of manuel, "from that one great thought it never swerved." another policy and other aims than those which her monarchs pursued--tolerance instead of fanaticism, prudence instead of heroism, national patriotism instead of imperial, homely common sense instead of glorious wisdom--all or any of these might have warded off the doom of portugal and of the house of avis. bur these things were not in the blood of lusitania, nor would this have been the nation of vasco da gama and camoens, of alboquerque and cabral. it is as vain to seek in depopulation for the causes of the fall of portugal as in the inquisition or the papal power. even buckle, that mighty statistician, would hardly risk the determining of the ratio which may not be overstepped between the bounds of an empire and the extent of the nation which creates it. if her yeomen forsook the fields and left the soil of portugal unfilled, if her chivalry forsook their estates, the question confronts us: what is the character, the heart of a race which acts in this manner? what is the ideal powerful enough to make the hazard of a nation's death preferable to the abandonment of that ideal? the nation which sent its bravest to die at al-kasr al kebir[ ] is not a nation of adventurers. nor do the instances of phocaea, of the cimbri, or the ostrogoths afford any analogy here. dom sebastian's device fits not only his own career but the history of the race of which at that epoch he was at once the king and the ideal hero--"a glorious death makes the whole life glorious." and the genius of the nation sanctioned his life and his heroic death. to portugal dom sebastian became such a figure as frederick barbarossa, dead on the far-off crusade, had been to the middle age, and for two centuries, whenever night thickened around the fortunes of the race, the spirit of dom sebastian returned to illumine the gloom, showing himself to a few faithful ones; and in very truth the spirit of his deeds and of their fathers never died in the hearts of the portuguese, inspiring whatever is memorable in their later history. spain completes in the expulsion of the moors the warfare, the crusade, which began with pelayo and the remnant of the visigoths. spain, as spain, could not act otherwise, could not act as germany acted, as england acted. venice, so far from abandoning the faith of the nazarene, as ruskin fancied, barred of her commerce, seeing her power pass to portugal, did yet, solitary and unaided, face the ottoman, and for two generations made the crusades live again. it is another venice, yet religion is not the cause of that otherness. she defies paul v in the name of freedom, in the days of sarpi,[ ] as she had defied innocent iii in the name of empire in the days of dandolo. hellas still lives, still forms an element, vitalizing and omnipresent, in the life of states and in human destiny. roman grandeur is not dead whilst sulla, tacitus, montesquieu, machiavelli survive. to petrarch the rome of the scipios is more present than the rome of the colonnas, and it numbers among its citizens byron, goethe, and leopardi. for like all great empires rome strove not for herself but for humanity, and dying, had yet strength, by her laws, her religion, her language, to impart her spirit and the secret of her peace to other races and to other times. in the world's _palaestra_ she had thrown the _discus_ to a point which the empires that come after, dowered as rome was dowered, and by kindred ideals fired, must struggle to surpass, or in this divine antagonism be broken. for what does the fall of rome mean, and what are its relations to this empire of britain? in an earlier lecture i illustrated my conception of the rome of the fifth century in the similitude of a goth bending over a dead roman, and by the flare of a torch seeking to read on the still brow the secret of his own destiny. rome does not die there. her genius lives on in the gothic race, deep, penetrating, and all-informing, and in the picked valour of that race, which for six hundred years spends itself in forging england, it is deepest, most penetrating, and all-informing. roman definiteness of thought and act were in that nation touched by mysticism to reverie and compassion. from the ashes of the dead ideal of concrete justice, imaginative justice is born. right becomes righteousness, but the living genius which was rome still pulses within it. by the energy of feudalism the ancient subjection of the individual to the state is challenged. freedom is born, but like some winged glory hovering aloft, rivets the famished eyes of men, till at last, descending by the rhine, it fills with its radiance a darkened world. religious oppression is stayed, but, phoenix-like, yet another ideal arises, and generations later, what a temple is reared for it by the seine! and now in this era, and at this latest time, behold in england the glory has once more alighted, as once for a brief space by the rhine and seine, but surely to make here its lasting mansionry. for in very truth, in all that freedom and all that justice possess of power towards good amongst men, is not england as it were earth's central shrine and this race the vanguard of humanity? rome was the synthesis of the empires of the past, of hellas, of egypt, of assyria. in her purposes their purposes lived. mediaeval imperialism strove not to rival rome but to be rome. in britain the spirit of empire receives a new incarnation. the form decays, the divine idea remains, the creative spirit gliding from this to that, indestructible. and thus the destiny of empires involves the consideration of the destiny of man. [ ] in volkmann's edition of plotinus, the sole attempt at a critical text worthy of the name that has yet been made, the passage runs as follows: [illustration: greek text] [ ] spinoza's answer to the "melancholici qui laudat vitam incultem et agrestem" (iv prop., , note), that men can provide for their needs better by society than by solitude, hardly meets the higher criticism of the state. yet it anticipates fichte's retort to rousseau. spinoza, if this were written _circa_ , has in view, perhaps, the trappists, then reorganized by bossuet's friend, and perhaps also port royal aux champs. [ ] the writings of st. augustine by their extraordinary variety, vast intellectual range, and the impression of a distinct personal utterance which flows from every page at which they are opened, exercise upon the imagination an effect like that which the works of diderot or goethe alone of moderns have the power to reproduce. the _de civitate_ is his greatest and most sustained effort, and though controversial in intention it reaches again and again an epic sublimity both in imagery and diction. the peoples and empires of the world are the heroes, and the part which augustine assigns to the god of all the earth has curious reminiscences of the parts played by the deities in pagan poetry. over the style the influence of virgil is supreme. criticism indeed offers few more alluring tasks than the attempt to gauge the comparative effects of the virgilian cadences upon the styles of the men of after times who loved them most--tacitus and st. augustine, dante, racine, and flaubert. [ ] the _world-history_ of otho of freisingen was modelled upon the _de civitate_ of st. augustine. he styles it the "book of the two cities," _i.e._, babylon and jerusalem, and sketches from the mediaeval standpoint the course of human life from the origin of the world to the year a.d. . his work on the apocalypse and his impression of the last judgment are a fitting close to the whole. he is uncritical in the use of his materials, but conveys a distinct impression of his habits of thought; and something of the brooding calm of a mediaeval monastery invests the work. in the following year he started on the crusade of konrad iii, his half-brother; but returning in safety, wrote his admirable annals of the early deeds of the hero of the age, the emperor barbarossa. [ ] the origin, the meaning, the number, and even the gender of this word have all been disputed. thus the use of the original is convenient as it avoids committal to any one of the numerous theories of theologians or hebraists. delitzsch has sifted the evidence with scrupulous care and impartiality, whilst renan's monograph possesses both erudition and charm. [ ] what figures from the _comédie humaine_ of roman society of the first century throng the pages of tacitus--sejanus, arruntius, piso, otho, bassus, caecina, tigellinus, lucanus, petronius, seneca, corbulo, burrus, silius, drusus, pallas, and narcissus; and those tragic women of the _annals_--imperious, recklessly daring, beautiful or loyal--livia, messalina, vipsania, the two agrippinas, mothers of caligula and of nero, urgulania, sabina poppaea, epicharis, lollia paulina, lepida, calpurnia, pontia, servilia, and acte! [ ] in richard greneway's translation, london, , one of the earliest renderings of tacitus into english, this passage stands as follows: "when i heare of these and the like things, i can give no certaine judgement, whether the affaires of mortall men are governed by fate and immutable necessitie; or have their course and change by chaunce and fortune. for thou shalt finde, that as well those which were accounted wise in auncient times, as such as were imitators of their sect, do varie and disagree therein; some do resolutlie beleeve that the gods have no care of man's beginning or ending; no, not of man at all. whereof it proceedeth that the vertuous are tossed and afflicted with so many miseries; and the vitious (vicious) and bad triumphe with so great prosperities. contrarilie, others are of opinion that fate and destinie may well stand with the course of our actions: yet nothing at all depend of the planets or stars, but proceede from a connexion of naturall causes as from their beginning. and these graunt withall, that we have free choise and election what life to follow; which being once chosen, we are guided after, by a certain order of causes unto our end. neither do they esteeme those things to be good or bad which the vulgar do so call." murphy's frequent looseness of phraseology, false elegance, and futile commentary, are nowhere more conspicuous than in his version of the sixth book of the annals and of this paragraph in particular. [ ] life, love, fame, and death are themes of petrarch's _triumphs_. the same profound sense of the transiency of things, which meets us in the studied pages of his confessional--the latin treatise _de contemptu mundi_--pervades these exquisite poems. du bellay's _antiquities_, which spenser's translation under the title of _the ruines of rome_ has made familiar, were written after a visit to rome in attendance upon the cardinal du bellay, and first published in . the beautiful _songe sur rome_ accompanied them. two years later du bellay, then in his thirty-fifth or thirty-sixth year, died. the preciousness of these poems is enhanced rather than diminished if we imagine that the friend of ronsard endeavoured to wed the music of villon's _ballades_ to the passing of empires and of rome. [ ] in the generation succeeding that of st. augustine, the fall of rome formed the subject of a work in six books by zosimus, an official of high rank at constantinople. the fifth and sixth books deal with the period between the death of theodosius and the capture of the city by alaric (a.d. - ). zosimus ascribes the disaster to the revolution effected in the life and conduct of the romans by the new religion. the tone of the whole history is evidently inspired by the brilliant but irregular works of the syrian eunapius whom hero-worship and the regret for a lost cause blinded to all gave the imposing designs of the emperor julian. [ ] baber's own memoirs, _memoirs of zehir-ed-din muhammed baber, emperor of hindustan_, one of the priceless documents of history, show the manner in which he conceived his mission. here is his account of the supreme incident in his spiritual life; "in january, , messengers came from mehdi khwajeh to announce that sanka, the rana of mewar, and hassan khan mewati, were on their march from the west. on february th i went forth to the holy war. on the th i mounted to survey my posts, and during the ride i was struck with the reflection that i had always resolved to make an effectual repentance at some period of my life. i now spoke with myself thus--'o my soul, how long wilt thou continue to take pleasure in sin? not bitter is repentance: then taste it thou! since the day wherein thou didst set forth on a holy war, thou hast seen death before thine eyes for thy salvation. and he who sacrificeth his life to save his soul shall attain that exalted state thou wottest of.' then i sent for the gold and the silver goblets, and broke them, and drank wine no more, and purified my heart. and having thus heard from the voice that errs not, the tidings of peace, and being now for the first time a mussulman indeed, i commanded that the holy war shall begin with the grand war against the evil in our hearts." such was the mood in which, on the th of the first jemadi, a.h. , baber proceeded to found the mogul empire. [ ] the battle of al-kasr al kebir, in morocco, about fifty miles south of tangiers, was fought on august th, . the king, dom sebastian, and the flower of the portuguese nobility died on the field. as in scotland after flodden, there was not a house of name in portugal which had not its dead to mourn. [ ] the genius of this great thinker, patriot, scholar, and historian, along with the heroism of the war of candia, "the longest and most memorable siege on record," as voltaire designates it, throw a dying lustre over the venice of the seventeenth century, which in painting has then but such names as those of podovanino and the younger cagliari. sarpi's defence of venice against paul v, an attorney in the seat of hildebrand, occurred in . it consists of two works--the _tractate_ and the _considerations_--and probably of a third drawn up for the secret use of the council of ten. like voltaire, sarpi seems to have lived with a pen in his hand. his manuscripts in the venice archives fill twenty-nine folio volumes. the first collected edition of his works was published, not unfitly, in the year of the fall of the bastille. lecture vii the destiny of imperial britain and the destiny of man [_tuesday, july_ _th_, ] though life itself and all its modes are transient, but shadows cast through the richly-tinted veil of maya upon the everlasting deep of things, yet such dreams as those of perpetual peace and of empires exempt from degeneration and decay, like the illusion of perpetual happiness, the prayer of spinoza for some one "supreme, continuous, unending bliss," have mocked man from the beginning of recorded history to the present hour. they are ancient as the rocks and their musings from eternity, inextinguishable as the _élan_ of the soul imprisoned in time towards that which is beyond time. and yet the effect of these, as of all false illusions, is but to render the value of reality--i had almost said of the real illusion--more poignant. indeed, "false" and "unreal" at all times are mere designations we apply to the hours of dim and uncertain vision[ ] when tested by the standard which the moments of perfect insight afford. nothing is more tedious, yet nothing is more instructive, than the study of the formulated ideals, the imagings of what life might be or life ought to be, of poets or of systematic philosophers. nothing so instantly reconciles us to war as the delineations of humanity under "meek-eyed peace"; and to the passing of visible things, empires, states, arts, laws, and this universal frame of things, as such attempts as have been made to stay time and change, and abrogate the ordinances of the world. was machst du an der welt? sie ist schon gemacht. why shapest thou the world? 'twas shapen long ago.[ ] nor does this result in the mood of candide. the effort unconquered and unending to behold the visible and the passing as in very truth it is, leads to a deeper vision of the unseen and of the eternal as in very truth it is. thus we are prepared to consider the following question. given that death is nothing, and the decline of empires but a change of form, will this empire of imperial britain also decline and fall? will the form it now enshrines pass away, as the forms of persia, rome, the empire of akbar, have passed away? the question resolves itself into two parts--in what does the youth of a race or of an empire consist? and, secondly, is it possible by any analogy from the past to measure or gauge the possible or probable duration of imperial britain, to determine to what era, say in the history of such an empire as rome or islam, the present era in the history of imperial britain corresponds? § . the present stage in the history of imperial britain first of all with regard to the former question. recent studies in ethnology have made it clear that youth, and all that this term implies of latent or realized energies, mental, physical, intellectual, is not the inevitable attribute and exclusive possession of uncivilized or of recently civilized races. yet this assumption still underlies much of the current speculation on the subject. last century it was received as an axiomatic truth. thus in the time of louis xv, when a romantic interest first invested the american indians, french writers saw in them the prototypes of the germans described by tacitus. not only voltaire and rousseau, but montesquieu himself, regard them curiously, as if in the backwoods dwelt the future dominators of the world. comparisons were drawn between their manners, their religion, their customs, and those of the goths and the franks, and _littérateurs_ indulged the fancy that in delineating the hurons of the mississippi they were preparing for posterity a literary surprise and a document lasting as the _germania_. such comparisons are still at times made, but they are like the comparison between a rising and a receding tide; both trace the same line along the sands, but it is the same tide only in appearance. it is the contrast between the simplicity of childhood and of senility, between the simplicity of a race dowered with many-sided genius and of a race dowered with but one-sided genius. it is neither in the absence of civilization, nor in its newness, that the youth of a race consists; nor does the old age of a race consist in refinement, nor capacity for the arts necessarily imply decline of political energy. the victories of the germans in were like fate's ironic comment upon the inferences drawn from their love of philosophy. abstract thought had not unfitted the race for war, nor "wertherism" for the battlefield. but, as in the life of the individual, so in the life of a race, youth consists in capacity for enthusiasm for a great ideal, capacity to frame, resolution to pursue, devotion to sacrifice all to a great political end. russia, for instance, has only recently come within the influence of european culture, but this does not make the slav a youthful race. the slavonic is indeed perhaps the oldest people in europe. its literature, its art, its music, the characteristics of its society alike attest this. superstition is not youth, else we might look to the hut of the samoyede even with more confidence than to the cabin of the moujik for the imperial race of the future. and prolificness in a race does as surely denote resignation to be governed, as the genius to govern others. and the slav, as we have seen, has at no period of his history shown that "youth" which consists in capacity for a great political ideal, either in poland, or amongst the czechs, or in russia. the present german empire assuredly exhibits in nothing the qualities of ancient lineage; yet the race which composes it is the same race as was once united under hapsburg, under luxemburg, under hohenstauffen, and under franconian, as now under the hohenzollern dynasty. the united states as a nation bear the same relation to britain as the moorish kingdom in spain bore to the saracenic empire of bagdad. it is a fragment, a colossal fragment torn from the central mass; but not only in its language, its literature, its religion and its laws, but in individual and national peculiarities, at least in the deeper moments of history and of life, the original stock asserts itself. the state is young; but the race is precisely of the same remoteness as britain and the greater britain. passing to the second point--at what epoch do we now stand as compared with rome or islam? it is not unusual to speak of britain as an aged empire, but such estimates or descriptions commonly rest upon a misapprehension, first, of the period in which the nation of england strictly speaking arises, and secondly, of the period in which the empire of britain arises. the traditional date of the landing of hengist does not indicate a moment analogous to the moment in the history of rome marked by the traditional date of the foundation of the city. the date b.c. marks the close of a process of transformation and slow revolving unity extending over centuries, so that the era of romulus and the early kings, numa, ancus, and servius, may be regarded as an epoch in rome's history analogous to the period in england's history between senlac and the constitutional struggle of the thirteenth century. the former is the period in which the civic unity of rome is completed. the latter is the period in which the national unity of england is completed. rome is now finally conscious to itself of its career as a city, _urbs roma_, as england in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries is finally conscious to itself of its career as a nation. magna carta and the constitutional struggle which followed may be said to determine the course of the national and political life of england as much as the servian code founded the civic unity and determined the character of the constitutional life of rome. and, as was pointed out in an earlier lecture, already in rome and in england there are premonitions, foreshadowings of the future. the design of the city on the seven hills is the design of the eternal city, and the devotion of the _gens fabia_ announces the roman legion. and in those wars of creçy and poitiers, the constancy, the dauntless heart, and the steady hand of the english archers, which broke the chivalry of france, what is it but the constancy of waterloo, the squares, the charge, the duke's words, spoken quietly as the words of fate, decreeing an empire's fall, "stand up, guards!"? and in , the tramp of the feet of the hurrying peasants, sons and grandsons of the archers of creçy, in the great revolt, indignant at ingratitude and wrong, what is it but the prelude to the supremacy of the people of england, to the petition of right, to cromwell's ironsides, to chartism and reform acts, and the democracy, self-governing, imperial and warlike of the present hour? so that even as a nation, about eighteen generations may be said to sum england's life, whilst, as we have seen, britain's conscious life as an empire extends backwards but to three generations or to four. thus if the question were asked, with what period in the history of rome does the present age correspond? i should say, roughly speaking, it corresponds with the period of titus and vespasian, when rome has still a course of three hundred years to run; and in the history of islam, with the period of the early abbassides, when the fall of the saracenic dominion is still some four centuries removed. does this justify us in inferring that the course which england has to run will extend still over three centuries and that then england too will pass away, as rome, as the saracenic empire, have passed away? so far as the determination of the eras in our history which correspond in development to eras in the history of rome or of islam is concerned, the inference from analogy possesses a certain validity. and the accidental or fixed resemblances between the empires of islam,[ ] rome, and imperial britain are numerous and striking enough to render such comparisons of real significance to speculative politics. but the similarity in structural expansion or in environment which can be traced throughout the completed dramas of rome and islam is to be found only in the initial stages of imperial britain. then the argument from analogy fails, and our judgment is at a stand. assuming that each imperial race starts its career dowered with a vital capacity of definite range, and allowing for the necessary divergences in their course between a civic and a national state. imperial britain, regarded from its past, may be said in the present era to have reached a stage represented by the era of vespasian and titus; but to proceed further is perilous, so momentous is the distinction that now arises between the circumstances of the two empires. during the present century the vast transformations which have been effected by science in the surroundings of man's physical life make all speculation upon the duration of imperial britain by analogies drawn from the duration either of rome or of other empires, indecisive or rash. the growth of the idea of freedom, and the modern interpretation of that idea in the spirit of condorcet, have, within the bounds of the english nation itself, increased the intercourse between ranks to a degree unparalleled in the ancient world. the self-recuperative powers of the race have been strengthened by the course of its political and religious history. fresh blood adds new energy to effete stocks. the effect of this restorative power from within is heightened in manifold ways by such a circumstance as the enormous facilities of locomotion which have arisen during the past two generations. in the age of the first conscious beginnings of imperial britain, the communication between the regions of the empire was as difficult as in the rome of sulla; but the development of that consciousness has been synchronous, not only with increased intercourse between the ranks of the same nation, but with increased intercourse between all the various climes of an empire upon which the sun never sets. from city to city, from town to town, from province to province, from colony to colony, emigration and immigration, change and interchange of vast masses of the population are incessant. this increased intercommunication between the various members of the race, the influences of the change of climate upon the individual, aided by such imperceptible but many-sided forces as spring from the diffusion of knowledge and culture, mark a revolution in the vital resources and the environment in the british, as distinguished from the saracenic or roman race, so extraordinary that all analogy beyond the point which we have indicated is impossible, or so guarded by intricate hypotheses as to be useless or misleading. nature seems pondering some vast and new experiment, and an empire has arisen whose future course, whether we consider its political or its economic, its physical or its mental resources, leaves conjecture behind. the world-stage is set as for the opening of a drama which, at least in the magnitude of its incidents and the imposing circumstance of its action, will make the former achievements of men dwindle and seem of little account. § . the destiny of man at this point we may fitly close our survey, and these "reflections," by endeavouring to determine, not the remote future of imperial britain, but its immediate task, fate's mandate to the present, and as we have considered imperial britain in its relations to the destiny of past empires, pause for a moment in conclusion upon its relations to the destiny of man. to the ancient world, man in his march across the deserts of time had left felicity and the golden age far beyond him, and rousseau's vision of humanity as starting upon a wrong track, and drifting ever farther from the path of its peace, had charmed the melancholy or the despair of virgil and his great master in verse and speculation, titus lucretius. this conception of man's destiny as an infinite retrogression, eden receding behind eden, lost paradise behind lost paradise, in the dateless past, encounters us, now as a myth, now as a religious or philosophic tenet, throughout the earlier history of humanity from the baltic to the indian sea, from the furthest orient to the western isles. besides this radiant past even the vision of the abode which awaits the soul at death seems dusky and repellent, a land of twilight, as in the etruscan legend, or that dominion over the shades which achilles loathed beyond any mortal misery. but the memory or the imagination of this land far behind, upon which heaven's light for ever falls, the asgard of the goths, the akkadian dream of sin-land ruled by the yellow emperor, the reign of saturn and of ops, diminishes in power and living energy as the ages advance, and, perishing at last, is embalmed in the cold and crystal loveliness of poetry. in its place bright mansions, elysian groves, await the soul at death. heaven closes around earth like a protecting smile, and from this hope of a recovered paradise and new edens amongst the stars, which to dante and his time are but the earth's appanage, man advances swiftly to the desire, the hope, the certainty of a terrestrial paradise waiting his race in the near or remote future. thus, as the immanence of the divine within the soul of man has deepened, and the desire of his heart has grown nearer the desire of the world-soul, so has the power of memory decreased and been transformed into hope. man, tossed from illusion to illusion, has grown sensitive to the least intimations of reality. but these visions of eden, whether located in a remote past, or in the interstellar spaces, or in the near future, have certain characteristics in common. from far behind to far in front the dream has shifted, as if the northern lights had moved from horizon to horizon, but it remains one dream. the earthly paradise of the social reformer, a saint-simon or a fourier, of a world free from war and devoted to agriculture and commerce, or of the philosophic evolutionist, of a world peopled by myriads of happy altruists bounding from bath to breakfast-room, illumined and illumining by their healthy and mutual smiles, differs from the earlier fancies of asgard and the isles of the blest, not in heightened nobility and reasonableness, but in diminished beauty and poetry. the dream of unending progress is vain as the dream of unending regress.[ ] critics of literature and philosophy have often remarked how sterile are the efforts to delineate a state of perfect and long-continued bliss, even when a dante or a milton undertakes the task, compared with delineations of torment and endless woe. and aeschylus has remarked, and la rochefoucauld and helvétius bear him out, how much easier a man finds the effort to sympathize with another's misery than to rejoice in his joy. such contrasts are due, not to a faltering imagination, nor to the depravity of the human heart. they are the recognition by the dark unconscious, which in sincerity of vision ever transcends the conscious, that in man's life truth dwells not with felicity, that to the soul imprisoned in time and space, whether amongst the stars or on this earth, perfect peace is a mockery. but in time, misery is the soul's familiar, anguish is the gate of truth, and the highest moments of bliss are, as the socrates of plato affirms, negative. they are the moments of oblivion, when the manacles of time fall off, whether from stress of agony or delight or mere weariness. therefore with stammering lips man congratulates joy, but the response of grief to grief is quick and from the heart, sanctioned by the unconscious; therefore in the portraiture of heaven art fails, but in that of hell succeeds. it is not in time that the eternal can find rest, nor in space that the infinite can find repose, and as illusion follows lost illusion, the soul of man does but the more completely realize the wonder ineffable of the only reality, the eternal now. § . the four periods of modern history and their ideals the deepening of this conception of man's destiny as beginning in the infinite and in the infinite ending, is one of the profoundest and most significant features of the present age. its dominion over art, literature, religion, can no longer escape us. it is the dominant note of the last of the four great ages or epochs into which the history of the thought of modern europe, in an ever-ascending scale, divides itself. a brief review of these four epochs will best prepare us for a consideration of the present position of britain, and of the relations of its empire to the actual conditions of europe and humanity. the first age is controlled by the saintly ideal. the european of that age is a visionary. the unseen world is to him more real than the seen, and art and poetry exist but to decorate the pilgrimage of the soul from earth to heaven. the new jerusalem which tertullian saw night by night descend in the sunset; the city of god, whose shining battlements saint augustine beheld gleam through the smoke of the world-conflagration of the era of alaric and attila, of vandal and goth, frank and hun; the day of wrath and judgment which later times looked forward to as certainly as to the coming of spring, are but phases of one pervading aspiration, one passioning cry of the soul. but the illusion which lures on that age fades when the ascetic zeal of the saint is frustrated by the joy of life, and the crusader's valour is broken on the moslem lances, and the scholastic's indefatigable pursuit of a harmonizing, a reconciling word of reason and of faith, his ardour not less lofty than the crusader's to pierce the ever-thickening host of doubts, discords, fears, fall all in ruins, in accepted defeat or in formulated despair. with the second age a new illusion arises, the _wahn_ of religious freedom. the ideal which rome taught the world, upon which saint, crusader, and scholar built their hopes, turned to ashes--but shall not the human soul find the haven of its rest in freedom from rome, in the pure faith of primitive times? when the last of the scholastics was being silenced by a papal edict and the consciousness of a hopeless task, the first of the new scholars was ushering in the world-drama of four centuries. the world-historic significance of the reformation lies in the effort of the european mind to pierce, at least in the sphere of religion, nearer to the truth. the successive phases of this struggle may be compared to a vast tetralogy, with a prelude of which the actors and setting are huss and jerome, the council of constance and sigismund, the traitor of traitors, who gave john huss "the word of a king," and huss, solitary at the stake, when the flames wrapped him around, learned the value of the word of a king. martin luther is the protagonist of the first of the four great dramas that follow. its theme is the consecration of man to sincerity in his relations to god. there, even at the hazard of death, the tongue shall utter what the heart thinks. the second drama is named _ignatius loyola_; the theme is not less absorbing--"art thou then so sure of the truth and of thy sincerity, o my brother?" whatever his followers may have become, don inigo remains one of the most baffling enigmas that historical psychology offers. from his grave he rules the council, and the tridentine decrees are the acknowledgment of his unseen sovereignty. what tragic shapes arise and crowd the stage of the third drama--thurn, ferdinand, tilly, wallenstein, richelieu, gustavus, condé, oxenstiern! and when the last actors of the fourth drama, the conflict between moribund jesuitism and protestantism grown arrogant and prosperous, lay aside their masks in the world's great tiring-room of death, a new age in world-history has begun. as religious freedom is the _wahn_ of the reformation drama, so it is in political freedom that the eternal illusion now incarnates itself. let man be free, let man throughout the earth attain the unfettered use of all his faculties, and heaven's light will once more fill all the dark places of the world! this is the new avatar, this the glad tidings which announce the french revolution and the third age. of this ideal, the faith in which the french girondins die is the most perfect expression. what is this faith for which condorcet and his party perish, some by poison, some by the sword, some by the guillotine, some in battle, but all by violent deaths--vergniaud, roland, barbaroux, brissot, barnave, gensonné, pétion, buzot, isnard? "oh liberty, what crimes are done in thy name!" was not a reproach, but, in the gladness of the martyr's death which consecrated all the life, it was the wonder, the disquiet of a moment yet sure of its peace in some deeper reconcilement. behold how strong is their faith! marie antoinette has her faith, the injunction of her priest, "when in doubt or in affliction, think of calvary." yet the hair of the queen whitens, her spirit despairs. the girondinist queen climbing the scaffold, not less a lover of love and of life than marie antoinette--what nerves her? it is the star of the future and the memory of vergniaud's phrase, "posterity? what have we to do with posterity? perish our memory, but let france be free!" how free are their souls, what nobility shines in the eyes of these men, light-stepping to their doom, immortally serene, these martyrs, witnesses to an ideal not less pure, not less lofty than those other two for which saint and reformer died! and their battle-march, which is also their hymn of death, shelley has composed it, the choral chant, the vision of the future of the world, which closes _hellas_. this faith, in which the girondins live and die is the hope, the faith that slowly arises in europe through the eighteenth century, in political freedom as the regenerator, as the salvation of the world. voltaire announces the coming of the third age--"blessed are the young, for their eyes shall behold it"--and upon the ruins of the bastille charles james fox sees it arise. "by how much," he writes to a friend, "is not this the greatest event in the history of the world!" its presence shakes the steadfast heart of goethe like a reed. wordsworth, schiller, chateaubriand pledge themselves its hierophants--for a time! the _wahn_ of freedom, the eternal illusion, the dream of the human heart! first to france, then to europe, then to all the earth--freedom! this is the faith for which the girondins perish, and in dying bequeath to the nineteenth century the theory of man's destiny which informs its poetry, its speculative science, its systematic philosophy. it is the faith of shelley and of fichte, of herbart and of comte, of john stuart mill, lassaulx, quinet, not less than of tennyson, last of the girondins. for the ideal of the third age, freedom, knowledge, the federation of the world, passes as the ideals of the first and of the second age pass. not in political any more than in religious freedom could man's unrest find a panacea. the new heavens and the new earth which voltaire proclaimed vanished like the city which tertullian saw beyond the sunset. and knowledge--of what avail is knowledge?--or to scan the abysses of space and search the depths of time? if the utmost dreams of science, and all the moral and political aims of girondinism were realized, if the foundations of life and of being were laid bare, if the curve of every star were traced, its laws determined, and its structure analysed, if the revolutions of this globe from its first hour, and the annals of all the systems that wheel in space, were by some miracle brought within our scrutiny--it still would leave the spirit unsatisfied as when these crystal walls did first environ its infinitude. the defects, the nobility, and the beauty of the ideal of the third age are conspicuous in the great last work of condorcet. as mirabeau, the intellectual catiline of his age, is the protagonist of rebellion, that principle which has drawn the deepest utterances from the world-soul, from job to prometheus and farinata, so condorcet, whose countenance in its high and gentle benevolence seems the very expression of that _bienfaisance_ which the abbé de saint-pierre made fashionable, may be styled the high-priest of girondinism, and he carries his faith beyond the grave, hallowing the altar of freedom with his blood. in over a hundred pamphlets during the four years of his life as a revolutionist, condorcet disseminates his ideas--fortnightly pamphlets, many of them even now worth reading, lighting up now this, now that aspect of his faith--kingship, slavery, the destiny of man, two houses, assignats, education of the people, finance, the rights of man, economics, free trade, the rights of women, the progress of the human mind. it is in this last, written with the shadow of death upon him, that the central thought of his system is developed. he may have derived it from turgot,[ ] his master, and the subject of one of his noblest biographies, but he gave it a consecration of his own, and later writers have done little more than elaborate, vary, or reduce to scientific rule and line his living thought. where they most are faithful, there his followers are greatest. in the theory of evolution condorcet's principles appear to find scientific expression and warrant, but it is pathetic to observe the speculative science of a modern systematizer advancing through volume after volume with the cumbrous but massive force of a traction-engine, only to find rest at last in a vision of utopia some centuries hence, tedious as the paradise of mediaeval poets or the fabulous edens of earlier times. indeed, the conception of the infinite perfectibility of man, and of an eternal progress, carried its own doom in the familiar observation that there where progress can be traced, there the divine is least immanent. a distinguished statesman and writer, and a believer in evolution, recently avowed his perplexity that an age like the present, which has invented steam, electricity, and the kinematograph, should in painting and poetry not surpass the renaissance, nor in sculpture the age of phidias. in such perplexity is it not as if one heard again the threat of mummius, charging his crew to give good heed to the statues of praxiteles, on the peril of replacing them if broken! goethe, as the wrecks of his drama on liberty prove, felt the might of the ideal of the third age with all the vibrating emotion which genius imparts.[ ] but he was the first to discover its hollowness, and bade the world, in epigram or in prose tale, in lyric or in drama, to seek its peace where he himself had found it, in art. so the labour of the scientific theorist, negatively beneficent by the impulsion of man's spirit beyond science, brings also a reward of its own to the devotee. the sun of art falls in a kind of twilight upon his soul, working obscurely in words, and then does he most know the unknowable when, in the passion of self-imposed ignorance, he rises to a kind of eloquence in proclaiming its unknowableness. glimmerings from the eternal visit the obscure study where the soul in travail records patiently the incidents of time, and elaborates a theory of man's history as if it were framed to end like an adelphi melodrama or a three-volume novel. § . the ideal of the fourth age but from those very failures, those dissatisfactions, the ideal of the fourth age is born, and the law of a greater progress divined. for the soul, revolting at last against the fleeting illusions of time, the deceiving edens of saint, reformer, and revolutionist, freedom from the body, freedom from religious, or freedom from political oppression, sets steadily towards the lodestar of its being, whose rising is not in time nor its going down in space. nor is it in knowledge, whether of the causes of things, or of the achievements of statesmen, warriors, legislators, that the peace of the infinite is to be found, but in a vision of that which was when time and cause were not. then instruction and the massed treasures of knowledge, established or theoretic, concerning the past and the future of the planet on which man plays his part, or of other planets on which other forms of being play their parts, do indeed dissolve and are rolled together like a scroll. the timeless, the infinite, like a burst of clear ether, an azure expanse washed of clouds, lures on the delighted spirit, tranced in ecstasy. for the symbol of this universe and of man's destiny is not the prolongation of a line, nor of groups of lines organically co-ordinate, but, as it were, a sphere shapen from within and moulded by that presence whose immanence, ever intensifying, is the thought which time realizes as the deed. man looks to the future and the coming of eternity. how shall the eternal come or the infinite be far off? behold, the eternal is _now_, and the infinite is _here_. and if the high-upreared architecture of the stars, and the changing fabric of the worlds, be but shadows, and the pageantry of time but a dream, yet the dreamer and the dream are god. if all be illusion, yet this faith that all is illusion can be none. there the realm of illusion ends, here reality begins. and thus the spirit of man, having touched the mother-abyss, arises victorious in defeat to fix its gaze at last, steadfast and calm, upon the eternal. such is the distinction of the fourth age, whose light is all about us, flooding in from the eastern windows yonder like a great dawn. man's spirit, tutored by lost illusion after lost illusion, advances to an ever deeper reality. the race, too, like the individual and the nation, is subject to the law of tragedy. once more, in the way of a thousand years, it knows that it is not in time, nor in any cunning manipulation or extension of the things of time, that man the timeless can find the word which sums his destiny, and spurning at the phantoms of space, save as they grant access to the spaceless, casts itself back upon god, and in art, thought, and action pierces to the infinite through the finite. this mystic attribute, this _élan_ of the soul, discovers a fellowship in thinkers wide apart in circumstance and mental environment. it is, for instance, the trait which schopenhauer, tourgenieff,[ ] flaubert, and carlyle possess in common[ ]. these men are not as others of their time, but prophet voices that announce the fourth, the latest age, whose dawn has laid its hand upon the eastern hills. the restless imagination of flaubert, fused from the blood of the norsemen, plunges into one period after another, carthage, the rome of the caesars, syria, egypt, and galilee, the unchanging east, and the monotony in change of the west, pursuing the one vision in many forms, the vision which leads on carlyle from stage to stage of a course curiously similar. flaubert has a wider range and more varied sympathies than carlyle, and in intensity of vision occasionally surpasses him. both are mystics, visionaries, from their youth; but in ethics flaubert seems to attain at a bound the point of view which the dragging years alone revealed to carlyle. the chapter on the death of frederick the great reads like a passage from the _correspondance_ of flaubert in his first manhood. in saint antoine, flaubert found the secret of the same mystic inspiration as carlyle found in cromwell. to the brooding soul of the hermit, as to that of the warrior of jehovah, what is earth, what are the shapes of time? man's path is to the eternal--_dem grabe hinan_--and from the study of the revolution of flaubert arises with the same embittered insight as marks the close of "frederick the great." and if, in such later works as flaubert's _bouvard et pécuchet_ and the _latter-day pamphlets_ of carlyle, only the difference between the two minds is apparent, the difference is, after all, but a difference in temperament. it is the contrast between the impassive aloofness of the artist, and the personal and intrusive vehemence of the prophet. the structural thought, the essential emotion of the two works are the same--the revolt of a soul whose impulses are ever beyond the finite and the transient, against a world immersed in the finite and the transient. hence the derision, the bitter scorn, or the laughter with which they cover the pretensions, the hypocrisies, the loud claims of modern science and mechanical invention. but whether surveyed with contemplative calm, or proclaimed with passionate remonstrance to an unheeding generation, the life vision of these two men is one and the same--"the eternities, the immensities."[ ] and this same passion for the infinite is the informing thought of wagner's tone-dramas and tschaikowsky's symphonies. love's mystery is deepened by the mystery of death, and its splendour has an added touch by the breath of the grave. the desire of the infinite greatens the beauty of the finite and lights its sanctuary with a supernatural radiance. all knowledge there becomes wonder. truth is not known, but the soul is there in very deed possessed by the truth, and is one with it eternally. ibsen's protest against limited horizons, against theorists, formulists, social codes, conventions, derives its justice from the worthlessness of those conventions, codes, theories, in the light of the infinite. the achievements in art most distinctive of the present age--the paintings of courbet, whistler, degas, for instance--proclaim the same creative principle, the unsubstantiality of substance, the immateriality of matter, the mutability of all that seems most fixed, the unreality of all things, save that which was once the emblem of unreality, the play of line and colour, and their impression upon the retina of the eye. "if i live to be a hundred, i shall be able to draw a line," said hokousai. it was as if he had said, "i shall be able to create a world." the pressing effects of imperialism in such an environment, its swift influences upon the life of an age thus conditioned, thus sharply defined from all preceding ages, are of an import which it would be hard to over-estimate. the nation undowered with such an ideal, menaced with extinction or with a gradual depression to the rank of a protected nationality, passes easily, as in france and holland and in the higher grades of russian society, to the side of political and commercial indifferentism, of artistic or literary cosmopolitanism. but to a race dowered with the genius for empire, it rescues politics from the taint of local or transient designs, and imparts to public affairs and the things of state that elevation which was their characteristic in the rome of virgil and the england of cromwell. for not only the life of the individual, but the life of states, is by this conception robed in something of its initial wonder. these, the individual and the state, as we have seen, are but separate phases, aspects of one thought, that thought which in the universe is realized. and the transformations in man's conception of his relations to the divine are in turn fraught with consequence to the ideal of imperialism itself. life is greatened. the ardour of the periods of history most memorable awakens again in man, the reverence of the middle age, the energy of the renaissance. a higher mood than that of the england of cromwell has arisen upon the england of to-day. man's true peace is not in the finite, but in the infinite; yet in the finite there is a work to be done, with the high disregard of a race which looks, not to the judgment of men, but of angels, whose appeal is not to the opinion of the world, but of god. here at the close of a century, side by side existing are two ideals, one political, the other religious, "a divine philosophy of the mind," in algernon sidney's phrase--how can the issue and event be other than auspicious to this empire and to this generation of men? as puritanism seemed born for the ideal of constitutional england, so this ideal of the fourth epoch seems born to be the faith of imperial england. behind cromwell's armies was the faith of calvin, the philosophy of the "institutes"; behind the french revolution the thought of rousseau and voltaire; but in this ideal, a thought, a speculative vision, deeper, wider in range than calvin's or rousseau's, is, with every hour that passes, adding a serener life, an energy more profound. § . the "act" and the "thought" carlyle's exaltation of the "deed" above the "word," of action above speech, does not exhaust its meaning in setting the man of deeds, the soldier or the politician, above the thinker or the artist. it is an affirmation of the glory of the sole actor, the dramatist of the world, the _demiourgos_, whose actions are at once the deeds and the thoughts of men. "im anfang war die that." the "deed" is nearer the eternal fountain than the "word"; though, on the other hand, in this or that work of art there may converge more rays from the primal source than in this or that deed. in painting, that impressionism which loves the line for the line's sake, the tint for the tint's sake, owes its emotion, sincere or affected, to the same energy of the same divine thought as that from which the baser enthusiasm of the subject-painter flows. a consciousness of the same truth reveals itself in wagner's lifelong struggle, splendidly heroic, to weld the art of arts into living, pulsing union with the "deed," the action and its setting, from which, in such a work as _tristan_, or as _parsifal_, that art's ecstasy or mystery derives. in the great crises of the world the preliminary actions have always been indefinite, hesitating, or obscure. indefiniteness is far from proving the insincerity or transiency of imperialism as an ideal. "a man," says oliver cromwell, "never goes so far as when he does not know whither he is going." what cromwell meant was that, in the great hours of life, the supernatural, the illimitable, thrusts itself between man and the limited, precise ends of common days. upon such a subject cromwell has the right to speak. great himself, he was the cause of the greatness that was in others. but in all things it was still jehovah that worked in him. deeply penetrated with this belief, cromwell had the gift of making his armies live his life, think his thought. each soldier, horse or foot, was a warrior of god. man's severing, isolating intelligence is in these moments merged in the divine intelligence; but in subjection, then is it most free. the conscious is lost in the unconscious force which works behind the world. the individual will stands aside. the will of the universe advances. precision of design and purpose are shrouded in that dark background of greek tragedy, on which the forms of gods and heroes, in mortal or immortal beauty, were sketched, subject in all their doings to this high, dread, and austere power. so of empires, of races, and of nations. a race never goes so far as when it knows not whither it is going, when, rising in the consciousness of its destiny at last, and seeing as yet but a little way in front, it advances, performs that task as if it were its final task, as if no other task was reserved for it by time or by nature. consciousness of destiny is the consciousness of the will of god and of the divine purposes. it is the identity of the desire of the race with the desire of the world-soul, and it moves towards its goal with the motion of tides and of planets. therefore when in thought we summon up remembrance of those empires of the past, assyria, egypt, babylon, hellas, rome, and islam, or those empires of nearer times, charles's, napoleon's, akbar's, when we throw ourselves back in imagination across the night of time, endeavouring to live through their revolutions, and front with each in turn the black portals of the future--what image is this which of itself starts within the mind? is it not the procession of the gladiators and the amphitheatre of rome? rome beyond all races had the instinct of tragic grandeur in state and public life, and by that instinct even her cruelty is at times elevated through the pageantry or impressive circumstance amid which it is enacted. does not this vault then, arching above us, appear but as a vast amphitheatre? and towards the mortal arena the empires of the world, one by one, defile past the high-upreared, dark, and awful throne where sits destiny--the phalanx of macedon, the roman legion, the black banner of the abbassides, the jewelled mail of akbar's chivalry, and the ottoman's crescent moon. and their resolution, serene, implacable, sublime, is the resolution of the gladiators, "ave, imperator, morituri te salutant! hail, caesar, those about to die salute thee!" and when the vision sinks, dissolving, and night has once more within its keeping cuirass and spear and the caparisons of war, the oppressed mind is beset as by a heavy sound, gathering up from the abysses, deeper, more dread and mysterious than the death-march of heroes--the funeral march of the empires of the world, the requiem of faiths, dead yet not dead, of creeds, institutions, religions, governments, laws--till through time's shadows the eternal breaks, in silence sweeter than all music, in a darkness beyond all light. § . britain's world-mission: the witness of the dead to the mandate of the present yet with a resolution as deep-hearted as the gladiator's it is for another cause and unto other ends that the empires of the world have striven, fulfilled their destiny and disappeared, that this empire of britain now strives, fulfilling its destiny. fixed in her resolve, the will of god behind her, whither is her immediate course? the narrow space of the path in front of her that is discernible even dimly--whither does it tend or appear to tend? empires are successive incarnations of the divine ideas, and by a principle which, in its universality and omnipotence in the frame of nature, seems itself an attribute of the divine, the principle of conflict, these ideas realize their ends in and through conflict. the scientific form which it assumes in the hypothesis of evolution is but the pragmatic expression of this mystery. here is the metaphysical basis of the law of tragedy, the profoundest law in human life, in human art, in human action. and thus that law, which, as i pointed out, throws a vivid light upon the first essential transformation in the life-history of a state dowered with empire, offers us its aid in interpreting the last transformation of all. the higher freedom of man in the world of action, and reverie in the domain of thought, are but two aspects of the idea which imperial britain incarnates, just as greek freedom and beauty were aspects of the idea incarnate in hellas. the spaces of the past are strewn with the wrecks of dead empires, as the abysses where the stars wander are strewn with the dust of vanished systems, sunk without a sound in the havoc of the aeons. but the divine presses on to ever deeper realizations, alike through vanished races and through vanished universes. britain is laying the foundations of states unborn, civilizations undreamed till now, as rome in the days of tacitus was laying the foundations of states and civilizations unknown, and by him darkly imagined. for justice men turn to the state in which justice has no altar,[ ] freedom no temple; but a higher than justice, and a greater than freedom, has in that state its everlasting seat. throughout her bounds, in the city or on the open plain, in the forest or in the village, under the tropic or in the frozen zone, her subjects shall find justice and freedom as the liberal air, so that enfranchised thus, and the unfettered use of all his faculties secured, each may fulfil his being's supreme law. the highest-mounted thought, the soul's complete attainment, like the summits of the hills, can be the possession only of the few, but the paths that lead thither this empire shall open to the daring climber. humanity has left the calvinist and jacobin behind. and thus britain shall become the name of an ideal as well as the designation of a race, the description of an attitude of mind as well as of traits of blood. europe has passed from the conception of an outwardly composed unity of religion and government to the conception of the inner unity which is compatible with outward variations in creeds, in manners, in religions, in social institutions. harmony, not uniformity, is nature's end. dante, as the years advanced and the poet within him thrust aside the ghibelline politician, the author of the _de monarchia_, discerned this ever more clearly. contemplating the empires of the past, he felt the divine mystery there incarnate as profoundly as polybius. in the fourteenth century he dares to see in the roman people a race not less divinely missioned than the hebrew. though contemporary of the generation whose fathers had seen the inquisition founded, yet like an arab _soufi_, dante, the poet of mediaevalism, points to the spot of light far-off, insufferably radiant, yet infinitely minute, the source and centre of all faiths, all creeds, all religions, of this universe itself, and all the desires of men. in an age which silenced the scholastics he founded hell in the _ethics_ of aristotle, as on a traced plan, and he who in his childhood had heard the story of the great defeat, and of the last of the crusading kings borne homewards on his bier, dares crest his paradise with the dearest images of arab poetry, the loveliness of flame and the sweetness of the rose. what does this import, unless that already the mutual harmonies of the wide earth and of the stars had touched his listening soul, that already he who stayed to hear casella sing heard far off a diviner music, the tones of the everlasting symphony played by the great musician of the world, the chords whereof are the deeds of empires, the achievements of the heroes of humanity, and its most mysterious cadences are the thoughts, the faiths, the loftiest utterances of the mind of man? and to the present age, what an exhortation is implicit in this thought of dante's! no unity, no bond amongst men is so strong as that which is based on religion. patriotism, class prejudices, ties of affection, all break before its presence. what a light is cast upon the deeper places of the human heart by the history of jesuitism in the seventeenth century! genius for religion is rare as other forms of genius are rare, yet both in the life of the individual and of the state its rank is primary. in the soul, religion marks the meridian of the divine. by its remoteness from or nearness to this the value of all else in life is tested. and there is nothing which a race will not more willingly surrender than its religion. the race which changes its religion is either very young, quick to reverence a greater race, and ardent for all experiment, or very old, made indifferent by experience or neglectful by despair. in the conception at which she has at last arrived, and in her present attitude towards this force, britain may justly claim to represent humanity. she combines the utmost reverence for her own faith with sympathetic intelligence for the faiths of others. and confronting her at this hour of the world's history is a task higher than the task of akbar, and more auspicious. akbar's design was indeed lofty, and worthy of that great spirit; but it was a hopeless design. the forms, the creeds which have been imposed from without upon a religion are no integral part of that religion's life. even when by the progress of the years they have become transfused by the formative influences which time and the sufferings or the hopes of men supply, they change or are cast aside without organic convulsion or menace to the life itself. but the forms and embodiments which a divine thought in the process of its own irresistible and mighty growth assumes--these are beyond the touch of outer things, and evade the shaping hand of man. inseparable from the thought which they, as it were, reincarnate, their life changes but with its life, and together they recede into the divine whence they came. the effort to extract the inmost truth, tearing away the form which by an obscure yet inviolate process has crystallized around it, is like breaking a statue to discover the loveliness of its loveliness. akbar would have as quickly reached the creative thought, the _idea_ enshrined in the athênê of phidias, the immortal cause of its power, by destroying the form, as have severed the divine thought immanent in the magian or hindoo faiths from their integral embodiments. but a greater task awaits britain. among the races of the earth whose fate is already dependent, or within a brief period will be dependent upon europe, what empire is to aid them, moving with nature, to attain that harmony which dante discerned? what empire, disregarding the mediaeval ideal, the effort to impose upon them systems, rites, institutions, creeds, to which they are by nature, by their history, by inherited pride in the traditions of the past, hostile or invincibly opposed, will adventure the new, the loftier enterprise of developing all that is permanent and divine within their own civilizations, institutions, rites, and creeds? nature and the dead shall lend their unseen but mighty alliance to such purposes! thus will britain turn to the uses of humanity the valour or the fortune which has brought the religions of india and the power of islam beneath her sway. the continents of the world no longer contain isolated races severed from each other by the barriers of nature, mutual ignorance, or the artifices of man, but vast masses, moving into ever-deepening intimacies, imitations, mutually influenced and influencing. man grows conscious to himself as one, and to represent this consciousness on the round earth, as rome did once represent it on this half the world, to be amongst the races of all the earth what hildebrand dreamed the normans might be amongst the nations of europe, is not this a task exalted enough to quicken the most sluggish zeal, the most retrograde "patriotism"? for without such mediation, misunderstanding, envy, hate, mistrust still erect barriers between the races of mankind more impassable than continents or seas or the great wall of ch'in chi. this is a part not for the future merely, it is one to which britain is already by her past committed. the task is great, for between civilization and barbarism, the vanguard and the rearguard of humanity, suspicion, rivalry, and war are undying. from this the greek division of mankind into hellenes and barbarians derives whatever justice it possesses. in those directions and towards those high endeavours amongst the subjects within her own dominion, and thence amongst the races and religions of the world, the short space that is illumined of the path in front of britain does unmistakably lead. every year, every month that passes, is fraught with import of the high and singular destiny which awaits this realm, this empire, and this race. the actions, the purposes of other empires and races, seem but to illustrate the actions, the purposes of this empire, and the distinction of its relations to humanity. faithful to her past, in conflict for this high cause, if britain fall, it will at least be as that hero of the _iliad_ fell, "doing some memorable thing." were not this nobler than by overmuch wisdom to incur the taunt, _propter vitam vivendi perdere causas_, or that cast by dante at him who to fate's summons returned "the great refusal," _a dio spiacenti ed a'nemici sui_, "hateful to god and to the enemies of god"? the nations of the earth ponder our action at this crisis, and by our vacillation or resolution they are uplifted or dejected; whilst, in their invisible abodes, the spirits of the dead of our race are in suspense till the hazard be made and the glorious meed be secured, in triumph or defeat, to eternity. there are crises in history when it is not merely fitting to remember the dead. their deeds live with us continually, and are not so much things remembered, as integral parts of our life, moulding the thought of every hour. in such crises a senate of the dead were the truest counsellors of the living, for they alone could with convincing eloquence plead the cause of the past and of the generations that are not yet. warriors, crusaders, patriots, statesmen-soldiers or statesmen-martyrs, it was for things which are not yet that they died, and to an end which, though strongly trusting, they but dimly discerned that they laid the foundations of this empire. masters of their own fates, possessors of their own lives, they gave them lightly as pledges unredeemed, and for men and things of which they were not masters or possessors. but they set higher store on glory than on life, and valued great deeds above length of days. they loved their country, dying for it, yet did it seem as if it were less for england than for that which is the excellence of man's life and the very emergence of the divine within such life, that they fought and fell. and this great inheritance of fame and of valour is but ours on trust, the fief inalienable of the dead and of the generations to come. and now, behold from their martyr graves russell, sidney, eliot arise, and with phantom fingers beckon england on! from the fields of their fate and their renown, see talbot and falkland, wolfe and de montfort arise, regardful of england and her action at this hour. and lo! gathering up from the elder centuries, a sound like a trumpet-call, clear-piercing, far-borne, mystic, ineffable, the call to battle of hosts invisible, the mustering armies of the dead, the great of other wars--brunanburh and senlac, creçy, flodden, blenheim and trafalgar. _their_ battle-cries await our answer--the chivalry's at agincourt, "heaven for harry, england and st. george!", cromwell's war-shout, which was a prayer, at dunbar, "the lord of hosts! the lord of hosts!"--these await our answer, that response which by this war we at last send ringing down the ages, "god for britain, justice and freedom to the world!" such witness of the dead is both a challenge and a consolation; a challenge, to guard this heritage of the past with the chivalry of the future, nor bate one jot of the ancient spirit and resolution of our race; a consolation, in the reflection that from a valour at once so remote and so near a degenerate race can hardly spring. with us, let me repeat, the decision rests, with us and with this generation. never since on sinai god spoke in thunder has mandate more imperative been issued to any race, city, or nation than now to this nation and to this people. and, again, if we should hesitate, or if we should decide wrongly, it is not the loss of prestige, it is not the narrowed bounds we have to fear, it is the judgment of the dead and the despair of the living, of the inarticulate myriads who have trusted to us, it is the arraigning eyes of the unborn. [ ] i am aware of spinoza's distinction of the "clara et distincta idea" and the "inadequat[oe] idea"; but the distinction above flows from a conception of the universe and of man's destiny which is not spinoza's nor spinozistic. [ ] was machst du an der welt? sie ist schon gemacht; der herr der schöpfung hat alles bedacht. dein loos ist gefallen, verfolge die weise, der weg ist begonnen, vollende die reise. goethe, _west-östlicher divan, buch der sprüche_. [ ] recent investigation has made it clear that the history of islamic arabia is not severed by any violent convulsion from pre-mohammedan arabia. "the times of ignorance" were not the desolate waste which tabari, "the livy of the arabs," paints, and down to the close of the eighteenth century the comparison between england, rome, and islam offers a fair field for speculative politics. [ ] yet the scientific conception of the _destruction_ or _decay_ of this whole star-system by fire or ice does of itself turn progress into a mockery. (see prof. c. a. young, _manual of astronomy_, p. , and prof. f. r. moulton, _introduction to astronomy_, p. .) [ ] condorcet's biography ( ) of his master is one of the noblest works of its class in french literature. turgot's was one of those minds that like chamfort's or villiers de l'isle adam's scatter bounteously the ideas which others use or misuse. the fogs and mists of comte's portentous tomes are all derived, it has often been pointed out, from a few paragraphs of turgot. and a fragment written by turgot in his youth inspired something of the substance and even of the title of condorcet's great _esquisse_. [ ] references to the power over his mind of the french revolutionary principles abound in goethe's writings. the violence of the first impression, which began with the affair of the necklace, had reached a climax in ' and ' , and this, along with the ineffaceable memories of the _werther_ and _goetz_ period, which his heart remembered when in his intellectual development he had left it far behind, accounts in a large measure for his yielding temporarily at least to the spell of napoleon's genius, and for the studied but unaffected indifference to german politics and to the war of liberation. even of , the year of eckmühl, essling, and wagram, and the darkest hour of german freedom, goethe can write: "this year, considering the beautiful returns it brought me, shall ever remain dear and precious to memory," and when the final uprising against the french was imminent, he sought quietude in oriental poetry--firdusi, hafiz, and nisami. [ ] of his _contes_ taine said: "depuis les grecs aucun artiste n'a taillé un camée littéraire avec autant de relief, avec une aussi rigoureuse perfection de forme." [ ] it is remarkable that carlyle and schopenhauer should have lived through four decades together yet neither know in any complete way of the other's work. carlyle nowhere mentions the name of schopenhauer. indeed _die welt als wille und vorstellung_, though read by a few, was practically an unknown book both in germany and england until a date when carlyle was growing old, solitary, and from the present ever more detached, and new books and new writers had become, as they were to goethe in his age, distasteful or a weariness. schopenhauer, on the other hand, already in the "thirties," had been attracted by carlyle's essays on german literature in the _edinburgh_, and though ignorant as yet of the writer's name he was all his life too diligent a reader of english newspapers and magazines to be unaware of carlyle's later fame. but he has left no criticism, nor any distinct references to carlyle's teaching, although in his later and miscellaneous writings the opportunity often presents itself. wagner, it is known, was a student both of schopenhauer and carlyle. schopenhauer's proud injunction, indeed, that he who would understand his writings should prepare himself by a preliminary study of plato or kant, or of the divine wisdom of the upanishads, indicates also paths that lead to the higher teaching of wagner, and--though in a less degree--of carlyle. [ ] the friendship of tourgenieff and flaubert rested upon speculative rather than on artistic sympathy. the russian indeed never quite understood flaubert's "rage for the word." yet the deep inner concord of the two natures reveals itself in their correspondence. it was the supreme friendship of flaubert's later manhood as that with bouilhet was the friendship of his earlier years. yet they met seldom, and their meetings often resembled those of thoreau and emerson, as described by the former, or those of carlyle and tennyson, when after some three hours' smoking, interrupted by a word or two, the evening would end with carlyle's good-night: "weel, we hae had a grand nicht, alfred." it is in one of tourgenieff's own prose-poems that the dialogue of the jungfrau and the finsteraarhorn across the centuries is darkly shadowed. the evening of the world falls upon spirits sensitive to its intimations as the diurnal twilight falls upon the hearts of travellers descending a broad stream near the ocean and the haven of its unending rest. [ ] cf. philostratus, _life of appollonius_. i. . nineteenth century europe note. "nineteenth century europe" was written by mr. cramb for the _daily news_ special number for december st, . in it he presents a survey of the political events and tendencies throughout europe during the nineteenth century. he outlines the development of the new german empire from the war against napoleon down to the days of bismarck and wilhelm ii, and shows how the russian general skobeleff, the hero of plevna and the schipka pass, foretold over thirty years ago the present death-struggle between teuton and slav in eastern europe. the future _rôles_ of france, italy, and spain are also clearly indicated by the author. nineteenth century europe i dominion of the ideal of liberty in europe, as the year dragged to its bloody close, and the fury of the conflict between the monarchies and the revolution was for a time stilled on the fields of marengo and hohenlinden, men then, as now, discussed the problems of the relation of a century's end to the determining forces of human history; then, as now, men remarked half regretfully, half mockingly, how pallid had grown the light which once fell from the years of jubilee of mediaeval or hebrew times; and then, as now, critics of a lighter or more positive vein debated the question whether the coming year were the first or second of the new century, pointing out that between the last year of a century and man's destiny there could be no intimate connection, that all the eras were equally arbitrary, equally determined by local or accidental calculations, that the century which was closing over the christian world had but run half its course to the mohammedan. yet in one deep enough matter the mood of the europe of differs significantly from the mood of the europe of . whatever the division in men's minds as to the relation between the close of the century and a race's history, and the precise moment at which the old century ends and the new begins, one thing in was radiantly clear to all men--the glory and the wonder, the endless peace and felicity not less endless, which the opening century and the new age dimly portended or securely promised to humanity. the desert march of eighteen hundred years was ended; the promised land was in sight. the poet's voice from the cumberland hills, "bliss was it in that dawn to be alive" traversed the north sea, and beyond the rhine was swelled by a song more majestic and not less triumphant: froh, wie seine sonnen fliegen, durch des himmels prächt'gen plan, wandelt, brüder, eure bahn, freudig, wie ein held zum siegen, and, passing the alps and the vistula, died in a tumultuous hymn of victory long hoped for, of joy long desired, of freedom long despaired of, in the cities of italy, the valleys of greece, the plains of poland, and the russian steppes. since those days three generations have arisen, looked their last upon the sun, and passed to their rest, and in what another mood does europe now confront the opening century and the long vista of its years! man presents himself no more as he was delineated by the poets of . not now does man appear to the poet's vision as mild by suffering and by freedom strong, rising like some stately palm on the century's verge; but to the highest-mounted minds in russia, germany, france, norway, italy, man presents himself like some blasted pine, a thunder-riven trunk, tottering on the brink of the abyss, whilst far below rave the darkness and the storm-drift of the worlds. from what causes and by the operation of what laws has the great disillusion fallen upon the heart of europe? whither are vanished the glorious hopes with which the century opened? is it final despair, this mood in which it closes, or is it but the temporary eclipse which hides some mightier hope, a new incarnation of the spirit of the world, some yet serener endeavour, radiant and more enduring, wider in its range and in its influences profounder than that of , of , or of the year of hohenlinden and marengo? in the year , from the volga to the irish sea, from the sunlit valleys of calabria to the tormented norwegian fiords, there was in every european heart capable of interests other than egoistical and personal one word, one hope, ardent and unconquerable. that word was "freedom"--freedom to the serf from the fury of the boyard, to the thralls who toiled and suffered throughout the network of principalities, kingdoms, and duchies, named "germany"; freedom to the negro slave; freedom to the newer slaves whom factories were creating; freedom to spain from the inquisition, from the tyranny and shame of charles iv and godoy; freedom to greece from the yoke of the ottoman; to italy from the slow, unrelenting oppression of the austrian; freedom to all men from the feudal state and the feudal church, from civic injustice and political disfranchisement, from the immeasurable wrongs of the elder centuries! a new religion, heralded by a new evangel, that of diderot and montesquieu, lessing, beccaria, and voltaire, and sanctified by the blood of new martyrs, the girondins, offered itself to the world. but as if man, schooled by disillusionment, and deceived in the fifteenth and in the seventeenth centuries, trembled now lest this new hope should vanish like the old, he sought a concrete symbol and a reasoned basis for the intoxicating dream. therefore, he spoke the word "liberty" like a challenge, and as sentinel answers sentinel, straight there came the response, whispered in his own breast, or boldly uttered--"france and bonaparte." since the death of mohammed, no single life had so centred upon itself the deepest hopes and aspirations of men of every type of genius, intellect, and character. chateaubriand, returning from exile, offers him homage, and in the first year of the century dedicates to him his _génie du christianisme_, that work which, after _la nouvelle héloïse_, most deeply moulded the thought of france in the generation which followed. and in that year, beethoven throws upon paper, under the name "bonaparte," the first sketches of his mighty symphony, the serenest achievement in art, save the _prometheus_ of shelley, that the revolutionary epoch has yet inspired. in that year, at weimar, schiller, at the height of his enthusiasm, is repelled, as he had been in the first ardour of their friendship, by the aloofness or the disdain of the greater poet. yet goethe did most assuredly feel even then the spell of napoleon's name. and in that year, the greatest of english orators, charles james fox, joined with the russian czar, paul, with canova, the most exquisite of italian sculptors, and with hegel, the most brilliant of german metaphysicians, in offering the heart's allegiance to this sole man for the hopes his name had kindled in europe and in the world. to the calmer devotion of genius was added the idolatrous enthusiasm of the peoples of france, italy, germany. and, indeed, since mohammed, no single mind had united within itself capacities so various in their power over the imaginations of men--an energy of will, swift, sudden, terrifying as the eagle's swoop; the prestige of deeds which in his thirtieth year recalled the youth of alexander and the maturer actions of hannibal and caesar; an imaginative language which found for his ideas words that came as from a distance, like those of shakespeare or racine; and within his own heart a mystic faith, deep-anchored, immutable, tranquil, when all around was trouble and disarray--the calm of a spirit habituated to the infinite, and familiar with the deep places of man's thought from his youth upwards. yes, mirabeau was long dead, and danton, marat, and saint-just, and but three years ago the heroic lazare hoche, richly gifted in politics as in war, had been struck down in the noontide of his years; but now a greater than mirabeau, hoche, or danton was here. if the december sun of hohenlinden diverted men's minds to moreau, the victor, it was but for a moment. in the universal horror and joy with which on christmas day, , the rumour of the explosion and failure of the infernal machine in the rue st. nicaise spread over europe, men felt more intimately, more consciously, the hopes, the fears, bound up inextricably with the name, the actions, and the life of the new world-deliverer, the consul bonaparte. the history of the nineteenth century centres in the successive transformations of this ideal so highly-pitched. in the gradual declension of the cause which was then a religion, and to mankind the warrant of a new era, into a local or party-cry, a watch-word travestied and degraded, lies the origin of the intellectual despair or solicitude which marks the closing years of the century. the first disillusionment came swiftly. fifteen years pass, years of war and convulsion unexampled in europe since the cataclysm of the fifth century, the century of alaric and attila--and within that space, those fifteen years, what a revolution in all the sentiments, the hopes, the aspirations of men! the consul bonaparte has become the emperor napoleon, the arch-enemy of liberty and of the human race. france, the world's forlorn hope in , is, in , the gathering place of the armies of europe, risen in arms against her! emperors and kings, nations, cities, and principalities, statesmen like stein, philosophers like fichte, poets like arndt and körner, warriors like kutusov, blücher, and schwartzenberg, the peoples of europe and the governments of europe, the oppressed and the oppressors, the embittered enmities and the wrongs of a thousand years forgotten, had leagued together in this vast enterprise, whose end was the destruction of one nation and one sole man--the world-deliverer of but fifteen years ago! what tragedy of a lost leader equals this of napoleon? what marvel that it still troubles the minds of men more profoundly than any other of modern ages. yet napoleon did not betray liberty, nor was france false to the revolution. man's action at its highest is, like his art, symbolic. to camille desmoulins and the mob behind him the capture of a disused fortress and the liberation of a handful of men made the fall of the bastille the symbol and the watchword of liberty. to the europe of napoleon, the monarchs of russia, austria, prussia, and spain, the princes of germany and italy, the papal power, "the stone thrust into the side of italy to keep the wound open"--these were like the bastille to the france of desmoulins, a symbol of oppression and wrong, injustice and tyranny. and in bonaparte, whether as consul or emperor, the peoples of europe for a time beheld the hero who led against the tyrants the hosts of the free. what were his own despotisms, his own rigour, his cruelty, the spy-system of fouché, the stifled press, the _guet-apens_ of bayonne, the oppression of prussia, and one sanguinary war followed by another--what were these things but the discipline, the necessary sacrifice, the martyrdom of a generation for the triumph and felicity of the centuries to come? napoleon at the height of imperial power, with thirty millions of devoted subjects behind him, and legions unequalled since those of rome, did but make rousseau's experiment. "the emotions of men," rousseau argued, "have by seventeen hundred years of asceticism and christianism been so disciplined, that they can now be trusted to their own guidance." the hour of his death, whether by a pistol bullet or by poison, or from sheer weariness, was also the hour of rousseau's deepest insight into the human heart. that hour of penetrating vision into the eternal mystery made him glad to rush into the silence and the darkness. napoleon, trusting to the word and to the ideal liberty, to man's unstable desires and to his own most fixed star, yokes france in to his chariot wheels. but at the outset he has to compromise with the past of france, with the ineradicable traits of the celtic race, its passion for the figures on the veil of maya, its rancours, and the meditated vengeance for old defeats. yet it is in the name of liberty rather than of france that he greets the sun of austerlitz, breaks the ramrod despotism of prussia, and meets the awful resistance of the slav at eyiau and friedland. then, turning to the west, it is in the name of liberty that he sends junot, marmont, soult, and massena across the pyrenees to restore honour and law to spain, and, as he had ended the mediaeval empire of the hapsburgs, to end there in madrid the inquisition and the priestly domination. the inquisition, which in years had claimed , victims, is indeed suppressed, but spain, to his amazement, is in arms to a man against its liberators! but napoleon cannot pause, his fate, like hamlet's, calling out, and whilst his marshals are still baffled by the lines of torres vedras, he musters his hosts, and, conquering the new austrian empire at wagram, marches attila-like across a subjugated europe against the empire and capital of the white czar. napoleon's fall made the purpose of his destiny clear even to the most ardent of french royalists, and to the most contented of the servants of francis ii or frederick william iii. at vienna the gaily-plumaged diplomatists undid in a month all that the fifteen years of unparalleled action and suffering unparalleled had achieved; whilst the most matter-of-fact of all british cabinets invested the prison of the fallen conqueror with a tragic poetry which made the rock in the atlantic but too fitting an emblem of the peak in the caucasus and the lingering anguish of prometheus. and if not one man of supreme genius then living or in after ages has condemned napoleon, if the poets of that time, goethe and manzoni, poushkine, byron, and lermontoff, made themselves votaries of his fame, it was because they felt already what two generations have made a commonplace, that his hopes had been their hopes, his disillusion their disillusion; that in political freedom no more than in religious freedom can the peace of the world be found; that girondinism was no final evangel; that to man's soul freedom can never be an end in itself, but only the means to an end. the history of europe for the thirty-three years following the abdication at the elysée is a conflict between the two principles of absolutism and liberty, represented now by the cry for constitutionalism and the nation, now by a return to girondinism and the watchword of humanity. in theory the divine right of peoples was arrayed against the divine right of kings. the conflict was waged bitterly; yet it was a conflict without a battle. the dungeon, the torture chamber, the siberian mine, the fortresses of spandau or spielberg, which silvio pellico has made remembered--these were the weapons of the tyrants. the secret society, the marianne, the carbonari, the offshoots of the tugendbund, the ineffectual rising or transient revolution, always bloodily repressed, whether in italy, spain, russia, austria, or poland--these were the sole weapons left to liberty, which had once at its summons the legions of napoleon. and in this singular conflict, what leaders! in spain, the heroic juan martin, the brilliant riego; in germany, görres, the morning-star of political journalism, rodbertus or borne; in france, saint-simon, and the malcontents who still believed in the bonapartist cause. it was not an army, but a crowd, without unity of purpose and without the possibility of united action. opposed to these were the united purposes, moved, for a time at least, by a single aim--the repression of the common enemy, "revolution," in every state of europe, in the great monarchies of austria, france, russia, as in the smaller principalities of germany, the kingdom of the two sicilies, tuscany, piedmont, venetia, and modena. to this war against liberty the czar alexander, the white angel who, in madame de krüdener's phrase, had struck down the black angel napoleon, added something of the sanctity of a crusade. from god alone was the sovereign power of the princes of the earth derived, and it was the task of the holy alliance to compel the peoples to submit to this divinely-appointed and righteous despotism. in this crusade austria and metternich occupy in europe till the place which france and bonaparte had occupied in the earlier crusade. "i was born," says metternich in the fragment of his autobiography, "to be the enemy of the revolution." nature, indeed, and the environment of his youth had formed him to act the part of the genius of reaction. beneath the fine, empty, meaningless mask of the austrian noble lay a heart which had never quivered with any profound emotion, or beat high with any generous impulse. he was hostile to nobility of thought, action, and art, for he had intelligence enough to discern in these a living satire upon himself, his life, his aims. he despised history, for history is the tragedy of humanity; and he mocked at philosophy. but he patronized schlegel, for his watery volumes were easy reading, and made rebellion seem uncultured and submission the mark of a thoughtful mind. metternich's handsome figure, fine manners, and interminable _billets-doux_ written between sentences of death, exile, the solitary dungeon, distinguish his appearance and habits from philip ii of spain, but, like him, he governed europe from his bureau, guiding the movements of a standing army of , men, and a police and espionage department never surpassed and seldom rivalled in the western world. there was nothing in him that was great. but he was indisputable master of europe for thirty-three years. nesselrode, hardenberg, talleyrand even--whose memoirs seem the work of genius beside the beaten level of mediocrity of metternich's--found their designs checked whenever they crossed the austrian's policy. congress after congress--vienna, carlsbad, troppau, laybach, verona--exhibited his triumph to europe. at laybach, in , the emperor's address to the professors there, and thence to all the professors throughout the empire, was dictated by metternich--"hold fast by what is old, for that alone is good. if our forefathers found in this the true path, why should we seek another? new ideas have arisen amongst you, principles which i, your emperor, have not sanctioned, and never will sanction. beware of such ideas! it is not scholars i stand in need of, but of loyal subjects to my crown, and you, you are here to train up loyal subjects to me. see that you fulfil this task!" is there in human history a document more blasting to the reputation for political wisdom or foresight of him who penned it? it were an insult to the great florentine to style such piteous ineptitudes machiavellian. yet they succeeded. the new evangel had lost its power; the freedom of humanity was the dream of a few ideologues; the positive ideals of later times had not yet arisen. well might men ask themselves: has then voltaire lived in vain, and the girondins died in vain? has all the blood from lodi and arcola to austerlitz and the borodino been shed in vain? hard on the address to the universities there crept silently across europe the message that napoleon was dead. "it is not an event," said talleyrand, "but a piece of news." the remark was just. europe seemed now one vast sainte hélène, and men's hearts a sepulchre in which all hope or desire for liberty was vanquished. the solitary grave at longwood, the iron railings, the stunted willow, were emblems of a cause for ever lost. the revolution of july lit the gloom with a moment's radiance. heine's letters still preserve the electric thrill which the glorious three days awakened. "lafayette, the tricolour, the _marseillaise_!" he writes to varnhagen, when the "sunbeams wrapped in printer's ink" reached him in heligoland, "i am a child of the revolution, and seize again the sacred weapons. bring flowers! i will crown my head for the fight of death. give me the lyre that i may sing a song of battle, words like fiery stars which shoot from heaven and burn up palaces and illumine the cabins of the poor." but when lafayette presented to france that best of all possible republics, the fat smile and cotton umbrella of louis philippe; when throughout italy, sicily, spain, germany, insurrection was repressed still more coldly and cruelly; when paskievitch established order in warsaw, and czartoryski resigned the struggle--then the transient character of the outbreak was visible. france herself was weary of the illusion. "we had need of a sword," a polish patriot wrote, "and france sent us her tears." the taunt was as foolish as it was unjust. france assuredly had done her part in the war for liberty. the hour had come for the states of europe to work out their own salvation, or resign themselves to autocracy, jesuitism, a gagged press, the omnipresent spy, the troubetskoi ravelin, spandau, and metternich. eighteen years were to pass before action, but it was action for a more limited and less glorious, if more practical, ideal than the freedom of the world. other despots died--alexander i in , the two ferdinands, of sicily and of spain, francis ii himself in , and frederick william iii in . gentz, too, was dead, talleyrand, hardenberg, and pozzo di borgo; but metternich lived on--"the gods," as sophocles avers, "give long lives to the dastard and the dog-hearted." the revolution of july seemed but a test of the stability of the fabric he had reared. from guizot and his master he found but little resistance. the new czar nicholas fell at once into the austrian system; and, with gerlach as minister, prussia offered as little resistance as the france of guizot. meanwhile, in , by the motion of thiers, napoleon had returned from saint helena, and the advance of his coffin across the seas struck a deeper trouble into the despots of europe than the march of an army. ii nationality and modern republicanism in the political as in the religious ideals of men transformation is endless and unresting. the moment of collision between an old and a new principle of human action is a revolution. such a turning-point is the movement which finds its climax in europe in the year . two forces there present themselves, hostile to each other, yet indissolubly united in their determining power upon modern as opposed to ancient republicanism--the principle of nationality and the principle of the organization of labour against capital, which under various appellations is one of the most profoundly significant forces of the present age. the freedom of the nation was the form into which the older ideal of the freedom of man had dwindled. saint-simonianism preserved for a time the old tradition. but the devotees of saint-simon's greatest work, _le nouveau christianisme_, after anticipating in their banquets, graced sometimes by the presence of malibran, the glories of the coming era, quarrelled amongst themselves, and, returning to common life, became zealous workers not for humanity, but for france, for germany, or for italy. patriotism was taking the place of humanism. to lamartine, indeed, and to victor hugo, as to cultured liberalism throughout europe, the incidents in paris of february, , and the astounding rapidity with which the spirit of revolutions sped from the seine to the vistula, to the danube and the frontiers of the czar--the barricades in the streets of vienna and berlin, the flight of the emperor and the hated metternich, the congress at prague, and all hungary arming at the summons of kossuth, the daring proclamation of the party of roumanian unity--appeared as a glorious continuance, or even as an expansion, of the ideals of and . louis napoleon, entering like the cut-purse king in _hamlet_, who stole a crown and put it in his pocket, the flight of kossuth, the surrender or the treason of gorgei, the _coup d'état_ of december, , shattered these airy imaginings. yet napoleon iii understood at least one aspect of the change which the years had brought better than the rhetorician of the _girondins_ or the poet of _hernani_. for the principle of nationality, which in they ignored, became the foundation of the second french empire, of the unity of italy, and of that new german empire which, since , has affected the state system of europe more potently and continuously than any other single event since the sudden unity of spain under ferdinand at the close of the fifteenth century. it was his dexterous and lofty appeal to this same principle which gave the volumes of palacky's _history of bohemia_ a power like that of a war-song. nationality did not die in vienna before the bands of windischgratz and jellachlich, and from his exile kossuth guided its course in hungary to a glorious close--the magyar nation. even in russia, then its bitter enemy, this principle quickened the ardour of pan-slavism, which the war of --the schipka pass, plevna, the dazzling heroism of skobeleff--has made memorable. in the triumph of this same principle lies the future hope of spain. spain has been exhausted by revolution after revolution, by carlist intrigue, by the arrogance of successive dictators, and by the bloody reprisals of faction; she has lost the last of her great colonies; but to alphonso xiii fate seems to reserve the task of completing again by mutual resignation that union with portugal of which castelar indicated the basis--a common blood and language, the common graves which are their ancient battle-fields, and the common wars against the moslem, which are their glory. with the names of marx and lassalle is associated the second great principle which, in , definitely takes its place on the front of the european stage. this is the principle whose votaries confronted lamartine at the hôtel-de-ville on the afternoon of the th february. the famous sentence, fortunate as danton's call to arms, yet by its touch of sentimentality marking the distinction between september, , and february, , "the tricolour has made the tour of the world; the red flag but the tour of the champ de mars," has been turned into derision by subsequent events. the red flag has made the tour of the world as effectively as the tricolour and the eagles of bonaparte. the origins of communism, socialism, anarchism, nihilism--for all four, however diverging or antagonistic in the ends they immediately pursue, spring from a common root--have been variously ascribed in france to the work of louis blanc, fourier, proudhon, or in germany to engels, stirner, and rodbertus, or to the countless secret societies which arose in spain, italy, austria, and russia, as a protest against the broken pledges of kings and governments after the congress of vienna. but the principle which informs alike the writings of individual thinkers and agitators, though deriving a peculiar force in the first half of the century from the doctrines and teachings of fichte and schleiermacher, is but the principle to which in all ages suffering and wrong have made their vain appeal--the responsibility of all for the misery of the many and the enduring tyranny of the few. indignant at the spectacle, the nihilist in orthodox russia applies his destructive criticism to all institutions, civil, religious, political, and finding all hollow, seeks to overwhelm all in one common ruin. the emancipation of was to the nihilist but the act of tyranny veiling itself as justice. it left the serf, brutalized by centuries of oppression, even more completely than before to the mercy of the boyard and the exploiters of human souls. michel bakounine, kropotkine, stepniak, michaelov, and sophia perovskaya, whose handkerchief gave the signal to the assassins of alexander ii, were but actualisations of tourgenieff's imaginary hero bazaroff, and for a time, indeed, bazaroffism was in literary jargon the equivalent of nihilism. if at intervals in recent years a shudder passes across europe at some new crime, attempted or successful, of anarchy, if europe notes the singular regularity with which the crime is traced to italy, and is perplexed at the absence of all the usual characteristics of conspiracy against society--for what known motives of human action, vanity or fear, hope or the gratification of revenge, can explain the silence of the confederates of malatesta, and the blind obedience of the agents of his will?--if europe is perplexed at this apparition of a terror unknown to the ancient world, the italian sees in it but the operation of the law of responsibility. to the nameless sufferings of italy he ascribes the temper which leads to the mania of the anarchist; and the sufferings of italy in their morbid stage he can trace to the betrayal of italy by europe in , in , in , in , and supremely in . as europe has grown more conscious of its essential unity as one state system, diplomacy has wandered from such conceptions as the balance of power, through gortschakoff's ironic appeal to the equality of kings, to the derisive theory of the concert of europe. but communism and anarchism have afforded a proof of the unity of europe more convincing and more terrible, and full of sinister presage to the future. a third aspect of this revolt of misery is socialism. karl marx may be regarded as the chief exponent, if not the founder, of cosmopolitan or international socialism, and lassalle as the actual founder of the national or democratic socialism of germany. marx, whose countenance with its curious resemblance to that of the dwarf of velasquez, sebastian de morra, seems to single him out as the apostle and avenger of human degradation and human suffering, published the first sketch of his principles in , but more completely in the manifesto adopted by the paris commune in . as the revolution of is to be traced to the oppression of the peasantry by feudal insolence, never weary in wrong-doing, as described by boisguilbert and mirabeau _père_, so the new revolutionary movement of the close of the nineteenth century has its origin in the oppression of the artisan class by the new aristocracy, the _bourgeoisie_. factory owners and millionaires have taken the place of the _noblesse_ of last century. and the sufferings of the proletariat, peasant and artisan alike, have increased with their numbers. freedom has taught the myriads of workers new desires. heightened intelligence has given them the power to contrast their own wretchedness with the seeming happiness of others, and a standard by which to measure their own degradation, and to sound the depths of their own despair. marx's greatest work, _das kapital_, published in , was to the new revolution just such an inspiration and guide as the _contrat social_ of rousseau was to the revolution of ' . the brilliant genius of lassalle yielded to the sway of the principle of nationality, and ultimately of empire, as strongly as the narrower and gloomier nature of marx was repelled by these principles. it was this trait in his writings, as well as the fiery energy of his soul and his faith in the prussian peasant and the prussian artisan, that attracted for a time the interest of bismarck. even a state such as austria lassalle regarded as higher than any federal union whatever. the image of lassalle's character, his philosophy, and too swift career, may be found in his earliest work, _heracleitus_, the god-gifted statesman whom plato delineated, seeking not his own, but realizing his life in that of others, toiling ceaselessly for the oppressed, the dumb, helpless, leaderless masses who suffer silently, yet know not why they suffer. a monarchy resting upon the support of the artisan-myriads against the arrogance of the _bourgeois_, as the tudor monarchy rested upon the support of the yeomen and the towns against the arrogance of the feudal barons--this, in the most effective period of his career, was lassalle's ideal state. and it is his remarkable pamphlet in reply to the deputation from leipsic in that has fitly been characterized as the charter of the whole movement of democratic socialism in germany down to the present hour. the revolution of revealed to european liberalism a more formidable adversary than metternich. the youth of nicholas i had been formed by the same tutors as that of his elder brother, the czar alexander. the princess lieven and his mother, maria federovna, the friend of stein, and the implacable enemy of napoleon, had found in him a pupil at once devoted, imaginative, and unwearied. a resolute will, dauntless courage, a love of the beautiful in nature and in art, a high-souled enthusiasm for his country, made him seem the fate-appointed leader of russia's awakening energies. the teuton in his blood effaced the slav, and the fixed, the unrelenting pursuit of one sole purpose gives his career something of the tragic unity of napoleon's, and leaves him still the supreme type of the russian autocrat. one god, one law, one church, one state, russian in language, russian in creed, russian in all the labyrinthine grades of its civic, military, and municipal life--this was the dream to the realization of which the thirty crowded years of his reign were consecrated. there is grandeur as well as swiftness of decision in the manner in which he encounters and quells the insurrection of the th december. then, true to the immemorial example of tyrants, he found employment for sedition in war. he tore from persia in a single campaign two rich provinces and an indemnity of , , roubles. the mystic liberalism of alexander was abandoned. the free constitution of poland, the eyesore of the boyards and the old russian party, was overthrown, and a russian, as distinct from a german, policy was welcomed with surprise and tumultuous delight. "despotism," he declared, "is the principle of my government; my people desires no other." yet he endeavoured to win young russia by flattery, as he had conquered old russia by reaction. he encouraged the movement in poetry against the tasteless imitation of western models, and in society against the dominance of the french language. in the first years of his reign french ceases to be a medium of literary expression, and russian prose and russian verse acquire their own cadences. yet liberty is the life-blood of art; and liberty he could not grant. the freedom of the press was interdicted; liberty of speech forbidden, and a strict censorship, exercised by the dullest of officials, stifled literature. "how unfortunate is this bonaparte!" a wit remarked when pichegru was found strangled on the floor of his dungeon, "all his prisoners die on his hands." how unfortunate was the czar nicholas! all his men of genius died by violent deaths. lermontoff and poushkine fell in duels before antagonists who represented the _tchinovnik_ class. rileyev died on the scaffold; griboiédov was assassinated at teheran. his foreign policy was a return to that of catherine the great--the restoration of the byzantine empire. making admirable use of the hellenic enthusiasm of canning, he destroyed the turkish fleet at navarino. thus popular at home and abroad, regarded by the liberals of europe as the restorer of greek freedom, and by the legitimists as a stronger successor to alexander, he was able to crush the poles. enthusiastic berlin students carried the effigies of polish leaders in triumph; but not a sword was drawn. england, france, austria looked on silent at the work of diebitch and paskievitch, "my two mastiffs," as the czar styled them, and the true "_finis poloniae_" had come. a russian army marching against kossuth, and the czar's demand for the extradition of the heroic magyar, unmasked the despot. yet his european triumph was complete, and the war in the crimea seemed his crowning chance--the humiliating of the two powers which in his eyes represented liberty and the revolution. every force that personal rancour, and the devotion of years to one sole end, every measure that reason and state policy could dictate, lent their aid to stimulate the efforts of the monarch in this enterprise. the disaster was sudden, overwhelming, irremediable. yet in one thing his life was a success, and that a great one--he had russianised russia. the crimean war marks a turning-point in the history of europe only less significant than the revolution of . the isolating force of religion was annulled, and the slowly increasing influence of the east upon the west affected even the routine of diplomacy. the hopes of the carlists and the jesuits in spain were frustrated, and austria, deprived of the reward of her neutrality, could look no more to the muscovite for aid in crushing italian freedom, as she had crushed hungary. from his deep chagrin at the treason of the powers, cavour seemed to gather new strength and a political wisdom which sets his name with those of the greatest constructive statesmen of all time. the defeat at novara was avenged, the policy of villafranca, and the designs of that singular saviour of society, louis napoleon, were checked. venetia was recovered, and when in the lines around metz and sedan withdrew the french bayonets which hedged in pio nono, victor emmanuel entered rome as king of italy. thirty years have passed since the th september, and the burdens of taxation and military sacrifices which italy has borne, with the prisoner in the vatican like a conspirator on her own hearth, can be compared only with the burdens which prussia endured for the sake of glory and her kings before and after rossbach. but instead of a rossbach, italy has had an adowa; instead of justice, a corrupt official class and an army of judges who make justice a mockery, anarchism in her towns, a superstitious peasantry, an aristocracy dead to the future and to the memory of the past. this heroic patriotism, steadfast patience, and fortitude in disaster have their roots in the noblest hearts of italy herself, but there is not one which in the trial hour has not felt its own strength made stronger, its own resolution made loftier, by the genius and example of a single man--giuseppe mazzini. to modern republicanism, not only of italy, but of europe, mazzini gave a higher faith and a watchword that is great as the watchwords of the world. equal rights mean equal duties. the rights of man imply the duties of man. he taught the millions of workers in italy that their life-purpose lay not in the extortion of privileges, but in making themselves worthy of those privileges; that it was not in conquering capitalists that the path of victory lay, but in all classes of italians striving side by side towards a common end, the beauty and freedom of italy, by establishing freedom and beauty in the soul. the movement towards unity in germany is old as the war of liberation against napoleon, old as luther's appeal to the german princes in . the years following leipsic were consumed by german liberalism in efforts to invent a constitution like that of england. it was the happy period of the doctrinaire, of the pedant, and of the student of and the pupils of siéyès. heine's bitter address to germany, "dream on, thou son of folly, dream on!" sprang from a chagrin which every sincere german, prussian, bavarian, würtemberger, or rheinlander felt not less deeply. the revolution of , the blood spilt at the barricades in the streets of vienna and berlin, did not end this; but it roused the better spirits amongst the opposition to deeper perception of the aspiration of all germany. which of the multifarious kingdoms and duchies could form the centre of a new union, federal or imperial? austria, with her long line of hapsburg monarchs, her tyranny, her obscurantism, her tenacious hold upon the past, had been the enemy or the oppressor of every state in turn. the danubian principalities, bohemia, hungary, pointed out to vienna a task in the future calculated to try her declining energy to the utmost. prussia alone possessed the heroic past, the memory of frederick, of blücher, of stein, scharnhorst, and yorck; and, if politically despotic, she was essentially protestant in religion, and protestantism offered the hope of religious tolerance. after austria's defeat in italy, the issue north of the alps was inevitable. the question was how and in what shape the end would realize itself. montesquieu insists that, even without caius julius, the fall of the oligarchy and the establishment of the roman empire was fixed as by a law of fate. yet, with data before us, it is hard to imagine the creation of the new german empire without bismarck. his downright prussianism rises like a rock through the mists, amid the vaporous liberalism of the pre-revolutionary period. his unbroken resolution gave strength to the wavering purpose of frederick william iv. his diplomacy led to königgrätz, and the manipulated telegram from ems turned, as moltke said, a retreat into a call to battle. and in front of metz his wisdom kept the bavarian legions in the field. from his first definite entry into a state career in to the dismissal of , his deep religion, wisdom, and simplicity of nature are as distinctly prussian as the glancing ardour of skobeleff is distinctly russian. from the hohenzollern he looked for no gratitude. his loyalty was loyalty to the kingship, not to the individual. he had early studied the career of strafford, and knew the value of the word of a king. false or true to all men else, he was unwaveringly true to prussia, which to bismarck meant being true to himself, true to god. he could not bequeath his secret to those who came after him any more than leonardo could bequeath his secret to luini. but the empire he built up has the elements of endurance. it possesses in the middle age common traditions, deep and penetrating, a common language, and the recent memory of a marvellous triumph. protestantism and the prussian temper ensure religious freedom to bavaria. even in the old principles of the seven years' war, protestantism and the neo-romanism of pius ix, reappear in the opposing ranks at gravelotte and sedan. the new empire, whether it be to europe a warrant of peace or of war, is at least a bulwark against ultramontanism. the change in french political life finds its expression in the russian alliance. time has atoned for the disasters at the alma and inkermann. would one discover the secret at the close of the century of the alliance of russia and france, freedom's forlorn hope when the century began? it is contained in the speech of skobeleff which once startled europe: "the struggle between the slav and the teuton no human power can avert. even now it is near, and the struggle will be long, terrible, and bloody; but this alone can liberate russia and the whole slavonic race from the tyranny of the intruder. no man's home is a home till the german has been expelled, and the rush to the east, the '_drang nach osten_' turned back for ever." iii the ideals of a new age in modern europe political revolutions have invariably been preceded or accompanied by revolutions in thought or religion. the nineteenth century, which has been convulsed by thirty-three revolutions, the overthrow of dynasties, and the assassination of kings, has also been characterized by the range and daring of its speculative inquiry. every system of thought which has perplexed or enthralled the imagination of man, every faith that has exalted or debased his intelligence, has had in this age its adherents. the papacy in each successive decade has gained by this tumult and mental disquietude. thought is anguish to the masses of men, any drug is precious, and to escape from its misery the soul conspires against her own excellence and the perfection of nature. even in napoleon in his hamlet-like musings in the tuileries despaired of liberty as the safety of the world, and in his tragic course this despair adds a metaphysical touch to his doom. five popes have succeeded him who anointed bonaparte, and the very era of darwin and strauss has been illustrated or derided by the bull, "_ineffabilis deus_," the council of the vatican, the thronged pilgrimages to lourdes, and the neo-romanism of french _littérateurs_. the hellenism of goethe was a protest against this movement, at once in its intellectual and its literary forms, the romanticism of tieck and novalis, the cultured pietism of lammenais and chateaubriand. yet in _faust_ goethe attempted a reconciliation of hellas and the middle age, and the work is not only the supreme literary achievement of the century, but its greatest prophetic book. then science became the ally of poetry and speculative thought in the war against obscurantism, ultramontanism, and jesuitism in all its forms. geology flung back the aeons of the past till they receded beyond imagination's wing. astronomy peopled with a myriad suns the infinite solitudes of space. the theory of evolution stirred the common heart of europe to a fury of debate upon questions confined till then to the studious calm of the few. the ardour to know all, to be all, to do all, here upon earth and now, which the nineteenth century had inherited from the renaissance, quickened every inventive faculty of man, and surprise has followed surprise. the aspirations of the revolutionary epoch towards some ideal of universal humanity, its sympathy with the ideals of all the past, hellas, islam, the middle age, received from the theories of science, and from increased facilities of communication and locomotion, a various and most living impulse. as man to the european imagination became isolated in space, and the earth a point lost in the sounding vastness of the atom-shower of the worlds, he also became conscious to himself as one. the bounds of the earth, his habitation, drew nearer as the stars receded, and surveying the past, his history seemed less a withdrawal from the divine than an ever-deepening of the presence of the divine within the soul. that which in speculation pre-eminently distinguishes the europe of the nineteenth century from preceding centuries--the gradually increasing dominion of oriental thought, art, and action--has strengthened this impression. an age mystic in its religion, symbolic in its art, and in its politics apathetic or absolutist, succeeds an age of formal religion, conventional art, and republican enthusiasm. goethe in , from the overthrow of dynasties and the crash of thrones, turned to the east and found peace. what were the armies of napoleon and the ruin of europe's dream to háfiz and sádi, and to the calm of the trackless centuries far behind? the mood of goethe has become the characteristic of the art, the poetry, the speculation of the century's end. the _bizarre_ genius of nietzsche, whose whole position is implicit in goethe's _divan_, popularized it in germany. the youngest of literatures, norway and russia, reveal its power as vividly as the oldest, italy and france. it controls the meditative depth of leopardi, the melancholy of tourgenieff, the nobler of ibsen's dramas, and the cadenced prose of flaubert. it informs the teaching of tolstoi and the greater art of tschaikowsky. goethe, at the beginning of the century, moulded into one the ideals of the middle age and of hellas, and so wagner at the close, in _tristan_ and in _parsifal_, has woven the oriental and the mediaeval spirit, thought, and passion, the minnesinger's lays and the mystic vision of the _upanishads_ into a rainbow torrent of harmony, which, with its rivals, the masterpieces of beethoven, schubert, brahms, and tschaikowsky, make this century the periclean age of music as the fifteenth was the periclean age of painting, and the sixteenth of poetry. what a vision of the new age thus opens before the gaze! the ideal of liberty and all its hopes have turned to ashes; but out of the ruins europe, tireless in the pursuit of the ideal, ponders even now some profounder mystery, some mightier destiny. more than any race known to history the teuton has the power of making other religions, other thoughts, other arts his own, and sealing them with the impress of his own spirit. the poetry of shakespeare, of goethe, the tone-dramas of wagner attest this. out of the thought and faith of judaea and hellas, of egypt and rome, the teutonic imagination has carved the present. their ideals have passed into his life imperishably. but the purple fringe of another dawn is on the horizon. teutonic heroism and resolution in action, transformed by the centuries behind and the ideals of the elder races, confront now, creative, the east, its mighty calm, its resignation, its scorn of action and the familiar aims of men, its inward vision, its deep disdain of realized ends. what vistas arise before the mind which seeks to penetrate the future of this union! the eighteenth century at its close coincided with an accomplished hope clearly defined. the last sun of the dying century goes down upon a world brooding over an unsolved enigma, pursuing an ideal it but darkly discerns. garden city press limited, printers, letchworth. popular edition, in paper covers, s. net. treitschke bernhardi expounded explained germany and england by professor cramb. with a preface by a. c. bradley and an introduction by the hon. joseph choate. lord roberts said: "i hope that everyone who wishes to understand the present crisis will read this book. there are in it things which will cause surprise and pain, but nowhere else are the forces which led to the war so clearly set forth." mr. choate says: "worthy to be placed among english classics for its clearness of thought and expression, its restrained eloquence, and its broad historical knowledge ... it explains very lucidly, not the occasion, but the cause (the deep-seated cause) of the present war." the _times_ says: "a book of warning and enlightenment, written with all a man's strength and sincerity, for which we must be profoundly grateful." the _spectator_ says: "let our readers buy this little book and see for themselves what the nature of the inspiration is at the back of the german imperialism. they will learn in the smallest possible space what germany is fighting for and what britain is resisting." three important works the german war book being "the usages of war on land" issued by the great general staff of the german army. translated, with a critical introduction, by j. h. morgan, m.a. professor of constitutional law at university college, london; late scholar of balliol college, oxford; joint author of "war; its conduct and its legal results." _crown vo. s. d. net._ this official and amazingly cynical war book of the prussian general staff lays down the rules to be followed by german officers in the conduct of war in the field, e.g., as to non-combatants, forced levies, neutrals, hostages. its importance and interest cannot be exaggerated. france in danger by paul vergnet. translated by beatrice barstow. _crown vo. s. d. net._ monsieur paul vergnet in this book did for the french public what professor cramb did for england. after a careful study of the political movements in germany, and of german literature, he warned his countrymen that war was imminent. his aspect of the question has never been fully discussed in england, and the translation of this book ought to have a very special interest and value for all students of the great war. war, its conduct and its legal results including a critical examination of the whole of the emergency legislation (with a chapter on martial law); a chapter on the neutrality of belgium; a survey of the rules as to the conduct of war on land and sea, and a complete study of the effect of war on commercial relations. by thomas baty, ll.d., d.c.l., and professor j. h. morgan. _crown vo._ in western canada before the war a study of communities by e. b. mitchell. _with map. crown vo._ this is an attempt to describe truly the social and economic state of things in the prairie provinces of the dominion in the years - , at the end of the great rush. the writer, who is neither a summer visitor nor a professional advertiser, nor a disappointed immigrant, had unusual opportunities for the study of life in a small prairie city and among the real prairie people on the farms; the picture drawn is neither all gloom nor all brightness. at the present time, when the war has made the whole empire realize its unity anew, such a disinterested study of western communities is specially useful and timely. london: john murray [note: see also etext # which is a different version of this ebook] heart of darkness by joseph conrad i the nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest. the flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river, the only thing for it was to come to and wait for the turn of the tide. the sea-reach of the thames stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable waterway. in the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. a haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. the air was dark above gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth. the director of companies was our captain and our host. we four affectionately watched his back as he stood in the bows looking to seaward. on the whole river there was nothing that looked half so nautical. he resembled a pilot, which to a seaman is trustworthiness personified. it was difficult to realize his work was not out there in the luminous estuary, but behind him, within the brooding gloom. between us there was, as i have already said somewhere, the bond of the sea. besides holding our hearts together through long periods of separation, it had the effect of making us tolerant of each other's yarns--and even convictions. the lawyer--the best of old fellows--had, because of his many years and many virtues, the only cushion on deck, and was lying on the only rug. the accountant had brought out already a box of dominoes, and was toying architecturally with the bones. marlow sat cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzen-mast. he had sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, a straight back, an ascetic aspect, and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled an idol. the director, satisfied the anchor had good hold, made his way aft and sat down amongst us. we exchanged a few words lazily. afterwards there was silence on board the yacht. for some reason or other we did not begin that game of dominoes. we felt meditative, and fit for nothing but placid staring. the day was ending in a serenity of still and exquisite brilliance. the water shone pacifically; the sky, without a speck, was a benign immensity of unstained light; the very mist on the essex marshes was like a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the wooded rises inland, and draping the low shores in diaphanous folds. only the gloom to the west, brooding over the upper reaches, became more somber every minute, as if angered by the approach of the sun. and at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, and from glowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat, as if about to go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of that gloom brooding over a crowd of men. forthwith a change came over the waters, and the serenity became less brilliant but more profound. the old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth. we looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs for ever, but in the august light of abiding memories. and indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes, "followed the sea" with reverence and affection, than to evoke the great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the thames. the tidal current runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memories of men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battles of the sea. it had known and served all the men of whom the nation is proud, from sir francis drake to sir john franklin, knights all, titled and untitled--the great knights-errant of the sea. it had borne all the ships whose names are like jewels flashing in the night of time, from the golden hind returning with her round flanks full of treasure, to be visited by the queen's highness and thus pass out of the gigantic tale, to the erebus and terror, bound on other conquests--and that never returned. it had known the ships and the men. they had sailed from deptford, from greenwich, from erith--the adventurers and the settlers; kings' ships and the ships of men on 'change; captains, admirals, the dark "interlopers" of the eastern trade, and the commissioned "generals" of east india fleets. hunters for gold or pursuers of fame, they all had gone out on that stream, bearing the sword, and often the torch, messengers of the might within the land, bearers of a spark from the sacred fire. what greatness had not floated on the ebb of that river into the mystery of an unknown earth! . . . the dreams of men, the seed of commonwealths, the germs of empires. the sun set; the dusk fell on the stream, and lights began to appear along the shore. the chapman lighthouse, a three-legged thing erect on a mud-flat, shone strongly. lights of ships moved in the fairway--a great stir of lights going up and going down. and farther west on the upper reaches the place of the monstrous town was still marked ominously on the sky, a brooding gloom in sunshine, a lurid glare under the stars. "and this also," said marlow suddenly, "has been one of the dark places of the earth." he was the only man of us who still "followed the sea." the worst that could be said of him was that he did not represent his class. he was a seaman, but he was a wanderer, too, while most seamen lead, if one may so express it, a sedentary life. their minds are of the stay-at-home order, and their home is always with them--the ship; and so is their country--the sea. one ship is very much like another, and the sea is always the same. in the immutability of their surroundings the foreign shores, the foreign faces, the changing immensity of life, glide past, veiled not by a sense of mystery but by a slightly disdainful ignorance; for there is nothing mysterious to a seaman unless it be the sea itself, which is the mistress of his existence and as inscrutable as destiny. for the rest, after his hours of work, a casual stroll or a casual spree on shore suffices to unfold for him the secret of a whole continent, and generally he finds the secret not worth knowing. the yarns of seamen have a direct simplicity, the whole meaning of which lies within the shell of a cracked nut. but marlow was not typical (if his propensity to spin yarns be excepted), and to him the meaning of an episode was not inside like a kernel but outside, enveloping the tale which brought it out only as a glow brings out a haze, in the likeness of one of these misty halos that sometimes are made visible by the spectral illumination of moonshine. his remark did not seem at all surprising. it was just like marlow. it was accepted in silence. no one took the trouble to grunt even; and presently he said, very slow-- "i was thinking of very old times, when the romans first came here, nineteen hundred years ago--the other day. . . . light came out of this river since--you say knights? yes; but it is like a running blaze on a plain, like a flash of lightning in the clouds. we live in the flicker--may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! but darkness was here yesterday. imagine the feelings of a commander of a fine--what d'ye call 'em?--trireme in the mediterranean, ordered suddenly to the north; run overland across the gauls in a hurry; put in charge of one of these craft the legionaries,--a wonderful lot of handy men they must have been too--used to build, apparently by the hundred, in a month or two, if we may believe what we read. imagine him here--the very end of the world, a sea the color of lead, a sky the color of smoke, a kind of ship about as rigid as a concertina--and going up this river with stores, or orders, or what you like. sandbanks, marshes, forests, savages,--precious little to eat fit for a civilized man, nothing but thames water to drink. no falernian wine here, no going ashore. here and there a military camp lost in a wilderness, like a needle in a bundle of hay--cold, fog, tempests, disease, exile, and death,--death skulking in the air, in the water, in the bush. they must have been dying like flies here. oh yes--he did it. did it very well, too, no doubt, and without thinking much about it either, except afterwards to brag of what he had gone through in his time, perhaps. they were men enough to face the darkness. and perhaps he was cheered by keeping his eye on a chance of promotion to the fleet at ravenna by-and-by, if he had good friends in rome and survived the awful climate. or think of a decent young citizen in a toga--perhaps too much dice, you know--coming out here in the train of some prefect, or tax-gatherer, or trader even, to mend his fortunes. land in a swamp, march through the woods, and in some inland post feel the savagery, the utter savagery, had closed round him,--all that mysterious life of the wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of wild men. there's no initiation either into such mysteries. he has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable. and it has a fascination, too, that goes to work upon him. the fascination of the abomination--you know. imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate." he paused. "mind," he began again, lifting one arm from the elbow, the palm of the hand outwards, so that, with his legs folded before him, he had the pose of a buddha preaching in european clothes and without a lotus-flower--"mind, none of us would feel exactly like this. what saves us is efficiency--the devotion to efficiency. but these chaps were not much account, really. they were no colonists; their administration was merely a squeeze, and nothing more, i suspect. they were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force--nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others. they grabbed what they could get for the sake of what was to be got. it was just robbery with violence, aggravated murder on a great scale, and men going at it blind--as is very proper for those who tackle a darkness. the conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much. what redeems it is the idea only. an idea at the back of it; not a sentimental pretense but an idea; and an unselfish belief in the idea--something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a sacrifice to. . . ." he broke off. flames glided in the river, small green flames, red flames, white flames, pursuing, overtaking, joining, crossing each other--then separating slowly or hastily. the traffic of the great city went on in the deepening night upon the sleepless river. we looked on, waiting patiently--there was nothing else to do till the end of the flood; but it was only after a long silence, when he said, in a hesitating voice, "i suppose you fellows remember i did once turn fresh-water sailor for a bit," that we knew we were fated, before the ebb began to run, to hear about one of marlow's inconclusive experiences. "i don't want to bother you much with what happened to me personally," he began, showing in this remark the weakness of many tellers of tales who seem so often unaware of what their audience would best like to hear; "yet to understand the effect of it on me you ought to know how i got out there, what i saw, how i went up that river to the place where i first met the poor chap. it was the farthest point of navigation and the culminating point of my experience. it seemed somehow to throw a kind of light on everything about me--and into my thoughts. it was somber enough too--and pitiful--not extraordinary in any way--not very clear either. no, not very clear. and yet it seemed to throw a kind of light. "i had then, as you remember, just returned to london after a lot of indian ocean, pacific, china seas--a regular dose of the east--six years or so, and i was loafing about, hindering you fellows in your work and invading your homes, just as though i had got a heavenly mission to civilize you. it was very fine for a time, but after a bit i did get tired of resting. then i began to look for a ship--i should think the hardest work on earth. but the ships wouldn't even look at me. and i got tired of that game too. "now when i was a little chap i had a passion for maps. i would look for hours at south america, or africa, or australia, and lose myself in all the glories of exploration. at that time there were many blank spaces on the earth, and when i saw one that looked particularly inviting on a map (but they all look that) i would put my finger on it and say, 'when i grow up i will go there.' the north pole was one of these places, i remember. well, i haven't been there yet, and shall not try now. the glamour's off. other places were scattered about the equator, and in every sort of latitude all over the two hemispheres. i have been in some of them, and . . . well, we won't talk about that. but there was one yet--the biggest, the most blank, so to speak--that i had a hankering after. "true, by this time it was not a blank space any more. it had got filled since my boyhood with rivers and lakes and names. it had ceased to be a blank space of delightful mystery--a white patch for a boy to dream gloriously over. it had become a place of darkness. but there was in it one river especially, a mighty big river, that you could see on the map, resembling an immense snake uncoiled, with its head in the sea, its body at rest curving afar over a vast country, and its tail lost in the depths of the land. and as i looked at the map of it in a shop-window, it fascinated me as a snake would a bird--a silly little bird. then i remembered there was a big concern, a company for trade on that river. dash it all! i thought to myself, they can't trade without using some kind of craft on that lot of fresh water--steamboats! why shouldn't i try to get charge of one? i went on along fleet street, but could not shake off the idea. the snake had charmed me. "you understand it was a continental concern, that trading society; but i have a lot of relations living on the continent, because it's cheap and not so nasty as it looks, they say. "i am sorry to own i began to worry them. this was already a fresh departure for me. i was not used to get things that way, you know. i always went my own road and on my own legs where i had a mind to go. i wouldn't have believed it of myself; but, then--you see--i felt somehow i must get there by hook or by crook. so i worried them. the men said 'my dear fellow,' and did nothing. then--would you believe it?--i tried the women. i, charlie marlow, set the women to work--to get a job. heavens! well, you see, the notion drove me. i had an aunt, a dear enthusiastic soul. she wrote: 'it will be delightful. i am ready to do anything, anything for you. it is a glorious idea. i know the wife of a very high personage in the administration, and also a man who has lots of influence with,' &c., &c. she was determined to make no end of fuss to get me appointed skipper of a river steamboat, if such was my fancy. "i got my appointment--of course; and i got it very quick. it appears the company had received news that one of their captains had been killed in a scuffle with the natives. this was my chance, and it made me the more anxious to go. it was only months and months afterwards, when i made the attempt to recover what was left of the body, that i heard the original quarrel arose from a misunderstanding about some hens. yes, two black hens. fresleven--that was the fellow's name, a dane--thought himself wronged somehow in the bargain, so he went ashore and started to hammer the chief of the village with a stick. oh, it didn't surprise me in the least to hear this, and at the same time to be told that fresleven was the gentlest, quietest creature that ever walked on two legs. no doubt he was; but he had been a couple of years already out there engaged in the noble cause, you know, and he probably felt the need at last of asserting his self-respect in some way. therefore he whacked the old nigger mercilessly, while a big crowd of his people watched him, thunderstruck, till some man,--i was told the chief's son,--in desperation at hearing the old chap yell, made a tentative jab with a spear at the white man--and of course it went quite easy between the shoulder-blades. then the whole population cleared into the forest, expecting all kinds of calamities to happen, while, on the other hand, the steamer fresleven commanded left also in a bad panic, in charge of the engineer, i believe. afterwards nobody seemed to trouble much about fresleven's remains, till i got out and stepped into his shoes. i couldn't let it rest, though; but when an opportunity offered at last to meet my predecessor, the grass growing through his ribs was tall enough to hide his bones. they were all there. the supernatural being had not been touched after he fell. and the village was deserted, the huts gaped black, rotting, all askew within the fallen enclosures. a calamity had come to it, sure enough. the people had vanished. mad terror had scattered them, men, women, and children, through the bush, and they had never returned. what became of the hens i don't know either. i should think the cause of progress got them, anyhow. however, through this glorious affair i got my appointment, before i had fairly begun to hope for it. "i flew around like mad to get ready, and before forty-eight hours i was crossing the channel to show myself to my employers, and sign the contract. in a very few hours i arrived in a city that always makes me think of a whited sepulcher. prejudice no doubt. i had no difficulty in finding the company's offices. it was the biggest thing in the town, and everybody i met was full of it. they were going to run an over-sea empire, and make no end of coin by trade. "a narrow and deserted street in deep shadow, high houses, innumerable windows with venetian blinds, a dead silence, grass sprouting between the stones, imposing carriage archways right and left, immense double doors standing ponderously ajar. i slipped through one of these cracks, went up a swept and ungarnished staircase, as arid as a desert, and opened the first door i came to. two women, one fat and the other slim, sat on straw-bottomed chairs, knitting black wool. the slim one got up and walked straight at me--still knitting with downcast eyes--and only just as i began to think of getting out of her way, as you would for a somnambulist, stood still, and looked up. her dress was as plain as an umbrella-cover, and she turned round without a word and preceded me into a waiting-room. i gave my name, and looked about. deal table in the middle, plain chairs all round the walls, on one end a large shining map, marked with all the colors of a rainbow. there was a vast amount of red--good to see at any time, because one knows that some real work is done in there, a deuce of a lot of blue, a little green, smears of orange, and, on the east coast, a purple patch, to show where the jolly pioneers of progress drink the jolly lager-beer. however, i wasn't going into any of these. i was going into the yellow. dead in the center. and the river was there--fascinating--deadly--like a snake. ough! a door opened, a white-haired secretarial head, but wearing a compassionate expression, appeared, and a skinny forefinger beckoned me into the sanctuary. its light was dim, and a heavy writing-desk squatted in the middle. from behind that structure came out an impression of pale plumpness in a frock-coat. the great man himself. he was five feet six, i should judge, and had his grip on the handle-end of ever so many millions. he shook hands, i fancy, murmured vaguely, was satisfied with my french. bon voyage. "in about forty-five seconds i found myself again in the waiting-room with the compassionate secretary, who, full of desolation and sympathy, made me sign some document. i believe i undertook amongst other things not to disclose any trade secrets. well, i am not going to. "i began to feel slightly uneasy. you know i am not used to such ceremonies, and there was something ominous in the atmosphere. it was just as though i had been let into some conspiracy--i don't know--something not quite right; and i was glad to get out. in the outer room the two women knitted black wool feverishly. people were arriving, and the younger one was walking back and forth introducing them. the old one sat on her chair. her flat cloth slippers were propped up on a foot-warmer, and a cat reposed on her lap. she wore a starched white affair on her head, had a wart on one cheek, and silver-rimmed spectacles hung on the tip of her nose. she glanced at me above the glasses. the swift and indifferent placidity of that look troubled me. two youths with foolish and cheery countenances were being piloted over, and she threw at them the same quick glance of unconcerned wisdom. she seemed to know all about them and about me too. an eerie feeling came over me. she seemed uncanny and fateful. often far away there i thought of these two, guarding the door of darkness, knitting black wool as for a warm pall, one introducing, introducing continuously to the unknown, the other scrutinizing the cheery and foolish faces with unconcerned old eyes. ave! old knitter of black wool. morituri te salutant. not many of those she looked at ever saw her again--not half, by a long way. "there was yet a visit to the doctor. 'a simple formality,' assured me the secretary, with an air of taking an immense part in all my sorrows. accordingly a young chap wearing his hat over the left eyebrow, some clerk i suppose,--there must have been clerks in the business, though the house was as still as a house in a city of the dead,--came from somewhere up-stairs, and led me forth. he was shabby and careless, with ink-stains on the sleeves of his jacket, and his cravat was large and billowy, under a chin shaped like the toe of an old boot. it was a little too early for the doctor, so i proposed a drink, and thereupon he developed a vein of joviality. as we sat over our vermouths he glorified the company's business, and by-and-by i expressed casually my surprise at him not going out there. he became very cool and collected all at once. 'i am not such a fool as i look, quoth plato to his disciples,' he said sententiously, emptied his glass with great resolution, and we rose. "the old doctor felt my pulse, evidently thinking of something else the while. 'good, good for there,' he mumbled, and then with a certain eagerness asked me whether i would let him measure my head. rather surprised, i said yes, when he produced a thing like calipers and got the dimensions back and front and every way, taking notes carefully. he was an unshaven little man in a threadbare coat like a gaberdine, with his feet in slippers, and i thought him a harmless fool. 'i always ask leave, in the interests of science, to measure the crania of those going out there,' he said. 'and when they come back, too?' i asked. 'oh, i never see them,' he remarked; 'and, moreover, the changes take place inside, you know.' he smiled, as if at some quiet joke. 'so you are going out there. famous. interesting too.' he gave me a searching glance, and made another note. 'ever any madness in your family?' he asked, in a matter-of-fact tone. i felt very annoyed. 'is that question in the interests of science too?' 'it would be,' he said, without taking notice of my irritation, 'interesting for science to watch the mental changes of individuals, on the spot, but . . .' 'are you an alienist?' i interrupted. 'every doctor should be--a little,' answered that original, imperturbably. 'i have a little theory which you messieurs who go out there must help me to prove. this is my share in the advantages my country shall reap from the possession of such a magnificent dependency. the mere wealth i leave to others. pardon my questions, but you are the first englishman coming under my observation. . . .' i hastened to assure him i was not in the least typical. 'if i were,' said i, 'i wouldn't be talking like this with you.' 'what you say is rather profound, and probably erroneous,' he said, with a laugh. 'avoid irritation more than exposure to the sun. adieu. how do you english say, eh? good-by. ah! good-by. adieu. in the tropics one must before everything keep calm.' . . . he lifted a warning forefinger. . . . 'du calme, du calme. adieu.' "one thing more remained to do--say good-by to my excellent aunt. i found her triumphant. i had a cup of tea--the last decent cup of tea for many days--and in a room that most soothingly looked just as you would expect a lady's drawing-room to look, we had a long quiet chat by the fireside. in the course of these confidences it became quite plain to me i had been represented to the wife of the high dignitary, and goodness knows to how many more people besides, as an exceptional and gifted creature--a piece of good fortune for the company--a man you don't get hold of every day. good heavens! and i was going to take charge of a two-penny-halfpenny river-steamboat with a penny whistle attached! it appeared, however, i was also one of the workers, with a capital--you know. something like an emissary of light, something like a lower sort of apostle. there had been a lot of such rot let loose in print and talk just about that time, and the excellent woman, living right in the rush of all that humbug, got carried off her feet. she talked about 'weaning those ignorant millions from their horrid ways,' till, upon my word, she made me quite uncomfortable. i ventured to hint that the company was run for profit. "'you forget, dear charlie, that the laborer is worthy of his hire,' she said, brightly. it's queer how out of touch with truth women are. they live in a world of their own, and there had never been anything like it, and never can be. it is too beautiful altogether, and if they were to set it up it would go to pieces before the first sunset. some confounded fact we men have been living contentedly with ever since the day of creation would start up and knock the whole thing over. "after this i got embraced, told to wear flannel, be sure to write often, and so on--and i left. in the street--i don't know why--a queer feeling came to me that i was an impostor. odd thing that i, who used to clear out for any part of the world at twenty-four hours' notice, with less thought than most men give to the crossing of a street, had a moment--i won't say of hesitation, but of startled pause, before this commonplace affair. the best way i can explain it to you is by saying that, for a second or two, i felt as though, instead of going to the center of a continent, i were about to set off for the center of the earth. "i left in a french steamer, and she called in every blamed port they have out there, for, as far as i could see, the sole purpose of landing soldiers and custom-house officers. i watched the coast. watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma. there it is before you--smiling, frowning, inviting, grand, mean, insipid, or savage, and always mute with an air of whispering, 'come and find out.' this one was almost featureless, as if still in the making, with an aspect of monotonous grimness. the edge of a colossal jungle, so dark-green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far, far away along a blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist. the sun was fierce, the land seemed to glisten and drip with steam. here and there grayish-whitish specks showed up, clustered inside the white surf, with a flag flying above them perhaps. settlements some centuries old, and still no bigger than pin-heads on the untouched expanse of their background. we pounded along, stopped, landed soldiers; went on, landed custom-house clerks to levy toll in what looked like a god-forsaken wilderness, with a tin shed and a flag-pole lost in it; landed more soldiers--to take care of the custom-house clerks, presumably. some, i heard, got drowned in the surf; but whether they did or not, nobody seemed particularly to care. they were just flung out there, and on we went. every day the coast looked the same, as though we had not moved; but we passed various places--trading places--with names like gran' bassam little popo, names that seemed to belong to some sordid farce acted in front of a sinister backcloth. the idleness of a passenger, my isolation amongst all these men with whom i had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform somberness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion. the voice of the surf heard now and then was a positive pleasure, like the speech of a brother. it was something natural, that had its reason, that had a meaning. now and then a boat from the shore gave one a momentary contact with reality. it was paddled by black fellows. you could see from afar the white of their eyeballs glistening. they shouted, sang; their bodies streamed with perspiration; they had faces like grotesque masks--these chaps; but they had bone, muscle, a wild vitality, an intense energy of movement, that was as natural and true as the surf along their coast. they wanted no excuse for being there. they were a great comfort to look at. for a time i would feel i belonged still to a world of straightforward facts; but the feeling would not last long. something would turn up to scare it away. once, i remember, we came upon a man-of-war anchored off the coast. there wasn't even a shed there, and she was shelling the bush. it appears the french had one of their wars going on thereabouts. her ensign dropped limp like a rag; the muzzles of the long eight-inch guns stuck out all over the low hull; the greasy, slimy swell swung her up lazily and let her down, swaying her thin masts. in the empty immensity of earth, sky, and water, there she was, incomprehensible, firing into a continent. pop, would go one of the eight-inch guns; a small flame would dart and vanish, a little white smoke would disappear, a tiny projectile would give a feeble screech--and nothing happened. nothing could happen. there was a touch of insanity in the proceeding, a sense of lugubrious drollery in the sight; and it was not dissipated by somebody on board assuring me earnestly there was a camp of natives--he called them enemies!--hidden out of sight somewhere. "we gave her her letters (i heard the men in that lonely ship were dying of fever at the rate of three a day) and went on. we called at some more places with farcical names, where the merry dance of death and trade goes on in a still and earthy atmosphere as of an overheated catacomb; all along the formless coast bordered by dangerous surf, as if nature herself had tried to ward off intruders; in and out of rivers, streams of death in life, whose banks were rotting into mud, whose waters, thickened into slime, invaded the contorted mangroves, that seemed to writhe at us in the extremity of an impotent despair. nowhere did we stop long enough to get a particularized impression, but the general sense of vague and oppressive wonder grew upon me. it was like a weary pilgrimage amongst hints for nightmares. "it was upward of thirty days before i saw the mouth of the big river. we anchored off the seat of the government. but my work would not begin till some two hundred miles farther on. so as soon as i could i made a start for a place thirty miles higher up. "i had my passage on a little sea-going steamer. her captain was a swede, and knowing me for a seaman, invited me on the bridge. he was a young man, lean, fair, and morose, with lanky hair and a shuffling gait. as we left the miserable little wharf, he tossed his head contemptuously at the shore. 'been living there?' he asked. i said, 'yes.' 'fine lot these government chaps--are they not?' he went on, speaking english with great precision and considerable bitterness. 'it is funny what some people will do for a few francs a month. i wonder what becomes of that kind when it goes up country?' i said to him i expected to see that soon. 'so-o-o!' he exclaimed. he shuffled athwart, keeping one eye ahead vigilantly. 'don't be too sure,' he continued. 'the other day i took up a man who hanged himself on the road. he was a swede, too.' 'hanged himself! why, in god's name?' i cried. he kept on looking out watchfully. 'who knows? the sun too much for him, or the country perhaps.' "at last we opened a reach. a rocky cliff appeared, mounds of turned-up earth by the shore, houses on a hill, others, with iron roofs, amongst a waste of excavations, or hanging to the declivity. a continuous noise of the rapids above hovered over this scene of inhabited devastation. a lot of people, mostly black and naked, moved about like ants. a jetty projected into the river. a blinding sunlight drowned all this at times in a sudden recrudescence of glare. 'there's your company's station,' said the swede, pointing to three wooden barrack-like structures on the rocky slope. 'i will send your things up. four boxes did you say? so. farewell.' "i came upon a boiler wallowing in the grass, then found a path leading up the hill. it turned aside for the bowlders, and also for an undersized railway-truck lying there on its back with its wheels in the air. one was off. the thing looked as dead as the carcass of some animal. i came upon more pieces of decaying machinery, a stack of rusty rails. to the left a clump of trees made a shady spot, where dark things seemed to stir feebly. i blinked, the path was steep. a horn tooted to the right, and i saw the black people run. a heavy and dull detonation shook the ground, a puff of smoke came out of the cliff, and that was all. no change appeared on the face of the rock. they were building a railway. the cliff was not in the way or anything; but this objectless blasting was all the work going on. "a slight clinking behind me made me turn my head. six black men advanced in a file, toiling up the path. they walked erect and slow, balancing small baskets full of earth on their heads, and the clink kept time with their footsteps. black rags were wound round their loins, and the short ends behind wagged to and fro like tails. i could see every rib, the joints of their limbs were like knots in a rope; each had an iron collar on his neck, and all were connected together with a chain whose bights swung between them, rhythmically clinking. another report from the cliff made me think suddenly of that ship of war i had seen firing into a continent. it was the same kind of ominous voice; but these men could by no stretch of imagination be called enemies. they were called criminals, and the outraged law, like the bursting shells, had come to them, an insoluble mystery from over the sea. all their meager breasts panted together, the violently dilated nostrils quivered, the eyes stared stonily uphill. they passed me within six inches, without a glance, with that complete, deathlike indifference of unhappy savages. behind this raw matter one of the reclaimed, the product of the new forces at work, strolled despondently, carrying a rifle by its middle. he had a uniform jacket with one button off, and seeing a white man on the path, hoisted his weapon to his shoulder with alacrity. this was simple prudence, white men being so much alike at a distance that he could not tell who i might be. he was speedily reassured, and with a large, white, rascally grin, and a glance at his charge, seemed to take me into partnership in his exalted trust. after all, i also was a part of the great cause of these high and just proceedings. "instead of going up, i turned and descended to the left. my idea was to let that chain-gang get out of sight before i climbed the hill. you know i am not particularly tender; i've had to strike and to fend off. i've had to resist and to attack sometimes--that's only one way of resisting--without counting the exact cost, according to the demands of such sort of life as i had blundered into. i've seen the devil of violence, and the devil of greed, and the devil of hot desire; but, by all the stars! these were strong, lusty, red-eyed devils, that swayed and drove men--men, i tell you. but as i stood on this hillside, i foresaw that in the blinding sunshine of that land i would become acquainted with a flabby, pretending, weak-eyed devil of a rapacious and pitiless folly. how insidious he could be, too, i was only to find out several months later and a thousand miles farther. for a moment i stood appalled, as though by a warning. finally i descended the hill, obliquely, towards the trees i had seen. "i avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope, the purpose of which i found it impossible to divine. it wasn't a quarry or a sandpit, anyhow. it was just a hole. it might have been connected with the philanthropic desire of giving the criminals something to do. i don't know. then i nearly fell into a very narrow ravine, almost no more than a scar in the hillside. i discovered that a lot of imported drainage-pipes for the settlement had been tumbled in there. there wasn't one that was not broken. it was a wanton smash-up. at last i got under the trees. my purpose was to stroll into the shade for a moment; but no sooner within than it seemed to me i had stepped into a gloomy circle of some inferno. the rapids were near, and an uninterrupted, uniform, headlong, rushing noise filled the mournful stillness of the grove, where not a breath stirred, not a leaf moved, with a mysterious sound--as though the tearing pace of the launched earth had suddenly become audible. "black shapes crouched, lay, sat between the trees, leaning against the trunks, clinging to the earth, half coming out, half effaced within the dim light, in all the attitudes of pain, abandonment, and despair. another mine on the cliff went off, followed by a slight shudder of the soil under my feet. the work was going on. the work! and this was the place where some of the helpers had withdrawn to die. "they were dying slowly--it was very clear. they were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly now,--nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation, lying confusedly in the greenish gloom. brought from all the recesses of the coast in all the legality of time contracts, lost in uncongenial surroundings, fed on unfamiliar food, they sickened, became inefficient, and were then allowed to crawl away and rest. these moribund shapes were free as air--and nearly as thin. i began to distinguish the gleam of eyes under the trees. then, glancing down, i saw a face near my hand. the black bones reclined at full length with one shoulder against the tree, and slowly the eyelids rose and the sunken eyes looked up at me, enormous and vacant, a kind of blind, white flicker in the depths of the orbs, which died out slowly. the man seemed young--almost a boy--but you know with them it's hard to tell. i found nothing else to do but to offer him one of my good swede's ship's biscuits i had in my pocket. the fingers closed slowly on it and held--there was no other movement and no other glance. he had tied a bit of white worsted round his neck--why? where did he get it? was it a badge--an ornament--a charm--a propitiatory act? was there any idea at all connected with it? it looked startling round his black neck, this bit of white thread from beyond the seas. "near the same tree two more bundles of acute angles sat with their legs drawn up. one, with his chin propped on his knees, stared at nothing, in an intolerable and appalling manner: his brother phantom rested its forehead, as if overcome with a great weariness; and all about others were scattered in every pose of contorted collapse, as in some picture of a massacre or a pestilence. while i stood horror-struck, one of these creatures rose to his hands and knees, and went off on all-fours towards the river to drink. he lapped out of his hand, then sat up in the sunlight, crossing his shins in front of him, and after a time let his woolly head fall on his breastbone. "i didn't want any more loitering in the shade, and i made haste towards the station. when near the buildings i met a white man, in such an unexpected elegance of get-up that in the first moment i took him for a sort of vision. i saw a high starched collar, white cuffs, a light alpaca jacket, snowy trousers, a clear necktie, and varnished boots. no hat. hair parted, brushed, oiled, under a green-lined parasol held in a big white hand. he was amazing, and had a penholder behind his ear. "i shook hands with this miracle, and i learned he was the company's chief accountant, and that all the bookkeeping was done at this station. he had come out for a moment, he said, 'to get a breath of fresh air.' the expression sounded wonderfully odd, with its suggestion of sedentary desk-life. i wouldn't have mentioned the fellow to you at all, only it was from his lips that i first heard the name of the man who is so indissolubly connected with the memories of that time. moreover, i respected the fellow. yes; i respected his collars, his vast cuffs, his brushed hair. his appearance was certainly that of a hairdresser's dummy; but in the great demoralization of the land he kept up his appearance. that's backbone. his starched collars and got-up shirt-fronts were achievements of character. he had been out nearly three years; and, later on, i could not help asking him how he managed to sport such linen. he had just the faintest blush, and said modestly, 'i've been teaching one of the native women about the station. it was difficult. she had a distaste for the work.' this man had verily accomplished something. and he was devoted to his books, which were in apple-pie order. "everything else in the station was in a muddle,--heads, things, buildings. strings of dusty niggers with splay feet arrived and departed; a stream of manufactured goods, rubbishy cottons, beads, and brass-wire sent into the depths of darkness, and in return came a precious trickle of ivory. "i had to wait in the station for ten days--an eternity. i lived in a hut in the yard, but to be out of the chaos i would sometimes get into the accountant's office. it was built of horizontal planks, and so badly put together that, as he bent over his high desk, he was barred from neck to heels with narrow strips of sunlight. there was no need to open the big shutter to see. it was hot there too; big flies buzzed fiendishly, and did not sting, but stabbed. i sat generally on the floor, while, of faultless appearance (and even slightly scented), perching on a high stool, he wrote, he wrote. sometimes he stood up for exercise. when a truckle-bed with a sick man (some invalided agent from up-country) was put in there, he exhibited a gentle annoyance. 'the groans of this sick person,' he said, 'distract my attention. and without that it is extremely difficult to guard against clerical errors in this climate.' "one day he remarked, without lifting his head, 'in the interior you will no doubt meet mr. kurtz.' on my asking who mr. kurtz was, he said he was a first-class agent; and seeing my disappointment at this information, he added slowly, laying down his pen, 'he is a very remarkable person.' further questions elicited from him that mr. kurtz was at present in charge of a trading post, a very important one, in the true ivory-country, at 'the very bottom of there. sends in as much ivory as all the others put together. . . .' he began to write again. the sick man was too ill to groan. the flies buzzed in a great peace. "suddenly there was a growing murmur of voices and a great tramping of feet. a caravan had come in. a violent babble of uncouth sounds burst out on the other side of the planks. all the carriers were speaking together, and in the midst of the uproar the lamentable voice of the chief agent was heard 'giving it up' tearfully for the twentieth time that day. . . . he rose slowly. 'what a frightful row,' he said. he crossed the room gently to look at the sick man, and returning, said to me, 'he does not hear.' 'what! dead?' i asked, startled. 'no, not yet,' he answered, with great composure. then, alluding with a toss of the head to the tumult in the station-yard, 'when one has got to make correct entries, one comes to hate those savages--hate them to the death.' he remained thoughtful for a moment. 'when you see mr. kurtz,' he went on, 'tell him from me that everything here'--he glanced at the desk--'is very satisfactory. i don't like to write to him--with those messengers of ours you never know who may get hold of your letter--at that central station.' he stared at me for a moment with his mild, bulging eyes. 'oh, he will go far, very far,' he began again. 'he will be a somebody in the administration before long. they, above--the council in europe, you know--mean him to be.' "he turned to his work. the noise outside had ceased, and presently in going out i stopped at the door. in the steady buzz of flies the homeward-bound agent was lying flushed and insensible; the other, bent over his books, was making correct entries of perfectly correct transactions; and fifty feet below the doorstep i could see the still tree-tops of the grove of death. "next day i left that station at last, with a caravan of sixty men, for a two-hundred-mile tramp. "no use telling you much about that. paths, paths, everywhere; a stamped-in network of paths spreading over the empty land, through long grass, through burnt grass, through thickets, down and up chilly ravines, up and down stony hills ablaze with heat; and a solitude, a solitude, nobody, not a hut. the population had cleared out a long time ago. well, if a lot of mysterious niggers armed with all kinds of fearful weapons suddenly took to traveling on the road between deal and gravesend, catching the yokels right and left to carry heavy loads for them, i fancy every farm and cottage thereabouts would get empty very soon. only here the dwellings were gone too. still i passed through several abandoned villages. there's something pathetically childish in the ruins of grass walls. day after day, with the stamp and shuffle of sixty pair of bare feet behind me, each pair under a -lb. load. camp, cook, sleep, strike camp, march. now and then a carrier dead in harness, at rest in the long grass near the path, with an empty water-gourd and his long staff lying by his side. a great silence around and above. perhaps on some quiet night the tremor of far-off drums, sinking, swelling, a tremor vast, faint; a sound weird, appealing, suggestive, and wild--and perhaps with as profound a meaning as the sound of bells in a christian country. once a white man in an unbuttoned uniform, camping on the path with an armed escort of lank zanzibaris, very hospitable and festive--not to say drunk. was looking after the upkeep of the road, he declared. can't say i saw any road or any upkeep, unless the body of a middle-aged negro, with a bullet-hole in the forehead, upon which i absolutely stumbled three miles farther on, may be considered as a permanent improvement. i had a white companion too, not a bad chap, but rather too fleshy and with the exasperating habit of fainting on the hot hillsides, miles away from the least bit of shade and water. annoying, you know, to hold your own coat like a parasol over a man's head while he is coming-to. i couldn't help asking him once what he meant by coming there at all. 'to make money, of course. what do you think?' he said, scornfully. then he got fever, and had to be carried in a hammock slung under a pole. as he weighed sixteen stone i had no end of rows with the carriers. they jibbed, ran away, sneaked off with their loads in the night--quite a mutiny. so, one evening, i made a speech in english with gestures, not one of which was lost to the sixty pairs of eyes before me, and the next morning i started the hammock off in front all right. an hour afterwards i came upon the whole concern wrecked in a bush--man, hammock, groans, blankets, horrors. the heavy pole had skinned his poor nose. he was very anxious for me to kill somebody, but there wasn't the shadow of a carrier near. i remembered the old doctor,--'it would be interesting for science to watch the mental changes of individuals, on the spot.' i felt i was becoming scientifically interesting. however, all that is to no purpose. on the fifteenth day i came in sight of the big river again, and hobbled into the central station. it was on a back water surrounded by scrub and forest, with a pretty border of smelly mud on one side, and on the three others inclosed by a crazy fence of rushes. a neglected gap was all the gate it had, and the first glance at the place was enough to let you see the flabby devil was running that show. white men with long staves in their hands appeared languidly from amongst the buildings, strolling up to take a look at me, and then retired out of sight somewhere. one of them, a stout, excitable chap with black mustaches, informed me with great volubility and many digressions, as soon as i told him who i was, that my steamer was at the bottom of the river. i was thunderstruck. what, how, why? oh, it was 'all right.' the 'manager himself' was there. all quite correct. 'everybody had behaved splendidly! splendidly!'--'you must,' he said in agitation, 'go and see the general manager at once. he is waiting!' "i did not see the real significance of that wreck at once. i fancy i see it now, but i am not sure--not at all. certainly the affair was too stupid--when i think of it--to be altogether natural. still. . . . but at the moment it presented itself simply as a confounded nuisance. the steamer was sunk. they had started two days before in a sudden hurry up the river with the manager on board, in charge of some volunteer skipper, and before they had been out three hours they tore the bottom out of her on stones, and she sank near the south bank. i asked myself what i was to do there, now my boat was lost. as a matter of fact, i had plenty to do in fishing my command out of the river. i had to set about it the very next day. that, and the repairs when i brought the pieces to the station, took some months. "my first interview with the manager was curious. he did not ask me to sit down after my twenty-mile walk that morning. he was commonplace in complexion, in features, in manners, and in voice. he was of middle size and of ordinary build. his eyes, of the usual blue, were perhaps remarkably cold, and he certainly could make his glance fall on one as trenchant and heavy as an ax. but even at these times the rest of his person seemed to disclaim the intention. otherwise there was only an indefinable, faint expression of his lips, something stealthy--a smile--not a smile--i remember it, but i can't explain. it was unconscious, this smile was, though just after he had said something it got intensified for an instant. it came at the end of his speeches like a seal applied on the words to make the meaning of the commonest phrase appear absolutely inscrutable. he was a common trader, from his youth up employed in these parts--nothing more. he was obeyed, yet he inspired neither love nor fear, nor even respect. he inspired uneasiness. that was it! uneasiness. not a definite mistrust--just uneasiness--nothing more. you have no idea how effective such a . . . a . . . faculty can be. he had no genius for organizing, for initiative, or for order even. that was evident in such things as the deplorable state of the station. he had no learning, and no intelligence. his position had come to him--why? perhaps because he was never ill . . . he had served three terms of three years out there . . . because triumphant health in the general rout of constitutions is a kind of power in itself. when he went home on leave he rioted on a large scale--pompously. jack ashore--with a difference--in externals only. this one could gather from his casual talk. he originated nothing, he could keep the routine going--that's all. but he was great. he was great by this little thing that it was impossible to tell what could control such a man. he never gave that secret away. perhaps there was nothing within him. such a suspicion made one pause--for out there there were no external checks. once when various tropical diseases had laid low almost every 'agent' in the station, he was heard to say, 'men who come out here should have no entrails.' he sealed the utterance with that smile of his, as though it had been a door opening into a darkness he had in his keeping. you fancied you had seen things--but the seal was on. when annoyed at meal-times by the constant quarrels of the white men about precedence, he ordered an immense round table to be made, for which a special house had to be built. this was the station's mess-room. where he sat was the first place--the rest were nowhere. one felt this to be his unalterable conviction. he was neither civil nor uncivil. he was quiet. he allowed his 'boy'--an overfed young negro from the coast--to treat the white men, under his very eyes, with provoking insolence. "he began to speak as soon as he saw me. i had been very long on the road. he could not wait. had to start without me. the up-river stations had to be relieved. there had been so many delays already that he did not know who was dead and who was alive, and how they got on--and so on, and so on. he paid no attention to my explanations, and, playing with a stick of sealing-wax, repeated several times that the situation was 'very grave, very grave.' there were rumors that a very important station was in jeopardy, and its chief, mr. kurtz, was ill. hoped it was not true. mr. kurtz was . . . i felt weary and irritable. hang kurtz, i thought. i interrupted him by saying i had heard of mr. kurtz on the coast. 'ah! so they talk of him down there,' he murmured to himself. then he began again, assuring me mr. kurtz was the best agent he had, an exceptional man, of the greatest importance to the company; therefore i could understand his anxiety. he was, he said, 'very, very uneasy.' certainly he fidgeted on his chair a good deal, exclaimed, 'ah, mr. kurtz!' broke the stick of sealing-wax and seemed dumbfounded by the accident. next thing he wanted to know 'how long it would take to' . . . i interrupted him again. being hungry, you know, and kept on my feet too, i was getting savage. 'how could i tell,' i said. 'i hadn't even seen the wreck yet--some months, no doubt.' all this talk seemed to me so futile. 'some months,' he said. 'well, let us say three months before we can make a start. yes. that ought to do the affair.' i flung out of his hut (he lived all alone in a clay hut with a sort of veranda) muttering to myself my opinion of him. he was a chattering idiot. afterwards i took it back when it was borne in upon me startlingly with what extreme nicety he had estimated the time requisite for the 'affair.' "i went to work the next day, turning, so to speak, my back on that station. in that way only it seemed to me i could keep my hold on the redeeming facts of life. still, one must look about sometimes; and then i saw this station, these men strolling aimlessly about in the sunshine of the yard. i asked myself sometimes what it all meant. they wandered here and there with their absurd long staves in their hands, like a lot of faithless pilgrims bewitched inside a rotten fence. the word 'ivory' rang in the air, was whispered, was sighed. you would think they were praying to it. a taint of imbecile rapacity blew through it all, like a whiff from some corpse. by jove! i've never seen anything so unreal in my life. and outside, the silent wilderness surrounding this cleared speck on the earth struck me as something great and invincible, like evil or truth, waiting patiently for the passing away of this fantastic invasion. "oh, these months! well, never mind. various things happened. one evening a grass shed full of calico, cotton prints, beads, and i don't know what else, burst into a blaze so suddenly that you would have thought the earth had opened to let an avenging fire consume all that trash. i was smoking my pipe quietly by my dismantled steamer, and saw them all cutting capers in the light, with their arms lifted high, when the stout man with mustaches came tearing down to the river, a tin pail in his hand, assured me that everybody was 'behaving splendidly, splendidly,' dipped about a quart of water and tore back again. i noticed there was a hole in the bottom of his pail. "i strolled up. there was no hurry. you see the thing had gone off like a box of matches. it had been hopeless from the very first. the flame had leaped high, driven everybody back, lighted up everything--and collapsed. the shed was already a heap of embers glowing fiercely. a nigger was being beaten near by. they said he had caused the fire in some way; be that as it may, he was screeching most horribly. i saw him, later on, for several days, sitting in a bit of shade looking very sick and trying to recover himself: afterwards he arose and went out--and the wilderness without a sound took him into its bosom again. as i approached the glow from the dark i found myself at the back of two men, talking. i heard the name of kurtz pronounced, then the words, 'take advantage of this unfortunate accident.' one of the men was the manager. i wished him a good evening. 'did you ever see anything like it--eh? it is incredible,' he said, and walked off. the other man remained. he was a first-class agent, young, gentlemanly, a bit reserved, with a forked little beard and a hooked nose. he was stand-offish with the other agents, and they on their side said he was the manager's spy upon them. as to me, i had hardly ever spoken to him before. we got into talk, and by-and-by we strolled away from the hissing ruins. then he asked me to his room, which was in the main building of the station. he struck a match, and i perceived that this young aristocrat had not only a silver-mounted dressing-case but also a whole candle all to himself. just at that time the manager was the only man supposed to have any right to candles. native mats covered the clay walls; a collection of spears, assegais, shields, knives was hung up in trophies. the business intrusted to this fellow was the making of bricks--so i had been informed; but there wasn't a fragment of a brick anywhere in the station, and he had been there more than a year--waiting. it seems he could not make bricks without something, i don't know what--straw maybe. anyways, it could not be found there, and as it was not likely to be sent from europe, it did not appear clear to me what he was waiting for. an act of special creation perhaps. however, they were all waiting--all the sixteen or twenty pilgrims of them--for something; and upon my word it did not seem an uncongenial occupation, from the way they took it, though the only thing that ever came to them was disease--as far as i could see. they beguiled the time by backbiting and intriguing against each other in a foolish kind of way. there was an air of plotting about that station, but nothing came of it, of course. it was as unreal as everything else--as the philanthropic pretense of the whole concern, as their talk, as their government, as their show of work. the only real feeling was a desire to get appointed to a trading-post where ivory was to be had, so that they could earn percentages. they intrigued and slandered and hated each other only on that account,--but as to effectually lifting a little finger--oh, no. by heavens! there is something after all in the world allowing one man to steal a horse while another must not look at a halter. steal a horse straight out. very well. he has done it. perhaps he can ride. but there is a way of looking at a halter that would provoke the most charitable of saints into a kick. "i had no idea why he wanted to be sociable, but as we chatted in there it suddenly occurred to me the fellow was trying to get at something--in fact, pumping me. he alluded constantly to europe, to the people i was supposed to know there--putting leading questions as to my acquaintances in the sepulchral city, and so on. his little eyes glittered like mica discs--with curiosity,--though he tried to keep up a bit of superciliousness. at first i was astonished, but very soon i became awfully curious to see what he would find out from me. i couldn't possibly imagine what i had in me to make it worth his while. it was very pretty to see how he baffled himself, for in truth my body was full of chills, and my head had nothing in it but that wretched steamboat business. it was evident he took me for a perfectly shameless prevaricator. at last he got angry, and to conceal a movement of furious annoyance, he yawned. i rose. then i noticed a small sketch in oils, on a panel, representing a woman, draped and blindfolded, carrying a lighted torch. the background was somber--almost black. the movement of the woman was stately, and the effect of the torchlight on the face was sinister. "it arrested me, and he stood by civilly, holding a half-pint champagne bottle (medical comforts) with the candle stuck in it. to my question he said mr. kurtz had painted this--in this very station more than a year ago--while waiting for means to go to his trading-post. 'tell me, pray,' said i, 'who is this mr. kurtz?' "'the chief of the inner station,' he answered in a short tone, looking away. 'much obliged,' i said, laughing. 'and you are the brickmaker of the central station. everyone knows that.' he was silent for a while. 'he is a prodigy,' he said at last. 'he is an emissary of pity, and science, and progress, and devil knows what else. we want,' he began to declaim suddenly, 'for the guidance of the cause intrusted to us by europe, so to speak, higher intelligence, wide sympathies, a singleness of purpose.' 'who says that?' i asked. 'lots of them,' he replied. 'some even write that; and so _he_ comes here, a special being, as you ought to know.' 'why ought i to know?' i interrupted, really surprised. he paid no attention. 'yes. to-day he is chief of the best station, next year he will be assistant-manager, two years more and . . . but i dare say you know what he will be in two years' time. you are of the new gang--the gang of virtue. the same people who sent him specially also recommended you. oh, don't say no. i've my own eyes to trust.' light dawned upon me. my dear aunt's influential acquaintances were producing an unexpected effect upon that young man. i nearly burst into a laugh. 'do you read the company's confidential correspondence?' i asked. he hadn't a word to say. it was great fun. 'when mr. kurtz,' i continued severely, 'is general manager, you won't have the opportunity.' "he blew the candle out suddenly, and we went outside. the moon had risen. black figures strolled about listlessly, pouring water on the glow, whence proceeded a sound of hissing; steam ascended in the moonlight, the beaten nigger groaned somewhere. 'what a row the brute makes!' said the indefatigable man with the mustaches, appearing near us. 'serve him right. transgression--punishment--bang! pitiless, pitiless. that's the only way. this will prevent all conflagrations for the future. i was just telling the manager . . .' he noticed my companion, and became crestfallen all at once. 'not in bed yet,' he said, with a kind of servile heartiness; 'it's so natural. ha! danger--agitation.' he vanished. i went on to the river-side, and the other followed me. i heard a scathing murmur at my ear, 'heap of muffs--go to.' the pilgrims could be seen in knots gesticulating, discussing. several had still their staves in their hands. i verily believe they took these sticks to bed with them. beyond the fence the forest stood up spectrally in the moonlight, and through the dim stir, through the faint sounds of that lamentable courtyard, the silence of the land went home to one's very heart,--its mystery, its greatness, the amazing reality of its concealed life. the hurt nigger moaned feebly somewhere near by, and then fetched a deep sigh that made me mend my pace away from there. i felt a hand introducing itself under my arm. 'my dear sir,' said the fellow, 'i don't want to be misunderstood, and especially by you, who will see mr. kurtz long before i can have that pleasure. i wouldn't like him to get a false idea of my disposition. . . .' "i let him run on, this _papier-mache_ mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if i tried i could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe. he, don't you see, had been planning to be assistant-manager by-and-by under the present man, and i could see that the coming of that kurtz had upset them both not a little. he talked precipitately, and i did not try to stop him. i had my shoulders against the wreck of my steamer, hauled up on the slope like a carcass of some big river animal. the smell of mud, of primeval mud, by jove! was in my nostrils, the high stillness of primeval forest was before my eyes; there were shiny patches on the black creek. the moon had spread over everything a thin layer of silver--over the rank grass, over the mud, upon the wall of matted vegetation standing higher than the wall of a temple, over the great river i could see through a somber gap glittering, glittering, as it flowed broadly by without a murmur. all this was great, expectant, mute, while the man jabbered about himself. i wondered whether the stillness on the face of the immensity looking at us two were meant as an appeal or as a menace. what were we who had strayed in here? could we handle that dumb thing, or would it handle us? i felt how big, how confoundedly big, was that thing that couldn't talk, and perhaps was deaf as well. what was in there? i could see a little ivory coming out from there, and i had heard mr. kurtz was in there. i had heard enough about it too--god knows! yet somehow it didn't bring any image with it--no more than if i had been told an angel or a fiend was in there. i believed it in the same way one of you might believe there are inhabitants in the planet mars. i knew once a scotch sailmaker who was certain, dead sure, there were people in mars. if you asked him for some idea how they looked and behaved, he would get shy and mutter something about 'walking on all-fours.' if you as much as smiled, he would--though a man of sixty--offer to fight you. i would not have gone so far as to fight for kurtz, but i went for him near enough to a lie. you know i hate, detest, and can't bear a lie, not because i am straighter than the rest of us, but simply because it appalls me. there is a taint of death, a flavor of mortality in lies,--which is exactly what i hate and detest in the world--what i want to forget. it makes me miserable and sick, like biting something rotten would do. temperament, i suppose. well, i went near enough to it by letting the young fool there believe anything he liked to imagine as to my influence in europe. i became in an instant as much of a pretense as the rest of the bewitched pilgrims. this simply because i had a notion it somehow would be of help to that kurtz whom at the time i did not see--you understand. he was just a word for me. i did not see the man in the name any more than you do. do you see him? do you see the story? do you see anything? it seems to me i am trying to tell you a dream--making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream-sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams. . . ." he was silent for a while. ". . . no, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence,--that which makes its truth, its meaning--its subtle and penetrating essence. it is impossible. we live, as we dream--alone. . . ." he paused again as if reflecting, then added--"of course in this you fellows see more than i could then. you see me, whom you know. . . ." it had become so pitch dark that we listeners could hardly see one another. for a long time already he, sitting apart, had been no more to us than a voice. there was not a word from anybody. the others might have been asleep, but i was awake. i listened, i listened on the watch for the sentence, for the word, that would give me the clew to the faint uneasiness inspired by this narrative that seemed to shape itself without human lips in the heavy night-air of the river. ". . . yes--i let him run on," marlow began again, "and think what he pleased about the powers that were behind me. i did! and there was nothing behind me! there was nothing but that wretched, old, mangled steamboat i was leaning against, while he talked fluently about 'the necessity for every man to get on.' 'and when one comes out here, you conceive, it is not to gaze at the moon.' mr. kurtz was a 'universal genius,' but even a genius would find it easier to work with 'adequate tools--intelligent men.' he did not make bricks--why, there was a physical impossibility in the way--as i was well aware; and if he did secretarial work for the manager, it was because 'no sensible man rejects wantonly the confidence of his superiors.' did i see it? i saw it. what more did i want? what i really wanted was rivets, by heaven! rivets. to get on with the work--to stop the hole. rivets i wanted. there were cases of them down at the coast--cases--piled up--burst--split! you kicked a loose rivet at every second step in that station yard on the hillside. rivets had rolled into the grove of death. you could fill your pockets with rivets for the trouble of stooping down--and there wasn't one rivet to be found where it was wanted. we had plates that would do, but nothing to fasten them with. and every week the messenger, a lone negro, letter-bag on shoulder and staff in hand, left our station for the coast. and several times a week a coast caravan came in with trade goods,--ghastly glazed calico that made you shudder only to look at it, glass beads value about a penny a quart, confounded spotted cotton handkerchiefs. and no rivets. three carriers could have brought all that was wanted to set that steamboat afloat. "he was becoming confidential now, but i fancy my unresponsive attitude must have exasperated him at last, for he judged it necessary to inform me he feared neither god nor devil, let alone any mere man. i said i could see that very well, but what i wanted was a certain quantity of rivets--and rivets were what really mr. kurtz wanted, if he had only known it. now letters went to the coast every week. . . . 'my dear sir,' he cried, 'i write from dictation.' i demanded rivets. there was a way--for an intelligent man. he changed his manner; became very cold, and suddenly began to talk about a hippopotamus; wondered whether sleeping on board the steamer (i stuck to my salvage night and day) i wasn't disturbed. there was an old hippo that had the bad habit of getting out on the bank and roaming at night over the station grounds. the pilgrims used to turn out in a body and empty every rifle they could lay hands on at him. some even had sat up o' nights for him. all this energy was wasted, though. 'that animal has a charmed life,' he said; 'but you can say this only of brutes in this country. no man--you apprehend me?--no man here bears a charmed life.' he stood there for a moment in the moonlight with his delicate hooked nose set a little askew, and his mica eyes glittering without a wink, then, with a curt good night, he strode off. i could see he was disturbed and considerably puzzled, which made me feel more hopeful than i had been for days. it was a great comfort to turn from that chap to my influential friend, the battered, twisted, ruined, tin-pot steamboat. i clambered on board. she rang under my feet like an empty huntley & palmer biscuit-tin kicked along a gutter; she was nothing so solid in make, and rather less pretty in shape, but i had expended enough hard work on her to make me love her. no influential friend would have served me better. she had given me a chance to come out a bit--to find out what i could do. no, i don't like work. i had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. i don't like work--no man does--but i like what is in the work,--the chance to find yourself. your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. they can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means. "i was not surprised to see somebody sitting aft, on the deck, with his legs dangling over the mud. you see i rather chummed with the few mechanics there were in that station, whom the other pilgrims naturally despised--on account of their imperfect manners, i suppose. this was the foreman--a boiler-maker by trade--a good worker. he was a lank, bony, yellow-faced man, with big intense eyes. his aspect was worried, and his head was as bald as the palm of my hand; but his hair in falling seemed to have stuck to his chin, and had prospered in the new locality, for his beard hung down to his waist. he was a widower with six young children (he had left them in charge of a sister of his to come out there), and the passion of his life was pigeon-flying. he was an enthusiast and a connoisseur. he would rave about pigeons. after work hours he used sometimes to come over from his hut for a talk about his children and his pigeons; at work, when he had to crawl in the mud under the bottom of the steamboat, he would tie up that beard of his in a kind of white serviette he brought for the purpose. it had loops to go over his ears. in the evening he could be seen squatted on the bank rinsing that wrapper in the creek with great care, then spreading it solemnly on a bush to dry. "i slapped him on the back and shouted, 'we shall have rivets!' he scrambled to his feet exclaiming 'no! rivets!' as though he couldn't believe his ears. then in a low voice, 'you . . . eh?' i don't know why we behaved like lunatics. i put my finger to the side of my nose and nodded mysteriously. 'good for you!' he cried, snapped his fingers above his head, lifting one foot. i tried a jig. we capered on the iron deck. a frightful clatter came out of that hulk, and the virgin forest on the other bank of the creek sent it back in a thundering roll upon the sleeping station. it must have made some of the pilgrims sit up in their hovels. a dark figure obscured the lighted doorway of the manager's hut, vanished, then, a second or so after, the doorway itself vanished too. we stopped, and the silence driven away by the stamping of our feet flowed back again from the recesses of the land. the great wall of vegetation, an exuberant and entangled mass of trunks, branches, leaves, boughs, festoons, motionless in the moonlight, was like a rioting invasion of soundless life, a rolling wave of plants, piled up, crested, ready to topple over the creek, to sweep every little man of us out of his little existence. and it moved not. a deadened burst of mighty splashes and snorts reached us from afar, as though an ichthyosaurus had been taking a bath of glitter in the great river. 'after all,' said the boiler-maker in a reasonable tone, 'why shouldn't we get the rivets?' why not, indeed! i did not know of any reason why we shouldn't. 'they'll come in three weeks,' i said confidently. "but they didn't. instead of rivets there came an invasion, an infliction, a visitation. it came in sections during the next three weeks, each section headed by a donkey carrying a white man in new clothes and tan shoes, bowing from that elevation right and left to the impressed pilgrims. a quarrelsome band of footsore sulky niggers trod on the heels of the donkeys; a lot of tents, camp-stools, tin boxes, white cases, brown bales would be shot down in the courtyard, and the air of mystery would deepen a little over the muddle of the station. five such installments came, with their absurd air of disorderly flight with the loot of innumerable outfit shops and provision stores, that, one would think, they were lugging, after a raid, into the wilderness for equitable division. it was an inextricable mess of things decent in themselves but that human folly made look like the spoils of thieving. "this devoted band called itself the eldorado exploring expedition, and i believe they were sworn to secrecy. their talk, however, was the talk of sordid buccaneers: it was reckless without hardihood, greedy without audacity, and cruel without courage; there was not an atom of foresight or of serious intention in the whole batch of them, and they did not seem aware these things are wanted for the work of the world. to tear treasure out of the bowels of the land was their desire, with no more moral purpose at the back of it than there is in burglars breaking into a safe. who paid the expenses of the noble enterprise i don't know; but the uncle of our manager was leader of that lot. "in exterior he resembled a butcher in a poor neighborhood, and his eyes had a look of sleepy cunning. he carried his fat paunch with ostentation on his short legs, and during the time his gang infested the station spoke to no one but his nephew. you could see these two roaming about all day long with their heads close together in an everlasting confab. "i had given up worrying myself about the rivets. one's capacity for that kind of folly is more limited than you would suppose. i said hang!--and let things slide. i had plenty of time for meditation, and now and then i would give some thought to kurtz. i wasn't very interested in him. no. still, i was curious to see whether this man, who had come out equipped with moral ideas of some sort, would climb to the top after all, and how he would set about his work when there." ii "one evening as i was lying flat on the deck of my steamboat, i heard voices approaching--and there were the nephew and the uncle strolling along the bank. i laid my head on my arm again, and had nearly lost myself in a doze, when somebody said in my ear, as it were: 'i am as harmless as a little child, but i don't like to be dictated to. am i the manager--or am i not? i was ordered to send him there. it's incredible.' . . . i became aware that the two were standing on the shore alongside the forepart of the steamboat, just below my head. i did not move; it did not occur to me to move: i was sleepy. 'it _is_ unpleasant,' grunted the uncle. 'he has asked the administration to be sent there,' said the other, 'with the idea of showing what he could do; and i was instructed accordingly. look at the influence that man must have. is it not frightful?' they both agreed it was frightful, then made several bizarre remarks: 'make rain and fine weather--one man--the council--by the nose'--bits of absurd sentences that got the better of my drowsiness, so that i had pretty near the whole of my wits about me when the uncle said, 'the climate may do away with this difficulty for you. is he alone there?' 'yes,' answered the manager; 'he sent his assistant down the river with a note to me in these terms: "clear this poor devil out of the country, and don't bother sending more of that sort. i had rather be alone than have the kind of men you can dispose of with me." it was more than a year ago. can you imagine such impudence!' 'anything since then?' asked the other, hoarsely. 'ivory,' jerked the nephew; 'lots of it--prime sort--lots--most annoying, from him.' 'and with that?' questioned the heavy rumble. 'invoice,' was the reply fired out, so to speak. then silence. they had been talking about kurtz. "i was broad awake by this time, but, lying perfectly at ease, remained still, having no inducement to change my position. 'how did that ivory come all this way?' growled the elder man, who seemed very vexed. the other explained that it had come with a fleet of canoes in charge of an english half-caste clerk kurtz had with him; that kurtz had apparently intended to return himself, the station being by that time bare of goods and stores, but after coming three hundred miles, had suddenly decided to go back, which he started to do alone in a small dug-out with four paddlers, leaving the half-caste to continue down the river with the ivory. the two fellows there seemed astounded at anybody attempting such a thing. they were at a loss for an adequate motive. as to me, i seemed to see kurtz for the first time. it was a distinct glimpse: the dug-out, four paddling savages, and the lone white man turning his back suddenly on the headquarters, on relief, on thoughts of home--perhaps; setting his face towards the depths of the wilderness, towards his empty and desolate station. i did not know the motive. perhaps he was just simply a fine fellow who stuck to his work for its own sake. his name, you understand, had not been pronounced once. he was 'that man.' the half-caste, who, as far as i could see, had conducted a difficult trip with great prudence and pluck, was invariably alluded to as 'that scoundrel.' the 'scoundrel' had reported that the 'man' had been very ill--had recovered imperfectly. . . . the two below me moved away then a few paces, and strolled back and forth at some little distance. i heard: 'military post--doctor--two hundred miles--quite alone now--unavoidable delays--nine months--no news--strange rumors.' they approached again, just as the manager was saying, 'no one, as far as i know, unless a species of wandering trader--a pestilential fellow, snapping ivory from the natives.' who was it they were talking about now? i gathered in snatches that this was some man supposed to be in kurtz's district, and of whom the manager did not approve. 'we will not be free from unfair competition till one of these fellows is hanged for an example,' he said. 'certainly,' grunted the other; 'get him hanged! why not? anything--anything can be done in this country. that's what i say; nobody here, you understand, _here_, can endanger your position. and why? you stand the climate--you outlast them all. the danger is in europe; but there before i left i took care to--' they moved off and whispered, then their voices rose again. 'the extraordinary series of delays is not my fault. i did my possible.' the fat man sighed, 'very sad.' 'and the pestiferous absurdity of his talk,' continued the other; 'he bothered me enough when he was here. "each station should be like a beacon on the road towards better things, a center for trade of course, but also for humanizing, improving, instructing." conceive you--that ass! and he wants to be manager! no, it's--' here he got choked by excessive indignation, and i lifted my head the least bit. i was surprised to see how near they were--right under me. i could have spat upon their hats. they were looking on the ground, absorbed in thought. the manager was switching his leg with a slender twig: his sagacious relative lifted his head. 'you have been well since you came out this time?' he asked. the other gave a start. 'who? i? oh! like a charm--like a charm. but the rest--oh, my goodness! all sick. they die so quick, too, that i haven't the time to send them out of the country--it's incredible!' 'h'm. just so,' grunted the uncle. 'ah! my boy, trust to this--i say, trust to this.' i saw him extend his short flipper of an arm for a gesture that took in the forest, the creek, the mud, the river,--seemed to beckon with a dishonoring flourish before the sunlit face of the land a treacherous appeal to the lurking death, to the hidden evil, to the profound darkness of its heart. it was so startling that i leaped to my feet and looked back at the edge of the forest, as though i had expected an answer of some sort to that black display of confidence. you know the foolish notions that come to one sometimes. the high stillness confronted these two figures with its ominous patience, waiting for the passing away of a fantastic invasion. "they swore aloud together--out of sheer fright, i believe--then pretending not to know anything of my existence, turned back to the station. the sun was low; and leaning forward side by side, they seemed to be tugging painfully uphill their two ridiculous shadows of unequal length, that trailed behind them slowly over the tall grass without bending a single blade. "in a few days the eldorado expedition went into the patient wilderness, that closed upon it as the sea closes over a diver. long afterwards the news came that all the donkeys were dead. i know nothing as to the fate of the less valuable animals. they, no doubt, like the rest of us, found what they deserved. i did not inquire. i was then rather excited at the prospect of meeting kurtz very soon. when i say very soon i mean it comparatively. it was just two months from the day we left the creek when we came to the bank below kurtz's station. "going up that river was like traveling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings. an empty stream, a great silence, an impenetrable forest. the air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. there was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine. the long stretches of the waterway ran on, deserted, into the gloom of overshadowed distances. on silvery sandbanks hippos and alligators sunned themselves side by side. the broadening waters flowed through a mob of wooded islands; you lost your way on that river as you would in a desert, and butted all day long against shoals, trying to find the channel, till you thought yourself bewitched and cut off for ever from everything you had known once--somewhere--far away--in another existence perhaps. there were moments when one's past came back to one, as it will sometimes when you have not a moment to spare to yourself; but it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy dream, remembered with wonder amongst the overwhelming realities of this strange world of plants, and water, and silence. and this stillness of life did not in the least resemble a peace. it was the stillness of an implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention. it looked at you with a vengeful aspect. i got used to it afterwards; i did not see it any more; i had no time. i had to keep guessing at the channel; i had to discern, mostly by inspiration, the signs of hidden banks; i watched for sunken stones; i was learning to clap my teeth smartly before my heart flew out, when i shaved by a fluke some infernal sly old snag that would have ripped the life out of the tin-pot steamboat and drowned all the pilgrims; i had to keep a look-out for the signs of dead wood we could cut up in the night for next day's steaming. when you have to attend to things of that sort, to the mere incidents of the surface, the reality--the reality, i tell you--fades. the inner truth is hidden--luckily, luckily. but i felt it all the same; i felt often its mysterious stillness watching me at my monkey tricks, just as it watches you fellows performing on your respective tight-ropes for--what is it? half-a-crown a tumble--" "try to be civil, marlow," growled a voice, and i knew there was at least one listener awake besides myself. "i beg your pardon. i forgot the heartache which makes up the rest of the price. and indeed what does the price matter, if the trick be well done? you do your tricks very well. and i didn't do badly either, since i managed not to sink that steamboat on my first trip. it's a wonder to me yet. imagine a blindfolded man set to drive a van over a bad road. i sweated and shivered over that business considerably, i can tell you. after all, for a seaman, to scrape the bottom of the thing that's supposed to float all the time under his care is the unpardonable sin. no one may know of it, but you never forget the thump--eh? a blow on the very heart. you remember it, you dream of it, you wake up at night and think of it--years after--and go hot and cold all over. i don't pretend to say that steamboat floated all the time. more than once she had to wade for a bit, with twenty cannibals splashing around and pushing. we had enlisted some of these chaps on the way for a crew. fine fellows--cannibals--in their place. they were men one could work with, and i am grateful to them. and, after all, they did not eat each other before my face: they had brought along a provision of hippo-meat which went rotten, and made the mystery of the wilderness stink in my nostrils. phoo! i can sniff it now. i had the manager on board and three or four pilgrims with their staves--all complete. sometimes we came upon a station close by the bank, clinging to the skirts of the unknown, and the white men rushing out of a tumble-down hovel, with great gestures of joy and surprise and welcome, seemed very strange,--had the appearance of being held there captive by a spell. the word ivory would ring in the air for a while--and on we went again into the silence, along empty reaches, round the still bends, between the high walls of our winding way, reverberating in hollow claps the ponderous beat of the stern-wheel. trees, trees, millions of trees, massive, immense, running up high; and at their foot, hugging the bank against the stream, crept the little begrimed steamboat, like a sluggish beetle crawling on the floor of a lofty portico. it made you feel very small, very lost, and yet it was not altogether depressing, that feeling. after all, if you were small, the grimy beetle crawled on--which was just what you wanted it to do. where the pilgrims imagined it crawled to i don't know. to some place where they expected to get something, i bet! for me it crawled toward kurtz--exclusively; but when the steam-pipes started leaking we crawled very slow. the reaches opened before us and closed behind, as if the forest had stepped leisurely across the water to bar the way for our return. we penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness. it was very quiet there. at night sometimes the roll of drums behind the curtain of trees would run up the river and remain sustained faintly, as if hovering in the air high over our heads, till the first break of day. whether it meant war, peace, or prayer we could not tell. the dawns were heralded by the descent of a chill stillness; the woodcutters slept, their fires burned low; the snapping of a twig would make you start. we were wanderers on a prehistoric earth, on an earth that wore the aspect of an unknown planet. we could have fancied ourselves the first of men taking possession of an accursed inheritance, to be subdued at the cost of profound anguish and of excessive toil. but suddenly, as we struggled round a bend, there would be a glimpse of rush walls, of peaked grass-roofs, a burst of yells, a whirl of black limbs, a mass of hands clapping, of feet stamping, of bodies swaying, of eyes rolling, under the droop of heavy and motionless foliage. the steamer toiled along slowly on the edge of a black and incomprehensible frenzy. the prehistoric man was cursing us, praying to us, welcoming us--who could tell? we were cut off from the comprehension of our surroundings; we glided past like phantoms, wondering and secretly appalled, as sane men would be before an enthusiastic outbreak in a madhouse. we could not understand, because we were too far and could not remember, because we were traveling in the night of first ages, of those ages that are gone, leaving hardly a sign--and no memories. "the earth seemed unearthly. we are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there--there you could look at a thing monstrous and free. it was unearthly, and the men were--no, they were not inhuman. well, you know, that was the worst of it--this suspicion of their not being inhuman. it would come slowly to one. they howled, and leaped, and spun, and made horrid faces; but what thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity--like yours--the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. ugly. yes, it was ugly enough; but if you were man enough you would admit to yourself that there was in you just the faintest trace of a response to the terrible frankness of that noise, a dim suspicion of there being a meaning in it which you--you so remote from the night of first ages--could comprehend. and why not? the mind of man is capable of anything--because everything is in it, all the past as well as all the future. what was there after all? joy, fear, sorrow, devotion, valor, rage--who can tell?--but truth--truth stripped of its cloak of time. let the fool gape and shudder--the man knows, and can look on without a wink. but he must at least be as much of a man as these on the shore. he must meet that truth with his own true stuff--with his own inborn strength. principles? principles won't do. acquisitions, clothes, pretty rags--rags that would fly off at the first good shake. no; you want a deliberate belief. an appeal to me in this fiendish row--is there? very well; i hear; i admit, but i have a voice too, and for good or evil mine is the speech that cannot be silenced. of course, a fool, what with sheer fright and fine sentiments, is always safe. who's that grunting? you wonder i didn't go ashore for a howl and a dance? well, no--i didn't. fine sentiments, you say? fine sentiments, be hanged! i had no time. i had to mess about with white-lead and strips of woolen blanket helping to put bandages on those leaky steam-pipes--i tell you. i had to watch the steering, and circumvent those snags, and get the tin-pot along by hook or by crook. there was surface-truth enough in these things to save a wiser man. and between whiles i had to look after the savage who was fireman. he was an improved specimen; he could fire up a vertical boiler. he was there below me, and, upon my word, to look at him was as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches and a feather hat, walking on his hind-legs. a few months of training had done for that really fine chap. he squinted at the steam-gauge and at the water-gauge with an evident effort of intrepidity--and he had filed teeth too, the poor devil, and the wool of his pate shaved into queer patterns, and three ornamental scars on each of his cheeks. he ought to have been clapping his hands and stamping his feet on the bank, instead of which he was hard at work, a thrall to strange witchcraft, full of improving knowledge. he was useful because he had been instructed; and what he knew was this--that should the water in that transparent thing disappear, the evil spirit inside the boiler would get angry through the greatness of his thirst, and take a terrible vengeance. so he sweated and fired up and watched the glass fearfully (with an impromptu charm, made of rags, tied to his arm, and a piece of polished bone, as big as a watch, stuck flatways through his lower lip), while the wooded banks slipped past us slowly, the short noise was left behind, the interminable miles of silence--and we crept on, towards kurtz. but the snags were thick, the water was treacherous and shallow, the boiler seemed indeed to have a sulky devil in it, and thus neither that fireman nor i had any time to peer into our creepy thoughts. "some fifty miles below the inner station we came upon a hut of reeds, an inclined and melancholy pole, with the unrecognizable tatters of what had been a flag of some sort flying from it, and a neatly stacked woodpile. this was unexpected. we came to the bank, and on the stack of firewood found a flat piece of board with some faded pencil-writing on it. when deciphered it said: 'wood for you. hurry up. approach cautiously.' there was a signature, but it was illegible--not kurtz--a much longer word. 'hurry up.' where? up the river? 'approach cautiously.' we had not done so. but the warning could not have been meant for the place where it could be only found after approach. something was wrong above. but what--and how much? that was the question. we commented adversely upon the imbecility of that telegraphic style. the bush around said nothing, and would not let us look very far, either. a torn curtain of red twill hung in the doorway of the hut, and flapped sadly in our faces. the dwelling was dismantled; but we could see a white man had lived there not very long ago. there remained a rude table--a plank on two posts; a heap of rubbish reposed in a dark corner, and by the door i picked up a book. it had lost its covers, and the pages had been thumbed into a state of extremely dirty softness; but the back had been lovingly stitched afresh with white cotton thread, which looked clean yet. it was an extraordinary find. its title was, 'an inquiry into some points of seamanship,' by a man tower, towson--some such name--master in his majesty's navy. the matter looked dreary reading enough, with illustrative diagrams and repulsive tables of figures, and the copy was sixty years old. i handled this amazing antiquity with the greatest possible tenderness, lest it should dissolve in my hands. within, towson or towser was inquiring earnestly into the breaking strain of ships' chains and tackle, and other such matters. not a very enthralling book; but at the first glance you could see there a singleness of intention, an honest concern for the right way of going to work, which made these humble pages, thought out so many years ago, luminous with another than a professional light. the simple old sailor, with his talk of chains and purchases, made me forget the jungle and the pilgrims in a delicious sensation of having come upon something unmistakably real. such a book being there was wonderful enough; but still more astounding were the notes penciled in the margin, and plainly referring to the text. i couldn't believe my eyes! they were in cipher! yes, it looked like cipher. fancy a man lugging with him a book of that description into this nowhere and studying it--and making notes--in cipher at that! it was an extravagant mystery. "i had been dimly aware for some time of a worrying noise, and when i lifted my eyes i saw the wood-pile was gone, and the manager, aided by all the pilgrims, was shouting at me from the river-side. i slipped the book into my pocket. i assure you to leave off reading was like tearing myself away from the shelter of an old and solid friendship. "i started the lame engine ahead. 'it must be this miserable trader--this intruder,' exclaimed the manager, looking back malevolently at the place we had left. 'he must be english,' i said. 'it will not save him from getting into trouble if he is not careful,' muttered the manager darkly. i observed with assumed innocence that no man was safe from trouble in this world. "the current was more rapid now, the steamer seemed at her last gasp, the stern-wheel flopped languidly, and i caught myself listening on tiptoe for the next beat of the boat, for in sober truth i expected the wretched thing to give up every moment. it was like watching the last flickers of a life. but still we crawled. sometimes i would pick out a tree a little way ahead to measure our progress towards kurtz by, but i lost it invariably before we got abreast. to keep the eyes so long on one thing was too much for human patience. the manager displayed a beautiful resignation. i fretted and fumed and took to arguing with myself whether or no i would talk openly with kurtz; but before i could come to any conclusion it occurred to me that my speech or my silence, indeed any action of mine, would be a mere futility. what did it matter what anyone knew or ignored? what did it matter who was manager? one gets sometimes such a flash of insight. the essentials of this affair lay deep under the surface, beyond my reach, and beyond my power of meddling. "towards the evening of the second day we judged ourselves about eight miles from kurtz's station. i wanted to push on; but the manager looked grave, and told me the navigation up there was so dangerous that it would be advisable, the sun being very low already, to wait where we were till next morning. moreover, he pointed out that if the warning to approach cautiously were to be followed, we must approach in daylight--not at dusk, or in the dark. this was sensible enough. eight miles meant nearly three hours' steaming for us, and i could also see suspicious ripples at the upper end of the reach. nevertheless, i was annoyed beyond expression at the delay, and most unreasonably too, since one night more could not matter much after so many months. as we had plenty of wood, and caution was the word, i brought up in the middle of the stream. the reach was narrow, straight, with high sides like a railway cutting. the dusk came gliding into it long before the sun had set. the current ran smooth and swift, but a dumb immobility sat on the banks. the living trees, lashed together by the creepers and every living bush of the undergrowth, might have been changed into stone, even to the slenderest twig, to the lightest leaf. it was not sleep--it seemed unnatural, like a state of trance. not the faintest sound of any kind could be heard. you looked on amazed, and began to suspect yourself of being deaf--then the night came suddenly, and struck you blind as well. about three in the morning some large fish leaped, and the loud splash made me jump as though a gun had been fired. when the sun rose there was a white fog, very warm and clammy, and more blinding than the night. it did not shift or drive; it was just there, standing all round you like something solid. at eight or nine, perhaps, it lifted as a shutter lifts. we had a glimpse of the towering multitude of trees, of the immense matted jungle, with the blazing little ball of the sun hanging over it--all perfectly still--and then the white shutter came down again, smoothly, as if sliding in greased grooves. i ordered the chain, which we had begun to heave in, to be paid out again. before it stopped running with a muffled rattle, a cry, a very loud cry, as of infinite desolation, soared slowly in the opaque air. it ceased. a complaining clamor, modulated in savage discords, filled our ears. the sheer unexpectedness of it made my hair stir under my cap. i don't know how it struck the others: to me it seemed as though the mist itself had screamed, so suddenly, and apparently from all sides at once, did this tumultuous and mournful uproar arise. it culminated in a hurried outbreak of almost intolerably excessive shrieking, which stopped short, leaving us stiffened in a variety of silly attitudes, and obstinately listening to the nearly as appalling and excessive silence. 'good god! what is the meaning--?' stammered at my elbow one of the pilgrims,--a little fat man, with sandy hair and red whiskers, who wore side-spring boots, and pink pyjamas tucked into his socks. two others remained open-mouthed a whole minute, then dashed into the little cabin, to rush out incontinently and stand darting scared glances, with winchesters at 'ready' in their hands. what we could see was just the steamer we were on, her outlines blurred as though she had been on the point of dissolving, and a misty strip of water, perhaps two feet broad, around her--and that was all. the rest of the world was nowhere, as far as our eyes and ears were concerned. just nowhere. gone, disappeared; swept off without leaving a whisper or a shadow behind. "i went forward, and ordered the chain to be hauled in short, so as to be ready to trip the anchor and move the steamboat at once if necessary. 'will they attack?' whispered an awed voice. 'we will all be butchered in this fog,' murmured another. the faces twitched with the strain, the hands trembled slightly, the eyes forgot to wink. it was very curious to see the contrast of expressions of the white men and of the black fellows of our crew, who were as much strangers to that part of the river as we, though their homes were only eight hundred miles away. the whites, of course greatly discomposed, had besides a curious look of being painfully shocked by such an outrageous row. the others had an alert, naturally interested expression; but their faces were essentially quiet, even those of the one or two who grinned as they hauled at the chain. several exchanged short, grunting phrases, which seemed to settle the matter to their satisfaction. their headman, a young, broad-chested black, severely draped in dark-blue fringed cloths, with fierce nostrils and his hair all done up artfully in oily ringlets, stood near me. 'aha!' i said, just for good fellowship's sake. 'catch 'im,' he snapped, with a bloodshot widening of his eyes and a flash of sharp teeth--'catch 'im. give 'im to us.' 'to you, eh?' i asked; 'what would you do with them?' 'eat 'im!' he said curtly, and, leaning his elbow on the rail, looked out into the fog in a dignified and profoundly pensive attitude. i would no doubt have been properly horrified, had it not occurred to me that he and his chaps must be very hungry: that they must have been growing increasingly hungry for at least this month past. they had been engaged for six months (i don't think a single one of them had any clear idea of time, as we at the end of countless ages have. they still belonged to the beginnings of time--had no inherited experience to teach them as it were), and of course, as long as there was a piece of paper written over in accordance with some farcical law or other made down the river, it didn't enter anybody's head to trouble how they would live. certainly they had brought with them some rotten hippo-meat, which couldn't have lasted very long, anyway, even if the pilgrims hadn't, in the midst of a shocking hullabaloo, thrown a considerable quantity of it overboard. it looked like a high-handed proceeding; but it was really a case of legitimate self-defense. you can't breathe dead hippo waking, sleeping, and eating, and at the same time keep your precarious grip on existence. besides that, they had given them every week three pieces of brass wire, each about nine inches long; and the theory was they were to buy their provisions with that currency in river-side villages. you can see how _that_ worked. there were either no villages, or the people were hostile, or the director, who like the rest of us fed out of tins, with an occasional old he-goat thrown in, didn't want to stop the steamer for some more or less recondite reason. so, unless they swallowed the wire itself, or made loops of it to snare the fishes with, i don't see what good their extravagant salary could be to them. i must say it was paid with a regularity worthy of a large and honorable trading company. for the rest, the only thing to eat--though it didn't look eatable in the least--i saw in their possession was a few lumps of some stuff like half-cooked dough, of a dirty lavender color, they kept wrapped in leaves, and now and then swallowed a piece of, but so small that it seemed done more for the looks of the thing than for any serious purpose of sustenance. why in the name of all the gnawing devils of hunger they didn't go for us--they were thirty to five--and have a good tuck in for once, amazes me now when i think of it. they were big powerful men, with not much capacity to weigh the consequences, with courage, with strength, even yet, though their skins were no longer glossy and their muscles no longer hard. and i saw that something restraining, one of those human secrets that baffle probability, had come into play there. i looked at them with a swift quickening of interest--not because it occurred to me i might be eaten by them before very long, though i own to you that just then i perceived--in a new light, as it were--how unwholesome the pilgrims looked, and i hoped, yes, i positively hoped, that my aspect was not so--what shall i say?--so--unappetizing: a touch of fantastic vanity which fitted well with the dream-sensation that pervaded all my days at that time. perhaps i had a little fever too. one can't live with one's finger everlastingly on one's pulse. i had often 'a little fever,' or a little touch of other things--the playful paw-strokes of the wilderness, the preliminary trifling before the more serious onslaught which came in due course. yes; i looked at them as you would on any human being, with a curiosity of their impulses, motives, capacities, weaknesses, when brought to the test of an inexorable physical necessity. restraint! what possible restraint? was it superstition, disgust, patience, fear--or some kind of primitive honor? no fear can stand up to hunger, no patience can wear it out, disgust simply does not exist where hunger is; and as to superstition, beliefs, and what you may call principles, they are less than chaff in a breeze. don't you know the devilry of lingering starvation, its exasperating torment, its black thoughts, its somber and brooding ferocity? well, i do. it takes a man all his inborn strength to fight hunger properly. it's really easier to face bereavement, dishonor, and the perdition of one's soul--than this kind of prolonged hunger. sad, but true. and these chaps too had no earthly reason for any kind of scruple. restraint! i would just as soon have expected restraint from a hyena prowling amongst the corpses of a battlefield. but there was the fact facing me--the fact dazzling, to be seen, like the foam on the depths of the sea, like a ripple on an unfathomable enigma, a mystery greater--when i thought of it--than the curious, inexplicable note of desperate grief in this savage clamor that had swept by us on the river-bank, behind the blind whiteness of the fog. "two pilgrims were quarreling in hurried whispers as to which bank. 'left.' 'no, no; how can you? right, right, of course.' 'it is very serious,' said the manager's voice behind me; 'i would be desolated if anything should happen to mr. kurtz before we came up.' i looked at him, and had not the slightest doubt he was sincere. he was just the kind of man who would wish to preserve appearances. that was his restraint. but when he muttered something about going on at once, i did not even take the trouble to answer him. i knew, and he knew, that it was impossible. were we to let go our hold of the bottom, we would be absolutely in the air--in space. we wouldn't be able to tell where we were going to--whether up or down stream, or across--till we fetched against one bank or the other,--and then we wouldn't know at first which it was. of course i made no move. i had no mind for a smash-up. you couldn't imagine a more deadly place for a shipwreck. whether drowned at once or not, we were sure to perish speedily in one way or another. 'i authorize you to take all the risks,' he said, after a short silence. 'i refuse to take any,' i said shortly; which was just the answer he expected, though its tone might have surprised him. 'well, i must defer to your judgment. you are captain,' he said, with marked civility. i turned my shoulder to him in sign of my appreciation, and looked into the fog. how long would it last? it was the most hopeless look-out. the approach to this kurtz grubbing for ivory in the wretched bush was beset by as many dangers as though he had been an enchanted princess sleeping in a fabulous castle. 'will they attack, do you think?' asked the manager, in a confidential tone. "i did not think they would attack, for several obvious reasons. the thick fog was one. if they left the bank in their canoes they would get lost in it, as we would be if we attempted to move. still, i had also judged the jungle of both banks quite impenetrable--and yet eyes were in it, eyes that had seen us. the river-side bushes were certainly very thick; but the undergrowth behind was evidently penetrable. however, during the short lift i had seen no canoes anywhere in the reach--certainly not abreast of the steamer. but what made the idea of attack inconceivable to me was the nature of the noise--of the cries we had heard. they had not the fierce character boding of immediate hostile intention. unexpected, wild, and violent as they had been, they had given me an irresistible impression of sorrow. the glimpse of the steamboat had for some reason filled those savages with unrestrained grief. the danger, if any, i expounded, was from our proximity to a great human passion let loose. even extreme grief may ultimately vent itself in violence--but more generally takes the form of apathy. . . . "you should have seen the pilgrims stare! they had no heart to grin, or even to revile me; but i believe they thought me gone mad--with fright, maybe. i delivered a regular lecture. my dear boys, it was no good bothering. keep a look-out? well, you may guess i watched the fog for the signs of lifting as a cat watches a mouse; but for anything else our eyes were of no more use to us than if we had been buried miles deep in a heap of cotton-wool. it felt like it too--choking, warm, stifling. besides, all i said, though it sounded extravagant, was absolutely true to fact. what we afterwards alluded to as an attack was really an attempt at repulse. the action was very far from being aggressive--it was not even defensive, in the usual sense: it was undertaken under the stress of desperation, and in its essence was purely protective. "it developed itself, i should say, two hours after the fog lifted, and its commencement was at a spot, roughly speaking, about a mile and a half below kurtz's station. we had just floundered and flopped round a bend, when i saw an islet, a mere grassy hummock of bright green, in the middle of the stream. it was the only thing of the kind; but as we opened the reach more, i perceived it was the head of a long sandbank, or rather of a chain of shallow patches stretching down the middle of the river. they were discolored, just awash, and the whole lot was seen just under the water, exactly as a man's backbone is seen running down the middle of his back under the skin. now, as far as i did see, i could go to the right or to the left of this. i didn't know either channel, of course. the banks looked pretty well alike, the depth appeared the same; but as i had been informed the station was on the west side, i naturally headed for the western passage. "no sooner had we fairly entered it than i became aware it was much narrower than i had supposed. to the left of us there was the long uninterrupted shoal, and to the right a high, steep bank heavily overgrown with bushes. above the bush the trees stood in serried ranks. the twigs overhung the current thickly, and from distance to distance a large limb of some tree projected rigidly over the stream. it was then well on in the afternoon, the face of the forest was gloomy, and a broad strip of shadow had already fallen on the water. in this shadow we steamed up--very slowly, as you may imagine. i sheered her well inshore--the water being deepest near the bank, as the sounding-pole informed me. "one of my hungry and forbearing friends was sounding in the bows just below me. this steamboat was exactly like a decked scow. on the deck there were two little teak-wood houses, with doors and windows. the boiler was in the fore-end, and the machinery right astern. over the whole there was a light roof, supported on stanchions. the funnel projected through that roof, and in front of the funnel a small cabin built of light planks served for a pilot-house. it contained a couch, two camp-stools, a loaded martini-henry leaning in one corner, a tiny table, and the steering-wheel. it had a wide door in front and a broad shutter at each side. all these were always thrown open, of course. i spent my days perched up there on the extreme fore-end of that roof, before the door. at night i slept, or tried to, on the couch. an athletic black belonging to some coast tribe, and educated by my poor predecessor, was the helmsman. he sported a pair of brass earrings, wore a blue cloth wrapper from the waist to the ankles, and thought all the world of himself. he was the most unstable kind of fool i had ever seen. he steered with no end of a swagger while you were by; but if he lost sight of you, he became instantly the prey of an abject funk, and would let that cripple of a steamboat get the upper hand of him in a minute. "i was looking down at the sounding-pole, and feeling much annoyed to see at each try a little more of it stick out of that river, when i saw my poleman give up the business suddenly, and stretch himself flat on the deck, without even taking the trouble to haul his pole in. he kept hold on it though, and it trailed in the water. at the same time the fireman, whom i could also see below me, sat down abruptly before his furnace and ducked his head. i was amazed. then i had to look at the river mighty quick, because there was a snag in the fairway. sticks, little sticks, were flying about--thick: they were whizzing before my nose, dropping below me, striking behind me against my pilot-house. all this time the river, the shore, the woods, were very quiet--perfectly quiet. i could only hear the heavy splashing thump of the stern-wheel and the patter of these things. we cleared the snag clumsily. arrows, by jove! we were being shot at! i stepped in quickly to close the shutter on the land side. that fool-helmsman, his hands on the spokes, was lifting his knees high, stamping his feet, champing his mouth, like a reined-in horse. confound him! and we were staggering within ten feet of the bank. i had to lean right out to swing the heavy shutter, and i saw a face amongst the leaves on the level with my own, looking at me very fierce and steady; and then suddenly, as though a veil had been removed from my eyes, i made out, deep in the tangled gloom, naked breasts, arms, legs, glaring eyes,--the bush was swarming with human limbs in movement, glistening, of bronze color. the twigs shook, swayed, and rustled, the arrows flew out of them, and then the shutter came to. 'steer her straight,' i said to the helmsman. he held his head rigid, face forward; but his eyes rolled, he kept on lifting and setting down his feet gently, his mouth foamed a little. 'keep quiet!' i said in a fury. i might just as well have ordered a tree not to sway in the wind. i darted out. below me there was a great scuffle of feet on the iron deck; confused exclamations; a voice screamed, 'can you turn back?' i caught shape of a v-shaped ripple on the water ahead. what? another snag! a fusillade burst out under my feet. the pilgrims had opened with their winchesters, and were simply squirting lead into that bush. a deuce of a lot of smoke came up and drove slowly forward. i swore at it. now i couldn't see the ripple or the snag either. i stood in the doorway, peering, and the arrows came in swarms. they might have been poisoned, but they looked as though they wouldn't kill a cat. the bush began to howl. our wood-cutters raised a warlike whoop; the report of a rifle just at my back deafened me. i glanced over my shoulder, and the pilot-house was yet full of noise and smoke when i made a dash at the wheel. the fool-nigger had dropped everything, to throw the shutter open and let off that martini-henry. he stood before the wide opening, glaring, and i yelled at him to come back, while i straightened the sudden twist out of that steamboat. there was no room to turn even if i had wanted to, the snag was somewhere very near ahead in that confounded smoke, there was no time to lose, so i just crowded her into the bank--right into the bank, where i knew the water was deep. "we tore slowly along the overhanging bushes in a whirl of broken twigs and flying leaves. the fusillade below stopped short, as i had foreseen it would when the squirts got empty. i threw my head back to a glinting whizz that traversed the pilot-house, in at one shutter-hole and out at the other. looking past that mad helmsman, who was shaking the empty rifle and yelling at the shore, i saw vague forms of men running bent double, leaping, gliding, distinct, incomplete, evanescent. something big appeared in the air before the shutter, the rifle went overboard, and the man stepped back swiftly, looked at me over his shoulder in an extraordinary, profound, familiar manner, and fell upon my feet. the side of his head hit the wheel twice, and the end of what appeared a long cane clattered round and knocked over a little camp-stool. it looked as though after wrenching that thing from somebody ashore he had lost his balance in the effort. the thin smoke had blown away, we were clear of the snag, and looking ahead i could see that in another hundred yards or so i would be free to sheer off, away from the bank; but my feet felt so very warm and wet that i had to look down. the man had rolled on his back and stared straight up at me; both his hands clutched that cane. it was the shaft of a spear that, either thrown or lunged through the opening, had caught him in the side just below the ribs; the blade had gone in out of sight, after making a frightful gash; my shoes were full; a pool of blood lay very still, gleaming dark-red under the wheel; his eyes shone with an amazing luster. the fusillade burst out again. he looked at me anxiously, gripping the spear like something precious, with an air of being afraid i would try to take it away from him. i had to make an effort to free my eyes from his gaze and attend to the steering. with one hand i felt above my head for the line of the steam-whistle, and jerked out screech after screech hurriedly. the tumult of angry and warlike yells was checked instantly, and then from the depths of the woods went out such a tremulous and prolonged wail of mournful fear and utter despair as may be imagined to follow the flight of the last hope from the earth. there was a great commotion in the bush; the shower of arrows stopped, a few dropping shots rang out sharply--then silence, in which the languid beat of the stern-wheel came plainly to my ears. i put the helm hard a-starboard at the moment when the pilgrim in pink pyjamas, very hot and agitated, appeared in the doorway. 'the manager sends me--' he began in an official tone, and stopped short. 'good god!' he said, glaring at the wounded man. "we two whites stood over him, and his lustrous and inquiring glance enveloped us both. i declare it looked as though he would presently put to us some question in an understandable language; but he died without uttering a sound, without moving a limb, without twitching a muscle. only in the very last moment, as though in response to some sign we could not see, to some whisper we could not hear, he frowned heavily, and that frown gave to his black death-mask an inconceivably somber, brooding, and menacing expression. the luster of inquiring glance faded swiftly into vacant glassiness. 'can you steer?' i asked the agent eagerly. he looked very dubious; but i made a grab at his arm, and he understood at once i meant him to steer whether or no. to tell you the truth, i was morbidly anxious to change my shoes and socks. 'he is dead,' murmured the fellow, immensely impressed. 'no doubt about it,' said i, tugging like mad at the shoe-laces. 'and, by the way, i suppose mr. kurtz is dead as well by this time.' "for the moment that was the dominant thought. there was a sense of extreme disappointment, as though i had found out i had been striving after something altogether without a substance. i couldn't have been more disgusted if i had traveled all this way for the sole purpose of talking with mr. kurtz. talking with. . . . i flung one shoe overboard, and became aware that that was exactly what i had been looking forward to--a talk with kurtz. i made the strange discovery that i had never imagined him as doing, you know, but as discoursing. i didn't say to myself, 'now i will never see him,' or 'now i will never shake him by the hand,' but, 'now i will never hear him.' the man presented himself as a voice. not of course that i did not connect him with some sort of action. hadn't i been told in all the tones of jealousy and admiration that he had collected, bartered, swindled, or stolen more ivory than all the other agents together? that was not the point. the point was in his being a gifted creature, and that of all his gifts the one that stood out pre-eminently, that carried with it a sense of real presence, was his ability to talk, his words--the gift of expression, the bewildering, the illuminating, the most exalted and the most contemptible, the pulsating stream of light, or the deceitful flow from the heart of an impenetrable darkness. "the other shoe went flying unto the devil-god of that river. i thought, 'by jove! it's all over. we are too late; he has vanished--the gift has vanished, by means of some spear, arrow, or club. i will never hear that chap speak after all,'--and my sorrow had a startling extravagance of emotion, even such as i had noticed in the howling sorrow of these savages in the bush. i couldn't have felt more of lonely desolation somehow, had i been robbed of a belief or had missed my destiny in life. . . . why do you sigh in this beastly way, somebody? absurd? well, absurd. good lord! mustn't a man ever--here, give me some tobacco." . . . there was a pause of profound stillness, then a match flared, and marlow's lean face appeared, worn, hollow, with downward folds and dropped eyelids, with an aspect of concentrated attention; and as he took vigorous draws at his pipe, it seemed to retreat and advance out of the night in the regular flicker of the tiny flame. the match went out. "absurd!" he cried. "this is the worst of trying to tell. . . . here you all are, each moored with two good addresses, like a hulk with two anchors, a butcher round one corner, a policeman round another, excellent appetites, and temperature normal--you hear--normal from year's end to year's end. and you say, absurd! absurd be--exploded! absurd! my dear boys, what can you expect from a man who out of sheer nervousness had just flung overboard a pair of new shoes. now i think of it, it is amazing i did not shed tears. i am, upon the whole, proud of my fortitude. i was cut to the quick at the idea of having lost the inestimable privilege of listening to the gifted kurtz. of course i was wrong. the privilege was waiting for me. oh yes, i heard more than enough. and i was right, too. a voice. he was very little more than a voice. and i heard--him--it--this voice--other voices--all of them were so little more than voices--and the memory of that time itself lingers around me, impalpable, like a dying vibration of one immense jabber, silly, atrocious, sordid, savage, or simply mean, without any kind of sense. voices, voices--even the girl herself--now--" he was silent for a long time. "i laid the ghost of his gifts at last with a lie," he began suddenly. "girl! what? did i mention a girl? oh, she is out of it--completely. they--the women, i mean--are out of it--should be out of it. we must help them to stay in that beautiful world of their own, lest ours gets worse. oh, she had to be out of it. you should have heard the disinterred body of mr. kurtz saying, 'my intended.' you would have perceived directly then how completely she was out of it. and the lofty frontal bone of mr. kurtz! they say the hair goes on growing sometimes, but this--ah specimen, was impressively bald. the wilderness had patted him on the head, and, behold, it was like a ball--an ivory ball; it had caressed him, and--lo!--he had withered; it had taken him, loved him, embraced him, got into his veins, consumed his flesh, and sealed his soul to its own by the inconceivable ceremonies of some devilish initiation. he was its spoiled and pampered favorite. ivory? i should think so. heaps of it, stacks of it. the old mud shanty was bursting with it. you would think there was not a single tusk left either above or below the ground in the whole country. 'mostly fossil,' the manager had remarked disparagingly. it was no more fossil than i am; but they call it fossil when it is dug up. it appears these niggers do bury the tusks sometimes--but evidently they couldn't bury this parcel deep enough to save the gifted mr. kurtz from his fate. we filled the steamboat with it, and had to pile a lot on the deck. thus he could see and enjoy as long as he could see, because the appreciation of this favor had remained with him to the last. you should have heard him say, 'my ivory.' oh yes, i heard him. 'my intended, my ivory, my station, my river, my--' everything belonged to him. it made me hold my breath in expectation of hearing the wilderness burst into a prodigious peal of laughter that would shake the fixed stars in their places. everything belonged to him--but that was a trifle. the thing was to know what he belonged to, how many powers of darkness claimed him for their own. that was the reflection that made you creepy all over. it was impossible--it was not good for one either--trying to imagine. he had taken a high seat amongst the devils of the land--i mean literally. you can't understand. how could you?--with solid pavement under your feet, surrounded by kind neighbors ready to cheer you or to fall on you, stepping delicately between the butcher and the policeman, in the holy terror of scandal and gallows and lunatic asylums--how can you imagine what particular region of the first ages a man's untrammeled feet may take him into by the way of solitude--utter solitude without a policeman--by the way of silence, utter silence, where no warning voice of a kind neighbor can be heard whispering of public opinion? these little things make all the great difference. when they are gone you must fall back upon your own innate strength, upon your own capacity for faithfulness. of course you may be too much of a fool to go wrong--too dull even to know you are being assaulted by the powers of darkness. i take it, no fool ever made a bargain for his soul with the devil: the fool is too much of a fool, or the devil too much of a devil--i don't know which. or you may be such a thunderingly exalted creature as to be altogether deaf and blind to anything but heavenly sights and sounds. then the earth for you is only a standing place--and whether to be like this is your loss or your gain i won't pretend to say. but most of us are neither one nor the other. the earth for us is a place to live in, where we must put up with sights, with sounds, with smells too, by jove!--breathe dead hippo, so to speak, and not be contaminated. and there, don't you see? your strength comes in, the faith in your ability for the digging of unostentatious holes to bury the stuff in--your power of devotion, not to yourself, but to an obscure, back-breaking business. and that's difficult enough. mind, i am not trying to excuse or even explain--i am trying to account to myself for--for--mr. kurtz--for the shade of mr. kurtz. this initiated wraith from the back of nowhere honored me with its amazing confidence before it vanished altogether. this was because it could speak english to me. the original kurtz had been educated partly in england, and--as he was good enough to say himself--his sympathies were in the right place. his mother was half-english, his father was half-french. all europe contributed to the making of kurtz; and by-and-by i learned that, most appropriately, the international society for the suppression of savage customs had intrusted him with the making of a report, for its future guidance. and he had written it too. i've seen it. i've read it. it was eloquent, vibrating with eloquence, but too high-strung, i think. seventeen pages of close writing he had found time for! but this must have been before his--let us say--nerves, went wrong, and caused him to preside at certain midnight dances ending with unspeakable rites, which--as far as i reluctantly gathered from what i heard at various times--were offered up to him--do you understand?--to mr. kurtz himself. but it was a beautiful piece of writing. the opening paragraph, however, in the light of later information, strikes me now as ominous. he began with the argument that we whites, from the point of development we had arrived at, 'must necessarily appear to them [savages] in the nature of supernatural beings--we approach them with the might as of a deity,' and so on, and so on. 'by the simple exercise of our will we can exert a power for good practically unbounded,' &c., &c. from that point he soared and took me with him. the peroration was magnificent, though difficult to remember, you know. it gave me the notion of an exotic immensity ruled by an august benevolence. it made me tingle with enthusiasm. this was the unbounded power of eloquence--of words--of burning noble words. there were no practical hints to interrupt the magic current of phrases, unless a kind of note at the foot of the last page, scrawled evidently much later, in an unsteady hand, may be regarded as the exposition of a method. it was very simple, and at the end of that moving appeal to every altruistic sentiment it blazed at you, luminous and terrifying, like a flash of lightning in a serene sky: 'exterminate all the brutes!' the curious part was that he had apparently forgotten all about that valuable postscriptum, because, later on, when he in a sense came to himself, he repeatedly entreated me to take good care of 'my pamphlet' (he called it), as it was sure to have in the future a good influence upon his career. i had full information about all these things, and, besides, as it turned out, i was to have the care of his memory. i've done enough for it to give me the indisputable right to lay it, if i choose, for an everlasting rest in the dust-bin of progress, amongst all the sweepings and, figuratively speaking, all the dead cats of civilization. but then, you see, i can't choose. he won't be forgotten. whatever he was, he was not common. he had the power to charm or frighten rudimentary souls into an aggravated witch-dance in his honor; he could also fill the small souls of the pilgrims with bitter misgivings: he had one devoted friend at least, and he had conquered one soul in the world that was neither rudimentary nor tainted with self-seeking. no; i can't forget him, though i am not prepared to affirm the fellow was exactly worth the life we lost in getting to him. i missed my late helmsman awfully,--i missed him even while his body was still lying in the pilot-house. perhaps you will think it passing strange this regret for a savage who was no more account than a grain of sand in a black sahara. well, don't you see, he had done something, he had steered; for months i had him at my back--a help--an instrument. it was a kind of partnership. he steered for me--i had to look after him, i worried about his deficiencies, and thus a subtle bond had been created, of which i only became aware when it was suddenly broken. and the intimate profundity of that look he gave me when he received his hurt remains to this day in my memory--like a claim of distant kinship affirmed in a supreme moment. "poor fool! if he had only left that shutter alone. he had no restraint, no restraint--just like kurtz--a tree swayed by the wind. as soon as i had put on a dry pair of slippers, i dragged him out, after first jerking the spear out of his side, which operation i confess i performed with my eyes shut tight. his heels leaped together over the little door-step; his shoulders were pressed to my breast; i hugged him from behind desperately. oh! he was heavy, heavy; heavier than any man on earth, i should imagine. then without more ado i tipped him overboard. the current snatched him as though he had been a wisp of grass, and i saw the body roll over twice before i lost sight of it for ever. all the pilgrims and the manager were then congregated on the awning-deck about the pilot-house, chattering at each other like a flock of excited magpies, and there was a scandalized murmur at my heartless promptitude. what they wanted to keep that body hanging about for i can't guess. embalm it, maybe. but i had also heard another, and a very ominous, murmur on the deck below. my friends the wood-cutters were likewise scandalized, and with a better show of reason--though i admit that the reason itself was quite inadmissible. oh, quite! i had made up my mind that if my late helmsman was to be eaten, the fishes alone should have him. he had been a very second-rate helmsman while alive, but now he was dead he might have become a first-class temptation, and possibly cause some startling trouble. besides, i was anxious to take the wheel, the man in pink pyjamas showing himself a hopeless duffer at the business. "this i did directly the simple funeral was over. we were going half-speed, keeping right in the middle of the stream, and i listened to the talk about me. they had given up kurtz, they had given up the station; kurtz was dead, and the station had been burnt--and so on--and so on. the red-haired pilgrim was beside himself with the thought that at least this poor kurtz had been properly revenged. 'say! we must have made a glorious slaughter of them in the bush. eh? what do you think? say?' he positively danced, the bloodthirsty little gingery beggar. and he had nearly fainted when he saw the wounded man! i could not help saying, 'you made a glorious lot of smoke, anyhow.' i had seen, from the way the tops of the bushes rustled and flew, that almost all the shots had gone too high. you can't hit anything unless you take aim and fire from the shoulder; but these chaps fired from the hip with their eyes shut. the retreat, i maintained--and i was right--was caused by the screeching of the steam-whistle. upon this they forgot kurtz, and began to howl at me with indignant protests. "the manager stood by the wheel murmuring confidentially about the necessity of getting well away down the river before dark at all events, when i saw in the distance a clearing on the river-side and the outlines of some sort of building. 'what's this?' i asked. he clapped his hands in wonder. 'the station!' he cried. i edged in at once, still going half-speed. "through my glasses i saw the slope of a hill interspersed with rare trees and perfectly free from undergrowth. a long decaying building on the summit was half buried in the high grass; the large holes in the peaked roof gaped black from afar; the jungle and the woods made a background. there was no inclosure or fence of any kind; but there had been one apparently, for near the house half-a-dozen slim posts remained in a row, roughly trimmed, and with their upper ends ornamented with round carved balls. the rails, or whatever there had been between, had disappeared. of course the forest surrounded all that. the river-bank was clear, and on the water-side i saw a white man under a hat like a cart-wheel beckoning persistently with his whole arm. examining the edge of the forest above and below, i was almost certain i could see movements--human forms gliding here and there. i steamed past prudently, then stopped the engines and let her drift down. the man on the shore began to shout, urging us to land. 'we have been attacked,' screamed the manager. 'i know--i know. it's all right,' yelled back the other, as cheerful as you please. 'come along. it's all right. i am glad.' "his aspect reminded me of something i had seen--something funny i had seen somewhere. as i maneuvered to get alongside, i was asking myself, 'what does this fellow look like?' suddenly i got it. he looked like a harlequin. his clothes had been made of some stuff that was brown holland probably, but it was covered with patches all over, with bright patches, blue, red, and yellow,--patches on the back, patches on front, patches on elbows, on knees; colored binding round his jacket, scarlet edging at the bottom of his trousers; and the sunshine made him look extremely gay and wonderfully neat withal, because you could see how beautifully all this patching had been done. a beardless, boyish face, very fair, no features to speak of, nose peeling, little blue eyes, smiles and frowns chasing each other over that open countenance like sunshine and shadow on a windswept plain. 'look out, captain!' he cried; 'there's a snag lodged in here last night.' what! another snag? i confess i swore shamefully. i had nearly holed my cripple, to finish off that charming trip. the harlequin on the bank turned his little pug nose up to me. 'you english?' he asked, all smiles. 'are you?' i shouted from the wheel. the smiles vanished, and he shook his head as if sorry for my disappointment. then he brightened up. 'never mind!' he cried encouragingly. 'are we in time?' i asked. 'he is up there,' he replied, with a toss of the head up the hill, and becoming gloomy all of a sudden. his face was like the autumn sky, overcast one moment and bright the next. "when the manager, escorted by the pilgrims, all of them armed to the teeth, had gone to the house, this chap came on board. 'i say, i don't like this. these natives are in the bush,' i said. he assured me earnestly it was all right. 'they are simple people,' he added; 'well, i am glad you came. it took me all my time to keep them off.' 'but you said it was all right,' i cried. 'oh, they meant no harm,' he said; and as i stared he corrected himself, 'not exactly.' then vivaciously, 'my faith, your pilot-house wants a clean up!' in the next breath he advised me to keep enough steam on the boiler to blow the whistle in case of any trouble. 'one good screech will do more for you than all your rifles. they are simple people,' he repeated. he rattled away at such a rate he quite overwhelmed me. he seemed to be trying to make up for lots of silence, and actually hinted, laughing, that such was the case. 'don't you talk with mr. kurtz?' i said. 'you don't talk with that man--you listen to him,' he exclaimed with severe exaltation. 'but now--' he waved his arm, and in the twinkling of an eye was in the uttermost depths of despondency. in a moment he came up again with a jump, possessed himself of both my hands, shook them continuously, while he gabbled: 'brother sailor . . . honor . . . pleasure . . . delight . . . introduce myself . . . russian . . . son of an arch-priest . . . government of tambov . . . what? tobacco! english tobacco; the excellent english tobacco! now, that's brotherly. smoke? where's a sailor that does not smoke?' "the pipe soothed him, and gradually i made out he had run away from school, had gone to sea in a russian ship; ran away again; served some time in english ships; was now reconciled with the arch-priest. he made a point of that. 'but when one is young one must see things, gather experience, ideas; enlarge the mind.' 'here!' i interrupted. 'you can never tell! here i have met mr. kurtz,' he said, youthfully solemn and reproachful. i held my tongue after that. it appears he had persuaded a dutch trading-house on the coast to fit him out with stores and goods, and had started for the interior with a light heart, and no more idea of what would happen to him than a baby. he had been wandering about that river for nearly two years alone, cut off from everybody and everything. 'i am not so young as i look. i am twenty-five,' he said. 'at first old van shuyten would tell me to go to the devil,' he narrated with keen enjoyment; 'but i stuck to him, and talked and talked, till at last he got afraid i would talk the hind-leg off his favorite dog, so he gave me some cheap things and a few guns, and told me he hoped he would never see my face again. good old dutchman, van shuyten. i've sent him one small lot of ivory a year ago, so that he can't call me a little thief when i get back. i hope he got it. and for the rest i don't care. i had some wood stacked for you. that was my old house. did you see?' "i gave him towson's book. he made as though he would kiss me, but restrained himself. 'the only book i had left, and i thought i had lost it,' he said, looking at it ecstatically. 'so many accidents happen to a man going about alone, you know. canoes get upset sometimes--and sometimes you've got to clear out so quick when the people get angry.' he thumbed the pages. 'you made notes in russian?' i asked. he nodded. 'i thought they were written in cipher,' i said. he laughed, then became serious. 'i had lots of trouble to keep these people off,' he said. 'did they want to kill you?' i asked. 'oh no!' he cried, and checked himself. 'why did they attack us?' i pursued. he hesitated, then said shamefacedly, 'they don't want him to go.' 'don't they?' i said, curiously. he nodded a nod full of mystery and wisdom. 'i tell you,' he cried, 'this man has enlarged my mind.' he opened his arms wide, staring at me with his little blue eyes that were perfectly round." iii "i looked at him, lost in astonishment. there he was before me, in motley, as though he had absconded from a troupe of mimes, enthusiastic, fabulous. his very existence was improbable, inexplicable, and altogether bewildering. he was an insoluble problem. it was inconceivable how he had existed, how he had succeeded in getting so far, how he had managed to remain--why he did not instantly disappear. 'i went a little farther,' he said, 'then still a little farther--till i had gone so far that i don't know how i'll ever get back. never mind. plenty time. i can manage. you take kurtz away quick--quick--i tell you.' the glamour of youth enveloped his particolored rags, his destitution, his loneliness, the essential desolation of his futile wanderings. for months--for years--his life hadn't been worth a day's purchase; and there he was gallantly, thoughtlessly alive, to all appearance indestructible solely by the virtue of his few years and of his unreflecting audacity. i was seduced into something like admiration--like envy. glamour urged him on, glamour kept him unscathed. he surely wanted nothing from the wilderness but space to breathe in and to push on through. his need was to exist, and to move onwards at the greatest possible risk, and with a maximum of privation. if the absolutely pure, uncalculating, unpractical spirit of adventure had ever ruled a human being, it ruled this be-patched youth. i almost envied him the possession of this modest and clear flame. it seemed to have consumed all thought of self so completely, that, even while he was talking to you, you forgot that it was he--the man before your eyes--who had gone through these things. i did not envy him his devotion to kurtz, though. he had not meditated over it. it came to him, and he accepted it with a sort of eager fatalism. i must say that to me it appeared about the most dangerous thing in every way he had come upon so far. "they had come together unavoidably, like two ships becalmed near each other, and lay rubbing sides at last. i suppose kurtz wanted an audience, because on a certain occasion, when encamped in the forest, they had talked all night, or more probably kurtz had talked. 'we talked of everything,' he said, quite transported at the recollection. 'i forgot there was such a thing as sleep. the night did not seem to last an hour. everything! everything! . . . of love too.' 'ah, he talked to you of love!' i said, much amused. 'it isn't what you think,' he cried, almost passionately. 'it was in general. he made me see things--things.' "he threw his arms up. we were on deck at the time, and the headman of my wood-cutters, lounging near by, turned upon him his heavy and glittering eyes. i looked around, and i don't know why, but i assure you that never, never before, did this land, this river, this jungle, the very arch of this blazing sky, appear to me so hopeless and so dark, so impenetrable to human thought, so pitiless to human weakness. 'and, ever since, you have been with him, of course?' i said. "on the contrary. it appears their intercourse had been very much broken by various causes. he had, as he informed me proudly, managed to nurse kurtz through two illnesses (he alluded to it as you would to some risky feat), but as a rule kurtz wandered alone, far in the depths of the forest. 'very often coming to this station, i had to wait days and days before he would turn up,' he said. 'ah, it was worth waiting for!--sometimes.' 'what was he doing? exploring or what?' i asked. 'oh yes, of course;' he had discovered lots of villages, a lake too--he did not know exactly in what direction; it was dangerous to inquire too much--but mostly his expeditions had been for ivory. 'but he had no goods to trade with by that time,' i objected. 'there's a good lot of cartridges left even yet,' he answered, looking away. 'to speak plainly, he raided the country,' i said. he nodded. 'not alone, surely!' he muttered something about the villages round that lake. 'kurtz got the tribe to follow him, did he?' i suggested. he fidgeted a little. 'they adored him,' he said. the tone of these words was so extraordinary that i looked at him searchingly. it was curious to see his mingled eagerness and reluctance to speak of kurtz. the man filled his life, occupied his thoughts, swayed his emotions. 'what can you expect?' he burst out; 'he came to them with thunder and lightning, you know--and they had never seen anything like it--and very terrible. he could be very terrible. you can't judge mr. kurtz as you would an ordinary man. no, no, no! now--just to give you an idea--i don't mind telling you, he wanted to shoot me too one day--but i don't judge him.' 'shoot you!' i cried. 'what for?' 'well, i had a small lot of ivory the chief of that village near my house gave me. you see i used to shoot game for them. well, he wanted it, and wouldn't hear reason. he declared he would shoot me unless i gave him the ivory and then cleared out of the country, because he could do so, and had a fancy for it, and there was nothing on earth to prevent him killing whom he jolly well pleased. and it was true too. i gave him the ivory. what did i care! but i didn't clear out. no, no. i couldn't leave him. i had to be careful, of course, till we got friendly again for a time. he had his second illness then. afterwards i had to keep out of the way; but i didn't mind. he was living for the most part in those villages on the lake. when he came down to the river, sometimes he would take to me, and sometimes it was better for me to be careful. this man suffered too much. he hated all this, and somehow he couldn't get away. when i had a chance i begged him to try and leave while there was time; i offered to go back with him. and he would say yes, and then he would remain; go off on another ivory hunt; disappear for weeks; forget himself amongst these people--forget himself--you know.' 'why! he's mad,' i said. he protested indignantly. mr. kurtz couldn't be mad. if i had heard him talk, only two days ago, i wouldn't dare hint at such a thing. . . . i had taken up my binoculars while we talked and was looking at the shore, sweeping the limit of the forest at each side and at the back of the house. the consciousness of there being people in that bush, so silent, so quiet--as silent and quiet as the ruined house on the hill--made me uneasy. there was no sign on the face of nature of this amazing tale that was not so much told as suggested to me in desolate exclamations, completed by shrugs, in interrupted phrases, in hints ending in deep sighs. the woods were unmoved, like a mask--heavy, like the closed door of a prison--they looked with their air of hidden knowledge, of patient expectation, of unapproachable silence. the russian was explaining to me that it was only lately that mr. kurtz had come down to the river, bringing along with him all the fighting men of that lake tribe. he had been absent for several months--getting himself adored, i suppose--and had come down unexpectedly, with the intention to all appearance of making a raid either across the river or down stream. evidently the appetite for more ivory had got the better of the--what shall i say?--less material aspirations. however he had got much worse suddenly. 'i heard he was lying helpless, and so i came up--took my chance,' said the russian. 'oh, he is bad, very bad.' i directed my glass to the house. there were no signs of life, but there was the ruined roof, the long mud wall peeping above the grass, with three little square window-holes, no two of the same size; all this brought within reach of my hand, as it were. and then i made a brusque movement, and one of the remaining posts of that vanished fence leaped up in the field of my glass. you remember i told you i had been struck at the distance by certain attempts at ornamentation, rather remarkable in the ruinous aspect of the place. now i had suddenly a nearer view, and its first result was to make me throw my head back as if before a blow. then i went carefully from post to post with my glass, and i saw my mistake. these round knobs were not ornamental but symbolic; they were expressive and puzzling, striking and disturbing--food for thought and also for the vultures if there had been any looking down from the sky; but at all events for such ants as were industrious enough to ascend the pole. they would have been even more impressive, those heads on the stakes, if their faces had not been turned to the house. only one, the first i had made out, was facing my way. i was not so shocked as you may think. the start back i had given was really nothing but a movement of surprise. i had expected to see a knob of wood there, you know. i returned deliberately to the first i had seen--and there it was, black, dried, sunken, with closed eyelids,--a head that seemed to sleep at the top of that pole, and, with the shrunken dry lips showing a narrow white line of the teeth, was smiling too, smiling continuously at some endless and jocose dream of that eternal slumber. "i am not disclosing any trade secrets. in fact the manager said afterwards that mr. kurtz's methods had ruined the district. i have no opinion on that point, but i want you clearly to understand that there was nothing exactly profitable in these heads being there. they only showed that mr. kurtz lacked restraint in the gratification of his various lusts, that there was something wanting in him--some small matter which, when the pressing need arose, could not be found under his magnificent eloquence. whether he knew of this deficiency himself i can't say. i think the knowledge came to him at last--only at the very last. but the wilderness had found him out early, and had taken on him a terrible vengeance for the fantastic invasion. i think it had whispered to him things about himself which he did not know, things of which he had no conception till he took counsel with this great solitude--and the whisper had proved irresistibly fascinating. it echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core. . . . i put down the glass, and the head that had appeared near enough to be spoken to seemed at once to have leaped away from me into inaccessible distance. "the admirer of mr. kurtz was a bit crestfallen. in a hurried, indistinct voice he began to assure me he had not dared to take these--say, symbols--down. he was not afraid of the natives; they would not stir till mr. kurtz gave the word. his ascendency was extraordinary. the camps of these people surrounded the place, and the chiefs came every day to see him. they would crawl. . . . 'i don't want to know anything of the ceremonies used when approaching mr. kurtz,' i shouted. curious, this feeling that came over me that such details would be more intolerable than those heads drying on the stakes under mr. kurtz's windows. after all, that was only a savage sight, while i seemed at one bound to have been transported into some lightless region of subtle horrors, where pure, uncomplicated savagery was a positive relief, being something that had a right to exist--obviously--in the sunshine. the young man looked at me with surprise. i suppose it did not occur to him mr. kurtz was no idol of mine. he forgot i hadn't heard any of these splendid monologues on, what was it? on love, justice, conduct of life--or what not. if it had come to crawling before mr. kurtz, he crawled as much as the veriest savage of them all. i had no idea of the conditions, he said: these heads were the heads of rebels. i shocked him excessively by laughing. rebels! what would be the next definition i was to hear? there had been enemies, criminals, workers--and these were rebels. those rebellious heads looked very subdued to me on their sticks. 'you don't know how such a life tries a man like kurtz,' cried kurtz's last disciple. 'well, and you?' i said. 'i! i! i am a simple man. i have no great thoughts. i want nothing from anybody. how can you compare me to . . .?' his feelings were too much for speech, and suddenly he broke down. 'i don't understand,' he groaned. 'i've been doing my best to keep him alive, and that's enough. i had no hand in all this. i have no abilities. there hasn't been a drop of medicine or a mouthful of invalid food for months here. he was shamefully abandoned. a man like this, with such ideas. shamefully! shamefully! i--i--haven't slept for the last ten nights. . . .' "his voice lost itself in the calm of the evening. the long shadows of the forest had slipped down hill while we talked, had gone far beyond the ruined hovel, beyond the symbolic row of stakes. all this was in the gloom, while we down there were yet in the sunshine, and the stretch of the river abreast of the clearing glittered in a still and dazzling splendor, with a murky and over-shadowed bend above and below. not a living soul was seen on the shore. the bushes did not rustle. "suddenly round the corner of the house a group of men appeared, as though they had come up from the ground. they waded waist-deep in the grass, in a compact body, bearing an improvised stretcher in their midst. instantly, in the emptiness of the landscape, a cry arose whose shrillness pierced the still air like a sharp arrow flying straight to the very heart of the land; and, as if by enchantment, streams of human beings--of naked human beings--with spears in their hands, with bows, with shields, with wild glances and savage movements, were poured into the clearing by the dark-faced and pensive forest. the bushes shook, the grass swayed for a time, and then everything stood still in attentive immobility. "'now, if he does not say the right thing to them we are all done for,' said the russian at my elbow. the knot of men with the stretcher had stopped too, half-way to the steamer, as if petrified. i saw the man on the stretcher sit up, lank and with an uplifted arm, above the shoulders of the bearers. 'let us hope that the man who can talk so well of love in general will find some particular reason to spare us this time,' i said. i resented bitterly the absurd danger of our situation, as if to be at the mercy of that atrocious phantom had been a dishonoring necessity. i could not hear a sound, but through my glasses i saw the thin arm extended commandingly, the lower jaw moving, the eyes of that apparition shining darkly far in its bony head that nodded with grotesque jerks. kurtz--kurtz--that means short in german--don't it? well, the name was as true as everything else in his life--and death. he looked at least seven feet long. his covering had fallen off, and his body emerged from it pitiful and appalling as from a winding-sheet. i could see the cage of his ribs all astir, the bones of his arm waving. it was as though an animated image of death carved out of old ivory had been shaking its hand with menaces at a motionless crowd of men made of dark and glittering bronze. i saw him open his mouth wide--it gave him a weirdly voracious aspect, as though he had wanted to swallow all the air, all the earth, all the men before him. a deep voice reached me faintly. he must have been shouting. he fell back suddenly. the stretcher shook as the bearers staggered forward again, and almost at the same time i noticed that the crowd of savages was vanishing without any perceptible movement of retreat, as if the forest that had ejected these beings so suddenly had drawn them in again as the breath is drawn in a long aspiration. "some of the pilgrims behind the stretcher carried his arms--two shot-guns, a heavy rifle, and a light revolver-carbine--the thunderbolts of that pitiful jupiter. the manager bent over him murmuring as he walked beside his head. they laid him down in one of the little cabins--just a room for a bed-place and a camp-stool or two, you know. we had brought his belated correspondence, and a lot of torn envelopes and open letters littered his bed. his hand roamed feebly amongst these papers. i was struck by the fire of his eyes and the composed languor of his expression. it was not so much the exhaustion of disease. he did not seem in pain. this shadow looked satiated and calm, as though for the moment it had had its fill of all the emotions. "he rustled one of the letters, and looking straight in my face said, 'i am glad.' somebody had been writing to him about me. these special recommendations were turning up again. the volume of tone he emitted without effort, almost without the trouble of moving his lips, amazed me. a voice! a voice! it was grave, profound, vibrating, while the man did not seem capable of a whisper. however, he had enough strength in him--factitious no doubt--to very nearly make an end of us, as you shall hear directly. "the manager appeared silently in the doorway; i stepped out at once and he drew the curtain after me. the russian, eyed curiously by the pilgrims, was staring at the shore. i followed the direction of his glance. "dark human shapes could be made out in the distance, flitting indistinctly against the gloomy border of the forest, and near the river two bronze figures, leaning on tall spears, stood in the sunlight under fantastic headdresses of spotted skins, warlike and still in statuesque repose. and from right to left along the lighted shore moved a wild and gorgeous apparition of a woman. "she walked with measured steps, draped in striped and fringed cloths, treading the earth proudly, with a slight jingle and flash of barbarous ornaments. she carried her head high; her hair was done in the shape of a helmet; she had brass leggings to the knee, brass wire gauntlets to the elbow, a crimson spot on her tawny cheek, innumerable necklaces of glass beads on her neck; bizarre things, charms, gifts of witch-men, that hung about her, glittered and trembled at every step. she must have had the value of several elephant tusks upon her. she was savage and superb, wild-eyed and magnificent; there was something ominous and stately in her deliberate progress. and in the hush that had fallen suddenly upon the whole sorrowful land, the immense wilderness, the colossal body of the fecund and mysterious life seemed to look at her, pensive, as though it had been looking at the image of its own tenebrous and passionate soul. "she came abreast of the steamer, stood still, and faced us. her long shadow fell to the water's edge. her face had a tragic and fierce aspect of wild sorrow and of dumb pain mingled with the fear of some struggling, half-shaped resolve. she stood looking at us without a stir and like the wilderness itself, with an air of brooding over an inscrutable purpose. a whole minute passed, and then she made a step forward. there was a low jingle, a glint of yellow metal, a sway of fringed draperies, and she stopped as if her heart had failed her. the young fellow by my side growled. the pilgrims murmured at my back. she looked at us all as if her life had depended upon the unswerving steadiness of her glance. suddenly she opened her bared arms and threw them up rigid above her head, as though in an uncontrollable desire to touch the sky, and at the same time the swift shadows darted out on the earth, swept around on the river, gathering the steamer into a shadowy embrace. a formidable silence hung over the scene. "she turned away slowly, walked on, following the bank, and passed into the bushes to the left. once only her eyes gleamed back at us in the dusk of the thickets before she disappeared. "'if she had offered to come aboard i really think i would have tried to shoot her,' said the man of patches, nervously. 'i had been risking my life every day for the last fortnight to keep her out of the house. she got in one day and kicked up a row about those miserable rags i picked up in the storeroom to mend my clothes with. i wasn't decent. at least it must have been that, for she talked like a fury to kurtz for an hour, pointing at me now and then. i don't understand the dialect of this tribe. luckily for me, i fancy kurtz felt too ill that day to care, or there would have been mischief. i don't understand. . . . no--it's too much for me. ah, well, it's all over now.' "at this moment i heard kurtz's deep voice behind the curtain, 'save me!--save the ivory, you mean. don't tell me. save _me!_ why, i've had to save you. you are interrupting my plans now. sick! sick! not so sick as you would like to believe. never mind. i'll carry my ideas out yet--i will return. i'll show you what can be done. you with your little peddling notions--you are interfering with me. i will return. i . . .' "the manager came out. he did me the honor to take me under the arm and lead me aside. 'he is very low, very low,' he said. he considered it necessary to sigh, but neglected to be consistently sorrowful. 'we have done all we could for him--haven't we? but there is no disguising the fact, mr. kurtz has done more harm than good to the company. he did not see the time was not ripe for vigorous action. cautiously, cautiously--that's my principle. we must be cautious yet. the district is closed to us for a time. deplorable! upon the whole, the trade will suffer. i don't deny there is a remarkable quantity of ivory--mostly fossil. we must save it, at all events--but look how precarious the position is--and why? because the method is unsound.' 'do you,' said i, looking at the shore, 'call it "unsound method"?' 'without doubt,' he exclaimed, hotly. 'don't you?' . . . 'no method at all,' i murmured after a while. 'exactly,' he exulted. 'i anticipated this. shows a complete want of judgment. it is my duty to point it out in the proper quarter.' 'oh,' said i, 'that fellow--what's his name?--the brickmaker, will make a readable report for you.' he appeared confounded for a moment. it seemed to me i had never breathed an atmosphere so vile, and i turned mentally to kurtz for relief--positively for relief. 'nevertheless i think mr. kurtz is a remarkable man,' i said with emphasis. he started, dropped on me a cold heavy glance, said very quietly, 'he _was_,' and turned his back on me. my hour of favor was over; i found myself lumped along with kurtz as a partisan of methods for which the time was not ripe: i was unsound! ah! but it was something to have at least a choice of nightmares. "i had turned to the wilderness really, not to mr. kurtz, who, i was ready to admit, was as good as buried. and for a moment it seemed to me as if i also were buried in a vast grave full of unspeakable secrets. i felt an intolerable weight oppressing my breast, the smell of the damp earth, the unseen presence of victorious corruption, the darkness of an impenetrable night. . . . the russian tapped me on the shoulder. i heard him mumbling and stammering something about 'brother seaman--couldn't conceal--knowledge of matters that would affect mr. kurtz's reputation.' i waited. for him evidently mr. kurtz was not in his grave; i suspect that for him mr. kurtz was one of the immortals. 'well!' said i at last, 'speak out. as it happens, i am mr. kurtz's friend--in a way.' "he stated with a good deal of formality that had we not been 'of the same profession,' he would have kept the matter to himself without regard to consequences. 'he suspected there was an active ill-will towards him on the part of these white men that--' 'you are right,' i said, remembering a certain conversation i had overheard. 'the manager thinks you ought to be hanged.' he showed a concern at this intelligence which amused me at first. 'i had better get out of the way quietly,' he said, earnestly. 'i can do no more for kurtz now, and they would soon find some excuse. what's to stop them? there's a military post three hundred miles from here.' 'well, upon my word,' said i, 'perhaps you had better go if you have any friends amongst the savages near by.' 'plenty,' he said. 'they are simple people--and i want nothing, you know.' he stood biting his lips, then: 'i don't want any harm to happen to these whites here, but of course i was thinking of mr. kurtz's reputation--but you are a brother seaman and--' 'all right,' said i, after a time. 'mr. kurtz's reputation is safe with me.' i did not know how truly i spoke. "he informed me, lowering his voice, that it was kurtz who had ordered the attack to be made on the steamer. 'he hated sometimes the idea of being taken away--and then again. . . . but i don't understand these matters. i am a simple man. he thought it would scare you away--that you would give it up, thinking him dead. i could not stop him. oh, i had an awful time of it this last month.' 'very well,' i said. 'he is all right now.' 'ye-e-es,' he muttered, not very convinced apparently. 'thanks,' said i; 'i shall keep my eyes open.' 'but quiet--eh?' he urged, anxiously. 'it would be awful for his reputation if anybody here--' i promised a complete discretion with great gravity. 'i have a canoe and three black fellows waiting not very far. i am off. could you give me a few martini-henry cartridges?' i could, and did, with proper secrecy. he helped himself, with a wink at me, to a handful of my tobacco. 'between sailors--you know--good english tobacco.' at the door of the pilot-house he turned round--' i say, haven't you a pair of shoes you could spare?' he raised one leg. 'look.' the soles were tied with knotted strings sandal-wise under his bare feet. i rooted out an old pair, at which he looked with admiration before tucking it under his left arm. one of his pockets (bright red) was bulging with cartridges, from the other (dark blue) peeped 'towson's inquiry,' &c., &c. he seemed to think himself excellently well equipped for a renewed encounter with the wilderness. 'ah! i'll never, never meet such a man again. you ought to have heard him recite poetry--his own too it was, he told me. poetry!' he rolled his eyes at the recollection of these delights. 'oh, he enlarged my mind!' 'goodby,' said i. he shook hands and vanished in the night. sometimes i ask myself whether i had ever really seen him--whether it was possible to meet such a phenomenon! . . . "when i woke up shortly after midnight his warning came to my mind with its hint of danger that seemed, in the starred darkness, real enough to make me get up for the purpose of having a look round. on the hill a big fire burned, illuminating fitfully a crooked corner of the station-house. one of the agents with a picket of a few of our blacks, armed for the purpose, was keeping guard over the ivory; but deep within the forest, red gleams that wavered, that seemed to sink and rise from the ground amongst confused columnar shapes of intense blackness, showed the exact position of the camp where mr. kurtz's adorers were keeping their uneasy vigil. the monotonous beating of a big drum filled the air with muffled shocks and a lingering vibration. a steady droning sound of many men chanting each to himself some weird incantation came out from the black, flat wall of the woods as the humming of bees comes out of a hive, and had a strange narcotic effect upon my half-awake senses. i believe i dozed off leaning over the rail, till an abrupt burst of yells, an overwhelming outbreak of a pent-up and mysterious frenzy, woke me up in a bewildered wonder. it was cut short all at once, and the low droning went on with an effect of audible and soothing silence. i glanced casually into the little cabin. a light was burning within, but mr. kurtz was not there. "i think i would have raised an outcry if i had believed my eyes. but i didn't believe them at first--the thing seemed so impossible. the fact is i was completely unnerved by a sheer blank fright, pure abstract terror, unconnected with any distinct shape of physical danger. what made this emotion so overpowering was--how shall i define it?--the moral shock i received, as if something altogether monstrous, intolerable to thought and odious to the soul, had been thrust upon me unexpectedly. this lasted of course the merest fraction of a second, and then the usual sense of commonplace, deadly danger, the possibility of a sudden onslaught and massacre, or something of the kind, which i saw impending, was positively welcome and composing. it pacified me, in fact, so much, that i did not raise an alarm. "there was an agent buttoned up inside an ulster and sleeping on a chair on deck within three feet of me. the yells had not awakened him; he snored very slightly; i left him to his slumbers and leaped ashore. i did not betray mr. kurtz--it was ordered i should never betray him--it was written i should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice. i was anxious to deal with this shadow by myself alone,--and to this day i don't know why i was so jealous of sharing with anyone the peculiar blackness of that experience. "as soon as i got on the bank i saw a trail--a broad trail through the grass. i remember the exultation with which i said to myself, 'he can't walk--he is crawling on all-fours--i've got him.' the grass was wet with dew. i strode rapidly with clenched fists. i fancy i had some vague notion of falling upon him and giving him a drubbing. i don't know. i had some imbecile thoughts. the knitting old woman with the cat obtruded herself upon my memory as a most improper person to be sitting at the other end of such an affair. i saw a row of pilgrims squirting lead in the air out of winchesters held to the hip. i thought i would never get back to the steamer, and imagined myself living alone and unarmed in the woods to an advanced age. such silly things--you know. and i remember i confounded the beat of the drum with the beating of my heart, and was pleased at its calm regularity. "i kept to the track though--then stopped to listen. the night was very clear: a dark blue space, sparkling with dew and starlight, in which black things stood very still. i thought i could see a kind of motion ahead of me. i was strangely cocksure of everything that night. i actually left the track and ran in a wide semicircle (i verily believe chuckling to myself) so as to get in front of that stir, of that motion i had seen--if indeed i had seen anything. i was circumventing kurtz as though it had been a boyish game. "i came upon him, and, if he had not heard me coming, i would have fallen over him too, but he got up in time. he rose, unsteady, long, pale, indistinct, like a vapor exhaled by the earth, and swayed slightly, misty and silent before me; while at my back the fires loomed between the trees, and the murmur of many voices issued from the forest. i had cut him off cleverly; but when actually confronting him i seemed to come to my senses, i saw the danger in its right proportion. it was by no means over yet. suppose he began to shout? though he could hardly stand, there was still plenty of vigor in his voice. 'go away--hide yourself,' he said, in that profound tone. it was very awful. i glanced back. we were within thirty yards from the nearest fire. a black figure stood up, strode on long black legs, waving long black arms, across the glow. it had horns--antelope horns, i think--on its head. some sorcerer, some witch-man, no doubt: it looked fiend-like enough. 'do you know what you are doing?' i whispered. 'perfectly,' he answered, raising his voice for that single word: it sounded to me far off and yet loud, like a hail through a speaking-trumpet. 'if he makes a row we are lost,' i thought to myself. this clearly was not a case for fisticuffs, even apart from the very natural aversion i had to beat that shadow--this wandering and tormented thing. 'you will be lost,' i said--'utterly lost.' one gets sometimes such a flash of inspiration, you know. i did say the right thing, though indeed he could not have been more irretrievably lost than he was at this very moment, when the foundations of our intimacy were being laid--to endure--to endure--even to the end--even beyond. "'i had immense plans,' he muttered irresolutely. 'yes,' said i; 'but if you try to shout i'll smash your head with--' there was not a stick or a stone near. 'i will throttle you for good,' i corrected myself. 'i was on the threshold of great things,' he pleaded, in a voice of longing, with a wistfulness of tone that made my blood run cold. 'and now for this stupid scoundrel--' 'your success in europe is assured in any case,' i affirmed, steadily. i did not want to have the throttling of him, you understand--and indeed it would have been very little use for any practical purpose. i tried to break the spell--the heavy, mute spell of the wilderness--that seemed to draw him to its pitiless breast by the awakening of forgotten and brutal instincts, by the memory of gratified and monstrous passions. this alone, i was convinced, had driven him out to the edge of the forest, to the bush, towards the gleam of fires, the throb of drums, the drone of weird incantations; this alone had beguiled his unlawful soul beyond the bounds of permitted aspirations. and, don't you see, the terror of the position was not in being knocked on the head--though i had a very lively sense of that danger too--but in this, that i had to deal with a being to whom i could not appeal in the name of anything high or low. i had, even like the niggers, to invoke him--himself his own exalted and incredible degradation. there was nothing either above or below him, and i knew it. he had kicked himself loose of the earth. confound the man! he had kicked the very earth to pieces. he was alone, and i before him did not know whether i stood on the ground or floated in the air. i've been telling you what we said--repeating the phrases we pronounced,--but what's the good? they were common everyday words,--the familiar, vague sounds exchanged on every waking day of life. but what of that? they had behind them, to my mind, the terrific suggestiveness of words heard in dreams, of phrases spoken in nightmares. soul! if anybody had ever struggled with a soul, i am the man. and i wasn't arguing with a lunatic either. believe me or not, his intelligence was perfectly clear--concentrated, it is true, upon himself with horrible intensity, yet clear; and therein was my only chance--barring, of course, the killing him there and then, which wasn't so good, on account of unavoidable noise. but his soul was mad. being alone in the wilderness, it had looked within itself, and, by heavens! i tell you, it had gone mad. i had--for my sins, i suppose--to go through the ordeal of looking into it myself. no eloquence could have been so withering to one's belief in mankind as his final burst of sincerity. he struggled with himself, too. i saw it,--i heard it. i saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear, yet struggling blindly with itself. i kept my head pretty well; but when i had him at last stretched on the couch, i wiped my forehead, while my legs shook under me as though i had carried half a ton on my back down that hill. and yet i had only supported him, his bony arm clasped round my neck--and he was not much heavier than a child. "when next day we left at noon, the crowd, of whose presence behind the curtain of trees i had been acutely conscious all the time, flowed out of the woods again, filled the clearing, covered the slope with a mass of naked, breathing, quivering, bronze bodies. i steamed up a bit, then swung down-stream, and two thousand eyes followed the evolutions of the splashing, thumping, fierce river-demon beating the water with its terrible tail and breathing black smoke into the air. in front of the first rank, along the river, three men, plastered with bright red earth from head to foot, strutted to and fro restlessly. when we came abreast again, they faced the river, stamped their feet, nodded their horned heads, swayed their scarlet bodies; they shook towards the fierce river-demon a bunch of black feathers, a mangy skin with a pendent tail--something that looked like a dried gourd; they shouted periodically together strings of amazing words that resembled no sounds of human language; and the deep murmurs of the crowd, interrupted suddenly, were like the response of some satanic litany. "we had carried kurtz into the pilot-house: there was more air there. lying on the couch, he stared through the open shutter. there was an eddy in the mass of human bodies, and the woman with helmeted head and tawny cheeks rushed out to the very brink of the stream. she put out her hands, shouted something, and all that wild mob took up the shout in a roaring chorus of articulated, rapid, breathless utterance. "'do you understand this?' i asked. "he kept on looking out past me with fiery, longing eyes, with a mingled expression of wistfulness and hate. he made no answer, but i saw a smile, a smile of indefinable meaning, appear on his colorless lips that a moment after twitched convulsively. 'do i not?' he said slowly, gasping, as if the words had been torn out of him by a supernatural power. "i pulled the string of the whistle, and i did this because i saw the pilgrims on deck getting out their rifles with an air of anticipating a jolly lark. at the sudden screech there was a movement of abject terror through that wedged mass of bodies. 'don't! don't you frighten them away,' cried someone on deck disconsolately. i pulled the string time after time. they broke and ran, they leaped, they crouched, they swerved, they dodged the flying terror of the sound. the three red chaps had fallen flat, face down on the shore, as though they had been shot dead. only the barbarous and superb woman did not so much as flinch, and stretched tragically her bare arms after us over the somber and glittering river. "and then that imbecile crowd down on the deck started their little fun, and i could see nothing more for smoke. "the brown current ran swiftly out of the heart of darkness, bearing us down towards the sea with twice the speed of our upward progress; and kurtz's life was running swiftly too, ebbing, ebbing out of his heart into the sea of inexorable time. the manager was very placid, he had no vital anxieties now, he took us both in with a comprehensive and satisfied glance: the 'affair' had come off as well as could be wished. i saw the time approaching when i would be left alone of the party of 'unsound method.' the pilgrims looked upon me with disfavor. i was, so to speak, numbered with the dead. it is strange how i accepted this unforeseen partnership, this choice of nightmares forced upon me in the tenebrous land invaded by these mean and greedy phantoms. "kurtz discoursed. a voice! a voice! it rang deep to the very last. it survived his strength to hide in the magnificent folds of eloquence the barren darkness of his heart. oh, he struggled! he struggled! the wastes of his weary brain were haunted by shadowy images now--images of wealth and fame revolving obsequiously round his unextinguishable gift of noble and lofty expression. my intended, my station, my career, my ideas--these were the subjects for the occasional utterances of elevated sentiments. the shade of the original kurtz frequented the bedside of the hollow sham, whose fate it was to be buried presently in the mold of primeval earth. but both the diabolic love and the unearthly hate of the mysteries it had penetrated fought for the possession of that soul satiated with primitive emotions, avid of lying fame, of sham distinction, of all the appearances of success and power. "sometimes he was contemptibly childish. he desired to have kings meet him at railway-stations on his return from some ghastly nowhere, where he intended to accomplish great things. 'you show them you have in you something that is really profitable, and then there will be no limits to the recognition of your ability,' he would say. 'of course you must take care of the motives--right motives--always.' the long reaches that were like one and the same reach, monotonous bends that were exactly alike, slipped past the steamer with their multitude of secular trees looking patiently after this grimy fragment of another world, the forerunner of change, of conquest, of trade, of massacres, of blessings. i looked ahead--piloting. 'close the shutter,' said kurtz suddenly one day; 'i can't bear to look at this.' i did so. there was a silence. 'oh, but i will wring your heart yet!' he cried at the invisible wilderness. "we broke down--as i had expected--and had to lie up for repairs at the head of an island. this delay was the first thing that shook kurtz's confidence. one morning he gave me a packet of papers and a photograph,--the lot tied together with a shoe-string. 'keep this for me,' he said. 'this noxious fool' (meaning the manager) 'is capable of prying into my boxes when i am not looking.' in the afternoon i saw him. he was lying on his back with closed eyes, and i withdrew quietly, but i heard him mutter, 'live rightly, die, die . . .' i listened. there was nothing more. was he rehearsing some speech in his sleep, or was it a fragment of a phrase from some newspaper article? he had been writing for the papers and meant to do so again, 'for the furthering of my ideas. it's a duty.' "his was an impenetrable darkness. i looked at him as you peer down at a man who is lying at the bottom of a precipice where the sun never shines. but i had not much time to give him, because i was helping the engine-driver to take to pieces the leaky cylinders, to straighten a bent connecting-rod, and in other such matters. i lived in an infernal mess of rust, filings, nuts, bolts, spanners, hammers, ratchet-drills--things i abominate, because i don't get on with them. i tended the little forge we fortunately had aboard; i toiled wearily in a wretched scrap-heap--unless i had the shakes too bad to stand. "one evening coming in with a candle i was startled to hear him say a little tremulously, 'i am lying here in the dark waiting for death.' the light was within a foot of his eyes. i forced myself to murmur, 'oh, nonsense!' and stood over him as if transfixed. "anything approaching the change that came over his features i have never seen before, and hope never to see again. oh, i wasn't touched. i was fascinated. it was as though a veil had been rent. i saw on that ivory face the expression of somber pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror--of an intense and hopeless despair. did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? he cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision,--he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath-- "'the horror! the horror!' "i blew the candle out and left the cabin. the pilgrims were dining in the mess-room, and i took my place opposite the manager, who lifted his eyes to give me a questioning glance, which i successfully ignored. he leaned back, serene, with that peculiar smile of his sealing the unexpressed depths of his meanness. a continuous shower of small flies streamed upon the lamp, upon the cloth, upon our hands and faces. suddenly the manager's boy put his insolent black head in the doorway, and said in a tone of scathing contempt-- "'mistah kurtz--he dead.' "all the pilgrims rushed out to see. i remained, and went on with my dinner. i believe i was considered brutally callous. however, i did not eat much. there was a lamp in there--light, don't you know--and outside it was so beastly, beastly dark. i went no more near the remarkable man who had pronounced a judgment upon the adventures of his soul on this earth. the voice was gone. what else had been there? but i am of course aware that next day the pilgrims buried something in a muddy hole. "and then they very nearly buried me. "however, as you see, i did not go to join kurtz there and then. i did not. i remained to dream the nightmare out to the end, and to show my loyalty to kurtz once more. destiny. my destiny! droll thing life is--that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. the most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself--that comes too late--a crop of unextinguishable regrets. i have wrestled with death. it is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. it takes place in an impalpable grayness, with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without spectators, without clamor, without glory, without the great desire of victory, without the great fear of defeat, in a sickly atmosphere of tepid skepticism, without much belief in your own right, and still less in that of your adversary. if such is the form of ultimate wisdom, then life is a greater riddle than some of us think it to be. i was within a hair's-breadth of the last opportunity for pronouncement, and i found with humiliation that probably i would have nothing to say. this is the reason why i affirm that kurtz was a remarkable man. he had something to say. he said it. since i had peeped over the edge myself, i understand better the meaning of his stare, that could not see the flame of the candle, but was wide enough to embrace the whole universe, piercing enough to penetrate all the hearts that beat in the darkness. he had summed up--he had judged. 'the horror!' he was a remarkable man. after all, this was the expression of some sort of belief; it had candor, it had conviction, it had a vibrating note of revolt in its whisper, it had the appalling face of a glimpsed truth--the strange commingling of desire and hate. and it is not my own extremity i remember best--a vision of grayness without form filled with physical pain, and a careless contempt for the evanescence of all things--even of this pain itself. no! it is his extremity that i seem to have lived through. true, he had made that last stride, he had stepped over the edge, while i had been permitted to draw back my hesitating foot. and perhaps in this is the whole difference; perhaps all the wisdom, and all truth, and all sincerity, are just compressed into that inappreciable moment of time in which we step over the threshold of the invisible. perhaps! i like to think my summing-up would not have been a word of careless contempt. better his cry--much better. it was an affirmation, a moral victory paid for by innumerable defeats, by abominable terrors, by abominable satisfactions. but it was a victory! that is why i have remained loyal to kurtz to the last, and even beyond, when a long time after i heard once more, not his own voice, but the echo of his magnificent eloquence thrown to me from a soul as translucently pure as a cliff of crystal. "no, they did not bury me, though there is a period of time which i remember mistily, with a shuddering wonder, like a passage through some inconceivable world that had no hope in it and no desire. i found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying through the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. they trespassed upon my thoughts. they were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretense, because i felt so sure they could not possibly know the things i knew. their bearing, which was simply the bearing of commonplace individuals going about their business in the assurance of perfect safety, was offensive to me like the outrageous flauntings of folly in the face of a danger it is unable to comprehend. i had no particular desire to enlighten them, but i had some difficulty in restraining myself from laughing in their faces, so full of stupid importance. i dare say i was not very well at that time. i tottered about the streets--there were various affairs to settle--grinning bitterly at perfectly respectable persons. i admit my behavior was inexcusable, but then my temperature was seldom normal in these days. my dear aunt's endeavors to 'nurse up my strength' seemed altogether beside the mark. it was not my strength that wanted nursing, it was my imagination that wanted soothing. i kept the bundle of papers given me by kurtz, not knowing exactly what to do with it. his mother had died lately, watched over, as i was told, by his intended. a clean-shaved man, with an official manner and wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, called on me one day and made inquiries, at first circuitous, afterwards suavely pressing, about what he was pleased to denominate certain 'documents.' i was not surprised, because i had had two rows with the manager on the subject out there. i had refused to give up the smallest scrap out of that package, and i took the same attitude with the spectacled man. he became darkly menacing at last, and with much heat argued that the company had the right to every bit of information about its 'territories.' and, said he, 'mr. kurtz's knowledge of unexplored regions must have been necessarily extensive and peculiar--owing to his great abilities and to the deplorable circumstances in which he had been placed: therefore'--i assured him mr. kurtz's knowledge, however extensive, did not bear upon the problems of commerce or administration. he invoked then the name of science. 'it would be an incalculable loss if,' &c., &c. i offered him the report on the 'suppression of savage customs,' with the postscriptum torn off. he took it up eagerly, but ended by sniffing at it with an air of contempt. 'this is not what we had a right to expect,' he remarked. 'expect nothing else,' i said. 'there are only private letters.' he withdrew upon some threat of legal proceedings, and i saw him no more; but another fellow, calling himself kurtz's cousin, appeared two days later, and was anxious to hear all the details about his dear relative's last moments. incidentally he gave me to understand that kurtz had been essentially a great musician. 'there was the making of an immense success,' said the man, who was an organist, i believe, with lank gray hair flowing over a greasy coat-collar. i had no reason to doubt his statement; and to this day i am unable to say what was kurtz's profession, whether he ever had any--which was the greatest of his talents. i had taken him for a painter who wrote for the papers, or else for a journalist who could paint--but even the cousin (who took snuff during the interview) could not tell me what he had been--exactly. he was a universal genius--on that point i agreed with the old chap, who thereupon blew his nose noisily into a large cotton handkerchief and withdrew in senile agitation, bearing off some family letters and memoranda without importance. ultimately a journalist anxious to know something of the fate of his 'dear colleague' turned up. this visitor informed me kurtz's proper sphere ought to have been politics 'on the popular side.' he had furry straight eyebrows, bristly hair cropped short, an eye-glass on a broad ribbon, and, becoming expansive, confessed his opinion that kurtz really couldn't write a bit--'but heavens! how that man could talk! he electrified large meetings. he had faith--don't you see?--he had the faith. he could get himself to believe anything--anything. he would have been a splendid leader of an extreme party.' 'what party?' i asked. 'any party,' answered the other. 'he was an--an--extremist.' did i not think so? i assented. did i know, he asked, with a sudden flash of curiosity, 'what it was that had induced him to go out there?' 'yes,' said i, and forthwith handed him the famous report for publication, if he thought fit. he glanced through it hurriedly, mumbling all the time, judged 'it would do,' and took himself off with this plunder. "thus i was left at last with a slim packet of letters and the girl's portrait. she struck me as beautiful--i mean she had a beautiful expression. i know that the sunlight can be made to lie too, yet one felt that no manipulation of light and pose could have conveyed the delicate shade of truthfulness upon those features. she seemed ready to listen without mental reservation, without suspicion, without a thought for herself. i concluded i would go and give her back her portrait and those letters myself. curiosity? yes; and also some other feeling perhaps. all that had been kurtz's had passed out of my hands: his soul, his body, his station, his plans, his ivory, his career. there remained only his memory and his intended--and i wanted to give that up too to the past, in a way,--to surrender personally all that remained of him with me to that oblivion which is the last word of our common fate. i don't defend myself. i had no clear perception of what it was i really wanted. perhaps it was an impulse of unconscious loyalty, or the fulfillment of one of these ironic necessities that lurk in the facts of human existence. i don't know. i can't tell. but i went. "i thought his memory was like the other memories of the dead that accumulate in every man's life,--a vague impress on the brain of shadows that had fallen on it in their swift and final passage; but before the high and ponderous door, between the tall houses of a street as still and decorous as a well-kept alley in a cemetery, i had a vision of him on the stretcher, opening his mouth voraciously, as if to devour all the earth with all its mankind. he lived then before me; he lived as much as he had ever lived--a shadow insatiable of splendid appearances, of frightful realities; a shadow darker than the shadow of the night, and draped nobly in the folds of a gorgeous eloquence. the vision seemed to enter the house with me--the stretcher, the phantom-bearers, the wild crowd of obedient worshipers, the gloom of the forests, the glitter of the reach between the murky bends, the beat of the drum, regular and muffled like the beating of a heart--the heart of a conquering darkness. it was a moment of triumph for the wilderness, an invading and vengeful rush which, it seemed to me, i would have to keep back alone for the salvation of another soul. and the memory of what i had heard him say afar there, with the horned shapes stirring at my back, in the glow of fires, within the patient woods, those broken phrases came back to me, were heard again in their ominous and terrifying simplicity. i remembered his abject pleading, his abject threats, the colossal scale of his vile desires, the meanness, the torment, the tempestuous anguish of his soul. and later on i seemed to see his collected languid manner, when he said one day, 'this lot of ivory now is really mine. the company did not pay for it. i collected it myself at a very great personal risk. i am afraid they will try to claim it as theirs though. h'm. it is a difficult case. what do you think i ought to do--resist? eh? i want no more than justice.' . . . he wanted no more than justice--no more than justice. i rang the bell before a mahogany door on the first floor, and while i waited he seemed to stare at me out of the glassy panel--stare with that wide and immense stare embracing, condemning, loathing all the universe. i seemed to hear the whispered cry, 'the horror! the horror!' "the dusk was falling. i had to wait in a lofty drawing-room with three long windows from floor to ceiling that were like three luminous and bedraped columns. the bent gilt legs and backs of the furniture shone in indistinct curves. the tall marble fireplace had a cold and monumental whiteness. a grand piano stood massively in a corner, with dark gleams on the flat surfaces like a somber and polished sarcophagus. a high door opened--closed. i rose. "she came forward, all in black, with a pale head, floating towards me in the dusk. she was in mourning. it was more than a year since his death, more than a year since the news came; she seemed as though she would remember and mourn for ever. she took both my hands in hers and murmured, 'i had heard you were coming.' i noticed she was not very young--i mean not girlish. she had a mature capacity for fidelity, for belief, for suffering. the room seemed to have grown darker, as if all the sad light of the cloudy evening had taken refuge on her forehead. this fair hair, this pale visage, this pure brow, seemed surrounded by an ashy halo from which the dark eyes looked out at me. their glance was guileless, profound, confident, and trustful. she carried her sorrowful head as though she were proud of that sorrow, as though she would say, 'i--i alone know how to mourn for him as he deserves.' but while we were still shaking hands, such a look of awful desolation came upon her face that i perceived she was one of those creatures that are not the playthings of time. for her he had died only yesterday. and, by jove! the impression was so powerful that for me too he seemed to have died only yesterday--nay, this very minute. i saw her and him in the same instant of time--his death and her sorrow--i saw her sorrow in the very moment of his death. do you understand? i saw them together--i heard them together. she had said, with a deep catch of the breath, 'i have survived;' while my strained ears seemed to hear distinctly, mingled with her tone of despairing regret, the summing-up whisper of his eternal condemnation. i asked myself what i was doing there, with a sensation of panic in my heart as though i had blundered into a place of cruel and absurd mysteries not fit for a human being to behold. she motioned me to a chair. we sat down. i laid the packet gently on the little table, and she put her hand over it. . . . 'you knew him well,' she murmured, after a moment of mourning silence. "'intimacy grows quick out there,' i said. 'i knew him as well as it is possible for one man to know another.' "'and you admired him,' she said. 'it was impossible to know him and not to admire him. was it?' "'he was a remarkable man,' i said, unsteadily. then before the appealing fixity of her gaze, that seemed to watch for more words on my lips, i went on, 'it was impossible not to--' "'love him,' she finished eagerly, silencing me into an appalled dumbness. 'how true! how true! but when you think that no one knew him so well as i! i had all his noble confidence. i knew him best.' "'you knew him best,' i repeated. and perhaps she did. but with every word spoken the room was growing darker, and only her forehead, smooth and white, remained illumined by the unextinguishable light of belief and love. "'you were his friend,' she went on. 'his friend,' she repeated, a little louder. 'you must have been, if he had given you this, and sent you to me. i feel i can speak to you--and oh! i must speak. i want you--you who have heard his last words--to know i have been worthy of him. . . . it is not pride. . . . yes! i am proud to know i understood him better than anyone on earth--he told me so himself. and since his mother died i have had no one--no one--to--to--' "i listened. the darkness deepened. i was not even sure whether he had given me the right bundle. i rather suspect he wanted me to take care of another batch of his papers which, after his death, i saw the manager examining under the lamp. and the girl talked, easing her pain in the certitude of my sympathy; she talked as thirsty men drink. i had heard that her engagement with kurtz had been disapproved by her people. he wasn't rich enough or something. and indeed i don't know whether he had not been a pauper all his life. he had given me some reason to infer that it was his impatience of comparative poverty that drove him out there. "'. . . who was not his friend who had heard him speak once?' she was saying. 'he drew men towards him by what was best in them.' she looked at me with intensity. 'it is the gift of the great,' she went on, and the sound of her low voice seemed to have the accompaniment of all the other sounds, full of mystery, desolation, and sorrow, i had ever heard--the ripple of the river, the soughing of the trees swayed by the wind, the murmurs of wild crowds, the faint ring of incomprehensible words cried from afar, the whisper of a voice speaking from beyond the threshold of an eternal darkness. 'but you have heard him! you know!' she cried. "'yes, i know,' i said with something like despair in my heart, but bowing my head before the faith that was in her, before that great and saving illusion that shone with an unearthly glow in the darkness, in the triumphant darkness from which i could not have defended her--from which i could not even defend myself. "'what a loss to me--to us!'--she corrected herself with beautiful generosity; then added in a murmur, 'to the world.' by the last gleams of twilight i could see the glitter of her eyes, full of tears--of tears that would not fall. "'i have been very happy--very fortunate--very proud,' she went on. 'too fortunate. too happy for a little while. and now i am unhappy for--for life.' "she stood up; her fair hair seemed to catch all the remaining light in a glimmer of gold. i rose too. "'and of all this,' she went on, mournfully, 'of all his promise, and of all his greatness, of his generous mind, of his noble heart, nothing remains--nothing but a memory. you and i--' "'we shall always remember him,' i said, hastily. "'no!' she cried. 'it is impossible that all this should be lost--that such a life should be sacrificed to leave nothing--but sorrow. you know what vast plans he had. i knew of them too--i could not perhaps understand,--but others knew of them. something must remain. his words, at least, have not died.' "'his words will remain,' i said. "'and his example,' she whispered to herself. 'men looked up to him,--his goodness shone in every act. his example--' "'true,' i said; 'his example too. yes, his example. i forgot that.' "'but i do not. i cannot--i cannot believe--not yet. i cannot believe that i shall never see him again, that nobody will see him again, never, never, never.' "she put out her arms as if after a retreating figure, stretching them black and with clasped pale hands across the fading and narrow sheen of the window. never see him! i saw him clearly enough then. i shall see this eloquent phantom as long as i live, and i shall see her too, a tragic and familiar shade, resembling in this gesture another one, tragic also, and bedecked with powerless charms, stretching bare brown arms over the glitter of the infernal stream, the stream of darkness. she said suddenly very low, 'he died as he lived.' "'his end,' said i, with dull anger stirring in me, 'was in every way worthy of his life.' "'and i was not with him,' she murmured. my anger subsided before a feeling of infinite pity. "'everything that could be done--' i mumbled. "'ah, but i believed in him more than anyone on earth--more than his own mother, more than--himself. he needed me! me! i would have treasured every sigh, every word, every sign, every glance.' "i felt like a chill grip on my chest. 'don't,' i said, in a muffled voice. "'forgive me. i--i--have mourned so long in silence--in silence. . . . you were with him--to the last? i think of his loneliness. nobody near to understand him as i would have understood. perhaps no one to hear. . . .' "'to the very end,' i said, shakily. 'i heard his very last words. . . .' i stopped in a fright. "'repeat them,' she said in a heart-broken tone. 'i want--i want--something--something--to--to live with.' "i was on the point of crying at her, 'don't you hear them?' the dusk was repeating them in a persistent whisper all around us, in a whisper that seemed to swell menacingly like the first whisper of a rising wind. 'the horror! the horror!' "'his last word--to live with,' she murmured. 'don't you understand i loved him--i loved him--i loved him!' "i pulled myself together and spoke slowly. "'the last word he pronounced was--your name.' "i heard a light sigh, and then my heart stood still, stopped dead short by an exulting and terrible cry, by the cry of inconceivable triumph and of unspeakable pain. 'i knew it--i was sure!' . . . she knew. she was sure. i heard her weeping; she had hidden her face in her hands. it seemed to me that the house would collapse before i could escape, that the heavens would fall upon my head. but nothing happened. the heavens do not fall for such a trifle. would they have fallen, i wonder, if i had rendered kurtz that justice which was his due? hadn't he said he wanted only justice? but i couldn't. i could not tell her. it would have been too dark--too dark altogether. . . ." marlow ceased, and sat apart, indistinct and silent, in the pose of a meditating buddha. nobody moved for a time. "we have lost the first of the ebb," said the director, suddenly. i raised my head. the offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky--seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness. the broken road by a.e.w. mason author of "four feathers," "the truants," "running water," etc. contents chapter i. the breaking of the road ii. inside the fort iii. linforth's death iv. luffe looks forward v. a magazine article vi. a long walk vii. in the dauphinÉ viii. a string of pearls ix. luffe is remembered x. an unanswered question xi. at the gate of lahore xii. on the polo-ground xiii. the invidious bar xiv. in the courtyard xv. a question answered xvi. shere ali meets an old friend xvii. news from mecca xviii. sybil linforth's loyalty xix. a gift misunderstood xx. the soldier and the jew xxi. shere ali is claimed by chiltistan xxii. the casting of the die xxiii. shere ali's pilgrimage xxiv. news from ajmere xxv. in the rose garden xxvi. the breaking of the pitcher xxvii. an arrested confession xxviii. the thief xxix. mrs. oliver rides through peshawur xxx. the needed implement xxxi. an old tomb and a new shrine xxxii. surprises for captain phillips xxxiii. in the residency xxxiv. one of the little wars xxxv. a letter from violet xxxvi. "the little less--" chapter i the breaking of the road it was the road which caused the trouble. it usually is the road. that and a reigning prince who was declared by his uncle secretly to have sold his country to the british, and a half-crazed priest from out beyond the borders of afghanistan, who sat on a slab of stone by the river-bank and preached a _djehad_. but above all it was the road--linforth's road. it came winding down from the passes, over slopes of shale; it was built with wooden galleries along the precipitous sides of cliffs; it snaked treacherously further and further across the rich valley of chiltistan towards the hindu kush, until the people of that valley could endure it no longer. then suddenly from peshawur the wires began to flash their quiet and ominous messages. the road had been cut behind linforth and his coolies. no news had come from him. no supplies could reach him. luffe, who was in the country to the east of chiltistan, had been informed. he had gathered together what troops he could lay his hands on and had already started over the eastern passes to linforth's relief. but it was believed that the whole province of chiltistan had risen. moreover it was winter-time and the passes were deep in snow. the news was telegraphed to england. comfortable gentlemen read it in their first-class carriages as they travelled to the city and murmured to each other commonplaces about the price of empire. and in a house at the foot of the sussex downs linforth's young wife leaned over the cot of her child with the tears streaming from her eyes, and thought of the road with no less horror than the people of chiltistan. meanwhile the great men in calcutta began to mobilise a field force at nowshera, and all official india said uneasily, "thank heaven, luffe's on the spot." charles luffe had long since abandoned the army for the political service, and, indeed, he was fast approaching the time-limit of his career. he was a man of breadth and height, but rather heavy and dull of feature, with a worn face and a bald forehead. he had made enemies, and still made them, for he had not the art of suffering fools gladly; and, on the other hand, he made no friends. he had no sense of humour and no general information. he was, therefore, of no assistance at a dinner-party, but when there was trouble upon the frontier, or beyond it, he was usually found to be the chief agent in the settlement. luffe alone had foreseen and given warning of the danger. even linforth, who was actually superintending the making of the road, had been kept in ignorance. at times, indeed, some spokesman from among the merchants of kohara, the city of chiltistan where year by year the caravans from central asia met the caravans from central india, would come to his tent and expostulate. "we are better without the road, your excellency. will you kindly stop it!" the merchant would say; and linforth would then proceed to demonstrate how extremely valuable to the people of chiltistan a better road would be: "kohara is already a great mart. in your bazaars at summer-time you see traders from turkestan and tibet and siberia, mingling with the hindoo merchants from delhi and lahore. the road will bring you still more trade." the spokesman went back to the broad street of kohara seemingly well content, and inch by inch the road crept nearer to the capital. but luffe was better acquainted with the chiltis, a soft-spoken race of men, with musical, smooth voices and polite and pretty ways. but treachery was a point of honour with them and cold-blooded cruelty a habit. there was one particular story which luffe was accustomed to tell as illustrative of the chilti character. "there was a young man who lived with his mother in a little hamlet close to kohara. his mother continually urged him to marry, but for a long while he would not. he did not wish to marry. finally, however, he fell in love with a pretty girl, made her his wife, and brought her home, to his mother's delight. but the mother's delight lasted for just five days. she began to complain, she began to quarrel; the young wife replied, and the din of their voices greatly distressed the young man, besides making him an object of ridicule to his neighbours. one evening, in a fit of passion, both women said they would stand it no longer. they ran out of the house and up the hillside, but as there was only one path they ran away together, quarrelling as they went. then the young chilti rose, followed them, caught them up, tied them in turn hand and foot, laid them side by side on a slab of stone, and quietly cut their throats. "'women talk too much,' he said, as he came back to a house unfamiliarly quiet. 'one had really to put a stop to it.'" knowing this and many similar stories, luffe had been for some while on the alert. whispers reached him of dangerous talk in the bazaars of kohara, peshawur, and even of benares in india proper. he heard of the growing power of the old mullah by the river-bank. he was aware of the accusations against the ruling khan. he knew that after night had fallen wafadar nazim, the khan's uncle, a restless, ambitious, disloyal man, crept down to the river-bank and held converse with the priest. thus he was ready so far as he could be ready. the news that the road was broken was flashed to him from the nearest telegraph station, and within twenty-four hours he led out a small force from his agency--a battalion of sikhs, a couple of companies of gurkhas, two guns of a mountain battery, and a troop of irregular levies--and disappeared over the pass, now deep in snow. "would he be in time?" not only in india was the question asked. it was asked in england, too, in the clubs of pall mall, but nowhere with so passionate an outcry as in the house at the foot of the sussex downs. to sybil linforth these days were a time of intolerable suspense. the horror of the road was upon her. she dreamed of it when she slept, so that she came to dread sleep, and tried, as long as she might, to keep her heavy eyelids from closing over her eyes. the nights to her were terrible. now it was she, with her child in her arms, who walked for ever and ever along that road, toiling through snow or over shale and finding no rest anywhere. now it was her boy alone, who wandered along one of the wooden galleries high up above the river torrent, until a plank broke and he fell through with a piteous scream. now it was her husband, who could go neither forward nor backward, since in front and behind a chasm gaped. but most often it was a man--a young englishman, who pursued a young indian along that road into the mists. somehow, perhaps because it was inexplicable, perhaps because its details were so clear, this dream terrified her more than all the rest. she could tell the very dress of the indian who fled--a young man--young as his pursuer. a thick sheepskin coat swung aside as he ran and gave her a glimpse of gay silk; soft leather boots protected his feet; and upon his face there was a look of fury and wild fear. she never woke from this dream but her heart was beating wildly. for a few moments after waking peace would descend upon her. "it is a dream--all a dream," she would whisper to herself with contentment, and then the truth would break upon her dissociated from the dream. often she rose from her bed and, kneeling beside the boy's cot, prayed with a passionate heart that the curse of the road--that road predicted by a linforth years ago--might overpass this generation. meanwhile rumours came--rumours of disaster. finally a messenger broke through and brought sure tidings. luffe had marched quickly, had come within thirty miles of kohara before he was stopped. in a strong fort at a bend of the river the young khan with his wife and a few adherents had taken refuge. luffe joined the khan, sought to push through to kohara and rescue linforth, but was driven back. he and his troops and the khan were now closely besieged by wafadar nazim. the work of mobilisation was pressed on; a great force was gathered at nowshera; brigadier appleton was appointed to command it. "luffe will hold out," said official india, trying to be cheerful. perhaps the only man who distrusted luffe's ability to hold out was brigadier appleton, who had personal reasons for his views. brigadier appleton was no fool, and yet luffe had not suffered him gladly. all the more, therefore, did he hurry on the preparations. the force marched out on the new road to chiltistan. but meanwhile the weeks were passing, and up beyond the snow-encumbered hills the beleaguered troops stood cheerfully at bay behind the thick fort-walls. chapter ii inside the fort the six english officers made it a practice, so far as they could, to dine together; and during the third week of the siege the conversation happened one evening to take a particular turn. ever afterwards, during this one hour of the twenty-four, it swerved regularly into the same channel. the restaurants of london were energetically discussed, and their merits urged by each particular partisan with an enthusiasm which would have delighted a shareholder. where you got the best dinner, where the prettiest women were to be seen, whether a band was a drawback or an advantage--not a point was omitted, although every point had been debated yesterday or the day before. to-night the grave question of the proper number for a supper party was opened by major dewes of the th gurkha regiment. "two," said the political officer promptly, and he chuckled under his grey moustache. "i remember the last time i was in london i took out to supper--none of the coryphées you boys are so proud of being seen about with, but"--and, pausing impressively, he named a reigning lady of the light-opera stage. "you did!" exclaimed a subaltern. "i did," he replied complacently. "what did you talk about?" asked major dewes, and the political officer suddenly grew serious. "i was very interested," he said quietly. "i got knowledge which it was good for me to have. i saw something which it was well for me to see. i wished--i wish now--that some of the rulers and the politicians could have seen what i saw that night." a brief silence followed upon his words, and during that silence certain sounds became audible--the beating of tom-toms and the cries of men. the dinner-table was set in the verandah of an inner courtyard open to the sky, and the sounds descended into that well quite distinctly, but faintly, as if they were made at a distance in the dark, open country. the six men seated about the table paid no heed to those sounds; they had had them in their ears too long. and five of the six were occupied in wondering what in the world sir charles luffe, k.c.s.i., could have learnt of value to him at a solitary supper party with a lady of comic opera. for it was evident that he had spoken in deadly earnest. captain lynes of the sikhs broke the silence: "what's this?" he asked, as an orderly offered to him a dish. "let us not inquire too closely," said the political officer. "this is the fourth week of the siege." the rice-fields of the broad and fertile valley were trampled down and built upon with sangars. the siege had cut its scars upon the fort's rough walls of mud and projecting beams. but nowhere were its marks more visible than upon the faces of the englishmen in the verandah of that courtyard. dissimilar as they were in age and feature, sleepless nights and the unrelieved tension had given to their drawn faces almost a family likeness. they were men tired out, but as yet unaware of their exhaustion, so bright a flame burnt within each one of them. somewhere amongst the snow-passes on the north-east a relieving force would surely be encamped that night, a day's march nearer than it was yesterday. somewhere amongst the snow-passes in the south a second force would be surely advancing from nowshera, probably short of rations, certainly short of baggage, that it might march the lighter. when one of those two forces deployed across the valley and the gates of the fort were again thrown open to the air the weeks of endurance would exact their toll. but that time was not yet come. meanwhile the six men held on cheerily, inspiring the garrison with their own confidence, while day after day a province in arms flung itself in vain against their blood-stained walls. luffe, indeed, the political officer, fought with disease as well as with the insurgents of chiltistan; and though he remained the master-mind of the defence, the doctor never passed him without an anxious glance. for there were the signs of death upon his face. "the fourth week!" said lynes. "is it, by george? well, the siege won't last much longer now. the sirkar don't leave its servants in the lurch. that's what these hill-tribes never seem to understand. how is travers?" he asked of the doctor. travers, a subaltern of the north surrey light infantry, had been shot through the thigh in the covered waterway to the river that morning. "he's going on all right," replied the doctor. "travers had bad luck. it must have been a stray bullet which slipped through that chink in the stones. for he could not have been seen--" as he spoke a cry rang clearly out. all six men looked upwards through the open roof to the clear dark sky, where the stars shone frostily bright. "what was that?" asked one of the six. "hush," said luffe, and for a moment they all listened in silence, with expectant faces and their bodies alert to spring from their chairs. then the cry was heard again. it was a wail more than a cry, and it sounded strangely solitary, strangely sad, as it floated through the still air. there was the east in that cry trembling out of the infinite darkness above their heads. but the six men relaxed their limbs. they had expected the loud note of the pathan war-cry to swell sonorously, and with intervals shorter and shorter until it became one menacing and continuous roar. "it is someone close under the walls," said luffe, and as he ended a sikh orderly appeared at the entrance of a passage into the courtyard, and, advancing to the table, saluted. "sahib, there is a man who claims that he comes with a message from wafadar nazim." "tell him that we receive no messages at night, as wafadar nazim knows well. let him come in the morning and he shall be admitted. tell him that if he does not go back at once the sentinels will fire." and luffe nodded to one of the younger officers. "do you see to it, haslewood." haslewood rose and went out from the courtyard with the orderly. he returned in a few minutes, saying that the man had returned to wafadar nazim's camp. the six men resumed their meal, and just as they ended it a pathan glided in white flowing garments into the courtyard and bowed low. "huzoor," he said, "his highness the khan sends you greeting. god has been very good to him. a son has been born to him this day, and he sends you this present, knowing that you will value it more than all that he has"; and carefully unfolding a napkin, he laid with reverence upon the table a little red cardboard box. the mere look of the box told the six men what the present was even before luffe lifted the lid. it was a box of fifty gold-tipped cigarettes, and applause greeted their appearance. "if he could only have a son every day," said lynes, and in the laugh which followed upon the words luffe alone did not join. he leaned his forehead upon his hand and sat in a moody silence. then he turned towards the servant and bade him thank his master. "i will come myself to offer our congratulations after dinner if his highness will receive me," said luffe. the box of cigarettes went round the table. each man took one, lighted it, and inhaled the smoke silently and very slowly. the garrison had run out of tobacco a week before. now it had come to them welcome as a gift from heaven. the moment was one of which the perfect enjoyment was not to be marred by any speech. only a grunt of satisfaction or a deep sigh of pleasure was now and then to be heard, as the smoke curled upwards from the little paper sticks. each man competed with his neighbour in the slowness of his respiration, each man wanted to be the last to lay down his cigarette and go about his work. and then the doctor said in a whisper to major dewes: "that's bad. look!" luffe, a mighty smoker in his days of health, had let his cigarette go out, had laid it half-consumed upon the edge of his plate. but it seemed that ill-health was not all to blame. he had the look of one who had forgotten his company. he was withdrawn amongst his own speculations, and his eyes looked out beyond that smoke-laden room in a fort amongst the himalaya mountains into future years dim with peril and trouble. "there is no moon," he said at length. "we can get some exercise to-night"; and he rose from the table and ascended a little staircase on to the flat roof of the fort. major dewes and the three other officers got up and went about their business. dr. bodley, the surgeon, alone remained seated. he waited until the tramp of his companions' feet had died away, and then he drew from his pocket a briarwood pipe, which he polished lovingly. he walked round the table and, collecting the ends of the cigarettes, pressed them into the bowl of the pipe. "thank heavens i am not an executive officer," he said, as he lighted his pipe and settled himself again comfortably in his chair. it should be mentioned, perhaps, that he not only doctored and operated on the sick and wounded, but he kept the stores, and when any fighting was to be done, took a rifle and filled any place which might be vacant in the firing-line. "there are now forty-four cigarettes," he reflected. "at six a day they will last a week. in a week something will have happened. either the relieving force will be here, or--yes, decidedly something will have happened." and as he blew the smoke out from between his lips he added solemnly: "if not to us, to the political officer." meanwhile luffe paced the roof of the fort in the darkness. the fort was built in the bend of a swift, wide river, and so far as three sides were concerned was securely placed. for on three the low precipitous cliffs overhung the tumbling water. on the fourth, however, the fertile plain of the valley stretched open and flat up to the very gates. in front of the forts a line of sangars extended, the position of each being marked even now by a glare of light above it, which struck up from the fire which the insurgents had lit behind the walls of stone. and from one and another of the sangars the monotonous beat of a tom-tom came to luffe's ears. luffe walked up and down for a time upon the roof. there was a new sangar to-night, close to the north tower, which had not existed yesterday. moreover, the almond trees in the garden just outside the western wall were in blossom, and the leaves upon the branches were as a screen, where only the bare trunks showed a fortnight ago. but with these matters luffe was not at this moment concerned. they helped the enemy, they made the defence more arduous, but they were trivial in his thoughts. indeed, the siege itself was to him an unimportant thing. even if the fortress fell, even if every man within perished by the sword--why, as lynes had said, the sirkar does not forget its servants. the relieving force might march in too late, but it would march in. men would die, a few families in england would wear mourning, the government would lose a handful of faithful servants. england would thrill with pride and anger, and the rebellion would end as rebellions always ended. luffe was troubled for quite another cause. he went down from the roof, walked by courtyard and winding passage to the quarters of the khan. a white-robed servant waited for him at the bottom of a broad staircase in a room given up to lumber. a broken bicycle caught luffe's eye. on the ledge of a window stood a photographic camera. luffe mounted the stairs and was ushered into the khan's presence. he bowed with deference and congratulated the khan upon the birth of his heir. "i have been thinking," said the khan--"ever since my son was born i have been thinking. i have been a good friend to the english. i am their friend and servant. news has come to me of their cities and colleges. i will send my son to england, that he may learn your wisdom, and so return to rule over his kingdom. much good will come of it." luffe had expected the words. the young khan had a passion for things english. the bicycle and the camera were signs of it. unwise men had applauded his enlightenment. unwise at all events in luffe's opinion. it was, indeed, greatly because of his enlightenment that he and a handful of english officers and troops were beleaguered in the fortress. "he shall go to eton and to oxford, and much good for my people will come of it," said the khan. luffe listened gravely and politely; but he was thinking of an evening when he had taken out to supper a reigning queen of comic opera. the recollection of that evening remained with him when he ascended once more to the roof of the fort and saw the light of the fires above the sangars. a voice spoke at his elbow. "there is a new sangar being built in the garden. we can hear them at work," said dewes. luffe walked cautiously along the roof to the western end. quite clearly they could hear the spades at work, very near to the wall, amongst the almond and the mulberry trees. "get a fireball," said luffe in a whisper, "and send up a dozen sikhs." on the parapet of the roof a rough palisade of planks had been erected to protect the defenders from the riflemen in the valley and across the river. behind this palisade the sikhs crept silently to their positions. a ball made of pinewood chips and straw, packed into a covering of canvas, was brought on to the roof and saturated with kerosene oil. "are you ready?" said luffe; "then now!" upon the word the fireball was lit and thrown far out. it circled through the air, dropped, and lay blazing upon the ground. by its light under the branches of the garden trees could be seen the pathans building a stone sangar, within thirty yards of the fort's walls. "fire!" cried luffe. "choose your men and fire." all at once the silence of the night was torn by the rattle of musketry, and afar off the tom-toms beat yet more loudly. luffe looked on with every faculty alert. he saw with a smile that the doctor had joined them and lay behind a plank, firing rapidly and with a most accurate aim. but at the back of his mind all the while that he gave his orders was still the thought, "all this is nothing. the one fateful thing is the birth of a son to the khan of chiltistan." the little engagement lasted for about half an hour. the insurgents then drew back from the garden, leaving their dead upon the field. the rattle of the musketry ceased altogether. behind the parapet one sikh had been badly wounded by a bullet in the thigh. already the doctor was attending to his hurts. "it is a small thing, huzoor," said the wounded soldier, looking upwards to luffe, who stood above him; "a very small thing," but even as he spoke pain cut the words short. "yes, a small thing"; luffe did not speak the words, but he thought them. he turned away and walked back again across the roof. the new sangar would not be built that night. but it was a small thing compared with all that lay hidden in the future. as he paced that side of the fort which faced the plain there rose through the darkness, almost beneath his feet, once more the cry which had reached his ears while he sat at dinner in the courtyard. he heard a few paces from him the sharp order to retire given by a sentinel. but the voice rose again, claiming admission to the fort, and this time a name was uttered urgently, an english name. "don't fire," cried luffe to the sentinel, and he leaned over the wall. "you come from wafadar nazim, and alone?" "huzoor, my life be on it." "with news of sahib linforth?" "yes, news which his highness wafadar nazim thinks it good for you to know"; and the voice in the darkness rose to insolence. luffe strained his eyes downwards. he could see nothing. he listened, but he could hear no whispering voices. he hesitated. he was very anxious to hear news of linforth. "i will let you in," he cried; "but if there be more than one the lives of all shall be the price." he went down into the fort. under his orders captain lynes drew up inside the gate a strong guard of sikhs with their rifles loaded and bayonets fixed. a few lanterns threw a dim light upon the scene, glistening here and there upon the polish of an accoutrement or a rifle-barrel. "present," whispered lynes, and the rifles were raised to the shoulder, with every muzzle pointing towards the gate. then lynes himself went forward, removed the bars, and turned the key in the lock. the gate swung open noiselessly a little way, and a tall man, clad in white flowing robes, with a deeply pock-marked face and a hooked nose, walked majestically in. he stood quite still while the gate was barred again behind him, and looked calmly about him with inquisitive bright eyes. "will you follow me?" said luffe, and he led the way through the rabbit-warren of narrow alleys into the centre of the fort. chapter iii linforth's death luffe had taken a large bare low-roofed room supported upon pillars for his council-chamber. thither he conducted his visitor. camp chairs were placed for himself and major dewes and captain lynes. cushions were placed upon the ground for his visitor. luffe took his seat in the middle, with dewes upon his right and lynes upon his left. dewes expected him at once to press for information as to linforth. but luffe knew very well that certain time must first be wasted in ceremonious preliminaries. the news would only be spoken after a time and in a roundabout fashion. "if we receive you without the distinction which is no doubt your due," said luffe politely, "you must remember that i make it a rule not to welcome visitors at night." the visitor smiled and bowed. "it is a great grief to his highness wafadar nazim that you put so little faith in him," replied the chilti. "see how he trusts you! he sends me, his diwan, his minister of finance, in the night time to come up to your walls and into your fort, so great is his desire to learn that the colonel sahib is well." luffe in his turn bowed with a smile of gratitude. it was not the time to point out that his highness wafadar nazim was hardly taking the course which a genuine solicitude for the colonel sahib's health would recommend. "his highness has but one desire in his heart. he desires peace--peace so that this country may prosper, and peace because of his great love for the colonel sahib." again luffe bowed. "but to all his letters the colonel sahib returns the same answer, and truly his highness is at a loss what to do in order that he may ensure the safety of the colonel sahib and his followers," the diwan continued pensively. "i will not repeat what has been already said," and at once he began at interminable length to contradict his words. he repeated the proposals of surrender made by wafadar nazim from beginning to end. the colonel sahib was to march out of the fort with his troops, and his highness would himself conduct him into british territory. "if the colonel sahib dreads the censure of his own government, his highness will take all the responsibility for the colonel sahib's departure. but no blame will fall upon the colonel sahib. for the british government, with whom wafadar nazim has always desired to live in amity, desires peace too, as it has always said. it is the british government which has broken its treaties." "not so," replied luffe. "the road was undertaken with the consent of the khan of chiltistan, who is the ruler of this country, and wafadar, his uncle, merely the rebel. therefore take back my last word to wafadar nazim. let him make submission to me as representative of the sirkar, and lay down his arms. then i will intercede for him with the government, so that his punishment be light." the diwan smiled and his voice changed once more to a note of insolence. "his highness wafadar nazim is now the khan of chiltistan. the other, the deposed, lies cooped up in this fort, a prisoner of the british, whose willing slave he has always been. the british must retire from our country. his highness wafadar nazim desires them no harm. but they must go now!" luffe looked sternly at the diwan. "tell wafadar nazim to have a care lest they go never, but set their foot firmly upon the neck of this rebellious people." he rose to signify that the conference was at an end. but the diwan did not stir. he smiled pensively and played with the tassels of his cushion. "and yet," he said, "how true it is that his highness thinks only of the colonel sahib's safety." some note of satisfaction, not quite perfectly concealed, some sly accent of triumph sounding through the gently modulated words, smote upon luffe's ears, and warned him that the true meaning of the diwan's visit was only now to be revealed. all that had gone before was nothing. the polite accusations, the wordy repetitions, the expressions of good will--these were the mere preliminaries, the long salute before the combat. luffe steeled himself against a blow, controlling his face and his limbs lest a look or a gesture should betray the hurt. and it was well that he did, for the next moment the blow fell. "for bad news has come to us. sahib linforth met his death two days ago, fifty miles from here, in the camp of his excellency abdulla mahommed, the commander-in-chief to his highness. abdulla mahommed is greatly grieved, knowing well that this violent act will raise up a prejudice against him and his highness. moreover, he too would live in friendship with the british. but his soldiers are justly provoked by the violation of treaties by the british, and it is impossible to stay their hands. therefore, before abdulla mahommed joins hands with my master, wafadar nazim, before this fort, it will be well for the colonel sahib and his troops to be safely out of reach." luffe was doubtful whether to believe the words or no. the story might be a lie to frighten him and to discourage the garrison. on the other hand, it was likely enough to be true. and if true, it was the worst news which luffe had heard for many a long day. "let me hear how the accident--occurred," he said, smiling grimly at the euphemism he used. "sahib linforth was in the tent set apart for him by abdulla mahommed. there were guards to protect him, but it seems they did not watch well. huzoor, all have been punished, but punishment will not bring sahib linforth to life again. therefore hear the words of wafadar nazim, spoken now for the last time. he himself will escort you and your soldiers and officers to the borders of british territory, so that he may rejoice to know that you are safe. you will leave his highness mir ali behind, who will resign his throne in favour of his uncle wafadar, and so there will be peace." "and what will happen to mir ali, whom we have promised to protect?" the diwan shrugged his shoulders in a gentle, deprecatory fashion and smiled his melancholy smile. his gesture and his attitude suggested that it was not in the best of taste to raise so unpleasant a question. but he did not reply in words. "you will tell wafadar nazim that we will know how to protect his highness the khan, and that we will teach abdulla mahommed a lesson in that respect before many moons have passed," luffe said sternly. "as for this story of sahib linforth, i do not believe a word of it." the diwan nodded his head. "it was believed that you would reply in this way. "therefore here are proofs." he drew from his dress a silver watch upon a leather watch-guard, a letter-case, and to these he added a letter in linforth's own hand. he handed them to luffe. luffe handed the watch and chain to dewes, and opened the letter-case. there was a letter in it, written in a woman's handwriting, and besides the letter the portrait of a girl. he glanced at the letter and glanced at the portrait. then he passed them on to dewes. dewes looked at the portrait with a greater care. the face was winning rather than pretty. it seemed to him that it was one of those faces which might become beautiful at many moments through the spirit of the woman, rather than from any grace of feature. if she loved, for instance, she would be really beautiful for the man she loved. "i wonder who she is," he said thoughtfully. "i know," replied luffe, almost carelessly. he was immersed in the second letter which the diwan had handed to him. "who is it?" asked dewes. "linforth's wife." "his wife!" exclaimed dewes, and, looking at the photograph again, he said in a low voice which was gentle with compassion, "poor woman!" "yes, yes. poor woman!" said luffe, and he went on reading his letter. it was characteristic of luffe that he should feel so little concern in the domestic side of linforth's life. he was not very human in his outlook on the world. questions of high policy interested and engrossed his mind; he lived for the frontier, not so much subduing a man's natural emotions as unaware of them. men figured in his thoughts as the instruments of policy; their womenfolk as so many hindrances or aids to the fulfilment of their allotted tasks. thus linforth's death troubled him greatly, since linforth was greatly concerned in one great undertaking. moreover, the scheme had been very close to linforth's heart, even as it was to luffe's. but linforth's wife was in england, and thus, as it seemed to him, neither aid nor impediment. but in that he was wrong. she had been the mainspring of linforth's energy, and so much was evident in the letter which luffe read slowly to the end. "yes, linforth's dead," said he, with a momentary discouragement. "there are many whom we could more easily have spared. of course the thing will go on. that's certain," he said, nodding his head. a cold satisfaction shone in his eyes. "but linforth was part of the thing." he passed the second letter to dewes, who read it; and for a while both men remained thoughtful and, as it seemed, unaware for the moment of the diwan's presence. there was this difference, however. luffe was thinking of "the thing"; dewes was pondering on the grim little tragedy which these letters revealed, and thanking heaven in all simplicity of heart that there was no woman waiting in fear because of him and trembling at sight of each telegraph boy she met upon the road. the grim little tragedy was not altogether uncommon upon the indian frontier, but it gained vividness from the brevity of the letters which related it. the first one, that in the woman's hand, written from a house under the downs of sussex, told of the birth of a boy in words at once sacred and simple. they were written for the eyes of one man, and major dewes had a feeling that his own, however respectfully, violated their sanctity. the second letter was an unfinished one written by the husband to the wife from his tent amongst the rabble of abdulla mahommed. linforth clearly understood that this was the last letter he would write. "i am sitting writing this by the light of a candle. the tent door is open. in front of me i can see the great snow-mountains. all the ugliness of the lower shale slopes is hidden. by such a moonlight, my dear, may you always look back upon my memory. for it is over, sybil. they are waiting until i fall asleep. i have been warned of it. but i shall fall asleep to-night. i have kept awake for two nights. i am very tired." he had fallen asleep even before the letter was completed. there was a message for the boy and a wish: "may he meet a woman like you, my dear, when his time comes, and love her as i love you," and again came the phrase, "i am very tired." it spoke of the boy's school, and continued: "whether he will come out here it is too early to think about. but the road will not be finished--and i wonder. if he wants to, let him! we linforths belong to the road," and for the third time the phrase recurred, "i am very tired," and upon the phrase the letter broke off. dewes could imagine linforth falling forward with his head upon his hands, his eyes heavy with sleep, while from without the tent the patient chiltis watched until he slept. "how did it happen?" he asked. "they cast a noose over his head," replied the diwan, "dragged him from the tent and stabbed him." dewes nodded and turned to luffe. "these letters and things must go home to his wife. it's hard on her, with a boy only a few months old." "a boy?" said luffe, rousing himself from his thoughts. "oh! there's a boy? i had not noticed that. i wonder how far the road will have gone when he comes out." there was no doubt in luffe's mind, at all events, as to the boy's destiny. he turned to the diwan. "tell wafadar nazim that i will open the gates of this fort and march down to british territory after he has made submission," he said. the diwan smiled in a melancholy way. he had done his best, but the british were, of course, all mad. he bowed himself out of the room and stalked through the alleys to the gates. "wafadar nazim must be very sure of victory," said luffe. "he would hardly have given us that unfinished letter had he a fear we should escape him in the end." "he could not read what was written," said dewes. "but he could fear what was written," replied luffe. as he walked across the courtyard he heard the crack of a rifle. the sound came from across the river. the truce was over, the siege was already renewed. chapter iv luffe looks forward it was the mine underneath the north tower which brought the career of luffe to an end. the garrison, indeed, had lived in fear of this peril ever since the siege began. but inasmuch as no attempt to mine had been made during the first month, the fear had grown dim. it was revived during the fifth week. the officers were at mess at nine o'clock in the evening, when a havildar of sikhs burst into the courtyard with the news that the sound of a pick could be heard from the chamber of the tower. "at last!" cried dewes, springing to his feet. the six men hurried to the tower. a long loophole had been fashioned in the thick wall on a downward slant, so that a marksman might command anyone who crept forward to fire the fort. against this loophole luffe leaned his ear. "do you hear anything, sir?" asked a subaltern of the sappers who was attached to the force. "hush!" said luffe. he listened, and he heard quite clearly underneath the ground below him the dull shock of a pickaxe. the noise came almost from beneath his feet; so near the mine had been already driven to the walls. the strokes fell with the regularity of the ticking of a clock. but at times the sound changed in character. the muffled thud of the pick upon earth became a clang as it struck upon stone. "do you listen!" said luffe, giving way to dewes, and dewes in his turn leaned his ear against the loophole. "what do you think?" asked luffe. dewes stood up straight again. "i'll tell you what i am thinking. i am thinking it sounds like the beating of a clock in a room where a man lies dying," he said. luffe nodded his head. but images and romantic sayings struck no response from him. he turned to the young sapper. "can we countermine?" the young engineer took the place of major dewes. "we can try, but we are late," said he. "it must be a sortie then," said luffe. "yes," exclaimed lynes eagerly. "let me go, sir charles!" luffe smiled at his enthusiasm. "how many men will you require?" he asked. "sixty?" "a hundred," replied dewes promptly. all that night luffe superintended the digging of the countermine, while dewes made ready for the sortie. by daybreak the arrangements were completed. the gunpowder bags, with their fuses attached, were distributed, the gates were suddenly flung open, and lynes raced out with a hundred ghurkhas and sikhs across the fifty yards of open ground to the sangar behind which the mine shaft had been opened. the work of the hundred men was quick and complete. within half an hour, lynes, himself wounded, had brought back his force, and left the mine destroyed. but during that half-hour disaster had fallen upon the garrison. luffe had dropped as he was walking back across the courtyard to his office. for a few minutes he lay unnoticed in the empty square, his face upturned to the sky, and then a clamorous sound of lamentation was heard and an orderly came running through the alleys of the fort, crying out that the colonel sahib was dead. he was not dead, however. he recovered conciousness that night, and early in the morning dewes was roused from his sleep. he woke to find the doctor shaking him by the shoulder. "luffe wants you. he has not got very long now. he has something to say." dewes slipped on his clothes, and hurried down the stairs. he followed the doctor through the little winding alleys which gave to the fort the appearance of a tiny village. it was broad daylight, but the fortress was strangely silent. the people whom he passed either spoke not at all or spoke only in low tones. they sat huddled in groups, waiting. fear was abroad that morning. it was known that the brain of the defence was dying. it was known, too, what cruel fate awaited those within the fort, if those without ever forced the gates and burst in upon their victims. dewes found the political officer propped up on pillows on his camp-bed. the door from the courtyard was open, and the morning light poured brightly into the room. "sit here, close to me, dewes," said luffe in a whisper, "and listen, for i am very tired." a smile came upon his face. "do you remember linforth's letters? how that phrase came again and again: 'i am very tired.'" the doctor arranged the pillows underneath his shoulders, and then luffe said: "all right. i shall do now." he waited until the doctor had gone from the room and continued: "i am not going to talk to you about the fort. the defence is safe in your hands, so long as defence is possible. besides, if it falls it's not a great thing. the troops will come up and trample down wafadar nazim and abdulla mahommed. they are not the danger. the road will go on again, even though linforth's dead. no, the man whom i am afraid of is--the son of the khan." dewes stared, and then said in a soothing voice: "he will be looked after." "you think my mind's wandering," continued luffe. "it never was clearer in my life. the khan's son is a boy a week old. nevertheless i tell you that boy is the danger in chiltistan. the father--we know him. a good fellow who has lost all the confidence of his people. there is hardly an adherent of his who genuinely likes him; there's hardly a man in this fort who doesn't believe that he wished to sell his country to the british. i should think he is impossible here in the future. and everyone in government house knows it. we shall do the usual thing, i have no doubt--pension him off, settle him down comfortably outside the borders of chiltistan, and rule the country as trustee for his son--until the son comes of age." dewes realised surely enough that luffe was in possession of his faculties, but he thought his anxiety exaggerated. "you are looking rather far ahead, aren't you, sir?" he asked. luffe smiled. "twenty-one years. what are twenty-one years to india? my dear dewes!" he was silent. it seemed as though he were hesitating whether he would say a word more to this major who in india talked of twenty-one years as a long span of time. but there was no one else to whom he could confide his fears. if dewes was not brilliant, he was at all events all that there was. "i wish i was going to live," he cried in a low voice of exasperation. "i wish i could last just long enough to travel down to calcutta and _make_ them listen to me. but there's no hope of it. you must do what you can, dewes, but very likely they won't pay any attention to you. very likely you'll believe me wrong yourself, eh? poor old luffe, a man with a bee in his bonnet, eh?" he whispered savagely. "no, sir," replied dewes. "you know the frontier. i know that." "and even there you are wrong. no man knows the frontier. we are all stumbling in the dark among these peoples, with their gentle voices and their cut-throat ways. the most that you can know is that you are stumbling in the dark. well, let's get back to the boy here. this country will be kept for him, for twenty-one years. where is he going to be during those twenty-one years?" dewes caught at the question as an opportunity for reassuring the political officer. "why, sir, the khan told us. have you forgotten? he is to go to eton and oxford. he'll see something of england. he will learn--" and major dewes stopped short, baffled by the look of hopelessness upon the political officer's face. "i think you are all mad," said luffe, and he suddenly started up in his bed and cried with vehemence, "you take these boys to england. you train them in the ways of the west, the ideas of the west, and then you send them back again to the east, to rule over eastern people, according to eastern ideas, and you think all is well. i tell you, dewes, it's sheer lunacy. of course it's true--this boy won't perhaps suffer in esteem among his people quite as much as others have done. he belongs and his people belong to the maulai sect. the laws of religion are not strict among them. they drink wine, they eat what they will, they do not lose caste so easily. but you have to look at the man as he will be, the hybrid mixture of east and west." he sank back among his pillows, exhausted by the violence of his outcry, and for a little while he was silent. then he began again, but this time in a low, pleading voice, which was very unusual in him, and which kept the words he spoke vivid and fresh in dewes' memory for many years to come. indeed, dewes would not have believed that luffe could have spoken on any subject with so much wistfulness. "listen to me, dewes. i have lived for the frontier. i have had no other interest, almost no other ties. i am not a man of friends. i believed at one time linforth was my friend. i believed i liked him very much. but i think now that it was only because he was bound up with the frontier. the frontier has been my wife, my children, my home, my one long and lasting passion. and i am very well content that it has been so. i don't regret missed opportunities of happiness. what i regret is that i shall not be alive in twenty-one years to avert the danger i foresee, or to laugh at my fears if i am wrong. they can do what they like in rajputana and bengal and bombay. but on the frontier i want things to go well. oh, how i want them to go well!" luffe had grown very pale, and the sweat glistened upon his forehead. dewes held to his lips a glass of brandy which stood upon a table beside the bed. "what danger do you foresee?" asked dewes. "i will remember what you say." "yes, remember it; write it out, so that you may remember it, and din it into their ears at government house," said luffe. "you take these boys, you give them oxford, a season in london--did you ever have a season in london when you were twenty-one, dewes? you show them paris. you give them opportunities of enjoyment, such as no other age, no other place affords--has ever afforded. you give them, for a short while, a life of colour, of swift crowding hours of pleasure, and then you send them back--to settle down in their native states, and obey the orders of the resident. do you think they will be content? do you think they will have their heart in their work, in their humdrum life, in their elaborate ceremonies? oh, there are instances enough to convince if only people would listen. there's a youth now in the south, the heir of an indian throne--he has six weeks' holiday. how does he use it, do you think? he travels hard to england, spends a week there, and travels back again. in england he is treated as an _equal_; here, in spite of his ceremonies, he is an _inferior_, and will and must be so. the best you can hope is that he will be merely unhappy. you pray that he won't take to drink and make his friends among the jockeys and the trainers. he has lost the taste for the native life, and nevertheless he has got to live it. besides--besides--i haven't told you the worst of it." dewes leaned forward. the sincerity of luffe had gained upon him. "let me hear all," he said. "there is the white woman," continued luffe. "the english woman, the english girl, with her daintiness, her pretty frocks, her good looks, her delicate charm. very likely she only thinks of him as a picturesque figure; she dances with him, but she does not take him seriously. yes, but he may take her seriously, and often does. what then? when he is told to go back to his state and settle down, what then? will he be content with a wife of his own people? he is already a stranger among his own folk. he will eat out his heart with bitterness and jealousy. and, mind you, i am speaking of the best--the best of the princes and the best of the english women. what of the others? the english women who take his pearls, and the princes who come back and boast of their success. do you think that is good for british rule in india? give me something to drink!" luffe poured out his vehement convictions to his companion, wishing with all his heart that he had one of the great ones of the viceroy's council at his side, instead of this zealous but somewhat commonplace major of a sikh regiment. all the more, therefore, must he husband his strength, so that all that he had in mind might be remembered. there would be little chance, perhaps, of it bearing fruit. still, even that little chance must be grasped. and so in that high castle beneath the himalayas, besieged by insurgent tribes, a dying political officer discoursed upon this question of high policy. "i told you of a supper i had one night at the savoy--do you remember? you all looked sufficiently astonished when i told you to bear it in mind." "yes, i remember," said dewes. "very well. i told you i learned something from the lady who was with me which it was good for me to know. i saw something which it was good for me to see. good--yes, but not pleasant either to know or see. there was a young prince in england then. he dined in high places and afterwards supped at the savoy with the _coryphées;_ and both in the high places and among the _coryphées_ his jewels had made him welcome. this is truth i am telling you. he was a boaster. well, after supper that night he threw a girl down the stairs. never mind what she was--she was of the white ruling race, she was of the race that rules in india, he comes back to india and insolently boasts. do you approve? do you think that good?" "i think it's horrible," exclaimed dewes. "well, i have done," said luffe. "this youngster is to go to oxford. unhappiness and the distrust of his own people will be the best that can come of it, while ruin and disasters very well may. there are many ways of disaster. suppose, for instance, this boy were to turn out a strong man. do you see?" dewes nodded his head. "yes, i see," he answered, and he answered so because he saw that luffe had come to the end of his strength. his voice had weakened, he lay with his eyes sunk deep in his head and a leaden pallor upon his face, and his breath laboured as he spoke. "i am glad," replied luffe, "that you understand." but it was not until many years had passed that dewes saw and understood the trouble which was then stirring in luffe's mind. and even then, when he did see and understand, he wondered how much luffe really had foreseen. enough, at all events, to justify his reputation for sagacity. dewes went out from the bedroom and climbed up on to the roof of the fort. the sun was up, the day already hot, and would have been hotter, but that a light wind stirred among the almond trees in the garden. the leaves of those trees now actually brushed against the fort walls. five weeks ago there had been bare stems and branches. suddenly a rifle cracked, a little puff of smoke rose close to a boulder on the far side of the river, a bullet sang in the air past dewes' head. he ducked behind the palisade of boards. another day had come. for another day the flag, manufactured out of some red cloth, a blue turban and some white cotton, floated overhead. meanwhile, somewhere among the passes, the relieving force was already on the march. late that afternoon luffe died, and his body was buried in the fort. he had done his work. for two days afterwards the sound of a battle was heard to the south, the siege was raised, and in the evening the brigadier-general in command rode up to the gates and found a tired and haggard group of officers awaiting him. they received him without cheers or indeed any outward sign of rejoicing. they waited in a dead silence, like beaten and dispirited men. they were beginning to pay the price of their five weeks' siege. the brigadier looked at the group. "what of luffe?" he asked. "dead, sir," replied dewes. "a great loss," said brigadier appleton solemnly. but he was paying his tribute rather to the class to which luffe belonged than to the man himself. luffe was a man of independent views, brigadier appleton a soldier clinging to tradition. moreover, there had been an encounter between the two in which luffe had prevailed. the brigadier paid a ceremonious visit to the khan on the following morning, and once more the khan expounded his views as to the education of his son. but he expounded them now to sympathetic ears. "i think that his excellency disapproved of my plan," said the khan. "did he?" cried brigadier appleton. "on some points i am inclined to think that luffe's views were not always sound. certainly let the boy go to eton and oxford. a fine idea, your highness. the training will widen his mind, enlarge his ideas, and all that sort of thing. i will myself urge upon the government's advisers the wisdom of your highness' proposal." moreover dewes failed to carry luffe's dying message to calcutta. for on one point--a point of fact--luffe was immediately proved wrong. mir ali, the khan of chiltistan, was retained upon his throne. dewes turned the matter over in his slow mind. wrong definitely, undeniably wrong on the point of fact, was it not likely that luffe was wrong too on the point of theory? dewes had six months furlong too, besides, and was anxious to go home. it would be a bore to travel to bombay by way of calcutta. "let the boy go to eton and oxford!" he said. "why not?" and the years answered him. chapter v a magazine article the little war of chiltistan was soon forgotten by the world. but it lived vividly enough in the memories of a few people to whom it had brought either suffering or fresh honours. but most of all it was remembered by sybil linforth, so that even after fourteen years a chance word, or a trivial coincidence, would bring back to her the horror and the misery of that time as freshly as if only a single day had intervened. such a coincidence happened on this morning of august. she was in the garden with her back to the downs which rose high from close behind the house, and she was looking across the fields rich with orchards and yellow crops. she saw a small figure climb a stile and come towards the house along a footpath, increasing in stature as it approached. it was colonel dewes, and her thoughts went back to the day when first, with reluctant steps, he had walked along that path, carrying with him a battered silver watch and chain and a little black leather letter-case. because of that memory she advanced slowly towards him now. "i did not know that you were home," she said, as they shook hands. "when did you land?" "yesterday. i am home for good now. my time is up." sybil linforth looked quickly at his face and turned away. "you are sorry?" she said gently. "yes. i don't feel old, you see. i feel as if i had many years' good work in me yet. but there! that's the trouble with the mediocre men. they are shelved before they are old. i am one of them." he laughed as he spoke, and looked at his companion. sybil linforth was now thirty-eight years old, but the fourteen years had not set upon her the marks of their passage as they had upon dewes. indeed, she still retained a look of youth, and all the slenderness of her figure. dewes grumbled to her with a smile upon his face. "i wonder how in the world you do it. here am i white-haired and creased like a dry pippin. there are you--" and he broke off. "i suppose it's the boy who keeps you young. how is he?" a look of anxiety troubled mrs. linforth's face; into her eyes there came a glint of fear. colonel dewes' voice became gentle with concern. "what's the matter, sybil?" he said. "is he ill?" "no, he is quite well." "then what is it?" sybil linforth looked down for a moment at the gravel of the garden-path. then, without raising her eyes, she said in a low voice: "i am afraid." "ah," said dewes, as he rubbed his chin, "i see." it was his usual remark when he came against anything which he did not understand. "you must let me have him for a week or two sometimes, sybil. boys will get into trouble, you know. it is their nature to. and sometimes a man may be of use in putting things straight." the hint of a smile glimmered about sybil linforth's mouth, but she repressed it. she would not for worlds have let her friend see it, lest he might be hurt. "no," she replied, "dick is not in any trouble. but--" and she struggled for a moment with a feeling that she ought not to say what she greatly desired to say; that speech would be disloyal. but the need to speak was too strong within her, her heart too heavily charged with fear. "i will tell you," she said, and, with a glance towards the open windows of the house, she led colonel dewes to a corner of the garden where, upon a grass mound, there was a garden seat. from this seat one overlooked the garden hedge. to the left, the little village of poynings with its grey church and tall tapering spire, lay at the foot of the gap in the downs where runs the brighton road. behind them the downs ran like a rampart to right and left, their steep green sides scarred here and there by landslips and showing the white chalk. far away the high trees of chanctonbury ring stood out against the sky. "dick has secrets," sybil said, "secrets from me. it used not to be so. i have always known how a want of sympathy makes a child hide what he feels and thinks, and drives him in upon himself, to feed his thoughts with imaginings and dreams. i have seen it. i don't believe that anything but harm ever comes of it. it builds up a barrier which will last for life. i did not want that barrier to rise between dick and me--i--" and her voice shook a little--"i should be very unhappy if it were to rise. so i have always tried to be his friend and comrade, rather than his mother." "yes," said colonel dewes, wisely nodding his head. "i have seen you playing cricket with him." colonel dewes had frequently been puzzled by a peculiar change of manner in his friends. when he made a remark which showed how clearly he understood their point of view and how closely he was in agreement with it, they had a way of becoming reticent in the very moment of expansion. the current of sympathy was broken, and as often as not they turned the conversation altogether into a conventional and less interesting channel. that change of manner became apparent now. sybil linforth leaned back and abruptly ceased to speak. "please go on," said dewes, turning towards her. she hesitated, and then with a touch of reluctance continued: "i succeeded until a month or so ago. but a month or so ago the secrets came. oh, i know him so well. he is trying to hide that there are any secrets lest his reticence should hurt me. but we have been so much together, so much to each other--how should i not know?" and again she leaned forward with her hands clasped tightly together upon her knees and a look of great distress lying like a shadow upon her face. "the first secrets," she continued, and her voice trembled, "i suppose they are always bitter to a mother. but since i have nothing but dick they hurt me more deeply than is perhaps reasonable"; and she turned towards her companion with a poor attempt at a smile. "what sort of secrets?" asked dewes. "what is he hiding?" "i don't know," she replied, and she repeated the words, adding to them slowly others. "i don't know--and i am a little afraid to guess. but i know that something is stirring in his mind, something is--" and she paused, and into her eyes there came a look of actual terror--"something is calling him. he goes alone up on to the top of the downs, and stays there alone for hours. i have seen him. i have come upon him unawares lying on the grass with his face towards the sea, his lips parted, and his eyes strained, his face absorbed. he has been so lost in dreams that i have come close to him through the grass and stood beside him and spoken to him before he grew aware that anyone was near." "perhaps he wants to be a sailor," suggested dewes. "no, i do not think it is that," sybil answered quietly. "if it were so, he would have told me." "yes," dewes admitted. "yes, he would have told you. i was wrong." "you see," mrs. linforth continued, as though dewes had not interrupted, "it is not natural for a boy at his age to want to be alone, is it? i don't think it is good either. it is not natural for a boy of his age to be thoughtful. i am not sure that that is good. i am, to tell you the truth, very troubled." dewes looked at her sharply. something, not so much in her words as in the careful, slow manner of her speech, warned him that she was not telling him all of the trouble which oppressed her. her fears were more definite than she had given him as yet reason to understand. there was not enough in what she had said to account for the tense clasp of her hands, and the glint of terror in her eyes. "anyhow, he's going to the big school next term," he said; "that is, if you haven't changed your mind since you last wrote to me, and i hope you haven't changed your mind. all that he wants really," the colonel added with unconscious cruelty, "is companions of his own age. he passed in well, didn't he?" sybil linforth's face lost for the moment all its apprehension. a smile of pride made her face very tender, and as she turned to dewes he thought to himself that really her eyes were beautiful. "yes, he passed in very high," she said. "eton, isn't it?" said dewes. "whose house?" she mentioned the name and added: "his father was there before him." then she rose from her seat. "would you like to see dick? i will show you him. come quietly." she led the way across the lawn towards an open window. it was a day of sunshine; the garden was bright with flowers, and about the windows rose-trees climbed the house-walls. it was a house of red brick, darkened by age, and with a roof of tiles. to dewes' eyes, nestling as it did beneath the great grass downs, it had a most homelike look of comfort. sybil turned with a finger on her lips. "keep this side of the window," she whispered, "or your shadow will fall across the floor." standing aside as she bade him, he looked into the room. he saw a boy seated at a table with his head between his hands, immersed in a book which lay before him. he was seated with his side towards the window and his hands concealed his face. but in a moment he removed one hand and turned the page. colonel dewes could now see the profile of his face. a firm chin, a beauty of outline not very common, a certain delicacy of feature and colour gave to him a distinction of which sybil linforth might well be proud. "he'll be a dangerous fellow among the girls in a few years' time," said dewes, turning to the mother. but sybil did not hear the words. she was standing with her head thrust forward. her face was white, her whole aspect one of dismay. dewes could not understand the change in her. a moment ago she had been laughing playfully as she led him towards the window. now it seemed as though a sudden disaster had turned her to stone. yet there was nothing visible to suggest disaster. dewes looked from sybil to the boy and back again. then he noticed that her eyes were riveted, not on dick's face, but on the book which he was reading. "what is the matter?" he asked. "hush!" said sybil, but at that moment dick lifted his head, recognised the visitor, and came forward to the window with a smile of welcome. there was no embarrassment in his manner, no air of being surprised. he had not the look of one who nurses secrets. a broad open forehead surmounted a pair of steady clear grey eyes. "well, dick, i hear you have done well in your examination," said the colonel, as he shook hands. "if you keep it up i will leave you all i save out of my pension." "thank you, sir," said dick with a laugh. "how long have you been back, colonel dewes?" "i left india a fortnight ago." "a fortnight ago." dick leaned his arms upon the sill and with his eyes on the colonel's face asked quietly: "how far does the road reach now?" at the side of colonel dewes sybil linforth flinched as though she had been struck. but it did not need that movement to explain to the colonel the perplexing problem of her fears. he understood now. the linforths belonged to the road. the road had slain her husband. no wonder she lived in terror lest it should claim her son. and apparently it did claim him. "the road through chiltistan?" he said slowly. "of course," answered dick. "of what other could i be thinking?" "they have stopped it," said the colonel, and at his side he was aware that sybil linforth drew a deep breath. "the road reaches kohara. it does not go beyond. it will not go beyond." dick's eyes steadily looked into the colonel's face; and the colonel had some trouble to meet their look with the same frankness. he turned aside and mrs. linforth said, "come and see my roses." dick went back to his book. the man and woman passed on round the corner of the house to a little rose-garden with a stone sun-dial in the middle, surrounded by low red brick walls. here it was very quiet. only the bees among the flowers filled the air with a pleasant murmur. "they are doing well--your roses," said dewes. "yes. these queen mabs are good. don't you think so? i am rather proud of them," said sybil; and then she broke off suddenly and faced him. "is it true?" she whispered in a low passionate voice. "is the road stopped? will it not go beyond kohara?" colonel dewes attempted no evasion with mrs. linforth. "it is true that it is stopped. it is also true that for the moment there is no intention to carry it further. but--but--" and as he paused sybil took up the sentence. "but it will go on, i know. sooner or later." and there was almost a note of hopelessness in her voice. "the power of the road is beyond the power of governments," she added with the air of one quoting a sentence. they walked on between the alleys of rose-trees and she asked: "did you notice the book which dick was reading?" "it looked like a bound volume of magazines." sybil nodded her head. "it was a volume of the 'fortnightly.' he was reading an article written forty years ago by andrew linforth--" and she suddenly cried out, "oh, how i wish he had never lived. he was an uncle of harry's--my husband. he predicted it. he was in the old company, then he became a servant of the government, and he was the first to begin the road. you know his history?" "no." "it is a curious one. when it was his time to retire, he sent his money to england, he made all his arrangements to come home, and then one night he walked out of the hotel in bombay, a couple of days before the ship sailed, and disappeared. he has never been heard of since." "had he no wife?" asked dewes. "no," replied sybil. "do you know what i think? i think he went back to the north, back to his road. i think it called him. i think he could not keep away." "but we should have come across him," cried dewes, "or across news of him. surely we should!" sybil shrugged her shoulders. "in that article which dick was reading, the road was first proposed. listen to this," and she began to recite: "the road will reach northwards, through chiltistan, to the foot of the baroghil pass, in the mountains of the hindu kush. not yet, but it will. many men will die in the building of it from cold and dysentery, and even hunger--englishmen and coolies from baltistan. many men will die fighting over it, englishmen and chiltis, and gurkhas and sikhs. it will cost millions of money, and from policy or economy successive governments will try to stop it; but the power of the road will be greater than the power of any government. it will wind through valleys so deep that the day's sunshine is gone within the hour. it will be carried in galleries along the faces of mountains, and for eight months of the year sections of it will be buried deep in snow. yet it will be finished. it will go on to the foot of the hindu kush, and then only the british rule in india will be safe." she finished the quotation. "that is what andrew linforth prophesied. much of it has already been justified. i have no doubt the rest will be in time. i think he went north when he disappeared. i think the road called him, as it is now calling dick." she made the admission at last quite simply and quietly. yet it was evident to dewes that it cost her much to make it. "yes," he said. "that is what you fear." she nodded her head and let him understand something of the terror with which the road inspired her. "when the trouble began fourteen years ago, when the road was cut and day after day no news came of whether harry lived or, if he died, how he died--i dreamed of it--i used to see horrible things happening on that road--night after night i saw them. dreadful things happening to dick and his father while i stood by and could do nothing. oh, it seems to me a living thing greedy for blood--our blood." she turned to him a haggard face. dewes sought to reassure her. "but there is peace now in chiltistan. we keep a close watch on that country, i can tell you. i don't think we shall be caught napping there again." but these arguments had little weight with sybil linforth. the tragedy of fourteen years ago had beaten her down with too strong a hand. she could not reason about the road. she only felt, and she felt with all the passion of her nature. "what will you do, then?" asked dewes. she walked a little further on before she answered. "i shall do nothing. if, when the time comes, dick feels that work upon that road is his heritage, if he wants to follow in his father's steps, i shall say not a single word to dissuade him." dewes stared at her. this half-hour of conversation had made real to him at all events the great strength of her hostility. yet she would put the hostility aside and say not a word. "that's more than i could do," he said, "if i felt as you do. by george it is!" sybil smiled at him with friendliness. "it's not bravery. do you remember the unfinished letter which you brought home to me from harry? there were three sentences in that which i cannot pretend to have forgotten," and she repeated the sentences: "'whether he will come out here, it is too early to think about. but the road will not be finished--and i wonder. if he wants to, let him.' it is quite clear--isn't it?--that harry wanted him to take up the work. you can read that in the words. i can imagine him speaking them and hear the tone he would use. besides--i have still a greater fear than the one of which you know. i don't want dick, when he grows up, ever to think that i have been cowardly, and, because i was cowardly, disloyal to his father." "yes, i see," said colonel dewes. and this time he really did understand. "we will go in and lunch," said sybil, and they walked back to the house. chapter vi a long walk the footsteps sounded overhead with a singular regularity. from the fireplace to the door, and back again from the door to the fireplace. at each turn there was a short pause, and each pause was of the same duration. the footsteps were very light; it was almost as though an animal, a caged animal, padded from the bars at one end to the bars at the other. there was something stealthy in the footsteps too. in the room below a man of forty-five sat writing at a desk--a very tall, broad-shouldered man, in clerical dress. twenty-five years before he had rowed as number seven in the oxford eight, with an eye all the while upon a mastership at his old school. he had taken a first in greats; he had obtained his mastership; for the last two years he had had a house. as he had been at the beginning, so he was now, a man without theories but with an instinctive comprehension of boys. in consequence there were no vacancies in his house, and the headmaster had grown accustomed to recommend the rev. mr. arthur pollard when boys who needed any special care came to the school. he was now so engrossed with the preparations for the term which was to begin to-morrow that for some while the footsteps overhead did not attract his attention. when he did hear them he just lifted his head, listened for a moment or two, lit his pipe and went on with his work. but the sounds continued. backwards and forwards from the fireplace to the door, the footsteps came and went--without haste and without cessation; stealthily regular; inhumanly light. their very monotony helped them to pass as unnoticed as the ticking of a clock. mr. pollard continued the preparation of his class-work for a full hour, and only when the dusk was falling, and it was becoming difficult for him to see what he was writing, did he lean back in his chair and stretch his arms above his head with a sigh of relief. then once more he became aware of the footsteps overhead. he rose and rang the bell. "who is that walking up and down the drawingroom, evans?" he asked of the butler. the butler threw back his head and listened. "i don't know, sir," he replied. "those footsteps have been sounding like that for more than an hour." "for more than an hour?" evans repeated. "then i am afraid, sir, it's the new young gentleman from india." arthur pollard started. "has he been waiting up there alone all this time?" he exclaimed. "why in the world wasn't i told?" "you were told, sir," said evans firmly but respectfully. "i came into the study here and told you, and you answered 'all right, evans.' but i had my doubts, sir, whether you really heard or not." mr. pollard hardly waited for the end of the explanation. he hurried out of the room and sprang up the stairs. he had arranged purposely for the young prince to come to the house a day before term began. he was likely to be shy, ill-at-ease and homesick, among so many strange faces and unfamiliar ways. moreover, mr. pollard wished to become better acquainted with the boy than would be easily possible once the term was in full swing. for he was something more of an experiment than the ordinary indian princeling from a state well under the thumb of the viceroy and the indian council. this boy came of the fighting stock in the north. to leave him tramping about a strange drawing-room alone for over an hour was not the best possible introduction to english ways and english life. mr. pollard opened the door and saw a slim, tall boy, with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the floor, walking up and down in the gloom. "shere ali," he said, and he held out his hand. the boy took it shyly. "you have been waiting here for some time," mr. pollard continued, "i am sorry. i did not know that you had come. you should have rung the bell." "i was not lonely," shere ali replied. "i was taking a walk." "yes, so i gathered," said the master with a smile. "rather a long walk." "yes, sir," the boy answered seriously. "i was walking from kohara up the valley, and remembering the landmarks as i went. i had walked a long way. i had come to the fort where my father was besieged." "yes, that reminds me," said pollard, "you won't feel so lonely to-morrow as you do to-day. there is a new boy joining whose father was a great friend of your father's. richard linforth is his name. very likely your father has mentioned that name to you." mr. pollard switched on the light as he spoke and saw shere all's face flash with eagerness. "oh yes!" he answered, "i know. he was killed upon the road by my uncle's people." "i have put you into the next room to his. if you will come with me i will show you." mr. pollard led the way along a passage into the boys' quarters. "this is your room. there's your bed. here's your 'burry,'" pointing to a bureau with a bookcase on the top. he threw open the next door. "this is linforth's room. by the way, you speak english very well." "yes," said shere ali. "i was taught it in lahore first of all. my father is very fond of the english." "well, come along," said mr. pollard. "i expect my wife has come back and she shall give us some tea. you will dine with us to-night, and we will try to make you as fond of the english as your father is." the next day the rest of the boys arrived, and mr. pollard took the occasion to speak a word or two to young linforth. "you are both new boys," he said, "but you will fit into the scheme of things quickly enough. he won't. he's in a strange land, among strange people. so just do what you can to help him." dick linforth was curious enough to see the son of the khan of chiltistan. but not for anything would he have talked to him of his father who had died upon the road, or of the road itself. these things were sacred. he greeted his companion in quite another way. "what's your name?" he asked. "shere ali," replied the young prince. "that won't do," said linforth, and he contemplated the boy solemnly. "i shall call you sherry-face," he said. and "sherry-face" the heir to chiltistan remained; and in due time the name followed him to college. chapter vii in the dauphinÉ the day broke tardily among the mountains of dauphiné. at half-past three on a morning of early august light should be already stealing through the little window and the chinks into the hut upon the meije. but the four men who lay wrapped in blankets on the long broad shelf still slept in darkness. and when the darkness was broken it was by the sudden spit of a match. the tiny blue flame spluttered for a few seconds and then burned bright and yellow. it lit up the face of a man bending over the dial of a watch and above him and about him the wooden rafters and walls came dimly into view. the face was stout and burned by the sun to the colour of a ripe apple, and in spite of a black heavy moustache had a merry and good-humoured look. little gold earrings twinkled in his ears by the light of the match. annoyance clouded his face as he remarked the time. "verdammt! verdammt!" he muttered. the match burned out, and for a while he listened to the wind wailing about the hut, plucking at the door and the shutters of the window. he climbed down from the shelf with a rustle of straw, walked lightly for a moment or two about the hut, and then pulled open the door quickly. as quickly he shut it again. from the shelf linforth spoke: "it is bad, peter?" "it is impossible," replied peter in english with a strong german accent. for the last three years he and his brother had acted as guides to the same two men who were now in the meije hut. "we are a strong party, but it is impossible. before i could walk a yard from the door, i would have to lend a lantern. and it is after four o'clock! the water is frozen in the pail, and i have never known that before in august." "very well," said linforth, turning over in his blankets. it was warm among the blankets and the straw, and he spoke with contentment. later in the day he might rail against the weather. but for the moment he was very clear that there were worse things in the world than to lie snug and hear the wind tearing about the cliffs and know that there was no chance of facing it. "we will not go back to la bérarde," he said. "the storm may clear. we will wait in the hut until tomorrow." and from a third figure on the shelf there came in guttural english: "yes, yes. of course." the fourth man had not wakened from his sleep, and it was not until he was shaken by the shoulder at ten o'clock in the morning that he sat up and rubbed his eyes. the fourth man was shere ali. "get up and come outside," said linforth. ten years had passed since shere ali had taken his long walk from kohara up the valley in the drawing-room of his house-master at eton. and those ten years had had their due effect. he betrayed his race nowadays by little more than his colour, a certain high-pitched intonation of his voice and an extraordinary skill in the game of polo. there had been a time of revolt against discipline, of inability to understand the points of view of his masters and their companions, and of difficulty to discover much sense in their institutions. it is to be remembered that he came from the hill-country, not from the plains of india. that honour was a principle, not a matter of circumstance, and that treachery was in itself disgraceful, whether it was profitable or not--here were hard sayings for a native of chiltistan. he could look back upon the day when he had thought a public-house with a great gilt sign or the picture of an animal over the door a temple for some particular sect of worshippers. "and, indeed, you are far from wrong," his tutor had replied to him. "but since we do not worship at that fiery shrine such holy places are forbidden us." gradually, however, his own character was overlaid; he was quick to learn, and in games quick to excel. he made friends amongst his schoolmates, he carried with him to oxford the charm of manner which is eton's particular gift, and from oxford he passed to london. he was rich, he was liked, and he found a ready welcome, which did not spoil him. luffe would undoubtedly have classed him amongst the best of the native princes who go to england for their training, and on that very account, would have feared the more for his future. shere ali was now just twenty-four, he was tall, spare of body and wonderfully supple of limbs, and but for a fulness of the lower lip, which was characteristic of his family, would have been reckoned more than usually handsome. he came out of the door of the hut and stood by the side of linforth. they looked up towards the meije, but little of that majestic mass of rock was visible. the clouds hung low; the glacier below them upon their left had a dull and unillumined look, and over the top of the breche de la meije, the pass to the left of their mountain, the snow whirled up from the further side like smoke. the hut is built upon a great spur of the mountain which runs down into the desolate valley des Étançons, and at its upper end melts into the great precipitous rock-wall which forms one of the main difficulties of the ascent. against this wall the clouds were massed. snow lay where yesterday the rocks had shone grey and ruddy brown in the sunlight, and against the great wall here and there icicles were hung. "it looks unpromising," said linforth. "but peter says that the mountain is in good condition. to-morrow it may be possible. it is worth while waiting. we shall get down to la grave to-morrow instead of to-day. that is all." "yes. it will make no difference to our plans," said shere ali; and so far as their immediate plans were concerned shere ali was right. but these two men had other and wider plans which embraced not a summer's holiday but a lifetime, plans which they jealously kept secret; and these plans, as it happened, the delay of a day in the hut upon the meije was deeply to affect. they turned back into the room and breakfasted. then linforth lit his pipe and once more curled himself up in his rug upon the straw. shere ali followed his example. and it was of the wider plans that they at once began to talk. "but heaven only knows when i shall get out to india," cried linforth after a while. "there am i at chatham and not a chance, so far as i can see, of getting away. you will go back first." it was significant that linforth, who had never been in india, none the less spoke habitually of going back to it, as though that country in truth was his native soil. shere ali shook his head. "i shall wait for you," he said. "you will come out there." he raised himself upon his elbow and glanced at his friend's face. linforth had retained the delicacy of feature, the fineness of outline which ten years before had called forth the admiration of colonel dewes. but the ten years had also added a look of quiet strength. a man can hardly live with a definite purpose very near to his heart without gaining some reward from the labour of his thoughts. though he speak never so little, people will be aware of him as they are not aware of the loudest chatterer in the room. thus it was with linforth. he talked with no greater wit than his companions, he made no greater display of ability, he never outshone, and yet not a few men were conscious of a force underlying his quietude of manner. those men were the old and the experienced; the unobservant overlooked him altogether. "yes," said shere ali, "since you want to come you will come." "i shall try to come," said linforth, simply. "we belong to the road," and for a little while he lay silent. then in a low voice he spoke, quoting from that page which was as a picture in his thoughts. "over the passes! over the snow passes to the foot of the hindu kush!" "then and then only india will be safe," the young prince of chiltistan added, speaking solemnly, so that the words seemed a kind of ritual. and to both they were no less. long before, when shere ali was first brought into his room, on his first day at eton, linforth had seen his opportunity, and seized it. shere ali's father retained his kingdom with an english resident at his elbow. shere ali would in due time succeed. linforth had quietly put forth his powers to make shere ali his friend, to force him to see with his eyes, and to believe what he believed. and shere ali had been easily persuaded. he had become one of the white men, he proudly told himself. here was a proof, the surest of proofs. the belief in the road--that was one of the beliefs of the white men, one of the beliefs which marked him off from the native, not merely in chiltistan, but throughout the east. to the white man, the road was the beginning of things, to the oriental the shadow of the end. shere ali sided with the white men. he too had faith in the road and he was proud of his faith because he shared it with the white men. "we shall be very glad of these expeditions, some day, in chiltistan," said linforth. shere ali stared. "it was for that reason--?" he asked. "yes." shere ali was silent for a while. then he said, and with some regret: "there is a great difference between us. you can wait and wait. i want everything done within the year." linforth laughed. he knew very well the impulsiveness of his friend. "if a few miles, or even a few furlongs, stand to my credit at the end, i shall not think that i have failed." they were both young, and they talked with the bright and simple faith in their ideals which is the great gift of youth. an older man might have laughed if he had heard, but had there been an older man in the hut to overhear them, he would have heard nothing. they were alone, save for their guides, and the single purpose for which--as they then thought--their lives were to be lived out made that long day short as a summer's night. "the government will thank us when the work is done," said shere ali enthusiastically. "the government will be in no hurry to let us begin," replied linforth drily. "there is a resident at your father's court. your father is willing, and yet there's not a coolie on the road." "yes, but you will get your way," and again confidence rang in the voice of the chilti prince. "it will not be i," answered linforth. "it will be the road. the power of the road is beyond the power of any government." "yes, i remember and i understand." shere ali lit his pipe and lay back among the straw. "at first i did not understand what the words meant. now i know. the power of the road is great, because it inspires men to strive for its completion." "or its mastery," said linforth slowly. "perhaps one day on the other side of the hindu kush, the russians may covet it--and then the road will go on to meet them." "something will happen," said shere ali. "at all events something will happen." the shadows of the evening found them still debating what complication might force the hand of those in authority. but always they came back to the russians and a movement of troops in the pamirs. yet unknown to both of them the something else had already happened, though its consequences were not yet to be foreseen. a storm had delayed them for a day in a hut upon the meije. they went out of the hut. the sky had cleared; and in the sunset the steep buttress of the promontoire ran sharply up to the great wall; above the wall the small square patch of ice sloped to the base of the grand pic and beyond the deep gap behind that pinnacle the long serrated ridge ran out to the right, rising and falling, to the doight de dieu. there were some heavy icicles overhanging the great wall, and linforth looked at them anxiously. there was also still a little snow upon the rocks. "it will be possible," said peter, cheerily. "tomorrow night we shall sleep in la grave." "yes, yes, of course," said his brother. they walked round the hut, looked for a little while down the stony valley des Étançons, with its one green patch up which they had toiled from la bérarde the day before, and returned to watch the purple flush of the sunset die off the crags of the meije. but the future they had planned was as a vision before their eyes, and even along the high cliffs of the dauphiné the road they were to make seemed to wind and climb. "it would be strange," said linforth, "if old andrew linforth were still alive. somewhere in your country, perhaps in kohara, waiting for the thing he dreamed to come to pass. he would be an old man now, but he might still be alive." "i wonder," said shere ali absently, and he suddenly turned to linforth. "nothing must come between us," he cried almost fiercely. "nothing to hinder what we shall do together." he was the more emotional of the two. the dreams to which they had given utterance had uplifted him. "that's all right," said linforth, and he turned back into the hut. but he remembered afterwards that it was shere ali who had protested against the possibility of their association being broken. they came out from the hut again at half-past three in the morning and looked up to a cloudless starlit sky which faded in the east to the colour of pearl. above their heads some knobs of rock stood out upon the thin crest of the buttress against the sky. in the darkness of a small couloir underneath the knobs peter was already ascending. the traverse of the meije even for an experienced mountaineer is a long day's climb. they reached the summit of the grand pic in seven hours, descended into the brèche zsigmondy, climbed up the precipice on the further side of that gap, and reached the pic central by two o'clock in the afternoon. there they rested for an hour, and looked far down to the village of la grave among the cornfields of the valley. there was no reason for any hurry. "we shall reach la grave by eight," said peter, but he was wrong, as they soon discovered. a slope which should have been soft snow down which they could plunge was hard ice, in which a ladder of steps must be cut before the glacier could be reached. the glacier itself was crevassed so that many a devour was necessary, and occasionally a jump; and evening came upon them while they were on the rocher de l'aigle. it was quite dark when at last they reached the grass slopes, and still far below them the lights were gleaming in la grave. to both men those grass slopes seemed interminable. the lights of la grave seemed never to come nearer, never to grow larger. little points of fire very far away--as they had been at first, so they remained. but for the slope of ground beneath his feet and the aching of his knees, linforth could almost have believed that they were not descending at all. he struck a match and looked at his watch and saw that it was after nine; and a little while after they had come to water and taken their fill of it, that it was nearly ten, but now the low thunder of the river in the valley was louder in his ears, and then suddenly he saw that the lights of la grave were bright and near at hand. linforth flung himself down upon the grass, and clasping his hands behind his head, gave himself up to the cool of the night and the stars overhead. "i could sleep here," he said. "why should we go down to la grave to-night?" "there is a dew falling. it will be cold when the morning breaks. and la grave is very near. it is better to go," said peter. the question was still in debate when above the roar of the river there came to their ears a faint throbbing sound from across the valley. it grew louder and suddenly two blinding lights flashed along the hill-side opposite. "a motor-car," said shere ali, and as he spoke the lights ceased to travel. "it's stopping at the hotel," said linforth carelessly. "no," said peter. "it has not reached the hotel. look, not by a hundred yards. it has broken down." linforth discussed the point at length, not because he was at all interested at the moment in the movements of that or of any other motor-car, but because he wished to stay where he was. peter, however, was obdurate. it was his pride to get his patron indoors each night. "let us go on," he said, and linforth wearily rose to his feet. "we are making a big mistake," he grumbled, and he spoke with more truth than he was aware. they reached the hotel at eleven, ordered their supper and bathed. it was half-past eleven before linforth and shere ali entered the long dining-room, and they found another party already supping there. linforth heard himself greeted by name, and turned in surprise. it was a party of four--two ladies and two men. one of the men had called to him, an elderly man with a bald forehead, a grizzled moustache, and a shrewd kindly face. "i remember you, though you can't say as much of me," he said. "i came down to chatham a year ago and dined at your mess as the guest of your colonel." linforth came forward with a smile of recognition. "i beg your pardon for not recognising you at once. i remember you, of course, quite well," he said. "who am i, then?" "sir john casson, late lieutenant-governor of the united provinces," said linforth promptly. "and now nothing but a bore at my club," replied sir john cheerfully. "we were motoring through to grenoble, but the car has broken down. you are mountain-climbing, i suppose. phyllis," and he turned to the younger of the two ladies, "this is mr. linforth of the royal engineers. my daughter, linforth!" he introduced the second lady. "mrs. oliver," he said, and linforth turning, saw that the eyes of mrs. oliver were already fixed upon him. he returned the look, and his eyes frankly showed her that he thought her beautiful. "and what are you going to do with yourself?" said sir john. "go to the country from which you have just come, as soon as i can," said linforth with a smile. at this moment the fourth of the party, a stout, red-faced, plethoric gentleman, broke in. "india!" he exclaimed indignantly. "bless my soul, what on earth sends all you young fellows racing out to india? a great mistake! i once went to india myself--to shoot a tiger. i stayed there for months and never saw one. not a tiger, sir!" but linforth was paying very little attention to the plethoric gentleman. sir john introduced him as colonel fitzwarren, and linforth bowed politely. then he asked of sir john: "your car was not seriously damaged, i suppose?" "keep us here two days," said sir john. "the chauffeur will have to go on by diligence to-morrow to get a new sparking plug. perhaps we shall see more of you in consequence." linforth's eyes travelled back to mrs. oliver. "we are in no hurry," he said slowly. "we shall rest here probably for a day or so. may i introduce my friend?" he introduced him as the son of the khan of chiltistan, and mrs. oliver's eyes, which had been quietly resting upon linforth's face, turned towards shere ali, and as quietly rested upon his. "then, perhaps, you can tell me," said colonel fitzwarren, "how it was i never saw a tiger in india, though i stayed there four months. a most disappointing country, i call it. i looked for a tiger everywhere and i never saw one--no, not one." the colonel's one idea of the indian peninsula was a huge tiger waiting somewhere in a jungle to be shot. but shere ali was paying no more attention to the colonel's disparagements than linforth had done. "will you join us at supper?" said sir john, and both young men replied simultaneously, "we shall be very pleased." sir john casson smiled. he could never quite be sure whether it was or was not to mrs. oliver's credit that her looks made so powerful an appeal to the chivalry of young men. "all young men immediately want to protect her," he was wont to say, "and their trouble is that they can't find anyone to protect her from." he watched shere ali and dick linforth with a sly amusement, and as a result of his watching promised himself yet more amusement during the next two days. he was roused from this pleasing anticipation by his irascible friend, colonel fitzwarren, who, without the slightest warning, flung a loud and defiant challenge across the table to shere all. "i don't believe there is one," he cried, and breathed heavily. shere ali interrupted his conversation with mrs. oliver. "one what?" he asked with a smile. "tiger, sir, tiger," said the colonel, rapping with his knuckles upon the table. "of what else should i be speaking? i don't believe there's a tiger in india outside the zoo. otherwise, why didn't i see one?" colonel fitzwarren glared at shere ali as though he held him personally responsible for that unhappy omission. sir john, however, intervened with smooth speeches and for the rest of supper the conversation was kept to less painful topics. but the colonel had not said his last word. as they went upstairs to their rooms he turned to shere ali, who was just behind him, and sighed heavily. "if i had shot a tiger in india," he said, with an indescribable look of pathos upon his big red face, "it would have made a great difference to my life." chapter viii a string of pearls "so you go to parties nowadays," said mrs. linforth, and sir john casson, leaning his back against the wall of the ball-room, puzzled his brains for the name of the lady with the pleasant winning face to whom he had just been introduced. at first it had seemed to him merely that her hearing was better than his. the "nowadays," however, showed that it was her memory which had the advantage. they were apparently old acquaintances; and sir john belonged to an old-fashioned school which thought it discourtesy to forget even the least memorable of his acquaintances. "you were not so easily persuaded to decorate a ball-room at mussoorie," mrs. linforth continued. sir john smiled, and there was a little bitterness in the smile. "ah!" he said, and there was a hint, too, of bitterness in his voice, "i was wanted to decorate ball-rooms then. so i didn't go. now i am not wanted. so i do." "that's not the true explanation," mrs. linforth said gently, and she shook her head. she spoke so gently and with so clear a note of sympathy and comprehension that sir john was at more pains than ever to discover who she was. to hardly anyone would it naturally have occurred that sir john casson, with a tail of letters to his name, and a handsome pension, enjoyed at an age when his faculties were alert and his bodily strength not yet diminished, could stand in need of sympathy. but that precisely was the fact, as the woman at his side understood. a great ruler yesterday, with a council and an organized government, subordinated to his leadership, he now merely lived at camberley, and as he had confessed, was a bore at his club. and life at camberley was dull. he looked closely at mrs. linforth. she was a woman of forty, or perhaps a year or two more. on the other hand, she might be a year or two less. she had the figure of a young woman, and though her dark hair was flecked with grey, he knew that was not to be accounted as a sign of either age or trouble. yet she looked as if trouble had been no stranger to her. there were little lines about the eyes which told their tale to a shrewd observer, though the face smiled never so pleasantly. in what summer, he wondered, had she come up to the hill station of mussoorie. "no," he said. "i did not give you the real explanation. now i will." he nodded towards a girl who was at that moment crossing the ball-room towards the door, upon the arm of a young man. "that's the explanation." mrs. linforth looked at the girl and smiled. "the explanation seems to be enjoying itself," she said. "yours?" "mine," replied sir john with evident pride. "she is very pretty," said mrs. linforth, and the sincerity of her admiration made the father glow with satisfaction. phyllis casson was a girl of eighteen, with the fresh looks and the clear eyes of her years. a bright colour graced her cheeks, where, when she laughed, the dimples played, and the white dress she wore was matched by the whiteness of her throat. she was talking gaily with the youth on whose arm her hand lightly rested. "who is he?" asked mrs. linforth. sir john raised his shoulders. "i am not concerned," he replied. "the explanation is amusing itself, as it ought to do, being only eighteen. the explanation wants everyone to love her at the present moment. when she wants only one, then it will be time for me to begin to get flurried." he turned abruptly to his companion. "i would like you to know her." "thank you," said mrs. linforth, as she bowed to an acquaintance. "would you like to dance?" asked sir john. "if so, i'll stand aside." "no. i came here to look on," she explained. "lady marfield," and she nodded towards their hostess, "is my cousin, and--well, i don't want to grow rusty. you see i have an explanation too--oh, not here! he's at chatham, and it's as well to keep up with the world--" she broke off abruptly, and with a perceptible start of surprise. she was looking towards the door. casson followed the direction of her eyes, and saw young linforth in the doorway. at last he remembered. there had been one hot weather, years ago, when this boy's father and his newly-married wife had come up to the hill-station of mussoorie. he remembered that linforth had sent his wife back to england, when he went north into chiltistan on that work from which he was never to return. it was the wife who was now at his side. "i thought you said he was at chatham," said sir john, as dick linforth advanced into the room. "so i believed he was. he must have changed his mind at the last moment." then she looked with a little surprise at her companion. "you know him?" "yes," said sir john, "i will tell you how it happened. i was dining eighteen months ago at the sappers' mess at chatham. and that boy's face came out of the crowd and took my eyes and my imagination too. you know, perhaps, how that happens at times. there seems to be no particular reason why it should happen at the moment. afterwards you realise that there was very good reason. a great career, perhaps, perhaps only some one signal act, an act typical of a whole unknown life, leaps to light and justifies the claim the young face made upon your sympathy. anyhow, i noticed young linforth. it was not his good looks which attracted me. there was something else. i made inquiries. the colonel was not a very observant man. linforth was one of the subalterns--a good bat and a good change bowler. that was all. only i happened to look round the walls of the sappers' mess. there are portraits hung there of famous members of that mess who were thought of no particular account when they were subalterns at chatham. there's one alive to-day. another died at khartoum." "yes," said mrs. linforth. "well, i made the acquaintance of your son that night," said sir john. mrs. linforth stood for a moment silent, her face for the moment quite beautiful. then she broke into a laugh. "i am glad i scratched your back first," she said. "and as for the cricket, it's quite true. i taught him to keep a straight bat myself." meanwhile, dick linforth was walking across the floor of the ball-room, quite unconscious of the two who talked of him. he was not, indeed, looking about him at all. it seemed to both his mother and sir john, as they watched him steadily moving in and out amongst the throng--for it was the height of the season, and lady marfield's big drawing-room in chesterfield gardens was crowded--that he was making his way to a definite spot, as though just at this moment he had a definite appointment. "he changed his mind at the last moment," said sir john with a laugh, which gave to him the look of a boy. "let us see who it is that has brought him up from chatham to london at the last moment!" "would it be fair?" asked mrs. linforth reluctantly. she was, indeed, no less curious upon the point than her companion, and while she asked the question, her eyes followed her son's movements. he was tall, and though he moved quickly and easily, it was possible to keep him in view. a gap in the crowd opened before them, making a lane--and at the end of the lane they saw linforth approach a lady and receive the welcome of her smile. for a moment the gap remained open, and then the bright frocks and black coats swept across the space. but both had seen, and mrs. linforth, in addition, was aware of a barely perceptible start made by sir john at her side. she looked at him sharply. his face had grown grave. "you know her?" asked mrs. linforth. there was anxiety in her voice. there was also a note of jealousy. "yes." "who is she?" "mrs. oliver. violet oliver." "married!" "a widow. i introduced her to your son at la grave in the dauphiné country last summer. our motor-car had broken down. we all stayed for a couple of days together in the same hotel. mrs. oliver is a friend of my daughter's. phyllis admires her very much, and in most instances i am prepared to trust phyllis' instincts." "but not in this instance," said mrs. linforth quietly. she had been quick to note a very slight embarrassment in sir john casson's manner. "i don't say that," he replied quickly--a little too quickly. "will you find me a chair?" said mrs. linforth, looking about her. "there are two over here." she led the way to the chairs which were placed in a nook of the room not very far from the door by which linforth had entered. she took her seat, and when sir john had seated himself beside her, she said: "please tell me what you know of her." sir john spread out his hands in protest. "certainly, i will. but there is nothing to her discredit, so far as i know, mrs. linforth--nothing at all. beyond that she is beautiful--really beautiful, as few women are. that, no doubt, will be looked upon as a crime by many, though you and i will not be of that number." sybil linforth maintained a determined silence--not for anything would she admit, even to herself, that violet oliver was beautiful. "you are telling me nothing," she said. "there is so little to tell," replied sir john. "violet oliver comes of a family which is known, though it is not rich. she studied music with a view to making her living as a singer. for she has a very sweet voice, though its want of power forbade grand opera. her studies were interrupted by the appearance of a cavalry captain, who made love to her. she liked it, whereas she did not like studying music. very naturally she married the cavalry officer. captain oliver took her with him abroad, and, i believe, brought her to india. at all events she knows something of india, and has friends there. she is going back there this winter. captain oliver was killed in a hill campaign two years ago. mrs. oliver is now twenty-three years old. that is all." mrs. linforth, however, was not satisfied. "was captain oliver rich?" she asked. "not that i know of," said sir john. "his widow lives in a little house at the wrong end of curzon street." "but she is wearing to-night very beautiful pearls," said sybil linforth quietly. sir john casson moved suddenly in his chair. moreover, sybil linforth's eyes were at that moment resting with a quiet scrutiny upon his face. "it was difficult to see exactly what she was wearing," he said. "the gap in the crowd filled up so quickly." "there was time enough for any woman," said mrs. linforth with a smile. "and more than time enough for any mother." "mrs. oliver is always, i believe, exquisitely dressed," said sir john with an assumption of carelessness. "i am not much of a judge myself." but his carelessness did not deceive his companion. sybil linforth was certain, absolutely certain, that the cause of the constraint and embarrassment which had been audible in sir john's voice, and noticeable in his very manner, was that double string of big pearls of perfect colour which adorned violet oliver's white throat. she looked sir john straight in the face. "would you introduce dick to mrs. oliver now, if you had not done it before?" she asked. "my dear lady," protested sir john, "if i met dick at a little hotel in the dauphiné, and did not introduce him to the ladies who were travelling with me, it would surely reflect upon dick, not upon the ladies"; and with that subtle evasion sir john escaped from the fire of questions. he turned the conversation into another channel, pluming himself upon his cleverness. but he forgot that the subtlest evasions of the male mind are clumsy and obvious to a woman, especially if the woman be on the alert. sybil linforth did not think sir john had showed any cleverness whatever. she let him turn the conversation, because she knew what she had set out to know. that string of pearls had made the difference between sir john's estimate of violet oliver last year and his estimate of her this season. chapter ix luffe is remembered violet oliver took a quick step forward when she caught sight of linforth's tall and well-knit figure coming towards her; and the smile with which she welcomed him was a warm smile of genuine pleasure. there were people who called violet oliver affected--chiefly ladies. but phyllis casson was not one of them. "there is no one more natural in the room," she was in the habit of stoutly declaring when she heard the gossips at work, and we know, on her father's authority, that phyllis casson's judgments were in most instances to be respected. certainly it was not violet oliver's fault that her face in repose took on a wistful and pathetic look, and that her dark quiet eyes, even when her thoughts were absent--and her thoughts were often absent--rested pensively upon you with an unconscious flattery. it appeared that she was pondering deeply who and what you were; whereas she was probably debating whether she should or should not powder her nose before she went in to supper. nor was she to blame because at the approach of a friend that sweet and thoughtful face would twinkle suddenly into mischief and amusement. "she is as god made her," phyllis casson protested, "and he made her beautiful." it will be recognised, therefore, that there was truth in sir john's observation that young men wanted to protect her. but the bald statement is not sufficient. whether that quick transition from pensiveness to a dancing gaiety was the cause, or whether it only helped her beauty, this is certain. young men went down before her like ninepins in a bowling alley. there was something singularly virginal about her. she had, too, quite naturally, an affectionate manner which it was difficult to resist; and above all she made no effort ever. what she said and what she did seemed always purely spontaneous. for the rest, she was a little over the general height of women, and even looked a little taller. for she was very fragile, and dainty, like an exquisite piece of china. her head was small, and, poised as it was upon a slender throat, looked almost overweighted by the wealth of her dark hair. her features were finely chiselled from the nose to the oval of her chin, and the red bow of her lips; and, with all her fragility, a delicate colour in her cheeks spoke of health. "you have come!" she said. linforth took her little white-gloved hand in his. "you knew i should," he answered. "yes, i knew that. but i didn't know that i should have to wait," she replied reproachfully. "i was here, in this corner, at the moment." "i couldn't catch an earlier train. i only got your telegram saying you would be at the dance late in the afternoon." "i did not know that i should be coming until this morning," she said. "then it was very kind of you to send the telegram at all." "yes, it was," said violet oliver simply, and linforth laughed. "shall we dance?" he asked. mrs. oliver nodded. "round the room as far as the door. i am hungry. we will go downstairs and have supper." linforth could have wished for nothing better. but the moment that his arm was about her waist and they had started for the door, violet oliver realised that her partner was the lightest dancer in the room. she herself loved dancing, and for once in a way to be steered in and out amongst the couples without a bump or even a single entanglement of her satin train was a pleasure not to be foregone. she gave herself up to it. "let us go on," she said. "i did not know. you see, we have never danced together before. i had not thought of you in that way." she ceased to speak, being content to dance. linforth for his part was content to watch her, to hold her as something very precious, and to evoke a smile upon her lips when her eyes met his. "i had not thought of you in that way!" she had said. did not that mean that she had at all events been thinking of him in some way? and with that flattery still sweet in his thoughts, he was aware that her feet suddenly faltered. he looked at her face. it had changed. yet so swiftly did it recover its composure that linforth had not even the time to understand what the change implied. annoyance, surprise, fear! one of these feelings, certainly, or perhaps a trifle of each. linforth could not make sure. there had been a flash of some sudden emotion. that at all events was certain. but in guessing fear, he argued, his wits must surely have gone far astray; though fear was the first guess which he had made. "what was the matter?" violet oliver answered readily. "a big man was jigging down upon us. i saw him over your shoulder. i dislike being bumped by big men," she said, with a little easy laugh. "and still more i hate having a new frock torn." dick linforth was content with the answer. but it happened that sybil linforth was looking on from her chair in the corner, and the corner was very close to the spot where for a moment violet oliver had lost countenance. she looked sharply at sir john casson, who might have noticed or might not. his face betrayed nothing whatever. he went on talking placidly, but mrs. linforth ceased to listen to him. violet oliver waltzed with her partner once more round the room. then she said: "let us stop!" and in almost the same breath she added, "oh, there's your friend." linforth turned and saw standing just within the doorway his friend shere ali. "you could hardly tell that he was not english," she went on; and indeed, with his straight features, his supple figure, and a colour no darker than many a sunburnt englishman wears every august, shere ali might have passed unnoticed by a stranger. it seemed that he had been watching for the couple to stop dancing. for no sooner had they stopped than he advanced quickly towards them. linforth, however, had not as yet noticed him. "it can't be shere ali," he said. "he is in the country. i heard from him only to-day." "yet it is he," said mrs. oliver, and then linforth saw him. "hallo!" he said softly to himself, and as shere ali joined them he added aloud, "something has happened." "yes, i have news," said shere ali. but he was looking at mrs. oliver, and spoke as though the news had been pushed for a moment into the back of his mind. "what is it?" asked linforth. shere ali turned to linforth. "i go back to chiltistan." "when?" asked linforth, and a note of envy was audible in his voice. mrs. oliver heard it and understood it. she shrugged her shoulders impatiently. "by the first boat to bombay." "in a week's time, then?" said mrs. oliver, quickly. shere ali glanced swiftly at her, seeking the meaning of that question. did regret prompt it? or, on the other hand, was she glad? "yes, in a week's time," he replied slowly. "why?" asked linforth. "is there trouble in chiltistan?" he spoke regretfully. it would be hard luck if that uneasy state were to wake again into turmoil while he was kept kicking his heels at chatham. "yes, there is trouble," shere ali replied. "but it is not the kind of trouble which will help you forward with the road." the trouble, indeed, was of quite another kind. the russians were not stirring behind the hindu kush or on the pamirs. the turbulent people of chiltistan were making trouble, and profit out of the trouble, it is true. that they would be sure to do somewhere, and, moreover, they would do it with a sense of humour more common upon the frontier than in the provinces of india. but they were not at the moment making trouble in their own country. they were heard of in masulipatam and other cities of madras, where they were badly wanted by the police and not often caught. the quarrel in chiltistan lay between the british raj, as represented by the resident, and the khan, who was spending the revenue of his state chiefly upon his own amusements. it was claimed that the resident should henceforth supervise the disposition of the revenue, and it had been suggested to the khan that unless he consented to the proposal he would have to retire into private life in some other quarter of the indian peninsula. to give to the suggestion the necessary persuasive power, the young prince was to be brought back at once, so that he might be ready at a moment's notice to succeed. this reason, however, was not given to shere ali. he was merely informed by the indian government that he must return to his country at once. shere ali stood before mrs. oliver. "you will give me a dance?" he said. "after supper," she replied, and she laid her hand within linforth's arm. but shere ali did not give way. "where shall i find you?" he asked. "by the door, here." and upon that shere ali's voice changed to one of appeal. there came a note of longing into his voice. he looked at violet oliver with burning eyes. he seemed unaware linforth was standing by. "you will not fail me?" he said; and linforth moved impatiently. "no. i shall be there," said violet oliver, and she spoke hurriedly and moved by through the doorway. beneath her eyelids she stole a glance at her companion. his face was clouded. the scene which he had witnessed had jarred upon him, and still jarred. when he spoke to her his voice had a sternness which violet oliver had not heard before. but she had always been aware that it might be heard, if at any time he disapproved. "'your friend,' you called him, speaking to me," he said. "it seems that he is your friend too." "he was with you at la grave. i met him there." "he comes to your house?" "he has called once or twice," said mrs. oliver submissively. it was by no wish of hers that shere ali had appeared at this dance. she had, on the contrary, been at some pains to assure herself that he would not be there. and while she answered linforth she was turning over in her mind a difficulty which had freshly arisen. shere ali was returning to india. in some respects that was awkward. but linforth's ill-humour promised her a way of escape. he was rather silent during the earlier part of their supper. they had a little table to themselves, and while she talked, and talked with now and then an anxious glance at linforth, he was content to listen or to answer shortly. finally she said: "i suppose you will not see your friend again before he starts?" "yes, i shall," replied linforth, and the frown gathered afresh upon his forehead. "he dines to-morrow night with me at chatham." "then i want to ask you something," she continued. "i want you not to mention to him that i am paying a visit to india in the cold weather." linforth's face cleared in an instant. "i am glad that you have made that request," he said frankly. "i have no right to say it, perhaps. but i think you are wise." "things are possible here," she agreed, "which are impossible there." "friendship, for instance." "some friendships," said mrs. oliver; and the rest of their supper they ate cheerily enough. violet oliver was genuinely interested in her partner. she was not very familiar with the large view and the definite purpose. those who gathered within her tiny drawing-room, who sought her out at balls and parties, were, as a rule, the younger men of the day, and linforth, though like them in age and like them, too, in his capacity for enjoyment, was different in most other ways. for the large view and the definite purpose coloured all his life, and, though he spoke little of either, set him apart. mrs. oliver did not cultivate many illusions about herself. she saw very clearly what manner of men they were to whom her beauty made its chief appeal--lean-minded youths for the most part not remarkable for brains--and she was sincerely proud that linforth sought her out no less than they did. she could imagine herself afraid of linforth, and that fancy gave her a little thrill of pleasure. she understood that he could easily be lost altogether, that if once he went away he would not return; and that knowledge made her careful not to lose him. moreover, she had brains herself. she led him on that evening, and he spoke with greater freedom than he had used with her before--greater freedom, she hoped, than he had used with anyone. the lighted supper-room grew dim before his eyes, the noise and the laughter and the passing figures of the other guests ceased to be noticed. he talked in a low voice, and with his keen face pushed a trifle forward as though, while he spoke, he listened. he was listening to the call of the road. he stopped abruptly and looked anxiously at violet. "have i bored you?" he asked. "generally i watch you," he added with a smile, "lest i should bore you. to-night i haven't watched." "for that reason i have been interested to-night more than i have been before." she gathered up her fan with a little sigh. "i must go upstairs again," she said, and she rose from her chair. "i am sorry. but i have promised dances." "i will take you up. then i shall go." "you will dance no more?" "no," he said with a smile. "i'll not spoil a perfect evening." violet oliver was not given to tricks or any play of the eyelids. she looked at him directly, and she said simply "thank you." he took her up to the landing, and came down stairs again for his hat and coat. but, as he passed with them along the passage door he turned, and looking up the stairs, saw violet oliver watching him. she waved her hand lightly and smiled. as the door closed behind him she returned to the ball-room. linforth went away with no suspicion in his mind that she had stayed her feet upon the landing merely to make very sure that he went. he had left his mother behind, however, and she was all suspicion. she had remarked the little scene when shere ali had unexpectedly appeared. she had noticed the embarrassment of violet oliver and the anger of shere ali. it was possible that sir john casson had also not been blind to it. for, a little time afterwards, he nodded towards shere ali. "do you know that boy?" he asked. "yes. he is dick's great friend. they have much in common. his father was my husband's friend." "and both believed in the new road, i know," said sir john. he pulled at his grey moustache thoughtfully, and asked: "have the sons the road in common, too?" a shadow darkened sybil linforth's face. she sat silent for some seconds, and when she answered, it was with a great reluctance. "i believe so," she said in a low voice, and she shivered. she turned her face towards casson. it was troubled, fear-stricken, and in that assembly of laughing and light-hearted people it roused him with a shock. "i wish, with all my heart, that they had not," she added, and her voice shook and trembled as she spoke. the terrible story of linforth's end, long since dim in sir john casson's recollections, came back in vivid detail. he said no more upon that point. he took mrs. linforth down to supper, and bringing her back again, led her round the ball-room. an open archway upon one side led into a conservatory, where only fairy lights glowed amongst the plants and flowers. as the couple passed this archway, sir john looked in. he did not stop, but, after they had walked a few yards further, he said: "was it pale blue that violet oliver was wearing? i am not clever at noticing these things." "yes, pale blue and--pearls," said sybil linforth. "there is no need that we should walk any further. here are two chairs," said sir john. there was in truth no need. he had ascertained something about which, in spite of his outward placidity, he had been very curious. "did you ever hear of a man named luffe?" he asked. sybil linforth started. it had been luffe whose continual arguments, entreaties, threats, and persuasions had caused the road long ago to be carried forward. but she answered quietly, "yes." "of course you and i remember him," said sir john. "but how many others? that's the penalty of indian service. you are soon forgotten, in india as quickly as here. in most cases, no doubt, it doesn't matter. men just as good and younger stand waiting at the milestones to carry on the torch. but in some cases i think it's a pity." "in mr. luffe's case?" asked sybil linforth. "particularly in luffe's case," said sir john. chapter x an unanswered question sir john had guessed aright. shere ali was in the conservatory, and violet oliver sat by his side. "i did not expect you to-night," she said lightly, as she opened and shut her fan. "nor did i mean to come," he answered. "i had arranged to stay in the country until to-morrow. but i got my letter from the india office this morning. it left me--restless." he uttered the word with reluctance, and almost with an air of shame. then he clasped his hands together, and blurted out violently: "it left me miserable. i could not stay away," and he turned to his companion. "i wanted to see you, if only for five minutes." it was violet oliver's instinct to be kind. she fitted herself naturally to the words of her companions, sympathised with them in their troubles, laughed with them when they were at the top of their spirits. so now her natural kindness made her eyes gentle. she leaned forward. "did you?" she asked softly. "and yet you are going home!" "i am going back to chiltistan," said shere ali. "home!" violet oliver repeated, dwelling upon the word with a friendly insistence. but the young prince did not assent; he remained silent--so long silent that violet oliver moved uneasily. she was conscious of suspense; she began to dread his answer. he turned to her quickly as she moved. "you say that i am going home. that's the whole question," he said. "i am trying to answer it--and i can't. listen!" into the quiet and dimly lit place of flowers the music of the violins floated with a note of wistfulness in the melody they played--a suggestion of regret. through a doorway at the end of the conservatory shere ali could see the dancers swing by in the lighted ball-room, the women in their bright frocks and glancing jewels, some of whom had flattered him, a few of whom had been his friends, and all of whom had treated him as one of their own folk and their equal. "i have heard the tune, which they are playing, before," he said slowly. "i heard it one summer night in geneva. linforth and i had come down from the mountains. we were dining with a party on the balcony of a restaurant over the lake. a boat passed hidden by the darkness. we could hear the splash of the oars. there were musicians in the boat playing this melody. we were all very happy that night. and i hear it again now--when i am with you. i think that i shall remember it very often in chiltistan." there was so unmistakable a misery in his manner, in his voice, in his dejected looks, that violet was moved to a deep sympathy. he was only a boy, of course, but he was a boy sunk in distress. "but there are your plans," she urged. "have you forgotten them? you were going to do so much. there was so much to do. so many changes, so many reforms which must be made. you used to talk to me so eagerly. no more of your people were to be sold into slavery. you were going to stop all that. you were going to silence the mullahs when they preached sedition and to free chiltistan from their tyranny." violet remembered with a whimsical little smile how shere all's enthusiasm had wearied her, but she checked the smile and continued: "are all those plans mere dreams and fancies?" "no," replied shere ali, lifting his head. "no," he said again with something of violence in the emphasis; and for a moment he sat erect, with his shoulders squared, fronting his destiny. almost for a moment he recaptured that for which he had been seeking--his identity with his own race. but the moment passed. his attitude relaxed. he turned to violet with troubled eyes. "no, they are not dreams; they are things which need to be done. but i can't realise them now, with you sitting here, any more than i can realise, with this music in my ears, that it is my home to which i am going back." "oh, but you will!" cried violet. "when you are out there you will. there's the road, too, the road which you and mr. linforth--" she did not complete the sentence. with a low cry shere all broke in upon her words. he leaned forward, with his hands covering his face. "yes," he whispered, "there's the road--there's the road." a passion of self-reproach shook him. not for nothing had linforth been his friend. "i feel a traitor," he cried. "for ten years we have talked of that road, planned it, and made it in thought, poring over the maps. yes, for even at the beginning, in our first term at eton, we began. over the passes to the foot of the hindu kush! only a year ago i was eager, really, honestly eager," and he paused for a moment, wondering at that picture of himself which his words evoked, wondering whether it was indeed he--he who sat in the conservatory--who had cherished those bright dreams of a great life in chiltistan. "yes, it is true. i was honestly eager to go back." "less than a year ago," said violet oliver quickly. "less than a week ago. when did i see you last? on sunday, wasn't it?" "but was i honest then?" exclaimed shere ali. "i don't know. i thought i was--right up to to-day, right up to this morning when the letter came. and then--" he made a despairing gesture, as of a man crumbling dust between his fingers. "i will tell you," he said, turning towards her. "i believe that the last time i was really honest was in august of last year. linforth and i talked of the road through a long day in the hut upon the meije. i was keen then--honestly keen. but the next evening we came down to la grave, and--i met you." "no," violet oliver protested. "that's not the reason." "i think it is," said shere ali quietly; and violet was silent. in spite of her pity, which was genuine enough, her thoughts went out towards shere ali's friend. with what words and in what spirit would he have received shere ali's summons to chiltistan? she asked herself the question, knowing well the answer. there would have been no lamentations--a little regret, perhaps, perhaps indeed a longing to take her with him. but there would have been not a thought of abandoning the work. she recognised that truth with a sudden spasm of anger, but yet admiration strove with the anger and mastered it. "if what you say is true," she said to shere ali gently, "i am very sorry. but i hope it is not true. you have been ten years here; you have made many friends. just for the moment the thought of leaving them behind troubles you. but that will pass." "will it?" he asked quietly. then a smile came upon his face. "there's one thing of which i am glad," he whispered. "yes." "you are wearing my pearls to-night." violet oliver smiled, and with a tender caressing movement her fingers touched and felt the rope of pearls about her neck. both the smile and the movement revealed violet oliver. she had a love of beautiful things, but, above all, of jewels. it was a passion with her deeper than any she had ever known. beautiful stones, and pearls more than any other stones, made an appeal to her which she could not resist. "they are very lovely," she said softly. "i shall be glad to remember that you wore them to-night," said shere ali; "for, as you know, i love you." "hush!" said mrs. oliver; and she rose with a start from her chair. shere ali did the same. "it's true," he said sullenly; and then, with a swift step, he placed himself in her way. violet oliver drew back quietly. her heart beat quickly. she looked into shere ali's face and was afraid. he was quite still; even the expression of his face was set, but his eyes burned upon her. there was a fierceness in his manner which was new to her. his hand darted out quickly towards her. but violet oliver was no less quick. she drew back yet another step. "i didn't understand," she said, and her lips shook, so that the words were blurred. she raised her hands to her neck and loosened the coils of pearls about it as though she meant to lift them off and return them to the giver. "oh, don't do that, please," said shere ali; and already his voice and his manner had changed. the sullenness had gone. now he besought. his english training came to his aid. he had learned reverence for women, acquiring it gradually and almost unconsciously rather than from any direct teaching. he had spent one summer's holidays with mrs. linforth for his hostess in the house under the sussex downs, and from her and from dick's manner towards her he had begun to acquire it. he had become conscious of that reverence, and proudly conscious. he had fostered it. it was one of the qualities, one of the essential qualities, of the white people. it marked the sahibs off from the eastern races. to possess that reverence, to be influenced and moved and guided by it--that made him one with them. he called upon it to help him now. almost he had forgotten it. "please don't take them off," he implored. "there was nothing to understand." and perhaps there was not, except this--that violet oliver was of those who take but do not give. she removed her hands from her throat. the moment of danger had passed, as she very well knew. "there is one thing i should be very grateful for," he said humbly. "it would not cause you very much trouble, and it would mean a great deal to me. i would like you to write to me now and then." "why, of course i will," said mrs. oliver, with a smile. "you promise?" "yes. but you will come back to england." "i shall try to come next summer, if it's only for a week," said shere ali; and he made way for violet. she moved a few yards across the conservatory, and then stopped for shere ali to come level with her. "i shall write, of course, to chiltistan," she said carelessly. "yes," he replied, "i go northwards from bombay. i travel straight to kohara." "very well. i will write to you there," said violet oliver; but it seemed that she was not satisfied. she walked slowly towards the door, with shere ali at her side. "and you will stay in chiltistan until you come back to us?" she asked. "you won't go down to calcutta at christmas, for instance? calcutta is the place to which people go at christmas, isn't it? i think you are right. you have a career in your own country, amongst your own people." she spoke urgently. and shere ali, thinking that thus she spoke in concern for his future, drew some pride from her encouragement. he also drew some shame; for she might have been speaking, too, in pity for his distress. "mrs. oliver," he said, with hesitation; and she stopped and turned to him. "perhaps i said more than i meant to say a few minutes ago. i have not forgotten really that there is much for me to do in my own country; i have not forgotten that i can thank all of you here who have shown me so much kindness by more than mere words. for i can help in chiltistan--i can really help." then came a smile upon violet oliver's face, and her eyes shone. "that is how i would have you speak," she cried. "i am glad. oh, i am glad!" and her voice rang with the fulness of her pleasure. she had been greatly distressed by the unhappiness of her friend, and in that distress compunction had played its part. there was no hardness in violet oliver's character. to give pain flattered no vanity in her. she understood that shere ali would suffer because of her, and she longed that he should find his compensation in the opportunities of rulership. "let us say good-bye here," he said. "we may not be alone again before i go." she gave him her hand, and he held it for a little while, and then reluctantly let it go. "that must last me until the summer of next year," he said with a smile. "until the summer," said violet oliver; and she passed out from the doorway into the ball-room. but as she entered the room and came once more amongst the lights and the noise, and the familiar groups of her friends, she uttered a little sigh of relief. the summer of next year was a long way off; and meanwhile here was an episode in her life ended as she wished it to end; for in these last minutes it had begun to disquiet her. shere ali remained behind in the conservatory. his eyes wandered about it. he was impressing upon his memory every detail of the place, the colours of the flowers and their very perfumes. he looked through the doorway into the ball-room whence the music swelled. the note of regret was louder than ever in his ears, and dominated the melody. to-morrow the lights, the delicate frocks, the laughing voices and bright eyes would be gone. the violins spoke to him of that morrow of blank emptiness softly and languorously like one making a luxury of grief. in a week's time he would be setting his face towards chiltistan; and, in spite of the brave words he had used to violet oliver, once more the question forced itself into his mind. "do i belong here?" he asked. "or do i belong to chiltistan?" on the one side was all that during ten years he had gradually learned to love and enjoy; on the other side was his race and the land of his birth. he could not answer the question; for there was a third possibility which had not yet entered into his speculations, and in that third possibility alone was the answer to be found. chapter xi at the gate of lahore shere ali, accordingly, travelled with reluctance to bombay, and at that port an anonymous letter with the postmark of calcutta was brought to him on board the steamer. shere ali glanced through it, and laughed, knowing well his countrymen's passion for mysteries and intrigues. he put the letter in his pocket and took the northward mail. these were the days before the north-west province had been severed from the punjab, and instructions had been given to shere ali to break his journey at lahore. he left the train, therefore, at that station, on a morning when the thermometer stood at over a hundred in the shade, and was carried in a barouche drawn by camels to government house. there a haggard and heat-worn commissioner received him, and in the cool of the evening took him for a ride, giving him sage advice with the accent of authority. "his excellency would have liked to have seen you himself," said the commissioner. "but he is in the hills and he did not think it necessary to take you so far out of your way. it is as well that you should get to kohara as soon as possible, and on particular subjects the resident, captain phillips, will be able and glad to advise you." the commissioner spoke politely enough, but the accent of authority was there. shere ali's ears were quick to notice and resent it. some years had passed since commands had been laid upon him. "i shall always be glad to hear what captain phillips has to say," he replied stiffly. "yes, yes, of course," said the commissioner, taking that for granted. "captain phillips has our views." he did not seem to notice the stiffness of shere ali's tone. he was tired with the strain of the hot weather, as his drawn face and hollow eyes showed clearly. "on general lines," he continued, "his excellency would like you to understand that the government has no intention and no wish to interfere with the customs and laws of chiltistan. in fact it is at this moment particularly desirable that you should throw your influence on the side of the native observances." "indeed," said shere ali, as he rode along the mall by the commissioner's side. "then why was i sent to oxford?" the commissioner was not surprised by the question, though it was abruptly put. "surely that is a question to ask of his highness, your father," he replied. "no doubt all you learnt and saw there will be extremely valuable. what i am saying now is that the government wishes to give no pretext whatever to those who would disturb chiltistan, and it looks to you with every confidence for help and support." "and the road?" asked shere ali. "it is not proposed to carry on the road. the merchants in kohara think that by bringing more trade, their profits would become less, while the country people look upon it as a deliberate attack upon their independence. the government has no desire to force it upon the people against their wish." shere ali made no reply, but his heart grew bitter within him. he had come out to india sore and distressed at parting from his friends, from the life he had grown to love. all the way down the red sea and across the indian ocean, the pangs of regret had been growing keener with each new mile which was gathered in behind the screw. he had lain awake listening to the throb of the engine with an aching heart, and with every longing for the country he had left behind growing stronger, every recollection growing more vivid and intense. there was just one consolation which he had. violet oliver had enheartened him to make the most of it, and calling up the image of her face before him, he had striven so to do. there were his plans for the regeneration of his country. and lo! here at lahore, three days after he had set foot on land, they were shattered--before they were begun. he had been trained and educated in the west according to western notions and he was now bidden to go and rule in the east according to the ideals of the east. bidden! for the quiet accent of authority in the words of the unobservant man who rode beside him rankled deeply. he had it in his thoughts to cry out: "then what place have i in chiltistan?" but though he never uttered the question, it was none the less answered. "economy and quiet are the two things which chiltistan needs," said the commissioner. then he looked carelessly at shere ali. "it is hoped that you will marry and settle down as soon as possible," he said. shere ali reined in his horse, stared for a moment at his companion and then began quietly to laugh. the laughter was not pleasant to listen to, and it grew harsher and louder. but it brought no change to the tired face of the commissioner, who had stopped his horse beside shere ali's and was busy with the buckle of his stirrup leather. he raised his head when the laughter stopped. and it stopped as abruptly as it had begun. "you were saying--" he remarked politely. "that i would like, if there is time, to ride through the bazaar." "certainly," said the commissioner. "this way," and he turned at right angles out of the mall and its avenue of great trees and led the way towards the native city. short of it, however, he stopped. "you won't mind if i leave you here," he said. "there is some work to be done. you can make no mistake. you can see the gate from here." "is that the delhi gate?" asked shere ali. "yes. you can find your own way back, no doubt"; and the unobservant commissioner rode away at a trot. shere ali went forward alone down the narrowing street towards the gate. he was aflame with indignation. so he was to be nothing, he was to do nothing, except to practice economy and marry--a _nigger_. the contemptuous word rose to his mind. long ago it had been applied to him more than once during his early school-days, until desperate battles and black eyes had won him immunity. now he used it savagely himself to stigmatise his own people. he was of the white people, he declared. he felt it, he looked it. even at that moment a portly gentleman of lahore in a coloured turban and patent-leather shoes salaamed to him as he passed upon his horse. "surely," he thought, "i am one of the sahibs. this fool of a commissioner does not understand." a woman passed him carrying a babe poised upon her head, with silver anklets upon her bare ankles and heavy silver rings upon her toes. she turned her face, which was overshadowed by a hood, to look at shere ali as he rode by. he saw the heavy stud of silver and enamel in her nostril, the withered brown face. he turned and looked at her, as she walked flat-footed and ungainly, her pyjamas of pink cotton showing beneath her cloak. he had no part or lot with any of these people of the east. the face of violet oliver shone before his eyes. there was his mate. he recalled the exquisite daintiness of her appearance, her ruffles of lace, the winning sweetness of her eyes. not in chiltistan would he find a woman to drive that image from his thoughts. meanwhile he drew nearer to the delhi gate. a stream of people flowed out from it towards him. over their heads he looked through the archway down the narrow street, where between the booths and under the carved overhanging balconies the brown people robed and turbaned, in saffron and blue, pink and white, thronged and chattered and jostled, a kaleidoscope of colour. shere ali turned his eyes to the right and the left as he went. it was not merely to rid himself of the commissioner that he had proposed to ride on to the bazaars by way of the delhi gate. the anonymous letter bearing the postmark of calcutta, which had been placed in his hand when the steamer reached bombay, besought him to pass by the delhi gate at lahore and do certain things by which means he would hear much to his advantage. he had no thought at the moment to do the particular things, but he was sufficiently curious to pass by the delhi gate. some intrigue was on hand into which it was sought to lure him. he had not forgotten that his countrymen were born intriguers. slowly he rode along. here and there a group of people were squatting on the ground, talking noisily. here and there a beggar stretched out a maimed limb and sought for alms. then close to the gate he saw that for which he searched: a man sitting apart with a blanket over his head. no one spoke to the man, and for his part he never moved. he sat erect with his legs crossed in front of him and his hands resting idly on his knees, a strange and rather grim figure; so motionless, so utterly lifeless he seemed. the blanket reached almost to the ground behind and hung down to his lap in front, and shere ali noticed that a leathern begging-bowl at his side was well filled with coins. so he must have sat just in that attitude, with that thick covering stifling him, all through the fiery heat of that long day. as shere ali looked, he saw a poor bent man in rags, with yellow caste marks on his forehead, add a copper pi to the collection in the bowl. shere ali stopped the giver. "who is he?" he asked, pointing to the draped figure. the old hindu raised his hand and bowed his forehead into the palm. "huzoor, he is a holy man, a stranger who has lately come to lahore, but the holiest of all the holy men who have ever sat by the delhi gate. his fame is already great." "but why does he sit covered with the blanket?" asked shere ali. "huzoor, because of his holiness. he is so holy that his face must not be seen." shere ali laughed. "he told you that himself, i suppose," he said. "huzoor, it is well known," said the old man. "he sits by the road all day until the darkness comes--" "yes," said shere ali, bethinking him of the recommendations in his letter, "until the darkness comes--and then?" "then he goes away into the city and no one sees him until the morning"; and the old man passed on. shere ali chuckled and rode by the hooded man. his curiosity increased. it was quite likely that the blanket hid a mohammedan pathan from beyond the hills. to come down into the plains and mulct the pious hindu by some such ingenious practice would appeal to the pathan's sense of humour almost as much as to his pocket. shere ali drew the letter from his pocket, and in the waning light read it through again. true, the postmark showed that the letter had been posted in calcutta, but more than one native of chiltistan had come south and set up as a money-lender in that city on the proceeds of a successful burglary. he replaced the letter in his pocket, and rode on at a walk through the throng. the darkness came quickly; oil lamps were lighted in the booths and shone though the unglazed window-spaces overhead. a refreshing coolness fell upon the town, the short, welcome interval between the heat of the day and the suffocating heat of the night. shere ali turned his horse and rode back again to the gate. the hooded beggar still sat upon the ground, but he was alone. the others, the blind and the maimed, had crawled away to their dens. except this grim motionless man, there was no one squatting upon the ground. shere ali reined in beside him, and bending forward in his saddle spoke in a low voice a few words of pushtu. the hooded figure did not move, but from behind the blanket there issued a muffled voice. "if your highness will ride slowly on, your servant will follow and come to his side." shere ali went on, and in a few moments he heard the soft patter of a man running barefoot along the dusty road. he stopped his horse and the patter of feet ceased, but a moment after, silent as a shadow, the man was at his side. "you are of my country?" said shere ali. "i am of kohara," returned the man. "safdar khan of kohara. may god keep your highness in health. we have waited long for your presence." "what are you doing in lahore?" asked shere ali. in the darkness he saw a flash of white as safdar khan smiled. "there was a little trouble, your highness, with one ishak mohammed and--ishak mohammed's son is still alive. he is a boy of eight, it is true, and could not hold a rifle to his shoulder. but the trouble took place near the road." shere ali nodded his head in comprehension. safdar khan had shot his enemy on the road, which is a holy place, and therefore he came within the law. "blood-money was offered," continued safdar khan, "but the boy would not consent, and claims my life. his mother would hold the rifle for him while he pulled the trigger. so i am better in lahore. moreover, your highness, for a poor man life is difficult in kohara. taxes are high. so i came down to this gate and sat with a cloak over my head." "and you have found it profitable," said shere ali. again the teeth flashed in the darkness and safdar khan laughed. "for two days i sat by the delhi gate and no one spoke to me or dropped a single coin in my bowl. but on the third day a good man, may god preserve him, passed by when i was nearly stifled and asked me why i sat in the heat of the sun under a blanket. thereupon i told him, what doubtless your highness knows, that my face is much too holy to be looked upon, and since then your highness' servant has prospered exceedingly. the device is a good one." suddenly safdar khan stumbled as he walked and lurched against the horse and its rider. he recovered himself in a moment, with prayers for forgiveness and curses upon his stupidity for setting his foot upon a sharp stone. but he had put out his hand as he stumbled and that hand had run lightly down shere ali's coat and had felt the texture of his clothes. "i had a letter from calcutta," said the prince, "which besought me to speak to you, for you had something for my ear. therefore speak, and speak quickly." but a change had come over safdar khan. certainly shere ali was wearing the dress of one of the sahibs. a man passed carrying a lantern, and the light, feeble though it was, threw into outline against the darkness a pith helmet and a very english figure. certainly, too, shere ali spoke the pushtu tongue with a slight hesitation, and an unfamiliar accent. he seemed to grope for words. "a letter?" he cried. "from calcutta? nay, how can that be? some foolish fellow has dared to play a trick," and in a few short, effective sentences safdar khan expressed his opinion of the foolish fellow and of his ancestry distant and immediate. "yet the letter bade me seek you by the delhi gate of lahore," continued shere ali calmly, "and by the delhi gate of lahore i found you." "my fame is great," replied safdar khan bombastically. "far and wide it has spread like the boughs of a gigantic tree." "rubbish," said shere ali curtly, breaking in upon safdar's vehemence. "i am not one of the hindu fools who fill your begging-bowl," and he laughed. in the darkness he heard safdar khan laugh too. "you expected me," continued shere ali. "you looked for my coming. your ears were listening for the few words of pushtu. why else should you say, 'ride forward and i will follow'?" safdar khan walked for a little while in silence. then in a voice of humility, he said: "i will tell my lord the truth. yes, some foolish talk has passed from one man to another, and has been thrown back again like a ball. i too," he admitted, "have been without wisdom. but i have seen how vain such talk is. the mullahs in the hills speak only ignorance and folly." "ah!" said shere ali. he took the letter from his pocket and tore it into fragments and scattered the fragments upon the road. "so i thought. the letter is of their prompting." "my lord, it may be so," replied safdar khan. "for my part i have no lot or share in any of these things. for i am now of lahore." "aye," said shere ali. "the begging-bowl is filled to overflowing at the delhi gate. so you are of lahore, though your name is safdar khan and you were born at kohara," and suddenly he leaned down and asked in a wistful voice with a great curiosity, "are you content? have you forgotten the hills and valleys? is lahore more to you than chiltistan?" so perpetually had shere all's mind run of late upon his isolation that it crept into all his thoughts. so now it seemed to him that there was some vague parallel between his mental state and that of safdar khan. but safdar khan's next words disabused him: "nay, nay," he said. "but the widow of a rich merchant in the city here, a devout and holy woman, has been greatly moved by my piety. she seeks my hand in marriage and--" here safdar khan laughed pleasantly--"i shall marry her. already she has given me a necklace of price which i have had weighed and tested to prove that she does not play me false. she is very rich, and it is too hot to sit in the sun under a blanket. so i will be a merchant of lahore instead, and live at my ease on the upper balcony of my house." shere ali laughed and answered, "it is well." then he added shrewdly: "but it is possible that you may yet at some time meet the man in calcutta who wrote the letter to me. if so, tell him what i did with it," and shere ali's voice became hard and stern. "tell him that i tore it up and scattered it in the dust. and let him send the news to the mullahs in the hills. i know that soft-handed brood with their well-fed bodies and their treacherous mouths. if only they would let me carry on the road!" he cried passionately, "i would drag them out of the houses where they batten on poor men's families and set them to work till the palms of their hands were honestly blistered. let the mullahs have a care, safdar khan. i go north to-morrow to kohara." he spoke with a greater vehemence than perhaps he had meant to show. but he was carried along by his own words, and sought always a stronger epithet than that which he had used. he was sore and indignant, and he vented his anger on the first object which served him as an opportunity. safdar khan bowed his head in the darkness. safe though he might be in lahore, he was still afraid of the mullahs, afraid of their curses, and mindful of their power to ruin the venturesome man who dared to stand against them. "it shall be as your highness wishes," he said in a low voice, and he hurried away from shere ali's side. abuse of the mullahs was dangerous--as dangerous to listen to as to speak. who knew but what the very leaves of the neem trees might whisper the words and bear witness against him? moreover, it was clear that the prince of chiltistan was a sahib. shere ali rode back to government house. he understood clearly why safdar khan had so unceremoniously fled; and he was glad. if the fool of a commissioner did not know him for what he was, at all events safdar khan did. he was one of the white people. for who else would dare to speak as he had spoken of the mullahs? the mullahs would hear what he had said. that was certain. they would hear it with additions. they would try to make things unpleasant for him in chiltistan in consequence. but shere ali was glad. for their very opposition--in so loverlike a way did every thought somehow reach out to violet oliver--brought him a little nearer to the lady who held his heart. he found the commissioner sealing up his letters in his office. that unobservant man had just written at length, privately and confidentially, both to the lieutenant-governor of the punjab at the hill-station and to the resident at kohara. and to both he had written to the one effect: "we must expect trouble in chiltistan." he based his conclusions upon the glimpse which he had obtained into the troubled feelings of shere ali. the next morning shere ali travelled northwards and forty-eight hours later from the top of the malakand pass he saw winding across the swat valley past chakdara the road which reached to kohara and there stopped. chapter xii on the polo-ground violet oliver travelled to india in the late autumn of that year, free from apprehension. somewhere beyond the high snow-passes shere ali would be working out his destiny among his own people. she was not of those who seek publicity either for themselves or for their gowns in the daily papers. shere ali would never hear of her visit; she was safe. she spent her christmas in calcutta, saw the race for the viceroy's cup run without a fear that on that crowded racecourse the importunate figure of the young prince of chiltistan might emerge to reproach her, and a week later went northwards into the united provinces. it was a year, now some while past, when a royal visitor came from a neighbouring country into india. and in his honour at one great city in those provinces the troops gathered and the tents went up. little towns of canvas, gay with bordered walks and flowers, were dotted on the dusty plains about and within the city. great ministers and functionaries came with their retinues and their guests. native princes from rajputana brought their elephants and their escorts. thither also came violet oliver. it was, indeed, to attend this durbar that she had been invited out from england. she stayed in a small camp on the great parade ground where the tents faced one another in a single street, each with its little garden of grass and flowers before the door. the ends of the street were closed in by posts, and outside the posts sentries were placed. it was a week of bright, sunlit, rainless days, and of starry nights. it was a week of reviews and state functions. but it was also a week during which the best polo to be seen in india drew the visitors each afternoon to the club-ground. there was no more constant attendant than violet oliver. she understood the game and followed it with a nice appreciation of the player's skill. the first round of the competition had been played off on the third day, but a native team organised by the ruler of a mohammedan state in central india had drawn a by and did not appear in the contest until the fourth day. mrs. oliver took her seat in the front row of the stand, as the opposing teams cantered into the field upon their ponies. a programme was handed to her, but she did not open it. for already one of the umpires had tossed the ball into the middle of the ground. the game had begun. the native team was matched against a regiment of dragoons, and from the beginning it was plain that the four english players were the stronger team. but on the other side there was one who in point of skill outstripped them all. he was stationed on the outside of the field farthest away from violet oliver. he was a young man, almost a boy, she judged; he was beautifully mounted, and he sat his pony as though he and it were one. he was quick to turn, quick to pass the ball; and he never played a dangerous game. a desire that the native team should win woke in her and grew strong just because of that slim youth's extraordinary skill. time after time he relieved his side, and once, as it seemed to her, he picked the ball out of the very goalposts. the bugle, she remembered afterwards, had just sounded. he drove the ball out from the press, leaned over until it seemed he must fall to resist an opponent who tried to ride him off, and then somehow he shook himself free from the tangle of polo-sticks and ponies. "oh, well done! well done!" cried violet oliver, clenching her hands in her enthusiasm. a roar of applause went up. he came racing down the very centre of the ground, the long ends of his white turban streaming out behind him like a pennant. the seven other players followed upon his heels outpaced and outplayed. he rode swinging his polo-stick for the stroke, and then with clean hard blows sent the ball skimming through the air like a bird. violet oliver watched him in suspense, dreading lest he should override the ball, or that his stroke should glance. but he made no mistake. the sound of the strokes rose clear and sharp; the ball flew straight. he drove it between the posts, and the players streamed in behind as though through the gateway of a beleaguered town. he had scored the first goal of the game at the end of the first chukkur. he cantered back to change his pony. but this time he rode along the edge of the stand, since on this side the ponies waited with their blankets thrown over their saddles and the syces at their heads. he ran his eyes along the row of onlookers as he cantered by, and suddenly violet oliver leaned forward. she had been interested merely in the player. now she was interested in the man who played. she was more than interested. for she felt a tightening of the heart and she caught her breath. "it could not be," she said to herself. she could see his face clearly, however, now; and as suddenly as she had leaned forward she drew back. she lowered her head, until her broad hat-brim hid her face. she opened her programme, looked for and found the names of the players. shere ali's stared her in the face. "he has broken his word," she said angrily to herself, quite forgetting that he had given no word, and that she had asked for none. then she fell to wondering whether or no he had recognised her as he rode past the stand. she stole a glance as he cantered back, but shere ali was not looking towards her. she debated whether she should make an excuse and go back to her camp. but if he had thought he had seen her, he would look again, and her empty place would be convincing evidence. moreover, the teams had changed goals. shere ali would be playing on this side of the ground during the next chukkur unless the dragoons scored quickly. violet oliver kept her place, but she saw little of the game. she watched shere ali's play furtively, however, hoping thereby to learn whether he had noticed her. and in a little while she knew. he played wildly, his strokes had lost their precision, he was less quick to follow the twists of the ball. shere ali had seen her. at the end of the game he galloped quickly to the corner, and when violet oliver came out of the enclosure she saw him standing, with his long overcoat already on his shoulders, waiting for her. violet oliver separated herself from her friends and went forward towards him. she held out her hand. shere ali hesitated and then took it. all through the game, pride had been urging him to hold his head high and seek not so much as a single word with her. but he had been alone for six months in chiltistan and he was young. "you might have let me know," he said, in a troubled voice. violet oliver faltered out some beginnings of an excuse. she did not want to bring him away from his work in chiltistan. but shere ali was not listening to the excuses. "i must see you again," he said. "i must." "no doubt we shall meet," replied violet oliver. "to-morrow," continued shere ali. "to-morrow evening. you will be going to the fort." there was to be an investiture, and after the investiture a great reception in the fort on the evening of the next day. it would be as good a place as any, thought violet oliver--nay, a better place. there would be crowds of people wandering about the fort. since they must meet, let it be there and soon. "very well," she said. "to-morrow evening," and she passed on and rejoined her friends. chapter xiii the invidious bar violet oliver drove back to her camp in the company of her friends and they remarked upon her silence. "you are tired, violet?" her hostess asked of her. "a little, perhaps," violet admitted, and, urging fatigue as her excuse, she escaped to her tent. there she took counsel of her looking-glass. "i couldn't possibly have foreseen that he would be here," she pleaded to her reflection. "he was to have stayed in chiltistan. i asked him and he told me that he meant to stay. if he had stayed there, he would never have known that i was in india," and she added and repeated, "it's really not my fault." in a word she was distressed and sincerely distressed. but it was not upon her own account. she was not thinking of the awkwardness to her of this unexpected encounter. but she realised that she had given pain where she had meant not to give pain. shere ali had seen her. he had been assured that she sought to avoid him. and this was not the end. she must go on and give more pain. violet oliver had hoped and believed that her friendship with the young prince was something which had gone quite out of her life. she had closed it and put it away, as you put away upon an upper shelf a book which you do not mean to read again. the last word had been spoken eight months ago in the conservatory of lady marfield's house. and behold they had met again. there must be yet another meeting, yet another last interview. and from that last interview nothing but pain could come to shere ali. therefore she anticipated it with a great reluctance. violet oliver did not live among illusions. she was no sentimentalist. she never made up and rehearsed in imagination little scenes of a melting pathos where eternal adieux were spoken amid tears. she had no appreciation of the woeful luxury of last interviews. on the contrary, she hated to confront distress or pain. it was in her character always to take the easier way when trouble threatened. she would have avoided altogether this meeting with shere ali, had it been possible. "it's a pity," she said, and that was all. she was reluctant, but she had no misgiving. shere ali was to her still the youth to whom she had said good-bye in lady marfield's conservatory. she had seen him in the flush of victory after a close-fought game, and thus she had seen him often enough before. it was not to be wondered at that she noted no difference at that moment. but the difference was there for the few who had eyes to see. he had journeyed up the broken road into chiltistan. at the fort of chakdara, in the rice fields on the banks of the swat river, he had taken his luncheon one day with the english commandant and the english doctor, and there he had parted with the ways of life which had become to him the only ways. he had travelled thence for a few hundred yards along a straight strip of road running over level ground, and so with the levies of dir to escort him he swung round to the left. a screen of hillside and grey rock moved across the face of the country behind him. the last outpost was left behind. the fort and the signal tower on the pinnacle opposite and the english flag flying over all were hidden from his sight. wretched as any exile from his native land, shere all went up into the lower passes of the himalayas. days were to pass and still the high snow-peaks which glittered in the sky, gold in the noonday, silver in the night time, above the valleys of chiltistan were to be hidden in the far north. but already the words began to be spoken and the little incidents to occur which were to ripen him for his destiny. they were garnered into his memories as separate and unrelated events. it was not until afterwards that he came to know how deeply they had left their marks, or that he set them in an ordered sequence and gave to them a particular significance. even at the fort of chakdara a beginning had been made. shere ali was standing in the little battery on the very summit of the fort. below him was the oblong enclosure of the men's barracks, the stone landings and steps, the iron railings, the numbered doors. he looked down into the enclosure as into a well. it might almost have been a section of the barracks at chatham. but shere ali raised his head, and, over against him, on the opposite side of a natural gateway in the hills, rose the steep slope and the signal tower. "i was here," said the doctor, who stood behind him, "during the malakand campaign. you remember it, no doubt?" "i was at oxford. i remember it well," said shere ali. "we were hard pressed here, but the handful of men in the signal tower had the worst of it," continued the doctor in a matter-of-fact voice. "it was reckoned that there were fourteen thousand men from the swat valley besieging us, and as they did not mind how many they lost, even with the maxims and our wire defences it was difficult to keep them off. we had to hold on to the signal tower because we could communicate with the people on the malakand from there, while we couldn't from the fort itself. the amandara ridge, on the other side of the valley, as you can see, just hides the pass from us. well, the handful of men in the tower managed to keep in communication with the main force, and this is how it was done. a sepoy called prem singh used to come out into full view of the enemy through a porthole of the tower, deliberately set up his apparatus, and heliograph away to the main force in the malakand camp, with the swatis firing at him from short range. how it was he was not hit, i could never understand. he did it day after day. it was the bravest and coolest thing i ever saw done or ever heard of, with one exception, perhaps. prem singh would have got the victoria cross--" and the doctor stopped suddenly and his face flushed. shere ali, however, was too keenly interested in the incident itself to take any note of the narrator's confusion. baldly though it was told, there was the square, strong tower with its door six feet from the ground, its machicoulis, its narrow portholes over against him, to give life and vividness to the story. here that brave deed had been done and daily repeated. shere ali peopled the empty slopes which ran down from the tower to the river and the high crags beyond the tower with the hordes of white-clad swatis, all in their finest robes, like men who have just reached the goal of a holy pilgrimage, as indeed they had. he saw their standards, he heard the din of their firearms, and high above them on the wall of the tower he saw the khaki-clad figure of a single sepoy calmly flashing across the valley news of the defenders' plight. "didn't he get the victoria cross?" he asked. "no," returned the doctor with a certain awkwardness. but still shere ali did not notice. "and what was the exception?" he asked eagerly. "what was the other brave deed you have seen fit to rank with this?" "that, too, happened over there," said the doctor, seizing upon the question with relief. "during the early days of the siege we were able to send in to the tower water and food. but when the first of august came we could help them no more. the enemy thronged too closely round us, we were attacked by night and by day, and stone sangars, in which the swatis lay after dark, were built between us and the tower. we sent up water to the tower for the last time at half-past nine on a saturday morning, and it was not until half-past four on the monday afternoon that the relieving force marched across the bridge down there and set us free." "they were without water for all that time--and in august?" cried shere ali. "no," the doctor answered. "but they would have been had the sepoy not found his equal. a bheestie"--and he nodded his head to emphasise the word--"not a soldier at all, but a mere water-carrier, a mere camp-follower, volunteered to go down to the river. he crept out of the tower after nightfall with his water-skins, crawled down between the sangars--and i can tell you the hill-side was thick with them--to the brink of the swat river below there, filled his skins, and returned with them." "that man, too, earned the victoria cross," said shere ali. "yes," said the doctor, "no doubt, no doubt." something of flurry was again audible in his voice, and this time shere ali noticed it. "earned--but did not get it?" he went on slowly; and turning to the doctor he waited quietly for an answer. the answer was given reluctantly, after a pause. "well! that is so." "why?" the question was uttered sharply, close upon the words which had preceded it. the doctor looked upon the ground, shifted his feet, and looked up again. he was a young man, and inexperienced. the question was repeated. "why?" the doctor's confusion increased. he recognised that his delay in answering only made the answer more difficult to give. it could not be evaded. he blurted out the truth apologetically. "well, you see, we don't give the victoria cross to natives." shere ali was silent for a while. he stood with his eyes fixed upon the tower, his face quite inscrutable. "yes, i guessed that would be the reason," he said quietly. "well," said his companion uncomfortably, "i expect some day that will be altered." shere ali shrugged his shoulders, and turned to go down. at the gateway of the fort, by the wire bridge, his escort, mounted upon their horses, waited for him. he climbed into the saddle without a word. he had been labouring for these last days under a sense of injury, and his thoughts had narrowed in upon himself. he was thinking. "i, too, then, could never win that prize." his conviction that he was really one of the white people, bolstered up as it had been by so many vain arguments, was put to the test of fact. the truth shone in upon his mind. for here was a coveted privilege of the white people from which he was debarred, he and the bheestie and the sepoy. they were all one, he thought bitterly, to the white people. the invidious bar of his colour was not to be broken. "good-bye," he said, leaning down from his saddle and holding out his hand. "thank you very much." he shook hands with the doctor and cantered down the road, with a smile upon his face. but the consciousness of the invidious bar was rankling cruelly at his heart, and it continued to rankle long after he had swung round the bend of the road and had lost sight of chakdara and the english flag. he passed through jandol and climbed the lowari pass among the fir trees and the pines, and on the very summit he met three men clothed in brown homespun with their hair clubbed at the sides of their heads. each man carried a rifle on his back and two of them carried swords besides, and they wore sandals of grass upon their feet. they were talking as they went, and they were talking in the chilti tongue. shere ali hailed them and bade them stop. "on what journey are you going?" he asked, and one of the three bowed low and answered him. "sir, we are going to mecca." "to mecca!" exclaimed shere ali. "how will you ever get to mecca? have you money?" "sir, we have each six rupees, and with six rupees a man may reach mecca from kurrachee. till we reach kurrachee, there is no fear that we shall starve. dwellers in the villages will befriend us." "why, that is true," said shere ali, "but since you are countrymen of my own and my father's subjects, you shall not tax too heavily your friends upon the road." he added to their scanty store of rupees, and one after another they thanked him and so went cheerily down the pass. shere ali watched them as they went, wondering that men should take such a journey and endure so much discomfort for their faith. he watched their dwindling figures and understood how far he was set apart from them. he was of their faith himself, nominally at all events, but mecca--? he shrugged his shoulders at the name. it meant no more to him than it did to the white people who had cast him out. but that chance meeting lingered in his memory, and as he travelled northwards, he would wonder at times by night at what village his three countrymen slept and by day whether their faith still cheered them on their road. he came at last to the borders of chiltistan, and travelled thenceforward through a country rich with orchards and green rice and golden amaranth. the terraced slopes of the mountains, ablaze with wild indigo, closed in upon him and widened out. above the terraces great dark forests of pines and deodars, maples and horse chestnuts clung to the hill sides; and above the forests grass slopes stretched up to bare rock and the snowfields. from the villages the people came out to meet him, and here and there from some castle of a greater importance a chieftain would ride out with his bodyguard, gay in velvets, and silks from bokhara and chogas of gold kinkob, and offer to him gold dust twisted up in the petal of a flower, which he touched and remitted. he was escorted to polo-grounds and sat for hours witnessing sports and trials of skill, and at night to the music of kettledrums and pipes men and boys danced interminably before him. there was one evening which he particularly remembered. he had set up his camp outside a large village and was sitting alone by his fire in the open air. the night was very still, the sky dark but studded with stars extraordinarily bright--so bright, indeed, that shere ali could see upon the water of the river below the low cliff on which his camp fire was lit a trembling golden path made by the rays of a planet. and as he sat, unexpectedly in the hush a boy with a clear, sweet voice began to sing from the darkness behind him. the melody was plaintive and sweet; a few notes of a pipe accompanied him; and as shere ali listened in this high valley of the himalayas on a summer's night, the music took hold upon him and wrung his heart. the yearning for all that he had left behind became a pain almost beyond endurance. the days of his boyhood and his youth went by before his eyes in a glittering procession. his school life, his first summer term at oxford, the cherwell with the shadows of the branches overhead dappling the water, the strenuous week of the eights, his climbs with linforth, and, above all, london in june, a london bright with lilac and sunshine and the fair faces of women, crowded in upon his memory. he had been steadily of late refusing to remember, but the sweet voice and the plaintive melody had caught him unawares. the ghosts of his dead pleasures trooped out and took life and substance. particular hours were lived through again--a motor ride alone with violet oliver to pangbourne, a dinner on the lawn outside the inn, the drive back to london in the cool of the evening. it all seemed very far away to-night. shere ali sat late beside his fire, nor when he went into his tent did he close his eyes. the next morning he rode among orchards bright with apricots and mulberries, peaches and white grapes, and in another day he looked down from a high cliff, across which the road was carried on a scaffolding, upon the town of kohara and the castle of his father rising in terraces upon a hill behind. the nobles and their followers came out to meet him with courteous words and protestations of good will. but they looked him over with curious and not too friendly eyes. news had gone before shere ali that the young prince of chiltistan was coming to kohara wearing the dress of the white people. they saw that the news was true, but no word or comment was uttered in his hearing. joking and laughing they escorted him to the gates of his father's palace. thus shere ali at the last had come home to kohara. of the life which he lived there he was to tell something to violet oliver. chapter xiv in the courtyard the investiture was over, and the guests, thronging from the hall of audience, came out beneath arches and saw the whole length of the great marble court spread before them. a vast canopy roofed it in, and a soft dim light pervaded it. to those who came from the glitter of the ceremonies it brought a sense of coolness and of peace. from the arches a broad flight of steps led downwards to the floor, where water gleamed darkly in a marble basin. lilies floated upon its surface, and marble paths crossed it to the steps at the far end; and here and there, in its depth, the reflection of a lamp burned steadily. at the far end steps rose again to a great platform and to gilded arches through which lights poured in a blaze, and gave to that end almost the appearance of a lighted stage, and made of the courtyard a darkened auditorium. from one flight of steps to the other, in the dim cool light, the guests passed across the floor of the court, soldiers in uniforms, civilians in their dress of state, jewelled princes of the native kingdoms, ladies in their bravest array. but now and again one or two would slip from the throng, and, leaving the procession, take their own way about the fort. among those who slipped away was violet oliver. she went to the side of the courtyard where a couch stood empty. there she seated herself and waited. in front of her the stream of people passed by talking and laughing, within view, within earshot if only one raised one's voice a trifle above the ordinary note. yet there was no other couch near. one might talk at will and not be overheard. it was, to violet oliver's thinking, a good strategic position, and there she proposed to remain till shere ali found her, and after he had found her, until he went away. she wondered in what guise he would come to her: a picturesque figure with a turban of some delicate shade upon his head and pearls about his throat, or--as she wondered, a young man in the evening dress of an englishman stepped aside from the press of visitors and came towards her. before she could, in that dim light, distinguish his face, she recognised him by the lightness of his step and the suppleness of his figure. she raised herself into a position a little more upright, and held out her hand. she made room for him on the couch beside her, and when he had taken his seat, she turned at once to speak. but shere ali raised his hand in a gesture of entreaty. "hush!" he said with a smile; and the smile pleaded with her as much as did his words. "just for a moment! we can argue afterwards. just for a moment, let us pretend." violet oliver had expected anger, accusations, prayers. even for some threat, some act of violence, she had come prepared. but the quiet wistfulness of his manner, as of a man too tired greatly to long for anything, took her at a disadvantage. but the one thing which she surely understood was the danger of pretence. there had been too much of pretence already. "no," she said. "just for a moment," he insisted. he sat beside her, watching the clear profile of her face, the slender throat, the heavy masses of hair so daintily coiled upon her head. "the last eight months have not been--could not be. yesterday we were at richmond, just you and i. it was sunday--you remember. i called on you in the afternoon, and for a wonder you were alone. we drove down together to richmond, and dined together in the little room at the end of the passage--the room with the big windows, and the name of the woman who was murdered in france scratched upon the glass. that was yesterday." "it was last year," said violet. "yesterday," shere ali persisted. "i dreamt last night that i had gone back to chiltistan; but it was only a dream." "it was the truth," and the quiet assurance of her voice dispelled shere ali's own effort at pretence. he leaned forward suddenly, clasping his hands upon his knees in an attitude familiar to her as characteristic of the man. there was a tenseness which gave to him even in repose a look of activity. "well, it's the truth, then," he said, and his voice took on an accent of bitterness. "and here's more truth. i never thought to see you here to-night." "did you think that i should be afraid?" asked violet oliver in a low, steady voice. "afraid!" shere ali turned towards her in surprise and met her gaze. "no." "why, then, should i break my word? have i done it so often?" shere ali did not answer her directly. "you promised to write to me," he said, and violet oliver replied at once: "yes. and i did write." "you wrote twice," he cried bitterly. "oh, yes, you kept your word. there's a post every day, winter and summer, into chiltistan. sometimes an avalanche or a snowstorm delays it; but on most days it comes. if you could only have guessed how eagerly i looked forward to your letters, you would have written, i think, more often. there's a path over a high ridge by which the courier must come. i could see it from the casement of the tower. i used to watch it through a pair of field-glasses, that i might catch the first glimpse of the man as he rose against the sky. each day i thought 'perhaps there's a letter in your handwriting.' and you wrote twice, and in neither letter was there a hint that you were coming out to india." he was speaking in a low, passionate voice. in spite of herself, violet oliver was moved. the picture of him watching from his window in the tower for the black speck against the skyline was clear before her mind, and troubled her. her voice grew gentle. "i did not write more often on purpose," she said. "it was on purpose, too, that you left out all mention of your visit to india?" violet nodded her head. "yes," she said. "you did not want to see me again." violet turned her face towards him, and leaned forward a little. "i don't say that," she said softly. "but i thought it would be better that we two should not meet again, if meeting could be avoided. i saw that you cared--i may say that, mayn't i?" and for a second she laid her hand gently upon his sleeve. "i saw that you cared too much. it seemed to me best that it should end altogether." shere ali lifted his head, and turned quickly towards her. "why should it end at all?" he cried. his eyes kindled and sought hers. "violet, why should it end at all?" violet oliver drew back. she cast a glance to the courtyard. only a few paces away the stream of people passed up and down. "it must end," she answered. "you know that as well as i." "i don't know it. i won't know it," he replied. he reached out his hand towards hers, but she was too quick for him. he bent nearer to her. "violet," he whispered, "marry me!" violet oliver glanced again to the courtyard. but it was no longer to assure herself that friends of her own race were comfortably near at hand. now she was anxious that they should not be near enough to listen and overhear. "that's impossible!" she answered in a startled voice. "it's not impossible! it's not!" and the desperation in his voice betrayed him. in the depths of his heart he knew that, for this woman, at all events, it was impossible. but he would not listen to that knowledge. "other women, here in india, have had the courage." "and what have their lives been afterwards?" she asked. she had not herself any very strong feeling on the subject of colour. she was not repelled, as men are repelled. but she was aware, nevertheless, how strong the feeling was in others. she had not lived in india for nothing. marriage with shere ali was impossible, even had she wished for it. it meant ostracism and social suicide. "where should i live?" she went on. "in chiltistan? what life would there be there for me?" "no," he replied. "i would not ask it. i never thought of it. in england. we could live there!" and, ceasing to insist, he began wistfully to plead. "oh, if you knew how i have hated these past months. i used to sit at night, alone, alone, alone, eating my heart for want of you; for want of everything i care for. i could not sleep. i used to see the morning break. perhaps here and there a drum would begin to beat, the cries of children would rise up from the streets, and i would lie in my bed with my hands clenched, thinking of the jingle of a hansom cab along the streets of london, and the gas lamps paling as the grey light spread. violet!" violet twisted her hands one within the other. this was just what she had thought to avoid, to shut out from her mind--the knowledge that he had suffered. but the evidence of his pain was too indisputable. there was no shutting it out. it sounded loud in his voice, it showed in his looks. his face had grown white and haggard, the face of a tortured man; his hands trembled, his eyes were fierce with longing. "oh, don't," she cried, and so great was her trouble that for once she did not choose her words. "you know that it's impossible. we can't alter these things." she meant by "these things" the natural law that white shall mate with white, and brown with brown; and so shere ali understood her. he ceased to plead. there came a dreadful look upon his face. "oh, i know," he exclaimed brutally. "you would be marrying a nigger." "i never said that," violet interrupted hastily. "but you meant it," and he began to laugh bitterly and very quietly. to violet that laughter was horrible. it frightened her. "oh, yes, yes," he said. "when we come over to england we are very fine people. women welcome us and are kind, men make us their friends. but out here! we quickly learn out here that we are the inferior people. suppose that i wanted to be a soldier, not an officer of my levies, but a soldier in your army with a soldier's chances of promotion and high rank! do you know what would happen? i might serve for twenty years, and at the end of it the youngest subaltern out of sandhurst, with a moustache he can't feel upon his lip, would in case of war step over my head and command me. why, i couldn't win the victoria cross, even though i had earned it ten times over. we are the subject races," and he turned to her abruptly. "i am in disfavour to-night. do you know why? because i am not dressed in a silk jacket; because i am not wearing jewels like a woman, as those princes are," and he waved his hand contemptuously towards a group of them. "they are content," he cried. "but i was brought up in england, and i am not." he buried his face in his hands and was silent; and as he sat thus, violet oliver said to him with a gentle reproach: "when we parted in london last year you spoke in a different way--a better way. i remember very well what you said. for i was glad to hear it. you said: 'i have not forgotten really that there is much to do in my own country. i have not forgotten that i can thank all of you here who have shown me so much kindness by more than mere words. for i can help in chiltistan--i can really help.'" shere all raised his face from his hands with the air of a man listening to strange and curious words. "i said that?" "yes," and in her turn violet oliver began to plead. "i wish that to-night you could recapture that fine spirit. i should be very glad of it. for i am troubled by your unhappiness." but shere ali shook his head. "i have been in chiltistan since i spoke those words. and they will not let me help." "there's the road." "it must not be continued." "there is, at all events, your father," violet suggested. "you can help him." and again shere ali laughed. but this time the bitterness had gone from his voice. he laughed with a sense of humour, almost, it seemed to violet, with enjoyment. "my father!" he said. "i'll tell you about my father," and his face cleared for a moment of its distress as he turned towards her. "he received me in the audience chamber of his palace at kohara. i had not seen him for ten years. how do you think he received me? he was sitting on a chair of brocade with silver legs in great magnificence, and across his knees he held a loaded rifle at full cock. it was a snider, so that i could be quite sure it was cocked." violet stared at him, not understanding. "but why?" she asked. "well, he knew quite well that i was brought back to kohara in order to replace him, if he didn't mend his ways and spend less money. and he didn't mean to be replaced." the smile broke out again on shere ali's face as he remembered the scene. "he sat there with his great beard, dyed red, spreading across his chest, a long velvet coat covering his knees, and the loaded rifle laid over the coat. his eyes watched me, while his fingers played about the trigger." violet oliver was horrified. "you mean--that he meant to kill you!" she cried incredulously. "yes," said shere ali calmly. "i think he meant to do that. it's not so very unusual in our family. he probably thought that i might try to kill him. however, he didn't do it. you see, my father's very fond of the english, so i at once began to talk to him about england. it was evening when i went into the reception chamber; but it was broad daylight when i came out. i talked for my life that night--and won. he became so interested that he forgot to shoot me; and at the end i was wise enough to assure him that there was a great deal more to tell." the ways of the princes in the states beyond the frontier were unknown to violet oliver. the ruling family of chiltistan was no exception to the general rule. in its annals there was hardly a page which was not stained with blood. when the son succeeded to the throne, it was, as often as not, after murdering his brothers, and if he omitted that precaution, as often as not he paid the penalty. shere ali was fortunate in that he had no brothers. but, on the other hand, he had a father, and there was no great security. violet was startled, and almost as much bewildered as she was startled. she could not understand shere ali's composure. he spoke in so matter-of-fact a tone. "however," she said, grasping at the fact, "he has not killed you. he has not since tried to kill you." "no. i don't think he has," said shere ali slowly. but he spoke like one in doubt. "you see he realised very soon that i was not after all acceptable to the english. i wouldn't quite do what they wanted," and the humour died out of his face. "what did they want?" shere ali looked at her in hesitation. "shall i tell you? i will. they wanted me to marry--one of my own people. they wanted me to forget," and he broke out in a passionate scorn. "as if i could do either--after i had known you." "hush!" said she. but he was not to be checked. "you said it was impossible that you should marry me. it's no less impossible that i should marry now one of my own race. you know that. you can't deny it." violet did not try to. he was speaking truth then, she was well aware. a great pity swelled up in her heart for him. she turned to him with a smile, in which there was much tenderness. his life was all awry; and both were quite helpless to set it right. "i am very sorry," she said in a whisper of remorse. "i did not think. i have done you grave harm." "not you," he said quietly. "you may be quite sure of that. those who have done me harm are those who sent me, ten years ago, to england." chapter xv a question answered thereafter both sat silent for a little while. the stream of people across the courtyard had diminished. high up on the great platform by the lighted arches the throng still pressed and shifted. but here there was quietude. the clatter of voices had died down. a band playing somewhere near at hand could be heard. violet oliver for the first time in her life had been brought face to face with a real tragedy. she was conscious of it as something irremediable and terribly sad. and for her own share in bringing it about she was full of remorse. she looked at shere ali as he sat beside her, his eyes gazing into the courtyard, his face tired and hopeless. there was nothing to be done. her thoughts told her so no less clearly than his face. here was a life spoilt at the beginning. but that was all that she saw. that the spoilt life might become an instrument of evil--she was blind to that possibility: she thought merely of the youth who suffered and still must suffer; who was crippled by the very means which were meant to strengthen him: and pity inclined her towards him with an ever-increasing strength. "i couldn't do it," she repeated silently to herself. "i couldn't do it. it would be madness." shere ali raised his head and said with a smile, "i am glad they are not playing the tune which i once heard on the lake of geneva, and again in london when i said good-bye to you." and then violet sought to comfort him, her mind still working on what he had told her of his life in chiltistan. "but it will become easier," she said, beginning in that general way. "in time you will rule in chiltistan. that is certain." but he checked her with a shake of the head. "certain? there is the son of abdulla mohammed, who fought against my father when linforth's father was killed. it is likely enough that those old days will be revived. and i should have the priests against me." "the mullahs!" she exclaimed, remembering in what terms he was wont to speak of them to her. "yes," he answered, "i have set them against me already. they laid their traps for me while i was on the sea, and i would not fall into them. they would have liked to raise the country against my father and the english, just as they raised it twenty-five years ago. and they would have liked me to join in with them." he related to violet the story of his meeting with safdar khan at the gate of lahore, and he repeated the words which he had used in safdar khan's hearing. "it did not take long for my threats to be repeated in the bazaar of kohara, and from the bazaar they were quickly carried to the ears of the mullahs. i had proof of it," he said with a laugh. violet asked him anxiously for the proof. "i can tell to a day when the words were repeated in kohara. for a fortnight after my coming the mullahs still had hopes. they had heard nothing, and they met me always with salutations and greetings. then came the day when i rode up the valley and a mullah who had smiled the day before passed me as though he had not noticed me at all. the news had come. i was sure of it at the time. i reined in my horse and called sharply to one of the servants riding behind me, 'who is that?' the mullah heard the question, and he turned and up went the palm of his hand to his forehead in a flash. but i was not inclined to let him off so easily." "what did you do?" violet asked uneasily. "i said to him, 'my friend, i will take care that you know me the next time we meet upon the road. show me your hands!' he held them out, and they were soft as a woman's. i was close to a bridge which some workmen were repairing. so i had my friend brought along to the bridge. then i said to one of the workmen, 'would you like to earn your day's wage and yet do no work?' he laughed, thinking that i was joking. but i was not. i said to him, 'very well, then, see that this soft-handed creature does your day's work. you will bring him to me at the palace this evening, and if i find that he has not done the work, or that you have helped him, you will forfeit your wages and i will whip you both into the bargain.' the mullah was brought to me in the evening," said shere ali, smiling grimly. "he was so stiff he could hardly walk. i made him show me his hands again, and this time they were blistered. so i told him to remember his manners in the future, and i let him go. but he was a man of prominence in the country, and when the story got known he became rather ridiculous." he turned with a smile to violet oliver. "my people don't like being made ridiculous--least of all mullahs." but there was no answering smile on violet's face. rather she was troubled and alarmed. "but surely that was unwise?" shere ali shrugged his shoulders. "what does it matter?" he said. he did not tell her all of that story. there was an episode which had occurred two days later when shere ali was stalking an ibex on the hillside. a bullet had whistled close by his ear, and it had been fired from behind him. he was never quite sure whether his father or the mullah was responsible for that bullet, but he inclined to attribute it to the mullah. "yes, i have the priests against me," he said. "they call me the englishman." then he laughed. "a curious piece of irony, isn't it?" he stood up suddenly and said: "when i left england i was in doubt. i could not be sure whether my home, my true home, was there or in chiltistan." "yes, i remember," said violet. "i am no longer in doubt. it is neither in england nor in chiltistan. i am a citizen of no country. i have no place anywhere at all." violet oliver stood up and faced him. "i must be going. i must find my friends," she said, and as he took her hand, she added, "i am so very sorry." the words, she felt, were utterly inadequate, but no others would come to her lips, and so with a trembling smile she repeated them. she drew her hand from his clasp and moved a step or two away. but he followed her, and she stopped and shook her head. "this is really good-bye," she said simply and very gravely. "i want to ask you a question," he explained. "will you answer it?" "how can i tell you until you ask it?" he looked at her for a moment as though in doubt whether he should speak or not. then he said, "are you going to marry--linforth?" the blood slowly mounted into her face and flushed her forehead and cheeks. "he has not even asked me to marry him," she said, and moved down into the courtyard. shere ali watched her as she went. that was the last time he should see her, he told himself. the last time in all his life. his eyes followed her, noting the grace of her movements, the whiteness of her skin, all her daintiness of dress and person. a madness kindled in his blood. he had a wild thought of springing down, of capturing her. she mounted the steps and disappeared among the throng. and they wanted him to marry--to marry one of his own people. shere ali suddenly saw the face of the deputy commissioner at lahore calmly suggesting the arrangement, almost ordering it. he sat down again upon the couch and once more began to laugh. but the laughter ceased very quickly, and folding his arms upon the high end of the couch, he bowed his head upon them and was still. chapter xvi shere ali meets an old friend the carriage which was to take violet oliver and her friends back to their camp had been parked amongst those farthest from the door. violet stood for a long while under the awning, waiting while the interminable procession went by. the generals in their scarlet coats, the ladies in their satin gowns, the great officers of state attended by their escorts, the native princes, mounted into their carriages and were driven away. the ceremony and the reception which followed it had been markedly successful even in that land of ceremonies and magnificence. the voices about her told her so as they spoke of this or that splendour and recalled the picturesque figures which had given colour to the scene. but the laughter, the praise, the very tones of enjoyment had to her a heartless ring. she watched the pageantry of the great indian administration dissolve, and was blind to its glitter and conscious only of its ruthlessness. for ruthless she found it to-night. she had been face to face with a victim of the system--a youth broken by it, needlessly broken, and as helpless to recover from his hurt as a wounded animal. the harm had been done no doubt with the very best intention, but the harm had been done. she was conscious of her own share in the blame and she drove miserably home, with the picture of shere ali's face as she had last seen it to bear her company, and with his cry, that he had no place anywhere at all, sounding in her ears. when she reached the privacy of her own tent, and had dismissed her maid, she unlocked one of her trunks and took out from it her jewel case. she had been careful not to wear her necklace of pearls that night, and she took it out of the case now and laid it upon her knees. she was very sorry to part with it. she touched and caressed the pearls with loving fingers, and once she lifted it as though she would place it about her neck. but she checked her hands, fearing that if she put it on she would never bring herself to let it go. already as she watched and fingered it and bent her head now and again to scrutinise a stone, small insidious voices began to whisper at her heart. "he asked for nothing when he gave it you." "you made no promise when you took it." "it was a gift without conditions hinted or implied." violet oliver took the world lightly on the whole. only this one passion for jewels and precious stones had touched her deeply as yet. of love she knew little beyond the name and its aspect in others. she was familiar enough with that, so familiar that she gave little heed to what lay behind the aspect--or had given little heed until to-night. her husband she had accepted rather than actively welcomed. she had lived with him in a mood of placid and unquestioning good-humour, and she had greatly missed him when he died. but it was the presence in the house that she missed, rather than the lover. to-night, almost for the first time, she had really looked under the surface. insight had been vouchsafed to her; and in remorse she was minded to put the thing she greatly valued away from her. she rose suddenly, and, lest the temptation to keep the necklace should prove too strong, laid it away in its case. a post went every day over the passes into chiltistan. she wrapped up the case in brown paper, tied it, sealed it, and addressed it. there was need to send it off, she well knew, before the picture of shere ali, now so vivid in her mind, lost its aspect of poignant suffering and faded out of her thoughts. but she slept ill and in the middle of the night she rose from her bed. the tent was pitch dark. she lit her candle; and it was the light of the candle which awoke her maid. the tent was a double one; the maid slept in the smaller portion of it and a canvas doorway gave entrance into her mistress' room. over this doorway hung the usual screen of green matting. now these screens act as screens, are as impenetrable to the eye as a door--so long as there is no light behind them. but place a light behind them and they become transparent. this was what violet oliver had done. she had lit her candle and at once a part of the interior of her tent was visible to her maid as she lay in bed. the maid saw the table and the sealed parcel upon it. then she saw mrs. oliver come to the table, break the seals, open the parcel, take out a jewel case--a jewel case which the maid knew well--and carry it and the parcel out of sight. mrs. oliver crossed to a corner of the room where her trunks lay; and the next moment the maid heard a key grate in a lock. for a little while the candle still burned, and every now and then a distorted shadow was flung upon the wall of the tent within the maid's vision. it seemed to her that mrs. oliver was sitting at a little writing table which stood close by the trunk. then the light went out again. the maid would have thought no more of this incident, but on entering the room next morning with a cup of tea, she was surprised to see the packet once more sealed and fastened on the centre table. "adela," said mrs. oliver, "i want you to take that parcel to the post office yourself and send it off." the maid took the parcel away. violet oliver, with a sigh of relief, drank her tea. at last, she thought, the end was reached. now, indeed, her life and shere ali's life would touch no more. but she was to see him again. for two days later, as the train which was carrying her northwards to lahore moved out of the station, she saw from the window of her carriage the young prince of chiltistan standing upon the platform. she drew back quickly, fearing that he would see her. but he was watching the train with indifferent eyes; and the spectacle of his indifference struck her as something incongruous and strange. she had been thinking of him with remorse as a man twisting like hamlet in the coils of tragedy, and wearing like hamlet the tragic mien. yet here he was on the platform of a railway station, waiting, like any commonplace traveller, with an uninterested patience for his train. the aspect of shere ali diminished violet oliver's remorse. she wondered for a moment why he was not travelling upon the same train as herself, for his destination must be northwards too. and then she lost sight of him. she was glad that after all the last vision of him which she was to carry away was not the vision of a youth helpless and despairing with a trouble-tortured face. shere ali was following out the destiny to which his character bound him. he had been made and moulded and fashioned, and though he knew he had been fashioned awry, he could no more change and rebuild himself than the hunchback can will away his hump. he was driven down the ways of circumstance. at present he saw and knew that he was so driven. he knew, too, that he could not resist. this half-year in chiltistan had taught him that. so he went southwards to calcutta. the mere thought of chiltistan was unendurable. he had to forget. there was no possibility of forgetfulness amongst his own hills and the foreign race that once had been his own people. southwards he went to calcutta, and in that city for a time was lost to sight. he emerged one afternoon upon the racecourse, and while standing on the grass in front of the club stand, before the horses cantered down to the starting post, he saw an elderly man, heavy of build but still erect, approach him with a smile. shere ali would have avoided that man if he could. he hesitated, unwilling to recognise and unable quite to ignore. and while he hesitated, the elderly man held out his hand. "we know each other, surely. i used to see you at eton, didn't i? i used to run down to see a young friend of mine and a friend of yours, dick linforth. i am colonel dewes." "yes, i remember," said shere ali with some embarrassment; and he took the colonel's outstretched hand. "i thought that you had left india for good." "so did i," said dewes. "but i was wrong." he turned and walked along by the side of shere ali. "i don't know why exactly, but i did not find life in london so very interesting." shere ali looked quickly at the colonel. "yet you had looked forward to retiring and going home?" he asked with a keen interest. colonel dewes gave himself up to reflection. he sounded the obscurities of his mind. it was a practice to which he was not accustomed. he drew himself erect, his eyes became fixed, and with a puckered forehead he thought. "i suppose so," he said. "yes, certainly. i remember. one used to buck at mess of the good time one would have, the comfort of one's club and one's rooms, and the rest of it. it isn't comfortable in india, is it? not compared with england. your furniture, your house, and all that sort of thing. you live as if you were a lodger, don't you know, and it didn't matter for a little while whether you were comfortable or not. the little while slips on and on, and suddenly you find you have been in the country twenty or thirty years, and you have never taken the trouble to be comfortable. it's like living in a dak-bungalow." the colonel halted and pulled at his moustache. he had made a discovery. he had reflected not without result. "by george!" he said, "that's right. let me put it properly now, as a fellow would put it in a book, if he hit upon anything as good." he framed his aphorism in different phrases before he was satisfied with it. then he delivered himself of it with pride. "at the bottom of the englishman's conception of life in india, there is always the idea of a dak-bungalow," and he repeated the sentence to commit it surely to memory. "but don't you use it," he said, turning to shere ali suddenly. "i thought of that--not you. it's mine." "i won't use it," said shere ali. "life in india is based upon the dak-bungalow," said dewes. "yes, yes"; and so great was his pride that he relented towards shere ali. "you may use it if you like," he conceded. "only you would naturally add that it was i who thought of it." shere ali smiled and replied: "i won't fail to do that, colonel dewes." "no? then use it as much as you like, for it's true. out here one remembers the comfort of england and looks forward to it. but back there, one forgets the discomfort of india. by george! that's pretty good, too. shall we look at the horses?" shere ali did not answer that question. with a quiet persistence he kept colonel dewes to the conversation. colonel dewes for his part was not reluctant to continue it, in spite of the mental wear and tear which it involved. he felt that he was clearly in the vein. there was no knowing what brilliant thing he might not say next. he wished that some of those clever fellows on the india council were listening to him. "why?" asked shere ali. "why back there does one forget the discomfort of india?" he asked the question less in search of information than to discover whether the feelings of which he was conscious were shared too by his companion. "why?" answered dewes wrinkling his forehead again. "because one misses more than one thought to miss and one doesn't find half what one thought to find. come along here!" he led shere ali up to the top of the stand. "we can see the race quite well from here," he said, "although that is not the reason why i brought you up. this is what i wanted to show you." he waved his hand over towards the great space which the racecourse enclosed. it was thronged with natives robed in saffron and pink, in blue and white, in scarlet and delicate shades of mauve and violet. the whole enclosure was ablaze with colour, and the colours perpetually moved and grouped themselves afresh as the throng shifted. a great noise of cries rose up into the clear air. "i suppose that is what i missed," said dewes, "not the noise, not the mere crowd--you can get both on an english racecourse--but the colour." and suddenly before shere ali's eyes there rose a vision of the paddock at newmarket during a july meeting. the sleek horses paced within the cool grove of trees; the bright sunlight, piercing the screen of leaves overhead, dappled their backs with flecks of gold. nothing of the sunburnt grass before his eyes was visible to him. he saw the green turf of the jockey club enclosure, the seats, the luncheon room behind with its open doors and windows. "yes, i understand," he said. "but you have come back," and a note of envy sounded in his voice. here was one point in which the parallel between his case and that of colonel dewes was not complete. dewes had missed india as he had missed england. but dewes was a free man. he could go whither he would. "yes, you were able to come back. how long do you stay?" and the answer to that question startled shere ali. "i have come back for good." "you are going to live here?" cried shere ali. "not here, exactly. in cashmere. i go up to cashmere in a week's time. i shall live there and die there." colonel dewes spoke without any note of anticipation, and without any regret. it was difficult for shere ali to understand how deeply he felt. yet the feeling must be deep. he had cut himself off from his own people, from his own country. shere ali was stirred to yet more questions. he was anxious to understand thoroughly all that had moved this commonplace matter-of-fact man at his side. "you found life in england so dull?" he asked. "well, one felt a stranger," said dewes. "one had lost one's associations. i know there are men who throw themselves into public life and the rest of it. but i couldn't. i hadn't the heart for it even if i had the ability. there was lawrence, of course. he governed india and then he went on the school board," and dewes thumped his fist upon the rail in front of him. "how he was able to do it beats me altogether. i read his life with amazement. he was just as keen about the school board as he had been about india when he was viceroy here. he threw himself into it with just as much vigour. that beats me. he was a big man, of course, and i am not. i suppose that's the explanation. anyway, the school board was not for me. i put in my winters for some years at corfu shooting woodcock. and in the summer i met a man or two back on leave at my club. but on the whole it was pretty dull. yes," and he nodded his head, and for the first time a note of despondency sounded in his voice. "yes, on the whole it was pretty dull. it will be better in cashmere." "it would have been still better if you had never seen india at all," said shere ali. "no; i don't say that. i had my good time in india--twenty-five years of it, the prime of my life. no; i have nothing to complain of," said dewes. here was another difference brought to shere ali's eyes. he himself was still young; the prime years were before him, not behind. he looked down, even as dewes had done, over that wide space gay with colours as a garden of flowers; but in the one man's eyes there was a light of satisfaction, in the other's a gleam almost of hatred. "you are not sorry you came out to india," he said. "well, for my part," and his voice suddenly shook with passion, "i wish to heaven i had never seen england." dewes turned about, a vacant stare of perplexity upon his face. "oh, come, i say!" he protested. "i mean it!" cried shere ali. "it was the worst thing that could have happened. i shall know no peace of mind again, no contentment, no happiness, not until i am dead. i wish i were dead!" and though he spoke in a low voice, he spoke with so much violence that colonel dewes was quite astounded. he was aware of no similiarity between his own case and that of shere ali. he had long since forgotten the exhortations of luffe. "oh, come now," he repeated. "isn't that a little ungrateful--what?" he could hardly have chosen a word less likely to soothe the exasperated nerves of his companion. shere ali laughed harshly. "i ought to be grateful?" said he. "well," said dewes, "you have been to eton and oxford, you have seen london. all that is bound to have broadened your mind. don't you feel that your mind has broadened?" "tell me the use of a broad mind in chiltistan," said shere ali. and colonel dewes, who had last seen the valleys of that remote country more than twenty years before, was baffled by the challenge. "to tell the truth, i am a little out of touch with indian problems," he said. "but it's surely good in every way that there should be a man up there who knows we have something in the way of an army. when i was there, there was trouble which would have been quite prevented by knowledge of that kind." "are you sure?" said shere ali quietly; and the two men turned and went down from the roof of the stand. the words which dewes had just used rankled in shere ali's mind, quietly though he had received them. here was the one definite advantage of his education in england on which dewes could lay his finger. he knew enough of the strength of the british army to know also the wisdom of keeping his people quiet. for that he had been sacrificed. it was an advantage--yes. but an advantage to whom? he asked. why, to those governing people here who had to find the money and the troops to suppress a rising, and to confront at the same time an outcry at home from the opponents of the forward movement. it was to their advantage certainly that he should have been sent to england. and then he was told to be grateful! as they came out again from the winding staircase and turned towards the paddock colonel dewes took shere ali by the arm, and said in a voice of kindliness: "and what has become of all the fine ambitions you and dick linforth used to have in common?" "linforth's still at chatham," replied shere ali shortly. "yes, but you are here. you might make a beginning by yourself." "they won't let me." "there's the road," suggested dewes. "they won't let me add an inch to it. they will let me do nothing, and they won't let linforth come out. i wish they would," he added in a softer voice. "if linforth were to come out to chiltistan it might make a difference." they had walked round to the rails in front of the stand, and shere ali looked up the steps to the viceroy's box. the viceroy was present that afternoon. shere ali saw his tall figure, with the stoop of the shoulders characteristic of him, as he stood dressed in a grey frock-coat, with the ladies of his family and one or two of his _aides-de-camp_ about him. shere ali suddenly stopped and nodded towards the box. "have you any influence there?" he asked of colonel dewes; and he spoke with a great longing, a great eagerness, and he waited for the answer in a great suspense. dewes shook his head. "none," he replied; "i am nobody at all." the hope died out of shere ali's face. "i am sorry," he said; and the eagerness had changed into despair. there was just a chance, he thought, of salvation for himself if only linforth could be fetched out to india. he might resume with linforth his old companionship, and so recapture something of his old faith and of his bright ideals. there was sore need that he should recapture them. shere ali was well aware of it. more and more frequently sure warnings came to him. now it was some dim recollection of beliefs once strongly clung to, which came back to him with a shock. he would awaken through some chance word to the glory of the english rule in india, the lessening poverty of the indian nations, the incorruptibility of the english officials and their justice. "yes, yes," he would say with astonishment, "i was sure of these things; i knew them as familiar truths," even as a man gradually going blind might one day see clearly and become aware of his narrowing vision. or perhaps it would be some sudden unsuspected revulsion of feeling in his heart. such a revulsion had come to him this afternoon as he had gazed up to the viceroy's box. a wild and unreasoning wrath had flashed up within him, not against the system, but against that tall stooping man, worn with work, who was at once its representative and its flower. up there the great man stood--so his thoughts ran--complacent, self-satisfied, careless of the harm which his system wrought. down here upon the grass walked a man warped and perverted out of his natural course. he had been sent to eton and to oxford, and had been filled with longings and desires which could have no fruition; he had been trained to delicate thoughts and habits which must daily be offended and daily be a cause of offence to his countrymen. but what did the tall stooping man care? shere ali now knew that the english had something in the way of an army. what did it matter whether he lived in unhappiness so long as that knowledge was the price of his unhappiness? a cruel, careless, warping business, this english rule. thus shere ali felt rather than thought, and realised the while the danger of his bitter heart. once more he appealed to colonel dewes, standing before him with burning eyes. "bring linforth out to india! if you have any influence, use it; if you have none, obtain it. only bring linforth out to india, and bring him very quickly!" once before a passionate appeal had been made to colonel dewes by a man in straits, and colonel dewes had not understood and had not obeyed. now, a quarter of a century later another appeal was made by a man sinking, as surely as luffe had been sinking before, and once again dewes did not understand. he took shere ali by the arm, and said in a kindly voice: "i tell you what it is, my lad. you have been going the pace a bit, eh? calcutta's no good. you'll only collect debts and a lot of things you are better without. better get out of it." shere ali's face closed as his lips had done. all expression died from it in a moment. there was no help for him in colonel dewes. he said good-bye with a smile, and walked out past the stand. his syce was waiting for him outside the railings. shere ali had come to the races wearing a sun-helmet, and, as the fashion is amongst the europeans in calcutta, his syce carried a silk hat for shere ali to take in exchange for his helmet when the sun went down. shere ali, like most of the europeanised indians, was more scrupulous than any englishman in adhering to the european custom. but to-day, with an angry gesture, he repelled his syce. "i am going," he said. "you can take that thing away." his sense of humour failed him altogether. he would have liked furiously to kick and trample upon that glossy emblem of the civilised world; he had much ado to refrain. the syce carried back the silk hat to shere ali's smart trap, and shere ali drove home in his helmet. thus he began publicly to renounce the cherished illusion that he was of the white people, and must do as the white people did. but colonel dewes pointed unwittingly the significance of that trivial matter on the same night. he dined at the house of an old friend, and after the ladies had gone he moved up into the next chair, and so sat beside a weary-looking official from the punjab named ralston, who had come down to calcutta on leave. colonel dewes began to talk of his meeting with shere ali that afternoon. at the mention of shere ali's name the official sat up and asked for more. "he looked pretty bad," said colonel dewes. "jumpy and feverish, and with the air of a man who has been sitting up all night for a week or two. but this is what interested me most," and dewes told how the lad had implored him to bring linforth out to india. "who's linforth?" asked the official quickly. "not the son of that linforth who--" "yes, that's the man," said the colonel testily. "but you interrupt me. what interested me was this--when i refused to help, shere ali's face changed in a most extraordinary way. all the fire went from his eyes, all the agitation from his face. it was like looking at an open box full of interesting things, and then--bang! someone slaps down the lid, and you are staring at a flat piece of wood. it was as if--as if--well, i can't find a better comparison." "it was as if a european suddenly changed before your eyes into an oriental." dewes was not pleased with ralston's success in supplying the simile he could not hit upon himself. "that's a little fanciful," he said grudgingly; and then recognised frankly the justness of its application. "yet it's true--a european changing into an oriental! yes, it just looked like that." "it may actually have been that," said the official quietly. and he added: "i met shere ali last year at lahore on his way north to chiltistan. i was interested then; i am all the more interested now, for i have just been appointed to peshawur." he spoke in a voice which was grave--so grave that colonel dewes looked quickly towards him. "do you think there will be trouble up there in chiltistan?" he asked. the deputy-commissioner, who was now chief commissioner, smiled wearily. "there is always trouble up there in chiltistan," he said. "that i know. what i think is this--shere ali should have gone to the mayo college at ajmere. that would have been a compromise which would have satisfied his father and done him no harm. but since he didn't--since he went to eton, and to oxford, and ran loose in london for a year or two--why, i think he is right." "how do you mean--right?" asked the colonel. "i mean that the sooner linforth is fetched out to india and sent up to chiltistan, the better it will be," said the commissioner. chapter xvii news from mecca mr. charles ralston, being a bachelor and of an economical mind even when on leave in calcutta, had taken up his quarters in a grass hut in the garden of his club. he awoke the next morning with an uncomfortable feeling that there was work to be done. the feeling changed into sure knowledge as he reflected upon the conversation which he had had with colonel dewes, and he accordingly arose and went about it. for ten days he went to and fro between the club and government house, where he held long and vigorous interviews with officials who did not wish to see him. moreover, other people came to see him privately--people of no social importance for the most part, although there were one or two officers of the police service amongst them. with these he again held long interviews, asking many inquisitive questions. then he would go out by himself into those parts of the city where the men of broken fortunes, the jockeys run to seed, and the prize-fighters chiefly preferred to congregate. in the low quarters he sought his information of the waifs and strays who are cast up into the drinking-bars of any oriental port, and he did not come back empty-handed. for ten days he thus toiled for the good of the indian government, and, above all, of that part of it which had its headquarters at lahore. and on the morning of the eleventh day, as he was just preparing to leave for government house, where his persistence had prevailed, a tall, black-bearded and very sunburnt man noiselessly opened the door of the hut and as noiselessly stepped inside. ralston, indeed, did not at once notice him, nor did the stranger call attention to his presence. he waited, motionless and patient, until ralston happened to turn and see him. "hatch!" cried ralston with a smile of welcome stealing over his startled face, and making it very pleasant to look upon. "you?" "yes," answered the tall man; "i reached calcutta last night. i went into the club for breakfast. they told me you were here." robert hatch was of the same age as ralston. but there was little else which they had in common. the two men had met some fifteen years ago for the first time, in peshawur, and on that first meeting some subtle chord of sympathy had drawn them together; and so securely that even though they met but seldom nowadays, their friendship had easily survived the long intervals. the story of hatch's life was a simple one. he had married in his twenty-second year a wife a year younger than himself, and together the couple had settled down upon an estate which hatch owned in devonshire. only a year after the marriage, however, hatch's wife died, and he, disliking his home, had gone restlessly abroad. the restlessness had grown, a certain taste for oriental literature and thought had been fostered by his travels. he had become a wanderer upon the face of the earth--a man of many clubs in different quarters of the world, and of many friends, who had come to look upon his unexpected appearance and no less sudden departure as part of the ordinary tenour of their lives. thus it was not the appearance of hatch which had startled ralston, but rather the silence of it. "why didn't you speak?" he asked. "why did you stand waiting there for me to look your way?" hatch laughed as he sat down in a chair. "i have got into the habit of waiting, i suppose," he said. "for the last five months i have been a servant in the train of the sultan of the maldive islands." ralston was not as a rule to be surprised by any strange thing which hatch might have chosen to do. he merely glanced at his companion and asked: "what in the world were you doing in the maldive islands?" "nothing at all," replied hatch. "i did not go to them. i joined the sultan at suez." this time ralston, who had been moving about the room in search of some papers which he had mislaid, came to a stop. his attention was arrested. he sat down in a chair and prepared to listen. "go on," he said. "i wanted to go to mecca," said hatch, and ralston nodded his head as though he had expected just those words. "i did not see how i was going to get there by myself," hatch continued, "however carefully i managed my disguise." "yet you speak arabic," said ralston. "yes, the language wasn't the difficulty. indeed, a great many of the pilgrims--the people from central asia, for instance--don't speak arabic at all. but i felt sure that if i went down the red sea alone on a pilgrim steamer, landed alone at jeddah, and went up with a crowd of others to mecca, living with them, sleeping with them, day after day, sooner or later i should make some fatal slip and never reach mecca at all. if burton made one mistake, how many should i? so i put the journey off year after year. but this autumn i heard that the sultan of the maldive islands intended to make the pilgrimage. he was a friend of mine. i waited for him at suez, and he reluctantly consented to take me." "so you went to mecca," exclaimed ralston. "yes; i have just come from mecca. as i told you, i only landed at calcutta last night." ralston was silent for a few moments. "i think you may be able to help me," he said at length. "there's a man here in calcutta," and ralston related what he knew of the history of shere ali, dwelling less upon the unhappiness and isolation of the prince than upon the political consequences of his isolation. "he has come to grief in chiltistan," he continued. "he won't marry--there may be a reason for that. i don't know. english women are not always wise in their attitude towards these boys. but it seems to me quite a natural result of his education and his life. he is suspected by his people. when he goes back, he will probably be murdered. at present he is consorting with the lowest europeans here, drinking with them, playing cards with them, and going to ruin as fast as he can. i am not sure that there's a chance for him at all. a few minutes ago i would certainly have said that there was none. now, however, i am wondering. you see, i don't know the lad well enough. i don't know how many of the old instincts and traditions of his race and his faith are still alive in him, underneath all the western ideas and the western feelings to which he has been trained. but if they are dead, there is no chance for him. if they are alive--well, couldn't they be evoked? that's the problem." hatch nodded his head. "he might be turned again into a genuine mohammedan," he said. "i wonder too." "at all events, it's worth trying," said ralston. "for it's the only chance left to try. if we could sweep away the effects of the last few years, if we could obliterate his years in england--oh, i know it's improbable. but help me and let us see." "how?" asked hatch. "come and dine with me to-morrow night. i'll make shere ali come. i _can_ make him. for i can threaten to send him back to chiltistan. then talk to him of mecca, talk to him of the city, and the shrine, and the pilgrims. perhaps something of their devotion may strike a spark in him, perhaps he may have some remnant of faith still dormant in him. make mecca a symbol to him, make it live for him as a place of pilgrimage. you could, perhaps, because you have seen with your own eyes, and you know." "i can try, of course," said hatch with a shrug of his shoulders. "but isn't there a danger--if i succeed? i might try to kindle faith, i might only succeed in kindling fanaticism. are the mohammedans beyond the frontier such a very quiet people that you are anxious to add another to their number?" ralston was prepared for the objection. already, indeed, shere ali might be seething with hatred against the english rule. it would be no more than natural if he were. ralston had pondered the question with an uncomfortable vision before his eyes, evoked by certain words of colonel dewes--a youth appealing for help, for the only help which could be of service to him, and then, as the appeal was rejected, composing his face to a complete and stolid inexpressiveness, no longer showing either his pain or his desire--reverting, as it were, from the european to the oriental. "yes, there is that danger," he admitted. "seeking to restore a friend, we might kindle an enemy." and then he rose up and suddenly burst out: "but upon my word, were that to come to pass, we should deserve it. for we are to blame--we who took him from chiltistan and sent him to be petted by the fine people in england." and once more it was evident from his words that he was thinking not of shere ali--not of the human being who had just his one life to live, just his few years with their opportunities of happiness, and their certain irrevocable periods of distress--but of the prince of chiltistan who might or might not be a cause of great trouble to the government of the punjab. "we must take the risk," he cried as one arguing almost against himself. "it's the only chance. so we must take the risk. besides, i have been at some pains already to minimise it. shere ali has a friend in england. we are asking for that friend. a telegram goes to-day. so come to-morrow night and do your best." "very well, i will," said hatch, and, taking up his hat, he went away. he had no great hopes that any good would come of the dinner. but at the worst, he thought, it would leave matters where they were. in that, however, he was wrong. for there were important moments in the history of the young prince of chiltistan of which both hatch and ralston were quite unaware. and because they were unaware the dinner which was to help in straightening out the tangle of shere ali's life became a veritable catastrophe. shere ali was brought reluctantly to the table in the corner of the great balcony upon the first floor. he had little to say, and it was as evident to the two men who entertained him as it had been to colonel dewes that the last few weeks had taken their toll of him. there were dark, heavy pouches beneath his eyes, his manner was feverish, and when he talked at all it was with a boisterous and a somewhat braggart voice. ralston turned the conversation on to the journey which hatch had taken, and for a little while the dinner promised well. at the mere mention of mecca, shere ali looked up with a swift interest. "mecca!" he cried, "you have been there! tell me of mecca. on my way up to chiltistan i met three of my own countrymen on the summit of the lowari pass. they had a few rupees apiece--just enough, they told me, to carry them to mecca. i remember watching them as they went laughing and talking down the snow on their long journey. and i wondered--" he broke off abruptly and sat looking out from the balcony. the night was coming on. in front stretched the great grass plain of the maidan with its big trees and the wide carriage-road bisecting it. the carriages had driven home; the road and the plain were empty. beyond them the high chimney-stacks of the steamers on the river could still be seen, some with a wisp of smoke curling upwards into the still air; and at times the long, melancholy hoot of a steam-syren broke the stillness of the evening. shere ali turned to hatch again and said in a quiet voice which had some note of rather pathetic appeal: "will you tell me what you thought of mecca? i should like to know." the vision of the three men descending the lowari pass was present to him as he listened. and he listened, wondering what strange, real power that sacred place possessed to draw men cheerfully on so long and hazardous a pilgrimage. but the secret was not yet to be revealed to him. hatch talked well. he told shere ali of the journey down the red sea, and the crowded deck at the last sunset before jeddah was reached, when every one of the pilgrims robed himself in spotless white and stood facing the east and uttering his prayers in his own tongue. he described the journey across the desert, the great shrine of the prophet in mecca, the great gathering for prayer upon the plain two miles away. something of the fervour of the pilgrims he managed to make real by his words, but shere ali listened with the picture of the three men in his thoughts, and with a deep envy of their contentment. then hatch made his mistake. he turned suddenly towards ralston and said: "but something curious happened--something very strange and curious--which i think you ought to know, for the matter can hardly be left where it is." ralston leaned forward. "wait a moment," he said, and he called to the waiter. "light a cigar before you begin, hatch," he continued. the cigars were brought, and hatch lighted one. "in what way am i concerned?" asked ralston. "my story has to do with india," hatch replied, and in his turn he looked out across the maidan. darkness had come and lights gleamed upon the carriage-way; the funnels of the ships had disappeared, and above, in a clear, dark sky, glittered a great host of stars. "with india, but not with the india of to-day," hatch continued. "listen"; and over his coffee he told his story. "i was walking down a narrow street of mecca towards the big tank, when to my amazement i saw written up on a signboard above a door the single word 'lodgings.' it was the english word, written, too, in the english character. i could hardly believe my eyes when i saw it. i stood amazed. what was an english announcement, that lodgings were to be had within, doing in a town where no englishman, were he known to be such, would live for a single hour? i had half a mind to knock at the door and ask. but i noticed opposite to the door a little shop in which a man sat with an array of heavy country-made bolts and locks hung upon the walls and spread about him as he squatted on the floor. i crossed over to the booth, and sitting down upon the edge of the floor, which was raised a couple of feet or so from the ground, i made some small purchase. then, looking across to the sign, i asked him what the writing on it meant. i suppose that i did not put my question carelessly enough, for the shopkeeper leaned forward and peered closely into my face. "'why do you ask?' he said, sharply. "'because i do not understand,' i replied. "the man looked me over again. there was no mistake in my dress, and with my black beard and eyes i could well pass for an arab. it seemed that he was content, for he continued: 'how should i know what the word means? i have heard a story, but whether it is true or not, who shall say?'" hatch paused for a moment and lighted his cigar again. "well, the account which he gave me was this. among the pilgrims who come up to mecca, there are at times hottentots from south africa who speak no language intelligible to anyone in mecca; but they speak english, and it is for their benefit that the sign was hung up." "what a strange thing!" said shere ali. "the explanation," continued hatch, "is not very important to my story, but what followed upon it is; for the very next day, as i was walking alone, i heard a voice in my ear, whispering: 'the englishwoman would like to see you this evening at five.' i turned round in amazement, and there stood the shopkeeper of whom i had made the inquiries. i thought, of course, that he was laying a trap for me. but he repeated his statement, and, telling me that he would wait for me on this spot at ten minutes to five, he walked away. "i did not know what to do. one moment i feared treachery and proposed to stay away, the next i was curious and proposed to go. how in the world could there be an englishwoman in mecca--above all, an englishwoman who was in a position to ask me to tea? curiosity conquered in the end. i tucked a loaded revolver into my waist underneath my jellaba and kept the appointment." "go on," said shere ali, who was leaning forward with a great perplexity upon his face. "the shopkeeper was already there. 'follow me,' he said, 'but not too closely.' we passed in that way through two or three streets, and then my guide turned into a dead alley closed in at the end by a house. in the wall of the house there was a door. my guide looked cautiously round, but there was no one to oversee us. he rapped gently with his knuckles on the door, and immediately the door was opened. he beckoned to me, and went quickly in. i followed him no less quickly. at once the door was shut behind me, and i found myself in darkness. for a moment i was sure that i had fallen into a trap, but my guide laid a hand upon my arm and led me forward. i was brought into a small, bare room, where a woman sat upon cushions. she was dressed in white like a mohammedan woman of the east, and over her face she wore a veil. but a sort of shrivelled aspect which she had told me that she was very old. she dismissed the guide who had brought me to her, and as soon as we were alone she said: "'you are english.' "and she spoke in english, though with a certain rustiness of speech, as though that language had been long unfamiliar to her tongue. "'no,' i replied, and i expressed my contempt of that infidel race in suitable words. "the old woman only laughed and removed her veil. she showed me an old wizened face in which there was not a remnant of good looks--a face worn and wrinkled with hard living and great sorrows. "'you are english,' she said, 'and since i am english too, i thought that i would like to speak once more with one of my own countrymen.' "i no longer doubted. i took the hand she held out to me and-- "'but what are you doing here in mecca?' i asked. "'i live in mecca,' she replied quietly. 'i have lived here for twenty years.' "i looked round that bare and sordid little room with horror. what strange fate had cast her up there? i asked her, and she told me her story. guess what it was!" ralston shook his head. "i can't imagine." hatch turned to shere ali. "can you?" he asked, and even as he asked he saw that a change had come over the young prince's mood. he was no longer oppressed with envy and discontent. he was leaning forward with parted lips and a look in his eyes which hatch had not seen that evening--a look as if hope had somehow dared to lift its head within him. and there was more than a look of hope; there was savagery too. "no. i want to hear," replied shere ali. "go on, please! how did the englishwoman come to mecca?" "she was a governess in the family of an officer at cawnpore when the mutiny broke out, more than forty years ago," said hatch. ralston leaned back in his chair with an exclamation of horror. shere ali said nothing. his eyes rested intently and brightly upon hatch's face. under the table, and out of sight, his fingers worked convulsively. "she was in that room," continued hatch, "in that dark room with the other englishwomen and children who were murdered. but she was spared. she was very pretty, she told me, in her youth, and she was only eighteen when the massacre took place. she was carried up to the hills and forced to become a mohammedan. the man who had spared her married her. he died, and a small chieftain in the hills took her and married her, and finally brought her out with him when he made the pilgrimage to mecca. while he was at mecca, however, he fell ill, and in his turn he died. she was left alone. she had a little money, and she stayed. indeed, she could not get away. a strange story, eh?" and hatch leaned back in his chair, and once more lighted his cigar which for a second time had gone out. "you didn't bring her back?" exclaimed ralston. "she wouldn't come," replied hatch. "i offered to smuggle her out of mecca, but she refused. she felt that she wouldn't and couldn't face her own people again. she should have died at cawnpore, and she did not die. besides, she was old; she had long since grown accustomed to her life, and in england she had long since been given up for dead. she would not even tell me her real name. perhaps she ought to be fetched away. i don't know." ralston and hatch fell to debating that point with great earnestness. neither of them paid heed to shere ali, and when he rose they easily let him go. nor did their thoughts follow him upon his way. but he was thinking deeply as he went, and a queer and not very pleasant smile played about his lips. chapter xviii sybil linforth's loyalty a fortnight after shere ali had dined with ralston in calcutta, a telegram was handed to linforth at chatham. it was friday, and a guest-night. the mess-room was full, and here and there amongst the scarlet and gold lace the sombre black of a civilian caught the eye. dinner was just over, and at the ends of the long tables the mess-waiters stood ready to draw, with a single jerk, the strips of white tablecloth from the shining mahogany. the silver and the glasses had been removed, the word was given, and the strips of tablecloth vanished as though by some swift legerdemain. the port was passed round, and while the glasses were being filled the telegram was handed to linforth by his servant. he opened it carelessly, but as he read the words his heart jumped within him. his importunities had succeeded, he thought. at all events, his opportunity had come; for the telegram informed him of his appointment to the punjab commission. he sat for a moment with his thoughts in a whirl. he could hardly believe the good news. he had longed so desperately for this one chance that it had seemed to him of late impossible that he should ever obtain it. yet here it had come to him, and upon that his neighbour jogged him in the ribs and said: "wake up!" he waked to see the colonel at the centre of the top table standing on his feet with his glass in his hand. "gentlemen, the queen. god bless her!" and all that company arose and drank to the toast. the prayer, thus simply pronounced amongst the men who had pledged their lives in service to the queen, had always been to linforth a very moving thing. some of those who drank to it had already run their risks and borne their sufferings in proof of their sincerity; the others all burned to do the like. it had always seemed to him, too, to link him up closely and inseparably with the soldiers of the regiment who had fallen years ago or had died quietly in their beds, their service ended. it gave continuity to the regiment of sappers, so that what each man did increased or tarnished its fair fame. for years back that toast had been drunk, that prayer uttered in just those simple words, and linforth was wont to gaze round the walls on the portraits of the famous generals who had looked to these barracks and to this mess-room as their home. they, too, had heard that prayer, and, carrying it in their hearts, without parade or needless speech had gone forth, each in his turn, and laboured unsparingly. but never had linforth been so moved as he was tonight. he choked in his throat as he drank. for his turn to go forth had at the last come to him. and in all humility of spirit he sent up a prayer on his own account, that he might not fail--and again that he might not fail. he sat down and told his companions the good news, and rejoiced at their congratulations. but he slipped away to his own quarters very quietly as soon as the colonel rose, and sat late by himself. there was one, he knew very well, to whom the glad tidings would be a heavy blow--but he could not--no, not even for her sake--stand aside. for this opportunity he had lived, training alike his body and mind against its coming. he could not relinquish it. there was too strong a constraint upon him. "over the passes to the foot of the hindu kush," he murmured; and in his mind's eye he saw the road--a broad, white, graded road--snake across the valleys and climb the cliffs. was russia at work? he wondered. was he to be sent to chiltistan? what was shere ali doing? he turned the questions over in his mind without being at much pains to answer them. in such a very short time now he would know. he was to embark before a month had passed. he travelled down the very next day into sussex, and came to the house under the downs at twelve o'clock. it was early spring, and as yet there were no buds upon the trees, no daffodils upon the lawns. the house, standing apart in its bare garden of brown earth, black trees, and dull green turf, had a desolate aspect which somehow filled him with remorse. he might have done more, perhaps, to fill this house with happiness. he feared that, now that it was too late to do the things left undone. he had been so absorbed in his great plans, which for a moment lost in his eyes their magnitude. dick linforth found his mother in the study, through the window of which she had once looked from the garden in the company of colonel dewes. she was writing her letters, and when she saw him enter, she sprang up with a cry of joy. "dick!" she cried, coming towards him with outstretched hands. but she stopped half-way. the happiness died out of her. she raised a hand to her heart, and her voice once more repeated his name; but her voice faltered as she spoke, and the hand was clasped tight upon her breast. "dick," she said, and in his face she read the tidings he had brought. the blow so long dreaded had at last fallen. "yes, mother, it's true," he said very gently; and leading her to a chair, he sat beside her, stroking her hand, almost as a lover might do. "it's true. the telegram came last night. i start within the month." "for chiltistan?" dick looked at her for a moment. "for the punjab," he said, and added: "but it will mean chiltistan. else why should i be sent for? it has been always for chiltistan that i have importuned them." sybil linforth bowed her head. the horror which had been present with her night and day for so long a while twenty-five years ago rushed upon her afresh, so that she could not speak. she sat living over again the bitter days when luffe was shut up with his handful of men in the fort by kohara. she remembered the morning when the postman came up the garden path with the official letter that her husband had been slain. and at last in a whisper she said: "the road?" dick, even in the presence of her pain, could not deny the implication of her words. "we linforths belong to the road," he answered gravely. the words struck upon a chord of memory. sybil linforth sat upright, turned to her sort and greatly surprised him. he had expected an appeal, a prayer. what he heard was something which raised her higher in his thoughts than ever she had been, high though he had always placed her. "dick," she said, "i have never said a word to dissuade you, have i? never a word? never a single word?" and her tone besought him to assure her. "never a word, mother," he replied. but still she was not content. "when you were a boy, when the road began to take hold on you--when we were much together, playing cricket out there in the garden," and her voice broke upon the memory of those golden days, "when i might have been able, perhaps, to turn you to other thoughts, i never tried to, dick? own to that! i never tried to. when i came upon you up on the top of the down behind the house, lying on the grass, looking out--always--always towards the sea--oh, i knew very well what it was that was drawing you; but i said nothing, dick. not a word--not a word!" dick nodded his head. "that's true, mother. you never questioned me. you never tried to dissuade me." sybil's face shone with a wan smile. she unlocked a drawer in her writing-table, and took out an envelope. from the envelope she drew a sheet of paper covered with a faded and yellow handwriting. "this is the last letter your father ever wrote to me," she said. "harry wrote on the night that he--that he died. oh, dick, my boy, i have known for a long time that i would have one day to show it to you, and i wanted you to feel when that time came that i had not been disloyal." she had kept her face steady, even her voice calm, by a great effort. but now the tears filled her eyes and brimmed over, and her voice suddenly shook between a laugh and a sob. "but oh, dick," she cried, "i have so often wanted to be disloyal. i was so often near to it--oh, very, very near." she handed him the faded letter, and, turning towards the window, stood with her back to him while he read. it was that letter, with its constant refrain of "i am very tired," which linforth had written in his tent whilst his murderers crouched outside waiting for sleep to overcome him. "i am sitting writing this by the light of a candle," dick read. "the tent door is open. in front of me i can see the great snow-mountains. all the ugliness of the shale-slopes is hidden. by such a moonlight, my dear, may you always look back upon my memory. for it is all over, sybil." then followed the advice about himself and his school; and after that advice the message which was now for the first time delivered: "whether he will come out here, it is too early to think about. but the road will not be finished--and i wonder. if he wants to, let him! we linforths belong to the road." dick folded the letter reverently, and crossing to his mother's side, put his arm about her waist. "yes," he said. "my father knew it as i know it. he used the words which i in my turn have used. we linforths belong to the road." his mother took the letter from his hand and locked it away. "yes," she said bravely, and called a smile to her face. "so you must go." dick nodded his head. "yes. you see, the road has not advanced since my father died. it almost seems, mother, that it waits for me." he stayed that day and that night with sybil, and in the morning both brought haggard faces to the breakfast table. sybil, indeed, had slept, but, with her memories crowding hard upon her, she had dreamed again one of those almost forgotten dreams which, in the time of her suspense, had so tortured her. the old vague terror had seized upon her again. she dreamed once more of a young englishman who pursued a young indian along the wooden galleries of the road above the torrents into the far mists. she could tell as of old the very dress of the native who fled. a thick sheepskin coat swung aside as he ran and gave her a glimpse of gay silk; soft high leather boots protected his feet; and upon his face there was a look of fury and wild fear. but this night there was a difference in the dream. her present distress added a detail. the young englishman who pursued turned his face to her as he disappeared amongst the mists, and she saw that it was the face of dick. but of this she said nothing at all at the breakfast table, nor when she bade dick good-bye at the stile on the further side of the field beyond the garden. "you will come down again, and i shall go to marseilles to see you off," she said, and so let him go. there was something, too, stirring in dick's mind of which he said no word. in the letter of his father, certain sentences had caught his eye, and on his way up to london they recurred to his thoughts, as, indeed, they had more than once during the evening before. "may he meet," harry linforth had written to sybil of his son dick--"may he meet a woman like you, my dear, when his time comes, and love her as i love you." dick linforth fell to thinking of violet oliver. she was in india at this moment. she might still be there when he landed. would he meet her, he wondered, somewhere on the way to chiltistan? chapter xix a gift misunderstood the month was over before linforth at last steamed out of the harbour at marseilles. he was as impatient to reach bombay as a year before shere ali had been reluctant. to shere ali the boat had flown with wings of swiftness, to linforth she was a laggard. the steamer passed stromboli on a wild night of storm and moonlight. the wrack of clouds scurrying overhead, now obscured, now let the moonlight through, and the great cone rising sheer from a tempestuous sea glowed angrily. linforth, in the shelter of a canvas screen, watched the glow suddenly expand, and a stream of bright sparkling red flow swiftly along the shoulder of the mountain, turn at a right angle, and plunge down towards the sea. the bright red would become dull, the dull red grow black, the glare of light above the cone contract for a little while and then burst out again. yet men lived upon the slope of stromboli, even as englishmen--the thought flashed into his mind--lived in india, recognising the peril and going quietly about their work. there was always that glare of menacing light over the hill-districts of india as above the crater of stromboli, now contracting, now expanding and casting its molten stream down towards the plains. at the moment when linforth watched the crown of light above stromboli, the glare was widening over the hill country of chiltistan. ralston so far away as peshawur saw it reddening the sky and was the more troubled in that he could not discover why just at this moment the menace should glow red. the son of abdulla mohammed was apparently quiet and shere ali had not left calcutta. the resident at kohara admitted the danger. every despatch he sent to peshawur pointed to the likelihood of trouble. but he too was at fault. unrest was evident, the cause of it quite obscure. but what was hidden from government house in peshawur and the old mission house at kohara was already whispered in the bazaars. there among the thatched booths which have their backs upon the brink of the water-channel in the great square, men knew very well that shere ali was the cause, though shere ali knew nothing of it himself. one of those queer little accidents possible in the east had happened within the last few weeks. a trifling gift had been magnified into a symbol and a message, and the message had run through chiltistan like fire through a dry field of stubble. and then two events occurred in peshawur which gave to ralston the key of the mystery. the first was the arrival in that city of a hindu lady from gujerat who had lately come to the conclusion that she was a reincarnation of the goddess devi. she arrived in great pomp, and there was some trouble in the streets as the procession passed through to the temple which she had chosen as her residence. for the hindus, on the one hand, firmly believed in her divinity. the lady came of a class which, held in dishonour in the west, had its social position and prestige in india. there was no reason in the eyes of the faithful why she should say she was the goddess devi if she were not. therefore they lined the streets to acclaim her coming. the mohammedans, on the other hand, afghans from the far side of the khyber, men of the hassan and the aka and the adam khel tribes, afridis from kohat and tirah and the araksai country, any who happened to be in that wild and crowded town, turned out, too--to keep order, as they pleasantly termed it, when their leaders were subsequently asked for explanations. in the end a good many heads were broken before the lady was safely lodged in her temple. nor did the trouble end there. the presence of a reincarnated devi at once kindled the hindus to fervour and stimulated to hostility against them the fanatical mohammedans. futteh ali shah, a merchant, a municipal councillor and a landowner of some importance, headed a deputation of elderly gentlemen who begged ralston to remove the danger from the city. danger there was, as ralston on his morning rides through the streets could not but understand. the temple was built in the corner of an open space, and upon that open space a noisy and excited crowd surged all day; while from the countryside around pilgrims in a mood of frenzied piety and pathans spoiling for a fight trooped daily in through the gates of peshawur. ralston understood that the time had come for definite steps to be taken; and he took them with that unconcerned half-weary air which was at once natural to him and impressive to these particular people with whom he had to deal. he summoned two of his native levies and mounted his horse. "but you will take a guard," said colonel ward, of the oxfordshires, who had been lunching with ralston. "i'll send a company down with you." "no, thank you," said ralston listlessly, "i think my two men will do." the colonel stared and expostulated. "you know, ralston, you are very rash. your predecessor never rode into the city without an escort." "i do every morning." "i know," returned the colonel, "and that's where you are wrong. some day something will happen. to go down with two of your levies to-day is madness. i speak seriously. the place is in a ferment." "oh, i think i'll be all right," said ralston, and he rode at a trot down from government house into the road which leads past the gaol and the fort to the gate of peshawur. at the gate he reduced the trot to a walk, and so, with his two levies behind him, passed up along the streets like a man utterly undisturbed. it was not bravado which had made him refuse an escort. on the contrary, it was policy. to assume that no one questioned his authority was in ralston's view the best way and the quickest to establish it. he pushed forward through the crowd right up to the walls of the temple, seemingly indifferent to every cry or threat which was uttered as he passed. the throng closed in behind him, and he came to a halt in front of a low door set in the whitewashed wall which enclosed the temple and its precincts. upon this door he beat with the butt of his crop and a little wicket in the door was opened. at the bars of the wicket an old man's face showed for a moment and then drew back in fear. "open!" cried ralston peremptorily. the face appeared again. "your excellency, the goddess is meditating. besides, this is holy ground. your excellency would not wish to set foot on it. moreover, the courtyard is full of worshippers. it would not be safe." ralston broke in upon the old man's fluttering protestations. "open the door, or my men will break it in." a murmur of indignation arose from the crowd which thronged about him. ralston paid no heed to it. he called to his two levies: "quick! break that door in!" as they advanced the door was opened. ralston dismounted, and bade one of his men do likewise and follow him. to the second man he said, "hold the horses!" he strode into the courtyard and stood still. "it will be touch and go," he said to himself, as he looked about him. the courtyard was as thronged as the open space without, and four strong walls enclosed it. the worshippers were strangely silent. it seemed to ralston that suspense had struck them dumb. they looked at the intruder with set faces and impassive eyes. at the far end of the courtyard there was a raised stone platform, and this part was roofed. at the back in the gloom he could see a great idol of the goddess, and in front, facing the courtyard, stood the lady from gujerat. she was what ralston expected to see--a dancing girl of northern india, a girl with a good figure, small hands and feet, and a complexion of an olive tint. her eyes were large and lustrous, with a line of black pencilled upon the edges of the eyelids, her eyebrows arched and regular, her face oval, her forehead high. the dress was richly embroidered with gold, and she had anklets with silver bells upon her feet. ralston pushed his way through the courtyard until he reached the wall of the platform. "come down and speak to me," he cried peremptorily to the lady, but she took no notice of his presence. she did not move so much as an eyelid. she gazed over his head as one lost in meditation. from the side an old priest advanced to the edge of the platform. "go away," he cried insolently. "you have no place here. the goddess does not speak to any but her priests," and through the throng there ran a murmur of approval. there, was a movement, too--a movement towards ralston. it was as yet a hesitating movement--those behind pushed, those in front and within ralston's vision held back. but at any moment the movement might become a rush. ralston spoke to the priest. "come down, you dog!" he said quite quietly. the priest was silent. he hesitated. he looked for help to the crowd below, which in turn looked for leadership to him. "come down," once more cried ralston, and he moved towards the steps as though he would mount on to the platform and tear the fellow down. "i come, i come," said the priest, and he went down and stood before ralston. ralston turned to the pathan who accompanied him. "turn the fellow into the street." protests rose from the crowd; the protests became cries of anger; the throng swayed and jostled. but the pathan led the priest to the door and thrust him out. again ralston turned to the platform. "listen to me," he called out to the lady from gujerat. "you must leave peshawur. you are a trouble to the town. i will not let you stay." but the lady paid no heed. her mind floated above the earth, and with every moment the danger grew. closer and closer the throng pressed in upon ralston and his attendant. the clamour rose shrill and menacing. ralston cried out to his pathan in a voice which rang clear and audible even above the clamour: "bring handcuffs!" the words were heard and silence fell upon all that crowd, the sudden silence of stupefaction. that such an outrage, such a defilement of a holy place, could be contemplated came upon the worshippers with a shock. but the pathan levy was seen to be moving towards the door to obey the order, and as he went the cries and threats rose with redoubled ardour. for a moment it seemed to ralston that the day would go against him, so fierce were the faces which shouted in his ears, so turbulent the movement of the crowd. it needed just one hand to be laid upon the pathan's shoulder as he forced his way towards the door, just one blow to be struck, and the ugly rush would come. but the hand was not stretched out, nor the blow struck; and the pathan was seen actually at the threshold of the door. then the goddess devi came down to earth and spoke to another of her priests quickly and urgently. the priest went swiftly down the steps. "the goddess will leave peshawur, since your excellency so wills it," he said to ralston. "she will shake the dust of this city from her feet. she will not bring trouble upon its people." so far he had got when the goddess became violently agitated. she beckoned to the priest and when he came to her side she spoke quickly to him in an undertone. for the last second or two the goddess had grown quite human and even feminine. she was rating the priest well and she did it spitefully. it was a crestfallen priest who returned to ralston. "the goddess, however, makes a condition," said he. "if she goes there must be a procession." the goddess nodded her head emphatically. she was clearly adamant upon that point. ralston smiled. "by all means. the lady shall have a show, since she wants one," said he, and turning towards the door, he signalled to the pathan to stop. "but it must be this afternoon," said he. "for she must go this afternoon." and he made his way out of the courtyard into the street. the lady from gujerat left peshawur three hours later. the streets were lined with levies, although the mohammedans assured his excellency that there was no need for troops. "we ourselves will keep order," they urged. ralston smiled, and ordered up a company of regulars. he himself rode out from government house, and at the bend of the road he met the procession, with the lady from gujerat at its head in a litter with drawn curtains of tawdry gold. as the procession came abreast of him a little brown hand was thrust out from the curtains, and the bearers and the rabble behind came to a halt. a man in a rough brown homespun cloak, with a beggar's bowl attached to his girdle, came to the side of the litter, and thence went across to ralston. "your highness, the goddess devi has a word for your ear alone." ralston, with a shrug of his shoulders, walked his horse up to the side of the litter and bent down his head. the lady spoke through the curtains in a whisper. "your excellency has been very kind to me, and allowed me to leave peshawur with a procession, guarding the streets so that i might pass in safety and with great honour. therefore i make a return. there is a matter which troubles your excellency. you ask yourself the why and the wherefore, and there is no answer. but the danger grows." ralston's thoughts flew out towards chiltistan. was it of that country she was speaking? "well?" he asked. "why does the danger grow?" "because bags of grain and melons were sent," she replied, "and the message was understood." she waved her hand again, and the bearers of the litter stepped forward on their march through the cantonment. ralston rode up the hill to his home, wondering what in the world was the meaning of her oracular words. it might be that she had no meaning--that was certainly a possibility. she might merely be keeping up her pose as a divinity. on the other hand, she had been so careful to speak in a low whisper, lest any should overhear. "some melons and bags of grain," he said to himself. "what message could they convey? and who sent them? and to whom?" he wrote that night to the resident at kohara, on the chance that he might be able to throw some light upon the problem. "have you heard anything of a melon and a bag of grain?" he wrote. "it seems an absurd question, but please make inquiries. find out what it all means." the messenger carried the letter over the malakand pass and up the road by dir, and in due time an answer was returned. ralston received the answer late one afternoon, when the light was failing, and, taking it over to the window, read it through. its contents fairly startled him. "i have made inquiries," wrote captain phillips, the resident, "as you wished, and i have found out that some melons and bags of grain were sent by shere ali's orders a few weeks ago as a present to one of the chief mullahs in the town." ralston was brought to a stop. so it was shere ali, after all, who was at the bottom of the trouble. it was shere ali who had sent the present, and had sent it to one of the mullahs. ralston looked back upon the little dinner party, whereby he had brought hatch and shere ali together. had that party been too successful, he wondered? had it achieved more than he had wished to bring about? he turned in doubt to the letter which he held. "it seems," he read, "that there had been some trouble between this man and shere ali. there is a story that shere ali set him to work for a day upon a bridge just below kohara. but i do not know whether there is any truth in the story. nor can i find that any particular meaning is attached to the present. i imagine that shere ali realised that it would be wise--as undoubtedly it was--for him to make his peace with the mullah, and sent him accordingly the melons and the bags of grain as an earnest of his good-will." there the letter ended, and ralston stood by the window as the light failed more and more from off the earth, pondering with a heavy heart upon its contents. he had to make his choice between the resident at kohara and the lady of gujerat. captain phillips held that the present was not interpreted in any symbolic sense. but the lady of gujerat had known of the present. it was matter of talk, then, in the bazaars, and it would hardly have been that had it meant no more than an earnest of good-will. she had heard of the present; she knew what it was held to convey. it was a message. there was that glare broadening over chiltistan. surely the lady of gujerat was right. so far his thoughts had carried him when across the window there fell a shadow, and a young officer of the khyber rifles passed by to the door. captain singleton was announced, and a boy--or so he looked--dark-haired and sunburnt, entered the office. for eighteen months he had been stationed in the fort at landi kotal, whence the road dips down between the bare brown cliffs towards the plains and mountains of afghanistan. with two other english officers he had taken his share in the difficult task of ruling that regiment of wild tribesmen which, twice a week, perched in threes on some rocky promontory, or looking down from a machicolated tower, keeps open the khyber pass from dawn to dusk and protects the caravans. the eighteen months had written their history upon his face; he stood before ralston, for all his youthful looks, a quiet, self-reliant man. "i have come down on leave, sir," he said. "on the way i fetched rahat mian out of his house and brought him in to peshawur." ralston looked up with interest. "any trouble?" he asked. "i took care there should be none." ralston nodded. "he had better be safely lodged. where is he?" "i have him outside." ralston rang for lights, and then said to singleton: "then, i'll see him now." and in a few minutes an elderly white-bearded man, dressed from head to foot in his best white robes, was shown into the room. "this is his excellency," said captain singleton, and rahat mian bowed with dignity and stood waiting. but while he stood his eyes roamed inquisitively about the room. "all this is strange to you, rahat mian," said ralston. "how long is it since you left your house in the khyber pass?" "five years, your highness," said rahat mian, quietly, as though there were nothing very strange in so long a confinement within his doors. "have you never crossed your threshold for five years?" asked ralston. "no, your highness. i should not have stepped back over it again, had i been so foolish. before, yes. there was a deep trench dug between my house and the road, and i used to crawl along the trench when no-one was about. but after a little my enemies saw me walking in the road, and watched the trench." rahat mian lived in one of the square mud windowless houses, each with a tower at a corner which dot the green wheat fields in the khyber pass wherever the hills fall back and leave a level space. his house was fifty yards from the road, and the trench stretched to it from his very door. but not two hundred yards away there were other houses, and one of these held rahat mian's enemies. the feud went back many years to the date when rahat mian, without asking anyone's leave or paying a single farthing of money, secretly married the widowed mother of futteh ali shah. now futteh ali shah was a boy of fourteen who had the right to dispose of his mother in second marriage as he saw fit, and for the best price he could obtain. and this deprivation of his rights kindled in him a great anger against rahat mian. he nursed it until he became a man and was able to buy for a couple of hundred rupees a good pedigree rifle--a rifle which had belonged to a soldier killed in a hill-campaign and for which inquiries would not be made. armed with his pedigree rifle, futteh ali shah lay in wait vainly for rahat mian, until an unexpected bequest caused a revolution in his fortunes. he went down to bombay, added to his bequest by becoming a money-lender, and finally returned to peshawur, in the neighbourhood of which city he had become a landowner of some importance. meanwhile, however, he had not been forgetful of rahat mian. he left relations behind to carry on the feud, and in addition he set a price on rahat mian's head. it was this feud which ralston had it in his mind to settle. he turned to rahat mian. "you are willing to make peace?" "yes," said the old man. "you will take your most solemn oath that the feud shall end. you will swear to divorce your wife, if you break your word?" for a moment rahat mian hesitated. there was no oath more binding, more sacred, than that which he was called upon to take. in the end he consented. "then come here at eight to-morrow morning," said ralston, and, dismissing the man, he gave instructions that he should be safely lodged. he sent word at the same time to futteh ali shah, with whom, not for the first time, he had had trouble. futteh ali shah arrived late the next morning in order to show his independence. but he was not so late as ralston, who replied by keeping him waiting for an hour. when ralston entered the room he saw that futteh ali shah had dressed himself for the occasion. his tall high-shouldered frame was buttoned up in a grey frock coat, grey trousers clothed his legs, and he wore patent-leather shoes upon his feet. "i hope you have not been waiting very long. they should have told me you were here," said ralston, and though he spoke politely, there was just a suggestion that it was not really of importance whether futteh ali shah was kept waiting or not. "i have brought you here that together we may put an end to your dispute with rahat mian," said ralston, and, taking no notice of the exclamation of surprise which broke from the pathan's lips, he rang the bell and ordered rahat mian to be shown in. "now let us see if we cannot come to an understanding," said ralston, and he seated himself between the two antagonists. but though they talked for an hour, they came no nearer to a settlement. futteh ali shah was obdurate; rahat mian's temper and pride rose in their turn. at the sight of each other the old grievance became fresh as a thing of yesterday in both their minds. their dark faces, with the high cheek-bones and the beaked noses of the afridi, became passionate and fierce. finally futteh ali shah forgot all his bombay manners; he leaned across ralston, and cried to rahat mian: "do you know what i would like to do with you? i would like to string my bedstead with your skin and lie on it." and upon that ralston arrived at the conclusion that the meeting might as well come to an end. he dismissed rahat mian, promising him a safe conveyance to his home. but he had not yet done with futteh ali shah. "i am going out," he said suavely. "shall we walk a little way together?" futteh ali shah smiled. landowner of importance that he was, the opportunity to ride side by side through peshawur with the chief commissioner did not come every day. the two men went out into the porch. ralston's horse was waiting, with a scarlet-clad syce at its head. ralston walked on down the steps and took a step or two along the drive. futteh ali shah lagged behind. "your excellency is forgetting your horse." "no," said ralston. "the horse can follow. let us walk a little. it is a good thing to walk." it was nine o'clock in the morning, and the weather was getting hot. and it is said that the heat of peshawur is beyond the heat of any other city from the hills to cape comorin. futteh ali shah, however, could not refuse. regretfully he signalled to his own groom who stood apart in charge of a fine dark bay stallion from the kirghiz steppes. the two men walked out from the garden and down the road towards peshawur city, with their horses following behind them. "we will go this way," said ralston, and he turned to the left and walked along a mud-walled lane between rich orchards heavy with fruit. for a mile they thus walked, and then futteh ali shah stopped and said: "i am very anxious to have your excellency's opinion of my horse. i am very proud of it." "later on," said ralston, carelessly. "i want to walk for a little"; and, conversing upon indifferent topics, they skirted the city and came out upon the broad open road which runs to jamrud and the khyber pass. it was here that futteh ali shah once more pressingly invited ralston to try the paces of his stallion. but ralston again refused. "i will with pleasure later on," he said. "but a little exercise will be good for both of us; and they continued to walk along the road. the heat was overpowering; futteh ali shah was soft from too much good living; his thin patent-leather shoes began to draw his feet and gall his heels; his frock coat was tight; the perspiration poured down his face. ralston was hot, too. but he strode on with apparent unconcern, and talked with the utmost friendliness on the municipal affairs of peshawur." "it is very hot," said futteh ali shah, "and i am afraid for your excellency's health. for myself, of course, i am not troubled, but so much walking will be dangerous to you"; and he halted and looked longingly back to his horse. "thank you," said ralston. "but my horse is fresh, and i should not be able to talk to you so well. i do not feel that i am in danger." futteh ali shah mopped his face and walked on. his feet blistered; he began to limp, and he had nothing but a riding-switch in his hand. now across the plain he saw in the distance the round fort of jamrud, and he suddenly halted: "i must sit down," he said. "i cannot help it, your excellency, i must stop and sit down." ralston turned to him with a look of cold surprise. "before me, futteh ali shah? you will sit down in my presence before i sit down? i think you will not." futteh ali shah gazed up the road and down the road, and saw no help anywhere. only this devilish chief commissioner stood threateningly before him. with a gesture of despair he wiped his face and walked on. for a mile more he limped on by ralston's side, the while ralston discoursed upon the great question of agricultural banks. then he stopped again and blurted out: "i will give you no more trouble. if your excellency will let me go, never again will i give you trouble. i swear it." ralston smiled. he had had enough of the walk himself. "and rahat mian?" he asked. there was a momentary struggle in the zemindar's mind. but his fatigue and exhaustion were too heavy upon him. "he, too, shall go his own way. neither i nor mine shall molest him." ralston turned at once and mounted his horse. with a sigh of relief futteh ali shah followed his example. "shall we ride back together?" said ralston, pleasantly. and as on the way out he had made no mention of any trouble between the landowner and himself, so he did not refer to it by a single word on his way back. but close to the city their ways parted and futteh ali shah, as he took his leave, said hesitatingly, "if this story goes abroad, your excellency--this story of how we walked together towards jamrud--there will be much laughter and ridicule." the fear of ridicule--there was the weak point of the afridi, as ralston very well knew. to be laughed at--futteh ali shah, who was wont to lord it among his friends, writhed under the mere possibility. and how they would laugh in and round about peshawur! a fine figure he would cut as he rode through the streets with every ragged bystander jeering at the man who was walked into docility and submission by his excellency the chief commissioner. "my life would be intolerable," he said, "were the story to get about." ralston shrugged his shoulders. "but why should it get about?" "i do not know, but it surely will. it may be that the trees have ears and eyes and a mouth to speak." he edged a little nearer to the commissioner. "it may be, too," he said cunningly, "that your excellency loves to tell a good story after dinner. now there is one way to stop that story." ralston laughed. "if i could hold my tongue, you mean," he replied. futteh ali shah came nearer still. he rode up close and leaned a little over towards ralston. "your excellency would lose the story," he said, "but on the other hand there would be a gain--a gain of many hours of sleep passed otherwise in guessing." he spoke in an insinuating fashion, which made ralston disinclined to strike a bargain--and he nodded his head like one who wishes to convey that he could tell much if only he would. but ralston paused before he answered, and when he answered it was only to put a question. "what do you mean?" he asked. and the reply came in a low quick voice. "there was a message sent through chiltistan." ralston started. was it in this strange way the truth was to come to him? he sat his horse carelessly. "i know," he said. "some melons and some bags of grain." futteh ali shah was disappointed. this devilish chief commissioner knew everything. yet the story of the walk must not get abroad in peshawur, and surely it would unless the chief commissioner were pledged to silence. he drew a bow at a venture. "can your excellency interpret the message? as they interpret it in chiltistan?" and it seemed to him that he had this time struck true. "it is a little thing i ask of your excellency." "it is not a great thing, to be sure," ralston admitted. he looked at the zemindar and laughed. "but i could tell the story rather well," he said doubtfully. "it would be an amusing story as i should tell it. yet--well, we will see," and he changed his tone suddenly. "interpret to me that present as it is interpreted in the villages of chiltistan." futteh ali shah looked about him fearfully, making sure that there was no one within earshot. then in a whisper he said: "the grain is the army which will rise up from the hills and descend from the heavens to destroy the power of the government. the melons are the forces of the government; for as easily as melons they will be cut into pieces." he rode off quickly when he had ended, like a man who understands that he has said too much, and then halted and returned. "you will not tell that story?" he said. "no," answered ralston abstractedly. "i shall never tell that story." he understood the truth at last. so that was the message which shere ali had sent. no wonder, he thought, that the glare broadened over chiltistan. chapter xx the soldier and the jew these two events took place at peshawur, while linforth was still upon the waters of the red sea. to be quite exact, on that morning when ralston was taking his long walk towards jamrud with the zemindar futteh ali shah, linforth was watching impatiently from his deck-chair the high mosque towers, the white domes and great houses of mocha, as they shimmered in the heat at the water's edge against a wide background of yellow sand. it seemed to him that the long narrow city so small and clear across the great level of calm sea would never slide past the taffrail. but it disappeared, and in due course the ship moved slowly through the narrows into aden harbour. this was on a thursday evening, and the steamer stopped in aden for three hours to coal. the night came on hot, windless and dark. linforth leaned over the side, looking out upon the short curve of lights and the black mass of hill rising dimly above them. three and a half more days and he would be standing on indian soil. a bright light flashed towards the ship across the water and a launch came alongside, bearing the agent of the company. he had the latest telegrams in his hand. "any trouble on the frontier?" linforth asked. "none," the agent replied, and linforth's fever of impatience was assuaged. if trouble were threatening he would surely be in time--since there were only three and a half more days. but he did not know why he had been brought out from england, and the three and a half days made him by just three and a half days too late. for on this very night when the steamer stopped to coal in aden harbour shere ali made his choice. he was present that evening at a prize-fight which took place in a music-hall at calcutta. the lightweight champion of singapore and the east, a jew, was pitted against a young soldier who had secured his discharge and had just taken to boxing as a profession. the soldier brought a great reputation as an amateur. this was his first appearance as a professional, and his friends had gathered in numbers to encourage him. the hall was crowded with soldiers from the barracks, sailors from the fleet, and patrons of the fancy in calcutta. the heat was overpowering, the audience noisy, and overhead the electric fans, which hung downwards from the ceiling, whirled above the spectators with so swift a rotation that those looking up saw only a vague blur in the air. the ring had been roped off upon the stage, and about three sides of the ring chairs for the privileged had been placed. the fourth side was open to the spectators in the hall, and behind the ropes at the back there sat in the centre of the row of chairs a fat red-faced man in evening-dress who was greeted on all sides as colonel joe. "colonel joe" was the referee, and a person on these occasions of great importance. there were several preliminary contests and before each one colonel joe came to the front and introduced the combatants with a short history of their achievements. a hindu boy was matched against a white one, a couple of wrestlers came next, and then two english sailors, with more spirit than skill, had a set-to which warmed the audience into enthusiasm and ended amid shouts, whistles, shrill cat-calls, and thunders of applause. meanwhile the heat grew more and more intense, the faces shinier, the air more and more smoke-laden and heavy. shere ali came on to the stage while the sailors were at work. he exchanged a nod with "colonel joe," and took his seat in the front row of chairs behind the ropes. it was a rough gathering on the whole, though there were some men in evening-dress besides colonel joe, and of these two sat beside shere ali. they were talking together, and shere ali at the first paid no heed to them. the trainers, the backers, the pugilists themselves were the men who had become his associates in calcutta. there were many of them present upon the stage, and in turn they approached shere ali and spoke to him with familiarity upon the chances of the fight. yet in their familiarity there was a kind of deference. they were speaking to a patron. moreover, there was some flattery in the attention with which they waited to catch his eye and the eagerness with which they came at once to his side. "we are all glad to see you, sir," said a small man who had been a jockey until he was warned off the turf. "yes," said shere ali with a smile, "i am among friends." "now who would you say was going to win this fight?" continued the jockey, cocking his head with an air of shrewdness, which said as plainly as words, "you are the one to tell if you will only say." shere ali expanded. deference and flattery, however gross, so long as they came from white people were balm to his wounded vanity. the weeks in calcutta had worked more harm than ralston had suspected. shy of meeting those who had once treated him as an equal, imagining when he did meet them that now they only admitted him to their company on sufferance and held him in their thoughts of no account, he had become avid for recognition among the riff-raff of the town. "i have backed the man from singapore," he replied, "i know him. the soldier is a stranger to me"; and gradually as he talked the voices of his two neighbours forced themselves upon his consciousness. it was not what they said which caught his attention. but their accents and the pitch of their voices arrested him, and swept him back to his days at eton and at oxford. he turned his head and looked carelessly towards them. they were both young; both a year ago might have been his intimates and friends. as it was, he imagined bitterly, they probably resented his sitting even in the next chair to them. the stage was now clear; the two sailors had departed, the audience sat waiting for the heroes of the evening and calling for them with impatient outbursts of applause. shere ali waited too. but there was no impatience on his part, as there was no enthusiasm. he was just getting through the evening; and this hot and crowded den, with its glitter of lights, promised a thrill of excitement which would for a moment lift him from the torture of his thoughts. but the antagonists still lingered in their dressing-rooms while their trainers put the final touch to their preparations. and while the antagonists lingered, the two young men next to him began again to talk, and this time the words fell on shere ali's ears. "i think it ought to be stopped," said one. "it can't be good for us. of course the fellow who runs the circus doesn't care, although he is an englishman, and although he must have understood what was being shouted." "he is out for money, of course," replied the other. "yes. but not half a mile away, just across the maidan there, is government house. surely it ought to be stopped." the speaker was evidently serious. he spoke, indeed, with some heat. shere ali wondered indifferently what it was that went on in the circus in the maidan half a mile from the government house. something which ought to be stopped, something which could not be "good for us." shere ali clenched his hands in a gust of passion. how well he knew the phrase! good for us, good for the magic of british prestige! how often he had used the words himself in the days when he had been fool enough to believe that he belonged to the white people. he had used it in the company of just such youths as those who sat next to him now, and he writhed in his seat as he imagined how they must have laughed at him in their hearts. what was it that was not "good for us" in the circus on the maidan? as he wondered there was a burst of applause, and on the opposite side of the ring the soldier, stripped to the waist, entered with his two assistants. shere ali was sitting close to the lower corner of the ring on the right-hand side of the stage; the soldier took his seat in the upper corner on the other side. he was a big, heavily-built man, but young, active, and upon his open face he had a look of confidence. it seemed to shere ali that he had been trained to the very perfection of his strength, and when he moved the muscles upon his shoulders and back worked under his skin as though they lived. shouts greeted him, shouts in which his surname and his christian name and his nicknames were mingled, and he smiled pleasantly back at his friends. shere ali looked at him. from his cheery, honest face to the firm set of his feet upon the floor, he was typical of his class and race. "oh, i hope he'll be beaten!" shere ali found himself repeating the words in a whisper. the wish had suddenly sprung up within him, but it grew in intensity; it became a great longing. he looked anxiously for the appearance of the jew from singapore. he was glad that, knowing little of either man, he had laid his money against the soldier. meanwhile the two youths beside him resumed their talk, and shere ali learned what it was that was not "good for us"! "there were four girls," said the youth who had been most indignant. "four english girls dancing a _pas de quatre_ on the sand of the circus. the dance was all right, the dresses were all right. in an english theatre no one would have had a word to say. it was the audience that was wrong. the cheaper parts at the back of the tent were crowded with natives, tier above tier--and i tell you--i don't know much hindustani, but the things they shouted made my blood boil. after all, if you are going to be the governing race it's not a good thing to let your women be insulted, eh?" shere ali laughed quietly. he could picture to himself the whole scene, the floor of the circus, the tiers of grinning faces rising up against the back walls of the tent. "did the girls themselves mind?" asked the other of the youths. "they didn't understand." and again the angry utterance followed. "it ought to be stopped! it ought to be stopped!" shere ali turned suddenly upon the speaker. "why?" he asked fiercely, and he thrust a savage face towards him. the young man was taken by surprise; for a second it warmed shere ali to think that he was afraid. and, indeed, there was very little of the civilised man in shere ali's look at this moment. his own people were claiming him. it was one of the keen grim tribesmen of the hills who challenged the young englishman. the englishman, however, was not afraid. he was merely disconcerted by the unexpected attack. he recovered his composure the next moment. "i don't think that i was speaking to you," he said quietly, and then turned away. shere ali half rose in his seat. but he was not yet quite emancipated from the traditions of his upbringing. to create a disturbance in a public place, to draw all eyes upon himself, to look a fool, eventually to be turned ignominiously into the street--all this he was within an ace of doing and suffering, but he refrained. he sat down again quickly, feeling hot and cold with shame, just as he remembered he had been wont to feel when he had committed some gaucherie in his early days in england. at that moment the light-weight champion from singapore came out from his dressing-room and entered the ring. he was of a slighter build than his opponent, but very quick upon his feet. he was shorter, too. colonel joe introduced the antagonists to the audience, standing before the footlights as he did so. and it was at once evident who was the favourite. the shouts were nearly all for the soldier. the jew took his seat in a chair down in the corner where shere ali was sitting, and shere ali leaned over the ropes and whispered to him fiercely, "win! win! i'll double the stake if you do!" the jew turned and smiled at the young prince. "i'll do my best." shere ali leaned back in his chair and the fight began. he followed it with an excitement and a suspense which were astonishing even to him. when the soldier brought his fist home upon the prominent nose of the singapore champion and plaudits resounded through the house, his heart sank with bitter disappointment. when the jew replied with a dull body-blow, his hopes rebounded. he soon began to understand that in the arts of prize-fighting the soldier was a child compared with the man from singapore. the champion of the east knew his trade. he was as hard as iron. the sounding blows upon his forehead and nose did no more than flush his face for a few moments. meanwhile he struck for the body. moreover, he had certain tricks which lured his antagonist to an imprudent confidence. for instance, he breathed heavily from the beginning of the second round, as though he were clean out of condition. but each round found him strong and quick to press an advantage. after one blow, which toppled his opponent through the ropes, shere ali clapped his hands. "bravo!" he cried; and one of the youths at his side said to his companion: "this fellow's a jew, too. look at his face." for twelve rounds the combatants seemed still to be upon equal terms, though those in the audience who had knowledge began to shake their heads over the chances of the soldier. shere ali, however, was still racked by suspense. the fight had become a symbol, almost a message to him, even as his gift to the mullah had become a message to the people of chiltistan. all that he had once loved, and now furiously raged against, was represented by the soldier, the confident, big, heavily built soldier, while, on the other hand, by the victory of the jew all the subject peoples would be vindicated. more and more as the fight fluctuated from round to round the people and the country of chiltistan claimed its own. the soldier represented even those youths at his side, whose women must on no account be insulted. "why should they be respected?" he cried to himself. for at the bottom of his heart lay the thought that he had been set aside as impossible by violet oliver. there was the real cause of his bitterness against the white people. he still longed for violet oliver, still greatly coveted her. but his own people and his own country were claiming him; and he longed for her in a different way. chivalry--the chivalry of the young man who wants to guard and cherish--respect, the desire that the loved one should share ambitions, life work, all--what follies and illusions these things were! "i know," said shere ali to himself. "i know. i am myself the victim of them," and he lowered his head and clasped his hands tightly together between his knees. he forgot the prize-fight, the very sound of the pugilists' feet upon the bare boards of the stage ceased to be audible to his ears. he ached like a man bruised and beaten; he was possessed with a sense of loneliness, poignant as pain. "if i had only taken the easier way, bought and never cared!" he cried despairingly. "but at all events there's no need for respect. why should one respect those who take and do not give?" as he asked himself the question, there came a roar from the audience. he looked up. the soldier was standing, but he was stooping and the fingers of one hand touched the boards. over against the soldier the man from singapore stood waiting with steady eyes, and behind the ropes colonel joe was counting in a loud voice: "one, two, three, four." shere ali's eyes lit up. would the soldier rise? would he take the tips of those fingers from the floor, stand up again and face his man? or was he beaten? "five, six, seven, eight"--the referee counted, his voice rising above the clamour of voices. the audience had risen, men stood upon their benches, cries of expostulation were shouted to the soldier. "nine, ten," counted the referee, and the fight was over. the soldier had been counted out. shere ali was upon his feet like the rest of the enthusiasts. "well done!" he cried. "well done!" and as the jew came back to his corner shere ali shook him excitedly by the hand. the sign had been given; the subject race had beaten the soldier. shere ali was livid with excitement. perhaps, indeed, the young englishmen had been right, and some dim racial sympathy stirred shere ali to his great enthusiasm. chapter xxi shere ali is claimed by chiltistan while these thoughts were seething in his mind, while the excitement was still at its height, the cries still at their loudest, shere all heard a quiet penetrating voice speak in his ear. and the voice spoke in pushtu. the mere sound of the language struck upon shere ali's senses at that moment of exultation with a strange effect. he thrilled to it from head to foot. he heard it with a feeling of joy. and then he took note of the spoken words. "the man who wrote to your highness from calcutta waits outside the doors. as you stand under the gas lamps, take your handkerchief from your pocket if you wish to speak with him." shere ali turned back from the ropes. but the spectators were already moving from their chairs to the steps which led from the stage to the auditorium. there was a crowd about those steps, and shere ali could not distinguish among it the man who was likely to have whispered in his ear. all seemed bent upon their own business, and that business was to escape from the close heat-laden air of the building as quickly as might be. shere ali stood alone and pondered upon the words. the man who had written to him from calcutta! that was the man who had sent the anonymous letter which had caused him one day to pass through the delhi gate of lahore. a money-lender at calcutta, but a countryman from chiltistan. so he had gathered from safdar khan, while heaping scorn upon the message. but now, and on this night of all nights, shere ali was in a mood to listen. there were intrigues on foot--there were always intrigues on foot. but to-night he would weigh those intrigues. he went out from the music-hall, and under the white glare of the electric lamps above the door he stood for a moment in full view. then he deliberately took his handkerchief from his pocket. from the opposite side of the road, a man in native dress, wearing a thick dark cloak over his white shirt and pyjamas, stepped forward. shere ali advanced to meet him. "huzoor, huzoor," said the man, bending low, and he raised shere ali's hand and pressed his forehead upon it, in sign of loyalty. "you wish to speak to me?" said shere ali. "if your highness will deign to follow. i am ahmed ismail. your highness has heard of me, no doubt." shere ali did not so much as smile, nor did he deny the statement. he nodded gravely. after all, vanity was not the prerogative of his people alone in all the world. "yes," he said, "i will follow." ahmed ismail crossed the road once more out of the lights into the shadows, and walked on, keeping close to the lines of houses. shere ali followed upon his heels. but these two were not alone to take that road. a third man, a bengali, bespectacled, and in appearance most respectable, came down the steps of the musichall, a second after shere ali had crossed the road. he, too, had been a witness of the prize-fight. he hurried after shere ali and caught him up. "very good fight, sir," he said. "would prince of chiltistan like to utter some few welcome words to great indian public on extraordinary skill of respective pugilists? i am full-fledged reporter of _bande mataram_, great nationalist paper." he drew out a note-book and a pencil as he spoke. ahmed ismail stopped and turned back towards the two men. the babu looked once, and only once, at the money-lender. then he stood waiting for shere ali's answer. "no, i have nothing to say," said shere ali civilly. "good-night," and he walked on. "great disappointment for indian public," said the bengali. "prince of chiltistan will say nothing. i make first-class leading article on reticence of indian prince in presence of high-class spectacular events. good-night, sir," and the babu shut up his book and fell back. shere ali followed upon the heels of ahmed ismail. the money-lender walked down the street to the maidan, and then turned to the left. the babu, on the other hand, hailed a third-class gharry and, ascending into it gave the driver some whispered instructions. the gharry drove on past the bengal club, and came, at length, to the native town. at the corner of a street the babu descended, paid the driver, and dismissed him. "i will walk the rest of the way," he said. "my home is quite near and a little exercise is good. i have large varicose veins in the legs, or i should have tramped hand and foot all the way." he walked slowly until the driver had turned his gharry and was driving back. then, for a man afflicted with varicose veins the babu displayed amazing agility. he ran through the silent and deserted street until he came to a turning. the lane which ran into the main road was a blind alley. mean hovels and shuttered booths flanked it, but at the end a tall house stood. the babu looked about him and perceived a cart standing in the lane. he advanced to it and looked in. "this is obvious place for satisfactory concealment," he said, as with some difficulty he clambered in. over the edge of the cart he kept watch. in a while he heard the sound of a man walking. the man was certainly at some distance from the turning, but the babu's head went down at once. the man whose footsteps he heard was wearing boots, but there would be one walking in front of that man who was wearing slippers--ahmed ismail. ahmed ismail, indeed, turned an instant afterwards into the lane, passed the cart and walked up to the door of the big house. there he halted, and shere ali joined him. "the gift was understood, your highness," he said. "the message was sent from end to end of chiltistan." "what gift?" asked shere ali, in genuine surprise. "your highness has forgotten? the melons and the bags of grain." shere ali was silent for a few moments. then he said: "and how was the gift interpreted?" ahmed ismail smiled in the darkness. "there are wise men in chiltistan, and they found the riddle easy to read. the melons were the infidels which would be cut to pieces, even as a knife cuts a melon. the grain was the army of the faithful." again shere ali was silent. he stood with his eyes upon his companion. "thus they understand my gift to the mullah?" he said at length. "thus they understood it," said ahmed ismail. "were they wrong?" and since shere ali paused before he answered, ahmed repeated the question, holding the while the key of his door between his fingers. "were they wrong, your highness?" "no," said shere ali firmly. "they were right." ahmed ismail put the key into the lock. the bolt shot back with a grating sound, the door opened upon blackness. "will your highness deign to enter?" he said, standing aside. "yes," said shere ali, and he passed in. his own people, his own country, had claimed and obtained him. chapter xxii the casting of the die ahmed ismail crossed the threshold behind shere ali. he closed the door quietly, bolted and locked it. then for a space of time the two men stood silent in the darkness, and both listened intently--ahmed ismail for the sound of someone stirring in the house, shere ali for a quiet secret movement at his elbow. the blackness of the passage gaping as the door opened had roused him to suspicion even while he had been standing in the street. but he had not thought of drawing back. he had entered without fear, just as now he stood, without fear, drawn up against the wall. there was, indeed, a smile upon his face. then he reached out his hand. ahmed ismail, who still stood afraid lest any of his family should have been disturbed, suddenly felt a light touch, like a caress, upon his face, and then before he could so much as turn his head, five strong lean fingers gripped him by the throat and tightened. "ahmed, i have enemies in chiltistan," said shere ali, between a whisper and a laugh. "the son of abdulla mohammed, for instance," and he loosened his grip a little upon ahmed's throat, but held him still with a straight arm. ahmed did not struggle. he whispered in reply: "i am not of your highness's enemies. long ago i gave your highness a sign of friendship when i prayed you to pass by the delhi gate of lahore." shere ali turned ahmed ismail towards the inner part of the house and loosed his neck. "go forward, then. light a lamp," he said, and ahmed moved noiselessly along the passage. shere ali heard the sound of a door opening upstairs, and then a pale light gleamed from above. shere ali walked to the end of the passage, and mounting the stairs found ahmed ismail in the doorway of a little room with a lighted lamp in his hand. "i was this moment coming down," said ahmed ismail as he stood aside from the door. shere ali walked in. he crossed to the window, which was unglazed but had little wooden shutters. these shutters were closed. shere ali opened one and looked out. the room was on the first floor, and the window opened on to a small square courtyard. a movement of ahmed ismail's brought him swiftly round. he saw the money-lender on his knees with his forehead to the ground, grovelling before his prince's feet. "the time has come, oh, my lord," he cried in a low, eager voice, and again, "the time has come." shere ali looked down and pleasure glowed unwontedly within him. he did not answer, he did not give ahmed ismail leave to rise from the ground. he sated his eyes and his vanity with the spectacle of the man's abasement. even his troubled heart ached with a duller pain. "i have been a fool," he murmured, "i have wasted my years. i have tortured myself for nothing. yes, i have been a fool." a wave of anger swept over him, drowning his pride--anger against himself. he thought of the white people with whom he had lived. "i sought for a recognition of my equality with them," he went on. "i sought it from their men and from their women. i hungered for it like a dog for a bone. they would not give it--neither their men, nor their women. and all the while here were my own people willing at a sign to offer me their homage." he spoke in pushtu, and ahmed ismail drank in every word. "they wanted a leader, huzoor," he said. "i turned away from them like a fool," replied shere ali, "while i sought favours from the white women like a slave." "your highness shall take as a right what you sought for as a favour." "as a right?" cried shere ali, his heart leaping to the incense of ahmed ismail's flattery. "what right?" he asked, suddenly bending his eyes upon his companion. "the right of a conqueror," cried ahmed ismail, and he bowed himself again at his prince's feet. he had spoken shere ali's wild and secret thought. but whereas shere ali had only whispered it to himself, ahmed ismail spoke it aloud, boldly and with a challenge in his voice, like one ready to make good his words. an interval of silence followed, a fateful interval as both men knew. not a sound from without penetrated into that little shuttered room, but to shere ali it seemed that the air throbbed and was heavy with unknown things to come. memories and fancies whirled in his disordered brain without relation to each other or consequence in his thoughts. now it was the two englishmen seated side by side behind the ropes and quietly talking of what was "not good for us," as though they had the whole of india, and the hill-districts, besides, in their pockets. he saw their faces, and, quietly though he stood and impassive as he looked, he was possessed with a longing to behold them within reach, so that he might strike them and disfigure them for ever. now it was violet oliver as she descended the steps into the great courtyard of the fort, dainty and provoking from the arched slipper upon her foot to the soft perfection of her hair. he saw her caught into the twilight swirl of pale white faces and so pass from his sight, thinking that at the same moment she passed from his life. then it was the viceroy in his box at the racecourse and all calcutta upon the lawn which swept past his eyes. he saw the eurasian girls prinked out in their best frocks to lure into marriage some unwary englishman. and again it was colonel dewes, the man who had lost his place amongst his own people, even as he, shere ali, had himself. a half-contemptuous smile of pity for a moment softened the hard lines of his mouth as he thought upon that forlorn and elderly man taking his loneliness with him into cashmere. "that shall not be my way," he said aloud, and the lines of his mouth hardened again. and once more before his eyes rose the vision of violet oliver. ahmed ismail had risen to his feet and stood watching his prince with eager, anxious eyes. shere ali crossed to the table and turned down the lamp, which was smoking. then he went to the window and thrust the shutters open. he turned round suddenly upon ahmed. "were you ever in mecca?" "yes, huzoor," and ahmed's eyes flashed at the question. "i met three men from chiltistan on the lowari pass. they were going down to kurachi. i, too, must make the pilgrimage to mecca." he stood watching the flame of the lamp as he spoke, and spoke in a monotonous dull voice, as though what he said were of little importance. but ahmed ismail listened to the words, not the voice, and his joy was great. it was as though he heard a renegade acknowledge once more the true faith. "afterwards, huzoor," he said, significantly. "afterwards." shere ali nodded his head. "yes, afterwards. when we have driven the white people down from the hills into the plains." "and from the plains into the sea," cried ahmed ismail. "the angels will fight by our side--so the mullahs have said---and no man who fights with faith will be hurt. all will be invulnerable. it is written, and the mullahs have read the writing and translated it through chiltistan." "is that so?" said shere ali, and as he put the question there was an irony in his voice which ahmed ismail was quick to notice. but shere ali put it yet a second time, after a pause, and this time there was no trace of irony. "but i will not go alone," he said, suddenly raising his eyes from the flame of the lamp and looking towards ahmed ismail. ahmed did not understand. but also he did not interrupt, and shere ali spoke again, with a smile slowly creeping over his face. "i will not go alone to mecca. i will follow the example of sirdar khan." the saying was still a riddle to ahmed ismail. "sirdar khan, your highness?" he said. "i do not know him." shere ali turned his eyes again upon the flame of the lamp, and the smile broadened upon his face, a thing not pleasant to see. he wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue and told his story. "sirdar khan is dead long since," he said, "but he was one of the five men of the bodyguard of nana, who went into the bibigarh at cawnpore on july of the year . have you heard of that year, ahmed ismail, and of the month and of the day? do you know what was done that day in the bibigarh at cawnpore?" ahmed ismail watched the light grow in shere ali's eyes, and a smile crept into his face, too. "huzoor, huzoor," he said, in a whisper of delight. he knew very well what had happened in cawnpore, though he knew nothing of the month or the day, and cared little in what year it had happened. "there were women and children, english women, english children, shut up in the bibigarh. at five o'clock--and it is well to remember the hour, ahmed ismail--at five o'clock in the evening the five men of the nana's bodyguard went into the bibigarh and the doors were closed upon them. it was dark when they came out again and shut the doors behind them, saying that all were dead. but it was not true. there was an englishwoman alive in the bibigarh, and sirdar khan came back in the night and took her away." "and she is in mecca now?" cried ahmed ismail. "yes. an old, old woman," said shere ali, dwelling upon the words with a quiet, cruel pleasure. he had the picture clear before his eyes, he saw it in the flame of the lamp at which he gazed so steadily--an old, wizened, shrunken woman, living in a bare room, friendless and solitary, so old that she had even ceased to be aware of her unhappiness, and so coarsened out of all likeness to the young, bright english girl who had once dwelt in cawnpore, that even her own countryman had hardly believed she was of his race. he set another picture side by side with that--the picture of violet oliver as she turned to him on the steps and said, "this is really good-bye." and in his imagination, he saw the one picture merge and coarsen into the other, the dainty trappings of lace and ribbons change to a shapeless cloak, the young face wither from its beauty into a wrinkled and yellow mask. it would be a just punishment, he said to himself. anger against her was as a lust at his heart. he had lost sight of her kindness, and her pity; he desired her and hated her in the same breath. "are you married, ahmed ismail?" he asked. ahmed ismail smiled. "truly, huzoor." "do you carry your troubles to your wife? is she your companion as well as your wife? your friend as well as your mistress?" ahmed ismail laughed. "yet that is what the englishwomen are," said shere ali. "perhaps, huzoor," replied ahmed, cunningly, "it is for that reason that there are some who take and do not give." he came a little nearer to his prince. "where is she, huzoor?" shere ali was startled by the question out of his dreams. for it had been a dream, this thought of capturing violet oliver and plucking her out of her life into his. he had played with it, knowing it to be a fancy. there had been no settled plan, no settled intention in his mind. but to-night he was carried away. it appeared to him there was a possibility his dream might come true. it seemed so not alone to him but to ahmed ismail too. he turned and gazed at the man, wondering whether ahmed ismail played with him or not. but ahmed bore the scrutiny without a shadow of embarrassment. "is she in india, huzoor?" shere ali hesitated. some memory of the lessons learned in england was still alive within him, bidding him guard his secret. but the memory was no longer strong enough. he bowed his head in assent. "in calcutta?" "yes." "your highness shall point her out to me one evening as she drives in the maidan," said ahmed ismail, and again shere ali answered-- "yes." but he caught himself back the next moment. he flung away from ahmed ismail with a harsh outburst of laughter. "but this is all folly," he cried. "we are not in the days of the uprising," for thus he termed now what a month ago he would have called "the mutiny." "cawnpore is not calcutta," and he turned in a gust of fury upon ahmed ismail. "do you play with me, ahmed ismail?" "upon my head, no! light of my life, hope of my race, who would dare?" and he was on the ground at shere ali's feet. "do i indeed speak follies? i pray your highness to bethink you that the summer sets its foot upon the plains. she will go to the hills, huzoor. she will go to the hills. and your people are not fools. they have cunning to direct their strength. see, your highness, is there a regiment in peshawur whose rifles are safe, guard them howsoever carefully they will? every week they are brought over the hills into chiltistan that we may be ready for the great day," and ahmed ismail chuckled to himself. "a month ago, huzoor, so many rifles had been stolen that a regiment in camp locked their rifles to their tent poles, and so thought to sleep in peace. but on the first night the cords of the tents were cut, and while the men waked and struggled under the folds of canvas, the tent poles with the rifles chained to them were carried away. all those rifles are now in kohara. surely, huzoor, if they can steal the rifles from the middle of a camp, they can steal a weak girl among the hills." ahmed ismail waited in suspense, with his forehead bowed to the ground, and when the answer came he smiled. he had made good use of this unexpected inducement which had been given to him. he knew very well that nothing but an unlikely chance would enable him to fulfil his promise. but that did not matter. the young prince would point out the englishwoman in the maidan and, at a later time when all was ready in chiltistan, a fine and obvious attempt should be made to carry her off. the pretence might, if occasion served, become a reality, to be sure, but the attempt must be as public as possible. there must be no doubt as to its author. shere ali, in a word, must be committed beyond any possibility of withdrawal. ahmed ismail himself would see to that. "very well. i will point her out to you," said shere ali, and ahmed ismail rose to his feet. he waited before his master, silent and respectful. shere ali had no suspicion that he was being jockeyed by that respectful man into a hopeless rebellion. he had, indeed, lost sight of the fact that the rebellion must be hopeless. "when," he asked, "will chiltistan be ready?" "as soon as the harvest is got in," replied ahmed ismail. shere ali nodded his head. "you and i will go northwards to-morrow," he said. "to kohara?" asked ahmed ismail. "yes." for a little while ahmed ismail was silent. then he said: "if your highness will allow his servant to offer a contemptible word of advice--" "speak," said shere ali. "then it might be wise, perhaps, to go slowly to kohara. your highness has enemies in chiltistan. the news of the melons and the bags of grain is spread abroad, and jealousy is aroused. for there are some who wish to lead when they should serve." "the son of abdulla mohammed," said shere ali. ahmed ismail shrugged his shoulders as though the son of abdulla mohammed were of little account. there was clearly another in his mind, and shere ali was quick to understand him. "my father," he said quietly. he remembered how his father had received him with his snider rifle cocked and laid across his knees. this time the snider would be fired if ever shere ali came within range of its bullet. but it was unlikely that he would get so far, unless he went quickly and secretly at an appointed time. "i had a poor foolish thought," said ahmed ismail, "not worthy a moment's consideration by my prince." shere ali broke in impatiently upon his words. "speak it." "if we travelled slowly to ajmere, we should come to that town at the time of pilgrimage. there in secret the final arrangements can be made, so that the blow may fall upon an uncovered head." "the advice is good," said shere ali. but he spoke reluctantly. he wanted not to wait at all. he wanted to strike now while his anger was at its hottest. but undoubtedly the advice was good. ahmed ismail, carrying the light in his hand, went down the stairs before shere ali and along the passage to the door. there he extinguished the lamp and cautiously drew back the bolts. he looked out and saw that the street was empty. "there is no one," he said, and shere ali passed out to the mouth of the blind alley and turned to the left towards the maidan. he walked thoughtfully and did not notice a head rise cautiously above the side of a cart in the mouth of the alley. it was the head of the reporter of bande mataram, whose copy would be assuredly too late for the press. shere ali walked on through the streets. it was late, and he met no one. there had come upon him during the last hours a great yearning for his own country. he ran over in his mind, with a sense of anger against himself, the miserable wasted weeks in calcutta--the nights in the glaring bars and halls, the friends he had made, the depths in which he had wallowed. he came to the maidan, and, standing upon that empty plain, gazed round on the great silent city. he hated it, with its statues of viceroys and soldiers, its houses of rich merchants, its insolence. he would lead his own people against all that it symbolised. perhaps, some day, when all the frontier was in flame, and the british power rolled back, he and his people might pour down from the hills and knock even against the gates of calcutta. men from the hills had come down to tonk, and bhopal, and rohilcund, and rampur, and founded kingdoms for themselves. why should he and his not push on to calcutta? he bared his head to the night wind. he was uplifted, and fired with mad, impossible dreams. all that he had learned was of little account to him now. it might be that the english, as colonel dewes had said, had something of an army. let them come to chiltistan and prove their boast. "i will go north to the hills," he cried, and with a shock he understood that, after all, he had recovered his own place. the longing at his heart was for his own country--for his own people. it might have been bred of disappointment and despair. envy of the white people might have cradled it, desire for the white woman might have nursed it into strength. but it was alive now. that was all of which shere ali was conscious. the knowledge filled all his thoughts. he had his place in the world. greatly he rejoiced. chapter xxiii shere ali's pilgrimage there were times when ralston held aloft his hands and cursed the indian administration by all his gods. but he never did so with a more whole-hearted conviction than on the day when he received word that linforth had been diverted to rawal pindi, in order that he might take up purely military duties. it took ralston just seven months to secure his release, and it was not until the early days of autumn had arrived that linforth at last reached peshawur. a landau, with a coachman and groom in scarlet liveries, was waiting for him at the station, and he drove along the broad road through the cantonment to government house. as the carriage swung in at the gates, a tall, thin man came from the croquet-ground on the left. he joined dick in the porch. "you are mr. linforth?" he said. "yes." for a moment a pair of grey, tired eyes ran dick over from head to foot in a careless scrutiny. apparently, however, the scrutiny was favourable. "i am the chief commissioner. i am glad that you have come. my sister will give you some tea, and afterwards, if you are not tired, we might go for a ride together. you would like to see your room first." ralston spoke with his usual indifference. there was no intonation in his voice which gave to any one sentence a particular meaning; and for a particular meaning dick linforth was listening with keen ears. he followed ralston across the hall to his room, and disappointment gained upon him with every step. he had grown familiar with disappointment of late years, but he was still young enough in years and spirit to expect the end of disappointment with each change in his fortunes. he had expected it when the news of his appointment had reached him in calcutta, and disappointment had awaited him in bombay. he had expected it again when, at last, he was sent from rawal pindi to peshawur. all the way up the line he had been watching the far hills of cashmere, and repeating to himself, "at last! at last!" the words had been a song at his heart, tuned to the jolt and rhythm of the wheels. ralston of peshawur had asked for him. so much he had been told. his longing had explained to him why ralston of peshawur had asked for him, and easily he had believed the explanation. he was a linforth, one of the linforths of the road. great was his pride. he would not have bartered his position to be a general in command of a division. ralston had sent for him because of his hereditary title to work upon the road, the broad, permanent, graded road which was to make india safe. and now he walked behind a tired and indifferent commissioner, whose very voice officialdom had made phlegmatic, and on whose aspect was writ large the habit of routine. in this mood he sat, while miss ralston prattled to him about the social doings of peshawur, the hunt, the golf; and in this mood he rode out with ralston to the gate of the city. they passed through the main street, and, turning to the right, ascended to an archway, above which rose a tower. at the archway they dismounted and climbed to the roof of the tower. peshawur, with its crowded streets, its open bazaars, its balconied houses of mud bricks built into wooden frames, lay mapped beneath them. but linforth's eyes travelled over the trees and the gardens northwards and eastwards, to where the foothills of the himalayas were coloured with the violet light of evening. "linforth," ralston cried. he was leaning on the parapet at the opposite side of the tower, and dick crossed and leaned at his side. "it was i who had you sent for," said ralston in his dull voice. "when you were at chatham, i mean. i worried them in calcutta until they sent for you." dick took his elbows from the parapet and stood up. his face took life and fire, there came a brightness as of joy into his eyes. after all, then, this time he was not to be disappointed. "i wanted you to come to peshawur straight from bombay six months ago," ralston went on. "but i counted without the indian government. they brought you out to india, at my special request, for a special purpose, and then, when they had got you, they turned you over to work which anyone else could have done. so six months have been wasted. but that's their little way." "you have special work for me?" said linforth quietly enough, though his heart was beating quickly in his breast. an answer came which still quickened its beatings. "work that you alone can do," ralston replied gravely. but he was a man who had learned to hope for little, and to expect discouragements as his daily bread, and he added: "that is, if you can do it." linforth did not answer at once. he was leaning with his elbows on the parapet, and he raised a hand to the side of his face, that side on which ralston stood. and so he remained, shutting himself in with his thoughts, and trying to think soberly. but his head whirled. below him lay the city of peshawur. behind him the plains came to an end, and straight up from them, like cliffs out of the sea, rose the dark hills, brown and grey and veined with white. here on this tower of northern india, the long dreams, dreamed for the first time on the sussex downs, and nursed since in every moment of leisure--in alpine huts in days of storm, in his own quarters at chatham--had come to their fulfilment. "i have lived for this work," he said in a low voice which shook ever so little, try as he might to quiet it. "ever since i was a boy i have lived for it, and trained myself for it. it is the road." linforth's evident emotion came upon ralston as an unexpected thing. he was carried back suddenly to his own youth, and was surprised to recollect that he, too, had once cherished great plans. he saw himself as he was to-day, and, side by side with that disillusioned figure, he saw himself as he had been in his youth. a smile of friendliness came over his face. "if i had shut my eyes," he said, "i should have thought it was your father who was speaking." linforth turned quickly to ralston. "my father. you knew him?" "yes." "i never did," said dick regretfully. ralston nodded his head and continued: "twenty-six years ago we were here in peshawur together. we came up on to the top of this tower, as everyone does who comes to peshawur. he was like you. he was dreaming night and day of the great road through chiltistan to the foot of the hindu kush. look!" and ralston pointed down to the roof-tops of the city, whereon the women and children worked and played. for the most part they were enclosed within brick walls, and the two men looked down into them as you might look in the rooms of a doll's house by taking off the lid. ralston pointed to one such open chamber just beneath their eyes. an awning supported on wooden pillars sheltered one end of it, and between two of these pillars a child swooped backwards and forwards in a swing. in the open, a woman, seated upon a string charpoy, rocked a cradle with her foot, while her hands were busy with a needle, and an old woman, with a black shawl upon her shoulders and head, sat near by, inactive. but she was talking. for at times the younger woman would raise her head, and, though at that distance no voice could be heard, it was evident that she was answering. "i remember noticing that roof when your father and i were talking up here all those years ago. there was just the same family group as you see now. i remember it quite clearly, for your father went away to chiltistan the next day, and never came back. it was the last time i saw him, and we were both young and full of all the great changes we were to bring about." he smiled, half it seemed in amusement, half in regret. "we talked of the road, of course. well, there's just one change. the old woman, sitting there with the shawl upon her shoulders now, was in those days the young woman rocking the cradle and working with her needle. that's all. troubles there have been, disturbances, an expedition or two--but there's no real change. here are you talking of the road just as your father did, not ambitious for yourself," he explained with a kindly smile which illumined his whole face, "but ambitious for the road, and the road still stops at kohara." "but it will go on--now," cried linforth. "perhaps," said ralston slowly. then he stood up and confronted linforth. "it was not that you might carry on the road that i brought you out from england," he skid. "on the contrary." once more disappointment seized upon dick linforth, and he found it all the more bitter in that he had believed a minute since that his dreams were to be fulfilled. he looked down upon peshawur, and the words which ralston had lately spoken, half in amusement, half with regret, suddenly took for him their full meaning. was it true that there was no change but the change from the young woman to the old one, from enthusiasm to acquiescence? he was young, and the possibility chilled him and even inspired him with a kind of terror. was he to carry the road no further than his father had done? would another linforth in another generation come to the tower in peshawur with hopes as high as his and with the like futility? "on the contrary?" he asked. "then why?" "that you might stop the road from going on," said ralston quietly. in the very midst of his disappointment linforth realised that he had misjudged his companion. here was no official, here was a man. the attitude of indifference had gone, the air of lassitude with it. here was a man quietly exacting the hardest service which it was in his power to exact, claiming it as a right, and yet making it clear by some subtle sympathy that he understood very well all that the service would cost to the man who served. "i am to hinder the making of that road?" cried linforth. "you are to do more. you are to prevent it." "i have lived so that it should be made." "so you have told me," said ralston quietly, and dick was silent. with each quiet sentence ralston had become more and more the dominating figure. he was so certain, so assured. linforth recognised him no longer as the man to argue with; but as the representative of government which overrides predilections, sympathies, ambitions, and bends its servants to their duty. "i will tell you more," ralston continued. "you alone can prevent the extension of the road. i believe it--i know it. i sent to england for you, knowing it. do your duty, and it may be that the road will stop at kohara--an unfinished, broken thing. flinch, and the road runs straight to the hindu kush. you will have your desire; but you will have failed." there was something implacable and relentless in the tone and the words. there was more, too. there was an intimation, subtly yet most clearly conveyed, that ralston who spoke had in his day trampled his ambitions and desires beneath his feet in service to the government, and asked no more now from linforth than he himself had in his turn performed. "i, too, have lived in arcady," he added. it twas this last intimation which subdued the protests in linforth's mind. he looked at the worn face of the commissioner, then he lifted his eyes and swept the horizon with his gaze. the violet light upon the hills had lost its brightness and its glamour. in the far distance the hills themselves were withdrawn. somewhere in that great barrier to the east was the gap of the malakand pass, where the road now began. linforth turned away from the hills towards peshawur. "what must i do?" he asked simply. ralston nodded his head. his attitude relaxed, his voice lost its dominating note. "what you have to understand is this," he explained. "to drive the road through chiltistan means war. it would be the cause of war if we insisted upon it now, just as it was the cause of war when your father went up from peshawur twenty-six years ago. or it might be the consequence of war. if the chiltis rose in arms, undoubtedly we should carry it on to secure control of the country in the future. well, it is the last alternative that we are face to face with now." "the chiltis might rise!" cried linforth. "there is that possibility," ralston returned. "we don't mean on our own account to carry on the road; but the chiltis might rise." "and how should i prevent them?" asked dick linforth in perplexity. "you know shere ali?" said ralston "yes." "you are a friend of his?" "yes." "a great friend. his chief friend?" "yes." "you have some control over him?" "i think so," said linforth. "very well," said ralston. "you must use that control." linforth's perplexity increased. that danger should come from shere ali--here was something quite incredible. he remembered their long talks, their joint ambition. a day passed in the hut in the promontoire of the meije stood out vividly in his memories. he saw the snow rising in a swirl of white over the breche de la meije, that gap in the rock-wall between the meije and the rateau, and driving down the glacier towards the hut. he remembered the eagerness, the enthusiasm of shere ali. "but he's loyal," linforth cried. "there is no one in india more loyal." "he was loyal, no doubt," said ralston, with a shrug of his shoulders, and, beginning with his first meeting with shere ali in lahore, he told linforth all that he knew of the history of the young prince. "there can be no doubt," he said, "of his disloyalty," and he recounted the story of the melons and the bags of grain. "since then he has been intriguing in calcutta." "is he in calcutta now?" linforth asked. "no," said ralston. "he left calcutta just about the time when you landed in bombay. and there is something rather strange--something, i think, very disquieting in his movements since he left calcutta. i have had him watched, of course. he came north with one of his own countrymen, and the pair of them have been seen at cawnpore, at lucknow, at delhi." ralston paused. his face had grown very grave, very troubled. "i am not sure," he said slowly. "it is difficult, however long you stay in india, to get behind these fellows' minds, to understand the thoughts and the motives which move them. and the longer you stay, the more difficult you realise it to be. but it looks to me as if shere ali had been taken by his companion on a sort of pilgrimage." linforth started. "a pilgrimage!" and he added slowly, "i think i understand. a pilgrimage to all the places which could most inflame the passions of a native against the english race," and then he broke out in protest. "but it's impossible. i know shere ali. it's not reasonable--" ralston interrupted him upon the utterance of the word. "reasonable!" he cried. "you are in india. do ever white men act reasonably in india?" and he turned with a smile. "there was a great-uncle of yours in the days of the john company, wasn't there? your father told me about him here on this tower. when his time was up, he sent his money home and took his passage, and then came back--came back to the mountains and disappeared. very likely he may be sitting somewhere beyond that barrier of hills by a little shrine to this hour, an old, old man, reverenced as a saint, with a strip of cloth about his loins, and forgetful of the days when he ruled a district in the plains. i should not wonder. it's not a reasonable country." ralston, indeed, was not far out in his judgment. ahmed ismail had carried shere ali off from calcutta. he had taken him first of all to cawnpore, and had led him up to the gate of the enclosure, wherein are the bibigarh, where the women and children were massacred, and the well into which their bodies were flung. an english soldier turned them back from that enclosure, refusing them admittance. ahmed ismail, knowing well that it would be so, smiled quietly under his moustache; but shere ali angrily pointed to some english tourists who were within the enclosure. "why should we remain outside?" he asked. "they are bilati," said ahmed ismail in a smooth voice as they moved away. "they are foreigners. the place is sacred to the foreigners. it is indian soil; but the indian may not walk on it; no, not though he were born next door. yet why should we grumble or complain? we are the dirt beneath their feet. we are dogs and sons of dogs, and a hireling will turn our princes from the gate lest the soles of our shoes should defile their sacred places. and are they not right, huzoor?" he asked cunningly. "since we submit to it, since we cringe at their indignities and fawn upon them for their insults, are they not right?" "why, that's true, ahmed ismail," replied shere ali bitterly. he was in the mood to make much of any trifle. this reservation of the enclosure at cawnpore was but one sign of the overbearing arrogance of the foreigners, the bilati--the men from over the sea. he had fawned upon them himself in the days of his folly. "but turn a little, huzoor," ahmed whispered in his ear, and led him back. "look! there is the bibigarh where the women were imprisoned. that is the house. through that opening sirdar khan and his four companions went--and shut the door behind them. in that room the women of mecca knelt and prayed for mercy. come away, huzoor. we have seen. those were days when there were men upon the plains of india." and shere ali broke out with a fierce oath. "amongst the hills, at all events, there are men today. there is no sacred ground for them in chiltistan." "not even the road?" asked ahmed ismail; and shere ali stopped dead, and stared at his companion with startled eyes. he walked away in silence after that; and for the rest of that day he said little to ahmed ismail, who watched him anxiously. at night, however, ahmed was justified of his policy. for shere ali appeared before him in the white robes of a mohammedan. up till then he had retained the english dress. now he had discarded it. ahmed ismail fell at his feet, and bowed himself to the ground. "my lord! my lord!" he cried, and there was no simulation in his outburst of joy. "would that your people could behold you now! but we have much to see first. to-morrow we go to lucknow." accordingly the two men travelled the next day to lucknow. shere ali was led up under the broken archway by evans's battery into the grounds of the residency. he walked with ahmed ismail at his elbow on the green lawns where the golden-crested hoopoes flashed in the sunlight and the ruined buildings stood agape to the air. they looked peaceful enough, as they strolled from one battery to another, but all the while ahmed ismail preached his sermon into shere ali's ears. there lawrence had died; here at the top of the narrow lane had stood johannes's house whence nebo the nailer had watched day after day with his rifle in his hand. hardly a man, be he never so swift, could cross that little lane from one quarter of the residency to another, so long as daylight lasted and so long as nebo the nailer stood behind the shutters of johannes's house. shere ali was fired by the story of that siege. by so little was the garrison saved. ahmed ismail led him down to a corner of the grounds and once more a sentry barred the way. "this is the graveyard," said ahmed ismail, and shere ali, looking up, stepped back with a look upon his face which ahmed ismail did not understand. "huzoor!" he said anxiously, and shere ali turned upon him with an imperious word. "silence, dog!" he cried. "stand apart. i wish to be alone." his eyes were on the little church with the trees and the wall girding it in. at the side a green meadow with high trees, had the look of a playing-ground--the playing-ground of some great public school in england. shere ali's eyes took in the whole picture, and then saw it but dimly through a mist. for the little church, though he had never seen it before, was familiar and most moving. it was a model of the royal chapel at eton, and, in spite of himself, as he gazed the tears filled his eyes and the memory of his schooldays ached at his heart. he yearned to be back once more in the shadow of that chapel with his comrades and his friends. not yet had he wholly forgotten; he was softened out of his bitterness; the burden of his jealousy and his anger fell for awhile from his shoulders. when he rejoined ahmed ismail, he bade him follow and speak no word. he drove back to the town, and then only he spoke to ahmed ismail. "we will go from lucknow to-day," he said. "i will not sleep in this town." "as your highness wills," said ahmed ismail humbly, and he went into the station and bought tickets for delhi. it was on a thursday morning that the pair reached that town; and that day ahmed ismail had an unreceptive listener for his sermons. the monument before the post office, the tablets on the arch of the arsenal, even the barracks in the gardens of the moghul palace fired no antagonism in the prince, who so short a time ago had been a boy at eton. the memories evoked by the little church at lucknow had borne him company all night and still clung to him that day. he was homesick for his school. only twice was he really roused. the first instance took place when he was driving along the chandni chauk, the straight broad tree-fringed street which runs from the lahore gate to the fort. ahmed ismail sat opposite to him, and, leaning forward, he pointed to a tree and to a tall house in front of the tree. "my lord," said he, "could that tree speak, what groans would one hear!" "why?" said shere ali listlessly. "listen, your highness," said ahmed ismail. like the rest of his countrymen, he had a keen love for a story. and the love was the keener when he himself had the telling of it. he sat up alertly. "in that house lived an englishman of high authority. he escaped when delhi was seized by the faithful. he came back when delhi was recaptured by the infidels. and there he sat with an english officer, at his window, every morning from eight to nine. and every morning from eight to nine every native who passed his door was stopped and hanged upon that tree, while he looked on. huzoor, there was no inquiry. it might be some peaceable merchant, some poor man from the countryside. what did it matter? there was a lesson to be taught to this city. and so whoever walked down the chandni chauk during that hour dangled from those branches. huzoor, for a week this went on--for a whole week." the story was current in delhi. ahmed ismail found it to his hand, and shere ali did not question it. he sat up erect, and something of the fire which this last day had been extinct kindled again in his sombre eyes. later on he drove along the sinuous road on the top of the ridge, and as he looked over delhi, hidden amongst its foliage, he saw the great white dome of the jumma musjid rising above the tree-tops, like a balloon. "the mosque," he said, standing up in his carriage. "to-morrow we will worship there." before noon the next day he mounted the steep broad flight of steps and passed under the red sandstone arch into the vast enclosure. he performed his ablutions at the fountain, and, kneeling upon the marble tiles, waited for the priest to ascend the ladder on to the wooden platform. he knelt with ahmed ismail at his side, in the open, amongst the lowliest. in front of him rows of worshippers knelt and bowed their foreheads to the tiles--rows and rows covering the enclosure up to the arches of the mosque itself. there were others too--rows and rows within the arches, in the dusk of the mosque itself, and from man to man emotion passed like a spark upon the wind. the crowd grew denser, there came a suspense, a tension. it gained upon all, it laid its clutch upon shere ali. he ceased to think, even upon his injuries, he was possessed with expectancy. and then a man kneeling beside him interrupted his prayers and began to curse fiercely beneath his breath. "may they burn, they and their fathers and their children, to the last generation!" and he added epithets of a surprising ingenuity. the while he looked backwards over his shoulder. shere ali followed his example. he saw at the back of the enclosure, in the galleries which surmounted the archway and the wall, english men and english women waiting. shere ali's blood boiled at the sight. they were laughing, talking. some of them had brought sandwiches and were eating their lunch. others were taking photographs with their cameras. they were waiting for the show to begin. shere ali followed the example of his neighbour and cursed them. all his anger kindled again and quickened into hatred. they were so careful of themselves, so careless of others! "not a mohammedan," he cried to himself, "must set foot in their graveyard at lucknow, but they come to our mosque as to a show." suddenly he saw the priest climb the ladder on to the high wooden platform in front of the central arch of the mosque and bow his forehead to the floor. his voice rang out resonant and clear and confident over that vast assemblage. "there is only one god." and a shiver passed across the rows of kneeling men, as though unexpectedly a wind had blown across a ripe field of corn. shere ali was moved like the rest, but all the while at the back of his mind there was the thought of those white people in the galleries. "they are laughing at us, they are making a mock of us, they think we are of no account." and fiercely he called upon his god, the god of the mohammedans, to root them out from the land and cast them as weeds in the flame. the priest stood up erect upon the platform, and with a vibrating voice, now plaintive and conveying some strange sense of loneliness, now loud in praise, now humble in submission, he intoned the prayers. his voice rose and sank, reverberating back over the crowded courtyard from the walls of the mosque. shere ali prayed too, but he prayed silently, with all the fervour of a fanatic, that it might be his hand which should drive the english to their ships upon the sea. when he rose and came out from the mosque he turned to ahmed ismail. "there are some of my people in delhi?" ahmed ismail bowed. "let us go to them," said shere ali; he sought refuge amongst them from the thought of those people in the galleries. ahmed ismail was well content with the results of his pilgrimage. shere ali, as he paced the streets of delhi with a fierce rapt look in his eyes, had the very aspect of a ghazi fresh from the hills and bent upon murder and immolation. chapter xxiv news from ajmere something of this pilgrimage ralston understood; and what he understood he explained to dick linforth on the top of the tower at peshawur. linforth, however, was still perplexed, still unconvinced. "i can't believe it," he cried; "i know shere ali so well." ralston shook his head. "england overlaid the real man with a pretty varnish," he said. "that's all it ever does. and the varnish peels off easily when the man comes back to an indian sun. there's not one of these people from the hills but has in him the makings of a fanatic. it's a question of circumstances whether the fanaticism comes to the top or not. given the circumstances, neither eton, nor oxford, nor all the schools and universities rolled into one would hinder the relapse." "but why?" exclaimed linforth. "why should shere ali have relapsed?" "disappointment here, flattery in england--there are many reasons. usually there's a particular reason." "and what is that?" asked linforth. "the love of a white woman." ralston was aware that linforth at his side started. he started ever so slightly. but ralston was on the alert. he made no sign, however, that he had noticed anything. "i know that reason held good in shere ali's case," ralston went on; and there came a change in linforth's voice. it grew rather stern, rather abrupt. "why? has he talked?" "not that i know of. nevertheless, i am sure that there was one who played a part in shere ali's life," said ralston. "i have known it ever since i first met him--more than a year ago on his way northwards to chiltistan. he stopped for a day at lahore and rode out with me. i told him that the government expected him to marry as soon as possible, and settle down in his own country. i gave him that advice deliberately. you see i wanted to find out. and i did find out. his consternation, his anger, answered me clearly enough. i have no doubt that there was someone over there in england--a woman, perhaps an innocent woman, who had been merely careless--perhaps--" but he did not finish the sentence. linforth interrupted him before he had time to complete it. and he interrupted without flurry or any sign of agitation. "there was a woman," he said. "but i don't think she was thoughtless. i don't see how she could have known that there was any danger in her friendliness. for she was merely friendly to shere ali. i know her myself." the answer was given frankly and simply. for once ralston was outwitted. dick linforth had violet oliver to defend, and the defence was well done. ralston was left without a suspicion that linforth had any reason beyond the mere truth of the facts to spur him to defend her. "yes, that's the mistake," said ralston. "the woman's friendly and means no more than she says or looks. but these fellows don't understand such friendship. shere ali is here dreaming of a woman he knows he can never marry--because of his race. and so he's ready to run amuck. that's what it comes to." he turned away from the city as he spoke and took a step or two towards the flight of stone stairs which led down from the tower. "where is shere ali now?" linforth asked, and ralston stopped and came back again. "i don't know," he said. "but i shall know, and very soon. there may be a letter waiting for me at home. you see, when there's trouble brewing over there behind the hills, and i want to discover to what height it has grown and how high it's likely to grow, i select one of my police, a pathan, of course, and i send him to find out." "you send him over the malakand," said linforth, with a glance towards the great hill-barrier. he was to be astonished by the answer ralston gave. "no. on the contrary, i send him south. i send him to ajmere, in rajputana." "in ajmere?" cried linforth. "yes. there is a great mohammedan shrine. pilgrims go there from all parts, but mostly from beyond the frontier. i get my fingers on the pulse of the frontier in ajmere more surely than i should if i sent spies up into the hills. i have a man there now. but that's not all. there's a great feast in ajmere this week. and i think i shall find out from there where shere ali is and what he's doing. as soon as i do find out, i want you to go to him." "i understand," said linforth. "but if he has changed so much, he will have changed to me." "yes," ralston admitted. he turned again towards the steps, and the two men descended to their horses. "that's likely enough. they ought to have sent you to me six months ago. anyway, you must do your best." he climbed into the saddle, and linforth did the same. "very well," said dick, as they rode through the archway. "i will do my best," and he turned towards ralston with a smile. "i'll do my best to hinder the road from going on." it was a queer piece of irony that the first real demand made upon him in his life was that he should stop the very thing on the accomplishment of which his hopes were set. but there was his friend to save. he comforted himself with that thought. there was his friend rushing blindly upon ruin. linforth could not doubt it. how in the world could shere ali, he wondered. he could not yet dissociate the shere ali of to-day from the boy and the youth who had been his chum. they passed out of the further gate of peshawur and rode along the broad white road towards government house. it was growing dark, and as they turned in at the gateway of the garden, lights shone in the windows ahead of them. the lights recalled to ralston's mind a fact which he had forgotten to mention. "by the way," he said, turning towards linforth, "we have a lady staying with us who knows you." linforth leaned forward in his saddle and stooped as if to adjust a stirrup, and it was thus a second or two before he answered. "indeed!" he said. "who is she?" "a mrs. oliver," replied ralston, "she was at srinagar in cashmere this summer, staying with the resident. my sister met her there, i think she told mrs. oliver you were likely to come to us about this time." dick's heart leaped within him suddenly. had violet oliver arranged her visit so that it might coincide with his? it was at all events a pleasant fancy to play with. he looked up at the windows of the house. she was really there! after all these months he would see her. no wonder the windows were bright. as they rode up to the porch and the door was opened, he heard her voice. she was singing in the drawing-room, and the door of the drawing-room stood open. she sang in a low small voice, very pretty to the ear, and she was accompanying herself softly on the piano. dick stood for a while listening in the lofty hall, while ralston looked over his letters which were lying upon a small table. he opened one of them and uttered an exclamation. "this is from my man at ajmere," he said, but dick paid no attention. ralston glanced through the letter. "he has found him," he cried. "shere ali is in ajmere." it took a moment or two for the words to penetrate to linforth's mind. then he said slowly: "oh! shere ali's in ajmere. i must start for ajmere to-morrow." ralston looked up from his letters and glanced at linforth. something in the abstracted way in which linforth had spoken attracted his attention. he smiled: "yes, it's a pity," he said. but again it seemed that linforth did not hear. and then the voice at the piano stopped abruptly as though the singer had just become aware that there were people talking in the hall. linforth moved forward, and in the doorway of the drawing-room he came face to face with violet oliver. ralston smiled again. "there's something between those two," he said to himself. but linforth had kept his secrets better half an hour ago. for it did not occur to ralston to suspect that there had been something also between violet oliver and shere ali. chapter xxv in the rose garden "let us go out," said linforth. it was after dinner on the same evening, and he was standing with violet oliver at the window of the drawing-room. behind them an officer and his wife from the cantonment were playing "bridge" with ralston and his sister. violet oliver hesitated. the window opened upon the garden. already linforth's hand was on the knob. "very well," she said. but there was a note of reluctance in her voice. "you will need a cloak," he said. "no," said violet oliver. she had a scarf of lace in her hand, and she twisted it about her throat. linforth opened the long window and they stepped out into the garden. it was a clear night of bright stars. the chill of sunset had passed, the air was warm. it was dark in spite of the stars. the path glimmered faintly in front of them. "i was hoping very much that i should meet you somewhere in india," said dick. "lately i had grown afraid that you would be going home before the chance came." "you left it to chance," said violet. the reluctance had gone from her voice; but in its place there was audible a note of resentment. she had spoken abruptly and a little sharply, as though a grievance present in her mind had caught her unawares and forced her to give it utterance. "no," replied linforth, turning to her earnestly. "that's not fair. i did not know where you were. i asked all who might be likely to know. no one could tell me. i could not get away from my station. so that i had to leave it to chance." they walked down the drive, and then turned off past the croquet lawn towards a garden of roses and jasmine and chrysanthemums. "and chance, after all, has been my friend," he said with a smile. violet oliver stopped suddenly. linforth turned to her. they were walking along a narrow path between high bushes of rhododendrons. it was very dark, so that linforth could only see dimly her face and eyes framed in the white scarf which she had draped over her hair. but even so he could see that she was very grave. "i was wondering whether i should tell you," she said quietly. "it was not chance which brought me here--which brought us together again." dick came to her side. "no?" he asked, looking down into her face. he spoke very gently, and with a graver voice than he had used before. "no," she answered. her eyes were raised to his frankly and simply. "i heard that you were to be here. i came on that account. i wanted to see you again." as she finished she walked forward again, and again linforth walked at her side. dick, though his settled aim had given to him a manner and an aspect beyond his age, was for the same reason younger than his years in other ways. very early in his youth he had come by a great and definite ambition, he had been inspired by it, he had welcomed and clung to it with the simplicity and whole-heartedness which are of the essence of youth. it was always new to him, however long he pondered over it; his joy in it was always fresh. he had never doubted either the true gold of the thing he desired, or his capacity ultimately to attain it. but he had ordered his life towards its attainment with the method of a far older man, examining each opportunity which came his way with always the one question in his mind--"does it help?"--and leaving or using that opportunity according to the answer. youth, however, was the truth of him. the inspiration, the freshness, the simplicity of outlook--these were the dominating elements in his character, and they were altogether compact of youth. he looked upon the world with expectant eyes and an unfaltering faith. nor did he go about to detect intrigues in men or deceits in women. violet's words therefore moved him not merely to tenderness, but to self-reproach. "it is very kind of you to say that," he said, and he turned to her suddenly. "because you mean it." "it is true," said violet simply; and the next moment she was aware that someone very young was standing before her in that indian garden beneath the starlit sky and faltering out statements as to his unworthiness. the statements were familiar to her ears, but there was this which was unfamiliar: they stirred her to passion. she stepped back, throwing out a hand as if to keep him from her. "don't," she whispered. "don't!" she spoke like one who is hurt. amongst the feelings which had waked in her, dim and for the most part hardly understood, two at all events were clear. one a vague longing for something different from the banal path she daily trod, the other a poignant regret that she was as she was. but linforth caught the hand which she held out to thrust him off, and, clasping it, drew her towards him. "i love you," he said; and she answered him in desperation: "but you don't know me." "i know that i want you. i know that i am not fit for you." and violet oliver laughed harshly. but dick linforth paid no attention to that laugh. his hesitation had gone. he found that for this occasion only he had the gift of tongues. there was nothing new and original in what he said. but, on the other hand, he said it over and over again, and the look upon his face and the tone of his voice were the things which mattered. at the opera it is the singer you listen to, and not the words of the song. so in this rose garden violet oliver listened to dick linforth rather than to what he said. there was audible in his voice from sentence to sentence, ringing through them, inspiring them, the reverence a young man's heart holds for the woman whom he loves. "you ought to marry, not me, but someone better," she cried. "there is someone i know--in--england--who--" but linforth would not listen. he laughed to scorn the notion that there could be anyone better than violet oliver; and with each word he spoke he seemed to grow younger. it was as though a miracle had happened. he remained in her eyes what he really was, a man head and shoulders above her friends, and in fibre altogether different. yet to her, and for her, he was young, and younger than the youngest. in spite of herself, the longing at her heart cried with a louder voice. she sought to stifle it. "there is the road," she cried. "that is first with you. that is what you really care for." "no," he replied quietly. she had hoped to take him at a disadvantage. but he replied at once: "no. i have thought that out. i do not separate you from the road. i put neither first. it is true that there was a time when the road was everything to me. but that was before i met you--do you remember?--in the inn at la grave." violet oliver looked curiously at linforth--curiously, and rather quickly. but it seemed that he at all events did not remember that he had not come alone down to la grave. "it isn't that i have come to care less for the road," he went on. "not by one jot. rather, indeed, i care more. but i can't dissociate you from the road. the road's my life-work; but it will be the better done if it's done with your help. it will be done best of all if it's done for you." violet oliver turned away quickly, and stood with her head averted. ardently she longed to take him at his word. a glimpse of a great life was vouchsafed to her, such as she had not dreamt of. that some time she would marry again, she had not doubted. but always she had thought of her husband to be, as a man very rich, with no ambition but to please her, no work to do which would thwart her. and here was another life offered, a life upon a higher, a more difficult plane; but a life much more worth living. that she saw clearly enough. but out of her self-knowledge sprang the insistent question: "could i live it?" there would be sacrifices to be made by her. could she make them? would not dissatisfaction with herself follow very quickly upon her marriage? out of her dissatisfaction would there not grow disappointment in her husband? would not bitterness spring up between them and both their lives be marred? dick was still holding her hand. "let me see you," he said, drawing her towards him. "let me see your face!" she turned and showed it. there was a great trouble in her eyes, her voice was piteous as she spoke. "dick, i can't answer you. when i told you that i came here on purpose to meet you, that i wanted to see you again, it was true, all true. but oh, dick, did i mean more?" "how should i know?" said dick, with a quiet laugh--a laugh of happiness. "i suppose that i did. i wanted you to say just what you have said to-night. yet now that you have said it--" she broke off with a cry. "dick, i have met no one like you in my life. and i am very proud. oh, dick, my boy!" and she gave him her other hand. tears glistened in her eyes. "but i am not sure," she went on. "now that you have spoken, i am not sure. it would be all so different from what my life has been, from what i thought it would be. dick, you make me ashamed." "hush!" he said gently, as one might chide a child for talking nonsense. he put an arm about her, and she hid her face in his coat. "yes, that's the truth, dick. you make me ashamed." so she remained for a little while, and then she drew herself away. "i will think and tell you, dick," she said. "tell me now!" "no, not yet. it's all your life and my life, you know, dick. give me a little while." "i go away to-morrow." "to-morrow?" she cried. "yes, i go to ajmere. i go to find my friend. i must go." violet started. into her eyes there crept a look of fear, and she was silent. "the prince?" she asked with a queer suspense in her voice. "yes--shere ali," and dick became perceptibly embarrassed. "he is not as friendly to us as he used to be. there is some trouble," he said lamely. violet looked him frankly in the face. it was not her habit to flinch. she read and understood his embarrassment. yet her eyes met his quite steadily. "i am afraid that i am the trouble," she said quietly. dick did not deny the truth of what she said. on the other hand, he had as yet no thought or word of blame for her. there was more for her to tell. he waited to hear it. "i tried to avoid him here in india, as i told you i meant to do," she said. "i thought he was safe in chiltistan. i did not let him know that i was coming out. i did not write to him after i had landed. but he came down to agra--and we met. there he asked me to marry him." "he asked _you!_" cried linforth. "he must have been mad to think that such a thing was possible." "he was very unhappy," violet oliver explained. "i told him that it was impossible. but he would not see. i am afraid that is the cause of his unfriendliness." "yes," said dick. then he was silent for a little while. "but you are not to blame," he added at length, in a quiet but decisive voice; and he turned as though the subject were now closed. but violet was not content. she stayed him with a gesture. she was driven that night to speak out all the truth. certainly he deserved that she should make no concealment. moreover, the truth would put him to the test, would show to her how deep his passion ran. it might change his thoughts towards her, and so she would escape by the easiest way the difficult problem she had to solve. and the easiest way was the way which violet oliver always chose to take. "i am to blame," she said. "i took jewels from him in london. yes." she saw dick standing in front of her, silent and with a face quite inscrutable, and she lowered her head and spoke with the submission of a penitent to her judge. "he offered me jewels. i love them," and she spread out her hands. "yes, i cannot help it. i am a foolish lover of beautiful things. i took them. i made no promises, he asked for none. there were no conditions, he stipulated for none. he just offered me the pearls, and i took them. but very likely he thought that my taking them meant more than it did." "and where are they now?" asked dick. she was silent for a perceptible time. then she said: "i sent them back." she heard dick draw a breath of relief, and she went on quickly, as though she had been in doubt what she should say and now was sure. "the same night--after he had asked me to marry him--i packed them up and sent them to him." "he has them now, then?" asked linforth. "i don't know. i sent them to kohara. i did not know in what camp he was staying. i thought it likely he would go home at once." "yes," said dick. they turned and walked back towards the house. dick did not speak. violet was afraid. she walked by his side, stealing every now and then a look at his set face. it was dark; she could see little but the profile. but she imagined it very stern, and she was afraid. she regretted now that she had spoken. she felt now that she could not lose him. "dick," she whispered timidly, laying a hand upon his arm; but he made no answer. the lighted windows of the house blazed upon the night. would he reach the door, pass in and be gone the next morning without another word to her except a formal goodnight in front of the others? "oh, dick," she said again, entreatingly; and at that reiteration of his name he stopped. "i am very sorry," he said gently. "but i know quite well--others have taken presents from these princes. it is a pity.... one rather hates it. but you sent yours back," and he turned to her with a smile. "the others have not always done as much. yes, you sent yours back." violet oliver drew a breath of relief. she raised her face towards his. she spoke with pleading lips. "i am forgiven then?" "hush!" and in a moment she was in his arms. passion swept her away. it seemed to her that new worlds were opening before her eyes. there were heights to walk upon for her--even for her who had never dreamed that she would even see them near. their lips touched. "oh, dick," she murmured. her hands were clasped about his neck. she hid her face against his coat, and when he would raise it she would not suffer him. but in a little while she drew herself apart, and, holding his hands, looked at him with a great pride. "my dick," she said, and she laughed--a low sweet laugh of happiness which thrilled to the heart of her lover. "i'll tell you something," she said. "when i said good-bye to him--to the prince--he asked me if i was going to marry you." "and you answered?" "that you hadn't asked me." "now i have. violet!" he whispered. but now she held him off, and suddenly her face grew serious. "dick, i will tell you something," she said, "now, so that i may never tell you it again. remember it, dick! for both our sakes remember it!" "well?" he asked. "what is it?" "don't forgive so easily," she said very gravely, "when we both know that there is something real to be forgiven." she let go of his hands before he could answer, and ran from him up the steps into the house. linforth saw no more of her that night. chapter xxvi the breaking of the pitcher it is a far cry from peshawur to ajmere, and linforth travelled in the train for two nights and the greater part of two days before he came to it. a little state carved out of rajputana and settled under english rule, it is the place of all places where east and west come nearest to meeting. within the walls of the city the great dargah mosque, with its shrine of pilgrimage and its ancient rites, lies close against the foot of the taragarh hill. behind it the mass of the mountain rises steeply to its white crown of fortress walls. in front, its high bright-blue archway, a thing of cupolas and porticoes, faces the narrow street of the grain-sellers and the locksmiths. here is the east, with its memories of akbar and shah jehan, its fiery superstitions and its crudities of decoration. gaudy chandeliers of coloured glass hang from the roof of a marble mosque, and though the marble may crack and no one give heed to it, the glass chandeliers will be carefully swathed in holland bags. here is the east, but outside the city walls the pile of mayo college rises high above its playing-grounds and gives to the princes and the chiefs of rajputana a modern public school for the education of their sons. from the roof top of the college tower linforth looked to the city huddled under the taragarh hill, and dimly made out the high archway of the mosque. he turned back to the broad playing-fields at his feet where a cricket match was going on. there was the true solution of the great problem, he thought. "here at ajmere," he said to himself, "shere ali could have learned what the west had to teach him. had he come here he would have been spared the disappointments, and the disillusions. he would not have fallen in with violet oliver. he would have married and ruled in his own country." as it was, he had gone instead to eton and to oxford, and linforth must needs search for him over there in the huddled city under the taragarh hill. ralston's pathan was even then waiting for linforth at the bottom of the tower. "sir," he said, making a low salaam when linforth had descended, "his highness shere ali is now in ajmere. every morning between ten and eleven he is to be found in a balcony above the well at the back of the dargah mosque, and to-morrow i will lead you to him." "every morning!" said linforth. "what does he do upon this balcony?" "he watches the well below, and the water-carriers descending with their jars," said the pathan, "and he talks with his friends. that is all." "very well," said linforth. "to-morrow we will go to him." he passed up the steps under the blue portico a little before the hour on the next morning, and entered a stone-flagged court which was thronged with pilgrims. on each side of the archway a great copper vat was raised upon stone steps, and it was about these two vats that the crowd thronged. linforth and his guide could hardly force their way through. on the steps of the vats natives, wrapped to the eyes in cloths to save themselves from burns, stood emptying the caldrons of boiling ghee. and on every side linforth heard the name of shere ali spoken in praise. "what does it mean?" he asked of his guide, and the pathan replied: "his highness the prince has made an offering. he has filled those caldrons with rice and butter and spices, as pilgrims of great position and honour sometimes do. the rice is cooked in the vats, and so many jars are set aside for the strangers, while the people of indrakot have hereditary rights to what is left. sir, it is an act of great piety to make so rich an offering." linforth looked at the swathed men scrambling, with cries of pain, for the burning rice. he remembered how lightly shere ali had been wont to speak of the superstitions of the mohammedans and in what contempt he held the mullahs of his country. not in those days would he have celebrated his pilgrimage to the shrine of khwajah mueeyinudin chisti by a public offering of ghee. linforth looked back upon the indrakotis struggling and scrambling and burning themselves on the steps about the vast caldrons, and the crowd waiting and clamouring below. it was a scene grotesque enough in all conscience, but linforth was never further from smiling than at this moment. a strong intuition made him grave. "does this mark shere ali's return to the ways of his fathers?" he asked himself. "is this his renunciation of the white people?" he moved forward slowly towards the inner archway, and the pathan at his side gave a new turn to his thoughts. "sir, that will be talked of for many months," the pathan said. "the prince will gain many friends who up till now distrust him." "it will be taken as a sign of faith?" asked linforth. "and more than that," said the guide significantly. "this one thing done here in ajmere to-day will be spread abroad through chiltistan and beyond." linforth looked more closely at the crowd. yes, there were many men there from the hills beyond the frontier to carry the news of shere ali's munificence to their homes. "it costs a thousand rupees at the least to fill one of those caldrons," said the pathan. "in truth, his highness has done a wise thing if--" and he left the sentence unfinished. but linforth could fill in the gap. "if he means to make trouble." but he did not utter the explanation aloud. "let us go in," he said; and they passed through the high inner archway into the great court where the saint's tomb, gilded and decked out with canopies and marble, stands in the middle. "follow me closely," said the pathan. "there may be bad men. watch any who approach you, and should one spit, i beseech your excellency to pay no heed." the huge paved square, indeed, was thronged like a bazaar. along the wall on the left hand booths were erected, where food and sweetmeats were being sold. stone tombs dotted the enclosure; and amongst them men walked up and down, shouting and talking. here and there big mango and peepul trees threw a welcome shade. the pathan led linforth to the right between the chisti's tomb and the raised marble court surrounded by its marble balustrade in front of the long mosque of shah jehan. behind the tomb there were more trees, and the shrine of a dancing saint, before which dancers from chitral were moving in and out with quick and flying steps. the pathan led linforth quickly through the groups, and though here and there a man stood in their way and screamed insults, and here and there one walked along beside them with a scowling face and muttered threats, no one molested them. the pathan turned to the right, mounted a few steps, and passed under a low stone archway. linforth found himself upon a balcony overhanging a great ditch between the dargah and taragarh hill. he leaned forward over the balustrade, and from every direction, opposite to him, below him, and at the ends, steps ran down to the bottom of the gulf--twisting and turning at every sort of angle, now in long lines, now narrow as a stair. the place had the look of some ancient amphitheatre. and at the bottom, and a little to the right of the balcony, was the mouth of an open spring. "the prince is here, your excellency." linforth looked along the balcony. there were only three men standing there, in white robes, with white turbans upon their heads. the turban of one was hemmed with gold. there was gold, too, upon his robe. "no," said linforth. "he has not yet come," and even as he turned again to look down into that strange gulf of steps the man with the gold-hemmed turban changed his attitude and showed linforth the profile of his face. linforth was startled. "is that the prince?" he exclaimed. he saw a man, young to be sure, but older than shere ali, and surely taller too. he looked more closely. that small carefully trimmed black beard might give the look of age, the long robe add to his height. yes, it was shere ali. linforth walked along the balcony, and as he approached, shere ali turned quickly towards him. the blood rushed into his dark face; he stood staring at linforth like a man transfixed. linforth held out his hand with a smile. "i hardly knew you again," he said. shere ali did not take the hand outstretched to him; he did not move; neither did he speak. he just stood with his eyes fixed upon linforth. but there was recognition in his eyes, and there was something more. linforth recalled something that violet oliver had told to him in the garden at peshawur--"are you going to marry linforth?" that had been shere ali's last question when he had parted from her upon the steps of the courtyard of the fort. linforth remembered it now as he looked into shere ali's face. "here is a man who hates me," he said to himself. and thus, for the first time since they had dined together in the mess-room at chatham, the two friends met. "surely you have not forgotten me, shere ali?" said linforth, trying to force his voice in to a note of cheery friendliness. but the attempt was not very successful. the look of hatred upon shere ali's face had died away, it is true. but mere impassivity had replaced it. he had aged greatly during those months. linforth recognised that clearly now. his face was haggard, his eyes sunken. he was a man, moreover. he had been little more than a boy when he had dined with linforth in the mess-room at chatham. "after all," linforth continued, and his voice now really had something of genuine friendliness, for he understood that shere ali had suffered--had suffered deeply; and he was inclined to forgive his temerity in proposing marriage to violet oliver--"after all, it is not so much more than a year ago when we last talked together of our plans." shere ali turned to the younger of the two who stood beside him and spoke a few words in a tongue which linforth did not yet understand. the youth--he was a youth with a soft pleasant voice, a graceful manner and something of the exquisite in his person--stepped smoothly forward and repeated the words to linforth's pathan. "what does he say?" asked linforth impatiently. the pathan translated: "his highness the prince would be glad to know what your excellency means by interrupting him." linforth flushed with anger. but he had his mission to fulfil, if it could be fulfilled. "what's the use of making this pretence?" he said to shere ali. "you and i know one another well enough." and as he ended, shere ali suddenly leaned over the balustrade of the balcony. his two companions followed the direction of his eyes; and both their faces became alert with some expectancy. for a moment linforth imagined that shere ali was merely pretending to be absorbed in what he saw. but he, too, looked, and it grew upon him that here was some matter of importance--all three were watching in so eager a suspense. yet what they saw was a common enough sight in ajmere, or in any other town of india. the balcony was built out from a brick wall which fell sheer to the bottom of the foss. but at some little distance from the end of the balcony and at the head of the foss, a road from the town broke the wall, and a flight of steep steps descended to the spring. the steps descended along the wall first of all towards the balcony, and then just below the end of it they turned, so that any man going down to the well would have his face towards the people on the balcony for half the descent and his back towards them during the second half. a water-carrier with an earthen jar upon his head had appeared at the top of the steps a second before shere ali had turned so abruptly away from linforth. it was this man whom the three were watching. slowly he descended. the steps were high and worn, smooth and slippery. he went down with his left hand against the wall, and the lizards basking in the sunlight scuttled into their crevices as he approached. on his right hand the ground fell in a precipice to the bottom of the gulf. the three men watched him, and, it seemed to linforth, with a growing excitement as he neared the turn of the steps. it was almost as though they waited for him to slip just at that turn, where a slip was most likely to occur. linforth laughed at the thought, but the thought suddenly gained strength, nay, conviction in his mind. for as the water-carrier reached the bend, turned in safety and went down towards the well, there was a simultaneous movement made by the three--a movement of disappointment. shere ali did more than merely move. he struck his hand upon the balustrade and spoke impatiently. but he did not finish the sentence, for one of his companions looked significantly towards linforth and his pathan. linforth stepped forward again. "shere ali," he said, "i want to speak to you. it is important that i should." shere ali leaned his elbows on the balustrade, and gazing across the foss to the taragarh hill, hummed to himself a tune. "have you forgotten everything?" linforth went on. he found it difficult to say what was in his mind. he seemed to be speaking to a stranger--so great a gulf was between them now--a gulf as wide, as impassable, as this one at his feet between the balcony and the taragarh hill. "have you forgotten that night when we sat in the doorway of the hut under the aiguilles d'arve? i remember it very clearly. you said to me, of your own accord, 'we will always be friends. no man, no woman, shall come between us. we will work together and we will always be friends.'" by not so much as the flicker of an eyelid did shere ali betray that he heard the words. linforth sought to revive that night so vividly that he needs must turn, needs must respond to the call, and needs must renew the pledge. "we sat for a long while that night, smoking our pipes on the step of the door. it was a dark night. we watched a planet throw its light upwards from behind the amphitheatre of hills on the left, and then rise clear to view in a gap. there was a smell of hay, like an english meadow, from the hut behind us. you pledged your friendship that night. it's not so very long ago--two years, that's all." he came to a stop with a queer feeling of shame. he remembered the night himself, and always had remembered it. but he was not given to sentiment, and here he had been talking sentiment and to no purpose. shere ali spoke again to his courtier, and the courtier stepped forward more bland than ever. "his highness would like to know if his excellency is still talking, and if so, why?" he said to the pathan, who translated it. linforth gave up the attempt to renew his friendship with shere ali. he must go back to peshawur and tell ralston that he had failed. ralston would merely shrug his shoulders and express neither disappointment nor surprise. but it was a moment of bitterness to linforth. he looked at shere ali's indifferent face, he listened for a second or two to the tune he still hummed, and he turned away. but he had not taken more than a couple of steps towards the entrance of the balcony when his guide touched him cautiously upon the elbow. linforth stopped and looked back. the three men were once more gazing at the steps which led down from the road to the well. and once more a water-carrier descended with his great earthen jar upon his head. he descended very cautiously, but as he came to the turn of the steps his foot slipped suddenly. linforth uttered a cry, but the man had not fallen. he had tottered for a moment, then he had recovered himself. but the earthen jar which he carried on his head had fallen and been smashed to atoms. again the three made a simultaneous movement, but this time it was a movement of joy. again an exclamation burst from shere ali's lips, but now it was a cry of triumph. he stood erect, and at once he turned to go. as he turned he met linforth's gaze. all expression died out of his face, but he spoke to his young courtier, who fluttered forward sniggering with amusement. "his highness would like to know if his excellency is interested in a road. his highness thinks it a damn-fool road. his highness much regrets that he cannot even let it go beyond kohara. his highness wishes his excellency good-morning." linforth made no answer to the gibe. he passed out into the courtyard, and from the courtyard through the archway into the grain-market. opposite to him at the end of the street, a grass hill, with the chalk showing at one bare spot on the side of it, ridged up against the sky curiously like a fragment of the sussex downs. linforth wondered whether shere ali had ever noticed the resemblance, and whether some recollection of the summer which he had spent at poynings had ever struck poignantly home as he had stood upon these steps. or were all these memories quite dead within his breast? in one respect shere ali was wrong. the road would go on--now. linforth had done his best to hinder it, as ralston had bidden him to do, but he had failed, and the road would go on to the foot of the hindu kush. old andrew linforth's words came back to his mind: "governments will try to stop it; but the power of the road will be greater than the power of any government. it will wind through valleys so deep that the day's sunshine is gone within the hour. it will be carried in galleries along the faces of the mountains, and for eight months of the year sections of it will be buried deep in snow. yet it will be finished." how rightly andrew linforth had judged! but dick for once felt no joy in the accuracy of the old man's forecast. he walked back through the city silent and with a heavy heart. he had counted more than he had thought upon shere ali's co-operation. his friendship for shere ali had grown into a greater and a deeper force than he had ever imagined it until this moment to be. he stopped with a sense of weariness and disillusionment, and then walked on again. the road would never again be quite the bright, inspiring thing which it had been. the dream had a shadow upon it. in the eton and oxford days he had given and given and given so much of himself to shere ali that he could not now lightly and easily lose him altogether out of his life. yet he must so lose him, and even then that was not all the truth. for they would be enemies, shere ali would be ruined and cast out, and his ruin would be the opportunity of the road. he turned quickly to his companion. "what was it that the prince said," he asked, "when the first of those water-carriers came down the steps and did not slip? he beat his hands upon the balustrade of the balcony and cried out some words. it seemed to me that his companion warned him of your presence, and that he stopped with the sentence half spoken." "that is the truth," linforth's guide replied. "the prince cried out in anger, 'how long must we wait?'" linforth nodded his head. "he looked for the pitcher to fall and it did not fall," he said. "the breaking of the pitcher was to be a sign." "and the sign was given. do not forget that, your excellency. the sign was given." but what did the sign portend? linforth puzzled his brains vainly over that problem. he had not the knowledge by which a man might cipher out the intrigues of the hill-folk beyond the frontier. did the breaking of the pitcher mean that some definite thing had been done in chiltistan, some breaking of the british power? they might look upon the _raj_ as a heavy burden on their heads, like an earthen pitcher and as easily broken. ralston would know. "you must travel back to peshawur to-night," said linforth. "go straight to his excellency the chief commissioner and tell him all that you saw upon the balcony and all that you heard. if any man can interpret it, it will be he. meanwhile, show me where the prince shere ali lodges in ajmere." the policeman led linforth to a tall house which closed in at one end a short and narrow street. "it is here," he said. "very well," said linforth, "i will seek out the prince again. i will stay in ajmere and try by some way or another to have talk with him." but again linforth was to fail. he stayed for some days in ajmere, but could never gain admittance to the house. he was put off with the politest of excuses, delivered with every appearance of deep regret. now his highness was unwell and could see no one but his physician. at another time he was better--so much better, indeed, that he was giving thanks to allah for the restoration of his health in the mosque of shah jehan. linforth could not reach him, nor did he ever see him in the streets of ajmere. he stayed for a week, and then coming to the house one morning he found it shuttered. he knocked upon the door, but no one answered his summons; all the reply he got was the melancholy echo of an empty house. a babu from the customs office, who was passing at the moment, stopped and volunteered information. "there is no one there, mister," he said gravely. "all have skedaddled to other places." "the prince shere ali, too?" asked linforth. the babu laughed contemptuously at the title. "oho, the prince! the prince went away a week ago." linforth turned in surprise. "are you sure?" he asked. the babu told him the very day on which shere ali had gone from ajmere. it was on the day when the pitcher had fallen on the steps which led down to the well. linforth had been tricked by the smiling courtier like any schoolboy. "whither did the prince go?" the babu shrugged his shoulders. "how should i know? they are not of my people, these poor ignorant hill-folk." he went on his way. linforth was left with the assurance that now, indeed, he had really failed. he took the train that night back to peshawur. chapter xxvii an arrested confession linforth related the history of his failure to ralston in the office at peshawur. "shere ali went away on the day the pitcher was broken," he said. "it was the breaking of the pitcher which gave him the notice to go; i am sure of it. if one only knew what message was conveyed--" and ralston handed to him a letter. the letter had been sent by the resident at kohara and had only this day reached peshawur. linforth took it and read it through. it announced that the son of abdulla mahommed had been murdered. "you see?" said ralston. "he was shot in the back by one of his attendants when he was out after markhor. he was the leader of the rival faction, and was bidding for the throne against shere ali. his murder clears the way. i have no doubt your friend is over the lowari pass by this time. there will be trouble in chiltistan. i would have stopped shere ali on his way up had i known." "but you don't think shere ali had this man murdered!" cried linforth. ralston shrugged his shoulders. "why not? what else was he waiting for from ten to eleven in the balcony above the well, except just for this news?" he stopped for a moment, and went on again in a voice which was very grave. "that seems to you horrible. i am very much afraid that another thing, another murder much more horrible, will be announced down to me in the next few days. the son of abdulla mahommed stood in shere ali's way a week ago and he is gone. but the way is still not clear. there's still another in his path." linforth interpreted the words according to the gravity with which they were uttered. "his father!" he said, and ralston nodded his head. "what can we do?" he cried. "we can threaten--but what is the use of threatening without troops? and we mayn't use troops. chiltistan is an independent kingdom. we can advise, but we can't force them to follow our advice. we accept the status quo. that's the policy. so long as chiltistan keeps the peace with us we accept chiltistan as it is and as it may be. we can protect if our protection is asked. but our protection has not been asked. why has shere ali fled so quickly back to his country? tell me that if you can." none the less, however, ralston telegraphed at once to the authorities at lahore. linforth, though he had failed to renew his old comradeship with shere ali, had not altogether failed. he had brought back news which ralston counted as of great importance. he had linked up the murder in chiltistan with the intrigues of shere ali. that the glare was rapidly broadening over that country of hills and orchards ralston was very well aware. but it was evident now that at any moment the eruption might take place, and fire pour down the hills. in these terms he telegraphed to lahore. quietly and quickly, once more after twenty-five years, troops were being concentrated at nowshera for a rush over the passes into chiltistan. but even so ralston was urgent that the concentration should be hurried. he sent a letter in cipher to the resident at kohara, bidding him to expect shere ali, and with shere ali the beginning of the trouble. he could do no more for the moment. so far as he could see he had taken all the precautions which were possible. but that night an event occurred in his own house which led him to believe that he had not understood the whole extent of the danger. it was mrs. oliver who first aroused his suspicions. the four of them--ralston and his sister, linforth and violet oliver were sitting quietly at dinner when violet suddenly said: "it's a strange thing. of course there's nothing really in it, and i am not at all frightened, but the last two nights, on going to bed, i have found that one of my windows was no longer bolted." linforth looked up in alarm. ralston's face, however, did not change. "are you sure that it was bolted before?" "yes, quite sure," said violet. "the room is on the ground floor, and outside one of the windows a flight of steps leads down from the verandah to the ground. so i have always taken care to bolt them myself." "when?" asked ralston. "after dressing for dinner," she replied. "it is the last thing i do before leaving the room." ralston leaned back in his chair, as though a momentary anxiety were quite relieved. "it is one of the servants, no doubt," he said. "i will speak about it afterwards"; and for the moment the matter dropped. but ralston returned to the subject before dinner was finished. "i don't think you need be uneasy, mrs. oliver," he said. "the house is guarded by sentinels, as no doubt you know. they are native levies, of course, but they are quite reliable"; and in this he was quite sincere. so long as they wore the uniform they would be loyal. the time might come when they would ask to be allowed to go home. that permission would be granted, and it was possible that they would be found in arms against the loyal troops immediately afterwards. but they would ask to be allowed to go first. "still," he resumed, "if you carry valuable jewellery about with you, it would be as well, i think, if you locked it up." "i have very little jewellery, and that not valuable," said violet, and suddenly her face flushed and she looked across the table at linforth with a smile. the smile was returned, and a minute later the ladies rose. the two men were left alone to smoke. "you know mrs. oliver better than i do," said ralston. "i will tell you frankly what i think. it may be a mere nothing. there may be no cause for anxiety at all. in any case anxiety is not the word" he corrected himself, and went on. "there is a perfectly natural explanation. the servants may have opened the window to air the room when they were preparing it for the night, and may easily have forgotten to latch the bolt afterwards." "yes, i suppose that is the natural explanation," said linforth, as he lit a cigar. "it is hard to conceive any other." "theft," replied ralston, "is the other explanation. what i said about the levies is true. i can rely on them. but the servants--that is perhaps a different question. they are mahommedans all of them, and we hear a good deal about the loyalty of mahommedans, don't we?" he said, with a smile. "they wear, if not a uniform, a livery. all these things are true. but i tell you this, which is no less true. not one of those mahommedan servants would die wearing the livery, acknowledging their service. every one of them, if he fell ill, if he thought that he was going to die, would leave my service to-morrow. so i don't count on them so much. however, i will make some inquiries, and to-morrow we will move mrs. oliver to another room." he went about the business forthwith, and cross-examined his servants one after another. but he obtained no admission from any one of them. no one had touched the window. was a single thing missing of all that the honourable lady possessed? on their lives, no! meanwhile linforth sought out violet oliver in the drawing-room. he found her alone, and she came eagerly towards him and took his hands. "oh, dick," she said, "i am glad you have come back. i am nervous." "there's no need," said dick with a laugh. "let us go out." he opened the window, but violet drew back. "no, let us stay here," she said, and passing her arm through his she stared for a few moments with a singular intentness into the darkness of the garden. "did you see anything?" he asked. "no," she replied, and he felt the tension of her body relax. "no, there's nothing. and since you have come back, dick, i am no longer afraid." she looked up at him with a smile, and tightened her clasp upon his arm with a pretty air of ownership. "my dick!" she said, and laughed. the door-handle rattled, and violet proved that she had lost her fear. "that's miss ralston," she said. "let us go out," and she slipped out of the window quickly. as quickly linforth followed her. she was waiting for him in the darkness. "dick," she said in a whisper, and she caught him close to her. "violet." he looked up to the dark, clear, starlit sky and down to the sweet and gentle face held up towards his. that night and in this indian garden, it seemed to him that his faith was proven and made good. with the sense of failure heavy upon his soul, he yet found here a woman whose trust was not diminished by any failure, who still looked to him with confidence and drew comfort and strength from his presence, even as he did from hers. alone in the drawing-room she had been afraid; outside here in the garden she had no fear, and no room in her mind for any thought of fear. "when you spoke about your window to-night, violet," he said gently, "although i was alarmed for you, although i was troubled that you should have cause for alarm--" "i saw that," said violet with a smile. "yet i never spoke." "your eyes, your face spoke. oh, my dear, i watch you," and she drew in a breath. "i am a little afraid of you." she did not laugh. there was nothing provocative in her accent. she spoke with simplicity and truth, now as often, what was set down to her for a coquetry by those who disliked her. linforth was in no doubt, however. mistake her as he did, he judged her in this respect more truly than the worldly-wise. she had at the bottom of her heart a great fear of her lover, a fear that she might lose him, a fear that he might hold her in scorn, if he knew her only half as well as she knew herself. "i don't want you to be afraid of me," he said, quietly. "there is no reason for it." "you are hard to others if they come in your way," she replied, and linforth stopped. yes, that was true. there was his mother in the house under the sussex downs. he had got his way. he was on the frontier. the road now would surely go on. it would be a strange thing if he did not manage to get some portion of that work entrusted to his hands. he had got his way, but he had been hard, undoubtedly. "it is quite true," he answered. "but i have had my lesson. you need not fear that i shall be anything but very gentle towards you." "in your thoughts?" she asked quickly. "that you will be gentle in word and in deed--yes, of that i am sure. but will you think gently of me--always? that is a different thing." "of course," he answered with a laugh. but violet oliver was in no mood lightly to be put off. "promise me that!" she cried in a low and most passionate voice. her lips trembled as she pleaded; her dark eyes besought him, shining starrily. "oh, promise that you will think of me gently--that if ever you are inclined to be hard and to judge me harshly, you will remember these two nights in the dark garden at peshawur." "i shall not forget them," said linforth, and there was no longer any levity in his tones. he spoke gravely, and more than gravely. there was a note of anxiety, as though he were troubled. "i promise," he said. "thank you," said violet simply; "for i know that you will keep the promise." "yes, but you speak"--and the note of trouble was still more audible in linforth's voice--"you speak as if you and i were going to part to-morrow morning for the rest of our lives." "no," violet cried quickly and rather sharply. then she moved on a step or two. "i interrupted you," she said. "you were saying that when i spoke about my window, although you were troubled on my account--" "i felt at the same time some relief," linforth continued. "relief?" she asked. "yes; for on my return from ajmere this morning i noticed a change in you." he felt at once violet's hand shake upon his arm as she started; but she did not interrupt him by a word. "i noticed it at once when we met for the first time since we had talked together in the garden, for the first time since your hands had lain in mine and your lips touched mine. and afterwards it was still there." "what change?" violet asked. but she asked the question in a stifled voice and with her face averted from him. "there was a constraint, an embarrassment," he said. "how can i explain it? i felt it rather than noticed it by visible signs. it seemed to me that you avoided being alone with me. i had a dread that you regretted the evening in the garden, that you were sorry we had agreed to live our lives together." violet did not protest. she did not turn to him with any denial in her eyes. she walked on by his side with her face still turned away from his, and for a little while she walked in silence. then, as if compelled, she suddenly stopped and turned. she spoke, too, as if compelled, with a kind of desperation in her voice. "yes, you were right," she cried. "oh, dick, you were right. there was constraint, there was embarrassment. i will tell you the reason--now." "i know it," said dick with a smile. violet stared at him for a moment. she perceived his contentment. he was now quite unharassed by fear. there was no disappointment, no anger against her. she shook her head and said slowly: "you can't know it." "i do." "tell me the reason then." "you were frightened by this business of the window." violet made a movement. she was in the mood to contradict him. but he went on, and so the mood passed. "it was only natural. here were you in a frontier town, a wild town on the borders of a wild country. a window bolted at dinner-time and unlocked at bedtime--it was easy to find something sinister in that. you did not like to speak of it, lest it should trouble your hosts. yet it weighed on you. it occupied your thoughts." "and to that you put down my embarrassment?" she asked quietly. they had come again to the window of the drawing-room. "yes, i do," he answered. she looked at him strangely for a few moments. but the compulsion which she had felt upon her a moment ago to speak was gone. she no longer sought to contradict him. without a word she slipped into the drawing-room. chapter xxviii the thief violet oliver was harassed that night as she had never before been harassed at any moment of her easy life. she fled to her room. she stood in front of her mirror gazing helplessly at the reflection of her troubled face. "what shall i do?" she cried piteously. "what shall i do?" and it was not until some minutes had passed that she gave a thought to whether her window on this night was bolted or not. she moved quickly across the room and drew the curtains apart. this time the bolt was shot. but she did not turn back to her room. she let the curtains fall behind her and leaned her forehead against the glass. there was a moon to-night, and the quiet garden stretched in front of her a place of black shadows and white light. whether a thief lurked in those shadows and watched from them she did not now consider. the rattle of a rifle from a sentry near at hand gave her confidence; and all her trouble lay in the house behind her. she opened her window and stepped out. "i tried to speak, but he would not listen. oh, why did i ever come here?" she cried. "it would have been so easy not to have come." but even while she cried out her regrets, they were not all the truth. there was still alive within her the longing to follow the difficult way--the way of fire and stones, as it would be for her--if only she could! she had made a beginning that night. yes, she had made a beginning though nothing had come of it. that was not her fault, she assured herself. she had tried to speak. but could she keep it up? she turned and twisted; she was caught in a trap. passion had trapped her unawares. she went back to the room and bolted the window. then again she stood in front of her mirror and gazed at herself in thought. suddenly her face changed. she looked up; an idea took shape in her mind. "theft," ralston had said. thus had he explained the unbolted window. she must lock up what jewels she had. she must be sure to do that. violet oliver looked towards the window and shivered. it was very silent in the room. fear seized hold of her. it was a big room, and furtively she peered into the corners lest already hidden behind some curtain the thief should be there. but always her eyes returned to the window. if she only dared! she ran to her trunks. from one of them she took out from its deep hiding-place a small jewel-case, a jewel-case very like to that one which a few months ago she had sealed up in her tent and addressed to kohara. she left it on her dressing-table. she did not open it. then she looked about her again. it would be the easy way--if only she dared! it would be an easier way than trying again to tell her lover what she would have told him to-night, had he only been willing to listen. she stood and listened, with parted lips. it seemed to her that even in this lighted room people, unseen people, breathed about her. then, with a little sob in her throat, she ran to the window and shot back the bolt. she undressed hurriedly, placed a candle by her bedside and turned out the electric lights. as soon as she was in bed she blew out the candle. she lay in the darkness, shivering with fear, regretting what she had done. every now and then a board cracked in the corridor outside the room, as though beneath a stealthy footstep. and once inside the room the door of a wardrobe sprang open. she would have cried out, but terror paralysed her throat; and the next moment she heard the tread of the sentry outside her window. the sound reassured her. there was safety in the heavy regularity of the steps. it was a soldier who was passing, a drilled, trustworthy soldier. "trustworthy" was the word which the commissioner had used. and lulled by the soldier's presence in the garden violet oliver fell asleep. but she waked before dawn. the room was still in darkness. the moon had sunk. not a ray of light penetrated from behind the curtains. she lay for a little while in bed, listening, wondering whether that window had been opened. a queer longing came upon her--a longing to thrust back the curtains, so that--if anything happened--she might see. that would be better than lying here in the dark, knowing nothing, seeing nothing, fearing everything. if she pulled back the curtains, there would be a panel of dim light visible, however dark the night. the longing became a necessity. she could not lie there. she sprang out of bed, and hurried across towards the window. she had not stopped to light her candle and she held her hands outstretched in front of her. suddenly, as she was half-way across the room, her hands touched something soft. she drew them back with a gasp of fright and stood stone-still, stone-cold. she had touched a human face. already the thief was in the room. she stood without a cry, without a movement, while her heart leaped and fluttered within her bosom. she knew in that moment the extremity of mortal fear. a loud scratch sounded sharply in the room. a match spurted into flame, and above the match there sprang into view, framed in the blackness of the room, a wild and menacing dark face. the eyes glittered at her, and suddenly a hand was raised as if to strike. and at the gesture violet oliver found her voice. she screamed, a loud shrill scream of terror, and even as she screamed, in the very midst of her terror, she saw that the hand was lowered, and that the threatening face smiled. then the match went out and darkness cloaked her and cloaked the thief again. she heard a quick stealthy movement, and once more her scream rang out. it seemed to her ages before any answer came, before she heard the sound of hurrying footsteps in the corridors. there was a loud rapping upon her door. she ran to it. she heard ralston's voice. "what is it? open! open!" and then in the garden the report of a rifle rang loud. she turned up the lights, flung a dressing-gown about her shoulders and opened the door. ralston was in the passage, behind him she saw lights strangely wavering and other faces. these too wavered strangely. from very far away, she heard ralston's voice once more. "what is it? what is it?" and then she fell forward against him and sank in a swoon upon the floor. ralston lifted her on to her bed and summoned her maid. he went out of the house and made inquiries of the guard. the sentry's story was explicit and not to be shaken by any cross-examination. he had patrolled that side of the house in which mrs. oliver's room lay, all night. he had seen nothing. at one o'clock in the morning the moon sank and the night became very dark. it was about three when a few minutes after passing beneath the verandah, and just as he had turned the corner of the house, he heard a shrill scream from mrs. oliver's room. he ran back at once, and as he ran he heard a second scream. he saw no one, but he heard a rustling and cracking in the bushes as though a fugitive plunged through. he fired in the direction of the noise and then ran with all speed to the spot. he found no one, but the bushes were broken. ralston went back into the house and knocked at mrs. oliver's door. the maid opened it. "how is mrs. oliver?" he asked, and he heard violet herself reply faintly from the room: "i am better, thank you. i was a little frightened, that's all." "no wonder," said ralston, and he spoke again to the maid. "has anything gone? has anything been stolen? there was a jewel-case upon the dressing-table. i saw it." the maid looked at him curiously, before she answered. "nothing has been touched." then, with a glance towards the bed, the maid stooped quickly to a trunk which stood against the wall close by the door and then slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. the corridors were now lighted up, as though it were still evening and the household had not yet gone to bed. ralston saw that the maid held a bundle in her hands. "i do not think," she said in a whisper, "that the thief came to steal any thing." she laid some emphasis upon the word. ralston took the bundle from her hands and stared at it. "good god!" he muttered. he was astonished and more than astonished. there was something of horror in his low exclamation. he looked at the maid. she was a woman of forty. she had the look of a capable woman. she was certainly quite self-possessed. "does your mistress know of this?" he asked. the maid shook her head. "no, sir. i saw it upon the floor before she came to. i hid it between the trunk and the wall." she spoke with an ear to the door of the room in which violet lay, and in a low voice. "good!" said ralston. "you had better tell her nothing of it for the present. it would only frighten her"; as he ended he heard violet oliver call out: "adela! adela!" "mrs. oliver wants me," said the maid, as she slipped back into the bedroom. ralston walked slowly back down the corridor into the great hall. he was carrying the bundle in his hands and his face was very grave. he saw dick linforth in the hall, and before he spoke he looked upwards to the gallery which ran round it. even when he had assured himself that there was no one listening, he spoke in a low voice. "do you see this, linforth?" he held out the bundle. there was a thick cloth, a sort of pad of cotton, and some thin strong cords. "these were found in mrs. oliver's room." he laid the things upon the table and linforth turned them over, startled as ralston had been. "i don't understand," he said. "they were left behind," said ralston. "by the thief?" "if he was a thief"; and again linforth said: "i don't understand." but there was now more of anger, more of horror in his voice, than surprise; and as he spoke he took up the pad of cotton wool. "you do understand," said ralston, quietly. linforth's fingers worked. that pad of cotton seemed to him more sinister than even the cords. "for her!" he cried, in a quiet but dangerous voice. "for violet," and at that moment neither noticed his utterance of her christian name. "let me only find the man who entered her room." ralston looked steadily at linforth. "have you any suspicion as to who the man is?" he asked. there was a momentary silence in that quiet hall. both men stood looking at each other. "it can't be," said linforth, at length. but he spoke rather to himself than to ralston. "it can't be." ralston did not press the question. "it's the insolence of the attempt which angers me," he said. "we must wait until mrs. oliver can tell us what happened, what she saw. meanwhile, she knows nothing of those things. there is no need that she should know." he left linforth standing in the hall and went up the stairs. when he reached the gallery, he leaned over quietly and looked down. linforth was still standing by the table, fingering the cotton-pad. ralston heard him say again in a voice which was doubtful now rather than incredulous: "it can't be he! he would not dare!" but no name was uttered. chapter xxix mrs. oliver rides through peshawur violet oliver told her story later during that day. but there was a certain hesitation in her manner which puzzled ralston, at all events, amongst her audience. "when you went to your room," he asked, "did you find the window again unbolted?" "no," she replied. "it was really my fault last night. i felt the heat oppressive. i opened the window myself and went out on to the verandah. when i came back i think that i did not bolt it." "you forgot?" asked ralston in surprise. but this was not the only surprising element in the story. "when you touched the man, he did not close with you, he made no effort to silence you," ralston said. "that is strange enough. but that he should strike a match, that he should let you see his face quite clearly--that's what i don't understand. it looks, mrs. oliver, as if he almost wanted you to recognise him." ralston turned in his chair sharply towards her. "did you recognise him?" he asked. "yes," violet oliver replied. "at least i think i did. i think that i had seen him before." here at all events it was clear that she was concealing nothing. she was obviously as puzzled as ralston was himself. "where had you seen him?" he asked, and the answer increased his astonishment. "in calcutta," she answered. "it was the same man or one very like him. i saw him on three successive evenings in the maidan when i was driving there." "in calcutta?" cried ralston. "some months ago, then?" "yes." "how did you come to notice him in the maidan?" mrs. oliver shivered slightly as she answered: "he seemed to be watching me. i thought so at the time. it made me uncomfortable. now i am sure. he _was_ watching me," and she suddenly came forward a step. "i should like to go away to-day if you and your sister won't mind," she pleaded. ralston's forehead clouded. "of course, i quite understand," he said, "and if you wish to go we can't prevent you. but you leave us rather helpless, don't you?--as you alone can identify the man. besides, you leave yourself too in danger." "but i shall go far away," she urged. "as it is i am going back to england in a month." "yes," ralston objected. "but you have not yet started, and if the man followed you from calcutta to peshawur, he may follow you from peshawur to bombay." mrs. oliver drew back with a start of terror and ralston instantly took back his words. "of course, we will take care of you on your way south. you may rely on that," he said with a smile. "but if you could bring yourself to stay here for a day or two i should be much obliged. you see, it is impossible to fix the man's identity from a description, and it is really important that he should be caught." "yes, i understand," said violet oliver, and she reluctantly consented to stay. "thank you," said ralston, and he looked at her with a smile. "there is one more thing which i should like you to do. i should like you to ride out with me this afternoon through peshawur. the story of last night will already be known in the bazaars. of that you may be very sure. and it would be a good thing if you were seen to ride through the city quite unconcerned." violet oliver drew back from the ordeal which ralston so calmly proposed to her. "i shall be with you," he said. "there will be no danger--or at all events no danger that englishwomen are unprepared to face in this country." the appeal to her courage served ralston's turn. violet raised her head with a little jerk of pride. "certainly i will ride with you this afternoon through peshawur," she said; and she went out of the room and left ralston alone. he sat at his desk trying to puzzle out the enigma of the night. the more he thought upon it, the further he seemed from any solution. there was the perplexing behaviour of mrs. oliver herself. she had been troubled, greatly troubled, to find her window unbolted on two successive nights after she had taken care to bolt it. yet on the third night she actually unbolts it herself and leaving it unbolted puts out her light and goes to bed. it seemed incredible that she should so utterly have forgotten her fears. but still more bewildering even than her forgetfulness was the conduct of the intruder. upon that point he took linforth into his counsels. "i can't make head or tail of it," he cried. "here the fellow is in the dark room with his cords and the thick cloth and the pad. mrs. oliver touches him. he knows that his presence is revealed to her. she is within reach. and she stands paralysed by fear, unable to cry out. yet he does nothing, except light a match and give her a chance to recognise his face. he does not seize her, he does not stifle her voice, as he could have done--yes, as he could have done, before she could have uttered a cry. he strikes a match and shows her his face." "so that he might see hers," said linforth. ralston shook his head. he was not satisfied with that explanation. but linforth had no other to offer. "have you any clue to the man?" "none," said ralston. he rode out with mrs. oliver that afternoon down from his house to the gate of the city. two men of his levies rode at a distance of twenty paces behind them. but these were his invariable escort. he took no unusual precautions. there were no extra police in the streets. he went out with his guest at his side for an afternoon ride as if nothing whatever had occurred. mrs. oliver played her part well. she rode with her head erect and her eyes glancing boldly over the crowded streets. curious glances were directed at her, but she met them without agitation. ralston observed her with a growing admiration. "thank you," he said warmly. "i know this can hardly be a pleasant experience for you. but it is good for these people here to know that nothing they can do will make any difference--no not enough to alter the mere routine of our lives. let us go forward." they turned to the left at the head of the main thoroughfare, and passed at a walk, now through the open spaces where the booths were erected, now through winding narrow streets between high houses. violet oliver, though she held her head high and her eyes were steady, rode with a fluttering heart. in front of them, about them, and behind them the crowd of people thronged, tribesmen from the hills, mohammedans and hindus of the city; from the upper windows the lawyers and merchants looked down upon them; and violet held all of them in horror. the occurrence of last night had inflicted upon her a heavier shock than either ralston imagined or she herself had been aware until she had ridden into the town. the dark wild face suddenly springing into view above the lighted match was as vivid and terrible to her still, as a nightmare to a child. she was afraid that at any moment she might see that face again in the throng of faces. her heart sickened with dread at the thought, and even though she should not see him, at every step she looked upon twenty of his like--kinsmen, perhaps, brothers in blood and race. she shrank from them in repulsion and she shrank from them in fear. every nerve of her body seemed to cry out against the folly of this ride. what were they two and the two levies behind them against the throng? four at the most against thousands at the least. she touched ralston timidly on the arm. "might we go home now?" she asked in a voice which trembled; and he looked suddenly and anxiously into her face. "certainly," he said, and he wheeled his horse round, keeping close to her as she wheeled hers. "it is all right," he said, and his voice took on an unusual friendliness. "we have not far to go. it was brave of you to have come, and i am very grateful. we ask much of the englishwomen in india, and because they never fail us, we are apt to ask too much. i asked too much of you." violet responded to the flick at her national pride. she drew herself up and straightened her back. "no," she said, and she actually counterfeited a smile. "no. it's all right." "i asked more than i had a right to ask," he continued remorsefully. "i am sorry. i have lived too much amongst men. that's my trouble. one becomes inconsiderate to women. it's ignorance, not want of good-will. look!" to distract her thoughts he began to point her out houses and people which were of interest. "do you see that sign there, 'bahadur gobind, barrister-at-law, cambridge b.a.,' on the first floor over the cookshop? yes, he is the genuine article. he went to cambridge and took his degree and here he is back again. take him for all in all, he is the most seditious man in the city. meanly seditious. it only runs to writing letters over a pseudonym in the native papers. now look up. do you see that very respectable white-bearded gentleman on the balcony of his house? well, his daughter-in-law disappeared one day when her husband was away from home--disappeared altogether. it had been a great grief to the old gentleman that she had borne no son to inherit the family fortune. so naturally people began to talk. she was found subsequently under the floor of the house, and it cost that respectable old gentleman twenty thousand rupees to get himself acquitted." ralston pulled himself up with a jerk, realising that this was not the most appropriate story which he could have told to a lady with the overstrained nerves of mrs. oliver. he turned to her with a fresh apology upon his lips. but the apology was never spoken. "what's the matter, mrs. oliver?" he asked. she had not heard the story of the respectable old gentleman. that was clear. they were riding through an open oblong space of ground dotted with trees. there were shops down the middle, two rows backing upon a stream, and shops again at the sides. mrs. oliver was gazing with a concentrated look across the space and the people who crowded it towards an opening of an alley between two houses. but fixed though her gaze was, there was no longer any fear in her eyes. rather they expressed a keen interest, a strong curiosity. ralston's eyes followed the direction of her gaze. at the corner of the alley there was a shop wherein a man sat rounding a stick of wood with a primitive lathe. he made the lathe revolve by working a stringed bow with his right hand, while his left hand worked the chisel and his right foot directed it. his limbs were making three different motions with an absence of effort which needed much practice, and for a moment ralston wondered whether it was the ingenuity of the workman which had attracted her. but in a moment he saw that he was wrong. there were two men standing in the mouth of the alley, both dressed in white from head to foot. one stood a little behind with the hood of his cloak drawn forward over his head, so that it was impossible to discern his face. the other stood forward, a tall slim man with the elegance and the grace of youth. it was at this man violet oliver was looking. ralston looked again at her, and as he looked the colour rose into her cheeks; there came a look of sympathy, perhaps of pity, into her eyes. almost her lips began to smile. ralston turned his head again towards the alley, and he started in his saddle. the young man had raised his head. he was gazing fixedly towards them. his features were revealed and ralston knew them well. he turned quickly to mrs. oliver. "you know that man?" the colour deepened upon her face. "it is the prince of chiltistan." "but you know him?" ralston insisted. "i have met him in london," said violet oliver. so shere ali was in peshawur, when he should have been in chiltistan! "why?" ralston put the question to himself and looked to his companion for the answer. the colour upon her face, the interest, the sympathy of her eyes gave him the answer. this was the woman, then, whose image stood before shere ali's memories and hindered him from marrying one of his own race! just with that sympathy and that keen interest does a woman look upon the man who loves her and whose love she does not return. moreover, there was linforth's hesitation. linforth had admitted there was an englishwoman for whom shere ali cared, had admitted it reluctantly, had extenuated her thoughtlessness, had pleaded for her. oh, without a doubt mrs. oliver was the woman! there flashed before ralston's eyes the picture of linforth standing in the hall, turning over the cords and the cotton pad and the thick cloth. ralston looked down again upon him from the gallery and heard his voice, saying in a whisper: "it can't be he! it can't be he!" what would linforth say when he knew that shere ali was lurking in peshawur? ralston was still gazing at shere ali when the man behind the prince made a movement. he flung back the hood from his face, and disclosing his features looked boldly towards the riders. a cry rang out at ralston's side, a woman's cry. he turned in his saddle and saw violet oliver. the colour had suddenly fled from her cheeks. they were blanched. the sympathy had gone from her eyes, and in its place, stark terror looked out from them. she swayed in her saddle. "do you see that man?" she cried, pointing with her hand. "the man behind the prince. the man who has thrown back his cloak." "yes, yes, i see him," answered ralston impatiently. "it was he who crept into my room last night." "you are sure?" "could i forget? could i forget?" she cried; and at that moment, the man touched shere ali on the sleeve, and they both fled out of sight into the alley. there was no doubt left in ralston's mind. it was shere ali who had planned the abduction of mrs. oliver. it was his companion who had failed to carry it out. ralston turned to the levies behind him. "quick! into that valley! fetch me those two men who were standing there!" the two levies pressed their horses through the crowd, but the alley was empty when they came to it. chapter xxx the needed implement ralston rode home with an uncomfortable recollection of the little dinner-party in calcutta at which hatch had told his story of the englishwoman in mecca. had that story fired shere ali? the time for questions had passed; but none the less this particular one would force itself into the front of his mind. "i would have done better never to have meddled," he said to himself remorsefully--even while he gave his orders for the apprehension of shere ali and his companion. for he did not allow his remorse to hamper his action; he set a strong guard at the gates of the city, and gave orders that within the gates the city should be methodically searched quarter by quarter. "i want them both laid by the heels," he said; "but, above all, the prince. let there be no mistake. i want shere ali lodged in the gaol here before nightfall"; and linforth's voice broke in rapidly upon his words. "can i do anything to help? what can i do?" ralston looked sharply up from his desk. there had been a noticeable eagerness, a noticeable anger in linforth's voice. "you?" said ralston quietly. "_you_ want to help? you were shere ali's friend." ralston smiled as he spoke, but there was no hint of irony in either words or smile. it was a smile rather of tolerance, and almost of regret--the smile of a man who was well accustomed to seeing the flowers and decorative things of life wither over-quickly, and yet was still alert and not indifferent to the change. his work for the moment was done. he leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. he no longer looked at linforth. his one quick glance had shown him enough. "so it's all over, eh?" he said, as he played with his paper-knife. "summer mornings on the cherwell. travels in the dauphiné. the meije and the aiguilles d'arves. oh, i know." linforth moved as he stood at the side of ralston's desk, but the set look upon his face did not change. and ralston went on. there came a kind of gentle mockery into his voice. "the shared ambitions, the concerted plans--gone, and not even a regret for them left, eh? _tempi passati!_ pretty sad, too, when you come to think of it." but linforth made no answer to ralston's probings. violet oliver's instincts had taught her the truth, which ralston was now learning. linforth could be very hard. there was nothing left of the friendship which through many years had played so large a part in his life. a woman had intervened, and linforth had shut the door upon it, had sealed his mind against its memories, and his heart against its claims. the evening at la grave in the dauphiné had borne its fruit. linforth stood there white with anger against shere ali, hot to join in the chase. ralston understood that if ever he should need a man to hunt down that quarry through peril and privations, here at his hand was the man on whom he could rely. linforth's eager voice broke in again. "what can i do to help?" ralston looked up once more. "nothing--for the moment. if shere ali is captured in peshawur--nothing at all." "but if he escapes." ralston shrugged his shoulders. then he filled his pipe and lit it. "if he escapes--why, then, your turn may come. i make no promises," he added quickly, as linforth, by a movement, betrayed his satisfaction. "it is not, indeed, in my power to promise. but there may come work for you--difficult work, dangerous work, prolonged work. for this outrage can't go unpunished. in any case," he ended with a smile, "the road goes on." he turned again to his office-table, and linforth went out of the room. the task which ralston had in view for linforth came by a long step nearer that night. for all night the search went on throughout the city, and the searchers were still empty-handed in the morning. ahmed ismail had laid his plans too cunningly. shere ali was to be compromised, not captured. there was to be a price upon his head, but the head was not to fall. and while the search went on from quarter to quarter of peshawur, the prince and his attendant were already out in the darkness upon the hills. ralston telegraphed to the station on the malakand pass, to the fort at jamrud, even to landi khotal, at the far end of the khyber pass, but shere ali had not travelled along any one of the roads those positions commanded. "i had little hope indeed that he would," said ralston with a shrug of the shoulders. "he has given us the slip. we shall not catch up with him now." he was standing with linforth at the mouth of the well which irrigated his garden. the water was drawn up after the persian plan. a wooden vertical wheel wound up the bucket, and this wheel was made to revolve by a horizontal wheel with the spokes projecting beyond the rim and fitting into similar spokes upon the vertical wheel. a bullock, with a bandage over its eyes, was harnessed to the horizontal wheel, and paced slowly round and round, turning it; while a boy sat on the bullock's back and beat it with a stick. both men stood and listened to the groaning and creaking of the wheels for a few moments, and then linforth said: "so, after all, you mean to let him go?" "no, indeed," answered ralston. "only now we shall have to fetch him out of chiltistan." "will they give him up?" ralston shook his head. "no." he turned to linforth with a smile. "i once heard the political officer described as the man who stands between the soldier and his medal. well, i have tried to stand just in that spot as far as chiltistan is concerned. but i have not succeeded. the soldier will get his medal in chiltistan this year. i have had telegrams this morning from lahore. a punitive force has been gathered at nowshera. the preparations have been going on quietly for a few weeks. it will start in a few days. i shall go with it as political officer." "you will take me?" linforth asked eagerly. "yes," ralston answered. "i mean to take you. i told you yesterday there might be service for you." "in chiltistan?" "or beyond," replied ralston. "shere ali may give us the slip again." he was thinking of the arid rocky borders of turkestan, where flight would be easy and where capture would be most difficult. it was to that work that ralston, looking far ahead, had in his mind dedicated young linforth, knowing well that he would count its difficulties light in the ardour of his pursuit. anger would spur him, and the road should be held out as his reward. ralston listened again to the groaning of the water-wheel, and watched the hooded bullock circle round and round with patient unvarying pace, and the little boy on its back making no difference whatever with a long stick. "look!" he said. "there's an emblem of the indian administration. the wheels creak and groan, the bullock goes on round and round with a bandage over its eyes, and the little boy on its back cuts a fine important figure and looks as if he were doing ever so much, and somehow the water comes up--that's the great thing, the water is fetched up somehow and the land watered. when i am inclined to be despondent, i come and look at my water-wheel." he turned away and walked back to the house with his hands folded behind his back and his head bent forward. "you are despondent now?" linforth asked. "yes," replied ralston, with a rare and sudden outburst of confession. "you, perhaps, will hardly understand. you are young. you have a career to make. you have particular ambitions. this trouble in chiltistan is your opportunity. but it's my sorrow--it's almost my failure." he turned his face towards linforth with a whimsical smile. "i have tried to stand between the soldier and his medal. i wanted to extend our political influence there--yes. because that makes for peace, and it makes for good government. the tribes lose their fear that their independence will be assailed, they come in time to the political officer for advice, they lay their private quarrels and feuds before him for arbitration. that has happened in many valleys, and i had always a hope that though chiltistan has a ruling prince, the same sort of thing might in time happen there. yes, even at the cost of the road," and again his very taking smile illumined for a moment his worn face. "but that hope is gone now. a force will go up and demand shere ali. shere ali will not be given up. even were the demand not made, it would make no difference. he will not be many days in chiltistan before chiltistan is in arms. already i have sent a messenger up to the resident, telling him to come down." "and then?" asked linforth. ralston shrugged his shoulders. "more or less fighting, more or less loss, a few villages burnt, and the only inevitable end. we shall either take over the country or set up another prince." "set up another prince?" exclaimed linforth in a startled voice. "in that case--" ralston broke in upon him with a laugh. "oh, man of one idea, in any case the road will go on to the foot of the hindu kush. that's the price which chiltistan must pay as security for future peace--the military road through kohara to the foot of the hindu kush." linforth's face cleared, and he said cheerfully: "it's strange that shere ali doesn't realise that himself." the cheerfulness of his voice, as much as his words, caused ralston to stop and turn upon his companion in a moment of exasperation. "perhaps he does." he exclaimed, and then he proceeded to pay a tribute to the young prince of chiltistan which took linforth fairly by surprise. "don't you understand--you who know him, you who grew up with him, you who were his friend? he's a man. i know these hill-people, and like every other englishman who has served among them, i love them--knowing their faults. shere ali has the faults of the pathan, or some of them. he has their vanity; he has, if you like, their fanaticism. but he's a man. he's flattered and petted like a lap-dog, he's played with like a toy. well, he's neither a lap-dog nor a toy, and he takes the flattery and the petting seriously. he thinks it's _meant_, and he behaves accordingly. what, then? the toy is thrown down on the ground, the lap-dog is kicked into the corner. but he's not a lap-dog, he's not a toy. he's a man. he has a man's resentments, a man's wounded heart, a man's determination not to submit to flattery one moment and humiliation the next. so he strikes. he tries to take the white, soft, pretty thing which has been dangled before his eyes and snatched away--he tries to take her by force and fails. he goes back to his own people, and strikes. do you blame him? would you rather he sat down and grumbled and bragged of his successes, and took to drink, as more than one down south has done? perhaps so. it would be more comfortable if he did. but which of the pictures do you admire? which of the two is the better man? for me, the man who strikes--even if i have to go up into his country and exact the penalty afterwards. shere ali is one of the best of the princes. but he has been badly treated and so he must suffer." ralston repeated his conclusion with a savage irony. "that's the whole truth. he's one of the best of them. therefore he doesn't take bad treatment with a servile gratitude. therefore he must suffer still more. but the fault in the beginning was not his." thus it fell to ralston to explain, twenty-six years later, the saying of a long-forgotten political officer which had seemed so dark to colonel dewes when it was uttered in the little fort in chiltistan. there was a special danger for the best in the upbringing of the indian princes in england. linforth flushed as he listened to the tirade, but he made no answer. ralston looked at him keenly, wondering with a queer amusement whether he had not blunted the keen edge of that tool which he was keeping at his side because he foresaw the need of it. but there was no sign of any softening upon linforth's face. he could be hard, but on the other hand, when he gave his faith he gave it without reserve. almost every word which ralston had spoken had seemed to him an aspersion upon violet oliver. he said nothing, for he had learned to keep silence. but his anger was hotter than ever against shere ali, since but for shere ali the aspersions would never have been cast. chapter xxxi an old tomb and a new shrine the messenger whom ralston sent with a sealed letter to the resident at kohara left peshawur in the afternoon and travelled up the road by way of dir and the lowari pass. he travelled quickly, spending little of his time at the rest-houses on the way, and yet arrived no sooner on that account. it was not he at all who brought his news to kohara. neither letter nor messenger, indeed, ever reached the resident's door, although captain phillips learned something of the letter's contents a day before the messenger was due. a queer, and to use his own epithet, a dramatic stroke of fortune aided him at a very critical moment. it happened in this way. while captain phillips was smoking a cheroot as he sat over his correspondence in the morning, a servant from the great palace on the hill brought to him a letter in the khan's own handwriting. it was a flowery letter and invoked many blessings upon the khan's faithful friend and brother, and wound up with a single sentence, like a lady's postscript, in which the whole object of the letter was contained. would his excellency the captain, in spite of his overwhelming duties, of which the khan was well aware, since they all tended to the great benefit and prosperity of his state, be kind enough to pay a visit to the khan that day? "what's the old rascal up to now?" thought captain phillips. he replied, with less ornament and fewer flourishes, that he would come after breakfast; and mounting his horse at the appointed time he rode down through the wide street of kohara and up the hill at the end, on the terraced slopes of which climbed the gardens and mud walls of the palace. he was led at once into the big reception-room with the painted walls and the silver-gilt chairs, where the khan had once received his son with a loaded rifle across his knees. the khan was now seated with his courtiers about him, and was carving the rind of a pomegranate into patterns, like a man with his thoughts far away. but he welcomed captain phillips with alacrity and at once dismissed his court. captain phillips settled down patiently in his chair. he was well aware of the course the interview would take. the khan would talk away without any apparent aim for an hour or two hours, passing carelessly from subject to subject, and then suddenly the important question would be asked, the important subject mooted. on this occasion, however, the khan came with unusual rapidity to his point. a few inquiries as to the colonel's health, a short oration on the backwardness of the crops, a lengthier one upon his fidelity to and friendship for the british government and the miserable return ever made to him for it, and then came a question ludicrously inapposite and put with the solemn _naivet,_ of a child. "i suppose you know," said the khan, tugging at his great grey beard, "that my grandfather married a fairy for one of his wives?" it was on the strength of such abrupt questions that strangers were apt to think that the khan had fallen into his second childhood before his time. but the resident knew his man. he was aware that the khan was watching for his answer. he sat up in his chair and answered politely: "so, your highness, i have heard." "yes, it is true," continued the khan. "moreover, the fairy bore him a daughter who is still alive, though very old." "so there is still a fairy in the family," replied captain phillips pleasantly, while he wondered what in the world the khan was driving at. "yes, indeed, i know that. for only a week ago i was asked by a poor man up the valley to secure your highness's intercession. it seems that he is much plagued by a fairy who has taken possession of his house, and since your highness is related to the fairies, he would be very grateful if you would persuade his fairy to go away." "i know," said the khan gravely. "the case has already been brought to me. the fellow _will_ open closed boxes in his house, and the fairy resents it." "then your highness has exorcised the fairy?" "no; i have forbidden him to open boxes in his house," said the khan; and then, with a smile, "but it was not of him we were speaking, but of the fairy in my family." he leaned forward and his voice shook. "she sends me warnings, captain sahib. two nights ago, by the flat stone where the fairies dance, she heard them--the voices of an innumerable multitude in the air talking the chilti tongue--talking of trouble to come in the near days." he spoke with burning eyes fixed upon the resident and with his fingers playing nervously in and out among the hairs of his beard. whether the khan really believed the story of the fairies--there is nothing more usual than a belief in fairies in the countries bordered by the snow-peaks of the hindu kush--or whether he used the story as a blind to conceal the real source of his fear, the resident could not decide. but what he did know was this: the khan of chiltistan was desperately afraid. a whole programme of reform was sketched out for the captain's hearing. "i have been a good friend to the english, captain sahib. i have kept my mullahs and my people quiet all these years. there are things which might be better, as your excellency has courteously pointed out to me, and the words have never been forgotten. the taxes no doubt are very burdensome, and it may be the caravans from bokhara and central asia should pay less to the treasury as they pass through chiltistan, and perhaps i do unjustly in buying what i want from them at my own price." thus he delicately described the system of barefaced robbery which he practised on the traders who passed southwards to india through chiltistan. "but these things can be altered. moreover," and here he spoke with an air of distinguished virtue, "i propose to sell no more of my people into slavery--no, and to give none of them, not even the youngest, as presents to my friends. it is quite true of course that the wood which i sell to the merchants of peshawur is cut and brought down by forced labour, but next year i am thinking of paying. i have been a good friend to the english all my life, colonel sahib." captain phillips had heard promises of the kind before and accounted them at their true value. but he had never heard them delivered with so earnest a protestation. and he rode away from the palace with the disturbing conviction that there was something new in the wind of which he did not know. he rode up the valley, pondering what that something new might be. hillside and plain were ablaze with autumn colours. the fruit in the orchards--peaches, apples, and grapes--was ripe, and on the river bank the gold of the willows glowed among thickets of red rose. high up on the hills, field rose above field, supported by stone walls. in the bosom of the valley groups of great walnut-trees marked where the villages stood. captain phillips rode through the villages. everywhere he was met with smiling faces and courteous salutes; but he drew no comfort from them. the chilti would smile pleasantly while he was fitting his knife in under your fifth rib. only once did phillips receive a hint that something was amiss, but the hint was so elusive that it did no more than quicken his uneasiness. he was riding over grass, and came silently upon a man whose back was turned to him. "so, dadu," he said quietly, "you must not open closed boxes any more in your house." the man jumped round. he was not merely surprised, he was startled. "your excellency rides up the valley?" he cried, and almost he barred the way. "why not, dadu?" dadu's face became impassive. "it is as your excellency wills. it is a good day for a ride," said dadu; and captain phillips rode on. it might of course have been that the man had been startled merely by the unexpected voice behind him; and the question which had leaped from his mouth might have meant nothing at all. captain phillips turned round in his saddle. dadu was still standing where he had left him, and was following the rider with his eyes. "i wonder if there is anything up the valley which i ought to know about?" captain phillips said to himself, and he rode forward now with a watchful eye. the hills began to close in; the bosom of the valley to narrow. nine miles from kohara it became a defile through which the river roared between low precipitous cliffs. above the cliffs on each side a level of stony ground, which here and there had been cleared and cultivated, stretched to the mountain walls. at one point a great fan of débris spread out from a side valley. across this fan the track mounted, and then once more the valley widened out. on the river's edge a roofless ruin of a building, with a garden run wild at one end of it, stood apart. a few hundred yards beyond there was a village buried among bushes, and then a deep nullah cut clean across the valley. it was a lonely and a desolate spot. yet captain phillips never rode across the fan of shale and came within sight of it but his imagination began to people it with living figures and a surge of wild events. he reined in his horse as he came to the brow of the hill, and sat for a moment looking downwards. then he rode very quickly a few yards down the hill. before, he and his horse had been standing out clear against the sky. now, against the background of grey and brown he would be an unnoticeable figure. he halted again, but this time his eyes, instead of roving over the valley, were fixed intently upon one particular spot. under the wall of the great ruined building he had seen something move. he made sure now of what the something was. there were half a dozen horses--no, seven--seven horses tethered apart from each other, and not a syce for any one of them. captain phillips felt his blood quicken. the khan's protestations and dadu's startled question, had primed him to expectation. cautiously he rode down into the valley, and suspense grew upon him as he rode. it was a still, windless day, and noise carried far. the only sound he heard was the sound of the stones rattling under the hoofs of his horse. but in a little while he reached turf and level ground and so rode forward in silence. when he was within a couple of hundred yards of the ruin he halted and tied up his horse in a grove of trees. thence he walked across an open space, passed beneath the remnant of a gateway into a court and, crossing the court, threaded his way through a network of narrow alleys between crumbling mud walls. as he advanced the sound of a voice reached his ears--a deep monotonous voice, which spoke with a kind of rhythm. the words phillips could not distinguish, but there was no need that he should. the intonation, the flow of the sentences, told him clearly enough that somewhere beyond was a man praying. and then he stopped, for other voices broke suddenly in with loud and, as it seemed to phillips, with fierce appeals. but the appeals died away, the one voice again took up the prayer, and again phillips stepped forward. at the end of the alley he came to a doorway in a high wall. there was no door. he stood on the threshold of the doorway and looked in. he looked into a court open to the sky, and the seven horses and the monotonous voice were explained to him. there were seven young men--nobles of chiltistan, as phillips knew from their _chogas_ of velvet and chinese silk--gathered in the court. they were kneeling with their backs towards him and the doorway, so that not one of them had noticed his approach. they were facing a small rough-hewn obelisk of stone which stood at the head of a low mound of earth at the far end of the court. six of them were grouped in a sort of semi-circle, and the seventh, a man clad from head to foot in green robes, knelt a little in advance and alone. but from none of the seven nobles did the voice proceed. in front of them all knelt an old man in the brown homespun of the people. phillips, from the doorway, could see his great beard wagging as he prayed, and knew him for one of the incendiary priests of chiltistan. the prayer was one with which phillips was familiar: the day was at hand; the infidels would be scattered as chaff; the god of mahommed was besought to send the innumerable company of his angels and to make his faithful people invulnerable to wounds. phillips could have gone on with the prayer himself, had the mullah failed. but it was not the prayer which held him rooted to the spot, but the setting of the prayer. the scene was in itself strange and significant enough. these seven gaily robed youths assembled secretly in a lonely and desolate ruin nine miles from kohara had come thither not merely for prayer. the prayer would be but the seal upon a compact, the blessing upon an undertaking where life and death were the issues. but there was something more; and that something more gave to the scene in phillips' eyes a very startling irony. he knew well how quickly in these countries the actual record of events is confused, and how quickly any tomb, or any monument becomes a shrine before which "the faithful" will bow and make their prayer. but that here of all places, and before this tomb of all tombs, the god of the mahommedans should be invoked--this was life turning playwright with a vengeance. it needed just one more detail to complete the picture and the next moment that detail was provided. for phillips moved. his boot rattled upon a loose stone. the prayer ceased, the worshippers rose abruptly to their feet and turned as one man towards the doorway. phillips saw, face to face, the youth robed in green, who had knelt at the head of his companions. it was shere ali, the prince of chiltistan. phillips advanced at once into the centre of the group. he was wise enough not to hold out his hand lest it should be refused. but he spoke as though he had taken leave of shere ali only yesterday. "so your highness has returned?" "yes," replied shere ali, and he spoke in the same indifferent tone. but both men knew, however unconcernedly they spoke, that shere ali's return was to be momentous in the history of chiltistan. shere ali's father knew it too, that troubled man in the palace above kohara. "when did you reach kohara?" phillips asked. "i have not yet been to kohara. i ride down from here this afternoon." shere ali smiled as he spoke, and the smile said more than the words. there was a challenge, a defiance in it, which were unmistakable. but phillips chose to interpret the words quite simply. "shall we go together?" he said, and then he looked towards the doorway. the others had gathered there, the six young men and the priest. they were armed and more than one had his hand ready upon his swordhilt. "but you have friends, i see," he added grimly. he began to wonder whether he would himself ride back to kohara that afternoon. "yes," replied shere ali quietly, "i have friends in chiltistan," and he laid a stress upon the name of his country, as though he wished to show to captain phillips that he recognised no friends outside its borders. again phillips' thoughts were swept to the irony, the tragic irony of the scene in which he now was called to play a part. "does your highness know this spot?" he asked suddenly. then he pointed to the tomb and the rude obelisk. "does your highness know whose bones are laid at the foot of that monument?" shere ali shrugged his shoulders. "within these walls, in one of these roofless rooms, you were born," said phillips, "and that grave before which you prayed is the grave of a man named luffe, who defended this fort in those days." "it is not," replied shere ali. "it is the tomb of a saint," and he called to the mullah for corroboration of his words. "it is the tomb of luffe. he fell in this courtyard, struck down not by a bullet, but by overwork and the strain of the siege. i know. i have the story from an old soldier whom i met in cashmere this summer and who served here under luffe. luffe fell in this court, and when he died was buried here." shere ali, in spite of himself was beginning to listen to captain phillips' words. "who was the soldier?" he asked. "colonel dewes." shere ali nodded his head as though he had expected the name. then he said as he turned away: "what is luffe to me? what should i know of luffe?" "this," said phillips, and he spoke in so arresting a voice that shere ali turned again to listen to him. "when luffe was dying, he uttered an appeal--he bequeathed it to india, as his last service; and the appeal was that you should not be sent to england, that neither eton nor oxford should know you, that you should remain in your own country." the resident had shere ali's attention now. "he said that?" cried the prince in a startled voice. then he pointed his finger to the grave. "the man lying there said that?" "yes." "and no one listened, i suppose?" said shere ali bitterly. "or listened too late," said phillips. "like dewes, who only since he met you in calcutta one day upon the racecourse, seems dimly to have understood the words the dead man spoke." shere ali was silent. he stood looking at the grave and the obelisk with a gentler face than he had shown before. "why did he not wish it?" he asked at length. "he said that it would mean unhappiness for you; that it might mean ruin for chiltistan." "did he say that?" said shere ali slowly, and there was something of awe in his voice. then he recovered himself and cried defiantly. "yet in one point he was wrong. it will not mean ruin for chiltistan." so far he had spoken in english. now he turned quickly towards his friends and spoke in his own tongue. "it is time. we will go," and to captain phillips he said, "you shall ride back with me to kohara. i will leave you at the doorway of the residency." and these words, too, he spoke in his own tongue. there rose a clamour among the seven who waited in the doorway, and loudest of all rose the voice of the mullah, protesting against shere ali's promise. "my word is given," said the prince, and he turned with a smile to captain phillips. "in memory of my friend,"--he pointed to the grave--"for it seems i had a friend once amongst the white people. in memory of my friend, i give you your life." chapter xxxii surprises for captain phillips the young nobles ceased from their outcry. they went sullenly out and mounted their horses under the ruined wall of the old fort. but as they mounted they whispered together with quick glances towards captain phillips. the resident intercepted the glance and had little doubt as to the subject of the whispering. "i am in the deuce of a tight place," he reflected; "it's seven to one against my ever reaching kohara, and the one's a doubtful quantity." he looked at shere ali, who seemed quite undisturbed by the prospect of mutiny amongst his followers. his face had hardened a little. that was all. "and your horse?" shere ali asked. captain phillips pointed towards the clump of trees where he had tied it up. "will you fetch it?" said shere ali, and as phillips walked off, he turned towards the nobles and the old mullah who stood amongst them. phillips heard his voice, as he began to speak, and was surprised by a masterful quiet ring in it. "the doubtful quantity seems to have grown into a man," he thought, and the thought gained strength when he rode his horse back from the clump of trees towards the group. shere ali met him gravely. "you will ride on my right hand," he said. "you need have no fear." the seven nobles clustered behind, and the party rode at a walk over the fan of shale and through the defile into the broad valley of kohara. shere ali did not speak. he rode on with a set and brooding face, and the resident fell once more to pondering the queer scene of which he had been the witness. even at that moment when his life was in the balance his thoughts would play with it, so complete a piece of artistry it seemed. there was the tomb itself--an earth grave and a rough obelisk without so much as a name or a date upon it set up at its head by some past resident at kohara. it was appropriate and seemly to the man without friends, or family, or wife, but to whom the frontier had been all these. he would have wished for no more himself, since vanity had played so small a part in his career. he had been the great force upon the frontier, keeping the queen's peace by the strength of his character and the sagacity of his mind. yet before his grave, invoking him as an unknown saint, the nobles of chiltistan had knelt to pray for the destruction of such as he and the overthrow of the power which he had lived to represent. and all because his advice had been neglected. captain phillips was roused out of his reflections as the cavalcade approached a village. for out of that village and from the fields about it, the men, armed for the most part with good rifles, poured towards them with cries of homage. they joined the cavalcade, marched with it past their homes, and did not turn back. only the women and the children were left behind. and at the next village and at the next the same thing happened. the cavalcade began to swell into a small army, an army of men well equipped for war; and at the head of the gathering force shere ali rode with an impassive face, never speaking but to check a man from time to time who brandished a weapon at the resident. "your highness has counted the cost?" captain phillips asked. "there will be but the one end to it." shere ali turned to the resident, and though his face did not change from its brooding calm, a fire burned darkly in his eyes. "from afghanistan to thibet the frontier will rise," he said proudly. captain phillips shook his head. "from afghanistan to thibet the frontier will wait, as it always waits. it will wait to see what happens in chiltistan." but though he spoke boldly, he had little comfort from his thoughts. the rising had been well concerted. those who flocked to shere ali were not only the villagers of the kohara valley. there were shepherds from the hills, wild men from the far corners of chiltistan. already the small army could be counted with the hundred for its unit. to-morrow the hundred would be a thousand. moreover, for once in a way there was no divided counsel. jealousy and intrigue were not, it seemed, to do their usual work in chiltistan. there was only one master, and he of unquestioned authority. else how came it that captain phillips rode amidst that great and frenzied throng, unhurt and almost unthreatened? down the valley the roof-tops of kohara began to show amongst the trees. the high palace on the hill with its latticed windows bulked against the evening sky. the sound of many drums was borne to the resident's ears. the residency stood a mile and a half from the town in a great garden. a high wall enclosed it, but it was a house, not a fortress; and phillips had at his command but a few levies to defend it. one of them stood by the gate. he kept his ground as shere ali and his force approached. the only movement which he made was to stand at attention, and as shere ali halted at the entrance, he saluted. but it was captain phillips whom he saluted, and not the prince of chiltistan. shere ali spoke with the same quiet note of confident authority which had surprised captain phillips before, to the seven nobles at his back. then he turned to the resident. "i will ride with you to your door," he said. the two men passed alone through the gateway and along a broad path which divided the forecourt to the steps of the house. and not a man of all that crowd which followed shere ali to kohara pressed in behind them. captain phillips looked back as much in surprise as in relief. but there was no surprise on the face of shere ali. he, it was plain, expected obedience. "upon my word," cried phillips in a burst of admiration, "you have got your fellows well in hand." "i?" said shere ali. "i am nothing. what could i do who a week ago was still a stranger to my people? i am a voice, nothing more. but the god of my people speaks through me"; and as he spoke these last words, his voice suddenly rose to a shrill trembling note, his face suddenly quivered with excitement. captain phillips stared. "the man's in earnest," he muttered to himself. "he actually believes it." it was the second time that captain phillips had been surprised within five minutes, and on this occasion the surprise came upon him with a shock. how it had come about--that was all dark to captain phillips. but the result was clear. the few words spoken as they had been spoken revealed the fact. the veneer of shere ali's english training had gone. shere ali had reverted. his own people had claimed him. "and i guessed nothing of this," the resident reflected bitterly. signs of trouble he had noticed in abundance, but this one crucial fact which made trouble a certain and unavoidable thing--that had utterly escaped him. his thoughts went back to the nameless tomb in the courtyard of the fort. "luffe would have known," he thought in a very bitter humility. "nay, he did know. he foresaw." there was yet a third surprise in store for captain phillips. as the two men rode up the broad path, he had noticed that the door of the house was standing open, as it usually did. now, however, he saw it swing to--very slowly, very noiselessly. he was surprised, for he knew the door to be a strong heavy door of walnut wood, not likely to swing to even in a wind. and there was no wind. besides, if it had swung to of its own accord, it would have slammed. its weight would have made it slam. whereas it was not quite closed. as he reined in his horse at the steps, he saw that there was a chink between the door and the door-post. "there's someone behind that door," he said to himself, and he glanced quietly at shere ali. it would be quite in keeping with the chilti character for shere ali politely to escort him home knowing well that an assassin waited behind the door; and it was with a smile of some irony that he listened to shere ali taking his leave. "you will be safe, so long as you stay within your grounds. i will place a guard about the house. i do not make war against my country's guests. and in a few days i will send an escort and set you and your attendants free from hurt beyond our borders. but"--and his voice lost its courtesy--"take care you admit no one, and give shelter to no one." the menace of shere ali's tone roused captain phillips. "i take no orders from your highness," he said firmly. "your highness may not have noticed that," and he pointed upwards to where on a high flagstaff in front of the house the english flag hung against the pole. "i give your excellency no orders," replied shere ali. "but on the other hand i give you a warning. shelter so much as one man and that flag will not save you. i should not be able to hold in my men." shere ali turned and rode back to the gates. captain phillips dismounted, and calling forward a reluctant groom, gave him his horse. then he suddenly flung back the door. but there was no resistance. the door swung in and clattered against the wall. phillips looked into the hall, but the dusk was gathering in the garden. he looked into a place of twilight and shadows. he grasped his riding-crop a little more firmly in his hand and strode through the doorway. in a dark corner something moved. "ah! would you!" cried captain phillips, turning sharply on the instant. he raised his crop above his head and then a crouching figure fell at his feet and embraced his knees; and a trembling voice of fear cried: "save me! your excellency will not give me up! i have been a good friend to the english!" for the second time the khan of chiltistan had sought refuge from his own people. captain phillips looked round. "hush," he whispered in a startled voice. "let me shut the door!" chapter xxxiii in the residency captain phillips with a sharp gesture ordered the khan back to the shadowy corner from which he had sprung out. then he shut the door and, with the shutting of the door, the darkness deepened suddenly in the hall. he shot the bolt and put up the chain. it rattled in his ears with a startling loudness. then he stood without speech or movement. outside he heard shere ali's voice ring clear, and the army of tribesmen clattered past towards the town. the rattle of their weapons, the hum of their voices diminished. captain phillips took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. he had the sensations of a man reprieved. "but it's only a reprieve," he thought. "there will be no commutation." he turned again towards the dark corner. "how did you come?" he asked in a low voice. "by the orchard at the back of the house." "did no one see you?" "i hid in the orchard until i saw the red coat of one of your servants. i called to him and he let me in secretly. but no one else saw me." "no one in the city?" "i came barefoot in a rough cloak with the hood drawn over my face," said the khan. "no one paid any heed to me. there was much noise and running to and fro, and polishing of weapons. i crept out into the hill-side at the back and so came down into your orchard." captain phillips shrugged his shoulders. he opened a door and led the khan into a room which looked out upon the orchard. "well, we will do what we can," he said, "but it's very little. they will guess immediately that you are here of course." "once before--" faltered the khan, and phillips broke in upon him impatiently. "yes, once before. but it's not the same thing. this is a house, not a fort, and i have only a handful of men to defend it; and i am not luffe." then his voice sharpened. "why didn't you listen to him? all this is your fault--yours and dewes', who didn't understand, and held his tongue." the khan was mystified by the words, but phillips did not take the trouble to explain. he knew something of the chilti character. they would have put up with the taxes, with the selling into slavery, with all the other abominations of the khan's rule. they would have listened to the exhortations of the mullahs without anything coming of it, so long as no leader appeared. they were great accepters of facts as they were. let the brother or son or nephew murder the ruling khan and sit in his place, they accepted his rule without any struggles of conscience. but let a man rise to lead them, then they would bethink them of the exhortations of their priests and of their own particular sufferings and flock to his standard. and the man had risen--just because twenty-five years ago the khan would not listen to luffe. "it's too late, however, for explanations," he said, and he clapped his hands together for a servant. in a few moments the light of a lamp gleamed in the hall through the doorway. phillips went quickly out of the room, closing the door behind him. "fasten the shutters first," he said to the servant in the hall. "then bring the lamp in." the servant obeyed, but when he brought the lamp into the room, and saw the khan of chiltistan standing at the table with no more dignity of dress or, indeed, of bearing than any beggar in the kingdom, he nearly let the lamp fall. "his highness will stay in this house," said phillips, "but his presence must not be spoken of. will you tell poulteney sahib that i would like to speak to him?" the servant bowed his forehead to the palms of his hand and turned away upon his errand. but poulteney sahib was already at the door. he was the subaltern in command of the half company of sikhs which served captain phillips for an escort and a guard. "you have heard the news i suppose," said phillips. "yes," replied poulteney. he was a wiry dark youth, with a little black moustache and a brisk manner of speech. "i was out on the hill after chikkor when my shikari saw shere ali and his crowd coming down the valley. he knew all about it and gave me a general idea of the situation. it seems the whole country's rising. i should have been here before, but it seemed advisable to wait until it was dark. i crawled in between a couple of guard-posts. there is already a watch kept on the house," and then he stopped abruptly. he had caught sight of the khan in the background. he had much ado not to whistle in his surprise. but he refrained and merely bowed. "it seems to be a complicated situation," he said to captain phillips. "does shere ali know?" and he glanced towards the khan. "not yet," replied phillips grimly. "but i don't think it will be long before he does." "and then there will be ructions," poulteney remarked softly. "yes, there will be ructions of a highly-coloured and interesting description." "we must do what we can," said phillips with a shrug of his shoulders. "it isn't much, of course," and for the next two hours the twenty-five sikhs were kept busy. the doors were barricaded, the shutters closed upon the windows and loopholed, and provisions were brought in from the outhouses. "it is lucky we had sense enough to lay in a store of food," said phillips. the sikhs were divided into watches and given their appointed places. cartridges were doled out to them, and the rest of the ammunition was placed in a stone cellar. "that's all that we can do," said phillips. "so we may as well dine." they dined with the khan, speaking little and with ears on the alert, in a room at the back of the house. at any moment the summons might come to surrender the khan. they waited for a blow upon the door, the sound of the firing of a rifle or a loud voice calling upon them from the darkness. but all they heard was the interminable babble of the khan, as he sat at the table shivering with fear and unable to eat a morsel of his food. "you won't give me up!... i have been a good friend to the english.... all my life i have been a good friend to the english." "we will do what we can," said phillips, and he rose from the table and went up on to the roof. he lay down behind the low parapet and looked over towards the town. the house was a poor place to defend. at the back beyond the orchard the hill-side rose and commanded the roof. on the east of the house a stream ran by to the great river in the centre of the valley. but the bank of the stream was a steep slippery bank of clay, and less than a hundred yards down a small water-mill on the opposite side overlooked it. the chiltis had only to station a few riflemen in the water-mill and not a man would be able to climb down that bank and fetch water for the residency. on the west stood the stables and the storehouses, and the barracks of the sikhs, a square of buildings which would afford fine cover for an attacking force. only in front within the walls of the forecourt was there any open space which the house commanded. it was certainly a difficult--nay, a hopeless--place to defend. but captain phillips, as he lay behind the parapet, began to be puzzled. why did not the attack begin? he looked over to the city. it was a place of tossing lights and wild clamours. the noise of it was carried on the night wind to phillips' ears. but about the residency there was quietude and darkness. here and there a red fire glowed where the guards were posted; now and then a shower of sparks leaped up into the air as a fresh log was thrown upon the ashes; and a bright flame would glisten on the barrel of a rifle and make ruddy the dark faces of the watchmen. but there were no preparations for an attack. phillips looked across the city. on the hill the palace was alive with moving lights--lights that flashed from room to room as though men searched hurriedly. "surely they must already have guessed," he murmured to himself. the moving lights in the high windows of the palace held his eyes--so swiftly they flitted from room to room, so frenzied seemed the hurry of the search--and then to his astonishment one after another they began to die out. it could not be that the searchers were content with the failure of their search, that the palace was composing itself to sleep. in the city the clamour had died down; little by little it sank to darkness. there came a freshness in the air. though there were many hours still before daylight, the night drew on towards morning. what could it mean, he wondered? why was the residency left in peace? and as he wondered, he heard a scuffling noise upon the roof behind him. he turned his head and poulteney crawled to his side. "will you come down?" the subaltern asked; "i don't know what to do." phillips at once crept back to the trap-door. the two men descended, and poulteney led the way into the little room at the back of the house where they had dined. there was no longer a light in the room; and they stood for awhile in the darkness listening. "where is the khan?" whispered phillips. "i fixed up one of the cellars for him," poulteney replied in the same tone, and as he ended there came suddenly a rattle of gravel upon the shutter of the window. it was thrown cautiously, but even so it startled phillips almost into a cry. "that's it," whispered poulteney. "there is someone in the orchard. that's the third time the gravel has rattled on the shutter. what shall i do?" "have you got your revolver?" asked phillips. "yes." "then stand by." phillips carefully and noiselessly opened the shutter for an inch or two. "who's that?" he asked in a low voice; he asked the question in pushtu, and in pushtu a voice no louder than his own replied: "i want to speak to poulteney sahib." a startled exclamation broke from the subaltern. "it's my shikari," he said, and thrusting open the shutter he leaned out. "well, what news do you bring?" he asked; and at the answer captain phillips for the first time since he had entered into his twilit hall had a throb of hope. the expeditionary troops from nowshera, advancing by forced marches, were already close to the borders of chiltistan. news had been brought to the palace that evening. shere ali had started with every man he could collect to take up the position where he meant to give battle. "i must hurry or i shall be late," said the shikari, and he crawled away through the orchard. phillips closed the shutter again and lit the lamp. the news seemed too good to be true. but the morning broke over a city of women and old men. only the watchmen remained at their posts about the residency grounds. chapter xxxiv one of the little wars the campaign which shere ali directed on the borders of chiltistan is now matter of history, and may be read of, by whoso wills, in the blue-books and despatches of the time. those documents, with their paragraphs and diaries and bare records of facts, have a dry-as-dust look about them which their contents very often belie. and the reader will not rise from the story of this little war without carrying away an impression of wild fury and reckless valour which will long retain its colours in his mind. moreover, there was more than fury to distinguish it. shere ali turned against his enemies the lessons which they had taught him; and a military skill was displayed which delayed the result and thereby endangered the position of the british troops. for though at the first the neighbouring tribes and states, the little village republics which abound in those parts, waited upon the event as phillips had foretold, nevertheless as the days passed, and the event still hung in the balance, they took heart of grace and gathered behind the troops to destroy their communications and cut off their supplies. dick linforth wrote three letters to his mother, who was living over again the suspense and terror which had fallen to her lot a quarter of a century ago. the first letter was brought to the house under the sussex downs at twilight on an evening of late autumn, and as she recognized the writing for her son's a sudden weakness overcame her, and her hand so shook that she could hardly tear off the envelope. "i am unhurt," he wrote at the beginning of the letter, and tears of gratitude ran down her cheeks as she read the words. "shere ali," he continued, "occupied a traditional position of defence in a narrow valley. the kohara river ran between steep cliffs through the bed of the valley, and, as usual, above the cliffs on each side there were cultivated maidans or plateaus. over the right-hand maidan, the road--_our_ road--ran to a fortified village. behind the village, a deep gorge, or nullah, as we call them in these parts, descending from a side glacier high up at the back of the hills on our right, cut clean across the valley, like a great gash. the sides of the nullah were extraordinarily precipitous, and on the edge furthest from us stone sangars were already built as a second line of defence. shere ali occupied the village in front of the nullah, and we encamped six miles down the valley, meaning to attack in the morning. but the chiltis abandoned their traditional method of fighting behind walls and standing on the defence. a shot rang out on the outskirts of our camp at three o'clock in the morning, and in a moment they were upon us. it was reckoned that there were fifteen thousand of them engaged from first to last in this battle, whereas we were under two thousand combatants. we had seven hundred of the imperial service troops, four companies of gurkhas, three hundred men of the punjab infantry, three companies of the oxfordshires, besides cavalry, mountain batteries and irregulars. the attack was unexpected. we bestrode the road, but shere ali brought his men in by an old disused buddhist road, running over the hills on our right hand, and in the darkness he forced his way through our lines into a little village in the heart of our position. he seized the bazaar and held it all that day, a few houses built of stone and with stones upon the roof which made them proof against our shells. meanwhile the slopes on both sides of the valley were thronged with chiltis. they were armed with jezails and good rifles stolen from our troops, and they had some old cannon--sher bachas as they are called. altogether they caused us great loss, and towards evening things began to look critical. they had fortified and barricaded the bazaar, and kept up a constant fire from it. at last a sapper named manders, with half a dozen gurkhas behind him, ran across the open space, and while the gurkhas shot through the loop holes and kept the fire down, manders fixed his gun cotton at the bottom of the door and lighted the fuse. he was shot twice, once in the leg, once in the shoulder, but he managed to crawl along the wall of the houses out of reach of the explosion, and the door was blown in. we drove them out of that house and finally cleared the bazaar after some desperate fighting. shere ali was in the thick of it. he was dressed from head to foot in green, and was a conspicuous mark. but he escaped unhurt. the enemy drew off for the night, and we lay down as we were, dog-tired and with no fires to cook any food. they came on again in the morning, clouds of them, but we held them back with the gatlings and the maxims, and towards evening they again retired. to-day nothing has happened except the arrival of an envoy with an arrogant letter from shere ali, asking why we are straying inside the borders of his country 'like camels without nose-rings.' we shall show him why to-morrow. for to-morrow we attack the fort on the maidan. good-night, mother. i am very tired." and the last sentence took away from sybil linforth all the comfort the letter had brought her. dick had begun very well. he could have chosen no better words to meet her eyes at the commencement than those three, "i am unhurt." but he could have chosen no worse with which to end it. for they had ended the last letter which her husband had written to her, and her mind flew back to that day, and was filled with fore-bodings. but by the next mail came another letter in his hand, describing how the fort had been carried at the point of the bayonet, and shere ali driven back behind the nullah. this, however, was the strongest position of all, and the most difficult to force. the road which wound down behind the fort into the bed of the nullah and zigzagged up again on the far side had been broken away, the cliffs were unscaleable, and the stone sangars on the brow proof against shell and bullet. shere ali's force was disposed behind these stone breastworks right across the valley on both sides of the river. for three weeks the british force sat in front of this position, now trying to force it by the river-bed, now under cover of night trying to repair the broken road. but the chiltis kept good watch, and at the least sound of a pick in the gulf below avalanches of rocks and stones would be hurled down the cliff-sides. moreover, wherever the cliffs seemed likely to afford a means of ascent shere ali had directed the water-channels, and since the nights were frosty these points were draped with ice as smooth as glass. finally, however, mrs. linforth received a third letter which set her heart beating with pride, and for the moment turned all her fears to joy. "the war is over," it began. "the position was turned this morning. the chiltis are in full flight towards kohara with the cavalry upon their heels. they are throwing away their arms as they run, so that they may be thought not to have taken part in the fight. we follow to-morrow. it is not yet known whether shere ali is alive or dead and, mother, it was i--yes, i your son, who found out the road by which the position could be turned. i had crept up the nullah time after time towards the glacier at its head, thinking that if ever the position was to be taken it must be turned at that end. at last i thought that i had made out a way up the cliffs. there were some gullies and a ledge and then some rocks which seemed practicable, and which would lead one out on the brow of the cliff just between the two last sangars on the enemy's left. i didn't write a word about it to you before. i was so afraid i might be wrong. i got leave and used to creep up the nullah in the darkness to the tongue of the glacier with a little telescope and lie hidden all day behind a boulder working out the way, until darkness came again and allowed me to get back to camp. at last i felt sure, and i suggested the plan to ralston the political officer, who carried it to the general-in-command. the general himself came out with me, and i pointed out to him that the cliffs were so steep just beneath the sangars that we might take the men who garrisoned them by surprise, and that in any case they could not fire upon us, while sharpshooters from the cliffs on our side of the nullah could hinder the enemy from leaving their sangars and rolling down stones. i was given permission to try and a hundred gurkhas to try with. we left camp that night at half-past seven, and crept up the nullah with our blankets to the foot of the climb, and there we waited till the morning." the years of training to which linforth had bent himself with a definite aim began, in a word, to produce their results. in the early morning he led the way up the steep face of cliffs, and the gurkhas followed. one of the sharpshooters lying ready on the british side of the nullah said that they looked for all the world like a black train of ants. there were thirteen hundred feet of rock to be scaled, and for nine hundred of it they climbed undetected. then from a sangar lower down the line where the cliffs of the nullah curved outwards they were seen and the alarm was given. but for awhile the defenders of the threatened position did not understand the danger, and when they did a hail of bullets kept them in their shelters. linforth followed by his gurkhas was seen to reach the top of the cliffs and charge the sangars from the rear. the defenders were driven out and bayoneted, the sangars seized, and the chilti force enfolded while reinforcements clambered in support. "in three hours the position, which for eighteen days had resisted every attack and held the british force immobile, was in our hands. the way is clear in front of us. manders is recommended for the victoria cross. i believe that i am for the d.s.o. and above all the road goes on!" thus characteristically the letter was concluded. linforth wrote it with a flush of pride and a great joy. he had no doubt now that he would be appointed to the road. congratulations were showered upon him. down upon the plains, violet would hear of his achievement and perhaps claim proudly and joyfully some share in it herself. his heart leaped at the thought. the world was going very well for dick linforth that night. but that is only one side of the picture. linforth had no thoughts to spare upon shere ali. if he had had a thought, it would not have been one of pity. yet that unhappy prince, with despair and humiliation gnawing at his heart, broken now beyond all hope, stricken in his fortune as sorely as in his love, was fleeing with a few devoted followers through the darkness. he passed through kohara at daybreak of the second morning after the battle had been lost, and stopping only to change horses, galloped off to the north. two hours later captain phillips mounted on to the roof of his house and saw that the guards were no longer at their posts. chapter xxxv a letter from violet within a week the khan was back in his palace, the smoke rose once more above the roof-tops of kohara, and a smiling shikari presented himself before poulteney sahib in the grounds of the residency. "it was a good fight, sahib," he declared, grinning from ear to ear at the recollection of the battles. "a very good fight. we nearly won. i was in the bazaar all that day. yes, it was a near thing. we made a mistake about those cliffs, we did not think they could be climbed. it was a good fight, but it is over. now when will your excellency go shooting? i have heard of some markhor on the hill." poulteney sahib stared, speechless with indignation. then he burst out laughing: "you old rascal! you dare to come here and ask me to take you out when i go shooting, and only a week ago you were fighting against us." "but the fight is all over, excellency," the shikari explained. "now all is as it was and we will go out after the markhor." the idea that any ill-feeling could remain after so good a fight was one quite beyond the shikari's conception. "besides," he said, "it was i who threw the gravel at your excellency's windows." "why, that's true," said poulteney, and a window was thrown up behind him. ralston's head appeared at the window. "you had better take him," the chief commissioner said. "go out with him for a couple of days," and when the shikari had retired, he explained the reason of his advice. "that fellow will talk to you, and you might find out which way shere ali went. he wasn't among the dead, so far as we can discover, and i think he has been headed off from afghanistan. but it is important that we should know. so long as he is free, there will always be possibilities of trouble." in every direction, indeed, inquiries were being made. but for the moment shere ali had got clear away. meanwhile the khan waited anxiously in the palace to know what was going to happen to him; and he waited in some anxiety. it fell to ralston to inform him in durbar in the presence of his nobles and the chief officers of the british force that the government of india had determined to grant him a pension and a residence rent-free at jellundur. "the government of india will rule chiltistan," said ralston. "the word has been spoken." he went out from the palace and down the hill towards the place where the british forces were encamped just outside the city. when he came to the tents, he asked for mr. linforth, and was conducted through the lines. he found linforth sitting alone within his tent on his camp chair, and knew from his attitude that some evil thing had befallen him. linforth rose and offered ralston his chair, and as he did so a letter fluttered from his lap to the ground. there were two sheets, and linforth stooped quickly and picked them up. "don't move," said ralston. "this will do for me," and he sat down upon the edge of the camp bed. linforth sat down again on his chair and, as though he were almost unaware of ralston's presence, he smoothed out upon his knee the sheets of the letter. ralston could not but observe that they were crumpled and creased, as though they had been clenched and twisted in linforth's hand. then linforth raised his head, and suddenly thrust the letter into his pocket. "i beg your pardon," he said, and he spoke in a spiritless voice. "the post has just come in. i received a letter which--interested me. is there anything i can do?" "yes," said ralston. "we have sure news at last. shere ali has fled to the north. the opportunity you asked for at peshawur has come." linforth was silent for a little while. then he said slowly: "i see. i am to go in pursuit?" "yes!" it seemed that linforth's animosity against shere ali had died out. ralston watched him keenly from the bed. something had blunted the edge of the tool just when the time had come to use it. he threw an extra earnestness into his voice. "you have got to do more than go in pursuit of him. you have got to find him. you have got to bring him back as your prisoner." linforth nodded his head. "he has gone north, you say?" "yes. somewhere in central asia you will find him," and as linforth looked up startled, ralston continued calmly, "yes, it's a large order, i know, but it's not quite so large as it looks. the trade-routes, the only possible roads, are not so very many. no man can keep his comings and goings secret for very long in that country. you will soon get wind of him, and when you do you must never let him shake you off." "very well," said linforth, listlessly. "when do i start?" ralston plunged into the details of the expedition and told him the number of men he was to take with him. "you had better go first into chinese turkestan," he said. "there are a number of hindu merchants settled there--we will give you letters to them. some of them will be able to put you on the track of shere ali. you will have to round him up into a corner, i expect. and whatever you do, head him off russian territory. for we want him. we want him brought back into kohara. it will have a great effect on this country. it will show them that the sirkar can even pick a man out of the bazaars of central asia if he is rash enough to stand up against it in revolt." "that will be rather humiliating for shere ali," said linforth, after a short pause; and ralston sat up on the bed. what in the world, he wondered, could linforth have read in his letter, so to change him? he was actually sympathising with shere ali--he who had been hottest in his anger. "shere ali should have thought of that before," ralston said sharply, and he rose to his feet. "i rely upon you, linforth. it may take you a year. it may take you only a few months. but i rely upon you to bring shere ali back. and when you do," he added, with a smile, "there's the road waiting for you." but for once even that promise failed to stir dick linforth into enthusiasm. "i will do my best," he said quietly; and with that ralston left him. linforth sat down in his chair and once more took out the crumpled letter. he had walked with the gods of late, like one immune from earthly troubles. but his bad hour had been awaiting him. the letter was signed violet. he read it through again, and this was what he read: "this is the most difficult letter i have ever written. for i don't feel that i can make you understand at all just how things are. but somehow or other i do feel that this is going to hurt you frightfully, and, oh, dick, do forgive me. but if it will console or help at all, know this," and the words were underlined--as indeed were many words in violet oliver's letters--"that i never was good enough for you and you are well rid of me. i told you what i was, didn't i, dick?--a foolish lover of beautiful things. i tried to tell you the whole truth that last evening in the garden at peshawur, but you wouldn't let me, dick. and i must tell you now. i never sent the pearl necklace back, dick, although i told you that i did. i meant to send it back the night when i parted from the prince. i packed it up and put it ready. but--oh, dick, how can i tell you?--i had had an imitation one made just like it for safety, and in the night i got up and changed them. i couldn't part with it--i sent back the false one. now you know me, dick! but even now perhaps you don't. you remember the night in peshawur, the terrible night? mr. ralston wondered why, after complaining that my window was unbolted, i unbolted it myself. let me tell you, dick! mr. ralston said that 'theft' was the explanation. well, after i tried to tell you in the garden and you would not listen, i thought of what he had said. i thought it would be such an easy way out of it, if the thief should come in when i was asleep and steal the necklace and go away again before i woke up. i don't know how i brought myself to do it. it was you, dick! i had just left you, i was full of thoughts of you. so i slipped back the bolt myself. but you see, dick, what i am. although i wanted to send that necklace back, i couldn't, i _simply couldn't_, and it's the same with other things. i would be very, very glad to know that i could be happy with you, dear, and live your life. but i know that i couldn't, that it wouldn't last, that i should be longing for other things, foolish things and vanities. again, dick, you are well rid of a silly vain woman, and i wish you all happiness in that riddance. i never would have made you a good wife. nor will i make any man a good wife. i have not the sense of a dog. i know it, too! that's the sad part of it all, dick. forgive me, and thanks, a thousand thanks, for the honour you ever did me in wanting me at all." then followed--it seemed to linforth--a cry. "won't you forgive me, dear, dear dick!" and after these words her name, "violet." but even so the letter was not ended. a postscript was added: "i shall always think of the little dreams we had together of our future, and regret that i couldn't know them. that will always be in my mind. remember that! perhaps some day we will meet. oh, dick, good-bye!" dick sat with that letter before his eyes for a long while. violet had told him that he could be hard, but he was not hard to her. he could read between the lines, he understood the struggle which she had had with herself, he recognised the suffering which the letter had caused her. he was touched to pity, to a greater humanity. he had shown it in his forecasts of the humiliation which would befall shere ali when he was brought back a prisoner to kohara. linforth, in a word, had shed what was left of his boyhood. he had come to recognise that life was never all black and all white. he tore up the letter into tiny fragments. it required no answer. "everything is just wrong," he said to himself, gently, as he thought over shere ali, violet, himself. "everything is just not what it might have been." and a few days later he started northwards for turkestan. chapter xxxvi "the little less--" three years passed before linforth returned on leave to england. he landed at marseilles towards the end of september, travelled to his home, and a fortnight later came up from sussex for a few days to london. it was the beginning of the autumn season. people were returning to town. theatres were re-opening with new plays; and a fellow-officer, who had a couple of stalls for the first production of a comedy about which public curiosity was whetted, meeting linforth in the hall of his club, suggested that they should go together. "i shall be glad," said linforth. "i always go to the play with the keenest of pleasure. the tuning-up of the orchestra and the rising of the curtain are events to me. and, to be honest, i have never been to a first night before. let us do the thing handsomely and dine together before we go. it will be my last excitement in london for another three or four years, i expect." the two young men dined together accordingly at one of the great restaurants. linforth, fresh from the deep valleys of chiltistan, was elated by the lights, the neighbourhood of people delicately dressed, and the subdued throb of music from muted violins. "i am the little boy at the bright shop window," he said with a laugh, while his eyes wandered round the room. "i look in through the glass from the pavement outside, and--" his voice halted and stopped; and when he resumed he spoke without his former gaiety. indeed, the change of note was more perceptible than the brief pause. his friend conjectured that the words which linforth now used were not those which he had intended to speak a moment ago. "--and," he said slowly, "i wonder what sort of fairyland it is actually to live and breathe in?" while he spoke, his eyes were seeking an answer to his question, and seeking it in one particular quarter. a few tables away, and behind linforth's friend and a little to his right, sat violet oliver. she was with a party of six or eight people, of whom linforth took no note. he had eyes only for her. bitterness had long since ceased to colour his thoughts of violet oliver. and though he had not forgotten, there was no longer any living pain in his memories. so much had intervened since he had walked with her in the rose-garden at peshawur--so many new experiences, so much compulsion of hard endeavour. when his recollections went back to the rose-garden at peshawur, as at rare times they would, he was only conscious at the worst that his life was rather dull when tested by the high aspirations of his youth. there was less music in it than he had thought to hear. instead of swinging in a soldier's march to the sound of drums and bugles down the road, it walked sedately. to use his own phrase, everything was--_just not_. there was no more in it than that. and indeed at the first it was almost an effort for him to realise that between him and this woman whom he now actually saw, after three years, there had once existed a bond of passion. but, as he continued to look, the memories took substance, and he began to wonder whether in her fairyland it was "just not," too. she had what she had wanted--that was clear. a collar of pearls, fastened with a diamond bow, encircled her throat. a great diamond flashed upon her bosom. was she satisfied? did no memory of the short week during which she had longed to tread the road of fire and stones, the road of high endeavour, trouble her content? linforth was curious. she was not paying much heed to the talk about the table. she took no part in it, but sat with her head a little raised, her eyes dreamily fixed upon nothing in particular. but linforth remembered with a smile that there was no inference to be drawn from that not unusual attitude of hers. it did not follow that she was bored or filled with discontent. she might simply be oblivious. a remark made about her by some forgotten person who had asked a question and received no answer came back to linforth and called a smile to his face. "you might imagine that violet oliver is thinking of the angels. she is probably considering whether she should run upstairs and powder her nose." linforth began to look for other signs; and it seemed to him that the world had gone well with her. she had a kind of settled look, almost a sleekness, as though anxiety never came near to her pillow. she had married, surely, and married well. the jewels she wore were evidence, and linforth began to speculate which of the party was her husband. they were young people who were gathered at the table. in her liking for young people about her she had not changed. of the men no one was noticeable, but violet oliver, as he remembered, would hardly have chosen a noticeable man. she would have chosen someone with great wealth and no ambitions, one who was young enough to ask nothing more from the world than violet oliver, who would not, in a word, trouble her with a career. she might have chosen anyone of her companions. and then her eyes travelled round the room and met his. for a moment she gazed at him, not seeing him at all. in a moment or two consciousness came to her. her brows went up in astonishment. then she smiled and waved her hand to him across the room--gaily, without a trace of embarrassment, without even the colour rising to her cheeks. thus might one greet a casual friend of yesterday. linforth bethought him, with a sudden sting of bitterness which surprised him by its sharpness, of the postscript in the last of the few letters she had written to him. that letter was still vivid enough in his memories for him to be able to see the pages, to recognise the writing, and read the sentences. "i shall always think of the little dreams we had together of our future, and regret that i couldn't know them. that will always be in my mind. remember that!" how much of that postscript remained true, he wondered, after these three years. very little, it seemed. linforth fell to speculating, with an increasing interest, as to which of the men at her table she had mated with. was it the tall youth with the commonplace good looks opposite to her? linforth detected now a certain flashiness in his well grooming which he had not noticed before. or was it the fat insignificant young man three seats away from her? a rather gross young person, linforth thought him--the offspring of some provincial tradesman who had retired with a fortune and made a gentleman of his son. "well, no doubt he has the dibs," linforth found himself saying with an unexpected irritation, as he contemplated the possible husband. and his friend broke in upon his thoughts. "if you are going to eat any dinner, linforth, it might be as well to begin; we shall have to go very shortly." linforth fell to accordingly. his appetite was not impaired, he was happy to notice, but, on the whole, he wished he had not seen violet oliver. this was his last night in london. she might so easily have come to-morrow instead, when he would already have departed from the town. it was a pity. he did not look towards her table any more, but the moment her party rose he was nevertheless aware of its movement. he was conscious that she passed through the restaurant towards the lobby at no great distance from himself. he was aware, though he did not raise his head, that she was looking at him. five minutes afterwards the waiter brought to him a folded piece of paper. he opened it and read: "dick, won't you speak to me at all? i am waiting.--violet." linforth looked up at his friend. "there is someone i must go and speak to," he said. "i won't be five minutes." he rose from the table and walked out of the restaurant. his heart was beating rather fast, but it was surely curiosity which produced that effect. curiosity to know whether with her things were--just not, too. he passed across the hall and up the steps. on the top of the steps she was waiting for him. she had her cloak upon her shoulders, and in the background the gross young man waited for her without interposing--the very image of a docile husband. "dick," she said quickly, as she held out her hand to him, "i did so want to talk to you. i have to rush off to a theatre. so i sent in for you. why wouldn't you speak to me?" that he should have any reason to avoid her she seemed calmly and completely unconscious. and so unembarrassed was her manner that even with her voice in his ears and her face before him, delicate and pretty as of old, dick almost believed that never had he spoken of love to her, and never had she answered him. "you are married?" he asked. violet nodded her head. she did not, however, introduce her husband. she took no notice of him whatever. she did not mention her new name. "and you?" she asked. linforth laughed rather harshly. "no." perhaps the harshness of the laugh troubled her. her forehead puckered. she dropped her eyes from his face. "but you will," she said in a low voice. linforth did not answer, and in a moment or two she raised her head again. the trouble had gone from her face. she smiled brightly. "and the road?" she asked. she had just remembered it. she had almost an air of triumph in remembering it. all these old memories were so dim. but at the awkward difficult moment, by an inspiration she had remembered the great long-cherished aim of dick linforth's life. the road! dick wondered whether she remembered too that there had been a time when for a few days she had thought to have a share herself in the making of that road which was to leave india safe. "it goes on," he said quietly. "it has passed kohara. it has passed the fort where luffe died. but i beg your pardon. luffe belongs to the past, too, very much to the past--more even than i do." violet paid no heed to the sarcasm. she had not heard it. she was thinking of something else. it seemed that she had something to say, but found the utterance difficult. once or twice she looked up at dick linforth and looked down again and played with the fringe of her cloak. in the background the docile husband moved restlessly. "there's a question i should like to ask," she said quickly, and then stopped. linforth helped her out. "perhaps i can guess the question." "it's about--" she began, and linforth nodded his head. "shere ali?" he said. "yes," replied violet. linforth hesitated, looking at his companion. how much should he tell her, he asked himself? the whole truth? if he did, would it trouble her? he wondered. he had no wish to hurt her. he began warily: "after the campaign was over in chiltistan i was sent after him." "yes. i heard that before i left india," she replied. "i hunted him," and it seemed to linforth that she flinched. "there's no other word, i am afraid. i hunted him--for months, from the borders of tibet to the borders of russia. in the end i caught him." "i heard that, too," she said. "i came up with him one morning, in a desert of stones. he was with three of his followers. the only three who had been loyal to him. they had camped as best they could under the shelter of a boulder. it was very cold. they had no coverings and little food. the place was as desolate as you could imagine--a wilderness of boulders and stones stretching away to the round of the sky, level as the palm of your hand, with a ragged tree growing up here and there. if we had not come up with them that day i think they would have died." he spoke with his eyes upon violet, ready to modify his words at the first evidence of pain. she gave that evidence as he ended. she drew her cloak closer about her and shivered. "what did he say?" she asked. "to me? nothing. we spoke only formally. all the way back to india we behaved as strangers. it was easier for both of us. i brought him down through chiltistan and kohara into india. i brought him down--along the road which at eton we had planned to carry on together. down that road we came together--i the captor, he the prisoner." again violet flinched. "and where is he now?" she asked in a low voice. suddenly linforth turned round and looked down the steps, across the hall to the glass walls of the restaurant. "did he ever come here with you?" he asked. "did he ever dine with you there amongst the lights and the merry-makers and the music?" "yes," she answered. linforth laughed, and again there was a note of bitterness in the laughter. "how long ago it seems! shere ali will dine here no more. he is in burma. he was deported to burma." he told her no more than that. there was no need that she should know that shere ali, broken-hearted, ruined and despairing, was drinking himself to death with the riffraff of rangoon, or with such of it as would listen to his abuse of the white women and his slanders upon their honesty. the contrast between shere ali's fate and the hopes with which he had set out was shocking enough. yet even in his case so very little had turned the scale. between the fulfilment of his hopes and the great failure what was there? if he had been sent to ajmere instead of to england, if he and linforth had not crossed the meije to la grave in dauphiné, if a necklace of pearls he had offered had not been accepted--very likely at this very moment he might be reigning in chiltistan, trusted and supported by the indian government, a helpful friend gratefully recognised. to linforth's thinking it was only "just not" with shere ali, too. linforth saw his companion coming towards him from the restaurant. he held out his hand. "i have got to go," he said. "i too," replied violet. but she detained him. "i want to tell you," she said hurriedly. "long ago--in peshawur--do you remember? i told you there was someone else--a better mate for you than i was. i meant it, dick, but you wouldn't listen. there is still the someone else. i am going to tell you her name. she has never said a word to me--but--but i am sure. it may sound mean of me to give her away--but i am not really doing that. i should be very happy, dick, if it were possible. it's phyllis casson. she has never married. she is living with her father at camberley." and before he could answer she had hurried away. but linforth was to see her again that night. for when he had taken his seat in the stalls of the theatre he saw her and her husband in a box. he gathered from the remarks of those about him that her jewels were a regular feature upon the first nights of new plays. he looked at her now and then during the intervals of the acts. a few people entered her box and spoke to her for a little while. linforth conjectured that she had dropped a little out of the world in which he had known her. yet she was contented. on the whole that seemed certain. she was satisfied with her life. to attend the first productions of plays, to sit in the restaurants, to hear her jewels remarked upon--her life had narrowed sleekly down to that, and she was content. but there had been other possibilities for violet oliver. linforth walked back from the theatre to his club. he looked into a room and saw an old gentleman dozing alone amongst his newspapers. "i suppose i shall come to that," he said grimly. "it doesn't look over cheerful as a way of spending the evening of one's days," and he was suddenly seized with the temptation to go home and take the first train in the morning for camberley. he turned the plan over in his mind for a moment, and then swung away from it in self-disgust. he retained a general reverence for women, and to seek marriage without bringing love to light him in the search was not within his capacity. "that wouldn't be fair," he said to himself--"even if violet's tale were true." for with his reverence he had retained his modesty. the next morning he took the train into sussex instead, and was welcomed by sybil linforth to the house under the downs. in the warmth of that welcome, at all events, there was nothing that was just not. american world policies by walter e. weyl author of "the new democracy," etc. new york the macmillan company copyright, , by the macmillan company set up and electrotyped. published february, . the macmillan company new york -- boston -- chicago -- dallas atlanta -- san francisco macmillan & co., limited london -- bombay -- calcutta -- melbourne the macmillan co. of canada, ltd. toronto table of contents part i our idealistic past chapter page i america among the nations . . . . . . . . . . ii the skeleton of war . . . . . . . . . . . . . iii peace without effort . . . . . . . . . . . . . iv an unripe imperialism . . . . . . . . . . . . v facing outward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . part ii the root of imperialism vi the integration of the world . . . . . . . . . vii the root of imperialism . . . . . . . . . . . viii imperialism and war . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix industrial invasion . . . . . . . . . . . . . x the revolt against imperialism . . . . . . . . xi the appeal of imperialism . . . . . . . . . . xii the american decision . . . . . . . . . . . . part iii towards economic internationalism xiii natural resources and peace . . . . . . . . . xiv an antidote to imperialism . . . . . . . . . . xv american interests abroad . . . . . . . . . . xvi pacifism static and dynamic . . . . . . . . . xvii towards international government . . . . . . . xviii the freedom of the seas . . . . . . . . . . . xix the higher imperialism . . . . . . . . . . . . xx the forces of internationalism . . . . . . . . xxi an immediate programme . . . . . . . . . . . . index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . { } part i our idealistic past american world policies chapter i america among the nations the great war has thrown america back upon itself. it has come as a test and challenge to all our theories. suddenly, yet subtly, it has shaken our optimism and undermined our faith in the peaceful progress of humanity. our isolation is gone, and with it our sense of security and self-direction. americans, who a few days ago would have dared to abolish army and navy as a supreme earnest of good faith, reluctantly agree to arm. "self-defence," they now say, "comes before progress. we must lay aside our hopes of a world at peace and must guard our gates." doubtless there is some exaggeration in our change of mood. men speak as though a miracle had swept away the atlantic ocean, leaving us stranded on europe's western shore. fortunately the ocean, always america's ally, still lies there, narrowed and curbed, yet three thousand miles of storm-swept water. physically and morally, however, our isolation has dwindled. dreadnaughts, submarines and airships can now reach us and our commerce, industry and national ambitions are interwoven with those of europe. we shall never again stand aloof from the world. { } to americans this change has come so suddenly, though it has been long preparing, that we fail to visualise the new situation. we glibly repeat that our isolation is gone, but do not ask ourselves what is the nature of the bond that has ended our isolation. is it amity or enmity? are we to become one of a dozen clutching, struggling, fighting nations, seeking to destroy each other, or are we to contribute to a solution of the problems that now divide nations into warring groups? though our isolation is gone, we still preserve a latitude of action. we may choose between two foreign policies, between nationalistic imperialism and internationalism. we may elect to fight for our share of the world's spoils or to labour, and, if necessary, to fight for a world peace and for just international relations, upon which alone a permanent peace can be based. such a choice involves for americans the main trend of our civilisation; for europe it is hardly less vital. our influence upon europe, like hers upon us, has grown with the shrinking of the earth's surface. our bulk, our resources and our remnant of inaccessibility give us a weight in world affairs far in excess of our military power. we are advancing in population, wealth and general education, and our future progress in these directions is likely to be more rapid than that of western europe. moreover we are the only strong nation not tied up in existing international enmities. our hands are unbound. how we shall act, therefore, whether we shall add to the complications of europe or aid in disentangling them, is a world as well as a national problem. in the main such national determinations are dependent upon great economic forces, acting upon the nation from within and without. these economic forces, however, do not work upon stones but upon those loose bundles of { } instincts, reactions, ideals and prejudices that we call men. we need not dig deep into american history to uncover the human elements that will influence our decision. on the surface of our life appear two strong tendencies pulling in opposite directions. it is easier to describe than to define these tendencies. the first we might perhaps call pacifism, liberalism, humanitarianism, democracy, though none of these words exactly defines the generous, somewhat ineffectual, peace ideal, which has grown up in a democratic people with no hostile neighbours. at this moment by the light of the european camp-fires we are likely to belittle this easy do-nothing idealism. we find our idealists prosaic. they are not gaunt fanatics consumed by their own passion, but hard-working, self-respecting, religiously inclined men, asking good prices and high wages, eating good food, wearing good clothes and perhaps running a ford automobile. to some of these meliorists, europe seems almost as distant as china, but towards the peoples of both places they preserve a vague and benevolent missionary attitude. they want peace with europe and peace for europe, and would even be willing to pay for it, as they pay for relief for belgium and martinique. there is little passion in this good-will but there is even less hypocrisy. one may ridicule this cornfed, tepid idealism, but it is none the less the raw material out of which great national purposes are formed. the present desire of americans for a world peace is no vaguer or more ineffectual than was the seemingly faint sense of the wickedness of slavery, as it existed in our northern states in the days of the missouri compromise. yet out of that undirected, crude and luke-warm emotion, there burst forth within a generation the white-hot flame, which consumed the detested institution and freed the millions of negro slaves. { } but not all americans are idealists even of this commonplace sort. in our ultra-keen capitalistic competition we have evolved an american of different type. self-centred, speculative, narrow, measuring success by the dollars gained and spent, this individualist has a short way with idealisms and larger ends. to him our involuntary _rapprochement_ with europe is an opportunity not for service but for gain. war is good or bad as it is profitable or the reverse. he is a realist, as is the mole, attached to the earth and not worrying about the skies. his ideal is that of a selfish nation dominated by selfish, social classes. here then we have the two americanisms, both of them native and redolent of the soil, both vital and growing. both have appeared in many of our national controversies, in the philippine question, in porto rico, in our relations with mexico. the one is liberal, democratic, often visionary, though confident because many of its visions have come true; the other is concrete, short-sighted, intense but with a low moral sensibility. each appeals to a patriotism formed in the image of the patriot. it is upon this divided america that there comes the sense of the impinging of europe. these men of two opposed types (with innumerable intermediate variations) suddenly perceive that the great war is being fought not only near our shores but even within our borders. they dimly perceive that the war is but an incident in a greater, though less spectacular contest, that it is in reality a phase of a long drawn-out economic struggle in which we too have blindly played our part. to both groups, to all americans, the war comes close. it is being fought with motives like our motives and ideals like our ideals. it is a conflict which proves to us that international peace is still very far from attainment. war on a scale never before known: war--deliberate, organised, scientific--fought { } by combatants and noncombatants alike, reveals itself as one of the central facts of our modern life, a fact not to be ignored or preached or argued away, a fact which for us on this side of the ocean, whatever our instincts and our philosophies, has its deep and permanent significance. our changed relation to this central fact of war constitutes one of the gravest problems that we face to-day. growing up in a peaceful environment we had imbibed the idea that war was a thing alien to us, monarchial, european. we had come to hold that a nation could avoid war by not desiring it, by not preparing for it, by minding its own business. we believed that what share in the world we had and wanted was what every reasonable nation would willingly concede us, and if certain powers proved refractory and unreasonable--a most improbable contingency--we could always send forth our millions of minute men, armed with patriotism and fowling-pieces. with european conflicts we had no concern; we might deplore the senseless brutality of such wars, but need not take part in their conduct or in their prevention. in due course europe would learn from america the lessons of republicanism, federalism and international justice and the happiness and wisdom of an unarmed peace. ourselves unarmed, we could peacefully wrest the weapons from europe's hand. the sheer, unthinking optimism of this earlier american attitude ended abruptly on the outbreak of the present war. it is not surprising that our first reaction towards this war, after its full sweep and destructiveness were visible, was one of fear. if a peaceful nation like belgium could suddenly be overrun and destroyed, it behooved us also to place ourselves on guard, to be ready with men and ships to repel a similarly wanton attack. the result was a demand for preparedness, an instinctive demand, { } not based on any definite conception of a national policy, but intended merely to meet a possible, not clearly foreseen, contingency. the whole preparedness controversy revealed this rootlessness. it was in part at least an acrid discussion between careless optimists and unreasonable scare-mongers, between men who held positions no longer tenable and others who were moving to positions which they could not locate. our ideas were in flux. whether we should arm, against whom we should arm, how we should arm, was decided by the impact of prejudices and shadowy fears against an obstinate and optimistic credulity. nothing was more significant of the externality of these debates than the fact that they seemed to ignore everything that we had cared about before. the case for armament was presented not as a continuation of earlier national policies but as a sort of historical interlude. past interests were forgotten in the insistence upon the immediate. until the war broke in upon us we had been groping, both in foreign and domestic policies, towards certain forms of national expression; arbitration, international justice, democracy, social reform. throughout a century, we had believed that we had blundered towards these goals, and that our history revealed an aspiration approaching fulfilment. we had settled a continent, built an ordered society, and amid a mass of self-created entanglements, were striving to erect a new civilisation upon the basis of a changed economic life. now it was assumed that all this stubbornly contested progress was forever ended by the conflict engulfing the world. this whole idealistic phase of american life was disparaged by our sudden ultra-patriots. these men, with a perhaps unconscious bias, opposed their brand new martial idealism to what they falsely believed was a purely { } materialistic pacifism. actually both advocates and opponents of increased armaments were contending under the stress of a new and bewildering emotion. for decades we had concerned ourselves with our own affairs, undisturbed by events which convulsed europe. but the present war, because of its magnitude and nearness, had set our nerves jangling, excited us morbidly, dulled us to horror and made us oversensitive to dread. we read of slaughter, maiming, rape and translated the facts of belgium and servia into imaginary atrocities committed against ourselves. we wanted to be "doing something." not that we wished war, but rather the chance to rank high according to the standards in vogue at the hour. while hating the war, we had insensibly imbibed the mental quality of the men who were fighting. we were tending to think as though all future history were to be one continuing cataclysm. for the moment, like the rest of the world, we were hypnotised. upon our minds a crude picture had been stamped. we were more conscious of peril than before the war, though the peril was now less. our immediate danger from invasion was smaller than it had been in june, ; yet while we were perhaps foolishly unafraid in , in we trembled hypnotically. it was to this state of the american mind that all sorts of appeals were made. those who wanted universal conscription and the greatest navy in the world argued not only from dread of invaders but from the necessity of a united nation. they wanted "americanism," pure, simple, undiluted, straight. there was to be no hyphen, no cleavage between racial stocks, no line between sections or social classes. america was to be racially, linguistically, sectionally one. it was an ideal, good or bad, according to its { } interpretation. a more definitely integrated america, with a concrete forward-looking internal and foreign policy, could aid disinterestedly in untying the european tangle. in the main, however, the demand for americanism took on an aggressive, jingoistic, red-white-and-blue tinge. out of it arose an exaggerated change of mood toward the "hyphenate," the american of foreign, and especially german, lineage. newspapers teemed with attacks upon this man of divided allegiance. in other ways our agitation for a united america took a reactionary shape. though a pacific nation, we experienced a sudden revulsion against pacifism and hague tribunals, as though it were the pacifists who had brought on the war. contempt was expressed for our industrialism, our many-tongued democracy, our policy of diplomatic independence. those most opposed to prussianism, as it has been defined, were most stubbornly prussian in their proposals. we heard praises of the supreme education of the german barracks, and a clamour arose for universal service, not primarily industrial or educational but military in character. a decaying patriotism of americans was deplored quite in the manner of bernhardi. more than ever there was talk of national honour, prestige, the rights of america. our former attitude of abstention from european disputes was called "provincial," and we were urged to fight for all manner of reasons and causes. even though we cravenly desired peace, we were to have no choice. an impoverished germany, beaten to her knees, was to pay her indemnity by landing an army in new york and holding that city for ransom. around such futilities did many american minds play. all this appeal would have been more convincing had it not been most insistently urged by influential financial groups. the extent of certain financial interests in large { } armaments, in a spirited foreign policy and in other widely advertised new doctrines, was obvious. the war had built up a vast armament industry, war stocks had been widely distributed, and upon the advent of peace these properties would shrink in value unless america made purchases. more important was the complex of financial interests, likely to be created in latin america and elsewhere. speculators were dreaming of great foreign investments for american capital. we were to become a creditor nation, an imperialistic power, exploiting the backward countries of the globe. we were to participate in international loans, more or less forced, and to make money wherever the flag flew. for such a policy there was needed the backing of a patriotic, united, disciplined and armed nation, and to secure such arms, any excuse would suffice. at the most, of course, these financial adventurers were merely leaders in a movement that arose out of the peculiar conditions of the moment. the roots of our sudden desire for armament and for an aggressive foreign policy ran far deeper than the interests of any particular financial group. a sense that american ideals were in peril of being destroyed by a new barbarism impelled us to new efforts. we dimly perceived that we must solve new problems, accept new responsibilities, and acquit ourselves worthily in new crises. the most obvious result of this campaign for preparedness was a largely increased expenditure for armies and navies. its deeper significance, however, lay in the fact that it marked the end of our former theory that war can be ended by precept and example and that no nation need fear war or prepare for war so long as its intentions are good. hereafter the size and character of our national armament was to be determined in relation to the possibility of war with europe and of war in europe. the { } campaign for military preparation is not ended. it will not end until some relation is established between our new armament and the national policy which that armament is to serve. so long as these preparedness debates lasted we believed that the fundamental cleavage in american sentiment was between those who wished to arm and those who did not. yet the proposal to increase the army and navy was defended by men of varying temperaments and opinions, by liberals and conservatives, by workmen and capitalists, by members of peace societies and representatives of the navy league. as the first stage of mere instinctive arming passes, however, it suddenly appears as though the true cleavage in american thought and feeling runs perpendicular to the division between those who favour and those who oppose armament. the real issue is the purpose to which the arms are to be put. we may use our armed strength to secure concessions in china or mexico, to "punish" small nations, to enter the balance of power of europe or to aid in the promotion of international peace. we may use our strength wisely or unwisely, for good or for ill. we began to arm before we knew for what we were arming, before we had a national policy, before we knew what we wanted or how to get it. our problem to-day is to determine upon that policy, to create out of the constituent elements forming american public opinion a national policy, determined by our situation and needs, limited by our power, and in conformity with our ideals. it is the problem of adjusting american policy to the central fact of international conflict and war. as we approach this problem we discover that the two great elements in our population tend to pull in contrary directions. in the question of defence the one instinctively follows the lead of european nations, piling up { } armies and navies and attempting to make us the most formidable power in the world; the second seeks by understandings with other nations to prevent disagreements and to avert wars. the first group emphasises american rights on "land and sea," the property rights of americans, our financial interests in backward countries, and the military force necessary to secure our share; the second thinks of establishing international relations in which such rights may be secured to all nations without the constant threat of force. both of these elements are national in the sense that they desire to preserve the country's interest, but while the first group envisages such interest as separate and distinct from others, to be defended for itself alone as a lawyer defends his client, the other sees the national interest in relation to the interests of other nations and seeks to secure international arrangements by which conflicting claims can be adjusted. the first element lays stress upon the legalistic attitude, upon our honour, our rights, our property; the second is less jingoistic, less aggressive, less jealous in honour. which of these two elements in our population will secure the ascendency and dictate our foreign policy, or which will contribute more largely to the decision, will be determined chiefly by the course of our internal evolution and especially by our economic development. whether we are to go into international affairs to get all we can--concessions, monopolies, profits--will depend upon how great is the internal economic strain pressing us outward, upon whether our conditions are such that the gains from a selfish national aggrandisement will outweigh the large, slow gains of international co-operation. ideals will also count, as will tradition and precedent. even chance enters into the decision. if, for example, by some change in the internal affairs of germany we are thrown into an alliance { } with england, france and russia, a direction will be given to our international policy which it may take years to change. the accident which found admiral dewey in asiatic waters on a certain day in april, , has not been without its influence upon the ensuing foreign policy of the united states. for those who wish to use our armed forces to secure special advantages (trade, monopolies, fields for investment), the road is broad and clearly marked. they have only to do what other aggressive and imperialistic nations have done--prepare the means of fighting and threaten to fight either alone or with allies whenever a favouring opportunity offers. but for those of us who desire to make america an agency in the creation of international peace the problem is infinitely more difficult. peace and internationalism cannot be secured by fervent wishes or piety but only by persistent effort and measureless patience. that for which men have sought in vain during so many centuries will not fall like ripe fruit into our laps. towards this goal of internationalism all that is best in america aspires. the american tradition points towards internationalism. our early settlers, as also many of our later immigrants, came to these shores to escape political and religious warfare, and brought with them a broad humanitarian ideal, an ideal of peace, internationalism, freedom and equality. they also brought an antipathy towards those monarchical and aristocratic institutions, with which in america we still associate conceptions of imperialism and war. the simplicity and inherent equality of our frontier life, its self-government and its local independence, tended to reinforce our leaning towards a peaceful internationalism. our large spaces, our ease of movement, our freedom from the militaristic and excessively nationalistic traditions of the european continent { } influenced us in a like direction, as did also the merging of many peoples into one nation. we were not disillusioned by any conflict with harder-pressed nations, desiring what we had or having what we desired. we believed vaguely in an inevitable beneficent internationalism, which would bring all nations into harmony and banish war from the world. actually our pacifists and internationalists have accomplished little, if anything, towards a realisation of this ideal. what has hampered them, apart from the overwhelming difficulty of the problem, has been the fact that they did not realise how distant was the goal towards which they were marching. their approach to the problem was not realistic. they conceived of the world as a group of nations in all fundamentals like america and of peace as a process by which these other nations would approximate to the united states. the great solvents of war were democracy, education and industrialism. democracy would take from the ruling classes the right to declare wars; education would destroy in the people the last vestiges of bellicosity and international prejudice, while industrialism would in the end overcome militarism, and turn battleships and howitzers into steam-ploughs and electric cranes. the triumphant progress throughout the world of democracy, education and industrialism would speedily bring about peace and a firm internationalism. unfortunately the problem of imperialism and war is far more intricate than this popular theory assumes. all these forces tend perhaps in the general direction of peace but they do not bring about peace automatically and in many cases actually intensify and augment the impulse towards war. our present age of advancing democracy, education and industrialism has been, above all other periods, the age of imperialism, of exaggerated nationalism { } and of colonial wars. democratic peoples have not been cured of nationalistic ambition, and education, in many countries at least, has aided in the creation of an imperialistic and militaristic spirit. even our unguided industrialism has not ended wars or brought their end perceptibly nearer. there is no easy road to internationalism and peace, and those who strive for these ends without understanding the genesis and deep lying causes of war are striving in vain. if in america therefore, we are to contribute to the promotion of internationalism and peace, we must recognise that war is not a mere accident or vagary but a living thing growing out of the deepest roots of our economic life. it is not caused alone by human unreason, by the pride of individuals, the greed of social classes, the prejudices of races and nationalities, but is closely intertwined with those economic ideals upon which the best as well as the worst in our civilisation is reared. we had believed that industrialism and militarism were mutually opposed and that the factory would automatically destroy the army. to-day we see how each of these has entered into the spirit of the other and how each helps the other. the army is industrialised and the national industry is put upon a military, fighting basis. the same forces that impel a nation to develop its trade, increase its output, improve its industrial technique, also impel it to raise large armies and to fight for the things for which men work. to divorce economic ambition from the national aggression that leads to war will not be easy. it is a sobering task which faces those who wish to use america's influence in the cause of peace. whatever our course of action, however, whether we strive for an american imperialism or for internationalism, one thing is certain: it cannot be instinctive, fluctuating, { } undirected. we cannot revolutionise our international relations with each new administration or with each change of the moon. nor can we stay at home and, ignorant of the causes of war, content ourselves with a long-distance preaching of peace to the menaced nations of europe. each of the two courses open to us involves self-direction, valour and strength. if we are to enter upon a struggle for place, power and profits, we must prepare for a dangerous contest: if we are to labour for a new international harmony, for peace and good-will and the delicate adjustments without which these are but words, we shall also need courage--and infinite patience. without knowledge we shall accomplish nothing. to enter upon an international career without a sense of the conditions underlying peace and war, is to walk in darkness along a dangerous path. { } chapter ii the skeleton of war to ascribe world events to the action of a single individual is a naïve yet persistent manner of thought. all over europe men blamed the war upon a wicked kaiser, a swaggering, immature crown prince, a weak-fisted von berchtold, a sinister tisza, a childish poincaré, an unscrupulous sir edward grey, an abysmally astute sasonof. we in america blamed everything on von tirpitz and the irrepressible reventlow. in all countries, millions of men drifted helplessly toward a war, which they believed was due to the evil machinations of a man. so long as the belief holds that one man can set the world on fire, there can be no reasonable theory of war or peace. it is a conception which makes world destiny a plaything, unmotived in any large sense, accidental and incalculable. on the other hand, those who regard war as merely irrational, a general human idiocy, are equally far from any true approach to the problem. we are being deluged to-day with books and newspaper articles describing war as a reversion of mankind to a lower type, a betrayal of reason, a futile, revolting struggle, creating no rights, settling no problems and serving no useful purpose except, in lord salisbury's phrase, "to teach people geography." let us be rational and adult, cry these authors, adjuring an insane world to return to its sanity. no wonder that there is prejudice against this particular variety of abstract pacifism. it is a negative { } doctrine, anæmic and thin-haired, with a touch of gentle intolerance and a patient disregard of facts. it does not recognise the real motives to war, upon which alone a theory of peace may be based. it defeats itself because ultra-rationalistic. for if war, though irrational, has always been, would it not follow that man himself is irrational, that the fighting instinct is deeper than reason, and that to-morrow, as to-day, men will fight for the joy of killing? if this were true, pacifism might as well resign. in truth, this interpretation of war as a mere expression of man's fighting instincts is no more adequate than is the personal devil theory. war has outgrown the fighting instinct. it has become deliberate, businesslike, scientific. it demands sacrifices from those to whom fighting is an abomination. how many red-blooded warriors could the german emperor or the french president have enrolled, had there been no appeal to national interest, duty, justice, indignation? war is won to-day by peace-loving men, who abhor the arms in their hands. the closer we study its motives, incentives and origins, the more deeply do we find the elements of this problem imbedded in the very foundations of national or group life. war depends upon growth in population, emigration, the use of natural resources, agricultural progress, trade development, distribution of wealth, taxation. it is never unrelated to the economic web in which the people live their lives; it is seldom unaffected by the necessity of expanding and the opposition of neighbours, the desire for bread and the longing for luxuries. war and peace are functions of the national life, steps in national progress or retrogression. peace and war are two paths leading often in the same general direction, and whether we may take one path or must take the other is often determined for us long before we reach this parting of the ways. { } at first glance this economic or business side of war is obscured. we find tribes and nations fighting for women and heads and scalps, to please the gods, to destroy sorcerers, to slay heretics, to show prowess, and for other reasons which seem equally remote from an economic motive. a nation will go to war "to save its face," or to annihilate the "hereditary enemy," as well as to improve its position in the world. yet these diverse human motives are related to, though not fully absorbed in, the omnipresent economic motive. the "hereditary enemy" usually is no other than the tribe or nation that blocks our way; the "gods" enjoin war against neighbours who occupy the lands we need or can furnish us tribute; the women, whom we capture, are tame and pleasant beasts of burden, who help to swell our numbers. as for pride and tribal vanity, which so often precipitate war, these are a powerful social bond, which by holding the tribe together permits it to conquer the things it needs. a war for prestige is often a war for economic gain once removed. there remains a residue of martial emotion, not so closely united with the desire for economic gain, but all these derivative motives do not prevent the economic factor from remaining preponderant. remove the economic factors leading to war, give men more than enough, and the chief incentive to war disappears. the modern historical trend has been towards a fuller recognition of the influence of this potent, though often disguised, motive to war. historians are recognising that the mainspring of social action is not an emperor's dream or soldier's ambition, but the demand of vast populations for food, clothing and shelter, then for better food, clothing and shelter, and finally for the rights, privileges and institutions which will make such economic progress assured. ancient war, which seemed so empty and causeless, is now { } revealed as a half-conscious effort of human societies to adjust themselves to changing economic conditions. it is a struggle for bread. indeed, so complete has been this change in our theories that we often exaggerate this economic influence, and speak as though no emotion save hunger impelled humanity. but such exclusion of other motives is not necessary to an economic interpretation. we can emphasise the influence of economic desires, which modern americans and germans share with ancient greeks and babylonians, while still admitting the influence of other factors. race, creed, language, geographical position, increase national friendship or animosity. while these factors influence wars, however, they are less universal, if not less potent than is the economic motive. the significance of this economic motive to war can hardly be overstated. if wars are in the main due to fundamental, economic conflicts, then we cannot end or limit war unless we discover some alternate way to compose such economic differences. we cannot hope that the human race will stop wanting things. men have never lived like the lilies of the field, nor wished to live so. according to our every-day morality, wanting and getting are ethical and wise, and not-wanting is unethical and decivilising. our whole intricate, complex civilisation depends upon the physical well-being and the economic ambition of our populations, and morally, as well as physically, a beggared nation tends to decline. we may trace this degeneration of impoverished groups in some of our mountainous districts, where communities, shut off from the main productive energies of the nation, brutalise and decay. all the conditions of our life impel nations, like individuals, to advance economically, to fructify labour, to gain. if, however, the nation in its struggle for new wealth clashes with other nations, intent also upon gain, if { } these mobilised, economic ambitions necessarily lead to destructive wars, then we must cease declaiming against war's immorality, and seek instead to discover whether economic readjustments cannot circumscribe or even prevent wars. to a modern business man or to a city workman this theory of the economic cause of wars is not unsatisfactory. he may quite properly introduce more idealistic elements, a desire for independence, a love of conquest, the influence of personal prejudices, dynastic affiliations, racial antagonism and religious hatreds, but in the end he will apply to this business of war the same canons of judgment that he applies to his own business. "whom does it pay? what is 'in it' for the nations or for classes or individuals within the nations?" and if you tell him that in the present war servian hatred was intensified because austria discriminated against servian pigs, or that germany was embittered because of russian tariffs and french colonial policies, if you speak to him in these economic terms, you are immediately intelligible. economic motive is one of the obvious facts of life. it is the transcendentalists who interpret war in more idealistic terms. in every country, but especially in germany, there is a whole school of historical and pseudo-historical romanticists, who defend war by elevating it high above the reach of reason. you cannot shake the convictions of such writers by an account of war atrocities, of slaughter, pillage, rape, mutilations and the spitting of infants upon lances, just as you cannot deter murderers by the sight of public executions. all these horrors are but a part of war's terrible fascination. "in war," writes the late professor j. a. cramb, one of the most eloquent of these war mystics, "man values the power which it affords to life of rising above life, the power which the spirit of man possesses to pursue the ideal." there is, and can be, { } in his view, no reason for war; war transcends reason. in spite of its unreason, war, which has always governed the world, always ruled the lives of men, always uplifted the strong and deposed the weak, will remain beautifully terrible, immortally young. as in ancient days, in india, babylon, persia, china, hellas and rome, so to-day, men will choose "to die greatly and with a glory that will surpass the glories of the past." men are always greater than the earthly considerations that seem to guide their lives. as patriotism ruled the hosts of rome and carthage, as the ideal of empire drove forth the valorous englishmen who conquered india, so to-day, to-morrow and until the end of time high and noble ideas, far above the comprehension of mere rationalists, will impel men to war, "to die greatly." it may seem importunate to reason with men upon a subject which they include among the mysteries, beyond reason. yet if we analyse the instances, which professor cramb and others cite of wars waged for great ideal purposes, we stumble incontinently upon stark economic motives. carthage and rome did not fight for glory but for food. the prize was the fertile wheat fields of sicily. there was nothing transcendental in the wars between athens and sparta, but a naked conflict for commerce and exploitative dominion. as for the british conquest of india, the "ideal of empire" was perfectly translatable into a very acute desire for trade. we shall make little progress unless we understand this business or economic side of war, for to see war truly we must see it naked. all its romanticism is but the gold lace upon the dress uniform. the idealism of the individual is a mere derivative of those crude appetites of the mass that drive nations into the conflict. wherever we open the book of history, and read of marching and counter-marching, of { } slaughter and rapine, we discover that the tribes, clans, cities or nations engaged in these bloody conflicts were not fighting for nothing, whatever they themselves may have believed, but were impelled in the main by the hope of securing economic goods--food, lands, slaves, trade, money. it is a wide digression from the immediate problems of our closely knit world of to-day to the blind, animal instincts that ruled the destinies of endless successions of hunting tribes, exterminating each other in the savage forest. yet among hunting tribes, at all times, the raw conflict of economic motive, which we find more decently garbed in modern days, appears crude and stark. to kill or starve is the eternal choice. since population increases faster than food, war becomes inevitable, for the tribe that hunts on _our_ land, and eats _our_ food, is our hereditary enemy. to pastoral nations, war is equally necessary, unless babies and old people are to be ruthlessly sacrificed. to fill new mouths larger flocks are necessary, to feed larger flocks new pastures are required; and there is only one way to obtain fresh pastures. there comes a period of drought, and the hunger-maddened nation, accompanied by its flocks, hurls itself suddenly upon feebler agricultural peoples, destroying empires and founding them. these are the great _völkerwanderungen_, the restless migrations of mobile pastoral nations in search of food. it is the eternal bloody quest. nor are agricultural populations immune. not only must they defend their patches of cultivated land, but, as numbers increase, must strike out for new lands. when the growing population makes conditions intolerable, youths are chosen, perhaps by religious rites, to adventure, sword in hand, and carve out new territory or die fighting. there are always more than there is place for, and it is always possible for a young fortinbras to shark up "a list of { } lawless resolutes for food and diet, to some enterprise that hath a stomach in 't." all the interminable battling of the early middle ages reveals this effort of fecund agricultural populations to solve the problem of over-breeding by slaughter. even the crusades partake of this economic character. among the crusaders were exalted souls, who wished to rescue their lord's sepulchre, but there were many more who dreamed of free lands, gold and silver, and the beautiful women of the orient. the religious motive was present; it was strong and intolerant, though it did not in the later crusades prevent christians from attacking christians. at bottom, however, certain strong economic factors forced on the struggle. there had been famine in lorraine and pestilence from flanders to bohemia, and all the discontent, hunger and ambition of western europe answered to urbano's call. "a stream of emigration set towards the east, such as would in modern times flow towards a newly discovered gold-field--a stream carrying in its turbid waters much refuse, tramps and bankrupts, camp-followers and hucksters, fugitive monks and escaped villains, and marked by the same motley grouping, the same fever of life, the same alternations of affluence and beggary, which mark the rush for a gold-field to-day."[ ] not until it was seen that they no longer paid did the crusades end; not heavenly but earthly motives inspired most of these soldiers of christ. it was business, the business of a crudely organised, over-populated, agricultural europe. even with the development of commerce, the motive does not change in character, though its form becomes different. all through history we find maritime cities and states fighting for the control of trade routes, the exploitation of { } markets and peoples, the right to sell goods and keep competitors from selling. athens, venice, genoa, pisa, florence, holland, england--it is all the same story. undoubtedly, with the development of commerce, wealth takes a new form. land is no longer the sole wealth, and successful warriors need no longer be paid in land and live off the land, as they are forced to do in every feudal society. a money economy, a conversion of values into money, changes the technique of war by creating professional mercenary armies. but the business goes on as before. rival groups fight for a monopoly of trade as they once fought for land. there is still not enough to go around, and no way of deciding between rival claimants except by the arbitrament of war. perhaps it will be objected that an analysis of war such as this leaves us merely with the dead body of facts while killing the soul of truth. surely, it may be urged, war is more than a sordid calculation; a roland or bayard does not weigh his danger against booty. of course that is so. economic motive is only the skeleton of war; the flesh and skin are of a totally different texture. idealism, nobility, heroism exist in war, and are no less sincere because based upon the gross facts of economic necessity and desire. without such idealism, manufactured or evolved, you can no more win wars, especially in these latter days, than without ammunition. idealism is a weapon with which we kill our enemies. yet if we read our history rightly, we shall find less of this luminous nobility among warriors than our annalists pretend. the greeks of the trojan war were not patriots but free-booters. those great english sailors, drake, morgan and the rest, who ravaged the caribbean and smashed the spanish sea-power, were pirates, unashamed of their piracy. as for the heroic warriors of the scotch border, would they not to-day be { } jailed as cattle-thieves? look where you will, at the great wars and at the blood-tracked colonising movements of history, and always you will find two kinds of men: the stone-blind idealist, and the crass, open-eyed, fleshly man. one fights for ideals, the other for something else worth fighting for. both, however, are in reality impelled by economic motive, working upon them either directly and consciously, or transmuted into ideals through the medium of a people's thought. nor does this fighting for things, to be obtained only by fighting, involve moral turpitude. nothing could be more grotesque than the moralistic tone in which we industrious moderns lecture the ancient fighting peoples. they did what we do, gained the things they wanted in the only way they could. men will fight or work rather than starve, and whether they fight or work depends upon which, in the given circumstances, is the feasible mode of accumulation. perhaps these peoples loved fighting and praised fighting more than we do. but as fighting was their _métier_ and the measure of their success, their minds, like their muscles, became habituated, and their morality discovered virtue to be the thing at which the moralists were adept. nothing can be wrong that is necessary to survival. warfare is not immoral until there is an alternative. such an alternative might easily have arisen with the vast impetus given to accumulation by the discovery of america and of the new route to the east. but these events not only did not end but actually intensified war, while bringing out more sharply its preponderatingly economic character. for three generations europe was enmeshed in the italian wars, in which great rival nations sought to control italian wealth and the dominion of the mediterranean. there followed the so-called religious { } wars, in which sweden played for control of the baltic, holland for the east indian colonies, and england for trade supremacy, while catholic france, to strengthen her position at the expense of austria, came to the aid of protestant germany. for another century, from the peace of westphalia in to the peace of paris in , there was a succession of commercial wars, in which england wrested from holland and then from france the mastery of the sea as well as the control of asia and america. during all this period the rising commercial classes of england were brutally "upon the make." markets were gained in america and valuable commercial rights obtained from portugal, while in the famous contract, known as the "_assiento_," english merchants secured from spain the lucrative privilege of shipping one hundred and forty-four thousand negro slaves to the spanish colonies of america. of such was the texture of the complex european diplomacy that held the world in war. in all these conflicts there was precious little idealism. the astute councillors of elizabeth, of james, of louis xiv, did not waste their august sovereign's time upon discourses concerning britain's honour and the grandeur of france, but talked trade, privileges, monopolies, colonies to be exploited, money to be made. so too the napoleonic wars, those great conflicts between democracy and absolutism, reveal themselves as a continuation of the commercial wars of the eighteenth century. it was all the same process, the ranging of the nations, as formerly of tribes and of cities, for the conquest, first, of the means to live, and, second, of a preferred economic position in the world. such is the business of war, and it is the oldest business in the world. it is aided by patriotism, prejudice, uncharitableness and a whole calendar of ugly tribal virtues, { } which enjoin us to love the means by which we get and hate the men from whom we take. it is aided by racial scorn, a thing as deep as life, yet subject on the whole to that more impelling factor, economic motive. the history of war and peace is a history of the overriding of sentimental considerations by imperious economic needs. during the revolutionary war, no love was lost between the rigid, race-conscious englishman and the despised red-skin, yet both joined hands to scalp americans in the lonely settlements along our frontier. to-day german and turk, italian and russian, frenchman and senegambian, briton and japanese, love each other at least temporarily because pursuing like interests. not that the influence of race and nationality upon those mutual repulsions which lead to war can be brushed aside in a paragraph. they are potent, modifying factors, with a certain independence of action, and serving, with regard to economic motives, as accelerators, intensifiers or, to change the illustrations, as containers. yet it is no great exaggeration to say that no racial antagonism can wholly sunder allies joined by a vital economic bond, and no racial sympathy firmly unite nations who want one indivisible thing. the "anglo-saxon cousins" now live in concord, but not solely because they are anglo-saxons. as for religious differences, which have in the past so often exacerbated the war spirit, this influence is less than appears. even the godly live on bread and butter. the protestant princes of the reformation hated the scarlet woman because of the real presence, but they also hated her because of the golden stream that flowed from germany to rome. the english reformation had less to do with mistress anne boleyn than with the wealth of the monasteries. especially among modern industrial nations, with their increasing theological { } apathy, are religious differences of relatively small importance in determining wars. it is the economic motive which tells.[ ] considering all these facts of history, so hastily reviewed, considering that in practically all countries and at all times economic impulses have tended to push men into war, is the conclusion forced upon us that we shall have war so long as we have economic desires, and that in the future mankind will continue to drag itself along a blood-stained path? can we change in human nature that desire for material things, which has always been the great survival virtue of the race? to many men the answer points to perpetual war. they believe that nations will fight so long as they are hungry, and they will always be hungry. war and birth are the twin immortals; there will always be more babies than can be fed and there will always be war. as well preach against death as against war, since the peaceful, abstaining nations are doomed to extinction and the war-like nations survive and determine the character of humanity. the meek nations do not inherit the earth. they go down in the ceaseless struggle between the living and the dying peoples. during the last one hundred and fifty years, however, a more optimistic conviction has struggled for expression. the industrial revolution has enormously increased the wealth of the world, and has enabled over-populated industrial countries to secure their food from agricultural { } lands thousands of miles away. there has grown up a vast complementary trade between old and new countries, and even competing manufacturing nations find it profitable to trade with one other. the hope has therefore arisen that perhaps this war-breeding, economic motive may hereafter lead to peace and away from war. admitted that peoples once had to fight, may it not in this new world of industry be "good business" to live and let live, to agree with your competitor, to trade amicably? may not the industrial transformations, undreamed of in past centuries, permit a world-population to live off its labour, immune from the necessity of killing? have we not here an alternative to war? the doctrine is that of _laissez-faire_, untrammelled competition, free trade. from adam smith down to the present day, it has been preached to us that each man's enlightened selfishness, unguided and unimpeded, will work out to the welfare of each society and to peace between all societies. the interests of nations in trade is held to be reciprocal. buyer and seller both gain, so that england cannot prosper unless germany prospers, and england cannot suffer without germany suffering. you need not fight for commerce. trade does not follow the flag but the line of greatest mutual advantage, as was shown, it is claimed, when britain after losing political control of america doubled her commerce with america. it does not pay to fight for colonies, since colonials if left alone will buy in the cheapest and sell in the dearest market. with nothing to fight for, peace and prosperity will come with free trade, which the nations will adopt as soon as they perceive their own interests. there is no economic reason for warfare, which like other superstitions will vanish as men emerge from the darkness of ignorance. it is a pacifying theory, and yet something seems wrong { } with it. the optimistic forecasts have been belied; the nations have not acclaimed free trade, but rear tariff walls higher than ever. nor do the nations abjure colonial expansion, but fight for colonies and "spheres of influence" and lands for "peaceful penetration," as tribes once fought for pastures, and cities for trade-routes. the national spirit, instead of succumbing to an era of peaceful individualism and cosmopolitanism, is stronger and more embittered than ever. armaments pile up. colonial disputes become more acrid, international jealousies more acute, until in the end we are cast into the pit of the long-dreaded world war. we do not know that this is the last world war. we are not sure that the same inveterate, millennium-old struggle for food, the same bitter "business" which has always meant war, is yet finished and done for. even if war does not cease, however, may we not at least be exempt from the scourge on this safe side of the broad atlantic? though it rains outside, may we not keep dry beneath our big umbrella? we americans are accustomed to think of ourselves as a peace-loving, unaggressive people, envying no nation its dominion or wealth, and incurring the enmity of no nation. let the peoples of europe destroy themselves in ceaseless, insane conflicts, but let us, by keeping to our side of the ocean, save ourselves from slaughter as lot was saved from the fate of gomorrah. it is not a noble caution that thus disregards the fate of the world and seeks only the national safety. nor is it in truth a wise caution. those who are too circumspect incur the greatest danger, and those who trust to their own unoffending reckon on a doubtful factor. why should we alone, among the nations be exempt from economic forces, which drive peace-loving nations into war? have we by our rapid expansion, to say nothing of our monroe declaration and other pretensions, failed to give offence in a world, { } in which mere having is aggression and mere growing a menace? has our peace in the past been due to our own meekness and unaggressiveness, or has it been the gift of a fortunate economic condition, which may pass? before we rely upon the continuance of a peace of mere isolation, we shall do well to inquire into the economic conditions which so long gave us peace. [ ] ernest barker. crusades. encyclopedia britannica, eleventh edition, vol. vii, p. . [ ] for a sketch of the economic influences bearing upon war, see the brilliant essay of prof. edward van dyke robinson, "war and economics in history and theory," _political science quarterly_, vol. xv, pp. - . reproduced in "sociology and social progress," compiled by prof. thomas nixon carver ( ), pp. - . in the present chapter i have borrowed extensively from professor robinson's essay. { } chapter iii peace without effort to the average american of a few years ago the maintenance of peace seemed as natural and easy as breathing. except for our brief and episodical conflict with spain we had had no war with a european power for a hundred years and we saw no reason why we should go to war in any of the coming centuries. peace was merely an abstention from war, a not doing something, which we had no desire to do. we had no reason to provoke war, no foreign nation had a legitimate grievance against us. in any case we were inherently different from europe. we were peaceful while europe was war-like. so long as we tended to our own affairs---and that was our intention--peace was assured. believing thus in our intrinsic peacefulness, it was in no spirit of humility that we met the outbreak of the great war. we did not put ourselves in the place of the fighting nations, and acknowledge that in their circumstances we too might have been struggling in the dust. rather we boasted of our restraining democracy, and of our perfect co-operative union, which protected us from the european anarchy. we, a people unassailed, talked loudly of our superior merit, and, as we looked over the broad oceans and saw no enemy, thanked god that he had not made us as other nations. our compassion for the peoples of europe was tinged with a bland, self-righteous arrogance. it is not pleasant to-day to read the homilies which { } america, during those early months of the war, preached to unheeding europe. throughout runs a note of subdued self-exaltation. we, the americans, so ran the boast, are not ruled by kaiser or czar, and cannot be stampeded into war against our will. we do not extend our national territory by force. of all nations we are the one that has best compounded economic differences and best dissolved racial hatreds. we live in amity with all the world, and with piety preach our lessons to the war-mad races. how fundamentally insolent, though well-intentioned, was this message of one of our leading citizens to germany. "the american people cry with one voice to the german people, like ezekiel to the house of israel: 'turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways; for why will ye die?'" even in our churches we made the same unconscious boast. on sunday, october , , at the request of the president of the united states, millions of americans went down on their knees, and prayed god no longer to scourge the peoples of europe. it was a sincere prayer, evoked by real compassion. yet nothing could more clearly have revealed our moral detachment, our obliviousness to the fact that the passions which brought forth this war were human, not european passions. we, the virtuous, interceded for the vicious; our prayer was "deliver them from evil." with malice toward none, with charity towards all, envying no nation its treasures, content to enjoy in peace what god had given us, america folded its hands in prayer. to a sceptical european, accustomed to the cant of international protestations, this boasted peacefulness of ours seems suspicious. "have you," he might ask, "always been peaceful? did you not fight england, mexico and spain? have you not taken advantage of your neighbours' necessities?" such a european might not regard { } americans as a nation, divinely appointed to bring peace to a world rent by war. he might not acknowledge that we are more law-abiding than other peoples, freer from race hatreds, gentler towards the unfortunates of our own race. he might point to our lynchings and riots; to our unpunished murders of chinese, italians and mexicans; to the system of repression, by which the southern whites terrorized the freedmen after the civil war. if europe did not solve the balkan problem in peace, did americans end slavery without resort to arms? we may not like these imputations, but it would be hard to deny that in certain national crises we have not been impossibly virtuous. we have not always subordinated our national interests to the ideal of setting a righteous example. what we wanted and could get we got, whether it was florida, texas, california or panama. we were not above the twisting or even the breaking of a treaty, we did not discourage filibustering expeditions too rigorously, and we were never, never meek. thus in , to take a single example, we addressed to spain a polite communication in which we asserted that "the united states can as little compound with impotence as with perfidy, and that spain must immediately make her election, either to place (an adequate) force in florida or cede to the united states a province, of which she retains nothing but the nominal possession." many of our communications to mexico, chile, spain, and even england were equally arrogant. the truth is that our peace has been a peace of circumstances, due to a favouring geographical and economic situation. our peacefulness came down to us like our rivers, farms and cities, a heritage of exceptional conditions. we were inaccessible to european armies. we were supreme on a fertile, sparsely settled continent. we could afford peace. our resources were immensely great and if { } we did not reach out for more, it was because we already had as much as we could handle. what we did need we could take from weak peoples, and a nation which fights weak peoples need not be martial, just as a man who robs orphans need not be a thug. it might have been different. had our westward progress been opposed by millions of indians, had france been able to resist our march beyond the appalachians, or mexico stood like a disciplined germany between us and the westward ocean, we should have developed a military civilisation. as our growing population pressed upon our narrow frontiers, we should have had our war scares, our border conflicts, our national hatreds, our huge standing army, and the whole paraphernalia of militarism. still another element, besides our geographical isolation and our economic self-sufficiency, contributed to our intactness and security and permitted us to indulge in the luxury of pacifism. europe protected us from europe. we were one and the european powers many. so delicate was the balance that the european nations could not hazard a really serious trans-atlantic venture. they had little to gain and much to lose by fighting us, as we had nothing to gain by fighting them. our interest in such european affairs as the independence of greece, hungary and poland was purely sentimental. towards europe we were peaceful as we were peaceful towards mars. true, our safe orators delighted in twisting the lion's tail and upbraiding the czar of all the russias. during the eighty-three years between and , however, we were never at war with a european nation. it was not that we loved europe too well. england we detested and hardly a decade passed without some acrid boundary dispute. we thought her arrogant, greedy, supercilious, and she thought us arrogant, greedy and { } coarse. millions of irish immigrants intensified this animosity and our national vanity did the rest. but though we hated england she was too formidable to be attacked. therefore we bluffed and she bluffed, and in the end we compromised. with other countries it was still easier to keep at peace. prussia, austria and the smaller german states were too distant to affect our interests. for russia we had a vague attachment, and except on one occasion, she never threatened our ambitions. with france we were on good terms except during our civil war. we disliked spain and despised her, but events prevented our going to war with her. it was because it paid that we kept at peace; any other policy would have been wasteful, even suicidal. our future depended upon our ability to keep out of war. a sparse population on the edge of a vast continent, our hope of national success lay in an isolation, which would give us strength for future struggles. our mission was to settle the empty lands to the west before other nations could pre-empt them. to embroil ourselves with strong powers was to court disaster, while even to interest ourselves in european politics would divert our mind from our own imperative task. our first american foreign policy, therefore was disentanglement. we often speak as though america passively abstained from entering european politics. we were, however, already a part of the unsteady balance of power, and warring france and england sought our aid, much as the two coalitions might seek the aid of a bulgaria, not loving her but needing her help. it was a bold and above all a positive policy that washington established when he broke the french treaty and declared our neutrality. though denounced as dishonourable, this policy was { } essential to our welfare and peace, for the country was more dangerously divided in than in . how intimately our peace has depended upon our economic development is revealed by the early failure of this policy of disentanglement. prior to our immediate economic interests overhung our territory and transcended our sovereignty. all europe being at war, we were the neutral carriers of the world. our ships brought merchandise to france from her colonies and allies, and goods from the west indies and south america to all parts of europe. in the decade ending our foreign trade, which was dependent upon the indulgence of europe, more than quadrupled. the profits on our carrying trade were immense. our shipbuilding industry increased, and not only were orders filled for our own foreign trade but many ships were manufactured for export. the prices of agricultural products almost doubled and our meat, flour, cotton and wool found a ready market in europe. our prosperity depended upon this newly created foreign trade. sail-makers, ship-builders, draymen, farmers, merchants were dependent upon a trade which menaced the commercial supremacy of great britain and upon which even france looked with jealous apprehension. it was this conflict of our interests with those of a stronger nation that brought on the bitter controversies with great britain, and resulted in the tedious war of . we were more dependent upon europe than europe upon us, as was shown by the fiasco of our embargo policy. england, determined to kill our commerce, would have fought many years to accomplish this purpose. but it did not prove necessary. our commercial progress, that had been merely an incident in a european war, lessened after the peace. for us this was fortunate. our future lay in our own continent, and not on the high sea where as { } a relatively weak nation, we should have been forced to compete with the world and war continually with england. to-day, one hundred years later we are still pacific, because of the direction taken by our economic development since . while we developed agriculture, constructed turnpikes, canals and railroads, manufactured for the home market, and filled up the country from the appalachians to the pacific, our american-borne commerce and our shipbuilding declined; by , our american tonnage in foreign trade was less than in . but the profits of this carrying trade were no longer necessary, since in exchange for our imports from europe we could now export cotton. we were no longer competitors with europe, but had become contributors to european prosperity. prior to england looked upon us as a commercial rival; after we became the unconscious economic allies of all the industrial nations. the extent to which our economic system had become complementary to the european economic system is illustrated by a study of the statistics of our foreign commerce. of our exports one-half was raw cotton, and upon a steady supply of this fibre a great european industry depended. later we shipped huge quantities of food which was also needed by the manufacturers across the sea. as our cotton area extended, as our wheat and meat exports increased, european, and especially british, industry profited. at the same time, despite our high tariffs we furnished an increasing market for wares manufactured in europe, while our own manufactures did not largely compete in the world markets. moreover the rapid development of our internal resources furnished lucrative investment opportunities to european capital. a source of raw material, a market for manufactured products, a field for profitable investment, { } america was europe's back-yard, an economic colony, though politically independent. in the midst of this almost colonial development, there occurred one startling interlude. about we developed a new type of sailing vessel, the american clipper ship. soon we had control of the china trade and by our shipping (including domestic trade and the fisheries) about equalled that of great britain. after the civil war, however, our chance of competing with great britain either in ship-building or carrying disappeared. the iron steamship had arrived, and, in the manufacture of such vessels, we were no match for the english. even without the civil war we should have been beaten; the southern privateers, outfitted in english ports, merely hastened an inevitable decay. we were not yet to enter upon a competition with england for commercial supremacy. there being thus no economic basis for war our outstanding questions with european nations, and with england especially, were peacefully settled. the canadian fisheries and the maine boundary dispute gave rise to much bitter feeling but were not worth a war. even the monroe doctrine did not bring on a clash. though great britain hated its assumptions she was content with its practical workings. what the united states gained was immunity from the settlement of latin america by powerful military nations; what england gained was a profitable trade (denied her by spain) together with opportunities for investing capital. the immediate force behind the monroe doctrine was the self-interest and naval power of a nation, which did not recognise the doctrine. our westward expansion, which obliterated boundaries and overran the possessions of other powers, also failed to bring war with europe. doubtless this expansion was not { } entirely welcome to france, england and spain. but just as napoleon, though dreaming of a french empire on our western border, had been compelled to sell us louisiana to prevent its falling into british hands, so later england resigned herself to our almost instinctive growth. it was believed in the forties that england not only wished to prevent our acquiring california but desired the territory for herself, and it was known that her interests in oregon were in the sharpest conflict with american claims. england would also have preferred that texas remain politically independent of the united states and commercially dependent upon herself. fortunately for us, however, an aggressive colonial policy, such as that which during the last forty years has partitioned africa, was not yet popular in europe. england was thinking in terms of free trade and commercial expansion, of a world rather than a colonial market. at bottom, moreover, this american expansion was to the relative advantage of europe. when spain was cajoled and worried into selling florida; when texas, and later california, arizona and new mexico were taken from a nation too weak almost to feel resentment, the result was a better use of the territory and a greater production of the things which europe needed. if europe was not to control these regions, it was at least better for her to have them pass to us rather than remain with mexico. so long as we held politically aloof, sold europe cotton and wheat, bought from her manufactured products and gave her the chance to invest in our railroads, so long as we did not compete on the sea or in the world markets, europe, though she envied us our easy expansion, had no interest in opposing it by war. england would possibly have fought us had we taken nicaragua and almost certainly had we taken canada, but she was less concerned about the fate of mexico, the chief victim of our expansion. { } this complementary relation of ours with european nations was as useful to us as to them. besides furnishing us with necessary capital europe sent us immigrants, who made our march across the continent rapid and irresistible. in the end this immigrant population contributed to our peaceful attitude. as the number of our alien stocks increased, the desirability of going to war with any european nation diminished. to get the immigrant's vote, we spoke highly, and in the end almost thought highly, of the nations from which they had come. by admitting the children of europe we had given hostages to peace. in the main, however, we paid no attention to europe. we forgot about her. lost in contemplation of our own limitless future, we turned our eyes westward towards our ever receding frontier. in foreign, as in home relations, we developed a frontier mind, and even to-day, long after our last frontier has been reached, we are still thinking of europe, as of so many of our internal problems, in terms of this great colonising adventure. the individualist, who pushed his way across the continent, left on america the impress of a simple philosophy, a belief that there was a chance for all, that it was better to work than to fight, that arbitration and the splitting of the difference were the best policy. to the average american, with his frontier mind, wars seemed unnecessary, and all the class distinctions, inseparable from militarism, a mere frippery. wars, he held, are for the crowded old peoples of europe, with their dynastic superstitions, their cheating diplomacy, their ancient rancours, their millions of paupered subjects, condemned to a life of subordination. wars are not for the free and equal americans who live in the wide spaces of a continent and, having no neighbours, hate no man and fear no man. it is out of this frontier mind that we have evolved our { } present american notion of war and foreign policy. peace is common sense; war, foolishness, a superstition like the belief in kings, emperors and potentates, a calamity caused by the refusal of the petty european nations to join into one great united states. for it must be remembered that americans, whatever their sentimental attachments, are really more contemptuous than are germans of little nations that insist upon surviving. we ridicule the european customs barriers, which the express train strikes every few hours, and associate national greatness with territorial size. even great britain, france, germany and austria are ignorantly regarded as "little nations," which would be all the better for a wholesome amalgamation. the frontier mind believes stubbornly that short of such a union, these "little" peoples should develop their own resources in peace. in other words, our attitude towards europe, which is a result of our elbow room and our economic self-sufficiency, is vaguely missionary, with not the slightest tinge of hypocrisy. we have no concern with europe and no duty to interfere, beyond expressing our belief in our own superior institutions and the hope that europe will learn by our example. the development of our manufacturing industries, until recently at least, did not alter these views concerning our proper attitude to europe. the new industries, chiefly designed for a home market, made on the whole for peace. nor did we need a foreign outlet for capital. no one wished to go to war for the dubious privilege of investing in peru or china when our own iron mills, cotton factories and railroads were clamouring for capital, to say nothing of our farmers in oklahoma and the dakotas. psychologically, also, this self-poised industrialism, this domestic stay-at-home business of ours, which prevailed until a few decades ago, worked powerfully for peace. { } we became a highly individualistic manufacturing nation, composed of millions of self-seeking, money-making men. as "business men" we hated wars as we hated strikes and whatever else "interfered with business." our ideal was a strenuous life of acquisition, in which dollars were added to dollars, and the prosperity of all depended upon the bank account of each. wars were like earthquakes and other interruptions of the ordained process of accumulation; you could no more win a war than you could win an earthquake. america's manifest destiny was to multiply and increase. we were to mind our own business and live in peace with neighbours, whom we did not know and rather despised. since everything worth exploiting was in our own country, since europe left us alone and had nothing that we were willing to fight for, we were free to ignore all foreign relations. the diplomacy which accompanied and aided this development, though not heroic, was at least successful. it enabled us to grow strong and hold strong enemies away. not always consistent, not always able, not always honest, our diplomacy maintained a certain unity, kept us aloof from european quarrels, guarded us from threatened intervention during the civil war crisis, warned europe against the conquest of latin america, and above all--permitted us to grow. from to our population increased from eight to seventy-two millions, while that of the united kingdom increased only from some twenty to forty-one millions and that of france from twenty-nine to thirty-nine millions. our wealth increased at a more rapid rate than that of any other nation. small wonder that in the last decades of this period our diplomacy sank to the lowest level of incapacity. having grown strong without europe's aid or hindrance, having reached that pleasant degree of independence in which { } diplomacy seemed a mere international formality, we came to believe that the best diplomacy was none at all. we did not require in our ambassadors knowledge or astuteness; any fool would do. our diplomats were often despised, but since we were not dependent upon europe's favour, it did not matter. economic forces, stronger than the diplomats of all the world, were making for peace between america and europe. but even while we were sending political adventurers to some of the great capitals of europe, a change was impending. all at once the united states found itself at war with a european power, and, a few months later, in surprised, not to say embarrassed, possession of tropical asiatic islands. suddenly we discovered that we were feared and disliked; that there were points of controversy between us and various european countries; that europe somehow did not regard the monroe doctrine as a divine dispensation, which it would be impious to oppose. we heard talk of international competition, world power, "the american menace." beneath the surface there appeared indications that our long mutuality of economic interest with europe was no longer complete. the easy instinctive peace which had enabled us to attain our ends without considering europe seemed about to end. { } chapter iv an unripe imperialism it was in the year that the united states made its earliest plunge into imperialism. then for the first time we secured "dominions beyond the sea"; dominions too thickly populated to be adapted for purposes of colonisation. by our earlier conquests and purchases (louisiana, florida, texas, california, new mexico), we had secured relatively empty territories which a flow of emigrants from our eastern states could rapidly americanise. but in porto rico, the philippines and hawaii, there was neither prospect nor intention of colonising. the impulse that led to their taking was the desire to possess their wealth, to rule and "civilise" them, and above all not "to haul down the flag." it was an impulse not very different from that which led to the european partition of africa.[ ] the change in our policy was startling. we had seemed, after the civil war, to have reached a stage of satiety, to be through with expansion. henceforth the ocean was to be our boundary; we were not, like the slave-owners before the war, to scheme for new lands in central { } america and the caribbean. when in russia offered us a territory almost three times as large as germany for a sum about equal to the value of the equitable building, we accepted only to oblige russia and because we believed that we were in honour bound to buy. we refused to purchase st. thomas and st. johns, although denmark offered to sell cheap, and we declined to annex san domingo or to entertain sweden's proposal to purchase her west indian possessions. again in , instead of annexing hawaii, we vainly sought to bolster up the sovereignty of a native queen. then suddenly porto rico, the philippines and guam were annexed; hawaii was incorporated and samoa was divided up with germany. in part this change in foreign policy was due to military considerations. the possession of hawaii, panama and guantanamo in cuba was obviously necessary for the defence of our coasts. just as the monroe doctrine was intended to protect us from the approach of great military powers, so these new acquisitions were desired to pre-empt near-lying bases, from which, in enemy possession fleets might assail our trade or cut off our communications.[ ] such strategic considerations, however, do not explain the whole of our new imperialistic policy. economic motives played their part. we changed our foreign policy because at the same time we were undergoing a commercial and industrial revolution. as a result of this industrial change our merchants had begun to think in terms of foreign markets and our financiers in terms of foreign investments. we had passed { } through the stage in which our industrial life was completely self-sufficing. we were becoming a manufacturing nation, requiring markets for the disposal of surplus products. we were, it appeared, being drawn into a great international competition, in which markets in china, south america and backward countries were the prizes. simultaneously our foreign commerce had changed. our growing population had made increasing demands upon our food products, leaving less to be exported, and at the same time our exports of manufactures had increased. in we exported manufactures (ready for consumption) to the value of ninety-three millions of dollars; in to the value of two hundred and twenty-three millions. other industrial factors tended also to bring about a change in our national ideals. we were beginning to believe in the economic efficiency of trust organisation, and our industry, conducted on a larger scale, was being increasingly concentrated. a new class was in financial control of our great industries. the trust magnate, the new conductor of vast industrial enterprises, was looking forward toward a strong unified banking control over industries and a definite expansion of american trade in foreign countries. american capitalists were beginning to believe that their economic needs were the same as those of the european capitalists, who were enticing their nations into imperialism. psychologically, also, we were ripe for any imperialistic venture, for we enormously exaggerated the progress we had made towards industrialisation, and were thinking in terms of europe. we suddenly believed that we too were over-filled with capital and compelled to find an outlet for investments and trade. innumerable editorials appeared, presenting the arguments for imperialism that had been { } urged ad nauseam in europe. we could not resist, it was argued, the ubiquitous economic tendency toward expansion. in all countries, including america, capital was to become congested. an over-saving of capital, invested in manufacturing plants, produced far in excess of the possible consumption of the people. we had reached a stage of chronic over-production, in which increased saving and increased investment of capital would permanently outstrip consumption. everywhere wealth was being heaped up; the savings-banks overflowed; the rate of interest fell and capital sought desperately for new investments. the capitalist system must either expand or burst. certain superficial developments in the united states formed the groundwork of these gloomy prophecies. we had just passed through a commercial depression, during which prices and interest rates fell and great numbers of workers were left unemployed. these facts were exploited by political leaders and industrial magnates, who thought in terms of the subordination of american foreign policy to the needs of big business. it is not surprising therefore that they became infected with the new imperialism, which in europe had been growing steadily for over fifteen years, and that they came to the conclusion that america could not hold hands off while the markets and investment fields of the world were divided up among her rivals. "the united states," wrote charles a. conant, one of the intellectual leaders of this movement (in ), "cannot afford to adhere to a policy of isolation while other nations are reaching out for the command of new markets. the united states are still large users of foreign capital, but american investors are not willing to see the return upon their investments reduced to the european level. interest rates have greatly declined here within the last { } five years. new markets and new opportunities for investment must be found if surplus capital is to be profitably employed." like so many of the pamphleteers of , mr. conant was convinced that imperialism offered the only cure "for the enormous congestion of capital." no civilised state, he contended, would accept the doctrine that saving should be abandoned. and while human desires were expansible, he doubted whether the demand for goods could possibly increase with sufficient rapidity to absorb the new productive capacities of the nation. "there has never been a time," he writes, "when the proportion of capital to be absorbed has been so great in proportion to possible new demands. means for building more bicycle factories than are needed, and for laying more electric railways than are able to pay dividends, have been taken out of current savings within the last few years, without producing any marked effect upon their amount and without doing more, at the most, than to stay the downward course of the rate of interest." it therefore follows conclusively that the american conquest of markets and fields for investment must go on. the method of such a conquest is of little importance. "in pointing out," he says, "the necessity that the united states shall enter upon a broad national policy, it need not be determined in just what manner that policy shall be worked out. whether the united states shall actually acquire territorial possessions, shall set up captain generalships and garrisons, whether they shall adopt the middle ground of protecting sovereignties nominally independent, or whether they shall content themselves with naval stations and diplomatic representations as the basis for asserting their rights to the free commerce of the east, is a matter of detail." { } i have quoted mr. conant at length because he is so largely typical of the state of mind of the american plutocracy in the year . it would have been easily possible, however, to have presented any amount of confirmatory material of exactly the same nature. an article by w. dodsworth in the october, number of the _nineteenth century_ is along the same lines. here again we read of an unprecedented industrial revolution during the preceding half century and a vast increase in foreign trade and accumulated wealth. again we read of the falling rate of interest and of the failure of trusts and combines to resist the outside pressure of necessitous capital, seeking to force its way into industries. it was held quite impossible for consumption to absorb the products of an over-fertile industry. "i am no pessimist," writes mr. dodsworth, "but i cannot conceal my deep conviction that, if this relief is not forthcoming, a stage of grave industrial collapse, attended with the agitation of equally grave political issues, becomes only too probable, and the energies of our seventy-five millions of producers may have to be restrained until we learn to appreciate the penalty of our neglect of foreign enterprise." such were the arguments with which in the united states plunged into imperialism. we were to break out of the narrow circle which confined our economic life to become the work-shop of the world as england had once been, to export and export and ever increasingly export until all the nations should be our debtors. our capital, like our wares, was to go to all countries. it flattered our pride when, a few years later, europe trembled at the spectre of an american commercial invasion and even england wondered whether she could withstand the flood of cheap manufactured american goods, dumped on her { } shores. we pictured a vastly increasing trade with our new colonial possessions and with china; we envisaged opportunities, not only of an immense american investment, but of an even greater american trade. what we believed of ourselves, europe only too credulously believed of us. leading european economists and publicists were completely convinced that the united states was irrevocably embarked on "the sea of imperialism." "the recent entrance of the powerful and progressive nation of the united states of america upon imperialism," wrote prof. john a. hobson in , "... not only adds a new formidable competitor for trade and territory, but changes and complicates the issue. as the focus of political attention and activity shifts more to the pacific states, and the commercial aspirations of america are more and more set upon trade with the pacific islands and the asiatic coast, the same forces which are driving european states along the path of territorial expansion seem likely to act upon the united states."[ ] professor hobson and other foreign observers believed that our great trusts, which were being formed with reckless suddenness, would enormously increase the capital seeking an outlet, and that new imperialistic ventures would result. "cuba, the philippines, hawaii," he insisted, "are but the _hors d'oeuvre_ to whet an appetite for an ampler banquet."[ ] this development toward a congestion of capital, though confidently anticipated both in the united states and in europe, did not take place. about the end of the century an enormous extension of the general field for foreign investment raised interest rates all over the world. the demand for capital grew with astonishing rapidity. in { } part this was due to british, french and german foreign investments, but it was also the result of a quickened economic tempo in all countries. new industries were created, wages rose (though in most countries not so rapidly as prices) and the outlets for the supposed superfluous capital were greater than ever. especially in the united states was the development contrary to that which had been anticipated. capital was not rendered idle because of any slackening in the nation's consuming capacity, for the men of average and small income were able to purchase more than ever before. the farmers alone, whose property increased in value from twenty and a half billions of dollars in to forty-one billions in (an increase of over per cent. as compared with less than per cent. in the previous decade) added stupendously to a new demand for goods of all sorts. of automobiles, unknown in , there are in almost three millions. innumerable other industries arose and expanded; the anticipated arrest of accumulation did not occur. the result of this economic development soon made itself apparent. we discovered, fortunately for us, that we were not at this time to become the work-shop of the world. we could not continue to produce articles cheaper than england or germany, and undersell these countries in their home markets. we discovered that our own country still furnished an admirable field for investment. while our foreign commerce increased, it continued to form only a small part of our whole trade. so long as vast new opportunities for the investment of capital in the united states presented themselves, we ceased to worry about foreign or colonial outlets, and for every dollar of american money invested in porto rico and the philippines, hundreds of dollars were invested in the states. our capital { } though accumulating at an ever-increasing rate, did not equal the demand.[ ] in other words, the conditions in america did not yet warrant an imperialistic policy. we were economically younger than we had thought; more elastic, with greater capacity for internal growth. as a result of this discovery, our sudden enthusiasm for dominions beyond the seas died down. we were disgusted and bored by the philippine war; we hated the rôle of oppressors, in which we unwillingly found ourselves. we hated the water cure, punitive expeditions, and the endless controversies over the status of filipinos under american law. the anti-imperialistic elements in america, men whose interests did not lie in foreign trade and speculation, stolidly opposed the retention of the islands. had the election of been fought upon this single issue it would probably have been won by the anti-imperialists. even though we kept the islands, we set definite limitations to our imperialistic ventures. we secured for the philippines an administration which prevented the exploitation of the natives and the importation of chinese labour. we set our faces against any policy of sacrificing the interests of the indigenous population to the interests of american financiers. and to-day, could we do it with due regard to the interests of the filipinos, we would retire from the archipelago. as we look over this experiment, we cannot help recognising that it was a precocious, an unripe imperialism. for us it was too early to secure asiatic islands; too early { } to worry about american investments in foreign lands. it was an imperialism carried out somnambulistically. our taking the philippines was an accident, unforeseen and undesired.[ ] our hope of being the work-shop and banking centre of the world, of being the heart of a great empire like that of britain, and of doing all this within a short period, was a dream, which vanished with the new demands made upon american capital by an increasing economic expansion. the truth is that this unripe imperialism did not represent the interests of the majority nor even of any considerable group of our capital owners. it was doomed to disappearance once the revival of american industry offered opportunities, not only for the ordinary capitalist, but for that more speculative investor, who in other countries clamours for imperialism. the experiment revealed, however, that the same forces which act upon capital in europe act also upon capital in america, and that the united states, given the right conditions, is liable to the same ambitions as are imperialistic countries and is as likely to engage in war to satisfy these ambitions. the imperialistic trend acts upon all nations at a given stage in their economic development. it cannot be stopped by traditions of peacefulness or by mere protestations, however sincere. it is a part of the great economic strife, out of which devastating wars arise. [ ] "early in the year , a foreign ambassador at washington remarked in the course of a conversation that, although he had been in america only a short time, he had seen two different countries, the united states before the war with spain, and the united states since the war with spain. this was a picturesque way of expressing the truth, now generally accepted, that the war of was a turning point in the history of the american republic."--"the united states as a world power," by archibald gary coolidge. new york, . [ ] for a study of these strategic considerations see "the interest of america in sea power, present and future," by captain (later rear-admiral) a. t. mahan, a series of articles written between and . boston, . [ ] john a. hobson, "imperialism," p. . london, . [ ] _op. cit._, p. . [ ] in , twenty-six years after the cession of the islands our combined import to and export from the philippines amounted to only $ , , , or less than / of our entire foreign commerce. our commerce with china, which was to have been opened by our possession of the philippines was less than one-half of that with brazil and less than one-twelfth of that with great britain. [ ] "at the beginning of the war (with spain) there was perhaps not a soul in the whole republic who so much as thought of the possibility of this nation becoming a sovereign power in the orient."--"world politics," by prof. paul i. reinsch, new york, , p. . { } chapter v facing outward while the imperialistic venture of was premature and did not lead, as had been expected, to a conscious participation of america in the international scramble for colonies, it affected our national thinking and forced us to re-consider the position of america in relation to the ambitions and plans of other great nations. our acquisition of new dependencies led us to recognise that we were at last a world power, with the responsibilities of a world power. we were obliged to learn from england and other imperialistic nations the lessons of colonial administration. year by year we were drawn into closer relations with the west indies and the caribbean countries, and were compelled to assume financial control of hayti and san domingo in the interest both of foreign capital and of the countries themselves. the completion of the panama canal increased our sense of international danger and international responsibility. finally the revolution in mexico proved to us that whatever our positive action we could not remain passive. our monroe doctrine also, which had always seemed our charter of independence of europe, forces us in the end to come to an understanding with europe. we had set our faces against european conquest in the americas, and therefore against any punitive expedition, likely to lead to permanent occupation. but if we protected hayti and san domingo from europe, we assumed a certain { } responsibility for the actions of these countries. in the existing state of international law, a nation assumes the right to protect its citizens from spoliation and to compel debtor countries to meet their obligations. in this right to collect debts by force of arms, which has been the excuse for innumerable imperialistic extensions, all the great creditor nations are interested. had the united states refused to intervene in san domingo, while forbidding the great powers to secure redress by threats, we might possibly have been forced to fight against overwhelming odds in defence of a people and cause, for which we had little sympathy. by its very prohibitions the monroe doctrine compels us increasingly to intervene between the weaker latin-american countries and the warlike creditor nations of europe. the gradual extension of the doctrine, moreover, vastly increases our possible area of friction with europe. originally planned to prevent european nations from conquering parts of the americas, the doctrine has now been extended to forbid foreign corporations subsidised or controlled by an old world government to acquire any land in the americas which might menace the safety or communications of the united states. our action in mexico indicates that we are determined not only to prevent europe from introducing monarchical institutions into american countries, but to insist that those countries themselves adhere to the outward forms of popular government. secretary olney was speaking no doubt largely for home consumption when he declared that "the united states is practical sovereign on this continent (hemisphere), and its fiat is law upon the subject to which it confines its interpretation." nevertheless the extension of control either by the united states or some group of powers is almost inevitable, and with the widening of the monroe { } doctrine, as a result of closer relations between latin america and the old world, the necessity for some arrangement between the united states and the great european powers becomes increasingly obvious. our possession of hawaii and the philippines acts in the same manner. in a military sense the philippines are indefensible; we cannot secure them against a near-lying military power. nor can we in the present stage of national feeling permit them to be conquered. consequently we watch the actions of japan with quite different feelings than if we had not given her provocation and a bait. the building of the panama canal equally increases our international liabilities. it contributes a vast new importance to the caribbean sea and adds a new weak point to american territory. having built and fortified the canal, we are compelled to think of ways and means of defending it, of armies, navies, _ententes_ and alliances. while all these factors, however, have contributed to our changed point of view, it was the world war which most completely revealed to americans the necessity of accommodating our national development to that of other countries. the war proved that we were in a military sense vulnerable; that undisciplined citizen soldiery was no match for trained armies; that mere distance is no complete safety, and that the initial advantage, which accrues to the prepared nation is out of all proportion more valuable than later victories. the war showed that unarmed neutrality and a mere lack of hostile intention does not always save a nation from invasion. moreover, we discovered that our interests were affected favourably or adversely by a conflict, in which we had no direct part. we, who had always conceived ourselves as a supremely disinterested nation, a remote island in the blue sea, began { } to ask whether it was to our advantage to have france defeated, belgium destroyed, germany crushed, the british empire disintegrated. we began to ask how our national interest was affected by the international competition for colonies, by the freedom or unfreedom of the seas, by the extension of the right of blockade, by the abrogation of established laws of warfare; and what the effect upon us would be of an economic alliance against germany by the allied western powers. in other words, we discovered a real national interest in international arrangements created by the war or to be established after the war. our first preoccupation was naturally one of defence. we looked outward, but only saw armed nations ready to seize upon our wealth and territory. responsible authors predicted that the victor in this war would at his leisure move across the ocean and despoil the united states. from ponderous puerilities of this sort to the lurid descriptions of massacre and pillage, vouchsafed us by magazine and moving picture writers, was a short step. more serious arguments prevailed, and in the end a large addition was made to our military and naval forces. but the whole campaign was based solely upon the theory of defence, and the theory so formulated, was merely a continuation of the policy of isolation. it involved the idea that we were to act alone and protect ourselves alone against all nations. it did not concern itself with our national aims. it was not based upon a definition of our relations to europe and to the several nations of europe. as our preparations increase, however, and as we realise how insufficient our force must be against a european coalition, we shall be faced with the alternative of entering into agreements or alliances (to make our defence real) or into some other policy, which might make defence unnecessary. in either case we must face outward, must { } look at the world as it is and is to be, and define our relation to europe. we must substitute a positive for a negative policy. this we are forced to do even though we may have no immediate friction points with europe. the economic interpenetration of all nations involves us in conflicts of interest and adjustments, which require a positive national policy. it is our economic development that most strongly pushes us in this direction. we are gradually destroying the complementary industrial system which formerly held us to europe; we are competing with european countries for world markets and have even begun to compete for investment opportunities in backward countries. we are exporting manufactures, and this exportation is likely to increase. of the six chief requisites of a great manufacturing nation--coal, iron, copper, wood, cotton and wool--we are the greatest single producer of all except the last, and to this advantage of cheap raw materials, there is added an efficient manufacturing organisation and a large manufacturing capital. from to that capital increased six and a half fold (from . to . billions of dollars). it is therefore no wonder that we are exporting tools, sewing-machines, locomotives, typewriters, automobiles and electrical apparatus. these products compete increasingly with similar products from england and germany and invade the markets which europe desires for herself. our total exports to latin america, for example, have almost quadrupled in twenty-two years, increasing from millions of dollars in to millions in . the significance of this competition, as it exists to-day and will exist to-morrow, is greater for europe than for us. our fundamental welfare does not absolutely depend { } upon this exportation; we could lose a part of this trade, as we lost our shipping, without fatal results, for we should still have our cotton and many half-finished products to exchange for our imports. were great britain, however, to lose her markets for manufactured goods, she would shrink into insignificance, if she did not literally starve. in the united kingdom spent $ , , , on imported foods, drink and tobacco, and for this, as for her importation of raw materials, she must pay. while our export of manufactures still forms but a trifling part (perhaps one thirtieth) of our total product, the british and the german export constitutes an immensely larger proportion. our export of finished wares, despite its rapid increase, was in only some seven dollars per capita, while that of the united kingdom was about forty-five dollars per capita.[ ] it will therefore not be wondered at if our increasing export of manufactures both to europe and to the countries to which europe exports, causes us to be involved, as we have not been for over a century, in the ambitions, conflicts and life-interests of the great european nations. for at bottom a commercial war is an industrial war, a struggle for national prosperity. if, for example, germany fails to hold her foreign markets, she must shut down factories. her industrial problem is to buy raw materials from abroad cheap, ship to germany, manufacture into finished products, transport to a country { } willing to buy, and from this enterprise secure profits enough to purchase food for her people. if she is beaten out, let us say, in the export cotton industry she must turn to something else. she may try to save the industry by increasing efficiency or reducing wages, but if she fails, she must close up some of her mills. if she cannot employ the growing masses who depend upon export industries, she must let her surplus people--and with them a part of her capital--emigrate. like other european countries she has learned this lesson by experience. thus it often happened when america increased her tariff rates that european factories, unable to compete, migrated, men and capital, to this country. it is true that the world market constantly expands, but the producing capacity of the manufacturing nations also increases, and competition becomes ever more severe. the more rapidly america invades the markets which europe has hitherto held, the more she squeezes them, the more bitter the feeling against her will become. that bitterness of feeling (in the conditions preceding the present war) was more likely to arise in germany than in england and more likely in england than in france. we have spoken of these as rival nations, but there are intensities of rivalry varying in proportion to the similarity of products and of methods of production. germany, like the united states, is a new-comer in international industry, pushing and aggressive. more scientific and better organised than we, she possesses far more meagre resources. we both have trusts or cartels, and both manufacture huge quantities of cheap, standardised products. our competition therefore is of the keenest, and is likely to grow more intense, if, as seems likely, germany recovers from the effects of this war. less keen is our competition with great britain. like an old firm, grown { } rich and conservative, great britain is not pushing, not scientific, not well organised. we are gaining on her in those branches of manufacture which permit standardisation and production in huge quantities, and have no hope, and but little wish, of competing in articles of high finish and therefore high labour cost. with france we compete still less, since much of her export trade is in articles of taste and luxury, in which we are hopelessly inferior.[ ] in this battle for the world market, the united states has the disadvantage of coming late and of being intellectually unprepared. on the other hand, not only have we superior natural resources, but also the advantage that to us success is not vital. whatever trade we gain is a mere improvement of a situation already good. we are playing "on velvet." finally, like germany, we have the advantage of large scale production by strong corporations working with what is practically a bounty upon exports. because of their control of a protected home market, our great corporations can make their sales at home cover all initial and constant costs, and as these costs need not be applied to exports, are able to sell goods cheaper in rio janeiro or lima than in chicago or new york. they are able to "dump" their surplus goods.[ ] the opening of the panama canal cannot but increase the competition of the united states especially with the nations bordering on the pacific ocean. from - to - the average annual exports from the united states to these pacific countries (mexico, central america and columbia, the remaining west coast of { } south america, china, japan, the philippines and british australasia) increased from . millions to . millions, a growth of . per cent., while the export from germany increased . per cent. and from the united kingdom only . per cent. in the same period our average annual imports from these countries increased . per cent. (as compared with . per cent. for germany and . per cent. for the united kingdom).[ ] the trade with these pacific countries lies largely with the united kingdom, the united states and germany (in the order named) and the united states seems to be slowly moving forward to first place.[ ] what progress the united states has made, moreover, has been achieved under certain great disabilities which the panama canal removes. "by present all-sea routes new york is, in general, at a disadvantage compared with liverpool."[ ] new york by the suez route is days further away from australasia (for ten knot vessels) than is liverpool; by the panama route new york is from to days nearer. for points on the west coast of north and south america, new york is one and a half days nearer than is liverpool by the all-sea route and about eleven days nearer by the panama route. when all the conditions of distance, speed, cost of coal, tolls, etc., are considered, it is found that the panama canal gives in many parts of the world an advantage to new york over liverpool, antwerp and hamburg. the result is an impulse towards a keener american competition in the pacific trade. if our foreign commerce was gaining before the war, it has made even greater progress since the outbreak of { } hostilities. while germany's foreign commerce has been temporarily destroyed and that of great britain has been hampered by the war, our total commerce has immensely increased. in the year we exported over a billion dollars in excess of our exports of , our exports in the latter year exceeding those of the united kingdom or of any other country in any year of its history.[ ] this development, it is true, was abnormal and consisted partly in increases in prices and temporary deflections in trade. nevertheless, while many american industries, especially those engaged in the manufacture of war munitions, will suffer severely at the end of the war, and while our export of such commodities will dwindle, the war cannot but result in a relative advantage to american manufacturers of export commodities. moreover, the war by destroying established connections between neutral countries and their natural purveyors of manufactured goods in europe has opened the way to a future extension of american export. like a protective tariff, it gives an initial advantage to americans, and helps them to overcome the early handicaps. it induces american manufacturers to think in terms of foreign markets instead of concentrating their attention upon a protected home market. in the beginning, it is true, the buying capacity of certain countries, such as those of south america, was diminished by the shattering of financial arrangements with europe. but such a condition is purely temporary. there will always be a demand for { } the wheat, corn, meats, hides and wool of argentine, for the copper and nitrates of chile, for the coffee and rubber of brazil, for the wool of uruguay, for the sugar and cotton of peru, for the tin of bolivia, for the beef and tagua nuts of venezuela and colombia. so long as they sell raw materials, these countries will furnish a demand for finished products. american manufacturers are to-day determined to secure an increased share of this expanding market.[ ] they are slowly learning that you cannot push your goods, in south america let us say, unless you learn to pack your goods, have studied local requirements, are willing to print catalogues in spanish and portuguese, and have your salesmen know these languages. in the past americans have been hampered by their unwillingness or inability to extend long credits, but this drawback is being removed by the improvement of banking facilities. the government, moreover, now seeks actively to promote american trade with foreign countries, and especially with latin america. a new merchant marine is expected to give additional facilities to american exporters and enable them to meet their british and german competitors on more nearly equal terms. moreover, the united states is learning that in the export trade co-operation is desirable, and the { } federal trade commission seems about to grant permission to manufacturers to combine for the conduct of business in foreign countries.[ ] all this does not mean that american manufacturers are completely to displace their european competitors in south america and other markets. competition after the war will be severe, and whatever the course of wages and employment in europe, a measure of success for industrial countries like great britain, germany and belgium is absolutely essential to the maintenance of their populations. desperate efforts will be made by these nations to re-establish their foreign business. a great part of south america is as near to london and rotterdam as to new york, and much of the trade and of its future increase will revert to europe. in the years to come, however, more than in the present or past, the united states will be a formidable competitor for the world-markets, and will incur enmity and jealousy in the attempt to maintain and improve its position. { } a similar development is taking place in the field of investment. in former years, british, french, dutch, belgian and german financiers were requested, indeed begged, to invest their surplus capital in american enterprises. to these financiers we went cap in hand, and they did not lend their money cheaply. the complementary relation between lending europe and borrowing america was productive of the friendship of mutual benefit. to-day we are still a debtor nation, but only in the sense that the great financier is a debtor. we ourselves have a large capital, and in the main go to europe merely for the sale of safer and less remunerative bonds, while the common stock of new enterprises is likely to remain in america. or we graciously "let europe in on a good thing," conferring, not asking, a favour. in the meantime, we are paying off our indebtedness as is indicated by the balance of trade, which since has almost invariably been strongly in our favour.[ ] the war has still further reduced our foreign obligations. during the two years ending june , our excess of exports over imports was over three and one-quarter billions of dollars. moreover, in we did not incur, as ordinarily, a large debt as a result of the expenditures of americans in europe. the result of this development has been twofold; a considerable transfer of european holdings of american securities to americans, and the direct loan of american capital to europe. while it is impossible to quote exact figures, the american debt to europe can hardly have been reduced during the two years ending august , , by less than two to { } two and a half billions, or perhaps a third, or even a half, of our former debt to europe.[ ] in the meantime the united states though still a debtor nation has also become a creditor nation. just as germany, before the war, borrowed from france and loaned to bulgaria and turkey, so the united states, while still owing europe, invested in mexico, canada and south america. it is probable that by considerably over one and a quarter billion dollars of american capital was invested in canada, mexico, cuba and the republics of { } central and south america, not including the capital represented by the panama canal.[ ] even to-day (nov. , ) there is still a probable excess of our debts over our credits with foreign nations of at least two billions of dollars. in comparison with our total wealth, however (estimated by the census of at billions and since then largely increased), this indebtedness seems comparatively small. the national income is rapidly expanding and as the chance to secure exceptionally large profits in railroad and industrial enterprises diminishes there is an increased temptation for surplus capital to flow abroad. whether or not we shall again have recourse to the fund of european capital in developing our immense resources, it is hardly to be doubted that we shall increasingly invest in foreign countries, and especially in mexico, and elsewhere in the americas.[ ] such a development is entirely legitimate and within bounds desirable both for the united states and to the countries to which our capital (and trade) will go. the possible field of investment in latin america and the orient, to say nothing of other regions, is still immensely great, and as capital develops these areas their { } international trade will also grow. there is no reason why the united states should not take its part both in the investment of capital and the development of trade with these non-industrial countries. as we so invest and trade, however, we must recognise the direction in which our policy is leading us and the dangers, both from within and without, that we are liable to incur. the more we invest the more we shall come into competition with the investing nations of europe. we are already urged to put capital into south america on the just plea that trade follows investment, and the same forces that are pushing our trade outward will seek opportunities for investment in the mines and railroads of the politically backward countries. like european nations, we too shall seek for valuable concessions, and may be tempted (and herein lies the danger) to use political pressure to secure investment opportunities. what happened in morocco, persia, egypt, where the financial interests of rival nations brought them to the verge of war, may occur in mexico, venezuela or colombia, and the united states may be one of the parties involved. we seem thus to be entering upon an economic competition not entirely unlike that which existed between germany and england. we too have gone over to a policy of extending our foreign markets and of protecting our foreign investments. more and more we shall be interested in politically and industrially backward countries, to which we shall sell and in which we shall invest. inevitably we shall face outwards. we shall not be permitted by our own financiers, manufacturers and merchants, to say nothing of those of europe, to hold completely aloof. we have seen, even in the present mexican crisis, how american investment tended to precipitate a conflict. we have learned the same lesson from england, { } france and germany. as we expand both industrially and financially beyond our political borders we are placed in new, difficult and complicated international relations, and are forced to determine for ourselves the rôle that america must play in this great development. we can no longer stand aside and do nothing, for that is the worst and most dangerous of policies. we must either plunge into national competitive imperialism, with all its profits and dangers, following our financiers wherever they lead, or must seek out some method by which the economic needs and desires of rival industrial nations may be compromised and appeased, so that foreign trade may go on and capital develop backward lands without the interested nations flying at each other's throat. isolation, aloofness, a hermit life among the nations is no longer safe or possible. whatever our decision the united states must face the new problem that presents itself, the problem of the economic expansion of the industrial nations throughout the world. [ ] this comparison is not exact, since the british statistics include articles under manufactures which we do not include, and exclude articles which we include. i cite these figures merely to show that there is a vast difference in the relative importance to the united kingdom and the united states of their export of manufactures, but not to show exactly what that difference is. similarly the comparison above between the total product of american manufacturing and our export of manufactures is approximate. [ ] see an analysis--let us say of argentine trade. [ ] on the other hand the very extension of our home market tends to make us negligent of foreign exports of manufactures and to consider the profits from this business as a mere by-product. a large and successful foreign market can be maintained only by careful study and continuous work. [ ] hutchinson (lincoln), "the panama canal and international trade competition," p. _et seq._ new york, . [ ] despite the fact that as yet the _absolute_ increase is greater in the british than in the american trade with these countries. [ ] hutchinson (lincoln), _op. cit._ [ ] from to our exports of merchandise increased from to millions of dollars (an increase of per cent.) and our balance of exports over imports rose from to millions (an increase of per cent.). monthly summary of foreign commerce of the united states, june, . (corrected to aug. , , subject to revision.) [ ] "in spite of inexperience, crude methods, lack of banks and of ships we have made notable gains in south american trade. there seems to be no reason to question the probability of a continued rapid increase during the next few years.... the process of building and making more efficient our own manufacturing plants has been carried far, so that we are prepared, in the opinion of competent judges, to proceed more rapidly than ever with the production of goods for foreign markets."--william h. lough, "banking opportunities in south america," bureau of foreign and domestic commerce (dept. of commerce), special agents series no. , washington, , p. . [ ] in a recent address (see date) to the american iron and steel industry, mr. edwin w. hurley, vice-chairman of the federal trade commission, points out how during the last quarter of a century the germans have co-ordinated their foreign trade, with the result that of the steel business per cent. has been brought under a single control. the effect has been a victory for the german over the british export business. mr. hurley states that while a constructive programme has been worked out by the interstate commerce commission for the railroads, and co-operation among the farmers has been stimulated by the department of agriculture, the manufacturing industries concerned in the export trade are hampered by provisions of the anti-trust law. "is it reasonable to suppose," he asks, "that congress meant to obstruct the development of our foreign commerce by forbidding the use in export trade of methods of organisation which do not operate to the prejudice of the american public, are lawful in the countries where the trade is to be carried on, and are necessary if americans are to meet competitors there on equal terms?"--new york _evening sun_, june , . [ ] in the last forty years the balance has been against us in only three years, , and . the real balance is not nearly so great as the apparent balance, but there can be little doubt that it represents a considerable repayment of the principal of our great debt to europe. [ ] according to w. z. ripley the american debt to europe amounted in to $ , , , of which $ , , , was owed to england, $ , , to holland, $ , , to germany, $ , , to switzerland, $ , , to france, and $ , , to the rest of europe. after there was a reduction in the amount of european holdings of american securities (mostly railroad bonds and stocks), but since there was again an increased purchase, so that by the american debt to europe was considerably greater than it had been in . see new york _journal of commerce_, dec. , . also, hobson, c. k., "the export of capital." new york, , p. - . according to a compilation made by president l. f. loree of the delaware and hudson railroad, the american railroad securities formerly held in foreign hands but which were absorbed by the american market during the eighteen months ending july , , amounted to $ , , , par value and to $ , , market value. the railroad securities remaining abroad (july , ), amounted to $ , , , par value with a market value of $ , , , . in other words according to these statistics of returned securities (which mr. loree believes are largely underestimated) about per cent. (market value) of the railroad securities held abroad on january , , had been returned eighteen months later. (new york _times_, sept. , .) the new york _times_ states that "it is high banking opinion that at the outbreak of the war, the total of industrial securities held abroad amounted to about per cent. of the railroad securities, and that the liquidation of industrials since has been in about the same proportion to the total as the liquidation of rails." on this basis the foreign holdings of american railroad and industrial securities on july , , would have amounted to only $ , , , (market value). [ ] for data used as the basis of this estimate, see hobson, c. k., "export of capital" (p. and following), together with sources there cited. [ ] "the adoption of the federal reserve system has ... released and made available for other forms of financing great sums which were formerly tied up in scattered reserves. we have only to look at the monetary history of the german empire during the last forty years to see how powerful an influence on industry, trade, and investment is exerted by the centralisation and control of bank reserves. the london _statist_ has calculated the ultimate increased lending power of american banks, under the federal reserve system, at $ , , , ."--lough, _op. cit._, p. . { } part ii the root of imperialism chapter vi the integration of the world for decades, the foreign and domestic policies of the united states were determined by our ambition to subdue and people a wilderness. our immediate profit, our ultimate destiny, our ideals of liberty, democracy and world influence, were all involved in this one effort. to us the problem was one of national growth. to-day we are beginning to realise that this western movement of ours affected all industrial nations, and was only a part of a vaster world movement--an economic revolution, which has been developing for more than a century. that revolution is the opening up of distant agricultural lands and the binding of agricultural and industrial nations into one great economic union. it is a world integration. to this world development the crude physical hunger of the western populations has contributed. the urbane chinese official, who voices the sentiments of mr. lowes dickinson, attributes europe's solicitous interference in china to the fact that the western world cannot live alone. "economically," he says, "your (western) society is so constituted that it is constantly on the verge of starvation. you cannot produce what you need to consume, nor consume what you need to produce. it is matter of life and death to you to find markets in which you may dispose of your manufactures, and from which you may derive your food and raw material. such a { } market china is, or might be; and the opening of this market is in fact the motive, thinly disguised, of all your dealings with us in recent years. the justice and morality of such a policy i do not propose to discuss. it is, in fact, the product of sheer material necessity, and upon such a ground it is idle to dispute."[ ] necessity is a large and a vague word; it may mean any degree of compulsion or freedom. yet the chinese official is right when he emphasises the immensity of the economic forces driving the western nations outward. not adventure, ambition or religious propagandism will account for the full momentum of this movement. back of the missionaries, traders, soldiers, financiers, diplomats, who are opening up "backward" countries stand hundreds of millions of people, whose primary daily needs make them unconscious imperialists. at the bottom this outward driving force is the breeding impulse, the growth of population. in , one hundred and twenty-two millions of people lived in western europe, whereas in the population was two hundred and forty millions,[ ] and the rate of increase is still rapid. the population has doubled; the area has remained the same. the new millions cannot be fed or clothed according to their present standard of living unless food and raw materials come from abroad. they depend for their existence on outside agricultural countries. this increase of european population, moreover, has been a net increase, after emigration has been deducted. { } although during the last century tens of millions of immigrants have gone from western europe to the united states, canada, brazil and the argentine; the home population has increased by over one hundred and seventeen millions and is to-day increasing by twenty millions a decade.[ ] for all of these twenty millions no sufficient outlet can be found either in old or in new lands. the problem, therefore, is not to find homes for them abroad but to secure their existence at home. and this existence can only be secured by raising the necessary food in distant agricultural countries and by turning over a large part of western europe to manufacturing and commercial enterprises. colonisation, imperialism, the opening up of new agricultural countries, is therefore the other side of industrialism. the present revolution in the world to-day is thus in a real sense a sequel to the industrial revolution, which gave birth to our modern industry. that imposing industry depends upon non-industrial populations, who produce food, cotton, wood and copper, and exchange them for manufactured goods. since the people who fashion and transport products must be fed by those who raise them, agricultural production must be stimulated at home and abroad. the nation must expand economically. this expansion, which is broader than what is usually called imperialism, is not a merely political process. it takes small account of national boundaries, but develops farming wherever possible. the movement is vast and intricate: commerce { } between industry and agriculture is carried to the outermost parts of the earth; africa is divided up, colonies, dependencies and protectorates are acquired; agriculture is promoted in politically independent countries, and an internal colonisation, a colonisation within one's own country, occurs simultaneously. in australia, the canadian west, in argentine, in siberia settlers lay virgin fields under the plough, and the new lands are bound commercially to the great complex of western industrial nations. they are also bound psychologically. as the machine which conquered the nation now conquers the world, so the spirit of manchester and london and of pittsburgh and new york rules ancient peoples, breaking up their rigid civilisations, as it rules naked savages in the congo forests. it is a materialistic, rationalistic, machine-worshipping spirit. the unconscious christian missionaries to china, who teach the natives not to smoke opium and not to bind the feet of their women, are unwittingly introducing conceptions of life, as hostile to traditional christianity as to confucianism or buddhism. they are teaching the gospel of steam, the eternal verities of mechanics, and the true doctrine of pounds, shillings and pence. feudalism, conservatism, family piety, are dissolved; and, as the conquering mobile civilisations impinge upon quiescent peoples, new ambitions and desires are created among populations hitherto content to live as their forefathers lived. these desires are the inlet of the restless discontent which we call european civilisation. when the ancient peoples, civilised or not, desire guns, whiskey, cotton goods, watches and lamps, their dependence upon western civilisation is assured. bound to the industrial nations, they toil in mines or on tropical plantations that they may buy the goods they have learned to want, and that europe may live. { } in this cosmopolitan division of labour, which destroys the old economic self-sufficiency of nations, england took the lead. a hundred years ago, when the british agriculturist sold his produce to the british manufacturer in return for finished wares, and foreign commerce was insignificant, the population was limited by the food it could produce. every increase in the number of englishmen meant recourse to less fertile fields, an increase in rents, a lowering of wages and a resultant pauperism. the hideous distress during the napoleonic wars and after was largely due to an excessive population striving to live upon narrow agricultural resources. the alternative presented was to stop bearing children or find food abroad; stagnation or industrialism. if england (with wales) could in barely support twelve millions, how could she maintain thirty-six millions in ? only by going over to free trade, by raising her food and raw materials in countries where land was cheap, and employing her people in converting these into finished products. to-day three live in england better than one lived before; on the other hand, a large part of the food supply is raised abroad. had great britain literally become "the workshop of the world," manufacturing for sixteen hundred million inhabitants, there would have been no limit to her possible increase in population. no such national monopoly, however, was possible, or from a world point of view desirable. belgium, france, germany and later other thickly populated countries were also faced with the choice between stagnation and industrialism, and as english machines, english industrial methods and english factory organisation could be imported, these nations, one after another, went over to manufacturing, ceased to export food and { } began to import both food and raw materials, competing with great britain for industrial supremacy. these competing industrial nations had a great common interest, to increase the total food and raw materials to be bought and therefore the manufactured products to be sold. the greater the development of foreign agriculture the better for industry in all these nations. to secure this agricultural base abroad, the nation was not compelled to establish its own colonies, for belgium and holland could buy food and raw materials even if the congo and java were nonexistent. as a consumer it made little difference to england whether she got her wheat from russia or india, or her sugar from germany or mauritius, so long as the supply was plentiful, cheap and constant. actually a large part of the food supply came from politically independent countries, the united states alone increasing its food exports from fifty-one millions of dollars in to five hundred and forty-five millions in , and its cotton in equal ratio. but as american economic development proves, it is difficult to maintain this common agricultural base. the agricultural nation, in the temperate zone, grows in population, converts itself into an industrial community, and not only consumes its own food and raw materials but draws upon the common agricultural fund of the older industrial nations. to-day the united states is rapidly lessening its food exports, is increasing its imports of sugar, coffee, tea, fish, and other foods, and is thus forcing industrial europe to find a new agricultural base. this conversion of agricultural into semi-industrial nations proceeds rapidly. switzerland, austria, italy, japan, even russia, increase their manufacturing, and intensify the demand for the world's supply of raw materials. it is a normal and in present circumstances an inevitable { } process. when, however, the exportable supply of food and raw material of an agricultural country dwindles, a new equilibrium must be established. new states, territories, colonies, hitherto exporting but little agricultural produce, are opened and their production stimulated. from russia, the danube valley, canada, australia, brazil, argentine and many parts of africa, new supplies of raw material are secured. fresh sources are also discovered for the production of fodder, flax, cotton, wool and ores. it is an equilibrium, forever destroyed and forever re-established, between an increasing number of industrial nations with increasing populations and new agricultural bases, upon which the superstructure of the world's export industry is reared. it is not, however, by the sale of present manufactured goods alone that the industrial nations can secure their foreign food. one may own abroad as well as earn abroad. an englishman with a thousand acres in north dakota or alberta may export the wheat that he raises exactly as though the farm were in devon. if he owns shares in the pennsylvania railroad, he may with his dividends purchase wheat, which he may ship to his own country without exporting commodities in return. the true economic dominion of england extends wherever englishmen hold property. subject to the laws of the land where the property is held, this ownership gives the same claim to the product of industry as does an investment at home. as we read the imperialistic literature of to-day, we discover that the chief emphasis is laid on the great value of new countries as a field for this sort of profitable investment. investment, not commerce, is the decisive factor, and money is to be made out of opportunities to build railroads, open mines, construct harbours and irrigate arid districts. the diamond mines of the transvaal were more { } attractive to the english than the chance to trade, and what was of immediate value in morocco were the iron mines and future railways and not the right to sell tallow candles to the berbers. in large part this foreign investment of capital has the effect of broadening the agricultural base. while to the individual investor, capital export means getting eight per cent. instead of four, and to the promoter, a chance to make a few hundred thousand dollars or pounds, to the industrial nation it means that a fund is created which will help pay for a steady flow of agricultural products and raw materials. to the whole complex of industrial nations and to the world at large it means even more. the export of capital increases the capacity of the agricultural nation to serve as a feeder to all industrial peoples. it provides cheap transportation and improved agricultural machinery. had great britain not invested in american railways during the fifties the united states would have exported less food to europe in the seventies. freight rates dropped and the industrial nations were flooded with cheap wheat. british capital in american railways aided british manufacturing more than if the same capital had been placed at home. to-day for the same reason the process continues elsewhere. in russia, south east europe, canada, australia, south america, asia and africa, capital, furnished by the industrial countries, is increasing the production and exportation of food and of raw materials, and is thus indirectly promoting the industry of western europe.[ ] { } such investment abroad is not new. in the middle ages the bankers of northern italy, and later of spain and portugal advanced small sums to impecunious foreign sovereigns. but the thousand marks borrowed by henry v from genoese merchants, or the loans made by holland in the th century, did not compare with the vast sums invested by england since the napoleonic wars, nor by other countries since . for, as in manufacturing, so also in the export of capital, france, belgium, holland, germany and even the united states entered the field. the source from which capital could be obtained widened with the increase in the number of wealthy industrial nations, and the volume of investment expanded rapidly. the foreign investments of the united kingdom, according to an estimate made by dr. bowley, amounted in to two and three-quarter billions of dollars. for , sixty years later, these holdings were estimated at seventeen and one-half billions. it is believed that the french have invested some eight billions of dollars and the germans four billions.[ ] the entire foreign investment of capital by the industrial nations of europe cannot have amounted (in ) to less than thirty-two or thirty-five billions of dollars.[ ] if this great investment were made solely in countries with a highly developed capitalism, with stable political conditions and strong economic ambitions, no imperialistic policy would be necessary. england need not "own" the united states in order to invest here safely or for purposes of trade. nor is she under an economic compulsion to rule canada or australasia. were these british colonies quite independent politically, canadians and australians would { } still endeavour to sell wheat and mutton to europe and to attract and protect european capital. their own self-interest, not any outside compulsion, makes them serve european, in serving their own interests. in morocco, on the other hand, and in tunis, persia, jamaica, senegal and the congo, the situation is different. the natives of these lands lack most of the elements which make for the ordered economic development demanded by europe. under native rule there is governmental incompetence and venality, disorder, revolt, apathy and economic conservatism. foreign investment is impossible and trade precarious. it is here where the industrial system of western europe impinges upon the backward countries that economic expansion merges into modern imperialism. [ ] "letters from a chinese official. being an eastern view of western civilisation." new york (mcclure, phillips & co.), , p. . [ ] see "handwörterbuch der staatswissenschaften," ii, pp. , , third edition, jena, - . western europe here includes all of europe except russia, hungary, bosnia and herzegovina, the balkan states and turkey. [ ] the absolute increase in the population of western europe is itself increasing. in the decade - , the increase was . millions; in the nine succeeding decades it was . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . ; . and . millions. in the fifty years ending the population increased . millions; in the fifty years ending , . millions. [ ] not all foreign investment of capital results or is intended to result in stimulating agriculture and other extractive industries. much of it is spent unproductively on guns, ships and royal and presidential luxuries, and much in stimulating manufacturing in agricultural nations, thus narrowing instead of widening the agricultural base of the capital-exporting countries. [ ] see hobson, "export of capital." [ ] moreover this investment, until the outbreak of the war, was rapidly increasing, amounting to no less than $ , , , a year. { } chapter vii the root of imperialism "the free west indian negro," writes sir sidney olivier, "is not only averse as a matter of dignity to conducting himself as if he were a plantation slave, and bound to work every day, but also enjoys the fun of feeling himself a master. and so, on a big sugar estate, when expensive machinery is running, and the crop has to be worked without stoppage, or on a banana plantation, when the steamer has been telephoned at daybreak, and two or three thousand bunches have to be at the wharf by noon, the negro hands will very likely find it impossible to cut canes or fruit that morning. it isn't a strike for better conditions of labour; they may have no grievance; another day they will turn up all right: but a big concern cannot be run on that basis. that is the root of the demand for indentured labour in the west indies."[ ] it is also the root of imperialism. for imperialism from an economic point of view is in the main a foreign political control to make the "niggers" work. the industrial nations, desiring food, raw materials, markets and a field for investment, being thwarted by conditions in certain backward agricultural countries, seek to remedy these conditions by means of political sovereignty. it is not necessary to control well-governed countries which are peopled by economically ambitious men who will work six { } days a week, fifty-two weeks in a year. in politically independent countries, however, and especially in the tropics, production is rendered ineffective by the disturbed political conditions, the lack of capital and capitalistic intelligence, the absence of fixed industrial habits, as well as by a general inertia and distaste for continuous labour under the hot sun. as a result, industrial nations are deprived of the markets and food supplies, which they consider necessary to their development.[ ] no necessity of feeding europeans appeals to the west indian negro when he emerges from his thatched hut after a comfortable night's sleep. though unskilled, he is a strong and capable man, willing, when incited by friendship or gratitude, to incur trouble and endure fatigue. but, as olivier points out, "the capitalist system of industry has never disciplined him into a wage-slave," and perhaps never will. the tropical negro "has no idea of { } any obligation to be industrious for industry's sake, no conception of any essential dignity in labour itself, no delight in gratuitous toil. moreover, he has never been imbued with the vulgar and fallacious illusion which is so ingrained in competitive industrial societies, that service can be valued in money.... work and money are not yet rigidly commensurable in the consciousness of the african. half a dollar may be worth one day's work for him, a second half-dollar may be worth a second day's work, but a third half-dollar will not be worth a third day's work.... moreover he lives in climates where toil is exacting, and rest both easy and sweet. there are few days in the year in england when it is really pleasant to loaf, and the streets of civilised cities are not tempting to recumbent meditation."[ ] it is not always necessary for a foreign power to intervene in order to disturb this "recumbent meditation." in certain tropical and sub-tropical countries there develops within the nation a group of exploiters, who control the government, such as it is, and force the natives to work. the atrocities of the putumayo district in brazil illustrate the capitalistic spirit in its very worst form, as did also the forced labour on the yucatan plantations during the diaz régime in mexico. to meet the economic needs of the industrial world, it makes little difference whether peons are enslaved by mexican, american or english capitalists, so long as the output is the same. but native capitalists are often unable to secure the desired economic result because they are too ruthless and, through lack of adequate financial and military resources, cannot maintain order. despotism tempered by revolution, oppression interrupted by savage reprisals, is not { } an approved economic stimulus. the difficulty in mexico to-day, as also in venezuela and in colombia, is the laming of industry by frequent revolutions. it is the same difficulty that was encountered in india, persia and morocco. the east indian is as unflagging as the french or italian peasant, but not until the british occupation could he secure the legal protection necessary to a higher economic development. peace, sanitation, industrial promotion and an economic or legal compulsion to work constitute the tools of imperialism, as they are applied to agricultural countries in the tropical and sub-tropical world. there is one outstanding difference between temperate and tropical countries, which gives to modern imperialism its essential character. given a low stage of civilisation, temperate lands are likely to be thinly populated, while tropical countries, however rudimentary their economic processes, may maintain large, low-grade populations. in the temperate climes, therefore, the intruder, who is more highly developed economically, soon outnumbers the natives, while in tropical countries, the white immigrant, even when he withstands the climate, is scarcely able to hold his own, and the very improvements which he introduces lead to an increase in the indigenous population. the white man either remains above and in a sense outside the population, or loses his identity by mixing his blood with that of the natives. the result is the maintenance of a people ethnically distinct from that of the nation exercising political control. to just what extent such control is necessary and effective constitutes a difficult question. it cannot be denied that the export from many colonies is far greater than would be the case if these had remained independent. the naturally rich country of haiti is far less valuable to the industrial nations than the poorer island of porto { } rico.[ ] in many parts of the world large agricultural resources are unavailable because owned by uncivilised nations or tribes maintaining their political independence. indeed, if an immediate increase in production and export were the only factor to be considered, a government of all tropical america by a capable industrial nation, like england or germany, would be of distinct advantage. other considerations, however, do enter. even a semi-efficient nation, like chili or brazil, gradually establishes order, secures foreign capital, intelligence and labour, and develops its resources. as opposed to europe, the united states stands in its monroe doctrine for the principle that latin-american countries, if left independent, will in time develop, and that a slow evolution may be more advantageous to the world than a more rapid exploitation under foreign dominion.[ ] ultimately, however, the capacity of the nation to utilise its resources does constitute the test which decides whether it shall retain independence or become subject to foreign domination. it is this test which is being applied to-day to mexico and certain other latin-american countries.[ ] as yet this imperialistic régime is in its beginning. food and raw materials are still mainly derived from { } independent nations and from temperate, settlement colonies, in which production is not affected by political control. the major part of the food-stuffs imported by europe come from russia, the united states, canada, australia, the argentine, the balkans; cotton comes chiefly from the united states; wool from australia; hides from the argentine; copper, coal, wood, oil from countries of temperate climate. more sugar is actually produced in temperate than in tropical countries, though the export from tropical countries largely preponderates. thus the external commerce of the specifically tropical countries subject to imperialistic rule is small compared to that of temperate countries exporting raw materials. india with its developed agricultural system exports only some $ , , of food and raw materials[ ] (in excess of its imports of like commodities) or about $ . per capita, while the per capita exportation of roumania is over ten times as great, of the argentine about twenty times, and of australia forty times.[ ] if the present commerce with tropical countries were not to increase, the new tropical imperialism would have but a slender economic base, and it might well be questioned whether it was worth europe's while to govern hundreds of millions of yellow, brown and black men in all parts of the globe. but the english colonies in america, two hundred years ago, also exported little, and a similar immensity of growth may be expected from the commerce of tropical countries. "as civilisation advances and population becomes more dense," writes mr. edward e. slosson,[ ] "the inhabitants of temperate zones { } become necessarily more dependent on the tropics. where the sunshine falls straightest and the rain falls heaviest there the food of the future will be produced." cacao, coffee, copra, cotton, rubber, sugar cane, bananas and other fruits are all becoming increasingly important in our consumption, and these and other raw materials are the product of a scientific exploitation of tropical regions.[ ] more and more the west-european nations, as also the united states and japan, are realising these immense potentialities. into many tropical countries, new crops are introduced, experiment stations established, railroads built, agricultural machines imported and efforts made not only to bring new lands into cultivation but also to increase the output of older lands. the experimental spread of cotton culture is a case in point. in the british cotton growing association was created to promote the growth of cotton in british dependencies. the fibre is now being raised in egypt, northern nigeria and central africa, while the possible output of west africa, it is claimed, could supply all the mills of lancashire. an ample supply of cotton for many decades to come seems reasonably assured. the gradual filling up of the temperate zones emphasises the immense future possibilities of the tropical regions. according to mr. earley vernon wilcox, the total land area of the world is about , , square miles (of which about , , are considered fertile) and of this total area about , , square miles are to be found in tropical and sub-tropical regions. "in , the united states imported tropical agricultural products to the value of $ , , ," and the exports from ceylon, brazil, { } the dutch east indies, cuba, hawaii and egypt were enormous. "the control and proper development of the tropics" writes mr. wilcox, "is a problem of tremendous consequences. year by year more tropical products become necessities in cold climates. this is apparent from the mere casual consideration of a list of the commonly imported tropical products, such as cane sugar, cocoanuts, tea, coffee, cocoa, bananas, pineapples, citrus fruits, olives, dates, figs, sisal, manila hemp, jute, kapok, raffia, rubber, balata, gutta-percha, chicle and other gums, cinchona, tans and dyes, rice, sago, cassava, cinnamon, pepper, cloves, nutmeg, vanilla and other spices, oils, such as palm, china wood, candlenut, caster, olive, cotton, lemon oil, etc."[ ] in estimating the value of the economic gains to an imperialistic nation, a moralist might be inclined to introduce other factors. the problem whether a political subjection, which is of the essence of imperialism, is or is not justified raises an uncomfortable question in ethics. however carefully native rights are safe-guarded, these subject races are forced to obey a foreign will not primarily for their own good but for that of the sovereign power. several industrial nations, above all the united states and in second instance, england, have undoubtedly embarked upon imperialism with a truly missionary zeal for the welfare of the natives. on the other hand, the twentieth century outrages in the congo were almost as bad as the cruelties of the conquistadores in hispaniola and peru. even in well-governed countries, like egypt, the introduction of european legal systems has resulted in the expropriation of innumerable small property-holders, while the increase in population, due to better economic and { } sanitary arrangements, has led to an intensification of misery. to what extent the average _fellah_ of egypt is better off than under the reign of mehemet ali or of ismail, how much the jamaican poor are more prosperous than the poor of haiti is at best an unpromising inquiry. on the whole, there has doubtless been improvement. in africa slave-catching has been abolished, and famine and pestilence circumscribed. but the gain such as it is, has been in the main incidental, the by-product of an exploitation primarily for the benefit of others.[ ] yet however we discuss the moral question, the problem is determined by quite other considerations. so long as hundreds of millions in the industrial countries require and demand that these backward countries be utilised, humanitarian laws will not be allowed to interfere with the main economic purpose of the colonies. the imperialistic argument is always the same: the resources of the world must be unlocked. three hundred thousand indians must not be permitted to occupy a land capable of maintaining three hundred millions of civilised people.[ ] { } the earth and the fulness thereof belong to the inhabitants of the earth, and if the product is somewhat unevenly divided, that, the imperialists assert, is hardly to be avoided. back of the ethical argument lie necessity and power. let the backward countries be exploited with the utmost speed; in the centuries to come, we will go into these moral questions at our leisure. this submission of ethical ideals to economic needs is illustrated in the prevailing colonial labour policy, which reveals with clarity the quality and power of the economic impulse to imperialism. the great industrial nations, having reached the economic stage in which an ample labour supply can be secured without other compulsion than that of hunger, accept at home the ideal of a free labour contract, with a certain protection to the wage-earner. in their colonies, however, though they may wish to be fair to the natives, one form or another of forced labour is generally adopted. an african native, who wants little here below and can get that little easily, is compelled to neglect or surrender his diminutive banana patch or farm and come to the european's plantation or mine, or work for nothing or next to nothing on the public roads. either this compulsion is exerted by means of a heavy hut tax, the money to pay which can be obtained only by wage-labour, or by stringent vagrancy laws, or by a refusal to allow the natives to become independent proprietors, or by outright expropriation. in some colonies penal labour contracts are enforced, and the miserable native who breaks his agreement is imprisoned or flogged. credit bondage is also in favour, and no sooner does the native work off his original indebtedness than he finds that he is more in { } debt than ever. finally if the natives cannot be compelled to give enough labour, coolies are imported, chiefly from china and india, and after their period of service are expatriated. even a more direct pressure is not always wanting. while the imperialistic nations theoretically oppose slavery, and have rather effectively checked the horrible slave trade of the arabs, they themselves have not always escaped the temptation to introduce slavery under new forms. at various times and in various colonies, the _corvée_ has been adopted both for public and private works, and in the belgian congo a thinly disguised slavery in its most atrocious form has been adopted. to justify this european slavery, which is infinitely more brutal than was the mild and customary native slavery, the same ethical and religious arguments are advanced as were utilised by the sixteenth century spaniards in establishing their _encomiendas_. the natives, especially in africa, are lumped together as worthless idlers, and their benevolent rulers are urged to teach these benighted creatures the christianity of hard and continuous labour.[ ] but the real motive is to secure the greatest amount of profits for the investors and of tropical produce for the european { } populations. whether even from this point of view a less exacting and ruthless labour policy might not be desirable need not here be discussed. what is immediately significant is the immense power of the forces driving european nations into colonial policies, intended to increase the export of tropical products. because of this demand for tropical produce, tropical markets, tropical fields for investment, the vast machinery of imperialism is set in motion. because of this demand, present and future, european armies march over deserts and jungles, and slay thousands of natives in spectacular _battues_. to satisfy the needs of european populations and adventurers, millions of brown men toil in the crowded, dirty cities of india, on sun-lit plantations in java and egypt, in the cotton fields of nigeria and togo. to grasp this imperialism, to realise the big, pulsing, dramatic movement of it, one must view the peons on hennequin plantations, the barefoot mexican labourers in silver mines, the rack-rented fellaheen in the nile valley, the patient chinese and japanese toilers on the hawaiian sugar plantations. one must gain a sense of the dull ambitions and compulsions working on these men, the desire for the cheap products of manchester and chemnitz, the craving for liquor, the fear of starvation and of the lash. and as these coloured peoples toil, not knowing for what they toil, other men in london and paris, in berlin, brussels and new york are speculating in the securities which represent their toil. they are buying "kaffirs" as they once bought "yankee rails." seated in their offices, these white-faced men are irrigating deserts, building railroads through jungles and wildernesses, and secure in the faith that all men, black, yellow and brown, can be made to want things and work for things, are revolutionising countries they have never seen. even these organisers, these { } seemingly omnipotent shapers of the world, are themselves only half-conscious agents of a vast economic process not solely desired by a class or nation but dictated by a far wider necessity. it is a process varied in its many-sided appeal; a process which reveals itself in the transfusion of capitalistic ideals by means of little school-houses in the philippines, by means of the strict and rather harsh justice in british colonies, by means of the unconscious teachings of christian missionaries, by means of the swift decay of ancient, tenacious faiths. it is a process linking the ends of the world, uniting the statesmen and financiers of the imperialistic nation with wretches in the swarming cities of the east, with half-drunken men seeking for rubber in tangled forests, with negroes searching over great expanses of country for the ivory tusks of elephants, with the kaffirs in the diamond mines who enter naked and depart naked, and whose bodies are examined each day to discover the diamonds which might be buried in the flesh. at one end of the line are the urbane diplomats seated about a table at some algeciras, at the other, in the very depths of distant colonies, there is slavery, flagellation, political and intellectual corruption, missionary propaganda, and the day to day business and planning of white settlers, who are anxious to make their fortune quick and get back to "god's own country." it is a process so vast, so compelling, so interwoven with the deepest facts of our modern life that our ordinary moral judgments seem pale and unreal in contact with it. and so too with religion. christianity which changed in its passage from judea to rome and from rome to the northern barbarians takes on again a new aspect when imperialistic nations encounter the peoples they are to utilise. this imperialistic christianity defends forced labour and slavery as an advance over a mere doing nothing. the parable of the ten { } talents is the one christian doctrine in which the imperialist fervently believes. this modern imperialism, which compels subject peoples to work at extractive industries at the behest of the swarming millions of the industrial nations, which excites, stimulates, urges, pushes, forces coloured peoples to raise bananas and cotton and buy shirts, gew-gaws, and whiskey, is at bottom a movement compelled by the economic expansion and necessity of the older countries. it is an outlet for the pressure, strain and expansiveness of the growing industrial nations, an outlet for industrialism itself. it ranges the industrial nations as a whole against the backward agricultural countries, and binds them together into a forced union, in which the industrial nations guide and rule and the backward peoples are ruled. but while the industrial nations have a common interest in imperialism, they have also separating and antagonistic interests. though the nations would prefer to have any one of their number, england, germany or france, rule all tropical countries rather than go without tropical colonies at all, each nation, for economic, as well as political and military reasons, desires that it, and not its neighbour and competitor, should be the supreme colonial power. it is because of this fact that modern imperialism takes on the form of a bitter nationalistic competition for colonies, and leads to diplomatic struggles and eventually to war. [ ] "white capital and coloured labour," pp. , . london, . [ ] the case for tropical imperialism is argued by dr. j. c. willis (director of the royal botanic gardens at ceylon) as follows: "in the present condition of the world the temperate zones cannot get on without the products of the tropics. the latter provide many things, such as rubber, tea, coffee, cinchona, jute, cane-sugar, spices, etc., which are among the necessaries of modern civilised life. the need for these has led to the settlement of europeans at trading stations in the tropics, at calcutta, malacca, calabar and many other places. once settled there, the insecurity of the traders and the inefficiency of the natives have led to the conquest of adjacent territories, until now most of the valuable areas in the tropics are in european or american hands." the conquering nations "work on the principle of governing the country for the benefit of the governed; but they must also so arrange matters that the tropical countries shall take their share in the progress of the world at large, and produce and export certain commodities for the benefit of that world which cannot get along properly without them. if the countries of the tropics can be made to progress so far that they shall themselves, with their own population, produce these things, so much the better; _but the things must be produced_."--"agricultural progress in the tropics,"--_science_, london, vol. v, pp. , . (my italics.) [ ] "white capital and black labour," pp. - . [ ] in the exports for haiti amounted to a little over $ and in to a little under $ per capita; the exports of porto rico (to the united states and foreign countries) amounted to almost $ per capita. [ ] historically, of course, this theory was not the real motive behind the doctrine. that motive was the unwillingness of the united states to have strong, military nations in its immediate vicinity. [ ] a failure to meet the requirements of the industrial nations does not necessarily involve a complete extinction of political independence. any measure of control, any merely reserved right, such as the united states retains in cuba, may suffice for the purpose. [ ] "food, drink, tobacco, raw materials and produce and articles mainly unmanufactured." [ ] owing to differences in method of classification, these comparisons are only approximate. [ ] the _independent_, oct. , . [ ] for a brilliant statement of the growing significance of tropical products, see benjamin kidd, "the control of the tropics," new york, , especially part i. [ ] "tropical agriculture," new york and london, , p. . [ ] the case is analogous to that of the operation of cotton mills in the south. despite low wages and brutal exploitation of children, the introduction of these mills has automatically raised the standard of living, but the goal desired was not this but the quickest possible making of profits. [ ] "no false philanthropy or race-theory," writes prof. paul rohrbach, one of the more humane of the german imperialists, "can prove to reasonable people that the preservation of any tribe of nomadic south african kaffirs or their primitive cousins on the shores of lakes kiwu or victoria is more important for the future of mankind than the expansion of the great european nations, or the white races as a whole. should the german people renounce the chance of growing stronger and more serviceable, and of securing elbow room for their sons and daughters, because fifty or three hundred years ago some tribe of negroes exterminated its predecessors or expelled them or sold them into slavery, and has since lived its useless existence on a strip of land where ten thousand german families may have a flourishing existence, and thus strengthen the very sap and force of our people?"--rohrbach, "german world policies" ("der deutsche gedanke in der welt.") translated by edmund von mach. new york (macmillan), (pp. - .) [ ] prof. paul s. reinsch, from whose admirable books i have drawn extensively in this description of colonial labour, rescues from undeserved oblivion an article by the rev. c. usher wilson on "the native question and irrigation in south africa," published in the _fortnightly_ for august, . "a careful study of educated natives," writes this pious gentleman, "has almost persuaded me that secular education is not a progressive factor in social evolution. the salvation of a primitive people depends upon the force of christianity alone, special attention being paid to its all-important rule 'six days shalt thou labour.' ... in the education of the world it has ever been true that slavery has been a necessary step in the social progress of primitive peoples."--reinsch, "colonial administration," new york, , p. . { } chapter viii imperialism and war if the entire imperialistic process could be directed by one omniscient individual, representing the interest of all industrial and agricultural countries, the progress of imperialism would be regular, rapid and easy. or if one nation, say england, could take over all colonies and run them in the common interest of the industrial nations alone, imperialism would be robbed of its greatest peril, that of embroiling the nations in war. unfortunately we have hit upon no such device for preserving the common interest of imperialist nations, while safe-guarding their separate interests. each nation desires the biggest share for itself. imperialism is directed by the conflicting ambitions, crude pretensions and confident vanities of selfish nations, and in the conflicts of interest that break out, the soup is spilled before it is served. from an economic point of view, this special interest of the nations in imperialism, like their common interest, is three-fold: markets for manufactured products, opportunities to invest capital and access to raw materials. if trade never followed the flag, if india imported as much from germany as from great britain, and madagascar as much from austria as from france, if there were an absolutely open door in each colony and a real as well as legal equality for all merchants, there would be a weaker competition for the dominion of backward countries. { } germans, englishmen and frenchmen might then compete on equal terms in morocco, egypt and southwest africa as they compete to-day in chile or argentina. but no such equality exists in countries controlled by european powers, and many of these colonies are consciously utilised in a bitter economic competition between the nations. to what such competition may lead is suggested in a sensational article in the _saturday review_ of almost twenty years ago. says the anonymous author of this article: "in europe there are two great, irreconcilable, opposing forces, two great nations who would make the whole world their province, and who would levy from it the tribute of commerce. england, with her long history of successful aggression, with her marvellous conviction that in pursuing her own interests she is spreading light among nations dwelling in darkness, and germany, bone of the same bone, blood of the same blood, with a lesser will-force, but, perhaps, with a keener intelligence, compete in every corner of the globe. in the transvaal, at the cape, in central africa, in india, and the east, in the islands of the southern sea, and in the far northwest, wherever--and where has it not?--the flag has followed the bible and trade has followed the flag, the german bagman is struggling with the english pedlar. is there a mine to exploit, a railway to build, a native to convert from breadfruit to tinned meat, from temperance to trade-gin, the german and the englishman are struggling to be first. a million petty disputes build up the greatest cause of war the world has ever seen. if germany were extinguished to-morrow, the day after to-morrow there is not an englishman in the world who would not be richer. nations have fought for years over a city or a right of succession, must { } they not fight for two hundred and fifty million pounds of yearly commerce?"[ ] no doubt this assertion of a complete opposition between british and german commerce and investment contains an element of exaggeration. in england was the greatest consumer of german goods and germany an excellent customer of great britain and the british colonies. if germany were to be extinguished, englishmen would be poorer, not richer. yet the competition between german bagman and english pedlar is real, and this commercial competition is merely an expression of a far more significant industrial competition. as german organisation, science, and technical ability build up iron, steel, machinery, chemical and other industries, british industry, though still growing, finds itself circumscribed. if national colonies can be utilised for special national advantage, financial, industrial or commercial, the attempt will be made. if trade and investment can be made to follow the flag, the nation has an interest in securing colonies. there is always a certain presumption that colonials, partly from tradition, and partly from commercial patriotism, will deal with their home country. the merchant in british colonies is familiar with british firms and trademarks and rather resents the necessity of becoming acquainted with foreign wares and the standing of foreign merchants. prices being equal, we patronise the people we know and like. investment also leads to trade. the englishmen who control the vast resources of india, tend, without compulsion, to buy of british merchants. the possession of even a free-trade colony often insures the retention of its most profitable commerce. it is true that this presumption in favour of the home { } nation may be overborne. lower prices, better service, a more active and intelligent business propaganda may divert trade to foreign merchants. before the war, german manufacturers found an increasing market in british colonies, overcoming colonial prejudice as they overcame the prejudice in great britain itself. geographical nearness is even more decisive. thus canada is economically far more closely bound to the united states than to england. in - we sold canada $ . worth of goods for every dollar sold by the united kingdom.[ ] to jamaica our exports exceeded those of the united kingdom, while our imports from the island were over three times as great as the british imports.[ ] the united states profits far more immediately from the economic development of canada and jamaica than does the united kingdom.[ ] in the main, however, even under free trade, subtle influences are constantly at work to bring the colony into closer commercial relations with the home country. thus in - , per cent. of the imports of british india came from the united kingdom, and other british dependencies showed a similar preponderance of trade with great britain.[ ] the volume of the entire traffic between the home country and its colonies is overwhelming. in , the united kingdom imported from british { } possessions no less than £ , , , or over per cent. of its total imports, and exported to these british possessions £ , , or almost per cent. of its total exports (of british produce).[ ] this trade, which is increasing faster than the total trade of the united kingdom, is peculiarly valuable. from her overseas dominions great britain secures a far larger proportion of food products and raw materials than from foreign countries, and to these overseas dominions she sends a large proportion of manufactured goods, containing a high percentage of labour. thus, says prof. reinsch,[ ] "from the point of view of the development and prosperity of national industry it is important that the exports of the nation should be composed largely of manufactured goods, the value of which includes as high as possible an amount of labour cost. the export of raw material, of coal, of food materials, and of machinery used in factories, cannot be considered of the highest advantage to the industrial life of a manufacturing country, nor is it most profitable from a national point of view to furnish foreign countries with ships, which help to build up their merchant marines." but according to the figures of "only per cent. of the exports of british goods to the colonies consist of those commodities which the national industry derives relatively the least profit from, while for foreign countries the figure is per cent."[ ] { } the general colonial trend has been in the direction of deliberately securing by legislative means a preferential advantage for the home country. "france," writes dr. wilhelm solf, former german secretary of state for the colonies, "has assimilated algeria and a portion of her colonies from the point of view of customs. she regards them almost completely as within her tariff boundaries, which fact gives french commerce the advantage over that of other nations trading with these colonies. in regard to her other colonies france has introduced preferential tariffs favouring the motherland, and reciprocally the colonies, which amount to as much as per cent. of the normal duties. in tunis, likewise, france has favoured her own trade in important lines, such as grain, by admitting them free of duty when carried in french bottoms. portugal has introduced discriminating customs rates up to per cent. of the regular tariff in favour of her own colonial shipping. spain has acted similarly. england also enjoys tariff advantages as high as per cent. of the normal rate in her self-governing colonies. she has in this manner secured for british industry a market which, without this preference, she would not have been able to maintain to the same degree. likewise, the united states has to a large extent assimilated its colonies in customs matters. belgium has, it is true, no preferential tariff, but by means of her extensive system of concessions she has practically precluded the competition of other states and secured a monopoly in the trade with her own colonies."[ ] { } no such colonial preference amounts to a complete exclusion of the trade of competitors. the germans, not the english, are the chief purchasers of india cotton, and from the german colonies, diamonds go chiefly to antwerp, west african copper to the united states and belgium, and east african skins and hemp to north america. in many colonies and dependencies a complete legal equality of trade is maintained. on the whole, however, whether as a result of tariffs or of quiet discrimination by local authorities, the foreign merchant finds obstacles placed in his way and the trade goes to the home country. thus in , of algerian imports per cent. came from france, while of her exports per cent. went to france.[ ] the trade of all the other french colonies and dependencies tends also to go to france. thus of the import of all french colonies and dependencies (exclusive of algeria and tunis) per cent. in came from france and french colonies, while of the exports per cent. went to france and french colonies.[ ] similarly in of the entire import and export trade of german colonies (exclusive of kiau-chau), . per cent. were with germany.[ ] to the citizens of the home country go also the investment opportunities, the chances to secure concessions for mines, railroads and tramways. the legal right to these lucrative monopolies inheres in the nation that develops the backward country. this preferred position, this assured possession of a sole and undivided privilege is of the essence of imperialism. all the economic arguments for peace based upon the theory that trade heals enmities, { } shatter upon this fact. free traders never tire of insisting that trade is reciprocally advantageous, blessing him who sells and him who buys; that the more trade there is, the more there is to get. they argue that england, germany, america and japan might continue until the end of time amicably exporting pianos and gingham aprons to the backward peoples, and receive in return unimaginable quantities of sugar, rubber and tobacco. but modern imperialism, extending its dominion ever further, is dreaming not alone of this field for competitive selling, but of concessions, monopolies, exclusive privileges, immensely lucrative pre-emptions. there are whole worlds to exploit, and whoever rules garners. when france extends her sway over north africa and develops these lands, the valuable concessions go to french corporations. the actual capital used comes in last analysis from the great capital fund of western europe, from french, english, belgian, dutch and german capitalists, and whoever wishes to make four or five per cent. may lend his money to the banks that lend to the development companies that invest in the new country. but the big profit--the cream--does not go to these petty ultimate investors but to the political and high finance promoters, and these are french if the enterprise is french. moreover, trade accompanies and follows investment, and if france secures control, the imported locomotives, rails, cars and mining machinery come from france. in morocco, france keeps the inside track, as does england in egypt and india, and germany in togo and east africa. let who will pick up the scraps.[ ] { } this prevailing monopolistic character of colonial exploitation led prior to the war of to great dissatisfaction among those powers, which were least favoured colonially. in germany liberal imperialists like paul arndt and friedrich naumann bewailed the fact that germany was industrially handicapped because of the meagreness of her colonial possessions. "germans," complained prof. arndt, "receive no railway, harbour, shipping, telegraph or similar concessions in english, russian, french, american and portuguese colonies. everywhere citizens are preferred to foreigners, which is easily explicable and in fact natural...."[ ] as colony after colony is formed, the field for the free competition of germany with the world is narrowed, so that at last only countries like abyssinia, siam, china and above all the southern half of america remain independent and open. the french success in gaining and closing colonies arouses german envy. why is france's colonial empire more than two and a half times as large as that of germany? asks dr. naumann. how is france ahead of us? "we have beaten her in the field of battle, but she has recovered diplomatically. she is weaker in a military sense but in a political sense stronger."[ ] between envying france her colonial empire and determining at some favourable opportunity to redress the inequality is but a short step. to discontent with the present is added fear for the { } future. those nations, which are least blessed with colonies and which lack at home a broad agricultural base for the support of their industries, look anxiously towards a possible development, which will rob them not only of their markets and investment opportunities but also of their necessary raw materials. to the country ruling the colony belongs in last instance the right to decide what shall be done with its food and raw materials. suppose that australia, by a special arrangement with the mother country, lays a heavy duty upon all wool exported to other countries than great britain, and thus makes german competition in the woollen industry impossible. suppose the cotton supply of the united states is rendered dearer by some scheme of valorisation, like that which brazil applied to coffee exports, or by action of financial groups in america, or, given a change in the federal constitution, by an export duty on raw cotton. how then will germany compete? what could germany do if foreign nations shut her off from access to ores, foods and textiles? how could she solve the problem of a dwindling supply of iron ore? as population outstrips home production of raw materials, the dependence of industrial nations upon the countries producing such materials increases, and the fear arises that such foreign resources will be monopolised, and the excluded industrial nations forced to stop their advance and to descend in the scale of power. as this fear grows, the backward countries cease to be regarded as a common agricultural base and become merely separate national preserves. each nation strives by means of an exclusive possession of colonies to become self-sufficing. the competition for colonies becomes a struggle for national existence. in such a struggle for national existence, all vested rights go by the board. a nation needing outlets will pay { } small heed to maxims concerning peace, internationalism and the status quo; it will ask for the title deeds of the nations that own what it wants. so long as germany, for example, felt that colonies were absolutely essential to her future prosperity, it mattered little to her that england and france had been first in the field, that they had planted and sowed in foreign fields while she was still struggling to secure national unity. "where were you when the world was divided?" the germans asked themselves, and they came to the belief that their own economic needs justified their colonial ambitions, wherever those ambitions might lead them. rather than have the world shut to them they were willing to make sacrifices and incur dangers. war, they held, was better than stagnation, poverty and famine. but for a country like germany colonial ambitions conflicting with those of other european powers are especially dangerous, because a struggle for africa or asia means battles in champagne, westphalia or posen. "the future of germany's world policy," said an author who wrote under the pseudonym "ruedorffer," "will be decided on the continent. german public opinion has not yet fully comprehended the interdependence of germany's military peace in europe and her freedom of action in her foreign enterprises."[ ] though bismarck understood this interrelation, he was primarily interested in the european and not in the colonial situation. "bismarck," wrote ruedorffer, "looked upon the consolidation of germany's newly acquired unity as the first and principal task after the fortunate war with france. to divert the attention of france from the rhine { } border, he favoured, as much as he could, french expansion in africa and asia. when, toward the end of his career, he attempted to secure, for a future colonial activity of germany, a few african tracts which had not yet been claimed by any other power, he was extremely careful not to encroach upon england's interests. he avoided pushing germany's claims beyond southwest africa and annexing the _hinterland_ of the cape colony, a territory to-day known as rhodesia.... bismarck kept germany's world policies within the limits which, according to his opinion, were prescribed by her continental policies." as german colonial ambition grew, however, partly as a result of her fear of exclusion from colonial markets and sources of supply, she began to fear that she might raise up enemies in europe itself. "in every enterprise," wrote ruedorffer, "whether on african, turkish, persian, or chinese soil, germany's policy will necessarily have to take account of the presumable reaction on the european political constellation. if germany encounters russian interests in turkey, in persia, or in china, she will thereby bind russia still more closely to immutable france; if she infringes upon england's interests in mesopotamia, she will see england on the side of her opponents." "this reciprocal dependence of world policies and continental policies constitutes, if you please, a _circulus vitiosus_, the vicious circle of germany's foreign policy. german enterprises abroad react on the continental policy, and it is under pressure from the continental policy that germany's world policies find their limitations." as a result germany, with potential enemies on all sides, was constantly oppressed by the _cauchemar des coalitions_, the nightmare of jealous hostile alliances. it is this dependence of colonial upon continental politics that intensifies the dangers of imperialism, increases { } its ruthlessness and recklessness, and causes it to become a deadly conflict, with diplomacy _à la manière forte_ in the foreground, and in the background, war. the danger of war as a result of imperialism is immensely increased by the disunion and disequilibrium of europe. the continental nations are always embattled and ready to strike. it is not an accidental or transient condition but is rooted deep in geographical, historical and economic causes. europe, since history began, has been overfilled with clashing peoples and races with variant beliefs, traditions and languages, and with opposed economic interests. to grow, to prevent others from growing, these crowded groups went to war. it was no fault or vice of the europeans, but merely the tragic fact that there was no firm basis for european union. after the downfall of the western roman empire, no power was strong enough to dominate europe. the dreams of universal dominion of a charlemagne and of a rudolf of hapsburg remained dreams; the great, loose federations like the holy roman empire were no match for the smaller but more compact nations, which grew up after the middle ages. these new nations, moreover, inevitably meant increased antagonism, a perpetual struggle for more territory, more trade, more gold; a despotic, militaristic, fighting society. the age of the rise of nations was also that of professional armies under the direction of a despot, and of wars for the spoliation of still unorganised peoples, like the germans and the italians. if european union was difficult to achieve in past centuries, it has become even more difficult to-day. the last century has been the century of nationalities, a period during which nations and nationalistic groups developed consciousness. group consciousness is, of course, no new thing, for all groups, possessing survival quality, have { } conceit, self-esteem and veneration for the bond that unites them and for all qualities, characteristics, experiences and institutions which distinguish them. to-day this group consciousness has become national consciousness, and the impulse towards nationalistic expression spreads and makes itself felt not only in organised nations but also among submerged, conquered and dispersed peoples like the czechs, poles, finns and irish. the clash of europe's hundreds of millions for a satisfactory existence upon an insufficient area is intensified by the marshalling of these millions into nationalistic groups, speaking different languages and ruled by hostile traditions. the antagonism is the worse because in many parts of europe history and geography have conspired to jumble ethnic and linguistic groups without mixing them. in bohemia, east prussia, dalmatia, macedonia and lorraine, hostile groups intermingle without fusing. though the last century has brought about a certain approximation of state boundaries to the boundaries of nationalities, the process is far from complete. about many nations there is a fringe of people of like nationality subject to other states. roumania, servia, italy, each has its _irredenta_; austria-hungary, russia and turkey are loose bundles of nationalities, hating each other, while the balkan states cannot discover any nationalistic principle upon which to divide up macedonia. each nationality seeks independence and strength to maintain itself against the encroachment of rivals, and this desire for self-preservation through size, causes a nationality, which has attained to nationhood, to oppress smaller nationalistic groups within its borders. the condition is artificial and anomalous. absurd nationalistic claims are advanced in defence of aggression, and while learned pan-slavs convert balkan { } dwellers into russians, the dutch, flemings and danes are proved by pan-germans to be only germans once removed. the progress of democracy has intensified this nationalistic strife and made it a matter of _amour propre_. so long as no citizen had rights, it mattered little whether the king were german or hungarian. with the participation of the people in government, however, the subject nationalities feel themselves disgraced. the pole longs for a free democratic poland; he is not content to become german, austrian or russian. rather than surrender his nationality he is willing to tear up the map of europe and thrust the world into war. in this condition we have the seeds of perpetual conflict in europe. partly for the sake of increasing the national strength and partly for the benefit of certain financial groups, the lesser nationalities are ruthlessly exploited by the dominating nationality within a given country. the oppression of roumanians and slavs by the magyar ruling classes of hungary causes a deep revulsion of feeling in roumania, servia and other countries across the border, just as the ambitions of pan-germans to make germany a nationalistic state arouse the indignation of the french and the fears of the dutch and danes. moreover the nationalistic groups often discover that they have antagonistic economic interests. the danger of this situation is immensely increased by the fact that all these hostile nations impinge territorially on one another, and modern warfare gives an enormous advantage to the nation gaining the initial success. austria, belgium, france may be overrun and permanently defeated by a campaign of six or seven weeks, and it is difficult thereafter to retrieve these early defeats. { } european nations therefore live in the fear of immediate attack and conduct a hair-trigger diplomacy. this is the true interpretation of _realpolitik_, of a nationally selfish policy, devoid of sentiment and laying an excessive emphasis upon immediate and material ends. a nation in danger of annihilation cannot indulge in the luxury of sentiment, cannot consider long time views, cannot be over-generous or trust to the generosity of rivals. each nation is compelled to enter into offensive and defensive alliances, and these alliances, perpetually suspecting each other, are compelled to prepare for instant war. but preparation for war under such conditions makes war inevitable. if a nation believes that it is to be assailed, five, ten or fifteen years from now, it is tempted to precipitate the "inevitable" war at the moment when its chances are the best. the doctrine of "the war of prevention," however perilous, is, in the prevailing circumstances, natural. it is meeting a supposedly inevitable danger half way. still another element adds to the menace of imperialism. just as a successful imperialistic policy depends upon the ability of the european nation to defend itself at home, so also it depends upon access to the colonies, upon a control of the seas. had spain been a hundred times as powerful on land as the united states, she still could not have defended cuba. were germany to secure valuable colonies, she could not be sure of their retention against england (which lies on germany's lines of communication), so long as the british possessed an overwhelming naval supremacy. it was therefore natural, and indeed inevitable, that, sooner or later, german colonial ambitions should find expression in a naval expansion, which, whatever the intentions of its promoters, was potentially a menace to the british empire and even to the very { } existence of england. the desire for imperialistic expansion thus led, in the absence of any formula of reconciliation upon a higher plane, to an irrepressible conflict between england and germany, in short, to a world war. herein lay and still lies the peril of imperialism, the danger that for fifty years to come europe, and perhaps america also, will be again and again embroiled in wars immeasurably more destructive than were the long colonial wars of the eighteenth century. the present world war does not automatically end the imperialistic struggle. there is china to consider, there is the independence of latin america, to say nothing of colonies securely held for the time being by one or another of the european powers. the allies, if successful in this war, will not necessarily remain allies. the ambitions of england, of russia, of japan, not to speak of france, germany, italy and perhaps the united states, may come into conflict. nor upon the signing of a treaty of peace will the forces making for imperialism become extinct. in the future, as in the past, a nationalistic competition for colonies will carry with it the seeds of war. [ ] the _saturday review_, volume lxxxiv, sept. , . [ ] our exports to canada in that year amounted to $ , , ; those of the united kingdom, $ , , . our imports from canada were $ , , ; the imports of the united kingdom, $ , , (canadian figures). statesman's year book, , p. . [ ] jamaican imports ( - ). from the u. s., £ , , ; from the u. k., , , . exports: to the u. s., £ , , ; to the u. k., £ , (jamaican figures). statesman's year book, , p. . [ ] naturally our proportion of the trade would be still greater if canada and jamaica were within the american customs union. [ ] statesman's year book, , p. . [ ] in the trade of the united kingdom with british possessions was still greater, though it formed in that year a smaller percentage of the entire trade of the country. statesman's year book, , p. . the trade of the united kingdom with foreign countries was considerably less (in ) than was that of germany. [ ] "colonial administration," pp. - . [ ] _op. cit._ "it has further been shown that in the foreign trade of great britain the export of manufactured goods is declining while that of raw material and machinery is increasing." [ ] "germany's colonial policy," in "modern germany in relation to the great war." new york, mitchell kennerley, , p. . see also "british white book," a report on colonial preferences given in various countries. oct. , , no. . for an able analysis of the results of the open and the closed door in colonies see jöhlinger (otto), "die koloniale handelspolitik der weltmachte," (_volkswirtschaftliche zeitfragen_) vol. xxxv, berlin, . [ ] statesman's year book, , pp. - . [ ] statesman's year book, , p. . [ ] but the whole trade was small, amounting to less than per cent. of the entire foreign trade (in ) of germany. [ ] in his defence of german colonial policy, dr. solf makes much of the fact that of the total sum of , , marks invested in german colonies, no less than , , marks belongs to foreigners. but this means that germany which has little capital to export has invested over per cent. and all the other countries of the world less than per cent. moreover the character of the investment, not the absolute amount, is significant. competitive investment, as in a brewery or cotton factory, does not bring the same profit as does a concession for a railroad, tramway or bank. [ ] paul arndt. "grundzüge der auswärtigen politik deutschlands," quoted by ludwig quessel, _sozialistische monatshefte_, vol. , ii, june , . [ ] fr. naumann. die hilfe, nov. , . quoted by ludwig quessel. "auf dem weg zum weltreich." _sozialistische monatshefte_, vol. , . [ ] ruedorffer, j. j., "grundzüge der weltpolitik in der gegenwart," stuttgart und berlin, , quoted by paul rohrbach, "germany's isolation" ("der krieg und die deutsche politik"). chicago, . { } chapter ix industrial invasion the direct competition between great industrial nations for the products and profits of the backward countries would suffice to create an international antagonism even if no other economic forces contributed to this result. closely though not obviously bound to this struggle for colonies, however, is an equally intense struggle among the industrial nations to force their way economically into each other's home territory. germany, it is alleged, forces her way industrially into france, switzerland, italy, belgium and holland. she penetrates these countries economically, crushes their industries, forces upon them her own industrial products, extracts from them the profits which should go to their own manufacturers. industrially, commercially, financially she seeks to rule italy and belgium as great britain rules the argentine or canada. she holds these countries, so it is claimed, in industrial non-age. it is all a quiet economic infiltration, a matter of buying and selling and of lawful contracts, but it is none the less war. "war is war," admits prof. maurice milloud, a student of this phenomenon of german industrial expansion, "but make no mistake that it is war."[ ] within the last few years there have appeared numerous books by french, swiss, belgian and italian[ ] { } publicists attacking the policy by which germany prior to the war secured a partial control of her neighbouring markets. with the merits of this controversy and with the morality or immorality of the procedure, we need not concern ourselves. to us the only point of interest is the nature of the economic forces leading to such a conflict and the effect of this conflict in creating national animosity and in inciting to war. all the industrial nations export to one another as well as to the agricultural countries. why, then, is germany's course so bitterly resented? at first glance one might suppose that the chief objection to this german enterprise lay in its ruthlessness and economic terrorism. a french manufacturer of formic acid is crushed outright by a sudden price reduction; a swiss or italian manufacturer is ruined by being spied upon by his own employés in the pay of a german competitor. but the main objection to the german competition seems to be its formidableness. germany exports not only wares but men, and in all the neighbouring countries are to be found german chemists, engineers, business men and clerks. it is claimed that these pioneers hold together, advance together, maintain the cult of _deutschtum_ in an alien country, and act as agents for the home industry. it is also claimed that germany "dumps" her goods on foreign markets, thus causing losses or even total destruction to rival industries. yet all these things have been done before, and even the nations which object are not always innocent of like practices. what is deeply resented, however, is that the german competition is a disciplined state-aided competition, that it is collective rather than individual. the belgian, italian or dutch { } manufacturer feels that behind his german competitor stand the gigantic power and resources of the whole german nation. it is not individual germans who compete, but germany; a patient, resourceful, long-sighted germany, willing to make temporary sacrifices for permanent gains, a germany forced to expand industrially and bending its immense wealth and power to this one purpose. against such an organised body what can a single manufacturer avail? the means at germany's disposal in this invasion of near-lying markets are varied and great. industry is organised; the german has a genius for organisation. in all the near-lying countries, concerns with german connections open up a wide channel for the incoming wares. in antwerp, in rotterdam, in zurich, a large part of the big business is in german hands. german banks are established and these aid directly or indirectly in the importation of german commodities. moreover, the germans are better informed than any of their rivals concerning all the minute knowledge necessary to the conquest of a local market. their business plans are not only far flung but meticulous; they have a card-index method of study and their training is admirably adapted to just these methods of commercial penetration. no such penetration would be possible, however, but for the intelligence with which german industry is conducted at home. in germany the scientifically trained man is more highly regarded than in any other country. the chemist, the engineer, the specialist of every sort is called into consultation and the laboratory is united to the factory. the vast expense of maintaining a corps of inventors forever working at new problems is more than compensated for by the frequent technical improvements which result from their studies. the scientific men employed by { } the german chemical factories have revolutionised methods and given germany almost a monopoly in this rapidly growing industry. in germany also, as in america, there is a willingness to discard old methods and machinery, whatever the initial expense. in a few years the losses due to the change are retrieved and the german business is creating values more efficiently than ever. such an industry must in its nature be immensely productive. the germans, like the americans, are successful in mass production, the fashioning of vast quantities of cheap, standardised articles. factories tend to grow larger. formerly competing concerns are united into associations or cartels, which buy or sell in common, save a vast amount of unnecessary friction within the trade and act as a clearing house for information and ideas. a high protective tariff enables these cartels to maintain a remunerative price in the home market while dumping their surplus products upon foreign markets. what this "dumping" may mean for manufacturers in the countries upon which the wares are dumped may be made clear by an example. "the german ironmasters," writes prof. milloud, "sell their girders and channel iron for marks per ton in germany, for to in switzerland; in england, south america and the east for to marks; in italy they throw it away at marks and _make a loss of from to marks per ton_, for the cost price may be reckoned at to marks per ton."[ ] other iron products have been sold by germans in italy far cheaper than they could be sold or even produced in germany, with the result that the struggling italian iron industry is hardly able to exist. nor is this dumping a mere temporary expedient to relieve the german manufacturer of an unexpected surplus. it is { } systematic, organised and intentional, designed to destroy competitors and establish a monopoly. it is a procedure with which we in america are unpleasantly familiar, since it has been long the practice of our trusts to destroy competition in a circumscribed local market by temporarily reducing prices and then to raise prices after the competitor is _hors de combat_. the most striking difference between the flooding of adjacent markets by german cartels and the destruction of competitors by american trusts is that in the former case the operation is international, and the manufacturers who suffer live in one country and those who profit in another. moreover, the german government is itself directly concerned in the process. not only is the government one of the associated concerns in certain cartels, but by its railroad policy it gives an immense impetus to dumping. railroad rates are cheaper if the commodity carried is to be exported. to take one out of a thousand instances "the freight of a double wagon of german coal from duisbourg to hamburg, a distance of kilometers, costs marks, whilst, in the reverse direction, from the sea-board to the industrial centres in the interior, the freight charge is marks in the case of german coal, and as high as in the case of foreign coal."[ ] the government grants an export bounty upon coal (and other commodities) in the shape of reduced transportation rates. we need not study in detail the vastness and complexity of that integration of german industry, which permits it to act as a unit in its invasion of near-lying territories. we need not recount the almost vertiginous growth of the german banking system, with its tendency towards a narrow concentration, its bold conduct and control of german industry and its establishment of { } branch organisations in the countries to be invaded. nor need we consider the practice of long credits by which german manufacturers secure a foothold in new markets or the system by which german capital, labour and intelligence migrate to the foreign country, and as branches of a german concern, continue the process of dumping from within. the significant fact is that the entire process is organised and thought out. it is a concrete national policy for securing german economic control in neighbouring industrial countries. nothing could better illustrate the collective nature of this economic invasion than the history of the german cartels. "it is evidently to the cartels," writes fritz-diepenhorst, "that germany owes in great measure the conquest of foreign markets."[ ] the german cartel differs from the trust in that it does not represent the absorption of weaker rivals by one powerful concern but is a federation of business units which retain their legal independence but surrender a part of their industrial and commercial autonomy. in the beginning the german cartels represented an effort to regulate prices in the home market, but after the adoption of a protective tariff and during the period when germany launched out upon a policy of large-scale exportation, the cartels grew in numbers and power. their policy was to maintain prices at home and sell at a lower rate abroad. but this policy, owing to a near-sighted individualism, injured the german export industry itself. the coal cartel determined its policy irrespective of the interests of the coke cartel, which in turn fixed its prices irrespective of the interests of the iron industry. as a result vast { } quantities of raw materials and semi-manufactured products were shipped abroad at prices which permitted the foreign manufacturer of finished wares to undersell the german manufacturer. it was a boomerang dumping, which worked to the advantage of the dumped and to the disadvantage of the dumper. within the last fifteen years, however, and especially since the report in of the german parliamentary commission on cartels, this early anarchy has been gradually abolished, and arrangements have been made by which a cartel grants lower prices not only for its own exports but also for such part of its home-sold product as is to be used in the manufacture of more highly finished wares, which are in turn to be exported. the coal used in iron manufactures that are to be shipped to foreign countries is sold cheaper than the coal used in iron manufactures which are not to be exported. a community of interest among the cartels is thus created. the result is an amazing industrial solidarity. "the individual exporter disappeared in the cartel, and the cartel itself is absorbed in this sort of cartel of cartels, which ends by becoming the german industry.... for an economic guerilla warfare there is substituted a mass action, a veritable strategy."[ ] the excesses of dumping are cured and dumping becomes a national economic policy. but how can this organised conquest of adjacent industrial countries be averted without some alternative method for the economic expansion of a highly organised industry? the same forces that push germany and england into an imperialistic policy and into a conquest of the markets of agricultural countries also force them into a competition to secure the markets of industrial countries. the two processes are not quite alike, since the trade between, { } let us say, brazil and germany is a complementary and mutually beneficial commerce, while the dumping of german rails and girders on italy is a competition or war between two industrial nations. the impulse and motive in both cases is, however, the same. it is the desire to increase buying power. germany can secure more of the wool of australia and of the wheat of the argentine if she can establish even a limited economic dominion over adjoining countries. it is the lack of a sufficient home market that forces germany to dump her goods on switzerland and belgium just as it forces england to sell largely to her colonies and to invest in backward countries. how far this policy of industrial invasion can safely go is one of the interesting international problems of the future. it is of course not the desire of any country to sell permanently below cost to the foreigner, since such a policy means, if not actual loss, at least a diminution of profits.[ ] germany would prefer to get the same price for her girders in england and italy as she does at home. but she must take what she can get. her industry is based upon a productiveness in excess of the demands of the home market, and she is under the necessity of paying for large importations of food and raw material and of profitably employing increasing numbers of workmen. her industrial invasion of neighbouring countries is alternative and supplementary to an attempt to secure a { } needed colonial market. it is, parenthetically, a necessity imposed upon an industrial nation menaced by a constantly growing population. be this policy of invasion ever so well organised, however, it cannot escape inherent limitations and obstacles. the german export policy maintained itself only by holding up prices at home, which meant an increased cost of living and a rise in money wages. the imposition of tariffs by neighbouring countries meant an increase in the difficulties to be overcome in exportation and a reduction in the net profits of the foreign trade. to a considerable extent this export of cheapened goods was at the mercy of the importing nations, which, at any moment, might levy prohibitory duties. at the best the whole development led to strong opposition and prejudice, to counter-attacks, to the violation of favouring commercial treaties and to the imposition of punitive duties (as in the canadian tariff) especially aimed at dumpings. in the opinion of many observers, the policy provided an insecure base for a top-heavy industry, with the result that in germany industrial crises were frequent and destructive and the economic development showed the weaknesses of a forced growth. it is too early to pass judgment upon the relative success or failure of this industrial invasion. prof. milloud believes that the policy by had demonstrated its failure, and that the fear of an industrial _débacle_ forced germany to escape from an impossible economic position by throwing europe into war. how far this is true it is difficult to determine.[ ] it is evident, however, that the { } difficulty of this german penetration of adjacent countries must have intensified a desire for an easier market in the colonies. the italian trade for which germany fought so hard must have seemed unremunerative and unpromising as compared with the practically monopolised market which france possessed in north africa or with that which germany could obtain through the bagdad railway and the penetration of asia minor. the sharpness of the conflict for nearer lying markets illustrated anew the necessity of securing colonial outlets. if, however, the competition among industrial countries to secure each other's markets results in national antagonism, the competition of the same nations for the exclusive possession of colonies and dependencies leads, as we have seen, to an equally bitter struggle. the choice seems to lie between the devil and the deep sea. it is no wonder therefore that as the rapid expansion of industry brings the great nations into ever keener antagonism, voices are raised against the whole imperialistic policy. just as the german consumer objects to paying high prices for german commodities which the belgian or italian can buy cheap, so also opposition is encountered to a policy of extending colonial development at the expense and imminent risk of the nation and to the obvious benefit of certain preferred classes in the community. [ ] "the ruling caste and frenzied finance in germany." boston, , p. . [ ] see in the first instance milloud, _op. cit._, and prof. henri hauser, "les méthodes allemandes d'expansion economique," paris, . also g. preziosi, "la germania alia conquista dell' italia," florence, . [ ] _op. cit._, pp. - . his italics. [ ] milloud, _op. cit._, p. . [ ] _revue économique internationale_, , ii, p. , quoted from hauser (h.) "les méthodes allemandes d'expansion économique," p. . [ ] hauser, h., _op. cit._, p. . [ ] the goods exported to foreign countries may show a profit if they are sold at a price less than the average cost of production but greater than the marginal cost. if it costs $ a unit to produce a million units of a given product for the home market and only $ a unit to produce an additional , units then there is a profit in permanently selling this extra amount at any price above $ . to break down a foreign competition it may pay _temporarily_ to sell at or even dollars, in order to raise prices again after competition is destroyed. [ ] prof. milloud's argument based upon the relative growth of british and german exports is far from conclusive. he shows that in the period from - to - the german export trade increased only per cent while the british export trade increased per cent. if we consider the statistics for the subsequent period, to (which figures were quite accessible to prof. milloud), we find that the german export industry increased much more rapidly than did that of britain. { } chapter x the revolt against imperialism what determines whether a backward country is to be exploited by its own people or by some beneficent imperialistic power is not any consideration of its own welfare, but the chance of profits held out to certain adventurous financiers in the capitals of europe. these modern pioneers are a ruthless, dangerous group, with the bold, speculative imagination that has marked adventurers since the world began. they have a domestic and a foreign morality, an ethics for home consumption and a fine contempt for "greasers" and "niggers." they know the difference between five per cent. and twenty per cent., and their business consists in investing their money at high rates of profit (because the enterprise is hazardous) and then in taking out the hazard by making their home government compel the fulfilment of their impossible contracts. the methods of these men are monotonously similar. they lend, they invest, they support revolutions, they invoke "the protection of the flag." they need not pay attention to the public opinion of the backward countries; they do not believe such countries have a public opinion. all that these speculators need is the support of their home government, and that they may secure through bribery, newspaper influence and patriotism. the first two cost money and are worth all they cost; the third can be had for { } nothing. as for the excuse for intervention, it is that used by the wolf when he took a fancy to the lamb. money is loaned at usurious rates to some rogue who poses in history as the president of the lamb republic or to some spendthrift imbecile of a khedive. concessions are secured. by a concession in this instance is meant a solemn contract, by which, for and in consideration of nothing, duly paid in hand, the whole nation, its territory and population, are turned over in perpetuity. the negotiations are ratified by a battle cruiser; a few marines are landed, a few barelegged natives are buried in a tropical back-yard, a treaty of peace and amity is concluded between the imperial power and its latest morsel, and the real business of imperialism begins. it is good business and pays big dividends. but to whom do the dividends go? what profit has the french artisan or peasant in all these grand concessions from the illustrious sultan of morocco? how does the english workman prosper when english capital employs cheap indian labour to undersell british factories? obviously the immediate profits accrue to large capitalists rather than to the mass of the people. if a french peasant can invest his savings in morocco, he may earn a few extra dollars per year on his holdings of a thousand francs, but his whole interest payment forms a small proportion of his annual income. to the financier, on the other hand, who directs the investment of hundreds of millions, a concession in morocco is of value. the case of french foreign investments is pertinent. as a result of the activity of great bankers, who rule both finance and politics, some forty billion francs have been invested in foreign countries. the individual investor has little choice and no intelligent direction in these large affairs. it is even possible that the whole course of french { } investments has been disadvantageous; that too much french capital has been sent abroad to cultivate foreign fields (or pay for war preparations) and too little has been absorbed at home. the profit to bankers does not prove that the loans are equally profitable to the nation. in any definite imperialistic policy, as that in morocco, this difference in interest between the directors and small owners of capital becomes even clearer. the promoters can afford even to risk war, while for the small investor, who, after all, can invest elsewhere, the net gain is less apparent, especially as the war, if it comes, must be fought by him and be paid for by him. from the beginning, therefore, a revolt or opposition has been manifested (in certain sections of the industrial nations) to the whole principle and policy of imperialism. this revolt relies for support upon those elements in the population who believe either that they are not benefited by imperialism or only slightly benefited. liberal and socialistic sentiment forms the core and centre of this opposition. for the most part the socialists are theoretically opposed to imperialism on the ground that it is immoral, brutal, anti-democratic and uneconomic. it does not, they believe, pay the people who in the end pay for it. this anti-imperialistic philosophy of the socialists is chiefly derived from the anti-colonial attitude of the liberals of the early nineteenth century. that attitude was founded on opposition to special trade privileges, which was the basis of the old colonial policy, and also on the belief that colonies did not benefit the mother country. in the middle of the eighteenth century turgot had declared that "colonies are like fruits which cling to the tree only till they ripen," and he predicted that "as soon as america can take care of herself, she will do what carthage did." when the american colonies later fulfilled this prediction { } by securing their independence, and when it was perceived that this separation did not lessen england's commerce with america, the opponents of colonialism, who were also advocates of free trade, were reinforced in their convictions. the only true extension was trade, and to secure trade political domination was unnecessary. it was by no means contended even by the most doctrinaire free trader that an increase in the population and wealth of new countries, such as the united states and canada, was undesirable. all they opposed was political dominion by the home country and the adoption of a restrictive trade policy. similarly the orthodox socialists of to-day make a sharp distinction between colonisation and imperialism, between the acquisition, by conquest or otherwise, of lands suitable for settlement and the seizure of populous countries to which emigration is impossible. in this distinction it is not the intention but the fact that counts; whatever the motives of the explorers, the new country becomes a colony if it furnishes homes. such colonising is a direct national gain, benefiting all classes. the redemptioner, who was carried off to the british settlements in america, did in the end improve his economic condition, and his descendants, like those of the free immigrants, now form the population of the country. on the other hand tropical dominions, like porto rico or egypt, can provide profits for investors but no homes for settlers. this distinction negates by definition the claim that imperialism is an outlet for a redundant population. of the emigrants from the united kingdom during the last thirty years only a microscopic percentage went to britain's tropical colonies. in british india in only one in every two thousand was british born. similarly, most french, german, belgian and dutch colonies furnish no { } outlet to the surplus populations of these nations. even in algeria the europeans constitute only one-seventh of the population, and in tunis only about one-tenth. the entire european population in all german, french and british possessions (exclusive of the five self-governing colonies), is less than the net immigration to the united states every two or three years.[ ] the opponents of imperialism moreover claim that all the regions fit for colonisation are already pre-empted. there is room for many millions in the five self-governing colonies of great britain, as there is in siberia and south america, but where can place be found in regions newly acquired by imperialism? where can homes be had to-day for some twenty million germans (the excess of german population in a single generation), to say nothing of tens of millions of italians, british, austrians and poles? it is frequently claimed that the new medical science, which conquers tropical diseases, will make these regions habitable by the whites. but though the sanitary improvement in the canal zone permitted thousands of americans to help build the canal, it did not result in the actual physical work of construction being performed by white men. despite sanitary improvements, the jamaica negro could endure a hard day's work under the tropical sun far better than a man from illinois. the economic advantage of the lower-priced coloured labour is still more decisive. while in the highly organised industries of england, germany or the united states, high wages frequently mean small labour cost, in the lower-geared industries of the tropics the coloured man, black or yellow, easily holds his { } own. since the european excess of births over deaths is about forty millions per decade, the impossibility of finding a place for this excess population in tropical and subtropical countries is manifest. if the countries still to be overrun are not adapted for colonisation, the benefits accruing from imperialism, according to these anti-imperialists, will go to merchants, manufacturers and investors and not to wage-earners. it is often claimed that this trade which arises from an imperialistic policy is not great enough to exercise a beneficent influence upon the fortunes of the masses. prof. hobson, writing in , states that during the period since , when great britain launched into its latest imperialistic policy, british foreign commerce did not grow as rapidly as population, and actually declined in proportion to wealth. the british colonies increased their trade with other nations more rapidly than with the home country. the newly acquired colonies, the last fruits of imperialism, were the least profitable. their commerce was small, fluctuating and of low quality. mr. hobson therefore comes to the conclusion "that our modern imperialistic policy has had no appreciable influence whatever upon the determination of our external trade."[ ] when we consider individual countries which have been the cause of much rivalry and dissension, we discover that their commerce is often extremely small. france has almost monopolised the trade of martinique, but in her total trade with that country was less than a sixtieth of her trade with the united kingdom and less than a fiftieth { } of her trade with germany. the specifically tropical countries, for which the nations are fighting, do not have a commerce worth a fraction of the cost of their acquisition.[ ] nor are the investments in the imperialistic domain nearly so large as those in countries over which the european nations exercise no political control. france has invested largely in russia and the balkans; germany has put capital into the united states, south america and asia minor; england has gigantic sums in countries over which she exercises no dominion. the profits from imperialistic investments are merely a bonus. though they loom large in the popular imagination, they are only a small part of the national income, and even at the best these profits go to capitalists and not to the people. moreover, what advantage is it to the wage-earner to have his country's wealth exported beyond his reach? concerning this movement towards absentee ownership of capital, the widest divergence of opinion prevails. the optimists among the investing classes find it all good and sanctified by its results. the exportation of capital, they hold, not only fructifies the waste places of the world but does not decrease the capital in the exporting country, since it raises the rate of interest and thus stimulates saving. but such a rise in the interest rate means an increase in the cost of living and a reduction in the real wages of labour. in so far as it goes into competitive industrial enterprises abroad, it lessens the opportunity of labour at home. thus if british capital, exported to india, is used to erect cotton mills in calcutta, india will import fewer cotton goods from england, and british capital will be employing { } indian labour and throwing british labour out of employment. this situation is analogous to that which was created when northern textile manufacturers, instead of increasing their new england plants, built mills in georgia, thus transferring the demand for employment from the north to the south. it is further contended by these opponents of imperialism that the export of capital is profoundly demoralising to the exporting nation, which ceases, in a real sense, to be industrial, and becomes financial. gradually the nation, with a large fixed income derived from foreign labour, ceases to care for its export industry, loses its intensity and keen application to business, becomes conservative in the technique of production, and, being no longer interested in the development of home industries (since its gains come from abroad), converts hundreds of thousands of industrial wage-earners into liveried house-servants, who minister to the cultivated wants of a sport-loving and decoratively idle upper class. the effect of this development upon england, the classic land of capital export, is portrayed in an acute study by dr. schulze-gaevernitz.[ ] the author shows how the steadily mounting income derived by great britain from foreign investments has led to a relative restriction of the field of employment in home manufacturing industries. in per cent. of the population of england and wales were workers in the chief industries as compared with only per cent. a half century later.[ ] imports increase; exports do not increase proportionately. an ever larger proportion of the population becomes rentiérs, { } "living on the sweat of coloured labour, whom it is their first interest to hold in political subjection." some of these rentiérs, large and small, are wholly unoccupied or only half occupied. they are sleeping partners, briefless barristers, professors of professions which do not exist. to these income-receivers or rentiérs, whom schulze-gaevernitz estimates at a million, must be added enormous numbers of servants and lackeys, who are paid, though indirectly, from the kimberley mines and investments in the argentine. upon the industry of the backward countries these idle and semi-idle people make increasing demands, and industry becomes a production of luxuries. in the meantime the nation falls behind in its competition with more purely industrial countries like germany and the united states. in the machine industry, in ship-building, in applied chemistry england does not hold her own.[ ] her technique of production, her methods in commerce and banking become old-fashioned and ineffective; her invention (as measured by the issuance of patents) does not keep pace with that of her chief competitors. and all this conservatism does not inhere in the british character (for formerly the briton revolutionised the world) but is attributable to the fact that great britain is pre-eminently a _rentnerstaat_, a country of pensioners and creditors, increasingly independent and careless of its foreign export, and of the industries which formerly kept that export going.[ ] { } there is some exaggeration but also much truth in this description of a _rentnerstaat_. psychologically the account fits the englishman less exactly than the frenchman, who is industrially less venturesome. moreover from the individual's view-point it makes little difference whether his fixed income is derived from abroad or at home. economically, however, the influence of a large class of individuals living by foreign industry is difficult to exaggerate. their interests are abroad; at home they are concerned chiefly with the maintenance of low prices. the nation becomes in a sense parasitic, living without effort upon the "lesser breeds" in all parts of the world. whatever its evil results, however, there is little reason to believe that any nation will willingly surrender the income on its foreign investments or cease to export new capital if conditions are favourable. the interest-receiving nations are the world's aristocrats, happy in their favoured position, and if they can thus live partly on their past labour they see no reason for receiving less or working more. the social evils resulting at home from such a condition can be cured by changes in taxation and the distribution of wealth, by legislation which gives a greater part of the income from foreign investments to the nation as a whole, and thus forces the rentiérs back into industrial life. so long, however, as foreign investment is essential to the widening of the agricultural base of industrial nations, it will not be stopped by its beneficiaries.[ ] those who advocate a complete cessation of the export { } of capital,[ ] therefore, might as well argue against its accumulation. you could not stop it if you wished, and would be none the wiser for wishing it. the export of capital is merely an export of goods, paid for in credit instead of in goods, and the only way to prevent credit from coming into the country is the suicidal method of expelling the creditor. it is unlikely, therefore, that this movement will cease until the demand for capital is fairly equalised throughout the world, until the backward nations of to-day are sated with capital or have themselves become industrial countries. the danger lies in exactly the opposite direction, not in an abstention by wealthy nations from investing abroad, but in so keen, unscrupulous and rough-handed a competition for the right to invest as to result in war. this danger of war is the final argument of anti-imperialists. they argue that the sacrifices which result in increased profits to investors and merchants are made by the masses who profit least from such investment. not only do the people pay for the armaments to secure political domination, but also for the wars, which in these days of clashing imperialistic ambitions are an ever-present possibility. so long as the imperialistic scramble continues war will be inevitable. for no new dominion can be secured without threatening the interests or pretensions of rival imperial nations. the vastly extended empires are cheek by jowl. an extension of one power anywhere menaces the colonies of another nation; rival colonial ambitions merge with strategical questions. just as the united states will not endure japan on the west coast of mexico, nor england germany on the west coast of morocco or on the persian gulf, so each nation fears the approach of other nations to its most distant { } possessions. immediately even visions arise of coaling stations, from which great fleets may later issue, to be followed by transports of disciplined troops. in the seventeenth century england, france, spain and holland could hold colonies in north america and be reasonably out of each other's way. in the twentieth century, this is no longer possible. the increased cost of war adds to the opposition of these democratic groups. no longer is war a mere isolated venture of a single nation, but a conflict between alliances on a scale utterly unthought-of in former generations. no conceivable gain derived from any colonial venture of the last fifty years could compensate for the mere economic losses involved in the present war, to say nothing of the loss of life, the maiming and crippling of young men and the disruption of international bonds. and if war costs much so also does the preparation for war. until some mutual accommodation can be secured, even the most pacific nation must bear the burden of increasing armaments. there is a still deeper antagonism to these imperialistic ventures. from the beginning, the dominant classes in societies which are developing towards democracy have used foreign adventure to allay domestic discontent and to oppose democratic progress. when war is begun or even threatened it is too late to speak of uninteresting and seemingly petty internal reforms. between industrial and political democracy on the one hand and a policy of foreign adventures on the other, there is an inevitable opposition. it is not that the political and industrial interests of the dominant classes favour war, but rather a policy involving the constant fear of war. this fear itself is worth millions. it means a huge vested interest in the creation { } of munitions and armaments. it means political quiescence and domination by a financial-military group. but for the fear of war and the imperialistic policies which kept this fear alive, the militaristic _junker_ class of germany could not have maintained its domination.[ ] to disband the german army would cost these landed proprietors more than would a russian invasion. and a similar if lesser conflict in class interest is found in france, england, austria and to a certain extent in the united states. in all countries, the imperialistic policy, even when it redounds ultimately to the nation's advantage, is a class policy used to further class purposes. in europe, however, it is difficult for democratic leaders to make headway against imperialism. for the tragedy of the situation lies in the fact that where nations are constantly on the watch against each other, the imperialistic motive is interwoven with other motives of self-defence and nearer territorial aggression. if germany is intent upon war, and if her road leads over france, then france must arm. to be effective in defence, she must have { } universal service, professional officers, a true military spirit, a certain degree of autocracy in military arrangements, as well as offensive and defensive alliances, not based on a true community of interest or similarity of ideals, but upon the need of beating back the foe. if england fears german aggression she cannot afford to maintain an isolation however magnificent, but is obliged to enter into alliances, _ententes_ and secret engagements. for if you play the game you must play it according to the rules. moreover, if you have the armament and alliances necessary for defence, you are tempted to use them for an aggressive and imperialistic policy. indeed, such an imperialistic policy may actually form the cement of your alliances. all these considerations lame and thwart the movement against imperialism. moreover, the problem of governing the backward countries remains. for their own sake you cannot leave them alone, and the abstention of one nation merely makes the imperialistic ventures of other nations easier. if governments refrain from organising backward countries, the private capitalistic exploitation of these regions will be more ruthless than ever. the anti-imperialists are thus faced with a difficult situation which they cannot meet with _a priori_ argument and pious formula. with them or without them, some form of co-operation must be effected between industrial and agricultural nations as well as some form of control over countries incapable of self-government. there is need for a definite, concrete democratic policy for the government of such backward countries. [ ] in the philippines in , out of a total population of almost nine millions ( , , ), less than , were europeans and americans, including troops. the density of the native population is greater than that of indiana and over three times that of the united states as a whole. [ ] "imperialism," p. . a survey of more recent figures somewhat modifies these conclusions of mr. hobson. the statistics of prove that british commerce with british colonies has not only greatly increased but has increased faster than british commerce with foreign countries. trade with canada, australia, india, egypt, new zealand and the straits has grown steadily and rapidly. [ ] this argument, however, is not entirely conclusive, since it concerns itself with the _present_ trade exclusively. the profits in on the trade with canada would not have justified great britain in seeking to acquire it. [ ] "britischer imperialisms und freihandel." [ ] in the chief industries there were , , out of a population of , , in and , , out of a population of , , in . [ ] no such criticism can apply to the relative british decline of such crude industries as the production of coal and raw iron, since it is natural and desirable for more highly developed industrial nations to go over increasingly from the cruder to the more refined and differentiated forms of production. [ ] "as we look back, we survey the long road which england has traversed in a century. towards the end of the eighteenth century the leading man was the landlord and behind him the _breitspurig_ comfortable farmer; towards the middle of the nineteenth century it was the manufacturer and behind him the industrial workers, ripening into trade unionists and members of co-operative societies; to-day it is the financier and behind him the broad masses of the _rentiérs_." _op. cit._, p. . [ ] there may, however, be regulation, although this is, for any one nation, a difficult operation. [ ] see burgess' "homeland." [ ] in his celebrated book, "the nation in arms," the late field-marshall von der goltz shows how necessary is the sense of the imminence of war to the maintenance of the prestige of the officer class, which, as he states, is "chosen from the german aristocracy." he quotes approvingly the words of decken: "now, when in consequence of a long peace the memories of past services have become completely obliterated, and there is no immediate prospect of a war, the citizens take more and more note of the burden of the upkeep of an army, and attempt to convince themselves of the uselessness of this institution." to which von der goltz adds: "the present day ( ), especially in germany is favourable in this respect to the officer class. great and successful wars have enhanced its renown, and have moderated the envy of others. but should peace endure for several decades to come, it may again become necessary to remind the people that external favours may, without harm, be extended to the military profession, and especially to the officers."--popular edition, london, , p. . { } chapter xi the appeal of imperialism it is a significant fact that despite a democratic opposition to imperialism it is precisely the democratic nations, england and france, which are most imperialistic. the british public seems always willing to make sacrifices to extend the empire, and an almost equal enthusiasm is found among great sections of the french democracy. also in germany, when an election was fought in upon a colonial issue, thousands who usually voted the socialist ticket gave their adhesion to the imperialists. such a popular adhesion is essential to the success of an imperialistic policy. the masses need not be consulted upon the first steps but they are urgently called into conference when trouble begins and "pacification" or war is necessary. your financier, with all his money, is helpless against the rival ambitions of a great nation, and, he must have the support of his own country, its navy, army, credit, and millions of patriotic citizens. how is he to secure this support? to understand the implications of this question we must consider the changes in modern warfare and the rise of democracy in the western world. the mercenary soldiers once employed by absolutist princes would go anywhere at any time and no questions asked. war was a game played by small teams of professionals. to-day it is a national conflict in which entire populations, old and young, male and female, are pitted against each other. this fact gives { } to the peoples a passive quasi-veto upon war, for success in a crucial conflict depends upon enthusiasm and supreme unity. to-day germany would crumple if her people were actively hostile or even merely listless towards the war. it would be difficult to raise loans, to sequester goods, to ensure the continuance of the industries upon which the nation and army live. victory depends upon the morale of the entire population. during the war itself, it is true, a nation tends to lose its power of self-criticism and to fight blindly. it defends proposals that in peace would be indefencible; it works itself up to a pitch of righteous self-justification. but war to-day is won before the first shot is fired; it is won by preparation. an army must be raised, a reserve of officers created, munitions stocked, strategic railways built, and plans elaborated for rapid military mobilisation and for a war organisation of industry. all this costs money--hundreds of millions. if then the nation is to be taxed for military budgets, and if the people as a whole secure an increasing veto over such expenditures, would it not seem likely that the nations would look askance at dangerous imperialistic ventures which contributed so obviously to the danger of war and to the size of military expenditures. would not the people say to the financiers, "keep your capital at home. make your profits at home"? to avert an attitude so fatal to any national policy of imperialism likely to lead to war, enthusiasm must be aroused and support secured. this support may be sought by a two-fold appeal; to direct economic interest, and to the sentiment of patriotism. the two appeals are not sharply separated, but merge. the economic argument for imperialism is that its advantages are in the end widely distributed. better access to raw material and a wider market for manufactures { } means a flourishing national industry, steadier employment, better wages, and a prosperity of the whole population. a similar argument is made for investment in colonies. the whole nation is benefited if its capital brings the largest returns, and these are to be obtained only abroad and by an imperialist policy. this diversion of profits, works itself out in various ways. by swelling the income of the wealthy classes, foreign investment increases the expenditure at home for the labour of nationals, thus leading to steadier employment and higher wages. the servants of england are supported by india, egypt and the rand mines, as also by the profits on new york real estate and american rails.[ ] the distribution of such income, moreover, is a matter over which the british nation has the final say. the entire national dividend, whencesoever derived, is a fund out of which all social improvements may be paid. social insurance, popular education, and other government projects for the national welfare are supported, and may be increasingly supported, by a taxation which in the form of income and inheritance taxes falls heavily on the rich. such a policy, by creating a certain community of interest between classes, gives to the entire population an economic interest in the wealth of the few. the profits from foreign, as from domestic investments, may be drawn upon at will for national purposes. the importance of this development in its effect upon nationalism and imperialism has been largely overlooked. { } we have heard much of the german doctrine of the state as power, but have failed to realise how germany, like certain other european nations, has used its powers of taxation and governmental expenditure to create for the masses an ever larger stake in the national income. a policy, which increasingly taxes the rich for the benefit of the poor, establishes a certain unity in the commonwealth. even the socialist parties alter their allegiance. the early socialists were aggressively anti-patriotic, opposing to all conceptions of nationalism the solidarity of the working classes of the world. karl marx for example, declared that the workingman had no fatherland, "for in none is he a son." he was a nomad of society, doomed to a life hardly more secure, though far more burdensome, than that of the tramp or gipsy. long before the war, however, many socialists had accepted a more nationalistic view. not only did wage-earners realise that they already participated to some extent in the social surplus, but they also saw that their increasing political power would enable them to influence the future distribution of the national income, however that income were obtained.[ ] once this interest in the national dividend was assured, it became desirable, even to socialists, to make that dividend as large as possible. the belief spread that all groups within a nation have common interests opposed to the interest of other nations. thus the austrian socialist dr. otto bauer in his "imperialisms und die nationalitaetsfrage" denies that the immediate interests of the wage-earners are the same in all countries and asserts that the workers may { } find good reason to side with the employers of their own nation against wage-earners and employers in another country. "we do not say that there are no conflicts of interests between the nations, but we say, on the contrary, that as long as exploitation and oppression continue, there will be conflicts of interests between nations."[ ] from which follows the conclusion that until capitalism is destroyed, and that may take many decades, it is essential for the workman to develop the welfare of the wage-earners of his own country, rather than of the world in general.[ ] this argument is to immediate interest, which, as a rule, overrides considerations of ultimate interest. to the german workman, for example, it seems plain that english proletarians will not gain _his_ salvation; he must gain it himself. the german wage-earner must be better fed, clothed, housed, educated, organised, and all these needs translate themselves into more regular work, better paid. but if german industry is defeated by english industry, the german workman will suffer unemployment, reduction of wages, lockouts, unsuccessful strikes, and a decline in trade union membership. such a retrogression means a { } delaying of the ultimate working class victory as well as a worse situation in the present. and, parenthetically, workingmen and socialists, being ordinary men with the ambitions and appetites of ordinary men, do not spend seven evenings in the week in contemplation of a co-operative commonwealth any more than the average church-goer devotes his entire mind to the day of judgment. the german socialist has his bowling club and his _stammtisch_; he must buy shoes for the children and a new pipe for himself, and his weekly wages count more than his share in a new society, which will not come until he is dead. besides his wages, he is interested in his government insurance premiums, in the education of his children, in the things that he and his family and the families of his class wish to enjoy. if imperialism appears to raise wages as well as profits, he is not likely to oppose it on sentimental grounds, especially as there are theorists who stand ready to prove that imperialism is merely the last phase of capitalism and will bring socialism all the sooner. and the argument for the beneficial reaction of imperialism upon wages seems at first glance convincing. the german workman sees that wages are high in england. he is told that the cause is the early british conquest of foreign markets.[ ] his own rapid progress during recent { } years he associates with a simultaneous increase in german industry and foreign trade. if therefore the foreign field is to be extended, why is the german eternally to be left out in the division? such a workman does not like the methods used, but so long as markets are to be seized, whether germany takes part or not, he is, with mental reservations, in favour of a "firm" policy.[ ] he wants not war, but foreign markets. let germany become rich by means of imperialism and the wage-earner in due time will be able to get his share. if such an appeal can be made to the socialist, it can be made with even greater success to the middle classes, who have no anti-nationalistic prejudice and whose attitude is easily influenced by that of the great capitalists. the influence of the imperialistic propaganda was shown in a searching analysis of german public opinion made in or by a frenchman and reproduced in the french yellow book. the colonial expansion of france was regarded with intense irritation. "germans" it was held, "still require outlets for their commerce, and they still desire economic and colonial expansion. this they consider as their right as they are growing every day, and the future belongs to them." the treaty of with france (concerning morocco) is considered to be a defeat for germany, and france is represented as bellicose. on these two points, all groups are unanimous, "deputies of all parties in the reichstag, from conservatives to socialists, university men of berlin, halle, jena and marburg, students, teachers, employés, bank clerks, bankers, artisans, traders, manufacturers, doctors, lawyers, the editors of democratic and socialist newspapers, jewish publicists, { } members of the trade unions, pastors and shop-keepers of brandenburg, _junkers_ from pomerania and shoe-makers of stettin, the owners of castles, government officials, curés and the large farmers of westphalia."[ ] "the resentment felt in every part of the country is the same. all germans, even the socialists, resent our having taken their share in morocco." the german diplomatic defeat is a "national humiliation."[ ] the words "national humiliation" used by this french observer illuminates both the force and limits of the economic motive in throwing nations into imperialism. the desire for greater profits and higher wages present themselves not nakedly, but garbed with idealistic motives. "a decent respect for the opinion of mankind," as well as a desire to gain one's own self-respect, compels men to represent their more crassly egoistic desires as part of an ethical plan. it is not hypocrisy, but a transformation of material into ideal values. thus nationalism enters into the problem, and the appeal to the supposed interests of the masses becomes an appeal to their "patriotism." the nation is outraged, humiliated, despised. its honour, which is in reality its prestige and inflated self-esteem, is affected. though not quite identical with the economic interests of the citizens, national honour has much to do with the conservation and furtherance of those interests. it is a mirror cracked and smudged with ancient dirt, which reflects imperfectly the economic motives of the classes dominant in the nation. the more primitive and instinctive a man, the more he is actuated by these idealistic elements. the crowds on { } the london streets on mafeking day did not know what they wanted with the rand mines, but they were true-blue britishers, a trifle drunk but all the more patriotic. it is to this feeling of patriotism, sober or half-sober, to which the men who have something to gain from imperialism appeal. the home nation has its sacred duty to perform to the backward country, which does not pay its debts and is rent by revolutions, fomented perhaps abroad. the home nation must not relinquish its arduous privilege. it must not haul down the flag. it must not defer to other nations. beyond the seas there is to be created a new england, a new france, a new germany, to which all the national virtues are to be transplanted. the emigrants now lost to alien lands will carry their flag with them, and the nation will no longer strew its seed upon the sand. this nation (whichever one it happens to be) has a divine mission, which it can never perform unless it has a suitable army and navy, and unless this day week it sends a battleship to a certain port in china or africa. this quasi-idealistic element in imperialism strongly reinforces the economic argument. the german, englishman or frenchman dreams of extending _his_ culture, _his_ language, _his_ influence, _his_ sovereignty. he takes pride in the thought that _his_ people rule in distant lands, in deserts and jungles, in islands lying in tropical seas, and on frozen tundras, where civilised man cannot live. it is this dim mystic conception, this sense of an identification of a man's small personality with a vast imperium, that inspires the democracies, which year by year vote supplies for imperialistic ventures, far-sighted or absurd. though this idealism is partly the expression of an unrecognised economic need, yet for the most part, though perhaps decreasingly, the average citizen looks at imperialism as a sort of _aura_ to his beloved nation, and the conceptions { } of national prestige and of imperialistic dominion fuse. moreover, even the calmer minds are reached by the fundamental argument of the necessity for extension. they recognise that despite the brutality and bloodiness of colonialism, it at least represents a certain phase or form of an inevitable development, the creation of an economic unity of the world. without colonial development, without an exploitation of unlocked resources, the industrial growth of the manufacturing countries cannot be maintained, and they will be thrown back upon their own meagre resources. so long as agriculture remains what it is to-day, the increasing millions of western europe, of japan, of the eastern united states, must rely more and more upon their commerce with the backward states, and must take a hand in stimulating their production. the present nationalistic imperialism may not be the best, it is perhaps the very worst form, that this world integration might assume, but in any case the problem remains to be solved either by this or some other means. as a consequence the opposition to our present nationalistic imperialism is tending to change from a merely negative attitude to a positive programme for an imperialism at once humane, democratic and international. it is an imperialism, the ideal of which is to safe-guard the interests of the natives, to prepare them for self-government and to carry on this process not by competition and war between the interested nations but by mutual agreements for a common benefit. the present cruelties and dangers are to be avoided. the nations are to unite in a joint, higher imperialism. it is this ideal which is to-day informing some of the leading minds of europe, an ideal which will convert the competitive imperialistic strivings of rival nations into a joint and beneficent rule of countries demonstrably { } incapable of ruling themselves by a group of nations acting in the interest of the world. such a pooling of claims is admittedly difficult and is likely to be opposed by immense vested interests of classes and nations. it is this problem of a joint imperialism, the solution of which alone stands between europe and the continuance of bitter strife and war. [ ] the profits from imperialism are only a part of the profits from foreign investment. in an economic sense, england, france, germany, holland and belgium own parts of the united states, and the profits of the pennsylvania railroad go largely to europe as do the profits of egyptian railways. there is this difference: the united states retains control of the physical property, and can, if it wishes, tax these incomes out of existence, while egypt can not. [ ] "'if social democracy is not yet in power, it has already a position of influence which carries certain obligations. its word weighs very heavily in the scale.'"--edward bernstein, "die voraussetzungen des sozialismus," p. , quoted by jane t. stoddart. "the new socialism," new york and london, p. . [ ] quoted by william english walling, "the socialists and the war," new york, , p. . [ ] "the improvement of the lot of the workers has as a necessary condition the prosperity of the industrial development; the ruin of commerce and industry would encompass their own ruin. in a speech delivered at stuttgart, mr. wolfgang heine, a socialist member of the reichstag, declared that 'the economic solidarity of the nation exists despite all antagonism of interest between the classes, and that if the german fatherland were conquered, the workers would suffer like the employers and even more than these.'" "the alliance between trade union socialism and military imperialism was manifested for the first time at the stuttgart (international socialist) congress in . the majority of german delegates, composed above all of trade union representatives, were opposed to the marxist resolution condemning colonial wars."--"l'imperialisme des socialistes allemands," _la révue_, vol. cxii. paris, . [ ] in their admirable "history of trade unionism" sidney and beatrice webb ascribe the rapid increase in the growth and power of british trade unions after in large part to the development of british commerce and industry. "this success we attribute mainly to the spread of education among the rank and file, and the more practical counsels which began, after , to influence the trade union world. but we must not overlook the effect of economic changes. the period between and (in which "magnificent hopes ended in bitter disillusionment") was remarkable for the frequency and acuteness of its commercial depressions. from industrial expansion was for many years both greater and steadier than in any previous period." [ ] this is the real but not the avowed policy of a large section of the workers, especially of trade unionists, in the social democratic party of germany. [ ] french yellow book, no. . the document, according to the german commentators is falsely dated. [ ] french yellow book, no. . annexe i. { } chapter xii the american decision we have seen how in europe the outward expansion, which leads to international friction and war, has been due to deep-lying economic motives acting on ordinarily peace-loving populations. we have seen how national interest, blended with class interest, has distorted this expansion and has turned a wholesome process of world-development into a reckless scramble for territory and a perpetually latent warfare. lastly we have seen how in all countries broad sections of the population have been sickened by the stupid brutality and imminent peril of this unenlightened nationalic competition and have groped for some plan by which commerce might expand and industry grow without the nations going to war. such a plan must involve a basis of agreement, if not a community of interest, among nations requiring economic security and industrial growth. the choice does not lie between national expansion and contraction but between an expansion which ranges the nations in hostile camps and one which affords more equal opportunities of development to all competing powers. for each nation it is a choice between a headlong national aggrandisement, which takes no account of the needs and ambitions of other powers and the development of an economic world system, in which the industrial growth of one nation does not mean the stagnation or destruction of its neighbours. like the nations of europe, the united states is faced { } with the necessity of making this decision. the problem presents itself less clearly to us, since in the past we have largely expanded within; we have been able to grow by a more intensive utilisation of what was already conceded to us instead of spreading out into regions where international competition was intense. those classes which in other countries are strongly driven by economic interest towards imperialism were in america otherwise occupied. but to-day we are beginning to overflow our boundaries, and we tend already to do instinctively what in the future we may do of set purpose. the men who wish to use army and navy to obtain american concessions in mexico, south america and china are not distantly related to the imperialists of germany, who believed that kiau-chau was a fair exchange for two dead missionaries, or to those of great britain and france who drove their nations into the boer war and the morocco imbroglio. our anti-imperialists also are animated by ideals similar to those of european anti-imperialists. the issue between these two groups and these two policies and ideals does not result in a single act of the national will. we do not go to the polls and vote once for all to be imperialistic or non-imperialistic, to grab what we can or seek a concert of the world. the issue resolves itself into many immediate and seemingly unrelated decisions. what we shall do in mexico to-day, what action we shall take in regard to a railroad concession in china, opposed by japan, what part we shall take in the coming peace negotiations are a few of the many decisions, which slowly crystallise into a national state of mind and finally into a national policy. the policy need not be absolutely rigid or consistent. while in the early days america decided upon a policy of isolation, we did occasionally interfere in europe, and despite our emphatic monroe { } doctrine, we made at least one agreement--the clayton bulwer treaty--in flat contradiction to its principles. the decision, which we are now making between nationalistic imperialism and internationalism[ ] is of vast moment. it is a decision which determines not only our foreign but our domestic policy. for europe it is equally important, since it influences the balance of power between those groups that are fighting for and those fighting against imperialism and militarism. by our comparative freedom of action, we can exert an immense influence either in accentuating the struggle between the industrial nations or in promoting a concert of action, based upon a discovered community of interest. how we shall in the end decide is not yet certain. though we are still upon the whole anti-imperialistic, voices already are raised in favour of a vigorous imperialistic policy. "the imperialism of the american," writes one defender of a policy of indefinite expansion, "is a duty and credit to humanity. he is the highest type of imperial master. he makes beautiful the land he touches; beautiful with moral and physical cleanliness.... there should be no doubt that even with all possible moral refinement, it is the absolute right of a nation to live to its full intensity, to expand, to found colonies, to get richer and richer by any proper means such as armed { } conquest, commerce, diplomacy. such expansion as an aim is an inalienable right and in the case of the united states it is a particular duty, because we are idealists and are therefore bound by establishing protectorates over the weak to protect them from unmoral kultur."[ ] it is not given to all imperialists to present their case with so naïve a self-deception. not all would argue that it is our duty "to get richer and richer by ... armed conquest" to avert the "unmoral kultur" of some other nation which also desires to get richer and richer. yet in many other forms our imperialistic drift appears. voices call upon us to perform deeds of blood and valour, which bring national renown. ardent prophecies reveal that we shall become the first maritime power of the world and that we "are born to rule seas, as the romans were to conquer the world." but in the main american imperialistic sentiment is not vocal. it manifests itself in a vague determination to push american "interests" everywhere; to control mexico and the caribbean countries, to exert an increasing influence in south america, to be a decisive factor in china's exploitation. just how all these ambitions are to conflict with those of other imperialistic nations, our imperialists have not yet determined. let us be strong enough in our own might and in our alliances and we can take what we want and find excellent reasons for the taking. such a policy is not less dangerous because inchoate and undirected. it is all the more dangerous on that account. without thoroughly understanding the world into which they inject their undefined ambitions, our imperialists have not advanced far beyond a mental attitude. they are { } anxious to conquer and rule, to exert economic, financial and military dominion, but their future domains are not yet surveyed. this new spirit has been strengthened by the passing of our isolation. since we cannot hold aloof, our imperialists believe that we must do as other nations do, seize our fortune at any risk. we must repudiate "our idealistic past," cease to be a dilettante in international relationships, take our share of the burden and get our share of the profits in the scrimmage which we call nationalistic imperialism. if we cannot live by ourselves, let us live as do other aggressive nations. in the future this new imperialism may drift in one of two directions. we may build up an american empire, a (probably plutocratic) republic with outlying dominions, or we may enter into a close association with the british empire, converting it gradually into an anglo-american dominion. the first method is the more obvious but also the more dangerous. to secure a semi-economic, semi-political control over all north america, south of the th parallel, to rule the antilles and islands in the pacific, to control in part the policy of china, might be possible without a british alliance. but any further imperialistic development would meet with opposition. almost all the valuable countries have been pre-empted. to absorb canada, to conquer australia or new zealand, would mean relentless war against us by england and perhaps other powers. such a conflict, though undesired, is not impossible. even if it is not true, as one latin-american writer confidently prophesies, that "the disintegration of the anglo-saxon empire will be the work of the united states,"[ ] there may { } come many industrial or commercial conflicts which in an imperialistic atmosphere may lead to war. a policy of encroachment cannot but be dangerous.[ ] a more secure road to american imperialism lies in a closer union with the british empire. at present such a union would be opposed by an overwhelming majority of americans. in certain circles, however, there is a perceptible movement towards an agreement with england which might become an alliance and eventually a union. for such a union there are strong arguments. the kinship in blood, the similarity in language, traditions and points of view as well as a certain range of common interests tend to bring these two nations into closer relations. it would be a step towards a world-peace if the united states, the united kingdom, australia, new zealand, south africa, canada and newfoundland were to be guaranteed against war among themselves. the chance of peace is probably increased when the number of possible conflicts between nations is lessened. unfortunately many who desire an anglo-american alliance or union think of it only as a means of protecting rights, the defence of which would mean a circumscription of the rights of other nations and in the end a world war. writing over twenty years ago, captain mahan extolled the idea of such an alliance (although he held it to be premature) on the ground that with a strong navy the united states could help england to control the seas. he deprecated the proposal that the coalition should surrender the right to prey upon hostile commerce. it was only from the relative weakness of great britain, "or possibly { } from a mistaken humanitarianism" that any concessions from the early rigours of naval warfare were wrung by neutrals. the alliance between great britain and the united states "looks ultimately and chiefly to the contingency of war," and such an alliance "would find the two (nations) united upon the ocean, consequently all-powerful there, and so possessors of that mastership of the general situation which the sea always has conferred upon its unquestioned rulers.... but why, then, if supreme, concede to an enemy immunity for his commerce."[ ] such an alliance would mean nothing less than an imperialistic predominance in the world. the trans-oceanic colonies of all nations would be held subject to anglo-american consent. the power thus possessed might be used with wisdom and moderation or unwisely and immoderately. in either case the united states would enter upon the patrimony of the british empire. the interests controlling and exploiting the vast resources of the empire would come to be american as well as british. wall street would make money throughout the empire, and we might some day find a harvard graduate installed in the governor's chair of jamaica even if he did not actually become viceroy of india. the pressure towards such an imperialistic merger grows with the increasing sense in great britain of her precarious international position. the british empire is over-extended; it has too narrow a base for the length of its frontier. in arguing for an imperial federation, the _round table_ of london declared (in ) that "the safety of the imperial system cannot be maintained much longer by the arrangements which exist at present.... great britain alone cannot indefinitely guarantee the { } empire from disruption by external attack. the farther one looks ahead the more obvious does this become. a nation of , , souls, occupying a small territory and losing much of the natural increase in its population by emigration, cannot hope to compete in the long run even against single powers of the first magnitude--even russia, for instance, with its , , inhabitants, with america with its , , , with germany with its , , increasing by nearly a million a year, to say nothing of china with its , , souls. far less can it hope to maintain the dominant position it has hitherto occupied in the world, with a dozen new powers entering upon the scene.... what will be the position of the empire then, if it has to depend upon the navy of england alone?"[ ] even with the addition of the self-governing colonies, the population of the united kingdom is increased by less than a third,[ ] and the sixty millions of the six british nations are little more capable of defending the british empire than are the forty-five millions of the united kingdom. the advantage of far more than doubling the population back of the british empire is therefore apparent. as compared with the united states, great britain is growing slowly. moreover she is in a permanently perilous situation, lying near the strongest military powers and unable to recover, once her navy is destroyed. great britain preserves her empire only by alliances which { } prevent the forming of a hostile european coalition, and in the future an american alliance may seem indispensable to the maintenance of the empire and even to the safety of britain. at such time it may appear better to divide and rule than risk the chance of ruin by carrying the burden alone. this problem of defence is not one of valour but of economic resources and geographical position. the men of britain are as courageous to-day as were their forefathers, but just as the brave hollanders could not maintain supremacy on the sea because with their small numbers they were forced to make front against the french, so the english are now compelled to face an increasingly difficult international situation. in war, bulk, territory and weight of numbers count, and how these factors will affect the relation between great britain (even with her colonies) and other strong powers a half-century hence is a serious question. there is always the unpleasant possibility that a failure of the clever diplomacy by which great britain has hitherto divided her enemies will some day incite an attack from an overwhelming coalition of land-hungry powers. to american imperialists an invitation to share in the profits, prestige and cost of maintenance of the british empire might prove an overwhelming temptation. america would become an imperialistic people by adoption. without having laboured and fought we should overnight enter upon a joint control of the greatest imperium the world has seen. together with britain it would be ours to enjoy, and in the common possession of these vast domains the divisive forces between the british and american peoples would vanish. our american historians would forget that there had ever been a revolutionary war or would interpret that incident as a purely internal { } conflict, which temporarily lost us a few excellent islands, since regained. but if the british empire, to say nothing of new rights, privileges and possessions would be ours to enjoy, it would also be ours to defend. an anglo-american empire would arouse the envy and the fear of other nations. we should have to defend not only our new joint dependencies but the most distant approaches to them. we could not rest quietly unarmed with these possessions in our house. an anglo-american imperialism, indeed any anglo-american alliance which does not include france, germany, russia and other powers, thus brings us no nearer to peace or to a solution of the international problem. it is but the prelude to a new balance of power, a new alignment of hostile national ambitions. if great britain and the united states grow and prevent other nations from growing, exploit and prevent other nations from exploiting, we shall be merely reproducing the present fatal scission of europe upon a large scale. as against this ideal of american imperialism, on its own account or in alliance with the greatest imperialistic power, stands the ideal of internationalism. it is an ideal which looks forward towards the creation of a concert of interest among the nations, the growth of international law and the more equal utilisation of the world by the nations. it is an ideal which can be realised only as nations perceive that their ultimate advantage lies in compromising their extreme demands and merging national interests in a larger international interest. to-day an overwhelming majority of americans desire a foreign policy looking towards internationalism. they prefer to strive for peace in america and europe rather than to attempt any imperialistic expansion likely to perpetuate the war-breeding competition between nations. { } to realise this ideal, indeed to make any progress whatsoever towards its realisation, we must seek to alter the economic web in which the nations of the world now live. there is at present a conflict between two principles, economic nationalism and economic internationalism. each nation seeks to obtain for itself security, progress and a favoured position; each has its separate national ambitions. at the same time all the industrial nations have a common interest in maintaining themselves upon the resources of the agricultural countries, and in building up a vast system, in which the world's resources will be utilised most efficiently for the benefit of the world inhabitants. the problem, therefore, is to promote this economic internationalism and to limit as far as possible the disturbing influence of the divisive national interests. we cannot destroy and we cannot ignore nationalism. we cannot resolve humanity into a mass of denationalised atoms, citizens of the world with no economic or political allegiance to any state. all we can do is so to compromise and adjust strong and vital national claims, as to permit the growth of the international interest. the progress of economic internationalism, without which a permanent peace cannot be maintained, is to be furthered only as each nation attains to a political and economic security, both in the present and for the future. if a reasonable degree of industrial, commercial and colonial progress can be guaranteed, so that the great industrial nations do not live in constant peril, the vast forces which make for an international exploitation of the world's resources will be unchained. a common right to the use of the highway of the sea, a joint imperialism, an international development of commerce and of industry, a mutual insurance of the nations against war, and against national aggression likely to lead to war, will be factors in the establishment of an economic { } internationalism, which is the next stage in the economic development of the world. the united states cannot by itself create a new economic world system; all that it can do is to contribute with other nations to the removal of obstacles that retard the coming development. the opportunity to advance this movement, however, is greater in the case of the united states than in that of the nations of europe. a nation tends to prefer its immediate national interest to its larger but more distant international interest directly in proportion to the economic or political danger in which it lives. because of our wealth, our sparse population and our relative immunity from attack, it devolves upon us to be the leader in the promotion of an economic internationalism. this potential leadership of ours, however, may be lost as a result of an unfavourable economic and social development in the future. what our attitude towards internationalism, nationalism, imperialism and war is to be ten, thirty or fifty years from now will depend upon our internal development. we cannot decide for a policy of internationalism if we grow to be an over-populated country of impoverished men, with great capitalists pushing us out towards foreign adventures, economic and military. an imperialistic war-like spirit will arise if the internal pressure upon the population becomes excessive. in measuring this pressure, we are dealing with relatives, not absolutes. during many centuries the chinese coolies have become so accommodated to a meagre life that they do not seek to conquer other nations but choose rather to starve quietly within their walls. there is a higher standard of living in germany to-day than in the more pacific germany of seventy years ago, but desires have increased more rapidly than wages. as a result the nation is forced outwards. { } though in many respects conditions of life in america are improving, discontent and frustrated ambition increase. as our numbers grow, farms become relatively scarce, and a class of tenant farmers and an agricultural proletariat develop. the chances of success for both these classes are slighter than a generation ago. manufacturing is conducted on an ever larger scale and the opportunity to rise is becoming less. the openings in retail trade, though many, are small, and there are vast numbers of failures. wages are less in relation to the standards of living surrounding the workman, and fear of unemployment is chronic. the country is full of poor men with no firm purchase on life. income, it is true, is more evenly distributed than property, but even here a crass inequality reigns. upon the wage-earners falls the heavy incidence of industrial injuries, disease, and unemployment. it is of such conditions that imperialism and wars are made. to develop millions of landless men without wealth and with precarious jobs is to create a material superlatively inflammable. you can appeal to such men for a "strong" policy that will conquer foreign markets and therefore "jobs." there is a group much lower in economic status--the men submerged below the poverty line. these men, with no money in their pockets and no steady employment, but with voices, votes and newspaper organs, are susceptible to jingoism. they have a high narrow sensibility created by precariousness and hunger. here we are creating a culture for war bacteria. the concentration of wealth at the top of our society acts similarly. we are developing in america, the type of big business adventurer, who desires an aggressive foreign policy, not only for his direct business interests, but also to allay unrest at home by pointing a minatory finger at the foreigner beyond our borders. { } already we have many of the elements that go to make up the war spirit. in the present conflict we have been pacific owing to the division of our sympathies, the deadening realisation of the immense forces engaged and losses incurred, and the realisation that our interests were not involved. to these factors there was added a sudden prosperity contingent upon our remaining at peace. but even as early as , when the proletarisation of america was less developed, we had millions of inflamed patriots, who would willingly have fought all europe rather than "haul down our flag" in the philippines. what will happen twenty years from now, when our export trade is greater and more necessary and when (unless we change conditions) there will be more poverty and insecurity than to-day? if at such a time germany, japan or russia, or all three, determine upon an action, which will injure our pretensions and throw many of our citizens out of work, we shall surely feel resentment. we cannot safely predict that we will adopt a gentle attitude. like france in , like russia in , we may stumble into a war over our rights and pretensions, may be rushed into it not only because of a conflict of interests which we did not foresee but because of a vicious internal development which we did not avert. all our customary self-assurances that we shall never fight nations now friendly are mere deception. so we thought just before the war of . we were never more pacific than in when we ventured on a desperate challenge to england, or in when we attacked spain. though we averted war with germany over the _lusitania_ matter, our public mind was so uninformed that we might easily have been pushed into the conflict by a more bellicose president. we should have a better chance of keeping the peace if we were not so blindly confident of our { } peacefulness. it takes only one to make a quarrel, and the aggressor might not impossibly be ourselves. nor can peace be predicted on the ground that we have given no offence and do not intend to give offence. the other nation will be the judge of that. and if we become imperialistic we shall have given offence enough. neither will our religion, our almost universal christianity, strike the weapons from our hands. it is doubtful whether religion ever kept a nation out of war. the germans and the english are both christian peoples and therefore quite willing to fight god's battle, which is their battle. if a crisis arose in america out of our economic conflicts with europe and our own psychological instability, we should find the ministers of the gospel on the same side as the editors, politicians, and the people generally, as they have been at most times when peace has been threatened. a war rooted perhaps in the rival interests of american and foreign oil companies in venezuela would be hailed on both sides as a battle for civilisation and the lord. not even our diversity of racial stocks would prevent such a war, though it would no doubt make us hesitant. we should be loath to fight against germany, austria, italy or england, because of the presence in our midst of natives of these lands. once the fighting had begun, however, all opposition would be overcome, and the war would go on despite its spiritual costs. if we are to decide therefore not for imperialism and imperialistic wars but for a policy which will mean peace for ourselves and peace and international reorganisation for europe and the world, we must begin our labours at home. unless we are able to build a democratic civilisation upon the basis of a thoroughly scientific utilisation of our own resources, unless we so direct our american development that we shall not be forced to fight for a { } larger share of the remaining exploitable regions, we shall make little progress towards a settlement of the grave problems which now divide the nations. to promote an economic internationalism we must make our own internal economic development sound; to help cure the world we must maintain our own health. internationalism begins at home. [ ] it is difficult to find terms in which to express clearly the two policies between which we are choosing. in a sense the issue is between imperialism and internationalism, but since any international attempt to solve the problem of the backward countries must lead to some joint occupation, exploitation or dominion, which may be called imperialistic, the opposition of the two terms is not complete. nor do the terms nationalism and internationalism describe the two policies. the internationalism for which we are striving does not negate nationalism. it is not a cosmopolitanism, a world-union of undifferentiated and denationalized individuals, but a policy of compounding and accommodating permanent and distinct national interests. [ ] _seven seas magazine_ (organ of the navy league of the united states), nov., , pp. - . [ ] f. garcia calderon, "latin-america. its rise and progress." new york, , p. . [ ] a second prophecy of señor calderon is to the effect that "unless some extraordinary event occurs to disturb the evolution of the modern peoples, the great nations of industrial europe and japan, the champion of asiatic integrity, will oppose the formidable progress of the united states."--_op. cit._, . [ ] mahan (a. t.), "possibilities of an anglo-american reunion." _north american review_, july, . [ ] _round table_, london, may, , pp. - (?). [ ] the combined white population of new zealand, australia, south africa, newfoundland and canada (in ) was only . millions, or almost exactly the increase in the (total) population of continental united states in the one decade ending . the white population of the united states already constitutes / of the total white english-speaking population of the world. moreover, population is increasing far more rapidly in the united states than in the six british nations. { } part iii towards economic internationalism chapter xiii natural resources and peace for the united states to attempt to secure an economic internationalism, which shall form the basis of an enduring peace, is to enter upon a task which bristles with difficulties. these difficulties fall into two classes, those which tend to deprive america of her freedom of action and disqualify her for leadership, and those which are found in deep antagonisms among the nations to be reconciled. america cannot succeed in her efforts to bring about an economic internationalism if she herself is economically or psychologically unstable or if her own foreign policy is grasping, aggressive and imperialistic. nor can she succeed unless her efforts are wisely directed towards the solution of the real problems which now divide the world. in all such discussions we are likely to take america's pacific intentions in the future for granted. such an assumption, however, is unwarranted. to-day the peace-maker is the organiser of the world and no nation can lead in the peace movement, nor even be assured of its own peace, unless it has reached a certain stage of economic stability and is organised on a reasonably satisfactory economic basis. our danger of war lies partly within. if we launch out upon an imperialistic policy, placing our vital national interests within the area of keen international rivalry, we shall be in peril of a war, evoked by ourselves. the time to prevent such a conflict is not immediately { } before its threatened outbreak but during the period in which the forces making for war are slowly maturing. these forces, in our case at least, take their rise in home conditions. our chance of peace with england, germany, japan or russia twenty or thirty years from now depends upon what we do with our own territory and our own resources to-day. this may at first glance seem a paradox. why should we fight germany or japan because our agriculture is inefficient or our fiscal policy inadequate or because our wealthy are too wealthy and our poor too poor? yet the connection is close. bellicosity is not spontaneous, a thing evolved out of nothing. peoples do not fight when they have what they want, but only when they are frustrated and cramped and need air and elbow room. war is like emigration. the individual migrant leaves home for personal reasons, but the great movement of emigration is nothing but an escape from worse to better economic conditions. if the natural resources of a nation are too small or are badly utilised the resulting insecurity and poverty may lead to international conflicts. or if the national economy though otherwise efficient and self-contained is so ordered that huge masses of the population are impoverished and destitute, there will always be a centrifugal force inciting to foreign adventures and wars. where there is no place at home for "younger sons" they will seek a place outside. nowhere can one study this tremendous internal outward-driving pressure better than in japan. that nation, though extremely poor, spends huge sums upon armies, navies and fortifications, and engages in a dangerous and perhaps eventually fatal conflict with other powers. but it is not pride of race or dynastic ambition which compels japan to enter upon these imperialistic courses, but a { } sheer lack of economic reserves. her area, not including korea, formosa, sakhalin, etc., is , square miles, or less than that of california, while her population ( ) is , , . moreover, japan is so extraordinarily mountainous that the greater part of her area is unfitted for agriculture. despite a very low standard of living, therefore, and a highly intensive culture, the land cannot feed the population, and foodstuffs must be imported. the population is growing with great rapidity, the excess of births over deaths amounting to over six hundred thousand a year. nor has japan a sufficient outlet through emigration. the immigration of japanese into australia, british columbia, the united states and south africa is practically prohibited. most parts of eastern asia are too crowded with men living still lower in the scale to permit any large infiltration of japanese. to japan, therefore, there are but two alternatives to an ultimate famine: the settlement of korea and manchuria, and industrialism. for industrialism, however, japan is rather ill-fitted by tradition and lack of raw materials. her best chance is to sell to china and to develop manchuria and korea, in both of which directions she runs counter to european ambitions. as a result, japan becomes imperialistic and militaristic. the american temptation to imperialism is far weaker than is that of japan. there is for us no overwhelming necessity to enter upon a scramble for new territories or to fight wars to secure such territories. our aggressiveness is latent, though with a capacity for growth. there are two ways to lessen this potential aggressiveness. the first is to weaken economic interests favouring imperialism and war and strengthen opposed interests; the second is to build up in the people a tough intellectual and emotional resistance to martial incitement. the remedy resolves itself into two { } factors, economic completeness and internal stability and equality. economic completeness depends in the first place upon a certain relation between natural resources and population. if the fields and mines of a country are too unproductive or its population excessive, there will be an inevitable leaning upon the resources of foreign countries and an intense competition for new territory, trade or investment facilities. a nation, however, may possess most of the elements of economic completeness and yet suffer through a bad geographical position. its commerce, even its coast-wise commerce, may be at the mercy of a foreign country, or it may not control the mouths of its own rivers, or may be shut off completely from the sea. switzerland, hungary, bohemia cannot secure their economic independence of spain or france, but must depend upon the good will of other nations. because of such geographical conditions an otherwise pacific nation may fail completely to build up a resistance to war. an event in our own history will illustrate this point. from to , our settlers in the ohio valley were entirely dependent for the sale of their products upon an outlet through the mississippi river. unless spain and later france would permit the rude arks, laden with tobacco, flour and bacon, to unload at new orleans, the west would be shut off from markets. railroads had not yet been invented and there were no good roads over the mountains. animosity towards the owner of new orleans was therefore inevitable,[ ] since unless we could { } control the mouth of the mississippi, we could not secure the allegiance of our own settlers west of the alleghenies. the interests of our citizens lay beyond our borders; the key to our door was in the hands of a foreign power. but for the lucky accident that peacefully gave us louisiana, we should sooner or later have been forced into war. the cession of this territory tended to establish for us an economic completeness. an economic completeness for the united states does not of course mean that we should become a hermit nation, absolutely shut up within our tariff walls. it would be manifestly undesirable to prohibit foreign commerce or the foreign investment of american capital and no such sacrifice, even if possible, would be necessary to prevent a too violent friction with europe. there is a more direct way in which to increase america's economic reliance upon herself and diminish her dependence upon the accidents and hostilities of the world competition. it can be done by a better utilisation of our own resources. as yet we have merely skimmed the cream of one of the richest parts of the earth, and have exploited, rather than developed, our great continental territory. we have been superficial not thorough, hasty not scientific, in our utilisation of our resources. we have still a margin in which further to develop agriculture and other great extractive industries in order to lay at home the basis for a population which is bound to increase during the coming decades. how great our friction with europe is to be will depend on whether our economic development in the main is to { } consist of activities which impinge upon those of the great industrial countries or of activities which do not so impinge, whether for example, five per cent. or thirty per cent. of our people are to be engaged in industries which actively compete in foreign markets with the industries of europe. certain of our economic activities are for us pacific in tendency, inasmuch as they do not affect industrial europe or actually benefit her. of such a nature is agriculture. every added bushel of wheat or bale of cotton raised in the united states improves the chances of european industry, lessens our competition with europe and increases our market for european wares. the same is largely true of our production of copper, gold, silver, petroleum and other natural products. upon these extractive enterprises, including coal and iron ore, is based a vast manufacturing industry which supplies our home population, and an immense transportation and commercial system which has its roots in our home resources. our railroads do not appreciably compete with those of england and germany; on the contrary the industrial progress of those countries is hastened by the development of our transportation system, which cheapens their food and raw materials. on the other hand a development of the american carrying trade, a growth of ship-building, shipping and export trade, however necessary or desirable, trenches immediately upon british and german shipbuilding, carrying and export trade, and leads directly and inevitably to economic conflict.[ ] { } the dependence of our economic mutuality with europe upon our agriculture may be illustrated by an hypothesis. assume that our agricultural products were permanently cut in half while our population remained constant. we should have no food to export and would be obliged to import food. millions of men would be forced out of agriculture into manufacturing industries, and as the home demand for these industries would be lessened a foreign market would be essential. our railroad traffic would diminish, and railroad workers, thrown out of employment, would enter the export trade. we should be forced to secure foreign markets, and if political pressure were necessary, it would be forthcoming. similarly, our chances for investment in agriculture and in railroad and industrial companies being lessened, capital would be forced to find an outlet in other countries, especially in semi-developed lands to which european capital flows. the rate of interest would fall, big risks would be taken, and if american investments were endangered by unrest or disorder in the backward country, our government would intervene. we should have no choice and could afford no scruples. given such a fall in our agricultural product, the country would become imperialistic and bellicose, and there would be not the remotest possibility of our taking the lead in a policy to promote international peace. the hypothesis is far-fetched, but exactly the same result would follow if instead of our agricultural product dwindling, it remained constant while our population grew. if our population increased per cent. and our agricultural product remained stationary or increased only twenty or forty per cent., it would be impossible to maintain our present relation to the world. we must uphold a certain, not quite constant relation between our agricultural (and other extractive) industries and our { } population if we are to keep out of the thickest of the european complications. a secure basis for a policy of non-aggression lies therefore in the development of home agriculture.[ ] it is not, however, to be expected that the proportion of farm workers will remain constant. in the united states this proportion has steadily fallen. of every thousand males in all occupations were engaged in agricultural pursuits in as compared with only in .[ ] but despite this relative decline agriculture did not become less productive. more horses and more agricultural machinery were used, and fewer persons were able to perform the same amount of work. what is more significant than the number of persons employed is the amount of land available for agriculture. until we were in the extensive period of american farming, during which an increase in the population was met by an increased farm acreage. from to our population increased from to millions, but our farm area increased almost as fast and the improved farm area even faster.[ ] during the decade ending , however, a strong pressure of population upon american agriculture became obvious. in these ten years the country's population increased per cent. while the total farm area increased only . per cent.[ ] while , , { } people were added to the population the increase in farm area was equal only to what would accommodate an additional three and a half million people. it is no longer easy to stretch the farm area and to a large extent our farms must grow by the increase of the improved at the expense of the unimproved acres.[ ] actually the per capita agricultural production in (the year covered by the census of ) was less than that of a decade before. though the crops in the latter year were far higher in value, the increase in the quantity of product was only per cent., as compared with an increase in population of per cent.[ ] had the american people consumed all the american product in both years, they would have been obliged to cut down their ration by about one-tenth;[ ] instead there was a vast diminution of exports. the growing population began to consume the agricultural products formerly exported. the question is therefore pertinent whether it will be possible for us indefinitely to feed from our own fields our increasing millions or whether we shall be forced to depend increasingly for food on outside sources and to secure this food by a development of our export trade in manufactured products. to many this question will seem to answer itself. it is commonly assumed that there are almost no limits to { } our possible agricultural production and therefore to our desirable increase of population. france is almost self-sufficing with a population of . to the square mile; when the united states (continental area) has an equally dense population we may maintain a population of five or six hundred millions. we need merely take up new lands and cultivate more intensively. the opportunities for the further development of american agriculture, however, while undoubtedly great, are not immeasurable. at present we have some , , acres in farms, of which , , (or . per cent. of our total land area) are improved.[ ] but of the rest of our area much is not useful. some , , acres in the western part of the country have an annual precipitation of fifteen inches or less, and of these acres, not over , , could be profitably irrigated at present prices of farm products, labour, land and capital. this addition of , , acres would increase our present improved area by less than seven per cent. besides the permanently arid acres, moreover, there is other unusable land in national forests, roads, cities and in swamps and over-flow lands difficult to reclaim. with these deductions made, we have only , , , acres as the maximum farm area of the future. this is . per cent. greater than the present farm area.[ ] it is true that a larger part of the farm area can be cultivated. from to the area of improved lands increased . per cent. if this rate of increase could continue there would be about one billion acres improved by , and this seems to be the absolutely { } outside upper limit. but this does not mean that a billion acres could be improved and cultivated at the same cost per acre as at present. the improved lands would require a constantly increasing amount of capital and labour to secure returns equal to those which the farmer now obtains. similarly there are limits to the extent to which we can afford to divide up our land into smaller farms in order to secure a larger production per acre. intensive cultivation is an alluring phrase but in the production of many staple crops intensive cultivation is dear cultivation. the movement in progressive agricultural communities is towards a moderately large farm. it is the smaller farms (of from to acres) that the boys and girls leave most rapidly. "the farm management studies," writes mr. eugene merritt of the u. s. department of agriculture[ ] "indicate that on these small-sized farms, man labour, horse labour, and agricultural machinery cannot be used efficiently. in other words, economic competition is eliminating the unprofitable sized farms."[ ] { } the pressure of agricultural population upon a given farm area results either in the growth of an inefficient small scale production or of a large rural proletariat. both are undesirable and neither will permit farming on as cheap a scale as at present. the actual trend to-day in districts where cereals are raised is towards larger farms (of to acres), and this tendency is likely to be increased by the introduction of cheap tractor engines, which now seems to impend. there is doubtless a considerable opportunity in the united states for an improvement in the average product per acre even though the increase in the area of cultivation constantly brings in land of decreasing fertility. if in the course of forty or fifty years we can increase the area under cultivation by fifty per cent. and the product per acre by per cent. we shall have an increase in product of per cent., which would provide for an increase in the population of , , without any greater leaning upon foreign resources than to-day.[ ] we are likely, however, to lean upon certain foreign resources, and more especially upon canada and the caribbean countries. whatever its political allegiance canada is and will probably remain economically a part of the united states. the iowa farmers, who sold out their home farms to buy cheaper land in canada, unconsciously illustrated the closeness of this economic bond. we may draw upon canadian wheat, fish, lumber and iron ore almost exactly as though the territory were our own. it is canada's interest to sell to us and buy from us, and even preferential duties cannot entirely overcome our immense geographical advantage over europe. similarly { } we shall draw upon the caribbean countries, whether or not we have a political union, for vast quantities of tropical food stuffs. whatever our importation of food an increase in agricultural efficiency is also probable. we have already improved and cheapened our farm machinery and have disseminated agricultural education and information. but much progress remains to be made. we can use better seeds, raise better crops and cattle, and work more co-operatively instead of individualistically. our transportation system can be better co-ordinated with our agriculture, so that food, now wasted because it will not pay the freight, can be brought to market.[ ] a better knowledge of the science of farming would greatly increase our agricultural production. if our country roads were improved, if we varied our crops more intelligently, if we refrained from impoverishing our soils, if we drained some tracts and irrigated others, we should speedily discover a vast increase in our agricultural productiveness, a larger return to the farmers, a greater home demand for manufactured products, and a better opportunity for capital at home. { } if by putting more capital and intelligence upon our farms, we were to add several billions to the value of their output, we should broaden the base of our whole economic life, enlarge the volume of our non-competitive exports, and in the end approximate conditions that would make for a peaceful foreign policy and for the promotion of an economic internationalism. but though we widen our agricultural base, our population unless its rate of progress is checked, will eventually, and perhaps soon, overtake any extension.[ ] though we increase agricultural knowledge and substitute mechanical for animal power and gasoline for hay, the law of diminishing returns will remain. ten men cannot secure as large a per capita product from a given area as five, or twenty as large as ten. but if our population were to maintain its present geometrical increase we should have , , inhabitants in and, to assume the almost impossible, , , in . long before the latter figure could be reached there would be positive and preventive checks to further growth, but if these checks were late in being applied, there would come increased inequality, misery and economic uncertainty, and an enhanced liability to war. for us as for other nations a too rapid increase in population spells this constant danger of war. our farms cannot absorb more than a certain proportion of our population without causing lowered wages and increasing poverty, and we cannot expand our export trade without entering into the range of international conflict. while therefore an improved agriculture with high food prices will permit of an increase in our population, it is { } advantageous that that increase does not proceed too rapidly. if we grow to two hundred millions in seventy-five or one hundred years instead of in thirty-seven, we shall still be strong enough to protect our present territories and shall have less occasion to fight for new. fortunately our rate of population increase, despite immigration, is steadily decreasing. in the decade ending our population increased . per cent., in the period to at an average decennial rate of . per cent., and in the three following decades . per cent., . per cent. and . per cent respectively. the fall in our natural increase was even greater. while the death rate has declined[ ] the birth rate has fallen off even more rapidly. our birth statistics are inadequate, but we can gain some idea of this decline by comparing the number of children under years of age living at each census year with the number of women between the ages of to inclusive. in there were children per , women in these ages; in , ; in , ; in , ; in , .[ ] for a number of decades a continuation in this falling off in the birth rate is probable. it is rendered necessary by the fall in the death rate and possible by the fact that birth has ceased to be a mere physiological accident { } and is coming under human control. "the most important factor in the change," says dr. john shaw billings, "is the deliberate and voluntary avoidance or prevention of child-bearing on the part of a steadily increasing number of married people who prefer to have but few children."[ ] the spreading of the knowledge of birth control and the increasing financial burden of children in an urbanised society composed of economically ambitious people will probably prevent our population from ever again increasing as rapidly as it did half a century ago.[ ] in the meanwhile our immigration (until the outbreak of the present war) continued to increase. in the ten years ending june , , over ten million immigrant aliens arrived in the united states, of whom approximately seven millions remained. nor has the high point in immigration been surely attained. the european population increases so rapidly that the excess of births over deaths is between three and four times the entire emigration. immigration tends to flow from countries where the pressure of population is greater to countries like the united states, where the pressure is less. unless there is restriction we may witness within the next decades a new vast increase in immigration, which will result in a rapid growth of our population and a resulting pressure upon our agricultural (and other natural) resources, that will vastly increase the intensity and bitterness of our { } competition for the world's markets and the world's investment opportunities. by thus increasing our agricultural product, and developing our home market and our less directly competitive industries and by slackening an increase in our population, which would otherwise force us into foreign adventures, we tend to approach a balanced economic system and a parallel growth of extractive and manufacturing industries. such a dependence in the main on home resources for the nation's primal needs is in the circumstances the best preventive of an imperialistic policy that might lead to war. but there is an even closer-lying incentive to imperialism and war. a nation may have a sufficiently wide base and an efficient industrial development but because of internal economic mal-adjustments may be driven into imperialistic courses. a policy not dictated by national needs may be forced upon the nation by the necessities and ambitions of its dominating class. [ ] "there was," he (president jefferson) said, "one spot on the face of the earth so important to the united states that whoever held it was, for that very reason, naturally and forever our enemy; and that spot was new orleans. he could not, therefore, see it transferred to france but with deep regret. the day she took possession of the city the ancient friendship between her and the united states ended; alliance with great britain became necessary, and the sentence that was to keep france below low-water mark became fixed."--john bach mcmaster, "history of the people of the united states," vol. ii, p. . [ ] agriculture is not essentially pacific; in various stages of historical development agricultural nations war upon each other in order to secure more land or to levy tribute of grain. the pacific tendency of our present agricultural development arises out of the needs of industrial europe. our agricultural progress, however, is peaceful only in so far as it increases the product of our fields; it would not be peaceful, and might be the exact reverse, if we sought to increase our acreage by, let us say, a conquest of canada. [ ] by this is not meant that the nation should be preponderatingly agricultural, but only that where agriculture is sufficiently developed to maintain a large industrial population working for the home market the competition for foreign markets and foreign investment fields becomes less intense. [ ] "agricultural pursuits" includes agriculture, forestry and animal husbandry. these figures from the united states census, , vol. iv, p. , are only approximately exact, owing to almost insuperable difficulties in classifying occupations. see vol. iv, p. . [ ] thirteenth census of the united states, vol. v, agriculture, p. . [ ] the improved farm acreage increased . per cent., and the acreage devoted to the principal crops . per cent. [ ] the new lands, moreover, are not so good as the old. from to the lands brought into cultivation (illinois, iowa, etc.) were better than the earlier area, but since the farmers have driven forward into more arid lands further removed from transportation. "across the great plains, the farmer has pushed closer and closer to the base of the rockies and, as he has done so, the difficulty of producing a bushel of corn or wheat has continually increased."--king. (willford isbell.) "the wealth and income of the people of the united states," new york (macmillan), : pp. , . [ ] for the comparability of the years and , see census volume on agriculture, p. . [ ] actually . per cent. [ ] total land area equals , , , acres. [ ] thompson, warren s. "population: a study in malthusianism." studies in history, economics and public law, columbia university vol. lxiii, no. . new york, . [ ] "the agricultural element in the population:" _american statistical association quarterly_, march, , p. . [ ] the dwarf farms found in many parts of europe are even less economical. the bavarian, french, or belgian peasant secures more per acre than the american farmer but much less per hour or year of work. "small scale farming, as we have defined it," says prof. thomas nixon carver, "invariably means small incomes for the farmers, though the land is usually well cultivated and yields large crops per acre." "the french or the belgian peasant (because of the smallness of his farm) frequently finds it more profitable to dispense altogether with horses, or even oxen, as draft animals, using rather a pair of milch cows, or only a single cow, for such work as he cannot do with his own muscles." "he would likewise find a reaping or a mowing machine a poor investment. the general result of such small scale staple farming is necessarily the use of laborious and inefficient methods."--"principles of rural economics," pp. - . new york, . [ ] if, however, the average product per acre remains constant or decreases, the pressure of the population will make itself felt far sooner. [ ] the loss in perishable farm products, to cite only one instance, is tremendous. a very large proportion of the perishable fruits and vegetables, and a smaller proportion of the dairy and poultry products, decay on the farmer's hands. according to a study made by mr. arthur b. adams, "at least per cent. of the perishables which arrive at the wholesale markets is hauled to the dump-pile because it is unfit for human consumption.... in warm weather florida oranges lose per cent. in transportation alone, and if we add the decay after the fruit reaches the consuming centre the total loss would be astounding. there is a loss of per cent. in eggs from producer to consumer, due to breakage, decay, etc., but butter has an equally great loss.... it is not an over-estimate, therefore, to say that between and per cent. of the perishables which are raised on the farms are never consumed at all, but are a complete social loss."--"marketing perishable farm products." studies in history, economics and public law. columbia university. vol. lxxii, no. , p. . new york, . [ ] it is of course assumed that no means will soon be found by which cheap food can be produced synthetically; if that happens, all our conclusions go by the board. [ ] in the decade - the death rate in new york city was . per cent., in the period - only . per cent.; in massachusetts, in the same periods, the death rate was . and . per cent. respectively. the diminution was due, partly to a change in the age-constitution of the population and partly to a progressive control of diseases.--walter f. willcox, "the nature and significance of the changes in the birth and death rates in recent years." _american statistical association quarterly_, march, , p. . [ ] prof. willcox, who presents the table from which these figures are drawn, illustrates the decline by showing that its continuation would wipe out all births in years, so that by we should live in a baby-less world.--_op cit._, pp. , . [ ] quoted by prof. willcox, _op. cit._, pp. , . [ ] that there lies a danger in exactly the opposite direction cannot be denied. there are limits to the fall in the death rate, but practically no limits to the possible decline in child-bearing. the limitation of births is almost entirely determined by individual (or family) considerations, and may proceed to a point where population will decline rapidly and perhaps deteriorate in quality. a linking up of the individual interest in small families to the social interest in having the population maintained or slowly increased, as well as improved in quality, is essential. { } chapter xiv an antidote to imperialism a nation, though economically complete, in the sense that it could, if it desired, maintain its population upon its own resources may yet be lured into an imperialistic and warlike policy. just as political disintegration leads to internal conflicts, disorders and finally foreign intervention, so an economic disequilibrium, by placing the interests of certain classes within the arena of international friction may evoke a struggle, which can have no other issue than war. this is exactly the effect, for example, of a gross inequality of wealth and income. such an inequality means that multi-millionaires, gaining far more than they can spend, are impelled to invest their surplus funds in outside ventures. the capital that can be profitably absorbed by industries manufacturing for home consumption depends upon the ability of the population to purchase food, clothes, houses, furniture, watches, and automobiles. if the population cannot or will not increase purchases at a rate commensurate with the increase of national savings, a vast capital must either be diverted to manufacturing for the export trade or must itself be exported. neither of these deflections is in itself bad; in moderation, both are good. there is, however, a certain degree of intensity of competition for foreign trade and investment which means industrial war and the danger of military war. the wider the interval between { } national savings and national consumption, the more powerful and dangerous is this expulsive tendency of capital. such a tendency may arise in a country in which, despite an equality in wealth, the national savings are excessive, but the greatest danger is in countries in which the returns to capital, rent and business enterprise are large and the returns to labour small. the big profits come from the manufacture of articles of common use, and the home demand for such articles is limited by the consuming capacity of poor men. the surplus capital must therefore find a vent, and the larger this surplus capital, the more venturesome it grows and the more insistently it demands that the state back up its enterprises. we may trace this development in the recent history of great britain. though british wages rose during the half century ending in , the consuming capacity of the masses was not sufficient to employ the rapidly expanding capital. british capital went everywhere; among other places to the transvaal. there was more money in "kaffirs" than in making socks for the british artisan, and if international friction resulted from this capital export, it was all the better, or at least none the worse, for the financiers. the men who controlled the rand mines knew when shares were to rise and when they were to fall, and profited by their knowledge. nor were war preparations disadvantageous. an extra dreadnought helped british capital more than would the expenditure of the cost of such a vessel in increasing the wages of school teachers. yet it was because school teachers and other wage-earners in britain, as in many other countries, were poorly paid, that the accumulating capital of the nations was forced increasingly into foreign lands and into imperialistic ventures. morocco, egypt, korea and manchuria offered larger rewards than did the highly { } competitive businesses which depended on the custom of french, english and russian peasants or wage-earners. the inequality in the distribution of wealth proved to be a stimulus to imperialistic competition. those who are satisfied with things as they are never tire of speaking of this distribution of wealth as an immutable thing, protected by economic laws more potent than legislative enactments. they insist that law cannot control the expansion of capital or the distribution of wealth. but our whole system of distribution is based on law. if england had not preserved entail and primogeniture, if france had not decreed the equal inheritance by all children, if the united states had not adopted a liberal land policy, the distribution of wealth in each of these countries would have been far different. within wide limits the economic course of the nation can be controlled. such a peaceful programme for creating a better distribution of wealth, a wider consumption and therefore a larger employment of capital in industries for home consumption has the added advantage that it is a policy in complete harmony with the interests of great sections of the population. the average man desires peace feebly; he does not think of it day and night and is not willing to fight for it. but he is willing to fight for things which actually contribute more towards peace than do arbitration treaties. the demand of the workman for higher wages, shorter hours and better conditions is, whether the wage-earner knows it or not, a demand for international peace. progressive income and inheritance taxes, the regulation of railroads and industrial corporations, the conservation of natural resources are all opposed to an imperialistic policy leading to war. in short the entire { } democratic struggle against the narrow concentration of wealth, by increasing the demand for capital within the country, tends to preserve us from a meddlesome, domineering, dangerous imperialism. to increase the consumption of the masses of our people is easier for us than for germany or england because of our wider economic base, our bulk, territory and immense potential wealth. to increase wages, we need not, like the crowded countries of western europe, acquire new resources beyond our borders. we already have a place in the sun, and out of our waste can extract more than can germany or france out of colonies for which they must fight. it is easier for us to increase industrial rewards because we now waste more in our unregulated scramble for wealth than germany gains in her scientific, economical use of her smaller resources. compared to industrial germany we are a spendthrift nation. had germany our resources and numbers, she would be peaceful and rich; were we obliged to live on her narrow territory, we should be bellicose and impoverished. not that germany has solved the whole problem; all she has learned is to be efficient. her early poverty taught her to make a little go a great way, to combine the peasant's industry and parsimony with the far-flung plans of the business organiser. so capably has she done this that living conditions have improved as her population has increased. where all nations have as yet failed, however, is in the distribution of the industrial product. in the end a gross inequality of wealth and income, as we find it in all developed countries, is another form of waste. it means fewer economic satisfactions, less true value. a few billion dollars added to the income of twenty thousand families is of less utility than when distributed among { } twenty millions. inequality of wealth, moreover, involves low wages, over-work, child labour, insecurity, unemployment, preventable disease, premature death, in short, a bad economy. it also involves an inability on the part of the masses to consume the product of industries in which the wealthy invest. the economic inequality in the united states does not as yet present the same imminent dangers as in certain european countries. wealth, it is true, is most unevenly distributed,[ ] but while incomes are also very unequal,[ ] the rate of wages[ ] and the returns to farmers and to small business men are far greater than in the industrial countries of europe. our statistics of consumption reveal an immense and constantly increasing demand for all kinds of articles and services. as compared with england or germany the distribution of income in the united states permits a high standard of living and creates a vast demand for the use of capital in industries for home consumption. there is, however, a danger that these conditions may grow worse. an unrestricted growth of the population { } either through natural increase or immigration would tend to increase monopoly profits and reduce real wages, thus accentuating the inequality of distribution and forcing an enormous surplus capital to be devoted to foreign trade and foreign investments. on the other hand there is an opportunity to improve our conditions. there is still a wide margin for a real increase in wages, for shorter hours, better labour conditions, improved education, improved recreational facilities, and in general a deflection of a large part of the national dividend to the improvement of the conditions of life of the whole population. for a long time americans ignored the necessity of any such social policy. we were almost as wasteful of our human as of our physical resources. from birth to burial we regarded our men and women as human accidents, who died or lived, languished or grew great, as circumstances decreed. though in recent decades we have approached to a keener sense of collective national responsibility, we still suffer not only from a high infantile death-rate but also from a disastrous neglect of children who survive. our educational system is still rudimentary, conventional, and ill adapted to our economic needs. there is little industrial education, less vocational guidance, and almost no care at all for the adjustment of the educational system to the later needs of the children. millions of children, who in the next generation are to decide questions of war or peace, are growing up, anemic, underfed, intellectually sterile, and without morale, firmness or strength. our slums, our low wages, our evil conditions in mines and sweat-shops unite to give us the tramp, the corner loafer, the exploiter of vice, the criminal. such conditions are in every sense dangerous to our peace as also to our well-being. they mean a low economic efficiency, a restricted consumption, a barrier to the proper capitalisation of our country. { } apart from this, the corruption arising out of such conditions menaces our national character. we hear praise to-day of the iron discipline of the german army, but we hear less of the discipline of the german school, factory system, social legislation, trade-union. if millions of americans are shiftless, shuffling, undisciplined and only vaguely and crudely patriotic, the cause is to be found in our neglect of the lessons of modern social life. to state these conditions of human waste and exploitation is to suggest the remedies. all such remedies cost money, hundreds of millions. there is no progress without higher taxes, better spent, and we shall not advance except by the path of a vast increase in collective expenditure for common purposes. in the end, of course, such improvements will pay for themselves. if we spent fifty millions a year upon agricultural education, we could easily reimburse ourselves out of our increased production. we spend over five hundred million dollars annually upon public elementary and secondary education, a sum much greater than that spent in any other country. if, however, we could efficiently organise our school system, we could more profitably spend three times as much. there are many other chances for the ultimately profitable investment of our capital upon agencies which make for a more intelligent, active, industrious and self-disciplined population. there is an added use to which such higher taxation may be put. by means of a larger collective expenditure, a more equal distribution of income and a wider consumption by the masses may be secured. what can be attained by industrial action, such as strikes, can be effected in even greater measure through fiscal action. taxes, to redress inequality, should be sharply graduated. by taxes on unearned increment and monopoly profits, by the { } regulation of the wages, prices, dividends and profits of great corporations, we could increasingly divert large sums to wage-earners, consumers, stockholders and to the nation as a whole. by increasing the consumption both of individuals and of the national unit, such taxation would give an impetus to home industrial development. if this deflection of wealth from the rich caused a temporary lack of capital, the resulting rise in interest rates would stimulate saving and repair the evil. such a progress would mean not only an advance towards a fuller, freer and more active life for the population but also a diminution of the impulse to imperialistic adventure and war. an increased income for the men at the bottom creates a broader economic base, a less top-heavy structure, with smaller necessity for support from without. it increases our home market, widens the home investment field and reduces the intense sharpness of competition for the profits of the backward countries. it affords the opportunity to be disinterested in foreign policy and to work for the promotion of international peace. equally important is its effect upon the national psychology. it gives the people a stake at home. a device, familiar to certain statesmen, is to divert the people's minds from domestic affairs by arousing animosity against the foreigner. is it impossible to allay hatred of the foreigner by concentrating interest on home concerns? psychologically this process is nothing but immunisation. a disease may be resisted by the absence in the blood and tissues of substances needed by the bacteria for their growth and increase. as we may immunise the body, so we may immunise the mind of individual or nation. we protect our children from error, not by forbidding the publication of false doctrine but by creating in the child's mind a true knowledge and a faculty of { } criticism. similarly to guard against the infection of the war spirit a public opinion can be created in which war bacteria will find no nutriment. to immunise society is not, however, a mere juggler's trick; we cannot ask washington to legislate us into immunity. what is needed is a potent social change, arousing enthusiasms and antagonisms, and involving a new attitude towards business and politics, freedom and discipline; a new efficiency; a new balance of power within society; a new attitude towards the state; a new value placed upon the life of each individual. such a change involves a patriotism so exigent that the nation will resent poverty in fall river or bethlehem as it resents murder in mexico. many americans would find such a revolution in our conditions and attitudes uninteresting or worse; some, with vast material interests at stake, would prefer a dozen wars. against this indifference and opposition, the change, if it comes, must make its way. such a progress would not, of course, create perpetual peace within the community. we read much to-day of satiated nations, unwilling to fight for more, but considered from within, there is no satiated society. everywhere groups fight for economic, political or social advancement. in a democratic community the mass of the people, and especially the manual workers, though in a more favourable economic situation, would still be unsatisfied. conflict would endure. it is well that it should be so, for a society in which all were contented in a buttressed, routine life would go to war through sheer boredom. the economic antidote to imperialism thus resolves itself into a very necessary intellectual and emotional antidote. the lure of war persists even to-day, when soldiers dig themselves into burrows and individual courage is lost in the vast magnitude of the contest. nor can you { } counteract the temptation to fight (or have others fight) by preaching sermons against war, for the sermon and the bugle-call seem to appeal to different cells in the brain. all you can do is to polarise a man's thoughts and inspire him with other interests, ambitions and ideals. a full, varied, intense life is a better antidote than a mere vacuity of existence, without toil, pleasure, pain or excitement. in his search for an antidote to war, william james points out how utterly the ordinary pacifist ignores the stubborn instincts that impel men to battle. "we inherit," he says, "the war-like type.... our ancestors have bred pugnacity into our bone and marrow, and thousands of years won't breed it out of us. the popular imagination fairly fattens on the thoughts of war." the men at the bottom of society, james assures us, "are as tough as nails and physically and morally almost as insensitive," and if not to these then to all "who still keep a sense for life's more bitter flavours ... the whole atmosphere of present-day utopian literature tastes mawkish and dishwatery." for the discipline of war, william james wishes to substitute another and more strenuous discipline, "a conscription of the whole youthful population to form for a certain number of years a part of the army enlisted against _nature_." "the military ideals of hardihood and discipline would be wrought into the growing fibre of the people; no one would remain blind as the luxurious classes now are blind, to man's relations to the globe he lives on, and to the permanently sour and hard foundations of his higher life. to coal and iron mines, to freight trains, to fishing fleets in december, to dish-washing, clothes-washing and window-washing, to road-building and tunnel-making, to foundries and stokeholes, and to the frames of sky-scrapers, would our gilded youths be drafted off, according to their choice, to get the { } childishness knocked out of them, and to come back into society with healthier sympathies and soberer ideals."[ ] even in a society which would permit an industrial conscription both of rich and poor, a certain latent bellicosity, making for war, would undoubtedly persist. there seems to be an irreducible minimum of jingoism, just as whatever your precautions, you cannot quite do away with rats or noxious germs. no nation is free from this cheapest intoxicant. you may find it with the expensive american on his travels or on the cracker-barrels in the country store and you cannot help stumbling over it in the yellow journals and in many dull and respectable newspapers which do not know that they are yellow. even the self-depreciating type of american may turn out to be a jingo if you will trouble to take off his peel. such jingoism, however, though unpleasant may be quite innocuous. we all have a trace of it as we all are supposed to have a trace of tuberculosis. so long as our jingoes confine themselves to merely trumpeting national virtues, actual and imputed, we may rest content. such men will scarcely be capable of stirring a whole population to war, if men are living under decent conditions, struggling for still better conditions, and competing on a high plane. if we can secure prosperity, efficiency and equality and can make life fuller, more intense, varied and romantic, the ravages of jingoism will be circumscribed. it will be argued, however, that though we make our conditions what we will we shall still be anxious to fight at the first opportunity. "it is evident," says prof. sumner,[ ] { } "that men love war; when two hundred thousand men in the united states volunteer in a month for a war with spain which appeals to no sense of wrong against their country and to no other strong sentiment of human nature, when their lives are by no means monotonous or destitute of interest, and where life offers chances of wealth and prosperity, the pure love of adventure and war must be strong in our population." if two hundred thousand volunteer for a war when we are not obviously attacked, will not the whole country go to war for the sake of "honour"? it would be foolish to answer this question categorically; no one can predict what a nation will do when wounded in its self-esteem. the heir of thousands of centuries of fighting, man is to-day, as always, a fragile container of dynamite, not guaranteed against explosion, and there are experts in the touching off of dynamite. when bismarck falsified the ems despatch he knew exactly what its effect would be upon the french sense of honour. but "honour" is an ambiguous word, meaning everything, from a scrupulous regard to national obligations freely entered upon to a mere truculent bellicosity. the honour of nations, in the sense that nations usually fight for honour, is mere prestige, and prestige is not much more than an acknowledgment of formidableness. the danes and the dutch are honourable, but, in the sense in which the word is ordinarily used, neither denmark nor holland can afford honour. the claims of national honour, moreover, are strangely shadowy and transitory. what seems imperatively demanded by honour at the moment becomes insignificant later. for a number of years the united states paid tribute to the barbary pirates; our citizens were sold into slavery and his serene majesty, the dey of algiers, treated our representative in a manner which a great power to-day would hardly adopt in an ultimatum to { } paraguay or san marino.[ ] but it was not then convenient to fight and so we pocketed our honour until a more convenient occasion. the dey of algiers has long since gone to the scrap-pile of history, while the united states remains, a respected and honourable nation. nations which are sure of themselves, like men who respect themselves, are somewhat slower to resent affronts than nations which are insecure and fearsome. in austria was solicitous of her honour, which, she believed, was assailed by servia, and russia was solicitous of hers, for these two powers were engaged in a contest over the fears and prepossessions of the balkan states, and "honour" meant adherents. but when in the same year, a mexican government offered what was believed to be an affront to the united states, our people were in no mood to feel insulted. we did not need prestige. after all, questions of honour are usually questions of interest. in the _lusitania_ controversy, we did not receive the apologies which we believed were due to us. but as we had no interest in fighting germany, and as germany gained less from her submarine campaign than she would have lost in a war with us, the matter was amicably, though not logically, settled or at least postponed. had we, however, been in a different economic position, had a few million unemployed men been striking, rioting and threatening to revolt, or, on the other hand had we had plans for our aggrandisement at the expense of germany, acts of war would have followed within twenty-four hours of the massacre. we should have been far more "jealous in honour." but we were otherwise engaged. the headlines were full of the events { } in europe and the horror of that tragedy in the atlantic, but the gaze of america was inward. we were interested day by day in the ambitions of peace. thus our hope of remaining at peace ourselves and of contributing to the peace and economic reorganisation of the world depends not only upon the conservation and development of our natural resources but also upon a distribution of wealth and income which will widen the consumption by the masses and will give to the whole population the opportunity of a full, varied and purposeful life. all these things, as well as the moral discipline which is so urgently needed, can be secured only as we learn to apply a national policy to our own nation. it is our own slackness, our own "state-blindness," our lack of a complete democracy, which increases our chances of imperialism and war. it is, on the other hand, our increasing willingness to take a national view of internal affairs, our increasing desire to base american prosperity upon american resources and to make life fuller and more valuable, that acts as a deterrent to war and fits us for the difficult task of contributing to a world peace. finally such a contribution to the peace of the world implies the condition that our own foreign policy shall not be in conflict with the international ideals which we are seeking to promote. if we ourselves are interested in the parcelling out of backward countries, we shall not be able to exert a restraining influence upon nations whose necessities are greater than ours. by this is not meant that we are to stay at home completely and enjoy no rights beyond our borders. such an effacement would mean a monastic seclusion for the united states. but while in the world beyond there is a fair field for peaceful competition, in which we also may take our part, our hope of promoting economic internationalism depends upon our not playing { } a lone hand, upon our abstention from a selfish and short-sighted policy of national aggression and upon our free co-operation with other nations seeking the goal of international peace. [ ] according to estimates based on studies of estates probated in massachusetts and wisconsin, it appears that per cent. of the population owned almost per cent. of the wealth while the poorest per cent. of the population died in possession of only about per cent. of the wealth. see king (w. i.), "the wealth and income of the people of the united states," new york, ; also cited sources. [ ] twenty per cent. of the population receive . per cent. of national income and the remaining eighty per cent. of the population . per cent. of the national income.--king, _op. cit._, p. . [ ] from to the total wages (and salaries) paid in the united states increased from . to . thousands of millions of dollars; the average wage increased from $ to $ ; the increase in the annual wages, taking into account differences in the cost of living, was per cent. for basis of these calculations see king. [ ] william james. the moral equivalent of war. in "memories and studies." new york. longmans, green & co. . [ ] sumner (william graham). "war and other essays," new haven (yale university press), , p. . [ ] "in captain bainbridge, arriving at algiers with the usual tribute, was ordered to carry dispatches to constantinople. 'you pay me tribute,' explained the dey, 'by which you become my slaves, and therefore i have a right to order you as i think proper.'"--fish. (carl russell.) "american diplomacy," new york ( ), p. . { } chapter xv american interests abroad no nation in its foreign policy is completely disinterested, in the sense that it willingly abandons or sacrifices its larger interests. what generosity it displays is usually in smaller matters, like a rich man's gift to a beggar. england may sacrifice interests in jamaica to uphold the principle of human freedom, while at the same time fighting china to force the admission of opium. similarly the united states may generously return money to japan (as in the shimonoseki case) or to china, or relieve the sufferers of messina or of belgium. in really vital matters, however, nations are not self-sacrificing, but tenaciously pursue their own interests. there are two senses, however, in which a nation may be disinterested in its foreign policy. either it may possess no interest or its separate interest may be so small in relation to its larger interests elsewhere that it is willing to make a sacrifice. if, for example, the present war ended in a deadlock and the two groups of powers, unwilling to trust each other, were to confide constantinople and the straits to the keeping of the united states, it would be almost unthinkable that we should be false to the trust. we should have no interest in favouring one group of nations as against the other; we should have no political axe to grind and no economic or territorial gains to make. we should be fair and disinterested because we had no interest. { } our recent attitude toward cuba, the philippines and mexico has been relatively disinterested in the second sense. we might have made money by exploiting these countries. we could have held cuba; we might have imported a million chinese into the philippine islands and grown rich on their toil, while in mexico, where we already had invested a large capital which was menaced and in part destroyed by the revolution, we could have taken what we wanted and held what we took. certain motives of decency prevented us from following this ruthless course; our self-satisfaction was worth more to us than a few hundred million dollars. the important fact, however, was that we were not pressed for this wealth. we were not compelled by poverty or pressure of population to grab what we could. we were able to seek a larger interest, to lay the basis of a slower but surer prosperity and to gain the good will, if not of cubans, filipinos and mexicans, at least of the nations generally. in the long run it was a policy that will pay, and our conditions are such that we can still afford to consider the long run. but although we have been occasionally disinterested or have shown at least a chemical trace of disinterestedness, our foreign policy has usually pursued concrete national aims. it has been a conservative, relatively uneventful policy, consisting for the most part in a quiet, unhurried advancement of our interests, with a not excessive consideration for the opinions of other nations. we have been cautious though persistent. we have avoided forcing quarrels upon powerful nations until we had grown irresistible. usually we obtained the large thing, but where we could obtain it only by fighting formidable opponents, we compromised. when as in we found ourselves in a dangerous position, we endured aggression by france and spain until we were again free { } to compel redress. time worked for us, the passing years were our allies and we could afford to move slow. but we moved always in one direction--toward our perceived national interest. the issue, therefore, is not whether we shall sacrifice our national interests, but whether in our foreign policy we shall pursue ultimate, or at least relatively permanent, interests in a large way or seek immediate, smaller gains. it is a choice similar to that which a great store makes when it sells standard goods at a fixed price instead of seeking immediate advantage by petty cheatings and interminable and multitudinous hagglings. as nations advance towards power, stability and security, they are enabled to base their programmes increasingly on long time views and, ceasing to be interested in small advantages, to seek their larger interests in a policy of tolerance and seeming magnanimity. it was to england's real interest to be scrupulously fair in peace time toward weaker naval nations; it was equally to her larger interest to open her dependencies to the trade of the world and to accord political rights to her lately conquered dutch subjects in south africa. a tighter and harder policy would have been short-sighted. even had it gained immediate advantages, it might have left england in a day of adversity with the great powers ranged against her. the choice between immediate and ultimate interest in foreign policy presents itself daily. we could, for example, simply take the danish west indies, instead of paying for them, and doubtless might secure ourselves against a future retaliation by the great powers. such an adventure, however, to say nothing of its ethics, would be monstrously stupid. or, while the european nations are looking elsewhere, we might "go" into mexico and keep { } what we wanted. we have a better excuse than in and an equally safe opportunity. we should be richer to-morrow if we took mexico, but would it pay in the end? would such a conquest accord with our larger policies and our true ambitions in the world? it is in this light that we should view the problem of our foreign policy as it shapes itself to-day. we must preserve certain national interests, material and spiritual. we must ward off certain dangers, securing ourselves as other nations secure themselves. but for better or worse, we have become a world power and a world influence, and what we do outside, as well as within, our borders, must affect the decisions and actions of other nations. if our ideal is not aggrandisement or empire but an equal fellowship with other great nations, if we desire to contribute to the progress of international development and not merely get all we can in the scramble, how shall we shape our foreign policy? on what broad general principle shall we decide the urgent questions which arise day by day in most unexpected conjunctions? the answer to these questions is not easy; there is not even an agreement as to what our interests are. what, after all, do the hundred million americans want beyond their borders? what are we willing to fight for rather than forego? what do we already have or claim, the retention of which would justify us in fighting? how we shall answer this depends upon our temperament and our special interests. certain americans would advise us to fight all europe, rather than recede from an action already determined upon or acknowledge that american policy is conditioned by the will of foreigners. one need not argue against such convictions. it is the current, instinctive philosophy of "my country right or wrong, wise or foolish; my country against the world." to fight { } all europe, however, is not to fight at all, but merely to be assassinated. to act as though europe had no rights which america needs respect is to adopt a principle profoundly hostile to our own welfare. to a financier, whose interests in mexico, guatemala or indo-china are attacked, war seems preferable to a neglect of those interests. he would not put the matter so crudely; he would say that he preferred defeat or even disaster to a peace dictated by fear. what would lead him to this patriotic conclusion, however, would be the conviction that to do nothing would lose him his property, whereas even a disastrous war would cost him only his share in the national loss. and the war might be gained or even avoided, if only the united states were bold enough. he would, therefore, define our national interests as including all those things to which we in our good judgment believed that we had some claim. those with no special interest in foreign investments are less solicitous. a default on the bonds of mexican railways is less costly to the iowa farmer or boston stonemason than the contraction of debts for the purpose of pacifying mexico. to fight england or germany seems more costly to the average american than to forego extra opportunities for making money in china or the argentine. even the farmer or stonemason, however, feels that the united states has certain interests and rights abroad. our citizens should have the right to travel freely upon the high seas and in foreign countries and to enjoy privileges and immunities granted to citizens of other nations. we should have equal access with other nations to the sources of raw materials and to world markets, subject to the reserved right of each nation, including the united states, to levy customs duties for the protection of its own industries. finally we should enjoy the right of { } investing our capital and conducting our businesses abroad under the equal protection of the laws of the particular country. all this is of course vague. it does not determine what protection we should assure ourselves in a country whose government is corrupt or unstable, nor does it consider the contingency of a weak nation, granting under duress more favourable conditions to some other foreign nation than to us. while however we cannot arrive at any final decision as to the details of our foreign policy, we can at least formulate in general terms certain principles which we may seek to apply. the most vital of these principles is equal opportunity for all nations, and no special advantage for ourselves or others. in accepting such a principle the united states would be merely applying to a territory, over which it held a dominant influence, a policy which, if universally applied by all the great powers, would immensely reduce the area of international friction. to apply such a principle in good faith is the first and most obvious contribution that we can make to economic internationalism. we cannot in reason demand the open door in asia or in europe's colonies if in our own colonies and in other lands where we are paramount, we adopt a contrary policy. we can afford to concede this principle of equal opportunity because of our resources at home and the large share of trade and investment opportunities which will come to us without special favours. what we might get above that is not worth the risk. a policy of taking all we can get, whether other nations suffer or not, is, apart from all other considerations, injudicious. such a policy of aggression might be cloaked for instance under the monroe doctrine, a vague tenet, capable { } of contraction or infinite expansion. if we allow our speculators to determine its meaning, we shall in due course interpret the doctrine as the right of the united states to control south america politically and exploit it industrially. the downward path to such an interpretation is easy. to secure an inside track in latin america we need only look askance upon concessions to europeans and with benevolence upon concessions to americans. we can place obstacles in the way of foreign corporations recovering damages for injuries suffered, while we aid american companies to secure redress. we can make our ministers to latin america "business agents" of exporters and big banking concerns. such a policy would mean economic and eventually political control, the much feared _conquista pacifica_. if we embark upon such a policy we shall earn the hatred both of europe and of latin america. hitherto the monroe doctrine has been safe from serious attack by europe because england with her preponderant sea-power has been commercially the chief benefactor, and the other nations believed that, for the time being at least, south america was held open for joint exploitation. moreover, europe had nearer problems in the disposition of balkan territory and in the partition of africa and sections of asia. so long as european nations were not ready to divide up latin america, or so long as they believed that it would remain independent and thus open to the commerce of all, the temptation to fight for a slice of the great continent, though alluring, was not sufficiently powerful to overcome the sense of the peril of such an undertaking. for germany to seek to conquer a part of brazil would have been to add all the american nations to her already long list of enemies. but this tolerance of the monroe doctrine is conditioned upon our playing { } the part of a guardian and not of a conqueror. we can neither monopolise latin america industrially nor rule it politically (which might involve the same result) without trenching upon the common patrimony of europe. to secure the inside track means therefore either to fight all europe, which is impossible, or to share the booty with one or two allied powers, like england and france, and thus to enter into all the complications and dangers of european politics. a pan-americanism of this sort would involve us in the next balkan imbroglio or the next quarrel over the persian gulf, and our peace would be at the mercy of any little monarch who struck the first blow at one of our allies. in latin america itself such a policy of aggression by the united states is already feared and resented.[ ] the people to the south of us do not take our professions of disinterestedness with the simple faith of little children, but see in us a virile, formidable, unconsciously imperialistic nation, which has already benefited by its guardianship and hopes to benefit still more. they fear the colour prejudice in the united states and a certain unreasoning contempt for latin-american civilisation might lead us impatiently to set aside their rights if they conflicted with our own interests. the latin americans already speak of a "north american peril." they remember texas, { } panama, porto rico. indeed, they recognise that the united states, in despite of itself, may be forced to expand southwards. "it is more than probable," writes the mexican sociologist, f. bulnes, "that by the united states will hold a population of , , inhabitants. they will then scarcely be sufficient for the needs of this population, and will no longer be able to supply the world with the vast quantity of cereals which they supply to-day. they will therefore have to choose between a recourse to the methods of intensive culture and the conquest of the extra-tropical lands of latin america, which are fitted, by their conditions, to the easy and inexpensive production of cereals."[ ] there is a nearer danger. "sometimes," writes garcia calderon, "this north american influence becomes a monopoly, and the united states takes possession of the markets of the south. they aim at making a trust of the south american republics, the supreme dream of their multi-millionaire _conquistadors_."[ ] thus to shut off latin america, as spain once did, would, however, injure the southern republics and create an antagonism that would find its expression in armed resistance. nor would this resistance be entirely negligible. a century ago, latin america had a population of fifteen millions; to-day its population is eighty millions and is rapidly increasing. as an ally to european nations, opposed to aggression by the united states, a latin-american country or group of countries might well exert a decisive influence. ill defined and vague, capable of being indefinitely expanded by all sorts of sudden interpretations, the monroe { } doctrine is to-day a peril to latin america and to ourselves. it is likely to become even more dangerous if turned over to an american plutocracy for its elucidation. if on the other hand, we restrict our policy to the protection of the interests of latin americans, europeans and ourselves, we shall not only be safe-guarding our own peace, but shall be removing a future coveted area from the field of international strife. to adopt such a policy, however, means that we must be better informed and more concrete. it is absurd to lump together all latin-american countries, as though all were equally advanced in civilisation. to compare the argentine with san domingo is to discover differences almost as great as between holland and abyssinia. mexico is far more significant to us politically, economically and in a military sense than brazil or chile. into the question of panama, haiti and the west indian islands generally, elements enter that are absent from our relations with venezuela or ecuador. our policy towards these countries need not be identical. we should have a mexican policy, a separate policy for the west indian islands, another policy for the caribbean states, and an individual policy for each south american state. our interests and obligations differ in these states. we cannot pretend to the same vital interest in the internal peace of argentina as in that of our next door neighbour. we cannot cover these diverse conditions with the blanket of one vague doctrine. in our relations to latin america, moreover, we should not grasp at political sovereignty, if the reasonable economic interests of the world can in any way be secured without political incorporation. we are gradually being forced into a policy of acquiring dominion over certain caribbean countries. we have a financial guardianship in haiti and san domingo; we have "taken" panama, { } and it probably needs only a little disorder to give us a quasi-protectorate over other small countries in the same neighbourhood. the united states, however, is on the whole still averse from such interference, wherever avoidable. we have kept faith with cuba and there is strong opposition to acquiring mexico, despite the agitation of financiers and instinctive border-line patriots. the problem is not easy, for a measure of peace in these neighbouring states is not only essential to us but is demanded by europe (who will interfere if we do not) and peace may eventually require intervention. in countries like haiti, which show at present an invincible distaste for orderly government, abstention is almost impossible. the chief danger in our relations with certain latin-american countries lies in this political instability and unripeness that makes property and life unsafe and the administration of justice notoriously corrupt. the result is extortion, bribery and violence clothed in legal form. investors and creditors plead for intervention to enforce contracts, sometimes of doubtful validity, sometimes obviously dishonest. to meet the problems arising from such claims, we should have more information. our bureau of foreign commerce should ask for data concerning american investments abroad and especially in latin america. such information, supplied in the first instance by the corporations, should be verified by official investigations. there should be full publicity. our consular representatives should not seek to secure special privileges or business orders, and our governmental influence should guarantee equal economic opportunities to all nations. no claim by americans should be enforced until it has been reported upon favourably by a court of arbitration composed of representatives of nations with no interest in the controversy. { } whether the united states should seek the aid of england or of some other european power in the maintenance of the monroe doctrine or should endeavour to internationalise the doctrine by gaining the adhesion of all nations, or should support the doctrine with the aid of the latin-american countries alone is a question the answer to which will depend upon the future attitude of european nations, and especially upon the relation of the united states to those nations. the difficulty of securing an international guarantee lies in the necessary vagueness of the doctrine. in the present state of mind concerning international guarantees, there is perhaps more immediate advantage in a special guardianship by the united states, the argentine, brazil and chile, especially as in the case of an assault upon the doctrine by one or more european powers, the assistance of other european nations could probably be obtained. the important consideration at present is that the strength of the doctrine will be in direct proportion to the disinterestedness of the united states. the more clearly the doctrine can be made to serve the common interests of the world instead of the special interests of a single country, the more likely is it to secure the support in any crisis of a group of nations possessing a preponderance of world power. our relations with canada present fewer temptations. our policy should look towards the creation of friendly relations and a nearer economic union, but neither immediately nor ultimately towards a forced annexation. a willing political incorporation of canada into the united states might be excellent, but an annexation against the opposition of the canadian people would be a crime and blunder. it would mean an american alsace-lorraine upon an immense scale. economically canada and the united states are rapidly becoming one. with exports to { } canada already more than twice as great as those of all other nations (including great britain) we can at will draw upon her immense agricultural and mineral resources by the simple expedient of letting down our tariff wall. we can invest there as safely as britisher or canadian, and can benefit by canada (as canada benefits by us) as though she were a part of the united states. a growth of the eight million canadians to twenty or more millions will mean for us an enhanced prosperity. despite absurd prejudices on both sides of the border the economic union grows stronger.[ ] if we do not strive for an inside track in latin america nor for the conquest of canada, should we be willing to fight for the "open door" in china, for equal privileges in all parts of that empire? the phrase the "open door" has a pleasing sound. there can be no doubt that the opening up of china's ports to commerce with all nations on equal terms would be of immediate advantage to us, and probably to china herself. our interest in the matter, however, is frankly selfish. though we have a kindly feeling for the chinese, so long as they stay in china, our "open door" policy is intended in the first instance to benefit our own merchants and investors. the alternative to the open door is to { } permit other nations to divide up china, a proceeding in which we do not care to take part, and to exclude us from certain trade and investment opportunities. it is doubtful whether these chances which we should lose by an unaggressive policy, are sufficiently important to justify us in entering upon a conflict with japan or with japan and russia.[ ] our losses would be less than is imagined, for whoever opens up china will be compelled to admit other industrial nations upon reasonable terms. japan cannot finance herself, to say nothing of financing china, and the nations, called upon to supply capital, would necessarily be consulted in essential political and economic arrangements. even if japan secured a relatively excessive share of the commerce, it would mean a diversion of other trade, which she formerly possessed, since her own factories would be busy. in the end, we could afford to permit other nations to take upon themselves the burden of policing china, in view of the fact that while our { } own profits might be less our expenses also would be less. a deeper problem, however, is involved in this question of china. just as by the monroe doctrine we seek to prevent european powers from conquering, colonising and dividing up america, so in china, our interest, apart from a share of the trade and investment chances, lies in contributing to the world's peace by removing that vast territory from the field of international political competition. what we should mean by "the open door" in china is the integrity of that country and its immunity from conquest, partition and forced exploitation. the plea of an "open door," as a mere tariff policy, comes with ill grace from us, who have closed the door both in porto rico and at home, but china's integrity is an issue of a different character.[ ] it is important to us not so much for immediate economic reasons as because it is likely to promote peace. it is a world, rather than a national, interest. because it is a world-interest, it should be secured by the efforts of many nations and not by the united states alone. { } in principle, therefore, the six-power loan, which in a sense was a joint guarantee, was a step in the right direction. that its specific terms were unreasonable and that the loan was in a degree forced were perhaps sufficient reasons for our withdrawal from the arrangement. along somewhat similar lines, however, the early development of china should proceed, and it is to our interest to promote any plan that will prevent china from being the bone of contention among the belligerent nations of europe.[ ] our relations to latin america, canada and china are perhaps the most immediate of our foreign concerns. these are the lands in which we have the greatest stake and the greatest temptation to pursue an imperialistic policy. the real power in this world, however, lies in europe. it is europe that decides the fate of asia, africa, australia, and may in the end decide that of south america. it is from europe that the fear of war arises, and it is in our dealings with europe, and in the dealings of european nations with one another, that the hope of peace and of progress in international development must centre. [ ] for a view of latin america's fear of aggression by the united states, see such books as "el imperialismo norte-americano," by f. caraballo sotolongo, havana, , and américa latina ante el peliogro, by salvador k. merlos, san josé (costa rica), . both of these books are shrill and somewhat uncritical but they fairly represent a large body of latin-american thought. there is usually a division of opinion as to whether the united states is to attain its ends by military or by financial means. "it is not _manu militari_," writes a french author, "that brother jonathan intends to carve out his place in the sun, but by the force of dollars."--"l'imperialisme allemand," by maurice lair, paris, . [ ] f. bulnes, "l'avenir des nations hispano-americaines," quoted by f. garcia calderon, "latin america," p. . [ ] f. garcia calderon, "latin america. its rise and progress," p. . [ ] the problem of canada's relation to european controversies and wars may in the future present difficult problems for the united states. if in the present war germany had been able to land armies on canadian soil, or if in the future russia or japan were to do so, the position of the united states might be rendered dangerous by the permanent establishment of a strong military power, let us say in british columbia. yet we could not demand that canada be allowed to send troops against russia or japan and those nations be forbidden to attack in return. the problem of the immobilisation, and even of the neutrality, of canada in certain future wars, in which great britain is engaged but we ourselves are neutrals, may become an urgent question. [ ] a guess at our possible losses through a non-aggressive policy in china is made by mr. thomas f. millard in his "our eastern question." "it is roughly estimated," he says, "that china's administrative, commercial, and economic development in the next twenty years will need $ , , , of foreign capital. under a genuine application of the hay doctrine, america would have approximately one-fourth of this financing.... the returns from this investment would be partly interest and partly trade. five per cent. interest on $ , , is $ , , income annually." in other words for the privilege of gaining twenty years from now $ , , a year from an investment which if made at home or in the argentine or in russia would bring us in little less, mr. millard would have us put japan in her place and if necessary join with england and perhaps france to fight both japan and russia. even if we add the trade profits to this interest on investment, the total result is pitiably small. at our present rate of increase in wealth we may add about one hundred and fifty billions of dollars in the next twenty years. whether or not one-half billion is invested in china is, nationally speaking, superlatively unimportant. if we intervene in china let us not do it for a few million dollars annually. (see millard, _op. cit._, p. .) [ ] the significant question has been raised whether manchuria should be included in the china, whose integrity is to be secured. while china is very densely populated, manchuria prior to had only , , people on an area of , square miles, a density of population considerably less than that of minnesota. with immense natural resources, its development has, says dr. james francis abbott in "japanese expansion and american policies," p. , been prevented by "the existence of wandering brigands 'hunghuntzies,' who terrorised the country." dr. abbott distinguishes between the japanese occupation of shantung, which is filled with chinese, and of south manchuria which "was a sparsely settled province of which china was merely the nominal owner. the russians, and after them the japanese, occupied it as americans occupied california and annexed it for the same reason." korea and manchuria are absolutely necessary to japan. "japan's needs for expansion are real and obvious. manchuria and korea could hold the double of the japanese population" (p. ). in other words dr. abbott advises a policy of maintaining the integrity of a china, excluding however both korea and manchuria. [ ] if china does develop an industrial civilisation it may be quite capable before many generations of maintaining its own integrity and independence. the weaknesses under which china now suffers would tend to disappear once it became industrially organised. that this impending industrial progress of china would mean ultimate economic danger to western europe is probable, but this remote danger would not prevent those nations pursuing their immediate economic interests in developing china. { } chapter xvi pacifism static and dynamic if at home we have a firm basis for national development, if we grow up as a great power beyond the range of fierce conflicts between the nations, the opportunity will be offered us to contribute in some degree to the ultimate establishment of peace, or at least to the limitation of war, in the world outside. our influence can be cast upon the side of peace and augment the forces making for peace. our hope lies in a national development, which will permit us while pursuing our larger national interests to work towards a great community of interest among other nations. in such an international peace the united states has a direct and an indirect interest. it has been recently asserted that we in america might regard the present war with equanimity since it brought us huge profits. undoubtedly there is money to be made out of the selling of provisions and munitions as well as from trade in countries from which competitors are temporarily excluded. on the other hand, the war means the impoverishment of european nations, who are our main purveyors and customers, and eventually the losses suffered by combatants must be shared to some extent by us who are non-combatants. the war brings about a dislocation of the world industry, a shrinking of capital, and in the end higher prices and a possible reduction in real wages. { } in the years to come we shall be forced to pay our share of the cost. nor is this economic motive our sole reason for desiring international peace. we are linked to the nations of europe, and however we declaim against "hyphenates," cannot prevent our immigrants from sympathising with the land of their birth. the present straining of loyalties in this country is a sufficient reason for our desiring peace in europe. nor do we like bloodshed or the political reaction and the backwash of barbarism that wars entail. finally, however neutral we remain, there is always the possibility that we may be plunged into a great european conflict, in which in the beginning at least we shall have no direct interest. diplomatically also, war in europe is of no overwhelming advantage to us. in the early days of the republic, a constant balancing of hostile forces prevented england and france from taking advantage of our weakness. the quarrels of europe enabled us to preserve our independence by opposing a unitary strength to the enfeebling european dualism; otherwise we might not have dared to use so shrill a tone in admonishing the great powers. but even had the eagle not screeched, we might still have led a satisfactory national existence. whatever was true in the past, however, we need no longer be so completely defenceless that we must fear that peace in europe would mean a conquest of america. we should rather have europe fight itself than us, but--in dollars and cents as in other values--we should prefer to see the world at peace. we shall not secure peace, however, by merely wishing for it or by merely preaching it. in the midst of war there has always been the longing for peace, and throughout the centuries voices have been raised calling upon mankind to give up its war upon itself. the ideal of peace { } pervades much of all folklore; it inspires the old testament prophets and is everywhere expressed in the new testament. the religious ideals of the chinese, hindus and persians are suffused with the hope of peace, and greek and roman philosophers and poets dreamed of a peaceful commonwealth of peoples and planned the federation of the world. the early church fathers, irenæus, clement of alexandria, tertullian, cyprian, augustine, preached the gospel of peace, and while the church doctrines later changed in this respect, there reappeared again and again during the mediæval period the conception of a world state, presided over by emperor or pope, and ending once for all the ceaseless strife among princes. after the reformation religious sects grew up, like the mennonites and the quakers, who preached not only peace but non-resistance. out of all this longing for peace, out of all these proposals, however, came nothing. similarly the pacifist writings of the abbé de st. pierre, of rousseau, of leibnitz, of montesquieu, of voltaire, of kant, of jeremy bentham and of hundreds of others did not bring the world a single step nearer to an elimination of war.[ ] throughout this long history, pacifism failed because it was in no sense based upon the actual conditions of the world. it was a religious, sentimental, hortatory pacifism. finding peace desirable, it pleaded with the men who ruled nations to compose their quarrels. it was an appeal not to the interest but to the sentiments of men. it discovered that war was evil and exhorted nations and rulers to refrain from evil. with the period of enlightenment that began shortly before the french revolution, the movement for peace was { } accelerated. the ideas that were once current only among philosophers began to spread among considerable sections of the population. gradually also pacifism became rationalistic rather than religious or moral. war was attacked not because it was evil in the eyes of god but because, like high taxes, monopolies and tariffs, it was adverse to the economic interests of nations and peoples. the growth of the doctrine of _laissez-faire_ and of free trade gave a new impetus to the pacifist movement. the people of the world were looked upon as a myriad of human atoms, whose welfare did not depend upon the power of the particular state of which they chanced to form a part, but upon the free enterprise of each and the unobstructed exchange of products among all these individuals. it was held that the world would be better if there were no customs barriers, and free trade on equal terms for all the people of the world was predicted as a proximate consummation. there would then be no need for wars or fleets or armies, which cost money and prevented the progress of humanity. wars were economically inadvisable. they did not benefit the sovereign individual, and therefore could not benefit the nation, which was merely a huge assemblage of individuals. like the religious and emotional pacifism which preceded it, this rationalistic pacifism broke down through its sheer inapplicability to the facts of life. while the philosophers of the french revolution were still proclaiming the advent of peace, the greatest wars until then in all history were already preparing, and again when in at the first world's exposition in london men began to hope that the era of peace had at last come, a long period of war was again imminent. never was there more talk of peace or hope of peace than in the years preceding the great conflict of . no wonder many advocates and { } prophets of war believe that peace is forever impossible. "there," wrote the late prof. j. a. cramb, "in its specious and glittering beauty the ideal of pacificism remains; yet in the long march of humanity across thousands of years or thousands of centuries it remains still an ideal, lost in inaccessible distances, as when first it gleamed across the imagination."[ ] "despite this hubbub of talk down all the centuries war has continued--absolutely as if not a word had been said on one side or the other. man's dreadful toll in blood has not yet all been paid. the human race bears still this burden. declaimed against in the name of religion, in the name of humanity, in the name of profit-and-loss, war still goes on."[ ] but the fact that war still exists does not at all prove that it is inevitable, but merely that it has not yet been avoided. militarists argue that war is biologically necessary, an ingrained ineradicable instinct, a necessary evil or an inescapable good, a gift of a stern god. there is a curious sentimental fatalism about our war prophets, but in the end their arguments come down to two, that we have always had wars and that we still have them. it was said many years ago that "the poor ye have always with you" and to-day poverty on an immense scale still exists in every part of the planet. yet we do not despair of limiting or even of eradicating poverty. tuberculosis has existed for centuries and still exists, but to-day we understand the disease and it is doomed. if war is inevitable it is so for reasons which have not yet been established. until it is proved that war accompanies life and progress as the shadow accompanies the body, men will strive to eliminate war, however frequent and discouraging their failures. the cause of these failures of pacifism has been its { } unreality, its too confident approach to a difficult problem. many pacifists have tended to exhort about war instead of studying it; they have looked upon it as a thing accursed and irrational, beyond the pale of serious consideration. they have likened the belief that war has accomplished good in the past to a faith in witchcraft and other superstitions. they have tilted at war, as the mediæval church tilted at usury, without stopping to consider what relation this war-process bore to the basic facts of social evolution. it was an error to consider war as a thing in itself instead of an effect of precedent causes. fortunately the newer pacifists, who have been rendered cautious by many bitter disappointments, are changing their approach and seeking to cure war not directly but by removing its causes. they are striving to outflank war. along this line alone can progress be made. you cannot end war without changing the international polity which leads to war. the bloody conflicts between nations, being a symptom of a world maladjustment and frequently an attempt to cure that maladjustment, can be averted only by policies which provide some other cure. to destroy war one must find some alternative regulator or governor of societies. in their failure to provide such a regulator, or even to recognise that such a regulator is necessary, lies the vital defect of many of the peace plans to-day. pacifism may be either static or dynamic; it may seek to keep things as they are, to crystallise international society in its present forms, or on the other hand may base itself on the assumption that these forms will change. it may address itself to the problem of stopping the world as one stops a clock, of forbidding unequal growth of nations, of discountenancing change, or it may seek to find an outlet and expression for the discontent and unrest which all growth { } brings. pacifism that is static is doomed. our only hope lies in a dynamic, evolutionary pacifism, based on a principle of the ever-changing adjustment of nations to an ever-changing environment. at the bottom of static pacifism lies a conception somewhat as follows. the nations of the earth have an interest in maintaining peace, but are forced, tricked or lured into war by the tyranny or craft of princes and capitalists or by their own prejudices and sudden passions. some nations are peaceful and some, by reason of an evil education, hostile; wherefore the hostile nations must be restrained by the peaceful, as the anti-social classes are restrained by the community. honest differences of opinion among nations must be arbitrated; angry passions must be allowed to cool, and the nations must go about unarmed that there may be no indiscriminate shooting. given these precautions we shall have peace. but it is a peace without change, and such a peace, apart from its being impossible, is not even desirable. what the static pacifist does not perceive is that he is hopelessly conservative and stationary in a swiftly moving world. he would like to build a wall against time and change, to put down his stakes and bid evolution cease. it is this pathetic clinging to fixity, to a something immutable, that vitiates his proposals. nations that hate war prefer it nevertheless to the preservation of unendurable conditions, and the best conditions, if they remain unaltered, speedily become unendurable. we should not be satisfied to-day with the best constitution of the world agreed upon a hundred years ago, before there were railroads and telegraphs, and when democracy and nationalism were weaker than to-day. if to-morrow morning our wisest and most forward-looking men were to re-constitute society and petrify it in peace, our descendants would be far from content. { } the best heritage that the world can have is not a perfect constitution but a feasible principle of change. a dynamic pacifism, on the other hand, must assume that the world is in change, and that no peace is possible or desirable which does not permit great international transformations. these transformations arise from various causes. thus a candid consideration of the facts of international life must convince us that in the present era nationality is a potent, vital and probably a growing force, and that many of the ambitions and desires of men are mobilised nationally. the nations, however, grow unequally and are subjected to unequal pressure by their various environments. as a consequence certain nations become increasingly dissatisfied with their place in the world, and naturally, and in the present circumstances wisely, prefer the risks and costs of war to their present position. such nations have an interest in war, if change cannot be otherwise effected. moreover, it is clear to the dynamic pacifist that certain classes by the fact of their position in society are more bellicose than others, that classes grow at unequal rates and exert a varying influence, and that certain classes may have a direct and obvious interest in throwing their nation into war. the neglect of any such dynamic conception of world society is revealed in all the proposals of the static pacifists. for example, the proposal to create a united states of europe is based on a palpably false analogy with the united states of america, and ignores grossly the living principle of nationality. the states of europe are either nations or are approaching nationhood. they lack the racial, linguistic and traditional bonds, which made the union of the american colonies not indeed easy but at least possible. these trans-atlantic nations suffer from being jostled one against the other and their keen sense of { } national difference is accentuated by economic pressure and by a perpetual fear of foreign military aggression. to unite all these nations into one federal state, with a senate, a house of representatives and an impartial supreme court, is not only a static but a mechanical proposal. nations grow; they are not manufactured. equally static is the proposal for immediate and universal disarmament. nations will arm so long as they are afraid and so long as they want something vital that can be obtained only by warfare. moreover, there is no principle to determine the permitted armament of each nation or to designate the country which shall control the international police that is to enforce disarmament. an unequal disarmament would be unwise because it would take from the more pacific and civilised nations the weapons necessary to restrain unorganised and retrograde peoples. the fundamental defect of the proposal, however, is that it provides no way by which one nation, injured by another, can secure redress. if there is to be neither war nor an effective international regulation, what limits can a nation set to non-military aggression by its neighbour?[ ] the belief that all wars may be averted by arbitration is equally a static conception. during the last few decades international arbitration has settled many controversies, which could not be adjusted by ordinary diplomatic means. increasingly cases have been submitted to arbitral decision. { } the real questions over which nations clash, however, are not arbitrable. one cannot arbitrate whether russia or germany should control the balkans, whether the united states should admit japanese immigrants, or whether alsace should go to france or germany, or trieste to italy or austria. arbitration has the limitations of judicial processes. it is possible to arbitrate questions concerning the interpretation of treaties and formal agreements or the application of recognised principles of international law, but no nation will arbitrate its right to exist. moreover, the very fact that arbitration is a judicial process, based upon precedents and the assumption of the _status quo_ renders it unacceptable to the nations which are dissatisfied with present arrangements. the necessity which knows no law respects no arbitration, and no board of arbitration, however impartial, could decide that one nation should have more colonies because she needed them or because she was growing, while another nation must stand aside because feeble and unprogressive. it is probably not in the interest of the world that portugal and belgium should retain their colonies in africa, but on what precedent could these nations be forced to sell? questions of vital interest therefore are in truth non-justiciable. no powerful nation will accept a subordinate position in the world because some arbitral body decides it may not adopt a certain policy. arbitration is not a process of adjustment of growing nations to a changing environment. but if nations will not gladly accept arbitration where supposedly vital interests are concerned, can they not be coerced? out of the obvious need of such coercion arises a whole series of plans to force recalcitrant nations to accept mediation, to delay hostilities and even to abide by the arbitral award. a league to enforce peace is a proposed union of pacific nations to prevent immediate or even { } ultimate recourse to war, to force combatants to arbitrate justiciable disputes and to place the sanction of force behind the decisions of the nations. this proposal contains within it an element valuable and indeed essential to international peace. it frankly assumes the right of a group of nations to compel a refractory nation by the use of force. it is far more realistic than the conception of a world peace based upon a sudden conversion of the nations to the iniquity of war, which is at bottom an anarchistic conception. for however we deplore a use of force we cannot rely exclusively upon anything less. force is not intrinsically immoral, and without force no morality can prevail. the compulsion which the parent exercises over a child, and organised communities over the individual citizen, must equally form the basis of an international system. one cannot base such a system upon mere moral suasion, which, though of value as a precedent and complement to force, is frequently thwarted by the public opinion of each nation, formed within its borders and protected from outside influence by pride and a blinding national interest. outside nations could not have persuaded germany that it was unethical to invade belgium. she would have appealed to her own moral sense and trusted to the future to make good her right to attack. had germany realised, however, that an invasion of belgium would be actively resisted by otherwise neutral nations, overwhelming in force, she might have been willing to debate the question. the immorality of force lies merely in improper use. all through history compulsion has been exerted for evil as well as for good purposes. the future of international concord lies, therefore, not in refraining from force or potential force, not in a purely _laissez-faire_ policy, but in applying force to uphold a growing body of international { } ethics, increasingly recognised by the public opinion of the world. but a league of peace, unless it is _more_ than a league of peace, suffers from the same defect of not providing an alternative to war. if italy is not to attack austria, some way must be found to protect italian interests in the trentino and trieste, and if germany is not to attack england, some security must be given that german commerce will be safe and german colonial aspirations not entirely disregarded. if the nations believe, rightly or wrongly, that their vital interests are being disregarded in the peace which the league enforces, there will be defections and revolts. such a league would then become useless or worse, since it can only exert an influence so long as it possesses an immense preponderance of power. the same defect inheres in a league of satisfied powers. such powers, preferring the _status quo_ to any probable revision of the affairs of the world, are in the beginning united by a common conservative instinct. but no nation is completely satisfied; each wants a "rectification" here and a "compensation" there. the same disagreements over the spoils of the world that would be found outside such a league would also make their appearance within, and in the end one or more of the satiated nations would join the group of the unsatisfied, and the league would cease to be a guarantee of peace. it would die of the endless flux in human affairs. similarly static is the proposal that all nations wait, or be compelled to wait, a set term before beginning hostilities. in many cases such a compulsory postponement would be advantageous in that it would favour the mobilisation of the pacific elements in the community and thus tend to prevent wars being suddenly forced upon the nation against the national interest by a small, bellicose social class. the { } underlying theory, however, is that nations always go to war because they are hot-headed, whereas in very many cases the decision to wage war at the proper time is perfectly deliberate and cold-blooded. moreover, a compulsory wait before declaring war would alter the balance of power between the groups of powers, and would adversely affect certain ready nations, which could therefore only be coerced into accepting the arrangement. unless some adequate provision were made (and it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to make it) to prevent a nation from preparing for war during the year's wait, the countries with the largest resources, such as great britain, the united states and russia, would secure an enormous advantage, while nations like germany and japan would lose. an event in the very recent past illustrates this point. on august , the german secretary of state intimated to the british ambassador that a failure on the part of russia to demobilise would cause germany to declare instant war. "russia had said that her mobilisation did not necessarily imply war, and that she could perfectly well remain mobilised for months without making war. this was not the case with germany. she had the speed and russia had the numbers, and the safety of the german empire forbade that germany should allow russia time to bring up masses of troops from all parts of her wide dominions."[ ] in other words, for germany to give up her greater speed of mobilisation would be to destroy her advantage while assuring that of russia. actually, under present circumstances, such a proposal would tend to preserve the _status quo_ and to aid the satisfied nations. in practice it would take from the dissatisfied nations the power to alter arrangements, which they feel are unjust. { } most of these plans, a federation of nations, a progressive disarmament, a wider application of the principle of arbitration, and a league to enforce peace, have elements of value, once they are divorced from purely static conceptions and are united with proposals to effect some form of progressive adjustment of nations to each other and to the world. in this effort at adjustment lies the real problem of securing international peace. so long as the nations have conflicting economic interests so wide and deep as to make their surrender perilous to the national future, so long will they find some way to escape from the restraints of peace. they will drive their armies through any compact or agreement, adverse to their economic interests, and in the process will smash whatever machinery has been created for establishing peace. a dynamic pacifism, therefore, must take into account this factor of the constantly changing, balancing, opposing economic needs of rival nations. it must devise not only some rudimentary form of international government but also arrangements by which the things for which the nations go to war may peacefully be distributed or utilized in a manner equitable to all. [ ] for a brief digest of the history of pacifism, see dr. edward krehbiel, "nationalism, war and society," new york, . see also books cited by him. [ ] "england and germany," p. . [ ] p. . [ ] the proposal for disarmament also raises the question of the inner stability of each nation. in each country there must be some police force to keep down the anti-social classes and prevent revolution. such a force might be small in england or the united states; it would have to be large and powerful in russia and austria, if the subject nations were to be held down. but a large police force is an army under a different name. if each disarmed nation were permitted to decide its own police needs, the whole principle of disarmament would be whittled away. [ ] british white paper, no. . { } chapter xvii towards international government these are three ways in which the united states might conceivably attempt to promote the international adjustments without which peace cannot be secured. we might seek to "go it alone," righting one wrong after another, intervening whenever and wherever our national conscience directed. or we might enter into an alliance with one or a few selected democratic and enlightened nations to force international justice and comity upon other nations. finally we might refrain from ubiquitous interventions and peace-propagating alliances and devote ourselves, in conjunction with all other willing nations, to the formulation of principles of international policy, and unite with those nations in the legalisation and enforcement of such principles. in other words we might become the standard about which the peaceful parties and groups of all nations might rally. the first of these courses is quite impossible. it is grotesque to think of us, or of any country, as a knight-errant, rescuing nations forlorn from evil forsworn powers. there are two things, besides a saving sense of humour, which preclude us from essaying this rôle; we have not the knowledge and we have not the power. for the making of peace more than good will is required. nothing is more harmful in international intercourse than a certain sentimentalism and contempt for realities on the part of many of our pacifists. the difficulty with most plans for intervention by one { } moral and infallible power is that they attribute a pikestaff simplicity to international--as, in fact, to all questions. according to certain superlatively well-intentioned people, some nations are wicked and others virtuous; some nations love the clash of arms, some the ways of peace; some nations are greedy, brutal and dishonourable, others are generous, gentle and honourable. it is the absolute bad and the impossible good of the melodrama, in which the human sheep and goats are sundered by an obvious moral boundary line. in point of fact, no nation is good or bad in this simple sense, but all have a certain justice in their claims, however difficult it is to square these claims with the moral philosophy of the neutral country. the british had a certain justice in their conflict with the transvaal as had also the dutch burghers who resisted them. even in our brutal attack upon mexico in we had the justification arising from our greater ability to use the conquered territory. it is easy to find phrases to be used whenever we wish to interfere, but these phrases sometimes conceal an ambiguous meaning and sometimes have no meaning at all. are we, for instance, to become the defenders of small nationalities, ready to go to war whenever one is invaded? has a small nation a right to hold its present territory when that right conflicts with the economic advance, let us say, of a whole continent? should we respect canada's right to keep new york, had that city originally been settled by canadians? should we compel russia to treat her poles and jews fairly and concede to russia the right to compel us to treat our negroes fairly? some extension of the right of interference in what are now called the internal affairs of other nations must be admitted, but it is a precipitous road to travel. the united powers may compel roumania or greece to { } behave, but the united states, acting alone, would find it irksome to have to constrain or discipline russia. by this it is not meant that we should never intervene. it would be futile to fix such a rule for conduct which, in the end, will be determined by circumstances. in any question of interference, however, the burden of proof should rest heavily upon the side which urges a nation to slay in order to secure what it believes to be the eternal principles of justice. the general development will be toward greater interference, but this intervention will be increasingly international, not national. in actual practice the problem when to interfere is immensely difficult. it is easy to say "let america assume her responsibility for policing the world," but the question arises, "what in particular should we do and what leave undone?" should we war against germany because of belgium, and against france and england because of greece? should we fight japan to aid china? are we to mete out justice even-handed to the poles, finns and jews of russia, the czechs and southern slavs of austria, the armenians and alsatians? should we have interposed to save persia from benevolent absorption by russia and england? clearly we could not do these things alone, and to attempt them would be to strike an impossibly virtuous attitude. even if we had the wisdom or the sure instinct to save us from error, we should not have a fraction of the power necessary to make our benevolent intervention effective. to right the wrongs of the world, to build up a firm international policy and thus to create and establish peace seems easier if it be attempted in alliance with two or three other virtuous powers. but if we unite with england, france and russia, to maintain virtue in the world, may we not, at least hypothetically, be playing a fool's { } part in a knave's game of diplomacy? may we not be simply undermining germany and austria? to use our army and navy for such purposes would constitute us a part of one great european combination against the other, and our disinterested assistance might be exploited for purposes with which we had no sympathy. a proposal, at least potentially more popular, is the formation of an anglo-american union for the maintenance of peace. it is assumed that the two nations, and the five self-governing british colonies are kindred in blood, inspired by the same ideals and united by a common language. their white population exceeds one hundred and fifty millions. they are capable, energetic, individualistic peoples, favourably situated on an immense area, and holding dominion over hundreds of millions in various parts of the world. these britons, colonials and americans, by reason of geographical position, are naval rather than military, and if they could hold the sea, would be able to preserve peace in lands not accessible to military powers and to dictate peace even to the military nations. such an integration of the english-speaking peoples would thus constitute a step towards international peace. it is not here proposed to discuss the value of this proposal as a means of defending the united states. in general, its defensive value for us would probably be less in the coming decades than for britain and her colonies. the british empire has the greater number of enemies and is the more easily assailed. great britain cannot protect her colonies without maintaining her naval supremacy not alone in the north sea, but in the pacific as well. as for england, she occupies the same position towards us in any attack from the european continent that belgium occupies towards england. she is an outpost. our own continental territory could probably be protected in { } most cases by a smaller military and naval effort than would be required of us as part-defenders of a british-american union. it is true that these conditions might change, with the result that we should need great britain's help most urgently. for the time being, however, we are discussing a british-american alliance or federation not as a possible protection to us but as an instrument for eliminating war. in all probability such an instrument would work badly, and to the non-anglo-saxon world would look much like a sword. for the fundamental defect of such a proposal lies in the fact that it is a plan for the coercion of other powers by a group of nations, not at all disinterested. if the british and americans possessed eighty per cent. of the military and naval power of the world, they might establish a peace like that which the roman empire was able to establish. it would be a peace dictated by the strong. in fact, however, there would be no such superiority of power. russia, germany, austria, japan united, would be quite capable of exerting a far superior force. even if the force opposed were only equal, the result would be a confrontation of peoples in all essential respects like the balance of power in europe, but on a vaster scale. we should not have advanced an inch towards the goal of a world peace or a world economy. for the united states to enter into such a federation would be to take our part in the world wars to come and the intrigues that precede and accompany such wars. we might be called upon to halt russia's progress towards suez, the persian gulf, or the indian border. we might be obliged to defend belgium, holland, denmark, norway and sweden. we could not permit any nation to reach a point where british commerce might be assailed. we should cease to be interested in { } the freedom of the seas because sharing the dominion of the seas. we should have no leisure and no inclination to seek a more equal utilisation of the backward countries. we should need armies and navies to protect the approaches to england and to hold back the land nations. against us would work immense potential forces. strong, growing, ambitious populations, envying our arrogant sea-power and forced by their insecurity to remain militaristic and become navalistic would prepare unceasingly for the day when they could try conclusions with us. the anglo-saxon federation may be an exhilarating conception, but it is not peace. parenthetically an agreement or understanding with great britain, less ambitious and pretentious than the proposed federation, is in the interest of the two nations. in the more than one hundred years of acrid peace between the two countries, there has been revealed a certain community of interest, which might properly be utilised to prevent future conflicts. while we are not ready to involve ourselves in britain's european and imperialistic policies, and do not want a whole world in arms against us, we do wish to avoid misunderstandings with england. we should be better off were we to give great britain assurances that we would not contest her naval supremacy (however much we may strive to alter its nature), and if we were to obtain from england her unconditional support of the doctrine that the latin-american countries are not to be colonised or conquered. in our efforts to secure a basis of international peace, however, we must rely not upon england or any other single nation or group of nations but upon a league, into which all nations may enter upon identical terms. we must depend upon all-inclusive, not upon exclusive alliances. { } at this point it may be well to recapitulate the difficulties and inevitable limitations of any such plan. in the first place nationality exists and cannot be exorcised. the several nations, though they have common interests, are also sundered in interest, and in present circumstances may gain more from a given war than they lose. no nation, because of a moral appeal, will surrender its vital interests, and each believes that its own ambitions are morally justified. to pursue these interests the nations arm, and this competitive armament breeds fear, which in turn provokes war. in various parts of the world broken nationalities seek to attain to national independence or autonomy and these nationalistic differences are exacerbated by economic quarrels. moreover, within the nations certain sections or groups find their true economic interest in policies leading to war, and these groups are able by means of ceaseless propaganda to drive their nation into war-provoking policies. finally we are faced with the grim fact that in europe at least no great nation can pursue a consistent policy of peace unless other nations move simultaneously in the same direction. furthermore the instinctive efforts of each nation to secure its own peace by force constitute a menace to other nations and a danger to the world's peace. the outlook for peace is thus not cheering; "the war against war," to use william james's expression, "is going to be no holiday excursion or camping party." fortunately, however, there are certain factors making for peace, and upon these factors we are able to build. all over the world there is a peace sentiment, a vast, undisciplined, inchoate desire to discover ways and means by which this scourge of war may be lifted. it is not inherently impossible to organise this sentiment, crystallise it, direct it and make it effective. the task is essentially { } similar to that of organising democracy, for wars increasingly are becoming national wars, in which success depends not upon princes but upon the willingness and enthusiasm of the great slow peoples. the millions who bear the chief burdens of war and derive only its lesser gains are in all countries moving towards self-expression and domination. it is in the end upon these masses, with their inherent prejudices and passions, and not upon diplomats and rulers that any project for peace must be based. the appeal to these millions though it be couched in terms of morality and sentiment, must be an appeal to interest. what is necessary is to recognise the economic motives that drive such populations to war and to reverse those motives. it does not suffice to preach that wars are never in the interest of the people; the nations know otherwise. it is necessary rather to change conditions so that wars will in actual fact lose their economic value to nations. peace must be made not only to appear but actually to be in the interest of the peoples of the world. the popular horror of war, the growing sense of its immense costs, the slowly maturing sympathy between individual members of hostile nations form the substantial groundwork upon which an opposition to war _in general_ is based. added to these are the waning of the romanticism of war and the growth of a sense of its mechanical (rather than human) quality. the present war has immensely increased this opposition. it has disenchanted the world. in all countries millions of men now realise that wars must be fought not alone by adventurous youths, who do not put a high value upon life, but by husbands and fathers and middle-aged men, who are somewhat less susceptible to the glamorous appeal of battle. they are beginning to recognise that wars are not won by courage alone { } but by numbers, by money, by intimidation, by intrigue, by mendacity and all manner of baseness. the lies spread broadcast throughout the world and the money spent by germans and allies to bribe bulgarian patriots are quite as great factors in deciding the issue of the war as the valour of the _poilus_ at verdun. in a moral sense war has committed suicide. this increasing comprehension of war's real nature and of war's new manifestations is leading the peoples to demand the right to decide for themselves when and how war is to be declared and to take part in negotiations which may lead up to war. the power to provoke wars is the last bulwark of autocracy; when the nation is in danger (and in present circumstances it is always in danger), democracy goes by the board. let the socialists and liberals in all countries declaim as they will against armies, navies, imperialism, colonialism, and international friction, let members of parliament ask awkward questions in the house, the answer is always the same, "it is a matter of national safety. to reply to the question of the honourable gentleman is not in the public interest." against this stone wall the efforts of organisations like the british "union of democratic control" break ineffectually. the socialists have also failed, at least externally. identifying the war-makers and imperialists with those classes to which they were already opposed in internal politics, the socialists sought to make good their democratic antagonism to war. they opposed armies and proposed disarmament; they threatened national strikes in case aggressive wars were declared; they fought with a sure democratic instinct against every manifestation of militarism. in the crisis, however, they failed. they failed because their conception of war was too narrow, { } arbitrary and doctrinaire. they perceived the upper class interest in war but failed to recognise, or rather obstinately ignored, the national interest. when at last the nation was threatened, the socialists and peace-makers not only closed ranks with those who desired war, but even lent a willing ear to proposals of annexation (for purposes of national security) and agreed to other international arrangements likely to be the cause or at least the occasion of future wars. the general will for peace we have with us already; what is to-day most necessary is the knowledge and insight which will direct this will to the attempted solution of the causes of war. towards this knowledge the present war has contributed. never before have so many men recognised the strength of the economic impulses driving nations into the conflict. the war, it is true, has intensified national hatreds by its wholesale breach of plighted agreements; it has increased terror and distrust; it has sown broadcast the seeds of future wars by a series of secret, but known, agreements, creating a new europe even more unstable than was the europe of . on the other hand, it has forced men to open their eyes to the real facts of war, and to recognise that wars will continue until the motives for war are reversed, until conditions are created in which nations may realise their more moderate hopes of development without recourse to fighting. it is upon this recognition, upon this guide to the blind passion for peace, that any league for peace must be based. such a league can probably not be immediately constructed and permanently maintained. it depends upon the slow growth of an international mind, upon a willingness, not indeed to sacrifice national interests but to recognise that national interests may be made to conform with the larger interests of humanity. it means the { } fulfilment not the destruction of nationality. it requires for its realisation the breaking of two chains, an inner chain which binds the nation to the will of a selfish minority class, an outer chain which binds its national interest to war. how such a league will come about it is perhaps premature to discuss. in the immediate future we are likely to have not a true league of peace but rather a league of temporarily satisfied powers, seeking their group interest in the _status quo_ and pursuing their common aims at the expense of excluded nations in much the same spirit in which a single nation now pursues its separate interest. such a grouping of interested nations is likely to be only temporary, as dissensions will arise and new alignments be made comprising the nations formerly excluded. it is bound to break up when the _status quo_ becomes intolerable to several of its members. on the other hand the spirit of such an organisation might not impossibly change. the league of satisfied nations might discover that it was to its real interest, or might be compelled by outer pressure, to make concessions to the excluded nations, and finally to admit them on certain terms. such a development would be comparable to that by which autocracies have gradually become constitutional monarchies and republics. but, however the league is formed, two things are essential to its continued existence. one is the acceptance of principles of international regulation, tending to reduce the incentive and increase the repugnance to war, in other words a measure of international agreement, secured either by an international body having legislative power, or in the beginning by a series of diplomatic arrangements as at present. the second essential is a machinery for enforcing agreements. such machinery cannot be { } dispensed with. peace cannot come by international machinery alone; neither can it come without machinery. peace between nations, like peace within a nation, does not depend upon force alone. unless the effective majority of the nations (or of the citizens) are reconciled to the system to be enforced, unless they desire peace, whether international or internal, the application of force will be impossible. on the other hand, peace is equally impossible without force. if no compulsion can be applied the smallest minority can throw the world into war. such a compulsion of one nation by others does not necessarily mean a bombardment of cities or the shedding of blood. the force to be applied may be economic instead of military. no nation to-day, above all, no great industrial nation, is socially and economically self-sufficient, but all depend upon constant intercourse with other nations. it is therefore true, as one writer says,[ ] that "if all or most of these avenues of intercourse were stopped, it (the offending nation) would soon be reduced to worse straits than those which germany is now experiencing. if all diplomatic intercourse were withdrawn; if the international postal and telegraphic systems were closed to a public law-breaker; if all inter-state railway trains stopped at his frontiers; if no foreign ships entered his ports, and ships carrying his flags were excluded from every foreign port; if all coaling stations were closed to him; if no acts of sale or purchase were permitted to him in the outside world--if such a political and commercial boycott were seriously threatened, what country could long stand out against it? nay, the far less rigorous measure of a financial boycott, the closure of all foreign exchanges to members of the outlaw state, the prohibition of all { } quotations on foreign stock exchanges, and of all dealings in stocks and shares, all discounting and acceptances of trade bills, all loans for public or private purposes, and all payments of moneys due--such a withdrawal of financial intercourse, if thoroughly applied and persisted in, would be likely, to bring to its senses the least scrupulous of states. assuming that the members of the league included all or most of the important commercial and financial nations, and that they could be relied upon to press energetically all or even a few of these forms of boycott, could any country long resist such pressure? would not the threat of it and the knowledge that it could be used form a potent restraint upon the law-breaker? even the single weapon of a complete postal and telegraphic boycott would have enormous efficiency were it rigorously applied. every section of the industrial and commercial community would bring organised pressure upon its government to withdraw from so intolerable a position and to return to its international allegiance." it cannot be assumed that the attempt to organise such a boycott would be invariably successful. not all nations would be equally injured, for while a boycott of italy or greece would be fatal, the united states or russia might survive such economic pressure. a boycott would not be easy to enforce. it would be necessary to secure a concert of opinion and action in states, which, however they may agree upon any particular question, have widely divergent interests in other matters. different boycotting nations would be variously affected. a boycott of germany, while it might injure the united states or japan would almost certainly ruin holland and belgium. even were these small countries to be partially reimbursed for their special losses, they might still hesitate. there would also remain the fear that some of the boycotting nations would { } be detached through economic bribery, with the result that the boycott broken, the nations faithful to their agreements would suffer. finally, if holland joined in a boycott of germany, she might within a few days be compelled to resist a german invasion. an economic boycott might easily lead to war. this obvious connection between economic and military compulsion is often disregarded by men who dislike war but are willing to commit their nation to participation in economic compulsion. the two, however, are inseparable, though they may not be inseparable for each nation. the boycotting nations must be prepared to prevent reprisals, must be willing if necessary to fight. it is not, however, necessary for each nation upholding international law to contribute equally to this military compulsion. certain nations might use their armies and fleets while others, more remote from the struggle, might merely continue to boycott. it would not be possible, to enforce a decision against nations having a preponderance of military power, nor even against a group with a large, though not the preponderant share of military and economic resources. germany, austria and russia combined could not be compelled. the essence of the problem, however, is not the creation of a state of war between coalitions almost equal in size, but the gradual adoption of a policy of peace by securing a unity of interest among so large a group of nations that this group would hold a clearly preponderant power over any other group. just as peace within a state cannot be secured where the law-breakers are a majority, so international peace cannot be secured unless the preponderance of power is clearly on the side of peace. even with a majority of nations agreeing "in principle," the difficulties of actually creating a league of { } peace and international polity would be great. to carry out such a plan, to work out modes of action which will conform to the world's evolving sense of the necessity for more stable international relations, requires an international machinery, concerning which nations and classes will disagree. some channel, however, is necessary for the flow of the peace forces resident in the world. a machinery must be created which will approximate in some degree to that by which a nation, composed of conflicting classes and economic groups, manages to secure a degree of common interest and action among such groups. there must be an international executive, an international legislative body and some approach to an international court. that there are immense difficulties in the creation of such a machinery is obvious and admitted. that the machinery cannot work perfectly, that it may repeatedly break down; that it can be perfected only through trial and error, are facts, which though in themselves discouraging, need not lead to the abandonment of the effort. there is nothing inherently impossible in the gradual creation and elaboration of such machinery. the development of the future lies in that direction.[ ] let the machinery be ever so perfect, however, it is useless unless principles are formulated which meet the requirements of the nations which are to be bound over to keep the peace. a league to enforce peace is a futility unless it is also a league to determine international polity. peace cannot be negative, a mere abstention from war. it must be a dynamic process, an adjustment of the nations of the world to their international environment. [ ] hobson (john a.), "towards international government," new york (the macmillan co.), , pp. , . [ ] it is not pertinent to this book to discuss in detail the plans which are being formed for the gradual evolution of such international machinery. for readers who desire to secure a _prècis_ of such arrangements, the book of john a. hobson, "towards international government," is recommended. { } chapter xviii the freedom of the seas we have seen that the problem of peace cannot be solved without at the same time avoiding the economic conflicts now sundering the nations. we have seen that these divisive interests which are real and vital, can be accommodated neither by the force of good will alone (although good will is essential), nor by an appeal to national unselfishness nor by proposals which merely mean the perpetuation of the _status quo_. we have also seen that in the last instance force, or at least the threat of force is necessary, that this force cannot be applied by the united states alone or by a group of two or three beneficent powers, but only by an all-inclusive league of nations, acting according to established rules and with a machinery previously elaborated. only so can a programme of peace be made effective. such a programme will consist of three elements. the first is the freedom of the seas; the second is a joint imperialism; the third is the promotion of an economic internationalism. the freedom of the seas is necessary because without it the other elements cannot be supplied. no division or joint use of colonies will promote peace unless each nation is assured of continuous access to such colonies. a promise of the products and the profits of the backward countries will not satisfy a nation if it believes that at the first outbreak of war it will be deprived not only of colonial but also of all commercial rights. { } in recent decades the problem of the freedom of the seas has grown in significance as access to the oceans has become more important and the nations increasingly interdependent. to-day trans-oceanic colonies are worthless, commerce is insecure and a satisfactory economic life at home difficult without such access. in peace the vessels of all nations may travel anywhere, but in war a belligerent's merchant vessels may be seized and confiscated and her shores blockaded. she may even be deprived of the right to import goods through neighbouring neutral countries. in the advocacy of the freedom of the seas the united states has taken a leading part, while england has pursued a policy of obstruction. in this respect england has been a menace to the world's peace. she has stood fairly consistently against a modernisation of naval law; has insisted on the right of capture of merchant vessels and the right to blockade, and in the present war has reverted, under grave provocation it is true, to the most rigorous maritime repression. it is by means of our influence on england that we can take the first step towards creating a better international system. if we are to become friends with england, the price must be the freedom of the seas. it may seem incongruous to suggest as a condition of friendship that our friend weaken herself, but as will later be indicated such a surrender of rights by great britain might in the end redound to her security and greater strength. the reason is obvious. the insecurity of each nation is the weakness of all. so long as a nation is insecure it will arm. so long as one nation arms all must arm. moreover, england is peculiarly vulnerable. the british empire is threatened whenever any nation seeks an outlet to the sea. nations will build navies against great britain so long as { } without navies their commerce and colonies are threatened. the case of the german-british conflict is in point. england lies on germany's naval base. it is an unfortunate thing for germany, and indeed for england, but it is a geographical fact and unalterable. for germany this situation is tolerable so long as peace endures, but when war breaks out, all her commerce is stopped. the future of germany depends upon her developing industrially to a point where she can no longer feed her population from her own farms. she needs, if not colonies, at least markets. she requires a foreign base for her industry and uninterrupted access to that foreign base both in war and peace. she can be throttled, strangled, starved under the present usages of sea war. the war may not be of her own making. in other words twenty or fifty years of commercial development may be swept away at a moment's notice in a war, declared, it may be, by england for purely commercial purposes. to these apprehensions of the germans, england may answer that in peace times german commerce is secure. but immunity in war as well as in peace is necessary. therefore, the germans do what other nations would do in like circumstances, take the matter into their own hands. they build a navy strong enough to make england hesitate to attack their merchant marine. it is an understandable attempt to protect what is an absolutely vital interest. but for germany to build a navy capable of measuring arms with the british navy is intolerable to great britain. it is useless for germany to protest that she will not use her fleet aggressively. so long as she can use it aggressively, she is a menace to england's life. england must prevent germany from building { } a navy equal in power, for if she is defeated at sea, her fate is sealed. germany must be threatened on land by france and russia or she will be able to devote her energies exclusively to her navy and thus out-build england. given this situation, an anglo-german war is inevitable. nor is the situation in the north sea unique. once this conflict of interest begins, it spreads everywhere. germany may not have morocco or tripoli because with a foothold and a naval base on the mediterranean, she could exert pressure there in order to change conditions elsewhere. similarly the pacific commerce of russia is at the mercy of japan; her black sea traffic at the mercy of turkey, or whoever controls turkey, her baltic sea traffic at the mercy of germany, denmark and england. no wonder russia demands constantinople, which will at least open the inner doors of the black sea. but if she gets constantinople, she controls the whole danube traffic of austria, hungary and roumania, and she herself is menaced by british and french fleets at malta, gibraltar and aden. what is the probable, or at least possible, policy of russia in such circumstances? not immediately, not inopportunely, but in the right season? clearly it is to build a navy which will secure her control of the mediterranean and thus protect her outgoing trade from odessa and batum as well as her incoming trade. although not pre-eminently a naval power, russia must ultimately seek to accomplish what germany tried to do--make it dangerous for england to menace her mediterranean and red sea trade even in war times. but to secure naval supremacy in the mediterranean means to threaten egypt and india, thus breaking the neck of the { } british empire. given the present unfreedom of the sea, therefore, great britain's vital interests oppose those of russia as they now oppose those of germany. this is the meaning of the historic british policy of the right of capture at sea, the right of blockade, the right to use naval power to work injury to the trade of hostile countries and to prevent colonial expansion. the policy is a menace to the british empire and to the independence of great britain herself. it stimulates other nations to outbuild great britain. and in the end that is at least a possible contingency. if a generation or two from now russia and germany should unite, russia attacking in the mediterranean and aiding germany in the north sea, the british empire would be put to a severe test. there might be no way of saving egypt and india or holland and denmark and these outposts gone, great britain might be menaced and attacked at leisure. if her navies were defeated she would starve. the rules of naval warfare, which britain has so long upheld, would be turned against her. it is thus to great britain's real interest to surrender this doctrine. in the present war it has been of value, but only because germany and austria were surrounded by powerful enemies, and all adjacent neutral powers with sea bases were small enough to be intimidated. the blockade of a nation is to-day of little value unless adjacent nations can also be blockaded. the railroad unites all land nations. if france had been neutral in this war, germany could not have been blockaded, for a british threat to blockade france would have thrown her into the arms of germany. even if italy had remained neutral, an effective blockade might have forced italy into the war on the side of the teutonic powers. england is using a weapon { } which at the most means a serious loss to her enemies but which effectively turned against her would mean instant death. there are certain powerful groups in england who are obstinately opposed to any revision of the sea law in favour of neutral and belligerent nations. they feel to-day, as pitt felt in , when the doctrine was advanced that a neutral flag might protect enemy's property. "shall we," asked pitt, "give up our maritime consequence and expose ourselves to scorn, to derision, and contempt? no man can deplore more than i do the loss of human blood--the calamities and distresses of war; but will you silently stand by and, acknowledging these monstrous and unheard-of principles of neutrality, insure your enemy against the effects of your hostility!... whatever shape it assumes, it (this doctrine) is a violation of the rights of england, and imperiously calls upon englishmen to resist it, even to the last shilling and the last drop of blood, rather than tamely submit to degrading consequences or weakly yield the rights of this country to shameful usurpation."[ ] this doctrine, rather than accept which pitt was willing that england should fight to the death, was quietly accepted by great britain in the declaration of paris ( ) and, half a century later ( ), the declaration of london protected neutral rights even more strongly. but the spirit of pitt is by no means dead. the declaration of london failed of ratification in parliament partly because of mere factional opposition and partly because of ancient pride in england's naval supremacy. it was held that britain being the strongest naval power should uphold all naval rights { } and all necessary naval aggressions both against belligerents and neutrals. the argument advanced in support of this position is that so long as the enemy disregards international law in land warfare britain has the right to disregard the laws of sea war. if germany violates belgium's neutrality, why should england surrender her power to put the maximum pressure upon her unscrupulous enemy? this argument, however, begs the whole question, whether it is to britain's real advantage that the naval law go back to what it was in the days of pitt and napoleon instead of being progressively liberalised. britain is not only the greatest naval but overwhelmingly the greatest maritime nation in the world. she has something to gain and everything to lose from a reaction towards the unregulated sea-warfare of (and ); she has much to gain and little to lose from the establishment of a true freedom of the sea. so long as england persists in a reactionary naval policy she will be menaced by every nation which feels itself menaced by her, and by every future development of naval warfare. the harshness of the british attitude in this matter of naval warfare leads to such brutal reprisals as that of the german submarine campaign against merchantmen. that campaign was not without its influence in laming the commercial activity of great britain; had the war broken out ten years later, with germany better equipped with submarines, the result might have been far more serious. a future submarine war carried on by france against england might be disastrous to the island kingdom. even the german campaign, hampered as it was by the fewness and remoteness of the german naval bases, might easily have had a crippling effect upon british industrial life but for the pressure brought to bear { } upon germany by the united states. in the long run england cannot have it both ways. she must either defend her commerce from submarines alone or else accept a revision of the naval law. fortunately there are men in great britain who accept this broader view. "one of the promises of victory," writes the englishman, h. sidebotham, "is that great britain will be able to review her whole naval policy in the light of the experience gained in the war. sir edward grey has himself indicated that such a review may be appropriate in the negotiations for peace after victory has been won."[ ] towards such a change in attitude the public opinion of the united states can largely contribute. while the majority of americans side strongly with britain and her allies, they make little distinction in their thought between a detested german militarism and a detested british navalism. our traditional attitude is one of hostility to the pretensions of the mistress of the sea. "how many more instances do we need," writes prof. j. w. burgess, "to demonstrate to us that the system of colonial empire with the dominance of the seas, and the unlimited territorial expansion which it claims, is not compatible with the freedom and prosperity of the world? can any american with half an eye fail to see that our greatest interest in the outcome of this war is that the seas shall become free and neutral, and that, shall they need policing, this shall become international; that the open door for trade and commerce shall take the place of colonial restrictions or preferences, or influences and shall, in times of peace, be the universal principle; that private property upon the high seas shall be inviolable; that trade between neutrals in time of war shall be entirely { } unrestricted, and that contraband of war shall have an international definition?"[ ] even if england did not recognise her true national interest in a revision of the sea-law, we could not co-operate with her in any broad attempt to establish the conditions of peace in europe without such a surrender on her part of rights which have become indefensible. it is not, of course, to be anticipated that a complete freedom of the sea will be immediately established, but unless the nations, not controlling the ocean, are given reasonable assurances of safety for their commerce and colonial development, each new war will merely lay the seeds of new wars. to establish the freedom of the sea, five things are desirable: ( ) the abolition of the right of capture. ( ) the abolition of the commercial blockade. this would permit the blockading of a naval port or base, the exclusion or destruction of naval vessels, the searching of merchant vessels for absolute and conditional contraband, and the blockade of a city or port where the naval blockade was merely the completion of a land blockade, but it would give to all ordinary merchant vessels, either enemy or neutral, the same access to enemy ports that they enjoy in peace, without any further delay than is necessary for the prevention of non-neutral acts by merchantmen. ( ) the establishment of international prize courts and the submission of controversies to such courts. ( ) the internationalization of such straits as the dardanelles, the suez canal, the panama canal, the kiel canal, the straits of gibraltar, as far as that can be achieved by international agreement. { } ( ) establishment of an international naval convention and of an international body to enforce its decisions, to which international body all powers, naval and non-naval, should be admitted. an anglo-american agreement to enforce such a convention could be made the corner-stone of an international organisation, open to all nations. a naval force of neutral powers would enforce the freedom of the sea in the interest of england's enemies and in her own interest. with such an agreement in force much of the present naval rivalry would lose its meaning. if german commerce were safe in time of war, if she could not be blockaded and her ships captured, she would have a weaker interest in building against england. she might still desire a fleet to bombard enemy coasts or to invade england, but even without such a navy she would have a large measure of security. she might well prefer to forego some of her naval ambitions in order to secure british friendship. in any case even a naval disaster would not be so utterly crushing to england nor so great a hardship to germany as under present conditions. naturally the value of such an arrangement would depend upon the belief of the nations in its faithful enforcement by all the signatory powers. international promises fall in value as wars come to be fought by powerful coalitions instead of by individual nations, each immensely weaker than the whole group of neutral powers. when all nations of the first rank become engaged actively or by sympathy, the truly neutral powers are too weak to exercise much influence. they cannot compel the belligerents even to live up to their acknowledged agreements. what in such cases is the value of a naval convention between england and germany, which neither of the { } nations believes that the other will observe in the day of trial? the difficulty is a real one as the uncontrolled savagery and the unnumbered violations of international law during the present war amply prove. it is this doubt as to whether opposed groups will live up to their agreements, or whether neutral groups will enforce such agreements, that strikes at the root of international, as also of national cohesion. if we believe that our neighbors will not pay their personal property taxes, it is highly improbable that we will pay ours; a nation, which believes that its enemy will violate an agreement anticipates such action by violating the agreement first.[ ] yet without such international agreements no international concert is possible. moreover the very condition, which made agreements so perishable during the present war (the number and strength of the belligerents and the weakness of the neutrals) is one which itself is likely to be remedied by agreements made in advance. if germany, england, france, italy and russia have even a qualified sense of security concerning their over-sea possessions and their commerce, they will be less likely to enter into these hostile, world-embracing coalitions, which rob such agreements of so much of their value. especially would this be true if certain terms of the agreement--such as the { } neutralisation of strategic water-ways--could be effected in peace times. in any case this evolving and increasing half-trust in agreements is one of the fragile instruments with which we must work. if, therefore, an international arrangement were made, or a series of compacts were formed between individual nations, by which, for example, a group of powers promised to attack any nation violating these naval agreements (even if it pleaded counter violations by the enemy) a basis of faith in the new arrangements would be laid. there would remain, however, the question of colonies. so long as there is no principle by which the colonial opportunities of the world can be distributed, we shall have competitive nationalistic imperialism and the constant threat of war. [ ] quoted by h. sidebotham. "the freedom of the seas." "towards a lasting settlement," by various authors; edited by charles roden buxton, london, , p. . [ ] h. sidebotham, _op. cit._, p. . [ ] "the european war of . its causes, purposes and probable results," chicago, , p. . [ ] some of the german defenders of the belgian invasion claim that the germans were convinced that had they not used belgium as a base for military operations, england or france would have done so at the first convenient moment, though possibly with belgium's consent (which, however, belgium had no legal right to give). whether or not this fear was justified, it is evident that violations and proposed violations of international law by one group of belligerents led to violations by the other, reprisals were answered by counter-reprisals, and grave breaches of international law by all belligerents were defended on the ground that the opponent would do, or had done, the same. { } chapter xix the higher imperialism one of the greatest difficulties in the problem of working out an international colonial policy is our neglect of the immediate and overwhelming influence of colonies, as of other economic outlets, in the provocation of destructive wars. until the nations recognize that wars are in the main wars of interest, fought for concrete things, and unless such things can be utilised with some regard to the desires of all nations involved, war cannot be avoided. if these questions of interest were merely a matter of short division, of so much trade to be distributed, the problem, though difficult, would be easier of solution. but in many cases a single, indivisible prize must be awarded. there is only one antwerp, one trieste, one constantinople, and there are many claimants. is russia to control the yellow sea or is japan? is the persian gulf to be british, russian or german? is the present division of colonial possessions to be maintained or is there to be a new distribution, from which some nations will gain and others lose? what is to decide what colonies shall belong to what nation or what share each nation shall have in the profits of exploitations? these and a hundred other questions indicate the wide range of complicated economic interests which to-day divide nations and illustrate the difficulty of establishing a basis of agreement. clearly we cannot solve the problem by permanently { } maintaining the _status quo_. for the _status quo_, being based upon the relative power of nations in the past, does not conform to the power of the same nations to-day or to-morrow. moreover, the maintenance of the _status quo_ means the perpetuation of absurd anachronisms. it is undesirable as well as impossible. nations are not static. you can no more assure exclusive economic advantages to a weak and unprogressive nation than you could have preserved the american continent to the aborigines. even if there were no single economic principle to apply, it would not follow that some approach to an economic equilibrium would be impossible. as law develops out of an endless chaos of human relations by means of decisions (based on temporary exigencies) until a rule of law is established, as the market-price grows out of the innumerable hagglings of the market, so even without the aid of a fundamental principle, some _modus vivendi_, some approach to an economic concert, could be attained. economically considered, war is an attempt to solve the problem of the utilisation of the world's resources. if the world's wealth and income can be so distributed among the world's inhabitants, grouped into nations, as to render those nations, not indeed satisfied, but sufficiently satisfied not to go to war, a basis for peace results, even though the arrangement is not ideal. if, however, the distribution is obviously at variance with the relative power and needs of the nations, then one nation or group seeks to overturn the arrangement by force. to secure such a distribution requires the establishment of certain canons of international policy and modes of international procedure. the decision must in some degree conform to the median expectations of the powers. back of any particular economic arrangement also, there { } must be the force of tradition, a sense of security, a sense of justice. the redistribution must be such that the resulting motive to war will be weaker than the motive to peace. but before we can even approach such a plan to prevent war by reducing the economic incentive, we must frankly recognise that in certain circumstances a nation may have a direct economic interest in war. to deny such an interest is not only fallacious but even dangerous. for if we believe that nations have no economic motive to war, when in truth they have, we are likely to neglect to do things necessary to reverse such motives. our international task is to make arrangements which will cause nations to lose their interest in war. it is not that of trying to persuade nations that they have no such interest. there is much ambiguity and incoherence in most discussions concerning the economic advantages of war. on the whole, while the world does not usually gain by war, but loses through the destruction of capital and through industrial deterioration, an individual nation may clearly gain. england gained from the seven years' war, the united states from the war with mexico, germany from the war of , japan from its war with china. by war nations may secure markets, access to raw materials, better opportunities for investment and a firm basis for industrial progress; they may cripple troublesome competitors; they may exact indemnities. much that is accounted gain on this score may in the end prove to be loss, but it is false to state that there can be no profit at all. the discussion whether or not a war is profitable often takes the superficial form of a comparison between the indemnity received and the money expended on the war. it is pointed out, for example, that in japan received a larger sum from china than { } had been spent on the war, while on the other hand it is emphasised that thereafter the military expenditures of japan increased so rapidly that much more than this profit was spent. but the indemnity was the smallest part of japan's gain and the military expenditures were made necessary, not by the chinese war nor by the payment of the indemnity but by a concrete military policy, which was largely based on concrete economic needs. either an expansion into asia was necessary and in the end possible for japan or it was not; if it was, the expenditure of a few hundred million dollars on the wars against china, russia and germany were a paying investment, irrespective of indemnities; if it was not the wars would have been a bad investment even had they shown a clear balance on the books. the problem is not whether every war is advantageous to the victor but whether any war is of benefit. it is highly improbable that the war of will in the end pay most if any of the combatants, but if germany by a victory as easy as that of could have secured from france an indemnity of four or five billion dollars and the cession of northern africa, it would surely have paid. a war between germany and holland, if the other powers held off, would be equally profitable to the stronger power. if a coalition of nations could defeat and blockade great britain, they could easily recoup themselves for any expenditures involved. it is true that they could not physically remove british railways and mines, but they could confiscate the navy, the merchant marine, a part of the foreign and colonial investments and a certain part of the profits of business within the kingdom. to assert that a nation can never gain at war is merely to state that nations never have conflicting interests, whereas in truth some nations are cramped economically by other nations, { } and a large part of the wealth and income of most nations can be diverted by means of physical compulsion. the problem of internationalism is therefore not solely to teach the nation its own interest but so to change the conditions that the nation's interest in war will disappear. the temptation to war can be overcome only by reversing the motives of the nation, either by making war no longer profitable, or by making the nation harmless. within the nation the same problem exists with regard to classes. either the bellicose class must be satisfied in some other way, must have its energies directed to some other task, or it must be made impotent. the first problem, that of destroying the economic root of war, can be solved only by securing a community of interest among great nations, an economic internationalism. not, of course, a complete community; there is perhaps no such thing in the world. the inter-class relations within a nation illustrate this point. these social classes, wage-earners and capitalists, industrialists and agriculturalists, are separated by many differences and have no complete community of interest, yet are sufficiently united to prevent a complete dissolution of the state. so, internationally, a community of interest may be partial and tentative if it suffices to give the countries enough, or the promise of enough, to discourage them from easily resorting to the costly and dangerous expedient of war. in securing this concert, we must work upon the general principle that wherever possible, a joint use of a given resource by various nations is better than an exclusive use by any one nation. the progress of society within the last few centuries has been toward an extension of this principle of joint use. more and more things are held by society for the benefit of the nation. { } similarly an increasing number of the things for which nations compete might be held by the nations of the world for the joint use of humanity. while such a joint use is not always possible, especially when it runs counter to long usage, an immense opportunity for such joint use remains. this principle of joint use might advantageously be applied to the development of backward countries. nothing has been more difficult than the distribution among industrial nations of the advantages accruing from colonial exploitation. there are three methods by which nations, if they can agree at all, may seek to adjust their rival claims. the first is to do nothing nationally; to permit the backward countries to be exploited at will by individual competitors. the second is to divide the new territories among the rival powers. the third is to secure a joint development by all the great powers. the first method usually means both a ruthless exploitation of natives and a constant conflict among the interested nations. the nationals of one country conspire against those of another for a control of the native government. if, for example, we were to leave the philippines entirely alone, various enterprising capitalists would immediately organise and support corrupt native governments, lend money at usurious rates and secure exclusive concessions. to upset these arrangements, financiers of a rival nation would foment revolutions, and the country would be split up into political factions, supported by money from various european capitals. the political leaders though talking grandiloquently of independence and native sovereignty, would be, and perhaps would know that they were, merely pawns in a financial chess game. the second method, now more or less usual, of { } establishing national spheres of influence, also leads to friction and the threat of force. the crucial difficulty of this plan lies in the fact that great nations which have come late into the colonial competition are left without a sufficient agricultural base for their industry and live in fear of having the colonies of rival powers shut against them. the whole plan is based upon the assumed right of each nation to monopolise the resources of colonies, in other words, to use exclusively what might be used jointly. as a result of this method the temptation to go to war over colonies is immensely great. if by a single war, germany could secure enough colonial territory from france to maintain her industry for three or four generations, it might well be worth her while to fight. it is the lives of one or of two million men to-day against tens of millions of lives a generation hence. a nation which would not fight for a somewhat larger share in the exploitation of a given colony would be tempted to fight for a sole and monopolistic possession. the third plan of distribution is what may be called the internationalisation of colonies. it is a step in the direction of an international imperialism, as opposed to the nationalistic imperialism of to-day. there have been numerous proposals to secure a machinery for such internationalism in colonies. especially during the last decade or two many men in europe and america have come to the conclusion that the danger of the present international scramble for colonies is so great that any change, even though not in itself unassailable, is better than the present anarchy. even among socialists the belief is now expressed that the colonial problem is to be solved, not by leaving it alone, but by a concerted action of the great powers, which will give each nation the assurance of a { } certain stake in colonial development, and will lessen the temptation to wage imperialistic wars. of the various recent plans two concrete proposals are worth citing. thus mr. walter lippmann[ ] suggests a permanent international conference of the great powers which would act as a senate to the native legislative body of the backward country, let us say morocco, and would in time supervise the budget, fix salaries and make appointments. it is hoped by mr. lippmann, though not confidently predicted, that such a body would guarantee the open door and give equal opportunities to the investors of all nations in the particular colony. a broader plan, proposed by mr. h. w. brailsford[ ] involves the union into a permanent international syndicate of all companies and individuals seeking railroad, mining and other concessions in a backward country. fundamentally the plan of mr. brailsford is based on the open door for colonial trade and the equal (and automatic) participation of the great nations in colonial investment. "the remedy," he says, "is so simple that only a very clever man could sophisticate himself into missing it, and it is as old as cobden. it is not necessary to establish universal free trade to stop the rivalry to monopolise colonial markets; it would suffice to declare free trade in the colonies, or even in those which are not self-governing." "it ought not to be utterly beyond the statesmanship of europe to decree some limited form of colonial free trade by general agreement--to apply it, for example, to africa." "for the plague of concession-hunting the best expedient would probably be to impose on all the competing national groups in each area the duty of { } amalgamating in a permanently international syndicate. if one such syndicate controlled all the railways and another all the mines of china and turkey, a vast cause of national rivalry would be removed. the interests of china and turkey might be secured by interposing a disinterested council or arbitrator between them and the syndicate to adjust their respective interests. short of creating a world state or a european federation, the chief constructive work for peace is to establish colonial free trade and internationalise the export of capital."[ ] both the plans mentioned are limited in scope and difficult of application, but each contains the germ of a possible development. that of mr. brailsford seems on the whole the more promising. it is likely that a senate such as is proposed by mr. lippmann would go to pieces over the question whether a certain valuable and exclusive concession should go to a french or to a german syndicate or whether a punitive expedition should or should not be sent against the tribes in the interior. on the other hand the plan of mr. brailsford, which by no means excludes the other, has the advantage of making once and for all a fixed and certain distribution of all eventual profits and thus effecting a real community of interest among the promoters and investors of all nations. it is an economic rather than a political solution, and it is along the line of a present trend, the evolution of international investment and of economic internationalism generally. it would seem easier for the capitalists of six great nations to form a great international trust for specific purposes than for an international senate to make a multitude of decisions each affecting strong national interests. a difficulty, inhering in all plans, is that there is no rule of law or morals that will decide how much each { } nation should secure from the profits of exploitation. to what extent shall american, dutch, belgian, austrian or japanese capitalists contribute to the international syndicate which is to exploit the backward countries? but this problem, though difficult, is less hopeless than that of equitably distributing colonies _en bloc_. for there is no principle on which to divide such colonies. neither national wealth nor population nor the strength of the national army and navy will serve as a criterion, though all perhaps would be factors in determining the shares of the different countries. a still greater difficulty however arises from the fact that the most valuable colonies are already distributed. even if germany were to receive a share in moroccan opportunities, might she not still seek by war to obtain the exclusive possession of the immense french colonial empire. perhaps no arrangement for a joint exploitation of new and presumably less valuable colonies would wholly satisfy the imperialists of great european powers, so long as the old colonies are so unevenly divided. to satisfy the nations without colonies, some arrangements must also be made for a redistribution of rights in colonies already belonging to the great powers. but against such redistribution immense forces are opposed. algeria is now safely french; india has been british for more than a century and a half. whatever rights are conceded in these countries to foreign investors, whatever division of profits is granted, will be effected only under the political control of the french and british governments. the best concessions have long since been given out, and the nation which has had political control has in the main favoured its own nationals. the essential problem here, however, is the open door. if the nations without colonies or sufficient agricultural resources at home can sell their products and buy their { } raw materials on the same terms as do the nations owning colonies, a large part of the present bitterness and discontent would disappear. there are of course two difficulties in the way of the establishment of such an open door. the first is that commerce may be legally free and yet be hampered by a mass of local, illegal discriminations, and the second is that the trend at the present time is opposed to such equality in colonial commerce. the first difficulty is not unsolvable; the second constitutes an obstacle, which will only be removed when the forces making for an internationalisation of colonies become stronger than they are to-day. even a settlement of the colonial problem would not solve all the economic questions dividing the nations; equally perplexing difficulties are found nearer home. a generation or two from now germany might be completely ruined by a refusal on france's part to grant her access to the iron mines of lorraine. at any moment russia may prohibit the temporary emigration of agricultural laborers upon whom the prosperity of the east prussian agriculture largely depends. italy, switzerland, belgium, holland and other countries can be ruined by adverse tariff legislation. in very few countries is there such a balanced economic structure, such a complete control over the essentials of industry as to render an economic assault by other nations innocuous. it is not essential, however, in working out an economic concert that all the problems that separate the nations be completely and finally settled. given a satisfactory solution of the chief difficulties, some way will be sought to prevent secondary problems from leading nations to war. a single instance of a joint successful enterprise of the powers in a single economic field would act as a powerful inducement to attempt joint action in other { } cases. it is not to be assumed that all the questions dividing europe are to be solved in a day or by a single decision. what is required is not one plan which will safeguard all the nations all the time but an inclination or desire to afford a measure of economic security to all and a gradual working out of a machinery, which will effect a settlement here and a settlement there and will in the end develop certain general lines of policy. it is not for a single economic setback that nations go to war, nor even because of a slower development than that of rivals; the chief animus is an ever present fear of industrial _débacle_. economic insecurity, even more than present economic distress, forces nations to resort to arms. the way out is towards some form of internationalisation of the great external opportunities upon which the home industry of the nation depends. is such a development probable? will the nations in this generation or in five generations agree to make sacrifices to permit their rivals to live? it is a question not lightly to be answered. we cannot be dogmatic concerning the future development of industry and of international relations when we cannot see clearly a dozen years ahead. yet the very intensity, the almost pathological intensity, of the nationalistic economic struggle to-day is an indication that it may be approaching a change. in the midst of this struggle, there appears below the surface the signs of a growing economic internationalism. [ ] "the stakes of diplomacy," new york, , pp. - . [ ] the _new republic_, may , . [ ] the _new republic_, may th, . { } chapter xx the forces of internationalism an internationalism, which will bind the nations together into one economic unit, can be secured only as a result of a further political and economic development, limiting the power and autonomy of the several nations. without pressure, external or internal, no union or agreement among the nations can be expected. the thirteen american colonies would not have been willing to live together had they been able to live separately, and, similarly, to-day the great powers would make no concessions to internationalism were it safe and profitable to retain a complete liberty of action. but no such plenary independence is longer possible. forces are at work which circumscribe national autonomy and compel each nation to act with reference to the will of others. in the case of small nations this tendency is manifest. belgium before was a neutralised state, a ward of europe. it had surrendered its right to declare war or form alliances. switzerland, denmark, norway and sweden, while preserving their technical liberty, were by their weakness precluded from entering upon policies disapproved by stronger nations. even the six great powers were forced to pool issues. austria dared not carry out a programme which germany opposed, nor could russia or france act without the other's acquiescence. group policies were substituted for purely nationalistic aims. { } economically a similar interdependence is being created. no nation is wholly self-sufficing. italy must import coal and iron, germany cotton, wool, leather and fodder. france requires germany's coal and germany the iron of france. a safe access to these markets and sources of raw material can only be assured by alliance with other powers. the economic dependence of one nation, moreover, influences the policies of its neighbours. the stress of a country suffering from industrial disequilibrium is transmitted to other nations. if, when germany has exhausted her iron ore, she is prevented from obtaining a supply, let us say from french lorraine, she will be faced with the alternative of dismantling her works in westphalia and silesia or of forcing france to sell ore to her. germany's stringency will thus vitally affect france's international policy. equally, if russia or austria cannot obtain what it needs from abroad, the nations which close the gates are endangered. caution alone must prevent a nation from allowing its neighbour to risk starvation. however ill-founded in precedent, the right to secure what it imperatively needs is a right that every people will fight for. from this political and economic interdependence among nations potentially hostile, there results a vague community of interest in peace. this common interest is strongly reinforced by the staggering costs of modern war. the present conflict is teaching us that europe cannot continue to live and fight, since more than what it fights for is lost in the fighting. on the other hand it cannot stop fighting until it evolves principles of settlement based on the economic security of the vanquished. what the industrial powers will gain from this conflict is but an insignificant part of its cost. compared with the billions { } of dollars which france has spent upon this war, how insignificant are the few tens of millions that she may have gained from a monopolistic administration of her colonies! how little would the open door have cost the successful colonial nations as compared with the losses of this war! not that colonial administration was the only or the main cause of the conflict; other factors contributed, such as the megalomania of the pan-germans. it seems probable, however, that pan-german fanaticism was rendered infectious only by the fear that germany was to be economically encircled and undermined. this fear may well outlast the war. a german defeat, however crushing, will not solve the peace problem, for defeat without security means militarism and reaction in germany, which in turn means militarism and reaction in europe. the special advantages which the nations, possessing colonies, may in the future secure will be dearly bought at the expense of new wars, as costly and decivilising as that under which we now live. this is the chief sanction of internationalism, the price which is exacted from both beneficiaries and victims of a narrow nationalistic policy. whether a liberal internationalism would not pay better, even on the plane of dollars and cents, is a question that admits of but one rational answer. at this moment[ ] there is small likelihood that that rational answer will be given. fighting inhibits thinking, and in the allied countries the belief is held that germany provoked the war through mere wantonness and not because of economic pressure, and that security can come only by ending prussian militarism. in germany there is an analogous conception of her opponents. the theory that the war was merely wanton has the { } merit of simplicity, but like other simple interpretations, it does not cover the facts. there were in germany certain current ideas concerning racial dominion, the natural mission of the german and the absolute supremacy and moral self-sufficiency of the state, which intensified the war spirit. the pan-germans harangued in press and on platform to a people intoxicated by former military and economic triumphs and rendered susceptible by army discipline to martial intoxication. had it not been for a real sense of insecurity, however, peaceable germans would have been less receptive to such martial ideas. for a generation after germany, though armed, had been pacific because secure; her economic centre of gravity lay within. it was not until her national interests extended beyond her boundaries that this sense of insecurity arose. pan-germanism was the intellectual and emotional expression of an economic malaise. to boycott germany after the war will neither decrease her anxiety nor improve the prospects of peace in europe. such a "war after the war," as it is now proposed, is a flat denial of the economic interdependence of nations. its obvious result would be to intensify, rather than moderate, the industrial competition. driven from the markets of the allies, germany would be forced to dump her goods into all neutral countries (at the expense of the trade of the boycotting nations), as well as to form a counter economic alliance and if possible a military coalition. a permanent economic injury to the central powers would at the first convenient moment provoke military retaliation. and, parenthetically, a nation like germany, with its growing population and resources, cannot remain crushed. even if too weak to make headway against a powerful group of nations, it will always be strong enough to act as a make-weight between two opposed coalitions. { } thus if england and russia, no longer united by a common peril, were to clash in the mediterranean or in persia, the presence of an economically threatened and therefore bellicose germany would tend to precipitate hostilities. if a boycotted germany by an economic or military alliance could detach one or more of her present enemies, the international situation created would be as dangerous as that of .[ ] the argument that economic insecurity does not tend toward war is thus seen to halt on all fours. there is, however, a stronger or at least a more obvious argument against the promotion of economic internationalism. it is the claim that wars are caused by nationalistic strife. if the incessant struggle between nationalities cannot be appeased but must lead again and again to world-wide wars, then it is futile to seek to avert war by the creation of an economic internationalism. no agreement among the great nations about trade or colonies will avail so long as poles, bulgars and southern slavs can throw the world into war to fulfil their nationalistic aspirations. until this nationalistic problem is solved no sure advance towards a permanent peace is possible. undoubtedly the struggle of subject nationalities to be { } free, and of independent nations to annex their kin, has been a fruitful source of strife during the last century. the sense of nationality has been intensified by the nation's mobilisation of the economic interests of its citizens; it has become almost pathological as a result of petty nationalistic fragments competing for separate existence. bulgarians, greeks and serbians want the same tract in macedonia; roumanians, italians and serbs wish to redeem their subject brethren in the austro-hungarian empire; france seeks to rescue the francophile though german-speaking alsatians and lothringians, and germany would gladly welcome the dutch and flemings back to their putative german allegiance. there is no limit to these nationalistic claims; no room for arbitration; no fixed principle to determine to which nation each group shall be awarded. the result, quite apart from any action among the great powers, seems war--inevitable and endless.[ ] { } it is impossible to withhold one's admiration for the inspiring fight which oppressed peoples all over the world are making for their independence. we thrill over the old story of the grecian revolt against turkey, of the great risorgimento of italy, of the long slow struggle of germany to achieve statehood. the century since the vienna congress has marked an almost uninterrupted victory for the principle of nationality. yet though we sympathise with the aspirations of poles, finns, armenians and bohemians, an unlimited independence cannot always be desired. nationalities are not sundered geographically, but men of diverse stocks and traditions are interspersed, as though a malign power had wished to make concord forever impossible. ireland cannot secure autonomy, to say nothing of independence of great britain, without encountering ulster's demand to be independent of ireland. similarly a great roumania, a greater serbia, a poland, an independent bohemia can be secured only by denying the equal rights of lesser racial groups. to-day hungarians misrule the roumanians of transylvania; to-morrow a greater roumania may misrule the transylvania hungarians. the principle of the independence of nationalities collides with itself. it also collides with overwhelming economic facts. racially trieste is semi-italian, but if italy acquires the city (and includes it in her customs union), a vast austrian and german _hinterland_ is deprived of a necessary commercial outlet. italy can hold the east adriatic only by smothering serbia. moreover many of these foetal nationalities are too weak and geographically too insecure for independent political existence. what reality would attach to an independent bohemia held in a vice between two hostile german neighbours, and with a german population in its own territory? even in peace the { } teutonic powers could gently strangle the new nation by means of discriminating tariffs. finally many of the claims for nationalistic expansion are inspired by a motive quite different from what appears on the surface. what the nation usually wants is not merely its own unredeemed brethren, but more territory and people. its unredeemed brethren are the easiest to take. but while roumania demands sovereignty over the roumanians of transylvania, she will not let the bulgarians of the dobrudja go. in the one case she upholds the sacred principle of nationality; in the other she discards that principle for the sake of a strategic frontier. serbians and greeks ask not only for the right to recover their ancient territory but also for the right to rule over bulgarians and turks. what they really desire is access to the sea, ample resources for an adequate population, and the national power, without which an independent existence is an illusion. it is too late to dream of a really independent existence for each pigmy nationality, strewn about in eastern europe. in the absence of a balkan confederation, servia, roumania, bulgaria, montenegro and greece may preserve their separate sovereignties, though only if they submit to the "advice" of greater nations, as portugal submits to britain. but for such nations to have conflicting nationalistic aspirations, to wage bloody wars for larger territory and more subjects, is a ridiculous and a tragic situation. servia, dreaming of the restoration of the empire of tsar stephen dushan, whose armies marched to the walls of constantinople, greece aspiring to the empire of the east, are a menace to the peace of the world. it is doubtful whether all of these ambitious nationalities can even preserve their separate national existence. if the welfare of europe conflicts with the { } independence of a montenegro or a bohemia, some lesser form of self-government must be discovered. that lesser form of self-government might be sought in a local autonomy under a federal government. it is not improbable that the political development, of south-eastern europe for example, will tend towards group organisations based on the co-operation of diverse nationalities and stocks somewhat on the swiss model. if the political question could be divorced from the question of the economic exploitation of these small nations, and if each nationalistic group were permitted to retain its language, traditions and _kultur_, the result might be better than a mere _morcellement_ of south-eastern europe, with petty nationalities fighting the battles of their big backers. in such a larger switzerland, each group might be represented in proportion to its numbers, and the worst evils of the present racial contests be avoided. the important question in the present connection, however, is not what the particular solution is to be, but whether any solution is possible. it need not be a perfect but only a permanent settlement. such a settlement presupposes a concert among the great powers, an agreement concerning their own problems. given such an agreement, however, the powers could in time work out a balkan arrangement, which neither servia nor bulgaria, roumania nor greece would dare resist. in the end, if the arrangement were definite, practicable, in reasonable conformity with nationalistic lines, and with a strong and certain sanction, the small nations would become resigned. to-day they have boundless ambitions because the division among the great powers gives them a chance of realising ambitions, and what ambitions they have not to start with, austria or russia will lend to them on short notice. in this sense and to this extent, the { } nationalistic problem in its worst form is an appendage to the vast struggle between the powers, and it may cease to be provocative of great wars once a basis of agreement is established among these larger nations. with the best will such a basis of international agreement among the great powers cannot be established in a few years. it requires a gradual development, a progressive give and take, a continuous widening of the principle of joint use. an international convention, altering the rules of maritime warfare, would be a long step in this direction; a congress of the nations for opening up the trade of colonies (like our international postal conventions) would be another step. the internationalisation of panama, kiel, gibraltar, constantinople, would immensely enhance security, and advance the progress of internationalisation. so also an economic convention between france and germany, or between germany and russia, in which reciprocal industrial advantages were accorded. such specific arrangements, which permit of international interpretation and enforcement, would help to bring about a larger economic internationalism. but for the real foundations of peace we must look far below the level of all these diplomatic and political arrangements, in the world industry itself. to-day we are still in the full momentum of an economic development that makes for war, but we are also at the beginning of an economic trend towards peace. in the present world-economy the nation is the unit and international friction the rule, but the movement, at what rate we do not know, tends towards a world business in which the unit will be international and there will be peace between partners. we are already in the first beginnings of the internationalism of capital. this development is in part the cause of a general { } phenomenon, the growth of an internationalism of class. each social group seeks to establish relations with similar groups across the border, for the protection of interests that traverse national boundaries. thus we have a certain internationalism of the wage-earning class, of finance, of various scientific groups. the possibility of this internationalism grows with the integration of the world through commerce, industry, communication and the spread of knowledge. the most obviously international of social groups is the proletariat. though sundered on the question of immigration, though (in some countries) nationalistic and even militaristic in spirit, the wage-earners on the whole have less to gain from imperialism and national aggression than have wealthier classes, while they share disproportionately in the burdens that war entails. on the other hand workers have less influence in the making of diplomatic decisions than do their employers. in the end, moreover, their decision, like that of the capitalist class, is chiefly determined by economic forces largely beyond their control. it is the nascent internationalism of capital, not of capitalists or of wage-earners, that is the supreme element making for peace. we must beware, however, of welcoming all foreign investment as a portent of a growing internationalism of capital. much that is accounted economic internationalism is in truth merely an extended nationalism, an extra-nationalism. for investments to allay international discord they should create a community of interest between nations potentially hostile. if britain invested freely in germany and germany in britain there would be created a mutuality of interest which would render peace probable. each nation would have a stake in the prosperity of the other; each would have given hostages to peace. { } but when the london financier puts his money in india, canada or the argentine, he is not co-operating but competing with potentially hostile nations. the process is an extension of the national economy to outlying districts, a transition to a larger national unit, like that created in the middle ages when the free cities ruled adjoining farm territory. such an economic extension exacerbates national antagonisms and leads to war. while foreign investment is preponderatingly of this sort, however, there also exist the beginnings of a movement more truly international. the securities of one nation are dealt with upon the stock exchanges of another, capital flows across national borders and great international business concerns are created. the movement in favourable circumstances is likely to accelerate, either by the mutual economic interpenetration of nations, as when the french build factories in germany or the germans in france, or by the amalgamation of the capitals of two countries and their use in joint enterprises. the formation of large international syndicates for the exploitation of backward countries, whatever its other consequences, tends towards the creation of a community of interest. if the powers unite, for example, and can agree upon a chinese loan, a step forward will have been taken towards an internationalism of capital. the process of trust formation tends in the same direction. as competing industries within a nation frequently end by combining, so in many great industries the competing national units may develop a gentleman's agreement to regulate output and finally may establish an international cartel. considerable progress has already been made in the division of the international field. a further development along these lines, though not easy, is by no means impossible or even improbable. { } we may seek to understand this eventual international evolution of business by visualising a world organisation of the steel industry. either one corporation might be formed or a common control might be established among national steel companies through an interchange of stock. the result might be somewhat as follows: in the united states we should have an organisation comprising all american steel concerns, its directors representing constituent companies as well as the government, labour and consumers. in its domestic affairs, it would be under governmental jurisdiction. its capital might amount to a few billion dollars, of which a part would represent holdings of european companies in return for american stock, transferred to european companies. such a world corporation would be a financial aggregation immensely greater than any in the past. its principles of organisation, however, would not materially differ from those with which we are familiar. in each country a board of directors would hold control over constituent companies, and at london, paris or new york a high federal council would settle controversies and make arrangements for the business of the world. each company would have two elements of protection against unfair treatment; a community of interest secured through an interchange of stock and a representative on the federal council. a development, such as is here outlined, is in advance of the psychological preparation of the world. we have not yet succeeded in regulating corporations, and there would remain innumerable difficulties and inequalities as between nations, which could not easily be settled. the price which such concerns might be allowed to pay for ores or charge for finished products and the pressure which they might put upon workmen might cause financial { } quarrels, leading to international controversies. if the governments held hands off, even greater evils might result. the various peoples would hesitate to turn over their basic industries to a private corporation beyond the regulation either of competitors or of their own government. but we are here concerned not with the end but with the direction of international capitalism, and this direction tends to be the same as that of national capitalism. division of the field, interchange of stock, community of interest, co-operation and combination in one form or another are as much a temptation in the relation of firms separated by a frontier as between those within one customs union. capital is fluid. it is quantitative. it is potentially international. a hundred dollars is indistinguishable from a certain number of pounds, marks or francs. the machinery for an international combination of capital is already present, the beginnings of international investment have already been made. further progress waits only upon the removal of barriers, in part traditional. the larger economic interests of the nations, and of most of the classes within the nations, lead towards the removal of these barriers and towards the gaining of that security without which international investment is dangerous and conventions and agreements almost worthless. given such an economic co-operation and such an economic interpenetration of rival european nations, and the political and diplomatic conflicts would grow less acrid and dangerous. as the process continued the interest of each nation in the welfare of its neighbours would become so great as to make international war as unthinkable as a war of pennsylvania against new york. a vital and powerful international spirit, which already exists but is held in check by the fear and insecurity of each { } independent nation, would be given full sway. there would be a new europe and a new world, in which war would be but a vague and hateful memory. such developments, however, are slow and generations live their uncertain lives during a period of transition. while waiting for an economic internationalism to develop to maturity the nations remain on guard, armed, threatened and threatening. the change from our present anarchy to a future concord will not be swift. for the time even an increase of the economic unit to include several nations instead of one is not likely to put an end to all international economic strife. it is not improbable that the proximate economic development will be not internationalism but _supra-nationalism_. just as the customs union grew from a district to a nation, so it may grow to include a group of nations but not the whole world. the world may come to be divided into a group of five or six vast economic units, each of which would be composed of one or several or indeed many political units. the british empire, the russian empire, the united states, china and japan, south america, one or two economic coalitions of west and central europe (with their colonial possessions) would furnish a far more stable economic equilibrium for the world than is the present division of the powers. each of these groups would have both agricultural and manufacturing resources; none of them would be imperatively obliged to fight for new territories. while there would be friction, while one group would have a population in proportion to its resources in excess of a neighbouring group, the sheer brutal necessity of expansion which now forces nations to fight would be largely moderated. such a division of the world into seven or six or perhaps fewer economic aggregates though not easy is quite within { } the bounds of possibility. three of these aggregates, britain, russia and the united states, are already political units; the chief difficulty would consist of western and central europe. no thoroughgoing political amalgamation of such countries as france, germany and italy is at all proximate, but some form of economic unity is not impossible. the bond which would join these countries might be less tight and therefore stronger than the _ausgleich_, which holds together the kingdoms of austria and hungary. in the beginning it might be merely a series of trade conventions terminable on notice; from this it might grow to more permanent trade agreements and finally to a customs union. while the opposition to such an economic union would be strong the forces driving in this direction would also be powerful. as the really great nations emerge, as russia, the united states and the british empire increase their population into the hundreds of millions and their wealth into the hundreds of billions, the individual nations of europe will become economically insignificant and economically unsafe. only by a pooling of their resources will they be able to escape from the crushing superiority of the nations with large bulk and from an insecurity which makes for war. even with such an economic rearrangement of the world the west european coalitions would be unsafe unless they lessened the rate of increase of their population. never before has this population grown so rapidly. in the decade ending western europe (including the nations lying to the west of russia), added . millions to its numbers; in the decade ending it added almost millions. despite a decline in the birth-rate, the mortality has fallen so far that the population is reaching a point where it will be difficult to secure adequate food supplies from abroad. rather than starve or live under the { } constraint of scarce food and high food prices, the west european powers will fight for new territory from which to feed their people. with the industrial development of asia, and especially of china, this danger will be enhanced. of the three great nuclei of population in the world, eastern asia, southern asia and western (and central) europe, only one has been able to draw upon the surplus food of the world. eight hundred million asiatics have been forced to live on their own meagre home resources. as china begins to export coal, iron, textiles and other manufactured products, however, she will be able, whether politically independent or not, to compete with europe for the purchase of this food supply. not only will china's population probably increase with the advent of industrialism but the standard of living of her population will rise, and her competition with europe for the sale of manufactured products and the purchase of food will become intense. the cheap, patient, disciplined labour of china's hundreds of millions will be fighting with the belgian, the german and the italian wage-earners to secure the food which it will be necessary to import. it is not a yellow, but a human peril; a mere addition to the hungry mouths that are to be fed. the supply of exportable food that can be raised in the world has of course not reached its maximum, but beyond a certain point every increase in agricultural production means a more than proportional increase in the cost of the product. to feed eight hundred millions costs much more than twice as much as to feed four hundred millions. even though china secure only a minor part of the exportable food, it will by just so much increase the strain upon the industrial populations of europe. it is a crisis for european industrialism, a slowly { } preparing crisis with infinitely tragic possibilities. what it involves is not a mere re-distribution of wealth and income but an adjustment of population to the available home and foreign resources in food. collectivism will not permanently save the european wage-earner from hunger if he continues to multiply his numbers faster than the visible food supply increases. a decline in the rate of population growth is essential. fortunately this decline is already in progress. all the nations of western and central europe are moving towards a lower birth-rate and in france this diminution has reached a point where there is no longer a natural increase. in a few decades the birth rate will probably begin to fall everywhere faster than the death rate declines. an adjustment of the population to its probable resources will be in progress. in this progressive decline in the birth rate is to be found the greatest of all the factors making for internationalism and peace. it is a development which takes away the edge from the present frantic effort of industrial nations to secure a monopolistic control of foreign resources. it permits the gradual creation of an equilibrium between the nation's population and its physical resources at home and abroad. powerful forces in the world are at present slowly making for an economic internationalism to supplant the economic nationalism which to-day makes for war. the problem that faces the united states is what shall be its policy and action in view of the present nationalistic strife and of the slowly maturing economic internationalism. [ ] november, . [ ] the proposal to boycott germany after the war is sometimes based upon weirdly moral rather than economic considerations. "is it possible," writes one c. r. enoch, "that trade relations with the nation that has outraged every tenet of international and moral decency, every consideration of humanity, and has committed unspeakable atrocities, as has germany in her conduct of the war, can be taken up again at the point where they were broken off? ... there is only one procedure compatible with honour and justice--namely, that no ordinary commercial dealings should be carried out with germany until the _generation of teutons that did these things has passed away_, unless absolute penitence and reparation--if reparation be possible--is done therefor." "can we set the world in order." london, , p. . (my italics.) [ ] the granting of permission to the people of the disputed district to decide their own allegiance is a good general principle, but, unfortunately, does not carry us far. the main difficulty lies in determining what shall be the unit of territory and population which is to decide. if ireland votes as a unit, all ireland will have home rule; if each county is to have the right of self direction, ulster will be detached from the rest of the island. if alsace-lorraine votes to become french, whole districts, which will have voted to remain german, will be dissatisfied. moreover, in the latter case, should all the residents of the two provinces be permitted to vote or only those people and their descendants who were living there in ? if the first plan is adopted a premium is placed upon the policy of legally dispossessing the inhabitants of a conquered land and filling their places with loyal _immigrés_; if the latter is chosen, the principle of the right of a population to determine its allegiance is abandoned. finally, if the decision of the population of the disputed district were adverse to the interests of europe as a whole, it would be irrational to validate such a result. the interests of europe are superior to those of any nation, however powerful, and vastly superior to those of a luxemburg, ulster or alsace-lorraine. { } chapter xxi an immediate programme to the practical man who wants to know what to do and when and how to do it, general principles seem unreal and valueless. he is interested in the decisions of the next few months, not in a vague general direction of events for the coming century. and so in international politics he would like to decide what the nation shall do _now_ about the british blacklist, the german submarines, the mexican revolution, the california-japanese situation, and he is not keenly interested in the formulation of a policy which seems to hang high above the difficult concrete problems that must be solved immediately. he may languidly agree with proposals to create a community of interest among colonising nations and to establish the freedom of the sea, but he wishes to know whether in the meanwhile we are to back up carranza in mexico and what we are to do if the revolutionists "shoot up" an american town. while we work for these ideals, are we to allow germany to sink our liners and japan to swallow up china, or are we to fight? this attitude is not unreasonable. a general policy is of little value unless we can make successive decisions conform to it. but it is not easy or always possible to predict these decisions. we can tell approximately how many people in the united states will die next year, but not how many will die in any particular family. we can { } advise a man who is walking from new york to san francisco to take a generally westward course, but for any given mile of the road the direction may be north or south or east. a trend of policy is made up of innumerable deflections, small or large; it is an irregular chain of successive actions, which do not all tend in one direction. even if we narrow our field of vision and seek to elaborate a more immediate policy, we do not escape from the vagueness which inheres in all such general conclusions. in the main our problem consists in using the influence of the united states to create such an economic harmony among the nations, and to give each nation such a measure of security as to permit them to agree upon an international policy, which will be in the interest of all. the chief elements of this programme are two in number: to create conditions within the united states which will permit us to exert a real influence; and to use this influence in the creation of an international organisation, which will give each nation a measure of economic and military security, and prevent any nation from wantonly breaking the peace. how far we can progress towards such an organisation will depend upon the course and uncertain issue of the present war. the war may end with the central allies crushed, with germany reduced in size and austria and turkey dismembered. it may end with a lesser defeat for the central powers and with lesser penalties. there may be an inconclusive peace, which may either be a mere truce or a new basis of agreement between nations disillusioned by the conflict. finally the war may end with the partial or even complete victory of the central powers, either through their overcoming the united opposition of their enemies or by detaching one or more from their alliances. { } what the united states can effect at the conclusion of the war will inevitably depend upon which of these developments takes place. assuming that we ourselves are not drawn into the conflict, it is probable that our influence will be larger if neither of the great coalitions wins an overwhelming victory. if the western and eastern allies completely crush the resistance of the central powers, it is hardly likely that they will concede to us, who have not borne a share of the danger and toil, a large discretion in proposing the terms of peace. such an unconditional victory by either side would probably lead to an onerous and vindictive settlement, for each coalition is bound together by promises to its constituent nations, and these promises cannot be fulfilled without wholesale spoliation. moreover, each coalition will wish to weaken the future power of its opponents. a request by the united states that the victorious alliance deal generously with the defeated nations in order to create the conditions of a permanent peace would therefore probably meet with a more or less courteous denial. on the other hand, a drawn battle, or one in which the defeated party asking for peace still retained a considerable power of resistance, might lead to conditions in which the influence of the neutral nations, led by the united states, would be all-decisive. a situation might be created out of which no further fighting could bring a tolerable peace, and the nations might agree to some form of incipient international organisation, to which the united states could contribute. the problem of constantinople illustrates this possibility. that city, with the command of the straits, is likely to go to russia if the allies win, and to fall under a disguised german-austrian domination if the central powers are victorious. either situation would be vicious; { } either would leave the commerce of the defeated nations at the mercy of the great power that held the bosphorus. if on the other hand, the two opposed alliances were almost equally formidable at the end of the war, or if england and france became unwilling to fight longer in order to give russia a strategic position at constantinople, a true solution of the problem might be obtained by neutralising the straits. a union of all the powers might guarantee the free passage of these waters at all times, and an american commissioner in command of a small american army might carry out the wishes of an international council. it would not be a pleasant or in any sense a profitable adventure for the united states, and we should accept the task most unwillingly. our sole motive would be the belief that our acceptance of this responsibility would remove one of the greatest causes of future war. such an assumption of obligations at constantinople would constitute for us a new and dangerous international policy. while constantinople is easily defended and while ample assistance would be forthcoming if defence were necessary, it can hardly be doubted that a rupture of such an international agreement guaranteeing the neutrality of the straits would bring on a war in which we should be obliged to take our part. yet the danger which we thus incur by entering upon an agreement looking to international peace is perhaps less than the danger of not entering since if constantinople causes another world war, as it may if not neutralised, it is by no means unlikely that sooner or later we may be forced into the struggle. it is better to risk our peace in seeking to avert a world disaster than to permit the great war to come. there are other international policies which in favouring circumstances might be urged by the united states at { } the close of the war. we might append our signature to international conventions defining and guaranteeing a freedom of the seas, to agreements looking towards a co-operative exploitation of backward countries, to laws regulating the settlement of arbitrable international disputes, and to such special conventions as might be made for the re-neutralisation of belgium. upon the basis of such agreements, even though they were but tentative and partial, we might enter with the other nations upon some form of a league of peace and international polity, which would secure these new conventions from being rudely disturbed by the aggression of one or two powers. whether we help to carry out these policies at the close of this war, will depend upon the balance of power then existing in europe and upon the mood of the nations. if russia wants constantinople, if britain insists upon the right of capture at sea, if france, italy, servia, roumania and the british colonies demand territorial gains without compensation, and these powers are able to enforce their will, our delegates to the peace conference may make representations and suggestions, but will not be able to carry them through. nor if the central powers are victorious and unyielding, shall we be able to make our advice count. no one power or group of powers could carry out such a policy against the will of a majority or even of a strong minority of powers. unless the conditions at the end of the war are such as to convince the victors (if there are victors) that it is wiser to readjust the world than to get all they can, unless great nations like britain, france and germany can agree that a groundwork for future peace is more valuable than territorial gains and punitive damages, the opportunity for a peaceful reconstruction will pass. new coalitions will be formed; new wars will be fought. it is of course possible that such an international { } reconstruction will be entered upon only with hesitation by several of the nations, including some of the victors. it is even conceivable that the movement might be furthered by certain of the belligerents on both sides, as for example germany, great britain, france and italy (aided by the united states and other neutrals) and be opposed to some extent by, let us say, russia and turkey. it is not assumed that this particular division among the nations will actually occur, but merely that upon the conclusion of the war the moral integrity of the alliances may be shattered and with the prospect of new cleavages and disagreements, an effort be made, aided by the neutrals, to create conditions doing away with the present balance of power. a war disintegrates the elements making for success in war; enemies become allies and allies enemies. at the final council board each nation tends to return to its allegiance to itself, and with the passing of the old alliances a new league based upon totally different principles becomes possible. it is, however, with a tempered optimism that we should approach the international conference that is to end this war. even if america is represented and wisely represented, even if the powers are willing to listen to proposals looking toward international reconstruction, the probability that there will be an inclination to make concessions is not overwhelming. hatred, distrust, the injection of petty interests, the tenacity of diplomatic conservatism will all work against a wise forbearance and a far-seeing policy, and the errors of the vienna conference of and of the berlin conference of may be duplicated or worse. there is at least an even chance that the international situation will be quite as unsatisfactory and perilous in as it was in . progress towards international reconstruction is a possible but by no means { } certain part of the agenda of the diplomatic conference, which will meet when enough millions of the youth of europe have been slaughtered and maimed. but those who desire peace and the international relations which will alone make peace possible have learned to be patient, and if the problem advances only slowly to a solution it will be sufficient satisfaction to know that it advances at all. after this war there will be many long years during which the nations may study at their leisure the clumsiness of the arrangements which make for international conflict. there will be years in which america, if she is worthy and strong, will be able to make her influence for peace felt. the problem, however, is not how rapidly we shall move but whether we shall move at all and in what direction. that direction seems to be clearly indicated by the recent trend of world events. with the passing of our isolation we are given the opportunity to use our immense influence directly, continuously and intelligently for the strengthening of the economic bonds which make for a world peace. time and the economic trend work on our side. we can hasten, though we cannot and need not create, the vast unifying movement which comes with the further integration of industry. what we can contribute to this consummation is an ability to see the world as it is and a willingness to work and if necessary to fight for the changes without which international peace is impossible. we must avoid a cautious yet dangerous clinging to a philosophy of national irresponsibility, as we must likewise avoid the excesses of a nationalistic imperialism. we must take our part manfully, side by side with the other nations, in the great reorganisation of the world, which even to-day is foreshadowed by an economic internationalism, now in its beginnings. { } in the last century and a half the united states has made three great contributions to the political advancement of the world. the first was the adoption of the constitution, an experiment in federalism on a scale larger than ever before known in history. the second was the adoption of a policy, by which the vast territories of all the states were held in common, and these new territories admitted to statehood upon exactly the same terms as the original commonwealths, which formed the union. our third contribution was the monroe doctrine, which removed two continents from the field of foreign conquest and guaranteed to each american nation the freedom to determine its own form of government and its own sovereignty. to-day the nation is again in a position to contribute to the political progress of the world. it stands before a fourth decision. either it can cling hopelessly to the last vestiges of its policy of isolation or can launch out into imperialistic ventures, or finally it can promote, as can no other nation, a policy of internationalism, which will bind together the nations in a union of mutual interest, and will hasten the peaceful progress of the economic and political integration of the world. { } index a abbott, j. f., "japanese expansion and american policies," quoted, n. africa, slavery under imperialistic system in, . agricultural nations, how war was a necessity to early, - ; effect of conversion of, into industrial nations, - . agricultural progress, as one of the causes of war, . agriculture, an economic activity that is pacific in tendency, ; how america's economic mutuality with europe may depend upon, ; a secure base for a policy of non-aggression in development of, ; amount of land available for, in america, - ; growth in products of, compared with growth in population, - ; opportunities for further development of american, - ; probable increase in efficiency in, - . alaska, attitude of america in purchase of, . algeria, preferential treatment of, as to tariffs, by france, ; volume of trade of, with france compared with that with other countries, . america, effect of great war upon, ; choice of foreign policies open to, ; influences which will determine national trend, - ; attitude of pacifist idealists, ; attitude of self-seeking individualists, ; origin and character of demand in, for preparedness, - ; the ideal of a united, - ; interest of financial groups in preparedness and "united america" ideal, - ; question as to what purpose armament in, is to be used, ; the group for defence and the group for establishment of proper international relations, - ; factors which will determine foreign policy of, - ; goal of internationalism to be aspired for by, ; causes of failure of, to realise ideal of internationalism, ; imperialistic ideas in, - ; steadfastness necessary in whatever course decided on, - ; not exempt from economic forces which cause war, - ; attitude of, toward peace and war, - ; period of clipper ships in, ; character of diplomacy of, - ; plunge taken by, in ; into imperialism, ; strategic and industrial motives behind change in foreign policy of, - ; "congestion of capital" argument proved futile, - ; effect upon thought in, of imperialistic venture, ; relations of, with europe, as affected by monroe doctrine, and international responsibilities thrust upon, - ; lessons derived by, from european war, - ; a positive policy to be substituted for a negative, - ; comparative intensity of competition with great britain, germany and france for foreign trade, - ; development in field of investment, - ; obvious entrance of, upon economic competition, - ; isolation evidently no longer possible to, ; decision to be made by, as to nature of expansion policy to be adopted, - ; choice lies between nationalistic imperialism and internationalism, ; arguments of imperialists as to course to be taken by, - ; dangers of imperialistic policy to, - ; secure road to imperialism for, in anglo-american union, - ; arguments for ideal of internationalism, - ; capability of, for leading in promotion of international peace, dependent on economic development, ff.; tendency to imperialistic policy from unequal distribution of wealth, ff.; danger of present favourable conditions as to incomes and wages not continuing, - ; foreign policy must accord with international ideals, - ; course to be followed by, in foreign policy, in choosing between immediate and ultimate interest, - ; question of future relations with canada, - ; policy toward china, - ; three ways open to, of promoting international adjustments aimed to secure peace, ; absurdity of method of "going it alone," - ; the method of forming an alliance with one or more selected nations, - ; third and most promising method, to constitute our nation a rallying-point for the formulation and enforcement of principles of international policy, - ; leading part taken by, in advocacy of freedom of the seas, ; hostility of, to british domination of the seas, ; an immediate programme for, - . americanism, as an ideal, - . anglo-american union, arguments favouring, - ; drawbacks to plan of, ; further discussion of possible value of, and disadvantages of, - . anti-imperialists, arguments of, - ; considerations which work against, - . arbitration, defects of, as a plan for preserving peace, - . aristocracy, benefits of imperialism confined to the, - ; evil effects of imperialistic system upon, . arndt, paul, on handicapping of germany because of meagreness of colonial possessions, . b backward countries, root of imperialism in exploitation of, by imperialistic powers, - ; problem of governing, an argument for imperialism, ; proposed joint development of, by all the great powers, - . banks, german, in foreign countries, , - . barker, ernest, article "crusades," quoted, . bauer, otto, quoted on diversified interests of wage-earners in different countries, - . belgium, monopoly of trade with her colonies secured by, ; industrial invasion of, by germany, ff.; truths illustrated by german invasion of, ; position of, before , as a neutralised state, . birth rate, decline in, the greatest of factors making for internationalism and peace, . bismarck, policy of, in encouraging france's colonial ambitions, - . boycott, proposed for states violating principles of international league for peace, - ; discussion of, of germany after the war, - . brailsford, h. w., quoted on solution of colonial problem, - . brazil, tropical imperialism and the atrocities in, . bulnes, f., quoted on future relations of united states and latin america, . burgess, "homeland," cited, . burgess, j. w., "the european war of ," quoted, - . business, international evolution of, - . c canada, trade of, with united states compared with that with great britain, ; present and future relations of united states with, - . capital, internationalism of, - . caraballo sotolongo, f., work by, cited, n. cartels, description of german, - . carver, t. n., quoted on small-scale farming, n. children, dangers of neglect of, in united states, - . china, views of official of, quoted, - ; question of america's policy regarding, - ; possibilities of the impending industrial progress of, n. class, increasing internationalism of, . class policy, imperialism viewed as a, . coercion, preserving peace by, - . colonies, how germs of war are carried in nationalistic competition for, ff.; tendency of, to trade with home country, - ; preference given to, by tariff legislation, ; the open and the closed door policy in treatment of, by home countries, ; future advantages resulting from possession of, - ; problem of, in plans for a higher imperialism, , ff.; internationalisation of, under proposed higher imperialism, - . colonisation, failure of argument for imperialism based on, - . coloured labour and the root of imperialism, - . commerce, development of, and the economic motive for war, - . conant, c. a., arguments of, for american imperialism, - . constantinople, problem of, after the war, and part america might play, - . coolidge, a. c., "united states as a world power," quoted, n. cramb, j. a., war mystic, quoted, , ; book, "england and germany," quoted, . crusades, economic motives behind, . d dardanelles, internationalisation of, , . democracy, the american tradition of, - ; failure to achieve ideal purpose of, . diepenhorst, fritz, quoted on german cartels, . diplomacy, character of american, - . disarmament, defects in proposal for universal, . distribution of wealth, incentive to war found in unequal, . dodsworth, w., arguments of, in favour of imperialism, . "dumping" of surplus goods by germany, ; as one of germany's methods of industrial invasion, , - . e economic forces, determination of national policies by, - ; one of chief causes of wars, , - , - ; hope of directing toward peace rather than war, - . economic gains to imperialistic nation from tropical agriculture, . economic invasion, of other countries by germany, - ; relative success or failure of system of, - . educational system in america, imperfections of, - . emigration, as one of the causes of war, . england, relations between america and, - , ; economic competition between germany and, - ; strength of imperialism in, . _see_ great britain. enoch, c. r., on boycotting germany after the war, n. europe, importance to, of american foreign policy, ; attitude of pacifist idealists and of individualistic realists concerning america's relations with, - ; attitude of america toward, - ; economic competition of united states with, ff.; significance to, of american competition for latin-american trade, - ; renewed competition of, for foreign trade after the war, ; financial relations of america and, - ; foreign investment by, in new countries, - ; lack of firm basis for union of peoples of, - ; problems presented by canada's relation to controversies in, n. extractive industries, pacific tendency of, . f farms, possibilities for future development of, in america, - . _see_ agriculture. fear of war, value to certain interests of, - . federation of nations, defect of plan for, to preserve peace, - . finance, internationalism of, - . financial relations of america and europe, - . financiers, interest of, in preparedness and spirited foreign policy, - . foreign investment and the internationalism of capital, - . _see_ investment. foreign policy of america, effect of european war upon, ff., - ; special factors which will figure in future, - ; change in, after the spanish war, ; in part due to military considerations, ; part played by economic motives in, - ; must accord with international ideals which we aim to promote, - ; the choice between immediate and ultimate interest, - ; concerning latin america, - ; concerning canada, - ; concerning china, - . foreign trade, effect on america's, of opening of panama canal, - ; america's gain in, since outbreak of european war, - ; european competition for, after the war, ; question of value of, resulting from imperialism, - . france, relations between america and, ; american competition with, for foreign trade, less keen than with germany, ; preferential tariffs given to colonies of, ; industrial invasion of, by germany, ff.; appeal of imperialism in, . freedom of the seas, one of the elements in a programme of peace, ; growth in significance of problem of, ; opposite sides taken by america and england concerning, ; benefits and drawbacks of england's policy, - ; five things desirable in order to establish, - ; international organisation to enforce convention regarding, with anglo-american agreement as a corner-stone, ; value of proposed international arrangement, dependent upon belief of nations in its enforcement, - . free trade, as an antidote to war, ; error lurking in the doctrine, - . g garcia calderon, f., quoted on course of united states in the future, - ; on north american influence in latin america, . geographical location, effect of, on a nation's policy, - . germany, defence of war offered by romanticists in, - ; possibility of future competition with, by america, in battle for world market, - ; economic competition between england and, - ; volume of trade of colonies with, compared with that with other countries, ; handicapping of, through lack of colonial possessions, ; dangers of colonial ambition of, ; bismarck's policy regarding colonies, - ; industrial invasion of competing countries by, ; tactics of, in trade invasions, ff.; limitations and obstacles to policy of invasion of, ; appeal of imperialism in, ; why imperialism appeals to wage-earners in, - ; frugality and efficiency characteristic of, ; the proposal to boycott after the war, - . gibraltar, straits of, internationalisation of, , . great britain, what loss of markets for manufactured goods would mean to, ; american competition with, for foreign trade, less keen than that with germany, - ; comparative volume of trade between colonies and, - ; arguments for alliance between america and, - ; how surplus capital seeking a vent may lead to an imperialistic policy shown by, ; policy of obstruction followed by, regarding freedom of the seas, ; necessity to, of navy and command of seas, illustrated by case of germany, - ; discussion of advantages and disadvantages of attitude of, on naval supremacy, - . h hauser, henri, work by, cited and quoted, , , . hawaii, acquisition of, by united states, ; america's international liabilities increased by, . hobson, c. k., "the export of capital," cited, n., . hobson, john a., "imperialism," quoted, , ; "towards international government," quoted and cited, , . holland, industrial invasion of, by germany, ff. honour, the demands of national, - . hunting tribes, war inevitable among, . hurley, edwin w., address by, cited and quoted, n. hutchinson, lincoln, "panama canal and international trade competition," cited, . i idealists, position of pacifists as, ; mystic interpretation of war by, - . immigration, effect of growth of america's population due to, on nation's economic development and foreign policy, . imperialism, american ideal of internationalism opposed to, - ; intricacy of problem of, ; the present an age of, - ; america's plunge into, in , ; strategic and industrial arguments for american, - ; not warranted by real conditions in america, - ; significance of america's premature venture into, ; root of, found in necessity of compelling subject peoples to labour for industrial nations, - ; arguments against, ff.; results of, for investment purposes beneficial only to a few, ; regarded by socialists as immoral, brutal, anti-democratic, and uneconomic, ; revolt against, led by people of imperialistic powers not benefited by policy, ff.; outlet for redundant population not secured by, - ; questionable value of foreign trade resulting from, - ; danger of war resulting from, - ; a class policy, - ; difficulty in europe of democratic leaders making headway against, - ; popular appeal of, ; economic argument for, - ; patriotic appeal of, - ; decision to be made by america between internationalism and, - ; road open to america, through anglo-american union, - ; lack of economic reserves as an impelling force toward, - ; relation between geographical location and, - ; relation of inequalities of wealth and income to, ff.; a more equal distribution of wealth an antidote to, - ; in what the economic antidote to, really consists, - ; measures necessary to achievement of higher form of, - . income, equable distribution of, an antidote to imperialism, . india, british conquest of, due to desire for trade, ; tendency of, to give bulk of trade to home country, , ; small percentage of british born in, . industrial invasions of each other's territory by competing countries, - ; question of success or failure of policy of, - . inequality of wealth and income, risk of imperialistic policy resulting from, - . intensive cultivation, limitations of, . internationalisation of colonies, - ; of capital, - . internationalism, ideal of, to be aspired for by america, ; causes of failure of america to realise ideal of, ; what is necessary if america decides on the course of, - ; decision to be made by america between nationalistic imperialism and, - ; meaning of ideal of, as opposed to ideal of imperialism, ; steps necessary to achievement of, - ; to be secured only by further political and economic development, ; forces making for, ff.; actual profit of, ; impossibility of independence for small subject nations, - . intervention, objections to a policy of, for preserving peace, - . investment, america's development in field of foreign, - ; value of new countries as a field for, - ; extent of foreign, by european countries, ; internationalism of capital shown by foreign, - . iron, "dumping" of, by germany in foreign countries, - . italy, industrial invasion of, by germany, ff.; "dumping" of german products in, . j jamaica, trade of, with united states compared with that with united kingdom, . james, william, "the moral equivalent of war," quoted, - . japan, relations between america and, as influenced by philippine islands, ; an example of a nation driven to imperialistic policy through lack of economic reserves, - . jingoism, the irreducible minimum of, - . jöhlinger, otto, on the open and the closed door in colonies, n. k kidd, benjamin, "control of the tropics," cited, . kiel canal, internationalisation of, , . king, w. i., "wealth and income of people of united states," cited, n. krehbiel, edward, digest of history of pacifism by, n. l latin america, competition of america for trade of, - ; possibilities of, as a field for investment, - ; course to be followed by america toward, - ; fear of policy of aggression on part of united states by, - ; danger in our relations with, from its political instability and unripeness, . league for peace, foundations of a true, - ; question of how to form, premature, ; things essential to continued existence of, - ; methods of enforcing system, - ; creation of international machinery for working out modes of action, . league to enforce peace, arguments for and against a, - , . lippmann, walter, quoted on solution of colonial problem, . loree, l. f., compilation by, cited, n. lough, w. h., quoted on trade of united states with south america, n. m mcmaster, j. b., quotation from, n. mahan, a. t., "interest of america in sea power," etc., cited, ; on the possibilities of an anglo-american alliance, - . marx, karl, on the workingman's lack of a fatherland, . merles, salvador r., work by, cited, n. merritt, eugene, on disadvantages of small-sized farms, . mexico, significance of revolution in, to united states, ; inferences to be drawn from action of united states concerning, - ; laming of industry by frequent revolutions in, . _see_ latin america. millard, t. f., "our eastern question," quoted, n. milloud, maurice, "the ruling caste and frenzied finance in germany," quoted, , , , . mining, an economic activity that is pacific in tendency, . monroe doctrine, the, ; effect of, on america's relations with europe, - ; stands for principle that latin-american countries will develop naturally, ; possibility of cloaking a policy of aggression under, - ; tolerance of, by europe, conditioned upon america's acting as guardian and not conqueror, - ; peril in, both to united states and to latin america, - ; question of future treatment of, . munition makers, value to, of constant fear of war, - . mystic interpretation of war, - . n napoleonic wars, economic factors in, . national consciousness, development of, in europe, - . nationalism and internationalism, discussion of use of terms, n. nationalities, the struggle of subject, for independence, - ; impossibility of independence for all, - . natural resources, lack of, a cause of militaristic and imperialistic policy, - . naumann, friedrich, on handicapping of germany through meagreness of colonial possessions, . navies, arguments for reduction of, to secure freedom of the seas, - . o olivier, sir sidney, "white capital and coloured labour," quoted, , - . olney, richard, on sovereignty of united states in western hemisphere, . open door, america's policy of the, relative to china, ; what america should mean by, ; problem of, the essential one in solution of question of colonies, - . orient, possibilities of, as a field for investment, - . p pacifism, history of, - ; must be either static or dynamic, ; our hope in dynamic type of, ; character of dynamic as opposed to static, - . _see also_ peace. pacifists in america, attitude of, toward national policies, ; effect upon, of great war and the demand for preparedness, - ; mistaken ideas concerning war and its causes held by many, - . panama canal, international liabilities of united states increased by, ; competition of united states for foreign trade increased by, - ; internationalisation of, , . pastoral nations, war a necessity to, . peace, direct and indirect interest of america in, - ; the classic ideal of, - ; change in character of movement for, before french revolution, - ; proven inapplicability of rationalistic theories of, - ; cause of failures of pacifist efforts, - ; criticism of plans of static type for preserving, - ; the all-pervasive sentiment for, ; decline in population rate a help toward, ; proposed league for, _see_ league for peace. philippine islands, acquisition of, by america, ; change in feeling of americans regarding ownership of, - ; increase of america's international responsibilities by, ; small percentage of europeans and americans in, . popular appeal of imperialistic policy, ; reason for, found in economic argument, - ; patriotic ideals and, - . population, growth in, one incentive to war, ; increase in, one of the chief forces driving western nations outward, - ; imperialism not an outlet for superfluity of, - ; overtaking of extension of agriculture by, ; statistics of, ; diminishing rate of increase in, ; increase of america's, by immigration, ; distribution of wealth among, in united states, n.; increase in, means increased inequality in distribution of wealth, - ; decline in rate of, the greatest of factors making for internationalism and peace, . preparedness, origin and character of demand for, - ; effect of, on pacifist ideals, - ; interest of financial groups in policy of, - . preziosi, g., work by, cited, . punic wars, economic motives behind, . r railroad policy of germany, impetus given to "dumping" by, . rationalistic pacifism, inapplicability of, to the facts of life, - . reinsch, paul, "world politics," quoted, n.; "colonial administration" by, cited and quoted, , . religion, a lesser cause of war than economic interests, - ; not a preventive of war, . ripley, w. z., cited concerning american debt to europe, n. robinson, e. v. d., essay by, cited, n. rohrbach, paul, "german world policies," quoted, n. ruedorffer, j. j., quoted on future of germany's world policy, . russia, relations between america and, . s _saturday review_ article on competition between england and germany, . schulze-gaevernitz, dr., work by, cited and quoted, - . scottish border wars, viewed as cattle-stealing raids, - . shipping, an economic activity that is not pacific in tendency, . sidebotham, h., "the freedom of the seas," quoted, , . six-power loan, in principle a right step, . slavery, modern forms of, under system of tropical imperialism, . slosson, e. e., article by, quoted, - . social democratic party in germany, attitude of, toward imperialism, . socialists, anti-imperialistic philosophy of, - ; allegiance of, to their own countries, - ; reason for failure of, to prevent war, - ; agreement of, with theory that colonial problem can be solved only by concerted action of great powers, - . solf, wilhelm, quoted on germany's colonial policy, , n. south american trade, competition of united states for, - . _see_ latin america. suez canal, internationalisation of, . sumner, w. g., quoted on war, - . supra-nationalism, the proximate economic development, . switzerland, industrial invasion of, by germany, ff., . t taxation, an underlying cause of war, . thompson, warren s., "population: a study in malthusianism," cited, . trade development, as one of the causes of war, . trojan war, a free-booting expedition, . tropical imperialism, conditions causing, ; arguments for and against, - . tropical products, growing significance of, - . trusts, tendency to internationalism in process of formation of, - . tunis, trade of, favoured by france, . u united states. _see_ america. united states of europe, fallacy in proposal to create a, - . v von der goltz, field-marshal, quoted on necessity of imminence of war to maintenance of prestige of officer class, n. w wage-earners, imperialistic arguments that appeal to, - ; internationalism of, . wages, supposed beneficial reaction of imperialism upon, - . war, popular theories regarding, ; the real motives, incentives and origins of, ; reason for both ancient and modern, traced to economic forces, - , - ; interpretation of, by school of romanticists, - ; question of permanence of, as an institution, ; attitude of americans toward, ff.; cause of attitude of average american toward, - ; how system of imperialism tends to lead to, - , - ; value of fear of, to certain political and industrial interests, - ; elements in america that foster spirit of, ; antidotes to imperialistic policy and, - . _see also_ peace. war after the war, the, . war of , effect of, upon america, - ; lessons derived by america from, - ; the part that america might play at close of, - . wealth, equal distribution of, an antidote to imperialism, - . webb, sidney and beatrice, "history of trade unionism," quoted, n. west indies, working of modern imperialistic methods in, - . wilcox, e. v., "tropical agriculture," quoted, - . willcox, w. f., birth and death rate statistics by, n. willford, isbell, "wealth and income of people of united states," quoted, n. willis, j. c., arguments by, for tropical imperialism, n. wilson, c. usher, article on "the native question and irrigation in south africa," quoted, n. printed in the united states of america. italy, france and britain at war by h. g. wells author of "mr. britling sees it through," "what is coming," etc. here mr. wells discusses with an incisiveness and penetrativeness all his own, conditions as he has seen them in three of the great countries engaged in the european war. the book is divided into four main sections: i. the passing of the effigy, in which are reviewed certain changing sentiments as regards war; ii. the war in italy, taking up the isonzo front, the mountain war and behind the front; iii. the western war, and iv. how people think about the war, in which are found such topics as do they really think at all, the yielding pacifist, the religious revival and the social changes in progress. the macmillan company publishers - fifth avenue new york _by the same author_ the new democracy an essay on certain political and economic tendencies in the united states by walter e. weyl, ph.d. a chief issue in the presidential campaign is "socialized democracy." dr. weyl's new work gives a clear summary of its causes and aims. _crown vo, blue cloth, gilt top, $ . _ _standard library edition . _ some press comments "a masterly, scathing, and absolutely fearless arraignment of things that ought not to be in a republic, and of tendencies that no democracy ought to tolerate."--_boston herald_. "a thoughtful volume ... a big synthesis of the whole social problem in this country. a keen survey."--_chicago evening post_. "a searching and suggestive study of american life.... a book to make people think.... notable for its scholarship and brilliant in execution, it is not merely for the theorist, but for the citizen."--_newark evening news_. "dr. weyl's book is a strong analysis of the whole subject. it will be read widely and will exercise a large influence."--_the evening mail_. "dr. weyl has read the modern writing on the wall and interprets it to us more clearly than has yet been done."--_new york globe_. "a masterly interpretation of the industrial, political, social, and moral revolution that is going on in this country."--_albany argus_. "a complete and circumstantial statement of the whole case ... our social and economic unrest is not to lead to a war of classes, but to a 'national readjustment.'"--_new york tribune_. "the best and most comprehensive survey of the general social and political status and prospects that has been published of late years."--_the pittsburg post_. the macmillan company publishers - fifth avenue new york _our national problems_ _decorated boards -------- each fifty cents_ the pentecost of calamity by owen wister "one of the most striking and moving utterances.... let all americans read it."--_the congregationalist_. "it is written with sustained charm and freshness of insight."--_n. y. times_. their true faith and allegiance by gustavus ohlinger "hundreds of thousands of this book should be distributed as tracts for all honest, loyal, decent american citizens to read and digest."--_n. y. sun_. the forks of the road by washington gladden (this book won the first prize offered by the church peace union for the best essay on war and peace.) "small as the book is, it is full of 'meat for strong men,' and its closely reasoned argument is likely to set many people thinking along unaccustomed lines."--_n. y. times_. the heritage of tyre by william brown meloney "in terse, striking, forceful language the author of this most valuable little volume shows us the greatest weakness america has, and the most ominous danger such weakness involves."--_boston transcript_. straight america by frances a. kellor "practical, candid, and most earnest. it gets down to the first principles of american needs and discusses them with honesty, ability, and a straight-from-the-shoulder forcefulness that ought to prove inspiring and infectious."--_new york times_. americanization by royal dixon "no better beginning with the immigrant can be made than to teach him along the lines laid down in mr. dixon's sincere and ardent little manual of decency in democracy."--_new york sun_. what's the matter with mexico by caspar whitney "a vital question answered intelligently, fully and without hesitation.... should be read by every one whose sense of fair play has not been warped by a baneful sophistry."--_philadelphia public ledger_. the macmillan company publishers - fifth avenue new york brazil: today and tomorrow by lillian elwyn elliott, f. r. g. s. literary editor of the pan-american magazine, new york. this volume seeks to show how and to what extent brazil "has been opened up" and developed, and by whom, and to outline some of the work that remains to be done. miss elliott first of all discusses present social conditions in brazil, explaining who the brazilian is, what political and social events have moulded him and what he has done to develop his territory; a territory , square miles larger than that of the united states. later sections deal with finance, the monetary conditions of the country, the problem of exchange, and the source of income. still others take up various means of transit, the railroads, the coast-wise and the ocean service, rivers and roads. industries are treated in considerable detail--cattle, cotton raising, weaving, coffee growing and the rubber trade. an unusual feature comes under the heading of "the world's horticultural and medicinal debt to brazil" in which the reader is made to realize something of the immense forestal treasure house comprised in the huge, wild, half explored regions of north brazil. the macmillan company publishers - fifth avenue new york produced from images generously made available by the internet archive.) [chapter numbering is as in the original publication, omitting chapter numbers xxv and xxvi. (note of etext transcriber.)] england, canada and the great war by lieutenant-colonel l.-g. desjardins ex-member of the legislative assembly of the province of quebec and of the house of commons of canada. quebec chronicle print. october st, preface. even since the issue, last year, of my book:--"_l'angleterre, le canada et la grande guerre_"--"_england, canada and the great war_"--a second edition of which i had to publish, a few weeks later, to meet the pressing demand of numerous readers--i have been repeatedly asked by influential citizens to publish an english edition of my work. a delegate from quebec to the national unity--or win-the-war--convention, in montreal, i had the pleasure of meeting a great many of the delegates from toronto and all over the dominion. many of them insisted upon the publication of an english edition. having written that book for the express and patriotic purpose of proving the justice of the cause of the allies in the great war, and refuting mr. bourassa's false and dangerous theories, i realized that the citizens of quebec, montreal, ottawa and toronto, who strongly advised an english edition to be circulated in all the provinces, appreciated the good it could make. i consider it is my imperious duty to dedicate to my english speaking countrymen this volume containing all the substance matter of my french book, and the defense a truly loyal french canadian has made of the sacred cause of civilization and liberty for the triumph of which the glorious allied nations have been so heroically fighting for the last four eventful years. as i say, in the introduction to this work, i first intended to write only an english resumé of my french book. but once at work writing down, the questions to consider were so important, and the replies to the nationalist leader's inconceivable theories so numerous, that i had to double and more the pages i had thought would be sufficient for my purpose. i realized that many points, to be fully explained, required more comments and argumentation that i had at first supposed necessary. moreover, since writing my french book, most important events have taken place. to have the present english volume up to date, i had to consider recent history in its very latest developments, and reply to the nationalist leader's last errors, which by no means were not the least. when once a man has run off the path of reason and sound public sense, he is sure to rush to most dangerous extremes, unless he has the moral courage to acknowledge that he was sadly mistaken. i trust that the english speaking readers of this book, will not, for a single moment, suppose that i am actuated by the least ill-feeling against mr. bourassa personally, in the severe but just denunciation it was my plain duty to make of his deplorable nationalist campaign. for many years past, i have ever been delighted in welcoming promising young men to the responsibilities of public life. i remember with a mixed feeling of pleasure and regret the occasion i first heard mr. bourassa, then a youth, addressing a very large public meeting held on the nomination day of the candidates to a pending bye-election for the house of commons of canada: pleasure at the recollection of what i considered a fairly successful beginning of a political career; deep regret at the failure to justify the hopes of his compatriots and his friends through an uncontrollable ambition always sure to deter, even the best gifted, from the safe line of duty, well understood, and firmly, but modestly, performed. passion, aspiring and unbridled, is always a dangerous counsellor. mr. bourassa could have had a useful political life, if he had realized that public good cannot be well served by constant appeals to race prejudices, and by persevering efforts to achieve success by stirring up fanaticism. the result of the unpatriotic course he has followed, against the advice of his best friends, has been to sow in our great and happy dominion the seed of discord, of hatred, of racial conflicts. unfortunately, for the country, for his french canadian compatriots, and for himself, he was deluded to the point of believing that the war would be his grand opportunity. instead of using his influence to promote the national unity so essential under the trying circumstances with which canada and the whole british empire was suddenly confronted, he exerted himself to the utmost to prevail on his french canadian countrymen to assume a decisive hostile stand to the noble cause which britain had to fight for, in order to avenge the crime of the violation of belgium's territory, to protect france from german cruel invasion, and to prevent autocratic power from enslaving humanity. such a misconception of a truly loyal man's part was most detrimental to the good of canada's future, to the destinies of the french canadians, and to the political standing of the publicist who was its willing victim. and to-day he finds himself in this position that he has no other choice but that of pursuing, at all hazards, his unwholesome campaign against all things british, or, boldly retracing his steps, to go back on all he has said and written to support inadmissible views, vain ideas, and passionate prejudices. the latter course would certainly be the best to follow in the interest of his country, of his french canadian countrymen, and of his usefulness as a public man. but, however much to be regretted, he seems utterly unable to overcome the prejudices which have taken such deep root in his heart and mind. prejudice, constantly cultured, soon develops into blind fanaticism, closing the intellect to the light of sound logic, to the call of duty, to the clear comprehension of what is best to do to promote the public good. however seriously guilty he may be, the public man, so swayed by a fanatical passion, is sure not to rally to the defense of the superior interests of his countrymen when they are threatened by a great misfortune. i cannot help deploring that after giving good hopes of a life patriotically devoted to the increasing welfare of canada, by doing his share in promoting the best feelings among his countrymen of all races, classes and creeds, one of my kin, really gifted to play a much better part, has been so sadly mistaken as to exhaust his activities in forcing his way to the leadership of a group of malcontents unable to overcome their racial antipathies and listen to reason, even when their country and the empire to which they have sworn allegiance are destructively menaced. he has nobody else to blame but himself for the failure of his political career, due to his misguided efforts in thwarting the happiness and prosperity which our great dominion would certainly derive from the persevering union of all the citizens enjoying the blessings of her free british institutions, to work out her brilliant destinies by their intelligent labours, their hearted patriotism in peace times, and with their undaunted courage and their self-sacrificing devotion in war days. after a somewhat prolonged spectacular display in the house of commons, as member for the electoral division of labelle, he felt instinctively that he had exhausted what he considered his usefulness, and was doomed to a dismal failure. he retired from the dominion political arena, to try his luck in the legislative assembly of the province of quebec. no wiser a man by experience, he challenged the leader of the parliamentary majority to a truly duellist struggle on the floor of the house. he thrusted at his opponent with the vigour of a combatant certain to conquer. all those who witnessed this encounter, must remember how completely overbearing confidence, proudly asserted, was overcome by calm and superior argumentative power, sound and clear political sense. true parliamentary eloquence easily brought to reason pedantic and bombastic oratory. the first throw--_le début_--went decidedly against the nationalist leader. a beaten fighter from this very first day, he met with as complete a failure in the provincial political arena as he had done in the federal one. wisely indeed, he retired from parliamentary life, after realizing that debating power cannot be acquired by demagogic speaking. the nationalist leader next limited his efforts to the tribune, to the public platform. all remember the time when he was periodically calling great popular meetings held in _le monument national_, montreal, where he preached his nationalist gospel with vehement talking. this new experiment could not last. it soon subsided. and the nationalist leader is since addicted to pamphleteering of the worst kind as i will show in this book. deeply moved by the dangers of a most mischievous campaign, i considered it my bounded duty to do my utmost efforts to prove how utterly wrong were the views which those pursuing it with passionate energy wanted to prevail, and to show the sad consequences it was sure to produce. having first addressed myself to my french canadian compatriots to persuade them how much detrimental to their best future the nationalist campaign was sure to be, i am to-day laying the case before my english speaking countrymen, at the urgent request of many of them, in order to fully acquaint them with the refutation i have made, to the best of my ability, of mr. bourassa's erroneous theories and wild charges against england and all those who patriotically support our mother country in the great struggle she has had to wage after doing all she possibly could to maintain the peace of the world. i ardently desire that the reading of the following pages, will contribute to the restoration of harmony and good will, for a while endangered by the nationalist campaign, in our wide dominion, to whose happiness, prosperity and grandeur we, of both english and french origins, must devote our best energies and all the resources of our unwavering patriotism. l. g. desjardins. quebec, october st, . contents chapter page --introduction i --who are the guilty parties? ii --the persistent efforts of england in favour of peace iii --the call to duty in canada iv --recruiting by voluntary service v --intervention of nationalism vi --what do we owe england? vii --canada is not a sovereign state viii --german illusions ix --the nationalist error x --had canada the right to help england? xi --the duty of canada xii --the soudanese and the south african wars xiii --british and german aspirations compared sub-title--construction and supply " --transport " --the air service " --the financial effort of great britain " --achievements of dominion, colonial and indian troops xiv --the veritable aims of the allies sub-title--the only possible peace conditions xv --just and unjust wars sub-title--a "nationalist" illogical charge against england " --other "nationalist" erroneous assertions " --incredible "nationalist" notions " --canadian financial operations in the united states xvi --"nationalist" views condensed xvii --loyal principles propounded sub-title--unjust "nationalist" grievances against england xviii --imperialism xix --american imperialism xx --british imperialism xxi --the situations of and - compared xxii --british imperialism naturally pacifist xxiii --british imperialism and political liberty xxiv --imperial federation and "bourassism" sub-title--constitutional development of india xxvii --the future constitutional relations of the empire sub-title--no taxation without representation " --colonial representation " --the far off future " --a machiavellian proposition " --a treasonable proposal xxviii --outrages are no reasons xxix --how mr. bourassa paid his compliments to the canadian army xxx --rash denunciation of public men xxxi --mr. bourassa's dangerous pacifism xxxii --a most reprehensible abuse of sacred appeals to the belligerent nations xxxiii --a case for true statesmanship xxxiv --after-the-war military problem xxxv --the intervention of the united states in the war xxxvi --the allies--russia--japan xxxvii --the last peace proposals xxxviii --necessary peace conditions xxxix --conclusion appendix--a appendix--b england, canada and the great war introduction. canada, as one of the most important component parts of the british empire, is going through the crucial ordeal of the great crisis which will determine her destinies jointly with those of the whole world. instantly put under the strain, four years ago, by the outrageous challenge of germany to human civilization with the criminal purpose of universal domination, she was fully equal to her unbounded duty. conscious of her sacred rights, she at once realized that the constitutional liberties which she enjoyed in the freest empire of all times, could not be more patriotically exercised than for the defence of the sacred cause which united in a gigantic effort england, france and russia, soon to receive the support of italy. by an almost unanimous and enthusiastic decision she rallied to the flag around which all the dependencies of the empire gathered from the five continents. never a more inspiring array of loyal subjects, owing allegiance to a sovereignty, was witnessed in the wide world. through the trying days of four full years of the greatest war which ever saddened the life of the human race, canada has nobly, gloriously, done her duty. several hundred thousands of her devoted sons have rushed to the front to fight the battle of liberty, of right, of civilization. thousands of them have heroically given their lives for the triumph of the cause which, if finally triumphant, will brighten with freedom, prosperity, human happiness and undying glory, the destinies of many generations. the struggle is not over. the battle is not yet won. victory is in sight but unfortunately still so far distant, that it is still calling forth the undaunted exertions of all those who have pledged their faith to rescue the world from the cruel thraldom of german militarism. two years ago, at the critical period which culminated in the undecided military operations which, though rendered illustrious by the glorious defence of verdun, made it plain to the allies that success would only be the reward of a much more prolonged effort of untold sacrifices, i undertook to write the book entitled in french: "_l'angleterre, le canada et la grande guerre_." several of the most influential and widely circulated news-papers of montreal, toronto and quebec, have kindly published highly appreciative reviews of the french edition of my book, concluding with the request of the publication of an english edition, which, they affirmed, would be conducive to the public good. i have received many letters and verbal demands to the same purpose. it is my duty to answer to a call daily becoming more pressing. i now offer to the english reading public a condensed edition of my work, with the title "_england, canada and the great war_." i concluded not to issue a complete english edition of the french volume. instead of translating my book, i considered it more advisable to write an english synopsis of its contents. undertaking such a work, i realized more than ever how important it is for the citizens of canada to be able to speak and write the languages of the two great races of the dominion. knowing well my own deficiency in this regard, i hoped, however, to write the following pages with enough clearness to have my views well understood, trusting to the kindness of my readers to excuse the inadequacy of my command of english. a few words explaining the reasons that prompted me to write the french book will, i am confident, be kindly appreciated by my readers. a close observer of the daily impressions which the events developed by the war were creating in canada, i felt more and more deeply grieved at the persistent and unpatriotic efforts of the leaders of the nationalist school of the province of quebec, and their henchmen, to sway my french-canadian countrymen from the clear path of duty. i undertook earnestly to do my best to stem the threatening wave of disloyal sentiments and racial conflict they were stirring up throughout the land. "_england, canada and the great war_" was the result of the very careful study of the numerous questions therein considered and of the patriotic impulse which led me to publish it. i dedicated the volume to my french-canadian countrymen by a letter from which i translate the following: "it would surely be vain to conceal how serious was the situation imposed upon our country by the sudden outbreak, in august, , of the greatest war of all times. it was dominated by the supreme fact that canada was a component part of one of the most powerful empires whose destinies were to be determined, for good or ill, for many long years, by the terrible conflict suddenly opened, but, for a prolonged period, prepared by those who dreamt of conquering the world." "great britain, our sovereign metropolis, had done her utmost to protect humanity against the misfortunes which endangered her future, for the maintenance of peace. she had failed in her noble efforts. at the very moment when, against all the most critical appearances, she was still hopeful, she had, all of a sudden, to face the terrible alternative, either to submit to national dishonour by complying with the violation of solemn treaties which bound her as much as germany, or to unite with france and russia to avenge justice outrageously violated, sworn international faith, civilization perilously threatened." "could she hesitate for one single moment?" "our mother country has done that which her most imperious duty commanded her to do. she accepted the challenge of germany with the patriotic determination inspired by the most sacred cause. all the loyal subjects of the british crown have applauded her decision to rush to the defence of invaded belgium and france, to reclaim their national honour and her own, and to protect her empire against the german armies." "with the most inspiring unanimity and admirable courage, all the british colonies have rallied around the flag of their sovereign metropolis to share the glory of the triumph of right and justice. at the very front rank, canada has nobly done her duty. her decision was most spontaneous and decisive. she was not deterred by fallacious subtilties, deducted from pretended conventions, out of age and opportunity, to hinder her laudable and patriotic course. throughout the length and breadth of her vast territory, all minds shared the same view, all hearts were united and beating with the same powerful sentiment." "the decision of canada to participate in the present war was taken by the constitutional government of the country, sanctioned by parliament, approved by public opinion, glorified by the hundreds of thousands of brave volunteers who courageously answered the call of duty." "views with which i cannot concur have been expressed and given full publicity. they challenge discussion. it is my undoubted right to criticize them." "since the beginning of the present war, mr. henri bourassa, in addition to the daily publicity of his journal "_le devoir_", has developed, in two principal pamphlets, the theories of his "_nationalism_". they are respectively entitled: "_que devons-nous à l'angleterre?_" "_what do we owe england?_" and: "_hier, aujourd'hui, demain_" "_yesterday, to-day, to-morrow_"." "in earnestly searching out the real causes of the war, the responsibilities of the belligerent nations, their respective aspirations, the duty imposed by the irresistable course of events upon the british empire and consequently upon canada, i was incessantly called upon to consider the very strange propositions contained in those pamphlets." "it was with great surprise that i read, for instance, as the heading of one of the chapters, the utterly false proposition that: "_the autonomous colonies are sovereign states._" "and these most extraordinary affirmations that the _king of england has not the right to declare the state of war for canada, without the assent of the canadian cabinet; that canada could have participated in the present war as a nation_." "it is my bounden duty to affirm that almost all the propositions contained in the two above mentioned pamphlets are wrong according to international law and to constitutional law, erroneous in their historical bearings, contrary to the true teachings of the past." "mr. bourassa persistingly trying to convince his readers that the precedents of the soudanese and the south-african wars have forced the british colonies to participate in the present one, i considered it my duty to make, in two separate chapters, a special study of those military campaigns which, in both cases, were so felicitously terminated for all parties concerned." "i cannot close this letter without expressing my profound regret that mr. bourassa has thought proper to use most injurious language adding outrage to the falsity of his opinions. at page of his pamphlet: "_yesterday, to-day, to-morrow_", any one can read, no doubt with astonishment, that mr. bourassa charges our countrymen of the british races with being _ignorant, assuming, arrogant, dominating and rotten with mercantilism_." "such ridiculous and insulting words to the address of our countrymen of the three british races are surely not calculated to increase canadian harmony." "this book, written for the express purpose of assisting you to form for yourselves a sound opinion about the terrible events so rapidly developing, was inspired by my loyalty to the empire whose faithful subject i glory to be, by my devotion to canada and to my countrymen, by the affectionate recollection of france i will cherish to my last day. "during the last fifty years, either as a private or as an officer of the canadian militia--my service as such having lasted more than forty years--as a member of the legislative assembly of the province of quebec, and as a member of the house of commons of canada, i have often taken the oath of allegiance to the sovereign of great britain. from my early youth, i had learned that under the ægis of the british crown, the citizen of the empire could be true to his oath, and enjoy the precious liberty of expressing his opinion. but i had also soon realized that during the lifetime of a sovereign state, days of peril might occur. i had easily come to the conclusion that in those trying moments the loyal duty could be very happily reconciled with the most sincere love of political liberty. "in defending with the most sincere conviction the sacred cause of the allies, i am doing my duty as a free subject of the british empire, as a citizen of canada and of the province of quebec, as a son of france, as a devoted servant of justice and right. i am true to my oath." i desire to call the special attention of my readers to the complete sense of the last paragraph just quoted. i most decidedly wish its meaning to be fully understood by all, as i intended to convey it to my french canadian compatriots. i have never concurred in the subtle distinction so often made between the several notions entertained by many respecting their duty towards the empire and canada separately. having witnessed, for the last fifty years, the admirable evolution and natural growth of the british constitutional system over a fourth of the globe, developing into the freest empire that ever existed, my mind was more and more impressed with the conviction that loyalty to the sovereignty presiding over such a magnificent national heritage could not be of two different kinds. a free british subject, whether living in the united kingdom, or in any one of the dependencies of the crown, cannot be at once loyal to the empire at large and disloyal to any of its component parts; or, _vice versa_, loyal to the particular section of the state where he is living and at the same disloyal to the empire. such a false conception of the duties of loyalty, if it could be spread successfully throughout the empire, would undoubtedly lead to its rapid dissolution and complete destruction. genuine loyalty cannot agree with exclusive and rampant sectionalism, with local, racial or religious prejudices and fanaticism. the few lines of the preceding closing paragraph of my letter dedicating the french edition of my book as aforesaid, express my own conception of the true loyalty of a faithful subject of the british sovereignty, who has the clear vision of the meaning of his oath of allegiance. in consequence, first, i affirm my duty as a subject of the british empire; second, as a citizen of canada; third, as a citizen of my own province of quebec. and then, taking a wider range of the duty of any man towards his ancestors' lineage, i declare that under the cruel circumstances of the case, i also consider it is my duty to defend france against her deadly enemy. further enlarging the vision of duty to its fullest extent, i say that i am bound to defend the cause of the allies by proving that i am a loyal servant of justice and right. surely i could not emphasize in terms more pregnant my loyalty to the cause of the british empire, of france, and their allies, of liberty and civilization. i confidently hope they will persuade my readers that this book was written with the most sincere and patriotic desire to help rallying my french canadian compatriots to the defence of the british, french and canadian flags, which must together emerge triumphant from the gigantic fight against the most threatening wave of barbarism the world has ever had to contend with at the cost of so great and heroic sacrifices. when the first french edition of this book was issued, in january of last year, matters respecting the prosecution of the war had not yet required the serious consideration by parliament and the country of the question of conscription to maintain to their proper efficiency the canadian divisions on the firing line. consequently, i was not then called upon to consider that most important subject. when i had to decide about publishing a second french edition--the first being entirely exhausted--i at first thought of adding to my work a few chapters respecting the most notable events developed by the gigantic struggle shaking the world to its very basic foundation. foremost amongst them were the russian sudden revolution, the solemn entrance of the united states into the great fight, the imperious necessity of the military effort of the allies far beyond that which had been foreseen, in order to achieve the final victory which will be the only adequate reward of their undaunted determination not to sheathe the sword before germany will agree to restore peace upon the only possible conditions which will efficiently protect humanity from any other attempt at brutal universal domination. the question of conscription in canada was the natural outcome of the progress of the deadly conflict between civilization and barbarism, constitutional freedom and despotism, democratic institutions and autocracy. i soon realized that i could not properly do justice to such grave subjects in a few pages added to my first book. after mature consideration, i considered it was my duty to undertake to write a second volume. i have so informed the public in the _advertisement_ which prefaces the second french edition of the first. this second volume i will soon issue, also intending to publish an english synopsis of it, if that of the first volume meets the kind appreciation i hope of my english speaking countrymen. however, pending the publication of the second volume, i think it is my duty to express now my views, in a summary way, on that much discussed question of obligatory military service. let me preface by saying that they are not new, having originated in my mind more than thirty years ago. the military necessities of the present war have, of course, given them more precision and clearness. deeply conscious of the sacred duty of all truly loyal british subjects through the present prolonged world crisis for the life or death of human liberty, i had to consider conscription from the double stand-point of a free citizen of canada and of my military experience acquired in the course of a service of over forty years. most strongly and convincingly opposed to the militarism of the atrocious german type--the curse of humanity--i have always believed--and do still more and more believe--imbued, i hope, with the true sense and principles of democratic institutions, that the greatest boon that could be granted the world would be that the admirable christian law of peace and good-will amongst men would prevail for all times, and save the nations from the cruel obligation of keeping themselves constantly fully armed at the great cost of the best years of manhood, and of their accumulated treasures. but unfortunately it has not yet been the good luck of man to reach the goal of this most noble ambition. instead of a steady advance in the right direction, he has, for the last fifty years, experienced a most dangerous set back by the predominating influence of german militarism, developed and mastered by the most autocratic power to the point of threatening the liberties of the whole world. need i say that, as a purely philosophical question of principle, i most sincerely deplore that the political state of the world has been and is such that national safety cannot be, in too many cases, properly assured without the law of the land calling upon the manhood of a country to make the sacrifice of part of the best years of enthusiastic youth, and requiring from the nation, as a collective body, the expenditure, to an untold amount, for the purposes of defence, of the accumulated savings of hard work and intelligent thrift. fortunately, the two continents of america, so abundantly blessed by providence, had, until the present war, been able to pursue their prosperous and dignified course free from the entanglements of european militarism. even england, in all the majesty of her imperial power, her flag gloriously waving over so many millions of free men, protected as she was by the waves which she ruled with grandeur and grace, had succeeded in avoiding the curse of continental conscriptionism. between permanent conscription, despotically imposed upon a nation under autocratic rule, and temporary military compulsion freely accepted by a noble people for the very purpose of saving humanity from military absolutism, there is, every one must admit, a wide difference. i have been, i am, and will be, to my last day, the uncompromising opponent of autocratic conscription, which i consider as a permanent crime against christian civilization, and the ready instrument of barbarous domination. to temporary compulsion i can agree, as a matter of patriotic and national duty, if the circumstances of the case are such that without its timely use, my country which has the first and undoubted right to my most patriotic devotion, at the cost of all i may own and even of my life, for her defence, would fall the prey to despotism which would bleed her to death to sway the world. such is the ordeal through which canada, the british empire, in fact much the greater part of the universe, are passing with torrents of blood shed to rescue mankind from the domination of german militarism. if germany could have her course free; if she could reach the goal of her criminal ambition, nearly the whole world would be, for many long years, in the throes of the most abominable conscriptionism. if after the enthusiasm of voluntary military service has exhausted itself from the very successful result of its patriotic effort, is it not a duty for all loyal citizens to accept temporary compulsion, to save their country from the horrors of defeat at the hands of the most cruel enemy which has ever shamed the light of the sun since it shines over the human race blessed with christian principles and moral teachings. to the present generation of young men, strong, healthy, brave, let us say: be worthy of the times you live in, be equal to the great task imposed upon you, accepting with patriotism the sacrifices you are called upon to make, never forgetting that temporary compulsion for you means freedom from permanent conscription for your children and children's children in years to come. it is from the very height of such lofty considerations that i have made up my mind about this much vexed question which will, we must all earnestly hope, be more and more well understood and eventually settled to the everlasting good of the country once for all delivered from the exasperating menace of german despotism. i must reserve for the second volume of this work, the fuller expression of my views of what should be the military system to be maintained in canada, after the very wide experience we will have derived from the present great war. all i will add now is that ever since the early eighties of the last century, after many years of voluntary service in the canadian militia, i had fully realized that it is no more possible to make a real soldier by a few days yearly training, for three years, than you can make a competent lawyer of a young man studying law for a fortnight in the course of three consecutive years. since the federal union of the provinces we had spent much more than a hundred million of dollars for the training of our militia, with the appalling result that when came the day of getting ready for the fray, we had not two thousand men to send at once to the firing line. the first thirty thousands of the brave men who enthusiastically volunteered to go to the front had to be trained, at valcartier and in england, several months before being sent to face the enemy whose waves of permanent divisions of armed men had overrun, like a torrent, belgium and northern france. of course, our boys fought and died like heroes, but nevertheless we at last learned, at our great cost, that soldiers no more than lawyers, doctors, merchants, transportation managers, bankers, business men of all callings, farmers, sailors, etc., can be qualified in a day. when the time shall come to consider what will be the requirements of our military organization, after this terrible struggle is over, i hope none will forget that war is a great science, an awful and very difficult art, so that we shall not deceive ourselves any longer by the illusion that an army can be drawn from the earth in twenty four hours. our most efficient military commander cannot entertain the foolish delusion of pompey, so crushingly beaten by cæsar, at pharsalia, that he can raise legions by striking the ground with his foot. if our future national circumstances turn out to be such, after the restoration of peace, that we will not be called upon to make heavy sacrifices for defence--let providence so bless our dear country--it will then be much more rational to save our money than to squander it on a military system which cannot produce military efficiency. the future can be trusted to settle favourably its own difficulties. for us of the present generation, we have to attend to the imperative and sacred duty of the hour. let no one shirk his responsibilities, waver in the heavy task, falter before the sacrifices to be patriotically and heroically accepted. to deserve the everlasting gratitude of future generations, we must secure to them the blessings of permanent peace in a renovated world freed from the tyranny of autocratic despotism. surely, i will be permitted to say that, undertaking to write _england, canada and the great war_, i fully realized my bounden duty to study all the questions raised by the terrible struggle, unreservedly, absolutely, outside of all party considerations, of all racial prejudices. a party man, in the only true and patriotic sense of the word, during the twenty-five years of my active political life, as a journalist and a member of the quebec legislature and of the parliament of canada, it became my lot in the official position which i was asked to accept and which i loyally filled, to all intents and purposes, for many years, to train my mind more and more to judge public questions solely from the point of view of the public good. i do not mean to say that partyism, well understood and patriotically practiced, is not productive of good to a country blessed with free institutions. but certainly in the course of a progressive, intelligent and eventful national life, ennobled by freedom happily enjoyed, times occur when it behooves every one to rise superior to all other considerations, however important they may be, to serve the only one worthy of all sacrifices: the salvation of the country. never was this principle so true, so imperative, than on the day when the world was so audaciously challenged by germany to the deadly conflict still raging with undiminished fury. that most important question of military obligatory service, brought up by the pressure of the imperious necessities of military operations, lengthening and intensifying to unforeseen proportions, was for many weeks considered by parliament. surely, no one for a single moment entertained the idea that, however desirable and imperative it was for the representatives of the people to be of only one mind so far as the prosecution of canada's share in the war was concerned, constant unanimity of opinion was possible respecting the various measures to be adopted to that end. parliament sitting in the performance of its constitutional functions, with all its undoubted privileges, could not be expected not to exercise its right to debate all the matters constitutionally proposed for its concurrence and approval. i must certainly and wisely refrain from any comment whatsoever upon the lengthy discussion of the military service act in both houses in ottawa. having received the royal assent, the bill is now the law of the land. all will patriotically rejoice to see that without waiving their right to pronounce upon the deeds and the views of those who are responsible to them, the free citizens of canada will cheerfully accept the new sacrifices imposed by the obligation of carrying the war to a successful issue, praying to god to bless their patriotic efforts, and even with the true christian spirit, to forgive guilty germany if she will only repent for her crimes, and agree to repair a reasonable part of the immense damages she has wrought upon trodden and martyred nations. i hope,--and most ardently wish--that all my readers will agree with me that next to the necessity of winning the war--and, may i say, even as of almost equal importance for the future grandeur of our beloved country--range that of promoting by all lawful means harmony and good will amongst all our countrymen, whatever may be their racial origin, their religious faith, their particular aspirations not conflicting with their devotion to canada as a whole, nor with their loyalty to the british empire, whose greatness and prestige they want to firmly help to uphold with the inspiring confidence that more and more they will be the unconquerable bulwark of freedom, justice, civilization and right. after having so fully expressed my profound conviction of what i consider to be my sacred duty as a loyal british subject, i feel sure i will be allowed to ask my english-speaking countrymen not to judge my french compatriots by the sayings and deeds of persons, too well gifted and too prone to injure their future and that of the whole country itself, but utterly disqualified and impotent to do them any good. need i affirm that my french canadian compatriots are loyal at heart, a liberty loving and peaceful people, law-abiding citizens, fairly minded, intelligent, hard working, industrious. they have done, they are doing, and will do, their fair share for the progress and the future greatness of our wide and mighty dominion. to all those who desire to appreciate their course in all fairness and christian justice, i will say: do not fail to take into account that like all other national groups they are liable, in overtrying circumstances, to be in a certain measure wrongly influenced by deficiencies of leadership, but depend that they cannot be, for any length of time, carried away by unscrupulous players on their feelings. some of them were deceived by persistent efforts to persuade them that england was, as much as germany, guilty of having precipitated the great war which has been the curse of almost the whole world for the last four years. the accumulated remembrance of their staunch loyalty and patriotism during more than a century and a half will do much to favour the harmonious relations of all canadians of good will who, i have no doubt, comprise millions of well wishers of the glorious destiny of our country. may i be allowed to conclude by saying that my most earnest desire is to do all in my power, in the rank and file of the great army of free men, to reach the goal which ought to be the most persevering and patriotic ambition of loyal canadians of all origins and creeds. and i repeat, wishing my words to be reechoed throughout the length and breadth of the land i so heartily cherish:--i have always been, i am and will ever be, to my last breath, true to my oath of allegiance to my sovereign and to my country. chapter i. who are the guilty parties? any one sincerely wishing to arrive at a sound opinion on the great war raging for the last four years, must necessarily make a serious study of the causes which led to the terrific struggle so horribly straining the energies of the civilized world to escape tyrannical domination. the case having been so fully discussed, and the responsibilities of the assailant belligerents so completely proved, i surely need not show at length that the german emperor, his military party, the group of the german population called junkers, are to the highest degree, the guilty parties of all the woful wrongs imposed upon mankind and of the bloodshed unprecedented in all the ages. the german empire had for many years decided that it would not alone attempt to dominate the world. it wanted a partner to share the responsibility of the crime it was ready to commit at the first favourable opportunity, but a docile partner which she could direct at will, command with imperious orders, and crush without mercy at the first move of resistance. that plying tool was found in the complicity of austria-hungary, for years under the sway of berlin diplomacy. no sane man, if he is sincere, if he is honest, can now, for a single moment, hesitate to proclaim that between germany and austria-hungary, and the group of nations henceforth bearing the glorious name of the allies, right and justice are on the side of england, of france, of the united states, of belgium, of italy, of canada. where is the man with a sound mind, with a strong heart, beating with the noble impulses of righteousness, with a soul dignified by lofty aspirations, who ignores to-day that for fifty years previous to the declaration of war, in august , germany had been perfecting her military organization for a grand effort at universal domination? all my life a close student of history, i was much impressed by the constant policy of england to maintain peace during the last century. when the world emerged from the great wars of the napoleonic era, she firmly took her stand in favour of peaceful relations between the nations, trusting more and more for the future prosperity of them all to the advantages to be derived from the permanency of friendly intercourse, from the ever increasing development of international trade, prompted by the freest possible exchanges of the products of all the countries blessed by providence with large and varied resources. her statesmen, so many of them truly worthy of this name, however divided they may have been with regard to questions of domestic government and internal reforms, were most united about the course to be followed respecting foreign relations. perhaps more than all others having a say in the management of the world's affairs at large, they fully realized that no nation could prosper and successfully work out her destinies by systematically trying to injure her neighbours. no independent country can become wealthier, happier, and greater, by spreading ruin and devastation around her frontiers. the most convincing evidence that england was constantly favourable to the maintenance of peace amongst the great powers of the world, for the last hundred years, is found in her permanent determination not to be drawn into the vortex of european continental militarism, so powerfully developed by prussianism. she could have organized a standing army of millions of men. she would not. true, during the few years which preceded the present hurricane, some of the most eminent of england's military officers, notably, foremost amongst them, lord roberts, seeing, with their eyes wide open, the aggravated dangers accumulating on the darkening horizon, warned their countrymen about the threatening waves which menaced the future of the world. but british public opinion, as a whole, would not depart from her almost traditional policy of "_non-intervention_". for nearly a century, great britain maintained her "_splendid isolation_", trusting to the sound sense which should always govern the world to protect mankind against the horrors of a general war. never was this great national policy better exemplified than during the long and glorious reign of her majesty queen victoria. for more than fifty years, she graced one of the most illustrious thrones that ever presided over the destinies of a great empire, with sovereign dignity, with womanly virtues, with motherly devotion, with patriotic respect of the constitutional liberties of her free subjects. when she departed for a better world, she was succeeded by the great king and emperor--edward vii.--who, during the few years of his memorable reign, proved himself so much the friendly supporter of harmony and good will amongst the nations that he deserved to be called "the king of the peace of the world." chapter ii. the persistent efforts of england in favour of peace. in , lord salisbury, then prime minister of england, witnessing the constant progress of prussian militarism on land and sea, and fully conscious of the misfortunes it was preparing for humanity, ordered an official statement to be made of the extravagant cost of the european military organization, and sent it confidentially to the german kaiser, who took no notice of it. in , lord salisbury lays before the czar of russia all the information he has obtained on the question of militarism in europe. on the th of august, , the emperor of russia addressed to the world his celebrated manifesto in favour of peace. it urged, first, the necessity of a truly permanent peace; second, the limitation of military preparation which, in its ever increasing development, was causing the economic ruin of the nations. the conferences of the hague in favour of an international agreement for the maintenance of peace were the direct result of the initiative of the british prime minister, who foresaw the frightful consequences for humanity of the enormous development of militarism by the german empire. all the great powers of europe and america, together with the secondary states, at once heartily concurred with the proposition of the czar of russia. unfortunately, there were two sad exceptions to the consent to consider the salutary purpose so anxiously desired by those who valued as they should all the benefits the world would have derived from an international system assuring permanent peace. germany and austria, the latter already for years dominated by the former, opposed the patriotic move of the emperor of russia, suggested to him by great britain. they agreed to be represented at the conferences for the only object of thwarting the efforts in favour of a satisfactory enactment of new rules of international law to henceforth protect the world against a general conflagration, and to free the nations from the crushing burdens of a militarism daily developing more extravagant. ministerial changes in great britain in no way altered this part of the foreign policy of the mother country. in , mr. campbell-bannerman became prime minister of england. he was well known to be an ardent pacifist. deprecating the mad increase of unchecked militarism, he said, in his ministerial program:-- "_a policy of huge armaments keeps alive and stimulates and feeds the belief that force is the best, if not the only, solution of international differences._" on the th of march, , lord haldane, then minister of war, declared in the british house of commons:-- "_i wish we were near the time when the nations would consider together the reduction of armaments.... only by united action can we get rid of the burden which is pressing so heavily on all civilized nations._" the second conference of the hague which took place in july and october, , was then being organized. russia was again its official promoter. well aware of the uncompromising stand of germany on the question of reduced armaments, she had not included that matter in the program she had decided to lay before the conference. the british government did all they could to have it placed on the orders to be taken into consideration. a member of the labor party, mr. vivian, moved in the house of commons, that the conference of the hague be called upon to discuss that most important subject. his motion was unanimously and enthusiastically carried. informing the house that the cabinet heartily approved the resolution, sir edward grey, secretary for foreign affairs, said:-- "_i do not believe that at any time has the conscious public opinion in the various countries of europe set more strongly in the direction of peace than at the present time, and yet the burden of military and naval expenditure goes on increasing. no greater service could it (the hague conference) do, than to make the conditions of peace less expensive than they are at the present time.... it is said we are waiting upon foreign nations in order to reduce our expenditure. as a matter of fact, we are all waiting on each other. some day or other somebody must take the first step.... i do, on behalf of the government, not only accept, but welcome such a resolution as this as a wholesome and beneficial expression of opinion._" in july, , a most important meeting of the inter-parliamentary union took place in london. twenty-three countries, enjoying the privileges, in various proportions, of free institutions, were represented at this memorable congress of nations. in the course of his remarkable opening speech of the first sitting, mr. campbell-bannerman, prime minister, said:-- "_urge your governments, in the name of humanity, to go into the hague conference as we ourselves hope to go, pledged to diminished charges in respect of armaments._" a motion embodying the views so earnestly pressed by the british government was unanimously carried. on the fifth of march, , only four months before the opening of the second hague conference, mr. campbell-bannerman, affirming the bounden duty of england to propose the restriction of armaments, said, in the british house of commons:-- "_holding the opinion that there is a great movement of feeling among thinking people in all the nations of the world, in favor of some restraint on the enormous expenditure involved in the present system so long as it exists.... we have desired and still desire to place ourselves in the very front rank of those who think that the warlike attitude of powers, as displayed by the excessive growth of armaments is a curse to europe, and the sooner it is checked, in however moderate a degree, the better._" unfortunately, german hostility to reduced armaments prevented any good result from the second hague conference in the way of checking extravagant and ruinous military organization. there was sad disappointment in all the reasonable world and specially in england at this deplorable outcome. mr. campbell-bannerman expressed it as follows:-- "_we had hoped that some great advance might be made towards a common consent to arrest the wasteful and growing competition in naval and military armaments. we were disappointed._" unshaken in her determination to do her utmost to protect civilization against the threatening and ever increasing dangers of german militarism, england persisted with the most laudable perseverance in her noble efforts to that much desired end. but all her pleadings, however convincing, were vain. germany was obdurate. finally, on the th of march, , speaking in the reichstag, the german imperial chancellor threw off the mask, and positively declared that the question of reduced armaments admitted of no possible solution "_as long as men were men and states were states_." a more brutal declaration could hardly have been made. it was a cynical challenge to the world. times were maturing and germany was anxiously waiting for the opportunity to strike the blow which would stagger humanity. through all the great crisis of july and august, , directly consequent upon the odious crime of sarajevo, england exhausted all her efforts to maintain peace, but unfortunately without avail. knowing very well how much england sincerely wished the maintenance of peace, the german government was to the last moment under the delusion that it could succeed in having great britain to remain neutral in a general european war. they were not ashamed to presume they could bribe england. without blushing they made to the british government the infamous proposition contained in the following despatch from sir e. goschen, the british ambassador at berlin, to sir edward grey, the secretary of state for foreign affairs:-- sir e. goschen to sir edward grey (received july ). berlin, july , . (telegraphic.) i was asked to call upon the chancellor to-night. his excellency had just returned from potsdam. he said that should austria be attacked by russia a european conflagration might, he feared, become inevitable, owing to germany's obligation as austria's ally, in spite of his continued efforts to maintain peace. he then proceeded to make the following strong bid for british neutrality. he said that it was clear, so far as he was able to judge the main principle which governed british policy, that great britain would never stand by and allow france to be crushed in any conflict there might be. that, however, was not the object at which germany aimed. provided that neutrality of great britain was certain, every assurance would be given to the british government that the imperial government aimed at no territorial acquisitions at the expense of france should they prove victorious in any war that might ensue. i questioned his excellency about the french colonies, and he said he was unable to give a similar undertaking in that respect. as regards holland, however, his excellency said that, so long as germany's adversaries respected the integrity and neutrality of the netherlands, germany was ready to give his majesty's government an assurance that she would do likewise. it depended upon the action of france what operations germany might be forced to enter upon in belgium, but when the war was over, belgian integrity would be respected if she had not sided against germany. his excellency ended by saying that ever since he had been chancellor the object of his policy had been, as you were aware, to bring about an understanding with england; he trusted that these assurances might form the basis of that understanding which he so much desired. he had in mind a general neutrality agreement between england and germany, though it was of course at the present moment too early to discuss details, and an assurance of british neutrality in the conflict which present crisis might possibly produce, would enable him to look forward to realisation of his desire. in reply to his excellency's inquiry how i thought his request would appeal to you, i said that i did not think it probable that at this stage of events you would care to bind yourself to any course of action and that i was of opinion that you would desire to retain full liberty. our conversation upon this subject having come to an end, i communicated the contents of your telegram of to-day to his excellency, who expressed his best thanks to you. to the foregoing outrageous proposition, the government of great britain gave the proud and noble reply which follows, for all times to be recorded in diplomatic annals to the eternal honour and glory of the ministers who incurred the responsibility of, and of the distinguished diplomat who drafted, that memorable document:-- sir edward grey to sir e. goschen. (telegraphic.) foreign office, july , . your telegram of th july. his majesty's government cannot for a moment entertain the chancellor's proposal that they should bind themselves to neutrality on such terms. what he asks us in effect is to engage to stand by while french colonies are taken and france is beaten so long as germany does not take french territory as distinct from the colonies. from the material point of view such a proposal is unacceptable, for france, without further territory in europe being taken from her, could be so crushed as to lose her position as a great power, and become subordinate to german policy. altogether, apart from that, it would be a disgrace for us to make this bargain with germany at the expense of france, a disgrace from which the good name of this country would never recover. the chancellor also in effect asks us to bargain away whatever obligation or interest we have as regards the neutrality of belgium. we could not entertain that bargain either. having said so much, it is unnecessary to examine whether the prospect of a future general neutrality agreement between england and germany offered positive advantages sufficient to compensate us for tying our hands now. we must preserve our full freedom to act as circumstances may seem to us to require in any such unfavourable and regrettable development of the present crisis as the chancellor contemplates. you should speak to the chancellor in the above sense, and add most earnestly that the only way of maintaining the good relations between england and germany is that they should continue to work together to preserve the peace of europe; if we succeed in this object, the mutual relations of germany and england will, i believe, be =ipso facto= improved and strengthened. for that object his majesty's government will work in that way with all sincerity and good-will. and i will say this: if the peace of europe can be preserved, and the present crisis safely passed, my own endeavour will be to promote some arrangement to which germany will be a party, by which she could be assured that no aggressive or hostile policy would be pursued against her or her allies by france, russia, and ourselves, jointly or separately. i have desired this and worked for it, as far as i could, through the last balkan crisis, and, germany having a corresponding object, our relations sensibly improved. the idea has hitherto been too utopian to form the subject of definite proposals, but if this present crisis, so much more acute than any that europe has gone through for generations, be safely passed, i am hopeful that the relief and reaction which will follow may make possible some more definite rapprochement between the powers than has been possible hitherto. the british government could not take a more dignified stand and express their indignation at the infamous proposal in stronger and more noble terms. let us now read the indignant protest of mr. asquith, the british prime minister, against the outrageous german proposition, addressed to the house of commons, where it raised a storm of applause, proclaiming to the world the dogged determination of england to wage war rather than agree to the dishonourable german proposal:-- what does that amount to? let me just ask the house. i do so, not with the object of inflaming passion, certainly not with the object of exciting feeling against germany, but i do so to vindicate and make clear the position of the british government in this matter. what did that proposal amount to? in the first place, it meant this: that behind the back of france--they were not made a party to these communications--we should have given, if we had assented to that, a free license to germany to annex, in the event of a successful war, the whole of the extra european dominions and possessions of france. what did it mean as regards belgium? when she addressed, as she has addressed in the last few days, her moving appeal to us to fulfil our solemn guarantee of her neutrality, what reply should we have given? what reply should we have given to that belgian appeal? we should have been obliged to say that without her knowledge we had bartered away to the power threatening her our obligation to keep our plighted word. the house has read, and the country has read, of course, in the last few hours, the most pathetic appeal addressed by the king of belgium, and i do not envy the man who can read that appeal with an unmoved heart. belgians are fighting and losing their lives. what would have been the position of great britain to-day in the face of that spectacle if we had assented to this infamous proposal? yes, and what are we to get in return for the betrayal of our friends and the dishonour of our obligations? what are we to get in return? a promise--nothing more; a promise as to what germany would do in certain eventualities; a promise, be it observed--i am sorry to say it, but it must be put upon record--given by a power which was at that very moment announcing its intention to violate its own treaty, and inviting us to do the same. i can only say, if we had dallied or temporized, we, as a government, should have covered ourselves with dishonour, and we should have betrayed the interests of this country, of which we are trustees. after quoting and eulogizing the telegraphic despatch of sir edward grey to sir e. goschen, dated july , , mr. asquith proceeded as follows:-- that document, in my opinion, states clearly, in temperate and convincing language, the attitude of this government. can any one who reads it fail to appreciate the tone of obvious sincerity and earnestness which underlies it; can any one honestly doubt that the government of this country in spite of great provocation--and i regard the proposals made to us as proposals which we might have thrown aside without consideration and almost without answer--can any one doubt that in spite of great provocation the right hon. gentleman, who had already earned the title--and no one ever more deserved it--of peace maker of europe, persisted to the very last moment of the last hour in that beneficent but unhappily frustrated purpose. i am entitled to say, and i do so on behalf of this country--i speak not for a party, i speak for the country as a whole--that we made every effort any government could possibly make for peace. but this war has been forced upon us. what is it we are fighting for? every one knows, and no one knows better than the government the terrible incalculable suffering, economic, social, personal and political, which war, and especially a war between the great powers of the world must entail. there is no man amongst us sitting upon this bench in these trying days--more trying perhaps than any body of statesmen for a hundred years have had to pass through, there is not a man amongst us who has not, during the whole of that time, had clearly before his vision the almost unequalled suffering which war, even in just cause, must bring about, not only to the peoples who are for the moment living in this country and in the other countries of the world, but to posterity and to the whole prospects of european civilization. every step we took with that vision before our eyes, and with a sense of responsibility which it is impossible to describe. unhappily, if in spite of all our efforts to keep the peace, and with that full and overpowering consciousness of the result, if the issue be decided in favour of war, we have, nevertheless, thought it to be the duty as well as the interest of this country to go to war, the house may be well assured it was because we believe, and i am certain the country will believe, we are unsheathing our sword in a just cause. if i am asked what we are fighting for i reply in two sentences. in the first place to fulfil a solemn international obligation, an obligation which, if it had been entered into between private persons in the ordinary concerns of life, would have been regarded as an obligation not only of law but of honour, which no self-respecting man could possibly have repudiated. i say, secondly, we are fighting to vindicate the principle which, in these days when force, material force, sometimes seems to be the dominant influence and factor in the development of mankind, we are fighting to vindicate the principle that small nationalities are not to be crushed, in defiance of international good faith, by the military will of a strong and overmastering power. i do not believe any nation ever entered into a great controversy--and this is one of the greatest history will ever know--with a clearer conscience and stronger conviction that it is fighting, not for aggression, not for the maintenance even of its own selfish interest, but that it is fighting in defence of principles, the maintenance of which is vital to the civilisation of the world. with a full conviction, not only of the wisdom and justice, but of the obligations which lay upon us to challenge this great issue, we are entering into the struggle. the german government refusing to order their army to retire from the belgian territory it had violated, at midnight, th to th august, , the whole british empire was at war with the whole german empire. surely, there is not the slightest necessity to argue any more that in the terrific war raging for the last four years, justice and right are on the side of england and her allies. no war was ever more just, waged with equal honour for the triumph of liberty and civilization, for the protection of humanity against the onslaught of barbarism developed to the cruelty of the darkest ages of history. chapter iii. the call to duty in canada. every one knows how the news of the state of war between the british and german empires were received in our great canadian dominion, after the days of anxious waiting which culminated in the rallying of england to the defence of the cause of freedom and civilization. when the call for duty was sounded in the capital of the british empire, it rolled over the mighty atlantic, spreading over the length and breadth of canada, being re-echoed with force in our province of quebec. at once called to prepare for the emergency, the canadian parliament met and unanimously decided that the dominion would, of her own free will and patriotic decision, participate in the great war. the course of events in canada, for the last four years, is well known by all. it is recent history. my special object in condensing in this book the defence which i considered it my duty to make of the just and sacred cause of the british empire, and her allies, in the great war still raging with undiminished fury, being to show how i did, to the best of my ability, try to persuade my french canadian countrymen where was the true path of duty, and how false and disloyal were the unscrupulous theories of "nationalism", i must first review the successive movements of public opinion in the province of quebec. in the preceding sentence, i have intently affirmed that the cause of the allies was that of the whole british empire. surely, it should not be necessary to say so, as no truly loyal british subject would for a moment hesitate to come to that patriotic conclusion. still, however incredible it is, the duty of the british colonies to rally to the flag to defend the empire and participate in the deadly struggle between civilization and barbarism, was challenged by the leaders of the "nationalist school" in the province of quebec. of course, that school never represented more than a small minority of thought and numbers. but, sad to admit, a fanatical minority, in days of trying sacrifices, can do a great deal of injury to a people by inflaming national and religious prejudices. we, french canadians, have had much to suffer from the unpatriotic efforts of a few to bring our countrymen to take an erroneous view of the situation. at the opening of the war, the general opinion in the province of quebec was without doubt strongly in favor of canada's participation in the struggle. any student of the working of our constitutional system knows how the strength of public opinion is ascertained, outside of a general election, in all cases, and more specially with regard to measures of paramount importance when the country has to deal with a national emergency. the parliament of canada is the authorized representative of the country. called in a special session, at the very outbreak of the hostilities, they voted unanimously that it was our duty to participate in the war. all the representatives of the province of quebec heartily joined with those of all the other provinces to vote this unanimous decision. in the light of events ever since, who can now reasonably pretend that the patriotic decision of the parliament of canada was not entirely, even enthusiastically, approved by the canadian people? the press, even in the province of quebec, with only one exception of any consequence, was unanimous in its approval of the action of parliament. the heads of our church, the archbishops and bishops of the ecclesiastical provinces of quebec, montreal and ottawa, in their very important pastoral letter on the duties of the catholics in the present war, positively said:-- "_we must acknowledge it--(nous ne saurions nous le dissimuler--): that conflict, one of the most terrific the world has yet seen, cannot but have its repercussion in our country. england is engaged into it, and who does not see that the fate of all the component parts of the empire is bound with the fate of her arms. she relies upon our support, and that support, we are happy to say, has been generously offered to her both in men and money._" no representative of public opinion, of any weight, outside of parliament, professional men, leaders of finance, commerce and industry, in the province of quebec, raised a word of disapproval at the parliamentary call to arms. not one meeting was called, not one resolution was moved, to oppose the decision of the canadian parliament. not one petition was addressed to the two houses in ottawa against canada's participation in the war. every one in the province of quebec knew that participating in the war would entail heavy financial sacrifices, and that the taxation of the country would have to be largely increased to meet the new obligations we had freely decided to incur for the salvation of the empire and of civilization. the government of the day proposed the financial measures they considered necessary to raise the public revenue which the circumstances required. those measures were unanimously approved by parliament. the taxpayers of the country, those of the province of quebec like all the others, willingly and patriotically accepted and paid without complaint the new taxes into the public treasury. during more than the three first years of the war, i visited a good part of the province of quebec, and addressed several large public meetings. everywhere my attention was forcibly struck by the prompt willingness of my french canadian countrymen to bear their share of the financial sacrifices canada was called upon to make for the triumph of the cause of the allies. chapter iv. recruiting by voluntary service. no stronger evidence could be given of the determination of the country as a whole, and over all its component parts, to support great britain and her allies to final success, than the truly wonderful record of the voluntary enlistment of more than four hundred thousand men, of all walks in life, to rush to the front. recruiting in the province of quebec indeed started very well. several thousands of french canadian youth rallied to the colors. i hope and trust that, sooner or later, it will be possible to make a more satisfactory statistical record of the number of french canadians who enlisted. i am fully convinced that the total is somewhat much larger than the figures usually quoted. it would surely be conducive to a better understanding of the case, if such statistical information was carefully prepared and made public. it is easily conceivable that the pressure of the work of maintaining the splendid canadian army renders it perhaps difficult to attend actually to the details of that compilation. so we can afford to wait for the redress of figures which may constitute a wrong to the race second in numbers but equal to any in patriotism in canada. pending my remarks upon certain causes which have contributed to check recruiting amongst the french element in the province of quebec, i consider it important to mention those which were easy to ascertain and comprehend. it is a well known fact that early marriages are a rule in the province of quebec much more than in the other provinces of the dominion. as a natural consequence, the available number of young unmarried men for recruiting purposes was proportionately less. i myself have known parishes in our province where half a dozen of unmarried young men from twenty years of age and upwards could not be found. it was easily to foresee that a comparison would be made between the number of canadian-born volunteers in the english-speaking provinces and that from the province of quebec. the degree of enthusiasm for enlistment in the other provinces between the foreign born and the canadian born has also been noticed. it has generally been admitted that most naturally the young men recently arrived in canada were more strongly appealed to by all the sacred ties still binding them to their mother land. when generations have, for more than a century, enjoyed all the blessings of peace and lived far away from the turmoil of warlike preparations and military conflicts, is it to be much wondered at that the entire population is not at once permeated with the feeling of the dangers ahead, and do not rise rapidly to the full sense of the duty she is suddenly called upon to perform. my daily personal intercourse with hundreds of my french canadian compatriots allowed me to realize that many of them, even amongst the leading classes, were over-confident that the allies representing at the beginning the united effort of england, france and russia, soon to be reinforced by italy, breaking away from the central powers, would certainly be equal to the task of being victorious over german militarism. repeatedly, before public meetings and in very numerous private conversations, i urgently implored my hearers not to be so deluded, doing my best to convince them that it would be a fatal error to shut our eyes from the truth, that the military power of central europe, comprising the two great empires of germany and austria, bulgaria, with the help of asiatic turkey, and the undisguised support of baneful teutonic influences and intrigues at the courts of petrograd and athens, was gigantic, and that the terrible conflict would surely develop into a struggle for life and death between human freedom and barbarism. this feeling of over-confidence was passing away, when it became evident that to triumph over the modern huns and their associates was no easy task; that the goal of freeing humanity from the threatening universal domination would require the most determined effort of the nations who had heroically undertaken to reach it. chapter v. intervention of nationalism. the great struggle being waged with increased intensity, it was daily becoming more and more evident that the allied nations were bound to muster all their courage, perseverance and resources to successfully fight their determined foe. it was just at the thick of this critical situation, calling forth the devotion and patriotism of all, that the "nationalist" campaign of false theories and principles was launched with renewed activity in the province of quebec. mr. henri bourassa, ex-member of labelle in the house of commons, was, and still is, the recognized leader of the "nationalist school" in our province, and wherever it finds adherents. his personal organ, "_le devoir_," is daily expounding the doctrines of that school. in october, , mr. bourassa issued a pamphlet of over four hundred pages entitled:--"_what do we owe england?_"--in french:--"_que devons-nous à l'angleterre?_" in the long overdrawn and farfetched argumentation of this volume, the author's effort is to try and prove that canada owes nothing to england, that all those who favour the canadian participation in the war are "revolutionists," that we are unduly paying a large tribute to the empire. in , mr. bourassa supplemented his first book with a second pamphlet, entitled:--"_yesterday, to-day, to-morrow_," in french:--"_hier, aujourd'hui, demain_," in which he amplified the views expressed in the preceding volume. i undertook to read mr. bourassa's works, and i must say that i was astonished at what i found therein. i felt very strongly that his erroneous views--without questioning their sincerity--were bound to pervert the opinion of my french compatriots, to enflame their prejudices, and to do a great deal of harm in promoting the ever dangerous conflict of race fanaticism. over forty years of experience of public life had taught me how easy it is to introduce a prejudice in a man's mind, but how difficult it is to destroy it when once it has taken root. chapter vi. what do we owe england? to this question raised by mr. bourassa, and argued at length by himself in the negative, i answered by a chapter of my book:--"_l'angleterre, le canada et la grand guerre_"--"_england, canada and the great war_." great britain, ever since she came to the conclusion that the days of the old colonial policy were passed, and agreed that we should freely govern ourselves, with ministerial responsibility, within the powers set forth in our constitutional charter, has scrupulously respected our political liberty. we have administered our own affairs at our own free will. the imperial government never attempted to interfere with the development of our federal politics. they would surely have declined such interference, if it had been asked for. as long as we form part of the british empire, it is evident that we owe to england that loyalty which every colony owes to her mother-country. granted by the sovereign power ruling canada the freest institutions, having the best of reasons to be fully satisfied with our relations with great britain, we are in duty bound to be loyal to her flag. we must be true to our allegiance. we have freely decided to incur the sacrifices we are making for the war. we have so decided because we considered it of the greatest importance, for the future of humanity, that the german ambition for universal domination be foiled; that the british empire be maintained; that france should continue a first class power, as expressed by mr. asquith; that before all, and above all, the eternal principles of right, justice and civilization, shall not be trampled upon by the terrific assault of teutonic barbarism. moreover, we are also in duty bound to judge with fairness england's part in the great society of nations, and, especially, that she plays in the great events of the present crisis. beyond doubt, a truly loyal canadian must refrain from poisoning foreign opinion and that of his fellow british subjects against great britain in attributing her course to selfish interests, wilfully taking no account of her broad and admirable foreign policy, ever inspired by the steady desire to maintain peace. in the first mentioned work, mr. bourassa lays great stress on the fact that for nearly a century and a half, previous to the south african war, canada did not participate in the wars of the empire. he extensively quotes from the documents and the discussions between canada's representatives and the imperial government, respecting the defence of our country, and that of the empire herself. he concludes by pretending that the result of all these negotiations and conventions was the agreement that canada would have only to attend to her own defence, and that great britain was always obliged to protect us against all outside attacks. from these pretensions he draws the startling conclusion that all those who do not stand by the conventions he did his best to emphasize are doing revolutionary work. the answer to such extravagant notions is rather plain and easy. there was not the slightest necessity for the nationalist leader to multiply lengthy quotations to prove what mere common sense settles at first thought:-- first:--that any country, whether it be independent or a colony, must defend itself when attacked by an enemy. second:--that a sovereign state is bound to defend all the territory under its authority and covered by its flag. but all this has nothing whatever to do with the very different question of canada's participation, outside her own territory, in a war in which great britain is engaged, which participation canada has freely, deliberately approved and ordered. such was the case in . the parliament and the people of canada at once realized that in the gigantic conflict into which germany had drawn all the great powers of europe, our future destiny as much as that of england herself was at stake. without the slightest hesitation, unasked and unsolicited by the mother country, we decided that we were in duty bound to do our share to defend the great empire of which we are a very important component part, and to help saving the world from tyrannical domination. much too often giving to words a meaning which they positively cannot convey, mr. bourassa argued at length to prove that the agreements, conventions, and understandings arrived at between the imperial and canadian governments, at different dates, were a _solemn treaty_. how false and untenable such a pretention is, surely needs no lengthy argument. international law knows no treaties but those made between sovereign states. it is most absurd to pretend that a sovereign state can make a treaty between herself and its own colony. where is the man with the slightest notion of constitutional government who would pretend, for instance, that the british north american act is a treaty between great britain and canada. it is an act passed by the legislative authority of the sovereign state to which we belong, enacting the conditions under which canada would enjoy the rights and privileges of constitutional self-government, participating in the exercise of sovereignty within the limits of the powers enumerated in the act creating the dominion. it was precisely because we knew we were acting within the limits of those powers, that we decided to join with england and her allies in the great war. chapter vii. canada is not a sovereign state. as long as canada will remain under the flag of great britain--and for one i hope it will yet be for many long years,--it is evident that it will not be a "_sovereign state_" in the full sense of the word. one can hardly believe that the nationalist leader, at page of his pamphlet--"_hier, aujourd'hui, demain_"--"_yesterday, to-day, to-morrow_," opens a chapter with the title: "_les colonies autonomes sont des etats souverains._"--"_the autonomous colonies are sovereign states._" mr. bourassa was evidently led to the grievous error contained in the preceding title by a complete misapprehension of the true meaning of the word "_autonomous_." he took "_autonomy_" for "_sovereignty_," being under the delusion that the two are synonymous. any student of history knows, or ought to know, that after the war which culminated in the independence of the united states, england adopted an entirely new colonial policy. she was the first sovereign power, and has ever since remained the only one, to realize that the old system was doomed to failure, that it was worn out. her leading statesmen, who always ranked amongst the most eminent the world over, were more and more convinced that the only safe colonial policy was that which would grant "_self-government_" to the colonies, trained to its harmonious working, for their interior management. the true meaning of this new policy was that several of the colonies were, by acts of the imperial parliament, called to the exercise of a share of the sovereignty, well defined in their respective constitutional charters. canada was one of the first british colonies to enjoy the advantages of such a large part of the sovereign rights. such "_autonomous colonies_" as canada, australia, new zealand, south africa, newfoundland, have been, and are to the present day, do not transform them into "_sovereign states_," enjoying full "sovereign powers." they are not "_independent states_" in the full sense of the word. that canada is not a sovereign state is proved beyond doubt by the very fact that she could not amend or change her constitutional charter by her own power and without a new imperial law. if the nationalist leader's pretention was sound, any member of the house of commons, or of the senate, in ottawa, could propose a bill to repeal the british north america act, , and to replace it by another constitutional charter. the very supposition is absurd. can it be imagined that his excellency the governor-general could be advised by his responsible ministers to sanction, in the name of his majesty the sovereign of great britain, a bill repealing an act of the imperial parliament? still it is exactly what mr. bourassa's theory amounts to. our constitutional charter does not only provide what is called our federal,--or national--autonomy, but also the provincial autonomy. the powers of both are well defined in the imperial act. the provinces of the dominion also exercise that share of the sovereign rights delegated to them by the imperial parliament. would the nationalist leader draw the extravagant conclusion that the territory of any one of the provinces cannot be declared in the "state of war" with a foreign power, by his majesty the king, without the assent of the ministers of that province? still that absurd proposition would not be more so than that affirming the necessity of the assent of the canadian cabinet, to a declaration of war involving canada in an imperial struggle. the sovereign right of declaring war to, and of making peace with, another independent state, is vested in the king of great britain, acting upon the advice of his responsible ministers in the united kingdom. to the imperial parliament belongs the constitutional authority to deal with the imperial foreign affairs. it is plain that when great britain is at war with another sovereign state the whole territory of the british empire is in the "state of war" with that nation. it is inconceivable that mr. bourassa has seriously pretended that canada was not at war with the german empire the very moment the british empire was so in consequence of the violation by germany of belgian neutrality. one can hardly believe that he has propounded the fallacious constitutional doctrine that his majesty "_the king of england hath not the right to declare canada in the state of war without the assent of the canadian cabinet_." where and when has the nationalist leader discovered that the canadian ministers have the right to advise his majesty upon all the questions pertaining to the imperial foreign affairs? any one conversant with the constitutional status of canada knows that the canadian ministers have the right to advise the representative of the sovereign only upon matters as defined by the british north america act, , and its amendments. i was indeed very much surprised at the attempt of mr. bourassa to use the authority of sir erskine may in support of his erroneous pretension that the autonomous colonies of great britain were sovereign states. to all the students of the constitutional history of england, sir erskine may is a very well known and appreciated writer. i have read his works several times over for many years. i was certain that he had never written anything to justify the nationalist leader in quoting him as he did. here follows the paragraph of may's constitutional history quoted by mr. bourassa in support of his own views:-- parliament has recently pronounced it to be just that the colonies which enjoy self-government, should undertake the responsibility and cost of their own military defence. to carry this policy into effect must be the work of time. but whenever it may be effected, the last material bond of connection with the colonies will have been severed, and colonial states, acknowledging the honorary sovereignty of england, and fully armed for self-defence, as well against herself as others, will have grown out of the dependencies of the british empire. i must say that i am absolutely unable to detect one single word in the above quotation to authorize mr. bourassa to affirm that sir erskine may was of opinion that "_the autonomous colonies were sovereign states_." the true meaning of the above extract is surely very plain. what does it say? it declares, what was a fact, that the british _parliament has recently pronounced it to be just that the colonies which enjoy self-government should undertake the responsibility and cost of their own military defence_. would the british parliament have deemed it necessary to express such an opinion, if the colonies had, then, been sovereign states, consequently obliged, in duty bound, to defend themselves _alone_ against any possible enemy. surely not, for the obvious reason that great britain would have had no more responsibility for the defence of territories no longer covered by her flag and under her sovereignty. the very fact that the british parliament thought proper, _under the then circumstances_, to say that the colonies enjoying self-government should undertake to defend themselves, is the convincing proof that they were not sovereign states. the following sentence of may's quotation says:--_to carry this policy into effect must be the work of time_. it is clear that the _policy_ requiring the work of time to be carried into effect was not actually existent at the time sir erskine may was writing. the extract quoted by mr. bourassa concludes by declaring that when such a policy _has_ been finally adopted, the colonies will have developed into colonial states having _grown out of the dependencies of the british empire_. evidently, when the dominions of canada, australia, south africa, new zealand, will have grown out of the dependencies of the british empire, they will no longer be colonies of great britain. but when will that very important event take place? surely, sir erskine may could not foresee. even to-day mr. bourassa cannot say more than any one else. pending that unforeseen outcome, the dominions will remain parts of the british empire under her sovereignty. the above quotation was taken by mr. bourassa from the edition of sir erskine may's "constitutional history" published in . but they were first edited by the author in . when has the imperial parliament adopted the above mentioned "_resolution_"? it was voted in --the th of march--more than fifty-six years ago. quoted as it has been by mr. bourassa, it appears to have been only very recently adopted. the fact that it is more than half a century old, and was carried before the federal union of the provinces, is a convincing proof that it has no bearing whatever upon the conditions of canada's present colonial status. by the aforesaid "_resolution_," the british house of commons was only expressing the opinion that the time had come for the colonies to undertake the responsibility and the cost of their defence. the "resolution" does not say that great britain would no longer be called, in the exercise of the rights and duties of her sovereignty, to defend her colonial empire. by what reasoning can a mere expression of opinion by the english house of commons be interpreted as at once transforming the colonies into independent sovereign states? any one somewhat conversant with the political events that led to the federal union of the provinces knows that in applying to the british parliament for the new constitutional charter, the legislature of united canada had a twofold object:--first, the settlement of the constitutional difficulties then pending between upper and lower canada; secondly, a broader development of canada and also of the british empire. such was the purpose of the coalition government formed in . all the members of that cabinet were strongly in favour of the maintenance of canada's union with great britain. i have heard them expounding their views on what the future of canada ought to be. i am positive that neither sir john a. macdonald, sir georges cartier, the honorable georges brown, nor any of their colleagues, of both political parties, ever said a word which could be construed as expressing the opinion that the proposed federal union would make of canada an independent sovereign state. it is incredible that mr. bourassa should have so erroneously understood their real views so as to pretend that they favoured confederation for that very purpose. as a proof of his pretension, he quoted the following words of sir john a. macdonald, in the legislative assembly of old united canada:-- "_with us the sovereign, or, in this country the representative of the sovereign, can act only on the advice of his ministers, those ministers being responsible to the people through parliament._" mr. bourassa used the foregoing sentence in support of his contention that the king of england could not declare war without the assent of the canadian cabinet. it is impossible to understand how such a notion can be seriously held and expressed. his majesty cannot ask nor accept such an advice, if it was tendered, for the very reason that the canadian cabinet has not the constitutional right to advise the king respecting the international relations of the empire. and why? precisely because the canadian ministers would not be responsible for their advice to the imperial parliament and to the electorate of the united kingdom. the true meaning of the above quoted sentence of sir john a. macdonald is very plain. ministerial responsibility was the fundamental principle of the old constitution, as it is of the federal charter. sir john a. macdonald was perfectly right in affirming that "_in canada, as in england, the sovereign could act only on the advice of his ministers," that is to say on the advice of his responsible ministers within the constitutional powers of our parliament on all matters respecting which they had the constitutional right to advise his majesty_. sir john a. macdonald never said--he could not possibly say--that as prime minister of canada, under the new constitution, he would have the right to advise the sovereign on all matters within the exclusive constitutional jurisdiction of the imperial parliament, for instance respecting the exercise of the royal prerogative of declaring war against, or of making peace with, a foreign independent state. he has never propounded such an utterly false constitutional doctrine. mr. bourassa went still further. he quoted the following sentence from sir john a. macdonald:--"_we stand with regard to the people of canada precisely in the same position as the house of commons in england stands with regard to the people of england_." i was indeed most astonished to read mr. bourassa's inference from those words that sir john a. macdonald _had affirmed the absolute equality of powers of the imperial and the canadian parliaments_. if the opinion expressed by sir john a. macdonald could be so interpreted, he would have affirmed--what was radically wrong--that under the new constitution, the canadian parliament would have, _concurrently with the imperial parliament_, absolutely the same powers. what did that mean? it meant that the canadian parliament, just as the imperial parliament, would have the right to edict laws establishing home rule in ireland, regulating the government of india and the crown colonies, granting constitutional charters for the good government of the australian and south african dominions, &c., &c. surely it is not necessary to argue at any length to prove that sir john a. macdonald never for a moment entertained such an opinion. what he really said, in the above quoted words, was that within their constitutional jurisdiction, within the limits of their respective powers, the two parliaments stood in the same position, _respectively_, with regard to the people of england and to the people of canada. it was equivalent to saying--what was positively true--that the british ministers and the british parliament were responsible to the people of england, and that the canadian ministers and the canadian parliament were responsible to the people of canada,--both of them within the limits of their respective constitutional powers. if the canadian legislature had enjoyed all the constitutional powers of the british parliament, she would not have been obliged to pass addresses asking the latter to enact a new charter creating the federal union of the provinces. she could have repealed her then existing constitution and enacted the new one by her own authority. but that she could not do. she could not repeal the old, nor enact the new charter. but the most extraordinary is that mr. bourassa went so far as to declare that canada should have participated in the present war only as a "_nation_," meaning, of course, as an independent sovereign state. on reading such a preposterous proposition, at once it strikes one's mind most forcibly that if canada had really had the power to intervene in the world's struggle as a "nation," she would have had the equal right to the choice of three alternatives. first:--declare war against germany and in favor of the allies. second:--remain neutral. third:--declare war against great britain and fight for germany. for it is obvious that all the sovereign states--and canada like them all if she had been one of them--had the sovereign right to fight for or against great britain, or to remain neutral. of course, i am merely explaining in its entirety the right of a sovereign state. i surely do not mean to say that canada, had she really been such a state, would in any way have been justifiable in joining with germany in her dastardly attempt to crush civilization in the barbarous throes of her domination. what would his excellency the governor-general have answered his prime minister advising him to declare war against england, he who represents his majesty at ottawa? would he not have told him at once that the canadian prime minister had no right whatever to give him such an advice; that canada, being a british colony, could not declare war against her sovereign state; that for the canadian people to take up arms against england would be treasonable revolt? it is absolutely incredible that a public man, aspiring to the leadership of his countrymen, can have been so completely lost to the sense of the canadian constitutional situation as to boldly attempt to pervert their mind with such fallacious notions. he might as well pretend that the state of new york, for instance, has the sovereign right to declare war against the government of the united states. i, for one, cannot help wondering that any one can seriously think that a colony, always pretending to remain loyally so, can wage war against her sovereign state. i feel sure that all sensible men do share my views on that point. chapter viii. german illusions. when germany threw the gauntlet to the powers of the "entente," she labored under the delusion that the war would most surely break down the british empire. she was determined to do her utmost to that end. but she utterly failed in her criminal efforts. strongly bound by ties of affection and constitutional freedom, the great autonomous dominions and colonies at once rallied with courage and patriotism to the defence of the empire, of justice, of right and civilization. india,--that great indian empire--to the utter disappointment of germany, has stood admirably by great britain ever since the outbreak of the war, by her noble contributions of man-power and her munificent generosity of very large sums of money, in one instance amounting to $ , , . the crown colonies have also done their share of duty with great devotion. the admirable result which for the last four years has been shining bright and glorious all over the world, is that, contrary to teutonic expectations, the war, far from breaking asunder the british empire, has wonderfully solidified her mighty edifice, by an intensity of loyalty to her free institutions, to her glorious flag, which the enjoyment of the blessings of peace would not have proved so easily possible. chapter ix. the nationalist error. the leaders of our nationalist school have for years strenuously laboured to pervert the mind of our french-canadian compatriots by the false pretensions that we were, in some mysterious way, coerced to participate in the european war. even previous to the days of the south african conflict, they boldly took the stand that canada should, on no account, and under no circumstances whatever, participate in what they called the wars of the empire--_les guerres de l'empire_. canada, they affirmed, had only to defend her own territory if attacked. fully appreciating how insidious and dangerous such theories were, i endeavoured to show, as forcibly as i could, that there had been no attempt by england at coercion of this dominion to help her in the struggle against germany. of course, as previously explained, great britain being at war with the german empire, the whole british empire was at war. but no one in england ever intended to propose to force the colonies to engage actively into the fight. the imperial parliament would certainly not have taken into consideration any such proposition. but is it not plain and beyond discussion that we, _ourselves_, had the undoubted right to intervene in the war to the extent that we would consider it our bounden duty to do so? evidently we could not remain neutral in the great conflict. at the very moment that great britain was at war with germany, canada, a british colony, was part and parcel of the belligerent sovereign state, the british empire. by an incredible misconception, the nationalist leaders confounded _neutrality_ with _non-participation_ in the war, if we had so decided. to be, or not to be, neutral, was not within our constitutional rights. if germany, either by land or by sea, had attacked our territory, as she had the undoubted belligerent right to do, would it have availed us an iota to implore her mercy by affirming that we were neutral? could we have pretended that she was violating neutral territory? no one with the least notion of international law would for a moment hesitate to give the true answers to those questions. but the very different question to participate, or not, in the war, was for us alone to decide according to our constitutional charter. we have freely, deliberately, decided to do our share in the great war. we continue and persevere in our noble task, freely and deliberately. it is admitted by all that under the actual constitutional organization of the empire, the imperial parliament could not require the autonomous colonies to participate in the war. but no one can assuredly deny to that parliament the right, in the case of an imminent peril, to formulate the desire that the autonomous colonies would help great britain to conjure the threatened calamity. but, in the present case, the imperial parliament has not even been under the necessity of expressing such a legitimate wish, for the obvious reason that the colonies at once took their patriotic stand in favor of the cause of england and her allies. if the colonies had not so decided, of their own free will, it is most likely that the imperial parliament would not have expressed the wish for the assistance of the dominions overseas. the hearty support granted by the colonies to great britain, to develop its full value, had to be spontaneous, enthusiastic. such it was, such it is, and such it will be to the last day of the conflict which victorious conclusion we are so strongly determined to achieve. chapter x. had canada the right to help england? not satisfied to do the best it could to persuade our french-canadian countrymen that they had been coerced into the war by england, our "nationalist school" extensively used the argument that canada had not the right to intervene into the european struggle. i refuted this erroneous pretension by the following propositions, the very essence of our constitutional rights and liberties:-- .--the canadian cabinet had the undoubted constitutional right to advise his excellency the governor-general to approve the measures to be taken to give effect to their decision to participate in the war, decision and measures for which they were responsible to the canadian parliament and to the canadian electorate. .--the canadian parliament had the undoubted constitutional right to approve or disapprove the decision and the measures of the cabinet. parliament approved that decision and those measures, acting within their constitutional right. .--even at the time i was writing, it could evidently be affirmed that the canadian electorate had approved the stand taken by both the canadian cabinet and the canadian parliament according to well known and defined constitutional usages. was it not proved beyond reasonable controversy, that the canadian people heartily approved the decision of their parliament to help in the great war? let me summarize the evidence as follows:-- .--the war policy of the cabinet, at the special session called in august, , for that very purpose, was unanimously approved by parliament, no senator and no member of the house of commons moving to censure the responsible ministers for their decision to have canada to participate in the war. the two great political parties have solemnly sanctioned that decision. .--public opinion was also very strongly proved by the almost unanimity of the public press patriotically supporting the stand taken by parliament. the exceptions were so few, that, as usual, they contributed to emphasize the soundness of the general rule. .--during the three years following the decision of the canadian parliament, a great number of large public meetings were held throughout canada, and addressed by many leading and influential citizens all approving the action of parliament. the meetings enthusiastically concurred in the powerful indorsation of the war policy of the speakers. in a few public gatherings some disapproval was expressed, but not one meeting would go to the length of passing "resolutions" censuring the cabinet and the parliament of canada, or declaring that our dominion should not have interfered into the war. .--not one petition against the canadian intervention into the war was addressed to parliament. .--leading clergymen, of all denominations; leaders of political associations almost of all shades of opinion; financial, industrial, commercial leaders, all of them approved the patriotic interference of canada into the war. .--the evident general approval of the unanimous decision, taken in , to extend the parliamentary term. .--the wonderful success of the public loans raised for war purposes. .--the enlightened and generous patriotism with which the country has accepted and paid war taxation. .--but, above all, the voluntary recruiting of four hundred thousand men of all social conditions who have rallied to the flag of the empire for the defence of her existence and for the triumph of civilization and justice. i, therefore, drew the undeniable conclusion that, contrary to the "nationalist" pretension, canada was participating in the war in the most regular constitutional way, without even the shadow of a breach of our canadian autonomy, of our constitutional rights and liberties. chapter xi. the duty of canada. having affirmed that canada had no right to interfere in the war, the "nationalist" leaders at once concluded that she was not in duty bound to do so. that most discreditable inference was, of course, the natural sequence of the wrong principle aforesaid. they further drew the conclusion that it was no part of the duty of canadians to join the colors to help winning the war. it was in flat contradiction of those erroneous notions that i positively declared, in my letter dedicating my book to my french canadian compatriots, that "_in defending with the most sincere conviction the sacred cause of the allies, i am doing my duty as a free subject of the british empire, as a citizen of canada and of the province of quebec, as a son of france, as a devoted servant of justice and right_." very narrow minded indeed is the man who has no higher conception of his duty than the one limiting him to the observance of positive and negative laws enacted by the legitimate authority to protect society and every one of its members. when england, together with the other leading nations, was brutally challenged by germany, and threatened in her very national existence, it is beyond comprehension that canada, and all the british colonial possessions overseas, could so mistake their bounden duty as to refuse rushing to help the mother country in such a trying occurrence. moreover, have we not, merely as men, duties to perform to protect civilization against the deadly attack of barbarism, to have justice and right triumphant in international relations? it is a matter of deep wonder to me that any one could have been so blind as not to perceive that in joining with great britain to defend the cause of the allies, we were surely defending our own territory, our own soil, our own homes. how incredible was the "nationalist" contention that we should have waited for the actual german attack of our land before mustering our resources of resistance. who could not see, at a glance, that if germany had, as it fully expected, easily triumphed over the combined forces of france, england and russia, it would have been sheer madness to attempt resisting the victorious onslaught of a few hundred thousands of her veteran soldiers, whose valour would have been doubled by the enthusiasm of their european conquest. after mature consideration of the possible results of the disastrous defeat of the combined efforts of the allies, both on land and sea, the conclusion was forced upon my mind that germany, ferociously elated by such a wonderful success, would no doubt have exacted from england the cession of canada to her empire. so that without even firing a gun against our territory, our wide dominion would have been instantly transferred from the british to the german sovereignty. i shuddered at such a vision, and still more deeply realized how much we, canadians, were all in duty bound to help the allies in crushing prussian militarism. chapter xii. the soudanese and south african wars. in the two previously mentioned pamphlets, mr. bourassa argued at length to prove that canada had been led to intervene in the great european war as a consequence of her intervention in the south african war. it is well known throughout the dominion that the south african conflict was the occasion chosen by the "nationalist" leader to proclaim his doctrine that the autonomous colonies should have nothing to do with the wars of the empire--les guerres de l'empire. he then strongly opposed canadian support of great britain in her struggle in south africa. in one of his pamphlets, mr. bourassa affirmed that the government of sir john a. macdonald had, in , refused the request of the imperial government to interfere in its favour in the soudanese war. well aware of the events of this struggle, i positively knew that the "nationalist" leader's assertion was not borne out by the facts, and was historically false. i considered it my duty, in a special chapter, to explain fully the circumstances of the case to my french canadian countrymen. it should be well remembered that england was brought into the soudanese conflict on account of her relations with egypt, which she had delivered from the turkish yoke. mr. bourassa prefaced his above mentioned affirmation by recalling the fact that it was in consideration of the soudanese difficulties that "_for the first time in the history of the colonial empire of great britain, offers of armed support were made by the autonomous colonies_." is it not evident that if--as was true--such offers were made spontaneously by the colonies, it cannot be pretended that the proffered armed support was asked by england. if england did not solicit such support, it is plain that sir john a. macdonald and his cabinet could not refuse what was never applied for. what are the true historical facts? in november , general laurie, who has represented one of the electoral divisions of nova scotia at ottawa, who has also held a seat in the british house of commons, took the initiative to propose to raise a canadian regiment for the campaign in the soudan. in the regular official way, general laurie's offer was addressed to the secretary of state for the colonies, lord derby. the imperial government declined the offer. on the th of february, , on hearing the news of the disaster of khartoum, which caused great excitement in england, and naturally created a strong public feeling to avenge the outrage, general laurie, always enthusiastic, tendered anew his services. he was not the only canadian officer wishing to go and fight the cruel soudaneses. a member of the canadian parliament, colonel williams, commanding the th volunteer battalion of durham-east, also desired to take part in the african campaign with his regiment. on the th of february, , he tendered his proposition to sir charles tupper, then high commissioner in london, who sent it to the colonial office. on the th of february, his excellency the governor general, lord lansdowne, cabled to the colonial secretary that the offers of military service were very numerous. this spontaneous movement, so rapidly spreading, was the forerunner of those of and . thirty years ago, and long before, there were brave men in canada. there always have been and ever will be. these news were no doubt very encouraging for the imperial authorities. lord derby, thanking lord lansdowne, begged him to say "_whether they_ (the offers of service) _are sanctioned and recommended by the dominion government_." on the th of february, lord lansdowne answered lord derby that the dominion government was ready to approve recruiting in canada for service in egypt or elsewhere, provided that the men would be enlisted under the authority of the imperial army discipline act, and the expense paid by the imperial treasury. it consequently follows from the above despatches that the soudanese campaign offered to many officers of our volunteer militia the long wished for opportunity to freely tender their services to the imperial government; that the british authorities never applied to the canadian government, then presided by sir john a. macdonald, for armed support in soudanese africa; that, on being officially informed of the offers of service received by his excellency the governor general, the colonial secretary, before accepting or declining them, enquired if the canadian government sanctioned and recommended them; that the governor general answered him in the affirmative, the recruiting to be made according to the imperial military act at the expense of the imperial exchequer. on the th of february, the war minister, then the marquis of hartington, informed the colonial secretary that he had come to the conclusion to decline with thanks the offers of service from canada, for the reason that it would have taken too long a time to recruit and organize the regiments offered by general laurie and colonel williams. was i not right, when i refuted mr. bourassa's assertion, in saying that if a _refusal_ was _then_ given, it was by the british government who had received the freely tendered services, and not by the canadian government, to whom no demand of armed support had been made by great britain? if it is indeed very astonishing that mr. bourassa should have taken the responsibility to affirm that the government of sir john a. macdonald had refused to help great britain in the soudanese campaign, it is easy to understand his object in so doing. his purpose was to convince his french canadian readers that the political leaders at the head of the government, in and , together with the canadian parliament, had, in a revolutionary way, reversed the traditional policy of canada of non-intervention in the "wars of the empire"--_les guerres de l'empire_. and to achieve his end, so detrimental to the best interests of the dominion, he did not hesitate to draw an absolutely erroneous conclusion from undeniable historical facts. the "nationalist" leader was very anxious to charge the chieftains of the two great political parties with an equal responsibility for what he terms a "revolution" in our relations with the mother country. with this object constantly in view, he pretended that the intervention of canada in the south african war created the precedent which brought about the dominion participation in the european war, in . in order to stir up to the utmost the prejudices of the french canadians, he boldly qualified the south african conflict as an _infamous crime_ on the part of england. unfortunately, the true history of the difficulties which culminated in the boer war of , was at the time little known throughout canada, and even less particularly in the province of quebec. at the outbreak of the struggle, wishing to form a sound opinion of the causes of which it was the direct outcome, i made an exhaustive study of the south african question, beginning at the very inception of the dutch settlement dating as far back as , the year during which the dutch east india company occupied table bay. six years later, in , french huguenots reached south africa, joining with the dutch reformists, who rather energetically did all they could to assimilate them. still later on, besides some few german immigrants, a third group of europeans settled on the african coast. they were englishmen. all the europeans, on landing in south africa, few in numbers, had at once to contend with the black race numbering many millions. the history of the long struggle between european civilization, represented by the english and dutch immigrants, and african barbarity, is indeed very interesting. carefully read and studied in all its bearings, it strongly impressed upon my mind the conviction that had it not been for the timely armed protection they often solicited and received from england, the dutch boers would certainly have been annihilated by the tribes of the black race. they could not hope to successfully resist the onslaughts to which they were repeatedly submitted. they were saved from utter destruction by the strong arm of great britain, occupying an important strategical position by her cape colony. the british government had favoured the settlement of the sons of england in south africa, for the purpose of assuring, by a powerful naval station, the freedom of communication with the great regions soon to develop into her vast indian empire. how, and under what circumstances, was british sovereignty established in south africa? i considered this question the most important to ascertain, in order to judge fairly the history of the last century in those regions. it was settled by the peace congress of vienna, in . all the european nations represented at that congress, have sanctioned british sovereignty in south africa upon the condition of the payment by england to the kingdom of the netherlands, of which holland was then a part, of the sum of $ , , . consequently the sovereign rights of great britain in south africa were henceforth undeniable. in my french book, i somewhat extensively summarized the development of the british and dutch groups of settlers in south africa. it is well known that the boers are of dutch origin. that a rivalry did develop between the two national elements, is not to be wondered at by any one having some knowledge of the history of the world. i do not consider it necessary to go at any length in relating the vicissitudes of the conflict between the aspirations of the boer element and the undoubted rights of british suzerainty. as a rule they are sufficiently well known by my english readers. but i wish to emphasize the two undeniable facts: first, that throughout this protracted contest, england did perseveringly try to favour south africa with the largest possible measure of political liberty. second, that the crisis was finally brought about by the persistent determination of the government of pretoria to refuse justice to the uitlanders and to the british capitalists who, at the urgent request of president kruger, had invested many millions in the development of the very valuable mines recently discovered in the transvaal territory. though england had agreed to the establishment of the two republics of the transvaal and orange, she had maintained her suzerainty on those territories, which suzerainty the government of pretoria had again recognized by the convention of . the most convincing proof that england did not intend any unfair design against the south african republics, is the fact that she did not prepare to resist the armed attack of the government of pretoria which could be easily foreseen by the intense organization they were evidently making to impose boer supremacy in south africa. in his very unjust appreciation of the policy of great britain in south africa, mr. bourassa kept no account whatever of the very important fact that war was declared against england by the south african republic. how could great britain have been guilty of a hideous crime in not bowing to the dictate of president kruger and his government, as the "nationalist" leader said, is beyond comprehension. england was absolutely within her right in accepting the challenge of the government of pretoria, and fighting to maintain her flag and her sovereignty in south africa. fortunately, the south african war, characterized by deeds of heroism on both sides, has had the most satisfactory conclusion. it is to be hoped that for many long years the future of that great country is settled with all the blessings that political liberty and free institutions will surely confer on that important part of the british empire. the boers themselves have fully recognized that their own national development cannot be better guaranteed and safeguarded than by the powerful sovereignty pledged to their protection, on the only condition of their loyal allegiance to the flag waving on the fair land where they can multiply in peace, prosperity and happiness. the enthusiasm and the admirable courage with which they have rallied to the support of great britain and her allies in the present war, is the best evidence how much they appreciate the advantages of their new conditions in the great south african dominion destined to such a grand future. i most sincerely deplore the persistent efforts of the "nationalist" leader to pervert more and more the mind of my french canadian countrymen by his so very unfair appreciation of the nature of the south african conflict. it was with the hope of counteracting them that i introduced a special chapter in my french edition explaining, as fully as i could, though in a condensed form, the south african question. the assertion that the participation of canada in the present european war was the sequence of the precedent of our intervention in the south african struggle, is also most injustifiable and untenable. had canada taken no part whatever in the south african war, it would not have made the least difference with regard to the decision of the canadian people to support great britain and the allies in their gigantic effort to put an end to prussian terrorism. the assertion which i most emphatically contradict could have no other object but to prejudice the public mind against canadian intervention in any of the wars of the empire--_les guerres de l'empire_. chapter xiii. british and german aspirations compared. in the attempt to justify his opposition to the canadian armed support of the allies' cause, mr. bourassa repeatedly asserted that great britain was as much as germany aspiring to rule the whole world. he pretends that there is no difference between anglo-saxonism and germanism. how unjust and dangerous is such a doctrine is evident to any fair minded man. it was no doubt calculated to prejudice the french canadians against great britain, by telling them that the sacrifices they were called upon to make were imposed upon them only to favour the british determination to reach the goal of her ambition:--universal domination. i strongly repudiated such assertions and vindicated england's course and policy. to accuse great britain to aspire to universal domination is a most unwarranted charge, contradicted by the whole history of the last century during which she was the most determined supporter of peace. though one of the great powers of the world, england never undertook to organize a large standing army. how could she aspire to the world's domination without a complete military organization comprising many millions of men, is what i am unable to understand. mr. bourassa's argument to prove his assertion is based on the efforts of england to maintain and develop her naval forces so as to guarantee her supremacy on the high seas of the world. how he failed to realize that great britain, on account of her insular position, close to the european continent, is by nature itself bound, of sheer necessity, to protect herself by the strength of her military naval power, is beyond comprehension. supremacy on the seas is for the mother country a mere question of national existence,--to be or not to be. but supremacy on the seas cannot, and will never, permit england to attain anything like universal domination. and why? for the obvious reason that great britain is not, and never can become, a continental power, in the exact sense of the word. i explained, conclusively, i believe, that the case would be very different if germany succeeded in her efforts to supplant england's supremacy on the seas. when the berlin government undertook to build a huge military fleet, germany was the greatest continental military power. what were her expectations when she adopted that threatening naval policy? the berlin authorities were very confident that when they would decide to bring on the great war for which they had been strenuously preparing for half a century, they would in a few months have continental europe at their feet and under their sway. triumphant over europe they would have at once dominated asia and a great part of africa. the next surest way for the german empire to reach universal domination was to break england's power on the seas. what is impossible for england to accomplish, on account of her insular position, germany, being a continental empire, could achieve if she became mistress of the seas. the present war is the proof evident that the mighty power of england on the seas has been the salvation of her national existence and, almost equally, that of france and italy. it kept the oceans open for the trade of all the allied and neutral nations. he is willingly blind, intellectually, the man who does not see that deprived of the matchless protection of her naval forces, great britain could be starved and subdued in a few months by an enemy ruling the waves against her. is it possible to suppose that any man aspiring to help moulding the public opinion of his countrymen, ignores that with the relatively small extent of the territory it can devote to agricultural production, great britain can never feed her actual population of over forty-five millions, most likely to reach sixty millions in the not very distant future. consequently how unjust, how extravagant, is it to accuse england of any aspiration to dominate the world by means of the sacrifices she is absolutely bound to make for the only sake of her self-defence, her self-protection. if he does not know, i will no doubt cordially oblige the "nationalist" leader by informing him that great britain, usually importing food products to the amount of seven to eight hundred millions of dollars, for many years past, required as much as a billion dollars worth of them in the war year of . it is so easy to foresee that the continual increase of the population of the united kingdom, by the new large developments which will surely follow the war in all industrial, commercial and financial pursuits, will cause a relative increase in the importations of food products likely to reach, and even exceed before long, an average total annual value of a billion and a quarter dollars. none of the european continental powers has the same imperious reasons as england to take the proper means to guarantee her control of the seas. how is it then that germany is the only power to object to england's policy, if it is not for the ultimate object to attain universal domination by the overthrow of great britain's ascendency on the wide oceans, which would permit her to realize her long cherished aim by the combined powerful effort of her gigantic military forces both on land and sea. with regard to england's naval supremacy, the "nationalist" leader is also committed to other opinions which i strongly contradicted. he entirely forgets that beyond the sea coast limits, well defined by international law, no sovereign rights can be claimed on the high seas. the navigation of the ocean is free to all nations by nature itself. has any government ever entertained the foolish idea that the broad atlantic could, for instance, be divided into so many parts as the european, asiatic, or american continents, over which several states could exercise sovereign powers? no chinese wall can be built on the seas. my own view of the case, which i believe to be the correct one, is that england's naval supremacy means nothing more nor less than the police of the seas, and the protection of the flags of all the nations navigating them, besides being, of course and necessarily, the guarantee of her national existence. blind also, intellectually, is the british subject not sufficiently inspired by the true sense of the duties of loyalty, who does not understand that once great britain's maritime power would be crushed and the united kingdom either conquered or obliged to an humiliating peace which would ruin all her future prospects, the colonial empire would equally be at the mercy of the victorious enemy of the mother country. with the most earnest conviction, i have tried, to the best of my ability, to persuade my french-canadian compatriots of the inevitable dangers ahead if the false views which were so persistingly impressed upon their minds were ever to prevail, and the aim they undoubtedly favour to be realized. another argument widely used by our "nationalist" school to influence the opinion of the french canadians against canada's participation in the war, was that great britain herself was not doing what she ought to win the victory. i have personally heard this false objection repeated by many--unconsciously of course--who were influenced in so saying by the "nationalist" press. no more unfair charge could have been made against england. i could not help being indignant at reading it, knowing as i did, by daily acquired information what an immense effort the united kingdom had been making, from the very beginning of the hostilities, to play its powerful part in the great war into which it had nobly decided to enter to avenge its honour, to defend the empire and the whole world against german barbarous militarism. i have already commented on the immense service guaranteed to the allied nations by the british fleet. to illustrate the wonderful and admirable military effort of great britain, i will quote some very important figures from the most interesting report of the british war cabinet, for the year , presented to parliament by command of his majesty. under the title "_construction and supply_" the report says:-- during the past year the naval service has undergone continual expansion in order to enable it to meet every demand made upon it, not only in the seas surrounding these islands, but in the mediterranean, the persian gulf, the red sea, the arctic ocean, the pacific, and the atlantic, where it has co-operated with the naval forces of the allies. the displacement tonnage of the royal navy in was , , tons. to-day it has increased by per cent.--=(making a total of , , tons--)=. the ships and vessels of all kinds employed in the naval service in september, , after the whole of the mobilisation had been completed, had a tonnage of just over million; now the figure is well over million. transports, fleet attendants and overseas oilers and similar auxiliary vessels at the outbreak of war numbered ; the admiralty to-day control nearly such craft. the strength of the personnel, which was , , has been increased to , . from these brief particulars regarding the ships and their manning, an estimate can be formed of the expansions that have been made in the auxiliary services, such as guns, torpedoes, munitions, and stores of all kinds, anti-submarine apparatus, mines, &c., and some idea is gained of the demands that have been made upon the great army of workers on shore, the men in the royal dockyards and arsenals, in the shipyards, the engine shops, and the factories, without whose help the fleet could not be maintained as a fighting force. as regards warship and auxiliary ship construction, the output during the last months has been between three and four times the average annual output for the few years preceding the war. the admiralty now control all the dry docks in the country,...-- merchant ships are being repaired each week, either in dry dock or afloat. since the beginning of the war, , british war vessels have been placed in dock or on the slips =(--as many as being repaired in one week--)=.... these figures do not include repair work carried out to the vessels of our allies.... the transport service is of the highest importance in carrying on the war. what has been the achievement of england on that score? under the title:--"_transportation_" the war cabinet report proves its immensity as follows:-- the record of what has been done by the transport services for the armies of the allies shows a stupendous amount of work accomplished, which constitutes one of the brilliant achievements of the war. there had been transported overseas up till the end of august, , the last date for which complete statistics are available--some:-- million human beings--combatants, wounded, medical personnel, refugees, prisoners, &c.; million horses and mules; ½ million vehicles; million tons of explosive and supplies for the armies; ... million tons of coal and oil fuel for the use of our fleets, our armies, and to meet the needs of our allies. the operations of the seas are on such a large scale that it is difficult to realize all that is involved in sea transportation; for example, over , personnel are transported, and more than , tons of stores and supplies have to be imported daily into france for the maintenance of our own army. about steamers, of approximately ¾ million tons, are continually employed in the service of carrying troops and stores to the armies in france and to the forces in various theatres of war in the east. we all know that the berlin government expected that the submarine campaign would result in an early final victory for the central empires. herr von bethmann hollweg, then the imperial chancellor, said:--"_the blockade must succeed within a limited number of weeks, within which america cannot effectively participate in the operations_." how he was mistaken, and extravagant were his expectations, events have proved. this sentence is also proof evident that he realized how effective the united states effort would become, if the submarine campaign did not succeed within a few weeks. the iniquitous submarine campaign, re-opened early in the year , "_added materially to the responsibilities of the navy. to meet this new and serious menace drastic steps had to be taken to supplement those adopted in the previous december and january_." the report adds:-- a large number of new destroyers have been built and at the same time auxiliary patrol services have been expanded enormously so as to deal with the nefarious submarine and minelaying methods of the enemy. before the outbreak of the war there were under vessels employed as minesweepers and on auxiliary patrol duties. to-day the number of craft used for these purposes at home and abroad is about , , and is constantly increasing. * * * * * a new feature of the means adopted for the protection of trade against submarines has been a return to the convoy system as practised in bygone wars. it has been markedly effective in reducing the losses. during the last few months over per cent. of all vessels sailing in all the atlantic trades were convoyed.... the royal naval air service at the outbreak of war possessed a personnel of under ; at the present moment the numbers approach , and are continually increasing.... mention must also be made of the great value of the air services in combating the submarine menace round our coasts.... illustrating their extent it may be stated that in one week the aircraft patrol round the british coasts alone flies , miles. the general result of the german attack, therefore, though serious enough, is far from unprecedented. in the two years after trafalgar, when our command of the sea was unquestioned, we still lost , merchant ships by capture, and in the whole period from to we lost over , merchant ships. nor should we lose sight of the very heavy losses sustained by the enemy in the present war. at the commencement of hostilities, germany had merchant ships abroad, of which only got home safely; the remainder within a few days were cleared from the oceans, either captured or driven to shelter in neutral ports. in the aggregate the german mercantile marine consisted of over million tons of shipping; at the present time nearly half of this has been sunk or captured by ourselves or our allies, while the bulk of the rest is lying useless in harbour. let me now refer to the military effort of great britain. under the title:--"_strength of the army," &c._, the war cabinet report gives the following most inspiring figures. the effort which the british nations have made under the one item of "provision of men for the armed forces of the crown" amounts to not less than , , men, and of these . per cent. have been contributed by england, . per cent. by scotland, . per cent. by wales, . per cent. by ireland, . per cent. by the dominions and the colonies, while the remainder, . per cent., composed of native fighting troops, labour corps, carriers, &c., represent the splendid contribution made by india and our various african and other dependencies. * * * * * =royal artillery.=--the personnel of the royal artillery increased . per cent., between august, , and august, . in the first nine months of the supply of modern anti-aircraft guns in the field increased per cent., that of field guns per cent., of field-howitzers per cent., of heavy guns per cent., of medium howitzers per cent., of heavy howitzers per cent., and of heavy-guns on railway mountings per cent.; these last have an increased range of about per cent.... we have also supplied large numbers of heavy guns and trench mortars to our allies in different theatres of war. * * * * * the medical service has continued to expand with the growth of the army and its strength is now largely in excess of our whole original expeditionary force.... more than , women are employed as nurses and over , others are engaged in military hospitals on various forms of work.... hospitals in the united kingdom now number more than , . * * * * * the health of the troops in the united kingdom is actually better than the peace rate; the same is the case in france, excluding admissions to hospital by reason of wounds. the above quoted figures prove that out of a total of , , men for the armed forces of the british crown, great britain--the united kingdom--had contributed, at the end of last year, , , , out of which number the shore of england and wales amounted to , , . the british colonial empire's contribution had been , , . at the date of the current year--august, --i am writing, i can safely calculate that the number of men for the armed forces of the british crown--using the words of the official report above quoted--has reached, at least, _the grand and magnificent total of , , _. the percentage of respective contributions of the united kingdom and the colonial empire no doubt remaining the same, the relative number of each of them is,--for the united kingdom , , ; for the colonies , , . i consider the war cabinet report of so interesting, so encouraging, that my readers will, i am confident, kindly bear with me in a few more very important quotations, the full report itself having had only a very limited circulation in canada. transport. in addition to the prodigious naval effort of england, both military and mercantile, previously illustrated, great britain has most powerfully contributed to the fighting operations on land by an immense improvement in transportation facilities by railway construction in all british theatres of war. the report says:-- in all these theatres railways have come to play a more and more important part. in france a vast light railway system has been created, involving the supply during the present year of approximately , miles of track and the whole of the equipment.... exclusive of these light railway systems, the total amount of permanent railway track supplied complete to all theatres of war is about , miles. in egypt the railway crossing the desert from the suez canal has now reached and passed gaza. in mesopotamia the rapid and successful movements of our troops have only been made possible by the construction of a whole series of lines since the beginning of . the development of road-building has been on a similar scale, and the shipments of material, equipment and stores for these two purposes during the last nine months have averaged , tons a month. much labour has also been spent in the organisation of an overland line of communication through france and italy to the mediterranean in order to save shipping. this line was opened for personnel traffic in june, , and for goods traffic early in august. * * * * * in france the conveyance of supplies of all kinds to our armies along the french rivers and canals is performed by a large fleet of tugs, barges, and self-propelled barges. the fleet thus employed in france consists of over vessels, and the tonnage carried by it averages over , tons per week. the air service. in a recital indicating generally what steps have been taken in matters of administration and control, the report says:-- from the point of view of defence, the new arm presented problems pregnant with at least equal importance. the proud and ancient inviolability of these islands was being challenged in a new and startling fashion, and the seriousness of the problem was added to by the fact that the geographical position of the capital of the empire rendered it particularly inviting to attack from the air. respecting the supply of aircraft, the report says that:-- in endeavoring to describe the measures taken to meet the aircraft needs of the navy and army, the writer is at once confronted by the fact that the information desired by the country is precisely the information desired by the enemy. what the country wants to know is what has been the expansion in our air services; whether we have met and are meeting all the demands of the navy and of the army, both for replacement of obsolete machines by the most modern types, and for the increase of our fighting strength in the air; what proportion of the national resources in men, material and factories is being devoted to aviation; what the expansion is likely to be in the future. these are precisely the facts which we should like to know with regard to the german air service, and for that reason it would be inadmissible for us to supply germany with corresponding information about ourselves by publishing a statement on the subject. it can be said that the expansion of our air services is keeping pace generally with the growing needs of the navy and the army. in chapter viii, under the heading:--"_the ministry of munitions in _," the following is read:-- the number of persons engaged in the production of munitions in october, , was , , men and , women, as compared with , , men and , women in january. they have thus been increased during the past six months at the rate of , men and , women per month. these numbers include those employed in government and in private establishments, in the principal munition industries, chemical and explosive trades, engineering and munition plants, furnaces and foundries, in shipbuilding and in mining other than coal-mining. the total represents approximately two-thirds of the total labour occupied on government work in industry. the preceding official statistics prove most conclusively that actually, and ever since the beginning of the third year of the war, more than _twelve millions_ of men and women--more than the fourth of the total population of the united kingdom--have been either in the armed forces of the british crown--navy and army--or in the shipbuilding yards, in munitions factories, in transportation on land and sea, in the medical service, in the air service, &c., employed for the success of the cause of the allies. the financial effort of great britain. the gigantic military effort of great britain, in all the branches of its wonderfully developed organization, as above illustrated, was only rendered possible by a corresponding financial contribution. during the financial year preceding the outbreak of the war, the total expenditure of the government of great britain was $ , , . the hostilities have imposed upon the united kingdom vast expenditures. "for that period"--again quoting the war cabinet report--"from the st april, , to the st december, , the total exchequer issues for expenditure (including consolidated fund service and supply services) were £ , , , ,--($ , , , ) representing a daily average for that period of £ , , ($ , , )." at this rate of expenditure, the total for the year equals at least $ , , , . but the financial charges entailed by the war being constantly on the increase, they can be calculated at a daily average of no less than $ , , until the close of the conflict. england has not only incurred very heavy financial obligations, met both by an enormously increased taxation and the issue of large national loans, to pay the cost of her own war expenditure, but she has also generously helped her friends whose financial resources were not so abundant as her own. to the st december, , she had made advances to the allies amounting to no less than $ , , , . in addition to this large amount, the advances she had made to the dominions for the same period summed up $ , , . achievements of dominion, colonial and indian troops. under the above title, the war cabinet report concludes a general review of the past year's effort by paying high tribute to the value of the services rendered by the whole british colonial empire, in the following elogious terms:-- in the above sketch of military operations during the past year, it has not been possible to distinguish between the particular services rendered by the various nations and nationalities of the empire. but it must not be forgotten that during the war the forces of the crown have become welded into a true imperial army, representative of every part of the world-wide british commonwealth, and a brief note may be included as to the special services of the various overseas forces. the share of the australian, new zealand, canadian, south african and newfoundland contingents in the successes of the campaign are well known. the capture of vimy ridge in april, the prolonged and bitter fighting around lens during the whole summer and autumn, and the capture of passchendaele were carried out by the canadian corps, which has thus proved itself as excellent in offensive as its splendid defence of ypres in had shown it to be in defensive fighting. the new zealand and australian contingents have corresponding achievements to their credit in their share of the battle of messines and in the long sustained and bitterly contested fights in the ypres salient from july to november. the south african brigade sustained the brilliant reputation which it won last year at delville wood by the devoted services it rendered on the battlefields of arras and ypres. finally, the newfoundland regiment took a glorious and costly part in the same two battles. the troops of all the dominions have shown themselves throughout the campaign of to have maintained the historic standards of the british army and have been worthy rivals of the united kingdom troops in every military effort and achievement. this testimony to the services rendered by the dominions would not be complete without some reference to the part played by south africa in german east africa, where her troops have borne, under the brilliant leadership of general van deventer, a conspicuous share in a peculiarly arduous campaign. the smaller colonies and protectorates have naturally been unable to play so great and conspicuous a part in the world war, but in their own spheres they have contributed their full share to the military effort of the empire. labour and fighting troops were freely drawn upon for the mesopotamian and east african theatres. west africa, british east africa, uganda, nyasaland and rhodesia have all sent contingents to fight in german east africa. , men from the west indies have been sent across the atlantic; and labour corps from the eastern colonies have been sent to the mesopotamian and east african fronts, and, despite unfavourable conditions, to the western theatre. a large number of individuals from overseas possessions, such as the malay states and hong kong, have also joined the imperial forces. finally, india's contribution, both in man-power, material and money, has steadily increased throughout the year. india has taken a very important share in the victorious campaign in mesopotamia. the great majority of the troops in this theatre of war are indian. they have fully sustained the high reputation of the indian army for gallantry and endurance. india has been responsible for much of the supply, medical and transportation system by water and on land. indian forces have also rendered conspicuous service in france, egypt and east africa. the question of the supply of officers, especially medical officers, has been solved; commissions have been granted to indians, and a voluntary indian defence force is now being organised and trained. special mention should be made of the loyal and effective assistance of the indian ruling princes and chiefs, from the smallest to the greatest. the indian government has moreover generously contributed $ , , towards the cost of the war. the foregoing quotations of official figures, of facts undeniable, of achievements really most extraordinary, constitute the unanswerable refutation, complete and crushing, of the nationalist charge that england, while not doing her own duty with regard to the war, was using undue influence to coerce the british colonies to participate in the conflict far beyond the fair proportionate effort to be expected on their part; that an illegitimate pressure of great britain's government on her colonies was being practised, as insidiously alleged, to promote her imperialist ambition of the world's ascendency. unfortunately, those false and most unjust notions had taken deeper root in many minds, even in some who should have been much above such an unfair misconception, than was at first supposed. hence the importance of setting the matter right, and the necessity of proving that england's war achievements, in every branch of the military service, were far exceeding what had, at first, been expected of her, and was ever considered possible. british pluck and manliness were equal to the direst emergency that ever called them forth. patriotism, courage, determination, perseverance, rising superior to any increased difficulties, have truly worked miracles of manly efforts and self-sacrifices inspired by the noble cause which brought great britain in the world's struggle. chapter xiv. the veritable aims of the allies. after doing their utmost to persuade the french canadians that the allies, more especially england and russia, were equally responsible for the war, together with germany and austria, our "nationalist" leaders moreover asserted that they were hostile to a just and lasting peace on account of their unfair claims. in support of their pretension, they repeatedly affirmed that the allies were pledged to the complete destruction of the german empire. no more unfounded charge could be made against the nations suddenly challenged to a gigantic struggle for life or death. it was very important to protect my french canadian countrymen against views which, if not proved to be absolutely wrong, were calculated to bias their mind against the allies. with this patriotic object strongly impressed upon my mind, i fully explained what were the veritable aims of great britain, france, russia and italy, in fighting their deadly enemy. when i issued my french book, the united states had not then entered the contest. their declaration of war against germany, in the spring of , after the outrage of the sinking of the lusitania, and the numerous criminal provocations of the submarine campaign, clearly emphasized, once more, what the allies had been strenuously struggling for from the outbreak of the hostilities. they had taken up the gauntlet savagely thrown to them, declaring to the world that they would battle to the last to put an end to german militarism, always threatening general peace, to protect the small nations, notably belgium and servia, against the onslaught of mighty and tyrannical conquerors, to save humanity, civilization and freedom from the crushing ascendency of autocratic rule. the great american republic rallied with them to the defence of this most sacred cause. need i refer to the numerous and eloquent messages of president wilson, to the writings of the american press, and to the declarations of all the leading public men of the united states, in both houses of congress, or before public meetings, in support of the contention which was proved beyond controversy for all fair minded men. mr. bourassa, whether from sheer misconception, or blindly carried away by incomprehensible german sympathies, having their root in his prejudiced hostility to england, could see no difference between a war policy aiming at putting an end to prussian militarism, and one having for its object the dismemberment of the german empire. nor could he conceive that fighting for human liberty was a nobler purpose than struggling for autocratic tyranny. though ever posing as the champion of the small nationalities, he would not utter a word of sympathy for martyred belgium, barbarously conquered servia, oppressed poland, since the beginning of the war. the great conflict once begun under so terrific conditions, every one somewhat posted with the immense resources of the belligerents, their respective warlike spirit and enduring qualities, could easily foresee that, unfortunately, it was most likely to last for several years, the contending parties being so far apart in their respective aspirations. elated beyond all reason by her triumph over france, in , which had for its first very important result the final creation of the german empire, proclaimed to the world from versailles,--the bleeding heart of her vanquished foe,--the new great power, dominating central europe, lost no time in setting all its energies to the task of perfecting the most gigantic military organization ever seen. to all clear sighted men, germany could not be supposed to accept the heavy sacrifices required for such an end with the sole purpose of maintaining peace. further conquests were evidently her inspiring aim. who can forget how humanity was staggered by the rapidity of the onslaught of the teutonic hordes let loose against nations whose greatest wish was to keep the peace of the world? in a sudden rush, the waves of the torrent overran belgium and northern france dashing direct towards paris. the wonderful plan of campaign, so scientifically conceived and matured, could then be understood as it was boldly and powerfully developed. the berlin military staff, knowing that france was not sufficiently prepared for the struggle, that england, if forced to intervene in honour bound, by the criminal violation of belgium's neutrality, would require a couple of years to organize an army of millions of men, decided to strike the first blow with such an overpowering strength as to conquer belgium in a victorious run and crush france out of the fight. a couple of months were to be sufficient to that most coveted end. meantime austria was to face and resist the russian attack, to allow germany the necessary time to settle victoriously the western part of the campaign, so cleverly planned and successfully carried out, before transferring her glorious legions to the eastern theatre of the war. russia was not supposed to be able to properly organize her armies in less than many months, when it could no longer expect to triumph over the enthusiastic huns. in the depressing darkness of those anxious days, the great marne victory came like the brilliant sun piercing the heavy clouds, pledging final success as the reward of the persevering courage and heroism to be long displayed to deserve it. germany's first dream of conquering universal domination by military operations even overshadowing those of the illustrious napoleonic era, and of cæsar's marvellously laid deep foundations of roman grandeur, was shattered to pieces. before the teutonic armies could be reorganized for another great offensive, england's forces and those of her colonies would be in a position to enter the struggle; france's resources would be brought to bear with all their strength; italy would break away from the central empires and heartily join the allies. then the conflict turned to that weary trench fighting which to the sadness of its trials added new evidence of the inevitable lengthening of the war. no wonder that the longing for peace was intensified under the pressure of conditions becoming more and more trying. without doubt all true friends of human prosperity and happiness, in their limited possible worldly measure, were fervently praying to god in favour of the restoration of harmony between the warring nations. but they saw with undeniable clearness that there were two essential--sine qua non--conditions to the peace of the future. to be of any value it must be _just_ and _durable_. if it could become permanent, much more the better. unfortunately, outside the legions of the true friends of an honourable peace, there were found, in the allied countries, faint hearted men getting tired of the worries and sacrifices consequent upon the prolonged struggle. the moment they began to show their hands, was the signal for the ultra revolutionists of russia, finally organized into the disastrous bolshevikism, for the paid traitors of france, for the disloyal elements of the british empire, to rally around them to set in motion, with accrued force, a current of opinion clamouring for peace almost at any price. to quiet this unpatriotic longing of the disheartened, the political leaders of the allies publicly explained their war aims, positively affirming that their objective was that _just and durable_ peace to which alone they could and would agree. canada had also her _pacifist_ element. so far as the french canadians were concerned, it was, though small in numbers, almost entirely recruited in the ranks of the supporters of "_nationalism_." i feel i must explain that our "_nationalism_," as it has been repeatedly propounded, does not in the least represent the sound views of the very large majority of my french canadian countrymen. as was to be expected, mr. bourassa was again the outspoken organ of our french canadian _pacifists_. he laid great stress on what he gave out as a fact: that if peace negotiations were not at once entered upon and brought to a successful conclusion, it was on account of the allies' unreasonable claims, pointing especially to england's determination not to surrender her supremacy on the high seas, to develop more and more what he termed her _imperialism_ for the purpose of dominating the world _economically_. in my french work, i strongly took issue with the views of our _pacifists_ as expressed by their leader and their press. addressing my french canadian countrymen on the bounden duties of all loyal british subjects, it was my ardent purpose to tell them the plain truth. writing, as i did, in , i was then, as i had been from the very beginning, firmly convinced that the conflict would be of long duration, that it was very wrong--even criminal if disloyally inspired--for any one to delude them by vain hopes, or deceive them by false charges. having some knowledge of military strategy and tactics, i saw with the clear light of noon day that, despite the gigantic efforts put forth by the allies, and the admirable heroism of their armies--our canadian force brilliantly playing its part--final victory would be attained only by indomitable perseverance, both of the millions of fighting men and of the whole allied nations backing them to the last with their moral and material support. that profound conviction of mine i was very anxious to strongly impress on the minds of my french-canadian readers, imploring them not to be carried away by the "nationalist" erroneous pretentions that peace could easily be obtained, if the allies would only agree to negotiate. i told them plainly, what was absolutely true, that the war aims of germany were so well known and inadmissible that there was not the least shadow of hope that peace negotiations could lead to a reasonable understanding realizing the two imperious conditions of _justice and durability_ in a settlement to which all the allies were in honour pledged. i explained to them that it was no use whatever to be deluded by expectations, however tempting they might appear, because under the then conditions of the military situation--time and events have since brought no favourable change but quite the reverse--there was not the slightest chance of an opening for a successful consideration of the questions to be debated and settled before the complete cessation of the conflict. there was only one conclusion to be drawn from the circumstances of the case, and, however sad to acknowledge, it was that the fight must be carried on to a final victorious issue, any weakening of determination and purpose being sure to bring about humiliating defeat. the only possible peace conditions. whenever representatives of the belligerents shall meet to negotiate for peace, there will of course be many questions of first class importance to consider and discuss. but the one which must overshadow any other and of necessity carry the day, is that peace must be restored under conditions that will, if not forever, at least for many long years, protect humanity and civilization against a recurrence of such a calamity as ambitious and cruel germany has criminally imposed upon the world. i urged my french canadian readers to consider seriously how peace due to a compromise, accepted out of sheer discouragement, would soon develop into a still more trying ordeal than the one canada had willingly and deliberately undertaken to fight out with the allies. i forcibly explained to them that if the present war did not result in an international agreement to put an end to the extravagant and ruinous militarism which, under prussian terrorism, was proving to be the curse of almost the whole universe, all the sacrifices of so many millions of lives, heroically given, of untold sufferings, of so much treasures, would have been made in vain if germany was allowed to continue a permanent menace to general tranquillity. it was a wonder to me that any one could fail to understand that an armed peace would be only a truce during which militarism would be spreading with increased vigour and strength. it was evident--and still daily becoming more and more so--that germany would only consent to it with the determination to renew, on a still much larger scale, her military organization with the purpose of a more gigantic effort at universal domination. then was it not plain that labouring under the inevitable necessity of such an international situation, the allied nations,--the british empire as much as france, the united states and italy--would by force be obliged to make the sacrifices required to maintain their military systems in such a state of efficiency as to be always ready to face their ambitious foe with good prospects of success. such being the undeniable case, i affirmed--i am sure with the best of reasons--that great britain could not return to her ante-war policy of the enlistment of only a small standing territorial army, trusting as formerly to her naval strength for her defence and the safe maintenance of her prestige and power. like all the continental nations, england would have to incur the very heavy cost of keeping millions of men always fully armed. i firmly told my french canadian countrymen that it was no use deluding themselves with the "nationalist" notion that peace being restored under the above mentioned circumstances, the british colonies would not be called upon to share, with england, the burdens of the extensive military preparations necessitated for their own safety as well as for that of great britain and the whole empire. the very reasons which had prompted canada and all her sister dominions to intervene in the present war, would surely induce them to cooperate with the mother country to maintain a highly and costly state of military preparedness in order to be ever ready for any critical emergency. could it be believed that after the sad experience of the actual conflict, the allied nations--great britain perhaps more than any other--would blindly once again run the risk of being caught napping and deceived by an unscrupulous and hypocritical enemy, unsufficiently prepared to at once rise in their might to fight for their very national existence and the safety of mankind against tyrannical absolutism. if such abominable pages of history as those that for the last four years are written with the blood of millions of heroes defending human freedom were, by fear of new sacrifices, allowed to be repeated, shame would be on the supposed civilized world having fallen so low as to bow to the dictates of barbarism. let all truly hearted men hope and pray that no such dark days shall again be the fearful lot of humanity. let them all resolve that if the world can at last emerge free from the present hurricane, they will not permit, out of weakness and despondency, the sweeping waves of teutonism to submerge civilization and destroy the monuments of the work of centuries of the christian art. after showing the dark side of the picture, and what would be the fearful consequences of a german victory, or of an armed peace pending the renewal, with still much increased vigour and resources, of the conflict only suspended, i explained to my french canadian readers the great advantages to be derived by all, germany included, from the restoration of peace carrying with it the untold benefits to be derived from the cessation of extravagant military organization, yearly destroying the capital created by hard work and the saving of the millions of the working populations. if an international agreement could be arrived at by which militarism would be reduced to the requirements of the maintenance of interior order and the safeguarding of conventional peace amongst the powers, then many long years of material prosperity, in all its diversity of beneficial development, would surely follow. canada, like the other british colonies, would not have to incur any very large expenditure for military purposes, devoting all her energies to the intelligent building of the grand future which her immense territorial resources would certainly make, not only possible, but sure. how much could material development be conducive to intellectual, moral and religious progress, if the nations of the earth would only sincerely and permanently abide by the divine teachings of christianity. considering all the conditions of the military situation, at the end of the summer of , i clearly perceived the imperious necessity of the allies--canada as well as all her associates--to fight to a finish. that duty i did my best to impress on the minds of the french canadians. events have since developed in many ways, but they all tend to strengthen the conviction that ultimate victory will only be the price of unshaken perseverance, of undaunted courage, of more patriotic sacrifices. chapter xv. just and unjust wars. in one of his pamphlets mr. bourassa favoured his readers with his views on the justice and injustice of war. he affirmed that a government could rightly declare war only for the three following objects:-- .--for the defence of their own country. .--to fulfill the obligations to which they are in honour bound towards other nations. .--to defend a weak nation unjustly attacked. i have no hesitation to acknowledge the soundness of those principles, as theoretically laid down. i took the "nationalist" leader at his own word, wondering more than ever how he could refuse to admit the justice of the cause of the allies. looking at the case from the british standpoint, was it not clear as the brightest shining of the sun that england had gone to war against germany for the three reasons assigned by mr. bourassa as those which alone can justify a government entering a military struggle. great britain was by solemn treaties in honour bound to the defence of belgium whose territory had been violated by germany, the other party to those treaties which she threw to the winds contemptuously calling them "_scraps of paper_." even outside of all treaty obligations, it was england's duty, according to the third principle enunciated by mr. bourassa as authorizing a just declaration of war, to rush to the defense of belgium, a _"weak nation" most dastardly attacked by the then strongest military power on earth_. the british government, being responsible for the safety of the british empire, would have been recreant to their most sacred duty, had they failed to see that if the german armies were freely allowed to overrun belgium, to crush france and vanquish russia, great britain and her colonies, unprepared for any effective resistance as they would have been, had they remained the passive onlookers of the teutonic conquest of continental europe, would have been the easy prey of the barbarous conquerors. consequently, in accepting the bold challenge of the berlin government, that of england also did their duty for the defence of great britain and the british empire. but the whole british empire being at war with germany for the three above enumerated causes combined, were the free autonomous colonies of england not also in duty bound to help her in vindicating her honour and theirs, and to do their utmost to support the mother country in her efforts to oblige the berlin authorities to respect their treaty obligations! were they not also in duty bound to participate with england in the defence of invaded weak, but heroic, belgium! were they not in duty bound to at once organize for their own defence, sending their heroic sons to fight their enemy on the soil of france, instead of waiting the direct attack upon their own territories! the british parliament dealing exclusively with the foreign affairs of the empire, the international treaties which they ratify are binding on the whole empire. if such a treaty is violated by the other party or parties who signed it, violently obliging england to stand by her obligations, are not the colonies also bound to uphold the mother land in the vindication of her treaty rights?! looking at the same question, in the full light of the sound principles of the justice of any war, from the german standpoint, what are the only true conclusions to be drawn? to satisfy austria's unjust demands and maintain peace, servia had, in , at the urgent request of england, france and russia, gone as far as any independent nation could go without dishonour. not only backed, but no doubt inspired, by the berlin government, austria would not consent to reduce by an iota her unfair pretentions against servia. it was plainly a case of a great power unjustly threatening a weak nation. consequently, according to the "nationalist" leader's principle, russia was right and doing her duty in intervening to protect the menaced weak state. instead of hypocritically resenting russia's intervention in favour of servia, it was equally germany's duty to join with her to save this weak nation from austrian unjust challenge. had it done so, austria would certainly have refrained from exacting from servia concessions to which she could not agree without sacrificing her independent sovereignty. the vienna authorities backing down from their unjust stand, there would have been no war. and germany, together with russia, would have deserved the gratitude of the world for their timely intervention, prompted by a clear sense of their duty and a sound conception of their international right. it is well known how the very opposite took place. russia, to be ready for the emergency of the declaration of war by austria against servia, ordered the mobilization of that part of her army bordering on the austrian frontier, answering to the berlin request for explanations that she had no inimical intention whatever against the german empire, that her only object was to protect weak servia against austria's most unjust attack. the kaiser's government replied by requesting russia to cancel her order for the mobilization of part of her army. and in the very thick of this diplomatic exchange of despatches, whilst england and france were sparing no effort, by day and night, to maintain peace and protect mankind from the threatening calamity, germany suddenly threw the gauntlet and declared war against russia. foreseeing clearly that france was consequently in honour bound to support russia, in accordance with her international obligations towards that great eastern power--in strict conformity with the second principle enunciated by mr. bourassa and previously quoted--, germany took the initiative of a second unjust declaration of war, and this one against france. the military operations against france being very difficult, and certainly to be very costly in a fearful loss of man-power, before the strongly fortified french frontier could be successfully overrun, germany, after a most shameful attempt to bribe england into neutrality, decided to take the easy route and ordered her army to invade belgium's neutral territory, in violation of her solemn treaty obligations. that treacherous act filled the cup of teutonic infamy, and brought great britain, and the whole british empire, into the conflict. so germany was guilty of the most outrageous violation of the three sound principles laid down by the "nationalist" leader qualifying a just war against an iniquitous one, whilst england and france won the admiration of the world by their noble determination to stand by them at all cost. still mr. bourassa, by an incomprehensible perversion of mind in judging the application of his own loudly proclaimed principles, has not to this day uttered one word openly condemning germany's war policy and eulogizing that of england and france. on the contrary, he has tried to persuade his readers that both groups of belligerents were equally responsible for the war, more especially giving vent to his, at the least, very strange hostility to england and scarcely dissimulating his teutonic evident sympathies. he never positively expressed his disapproval of austria's unjust attack against servia, but condemned russia for her intervention to protect that weak country, concluding that the petrograd government was the real guilty party which had thrown the world into the vortex of the most deadly conflict of all times. one of the most damaging and unfair arguments of mr. bourassa was that in intervening in the struggle, england was not actuated by a real sentiment of justice, honour and duty, but was merely using france as a shield for her own selfish protection. and when he deliberately expressed such astounding views, he knew, or ought to have known, that by her so commendable decision to avenge outraged weak belgium, great britain had at once, by her command of the seas, guaranteed france against the superior strength of the german fleet, kept widely opened the great commercial avenues of oceanic trade, the closing of which by the combined sea power of the central empires, would have infallibly caused the crushing defeat of france by cutting off all the supplies she absolutely required to meet the terrible onslaught of her cruel enemy. he knew, or ought to have known, that the navigation of the seas being closed to her rivals by germany, russia would have been very easily put out of the fight, her only available ocean ports, vladivostock and arkhangel, through which supplies of many kinds, especially munitions, could reach her eastern coast, at once becoming of no service to her. he knew, or ought to have known, that if great britain had remained neutral, japan, italy, portugal, would not have declared war against either germany or austria. as such consequences of british neutrality were as sure as the daily rising of the sun, was i not right when i drew the conclusion that if a shield there was, it was rather that of great britain covering france, all her allies and even the neutral nations, with the protection of her mighty sea power. with such a conviction, the soundness of which i felt sure, i told my french canadian countrymen that, for one, i would, to my last day, be heartily grateful to england to have saved france from the crushing defeat which once more would have been her lot, had she been left alone to fight the central empires. heroic, without doubt france would have been. but with deficient supplies, with much curtailed resources, with no helpful friends, heroism alone, however admirable and prolonged, was sure to be of no avail against an unmatched materially organized power, used to its most efficiency by the severest military discipline, by national fanaticism worked to fury, and by soldierly enthusiasm carried to wildness. in a single handed struggle with germany, in , france would have been in a far worse position than in . the extraordinary development of the new german empire--the outcome of the great war so disastrous to france--in population, in commerce, in manufacturing industry, in financial resources, in military organization, made her fighting power still more disproportionate. to her wonderful territorial army, she added her recently built military fleet, then much superior, in the number of vessels carrying thousands and thousands of skilled seamen, to the french one. moreover austria, with another fifty millions of people, bulgaria and turkey, with more than thirty millions, were backing germany, whilst, in , france had only prussia to contend with. all those facts staring him like any one else, how could mr. bourassa reasonably charge great britain with using france merely as a tool for her own safety. under the circumstances of the case, such a preposterous assertion is beyond human comprehension. i, for one, cannot understand how he failed to see that, had england been actuated by the selfish and unworthy motives to which he ascribes her intervention in the war, she could have then, and at least for several years, wrought from germany almost all the concessions she would have wished for. could it not, by an alliance with the central empires, have attained the goal of that dominating ambition which the "nationalist" leader asserts to be her most cherished aim. but such a dishonourable policy england would not consider for a single moment. she indignantly refused germany's outrageous proposals, stood by her treaty obligations, and resolutely threw all the immense resources of her power in the conflict which, at the very beginning, developed into a struggle for life and death between human freedom and absolutist tyranny. i am sure, and i do not hesitate to vouch for them, all the truly loyal french-canadians--they are almost unanimously so--are like myself profoundly grateful to great britain for her noble decision to rush to the defense of belgium and france in their hour of need. comparing what took place with what might have been, moved by all the ties of affection that will ever bind them to the great and illustrious nation from which they sprung, they fully appreciate the inestimable value of the support given by their second mother-country to that of their national origin. they ardently pray that both of them will emerge victorious from the great conflict to remain, for the good of mankind, indissolubly united in peace as they are in war. a "nationalist" illogical charge against england. our nationalists, after charging england with using france merely as a shield against germany, have been illogical to the point of reproaching her for not having intervened in favour of her close neighbour, in . it is most likely that, had she done so, they would have pretended that she would have been actuated by the same selfish sentiment that prompted her, for the only sake of her own protection, to enter into the present conflict. how is it that mr. bourassa, so fond of charging england with ambitious views of constant self-agrandizement, of worldly domination, can suddenly turn about and accuse her of having shamefully sacrificed france, in , to the overpowering german blow? the circumstances of the two cases-- and --were very different. the conflict of had, apparently at least, a dynastic cause. the house of hohenzollern had been intriguing to have a prussian prince of her own elevated to the spanish throne. the imperial government of napoleon iii strongly objected to such a policy. the diplomatic correspondence which ensued did not settle the difficulty. france declared war against prussia. many years later it was discovered that by a falsified diplomatic despatch, bismark had succeeded in his satanic design to bring the government of napoleon iii to attack prussia, thus shamefully throwing upon france the responsibility of the war. in , england was at peace with all the european powers, as she had ever been since , with the only exception of the crimean war. during the diplomatic correspondence that led to the hostilities, what reason would have justified england to break her neutrality? what would the present critics of her course have said if she had sided with prussia? would they have pretended that she would have used prussia as a shield against france? i personally remember very well the tragic events of the terrible year, . the crushing military power of prussia as proved by the triumphant march of her victorious armies, was a revelation for all, for france still more than for others. true prussia had beaten austria in the short campaign ended at sadowa. the prussia france was then fighting was not the giant empire against which she is battling with such heroism for the last four years. france was at the time the leading continental power. the general opinion was, when war was suddenly declared, that france would easily triumph over her enemy. it must not be forgotten that, in , england was even less ready than in to engage in a continental conflict. her standing army was not large, and then partly garrisoned in the colonies. some of her best regiments were stationed in canada. she could have been a really important ally of france only as a strong support of another continental power joining with her against prussia, for instance russia or austria, or both of them. if england had been able to send , men in a few days to the very heart of france, incessantly followed by another half million, it is almost certain that the prussian army would not have entered paris. but england had not that million of trained men. it would have taken at least a year to organize such a large army. i will speak my mind openly. after sedan, any attempt at saving france by force would have been vain and useless. even russia and austria were unprepared for such a task. their intervention, coming too late, would most likely have given prussia a chance to win a much greater victory. france out of the struggle, prussia would then have had the opportunity to achieve, as early as , what she has ever since prepared for, and tried to accomplish by the war she has brought on in . what then becomes of the "nationalist" pretention that great britain has ever been aiming at dominating the world, when it is so easy to understand that without a very large territorial army, which she persistingly refused to organize, she was unable to take an important part in any continental war. the days were passed, after the extraordinary development of prussian militarism, when she could brilliantly hold her own on the continent with a small standing army backed by generous subsidies to the european powers. the present war is surely proof evident of it, since england, instead of the two hundred thousand men she was expected to send over to france, as her man-power contribution, has had to raise a total army, with all the auxiliary services, of , , officers and men, exclusive of the , , contributed by the whole british colonial empire. the nationalists accusing england to have abandoned france to her sad fate, in , was only another instance of their campaign to arouse the feelings of the french canadians against great britain. other "nationalist" erroneous assertions. mr. bourassa has had his own peculiar way of explaining the real determining cause of the war. some men are--by nature it is to be supposed--always disposed to judge great historical events from considerations inspired by the lowest sentiments of the human heart. in the "nationalist" leader's view, the great war was brought about by the treacherous alliance of british and german capitalists speculating together, in actual partnership or otherwise, in the production of war material: cannons, rifles, munitions, war shipbuilding, &c. in my humble opinion, such views are lowering to a very vulgar and lamentably repulsive cause--if it could be true--events of immense significance, the result, on the one side, of criminal aspirations which, however guilty they may be, have not yet been degraded to the profound depth of abjection they suppose; on the other, by the most noble sentiments which can inspire nations to make the greatest sacrifices to avenge outraged justice and right. autocratic german ambition, such as it has proved to be, is bad enough. still the cause of the war, such as asserted by mr. bourassa, would have been far worse. national aspirations, however wrongly diverted from their legitimate conception, will never be as contemptible as the nasty greed of individual speculators treacherously sucking the very life blood of their countrymen for the sake of squeezing millions of dollars at the cost of their country's honour and future. unfortunately, illegitimate "profiteering" has taken place in the course of every war. of course it must be severely condemned and firmly prevented, to the utmost, by governmental authority strongly supported by public opinion which must, however, be cautious not to be unduly influenced and carried away by the wild charges of some who denounce others with so much apparent indignation for the only reason that they themselves are not succeeding as they would like to do in their speculative attempts. illegitimate "profiteering" is one of the deplorable effects of a war; it is never its real cause. what are the true causes, humanly speaking, of the cataclysm so violently shaking the world? they were of two kinds. the first was the disordered ambition of a nation having reached, by prodigious efforts, such a power that she fatally determined to dominate everywhere, militarily and politically. to this first cause was added that of secular race rivalry. the two causes of the first kind--which can properly be called _offensive_, were followed by the noble one of the resistance to oppression, of the defence of the honour of threatened nations, of the energetic determination to avenge violated international treaties, and to save the civilized world from a new barbarous invasion. if the allies had humbly bowed to the odious german claims, there would have been no war. consequently, the two evident causes of the war are, on the one hand, german ambition to universal domination; on the other, the absolute necessity on the part of the allies to prevent by all possible means the success of such a tyrannical enterprise. however much guilty they have been in bringing on the most terrible war of all times, it is still injurious for the berlin government to suppose that in assuming this weighty responsibility, they were playing the part of an unconscious instrument of the most diabolical thirst of money making by shameless "profiteers." but such a charge is absolutely inexplicable when one accuses france, england and belgium to be, in their admirable and heroic campaign for the world's deliverance and freedom, the pliant tools of contemptible speculators in the production of war materials. governments and nations are, as a rule, far from having dropped to such a low state of incurable corruption. for many of them, there yet exists bright summits, shining with the clear light of justice, right and honour, which in those times of sufferings and burning tears, are the pledge of better days and the promise of the world's resurrection. incredible "nationalist" notions. can it be possibly believed that the "nationalist" leader has asserted that when the british capitalists and bankers invested the savings entrusted to their safe keeping, they were principally actuated by the desire to create in canada a financial influence which would, in due course, assist with force in dragging the dominion to participate in the imperial wars against her better judgment? yet, so he has positively written and developed the wild argument. any man, with the slightest business experience, knows that, in all cases, would-be borrowers go where money is to be lent. i have not yet learned that one of them ever went to the north pole in search of millions for railway building and all kinds of industrial and commercial enterprises. daring explorers who ventured thither, facing so many risks, were stimulated by a laudable thirst of fame and the desire of scientific progress. they did not imagine, for a moment, that they were likely to discover, in these far away regions, great financial markets amply provided with millions of accumulated capital waiting for safe and profitable investments. canada, a young country, as large as all europe in territorial extent, with wonderful undeveloped resources of the agricultural soil, of the mines, of immense forests, of mighty rivers, of large and breezy lakes, could not progress without labour and capital. the large natural increase of the population, supplemented by immigration, was sure to supply the labour. capital, to the amount of hundreds of millions, could not be provided by the only savings of our people. immigration of capital was even more pressingly required than that of men. the governments of canada, federal and provincial, city corporations, railway companies, industrial concerns, wanting money, all went where it could be found. it happened that london, the capital of the british empire, was by far the largest financial market of the world. no wonder then that instead of going to lapland, canadian borrowers crowded in london, where they met with those of nearly all the nations of the world, gathering in the same city for the same purpose. two incontrovertible economical truisms are, without the shadow of a doubt, the following:-- . that a would-be borrower wishes to get the money he wants in the easiest way at the lowest interest charge; . that a wise lender wishes to secure for his money the safest investment carrying the highest possible rate of interest; the rate of interest being however subordinated, in his mind, to the safety of the investment. such were the sound economical considerations which settled for the canadian borrowers of all sorts, and the british investors, the conditions of all the loans made on canadian account. any one merely hinting to the british saving public that the money invested in canada was sent over to our shores for the object of creating a financial influence which would force the dominion into costly wars, could not have adopted a more unwise course to destroy the best chances of the success of a loan. canadian credit was of first class order, because the british investors knew our grand possibilities; because they were aware that canada had always been a safe debtor, honouring with clock regularity her interest charges and the payment of maturing loans; because also, and in a very large measure, they realized that we were not in the same position of so many nations of the old world, exposed to frequent warring necessities likely to exhaust our means and to jeopardize our bright prospects. confidence being the sound basis of good credit, we got all the money we wanted for all the purposes of our national economical development, the true interest of canada and of great britain being equally well served by the financial intercourse between the wealthy mother-country and her progressive colony. canadian financial operations in the united states. our "nationalists," so eager to discourage canadian effort in the war, and, with this object, always prone to magnify german warlike achievements and the difficulties confronting the allies, were rather nervous at the increasing prospects of the united states joining the _entente_ nations. their leader seized every opportunity to argue that they would be mistaken in doing so. during the weary months when the president of the neighbouring republic was prudently feeling his way before taking the bold stand which he has ever since so brilliantly and bravely upheld, the "nationalists", through successive ups and downs in their expectations, could scarcely help hiding their desire that the united states would not intervene in the struggle. those of us who had not been moved by the horrors of the belgian invasion, by the murder of so many innocent victims of teutonic savageness, by the brutal killing of edith cavell, by the armenian massacres, by the wanton destruction of admirable works of art, could not be expected to thrill at the barbarous sinking of the lusitania, sending to the bottom of the ocean hundreds of american citizens of the neutral american northern republic. they were anxious that the washington government should condone the outrageous offence and all the subsequent ones perpetrated by the german submarines against our neighbours. how much they were dismayed at the sudden close of mr. wilson's apparent hesitation, and at the proud declaration of war from washington to berlin. though rejoicing at it, they did not consider that the russian bolsheviki's collapse could compensate for the additional military and financial resources the allies were sure to derive from the united states participation in the war. canada having to borrow many millions to sustain her warlike effort, and the british money market being closed to further outside investments, had two sources left for her successful financial operations: her own market and that of the united states. the washington authorities had generously decided to help financially the european allies in pressing need of money. the ottawa government, before making a grand appeal to the canadian public, applied to washington for a loan. mr. wilson's cabinet, however much they would have liked to meet the wishes of the canadian government, had to answer that, having such a large war expenditure to incur, and such big sums to collect to assist their less wealthy european associates in the struggle, they could not see their way to grant canada's demand. acknowledging the value of the reasons given for not complying with their request, the canadian ministers then applied to washington for the permission to negotiate a loan in the open american market. this was readily granted. it was, of course, well understood that going in the open market, canada, to secure the required sum of money, would have to pay the then current rate of interest increasing, as usual, in proportion to the increased pressure of the demand of funds. it is utterly incredible--but still it is true--that mr. bourassa did denounce in his newspaper _le devoir_, the ottawa cabinet's action in borrowing money from the american saving public. in severe terms he blamed the washington authorities for not having lent millions to canada at the low rate of interest they had agreed to accept from france and italy. he asserted that this refusal on their part was a testimony of ill-will against the dominion. and in the most violent terms he charged all those who favoured canadian borrowings in the american market with being traitors selling their country to the united states. it is hard to say whether the charge is not more ridiculous than contemptible. it is the repetition, in an aggravated form of absurdity, of the argument accusing the british investing capitalists to have had for their only object in lending us their money to help coercing canada into the imperial wars. was mr. bourassa ignorant of the fact that the building of the magnificent railway system of the united states, that their great industrial development, were due to the billions of british capital which for the last eighty years have flowed, in rolling waves, towards the shores of the republic, invading, in the most peaceful and friendly way, her large territory, and drawing from its immense resources the greatest immeasurable accumulation of wealth ever created by the labour of man? i am not aware that any american writer ever ran the risk of being crushed by ridicule in accusing all the united states borrowers in the english market, governmental and others, of the hideous crime of selling their country to great britain. it would have been sheer madness to say so in the broad light of the marvellous economical progress of our neighbours. they knew very well that the billions of dollars invested by the british saving public for the development of their territorial riches, were producing returns much larger than the rate of interest paid to their british creditors. no one in the united states ever apprehended, for a single moment, that because the republic had borrowed enormous sums from great britain, she was likely to lose her state independence through the financial influence of the holders of her securities of all sorts. such "nationalist" notions, as above exposed and contradicted, can only create very wrong and deplorable conclusions in the public mind, were they allowed to follow their course without challenge and without the refutation proving their complete absurdity. chapter xvi. "nationalist" views condensed. after refuting at length the "nationalist" theories, i thought proper to condense them in a concrete proposition, and challenge their propagandist to call a public meeting in any city, town, or locality, in the dominion,--montreal for instance--and to find a dozen of citizens of standing in the community, to consent to move and second a "_resolution_" embodying their doctrines. this condensed proposition, i translate as follows:-- "whereas england has unjustly declared war against germany; "whereas great britain has done nothing to maintain the peace of the world; "considering that his majesty king george v. _had not the right to declare the state of war for canada without the assent of the canadian cabinet_; "considering that canada, as an autonomous colony, _is a sovereign state_; "considering that british sovereignty over canada _is only a fiction_; "considering that canada, interfering in the present war, _should have done so as a nation_; "whereas canada should only have fought on her own account, like _belgium, servia, italy or bulgaria_. "whereas _the maintenance of a compact british empire is the most permanent provocation against the peace of the world_; "considering that the supremacy of england on the seas is unjust; "considering that great britain's aspiration, for a long time past, has been universal domination by means of her military naval power; "whereas england is unfair against france in using her as a shield against german invasion; "considering that england is exercising by all possible means a strong pressure upon the colonies for her only benefit; "considering _that all the social leaders have united to demoralize the conscience of the people, to poison their mind, to set their vigilance at sleep, and to represent to them as a national duty what would formerly have been considered as a betrayal of national interests_; "considering _that england is trying to crush germany, being afraid of her colonial expansion and her maritime and commercial competition_; "whereas our compatriots of the british races have many faults; _that they are ignorant, assuming, arrogant, overbearing and rotten with mercantilism_; "considering that they have acquired _many of the worst vices of the yankees_; "considering that canada should never participate, outside of her own territory, in the wars of the british empire; "considering that the canadian cabinet and parliament are criminally guilty of having ordered the organization of a canadian army to go and fight against germany on the french territory, and in authorizing the payment of the cost of this military expedition; "be it "resolved", that this meeting energetically protest against the declaration of war against germany by his majesty king george v, _without the assent of the canadian cabinet_, to defend belgium's territory invaded by germany violating solemn treaties; "that this meeting is of opinion that, for the purpose of favouring the restoration of peace as soon as possible, england should notify all the powers that she abdicates for ever her supremacy on the seas, which supremacy germany could hereafter safely exercise; "that this meeting being absolutely convinced that _the maintenance of a compact british empire is the most permanent provocation against the peace of the world_, is strongly of opinion that great britain should, in order to quiet the fears of the nations friendly to peace and opposed to militarism, like pacifist germany, dissolve her empire, at once acknowledging the immediate independence of india and of all her autonomous colonies; "that this meeting's formal opinion is that the canadian parliament's imperious duty is to order without delay the dissolution of the british bond of connection, _which would be a public benefit_, and to proclaim the immediate independence of canada; "that a copy of the present "resolution" be addressed to his excellency the governor general, to the members of the federal cabinet, to the senators and to the members of the house of commons." the italics in the above draft "resolution" and "preamble" are quoted from mr. bourassa's writings. the "preamble" and "resolution" emphasize, in their true and complete meaning, the "nationalist" doctrines perseveringly propounded for years past to poison french canadian mentally. that such teachings can only produce disloyal feelings, stir up national prejudices and hatred of the mother country, and be most detrimental to the best interests of the province of quebec, of the dominion of canada, and of the british empire as a whole, every one must admit with sadness. my challenge, which is still maintained, has not been taken up yet. all may rest assured that it will never be. the most ardent "nationalist" knows that no responsible citizens would move the adoption of such views. chapter xvii. loyal principles propounded. to the foregoing "nationalist" proposition, i opposed one condensing, in a concrete form, the views and principles of the truly loyal canadian citizens. i also translate it as follows:-- "whereas, since , the german empire had been a permanent menace against the peace of the world by her threatening military policy; "whereas england, throughout the same period, and more especially during the twenty years previous to , had done her utmost efforts to maintain peace; "considering that great britain had, in many ways, solicited germany to agree to the limitation of armaments, especially of the building of war vessels; "considering that she had persisted in her attempts with the german government to save the nations from the ruinous system of excessive armaments, in spite of the latter's refusal to accede to her demands; "considering that though in honor bound, like england, by three solemn treaties, to respect belgium's neutrality, the german government have, in august , ordered their army to violate belgian territory in order to more easily invade france to which they had declared war; "whereas great britain, in honour bound, could not permit the crushing of belgium by the german empire; "considering, moreover, that germany, after mutilating and destroying belgium, by the deprivation of her independence, after triumphing over france which she would have once again dismembered, would have undertaken to beat england to deprive her of sea supremacy, in order to obtain, by this last conquest, her domination over europe and almost all the world; "considering that the defeat of england might very likely have resulted in the cession of canada to germany; "considering that the world at large is greatly interested in the maintenance of england and france as first class powers on account of their services in favour of human civilization and liberty; "considering that the german armies have accompanied their military operations with untold barbarous acts, by the murder of priests, of peaceful citizens, of wounded soldiers, of religious women, of mothers, of previously criminally outraged young girls, of old men, of young children, with the destruction by fire and otherwise of cathedrals, churches,--monuments of the christian art,--of libraries--sanctuaries of science--of historical monuments, the legitimate glory and pride of human genius; "whereas the german government is guilty of the murder of thousands of persons, men, women and children, by the sinking of merchant vessels--the lusitania, for instance--by its submarine ships, without giving the notices required by international law; "whereas from the very beginning of the war, the allied nations, england, france and russia, have jointly agreed, in honour bound, to require, as the essential peace condition, the cessation by all the belligerent powers of the crushing and ruinous militarism prevailing before the opening of the hostilities, by the fault of germany's obstination to constantly strengthen her military organization both on land and sea; "considering that england and her allies are struggling for the most venerable and sacred cause:--_outraged justice_--; that, being a british colony, _canada is justly engaged in the present cruel and deplorable conflict, for the defence of the right and the true liberty of nations; that our canadian soldiers are valiantly fighting with those of england, france and belgium for the great cause of sovereign importance--the protection of the world threatened by germanism_; "considering that england, to which the political life of canada is bound, and france, to which the french canadians owe their national existence, _have to fight for sacred interests in a war of endurance_ requiring the incessant renewal of all the energies of the most ardent patriotism, the victims of which falling on the field of honour have the merit of giving their lives _for justice_"; "considering that, though wishing the restoration of peace as soon as possible, and earnestly praying divine providence to favour the world with the blessings of peace, more and more urgently needed after this assault of abominable barbarism against christian civilization lasting for the last four years, the allies are absolutely unable to terminate the war by giving their consent to conditions which would not protect humanity against the direst consequences of the militarism fastened by the german empire on the nations so anxious to bring it to an end; "be it "resolved":-- "that this meeting approves of the free and patriotic decision of the federal parliament to have canada to participate in the so very just war which england, france, belgium, the united states and italy are fighting against the german and austrian empires, allied in an effort to dominate the world; "that this meeting's strong opinion is that, on account of the terrible crisis menacing the british empire and civilization, it was the bounden duty of canada to intervene in the war for the safety of the mother country and her own, for the salvation of liberty and _of the sacred cause of outraged justice_; "that this meeting desires to express her admiration and profound gratitude for the braves who enlist in the grand army which the canadian parliament has ordered to be organized for the defence of the cause of the allies, which is also that of the civilized world; "that this meeting also concur in the opinion that canada is in duty bound to continue to participate in the present war until the final victory of the allies, which will guarantee to the world a lasting peace and put an end to german militarism which has been the direct cause of so much dire misfortunes for humanity." the italics of the above draft "resolution" are quoted from the writings and speeches of leaders of french canadian roman catholics. there was no need of calling meetings to adopt the preceding "resolution" with its well defined preamble. it had been approved, in all its bearings, at the outset of the hostilities by the unanimous decision of the canadian parliament, by the almost unanimous consent of public opinion, by the religious, social, commercial, industrial and financial leaders of the country. it had been so approved by the four hundred thousand brave canadians who rallied to the colours; by the subscribers, by thousands, to the national war loans. since writing the above draft "resolution", its full substance has been almost unanimously approved by the canadian people in general elections, the two contending political parties entirely agreeing so far as the justice of the cause of the allies was concerned, differing only as to the best means for canada to adopt to achieve final victory. without entering into any considerations respecting the divergence of the views of the leaders of political thought, in the still recent electoral campaign,--from which it is more advisable for me to abstain in the interest of the cause i am defending--i may be allowed to remark that only a small remnant of the "nationalist" element dared to reaffirm his hostility to canada's intervention in the conflict and to avow his opinion _that the country had done enough_. what did those irreconcilable "nationalists"--so few in numbers as the event ultimately proved--mean by their assertion that _canada had done enough for the war_? according to its literal wording, it must have signified that no more sacrifices should have been incurred for the triumph of the allied cause. if it was so, the conclusion to be drawn from such sayings was that, to put an end to any further canadian contributions, orders should be given to bring back the canadian army from europe, and to send home all the forces still on canadian soil. it is plain that even if the new canadian parliament had decided not to increase our contribution of man-power, in order to maintain the efficiency of the canadian divisions at the front, large sacrifices would have had to be made to keep on the theatre of war the forces which were still in the field. to refuse to participate in the war would have been deserting the flag at the hour of danger, and a total misconception of our plain duty. giving up the fight, once engaged in the struggle, before triumphant victory, or irremediable defeat, in the very thick of the battle so heroically carried on by the allies, would have been sheer cowardice--bolchevikism of the worst kind. whether they meant it or not, those few "nationalists" dared not openly propose the recall of our troops. the solitary "nationalist" candidate who had the nerve to face the electorate was defeated by a very large majority. no better proof of the weakness of the hold of the doctrines of "nationalism," on sound public opinion, is required than the decision of its most outspoken advocate and leader, mr. bourassa, to refrain from being a candidate in any constituency, and to advise all his supposed friends to do likewise. no one was deceived, with regard to this decision, by the reasons, or rather excuses, given to explain it. evidently, if the "nationalist" group and their leader had been confident of the support of the large number of electors whose opinion they pretended to represent, they would certainly not have lost the chance to show their strength, and the opportunity to elect many candidates of their persuasion to enter parliament free from any party allegiance but that of their own element. but any one somewhat posted with the currents of public opinion in the province of quebec, knew very well that if pure "nationalist" candidates had been nominated in all the constituencies of the province, running between the regular party nominees,--ministerial and opposition--the average number of ballots cast for them would scarcely have reached ten per cent. of the french canadian votes, less than two per cent. of the whole canadian electorate. it was moreover highly probable that, had they tried the game, they would not have even succeeded, in two-thirds of the constituencies, in inducing citizens of sufficient standing to accept their nomination and their political program. once engaged in such a hopeless electoral contest, they would have had either to humbly retire from the field, or to await the doomed day by nominating men of no weight whatever. both alternatives would have led them to an equally disastrous defeat. unjust "nationalist" grievances against england. at the end of the very first page of mr. bourassa's pamphlet, entitled:--_what do we owe england_?--in french:--que devons-nous à l'angleterre?,--the following lines are found:--(_translation._) british imperialism, in its concrete and practical form, can be defined in ten words: =the active participation by the colonies in the wars of england=. it is almost precisely the definition i gave of it as early as the days of the african war. it is exact. considered from a larger point of view, from its profound causes and far reaching consequences, british imperialism calls for a more ample definition. its object is to have great britain dominate the world by means of the organization and concentration of all the military forces of the empire--both sea and land forces--; it means the gradual annihilation, or at least the enslaving of all the divers nationalities constituting the british empire, in order to bring about the world's supremacy of the anglo-saxon race, of her thoughts, of her language, of her political conceptions, of her commerce and her wealth. its object is to crush all competitions, all internal and external oppositions. it is the german ideal; it is the roman ideal. it is the imperialism of all countries, at all times, enlarged to the limits of the monstrous pretensions of pan-anglo-saxonism. all the propositions of the above quotation do not bear, for one single instant, the light of historical research, of reason, even of common sense. i challenge mr. bourassa, and any one else, to read the speeches and the writings of all those who have studied the great question of the future of the british empire, and to detect therein one single word to justify the assertion _that the organization and concentration of all the military forces of the empire have for their object to help england to dominate the world_. i have already abundantly proved that england never aspired to dominate the world. i answered mr. bourassa's unfounded propositions as follows:-- --i will surely be allowed to say that for nearly the last fifty years, i have done my best efforts to keep myself well informed with the opinions expressed by the most authorized political men of the mother country--of all parties--by the most renowned publicists, by the most distinguished writers of the great english press. i have yet to read one sentence leading me to suppose that the mind of any one of them was haunted by the foolish hope of great britain's domination of the world. many of them have spoken and written to persuade their countrymen of the growing urgency to consider the most effective measures to be adopted to defend the empire, in view of the efforts of other nations--notably germany--to strengthen their military organizations. no one advised them to incur the most heavy sacrifices _in order to dominate the world_. they had too much political sense to believe that such a ridiculous scheme could ever be carried out. --what the "nationalist" leader calls british imperialism never had for its objective _the gradual suppression, or at least the enslaving of the divers nationalities constituting the british empire_. such an assertion is nothing less than a stroke of the imagination which recent history utterly refutes, proving, as it does, the very reverse, as follows:-- a--the creation, by imperial charters, of the great autonomous federal canadian, australian, south african dominions. b--the federal system adopted for the dominion of canada purposely for the protection of the french canadians whose special interests are entrusted to the legislature of the province of quebec. c--the south african union charter is the guarantee of the boers' control of the future of that vast stretch of country, by means of the two fundamental principles of the british constitutional system:--government by the majority combined with ministerial responsibility. no empire in the world grants as large a measure of freedom as the british empire does, to the various national groups living under the protection of her flag. --british imperialism, contrary to mr. bourassa's assertion, was never deluded by the wild dream _of a world wide supremacy of the anglo-saxon race, of her thoughts, of her language, of her political conceptions, of her commerce and her wealth_. surely, i have yet to learn that great britain has dreamt, and is dreaming, to impose _by force_ her "mentality," her language, her political institutions to china, to japan, to russia, to france, to all the south american republics, to italy, to spain, to germany, to austria-hungary, to turkey, &c., which, considered as a whole, represent, any one must admit, a pretty large part of the universe. --mr. bourassa's assertion that england aspires to dominate the world, _economically_, _commercially_, is most positively contradicted by the history of the last eighty years. who does not know--and i cannot for a moment suppose that mr. bourassa ignores it--that, nearly a century ago, great britain, finally rallied in favour of a free trade policy, has opened her market free to the products of all the nations of the world. is that not a rather strange way of aspiring to an economical domination! and whilst all the countries of the earth, the british colonies as well as foreign nations, can freely sell their goods in the british market, they protect their own markets by high customs duties--in some cases almost prohibitive--against british goods. national commercial statistics are opened to the "nationalist" leader's perusal as to any one else. if he had referred to them, he would have learned that the foreign trade of great britain, in , the year preceding the outbreak of the war, amounted to $ , , , ; exports were valued at $ , , , ; imports totalized $ , , , , exceeding the exports by the large amount of $ , , . by looking at the figures, mr. bourassa would only have had to call upon his common sense to draw the conclusion that england was certainly not moving along an easy road to the commercial domination of the world by maintaining a policy resulting in an import trade larger, by an annual average of nearly twenty per cent., than her exportations. before the war, germany, by rapid strides, had succeeded in attaining the second rank amongst the great trading nations, coming next after great britain. in the same year-- --her foreign trade totalized $ , , , , divided as follows:--imports $ , , , ; exports $ , , , . the really wonderful industrial and commercial expansion of germany, during the last forty years previous to the war, offered another opportunity to mr. bourassa to show his spite against great britain. he would have been sorry not to make the best of it. calling into play his fertile imagination, he unhesitatingly charged england with deep rooted jealousy of germany's trade success and the guilty intent to crush it out of existence. to this absurd assertion--not using the word offensively, being always determined to be courteous in any discussion i engage--i answered by quoting the figures of the reciprocal relative external british and german trade. in , great britain sold to germany goods to the amount of $ , , , and bought german products for a total value of $ , , . great britain's exports to germany were then only about fifty per cent of her imports from the same market. it is indeed difficult to detect in such trade relations between two nations any sign of the intent, on the part of the country buying from the other double the value of her sales to her, to dominate her people commercially. any one knowing all the circumstances and the causes that imposed upon great britain the duty of taking part in the european struggle, cannot help being shocked at mr. bourassa's accusation _that england has incidentally been brought into the conflict only through the frantic desire of her business men to use it to crush the commercial competition of germany_. no serious men could have entertained such strange notions. and the "nationalist" leader certainly charged the political leaders and the business community of england with sheer madness. with all right minded men, the world over, i have long ago reached the sound conclusion that universal economical domination is only a chimerical idea absolutely outside of all possible realization. england does not indulge in any such extravagant dream, being too well aware how vain it would be. may i ask my readers--and mr. bourassa has been one of them,--to join with me in a short general review of the economical progress of the world, in its broadest lines, rising, for this purpose, as should be done in all cases, superior to all national and local prejudices. a grand natural scenery is always better appreciated from the mountain top. equally so, questions of universal import must be considered from the heights of the noblest principles inspiring the christian desire to promote the general good of mankind. considered from this elevated standpoint, very short-sighted indeed is the man who fails to see that the economical progress of the world, agriculturally, industrially, commercially, is bound up with intelligent, energetic and persevering labour; that it is the outcome of the improvements of all the means of production, to the constant increased perfection of the agricultural and industrial arts, to the enlargement of the resources of capital, accumulated by judicious savings. it is bound with the improvement of means of transportation by land and sea; with the much enlarged facilities of the exchange of all kinds of products; with the superior management,--the result of a much wider experience--of all the institutions distributing credit; with the energetic development of all the resources which generous providence has profusely provided the earth for the good of humanity. it is more than useless to expect economical progress from disastrous armed conflicts which, in the course of a few years, nay, only a few months, destroy the accumulated wealth of many years of incessant labour. war is productive of untold material losses. as a general rule, it cannot make the nations of the world richer. many successive generations have for a long time to bear the crushing burden which they inherit from guilty ambitious rulers as the only result of their thirst of vain glory. materially, a nation may profit by an unjust war, resulting in the defeat of a weaker rival, but the riches thus acquired by the one, either by territorial acquisitions, or by the payment to her of war contributions and indemnities, or both, from the other, are merely transferred from the vanquished to the victor. the great society of nations, instead of gaining anything by it, is only losing, as a whole, the total amount of the financial cost of the military operations, of the squandering of hard earned savings, of diminished labour and production, of the waste of productive capital, of the loss of so many long days which could have been so much better employed. but most deplorable is the loss entailed by the warring nations, and the universe at large, by the sacrifice of the younger generations, of early youth and of strongly developed manhood, for the success of tyrannical and criminal purposes. there can be but one justification--and it is a noble, a glorious one--of the sacrifice of so many valuable lives and so much material wealth: the sacredness, the sanctity of the cause for which a nation, or a group of peoples, take up arms against an enemy, or enemies, only intent on crushing weaker rival, or rivals, by all the illegitimate means at his, or their command, for self-aggrandizement, for unjust domination. such is the present war: sacred and just on the allied side; abominable, brutal, barbarous on the german side, enhanced in its guilt by the ferocious turks and the shameful submission of the enslaved austrians to the overpowering will of their teutonic masters. it will not have cost too much if it has the result of freeing mankind from the horrors of german militarism, assuring to the world a long reign of justice and moral grandeur. england can rightly claim a very large part of the merit accruing to all those who have contributed to the immense material progress of the world during the last century. she has actively and most intelligently worked for it by her vigorous industrial and commercial development, by the very numerous billions of dollars she has contributed, all over the world, to railway building and oceanic navigation. she has contributed to it by her extraordinary amount of savings which allowed her to supply the capital required for so many varied enterprises over all the continents. she has played the very important part of universal banker, distributing her immense treasures to foster production of all kinds everywhere. she has most largely contributed to the economic phenomenon of the gradual diminution of the universal rate of interest. if, according to mr. bourassa's strange notion, all this is to be considered as equivalent to economical domination, the more the whole world will enjoy it the better, more prosperous it will be, and future generations will have so much more cause for rejoicing at its increased development, and to be grateful to england for it. the witnesses who, for the last sixty years, have lived with their eyes opened, preferring the full shining light of the bright days of universal economical development to the darkness obscuring fanatical minds only intent on stirring up local, sectional and national prejudices, and miserable petty ambitions, have rejoiced at the greatly varied advantages humanity has derived from the gifts of providence favouring her with the great scientific discoveries which have worked, are still, and will for all times, work wonders for her material prosperity. the regular tendency of those natural forces recently applied to production is an increased movement towards the unification of the industrial, commercial and financial interests of the world. the vital energies of all peoples have more or less been stimulated by the same causes, operating everywhere, reaching until lately unknown and undeveloped regions. engineering genius, broadened by the new scientific resources at its command, has triumphed over all difficulties. the gigantic locomotive, drawing palatial passenger coaches, and sometimes as much as a hundred heavily loaded freight cars, run by thousands and thousands daily through luxurious prairies. they cross giant rivers, ascend with alertness the highest mountains, or rush through tunnels which the skill and hard work of man has pierced through them, backed by the financial power of millions of money. automobilism covers the whole universe, multiplying intercourse and human relations, and making possible, in a few days of marvellous organization, a glorious military victory like that almost miraculously carried at the marne. giant steamers, of fifty to sixty thousand tons--of a hundred thousand in the near future--ply, day and night, over the high seas. in mid-ocean they scatter human thoughts through the air to very distant points. they carry within their large skulls immense quantities of the most varied products. means of transportation have become so numerous, so improved, so rapid, that the surplus agricultural production of the most fertile regions do reach, in a few short days, the countries which, on account of their numerous industrial and commercial population, have to import a large quantity of food products. the equilibrium between production and consumption becomes yearly more easily obtainable. famine by the inequality of agricultural production is very much less to be apprehended. millions of human beings are no longer, as hitherto, threatened to die by starvation at the same time that more favoured regions had a surplus of food products which they could not use, sell, or export. without a most powerful capitalization of savings--totaling, in some cases, billions of dollars--without the marvellous development of the great transportation industry by land and sea, could the canadian and american western grain crops be delivered, within a few days' time, with an astonishing rapidity and at very small cost, on all the markets where they are absolutely required for daily consumption. every country on earth is multiplying her efforts to develop her manufacturing interests by an active and intelligent use of the raw materials with which her territory has been favoured by nature. to this intense economical development of the world, all the peoples are contributing their shares in various proportions, of course:--in europe, great britain, france, germany, russia, austria, italy, belgium, &c.; in the two americas, the united states, canada--canada with the sure prospects of such a grand future--the argentine republic, brazil, &c.; in asia, japan, china, and the so very large asiatic regions of russia; in africa, the british colonies, egypt, algeria, &c.; and australia, so recently opened to the glories of christian civilization, blooming in the pacific ocean washing her shores, fertilizing her lands nearer to its refreshing breeze. who does not see that all this development tends naturally to the economical unity of the world. if humanity is ever effectively delivered from the dangers of wars like the one actually desolating her so cruelly, she will have to be grateful for this great boon to the unification, on a larger scale, of the general interests of all the nations requiring permanent peace for their regular and harmonious growth. to the wonderful material prosperity achieved as above explained, england has contributed her legitimate share, without trying to dominate economically the universe which derived all the great advantages which her business genius has so largely developed. it must not be supposed that i lose sight of the inconveniences which material prosperity may entail. one of them is the tendency to bend the national aspirations to materialism. this can be counteracted by the national will to apply material development to the more important intellectual, moral and religious progress of the people at large. any nation aspiring to dominate the world by brute force or by the power of wealth, would be guilty of attempting an achievement just as vain as it would be criminal in its conception. any nation is within her undoubted right and duty in aspiring to the legitimate influence of her material progress, of her intellectual culture, of her moral development, of her religious increased perfection. happy indeed would be the future of humanity if all the nations and their rulers understood well, and did their best efforts to practice christian precepts in the true spirit of their divine teaching. chapter xviii. imperialism. mr. bourassa is apparently so frightened by what he calls _imperialism_ that the horrible phantom being always present to his imagination, he shudders at it in day time, and wildly dreams of it at night. judging by what he has said and written, he seems to have worried a great deal, for many years past, about the dire misfortunes which, he believed, were more and more threatening the future of the world by the strong movement of imperialist views he detected everywhere. it is the great hobby which saddens his life, the terrible bugbear with which he is ever trying to arouse the feelings of his french canadian countrymen against england. the deceased british statesman, called joseph chamberlain, by his efforts to promote the unity of the empire, inspired mr. bourassa with a profound fear which he wanted his compatriots to share by all the means at his command:--public speeches, newspaper editorials, pamphlets. he charged him with the responsibility of the _infamous crime_ he brought england to commit in accepting the challenge of president kruger and the then south african republic, and fighting for the defence of her sovereign rights in south africa. according to the nationalist leader, a vigorous impulse was given by the south african war to the political evolution which he termed _british imperialism_. nothing was further from the true meaning of this important event. in refuting mr. bourassa's assertion, i showed that the south african war was not the outgrowth of imperialist ideas, and that it has in no way resulted in a dangerous advance of the kind of imperialism which so much frightens him and all those who experience his baneful influence. as i have previously proved, the south african campaign was imposed upon england by the then aspiration of a section only of boer opinion, led by the unscrupulous and haughty president kruger, imprudently relying on the support of the german kaiser who had hastened to congratulate him for his success in the jameson raid. it resulted not in favor of imperialism of the type so violently denounced by mr. bourassa, but in a most beneficent expansion of political freedom by the granting of the free british institutions to the new great south african overseas dominion. it is only the other day that ex-premier asquith, on the occasion of a great public function, has declared that premier botha, the former most prominent boer general, was now one of the strongest pillars of the british empire. it being so important to set the opinion of the french canadians right respecting that question of imperialism, so much discussed of late, and by many with so little political sense and historical knowledge, i would not rest satisfied with a refutation of the special bourassist appreciation of the causes and results of the south african conflict. i summarized, in a condensed review, the divers phases of the political movement which can properly be called _imperialism_, tracing its origin as far back as the organization of the first great political powers known to history: the persian, the egyptian, the greek empires, &c. more than ever before, imperialism was triumphant during the long roman domination of almost all the then known world. every student of history is impressed by the grandeur of the part played by the roman empire in the world's drama. constantine struck the first blow at roman imperialism--unwillingly we can rest assured--in laying the foundations of constantinople, and dividing the roman empire into the western and eastern empires. at last, after repeated invasions, the northern barbarians succeeded in smashing the roman colossus. after many long years during which european political society passed through the incessant turmoil of rival ambitions, charlemagne sets up anew the western empire, being coronated emperor in rome. ever since, amidst multiplied ups and downs, imperialism has swayed to and fro by the successive edification and overthrow of the holy roman empire, the short lived napoleonic european domination, the recently organized north german empire. so far as imperialism is concerned, all those great historical facts considered, how best can it be defined? is it not evident that from the very birth of political societies for the government of mankind, a double current of political thoughts and aspirations has been concurrently at work, with alternate successes and retrocessions: one tending towards large political organizations, uniting a variety of ethnical groups; the other operating the reverse way to bring about their dissolution in favour of multiplied small sovereignties. each of the two opposing political systems has had its ebb and flow tides; the waves of the one, in their flowing days, washing the shores of the other until they had to recede before the pressure caused by the exhaustion of their own strength and the increased resistance of internal opposition. viewed from this elevated standpoint, imperialism is not new under the sun. it is as ancient as the world itself. mr. bourassa has been uselessly spending his energy in breaking his head against a movement which is in the very nature of things, developing the same way under the same favourable conditions and circumstances. are the days we live so fraught with the dangers of imperialism as to justify the fears of the alarmist? the answer would be in the affirmative, the question being considered from the point of view of germany's autocratic imperialism, if the free nations of the world had not joined in a holy union to put an end to its extravagant and tyrannical ambition. but how is it that mr. bourassa, the heaven-born anti-imperialist, so frightened at the supposed progress of british imperialism, is so lenient towards teutonic imperialism? how is it that from the very first days of the gigantic struggle calling for the most heroic efforts of the human race to emerge safe and free from the furious waves powerfully set in motion by the most daring absolutism that ever existed, he has not thought proper to chastise as it deserved the worst kind of imperialism that he could, or any one else, imagine? taking for granted that the present economical conditions of the universe, likely to intensify, are working for great political organisations, from the causes previously explained, any intelligent observer could not fail to see that for the last century four great imperialist evolutions have been concurrently--or rather simultaneously--developing themselves; they were the british, the teutonic, the russian, the republican in the united states. let no one be astonished at seeing the two words _imperialism_ and _republicanism_ coupled together. in their true sense, they are easily conciliated. the roman republic, by the grandeur of its part, was imperialist as much as the empire to which she gave birth. cæsar, without the imperial crown was emperor as much as august. he was more so by his genius, and by the eminent position he had acquired by one of the most brilliant careers in history. bonaparte, general and first consul, in the closing days of the first french republic, was emperor as much as he became on the day of his coronation, at paris, by the sovereign pontiff. imperialism being a great historical fact through all the ages, and most certainly destined to further developments, is it to be judged favourably or alarmingly? no doubt the problem is of the greatest possible political importance. the question can, i consider, be at the outset simplified as follows:--would the prosperity, the freedom, the happiness of the world be better served by great political powers, or by the multiplication of small sovereignties? it is just as well, and even better, to admit at once that a unique, a dogmatic, answer cannot be given to that question. independent nations, sovereign societies, are not created at will by men, merely according to their fancy, to their variable and very often undefined wishes. history teaches that they are the outgrowth of various circumstances, of many divergent causes,--the most important, the one inscrutable, being always the action of divine providence directing the destinies of peoples as well as those of every human being. different causes produce, of course, different results. large and small political communities can surely be productive of much good for their populations. much depends upon the intelligence, the wisdom, the devotion, the patriotism of the rulers and the governed. they can also do much harm. unfortunately, the readers of past events have too much reason to deplore that both large and small political organizations have been equally guilty of maladministration, of ambitious cupidity of their neighbours' possessions, of unjust wars. as an uncontrovertible example, can i not point to the present german empire, whose origin dates back to the days of the very small prussia of two centuries ago, fighting her way up to her actual greatness by successive, unfair, and often criminal aggressions. after reading much of the history of past ages, i have not been able to come to the conclusion--and the more i read, the less inclined i am to do so--that the days when england, france, central europe, italy, &c., were subdivided into numerous small political organizations, almost always warring, were preferable to ours, even darkened and saddened as they are by the present trials and sufferings. if, on the other hand, the causes which at all times have tended to the creation of large political sovereignties are gradually acquiring an increased momentum of strength and activity, from the changed conditions brought about by the great scientific discoveries so wonderfully developing the commercial relations of the nations, is it not more advisable to study the true nature of the evolution and the good it can produce, rather than to shiver at the supposed prospects of an imperialist cataclysm so certainly to be averted if public opinion is sound and rulers wise. crying on the shores of the st. lawrence, against the advance of the rolling waves, would not prevent the tide from running up. the mad man who would try it, and persist in remaining on the spot, displaying his indignant and extravagant protest, would surely be submerged and drowned. political developments, like many others, obey natural laws which no true statesman can ignore nor overlook. because the limits of a political organization are extended, does it necessarily follow that only deplorable consequences can be expected from their enlargement? surely not. one might as well pretend that unity, cohesion, strength, grandeur, are only productive of baneful results. is it not a certainty that they can be equally beneficial or harmful, according to the intellectual and moral qualities of those who are called upon to apply them to the best interests of those they govern. german imperialism, for instance, was not _per se_ a public misfortune. it became such because instead of using its instrumentality for the general good of the world as well as that of germany, it was applied to a barbarous and criminal purpose to satisfy unjust and senseless aspirations. in the same years, all the resources of british imperialism,--so abhorrent to mr. bourassa and his nationalist adepts who view with such meekness the teutonic type--have been brought into play for the freedom of the world and the protection of the small nationalities--notably belgium. bulgaria was a small state. was it on this account less ambitious and troublesome for its neighbours? any one conversant with the recent balkan history knows that bulgaria has from the start aspired to dominate the balkan states. when the berlin government struck the hour which was to throw not only europe, but three-fourths of the universe into the worst horrors of war, has bulgaria rallied to the defence of her weak neighbour, servia? has she proved any sympathy for treacherously crushed belgium? i emphatically declare that i would oppose imperialism with all my might, if i thought that it is by nature a necessary producer of absolutism, of autocratic tyranny. but, the british precedent considered through all its beneficial developments, i must recognize that true imperialism is not incompatible with the just and wise exercise of political liberty, with respectful protection of the rights and conditions of the divers national elements under its ægis. i pray to remain to my last day a faithful friend of the political liberties of the people. knowing, as i do, how hard it is to apply them to the government of nations--great or small--i am not bewildered by vain illusions. but i cannot conceive--and never will--that the justice of the real principles of political liberty is to be denied on account of the difficulties of their satisfactory working, certainly obtainable when applied in conformity with the dictates of moral laws owing all their power to their divine origin. the best political institutions which can work out such great advantages for the populations enjoying them, are too often diverted from their beneficient course by the vicious passions of those who are charged with, and responsible for, their administration. it would be most illogical to draw the inference that good institutions become bad by their guilty management. free and autocratic governments are essentially different in their natural structure. though liable to mismanagement by unscrupulous politicians, free institutions can, under ordinary favourable conditions, be trusted to be productive of much good for the peoples living under their protection. autocracy--the whole human history proves it--by nature engenders absolutism. crowned or revolutionary despots as a rule are not imbued with the patriotism nor purified by the virtues required for the good government of a country. kaiserism, terrorism and bolshevikism are equally despicable and unfit to contribute to the sound progress which liberty, practiced by sensible and wise men, can develop. reverting to the nationalist bugbear, which does not in the least move me to despair of canada's future, i consider that imperialism, sensibly appreciated, is of two kinds: autocratic imperialism; democratic imperialism:--absolutism is the foundation stone of the former; political liberty that of the latter. i am energetically opposed to the first. i sincerely believe that the second can do a great deal for the prosperity of the countries where it has regularly and justifiably been developed according to the natural laws of its growth. autocratic imperialism, in contemporaneous history, is almost exclusively typified by its teutonic production. a general review of the world shows that for the last century, and more, with one sad exception, all the nations have been moving along the path leading to a greater freedom of their institutions. even japan and china have joined in the race. russia had deliberately done so. much was expected from her first efforts, and much would certainly have been reaped in due course had not the calamitous war still raging at first opened an opportunity for the reactionary russian element, strongly influenced by german intrigues, spies and money, to check, through the petrograd court, the forward movement of russian political liberty, and to impede, for germany's sake, the success of the russian military operations. under those circumstances--as was also to be expected--the advancing wave of the aspirations of the great russian people for more political freedom, was bound either to recede before the autocratic outburst, or to rush impetuously against the wall germany was to her best helping to raise against it. the latter prevision happened, history once more repeating itself. even barbarous turkey, in recent years, had been somewhat shaken by a sudden desire to remove some of her secular shackles. the young turks movement might have had some desirable results had the ottoman empire, as every national and political considerations should have induced her to do, sided with france and england. germany is actually the only country in the world where autocratic imperialism has been flourishing during the last century. we all know the extent and the grievousness of the calamity it has wrought on the universe. during the same last century, democratic imperialism--using the term in its broadest and most reasonable meaning--has had two distinct beneficial developments:--the monarchical democratic imperialism, and the republican democratic imperialism. the monarchical democratic or free imperialism--it is scarcely necessary for me to say--is that of great britain. the republican democratic or free imperialism is that of the united states of america, of the argentine republic, of brazil. happily the two great and glorious countries which are favoured with the advantages of the democratic type of imperialism are united in a grand and noble effort to destroy the german autocratic imperialism in chastisement of its criminal aspirations to universal domination. the two types of democratic or free imperialism--the monarchical and the republican--can be better illustrated by a comparative short historical study of their development in great britain and her colonies, and in the united states. i summarize it as follows, beginning by the last mentioned, as it requires a shorter exposition. chapter xix. american imperialism. the still recent and wonderful growth of the two american continents, in population and wealth, is almost an incredible marvel. it is none the least politically. the two americas, by the extent of their areas, the vastness of their productive lands, the length and largeness of their mighty rivers, the broadness of their lakes, the grandeur of their scenery, seem to be most adapted to great developments of many kinds. it is difficult to think of small conceptions originating in the new world, which the genius of columbus discovered and the combined genius of all the great races of the old are united in developing. let me first put the question:--when the leading european nations undertook to colonize the new continents, were they not, consciously or not, throwing the imperialist seed in a fertile land where it was sure to take root and blossom? spain, france, and, last, england were certainly not obeying the dictates of our "nationalist school" when they brought under their sovereign authority such vast stretches of american territory. that christian civilization was to be extended to the new great hemisphere, goes without saying. that the riches, then unknown, of the new world, were to be extracted from the land so full of them, was one of the duties of the discoverers, all will admit. the european governments in extending their sovereignties to america unfortunately adopted the mistaken colonial policy then still too much prevalent. their error was to stick to the wrong conception that a colony was important only in the measure that it could be favourable to the interests of the metropolis. history proves that this colonial system is bound to lead to unfair treatment of the colonies. absolutism, then dominant in europe, could not be expected to show any tender leniency towards the colonials who were above all to work for the wealth and glory of the metropolis. spain proved to be the worst promoter of that regime. her failure has been most complete. she has had to withdraw her flag from the very large part of america over which it might have been kept waving, if sounder and more just political notions had prevailed in the narrowed minds of her rulers. england, treading along the wrong path of colonial oppression, but in a much less proportion, had to face a like result in the revolt of her american colonies. fortunately for her, for america and the world at large, the event widely opened her eyes. in acknowledging the independence of the young republic of the united states, she was destined to be proud of her offspring in witnessing the astonishing development of the child to whom she had given birth. could she have then foreseen that the day would come when at the hour of her dire trial, the daughter who threw off her motherly authority, too stringently exercised, would rush to her support for the defence of the very principles of political liberty for which she, the child, had fought for her independence, how soon would england have forgotten the sufferings of the parting and blessed providence for them! the american revolution, successfully carried out, was the occasion for england to revolutionize her colonial policy. she was the first nation--and i am sorry to say she has remained alone--to understand with great clearness that the old colonial regime, fraught with such disastrous consequences, must be done away with and replaced by the new one which called the colonies to the enjoyment, to the largest possible extent, of the free institutions of the mother land. like every new born child, whose laborious birth was critical, the american republic experienced great difficulties the very moment she commenced to breathe freely. so true it is always that national development, like personal success, cannot be achieved without struggle. the united states offer the example of the best development of the imperialist evolution in the world. it dates as far back as the proclamation of the independence of the republic. when she was admitted into the international society of sovereign states, she had at first to settle her political organization. the framing of a constitutional charter proved to be a very arduous task, at times almost desperate. three sets of divergent opinions were fighting at close range during the protracted and solemn deliberations which at last reached a happy conclusion. thirteen american british colonies had coalesced to wring their independence from england. the goal once attained, a first group of opinion was favoured by the supporters of the dissolution of the temporary union organized to secure the independence of the whole, but to revert, they said, if successful, to their previous separate status. had this view prevailed, at the very start north america would have been cumbered with thirteen sovereign states. many were alarmed at the creation of so many small republics. more reasonable persons suggested to organize three or four of them, instead of thirteen, meeting as much as possible the wants natural to geographical conditions. it was no doubt an improvement on the first mentioned scheme. it met with the hearty support of devoted adepts. it is much to be hoped that they will forever receive from the successive generations of their countrymen the reward of the gratitude they deserve, the true statesmen who, at this important juncture, stepped on the scene and bravely took their stand in favour of the maintenance of the union which had conquered independence, and of the establishment of only one great republic. the celebrated hamilton was their trusted leader. they knew they were undertaking an herculean task. at that time, the population of the thirteen original states, scarcely four millions in number, was scattered over a vast territory, and located, for the most part, on the lands near the atlantic coasts, two thousand miles in length, from north to south. transportation was in a very primitive stage. many years had yet to run before the whistle of the locomotive, powerful and struggling, would be echoed by the solitude of immense forests. no one foresaw that, in less than a century, the overflowing tide of european immigration would roll its waves so powerfully as to cross the whole continent and the rocky mountains to reach the coast of the pacific ocean. with such conditions, so unfavourable to the aspirations of only one new independent state, moulding together political groups so far apart, interests apparently so hostile, the local point of view, local prejudices, were sure to dominate. they inspired the strong current of opinion in favour of the dissolution of the temporary union, and the organization of every one of the old provinces into a separate sovereign state. how, under such circumstances, the friends of a unique national american union succeeded in the marvellous achievement of carrying their point by a prodigy of persuasive demonstration, will forever be a wonder for the student of the republic's history. few in numbers when they boldly threw their challenge, they encountered the shock of local fanaticism heightened by their offensive. everything seemed to predict their utter failure. if ever founders of states have proved the heroism of their convictions, the american federalists have most gloriously done so. undoubtedly, the force of the argument was with them. but what can logic, reason, good sense, too often do against inveterate prejudices? were they, in this particular instance, destined to be powerless? the federalists--such is their historical name--were not to be disheartened by the formidable obstacles thrown in their way. an _imperialist_ inspiration was certainly the basic foundation of their demonstration finally triumphant. they told their countrymen that if they were to erect thirteen small republics upon the burning ruins of the first union to which they owed their independence, they would prepare a very sad future for their children and children's children. european immigration was setting in, slowly but surely. they predicted that the world, this time, would witness, not a barbarous invasion like that which overthrew the roman empire, but one which the old world would overflow to the new continents. this surplus european population would bring over to america christian civilization, the training of hard work, large hopes, courage, experience in many ways, persevering energy, which would transform the boundless regions which could become their national heritage--until then the domain of the wandering indian--into one of the greatest and wealthiest countries on earth. would they commit the irreparable error to destroy the certainty of such a magnificent national destiny, by creating thirteen separate governments, with the sure result of renewing in america, by such race groupings, the atrocious military conflicts which, for centuries, have flooded the european soil with human blood. hamilton and some of his most distinguished friends published that work, entitled: "_the federalist_", which will ever live as one of the broadest and most elevated productions of political intelligence. to all, and especially to the "nationalist" theorists, i strongly recommend the reading of that book, a monument of the genius of great statesmen. in short, after a lengthy discussion characterized by their brilliant eloquence and their argumentative strength, the supporters of the federal union of the thirteen states, under one sovereignty, carried the day. they had well deserved their glorious triumph. the republic of the united states of north america was founded under the ægis of the free constitutional charter which has done so much for her prosperity and her grandeur. such was the initial move of the evolution of american imperialism. those amongst us who desire to learn more about its developments have only to look over the boundary line. the thirteen original states, federally united, have increased to number forty-four, with three more territories gradually developing into statehood. the actual population of the republic is already much over a _hundred million_, living in unrivalled prosperity and contentment on a territorial area of more than _three millions and a half square miles_, larger than all the european continent. the sun of the present century will set upon a people of more than , , , with a splendid situation in a world to the destinies of which they will contribute in many admirable ways, if they are only true to the christian principles which alone can assure civilization and progress. if the term _imperialism_ truly means what the word implies,--_sovereignty being exercised over a large population and a vast territory_, this political evolution, so decried by some, has most undoubtedly achieved a great success amongst our neighbours to the south. in all sincerity, may i not ask every unprejudiced mind:--has not the whole world every reason to be much elated at witnessing the beneficent results of the triumph of the american federalists? evidently, it has been _imperial_ in its nature, in its proportions. it is so in its promises for the future greatness of the republic. it has maintained, with only one exception, peace and harmony during nearly a century and a half, between the descendants of the european nationalities who have trusted their future welfare to the sovereignty of the united states. instead of wasting their energies in endless conflicts, such as numerous small states would have infallibly occasioned, thanks to the unity of the sovereign power binding into an admirable whole territories larger than europe, they have learned to consider themselves as citizens of the same free country, as the free subjects of the same governmental authority. the temporary rupture of the union, caused by the war of secession, was but a vain reactionary action against the powerful current driving the republic towards her grand future. it is most unlikely--i can say _impossible_ without the slightest hesitation--that the united states, after taking such a grand and glorious part in the present war, will abandon the broad and felicitous policy by which they have grown to be one of the greatest independent nations of the world, to drop so low as to adopt the blinding notions of a narrow, sectional, prejudiced and fanatical "nationalism", such as the type which would ruin the future of our own dominion, if ever it was allowed to prevail. they know too well, by the happiest experience, that the only true "_nationalism_" is that which by the united effort of the intelligence, the culture, the strength, the patriotism of citizens of divers races has wrought for them their present admirable national status so full of the brightest promises. when peace shall have been restored, the great and mighty american republic will be one of the leading powers on earth, owing her unrivalled prosperity in a very large measure to her appreciation of the wonderful results obtainable by the union of all her subjects, of whatever racial origins, working with the same heart and devotion for the grandeur of their common country. i am not unduly enthusiastic, i am only speaking the plain truth, when i affirm that the republican imperialism of the united states has been most beneficent, having guaranteed to mankind the inestimable boon of laying deep and strong in a virgin soil, providentially gifted with the most varied, the most abundant, the richest resources, the destinies of a great sovereign nation comprising numerous ethnical groups. this liberal, progressive, peaceful, harmonious imperialism, it is a duty to approve wishing it to achieve new triumphs for the general good of humanity. republican imperialism is also making its way--contaminating it, our "nationalists" would say--in southern america. this large and splendid half of the new world has been for too many years the theatre of civil troubles which appeared endless. a great change for the better has taken place since the beginning of the concentration movement which has united almost the entire southern american continent into eight sovereign states, two of which with really imperial proportions. the brazilian republic has a territorial area of , , square miles, with a population of more than , , increasing at the average rate of six or seven hundred thousand a year. with the great natural resources at her command, she will certainly develop into one great power. the day is not so far distant when it will have a population exceeding _fifty millions_ living in comfort on a soil of luxurious wealth. the argentine republic has a territory of , , square miles in extent. her population is over , , , having doubled during the last twenty years. at this rate of a yearly increase of five per cent., it is easily foreseen what large total it will reach in a few years. it is wealthy, doing the best with her splendid resources, already contributing extensively to feed the population of europe. the other southern american republics--the bolivian, the chilean, the colombian, the peruvian, the venezuelan--have all territorial areas double in extent of those of the great powers of western and central europe. in southern america, like everywhere else, the rising tide is not running in favour of a multiplicity of small sovereignties, always in a warring frame of mind. since her political reorganization, south america, as a whole, has enjoyed the advantages of peace and of a large material progress. in reality the same political phenomenon is to be found in the five continents forming the whole earthly globe. let the "nationalists" call it _imperialism_ if they like, i cannot help concluding that it is the outgrowth of natural causes operating in the sense of larger political units, giving to the nations getting so constituted, prestige, power, grandeur, favouring public order and, in many instances, the development of free institutions. chapter xx. british imperialism. let me now consider the wonderful development of what i have called monarchical democratic or free imperialism. it has so far been exclusively of british growth. it is the typical form of imperialism which has been honoured with the most violent, the most unjust, denunciations of our "nationalists". how did it deserve such an hysterical reprobation? such is the question to which i shall now endeavour to give a decisive negative answer. i have previously once said that british imperialism, like american imperialism, has political liberty as its foundation stone. i think this can easily be proven. any close observer of political events, will agree with me, i am confident, that imperialism is also "offensive" and "defensive" in its expansion. the meaning of these two terms is clear. for the last fifty years, "offensive" imperialism has been the german despotic imperialism. the present war--its criminal work--is the convincing evidence in support of the charge. i have, i believe, proved to the satisfaction of every fair minded man, that during the same last fifty years england's constant efforts have been to maintain peace. consequently, i am authorized to draw the conclusion that british imperialism was not intended to be, and has not been "offensive". the imperialist effort offensively, aggressively and violently tending to the continuous and unmeasured expansion of a sovereign power, with the objective of universal domination by all possible means, however unjust, immoral and savage they may be, is a most guilty effort deserving the severest condemnation. such is the german autocratic imperialism. on the contrary, the defensive imperialist effort, having for its only object the protection of an empire, the maintenance of her standing in the society of nations, and of peace so essential to the general prosperity of the world, is meritorious, beneficient and laudable. such has been the british monarchical democratic imperialism. it is from this elevated standpoint that i will consider the negotiations which, for the last few years, have taken place between the metropolis and her autonomous colonies, respecting imperial defence. while admitting the right of all the free citizens of canada to appreciate them, and entertaining a real respect for the sincerity of opinions which i cannot conscientiously share, i cannot help considering that many amongst us have fallen into a serious error in judging the nature of these negotiations. is it truly, as has been asserted, in obedience to a powerful wave of "offensive imperialism" that great britain has of late convened representatives of her free colonies to meet, in london, to confer about the best means to adopt for the general security of the whole british empire? is it, as also asserted, with the unworthy design to entrap the colonies that their self-appointed delegates have been called in secret conclaves where the political leaders of england would, by unfair and foul means, prevail upon them to agree to unjust sacrifices on the part of the peoples they represented? i am absolutely unable to share such erroneous views. i must admit with all candor that i have not yet been brought to the conclusion that british statesmen are all contaminated with "machiavellism". a free country like the united kingdom is not a land where such deplorable principles are likely to blossom. what are then the extraordinary events which have recently taken place to justify the assertion of the "nationalist" leader that, in the course of the last few years, a complete revolution has been wrought in the relations of the autonomous colonies with their metropolis? of such a revolution, cunningly promoted to bring the colonies against their will to participate in the imperial wars--_les guerres de l'empire_--i do not perceive the smallest shadow of traces. as everybody else, living with their eyes not closed to the light of day, i clearly saw, principally during the last twenty years, that important developments were taking place under the sun; that european equilibrium upon the maintenance of which universal peace so much depended, was rapidly breaking asunder; that the german empire was more and more unmasking her guilty ambition to dominate an enslaved universe; that, to reach that goal, she was organizing an army formidable by its millions of warriors, their superior training, their ironed discipline and their unrivalled armament. i knew that the sadly famous kaiser wilhelm ii. was determined, at all cost, to increase the power of his empire by the addition of a military fleet in such proportions as to be able, in a successful naval battle, to conquer the supremacy of the seas. under such circumstances, was it to be supposed that the statesmen responsible for the government of great britain would be so careless and so blind as not to see the dark spots crowding on the horizon! the problem of imperial defence was then once more raised, not by a mere caprice of vain glory on the part of england, but by the inevitable outcome of the initiative of would-be opponents, if not actually declared enemies. the overseas colonies being more and more likely to be attacked, in a general conflict, was it surprising that the british government was induced to confer with them for their common defence under the new conditions which were surely not of their own metropolitan or colonial creation. all the representatives of great britain, of canada, australia, south africa, new zealand, at the london conferences, took part in those solemn deliberations with the full sense of their responsibility. none of them was so mistaken as to consider the question, of paramount importance, of the defensive organization of the empire, as futile, merely to be used by the astuteness of some and the guilty complicity of others, joining together to sacrifice the future of their common country. the odious imputation, the shameless charge, were equally unjust and calumnious for the british ministers and the colonial public men who, in their turn, went to london to deliberate on subjects so vitally interesting all the component parts of the empire. chapter xxi. the situations of and - compared. our "nationalist" opponents of all colonial participation in the imperial wars, affirm that canada should have abided with the convention of . are they not aware that, since that year, a great deal of water has run along the rivers; that the world, although perhaps not wiser, has at least grown half a century older; that so many ancient conditions have radically changed; that nations, like individuals, to be progressive, cannot go on marking time on the same small hardened spot? any man sincerely desirous to form for himself an enlightened opinion on the question of imperial defence, must first admit that two national and general situations, totally different, create widely different duties. let us compare for a moment, and - --_yesterday and to-day_--as the "nationalist" leader says. fifty years ago, the german empire was non-existent. nothing pointed to the early birth of this terrible child destined to grow so rapidly to such colossal proportions. the french empire was the leading continental power; great britain, then as now, the leading naval power, both military and mercantile. those two nations, without a formal alliance, had been united ever since the days when lord palmerston favoured the advent of napoleon iii. the union of england and france was doing much to maintain the peace of the world. the united states were just emerging from the trials of their great civil war. they had to solve the very difficult problem of their national reconstruction. their population did not exceed thirty-five millions. how different was the situation of - ! the german empire had become formidable with her population of , , , her soldiers numbering more than , , , with , , of men permanently under arms, ever ready for an offensive campaign, with her fleet much enlarged yearly at the cost of enormous financial sacrifices; allied to austria-hungary, with her population of , , , to italy, with her , , --then being one of the triple alliance--supported by turkey and bulgaria,--in all a combined strength of , , bodies and souls; with the germans exalted to the utmost by persistent appeals to their feelings and to their ambitious dreams. the american republic grown to the rank of a first class power, with a population of , , and a magnificent military fleet. was it even sensible to pretend that such altered worldly conditions did not make the revision of the understanding arrived at in an imperious necessity. they are living in an imaginary world those of us who assert that canada could remain a british colony under a permanent agreement--never to be amended--by which the mother country would be bound to defend her, at all costs and all hazards, whenever and by whomsoever attacked, canada in the meantime refusing, whatever the perils of england might be, to spend a dollar and to send one man for her defence. there could be but one issue to the consideration of such propositions: the dissolution of the british empire. i regret to say that mr. bourassa has audaciously declared that such has been the objective of his oppositionist campaign to the canadian participation in imperial wars. if canada, through its constitutional organ, the ottawa parliament, had signified to england, in , that she would not take the least part in the war imposed upon her by germany, nor do anything to help her allies, france and belgium, could she, without blushing with shame, have claimed the protection of the british flag, if her territory had been attacked. would not england have been fully justified in taking the initiative to break the bond which could henceforth but be disastrous to her, our shameless attitude towards her, at the hour of her peril, being most favourable to her mortal enemy. have i not every sound reason to conclude that canadian participation in the present war was in no way whatever the outcome of an imperialist attempt to drag her, against her will, in the conflict into which she so nobly hastened to enter with the determination to fight to the last, and to deserve her fair share of the glory which will be but one of the rewards that will accrue to all those who will have united together to save liberty and civilization from the german barbarous onslaught. chapter xxii. british imperialism naturally pacifist. according to its "nationalist" opponents, british imperialism has always been of a conquering nature, like that of the roman type and those of ancient history. this opinion is formally contradicted by a long succession of undeniable historical facts. undoubtedly the splendid structure of the british empire was not erected without armed support. the creation, without an army organization, of a sovereign state comprising a fourth of the globe, which component parts, themselves of colossal proportions, situated in all the continents, separated by the immensity of the seas, would have been more than marvellous. i will not pretend that always and everywhere the expansion of british sovereignty has taken place according to the dictates of strict justice. still i do not hesitate to say that, on the whole, it has developed under conditions which were never the outcome of a mere conquering ambition. with much reason, english citizens are proud of the fact that their empire is the result of a natural growth. when the call to arms had to be made, it was oftener for defensive wars. the british empire, outside the united kingdom, comprise, for the most important part, canada, australia, the south african dominion, and india. it is easy to explain, in a few lines, under what general circumstances those immense regions were brought under the british flag. i shall, of course, begin this short historical review by the acquisition of canada by england. the great event of the discovery of the new world, at the end of the fifteenth century, tempted the western european nations to acquire vast colonies in the new continent. spain, france, portugal, holland, were the first in the field. if the craving for large colonies in the new hemisphere was of imperialist inspiration, england does not appear to have been one of the first powers infested with the disease so dreaded by our "nationalists". she was rather late to catch it. hollanders settled in new york before the british. as all ought to know, spain took hold of the whole of southern america. france displayed her flag on the larger part of northern america, commanding the st. lawrence and mississippi rivers, and the great lakes. those immense regions, extending from the cold north to flowery louisiana, were called new france. later on, that part of north america bordering on the atlantic, from maine to virginia, became british, and was subdivided into thirteen provinces, or separate colonies. for such a dominating imperialist, as some pretend she has ever been, it must be admitted that england was rather in a modest frame of mind with regard to her colonial enterprises. the british government itself was slow in moving towards the imperialist goal which was stirring up spain and france to a much greater activity. the first british emigrants were puritans looking for that religious liberty, under a new shining sun, which was denied to them by their native land in those days when fanaticism was unfortunately too much triumphant in many countries. as it was inevitable, the european colonies in america, all satellites of their metropolis, fell victims to the political rivalries of the nations who settled them. not satisfied with fighting in europe, those powers also decided to gratify the new world with a specimen of what they could do on the battlefields. the seven years war did not originate in america, as it was the outcome of secular european international difficulties. if the european nations, in taking possession of america, were making a conquest, it was that of the white race over the yellow one of the new world. spain and france, in raising their flags over four-fifths of the american continent, were surely strengthening imperialism. will our "nationalists" accuse them of having unduly saved the new world from the secular indian barbarism? more especially, spanish imperialism in america was most despotic. by a very false political conception, spain undertook a great settlement work in america with the sole object of bleeding her colonies to her only profit. it failed disastrously as it deserved to. it is because she persevered in her fatal error that, in , she was forced out of cuba. the last stone of her immense colonial edifice was cast away. england shared spain's error, but much less heavily. like spain, she reaped what she had sowed. the thirteen british american colonies revolted and conquered their independence. alone french canada remained loyal to england. if the french canadians had sided with the british colonies to the south in the contest for their independence, the canada of those days would certainly have been included in the american republic when england was forced, by the fate of war, to acknowledge the new sovereign nation. her offspring then violently broke away from the parental home, but has recently hastened to her defence, at the hour of danger, only remembering the first happy years of her childhood. following the loyal advice of their spiritual leaders, and of their most trusted civil chieftains, the french canadians remained true to england, refusing to desert her, thus maintaining her sovereign rights over the northern half of the continent destined, a century later, to develop into the present dominion, enjoying the free institutions of the mother country. as previously stated, the american revolution brought for ever to an end british absolutism in the new continent. henceforth, liberty and autonomy were to be the two foundation stones of a new colonial policy which, far from disrupting the empire as the autocratic one had done, was to cement its union so strongly as to make possible the gigantic military effort she has displayed for more than the last four years. the treaty of paris brought the seven years war to a close. once more the peace of the world was temporarily restored. by the treaty of paris, canada was ceded to england, our "nationalists" say. if so, how can they pretend that the extension of british sovereignty over the regions which have become the great autonomous dominion of canada was an undue manifestation of british conquering imperialism? an intelligent and impartial student of the early settlements of the two continents of america can only draw the conclusion that the new world has not been the theatre of the operations of british imperialism. its first real attempt was tried--with much laudable success--in , by the federal union of the canadian provinces, decreed by the sovereign legislative power of the parliament of great britain, at our own request and in accordance with our own freely expressed wishes. australia is the second autonomous colony of england in extent and importance. it comprises nearly all the territory of the oceanic continent, so called from the geographical position, in the pacific ocean, of the islands forming it. new zealand is the second group of these islands. it is another autonomous british colony, called, since "the dominion of new zealand". those two dominions have a combined territorial area of more than , , square miles--almost as large as the whole of europe--with a population of six millions rapidly increasing. their two largest cities, sydney and melbourne, each having a population of , , are great commercial centres. if british imperialism has had anything to do with the bringing of australia and new zealand under british sovereignty, it must be admitted by all fair minded men that it has worked its way in the most pacific manner. deservedly renowned british explorers--cook, vancouver, and others--discovered and took possession of the oceanic continent in the name of their sovereign. welcomed by the aboriginal tribes, they raised the british flag over the fair land of such a promising future in the latter end of the eighteenth century--cook in . it has ever since been graciously waving, by the sweet breeze of the pacific, over one of the happiest peoples on earth, enjoying the blessings of interior peace and all the advantages of the political liberties conferred upon these great colonies, more than half a century ago. as a matter of fact, england has organized her australasian possessions into free autonomous colonies at the very dawn of their political life, dating from the middle of the last century, when they began that splendid progressive advance developing more and more every year. is it not evident, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the settlement of the australasian colonies by england, so satisfactory and so promising, has not been brought about by the illegitimate ambition of an unmeasured sovereign aggrandizement by a guilty sort of imperialism. the establishment of british sovereignty in the indian country, immense in extent, wealth and population, is one of the greatest events of the historical development of the british empire. i shall not say that all that took place in the government of india deserves a blind approval. that british authority was much too long left in the control of a company was a misfortune. under such a regime abuses were sure to develop and increase. they did and were energetically denounced--more especially on that day when sheridan rose to such an eloquence, in the house of lords, that a motion of adjournment had to be carried, to allow the peers to recover the free control of their minds before rendering judgment in the case brought before their tribunal, impeaching warren hastings. the rule of the indian company was abolished, in , by _the government of india act_. in , the illustrious disraëli--lord beaconsfield--took the statesmanlike decision of adding a new prestige to the british crown and to the sovereign wearing it. he had parliament to adopt the _royal titles act_, by which her majesty queen victoria was proclaimed empress of india. such, in due course, and without any trouble, was accomplished that great political evolution which substituted, for populations numbering more than three hundred millions of human beings, an imperial system in place of the deplorable government by a company. for the last sixty years, the new regime has given peace, order and prosperity to india. a french publicist wrote as follows:-- after troubles of nine centuries duration, india has recovered peace under the tutelage of england, the best colonizer of the peoples of europe. england has rendered an evident service to india. she has freed her from the intestine wars tearing her since her historical origin; she has given her a police and an administrative system. nations, like individuals, are not perfect. to judge equitably, impartially, the government by a metropolis of the regions under her sovereignty, one must not only be scandalized at her failings, but must take the broader view of her whole history in appreciating its final good and commendable results. so judging the government of india by england, every impartial mind must conclude that, on the whole--and more especially for the last sixty years--it has been beneficient. it promises to be still more so, as a consequence of the admirable share india is taking in the present war. egypt and the soudan have a territorial area of , , square miles, with a population of , , . i pride to be one of those who congratulate great britain to have freed the ancient and glorious egyptian country from turkish tyranny. a proclamation, dated the th of december, , has finally placed egypt under england's protectorate with the agreement of france. in the chapters respecting the soudanese and south african wars, i have shown how satisfactory has been the rule of great britain in those african countries. it being ever true that the earth was providentially created for men to live in the legitimate enjoyment of the blessings of peace multiplied by the fruits of their labours, the egyptians and the soudaneses have every reason to congratulate themselves for their liberation from the turkish barbarous yoke, and for the protection they receive from one of the most civilizing nations. i sincerely believe that this short review of the respective situation of five of the principal component parts of the british empire, is sufficient to form the honest conviction that if england has practised imperialism, she has done so for the real benefit of the peoples living under the ægis of her sovereignty, the most favourable to colonial political liberty. chapter xxiii. british imperialism and political liberty. british history, for the last century and more, proves that imperialism is not naturally incompatible with political liberty, nor with the respect due the national aspirations of divers ethnical groups. the unity and the consolidation of the empire made their greatest strides since the close of the war which resulted in the independence of the neighbouring republic. as previously explained, they were the outcome of the very wise and statesmanlike change of colonial policy then adopted by england. the days were to come when they would be put to the severest test and would prove more than equal to its greatest strain. those are the days which the british empire is living through, with brilliancy and heroism, amidst the dazzling lightning and the roaring thunder of an unprecedented military conflict, with every prospect of surviving its sufferings and sacrifices with a still stronger political structure. the same evolution by which great britain was to reach the summit of political liberty by the final triumph of the new constitutional principle of ministerial responsibility, was spreading to her far overseas colonies. canada, australia, new zealand, south africa, newfoundland were successively granted constitutional charters based on the same principles as those of the institutions of the united kingdom. as i have already said, imperialism becomes dangerous and deserves the severest condemnation, only where and when it is the instrument of autocratic absolutism. it causes me no alarm whatever when it is developed under free institutions, guaranteed and protected by ministerial responsibility. whatever said to the contrary, by prejudiced and designing writers, imbued with the extravagant notions of a narrow and fanatical "nationalism", canada, the most important of the autonomous colonies of the british empire, is freer than ever. like all the other nations, she suffers from disastrous events shaking the whole worldly edifice, but she is none the less the absolute mistress of the initiative of whatever efforts she considers her duty to make under those trying circumstances. england has imposed nothing upon canada, has asked nothing from canada, since the beginning of the war. she has, of course, accepted, with much pleasure and gratitude, the help we have freely offered and given her. let our "nationalists", in their inspired unfairness, say, if they like, that canada, like all the allies defensively fighting, was forced in the conflict by the imperious necessity of the situation created by those who expected to reach the goal of their ambition. but they have no right to charge great britain to have coerced the dominion, against her will, to join in the struggle which the british government had done their utmost to prevent. if it was not giving to this work too wide a range, i would like to undertake an historical sketch of all the good the british constitutional system has produced in the united kingdom and in the colonies. i shall quote only a few of the most important examples. in my opinion, the one development in england's history, since the close of the eighteenth century, most interesting to the french canadians, is certainly that which resulted in the emancipation of the roman catholics of the united kingdom. to persuade my french canadian countrymen of the good to be wrought by the patriotic use of the british institutions, i explained to them that at the beginning of the last century, the roman catholics of the united kingdom enjoyed no political rights. they were neither electors, nor eligible to the house of commons. they asked that justice be done to them. true statesmen, high and fair minded, admitted the justice of their claims and supported them. the ensuing political contest lasted more than twenty years. to obtain the proposed change in the long standing laws of the realm from an exclusively protestant electorate, was indeed a great task to accomplish. the public men supporting the roman catholics' claims were courageous and eloquent. they carried the day. have not the true friends of political freedom every reason to congratulate themselves that a great measure of justice granting political rights to roman catholics was voted by an electorate and a parliament exclusively protestant. king george iv, through fear that his royal prerogative might be impaired by the change, was hostile to it. he was persuaded to agree to the measure by sir robert peel, the life long opponent of roman catholic emancipation. whatever were the religious convictions and feelings of sir robert peel, he was a statesman of a high class. as all the leading public men of england, he had a broad conception of the duties of the chief adviser of the crown, and of the true spirit of the british constitution. the voice of the nation having spoken in no uncertain sounds, the national will must be followed. he plainly said so to his majesty who yielded. then, in a most admirable speech, he--sir robert peel--moved himself the passing of the bill granting justice to the roman catholics, carried it through the two houses of parliament and had it sanctioned by the king. a great act of national justice always receives its due reward. the roman catholics have been faithful and loyal subjects. george iv and his successors have lived to see many evident proofs of their loyal devotion, more especially since the opening of the present war. the final success of the free discussion of the question of granting to the roman catholics of the united kingdom all the rights enjoyed by the british subjects of all the other religious denominations, carried in spite of difficulties not easily overcome, is certainly one of the greatest and most honorable triumphs that political liberty has ever obtained. i was often deeply moved at reading the historic account of that most interesting debate in parliament, on the public platform and in the press. more and more, the conviction was firmly impressed on my mind and soul that a great people accomplishing a grand act of justice gives a most salutary example to posterity deserving the admiration and gratitude of all generations to come. i was only appreciating with justice and fairness the part played by england in canada, in telling my french canadian countrymen that they enjoyed the political rights of british subjects many years before the same privileges and justice was granted to the roman catholics of the united kingdom. that much in answer to the charge of our fanatical extremists that england and her government always wanted to oppress the french canadians on account of their religious faith. without going back to the eventful days of _magna charta_ and of the _bill of rights_, both embodying the fundamental constitutional principles which were finally bound to overcome the last pretentions of absolutism of yore, i considered a short review, in broad lines, of the work performed by the british electorate and the imperial parliament, during the last century, would help in destroying in the minds of my french readers the prejudices forced upon them by "nationalist" writers. that great work is principally illustrated by eight important measures of general interest. i have just mentioned that most honourable one emancipating the roman catholics of great britain. shortly after, it was followed by that abolishing the corn laws after a protracted and very interesting discussion. that important measure was also carried on the proposition of the same sir robert peel, for a long time its determined opponent. the manufacturing population, increasing so rapidly, would soon have been starved by the continuously augmenting cost of bread. sir robert peel foresaw the fearful consequences sure to ensue, if no relief was granted to millions threatened with hunger. he was, as i have already said, too much of a statesman to hesitate in doing his duty. he gave up his own opinion and advised his sovereign to do away with the corn laws, the repeal of which he had parliament to vote. with the advent of queen victoria, ministerial responsibility for all the acts of the sovereign became definitely the fundamental principle of the british constitution. complete ministerial responsibility, once fully recognized in great britain, was without delay granted to all the british colonies having representative institutions. the abolition of slavery all over the british empire is, every one must admit, a political development of first magnitude, one doing the greatest possible honour to the great nation having first taken the glorious initiative of granting to the black race the justice ordered by christianity. it is undoubtedly a very valuable reform to the credit of england. the imperial parliament realized that the constitutional regime of the united kingdom could not bear all the fruits to be expected from it with an electorate restricted to privileged classes. to support such a splendid edifice, admirable in structure and strength, a larger basic foundation, more solid, laid deep in the national soil, was required. after a long political struggle, freedom was once more triumphant in the motherland. the first great reform bill of was the starting point of successive legislative enactments, enlarging the franchise, calling to the exercise of political rights various classes of the people, bringing up the british electorate to the glorious standard of being one of the freest, the most enlightened, and most independent in the world. the crowning measure of this extensive political reform has been the bill of providing for the addition of some , , voters to the roll, including about , , women. the rotten boroughs of old were abolished and replaced by a much better redistribution of electoral divisions. dating from , great autonomous federal colonies, with full sovereign rights in the administration of all their interior affairs, have been created by imperial charters. the canadian, australian, south african, and new zealand dominions, of a total territorial area exceeding , , square miles, with a total population of over , , , nearly , , of which belong to the white race, have commenced their new political career with all the confidence and the hopes inspired by their free institutions. finally, the imperial parliament passed a law granting home rule to ireland. unfortunately, the war, so disastrous in many ways, prevented the immediate carrying out of the will of parliament, certainly representative of that of the nation. but this vexed question must at last be settled once for all. it is to be hoped that the day is not far distant when it will be removed from the political arena by a solution satisfactory to ireland, to england and to the whole empire. besides all those very important measures of political reform, the british parliament has passed many laws of urgent social improvement. the crowning act of the imperial parliament has been its determined attitude for the maintenance of peace through a long series of years. if all the above enumeration of measures of widespread influence for the general good is to be called imperialism, i say without hesitation that it is an imperialism worth favouring. the world will never have too much of it. chapter xxiv. imperial federation and "bourassism". the leader of our "nationalists," always frightened, apparently at least, with the supposed dangers of further imperialist encroachments detrimental to the best interests of the british autonomous colonies, seems alarmed at the prospects to follow the close of the hostilities. consequently, it has been a part of his campaign to bring the french canadians to share his fears for their future. not in the least worried by such apprehensions, it was also my duty to try and persuade my french canadian compatriots not to be unduly disturbed by the sayings of a publicist magnifying the errors of his excited imagination. that there will be after-the-war problems to consider, is most likely. what will they be? it is very difficult to foresee just now with sufficient definiteness. so much will depend upon the general conditions of the restoration of peace. however, broad lines have, for the last four years, been outlined with fair clearness permitting a general view of what is likely to happen. let us for a moment examine the traces of the initial phases of the constitutional developments likely to be the outcome of the joint effort of the whole empire to win the war. the second chapter of the report of the war cabinet for the year --already quoted somewhat extensively--deals with the new aspect of imperial affairs more especially the consequence of the war. the opening paragraph partly reads as follows:-- the outstanding event of the year in the sphere of imperial affairs has been the inauguration of the imperial war cabinet. this has been the direct outcome of the manner in which all parts of the empire had thrown themselves into the war during the preceding years. impalpable as was the bond which bound this great group of peoples together, there was never any doubt about their loyalty to the commonwealth to which they belonged and to the cause to which it was committed by the declaration of war. without counting the cost to themselves, they offered their men and their treasure in defence of freedom and public right. from the largest and most prosperous dominion to the smallest island the individual and national effort has been one of continuous and unreserved generosity. after mentioning that during "great progress has been made in the organisation both of the man-power and other resources of the empire for the prosecution of the war," and that "the british army is now a truly imperial army, containing units from almost every part of the empire," the report says:-- the real development, however, of has been in the political sphere, and it has been the result of the intense activity of all parts of the empire in prosecuting the war since august, . it had been felt for some time that, in view of the ever-increasing part played by the dominions in the war, it was necessary that their governments should not only be informed as fully as was possible of the situation, but that, as far as was practicable, they should participate, on a basis of complete equality, in the deliberations which determined the main outlines of imperial policy. accordingly, a special war conference was convened to meet in london, where for practical convenience it was divided into two parts: one, "known as the imperial war cabinet, which consisted of the oversea representatives and the members of the british war cabinet sitting together as an imperial war cabinet for deliberation about the conduct of the war and for the discussion of the larger issues of imperial policy connected with the war." the other "was the imperial war conference, presided over by the secretary of state for the colonies, which consisted of the oversea representatives and a number of other ministers, which discussed non-war problems connected with the war but of lesser importance." on the th may, , the british prime minister, giving "to the house of commons a short appreciation of the work of the imperial war cabinet," said in part:-- i ought to add that the institution in its present form is extremely elastic. it grew, not by design, but out of the necessities of the war. the essence of it is that the responsible heads of the governments of the empire, with those ministers who are specially entrusted with the conduct of imperial policy should meet together at regular intervals to confer about foreign policy and matters connected therewith, and come to decisions in regard to them which, subject to the control of their own parliaments, they will then generally execute. by this means they will be able to obtain full information about all aspects of imperial affairs, and to determine by consultation together the policy of the empire in its most vital aspects, without infringing in any degree the autonomy which its parts at present enjoy. to what constitutional developments this may lead we did not attempt to settle. the whole question of perfecting the mechanism of "continuous consultation" about imperial and foreign affairs between the "autonomous nations of an imperial commonwealth" will be reserved for the consideration of that special conference which will be summoned as soon as possible after the war to readjust the constitutional relations of the empire. we felt, however, that the experiment of consulting an imperial cabinet in which india was represented had been so fruitful in better understanding and in unity of purpose and action that it ought to be perpetuated, and we believe that this proposal will commend itself to the judgment of all the nations of the empire. the preceding are words of political wisdom, worthy of the best form of british statesmanship. were they the dawn of a new era, dissipating the clouds accumulated by the trials of a long period of military conflict, and showing in a future, more or less distant, the rising constitutional fabric of a still greater imperial commonwealth, not so much in size, than in unity, in freedom and strength? time will tell. but can we not at once note with confidence that the fundamental principle upheld by all the leading british public men is that, whatever constitutional developments may be in store for us all, they will not be allowed to infringe "in any degree the autonomy" presently enjoyed by the oversea dominions. the imperial war conference held in london, last year, passed the following very important "resolution" dealing with the future constitutional organisation of the empire:-- "the imperial war conference are of opinion that the readjustment of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire is too important and intricate a subject to be dealt with during the war, and that it should form the subject of a special imperial conference to be summoned as soon as possible after the cessation of hostilities. "they deem it their duty; however, to place on record their view that any such readjustment, while thoroughly preserving all existing powers of self-government and complete control of domestic affairs, should be based on a full recognition of the dominions as autonomous nations of an imperial commonwealth, and of india as an important portion of the same, should recognise the right of the dominions and india to an adequate voice in foreign policy and in foreign relations, and should provide effective arrangements for continuous consultation in all important matters of common imperial concern and for such necessary concerted action, founded on consultation, as the several governments may determine." we can await without the slightest alarm the holding of the proposed "_special imperial conference to be summoned as soon as possible after the cessation of the hostilities_." the fundamental principles upon which "_the readjustment_," if any one is made, "_of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire_" are to rest, are well defined in the above "resolution":--_through preservation of "all existing powers of self-government and complete control of domestic affairs_;--_full recognition of the dominions as autonomous nations of an imperial commonwealth, and of india as an important portion of the same_";--the admission of "_the right of the dominions and india to an adequate voice in foreign policy and in foreign relations_." upon that large and strong basis, i, for one, am ready to wait with patience and confidence the result of the deliberations of the future special imperial conference. with regard to the proposed conference, i cannot see any reason for anyone to indulge in the "nationalist" hysterical fears of an oppressive imperialism devouring, as the old mythological god--saturn--his own children. as i have said, the work of the special imperial conference will be rendered more or less easy by the conditions of the future peace. i pray, with all the fervour of my soul, that the war shall not end by a hasty compromise--as wished for by our blind, if not really disloyal, pacifists--by which the world would be doomed to another disaster far worse than the one it is straining every nerve to overcome, and that after years of the most costly warlike preparations. such a peace would be the saddest possible conclusion of the present conflict, and much worse than the sacrifices yet to be borne by the prosecution of the war to a finish. we must all implore providence to save humanity from such a cataclysm. a special imperial conference meeting under such disheartening circumstances would indeed have a most difficult task to accomplish. it was evidently an act of wisdom on the part of the imperial war conference of last year to express the opinion that the special imperial conference should be summoned only after the cessation of hostilities. when peace shall have been restored with the only conditions which can be satisfactory to the allies and to the world at large, a special imperial conference will be in order, having for its object to consider the readjustment of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire, in conformity with the requirements of the new situation which will have grown out of the necessities of the war. however important the task, the tranquility of the world being, let us hope, assured for many long years, there will be no reason for the conference to proceed hastily to any insufficiently matured conclusion. the representative public men who will meet in london from all over the empire will not forget, we may rest confident, that the safest way to a good working readjustment will be, as it has always been in the past, that which will follow the straight line of natural growth. dry cut resolutions, imprudently adopted, and pressed upon unwilling populations would have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred to be more injurious than profitable. every sensible man must acknowledge that the war has in an extraordinary manner hastened the rapidity of the advance towards the turning point in the constitutional organization of the british empire. the day is near at hand when the problem will have to be faced with courage and broadness of mind. very blind indeed, and far behind the times, is he who does not realize that to be, or not to be, for the empire, is confined to two clear words: consolidation or dissolution. the tide has either to ebb or flow, the wave to advance or recede. the edifice must be strengthened or left to decay. like any living being, a political society, be it great or small, after its birth, more or less laborious, grows to a prosperous and healthy old age, or crumbles down prematurely. very much depends, for either course, on the wisdom or extravagance of the way of passing through life. unmeasured ambitions, wild expectations, are too often, alike for the individual and the nation, the surest road to a lamentable ruin. wisdom, the outcome of sound moral principles, and wide experience, is, on the other hand, the safest guarantee of longevity, of bright old days full of contentment, honour, prestige and true grandeur. grave will be the responsibility of those who will meet in solemn conclave to lay down the foundations of the future british imperial commonwealth. no less serious will be the responsibility of the populations, scattered over the five continents, who will be called upon to pronounce, freely and finally, upon the propositions which will be submitted to their approval or disavowal. consequently undue haste would be more than ill-advised. for instance, the paramount question to be considered by the new imperial conference will most likely be that of the future military organization of the empire. is it not evident that this problem will be much more easily settled if the allied nations succeed in carrying the point they have the most at heart:--the reduction of permanent armaments as the safest protection against any new outburst of savage militarism flooding the earth of god with human blood. if this _sine qua non_ condition is the top article of the future peace treaty, the great powers having agreed, in honour bound, to maintain the world's tranquillity and order, will all be afforded the blessings of a long rest from the ruinous military expenditures too long imposed upon them by the mad run of germany to conquer universal domination. the british empire, as a whole, will, as much as any other nation, enjoy the full benefits of such a favourable situation. she will, like her allies, return to the pursuits of peace, with millions of veteran soldiers who, for the next ten years at least, would, in large numbers, certainly join the colours once more, if need be, to defend their country in a new just war. then, under such circumstances, why should the peoples of the whole empire be immediately called upon to incur more expenses for military purposes than absolutely necessary for the maintenance of interior order, and to meet any sudden and unforeseen emergency. the liquidation of the obligations necessarily accumulated during the war will be the first duty of all the allied nations. the task will no doubt be very large, most onerous. still i trust that it will not be beyond their resources of natural wealth, of capital and labour, of courageous savings. as the "resolution" adopted by the imperial war conference says, "the readjustment of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire is too important and intricate a subject to be dealt with during the war." when taken up after the war--even if just _as soon as possible_--it will be none the less important and intricate. such a subject should not be dealt with without matured consideration and given a hasty solution. if the peace treaty satisfactorily settles the world's situation for a long future of general tranquillity which will certainly bless all the nations with many years of unprecedented prosperity, plenty of time will be afforded to deliberate wisely upon the paramount question of the building of a "new and greater imperial commonwealth." our frenzied "nationalists" can quiet their nerves. the imperialist wild bear will not be growling at the door. because we are all likely to be called upon to consider how best to promote the unity and the future prosperity of the empire, we will have no reason to fear that we shall be, from one day to the other, forcibly thrown into perilous adventures by the machiavellic machinations of out and out imperialist enthusiasts. i have already said that it is becoming more and more evident that to be, or not to be, the british empire must either consolidate or dissolve. i must not be understood to mean that with the restoration of peace under the happy conditions all the allies are fighting for, the empire, as she will emerge from the tornado, could not, as a whole, resume, for more or less time, her prosperous existence of _ante_-war days. what will be best to do, it is too early to foresee. then it is better to wait for the issue of the war, trusting that all the truly loyal british subjects will then join together to pronounce upon whatever questions of imperial concern will claim their urgent consideration. but there is a certainty that can be at once positively affirmed. all the peoples living and developing under the ægis of the british flag are determined that the british empire is to be. whenever a special imperial conference sits in london, all the representatives of the many component parts of the british commonwealth will meet in the great capital surely to deliberate over the most practical means to consolidate the empire. we may all depend that no one will propose to destroy it. how best to consolidate the empire, such will be the important question. to be sure, the future special conference will not likely be wanting in propositions from many outside would-be constitutional framers. schemes may be numerous, some worth considering, others useless if not mischievous. no reason to feel uneasy and to worry about them. we can confidently hope that british statesmanship will be equal to the new task it will be called upon to perform. our canadian public men will have much to gain by closer intercourse with their imperial colleagues, and by judging great questions from a higher standpoint. let there be no mistake about it: the true secret of the most effective consolidation of the empire was discovered by the british statesmen the day when they realized that henceforth free institutions and the largest possible measure of colonial autonomy were the only sure means to solidify the structure of the british commonwealth. such is the opinion of the imperial war conference outlining in their previously quoted "resolution" what must be the fundamental basis of any future "readjustment of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire." constitutional development of india. as a preliminary to the prospective readjustment of the political status of the empire, it is worth noting the advance of india towards political autonomy. it was made manifest by the significant step of inviting india to the deliberations of the imperial war cabinet, and by the "resolution" adopted by the imperial war conference that india must be fully represented at all future imperial conferences. respecting india, the report of the war cabinet, for the year , says:-- it was clear, however, that this recognition of the new status of india in the empire would necessarily be followed by substantial progress towards internal self-government. accordingly, on august th, the following important declaration of his majesty's government on this subject was made in the house of commons by the secretary of state for india:-- "the policy of his majesty's government, with which the government of india are in complete accord, is that of the increasing association of indians in every branch of the administration and the gradual development of self-governing institutions with a view to the progressive realization of responsible government in india as an integral part of the british empire. they have decided that substantial steps in this direction should be taken as soon as possible, and that it is of the highest importance, as a preliminary to considering what these steps should be, that there should be a free and informal exchange of opinion between those in authority at home and in india. his majesty's government have accordingly decided, with his majesty's approval, that i should accept the viceroy's invitation to proceed to india to discuss these matters with the viceroy and the government of india, to consider with the viceroy the views of local governments, and to receive with him the suggestions of representative bodies and others. i would add that progress in this policy can only be achieved by successive stages. the british government and the government of india on whom the responsibility lies for the welfare and advancement of the indian peoples, must be the judges of the time and measure of each advance, and they must be guided by the co-operation received from those upon whom new opportunities of service will thus be conferred and by the extent to which it is found that confidence can be reposed in their sense of responsibility. ample opportunity will be afforded for public discussion of the proposals, which will be submitted in due course to parliament." in accordance with this declaration, the secretary of state left for india in october, and has since been in consultation with the government of india and deputations representative of all interests and parties in india in regard to the advances which should be made in indian constitutional development in the immediate future. no reports as to the results of these discussions had been made public by the end of the year. another important decision relating to india was that whereby the government abandoned the rule which confines the granting of commissions in the indian army to officers of british extraction. a number of indian officers, who have served with distinction in the war, have already received commissions. who, only twenty years ago, would have believed that the day was so near at hand when this asiatic vast and populous country, called india, would be most earnestly considering, through numerous representatives, in consultation with the british government, the proper steps to be taken "for the gradual development of self-governing institutions with a view to the progressive realization of responsible government in india as an integral part of the british empire." in every way, it is a most extraordinary political evolution. if it reaches the admirable conclusion aimed at--for which success every true friend of political liberty will fervently pray--it will have realized one of the greatest constitutional achievements of modern times. behold just now how safely and wisely this indian evolution is proceeding under the experienced direction of british statesmanship. it is "to be achieved by successive stages", declares the secretary of state for india, speaking in the name of the whole british responsible cabinet. such have been accomplished all the constitutional developments which have wrought so much perfection for british free institutions. true progress, in every form, is never revolutionary. and why? for the very reason that instead of fighting for destruction by brute force, it aims at perfecting by regular advances in the right direction, by successive improvements which experience justifies, which reason, intelligence and wisdom approve, which political sense recommends, which sound moral principles authorize and sanction. a country favoured with the free british constitutional regime is not the land where bolshevikism of any grade or stamp, can flourish and bear fruits of desolation and shame. the wonderful indian country, for so many centuries tortured by intestine troubles, at last rescued by england from that barbarous situation, given a reorganized administration able to maintain interior peace, favoured by british business experience and capital with material progress in many ways, specially in transportation facilities, may soon see--let us hope--the dawn of the glorious days of a large measure of political freedom and responsible government. far away indeed from the perilous imperialism abhorred by our much depressed "nationalists" is india safely moving. chapter xxvii. the future constitutional relations of the empire. though very difficult to say what they will be, i thought proper, for the better information of my french canadian readers, to consider some of the suggestions which of late years have been repeatedly made. mr. bourassa, in his recent pamphlets, reviewing the situation from his wrong and prejudiced standpoint, has decidedly come out in favour of canadian independence. the least that can be said is that the time was very badly chosen to raise the question. to select the moment when the motherland was engaged in a fight for life or death, to propose to run away from the assailed home where we had lived many happy years, was certainly not an inspiration of loyal devotion and gratitude. i am glad to say that the wild proposition met with no countenance on the part of our french canadian compatriots. to the point raised in england, some years ago, that it was not to be supposed that the british empire was destined to exist forever, one of the leading british statesmen of the day, then a member of the cabinet, answered that, though it was likely to be true that the british commonwealth would not be eternal, like many other great political societies of times gone by, it was surely not the particular duty of a british minister to do his best to hasten the day of the final downfall of the country he was sworn to maintain. the rejoinder was no doubt peremptory. it can very properly be used in answer to mr. bourassa's plea for the independence of canada. however, the question having been so unwisely raised, to say the least, for the obvious purpose of disheartening the french canadians from their present situation and raising in their minds extravagant hopes of a change for the better, i believed it advisable to tell them not to be carried away by dreams of a too far distant possible realization. in all frankness, i must say that i have never taken any stock in the suggestion made from time to time, for the last fifty years, in favour of canadian independence. it always seemed to me that our destinies were not moving along that way. in my opinion, which nothing has happened to alter, the steady growth of the consolidation of the empire was yearly working against the assumption of the prospective independence of the dominion. but even supposing that the course of events would change and put an end to british connection, could we pride ourselves with having at last, though in a very peaceful way, achieved our national independence? i am more and more strongly impressed by the paramount consideration that, nominally independent, canada would be very little so in reality. situated as she would be, she could not help being under the protectorate of the united states. i have always thought so. i think it more firmly than ever, when i see looming larger every day on the american political horizon the fact that the neighbouring republic will come out of the present war with flying colours, taking rank as one of the most powerful nations on earth. be that as it may, there is every certainty that the question of canadian independence is not within the range of practical politics. mr. bourassa's proposition is doomed to the failure it deserves. consequently, it is much better to try and foresee what the future political conditions of canada are more likely to be after the close of the hostilities. and this must be done with the only purpose of wisely, and patriotically,--in the larger sense of the word--contributing our due share to the sound and solid framing of the changes, if any, which the best interests of the empire, generally, and of all her component parts, in particular, may require. we have not, and i most earnestly hope and pray that we shall not have, to consider what new political conditions would be as the consequence of the defeat of the allies, or even as necessitated by a peace treaty due to a compromise. we must only look ahead for the encouraging days to follow the victory won by the united efforts and heroism of the nations who have rallied to put an end to prussian militarism. one certainty is daily becoming more evident. all loyal british subjects will applaud the triumphant close of the war with the desire to do their best to maintain and consolidate the empire they will have saved from destruction at the cost of so much sacrifices of heroic lives and resources. no taxation without representation. the great objection raised by mr. bourassa against the participation of canada in the wars of the empire is that the dominion is not represented in the parliament to which the british ministers, advising the sovereign on all matters of foreign relations, are responsible. he draws the conclusion that the colonies are called upon to pay for the war expenditures of great britain in violation of the constitutional principle:--no taxation without representation. the principle is no doubt true. but it is altogether wrong to pretend that so far it has been violated to coerce the dominion to participate in the wars which england has been obliged to wage. our "nationalists" would be right in their opposition if the imperial parliament had attempted to pass laws compelling the autonomous colonies to contribute men and money to a conflict. had they claimed the right to raise revenues in canada by an imperial statute, we would certainly have been entitled to affirm that not being represented in the british house of commons, we could not be taxed in any way for any imperial purpose--war or others. nothing of the kind has ever been done, ever been attempted, even ever been hinted at. the argument falls entirely to the ground, shattered to pieces, from the fact that canada has only participated in the wars of the empire of her own free will, in the full enjoyment of her constitutional rights. whatever sums of money the dominion has to pay for the conflicts into which we have freely and deliberately decided to intervene, are perceived by the canadian treasury in virtue of laws passed by our federal parliament upon the advice of our responsible cabinet. last year, the people of canada were called upon to elect new members of our house of commons. the citizens of the dominion had the undoubted constitutional right to pass condemnation on the ministers and on the members of parliament who had voted for the participation in the war with men and money. they could have elected a new house of commons to discontinue such participation and recall our army from europe. but had they not the equally undoubted right to do what they have done by such a solemn expression of a decided and matured opinion:--approve and order to fight until victory is won? in accepting with deep gratitude the noble and patriotic support we, canadians, were giving her in the most terrible crisis of her sovereign existence, was england in any way violating any of our cherished constitutional privileges? no sensible, no reasonable, no unprejudiced man can so pretend. the case being such as it is, there is not the shadow of common sense in the assertion that canada is taxed without representation for imperial war purposes. colonial representation. if the question of colonial representation is raised at the special imperial conference to be held as soon as possible after the war, mr. bourassa and his friends will not be welcomed to cry if it is settled very differently from their wishes, after their unwise clamour for an excursion into the unknown. the question of the readjustment of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire, when duly brought up, will very likely take a wide range, so far at least as consideration goes. what will be the conclusions arrived at, nobody knows. pending that time, any one is allowed to express his own views. i thought proper to explain mine in my book dedicated to the french canadians. i now summarize them as follows:-- would it be advisable to have the colonies represented in the present imperial parliament? after full consideration of the question, i must say that i have finally dismissed it from my mind as utterly impracticable. can it be supposed for a moment that the electors of great britain would agree to have the dominions overseas and india represented in their house of commons, to participate in the government of the united kingdom for all purposes? with representation in the present british house of commons, would the colonies be also represented in the british cabinet, to advise the crown on all matters respecting the good government of england? would the colonies be represented according to their population in the british house of commons? if they were, india alone would have a number of representatives five times larger than all the other parts of the empire. is it within the range of possibility that the people of great britain would consent to colonial representatives interfering, even controlling the management of their internal affairs, whilst they would have no say whatever in the internal government of the colonies? would the colonial ministers in the british cabinet be constitutionally responsible to the people of the united kingdom without holding their mandate from them? such a system would be so absurd, so radically impossible, that it is not necessary to argue to prove that it would not work for one single year. in my opinion, colonial representation would be practicable only with the creation of a new truly imperial parliament, the present british parliament to continue to exist but with constitutional powers reduced to the management of the internal affairs of the united kingdom. if such is the scheme of the "nationalists," then they are converts to that imperial federation which they have vehemently denounced for years, and to the largest measure possible of that imperialism which has been cursed with their worst maledictions. if ever complete imperial federation becomes an accomplished fact, how will it be organized? will the new imperial parliament consist of one sovereign, one house of lords--or senate--one house of commons? would the sovereign be king or emperor? i, for one, would prefer the word emperor. he might be titled his majesty the emperor of the british commonwealth and the king of great britain. with imperial federation--a regime of complete imperial autonomy--the word "colonies" would no longer apply. would canada, australia, south africa, india, new zealand be called kingdoms, like prussia, bavaria, saxony, wurtemberg, of the german empire? evidently, the constitutional powers of the new parliament would be limited to external relations, to strictly imperial affairs. the new constitutional organization of the british empire would combine imperial, national and provincial autonomy, each operating within the well defined limits of their respective privileges and attributions. under such a regime, there would be three sorts of responsible cabinets: the imperial cabinet responsible to the whole imperial electorate; the national cabinets of the component kingdoms of the british empire responsible to the electorate of each one of those kingdoms respectively; the provincial cabinets responsible to the electors of each province respectively. the royal--or rather imperial--prerogative to declare war and to make peace would be exercised upon the responsibility of the imperial cabinet. to the new imperial parliament would undoubtedly be given the right and the duty to provide for imperial defense. they would have to organize an imperial army and an imperial navy for the protection of the whole empire. the whole of the reorganized empire would have to pay the whole of the expenditures required for imperial purposes, defense and others, on land and sea, out of revenues raised by laws of the imperial parliament. under the new imperial constitutional regime, would the imperial parliament be given the authority to regulate imperial trade and commerce, the imperial postal service, &c.? would the new parliament have the exclusive right to approve commercial treaties sanctioned by his majesty the emperor, upon the advice of his responsible imperial cabinet, without reference whatever to the national parliaments of the component kingdoms? how easily is it ascertained that numerous questions of paramount importance are at once brought to one's mind the moment the vast problem of a new and greater imperial commonwealth is considered. shortsighted and inexperienced are the politicians and the publicists who imagine that it could be given a satisfactory solution after hasty and insufficient deliberations. it is very reassuring to know that the matter necessarily being suggested for consideration at the imperial war conference, last year, it was immediately decided, by a "resolution," adopted on the proposition of the canadian prime minister, "that the readjustment of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire is too important and intricate a subject to be dealt with during the war." what would be the real meaning of such a radical change? it is worth while to enquire at once. the british empire would no longer comprise a metropolis holding autonomous colonies and crown colonies, but would be organized in a new sovereign state with an imperial parliament to which all the component parts--or kingdoms--would send representatives. indeed it would be a grand, a magnificent, political edifice. but to find shelter under it, canada would have to renounce her right to decide alone, and freely, to participate, or not, in the wars of the empire, to determine alone what her military organization should be, to raise ourselves, without the intervention of a superior parliament, the revenue which we consider proper to apply to imperial purposes. i, for one, do not foresee that such an important constitutional change, if ever it is made, will be suddenly brought about, in the dark, as the result of the machinations of a most mischievous imperialism inspiring our "nationalists" with shivering terror. it is positively sure that no one holding a responsible political position, or having a responsible standing in the british political world, will ever be mad enough to propose, suggest, or even hint, to build a new imperial structure without the solid foundation of the deliberate consent of all the colonies, of all the would-be component parts of such a vast commonwealth. how many years of serious discussion, of earnest consideration, did it not take to bring about the creation of the canadian, australian and south african dominions. it cannot be reasonably imagined that the creation of the new and greater imperial commonwealth will be a much easier task to accomplish with the necessary conditions of successful durability. i also thought proper in my french book to write a few lines on the important question respecting the mode of ascertaining the deliberate consent of the colonies to any intended readjustment of the constitutional relations of the component parts of the empire, specially if it was proposed to rear a new and larger political fabric. i did so because of late it has been frequently suggested to use the _plebiscit_ or the _referendum_ as the most opportune way to consult public opinion. i must say that, without going to the length of denying that a public consultation may, in a particular case, be advantageously made by way of a _plebiscit_ or _referendum_, i am not a strong believer in the efficiency of either proposition, and why? because i cannot help considering them as more or less contrary to the solid constitutional principle of ministerial responsibility which they would gradually undermine if frequently appealed to. i feel specially adverse to the _plebiscit_, because history proves that, by nature, it engenders despotism, cÆsarism. contemporary history offers two striking examples never to be forgotten. napoleon the first, whose power was the legitimate result of his wonderful genius and of his eminent services to france, wanted his dynasty to rest on the _plebiscitary_ foundation. millions of votes--almost the unanimity of french public opinion--answered enthusiastically to his call. he was not such a man as to refuse the chance offered him to exercise a supreme power so manifestly tendered to him. all know that he very soon unbridled his devouring ambition and ruled france with all the might of an absolutism strengthened by the glories of military campaigns truly marvellous. to any attempt at freedom of criticism, he could reply that his imperial power--mightily supported by his commanding genius--was strongly entrenched on the unanimity of opinion of the french nation expressed by the result of the plebiscit. napoleon iii, favoured by the immortal prestige of his glorious uncle, but far behind him in genius, though intellectually well gifted, as he proved it during his presidential term of the second french republic and during the first years he occupied the imperial throne of france, used the plebiscit to have his famous _coup d'etat_ of the second day of december , prepared with consummate skill and carried out with great energy, ratified by the nation by an overwhelming majority of several millions of votes. he lost no time in drawing the final result of this first great success and in reaching the term of his ambition. the tide of popular enthusiasm was all flowing his way, carrying him to the throne elevated for his uncle who had lost it after the hurricane which exhausted its strength at waterloo. on the second of december of the following year-- --the second french empire was proclaimed to the international world. following the example and the precedent of the first bonaparte, napoleon iii also decided to use the plebiscit to legitimate his imperial power. he triumphantly carried the day by some seven millions of votes--almost the unanimous voice of the french people. thus, in less than half a century, after having twice tried the republican system of government, and, in both cases, having overdone by deplorable excesses the experiment of political liberty--more specially during the years of terrorism of the first republic--france, by a regular reaction, went back to the other extreme, and reestablished arbitrary power not, in the two instances, upon the principle of the divine right of the ancient monarchy, but on that of the sovereignty of the people, as expressed by the certain will of the whole nation. but absolutism, whether the outcome of divine right or of popular sovereignty, is always the same and steadily works against the true principles of political liberty. it is a great mistake to suppose that absolutism is possible only under monarchical institutions. the terrorist republican epoch, in france, from to , was absolutism of the worst kind, really with a vengeance. as much can be said of the present political situation in russia, which has substituted revolutionary absolutism to that of the decayed imperial regime, suddenly brought to a tragic end by the pressure of events too strong for its crumbling fabric, shaken to its foundation by a most unwise reactionary movement which only precipitated its downfall, instead of averting it, as extravagantly expected by the petrograd court, which betrayed russia in favour of germany, and unconsciously opened the road which led the weak and unfortunate czar to his lamentable fate. in my humble opinion, plebiscitary cÆsarism is not compatible with a system of ministerial responsibility for all the official acts of the sovereign. the frequent use of the plebiscit would certainly tend to diminish in the mind of political leaders the true sense of their responsibility. it would too often offer an easy way out of an awkward position without the consequence of having to give up power. if i understand right the real meaning of the two words: _plebiscit_ and _referendum_, the first would be used to try and ascertain how public opinion stands upon any given question of public policy, of proposed public legislation: the second would be employed for the ratification by the electorate of a law passed by parliament. i have less objection to the second system which, in reality, is an appeal from parliament to the electorate. but to the well practised, the adverse vote of a majority of the electors should have the same result as a vote of the majority of the house of commons rejecting an important public measure upon the carrying of which the cabinet has ventured their existence. without the immediate resignation of the ministers meeting with a reverse in a _referendum_, i consider that ministerial responsibility would soon become a farce destructive of constitutional government. the defeat of a cabinet in a _referendum_ would be equivalent to one in general elections and should bear out the same consequence. surely, no one having some clear notions of what ministerial responsibility means, will pretend for a moment that a cabinet who, on being defeated in the house of commons, advises the sovereign--or his representative in canada--to dissolve parliament for an appeal to the people, could remain in power if the electorate approved of the hostile stand taken by the house of commons. i can see no difference whatever in the meaning of an hostile referendum vote and that following a regular constitutional appeal from an adverse majority of the popular house of representatives. in both cases, the downfall of the defeated ministers should be the result. from the above comments, i draw the sound conclusion, i firmly believe, that any important readjustment of the constitutional relations of the colonies with great britain, should be first ratified by the actual parliaments of the dominions and subsequently by the electors of those dominions. but i am also strongly of opinion that the ratification by the electorate should be taken upon the ministerial responsibility of the cabinet who would have advised the sovereign and asked parliament to approve the proposed readjustment. it would be the safest way to have the cabinet to consider the question very seriously before running the risk of a popular defeat which would have to be followed by their resignation. another most important reason to quiet the fears of our "alarmists" at an impending wave of flooding imperialism, is that any radical change in the constitutional relations of england with her colonies for the unity and consolidation of the empire, should be adopted by the parliaments and the electorates of all the colonies to be affected by the new conditions. consequently, from every standpoint the dominions and the empire herself are guaranteed against the dangers of rashness in changing the present status of the great british commonwealth. the far off future. though it may be of little use, and perhaps perplexing, to look too far ahead to try and foresee what the distant future has in store for the generations to come, still a simple call to common sense tells one that the political destinies of any commonwealth are, in a long course of time, largely and necessarily shaped by the increases in population and wealth, irrespective of the actual more or less harmonious working of present and immediately prospective constitutional institutions. broadly speaking, was it to be supposed, for instance, that the two wide continents of america would have, when peopled by hundreds of millions, continued in a condition of vassalage to the european continent, though owing their discovery and early settlements to european genius and enterprise? no doubt the growing national families of the new world would have liked a much longer stay under the roofs where they were born, had they received better and kinder treatment from their fatherly states. but at best the hour of separation would only have come later, postponed as it would have been by the bonds of enduring affection made more lasting by mutual good relations. do we not see, almost daily, desolated homes often the sad result of senseless misunderstandings, or of guilty outbursts of intemperate passions? yet, family home life, even when blessed by the inspiring smile of a lovely wife, the sweet voice of a devoted mother, the manly and christian example of a good father, the affectionate sentiments of well bred children, is far too short under the most favourable circumstances. and why? because it has to follow the divine decree ordering separation for the building of new homes, to keep humanity advancing towards the final conclusion of her earthly existence. had the american colonies been favoured by the constitutional liberties the dominion of canada enjoys, they would not have revolted and british connection would have endured many years longer. still, one cannot conclude that those british provinces, realizing the marvellous development all can witness, would have for ever agreed to be satisfied with their colonial status. when they would have grown taller and bigger than the mother-country, most likely great britain herself would have taken the initiative of a friendly separation followed by a close alliance which would have perpetuated the familial bond actually so happily restored. as prophesied by sir erskine may, more than half a century ago, in speaking of the probable future of the then british colonies, the american republic would _have grown out of the dependencies of the british empire_. and to-day, when the united states are doing such a gigantic effort, conjointly with the whole british empire, to save humanity from german cruel domination, england, to use the very words of the distinguished writer and historian just cited, "may well be prouder of the vigorous freedom of her prosperous son than of a hundred provinces subject to the iron rule of british pro-consuls." the possibilities of the material development of the dominions of canada, australia, new zealand and south africa--without counting india and the lesser colonies--on account of their immense natural resources, are such as to justify very great hopes for their future. the time will come when they will number together a much larger population than the united kingdom. will the british empire, as foreseen by one of the greatest political minds canada has produced, declared by his chief and worthy opponent the equal to the celebrated william pitt, then develop into a grand commonwealth of nations. if so, as wrote sir erskine may, england "_will reflect, with exultation, that her dominion ceased, not in oppression and bloodshed but in the expansive energies of freedom, and the hereditary capacity of her manly offspring for the privileges of self-government_." several generations will certainly rise and disappear before such an important question, looming far off in the future, is likely to be--if ever--raised requiring a practical solution. but foreseeing such a distant possibility, it is still more our bounden duty to be true to our present and prospective obligations for many years to come, as foreshadowed by the actual course of events shaping themselves in the sense of the consolidation of the empire which may never be really dissolved even by the separation of her manly _offspring_. family bonds, strengthened by deep affection, are not broken because the faithful boy, grown up a healthy and strong man, leaves to go under his own blessed roof, taking with him to his last day the cherished recollections of the happy days he has passed in the equally blessed parental home. one of our most ardent desires must be that our successive generations of children be so well trained to the intelligent and patriotic use of political liberty, as to accumulate, in due course of time, an admirable heritage of sound principles of self-government enriched by the honourable examples of our faithful loyalty to the mother land never grudged to her, but given with overflowing measure, not only as a matter of duty, but also as a reward from grateful subjects for the regard and respect always paid to their constitutional rights and privileges. if such is ever the natural outcome of our political achievements, the vast empire reared with such a great success would truly survive separation, being merely transformed into a splendid galaxy of independent states still bound together by the strong ties created by centuries of reciprocal devotedness. it would constitute a real league of nations working in concert and with grandeur for the peace and the prosperity of the whole world. a machiavellian proposition. on reading mr. bourassa's pamphlet entitled:--_yesterday, to-day, to-morrow_, i discovered what i have qualified a _machiavellian proposition_. what _machiavellism_ means is well known. it expresses the views of that most corrupt and contemptible politician and publicist, called machiavel, born at florence, in . at page of the above mentioned pamphlet, mr. bourassa wrote:-- "i will speak my mind openly--_je vous livre toute ma pensÉe_--: if in default of independence, i claim imperial representation, it is because it would weaken the military organization of england,--_l'armature de guerre de l'angleterre_--precipitate the dissolution of her empire, hasten the day of deliverance, for us and for the whole world." such are the loyal sentiments expressed by the "nationalist" leader. he clamours for the imperial representation of the colonies, for the solemnly avowed object to use the privilege for the destruction of the empire. to achieve this end he declares that the military power of england must first be weakened. no wonder then that he started his "nationalist" campaign by fighting with all his might the two successive proposals of contribution to the great military naval fleet of great britain. no wonder that he opposed canada's intervention in favour of england in the south african war. no wonder that from the outbreak of the hostilities, in , until the day when he was shut up by the order-in-council censuring all disloyal speaking and writing detrimental to the winning of the war, he has tried to move heaven and earth to prevent canada's participation in the conflict. he tells his countrymen that if he has become a convert to imperial representation--in other words, imperial federation--it is because he considers it would be the best way of ruining the empire and of delivering, not only canada, but the whole world from british domination. for fear that the french canadians, whom he especially wished to influence, would not be very easily caught in the disloyal trap, he tries hard to prevail upon them by the following reasons:-- "_if we are not sufficiently clear-sighted and energetic to work for this salutary object by the most constitutional, the most british, means at our disposal, others, happily, will do it for us._ "_the english-canadians, the australians, the new zealanders persistingly claim representation in the government of the empire. when the war is over, their claims will be reaffirmed with increased ampleness and energy. the indians (les hindous) themselves will do the same. shall we remain alone to rot stupidly (croupir béatement) in colonial abjection._" without the slightest doubt, there are many english-canadians, australians, new zealanders, south africans, indians, in favour of colonial imperial representation. the number is increasing and likely to increase. but mr. bourassa is absolutely, i might as well say, absurdly, mistaken, if he really believes that they do so for his own purpose of destroying the british empire. they want the very reverse: their object is to consolidate the empire, not to dissolve her. they will not accept as a very flattering compliment mr. bourassa's charge that their desire to strengthen the british commonwealth proves that they prefer to continue _stupidly rotting in colonial abjection_ rather than work for their deliverance from british domination. but what in the world has brought the "nationalist" leader to the conclusion that the surest way to save canada from the peril of imperialism was to secure imperial representation for the treasonable purpose, on entering the fort, to pull down the flag and destroy the whole empire? to frighten his french canadian compatriots with terror at the slightest move in favour of an increased imperialism, he waves before them, with wild gesticulation, any and every extravagant writings he lays his hand on preaching a ridiculous expansion of imperialist aspirations. he is perhaps the only man in canada who has read a most absurd work which he pretends to have been written by a general named lea, and from which, in horror stricken, he summarized a few unbelievable views. mr. bourassa said that general lea, _gifted with an astonishing foresight, predicted all that was happening in europe and in the world. the general_, again affirms mr. bourassa, _has proved in a striking way that if england wishes to maintain her empire and to continue exercising her domination over the world she must make the sacrifice of her political liberties and of those of her colonies, abolish the parliamentary and representative governments and resolutely adopt the ironed regime of the romans of old, of the germans of the present day_. once so brilliantly inspired, general lea went on in a splendid manner. he added, says mr. bourassa, _that england must transform her empire into a vast armed camp, must keep in her own hands all the powers of command, must subdue all the non-british races to the supremacy of the anglo-saxons united together by the unique thought of dominating the world by brutal force_. these views--so says mr. bourassa--are to be found in a book entitled: "_the day of the saxon_." if they have been really expressed with the full sense given to them by mr. bourassa's translation into french, i cannot say less than that they are most absurd, most extravagant. the nationalist leader would have proved himself a much more sensible, a wiser man, if, laughing at such senseless notions, he had refrained from quoting those lines for the purpose of telling the french-canadians that like all non-british races on earth they were doomed to be devoured--flesh and bones--by the voracious anglo-saxons bent on swallowing humanity. and to save them from such a cruel fate, he implores them to clamour for imperial representation with the criminal intent of betraying their trust, and to use the honourable privilege they would be granted to ruin the empire they would swear to maintain and defend. so far as the political program of general lea is concerned, we have not yet learned that its benevolent author was doing much in the war to carry it out. if i had the honour to meet the general, being presented, i presume, by mr. bourassa, i would ask him, first, when and where he has discovered that england was _dominating the world_. i know that there exists a great england holding a large situation on earth. her empire extends to almost a fourth of the globe. her sovereignty reigns over nearly four hundred million of human beings; a truly beneficient sovereignty, because it rules according to the wishes, to the opinions of its subjects, managing their own affairs in virtue of the freest political institutions in the whole world. i know of no england dominating, or even aspiring to dominate, the world. such an england only exists in the heated imagination of that general lea and in the minds of all those, like the nationalist leader, who are, or feign to be, tortured by the bugbear of military imperialism of the old roman ironed type. as long as three-fourths of the earth will remain independent of the british empire, under numerous sovereignties, england's pretended domination of the world will ever only be an extravagant dream. wishing england _to continue her domination of the world_, general lea, no doubt to please mr. bourassa, was bound to suggest the means to do so. let us analyze them. .--england _must make the sacrifice of her political liberties and of those of her colonies_. .--she _must abolish parliamentary and representative governments_. it is beyond conception that mr. bourassa should have for one minute seriously considered such absurd notions. i would enjoy attending large public meetings in great britain, where general lea would propose to british free men the sacrifice of all their political liberties, to witness the rather warm reception he would be favoured with. i am sure he would have to rush out of the halls much faster than he would have walked in. where is the sane man who really believes that, dreaming of a domination of the world by _brute force_, british free men would consent to do away with their parliamentary system _to transform the whole of the empire into an armed camp_? such a proposition was sheer madness, a most foolish talk, unworthy of the slightest attention from sensible people. mr. bourassa was very wrong in giving it publicity, and very unwise, to say the least, in using it to frighten his french-canadian compatriots by blandishing before their eyes that ridiculous specimen of the phantom of imperialism. is it to be supposed for one single instant that the british people, so rightly proud of their political liberties, and of their representative government, which after centuries of efforts and trials they have successfully brought to such perfection, basing its future permanency on the solid rock of ministerial responsibility, would consent to sacrifice them for the sake of a vain, a ridiculous, an odious and impracticable scheme _to dominate the world by brute force_? it is ten times worse than madness to believe that the british people who have torn away from the british soil the last root of absolutism, would, for any earthly reason, renounce their most legitimate conquests, to rebuild, on the burning ruins of their most sacred rights, an ironed political regime of the old roman or present german type! is it to be believed that they would agree to replace, on the glorious throne which they protect with all the might of their loyal affection, their present constitutional sovereign by a new nero or another wilhelm ii? if it is with the purpose of preventing such a dire calamity that the nationalist leader became a convert to imperial federation, he is absolutely losing his time and his energy in promoting such a regime. if ever imperial federation becomes a fact, we can all rest perfectly assured that the new imperial parliament will not vote their own destruction to be replaced by an autocratic and tyrannical government. i hope that mr. bourassa is the only believer, all over canada, in the assertion of general lea that england's aspirations is _to dominate the world by brute force_. it is a most injurious, i can say, calumnious, charge. all know, or should know, that england was the first nation to completely abolish slavery over all her empire; that has granted, in the largest possible measure, political liberty to all her colonies; that guarantees to all races the same rights and privileges, never interfering in colonial internal management. he is wilfully guilty of a calumnious charge the man who accuses the british race to aspire to dominate the world by an _ironed regime_, when he should know that great britain ran the risk of a crushing defeat, in refusing to organize a standing army of several millions of trained officers and men. a treasonable proposal. the nationalist leader wants the french-canadians to support his scheme in order _to work for the salutary object of demolishing the british empire by the so very constitutional means of imperial federation_. how he has failed to realize the infamous kind of suggestion he was making will always be a wonder to all those reading it. if, sooner or later, great britain and her colonies are politically organized as an imperial federation, the province of quebec will have several french-canadian representatives in the new greater imperial parliament. the nationalist leader wants those french-canadian members to go to london pledged to destroy the empire to which they will have to swear allegiance and fealty before crossing the threshold of the house of commons and taking their seats. does he not understand that any french-canadian doing what he wishes and recommends would deliberately perjure himself? does he not comprehend that he was paying a rather poor compliment to his british countrymen from canada, australia, new zealand and india, when he affirmed, without the shadow of truth, that they would elect to the imperial parliament members holding the mandate from them to work for the dissolution of the empire? i notice, with surprise, that in the enumeration he has drawn of the future destroyers of the future federated british empire, he has not convened his friends, the boers, to his holy task. does he not consider them as _farsighted_ and _energetic_ as the others he has pompously mentioned with such childish illusion. or, has he not, unconsciously, paid them the high compliment to suppose that they would be unable to accomplish the treasonable act which, with confidence, and even certainty, he expects from the others. our countrymen, the boers of south africa, have, by a large majority, become so loyal to the crown, to the empire,--and they have so gloriously proved it since the outbreak of the war--that it is manifestly evident that they are very well satisfied with their present position, that they have dispelled from their minds all bitter recollections of the struggle which, a few years ago, finally brought them within the empire they are doing such a noble effort to maintain and save from the german tyrannical grasp. the following views, recently expressed, in london, by mr. burton, minister of railways and harbours in the government of south africa, a leading public man of the far away sister dominion, is refreshing reading after mr. bourassa's outrageous outburst above quoted. he said:-- "_one of the motives which prompted south african support of the british cause was the fact, which appealed not only to the english-speaking population, but moved the dutch population--the fact that the british cause had embraced all the progressive peoples of the world. it was not britain's wealth, or influence, or power that appealed to them; it was the priceless privilege of the maintenance of our constitutional liberties. he could illustrate their attitude by a single incident which had come within his own experience in connection with a transvaaler, born and bred, whom he had questioned as to his future in the military service in which he was an officer. the officer replied that he had been through the german south-west african campaign, that he was going through the german east african campaign, and when that was done he intended making for flanders. he added: "i mean that as a man i could not act otherwise in view of the treatment dealt out to us by great britain. if she had not done what she did for us i should not have stirred hand or foot._"" no one need be surprised that the south african dominion is suffering a little from the "nationalist" fever, a disease infesting many countries, in various degrees, and with time cured by the safe remedy of the sound common sense of the people. we know too much about it ourselves, after nearly eighty years of free responsible government, to wonder at the fact that a small minority of the dutch south africans--from the boer element--is not yet fully reconciled with their lot under the british crown. they apparently dream of republicanism, in sullen recollection of a recent past which only some of the present generation still regret, but which the next will strive to cherish only as the stepping stone to their actual status so full of good promises for their future. the few south africans suffering from this virus are almost exclusively recruited amongst the populations of the late republics of south africa. the people of the provinces of natal and cape colony, with a long experience of british rule, have no faith in the "republican nationalism" desired by some, which does not in the least appeal to their good sense and their sound political foresight. mr. burton believes "_that the instigators of the movement are looking for votes more than for anything else_." mr. burton, moreover, truly said:-- "_it was part of the history of all countries that what was called "nationalism" made a powerful appeal to the finer classes of young men. it was an admirable sentiment, but what was complained of in south africa was that the sentiment was expended upon a wrong conception of "nationalism" and what nationhood should be. in south africa it was restricted, it was sectional, and practically racial. the energy and activity displayed were being spent upon a mistaken cause._" every word of this quotation applies with still greater force to the "nationalism" of the province of quebec. mr. burton goes on saying:-- "_it was the cause of south africa first--as it should be--but it was more than that. it was south africa first, last, and all the time, and south africa alone. he and those who were associated with him could not accept that view. it would mean ruinous chaos in south africa. they had obligations to great britain. it was not merely that they had received recognition from the beginning that their constitutional cause was just. it was not merely that great britain in its relation with south africa had been actuated by that beneficent influence which the british system of liberty effected under the sway of its flag throughout the world, but it was that the people of the union realized the true inward significance of the struggle in which the empire was engaged. they knew that the world's freedom was at stake, and with it their own. the people in south africa had long ago awakened to this great fact, and they were realizing it more and more as the war went on. when he had spoken of putting "south africa first" as the motto of a party he wished it to be understood that he and the people of south africa generally accepted it, as every nation was bound to accept it. but they also realized that their future as a nation and their freedom as a nation were at stake, and that their interests were bound up with those of the british empire._ "_it was because they realized that fact that the government of the union had in these troublous times nailed its flag to the mast. it was the honourable course, the right course, and they had stuck to it through good report and ill report, and through much trial and sacrifice. his last message as representative of the union government was: upon that attitude of the union government they might depend to the very last. they might be forced--he did not see any present prospect of it--to abandon office, but so long as they were in office they would adhere absolutely in the letter and in the spirit to the undertaking they had given and would continue in the path they had followed hitherto._" sensible, truly political and patriotic, noble words, indeed. are they not the complete expression of the powerful wave of enthusiasm which spread throughout the length and breadth of the whole british dominions overseas, when, after exhausting to the last drop her efforts to maintain peace, great britain, in honour bound, threw her gallant sword in the balance in which the destinies of the world were to be weighed during the frightful years of the most terrific thundering storm ever witnessed by man? how weighty those words are is evident. they are still more so by the fact that they positively and firmly express the views and sentiments of the two most trusted and illustrious leaders of the boers, who, both of them, took a very prominent part in the south african war, as generals commanding the forces of the south african republics: general botha and general smuts. general botha is, and has been for several years, the prime minister of the south african dominion. general smuts is minister of defence in general botha's cabinet. he is the representative of the government of the union of south africa in the imperial war cabinet. in june, , he was, moreover, "invited to attend the meetings of the british war cabinet during his stay in the british isles." both general botha and general smuts have often spoken about the present relations of their great dominion with england. the press of the whole british empire has published their speeches, most favourably commented by that of the allied nations. in every case, they were brilliant with true and staunch loyalty, worthy of the real statesmen the speakers are, in every sense fully up to what could be expected from the illustrious military and political leaders of a valiant race deserving the respect of all by her heroism of the past and her loyalty of present days. if ever mr. bourassa, as i hope he will, reads the above quoted lines, i am sure he will find therein every reason to be satisfied with his decision not to call upon the south africans to join with him and those he has summoned, in the unworthy task of bringing on imperial federation for the very treasonable purpose of destroying the british empire. for once, his judgment did not fail him. nobody knows if representatives from the whole present colonial dominions and india will ever sit, in london, as members of a new imperial parliament. it is most unlikely, at all events, that any one, merely to please mr. bourassa, will help building such a political structure with the criminal and treasonable purpose of throwing it at once to the ground with a tremendous crash. but we can all safely join in the affirmation that in the event of such a great historical fact being accomplished as that of a federated british commonwealth, the representatives of the colonies overseas will meet in the imperial capital to do their duty with loyalty and honour. i have no hesitation whatever to pledge my word that the french canadian representatives in london would be amongst the most loyal to their sovereign and to the empire, the most true to their oath. i solemnly protest against the injurious imputation the nationalist leader has addressed to my french canadian compatriots in charging them with the desire _to rot stupidly in colonial abjection_. let us repulse the unfounded accusation from an elevated standpoint. i feel the utmost contempt for all kinds of narrow prejudices, of blind fanaticism. nations, like individuals, all pursue providential destinies in this human world. there is no more abjection in the colonial status than in any other. canada is a british colony by the decree of providence. every nation--like every individual--has duties to perform in any situation she may occupy in the course of historical events. abjection is not the result of the faithful discharge of duty, however trying the circumstances may be. it would be in its violation with the guilty intent to betray. a hundred times better it is to remain a colony as long as the supreme ruler of the world will so order, than to attempt to break through by the dark plot of an infamous conspiration. let our destinies follow their natural development, striving to the best of our ability and patriotism to have them to achieve the happy conditions which we enjoy. any man aspiring to a legitimate influence on the mind of our compatriots, must encourage them, by words and deeds, to faithfully accomplish their daily task in showing them the advantages of their position. inconveniences are the outgrowth of any political standing. in the true christian spirit, trials are everywhere to be met with. sacrifice, when necessary, ennobles national as well, and as much, as individual life. it is very wrong on the part of any one to trouble the mind of our compatriots in purposely exhibiting to their view discouraging pictures of the difficulties of their situation. their national existence is not, never will, never can be, exclusively rosy. be it as it may, who can pretend, in good faith, that there exists, on the surface of the globe, a population, all things considered, happier than our own. our race freely grows on a fertile and blessed soil which she cultivates with her vigorous and intelligent daily toils, which she waters from the sweat of her brow, to which she clings by all the affections of her heart, by the noblest aspirations of her soul. on week days, proudly working on her domains; on sundays, kneeling before the altars of her church, fervently thanking him for past graces and gifts, she prays to the supreme giver of all earthly goods to continue to favour her with peace, with order, in the legitimate enjoyment of her liberties, together with the moral, intellectual and material progress she is striving to deserve. guilty is the man who tortures them with chimerical aspirations, who advises them to conspire against the legitimate authority which she must, and will, respect in spite of the seductions attempted to have her to fail in her duty. chapter xxviii. outrages are no reasons. the failings of human nature, the differences of temper, of the qualities and defects of heart and soul, are such that harmony and good-will amongst men in private life are too often difficult to secure. the divine precept, so frequently broken, should, however, always rule the relations between man and man. it should, with still more constant application, rule the relations between different races providentially called to live together on the same soil, under the same sovereign authority, enjoying the same institutions, the same liberties, protected by the same flag. that the house divided against itself is sure to fall is true of the nation as well as of the home. national and family happiness and prosperity are alike dependent on the feelings of real brotherhood which prevail in both. any good hearted man appreciates how much kindness of speech, courtesy of dealings, cordiality of manners, contribute to reciprocal good-fellowship, brotherly in the home, inspiring in the daily intercourse of citizens, patriotic in the nation at large. the more a sovereign state is inhabited by numerous ethnical groups, like the british empire and the american republic, the more important it is that the freedom of expressing one's opinion on all matters of public interest should be used with fairness, with respect for those holding different views, with due regard for the feelings which are the natural outcome of racial developments, of cherished recollections, of legitimate hopes. such are the principles, i am most happy to say, that i have admired and try to practice in the exercise of my rights as a citizen of the province where i saw the light of day, of canada where i have lived and hope to live all my years, of the british empire whose loyal subject i have been and am determined to remain to my last moment. how then could i have helped being shocked when i came to read the following lines i translate as follows from page of mr. bourassa's pamphlet:--"_yesterday, to-day, to-morrow_":-- "_were the french canadians to persist in their obstination to rot in colonialism and to consider that it is for them the happiest and the most glorious condition of existence, the english canadians would force them out of it. our countrymen of the british races have grave defects: they are_ ignorant, pretentious, arrogant, short-sighted, domineering. _they are, more than ourselves_, rotten with mercantilism. _they seem to have lost some of the best qualities of the english people, to have developed their faults and acquire many of the_ vices natural to the worst category of yankees. _but they have not_, like us, _totally_ abdicated _the_ proud character _and the_ primordious rights _of the british peoples. when the war is over, they will claim, like the australians, the new zealanders, and the indians (les hindous), a readjustment of the powers of government_." thus, in a few lines the nationalist leader, in appealing to his disordered imagination, has succeeded in slapping, in one single stroke, with dynamical outrages, the faces of the english-speaking canadians of the three great british races, of our neighbours, the yankees, and of his own compatriots, the french-canadians. how could he expect that such vitriolic language would promote, in the dominion, that harmony of feelings never before so essential as at the very time he was writing that injurious paragraph of his work, surely not intended to help winning the war so full of the greatest consequences, for good or ill, for the world, the british empire, canada, and our own province of quebec. so far, mr. bourassa, having gone back on the admiration he was wont to profess for england, in his early youth, had reserved all his assaults for the english people. but the heart of man, once under the sway of an unlimited and unsatisfied ambition, is bound to drop to the lowest depths of the extremist's aberration. in the above quotation, he fires his battery of _kruppic_ dimensions--loaded with poisonous invectives, at the three great british races, english, scotch and irish, living in canada. had his charge been intended for the english race alone, he would have been very particular in so saying. but, let there be no mistake about it, he deliberately wrote _our countrymen of the british races_. wanting, i suppose, to prove his impartiality, he remembered that the united kingdom is peopled by three illustrious races represented all over the globe by many millions of worthy sons, everywhere to be found hard at work for the intelligent development of the resources of the countries they live in and are rearing their children. more than four millions of them are canadians by birth or born in great britain. many more numerous they are in the united states where they form the solid stock upon which the future of the republic is firmly grounded. with the same thrust, mr. bourassa strikes at the yankees who, we may hope, have not trembled too much at the blow. he charges them with having infested his poor _countrymen of the british races_ with _many of the vices natural to the worst category of_ "yankeeism." kind, cordial, courteous, indeed he was in such a mood of tender sympathies for the canadian british races and their contagious cousins the yankees of the most corrupted class! however, the finest flower of the whole _bouquet--the rose par excellence_--is the one he has gallantly presented to his french-canadian compatriots. he tells them with the sweetest tones of his charming voice that they are pleased and happy to rot in "_colonialism_." but, evidently wishing to speak to them a few encouraging words, he mildly reminds them _that they are less rotten with "mercantilism" than their countrymen of the british races_. a man can be suffering less than his more sickly brother without, for all that, being in very good health. it is a poor consolation for the french canadians to hear from the nationalist leader that they are less infested with the mercantile virus than their brothers of the british races. all those who have followed with some attention mr. bourassa's course for the last twenty years, know that he is an equilibrist of the first class. having favoured the french canadians with the flattering compliment as above, he turns about and lashes them with the sweeping slap that, contrary to the stand the canadians of the british races cling to with an obstination which he deigns to approve, they, the degenerated french canadians whom he pities so much, "_have totally abdicated their proud character_ of old _and the primordial rights of british subjects_." so, in mr. bourassa's opinion, his french canadian compatriots are infested to a high degree both with the _colonialist_ and _mercantile_ corruptions. hence, his fear that they are threatened with a premature national death if they do not at once listen to his brotherly warnings. i have already answered the nationalist leader's charge that the french canadians are stupidly rotting in "colonial abjection." the same reasons refute his assumption that "colonialism" is an abject status for a people. a people, a race, who would enjoy living under the german autocratic colonial rule--for which the nationalist leader has so little dislike--would indeed prove some disposition to _rot stupidly in abjection_. but the divers peoples, the different races, who appreciate all the beneficent advantages of the present british colonial rule, are of very superior stock. they know, from the clearest conception, that monarchical democratic institutions are as much different from imperial autocratic tyranny, as true broad patriotism is far above narrow and fanatical "nationalism." i have only to say a few words about the "rottenness of mercantilism" against which, according to mr. bourassa, the french canadian are not sufficiently protected. going back to my recollections of the last sixty years, if there is a complaint which through all my life i have heard almost daily, with deep regret, it is that the french canadians were not striving with sufficient energy and perseverance to achieve a better and larger position in the business world. their leaders, religious, political and civil, to induce them to increased exertions, have always pointed to the example given them by their countrymen of the british races: by the clear headed and far-seeing english business man, the sturdy and hard working scotch, the enterprising and witty irish. thank god, i have well enough understood my duty to do my humble but patriotic share to favour this progressive movement. never, in so wisely advising the french canadians, any one supposed for a minute that he was leading them to the infested pond of _mercantile corruption_. the change wished by all was becoming more urgent. all were looking for the best means to carry it out. our leaders, having at their head, by right and merit, our religious chiefs under the authority of a prince of our church, his eminence the cardinal-archbishop of quebec, took the initiative with an ever increasing interest in the success they considered so important. the establishment of a permanent school of high commercial education and of several technical schools was most favourably approved. political economy is even, in a certain measure, taught in several of our classical colleges for secondary education. the necessity for our young men of knowing the english language, to succeed in commercial, industrial and financial pursuits in canada and in the neighbouring republic, is more and more generally admitted. the french canadians, fully enjoying the undoubted right to do so, aspire to achieve an advantageous and honourable position in commerce, in industry, in finance, in transportation, in mine working. the more we realize this goal of our legitimate ambition, the more we are also intensifying our efforts to promote agricultural progress and the improvement of our country roads. if, in all the branches of our national activity, we obtain the success we hope for, one single man alone amongst us shudders at the idea that the french canadians will blindly destroy their race with a mortal dose of the cursed "mercantilism" so dishonourable to the british races. and mr. bourassa, instead of heartily joining with all the leaders of his race--cardinal, archbishops, bishops, priests, statesmen, political men, judges, professional men, merchants, manufacturers, financiers,--to favour, as much as possible, the commercial and technical training of his compatriots, sneers at such efforts which, in his candid opinion, are only plunging them in the irremediable depths of "mercantile corruption"! are not such abominable teachings a curse to all those of the race to which they are addressed with an unsurpassed cynicism? chapter xxix. how mr. bourassa paid his compliments to the canadian army. with a most admirable unanimity--_nemine contradicente_, as parliamentary procedure says--the canadian parliament decided at once, at the very outbreak of the hostilities, to organize a great army to go and defend the empire of which the dominion is an important component part, and civilization in peril from the teutonic crushing wave of barbarism, let loose over belgium and france. in the most evidently constitutional ways, the canadian people, as a whole, as they had the right and the bounden duty to do, approved the decision of parliament. when mr. bourassa issued the pamphlets referred to, some four hundred thousands volunteers had already enlisted. a large number of them--over one hundred and sixty thousands had reached the western front--some the eastern--where they fought valiantly, heroically, on french soil, against the german hordes. thousands of them had fallen on the field of honour, resting with imperishable glory, for them and for us all, in that ancestral land which we, and ever will, cherish. more than one hundred and twenty-five thousands were on british soil, being trained for the military operations of the following spring. the rest of the army, in numerous thousands, was still with us, getting organized for the noble task, and waiting to cross over the atlantic to go on the field of battle. the canadian army had in every way merited the respect and the admiration of all their countrymen who were very happy to so testify. however, in this admirable concert of praise and grateful congratulations, a very discordant note was one day heard resounding from the lowest inspiration of the human heart vibrating with feelings of shameful contempt. it is found at page of the pamphlet previously quoted, and reads as follows in its naked outrageous language:-- "_in canada, a militarism is being forged unparalleled in any civilized country, a depraved and undisciplined soldiery, an armed scoundrelism, without faith nor law, as refractory to the call of individual honour as to the authority of its parading or patronage officers._" for all the treasures of the world, i would not agree to bear before my countrymen the responsibility of such injurious words addressed to the canadian army whose valour is doing so much for our national honour. in one single masterly stroke of his poisoned pen the nationalist leader decrees that the canadian army is far below the worst type of german and turkish soldiery, that no other civilized country is cursed with such a degraded, undisciplined, dishonoured militarism. for god's sake, whence and where has such an outrageous outburst originated? from what dark corner has the electric current been poured out with such infernal fury? i shall not pretend that all our volunteers, from first to last, had reached the saintly state of soul of their inexorable judge. as a rule poor mortals do not jump, by a single effort, up to that degree of christian perfection shining with the great virtues of humility, charity, justice--by words and deeds. we must not suppose that many of our heroic volunteers had deserved, like their trusted friend and admirer, mr. bourassa, to be canonized during their life time. that some of them, whose past was perhaps not a very strong recommendation, have enlisted with the laudable purpose to rehabilitate themselves in their own self-estimation and in that of their countrymen, it is very likely. far from blaming them for so doing, we must congratulate them and encourage them to persevere in the glorious task which will entitle them to the everlasting gratitude of their country. such has been the case in the armies of all nations for many centuries past. fortunately, far better and much more authorized judges of the devotion, courage and patriotism of the volunteers of the great canadian army, as well as of the cause for the triumph of which they have offered, and in so many cases, given their lives, were easily found. they wrote and spoke with no uncertain voice. in a letter approving the publication of a very interesting pamphlet, entitled:--"_war controversy between catholics_"--"_la controverse de guerre entre catholiques_,"--his eminence cardinal begin, archbishop of quebec, said:-- "_attentively read, as it deserves to be, this work will help to understand and to love to the limit of devotion, (jusqu'au dévouement) the beauty and the sovereign importance of the great cause--the protection of the world threatened by germanism--for which our soldiers are so valiantly fighting together with those of england, france and belgium._ "_i pray god to bless those brave warriors and to grant peace to the christian world by the reestablishment of justice and right._" what an encouraging contrast! on the one hand, a publicist, with the fury of its resounding organs, so widely used, vowing to eternal damnation, _the armed scoundrelism which canada is_ forging, with conditions inferior to teutonic and turkish barbarism, considering that it has reached the lowest depth of "_a degradation unparalleled in any civilized country_." on the other, the head of the catholic church in canada, cardinal begin, blessing in the name of god almighty _our brave warriors who fight so valiantly with those of england, france and belgium_, because _they love with true devotion the beauty and the sovereign importance of the great cause_ to the triumph of which they sacrifice _their lives--the protection of the world threatened by germanism_. on thursday, october , , archbishop bruchesi, of montreal, present at a funeral service, in notre-dame church, attended by many thousands, for the glorious victims of the sacred duty of defending the cause of the allies, eloquently said in part:-- "_they (our heroes) had voluntarily enlisted. two years ago, they organized their battalion, the glorious nd. they enlisted, conscious that they were defending the most just of all causes, that of civilization, of right, of humanity. they enlisted with the conviction that they would serve the interests of their country, for, when oversea, they knew that they were defending canada. they were young and strong; one could not see them without admiration._ "_they have made their country's name and their own grand. they have for all times immortalized themselves in history, and, by them, canada has been immortalized._ "_the war is not over; it goes on horribly, but our hearts are hopeful. it is impossible that they should triumph the men who, during forty years, have prepared for the greatest war and who, during two years, have torn the world asunder and flooded the earth with blood. impossible that they should triumph the men who have declared this war without a right to avenge, without a grievance to redress, without being menaced in any way. impossible that they should triumph those who have torn, like a scrap of paper, a pact upon which the nations relied, having faith in the pledged word. impossible that they should triumph those who have invaded the territory of valiant belgium, whose only fault was_: to remain true to her honour. _they shall not triumph those who, on account of their military service, have made this war a carnage and a butchery without precedent in history. i believe in god of all justice. humanity wanted a suffering which purifies, but when mothers shall have wept long enough, god will have his divine word heard._ "_when this great work is accomplished, and when we shall sing the_ te deum _of thanksgiving, we will be able to say that canada, that all the provinces of canada, that our province of quebec, have deserved their share of glory_." on tuesday, november , , at a funeral service in the quebec basilica, addressing the large audience rallied to pray for the dead heroes, reverend mr. camille roy, one of the most distinguished professors of the quebec seminary, said in part:-- "_they went, our officers and soldiers, to serve a great cause. several reasons, perhaps intermingled in their conscience, have inspired their courageous decision...._ "_but dominating, penetrating them all, purifying what in them was too personal and restricted, was the thought that in doing all this they were going to fight with heroic brothers and employ their strength to defend what is most venerable on earth: outraged justice._ "_perhaps they ignored historical secrets and diplomatic complications, but they knew the war brutally declared, the treaties torn away, belgium violated, and agonizing, france mutilated and invaded, england, herself, chased over the moving frontier of her oceans invaded; they knew the destroyed homes, the profanated cathedrals, the brutally murdered old men, women and children, and the flood of barbarians rushing in tumultuous waves over the fields of the sweetest country. they knew that, over there, two nations to whom we are attached by our political, or by our national, life, wanted the support of their sons far away, that they had to battle for sacred interests in a war requiring an endurance commanding an incessant renewal of our energies; and then, without halting to consider if they were obliged to it by laws, they have answered the most pressing call of their souls, and have freely made the devoted sacrifice._" what other edifying contrast between the appreciation of the part played by the canadian army by three intellects, one overpowered by an inexplicable hostile passion, the two others, inspired by the noblest sentiments, rising to the sublime conception of the great sacrifice accepted by our brave volunteers, which they express by eloquent words who moved the hearts and brought _abundant and warm tears to the eyes of those who_ heard or read them. where one only sees _depraved_ beings more contemptible _than all those which any other country_ could produce or _forge_, the two others, so much superior in every way, admire, the first, those who went to defend the most just of all causes, that of civilization, of right, of humanity; the second, the supernatural beauty of sacrifice that their brothers in arms have made of their lives to the justice of god. the pamphleteer cruelly attacks those who, to-morrow, will face with unfaltering courage the guns of the enemy to defend civilization and avenge the martyrs of barbarity. the sacred orator blesses the mortal remains of our sons who have fallen on the field of honour, on the soil of france, where our forefathers were born and bred, with the fervent prayer of their grateful country that knows they died heroically "for a great cause" to defend what is most venerable on earth: "outraged justice." the following pages from a very eloquent pastoral letter by bishop emard, of the diocese of valleyfield, will, i am sure, be read with most respectful interest by all. they are as follows:-- "dear brethren, we certainly have the right, and we even consider that it is for us all, citizens of canada, loyal subjects of england, a duty to demand from god the success of the arms of our mother-country and of her allies in the present war. if we are not called upon, as a matter of faith, to pass judgment on the true causes of the war, and to divide the responsibilities respecting the calamity which covers europe with blood, we are surely allowed to think and to say that all the circumstances actually known sufficiently prove that right is on the side of the peoples who have checked the invasion, and discouraged the overflowing of the enemy from his territory, in order that the sentiment of justice may serve to support the devotion of our soldiers, in this great conflict, called the struggle of civilization against barbarism. "the church of christ, always the same by her doctrine, has been marvellously constituted by the divine wisdom, to adapt her externally everywhere and always, to the infinitely varied circumstances consequent on the diversity of peoples, of governments, of social relations. she has never ceased to practice, by her pastors and her faithful children, the great lesson given by christ: "=render therefore to cæsar the things that are cæsar's and to god the things that are god's=," and to claim with the apostle all the rights as well as accept all the duties of citizens and subjects." after recalling that from the day _divine providence, in her mysterious designs_, allowed canada to pass from the french to the english sovereignty, _the church, by her bishops, has declared that, henceforth, it was the duty of the french canadians to transfer to the british crown, without reserve, the cordial allegiance which the king of france had hitherto received from them_, and that since then until the present days, the canadian episcopate has remained true to his course, bishop emard proceeds as follows:-- "we are then, very dear brethren, in perfect communion of sentiments, action and language, with our venerable predecessors of the canadian episcopate, in asking you to-day to address to heaven fervent prayers for the complete and final success of england and her allies in the frightful war which is covering the earth with such unheard of horrors." the clergy, never forgetting peter's word respecting the submission all are in duty bound to practice towards kings as well as towards all those holding civil power, was always faithful in obeying the episcopal directions never ceasing to deserve the eulogium which the bishops expressed to the pope in their favour. "the french-canadian people, so taught by words and examples, have given in all our history the admirable spectacle of a constant fidelity which circumstances more than once rendered highly meritorious. such are the true religious and national traditions of our country. they have in our own days, as in the past, found the exact expression suggested by the situation. "on the other hand, it appears to us a well established fact, and the most serious minds so proclaim everywhere, that the british empire, together with france, martyred belgium and their allies are actually struggling for the defence of the peoples' rights and true liberty. (card. begin.) therefore, very dear brethren, it must be acknowledged that canada, herself threatened by the possibilities of a war fought with conditions heretofore unknown, has acted both wisely and loyally in giving, in a manner as generous as it was spontaneous, all the support in her power to the mother-country, england. "the catholics, and especially those of french origin, have not remained behind in this manifestation of true patriotism. if it was well to make a comparison between the other groups, from the standpoint of the free and generous participation of all to the european war, it would be necessary, in the respective figures obtainable, to take into account several elements which are perhaps not sufficiently considered. "but this is not the real question. it is sufficient to show and to note for historical authenticity that, with the encouragement and the blessings of their pastors, and true to their constant tradition, the canadian catholics, as a whole, have, in this frightful conflict proved the perfect loyalty which is the sound expression of true patriotism, and which is blessed by the church and by god. "thousands and thousands of our young men, for a large number of them at the cost of particular and most painful sacrifices, and in many cases, without being able to give to their race the benefit of their chivalrous devotion, have gone, oversea, to fight and die for the cause which was proved to them noble and urgent. "moreover, all over the country, the courage of our soldiers was echoed and answered by many active and important works characterized by charitable solidarity, and this universal co-operative and sympathetic movement must be supported by the sentiments of faith and piety. "since we are, at all costs, engaged in a disastrous war, the causes of which we have not to discuss and judge, but the consequences of which will necessarily reach our country, and since our canadian soldiers are battling under the british flag, with the clear conscience of an honourable duty loyally and freely accepted, it is just, it is legitimate that our prayers do accompany them on the very fields of battles to support their courage, and that these prayers ascend to heaven to implore victory for our armies." evidently the venerable bishop of valleyfield is far from believing, like the publicist whose errors we must all deplore, that in organizing a powerful army "_to go overseas to fight and die for the noble and urgent cause so proved to them_," the canadian parliament "_were forging for us a militarism without parallel in any other civilized country, a depraved and undisciplined soldiery, an armed scoundrelism, without faith nor law_." the blessings of the head of the canadian church and those of the whole episcopate have consolated our brave volunteers for the outrages thrust at them, and have inspired them with the great christian courage to forgive their author. the only revenge they have taken against their accuser has been to defend himself and his own against the barbarous germans. chapter xxx. rash denunciation of public men. a long experience of public life, whether by daily observation, begun in my early youth, when the union of the provinces was finally discussed, carried and established, or, subsequently, during many years of active political life as a journalist and member of the quebec and ottawa representative houses, has taught me to judge the actions of responsible men, whether ministerialists or oppositionists, with great fairness and respectful regard. at all times the government of a large progressive country peopled by several races, of different religious creeds, is a difficult problem. it should not be necessary to say that in days of warlike crisis, of previously unknown proportions, like the present one, the task becomes almost superhuman. anyone taking into serious consideration the very trying ordeal through which, for instance, the rulers of great britain and france have been, and are still passing, since early in , cannot help being indulgent for those who have the weighty and often crushing burden of the cares of state. let so much be said without in the least contesting the right of free men to their own opinion about what is best to be done. but it was never more opportune to remember that the honourable privilege of constitutional criticism must have for its only superior object the good of the country by improved methods. we have reason to congratulate ourselves that this sound view has widely prevailed rallying almost as units great nations,--our own one of them--previously much divided in political thoughts and aspirations, for the noble and patriotic purpose of winning a disastrous war they were forced to wage, in spite of their most determined efforts to prevent it. public men, nations rulers, like all others are human and liable to fail or to be found wanting. unconscious inefficiency, however desirable to remove, cannot be fairly classed on the same footing as guilty failures. the first may, more or less, injure the bright prospects of a country; the second stains her honour which an exemplary punishment can alone redeem. but it is said with much truth that there are always exceptions to a general rule. that of the human heart to be fallible in public life, as well as in other callings, has met with only one solitary exception in canada: the saintly nationalist leader who will never have his equal, "nature having destroyed the mould when she cast him." considering the outrageous language he thrusted at the canadians of the three british races and at our heroic volunteers, it is not to be supposed that he was so tender-hearted as to spare the public men, not only of canada, but of all the allied nations. when he affirmed that the real and only cause of the war had been, and was still, the voracious greed of capitalist speculators, especially of the two leading belligerents, great britain and germany, united together to profit to the tune of hundreds of millions out of the production of warship building and materials of all sorts, was he not charging all the statesmen and leading politicians of all the peoples at war, of having bowed either consciously to the dictates of traitors to their countries, or of having been stupidly blind to the guilty manipulations of financial banditti? it would take many pages only to make a summary of the injurious words he has addressed to the canadian public men of all shades of opinion--with the only exception of the nationalist--on account of the support they have given, in one way or another, to the dominion's participation in the war. he qualified as a _revolution_ the policy by which we willingly decided to take part in the wars of the empire whenever we came to the conclusion that england was fighting for a just cause. on the rd of april, , he wrote as follows:-- "_very often we have shown the evident revolutionary character of the canadian intervention in the european conflict._" after repeating his absolutely absurd pretention, according to the sound principles of constitutional law, that canada could have intervened in the war as a "_nation_" he found fault with all and every one because "_we are fighting to defend the empire_." he went on and said with his natural sweetness of language:-- "_the politicians of the two parties and the whole servile and mercenary press have applied themselves to this revolutionary work.... for a long time past the party leaders are the tools of british imperialism and of_ british high finance." and not satisfied with having thus slashed all the party leaders, all the chiefs of the state, he turns round, in an access of passionate indignation, and charges not only all the leading social classes, but even the bishops, the worthy leaders of the church, as the accomplices of the imperialist revolution. he thrusts the terrible blow as follows:-- "_but what the war has produced of entirely new and most disconcerting, is the moral support and complicity which the_ "imperialist revolution" _has found in all the leading social classes_. bishops, _financiers, publicists and professionals went into the movement with a unity, an ardour, a zeal which reveal the effective strength of the laborious propaganda of which lord grey has been the most powerful worker prior to the war_." so that there should be no mistake about its true meaning, he favoured his readers with a very clear explanation indeed of what, in his opinion, has transformed our meritorious and loyal intervention in the war into a guilty revolutionary movement. he wrote as follows:-- "_but what the imperialists wanted, and what they have succeeded in obtaining, was to bind canada to the fate of england, in the name of the principle of imperial solidarity and--as we shall see in a moment--to the cause of_ 'universal democracy'." thus, in the nationalist leader's opinion, it is a great crime to help england and her allies to win a war the loss of which would most likely have destroyed the british empire, involving our own ruin in the downfall of the mighty political edifice to be replaced, in the glorious shelter it gives to human freedom, by the triumphant german autocratic rule and its universal domination. it is, to say the least, an extravagant notion to pretend that the war has afforded the imperialists the opportunity--eagerly seized--"_to tie canada_" hand and foot, "_to the fate of england_." if i am not mistaken--and i am positively sure i am right in so saying--canada was bound to the fate of england the very day when--by providential decree, in that instance as well as with regard to everything earthly--she passed under british sovereignty. the worthy leaders of our church so considered--and have since unanimously considered--at once taking the sound christian stand that the french canadians were, in duty bound, to accept their new political status in good faith, and to loyally support their new mother country whenever circumstances would require their devoted help, whilst revering the old as every child must do, if he is blessed with a good heart, when separated by unforeseen events from the home of his happy youth. i must acknowledge that with some of our french canadians of the first class and standing, the word "democracy" savours with soreness. well read in all that pertains to the great epoch of the first french tremendous revolution, they abhor, with much reason, the extravagant and false principles of the bolshevikism of those days, which culminated in the frightful period of the "terrorism" which, for three long years and more, kept its strong knee on france's throat, her fair soil flooded with the innocent blood of her children. they are apt to be laid to the confusion that democratic government is in almost every case, if not always, synonymous of revolutionary institutions, in as much as it cannot, they believe and say, be otherwise than destructive of the principle of "authority," certainly as essential as that of "liberty," both as the necessary fundamental basis of all good governments. knowing this, the nationalist leader, who has evidently abjured his liberalism of former days, which he was wont to parade in such resounding sentences, multiplies his efforts to capture the support of the few members of our most venerable clergy whom he supposes labouring under the aforesaid delusion. he would not lose the chance of trading on their feelings and sincere conviction, in boldly declaring that his good friends, the cursed imperialists, had managed to drag the dominion through the mire of the european war by blandishing before the eyes of the canadian people, so enamoured of their constitutional liberties, the supposed dangerous spectre of "_universal democracy_." if, in reality, democratic government could not help being either the "french revolutionary terrorism," of - ,--which even frightened such a staunch friend of political liberty as burke--or the russian criminal bolshevikism of our own trying days, we would be forced, in dire sadness, to despair of the world's future, as humanity would be forever doomed to ebb and flow between the sanguinary "absolutism" either of "autocratic" or "terrorist" tyrants. happily, we can, in all sincerity, affirm that such is not the case. is it not sufficient, as a most reassuring proof, to point at the wonderful achievements of free institutions, first, under the monarchical democratic system of great britain and her autonomous dominions; second, under the republican regime of the united states. after many long years of earnest study and serious thinking, i cannot draw the very depressing conclusion that the two basic principles of sound government--authority and liberty--cannot be brought to work harmoniously together for the happiness and prosperity of nations, as far as they can be achieved in this world of sufferings and sacrifices. such a conclusion would also be contrary to true christian teachings, the almighty having created man a free being with a responsible and immortal soul. nations who, forgetful of the obligations of moral laws, indulge in guilty abuse of their liberties, are, sooner or later, as individuals doing alike, sure to meet with the due providential punishment they have deserved. but, also like individuals, they can redeem themselves in repenting for their past errors, due to uncontrolled passions, and by resolutely and "freely" returning to the path of their sacred duty. the nationalist leader also deplores, as one of their guilty achievements, the fact that the "_war had ended all equivocals and consummated the complete alliance of the two parties_," to favour, as he asserts, of course, the enterprises of the dreaded imperialism. true to the kind appreciation he has pledged himself to make of the inspiring dark motives actuating the conduct of public men, he sweetly added:-- "_the truce arrived at in could not, it is true, resist the thirst for power. "blues" and "reds" have recommenced tearing themselves about patronage, places, planturous contracts and "boodle." but with regard to the substantial question itself, and to the imperialist revolution brought on and sanctioned by the war, they have remained in accord._" it could not strike such a prejudiced mind as that of the nationalist leader, that political chieftains, and their respective supporters, could conscientiously unite to save their country, their empire and the world from an impending terrible disaster, and yet freely and conscientiously differ as to the best means to achieve the sacred object to the success of which they have pledged, and they continue to make, their best and most patriotic efforts. the public men, and even the private citizens, who, not believing that he speaks and writes with divine inspiration, dare to differ from the nationalist leader, cannot, in his opinion, do so unless influenced by unworthy corrupt motives. and he further draws the awful conclusion "_that it is his duty to note the ever increasing revolutionary character that the european war, as a whole, is assuming on the side of the allies_." to support this last and absolutely unfounded charge, he positively asserts that the joint "_policy of the statesmen, politicians and journalists, has much less for its object to liberate oppressed nations like belgium, servia_, ireland, _poland and finland, from a foreign yoke, than to overthrow in all the countries, allies or enemies, the monarchical form of government_." and then follows a most virulent diatribe by which he points, in support of his wild conclusion aforesaid, to the russian revolution, charging "_the officious and reptile press of the allied countries to have joined in spreading the legend that it had been precipitated by german intrigues at the court of the czar, and to have accused the ill-fated emperor to have been the spy and the accomplice of the enemies of his country_." at this hour of the day, in the turmoil of flashing events perhaps never before equalled in suddenness, pregnant with such alarming, or comforting, prospective consequences, it is much too early to attempt passing a reliable judgment on the true causes which produced the moscovite revolution so soon and so dastardly developed into criminal "bolshevikism." the question must be left for history to settle when peace is restored and the sources of truth are wide opened to the impartial investigations of high class historians. however, enough is known to prove that mr. bourassa's charge is altogether unfounded. anyone conversant with russian history for the two last centuries, is aware that german influences and intrigues have always played a great part in the capital of that fallen empire. from the very beginning of the war, it became evident that they were actively at work at the petrograd court, thwarting the emperor's efforts and those of his advisers, military and civil, he could trust, to be true to the cause he had sworn to defend with france and england. the nationalist leader, i hope, is the only man still to wonder at this, after all that has been discovered proving what germany has tried to bribe the political leaders and the press of the allies, with too much success in france, england and the united states. russia has been for too many years the favourite soil where germany was sowing her corrupt intrigues, to let any sensible man suppose that she would kindly withdraw from the preferred field of her infamous operations, at the very time she was exerting herself with such energy, and at the cost of so many millions, to extend her vast spy system almost all over the earth,--canada included--debauching consciences right and left. is it unfair to say, for instance, after the event as it developed, that roumania was prematurely brought into the war in consequence of the dark german machinations at petrograd, with the evident understanding that the military operations, both on the teutonic and moscovite sides, were to be so conducted as to rush poor roumania into a most disastrous defeat, in order to feed the central empires with the products of the fertile roumanian soil? no representative man of any consequence has pretended that the unfortunate czar was himself a party to that treason of the allied cause. he has likely been the victim of his own weakness in not using what was left to him of his personal autocratic power to silence the sympathies of the friends of germany at his imperial court, and even in his most intimate circle, rather than exhausting it in a supreme, but doomed, attempt at checking the rising tide of popular aspirations sure, as always, to overflow to frightful excesses, if unwisely compressed. almost daily witnessing the successive miscarriages of so many of the russian military operations, too often by the failure of the ammunitions, supplied to such a large extent by the allies, to reach the russian soldiers, or by other inexplicable causes, it is not surprising that the people at large became suspicious of their government which they soon believed to be under german tutorage. the rapid, almost sudden, overthrow of the russian autocratic empire can be accepted as evidence that the movement in favour of a change which would more efficiently conduct russia's share of the conflict, was widespread. the goal it aimed at, once reached, and russia proclaimed a republic, with a regular _de facto_ government under the leadership of abler men, whose patriotism was proved by their words, but more surely by their deeds, france, england, italy and the united states cannot be reasonably reproached with having unduly opened diplomatic relations with the new moscovite authorities. unfortunately, once successful in her intrigues at the petrograd court, soon to fall under the weight of popular exasperation, germany tried her hand in a triumphant, but shameful, way with the fiery sanguinary and treasonable element always to be found operating in the darkest corners for their own criminal purposes. the calamitous outcome has been "bolchevikism" betraying their country in the light of day, without blushing, without hiding their faces in eternal shame, and signing, with their hands stained with the blood of their own kin, the infamous treaty of brest-litovsk dismembering poor russia, scattering to the winds her fond hopes of a grand future at the very dawn of the better days promised by a free constitution, and plunging her in the throes of german autocratic domination. with regard to the nationalist leader's rash denunciation of public men, i have only a few more words to say. my personal recollections going back to the early sixties of the last century, for several years free from all party affiliations, unbiassed by any sympathies or prejudices, i consider it my duty to say that, on the whole, canadian public life, as well as british public life, is honourable and entitled to the respect of public opinion. out of hundreds and thousands of politicians, both in the motherland and in our own dominion, there may have been failings. it would be useless, even pernicious, to point at them. the revulsion of public feeling towards the fallen for cause, and the severe judgment of misdeeds by the impartial historian, has been the deserved punishment of the few who have prevaricated. i prefer by far to take my lofty inspiration from the galaxy of faithful public servants who, from all parties, and from various standpoints, have given the fruits of their intelligence, of their learning, of their hard work--and in many cases--of their private wealth, for the good of their country. in the course of the last fifty-five years, i have known hundreds of our public men who lived through, and came out of, a long political life getting poorer every day without being disheartened and retiring from the public service to which they were devoted to the last. need i point, as examples, to the cases of several men who, departed for a better world, parliament, irrespective of all party considerations, united to a man to vote a yearly allowance of a few hundred dollars to save their surviving widows and children from actual want and destitution! just as well as the canadians of the three british races, and the gallant volunteers of our heroic army, canadian and british public men can rest assured that from the high position they occupy in the world's estimation, they are far above the fanatical aspersions of the nationalist leader blinded by the wild suggestions of an inexhaustible thirst of rash condemnation. chapter xxxi. mr. bourassa's dangerous pacifism. two historical truths, undeniable, bright as the shining light of the finest summer day, which have triumphantly challenged the innumerable falsehoods to the contrary constantly circulated by germany, even prior to the outbreak of the hostilities, are:-- first, that all the countries united under the title--the allies, have been energetically in favour of maintaining the peace of the world, when it became evident, for all sensible people, that germany was eagerly watching her opportunity to strike the blow she had prepared for the previous forty years on such a gigantic scale. second, that, once engaged in the conflict against their deliberate will, and in spite of their noble efforts to prevent the war which they clearly foresaw would be most calamitous, they have always remained the staunch supporters of the restoration of peace upon the two _sine qua non_ conditions of justice and durability. to achieve these two objectives, they have been fighting for now more than four years, at tremendous cost of men and treasures, and they are determined to fight until victorious. they would all lay down their arms to-morrow, if the results so important for the future of humanity could be secured with certainty. like all great causes, peace with justice and durability has had its true and its false friends. the true friends of peace were those who realized from the very beginning of the frightful struggle that it was perfectly useless to expect it, if the disastrous prussian militarism was to be maintained and allowed to continue threatening civilization. the true friends of peace were those who pledged their honour not to sheathe the sword they had been forced to draw before germany would acknowledge that she had no right to violate solemn treaties, and would agree to redeem the crime she had committed in invading the neutral territory of belgium which she trampled under her ironed heels and crucified. the true friends of peace were those who determined to bring germany to renounce the abominable principles she has professed, training the mind of her peoples to believe and proclaim that might is right and the only sound basis of international law. the true friends of peace were those who, however anxious they were to have it restored as soon as possible--fervently praying the almighty to that purpose--, knowing what are the principles of international law recognized by all truly civilized nations, could not forgive germany, unless she sincerely repented, the barbarism she displayed in her murderous submarine campaign, and practised in belgium, northern france and in every piece of belligerent territory her armies occupied. the true friends of peace were those who clearly understood that to meet the two essential conditions of justice and durability, it was practically impossible to secure it by a compromise which could not, by any means, protect the world against further german attempts at universal military domination. the false friends of peace were those who said and wrote, in sheer defiance of truth, that the allies, more especially england and russia, were as much responsible for the war as germany herself. the false friends of peace were those who falsely alleged that the allies were preventing it by their repeated declarations that their principal war aim was to destroy, not only the german empire, but also the german race, thus wilfully and maliciously pretending that to battle for the abolition of teutonic militarism, weighing so heavily on all the nations, was equal, in guilty knowledge, to fighting for an enemy's race destruction. the false friends of peace were those who were ready to sanction, at any time, a compromise between heroic and criminal war aims, which would leave future generations to the tender mercies of a sovereign power straining every nerve to dominate the world by the foulest means ever devised. the false friends of peace were those whose daily effort was to dishearten their countrymen from the noble and patriotic task they had bravely undertaken with the strong will to accomplish it at all costs, knowing, as they did, that it was a question of life or death for human civilization. "defeatists," as they are called, to mean the shameless supporters of peace negotiations to be opened by the allies acknowledging their defeat and the victory of germany, there were, and there are, in all the "allied" belligerent nations. no one need be too much surprised at the hideous fact. in all countries, at all times, under the direst circumstances, when it is most important, in very distressing hours, that all be of one mind, of one heart, to save the nation's existence, are to be found heartless, low minded, cowardly beings, ready to betray their countrymen rather than stand the strain of their due share of sacrifices, or, which is still far worse, for corrupt motives, to deliver them over to the enemy. "defeatists" we have had, we have yet, in canada, in the province of quebec. most happily, they are few and far between. imbued with the false notions he has so tenaciously ventilated respecting canada's participation in the war, it is no wonder that the nationalist leader was sure to be found at the head of the small group of pacifists, at almost any cost, mustered amongst the french canadians. a sower of prejudices, he was bound to watch with eagerness the growing crop of ill-feelings he was fostering. those of us who oppose all, and any, participation by the dominion in the wars of the empire, be they even so just, so honourable, so necessary, under mr. bourassa's deplorable leadership, were naturally supporters of any kind of "pacifism." i will not classify the nationalist leader and his dupes as "_defeatists_," who were ready to accept peace as the consequence of defeat. the real "_pacifists_," so far as it is possible to ascertain their views, unable, consciously or not, to see any difference in the respective responsibilities of the belligerents in opening the war, consider that they are equally guilty in not closing it. most happily, such a disordered opinion is shared only by a small minority. it can be positively affirmed that public opinion, the world over, outside the central empires and their swayed allies, is almost unanimous that germany, through her military party and the junkers element, is responsible for the dire calamity she has brought on humanity. the question of the restoration of "peace" must be viewed from this starting point--the only true one. the standpoints of the true and the false friends of peace being so far apart, the conclusions they draw are naturally widely different. chapter xxxii. a most reprehensible abuse of sacred appeals to the belligerent nations. i cannot qualify in milder words the use mr. bourassa has made of the solemn appeals his holiness the pope of rome has, at different dates, addressed to the belligerent nations in favour of the restoration of peace. i bear to the head of the church i am so happy to belong such a profound respect and devotion that i will scrupulously abstain from any comment of the sovereign pontiff's writings and addresses. i have read them several times over with the greatest attention and veneration, so sure i was that, emanating from the highest spiritual authority in the world, they were exclusively inspired by the ardent desire to promote a recurrence to good-will amongst men, in obedience to the divine precept. having to reproach the nationalist leader with having abused of the weighty words of his holiness, to support his own misconceptions of duty as a loyal british subject and a christian publicist, i will refrain with great care from writing a sentence which might be construed as the shadow of an attempt to do the same. i will take from mr. bourassa's own comments of the sovereign pontiff's appeals, the two conclusions upon which he lays great stress, and which clearly summarize the convictions of his holiness pope benedict xv. praying with all the powers of his heart and soul for the orderly future of the world, the sovereign pontiff implored, in the most touching terms, the belligerent nations to agree to a "just and durable peace." as it was certain, even if he had not said so with such pathetic expressions, his holiness drew the saddest possible picture of the untold misfortunes war, carried on in such vast proportions, was inflicting upon the peoples waging the struggle. i will only quote the few following words from the first letter of his holiness, dated july , :-- "_it cannot be said that the immense conflict cannot be terminated without armed violence._" no one can take exception to this truism, authoritatively expressed under circumstances greatly adding to its importance and to its solemn announcement. it is just as true to-day as it was,--and has been ever since,--when the whole world was passing through the crucial ordeal of the days during which england and france were almost imploring germany not to plunge the earth into the horrors of the war she was determined to bring on. the questions at stake could then have been easily settled without "armed violence," if the imperial government of berlin had listened to the pressing demand of great britain in favour of the maintenance of peace. it is scarcely believable that the nationalist leader has abused of those weighty words to the point of attempting to persuade the french-canadians that the allies, even more than the rulers of the central empires, have refused to listen to the prayers of the pope. in january last, he published a new pamphlet, entitled "the pope, arbiter of peace," in which he reproduced from "le devoir" his numerous articles, from august , on the intervention of the sovereign pontiff in favour of the cessation of the hostilities, and on the current events of the times. the oft-repeated diatribes of mr. bourassa against england were bound to be once more edited in the above pamphlet. their author, in a true fatherly way, not willing to allow them to die under the contempt they deserve, would not lose the chance to have them to survive in tackling them with his comments on his holiness' letters. this pamphlet, the worthy sequel of its predecessors which, for the good of mr. bourassa's compatriots, should never have seen the light of day, would call for many more refutable quotations than i can undertake to make in this work. a few will suffice to show the deplorable purport of the whole book. in his letter dated, july , , the pope wrote:-- "_in presence of divine providence, we conjure the belligerent nations, to henceforth put an end to the horrible carnage which, for a year, dishonours europe._" positively informed about the horrible crimes committed by command of the german military authorities in belgium, and northern france, and by the ferocious turks in armenia, well might his holiness say that europe was being dishonoured by such barbarous deeds. if the military operations had been conducted by the nations of the alliance in conformity with the principles of international law, most likely the pope would not have used the same language. for, however much to be regretted are the sufferings inseparable from a military conflict carried on with the utmost regards for the fair claims of human feelings and justice, it could not have been pretended that such a war was a dishonour for the belligerents on both sides, especially when fighting with an equally sincere conviction that they are defending a just cause. referring to recent history, none asserted, for instance, that the russo-japanese war was a dishonour to europe and asia. it was fought out honourably on both sides. peace was restored without leaving bitter and burning recollections in the minds of either peoples. and when germany dishonoured herself and stained humanity with blushing shame, both russia and japan joined together to avenge civilization. let us now see how mr. bourassa distorted the words of the pope so as to use them for his own purpose of misrepresenting the true stand of the allies, and more especially of england. the first sentence of his article dated, august , , to be found at page of the pamphlet, under the title: "_the pope's appeal_," reads thus:-- "_the anniversary of the hurling of the sanguinary fury which makes of europe the shame of humanity has inspired the rulers of peoples with resounding words._" and after eulogizing the pope's intervention, he adds:--"_that men will not hear his voice, drunk as they are with pride, revenge and blood_." this may be cunningly worded, but it should deceive nobody. one cannot help being indignant at the contemptible attempt to place the allies on the same footing as the central empires with regard to the responsibility _in hurling the sanguinary fury in _. the plain, incontrovertible, truth is that the outbreak of the war was a shame, not for humanity, the victim of teutonic treachery, but for germany herself; whilst the sacred union of belgium, france, england and their allies to resist the barbarous onslaught hurled at them all, was an honour for civilization and the promise of an heroic redemption. at page of the pamphlet, he closes the first paragraph with the following words:--"_since the fatal days when peoples supposed to be christian hurled themselves at one another in a foolish rage of destruction, of revenge and hatred_." in french, it reads thus:--"_depuis le jour fatal ou les peuples soi-disant chrétiens se sont rués les uns contre les autres, dans une rage folle de destruction, de vengeance et de haine_." read as a whole, with the full meaning they were intended to convey, those words constitute a daring falsehood. historical events of the highest importance cannot be construed at will. there are facts so positively true, and known to be such, that they should preclude any possibility of deceit. it is absolutely false that, _on a fatal day_ of mid-summer, , _peoples hurled themselves at one another_. what really took place, in the glaring light of day, was that germany, fully prepared for the fray, _hurled_ herself at weak belgium, throwing to the waste basket the scraps of the solemn treaties by which she was in honour bound to respect belgian neutrality. she had first opened the disastrous game by _hurling_ her vassal, austria, at weak servia. rushing her innumerable victorious armies over belgian trodden soil, she _hurled_ herself at france with the ultimate design to _hurl_ herself at england. that in so doing, germany was _raging_ with a _foolish_ thirst of _destruction, of revenge and hatred_, is certainly true. but mr. bourassa's guilt is in his assertion that the victims of germany's _sanguinary fury_ were actuated by the same criminal motives in heroically defending their homes, their wives, their children, their all, against the barbarians once more bursting out of central europe, this time bent on overthrowing human freedom. is the respectable citizen who bravely defends himself against the ruffian who _hurls_ himself at his throat, to be compared with his murderous assailant? but england was not alone in _hurling_ herself at germany, as mr. bourassa so cordially says. without a word, even a sign, by the only momentum of her _furious outburst of foolish destruction_, she was followed by the whole of her empire. how much we, canadians, were, for instance, deluded, the nationalist leader is kind enough to tell us in his ever sweet language. when the parliament of ottawa unanimously decided that it was the duty of the british dominion of canada to participate in the war; when canadian public opinion throughout the length and breadth of the land, almost unanimously approved of this loyal and patriotic decision, we, poor unfortunate canadians, thought that we were heartily and nobly joining with the mother-country to avenge "outraged justice," to rush to the rescue of violated belgium, of france, once more threatened with agony under the brutal teutonic ironed heels, of the whole world--mr. bourassa's commanding personality included--menaced with the huns' domination. how sadly mistaken we were, mr. bourassa tells us. according to this infallible judge of the righteousness or criminality of historical events, we were labouring under a paroxysm of passion--_of a rage of foolish destruction, of vengeance and hatred_. once overpowered by this vituperative mood of calumnious accusations, the nationalist leader slashes england, as follows,--page --:-- "_england has violently destroyed more national rights than all the other european countries united together. by force or deceit, she has swallowed up a fourth of the earthly globe; by conquest, and more especially by corruption and the purchase of consciences, she has subjugated more peoples than there were, in the whole human history, ever brought under the same sceptre._" thus, in mr. bourassa's impartial estimation, the depredations and slaughters of the hordes commanded by attila, the savagery of the turks of old and present days, the crimes of germany in this great war, are only insignificant trifles compared with the horrors of british history. shame on such outrageous misrepresentation of historical truth. mr. bourassa accuses england to have _by force or deceit swallowed up a fourth of the earthly globe_. considering the happy and flourishing condition of the vast british empire, the nationalist leader, as every one else, must admit that england is endowed with great digestive powers, as she does not show the least sign that she suffers from national dyspepsia from having swallowed up a fourth of the universe. her national digestion is evidently sound and healthy, for instead of weakening and decaying, she grows every day in strength, in stature, in freedom, in prestige, and, above all, in wisdom. the nationalist leader has thought proper to express his formal hatred of militarism. one would naturally suppose that, in so doing, he should have pointed at the worst kind of militarism ever devised--the german type of our own days. let no one be mistaken about it. at page of his pamphlet, mr. bourassa bursts out as follows in the top paragraph:-- "_as a matter of fact, of all kinds of militarism, of all the instruments of brutal domination, the naval supremacy of england is the most redoubtable, the most execrable for the whole world; for it rules over all the continents, hindering the free relations of all the peoples._" was i really deluded when i felt sure that in peaceful times, british naval supremacy on the seas was not interfering in the least with the freest commercial intercourse of all the nations, whose mercantile ships can, by british laws, enter freely into all the ports of great britain? mr. bourassa's assertion to the contrary, i shall not, by the least shadow, alter my opinion which is positively sound. from the above last quotation, i have the right to infer that mr. bourassa is very sorry that, in war times like those we have seen since july , british naval supremacy is sufficiently paramount to protect the united kingdom from starvation, to keep the coasts of france opened to the mercantile ships of the allies and of all the neutral nations, to "rule the waves" against both the german military and mercantile fleets, chased away from the oceans by the british guns thundering at the teutonic pirates on land and sea. if he is, he can be sure that he is alone to cry and weep at a fact which rejoices all the true and loyal friends of freedom and justice. mr. bourassa cherishes a wish that will certainly not be granted. he will not be happy unless england agrees to give up her naval supremacy to please germany. let him rest quietly on his two ears; the dawn of such a calamitous day is yet very far distant. at the end of page , mr. bourassa asserts that _the germans proclaim their_ right _to "germanize" europe and the world, and that the english imperiously affirm their_ right _to maintain their imperial power over the seas and to oppose "anglo-saxonism" to "pan-germanism."_-- i have already refuted the nationalist leader's pretention, and informed him that england, no more than any other country, has no "sovereign rights" on the seas outside the coastal limits as prescribed by international law. he appears totally unable to understand the simple truth that great britain's sea supremacy is nothing more nor less than the superiority of her naval strength created, at an immense cost, out of sheer necessity, to protect the united kingdom from the domination of a great continental power. does he not know that, in the days prior to england's creation of her mighty fleet, she has been easily conquered by invaders? is he aware of the great british historical fact called the norman conquest? has he never heard that before starting on his triumphant march across europe, culminating at austerlitz, the great napoleon had planned an invasion of england, with every prospects of success, if he had not been deterred from carrying it out by the continental coalition which, calling into play the resources of his mighty genius, he so victoriously crushed and dispersed? has he never read anything about panic stricken england until she was relieved from the dangers of the projected invasion? does he not realize that, unless they were madmen, no british ministers will ever consent to renounce their "undoubted right" to be ever ready for any emergency, to save their country from enslavement by would-be dashing invaders? it is the height of political nonsense to suppose that responsible public men ever could be so blind, or so recreant to their most sacred duty, as to follow the wild course recommended by extravagantly prejudiced "nationalists." the man who would throw away his weapons of defense would have nothing else to do but to kneel down and implore the tender mercy of his criminal aggressor. truly loyal subjects of the empire cannot clamour to bring england down to such an humiliating position. they know too well that if ever matters came to so disastrous a pass, great britain could easily be starved into irremediable submission with the consequent and immediate destruction of the whole fabric of the empire. a nationalist, yawning for such an end, may suggest the best way to reach it. but no loyal man, sincerely wishing the maintenance of the great british commonwealth, will ever do so. no wonder that he who came out openly in favour of imperial federation for the express purpose of ruining the empire, endeavours to achieve his most cherished object in first destroying british naval supremacy on the seas. imperial federation would then no longer be necessary for the consummation of his longing wishes. freedom of the seas and british naval supremacy are not antagonistic by any means, as i have previously well explained. it is an unanswerable proposition--a truism--to say that supremacy on the ocean will always exist, held by one nation or another. the power commanding the superior naval fleet will for ever be supreme on the seas. it is mere common sense to say so. mr. bourassa would vainly work his wind-mill for centuries without changing this eternal rule of sound sense. if, by whichever cause, england was to lose her sea supremacy, it would at once, as a matter of course, pass on to the next superior naval power. in a subsequent chapter on the after-the-war military problem, i shall explain the way or ways, by which, in my opinion, the question of the freedom of the seas, so much misunderstood, could be settled to the satisfaction of all concerned. with regard to the supposed conflict of "anglo-saxonism" and "pan-germanism" i will merely say that it is only another sample of mr. bourassa's wily dreams. as i have already said, this last pamphlet of the nationalist leader is, for a large part of it, but the repetition of his diatribes so often _hurled_ at england. i will close this chapter by quoting from page , the following paragraph which summarizes, in a striking way, the charges mr. bourassa is so fond to _hurl_ at the mother-country. it reads thus:-- "_what has allowed england to bring portugal into vassalage? to dominate spain and keep gibraltar, spanish land? to deprive greece of the ionians and cyprus islands? to steal malta? to foment revolution in the kingdom of naples and the papal states? to run, during thirty years, the foreign policy of italy and to throw her in austria's execrated arms? to take possession of suez and to make her own thing of it? to chase france from the upper nile, and subsequently from the whole of egypt, to intervene in the berlin treaty to deprive russia of the profits of her victory, to galvanize dying turkey, to delay for thirty years the revival of the balkan states and to make of germany the main spring of continental europe? in a word, what has permitted england to rule the roost in europe and to accumulate the frightful storm let loose in ? who? what? if it is not the "naval domination" of england ever since the destruction of the french and spanish fleets at trafalgar._" it would be most difficult to condense more erroneous historical appreciations and political absurdities in so few lines. many will be quite surprised to learn, from mr. bourassa's resounding trumpet, that england had been for many years gathering the storm which broke out in . so far all fairminded men were convinced that this rascally work had been done by germany, in spite of england's exhortations to reduce military armaments. in all sincerity, i am unable to understand how mr. bourassa can expect to successfully give the lie to such incontrovertible truths as the guilt of germany in preparing the war she finally brought on more than four years ago, and as the unceasing determination of england to maintain peace. chapter xxxiii. a case for true statesmanship. whatever the true and the false friends of peace may hope and say, it is perfectly useless to close our eyes to the glaring fact that its restoration can only be the result of military effort combined with the highest practical statesmanship. after all what has happened, and the oft-repeated declaration of the rulers of the belligerent nations, it would be a complete loss of a very valuable time to indulge any longer in the expression of views all acknowledge in principle, but which no one, however well disposed he may be, is actually able to traduce in practical form. when writing my french book, in the fall of , reviewing the situation as it had so far developed, i said:-- "all are most anxious for peace. however it is infinitely better to look at matters such as they are. it is evident that the military situation does not offer the least hope that the war can be immediately brought to an end. successes have been achieved on both sides. but nothing decisive has yet happened. the armies are facing one another in defiant attitude. the belligerent nations, on both sides, have yet, and for a long time, great resources in man-power and money." "if germany, which should first give up the fight in acknowledging her crime, is obdurate to final exhaustion, how can it be possibly expected that the allies who were forced to fight, will submit to the humiliation and shame of soliciting from their cruel enemy a peace the conditions of which, they know, would be utterly unacceptable. consequently they must with an indomitable courage and an invincible perseverance go on struggling to solve, for a long time, the redoubtable problem to which they are pledged, in honour bound, to give the only settlement which can reassure the world." i am still and absolutely of the same opinion. the present military situation has certainly much improved in favour of the allies since . however, looking at the question, first, from the standpoint of the developing military operations, there is no actual, and there will not be for many months yet--more or less--practical possibility of a satisfactory peace settlement. secondly, looking at the question from the standpoint of true statesmanship, it is very easy to draw the inexorable conclusion that, again, there is not actually the least chance of an immediate restoration of peace. statesmen, responsible, not only for the future of their respective countries, but, actually, for that of the whole world, are not to be supposed liable to be carried away by a hasty desire to put an end to the war and to their own arduous task in carrying it to the only possible solution:--a just and durable peace. a broad and certain fact, staring every one, is that the berlin government will not accept the only settlement to which the allies can possibly agree as long as her armies occupy french and belgian territories. if mr. bourassa and his "pacifists" friends--or dupes--have really entertained a faint hope to the contrary, they were utterly mistaken. present military events, however proportionately enlarged by the increased resources, in man-power and money, of the belligerents, are not without many appropriate precedents. history is always repeating itself. great powers having risked their all in a drawn battle, do not give in as long as they can stand the strain, considering the importance of the interests they have at stake. for the same reason above stated, but reversed, the allies will not negotiate for peace before they have thrown the german armies out of french and belgian soil, and repulsed them over teutonic territory. i do not mean to say that peace must necessarily be proclaimed either from berlin or from paris. but it will only be signed as the inevitable result of a final triumphant march on the way either to berlin or to paris. there is no possible escape from the alternative. in such matters, there is no halfway station. chapter xxxiv. after-the-war military problem. two of the most important propositions of his holiness the pope more especially deserve earnest consideration. they are indeed supported by the allies who are purposely fighting for their adoption. in his note of the first of august, , addressed to the rulers of the belligerent nations, the pope says in part:-- "at first, the fundamental point must be to substitute the moral force of right to the material force of arms." no truer proposition could be enounced. if germany had put this principle into practice, she never would have violated belgian territory. when england protested against the proposed invasion of belgium, she did so in obedience to the sacred principle enunciated by the sovereign pontiff. she strongly insisted to the last minute that _the moral force_ of solemn treaties should prevail upon _the material force of arms_. in a letter dated october , , his eminence cardinal gasparri, secretary of state to his holiness, addressing the archbishop of lens, wrote as follows respecting conscription:-- "the holy see, in his appeal of the first of august, did not consider, out of deference for the leaders of the belligerent peoples, that he should mention it, preferring to leave to themselves the care of determining it, but for him, the only practical system and, moreover, easy to apply with some good will on both sides, would be the following: to suppress, with one accord between civilized nations, military obligatory service; to constitute an arbitration tribunal, as already said in the pontifical appeal, to settle international questions; finally, to prevent infractions, to establish universal "boycottage" against any nation attempting to reestablish military obligatory service, on refusing either to lay an international question before the arbitration tribunal, or to abide by its decision." cardinal gasparri then points to the ante-war british and american systems of military "voluntarism", in the following terms:-- "as a matter of fact, omitting other considerations, the recent example of england and america testifies in favour of the adoption of this system. england and america had, in effect, voluntary service, and, to take an efficient part in the present war, they were obliged to adopt conscription. it proves that voluntary service well supplies the necessary contingent to maintain public order (and is public order not maintained in england and america just as well, if not better, than in the other nations?) but it does not supply the enormous armies required for modern warfare. consequently in suppressing, with one accord between civilized nations, obligatory service to replace it by voluntary service, disarmament with all the happy consequences above indicated would be automatically obtained without any perturbation of public order." "for the last century, conscription has been the true cause of calamities which have afflicted society: to reach a simultaneous and reciprocal suppression will be the true remedy. in fact, once suppressed, conscription could be reestablished only by a law; and for such a law, even with the present constitution of the central empires, parliamentary approbation would be required (which approbation would be most improbable for many reasons and above all on account of the sad experience of the present war); in this way, what is so much desired, for the maintenance of agreements, would be obtained: the peoples' guarantee. if, on the other hand, the right to make peace or war was given to the people by way of =referendum=, or at least to parliament, peace between nations would be assured, as much at least as it is possible in this world." it should be very gratifying indeed to all the loyal subjects of the british empire to ascertain, from the declarations of cardinal gasparri, that the pope is in so complete accord with england on this the most important question to be settled by the future peace treaty. as proved in one of the first chapters of this work, the government of great britain, supported in this course by almost the unanimous opinion of the peoples of the united kingdom, was the first to suggest the holding of the hague conferences to consider the best means to adopt to favour the world with the blessings of permanent peace. their own view, which they forcibly expressed, was that the surest way to reach that much desired result was to limit the military armaments, both on land and sea. for more than twenty years previous to the war, they pressed, and even implored, for the adoption of their program. i have also proved how obdurate germany was in resisting england's propositions, and her successful intrigues to thwart great britain's efforts to have them adopted and put into practice. england's policy has not changed. on the contrary, it is more than ever favourable to the limitation, and even to the complete abolition, of armaments, if one or the other can be achieved. it is the principal war aim of great britain, only coming next after her determination to avenge belgium. the future peace of the world could no doubt be well guaranteed by a large measure of disarmament. but it would certainly be much more so, if complete abolition could be obtained by an international agreement binding on all nations, with, of course, the allowance of the necessary forces required for the maintenance of interior public order. the whole world can safely depend on the strenuous support of england for either the limitation or the abolition of armaments whenever the question is seriously taken up for consideration. evidently the problem will be difficult to solve. however, it should not be beyond the resources of statesmanship which, assuredly, ought to rise superior to all prejudiced aspirations after the terrible ordeal humanity will have experienced during the present war. the maintenance of internal public order, and permanent preparedness for foreign wars, are two very different questions to examine. the first can safely be left to the care of every nation sure to attend to it if willing to maintain her authority. the second has a much wider scope and will tax the ability of statesmanship to the utmost limit. will the great civilized nations decide, when the war is over, to completely abolish conscription to return to voluntary military service within a very limited organization, thus doing away by a bold and single stroke with a system which, for more than a hundred years, has been the curse of continental europe? or will they, at least as an initial attempt, come to the conclusion to only limit armaments, maintaining compulsory service for the reduced strength of the armies? if armaments are either abolished, or merely reduced, will they be so on sea as well as on land? i would answer at once:--of course, they should. looking at the question from the british stand-point--and i can also say from that of the united states--it should be easily solved. public opinion in great britain and all over the british empire, as well as in the united states, has always been against conscription in peace times, until the present war. not exactly foreseeing the full extent of the effort she would be called upon to make, england entered into the conflict determined to meet the requirements of her military situation out of the resources of voluntary enlistment. canada, joining in the struggle, did the same. both have done wonderfully well during the three first years of the prolonged war. i can, without the slightest hesitation, positively assert that public opinion, in the whole british empire, and, not only in the united states, but in the whole of the two american continents, is, as a matter of principle, as much hostile to compulsory military service as it was before the present war, and would exult at its complete abolition as one of the happiest results of the gigantic contest still going on. it is to be deplored, but still it is a fact, that great questions of public interest too often cannot be settled solely in conformity with the principles they imply. if great britain, if the united states, if canada, could consider the question of conscription exclusively from their own stand-point, they would most surely decide at once, and with great enthusiasm, to abolish the obligatory military service they have adopted only as a last resort under the stress of imperious necessity. moreover, i have no hesitation to express my own opinion that whatever will be the military system of continental europe after the war, the british empire and the united states will certainly not be cursed with permanent conscription. they are both so happily situated that, in peace times, they cannot be called upon to go very extensively into the costly preparedness which the european continental nations will have again to submit themselves to, if they are not wise enough to put an end forever to the barbarous militarism they have too long endured for fear of teutonic domination. under the worst european situation, england, with a territorial army of a million of men ready to be called to the colours, or actually flying them, backed by her mighty fleet maintained to its highest state of efficiency, could always face any continental enemy. and such an army of a ready million of well trained officers and men, voluntary service would easily produce. if future conditions would require it, canada herself could do her share to prepare for any emergency by reverting to voluntary enlistment, but in improving the service so as to produce more immediate efficiency. very apparently, the united states will come out of the present conflict with flying colours and will dispense with compulsory service under any circumstances in the peace days to follow. what then will the continental powers do? blessed they will be, if they make up their mind to do away, once for all, with a system which has crushed the peoples so unmercifully. to speak in all frankness, i believe it would be almost vain, however much desirable it is, to indulge in fond hopes of the complete abolition of militarism on the european continent. the canker is too deep in the flesh and blood of nations to be extirpated as if by magic. such a reversal of conditions grown to extravagant proportions, during more than a century, will not likely be accomplished at the first stroke. let us all hope that, at least, a good start will be made by a large limitation of armaments which may, with time, lead to the final achievement for which the whole world would be forever grateful to the almighty. i have positively stated that extravagant militarism should be discontinued on sea as well as on land. such has been the policy of england for many years past. i have proved it by the diplomatic correspondence between great britain and germany, and the solemn declarations of all the leading british statesmen for the last quarter of a century. how persistingly england has implored germany to agree with her in stopping that ruinous race in the building of war vessels, we have seen. so, the assent, nay more, the determination of england to adhere to her old and noble policy, is a foregone conclusion. the closing sentence of the last quoted paragraph of cardinal gasparri's letter expresses the opinion that "_the right to make peace or war should be given to the people by way of referendum, or at least to parliament_." the system preconized by the eminent cardinal has been in existence in england for a number of years; ever since the day when complete ministerial responsibility was adopted as the fundamental principle of the british constitution. that system was carried to the letter by great britain with regard to her intervention in the present war. the right to declare war and to make peace is one of the most important prerogatives of the british crown. this prerogative of the crown, like all the others, is held in trust by the sovereign for the benefit of the people and exercised by him only upon the advice and responsibility of his ministers. in conformity with this great british constitutional principle, what happened in london, in august, ? the then prime minister, mr. asquith, in his own name and in those of his colleagues, advised his majesty king george v. to declare war against germany because she had invaded belgian territory in violation of the treaties by which these two countries were, in honour bound, to protect belgium's neutrality. they were constitutionally responsible to the imperial parliament and to the people of the united kingdom for their advice to their sovereign. in his admirable statement to the british house of commons, sir edward grey, secretary of state for foreign affairs, said:-- "_i have assured the house--and the prime minister has assured the house more than once--that if any crisis such as this arose, we should come before the house of commons and be able to say to the house that it was free to decide what the british attitude should be, that we would have no secret engagement which we should spring upon the house, and tell the house that, because we had entered into that engagement, there was an obligation of honour upon the country._" the british house of commons, had they considered it to be their duty, had the right to disapprove the foreign policy of the cabinet and to censure the ministers for the advice they had given, or had decided to give, to the sovereign. on the other hand, the house of commons had the right to approve the stand taken by the government. they did so unanimously, and were most admirably supported by the people. i must say that i consider it would be very difficult, if not absolutely impracticable, to have questions of war or peace dealt with by way of "_referendum_." crises suddenly created lead almost instantly to declarations of war. but this outcome could hardly be so rapidly produced that parliament could not be called to deal with the emergency. how could france have been able to oppose the crushing german invasion, in , if her government and her representative houses had been obliged to wait for the result of a "_referendum_" whether she would fight or kneel down? but the whole world--outside the central empires and their allies--witnessed with unbounded delight the spontaneous and unanimous decision of the heroic french nation to fight to the last. she threw herself with the most admirable courage against the invading waves of teutonic barbarism, and succeeded by the great and glorious marne victory in forcing them to ebb, thus giving england and the other allies the time necessary to organize and train their armies which, by their united efforts will save civilization from destruction and the world from the threatened german domination. chapter xxxv. the intervention of the united states in the war. the hostilities, once opened as the direct consequence of germany's obduracy, many of the most influential leaders of public opinion in the united states foresaw that the conflict taking such a wide range, the great american republic was most likely to be, sooner or later, involved in the european struggle. they were of two classes. those out of office, holding for the time no official position, were, of course, not bound to the same careful discretion in judging the daily developments of the military operations, and their far reaching consequences, as those who were at the helm of state. in appreciating the course followed by the united states since the war commenced, it must never be forgotten that if an autocratic empire, trampled upon by a domineering military party, can be thrown in a minute into a great conflict, a republic like that of our powerful neighbours cannot be dragooned into any hasty action. in a free country, under a responsible government, public opinion is the basis of the success of any important official decision. the political men and the numerous publicists who incessantly called the attention of our neighbours to what was going on in europe and on the seas, have rendered a great service in moulding public opinion for the grand duty the republic would eventually be obliged to accomplish. having ourselves decided to participate in the war at once after its outbreak, and deeply engaged in the task, we, canadians, felt somewhat uneasy about the apparent determination of our neighbours to stand aside, and let the european powers settle the ugly question. as a rule, we were all wishing to see the united states joining with the allies in the fray. once again, we had some black sheep with us. whilst all the loyal canadians were anxiously waiting for the day when they would applaud the american republic's declaration of war against germany, our nationalists were getting more nervous at the increasing signs of the growth of public opinion amongst our neighbours against the criminal german cause and the crimes by which the teutons were supporting it. their leader, mr. bourassa, was doing his best to persuade the americans that they had much better to remain out of the struggle. he expected he would succeed, as he had done in the province of quebec, in influencing, by his erroneous theories, many of the french canadian element in the united states. the wish being always father to the thought, mr. bourassa easily came to the conclusion that mr. wilson, the president of the united states, was decidedly opposed to any intervention of the republic in the war, and would prevent it at all hazards. how prodigal he was of his eulogiums, of his advices, to the american "pacifists," with the president as their leader, to know one has only to read his newspaper "_le devoir_." how disappointed, how crest-fallen, he was when he discovered how much mistaken he had been! when mr. wilson, who had long been waiting for the right hour to strike the blow at the teutonic autocratic attempt at domination, rising grandly to the rank of a great statesman, supported by the splendid strength of the public opinion he had wisely and skilfully rallied in favour of the decision he had taken, was a sad day for our nationalists and their heart-broken leader. blind, prejudiced, as they were, meekly pandering to pan-germanism which they considered as the best antidote to the anglo-saxonism they abhor, they could not understand that the lusitania horror, the slaughtering of hundreds of american citizens in violation of all the principles of international law, the crimes of the teutonic submarine campaign more than justified the intervention of the united states in the war. what our neighbours have done since they have joined with the allies, what they are doing and promise to do, is worthy of all admiration. like the british empire, like france, the united states have given the inspiring example of a most enlightened patriotism, of a splendid unity of purpose, of a boundless confidence in the triumph of the cause of justice and right. such a grand spectacle of true national unity offered a striking contrast with the sad exhibition of the narrow nationalism canada has had to endure without, however, hindering to any appreciable extent our loyal and patriotic effort to help winning the war. mr. bourassa, who had been out of his natural vituperative tune in complimenting mr. wilson on his supposed peace proclivities, was sure to turn his guns against the president of the republic the moment he boldly and energetically took his stand against german barbarism as exhibited since the beginning of the war. mr. wilson had especially protested against such outrages as were perpetrated on the seas by teutonic orders. he had repeatedly warned the berlin government what the inevitable consequences of such proceedings would be, and going to the full length of what friendly relations between two sovereign states could permit, had demanded that an end be put to a kind of warfare most formally condemned by international law, contrary to all justice, to all human notions of civilization. when the cup of german iniquities overflowed with new crimes, american reprobation was also raised to the high water mark. indignation was at the height of its exasperation. public opinion had rapidly rallied and ripened at the horrible sight of so many american citizens, women and children, murdered in mid-ocean, their dead bodies floating over the waves, and their souls from above crying for vengeance. then the president, congress, statesmen, politicians, publicists, loyal americans numbering almost a hundred million, all of one mind, of one heart, pledged their national honour to avenge the foul deeds of teutonic barbarity, and to do their mighty share in rescuing freedom and civilization from the threatening sanguinary cataclysm which was cruelly saddening our times and darkening the prospects of our children. how powerfully, how grandly, how admirably they have kept their word, all know. the laws necessary to prosecute the war with the utmost vigour were unanimously passed by congress. the organization of the man-power of our neighbours has been made on a grand scale. the calls to the financial resources of the republic have been patriotically answered by the people who poured out billions and billions of their hard earned and prudently saved money to support the national cause so closely identified with that of the allies. besides spending innumerable millions for their own gigantic military effort, the united states are lending billions of dollars to their associates in the great struggle to curb down german autocratic criminal ambition. the universe, as a whole, gratefully applauded the magnificent effort of the leading nation of the new-world in defending the old continents of europe, asia and africa against the new invasion of the huns. the only shadow to this ennobling picture is that which our nationalists, from this side of the boundary line, try to breathe on it, expecting that their treacherous whisper will find some echo amongst the french canadian and the german elements of the republic. the following lines are a sample of the kind words mr. bourassa has addressed to mr. wilson--the warrior--not the pacifist. on august , , respecting the answer of the president of the united states to the pope's appeal in favour of peace, he wrote in a gentle mood:-- "_truth and falsehood, sincerity and deceit, logic and sophism are sporting with gracefulness in this singularly astonishing document. one would imagine that the president, persuaded that the european governments are playing an immense game of "poker" having the life of the peoples at stake, wanted to go further and to prove to them that at such a game the great american democracy is their master. perhaps did he believe that the "bluff" outbidding would succeed in tearing to pieces the mask of falsehoods, of ambiguities and hypocrisy, by which the national rulers are blinding the peoples in order to lead them more readily to be slaughtered._" on perusing such outrageous writing, one cannot help being convinced that mr. bourassa considers all the distinguished and most patriotic political leaders who, for the last four years, have guided with so much talent and devotion france, the british empire, and their allies through the unprecedented crisis they have had to face, are a criminal gang of murderers. so, in mr. bourassa's kind opinion, when mr. wilson and all the members of the two houses of congress, with a most admirable unanimity of thought and aspirations, called upon the american nation to avenge their countrymen, countrywomen and children, murdered on the broad sea, they were criminally joining with european rulers in a game of "bluff", going further than all of them in order to tear to pieces the falsehoods and hypocrisy they were using to blind their peoples to the facile acceptance of the slaughtering process. a very strange way, indeed, of unmasking others' hypocrisy by being more hypocritical than them all. the next day, in a second article on the same subject, the nationalist leader said:-- "_since the outbreak of the war, more especially since the exhausted peoples have commenced to ask themselves what will be the result of this frightful slaughter, the supporters of war to the utmost have tried hard to create the legend that germany wants to impose her political, military and economical domination over the whole universe. to this first falsehood, they add another one, still more complete: the only way to assure peace, they say, is to democratize germany, austria and all the nations of the globe._" two falsehoods no doubt there are, but they are not asserted by those who affirm germany's aspiration at universal domination, and who believe that if true free democratic institutions were to replace autocratic rule in many countries, peace could be much more easily maintained. they are circulated by those who deny that such are the two cases. whose fault is it if the almost universal opinion, outside the central empires and their few allies, is that teutonic ambition, for many years past, has been to dominate the world? whose fault is it if, for the last forty years, autocratic rule has once more proved to be the curse of the nations which it governs, and of the peoples it subjugates? has not germany only herself to blame? if she had respected the eternal principles of divine morals; if she had been contented of her lot and mindful of the rights of other nations; if she had been guided by the true law that right is above might; if she had followed the ever glorious path of justice, she would not be presently under the ban of the civilized world rising in a mighty effort to crush her threatening tyranny out of existence. so much the worse for her, if she falls a victim to her insane ambitious dreams and to the atrocious crimes they have inspired her to commit. in her calamity, the nationalists' sympathies will avail her very little, as they will everywhere meet with the contempt they fully deserve. at page , in a virulent charge, mr. bourassa says that mr. wilson _though a passionate and obstinate pedantic of democracy, is as much of an autocrat as william of prussia_. blinded by his fanatical antipathies towards every one and every thing, directly or indirectly, favouring england, the nationalist leader fails to see any difference between the man who blasphemously claims by divine right the power to hurl his whole empire at the throat of staggering humanity, to satisfy his frenzied lust of domination, denying to his subjects any say whatever in the matter, and the responsible chief of state who, holding his temporary functions from the expressed will of the people who trusted him, calls upon that same nation to avenge the murder of a large number of her citizens, of her women and children, and the barbarous crimes committed in violation of her sovereign rights. if mr. bourassa is conscious of the enormity of the stand he has taken, and of the views he has expressed, he is indeed much to be blamed; if he is not, he is greatly to be pitied. at page of his pamphlet--entitled:--"_the pope, arbiter of peace_," mr. bourassa has written the following monstrous proposition, after having said that peace must be restored "_without victory_":-- "_the more the results of the war are null, for both sides, the more chances there are for the peoples, astounded at the frightful uselessness of those monstrous slaughters, to protect themselves against a new fit of furious folly. to become odious to men, war must be barren._" so mr. bourassa has emphatically proclaimed that the war must be barren of any practical results, that the extraordinary sacrifices of lives, of resources of wealth, must be without reward of any kind; that the world must return to the ante-war conditions. and this, he asserts, would be the best means of preventing a renewal of the monstrous slaughters which have been the outcome of germany's horrible attempt at dominating an enslaved humanity. in all sincerity, it is very difficult to suppose that the exponent of such outrageously abominable views is conscious of what he says. a red hot "pacifist," mr. bourassa clamoured as best he could for "peace without victory," claiming that it was _the only kind of peace that could be "just and durable."_ the time was when he pretended--surely without any show of reason--that such was the sort of peace mr. wilson wanted and suggested. even as far back as december , , mr. bourassa, no doubt desirous of giving full vent to his new year's wishes to all, had written:-- "_in spite of the lies, of the impudent "bluff," of the sanguinary appeals and of the false promises of victory of the partisans of war to excess, in all the warring countries, popular good sense commences to discern truth.... the more victory_ (the issue) _will be materially null and sterile for all the nations at war, the more chances there will be that peace will be lasting and that the peoples will be convinced that war is not only an abominable crime but an incommensurable folly_." evidently it had already become a hobby on the brain of the nationalist leader. he dogmatically proclaims that war between peoples--not the wars formerly fought by mercenary armies,--is a _crime_,--_abominable_,--and a _folly_,--_incommensurable_. true it is on the part of a state tramping upon all the principles of justice and of international law to gratify her guilty ambition. but honourable, glorious, is war on the part of peoples rising in their patriotic might to resist a sanguinary enemy, to defend their countries, their homes, their mothers, their wives and their children from oppression, to stem the conquering efforts of barbarous invaders. no doubt it was a crime on the part of germany to break her pledged honour by solemn treaties, and to violate belgium's territory. no doubt it was a crime for germany--and one abominable--to overrun belgium, spreading everywhere desolation, devastation, incendiarism, murder. but can it be said that the admirable and heroic resistance belgium has opposed to her tyrannical invaders was a dastardly crime? no doubt it was a crime--and one most abominable--for germany to order the sinking of the lusitania and hundreds of merchant ships, without the warning required by the law of nations, murdering by hundreds non-combatants, children, women, and old men. but can any one be justified in asserting that, after exhausting, for the redress of such abominable wrongs, all the resources of diplomacy, the united states were committing a crime when they accepted the criminal teutonic challenge and decided to join with the british empire, with france, italy and their allies, to rescue human freedom and civilization from the impending destruction? it is an aberration of mind--incommensurable in depth--for a publicist, or any one else, to be so blinded by prejudices, so lost to all sense of justice, as to place on the same footing, on the same level, the assailant and he who defends his all, the murderer and the victim. i positively affirm that i am not actuated by the least ill-will or ill-feeling against the nationalist leader, in judging his course and his views as i do. thank god, i know enough of the teachings of christianity to wish good to all men. but i cannot help being deeply sorry and deploring that one of my french canadian compatriots is buried in such mental darkness as to be unable to perceive the difference--incommensurable--there is in the present war between the hideous teutonic guilt, and the commendable and meritorious defence by the allied nations of the most sacred cause on earth:--outraged justice. and with all sincerity, i express the profound wish that during the prolonged recess the timely war measure adopted to censure and prevent all utterances detrimental to the best canadian effort in the conflict, the nationalist leader has the pleasure to enjoy, he will reconsider the whole situation and his opinions--too much widely circulated. is it yet possible to hope that, at last, he will see the dawn which will lead him to the full light with which the great and noble cause of his country and of the world is shining? it is no surprise that such opinions utterly failed to have any echo amongst the liberty loving people of the neighbouring republic. they died their merited shameful death before crossing over the boundary line, buried deep under the heap of the profound feelings of reprobation they provoked. the nationalist leader even missed the mark where he felt sure his shot would strike. we can rest assured that the large majority of the united states germans, by birth or origin, would not change the responsible president of their new country for the autocrat kaiser from whose absolutist power so many of them fled to breathe freely in the new land of promise it was their happy lot to enter. mr. bourassa met with a complete failure in his expectation to arouse the feelings of his compatriots over the frontier against the intervention of the republic in the war. it has been a profound satisfaction for us, french canadians, to learn that from the very moment war was declared by the republic against germany, the french canadian element in the united states has been to the forefront of the most loyal of our friendly neighbours in fighting the common enemy. the french canadians of the united states, either by birth or origin, have wisely turned a deaf ear to the nationalist leader's seductive but prejudiced theories, to the wild charges he was wont to level at all the national rulers of the allies, and, as a final attempt, at those of the american republic. they have rallied to their colours with enthusiastic patriotism. they have nobly done their duty. they are doing it, and will continue to do so to the last: to the final victory for which they are fighting with the patriotic desire to share in the glory of the triumph of their country. chapter xxxvi. the allies--russia--japan. since its outbreak the great war has, and, before it is over, will have, played havoc in many ways in the wide world. criminal aspirations have been quashed, extravagant hopes shattered, an ancient throne overthrown almost without a clash, an autocrat sovereign murdered, another forced to abdicate and go into exile. in the open airs, on land, over the waves, under sea, the fighting demon has been most actively at work, ordering one of the belligerent, eager to obey, to spare no one, young, weak or old. death has been dropped from the skies on sleeping non-combatants, assassinating right and left. on the soil providentially provided with the resources necessary to human life, homes have been ruined, their so far happy owners brutally murdered. on the ocean the treacherous and barbarous submariner, operating in the broad light of the day, or in the darkness of the night, has sent, without remorse, to the fathomless bottom, thousands and thousands of innocent victims, children, women, old men, wounded soldiers spared on land but drowned at sea. viewed from the height of a much nobler standpoint, the war has developed a superior degree of heroism perhaps never equalled. belgians, serbians, poles, armenians have endured, and are still suffering, their prolonged martyrdom with a fortitude deserving the greatest admiration. the nations united to withstand the torrent of german cruel and depraved ambition are writing, with the purest of their blood, pages of history which, for all times to come, will offer to posterity unrivalled examples of the sound and unswerving patriotism which has elevated them all to the indomitable determination to bear patiently, perseveringly, all the sacrifices, in lives courageously given, in resources profusely spent, in taxation willingly accepted and paid, in works of all kinds cheerfully performed, which the salvation of human liberty and civilization shall require. the collapse of the ancient and hitherto mighty empire of russia will undoubtedly be one of the most startling events of the "great war." for the present, i shall not comment, on the causes of this momentous episode, incidental to the wonderful drama being played on the worldly stage, more than i have done in a previous chapter. still the important change it has made in the respective situation of the belligerents, with the prospective consequences likely to follow, one way or the other, calls for some timely consideration. evidently, the downfall, first, of the imperial regime, second, of the _de facto_ republican government by which it was replaced, throwing the great eastern ally of great britain, france and italy under the tyrannical sway of the "bolchevikis" terrorists, most considerably altered the relative strength of the fighting power of the belligerents. very detrimental to the allies, it was largely favourable to the central empires. the "triple entente" as first constituted, was much weakened by the desertion of one of the great partners in the heavy task they had undertaken, whilst the "triple alliance" was strengthened in a relative proportion, at least for the time being and the very near future. evidence, incontrovertible, is coming to light, proving what had been soundly presumed, that "bolchevikism" was not merely the result, as in other instances, of the violence of sanguinary revolutionists overpowering a regular progressive movement of political freedom and reform, but that it has been the outcome of german intrigue easily succeeding in corrupting into shameless treason the "bolchevikis" leaders. as a sovereign state, as an independent nation, russia was, in honour bound, pledged not to consent to a separate peace, and to make peace with germany only with conditions to which all the allies would agree. acceptance of, and concurrence in, all peace agreements, were the essential clause of the pledge great britain, france and russia had reciprocally taken in going to war with the central empires. with this sacred pledge italy concurred fully on joining the allies. to that solemn pledge, the american republic has emphatically assented when she threw her weighty sword in the balance against blood stained and murderous germany. the "bolchevikis'" treacherous government repudiated the solemn engagement of their country, threw her honour to the winds, sold her dearest national interests by the infamous brest-litovsk treaty. betrayed russia was out of the war, leaving her allies to their fate. from a military point of view, the consequences were easily foreseen. freed from the danger of further attacks on the eastern front, both germany and austria could send their eastern armies, the first, on the western front in france, the second, on the italian front. germany, only requiring a sufficient force to keep down trodden russia under the yoke treacherously fastened on her neck by the traitors who had ignominiously sold their country to her enemy, and anxious to profit to the utmost by her success in coercing the russians to agree to dishonourable peace conditions, hurried more than a million men over to the western front. austria did likewise, sending a large force with the hope of smashing the italians out of the fight. those were no doubt very anxious days. all remember how the italian army lost in a very short time all the ground they had so stubbornly conquered. germany made formidable preparations to strike, in the very early spring of the present year, a decisive blow by which she fully expected to reach and take paris. we shall never forget the feverish hours we lived when came the successive reports of the crushing advance of the teutonic hordes so close to the illustrious capital of france. for a while, it seemed to be--and really it was--a renewal of the first terrific invasion of northern france, in . fortunately, it was providentially decreed that the second onslaught was to meet with a second marne disaster. the huns were forced to retire after a tremendous loss of men and war materials, the allied armies, brilliantly led and fighting heroically, redeeming all the lost territory and, at the moment i am writing, moving steadily towards the german frontier. the great good luck of the allies, treasonably sacrificed by the russian bolchevikis terrorist government, was the solemn entry of the united states into the european conflict. preparing for the grand effort which she confidently expected would be final, germany rashly decided to resume her barbarous submarine campaign, positively determined to criminally violate all the principles of international law regulating warfare on the seas. that outrageous decision was her fatal doom. its direct result was to bring the american republic into the war. and then the whole world was called upon to witness, with unbounded delight, the very impressive spectacle of millions of fighting free men being successfully transported over the sea, and landed on the french soil, to join the grand army which, for the last four years, had been resisting the full might of the autocratic forces. however difficult it is to foretell what the political developments of the present deplorable russian situation will be, still it is not illusory to believe that, history once more repeating itself, the present sanguinary russian regime will hasten its well deserved ignominious downfall by the very brutal excesses it multiplies in its delirious tyranny. there are too many elements of the immense population of russia favourable to an orderly and sensible government, to suppose that they will long fail to gather their strength in order to redeem their country's honour, and to remove from power the traitors who are the shame of their fair land. when the infallible reaction sets in, it will increase the more in momentum that it will have been longer repressed by foul means. the most important point of the present russian situation to consider is that of the best initiative the allies could, and ought to, take respecting the military question. many are of opinion that it would be possible, for the allies, to help russia out of the present difficulties by an armed support. such views have been more especially expressed in the united states. could they, or can they be carried out? i must say that in a large measure i share the opinion of those who would give an affirmative answer to the question. it is well known that the matter has been most seriously considered by the allies, and a favourable solution seems on the way of a satisfactory realization. to the armed intervention of the allies in russia, following closely upon the infamous brest-litovsk peace treaty, there was a very serious obstacle of german creation. it was evident, at the very start, that if intervention there was to be, the one ally to play the most important part in the great undertaking would be japan. the british statesmen who, several years ago, brought about the treaty of alliance between great britain and japan have deserved much from the empire and from the world generally. surely they had a clear insight of the future. true to her treaty obligations japan at once sided with great britain in the war. all those who have closely followed the trend of events since the outbreak of the hostilities, know how much japan has done to assist in chasing the german military and mercantile fleets from the high seas, more especially from the pacific ocean. canada owes her a debt of gratitude for the protection she has afforded our western british columbia coast from the raids of german war ships. foreseeing that the proximity of japan to eastern russia was an inducement for the allies to decide upon an armed intervention which, starting from siberia, might roll westward over the broad lands leading back to the european eastern war front, germany lost no time in trying to poison russian public opinion against the japanese. her numerous representatives and agents told the russians that if they allowed japan to send her army on russian territory, they would be doomed to fall under japanese sway. they recalled the still recent russo-japanese war, amplifying the supposed aims of japan so as to stir up the national feelings of the russians. such a cry, assiduously and widely spread, was no doubt a dangerous one. under those circumstances, japan wisely decided to remain in the expectation of further developments before moving. she took the safe stand that she would intervene only upon the request of the russians themselves, pledging her word of honour that her only purpose would be to free russia from german domination, and that she would withdraw from russian territory as soon as complete russian independence would have been restored and the treacherous teutonic aims foiled. evidences are increasing in number and importance that the huns' propaganda in russia against japan is being successfully counteracted by the good sense of the people, realizing how much their vital national interests have been trampled upon by germany in imposing her peace conditions on their country betrayed by the bolchevikis rulers. an armed allied force has been sent to, and has been, for some weeks, operating, in siberia so far with commendable results. for one, i have most at heart an expectation which i would be most happy to see realized. it seems to me that there ought to be a chance, nay more, a possibility, for the allies to organize, between this day and next spring, a strongly supported intervention in russia. in that event, japan of course, would take the lead. she could rapidly send to help the russians to resume their part in the war against germany at least a million of men; two millions if they were needed. as a guarantee of japan's good faith, the allies, more especially the united states, could send over contingents to siberia. there is no doubt whatever that so supported, the revulsion of russian public feeling, once set in motion, would soon overwhelm the bolchevikis. a sensible and patriotic government, once at the helm of the state, could easily and rapidly reorganize a powerful army out of the numerous available millions. the financial aspect of the question would certainly be the most difficult for russia to meet, after the exhaustive strain she has had to bear. but however great their moneyed effort, the united states could yet do a great deal to help russia financially. will the hopes of so many be realized, and will russia, resuming her place of honour in the glorious ranks of the allies, be found battling once more with them when together they will finally crush the german tyrannical militarism? god only knows, and time will tell. chapter xxxvii. the last peace proposals. i was writing the last pages of this work when the surprising news was flashed over the cable that austria-hungary had taken the initiative of suggesting peace discussion, which proposition she had communicated to all the belligerents, to the neutral governments and even to the holy see. without delay the rumour proved to be true. the very next day the full text of austria's communication was published all over the world. i have read it with great care and, i confess, with profound amazement. from several stand-points, this document is astonishing and weighty: astonishing as it reveals more than ever before the astuteness of the inspiration which dictated it; weighty because it derives its importance from one of the most serious situation of the world's affairs ever recorded in history. it is difficult to suppose that the austrian government really expected that their move would be considered as the outcome of their own initiative. not the hand, but the sword--the dominating sword--behind the throne is clearly visible. the carefully drafted document, issued from vienna, was evidently dictated from berlin. it is stamped with the teutonic seal. after the experience of the last four years--i can safely say of the last half century as well--over credulous is he who believes that, swayed as she has been by her overpowering northern neighbour, austria would have dared to address such a proposition to the allies if she had not been asked by germany to do so. it is rather amusing to read the news cabled from amsterdam, holland, on the th of september, that an official communication issued in berlin said that the german ambassador in vienna that day presented germany's reply to the recent austro-hungarian peace note. the purport of the note was that germany agreed to participate in the proposed exchange of views. this is indeed high class cynicism. the document would certainly call for somewhat lengthy and strong comments, but they can be dispensed with after the curt, sharp and decisive reply it has elicited from those it was intended to seduce and deceive. president wilson was the first to answer a positive, a formidable no, which, thundered out from washington, was echoed with equal force in london, paris and rome. so that the astute attempt to deter the allies from the glorious course they were forced to adopt by germany, and by austria herself, was doomed to failure, and bound to meet with the contempt it deserved. but a few remarks expressing the retort that strikes one's mind on reading the austrian communication, are in order and had better be made. the whole stress of the document is that peace should be restored as soon as possible on account of the sacrifices and sufferings war nowadays entail, and in conformity with the unanimous wishes of the peoples engaged in the conflict. did austria ever suppose that, when she addressed that sadly famous and outrageous ultimatum to servia, dated the rd of july, , which she well knew would bring about the cataclysm she now feigns to deplore--and which germany and herself were longing for--the war would be only a child's play, a game of golf, or something of the kind? was austria at that time cherishing the kind feelings of the german kronprinz who, on being asked by an american lady, in a social event, at berlin, why he was so desirous of seeing a great war, replied that "_it was only for the fun of the thing_?" that war, when once declared, would have terrible consequences, would cost millions of dear lives, would cripple many more millions for the rest of their earthly days, would cost innumerable millions--even billions--of hard earned money, would destroy an immense amount of accumulated wealth, would delay for years the onward march of humanity towards more and more prosperous destinies, was not only long foreseen before it broke out, but was positively known to be pregnant with all such disasters. but what was not foreseen, not known, nor imagined as at all possible, after nearly twenty centuries of christianity, was that, war being on, germany, the power responsible for it, guilty of the crime of having let loose the frightful hurricane, would multiply the horrors inseparable from military operations, with unconceivable barbarous acts condemned by all international, moral and divine laws. it was not foreseen, nor supposed possible, that heroism would be challenged by murder, that the glorious defenders of their country's rights would have to fight against sanguinary savages obeying the barbarian orders of a modern attila. it was not foreseen that hundreds of children, women, old men, wounded soldiers, would be assassinated on the open sea and sent to their eternal watery graves. so far as the horrors of regular warfare were concerned, they were, as i have just said, very well known. and was it not on account of this knowledge that great britain and france had exhausted all their efforts in favour of the maintenance of peace? was it not out of this knowledge that england had, for more than twenty years, implored the berlin government to agree at least to partial disarmament, to discontinue, or, at the least, to reduce war ship building operations? when austria, bowing herself down to the ground under the german tyrannical lash, unjustly and cruelly declared war against weak servia, she knew what the horrors of the conflict could not fail to be. how is it that at that time she was not moved by the sympathetic feelings expressed in her recent appeal for peace negotiations? how is it that austria, and her inspiring angel, germany, are getting so nervous about the misfortunes of war, just at the time when they are forced to admit that they are utterly unable to realize the aims for which they brought on the frightful struggle? how is it that those who could order with clear conscience and fiendish delight the violation of belgium guaranteed neutrality, the sinking of the lusitania and so many other ships carrying non-combatants, children, women and old men, the murder of so many innocent victims, the belgian deportations, the destruction of the monuments of art--the work of human genius--are suddenly moved to pity just as they see the hand writing on the wall warning them that their days of foul enjoyments are at end? how is it that the voice who dictated the following sentence was not silenced and choked by the abominable lie it contains? how is it that the hand that wrote it was not instantly dried up at the impudent falsehood it expresses? austria's official communication says in part:-- "_the central powers leave it in no doubt that they are only waging a war of defence for the integrity and the security of their territories._" but why is it that the central empires are now only waging a defensive war, if it is not because after having opened the game with the certainty of crushing their opponents by the tremendous power of their formidable military organization, they are getting beaten and overpowered by the unrivalled heroism called forth by their criminal attempt at destroying weak nations and enslaving humanity? the austrian and german governments wilfully forget that the important point is not to consider who are the belligerents that are now forced by the fortune of arms to wage a defensive struggle. it is to ascertain who started the conflict of an offensive war. to that question, the voice of the truly civilized world has answered with no uncertain sound. it was given, and ever since most energetically emphasized, the very day the first austrian shot was fired at belgrade, the first thundering german gun and the first german soldier ordered to cross over the belgian frontier. the austrian tentative peace document pretends "_that all peoples, on whatever side they may be fighting, long for a speedy end to the bloody struggle_." this is so evidently true that the writer of the communication might very properly have dispensed with asserting it. but have the austrian and the german governments forgotten that the peoples were equally longing for the maintenance of peace during the many years of intense war preparation prior to the outbreak of the hostilities in ? if they are not yet aware of it, the central empires must be taught that the allied nations have another longing than that for peace, to which they have given precedence and for which they will continue to fight strenuously until it is fully gratified. they long for an honourable, a just and lasting peace. they long to see once more the old landmarks of civilization and political liberty emerging safe and radiant from the waves of teutonic barbarism. they long, and most earnestly, for peace restored under such conditions as will put an end to extravagant, ruinous and autocratic militarism, which will henceforth relieve the peoples from the drastic obligation of maintaining, at a cost more and more crushing, an ever increasing military organization for fear of being suddenly subjugated by an ambitious foe bent on dominating the world. using the very words of the most admirable speech addressed by president wilson to the united states congress, on the th of february last, the allied nations long for a peace which will provide "_that peoples and provinces are no longer to be bartered about from sovereignty to sovereignty as if they were mere chattels and pawns in a game, even the great game now for ever discredited of the balance of power; but that every territorial settlement involved in this war must be made in the interest and for the benefit of the populations concerned and not as a part of any mere adjustment or compromise of claims amongst rival states_." the allied peoples are longing for a peace by which "_all well defined national aspirations shall be accorded the utmost satisfaction that can be accorded them without introducing new or perpetuating old elements of discord, and antagonism that would be likely in time to break the peace of europe and consequently of the world_." the _pacifists_ of the allied nations who have, like the nationalist leader and his henchmen in the province of quebec, clamoured for peace by compromise, must have had a few hours of delightful enjoyment after reading austria's communication. it is evidently the echo of their oft repeated views and has been carefully drafted to stir them to further exertions in favour of a settlement which will gratify their ill disguised teutonic sympathies. austria's document is a plea intended to be strong for peace by negotiations irrespective of the war situation and its probable result. this is the kind of peace dear to the heart of the nationalist leader and his friends. the newspaper "_le devoir_" is their daily organ in montreal. a sunday paper called "_le nationaliste_" is the weekly edition of the daily organ. by what mysterious inspiration was "_le nationaliste_" able to forestall the publication of the austrian peace document by an article in its issue of sunday, the th of august, which summarizes the leading reasons given by the government of vienna to induce the allied governments to agree "_to a confidential and unbinding discussion_" of the conditions of peace, "_at a neutral meeting place_?" since the official publication of the document, our nationalists, who had been subdued by the order-in-council tightening the censure of disloyal writings and speaking, and reduced to the necessity of merely whispering their fond hopes of an early peace which would relieve the central empires, turkey and bulgaria from the deserved chastisement of their crimes, are getting again more outspoken in the expression of their views and of their teutonic proclivities. the street corner propaganda is being resumed with more discreet vigour than formerly when loud talk was considered safe. new efforts, better guarded against a compromising responsibility, to instil the virus in the body politic, are tried over again. they creep in a few newspapers well known for their hardly disguised hostility to the cause of the allies and to the participation of canada to its defence. all this under the hypocritical cover of a longing for the restoration of peace and the cessation of the sacrifices the country is still making for the victory for which all loyal british subjects are praying and doing their best to secure. germany has prudently--cowardly is the more proper word--remained behind, satisfied, for the time being, to play the part of prompter to her vassal, austria. but, however desirous of remaining free to repudiate publicly, if considered more advisable, austria's move, she could not help showing her hand. she betrayed herself by the peace offer she has had the outrageous audacity to make to belgium she has barbarously crucified. and what are the terms of this astonishing proposal? i will mention only two of them. first: "that belgium shall remain neutral until the end of the war." that germany should have decided to address such a demand to belgium is truly inconceivable. has she forgotten the days when belgium was neutral, and determined to remain so, under the joint protection of england, france and germany, bound by solemn treaty to uphold belgian independence? does she not realize that if belgium has not been neutral up to this day, she has been the cause of it in tearing to pieces the _scrap of paper_ which should have been the sacred shield of the nation she criminally martyred? after having violated belgium's frontier, overrun her territory, destroyed her happy homes, murdered by thousands her children, her women, her mothers, her old men, ransomed her to the tune of hundreds of millions, without granting her liberty, shattered her monuments of arts, she has the impudence to ask her to betray those who hastened to her defence, and who are pledged to require the restoration of her complete independence with due reparation as one of the essential conditions of peace. a more brazen outrage cannot be imagined. it is on a par with that addressed to england whose neutrality germany wanted to secure at the cost of her honour in betraying france. what was the true object of germany in making such a proposition? was it not to protect herself against the increasing likelihood that the allied army would soon be able to enter on german soil by passing through belgium. but in that event, so much to be hoped for, there would be that difference that whilst germany invaded belgium in sheer violation of her solemn treaty obligations, france, england and the united states would honour themselves in turning the guilty invaders out of the soil they have sullied by their hideous presence and their horrible savageness. the second german peace proposition to belgium reads as follows:--"_that belgium shall use her good offices to secure the return of the german colonies_." and such a request is made by the power that, in spite of the treaties it was in honour bound to respect, ordered the german army to conquer belgium in a dastardly rush, in order to reach france at once and crush her out of the conflict before she could be helped by great britain and her colonies! incredible indeed! germany and austria knew very well that their proposals would be indignantly and contemptuously rejected. but they had a twofold object in making them. first, they wanted to stir up their own peoples to further efforts in carrying on the struggle by throwing upon the allies the apparent responsibility of refusing even a confidential and unbinding discussion of the question of the restoration of peace. second, they were anxious to make a strong bid for the support of the _pacifists_ of the allied countries. how much will they succeed in galvanizing the enthusiasm of their peoples for another grand effort, remains to be seen. so far as their attempt to move our _pacifists_ to exert themselves in favour of a peace by compromise, it has already met with a complete failure. our nationalist _pacifists_ are getting so few and so far between, that they will most likely once more disappear and give up the street propaganda. on completing the reading of the official communication of austria, president wilson at once gave his reply, authorizing the secretary of state to issue the following statement, dated the th of september and published broadcast on the next day:-- "_i am authorized by the president to state that the following will be the reply of this government to the austro-hungarian note proposing an unofficial conference of belligerents_: "'_the government of the united states feels that there is only one reply which it can make to the suggestion of the imperial austro-hungarian government. it has repeatedly and with entire candor stated the terms upon which the united states would consider peace and can and will entertain no proposal for a conference upon a matter concerning which it has made its position and purpose so plain.'_" on the eleventh day of february, , president wilson, instead of addressing as usual a message to the two houses, went personally to meet the senate and the house of representatives, in congress assembled, and, in a most admirable speech, replied to the then recent peace utterances of count von hertling, the german chancellor, and count czernin, the austro-hungarian foreign minister, fully explaining the only principles by which the government of the united states would be guided when peace negotiations do take place. this most important statement is published as an appendix to this book. it is worthy of the great statesman who made it, and deserves the most attentive reading on account of the lofty views and noble principles it expresses, of the large issues it involves and of the ardent patriotism it inspires. the prime ministers of great britain and france have signified their entire assent to the energetic stand taken by president wilson in the above quoted reply to austria's peace communication. the whole british empire, france, the united states and italy are a unit in refusing to consider for a moment austria's cynical peace proposals. belgium, from the cross of martyrdom to which the huns' barbarity has nailed her, has summoned all her wonderful courage, in her long and cruel agony, to repudiate with scorn the infamous german proposition to betray those who are pledged to be her saviours. consequently, the peace offensive, so cleverly planned by germany and opened by her contemptible austrian satellite, has met with as dismal a failure as the military offensive launched on the twenty-first day of march last, with such superior numerical forces, and unbounded confidence that this gigantic effort would at last smash the allies' resistance. just as the teutonic hordes are hurled back by the matchless strategy of the chief commander of the allied armies and their incomparable heroism, the austrian peace offensive communication is returned to their authors a miserable "_scrap of paper_". and the grand and noble fight will go on until germany is brought to her knees and forced to recognize that "the resources of civilization are not yet exhausted." the modern huns are doomed to a very sad awakening from their dream of universal domination. germany has challenged the world to a deadly struggle. she must bear the consequences, however sad they may be. four years ago, anticipating a crushing victory, she exulted over the early fall of her enemies, madly certain that in a few weeks they would kneel down crying for mercy. she trusted her all to the fortunes of war. they will at last go against her. she would have been cruelly triumphant. will she be cowardly in defeat? austria has blindly served germany's criminal ambition. she must abide by the result of her blindness. both carried away by passion, they forgot that there would be a terrible reckoning day for their atrocious crime. it is near at hand, and they cannot avoid being called to a severe account for their foul deeds. kaiser wilhelm ii will soon find out that divine justice is very different from what he fondly believed. he will receive the proper answer to his blasphemous appeals to the almighty to bless with success his guilty ambition to dominate the world. he will learn that from above the innocent victims whom he has mercilessly sacrificed to his lust of autocratic power, have cried for vengeance and have been heard. he bears the guilt of blood and sacrilegious war. he shall receive his deserts in due time. chapter xxxviii. necessary peace conditions. it can be positively affirmed that, taking no account whatever of the treasonable views of the _defeatists_, and no more of the disloyal opinions of the _pacifists_--because they only deserve absolute contempt and reprobation--the peoples called the allies have been long ago, are now, and will remain to the last, unanimous on the essential peace conditions without which all the sacrifices they have made and are making would be a total irreparable loss. it has been proclaimed with the highest authority, and universally approved, that henceforth peace must be just and durable. such it should always have been. the principle is no doubt very easily enunciated. it is applauded by all and every where, even by germany and austria. the great, the insuperable, difficulty is to agree upon such conditions as will permanently, and to the complete satisfaction of all concerned, bless the world with the maintenance of a truly just and durable peace. it is better to admit at once that the very moment the question is considered, the presently contending belligerents are as far apart as the two poles of the earthly globe. it is extremely easy to prove it. no one now ignores--or at least should fail to realize--what kind of peace would be accepted by germany as just and durable. to be satisfied with a settlement of peace, germany would require the sanction by her opponents of her right to maintain, develop and strengthen her militarism so threatening to the universe. at the time she was exulting over the great and crushing victory which she was sure to have within her powerful grasp, in debating with her vanquished enemies, the conditions of peace, germany, elated as she would certainly have been by her triumph, would have positively claimed the annexation of belgium and of all the northern part of france by right of conquest. she would not have been less exacting than she was, in , when in the face of indignant but powerless europe, she stripped france of her two fine and wealthy provinces, alsace and lorraine. she would have claimed the right to supersede england as mistress of the seas,--german supremacy replacing the british and henceforth ruling the waves. she would have claimed the annexation of russian poland, and that of servia to austria. she would have claimed the recognition of her imperial paramount power over the balkans, which she would have united under the direct sway of her ally and vassal, bulgaria. victorious over all continental europe and equally over great britain, she would most likely have claimed the cession to her of the great british autonomous colonies for the purpose of pouring over to canada, australia and south africa her increasingly overflowing population. and to better achieve that most coveted result, she would have destroyed at once the free institutions they enjoy under the british crown to replace them by her autocratic rule. in one of his illogical pamphlets, abounding in extravagant views, the nationalist leader has denied with scorn that germany had ever intended to acquire canada by force of arms. he supported his assertion by the declaration made to the contrary by a german minister. but he failed to explain that this german public man said so only when the berlin government had fully realized that they could not succeed in breaking asunder the mighty british empire. the teutonic declaration was hypocritical, intended to deceive, and to supply our nationalist "_pacifists_" with what would seem a plausible argument to cover their sympathies for the gentle cause of the tender hearted huns. it is very easy to disclaim any aspiration to possess what one is sure never to get. triumphant germany would have bargained very hard to lay her powerful hand on the great indian empire. she would have dismembered russia, as she has effectively done--at least temporarily--by the infamous brest-litovsk treaty. she would have strongly supported austria in destroying for ever italy's legitimate aspirations to round off her national territory by the annexation of that part of austria's possessions called _the trentino_, which is hers by nature. following the precedent she had laid down, in , after her triumph over france, germany would undoubtedly have exacted from her fallen enemies, billions and billions of dollars as indemnities of war. and germany, with such a peace treaty imposed to her despairing enemies with her sanguinary sword at their throat ready to murder them--as she did at brest-litovsk--would have swayed the world with her universal domination. but i hear--i must say without being the least frightened--the thundering clamour of the nationalist leader crying that germany does not now claim such peace conditions as above enumerated. very true, and why? only because she is no longer able to exact and impose them! in , germany being victorious over all europe, england included, after a four months overpowering campaign, as she expected, would certainly not have been satisfied with less than the conditions just specified. they were the goal for which she had been strenuously preparing for fifty years, her success, in , being the preliminary opening of her conquests. to bring germany to renounce--temporarily--to her fond hopes of domination, it has required the heroic efforts and the untold sacrifices, in men and money, which great britain, her colonial empire, france, italy, belgium, japan, betrayed russia, and, last but not least, the united states, have made during more than the last four years and which they are pledged to make until a successful issue. the kind of peace as above would have been what can be very properly called--germany's "offensive peace." in germany's opinion this would have been the just and durable peace dear to her so kind heart. but having failed to carry the tremendous victory for which she had so powerfully prepared, germany would now likely agree to negotiate what can be as properly called a "defensive peace." by "defensive peace", i mean germany negotiating now with her opponents with the determination to repulse, as much as possible, their just claims, to prevent them to the utmost limit to reap the legitimate fruits of their admirable endeavours, to thwart the realization of their noble aspirations to protect the world hereafter against her guilty and barbarous militarism. germany--i mean, of course, the teutonic imperial government--has yet given no sign of a change of mind on the vital points at stake in the consideration of the restoration of peace. if the fortune of arms was once more to favour her armies, her blood stained for colours, she would, to-morrow, be as mercilessly exacting as she would have been, in , had she triumphantly entered paris inside of two months after her challenge to the civilized world. germany is surely not a convert to sound christian principles. she will not repent for her crimes. she does not feel the tortures of remorse at her foul deeds. she would certainly be a relapser, in the near future, if the allies, unwisely heeding the clamour of the "_pacifists_", imprudently gratified her actual wish for a peace compromise. and before long humanity would be forced to go again, in much aggravated conditions, over the way of the cross she has been threading along for nearly five years, steeped to the knees in the blood of millions of her heroic sons, with a reorganized germany this time straining all the huns' accumulated power to lead civilization to her calvary. with god's grace, that shall not be. five years of martyrdom have deserved and will receive justice. after having explained what germany, from her stand-point, considers a just and durable peace, let us see what such a peace means from the allies' stand-point. every free man has a right to his own opinion. however, he must never forget that liberty of opinion does not mean--never meant--absence of knowledge, ignorance of the basic principles of political society. i do not hesitate to expound what the real conditions of the coming peace must be to make it just and durable. let the inveterate opponents of political liberty say what they please, it is undeniable that the present war has rapidly developed into a deadly conflict between autocratic power and political freedom. consequently a peace patched up to uphold autocracy and destroy free institutions could not be just and durable. under the dominating circumstances of the present struggle, to bring it to a satisfactory conclusion, peace, to be just and durable, must be restored with all the necessary guarantees that political liberty will hereafter be safe against the foul attempts of military despotism. this _sine qua non_ condition is general in its nature and equally interests all the contending allied nations. let us now consider the peace conditions which, though of general importance so far as they are necessary for its permanency, are essential from the particular stand-point of each one of the allies separately. i shall begin the review by considering the particular case of great britain. to be just and durable for the british empire, the future peace treaty must not be so drafted as to supersede british sea supremacy by that of germany. the question of what is to be done with the great german african colonies, conquered by the south african dominion army, is next in importance to england's sea supremacy, from the british empire stand-point. germany, very far from foreseeing what was to happen, deliberately opened that question when she precipitated the present conflict by coercing austria to crush weak servia, herself challenging russia and france, and thundering at belgium in violation of her most sacred treaty obligations. great britain, as in honour bound, standing by belgium, was forced to fight with germany. the great autonomous colonies nobly rallying to her support, the south african dominion, boers and british admirably united for the purpose, undertook for her share to conquer the german african colonies. she has grandly succeeded. if, as we all hope, the allies are finally victorious, would it be just to relinquish great britain's right over the german african colonies, more especially if the south african dominion is strongly opposed--as there is no doubt she will be--to their retrocession? and what about belgium and france? no peace treaty could be called just nor could be durable, which would not completely restore belgium's independence; which would not oblige germany to indemnify belgium for the damages wrought upon her, more especially those which were inflicted to the belgian weak but heroic nation out of sheer barbarous destruction. to france, the northern part of her presently occupied territory, together with alsace and lorraine, must be restored. the germans are loudly crying that in exacting the restoration to france of the provinces of alsace and lorraine, the allies would be partly dismembering the german empire. quite so, and why not? does the victim of the highway man lose the right to claim his property from the ruffian who has stolen it by brutal force? in , under the circumstances all know, prussia imposed upon france the cession of alsace and lorraine, rounding off the territory of the new german empire. france naturally smarted under the cruelty of the condition which she could not help accepting. for many years she cherished the hope that the lost provinces would ultimately return to the parental home. but it is well known how time is an efficient cure of many ills. france's yearning for the restoration of alsace and lorraine had gradually subsided. the general opinion was spreading that the alsace-lorraine matter was more and more becoming a finally settled question. before the war, no power, european or american, would have countenanced france in any attempt to break peace to run her chance of reconquering alsace and lorraine. france knew it perfectly well and at last bowed to her fate. who has reopened the closed question of alsace and lorraine? is it not germany herself? great britain, russia, the united states and italy, who would not have supported france in an offensive war with the objective of getting back her lost provinces, are now a most determined unit in favour of the restoration of alsace and lorraine to france as a result of the defensive war germany forced her to wage. that would be justice pure and simple: the peace treaty must do it. germany having run the risk of reopening the alsace-lorraine acute question, the allies must close it anew but this time against the huns. germany must also pay for the devastation she has savagely spread in france. i stand firm for a final settlement of the austro-italian too long pending question by giving to italy the trentino territory to which she has an evident national claim supported by the best of geographical conditions. servia's independence must be once more secured, and poland should be resuscitated. the united states part in the war is truly a grand, a noble one. they have no particular territorial interest to serve. their only object is the general public good. they will be the benefactors of humanity in claiming for their allies the above enunciated conditions without which no just and durable peace can be expected nor obtained. it is most important to caution the public against the insidious clamours of our _"pacifists"_, trying again to deceive the people by asserting that germany is ready to negotiate for peace on fair terms. the huns will acquiesce only to such peace terms as they will be forced to. the allies are better to be guided in consequence in their unfaltering determination to realize a just and durable peace by a glorious victory. chapter xxxix. conclusion. my ardent desire to speak the plain truth and only the truth, is just as strong to-day as it was when, in concluding my french work, i summarized the situation such as it was at the end of the year , to show the hard duty incumbent on all the allies, canada included. it has been perhaps still more intensified by the outrageous efforts of those amongst us whose sole object has been, since the outbreak of the hostilities, to discourage our people from the herculean task they had bravely undertaken. two years have since elapsed--years full of great events, and of untiring heroism on the part of the glorious defenders of justice and right--and i do not see the slightest reason to modify the conclusions i then arrived at as a matter of strict duty. unworthy of public confidence is the man who, pandering to the supposed prejudices of his countrymen, refrains out of weakness, or of more guilty considerations, to tell them what they are bound to do for their own country, for their empire, for the world, in the supreme crisis of our time. true every one is longing for the restoration of peace. but few are those who, even before being tired of the war, were ready to curb their heads under the german yoke, are now praying for a compromise between the allies and their enemies. there are some left, it is sad to admit. everywhere they are chased by the indignant public opinion daily growing more determined that millions of heroes shall not have given their lives in vain, that millions of others, wounded on the fields of battles, shall not, until the last of them is gone for ever, be the betrayed victims of teutonic dastardly ambition. true, peace is sorely wanted, and would be welcomed by the thanksgivings to the almighty of grateful peoples, who have borne with undaunted courage such untold and admirable sacrifices to uphold their rights and their honour. but it cannot be sued for by the nations whom germany wanted to enslave by the might of her crushing militarism operating under the dictates of a new code of international law of her own barbarous creation. thank god, the flowing tide of unlimited teutonic ambition let loose over the world, more than four years ago, has met with inaccessible summits where love of justice, respect of right, devotion to human civilization, obedience to christian law, heroism of sacrifices, were so deeply entrenched, that they could not be reached and conquered. from this commanding altitude, they not only continue to defy the tyrants bent on dominating the universe, but they are mightily smashing their power. from the overshadowing point of view which cannot be forgotten, or wilfully abandoned, nothing has changed since the german empire, in her delirious aspirations, challenged the world to the almost superhuman conflict by which she felt certain to succeed in realizing her fond dream of universal domination. at the outbreak of the war, ever since, to-day, to-morrow, there were, there are and there will be but three alternatives to the restoration of peace:-- .--a victorious german peace imposed on beaten and cowed belligerents: the peace of the "_defeatists_." .--a peace by compromise, patched up by disheartened "_pacifists_," lured by cunningness, winning where force would have failed to succeed, to agree to conditions pregnant with all the horrors of a new and still greater struggle in the near future. .--a peace the result of the indomitable courage and perseverance of all the nations who have joined together to put an end to germany's ambition to rule the world, and to destroy the instrument created for that iniquitous purpose: prussian militarism. there could be a fourth alternative to peace, but it would be possible only by a miracle which, we can grant without hesitation, the world has perhaps not yet deserved. it would be peace restored by the sudden conversion of germany to the practice of sound christian principles, acknowledging how guilty she has been, repenting for her crimes, agreeing to atone for them as much as possible, and taking the unconditional pledge to henceforth behave like a civilized nation. all must admit that there is not the slightest hope of such a move from a nation whose autocratic kaiser, answering, in february last, an address presented to him by the burgomaster of hamburg, thundered out, in his usual blasting manner, that the neighbouring peoples, to enjoy the sweetness of germany's friendship, "must first recognize the victory of german arms." as an inducement to the allies to bow to his wishes, he pointed to germany's achievement in russia, where a beaten enemy, "_perceiving no reason for fighting longer_," clasped hands with the generous huns. the world has since learned with appalling horror with what tender mercy the barbarous teutons reciprocated the grasping of hands of defeated russia, tendered to them by the "bolshevikis" traitors. the allies had then to select one of the three above mentioned alternatives. they have made their choice and they will stick close to it until it is achieved by the victory of their arms. knowing as they do that the future of their peoples, and that of the whole world, are at stake, they will not waver in their heroic determination to free humanity from germany's cruel yoke. viewed from the commanding height it requires to be worthily appreciated, the joint military effort of the allies offers a truly grand spectacle, daily enlarging and getting more gloriously magnificent. all the allies--every one of them--are doing their duty and their respective share in the great crisis they are pledged to bring to a triumphant conclusion. belgium and servia were the first to be martyred, but the hour of their resurrection is getting nearer every day. france, the british empire, the united states, italy, have done and are doing wonders. there can, there must be no question of appraising their respective merit with the intention of giving more credit either to the one or to the other. with the greatest possible sincerity, i affirm my humble, but positive, opinion that each one of the allies has done and is doing, with overflowing measure, all that courage could and can earnestly perform, all that patriotism and the noblest national virtues can inspire. france has been heroic to the highest limit. the british empire--great britain and her colonies--has been grand in her unswerving determination to fight to a finish. the great american republic is putting forth a wonderful exhibition of pluck, of strength, of boldness, of inexhaustible resources. italy has stood nobly with her new friends ever since she broke away from the triple alliance, to escape the dishonour of remaining on good terms with the central empires in the shameful depth of their ignominious course. she has bravely gone through days of disaster which she has heroically redeemed. all the allies, bound together by the most admirable unity of purpose, only rivalling in the might of their respective patriotic effort, having nobly _"chosen their course upon principle,"_ can never turn back. they must move steadily forward until victorious. they are indomitable in their decision not to live, under any circumstances, "_in a world governed by intrigue and force_." echoing the wise and inspiring words addressed by president wilson to congress, on the eleventh of february last, we can affirm that the "_desire of enlightened men everywhere is for a new international order under which reason, justice and the common interests of mankind shall prevail. without that new order the world will be without peace, and human life will lack tolerable conditions of existence and development_." a most encouraging achievement was realized, a few months ago, emphasizing to the utmost the unity of purpose of the allies. every one of them have millions of men under arms and at the front. it is easily conceived how tremendous is the task of properly directing the military operations of such immense armies, unprecedented in the whole human history. most patriotically putting aside all national susceptibilities, the statesmen governing the allied nations acknowledged the necessity of supporting unity of purpose by unity of military command. their decision was heartily approved and applauded by all and every where. it is important to note the great difference between the standing of the two groups of belligerents with regard to the leadership of the armies. whilst the powers dominated by germany, and fighting with her, are coerced to endure the teutonic military supremacy of command, those warring on the side of france have all most cordially agreed to the appointment of a commander-in-chief out of the profound conviction that unity of command was more and more becoming a necessity for the successful prosecution of the war. since this most urgent decision has been taken, events have surely proved its wisdom and usefulness. evidently, the same as unity of purpose, to bear all its fruits, must be wrought out by statesmanship of a high order, unity of military command, to produce its natural advantages, must be exercised with superiority of leadership. great statesmen, in a free country, are successful in the management of state affairs, just as much as they inspire an increasing confidence in their political genius, developed by a wide experience, honesty of purpose, a constant patriotic devotion to the public weal. great military leaders can do wonders when their achievements are such as to create unbounded reliance on their ability. superiority of command, proved by victories won in very difficult circumstances, is always sure to be rewarded by an enlightened enthusiasm permeating the whole rank and file of an army, and trebling the strength and heroism of every combatant. added to the widespread renewal of confidence produced by the timely decision of the allies to rely on unity of military command, is the reassuring evidence that the commander-in-chief to whom has been imposed the grand task of leading the unified armies to a final and glorious triumph, is trusted by all, soldiers and others alike. the cause for which the allied nations are fighting with so much tenacity and courage being that of the salvation of civilization, threatened by a wave of barbarism equal at least to, if not surpassing, any to which humanity has so far survived, all must admire the wonderful spectacle offered by those millions and millions of men, under arms, from so many different countries, united, under one command, into a military organization which can most properly be called the grand army of human freedom. it has been said by one who has presided over the destinies of the american republic, as the chief of state, that peace must be dictated from berlin. can we really hope to behold the dawn of such a glorious day? it is hardly to be supposed that germany would wait this last extremity to realize that she must abandon for ever her dream of universal domination, relieve the world from the enervating menace of her military terrorism, and redeem her past diabolical course by the repentant determination to join with her former enemies to deserve for mankind long years of perpetual peace with all the providential blessings of order, freedom, truly intellectual, moral and material progress. when the kaiser ordered his hordes to violate belgium's territory, to overrun france in order to crush her out of existence as a military and political power, preparatory to their triumphant march to st. petersburg, in his wild ambition, which he made blasphemous by pretending that it was divinely inspired, he felt sure that his really wonderful army, which he believed was, and would remain, matchless, would in a few weeks enter paris. what a reverse of fortune, what a downfall from extravagant expectations, would be a return of the tide which, after flowing to the very gates of paris, spreading devastation and crimes all over the fair lands it submerged, would ebb, broken and powerless, to berlin, bringing the haughty tyrant to his knees before his victors! if such a day of deliverance is providentially granted the world, having deserved it by an indomitable courage in resisting oppression, history would again repeat itself but with a different result. the french "tricolore" would once more enter proud berlin, but this time it would not be alone to be hoisted over the conquered capital of the modern huns, scarcely less savage than their forefathers. it would be entwined with the "union jack" of great britain and ireland, the "stars and stripes" of the united states, the colours of italy, and, i add with an inexpressible feeling of loyal and national pride, with the dominion colours so brilliantly glorified by the heroism of our canadian soldiers who have proved themselves the equals of the bravest through the protracted but ever glorious campaign, unfolded with those of australia and south africa into the glorious flag of the british empire. when after the glorious battle of iena, the great napoleon, who could have ruined for ever the rising prussian monarchy, entered berlin at the head of his victorious legions, the new cæsar, then already the victim of his unlimited ambition, represented, though issued from a powerful popular movement, triumphant absolutism. in our days, on entering berlin, as the final act of this wonderful drama, the entwined colours of the allies would symbolize human freedom, delivering germany herself and the whole world from autocratic rule. such a memorable event taking place, and rank with the most remarkable in the world's history, the great satisfaction of all those who would have contributed to its achievement, would be that the joint colours of the allies would not be raised over germany's capital to crush the defeated nation under despotic cæsarism, but to deliver her from autocratic tyrannical rule. waving with dignity over the great empire they would have freed from the thraldom of absolutist militarism, they could be welcomed as the promise of the renewal, for her as well as for her victorious rivals, of the reign of justice, of christian precepts, of right, order and peace, of honest and productive labour, of science applied to works creative of human happiness instead of diverting the marvellous resources of the great modern discoveries to criminal uses for the calamitous misfortune of the peoples. i will close this work with the expression of two of the wishes i have most at heart, cherishing the confident hope that they will be realized. england, france and the united states, fighting as they do for the triumph of such a sacred cause, should emerge indissolubly united from the great struggle they have pledged themselves to carry to a successful issue. i cannot conceive that so many millions of their heroic defenders will have given their lives only for a temporary achievement, soon to be forgotten. they will be gone for ever. their sacrifices will be eternal. they must bear permanent fruits. united in death, buried together in the soil of france flooded with their blood, from their glorious graves they will implore their surviving countrymen to remain shoulder to shoulder in peace as they are in war. their holocaust should be the holy seed from which loyal amity ought to grow ever stronger between the future generations of their countrymen who could not testify in a more eloquent and noble way their everlasting gratitude for the glorious heritage of permanent freedom they will have derived from their heroism. a most enthusiastic daily witness of the immortal deeds of the millions of our brothers, sons and friends, fighting with such splendid courage in the land of my forefathers for our common cause, how often have i, for the last four years, ardently vowed to god from the very bottom of my heart, deeply moved by the reports of their noble achievements, that those who will rest for ever in the ground over which they fell heroically, may enjoy from above the inspiring spectacle of the union for the permanent triumph of liberty and christian civilization, of the great nations for whose grand future they gave their lives! i also most earnestly hope that the more fortunate of our defenders who will return either safe from the fields of battle, or proudly bearing the glorious wounds which will have crippled their bodies, but not their hearts, will enjoy from the sanctuary of their homes, made comfortable by their grateful compatriots, the profound satisfaction to see the holy union cemented on the thundering firing line perpetuated for the lasting prosperity and happiness of mankind. the last shadow of the recollections of the feuds of past ages between england and france should be forever sunk in patriotic oblivion, buried deep beneath the glory both valorous nations will have jointly reaped in their mighty efforts to rescue the world from the frightful wave of barbarism which they will have forced to recede. all the well wishers of peaceful and happy days for future generations are very much gratified at knowing that in joining with the allies in the mighty struggle they were carrying with such undaunted courage, the great american republic was also inspired by a feeling of gratitude for france in remembrance of what she has done to help her to achieve her independence. let us behold anew the inscrutable designs of providence. nearly a century and a half has elapsed since france, england and her american colonies seemed to be for all times irreconcilable opponents. what a change in destiny! years have rolled by. new and unforeseen conditions have been developed the world over. gradually two great currents of thoughts and aspirations have been flowing with increased strength preparing a formidable clash which was to threaten civilization with utter destruction. autocratic ambition was for many long years challenging political liberty to a deadly conflict. at last from the cloudy sky came the flash of lightning, and the thunderbolt was on the earth shaking it to its depth by the tremendous shock. germany, having fired the wonderful autocratic shot, fully expected that her rivals would be thunderstruck beyond possibility of resurrection. but to her great dismay, the friends of political liberty the world over rallied as one man to its defence. and germany trembled at seeing england burying for ever all ill-feelings against france, her ancient foe, rushing to her support with millions of her brave sons, after having drawn around her ally the protecting chain of her matchless fleet. another very discomforting surprise was in store for the cruel huns. the american republic, grateful to france for past services, was also moved by renovated feelings of affection for the mother-country from whom she had parted without disowning her. determined to be at the forefront of the battle for the triumph of human freedom--after unsuccessfully exhausting every means of bringing germany to her senses--she clasped hands with england and france and valiantly rallied to their sides to share the merit and the glory of saving political liberty from the terrible teutonic onslaught. in my humble but sincere and profound opinion, the present spectacle offered to the world's admiration by the sacred and mighty union of the british empire, france and the united states, every patriotic home of theirs thrilling with undiminished enthusiasm for the success of their heroic efforts, is a truly grand one inspiring unbounded faith in the future of humanity. let no one forget for a moment that the present war, certainly national so far as the existence of each one of the allied states is concerned, is, above all preeminently a world's conflict which favourable issue deeply concerns the destinies of all the peoples of the earthly globe. the whole question is whether autocratic tyranny will henceforth rule the world, or if humanity will yet enjoy the blessings of liberty, of free institutions! in all hearts must abide the supreme desire that when peace is restored with all and the only conditions to which they can agree, the british empire, france and the american republic will forever remain united to promote the prosperity and the welfare of all the nations of the earth, large, middle-sized or small. the duty of those of imperialist proportions will be as hitherto performed by england and the united states in their democratic way, to protect the independence of the small states, never aspiring to any territorial acquisitions but those accruing to them with the full and free consent of the new populations asking the protection of their ægis and the advantages of their union. when i consider the grand and magnificent part the three above named leading nations can play for the happy future of humanity, by working hand in hand, and shoulder to shoulder, for general peace, order and prosperity, my heart is full with the ardent desire to witness them accepting that glorious task with the stern determination to accomplish it to its better end. in spite of the vicissitudes and the failings of their past, they have done a great deal for the general good. they can do still more in the future. like everyman bearing with fortitude the trials of life with the worthy design of profiting by the experience thus acquired to elevate himself to a higher conception of his duty, the british empire, france and the united states will undoubtedly emerge from behind the dark clouds of the present days with aspirations ennobled by the sacrifices they are making, purified by the sufferings and the holocaust of so many of their own, with a stronger will to help working out the world's destiny by maintaining permanent peace and good-will amongst men. if they pursue that dignified course of high ideals they will fully deserve the admiration and the gratitude of all those who will benefit by their examples, and reap the abundant fruits of their devoted and enlightened leadership. it is one of the blessings of true political liberty, when duly understood and intelligently practised, to produce a class of politicians and statesmen of wide experience, of commanding character, of high culture, of great attainments, with a superior training in the management of public affairs, who are readily acknowledged as national leaders by the people who confidently trust them, reserving, of course, their constitutional right to call new men to office whenever they consider in the public interest to do so. those trusted leaders do not claim, as the german autocratic kaiser, the power, by divine right, to do anything they please, asserting that in every imaginable case they do the will of the almighty. when charged with the government of their country, they understand very well that their duty is to manage the national affairs under their responsibility, first, to the divine ruler, as any other man in any other calling; secondly, to those who, having required their services, have the constitutional right to call them to account for their stewardship. just as confidence is the basis of sound national credit, trust, on the part of the people, and responsibility, on that of the national leaders, are the two cornerstones of free institutions. great britain,--and her great autonomous colonies also--for many long years past, have been most fortunate in the choice of the national leaders whom they have successively entrusted with the affairs of state. in that momentous occurrence, more than four years ago, when the whole question whether great britain would go to war, or not, was laid before the imperial parliament supported by the strongest possible reasons in favour of the decision to accept the challenge of germany, and fight with the firm determination not to sheathe the sword before victory was won, no british public man would have dared, like the german emperor, to claim, by divine authority, the right to violate the solemn treaties the provisions of which his country was in honour and duty bound to carry out to the very letter. the commanding parts national leaders play in a free country, in consequence of the public confidence they inspire and enjoy, can have their counterparts in the great society of nations. whatever shall be the final settlement of all the difficult matters brought up for solution by the war, it is certain that the management of the world's affairs will be well served by the legitimate influence of great nations whose leadership will be beneficial just in proportion as it is itself directed by the true principles of political freedom, and an uncompromising respect of the rights of weaker nations always entitled to the fairest dealings on the part of their stronger associates in the great commonwealth of sovereign states. there cannot be the slightest doubt that the british empire, france and the united states, until providentially ordered otherwise, will hereafter be the three leading nations of the world. their union maintained sacred in peace, as it is in war, will be the safest guarantee that the days of autocratic domination have ended. henceforth the tide of political freedom will flow with increased rapidity and strength. the only danger ahead, against which it is always wise to provide with due care and foresight, is that which would be the result of abuse and wild expectations always sure to react in favour of absolutist principles. political liberty and order, governmental authority and freedom, both well directed, must work hand in hand for the national welfare. the british empire, france and the american republic are free countries. more and better than any others they should and must, by example and friendly advice, lead the peoples in the successful practice of self-government. considering more especially the part the british empire will be called upon to play in the reorganized world, freed from autocratic terrorism, we must not lose sight of the much larger place england's great autonomous colonies will occupy in the broadened english commonwealth. we, canadians, together with our brethren from australia, new zealand and south africa, will have done our glorious share to win the war. we shall have to perform with equal devotion the new duty of sharing the british empire's task in gradually elevating the nations to an enlightened practice of political liberty. evidently to do so with the success this noble cause will deserve, we must first strive to utilize our admirable free institutions to the best advantage, for ourselves, for our own future, and for the grand destinies of our empire. as an instrument of good government our constitutional charter is almost perfect, as much so as any thing worldly can be. let us never forget that the best weapon for self-protection may become useless, or even dangerous for us, if not handled with the required intelligence, justice and skill. we would lose all claims to contribute guiding others in the enjoyment of free institutions if we, ourselves, were mistaken in the proper working of our own constitution from a misconception of its literal wording or of its largeness of spirit. we must never challenge the truth that "spirit giveth life." more than ever the supreme difficulties of governing numerous racial groups, issued from ancient stocks so long divided by endless feuds,--the result of the many sudden changes of territorial limits to be wrought by the restoration of peace--will be very hard to settle satisfactorily. the task will require the constant effort of statesmanship of a high order. many of those who will hereafter be trained to self-government will look to us for their guidance. we must give them the inspiring example of fair play, of justice for all, of unity of purpose and aspirations in the diversity of ethnical offsprings. need i say that the most urgent duty of all fair minded canadians is, and will ever be, to heartily join together, to bless our dear country with concord, good feeling, harmony and kindly dispositions to grant an overflowing measure of justice to all our countrymen of all origins and creeds. writing this book with the express purpose of explaining and strongly disapproving the deplorable efforts of a few to deter my french canadian compatriots from doing their bounden duty through the dire crisis we are all undergoing, i will close these pages by calling anew upon my english speaking countrymen not to judge them by the sayings and deeds of persons who can at times somewhat stir up dangerous prejudices, but who are utterly incompetent to lead them as they should and deserve to be. silenced at last by a patriotic measure to censure any disloyal expression of sentiments, matters have easily resumed their regular and honourable course. all loyal citizens, throughout the length and breadth of the land, have, i am sure, much rejoiced at the loyalty with which the french canadians, of all classes, religious, social, commercial, industrial, financial, agricultural, have united to obey a statute of military service to which many of them did not agree, as long as they had the constitutional right to differ from the opinion of the large majority of our people, but to the successful operation of which they rallied the moment it was the law of the land. the worthy leaders of our church strongly recommended obedience to the decision of the constituted authority, firmly condemned any guilty attempt at disturbing public order, and ordered all the members of their flocks to fervously pray the almighty for peace with victory for the allies. our "pacifists at all hazards" once more silenced, this time by the very religious leaders under whose ægis they had shamefully tried to shield themselves, the patriotic impulse was moved to most commendable action. without waiting for the call of the law, hundreds of young men from the better classes, from the universities and other educational institutions, well educated, voluntarily enlisted and rallied to the colours. at least as much as in the other provinces, the class of our young manhood called by law heartily responded, all the real leaders of public opinion uniting to give the only advice loyal men could express. for one, i was most happy to ascertain how favourably western public feeling was impressed by the new turn of thoughts and events in the province of quebec. the reaction of sentiments operating both ways,--in ontario, the western provinces and quebec--augurs well for the final abatement of the excitement which for a time menaced our fair dominion with regrettable racial strifes so much to be deprecated. it can be positively affirmed that the whole people of canada, east to west, north to south, are now more than ever a unit in their patriotic determination to fight the war to its final victorious issue. to this end the two millions of french british subjects in canada, in perfect communion of thoughts and aspirations with the two millions of the neighbouring republic's subjects of french canadian origin, are loyally doing, and will continue to do, their share. their representatives at the front are gloriously fighting the common enemy. their valour and their achievements during the allies' offensive so masterly planned and carried out by the commander-in-chief, foch, have been worthy of their victories at ypres, vimy, courcelette, passchandaele. many have, during the last three months, given their lives for the cause they defend. many more have been wounded and are anxiously waiting their cure, when possible, to return to the field of honour. daily reports from the front tell of their enthusiasm, of their bravery, of their heroism! the french canadians--i have no hesitation whatever in vouching for it--will continue to bear stoically with the sacrifices of so many kinds the conflict imposes upon them. though smarting, as all others, under the burden, yet they cheerfully pay the heavy taxes required from the country to meet our national obligations the outcome of the war. so all is for the best under the strenuous present conditions of our national existence. in closing, i pray leave to reiterate, from the introduction to this work, the following lines expressing my most sincere and profound conviction:-- i hope,--and most ardently wish--that all my readers will agree with me that next to the necessity of winning the war--and may i say, even as of almost equal importance for the future grandeur of our beloved country--range that of promoting by all lawful means harmony and good will amongst all our countrymen, whatever may be their racial origin, their religious faith, their particular aspirations not conflicting with their devotion to canada as a whole, nor with their loyalty to the british empire, whose grandeur and prestige they want to firmly help to uphold with the inspiring confidence that more and more they will be the unconquerable bulwark of freedom, justice, civilization and right. may i be allowed to conclude by saying that my most earnest desire is to do all in my power, in the rank and file of the great army of free men, to reach the goal which ought to be the most persevering and patriotic ambition of loyal canadians of all origins and creeds. and i repeat, wishing my words to be re-echoed throughout the length and breadth of the land i so heartily cherish:--i have always been, i am and will ever be, to my last breath, true to my oath of allegiance to my sovereign and to my country. appendix--a. president wilson's speech to the united states congress-- th day of february, . on the above mentioned date, mr. wilson, the president of the great american republic, delivered the following speech to the congress, in washington. this noble and statesmanlike utterance met with the unanimous and enthusiastic approval of the members of both houses, and was highly applauded, not only in the united states, but over all the truly civilized world. it reads thus:-- "on the eighth of january, i had the honor of addressing you on the objects of the war as our people conceive them. the prime minister of great britain had spoken in similar terms on the fifth of january. to these addresses the german chancellor replied on the th and count czernin for austria on the same day. it is gratifying to have our desire so promptly realized that all exchanges of view on this great matter should be made in the hearing of all the world. "count czernin's reply, which is directed chiefly to my own address, on the eighth of january, is uttered in a very friendly tone. "he finds in my statement a sufficiently encouraging approach to the views of his own government to justify him in believing that it furnishes a basis for a more detailed discussion of purposes by the two governments. he is represented to have intimated that the views he was expressing had been communicated to me beforehand and that i was aware of them at the time he was uttering them; but in this i am sure he was misunderstood. i had received no intimation of what he intended to say. there was, of course, no reason why he should communicate privately with me. i am quite content to be one of his public audiences. "count von hertling's reply is, i may say, very vague and very confusing. it is full of equivocal phrases and leads, it is not clear where. but it is certainly in a very different tone from that of count czernin and apparently of an opposite purpose. it confirms, i am sorry to say, rather than removes, the unfortunate impression made by what we had learned of the conferences at brest-litovsk. his discussion and acceptance of our general principles leads him to no practical conclusions. he refuses to apply them to the substantiate items which must constitute the body of any final settlement. he is jealous of international action and of international council. he accepts, he says, the principle of public diplomacy, but he appears to insist that it be confined at any rate in this case, to generalities and that the several particular questions of territory and sovereignty, the several questions upon whose settlement must depend the acceptance of peace by the twenty-three states now engaged in the war, must be discussed and settled, not in general council but severally by the nations most immediately concerned by interest of neighbourhood. he agrees that the seas should be free, but looks askance at any limitation to that freedom by international action in the interest of the common order. he would, without reserve, be glad to see economic barriers removed between nation and nation, for that could in no way impede the ambitions of the military party with whom he seems constrained to keep on terms. neither does he raise objection to a limitation of armaments. that matter will be settled of itself, he thinks, by the economic conditions which must follow the war. but the german colonies, he demands, must be returned without debate. he will discuss with no one but the representatives of russia what disposition shall be made of the peoples and the lands of the baltic provinces; with no one but the government of france the "conditions" under which french territory shall be evacuated and only with austria what shall be done with poland. in the determination of all questions affecting the balkan states he defers, as i understand him, to austria and turkey and with regard to the agreements to be entered into concerning the non-turkish peoples of the present ottoman empire, to the turkish authorities themselves. after a settlement all around effected in this fashion, by individual barter and concession, he would have no objection, if i correctly interpret his statement, to a league of nations which would undertake to hold the balance of power steady against external disturbance. "it must be evident to everyone who understands what this war has wrought in the opinion and temper of the world that no general peace, no peace worth the infinite sacrifices of these years of tragical suffering, can possibly be arrived at in any such fashion. the method the german chancellor proposes is the method of the congress of vienna. we cannot and will not return to that. what is at stake now is the peace of the world. what we are striving for is a new international order based upon broad and universal principles of right and justice--no mere peace of shreds and patches. is it possible that count von hertling does not see that, does not grasp it, is in fact living in his thought in a world dead and gone? has he utterly forgotten the reichstag resolutions of the th of july, or does he deliberately ignore them? they spoke of the conditions of a general peace, not of national aggrandizement or of arrangements between state and state. the peace of the world depends upon just settlement of each of the several problems to which i adverted in my recent address to congress. i, of course, do not mean that the peace of the world depends upon the acceptance of any particular set of suggestions as to the way in which those problems are to be dealt with. i mean only that those problems, each and all, affect the whole world; that unless they are dealt with in a spirit of unselfish and unbiassed justice, with a view to the wishes, the natural connections, the racial aspirations, the security and peace of mind of the peoples involved, no permanent peace will have been attained. they cannot be discussed separately or in corners. none of them constitutes a private or separate interest from which the opinion of the world may be shut out. whatever affects the peace affects mankind, and nothing settled by military force, if settled wrong, is settled at all. it will presently have to be re-opened. "is count von hertling not aware that he is speaking in the court of mankind, that all the awakened nations of the world now sit in judgment on what every public man, of whatever nation, may say on the issues of a conflict which has spread to every region of the world? the reichstag resolutions of july themselves frankly accepted the decisions of that court. there shall be no annexations, no contributions, no punitive damages. peoples are not to be handed about from one sovereignty to another by an international conference or an understanding between rivals and antagonists. national aspirations must be respected; peoples may now be dominated and governed only by their own consent. "self-determination," is not a mere phrase. it is an imperative principle of action, which statesmen will henceforth ignore at their peril. we cannot have general peace for the asking, or by the mere arrangements of a peace conference. it cannot be pieced together out of individual understandings between powerful states. all the parties to this war must join in the settlement of every issue anywhere involved in it because what we are seeking is a peace that we can all unite to guarantee and maintain whether it be right and fair, an act of justice, rather than a bargain between sovereigns. "the united states has no desire to interfere in european affairs or to act as arbiter in european territorial disputes. we would disdain to take advantage of any internal weakness or disorder to impose her own will upon another people. she is quite ready to be shown that the settlements she has suggested are not the best or the most enduring. they are only her own provisional sketch of principles, and of the way in which they should be applied. but she entered this war because she was made a partner, whether she would or not, in the sufferings and indignities inflicted by the military masters of germany, against the peace and security of mankind; and the conditions of peace will touch her as nearly as they will touch any other nation to which is entrusted a leading part in the maintenance of civilization. she cannot see her way to peace until the causes of this war are removed, its renewal rendered, as nearly as may be, impossible. "this war had its roots in the disregard of the rights of small nations and of nationalities which lacked the union and the force to make good their claim to determine their own allegiances and their own forms of political life. covenants must now be entered into which will render such things impossible for the future; and those covenants must be backed by the united force of all the nations that love justice and are willing to maintain it at any cost. if territorial settlements and the political relations of great populations which have not the organized power to resist are to be determined by the contracts of the powerful governments which consider themselves most directly affected, as count von hertling proposes, why may not economic questions also? it has come about in the altered world in which we now find ourselves that justice and the rights of peoples affect the whole field of international dealing as much as access to raw materials and fair and equal conditions of trade. count von hertling wants the essential basis of commercial and industrial life to be safeguarded by common agreement and guarantee, but he cannot expect that to be conceded him if the other matters to be determined by the articles of peace are not handled in the same way as it was in the final accounting. he cannot ask the benefit of common agreement in the one field without according it in the other. i take it for granted that he sees that separate and selfish compacts with regard to trade and the essential materials of manufacture would afford no foundation for peace. neither, he may rest assured, will separate and selfish compacts with regard to the provinces and peoples. "count czernin seems to see the fundamental elements of peace with clear eyes and does not seek to obscure them. he sees that an independent poland, made up of all the indisputably polish peoples who lie contiguous to one another, is a matter of european concern and must of course be conceded; that belgium must be evacuated and restored, no matter what sacrifices and concessions that may involve; and that national aspirations must be satisfied, even within his own empire, in the common interest of europe and mankind. if he is silent about questions which touch the interest and purpose of his allies more nearly than they touch those of austria only, it must, of course, be because he feels constrained, i suppose, to defer to germany and turkey in the circumstances. seeing and conceding, as he does, the essential principles involved and the necessity of candidly applying them, he naturally feels that austria can respond to the purpose of peace as expressed by the united states with less embarrassment than could germany. he would probably have gone much farther had it not been for the embarrassments of austria's alliance and of her dependence upon germany. "after all the test of whether it is possible for either government to go any further in this comparison of views is simple and obvious. the principles to be applied are: "first, that each part of the final settlement must be based on the essential justice of the particular case, and upon such adjustments as are most likely to bring a peace that will be permanent. "second, that peoples and provinces are not to be bartered about from sovereignty to sovereignty as if they were mere chattels and pawns in a game, even the great game, now for ever discredited, of the balance of power; but that, "every territorial settlement involved in this war must be made in the interest and for the benefit of the populations concerned and not as a part of any mere adjustment of compromise of claims amongst rival states; and, "fourth, that all well defined national aspirations shall be accorded the utmost satisfaction that can be accorded them without introducing new or perpetuating old elements of discord, and antagonism that would be likely in time to break the peace of europe and consequently of the world. "a general peace entered upon such foundations can be discussed. until such a peace can be secured we have no choice but to go on. so far as we can judge, these principles that we regard as fundamental are already everywhere accepted as imperative except among the spokesmen of the military and annexationist party in germany. if they have anywhere else been rejected, the objectors have not been sufficiently numerous or influential to make their voices audible. the tragic circumstance is that this one party in germany is apparently willing and able to send millions of men to their death to prevent what all the world now sees to be just. "i would not be a true spokesman of the people of the united states if i did not say once more that we entered this war upon no small occasion, and that we can never turn back from a course chosen upon principle. our resources are in part mobilized now, and we shall not pause until they are mobilized in their entirety. our armies are rapidly going to the fighting front, and will go more rapidly. our whole strength will be put into this state of emancipation--emancipation from the threat and attempted mastery of selfish groups of autocratic rulers--whatever the difficulties and present partial delays. we are indomitable in our power of independent action, and can in no circumstances consent to live in a world governed by intrigue and force. we believe that our own desire for a new international order under which reason and justice and the common interests of mankind shall prevail, is the desire of enlightened men everywhere. without that new order the world will be without peace, and human life will lack tolerable conditions of existence and development. having set our hand to the task of achieving it, we shall not turn back. "i hope that it is not necessary for me to add that no word of what i have said is intended as a threat. that is not the temper of our people. i have spoken thus only that the whole world may know the true spirit of america--that men everywhere may know that our passion for justice and for self-government is no mere passion of words, but a passion which, once set in act, must be satisfied. the power of the united states is a menace to no nation or people. it will be never used in aggression or for the aggrandizement of any selfish interest of our own. it springs out of freedom and is for the service of freedom." appendix--b. text of united states reply to austria. on the th of september, , the secretary of state made public the official text of the letter he sent, to mr. w. a. f. ekengren, the swedish minister, in charge of austro-hungarian affairs, conveying president wilson's rejection of the austrian peace proposals. it reads as follows:-- "sir,--i have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your note, dated september , communicating to me a note from the imperial government of austria-hungary, containing a proposal to the government of all the belligerent states to send delegates to a confidential and unbinding discussion on the basic principles for the conclusion of peace. furthermore, it is proposed that the delegates would be charged to make known to one another the conception of their governments regarding these principles, and to receive analogous communications, as well as to request and give frank and candid explanations on all those points which need to be precisely defined. "in reply, i beg to say that the substance of your communication has been submitted to the president, who now directs me to inform you that the government of the united states feels that there is only one reply which it can make to the suggestion of the imperial austro-hungarian government. it has repeatedly, and with entire candor, stated the terms upon which the united states would consider peace, and can and will entertain no proposal for a conference upon the matter concerning which it has made its position and purpose so plain. "accept, sir, the renewed assurances of my highest consideration. "(signed), robert lansing, "secretary of state." * * * * * transcriber's notes obvious punctuation errors repaired. numerous obvious spelling errors have been corrected. archaic or unusual words and spellings have not been changed: beneficient, coronated, consolated, conspiration, devotedness, divers, elogius, enflame, enounced, equilibrist, eulogium, fervously, injustifiable, irresistable, instil, magna charta, planturous, plebiscit, plebiscitary, preconized, profonated, roumanian, servia, subtilties, tragical, treasonably, troublous, tutorage, unbiassed, uncontrovertible, unsufficiently, woful. both "bolshevik" and "bolchevik" appear and have not been changed. both "standpoint(s)" and "stand-point(s)" appear and have not been changed. the following inconsistent usages appear and have not been changed: "mother country", "mother country", "mother-country", "mother land", "mother land", "mother land", "motherland". italic font is indicated by _xxx_ and bold font by =xxx=. page : duplicate word "his" deleted (his excellency had just). page (and elsewhere): "per cent" changed to "per cent." for consistency. [transcriber's notes: inconsistent hyphenation and use of umlauts retained. equations are surrounded by _ indicating that the variables are all italicised. if there are non-italicised alphabetic characters in the equation the variables are surrounded by _ separately. [sqrt] has been used to represent square root (radical) sign. a full list of errors that have been changed can be found at the end.] rare masterpieces of philosophy and science edited by dr. w. stark the accumulation of capital published on the louis stern memorial fund the accumulation of capital by rosa luxemburg _translated from the german by agnes schwarzschild (doctor iuris)_ _with an introduction by joan robinson_ new haven yale university press this translation first published in the united states by yale university press new haven connecticut designed by seÁn jennett and printed in great britain by butler and tanner ltd london and frome contents translator's note _page_ a note on rosa luxemburg introduction section one the problem of reproduction i. the object of our investigation _page_ ii. quesnay's and adam smith's analyses of the process of reproduction iii. a criticism of smith's analysis iv. marx's scheme of simple reproduction v. the circulation of money vi. enlarged reproduction vii. analysis of marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction viii. marx's attempt to resolve the difficulty ix. the difficulty viewed from the angle of the process of circulation section two historical exposition of the problem first round sismondi-malthus _v._ say-ricardo, macculloch x. sismondi's theory of reproduction _page_ xi. macculloch _v._ sismondi xii. ricardo _v._ sismondi xiii. say _v._ sismondi xiv. malthus second round the controversy between rodbertus and von kirchmann xv. v. kirchmann's theory of reproduction _page_ xvi. rodbertus' criticism of the classical school xvii. rodbertus' analysis of reproduction third round struve--bulgakov--tugan baranovski v. vorontsov--nikolayon xviii. a new version of the problem _page_ xix. vorontsov and his 'surplus' xx. nikolayon xxi. struve's 'third persons' and 'three world empires' xxii. bulgakov and his completion of marx's analysis xxiii. tugan baranovski and his 'lack of proportion' xxiv. the end of russian 'legalist' marxism section three the historical conditions of accumulation xxv. contradictions within the diagram of enlarged reproduction _page_ xxvi. the reproduction of capital and its social setting xxvii. the struggle against natural economy xxviii. the introduction of commodity economy xxix. the struggle against peasant economy xxx. international loans xxxi. protective tariffs and accumulation xxxii. militarism as a province of accumulation index translator's note this is an original translation not only of the main body of the work but also of a number of quotations from foreign authors. page references thus usually indicate the original foreign sources. in so far as possible, however, i have availed myself of existing translations and have referred to the following standard works: karl marx: _capital_, vol. i (transl. by moore-aveling, london, ); vol. ii (transl. by e. untermann, chicago, ); vol. iii (transl. by e. untermann, chicago, ) _the poverty of philosophy_ (translator's name not given, london, ). sismondi's introduction to the second edition of _nouveaux principes_ is quoted from m. mignet's translation of selected passages by sismondi, entitled _political economy and the philosophy of government_, london, . no english translation exists of marx's _theorien über den mehrwert_. unfortunately, not all the west european texts, and none of the russian--except engels' correspondence with nikolayon--were accessible to me, and i regret having been unable to trace some quotations and check up on others. in such cases, the english version follows the german text and will at least bring out the point the author wanted to make. to save the reader grappling with unfamiliar concepts, i have converted foreign currencies and measures into their english equivalents, at the following rates: _marks_-- _francs_--$ --£ (gold standard); _hectare_--(roughly) · acres; _kilometre_-- / mile. i am glad of this opportunity to express my gratitude to dr. w. stark and mrs. j. robinson for the helpful criticism and appreciation with which my work has met. agnes schwarzschild a note on rosa luxemburg rosa luxemburg was born on march , at zamosc, a little town of russian poland, not far from the city of lublin. she came from a fairly well-to-do family of jewish merchants, and soon showed the two outstanding traits which were to characterise all her life and work: a high degree of intelligence, and a burning thirst for social justice which led her, while still a schoolgirl, into the revolutionary camp. partly to escape the russian police, partly to complete her education, she went to zurich and studied there the sciences of law and economics. her doctoral dissertation dealt with the industrial development of poland and showed up the vital integration of polish industry with the wider economic system of metropolitan russia. it was a work not only of considerable promise, but already of solid and substantial achievement. her doctorate won, rosa luxemburg looked around for a promising field of work and decided to go to germany, whose working-class movement seemed destined to play a leading part in the future history of international socialism. she settled there in , and two years later contracted a formal marriage with a german subject which secured her against the danger of forcible deportation to russia. now, at that moment the german social-democratic party was in the throes of a serious crisis. in , eduard bernstein published his well-known work _die voraussetzungen des sozialismus und die aufgaben der sozialdemokratie_, which urged the party to drop its revolutionary jargon and to work henceforth for tangible social reforms within the given economic set-up, instead of trying to bring about its final and forcible overthrow. this 'reformism' or 'revisionism' seemed to rosa luxemburg a base as well as a foolish doctrine, and she published in the same year a pamphlet _sozialreform oder revolution?_ which dealt with bernstein's ideas in no uncertain fashion. from this moment onward, she was and remained one of the acknowledged leaders of the left wing within the german working-class movement. the events of the year gave rosa luxemburg a welcome opportunity to demonstrate that revolution was to her more than a subject of purely academic interest. as soon as the russian masses began to move, she hurried to warsaw and threw herself into the fray. there followed a short span of feverish activity, half a year's imprisonment, and, finally, a return journey to berlin. the experiences of the warsaw rising are reflected in a book entitled _massenstreik, partei und gewerkschaften_, which was published in . it recommends the general strike as the most effective weapon in the struggle of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie. the international socialist congress which met at stuttgart in prepared and foreshadowed the sorry history of rosa luxemburg's later life. on that occasion she drafted, together with lenin, a resolution which demanded that the workers of the world should make any future war an opportunity for the destruction of the capitalist system. unlike so many others, she stuck to her resolution when, seven years later, the time of testing came. the result was that she had to spend nearly the whole of the first world war in jail, either under punishment or in protective custody. but imprisonment did not mean inactivity. in , there appeared in switzerland her book _die krise der sozialdemokratie_, which assailed the leaders of the german labour party for their patriotic attitude and called the masses to revolutionary action. the foundation of the spartacus league in , the germ cell out of which the communist party of germany was soon to develop, was vitally connected with the dissemination of rosa luxemburg's aggressive sentiments. the collapse of the _kaiserreich_ on november , gave rosa luxemburg her freedom and an undreamt-of range of opportunities. the two months that followed must have been more crowded and more colourful than all her previous life taken together. but the end of her career was imminent. the fatal spartacus week, an abortive rising of the berlin workers, led on january , to her arrest by a government composed of former party comrades. during her removal to prison she was attacked and severely beaten by soldiers belonging to the extreme right, a treatment which she did not survive. her body was recovered days later from a canal. a type not unlike trotsky, rosa luxemburg had her tender and sentimental side, which comes to the surface in her correspondence, especially in the _briefe aus dem gefaengnis_ printed in . as a thinker she showed considerable honesty and independence of mind. _the accumulation of capital_, first published in , which is undoubtedly her finest achievement, reveals her as that rarest of all rare phenomena--a marxist critical of karl marx. w. stark introduction academic economists have recently returned from the elaboration of static equilibrium to the classical search for a dynamic model of a developing economy. rosa luxemburg, neglected by marxist and academic economists alike, offers a theory of the dynamic development of capitalism which is of the greatest interest. the book is one of considerable difficulty (apart from the vivid historical chapters), and to those accustomed only to academic analysis the difficulty is rendered well-nigh insurmountable by the marxist terminology in which it is expressed. the purpose of this preface is to provide a glossary of terms, and to search for the main thread of the argument (leaving the historical illustrations to speak for themselves) and set it out in simpler language. the result is no doubt too simple. the reader must sample for himself the rich confusion in which the central core of analysis is imbedded, and must judge for himself whether the core has been mishandled in the process of digging it out.[ ] our author takes her departure from the numerical examples for simple reproduction (production with a constant stock of capital) and expanded reproduction (production with capital accumulating) set out in volume ii of marx's _capital_. as she points out,[ ] marx completed the model for simple reproduction, but the models for accumulation were left at his death in a chaos of notes, and they are not really fit to bear all the weight she puts on them (heaven help us if posterity is to pore over all the backs of old envelopes on which economists have jotted down numerical examples in working out a piece of analysis). to follow her line of thought, however, it is necessary to examine her version of marx's models closely, to see on what assumptions they are based (explicitly or unconsciously) and to search the assumptions for clues to the succeeding analysis. to begin at the beginning--gross national income (for a closed economy) for, say, a year, is written _c + v + s_; that is, constant capital, variable capital and surplus. variable capital, _v_, is the annual wages bill. surplus, _s_, is annual rent, interest, and net profit, so that _v + s_ represents net national income. (in this introduction surplus is used interchangeably with rent, interest and net profit.) constant capital, _c_, represents at the same time the contribution which materials and capital equipment make to annual output, and the cost of maintaining the stock of physical capital in existence at the beginning of the year. when all commodities are selling at normal prices, these two quantities are equal (normal prices are tacitly assumed always to rule,[ ] an assumption which is useful for long-period problems, though treacherous when we have to deal with slumps and crises). gross receipts equal to _c + v + s_ pass through the hands of the capitalists during the year, of which they use an amount, _c_, to replace physical capital used up during the year, so that _c_ represents costs of raw materials and wear and tear and amortisation of plant. an amount, _v_, is paid to workers and is consumed by them (saving by workers is regarded as negligible[ ]). the surplus, _s_, remains to the capitalists for their own consumption and for net saving. the professional classes (civil servants, priests, prostitutes, etc.) are treated as hangers-on of the capitalists, and their incomes do not appear, as they are not regarded as producing _value_.[ ] expenditure upon them tends to lessen the saving of capitalists, and their own expenditure and saving are treated as expenditure and saving out of surplus. in the model set out in chapter vi there is no technical progress (this is a drastic simplification made deliberately[ ]) and the ratio of capital to labour is constant (as the stock of capital increases employment increases in proportion). thus real output per worker employed is constant (hours of work per year do not vary) and real wages per man are constant. it follows that real surplus per man is also constant. so long as these assumptions are retained marxian _value_ presents no problem. _value_ is the product of labour-time. _value_ created per man-year is constant because hours of work are constant. real product per man year being constant, on the above assumptions, the _value_ of a unit of product is constant. for convenience we may assume money wages per man constant. then, on these assumptions, both the money price of a unit of output and the _value_ of a unit of money are constant. this of course merely plasters over all the problems of measurement connected with the use of index numbers, but provided that the technique of production is unchanging, and normal prices are ruling, those problems are not serious, and we can conduct the analysis in terms of money values.[ ] (rosa luxemburg regards it as a matter of indifference whether we calculate in money or in _value_.[ ]) the assumption of constant real wages presents a difficulty which we may notice in passing. the operation of the capitalist system is presumed to depress the level of wages down to the limit set by the minimum subsistence of the worker and his family. but how large a family? it would be an extraordinary fluke if the average size of family supported by the given wage of a worker were such as to provide for a rate of growth of population exactly adjusted to the rate of accumulation of capital, and she certainly does not hold that this is the case.[ ] there is a reserve army of labour standing by, ready to take employment when the capitalists offer it. while they are unemployed the workers have no source of income, but are kept alive by sharing in the consumption of the wages of friends and relations who are in work.[ ] when an increase in the stock of capital takes place, more workers begin to earn wages, those formerly employed are relieved of the burden of supporting some unemployed relations, and their own consumption rises. thus either they were living below the subsistence minimum before, or they are above it now. we may cut this knot by simply postulating that real wages per man are constant,[ ] without asking why. the important point for the analysis which we are examining is that when employment increases the total consumption of the workers as a whole increases by the amount of the wages received by the additional workers.[ ] we may now set out the model for simple reproduction--that is, annual national income for an economy in which the stock of capital is kept intact but not increased. all output is divided into two departments: i, producing capital equipment and raw materials, (producers' goods), and ii, producing consumption goods. then we have i: _c_{ } + v_{ } + s_{ } = c_{ } + c_{ }_ ii: _c_{ } + v_{ } + s_{ } = v_{ } + v_{ } + s_{ } + s_{ }_ thus _c_{ } = v_{ } + s_{ }_ this means that the net output of the producers' goods department is equal to the replacement of capital in the consumers' goods department. the whole surplus, as well as the whole of wages, is currently consumed. before proceeding to the model for accumulation there is a difficulty which must be discussed. in the above model the stock of capital exists, so to speak, off stage. rosa luxemburg is perfectly well aware of the relationship between annual wear and tear of capital, which is part of _c_, and the stock of fixed capital,[ ] but as soon as she (following marx) discusses accumulation she equates the addition to the stock of capital made by saving out of surplus in one year to the wear and tear of capital in the next year. to make sense of this we must assume that all capital is consumed and made good once a year. she seems to slip into this assumption inadvertently at first, though later it is made explicit.[ ] she also consciously postulates that _v_ represents the amount of capital which is paid out in wages in advance of receipts from sales of the commodities produced. (this, as she says, is the natural assumption to make for agricultural production, where workers this year are paid from the proceeds of last year's harvest.)[ ] thus _v_ represents at the same time the annual wages bill and the amount of capital locked up in the wages fund, while _c_ represents both the annual amortisation of capital and the total stock of capital (other than the wages fund). this is a simplification which is tiresome rather than helpful (it arises from marx's ill-judged habit of writing _s/(c + v)_ for the rate of profit on capital), but it is no more than a simplification and does not invalidate the rest of the analysis. another awkward assumption, which causes serious trouble later, is implicit in the argument. savings out of the surplus accruing in each department (producers' and consumers' goods) are always invested in capital in the same department. there is no reason to imagine that one capitalist is linked to others in his own department more than to those in the other department, so the conception seems to be that each capitalist invests his savings in his own business. there is no lending by one capitalist to another and no capitalist ever shifts his sphere of operations from one department to another. this is a severe assumption to make even about the era before limited liability was introduced, and becomes absurd afterwards. moreover it is incompatible with the postulate that the rate of profit on capital tends to equality throughout the economy,[ ] for the mechanism which equalises profits is the flow of new investment, and the transfer of capital as amortisation funds are re-invested, into more profitable lines of production and away from less profitable lines.[ ] the assumption that there is no lending by one capitalist to another puts limitation upon the model. not only must the total rate of investment be equal to the total of planned saving, but investment in each department must be equal to saving in that department, and not only must the rate of increase of capital lead to an increase of total output compatible with total demand, but the increase in output of each department, dictated by the increase in capital in that department, must be divided between consumers' and producers' goods in proportions compatible with the demand for each, dictated by the consumption and the investment plans in each department. there is no difficulty, however, in choosing numbers which satisfy the requirements of the model. the numerical examples derived from marx's jottings are cumbersome and confusing, but a clear and simple model can be constructed on the basis of the assumptions set out in chapter vii. in each department, constant capital is four times variable capital.[ ] (constant capital is the stock of raw materials which is turned over once a year; variable capital is the wages bill, which is equal to the capital represented by the wages fund.) surplus is equal to variable capital (net income is divided equally between wages and surplus) and half of surplus is saved.[ ] savings are allotted between constant and variable capital in such a way as to preserve the to ratio. thus four-fifths of savings represents a demand for producers' goods, and is added to constant capital each year, and one-fifth represents a demand for consumers' goods, and is added to the wages fund (variable capital). these ratios dictate the relationship between department i (producers' goods) and department ii (consumers' goods).[ ] it can easily be seen that the basic assumptions require that the output of department i must stand in the ratio of to to the output of department ii.[ ] we can now construct a much simpler model than those provided in the text. _c_ _v_ _s_ _gross output_ department i department ii -- total in department i, · units are saved (half of _s_) of which · are invested in constant capital and · in variable capital. in department ii units are saved, · being added to constant and · to variable capital. the units of producers' goods provide  + · constant capital for department i and  + · constant capital for department ii and the units of consumers' goods provide  + wages of labour already employed, ·  + for consumption out of surplus, and ·  + · addition to variable capital, which provide for an addition to employment. after the investment has been made, and the labour force increased in proportion to the wages bill, we have _c_ _v_ _s_ _gross output_ department i · · · · department ii · · · · ----- total the two departments are now equipped to carry out another round of investment at the prescribed rate, and the process of accumulation continues. the ratios happen to have been chosen so that the total labour force, and total gross output, increase by per cent per annum.[ ] but all this, as rosa luxemburg remarks, is just arithmetic.[ ] the only point of substance which she deduces from marx's numerical examples is that it is always department i which takes the initiative. she maintains that the capitalists in department i decide how much producers' goods to produce, and that department ii has to arrange its affairs so as to absorb an amount of producers' goods which will fit in with their plans.[ ] on the face of it, this is obviously absurd. the arithmetic is perfectly neutral between the two departments, and, as she herself shows, will serve equally well for the imagined case of a socialist society where investment is planned with a view to consumption.[ ] but behind all this rigmarole lies the real problem which she is trying to formulate. where does the demand come from which keeps accumulation going? she is not concerned with the problem, nowadays so familiar, of the balance between saving and investment. marx himself was aware of that problem, as is seen in his analysis of disequilibrium under conditions of simple reproduction (zero net investment).[ ] when new fixed capital comes into existence, part of gross receipts are set aside in amortisation funds without any actual outlay being made on renewals. then total demand falls short of equilibrium output, and the system runs into a slump. contrariwise, when a burst of renewals falls due, in excess of the current rate of amortisation, a boom sets in. for equilibrium it is necessary for the age composition of the stock of capital to be such that current renewals just absorb current amortisation funds. similarly, when accumulation is taking place, current investment must absorb current net saving.[ ] it is in connection with the problem of effective demand, in this sense, that marx brings gold-mining into the analysis. when real output expands at constant money prices, the increasing total of money value of output requires an increase in the stock of money in circulation (unless the velocity of circulation rises appropriately). the capitalists therefore have to devote part of their savings to increasing their holdings of cash (for there is no borrowing). this causes a deficiency of effective demand. but the increase in the quantity of money in circulation comes from newly mined gold, and the expenditure of the gold mining industry upon the other departments just makes up the deficiency in demand.[ ] rosa luxemburg garbles this argument considerably, and brushes it away as beside the point. and it _is_ beside the point that she is concerned with. she does not admit the savings and investment problem, for she takes it for granted that each individual act of saving out of surplus is accompanied by a corresponding amount of real investment, and that every piece of investment is financed by saving out of surplus of the same capitalist who makes it.[ ] what she appears to be concerned with is rather the inducement to invest. what motive have the capitalists for enlarging their stock of real capital?[ ] how do they know that there will be demand for the increased output of goods which the new capital will produce, so that they can 'capitalise' their surplus in a profitable form? (on the purely analytical plane her affinity seems to be with hobson rather than keynes.) needless to say, our author does not formulate the problem of the inducement to invest in modern terminology, and the ambiguities and contradictions in her exposition have left ample scope for her critics to represent her theory as irredeemable nonsense.[ ] but the most natural way to read it is also the clearest. investment can take place in an ever-accumulating stock of capital only if the capitalists are assured of an ever-expanding market for the goods which the capital will produce. on this reading, the statement of the problem leads straightforwardly to the solution propounded in the third section of this book. marx has his own answer to the problem of inducement to invest, which she refers to in the first chapter.[ ] the pressure of competition forces each individual capitalist to increase his capital in order to take advantage of economies of large-scale production, for if he does not his rivals will, and he will be undersold. rosa luxemburg does not discuss whether this mechanism provides an adequate drive to keep accumulation going, but looks for some prospective demand outside the circle of production. here the numerical examples, as she shows, fail to help. and this is in the nature of the case, for (in modern jargon) the examples deal with _ex post_ quantities, while she is looking for _ex ante_ prospects of increased demand for commodities. if accumulation does take place, demand will absorb output, as the model shows, but what is it that makes accumulation take place? in section ii our author sets out to find what answers have been given to her problem. the analysis she has in mind is now broader than the strict confines of the arithmetical model. technical progress is going on, and the output of an hour's labour rises as time goes by. (the concept of _value_ now becomes treacherous, for the _value_ of commodities is continuously falling.) real wages tend to be constant in terms of commodities, thus the _value_ of labour power is falling, and the share of surplus in net income is rising (_s/v_, the rate of exploitation, is rising). the amount of saving in real terms is therefore rising (she suggests later that the proportion of surplus saved rises with surplus, in which case real savings increase all the more[ ]). the problem is thus more formidable than appears in the model, for the equilibrium rate of accumulation of capital, in real terms, is greater than in the model, where the rate of exploitation is constant. at the same time the proportion of constant to variable capital is rising. she regards this not as something which is likely to happen for technical reasons, but as being necessarily bound up with the very nature of technical progress. as productivity increases, the amount of producers' goods handled per man-hour of labour increases; therefore, she says, the proportion of _c_ to _v_ must increase.[ ] this is an error. it arises from thinking of constant capital in terms of goods, and contrasting it with variable capital in terms of _value_, that is, hours of labour. she forgets marx's warning that, as progress takes place, the _value_ of the commodities making up constant capital also falls.[ ] it is perfectly possible for productivity to increase without any increase in the _value_ of capital per man employed. this would occur if improvements in the productivity of labour in making producers' goods kept pace with the productivity of labour in using producers' goods to make consumers' goods (capital-saving inventions balance labour-saving inventions, so that technical progress is 'neutral'). however, we can easily get out of this difficulty by postulating that as a matter of fact technical progress is mainly labour-saving, or, a better term, capital-using, so that capital per man employed is rising through time. rosa luxemburg treats the authors whom she examines in section ii with a good deal of sarcasm, and dismisses them all as useless. to some of the points raised her answers seem scarcely adequate. for instance, rodbertus sees the source of all the troubles of capitalism in the falling proportion of wages in national income.[ ] he can be interpreted to refer to the proportion of wages in gross income. in that case, she is right (on the assumption of capital-using inventions) in arguing that a fall in the proportion of wages is bound up with technical progress, and that the proportion could be held constant only by stopping progress. he can also be taken to refer to the share of wages in net output, and this is the more natural reading. on this reading she argues that the fall in share of wages (or rise in rate of exploitation) is necessary to prevent a fall in the rate of profit on capital[ ] (as capital per man employed rises, profit per man employed must rise if profit per unit of capital is constant). but she does not follow up the argument and inquire what rise in the rate of exploitation is necessary to keep capitalism going (actually, the statisticians tell us, the share of wages in net income has been fairly constant in modern industrial economies[ ]). it is obvious that the less the rate of exploitation rises, the smaller is the rise in the rate of saving which the system has to digest, while the rise in real consumption by workers, which takes place when the rate of exploitation rises more slowly than productivity in the consumption good industries, creates an outlet for investment in productive capacity in those industries. the horrors of capitalism, and the difficulties which it creates for itself, are both exaggerated by the assumption of constant real-wage rates and, although it would be impossible to defend rodbertus' position that a constant rate of exploitation is all that is needed to put everything right, he certainly makes a contribution to the argument which ought to be taken into account. tugan-baranovski also seems to be treated too lightly. his conception is that the rising proportion of constant capital in both departments (machines to make machines as well as machines to make consumers' goods) provides an outlet for accumulation, and that competition is the driving force which keeps capitalists accumulating. rosa luxemburg is no doubt correct in saying that his argument does not carry the analysis beyond the stage at which marx left it,[ ] but he certainly elaborates a point which she seems perversely to overlook. her real objection to tugan-baranovski is that he shows how, in certain conditions, capitalist accumulation might be self-perpetuating, while she wishes to establish that the coming disintegration of the capitalist system is not merely probable on the evidence, but is a logical necessity.[ ] the authors such as sismondi, malthus and vorontsov, who are groping after the problem of equilibrium between saving and investment, are treated with even less sympathy (though she has a kindly feeling for sismondi, to whom she considers that marx gave too little recognition[ ]) for she is either oblivious that there is such a problem, or regards it as trivial.[ ] we leave the discussion, at the end of section ii, at the same point where we entered it, with the clue to the inducement to invest still to find. section iii is broader, more vigorous and in general more rewarding than the two preceding parts. it opens with a return to marx's model for a capitalist system with accumulation going on. our author then sets out a fresh model allowing for technical progress. the rate of exploitation (the ratio of surplus to wages) is rising, for real wages remain constant while output per man increases. in the model the proportion of surplus saved is assumed constant for simplicity, though in reality, she holds, it would tend to rise with the real income of the capitalists.[ ] the ratio of constant to variable capital is rising for technical reasons. (the convention by which the annual wear and tear of capital is identified with the stock of capital now becomes a great impediment to clear thinking.) the arithmetical model shows the system running into an _impasse_ because the output of department i falls short of the requirements of constant capital in the two departments taken together, while the output of department ii exceeds consumption.[ ] the method of argument is by no means rigorous. nothing follows from the fact that one particular numerical example fails to give a solution, and the example is troublesome to interpret as it is necessary to distinguish between discrepancies due to rounding off the figures from those which are intended to illustrate a point of principle.[ ] but there is no need to paddle in the arithmetic to find where the difficulty lies. the model is over-determined because of the rule that the increment of capital within each department at the end of a year must equal the saving made within the same department during the year. if capitalists from department ii were permitted to lend part of their savings to department i to be invested in its capital, a breakdown would no longer be inevitable. suppose that total real wages are constant and that real consumption by capitalists increases slowly, so that the real output of department ii rises at a slower rate than productivity, then the amount of labour employed in it is shrinking. the ratio of capital to labour however is rising as a consequence of capital-using technical progress. the output of department i, and its productive capacity, is growing through time. capital invested in department i is accumulating faster than the saving of the capitalists in department i, and capitalists of department ii, who have no profitable outlet in their own industries for their savings, acquire titles to part of the capital in department i by supplying the difference between investment in department i and its own saving.[ ] for any increase in the stock of capital of both departments taken together, required by technical progress and demand conditions, there is an appropriate amount of saving, and so long as the total accumulation required and total saving fit, there is no breakdown. but here we find the clue to the real contradiction. these quantities might conceivably fit, but there is no guarantee that they will. if the ratio of saving which the capitalists (taken together) choose to make exceeds the rate of accumulation dictated by technical progress, the excess savings can only be 'capitalised' if there is an outlet for investment outside the system. (the opposite case of deficient savings is also possible. progress would then be slowed down below the technically possible maximum; but this case is not contemplated by our author, and it would be irrelevant to elaborate upon it.) once more we can substitute for a supposed logical necessity a plausible hypothesis about the nature of the real case, and so rescue the succeeding argument. if in reality the distribution of income between workers and capitalists, and the propensity to save of capitalists, are such as to require a rate of accumulation which exceeds the rate of increase in the stock of capital appropriate to technical conditions, then there is a chronic excess of the potential supply of real capital over the demand for it and the system must fall into chronic depression. (this is the 'stagnation thesis' thrown out by keynes and elaborated by modern american economists, notably alvin hansen). how then is it that capitalist expansion had not yet (in ) shown any sign of slackening? in chapter xxvi rosa luxemburg advances her central thesis--that it is the invasion of primitive economies by capitalism which keeps the system alive. there follows a scorching account of the manner in which the capitalist system, by trade, conquest and theft, swallowed up the pre-capitalist economies,--some reduced to colonies of capitalist nations, some remaining nominally independent--and fed itself upon their ruins. the thread of analysis running through the historical illustrations is not easy to pick up, but the main argument seems to be as follows: as soon as a primitive closed economy has been broken into, by force or guile, cheap mass-produced consumption goods displace the old hand production of the family or village communities, so that a market is provided for ever-increasing outputs from the industries of department ii in the old centres of capitalism, without the standard of life of the workers who consume these commodities being raised.[ ] the ever-growing capacity of the export industries requires the products of department i, thus maintaining investment at home. at the same time great capital works, such as railways, are undertaken in the new territories.[ ] this investment is matched partly by savings from surplus extracted on the spot, but mainly by loans from the old capitalist countries. there is no difficulty here in accounting for the inducement to invest, for the new territories yield commodities unobtainable at home.[ ] we might set out the essence of the argument as follows: cloth from lancashire pays for labour in america, which is used to produce wheat and cotton. these provide wages and raw materials to the lancashire mills, while the profits acquired both on the plantations and in the mills are invested in steel rails and rolling stock, which open up fresh territories, so that the whole process is continuously expanding. moreover, apart from profits earned on capital actually invested in the new territories, great capital gains are made simply by acquiring possession of land and other natural resources.[ ] labour to work the resources may be provided by the local dispossessed peasantry or by immigration from the centres of capitalism.[ ] investment in equipment for it to use is more profitable than in that operated by home labour, partly because the wretched condition of the colonial workers makes the rate of exploitation higher,[ ] but mainly just because they are on the spot, and can turn the natural resources seized by the capitalists into means of production. no amount of investment in equipment for british labour would produce soil bearing cotton, rubber or copper. thus investment is deflected abroad[ ] and the promise of profit represented by the natural resources calls into existence, by fair means or foul, the labour and capital to make it come true. the process of building up this capital provides an outlet for the old industries and rescues them from the contradictions inherent in deficiency of demand. the analysis of militarism in the last chapter over-reaches itself by trying to prove too much. the argument is that armaments are built up out of taxes which fall entirely on wages.[ ] this can be regarded as a kind of 'forced saving' imposed on the workers. these savings are extra to the saving out of surplus. they are invested in armaments, and that ends the story. on this basis the armaments, in themselves, cannot be held to provide an outlet for the investment of surplus (though the use of the armaments, as in the opium war,[ ] to break up primitive economies is a necessary condition for the colonial investment already described) and capital equipment to produce armaments is merely substituted for capital formerly producing consumers' goods. the analysis which best fits rosa luxemburg's own argument, and the facts, is that armaments provide an outlet for the investment of surplus (over and above any contribution there may be from forced saving out of wages), which, unlike other kinds of investment, creates no further problem by increasing productive capacity (not to mention the huge new investment opportunities created by reconstruction after the capitalist nations have turned their weapons against each other). all this is perhaps too neat an account of what our author is saying. the argument streams along bearing a welter of historical examples in its flood, and ideas emerge and disappear again bewilderingly. but something like the above seems to be intended. and something like it is now widely accepted as being true. rosa luxemburg, as we have seen, neglects the rise in real wages which takes place as capitalism develops, and denies the internal inducement to invest provided by technical progress, two factors which help to rescue capitalism from the difficulties which it creates for itself. she is left with only one influence (economic imperialism) to account for continuous capital accumulation, so that her analysis is incomplete. all the same, few would deny that the extension of capitalism into new territories was the mainspring of what an academic economist has called the 'vast secular boom' of the last two hundred years,[ ] and many academic economists account for the uneasy condition of capitalism in the twentieth century largely by the 'closing of the frontier' all over the world.[ ] but the academic economists are being wise after the event. for all its confusions and exaggerations, this book shows more prescience than any orthodox contemporary could claim. joan robinson _cambridge._ footnotes: [ ] for a totally different interpretation see sweezy; _the theory of capitalist development_, chap. xi, section . [ ] see p. . [ ] cf. the quotation from _capital_, vol. iii, p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] exchanges between industries, however, must take place at 'prices of production' not at _values_. see below, p. , note. [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] later it is assumed that real wages can be depressed by taxation (p. ). [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. , note . [ ] see p. . [ ] in the numerical example quoted in chap. vi. (p. ) the rate of profit is much higher in department ii than in i. marx has made the rate of exploitation equal in the two departments, and the ratio of constant to variable capital higher in department i. this is evidently an oversight. the two departments must trade with each other at market prices, not in terms of _value_. therefore _s_{ }_ must represent the profits accruing to department i, not a proportion (half in the example) of the _value_ generated in department i. _s_{ }/v_{ }_ should exceed _s_{ }/v_{ }_ to an extent corresponding to the higher organic composition of capital in department i. the point is interesting, as it shows that when off guard marx forgot that he could make prices proportional to _values_ only when the organic composition of capital is the same in all industries. [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] since, in this model, the organic composition of capital is the same in the two departments, prices correspond to _values_. [ ] of total gross output, / is replacement of constant capital; surplus is / of gross output, and of surplus half is saved; thus savings are / of gross output; of saving / is added to constant capital; thus / of gross output is added to constant capital. the output of department i is therefore /  + / or / of total gross output. similarly, the output of department ii is / of total gross output. [ ] this model bears a strong family resemblance to mr. harrod's 'warranted rate of growth'. _towards a dynamic economics_, lecture iii. [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . the phrase '_zahlungsfähige nachfrage_', translated 'effective demand', is not the effective demand of keynes (roughly, current expenditure) but appears often to mean demand for new capital, or, perhaps, prospective future demand for goods to be produced by new capital. [ ] this assumption is made explicit later (p. ). [ ] see pp. et seq. [ ] see sweezy, loc. cit. [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] this point is, however, later admitted (p. ). [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . marx himself failed to get this point clear. cf. my _essay on marxian economics_, chap. v. [ ] cf. kalecki, _essays in the theory of economic fluctuations_, pp. et seq. [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . marx did not find himself in this dilemma because he held that there is a fundamental 'contradiction' in capitalism which shows itself in a strong tendency for the rate of profit on capital to fall as technical progress takes place. but rosa luxemburg sees that the tendency to a falling rate of profit is automatically checked and may even be reversed if real-wage rates are constant (p. ). [ ] see p. , note. [ ] one passage suggests that she sees the problem, but thinks it irrelevant to the real issue (p. ). [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] in this model the rate of exploitation is different in the two departments. this means that the numbers represent money value, not _value_. [ ] rosa luxemburg seems to regard this process as impossible, but for what reason is by no means clear (p. ). [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] see p. . [ ] hicks, _value and capital_, p. , note. mr. hicks himself, however, regards the increase in population as the mainspring. [ ] cf. _a survey of contemporary economics_ (ed. ellis), p. . _section one_ the problem of reproduction _chapter i_ the object of our investigation karl marx made a contribution of lasting service to the theory of economics when he drew attention to the problem of the reproduction of the entire social capital. it is significant that in the history of economics we find only two attempts at an exact exposition of this problem: one by quesnay, the father of the physiocrats, at its very inception; and in its final stage this attempt by marx. in the interim, the problem was ever with bourgeois economics. yet bourgeois economists have never been fully aware of this problem in its pure aspects, detached from related and intersecting minor problems; they have never been able to formulate it precisely, let alone solve it. seeing that the problem is of paramount importance, their attempts may all the same help us to some understanding of the trend of scientific economics. what is it precisely that constitutes this problem of the reproduction of total capital? the literal meaning of the word 'reproduction' is repetition, renewal of the process of production. at first sight it may be difficult to see in what respect the idea of reproduction differs from that of repetition which we can all understand--why such a new and unfamiliar term should be required. but in the sort of repetition which we shall consider, in the continual recurrence of the process of production, there are certain distinctive features. first, the regular repetition of reproduction is the general _sine qua non_ of regular consumption which in its turn has been the precondition of human civilisation in every one of its historical forms. the concept of reproduction, viewed in this way, reflects an aspect of the history of civilisation. production can never be resumed, there can be no reproduction, unless certain prerequisites such as tools, raw materials and labour have been established during the preceding period of production. however, at the most primitive level of man's civilisation, at the initial stage of man's power over nature; this possibility to re-engage in production depended more or less on chance. so long as hunting and fishing were the main foundations of social existence, frequent periods of general starvation interrupted the regular repetition of production. some primitive peoples recognised at a very early stage that for reproduction as a regularly recurring process certain measures were essential; these they incorporated into ceremonies of a religious nature; and in this way they accepted such measures as traditional social commitments. thus, as the thorough researches of spencer and gillen have taught us, the totem cult of the australian negroes is fundamentally nothing but certain measures taken by social groups for the purpose of securing and preserving their animal and vegetable foodstuffs; these precautions had been taken year by year since time immemorial and thus they became fossilised into religious ceremonials. yet the circle of consumption and production which forms the essence of reproduction became possible only with the invention of tillage with the hoe, with the taming of domestic animals, and with cattle-raising for the purpose of consumption. reproduction is something more than mere repetition in so far as it presupposes a certain level of society's supremacy over nature, or, in economic terms, a certain standard of labour productivity. on the other hand, at all stages of social development, the process of production is based on the continuation of two different, though closely connected factors, the technical and social conditions--on the precise relationship between man and nature and that between men and men. reproduction depends to the same degree on both these conditions. we have just seen how reproduction is bound up with the conditions of human working techniques, how far it is indeed solely the result of a certain level of labour productivity; but the social forms of production prevailing in each case are no less decisive. in a primitive communist agrarian community, reproduction as well as the whole plan of economic life is determined by the community of all workers and their democratic organs. the decision to re-engage in labour--the organisation of labour--the provision of raw materials, tools, and man-power as the essential preliminaries of labour--the arrangement of reproduction and the determination of its volume are all results of a planned co-operation in which everybody within the boundaries of the community takes his part. in an economic system based on slave labour or _corvée_, reproduction is enforced and regulated in all details by personal relations of domination. here the volume of reproduction is determined by the right of disposal held by the ruling _élites_ over smaller or larger circles of other people's labour. in a society producing by capitalist methods, reproduction assumes a peculiar form, as a mere glance at certain striking phenomena will show us. in every other society known to history, reproduction recurs in a regular sequence as far as its preconditions, the existing means of production and labour power, make this possible. as a rule, only external influences such as a devastating war or a great pestilence, depopulating vast areas of former cultural life, and consequently destroying masses of labour power and of accumulated means of production, can result in a complete interruption of reproduction or in its contraction to any considerable extent for longer or shorter periods. a despotic organisation of the plan of production may on occasion lead to similar phenomena. when in ancient egypt pharaoh's will chained thousands of fellaheen for decades to the building of the pyramids; when in modern egypt ismail pasha ordered , fellaheen to forced labour on the suez canal; or when, about two hundred years before christ, the emperor shi hoang ti, founder of the chin dynasty, allowed , people to perish of hunger and exhaustion and thus sacrificed a whole generation to his purpose of consolidating the great wall at china's northern frontier, the result was always that vast stretches of arable land were left fallow and that regular economic life was interrupted for long periods. in all these cases the causes of these interruptions of reproduction obviously lay in the one-sided determination of the plan of reproduction by those in power. societies which produce according to capitalist methods present a different picture. we observe that in certain periods all the ingredients of reproduction may be available, both labour and means of production, and yet some vital needs of society for consumer goods may be left unfulfilled. we find that in spite of these resources reproduction may in part be completely suspended and in part curtailed. here it is no despotic interference with the economic plan that is responsible for the difficulties in the process of production. quite apart from all technical conditions, reproduction here depends on purely social considerations: only those goods are produced which can with certainty be expected to sell, and not merely to sell, but to sell at the customary profit. thus profit becomes an end in itself, the decisive factor which determines not only production but also reproduction. not only does it decide in each case what work is to be undertaken, how it is to be carried out, and how the products are to be distributed; what is more, profit decides, also, at the end of every working period, whether the labour process is to be resumed, and, if so, to what extent and in what direction it should be made to operate.[ ] in capitalist society, therefore, the process of reproduction as a whole, constitutes a peculiar and most complicated problem, in consequence of these purely historical and social factors. there is, as we shall see, an external characteristic which shows clearly this specific historical peculiarity of the capitalist process of reproduction. comprising not only production but also circulation (the process of exchange), it unites these two elements. capitalist production is primarily production by innumerable private producers without any planned regulation. the only social link between these producers is the act of exchange. in taking account of social requirements reproduction has no clue to go on other than the experiences of the preceding labour period. these experiences, however, remain the private experiences of individual producers and are not integrated into a comprehensive and social form. moreover, they do not always refer positively and directly to the needs of society. they are often rather indirect and negative, for it is only on the basis of price fluctuations that they indicate whether the aggregate of produced commodities falls short of the effective demand or exceeds it. yet the individual private producers make recurrent use of these experiences of the preceding labour period when they re-engage in reproduction, so that glut or shortage are bound to occur again in the following period. individual branches of production may develop independently, so that there may be a surplus in one branch and a deficiency in another. but as nearly all individual branches of production are interdependent technically, glut or shortage in some of the larger branches of production lead to the same phenomenon in most of the others. thus the general supply of products may alternate periodically between shortage and surplus relative to the social demand. herein lies the peculiar character of reproduction in a capitalist society, which differs from all other known forms of production. in the first place, every branch of production develops independently within certain limits, in a way that leads to periodical interruptions of production of shorter or longer duration. secondly, the individual branches of reproduction show deviations from social requirements amounting to all-round disparity and thus resulting in a general interruption of reproduction. these features of capitalist reproduction are quite characteristic. in all other economic systems, reproduction runs its uninterrupted and regular course, apart from external disturbance by violence. capitalist reproduction, however, to quote sismondi's well-known dictum, can only be represented as a continuous sequence of individual spirals. every such spiral starts with small loops which become increasingly larger and eventually very large indeed. then they contract, and a new spiral starts again with small loops, repeating the figure up to the point of interruption. this periodical fluctuation between the largest volume of reproduction and its contraction to partial suspension, this cycle of slump, boom, and crisis, as it has been called, is the most striking peculiarity of capitalist reproduction. it is very important, however, to establish quite firmly and from the very outset that this cyclical movement of boom, slump, and crisis, does not represent the whole problem of capitalist reproduction, although it is an essential element of it. periodical cycles and crises are specific phases of reproduction in a capitalist system of economy, but not the whole of this process. in order to demonstrate the pure implications of capitalist reproduction we must rather consider it quite apart from the periodical cycles and crises. strange as this may appear, the method is quite rational; it is indeed the only method of inquiry that is scientifically tenable. in order to demonstrate and to solve the problem of pure value we must leave price fluctuations out of consideration. the approach of vulgar economics always attempts to solve the problem of value by reference to fluctuations in demand and supply. classical economists, from adam smith to karl marx, attack the problem in the opposite way, pointing out that fluctuations in the mutual relation between demand and supply can explain only disparities between price and value, not value itself. in order to find the value of a commodity, we must start by assuming that demand and supply are in a state of equilibrium, that the price of a commodity and its value closely correspond to one another. thus the scientific problem of value begins at the very point where the effect of demand and supply ceases to operate. in consequence of periodical cycles and crises capitalist reproduction fluctuates as a rule around the level of the effective total demand of society, sometimes rising above and sometimes falling below this level, contracting occasionally even to the point of almost complete interruption of reproduction. however, if we consider a longer period, a whole cycle with its alternating phases of prosperity and depression, of boom and slump, that is if we consider reproduction at its highest and lowest volume, including the stage of suspension, we can set off boom against slump and work out an average, a mean volume of reproduction for the whole cycle. this average is not only a theoretical figment of thought, it is also a real objective fact. for in spite of the sharp rises and falls in the course of a cycle, in spite of crises, the needs of society are always satisfied more or less, reproduction continues on its complicated course, and productive capacities develop progressively. how can this take place, leaving cycles and crises out of consideration? here the real question begins. the attempt to solve the problem of reproduction in terms of the periodical character of crises is fundamentally a device of vulgar economics, just like the attempt to solve the problem of value in terms of fluctuations in demand and supply. nevertheless, we shall see in the course of our observations that as soon as economic theory gets an inkling of the problem of reproduction, as soon as it has at least started guessing at the problem, it reveals a persistent tendency suddenly to transform the problem of reproduction into the problem of crises, thus barring its own way to the solution of the question. when we speak of capitalist reproduction in the following exposition, we shall always understand by this term a mean volume of productivity which is an average taken over the various phases of a cycle. now, the total of capitalist reproduction is created by an unlimited and constantly changing number of private producers. they produce independently of one another; apart from the observation of price fluctuations there is no social control--no social link exists between the individual producers other than the exchange of commodities. the question arises how these innumerable disconnected operations can lead to the actual total of production. this general aspect of our problem indeed strikes us immediately as one of prime importance. but if we put it this way, we overlook the fact that such private producers are not simply producers of commodities but are essentially capitalist producers, that the total production of society is not simply production for the sake of satisfying social requirements, and equally not merely production of commodities, but essentially capitalist production. let us examine our problem anew in the light of this fact. a producer who produces not only commodities but capital must above all create surplus value. the capitalist producer's final goal, his main incentive, is the production of surplus value. the proceeds from the commodities he has manufactured must not only recompense him for all his outlay, but in addition they must yield him a value which does not correspond with any expense on his part, and is pure gain. if we consider the process of production from the point of view of the creation of surplus value, we see that the capital advanced by the capitalist is divided into two parts: the first part represents his expenses on means of production such as premises, raw material, partly finished goods and machinery. the second part is spent on wages. this holds good, even if the capitalist producer does not know it himself, and in spite of the pious stuff about fixed and circulating capital with which he may delude himself and the world. marx called this first part constant capital. its value is not changed by its utilisation in the labour process--it is transferred _in toto_ to the finished product. the second part marx calls the variable capital. this gives rise to an additional value, which materialises when the results of unpaid labour are appropriated. the various components which make up the value of every commodity produced by capitalist methods may be expressed by the formula: _c + v + s_. in this formula _c_ stands for the value of the constant capital laid out in inanimate means of production and transferred to the commodity, _v_ stands for the value of the variable capital advanced in form of wages, and _s_ stands for the surplus value, the additional value of the unpaid part of wage labour. every type of goods shows these three components of value, whether we consider an individual commodity or the aggregate of commodities as a whole, whether we consider cotton textiles or ballet performances, cast-iron tubes or liberal newspapers. thus for the capitalist producer the manufacture of commodities is not an end in itself, it is only a means to the appropriation of surplus value. this surplus value, however, can be of no use to the capitalist so long as it remains hidden in the commodity form of the product. once the commodity has been produced, it must be realised, it must be converted into a form of pure value; that is, into money. all capital expenses incorporated in the commodity must shed their commodity-form and revert to the capitalist as money to make this conversion possible so that he can appropriate the surplus value in cash. the purpose of production is fulfilled only when this conversion has been successful, only when the aggregate of commodities has been sold according to its value. the proceeds of this sale of commodities, the money that has been received for them, contains the same components of value as the former aggregate of commodities and can be expressed by the same formula _c + v + s_. part _c_ recompenses the capitalist for his advances on means of production that have been used up, part _v_ recompenses him for his advances on wages, and the last part, _s_, represents the expected surplus, the capitalist's clear profit in cash.[ ] this conversion of capital from its original form, from the starting point of all capitalist production, into means of production, dead and living, such as raw materials, instruments, and labour; its further conversion into commodities by a living labour process; and its final reconversion into money, a greater amount of money indeed than at the initial stage--this transformation of capital is, however, required for more than the production and appropriation of surplus value. the aim and incentive of capitalist production is not a surplus value pure and simple, to be appropriated in any desired quantity, but a surplus value ever growing into larger quantities, surplus value _ad infinitum_. but to achieve this aim, the same magic means must be used over and over again, the means of capitalist production--the ever repeated appropriation of the proceeds of unpaid wage labour in the process of commodity manufacture, and the subsequent realisation of the commodities so produced. thus quite a new incentive is given to constantly renewed production, to the process of reproduction as a regular phenomenon in capitalist society, an incentive unknown to any other system of production. in every other economic system known to history, reproduction is determined by the unceasing need of society for consumer goods, whether they are the needs of all the workers determined in a democratic manner as in an agrarian and communist market community, or the despotically determined needs of an antagonistic class society, as in an economy of slave labour or _corvée_ and the like. but in a capitalist system of production, it is not consideration of social needs which actuates the individual private producer who alone matters in this connection. his production is determined entirely by the effective demand, and even this is to him a mere means for the realisation of surplus value which for him is indispensable. appropriation of surplus value is his real incentive, and production of consumer goods for the satisfaction of the effective demand is only a detour when we look to the real motive, that of appropriation of surplus value, although for the individual capitalist it is also a rule of necessity. this motive, to appropriate surplus value, also urges him to re-engage in reproduction over and over again. it is the production of surplus value which turns reproduction of social necessities into a _perpetuum mobile_. reproduction, for its part, can obviously be only resumed when the products of the previous period, the commodities, have been realised; that is, converted into money; for capital in the form of money, in the form of pure value, must always be the starting point of reproduction in a capitalist system. the first condition of reproduction for the capitalist producer is thus seen to be a successful realisation of the commodities produced during the preceding period of production. now we come to a second important point. under a system of private economy, it is the individual producer who determines the volume of reproduction at his discretion. his main incentive is appropriation of surplus value, indeed an appropriation increasing as rapidly as possible. an accelerated appropriation of surplus value, however, necessitates an increased production of capital to generate this surplus value. here a large-scale enterprise enjoys advantages over a small one in every respect. in fine, the capitalist method of production furnishes not only a permanent incentive to reproduction in general, but also a motive for its expansion, for reproduction on an ever larger scale. nor is that all. capitalist methods of production do more than awaken in the capitalist this thirst for surplus value whereby he is impelled to ceaseless expansion of reproduction. expansion becomes in truth a coercive law, an economic condition of existence for the individual capitalist. under the rule of competition, cheapness of commodities is the most important weapon of the individual capitalist in his struggle for a place in the market. now all methods of reducing the cost of commodity production permanently amount in the end to an expansion of production; excepting those only which aim at a specific increase of the rate of surplus value by measures such as wage-cutting or lengthening the hours of work. as for these latter devices, they are as such likely to encounter many obstacles. in this respect, a large enterprise invariably enjoys advantages of every kind over a small or medium concern. they may range from a saving in premises or instruments, in the application of more efficient means of production, in extensive replacement of manual labour by machinery, down to a speedy exploitation of a favourable turn of the market so as to acquire raw materials cheaply. within very wide limits, these advantages increase in direct proportion to the expansion of the enterprise. thus, as soon as a few capitalist enterprises have been enlarged, competition itself forces all others to expand likewise. expansion becomes a condition of existence. a growing tendency towards reproduction at a progressively increasing scale thus ensues, which spreads automatically like a tidal wave over ever larger surfaces of reproduction. expanding reproduction is not a new discovery of capital. on the contrary, it had been the rule since time immemorial in every form of society that displayed economic and cultural progress. it is true, of course, that simple reproduction as a mere continuous repetition of the process of production on the same scale as before can be observed over long periods of social history. in the ancient agrarian and communist village communities, for instance, increase in population did not lead to a gradual expansion of production, but rather to the new generation being expelled and the subsequent founding of equally small and self-sufficient colonies. the old small handicraft units of india and china provide similar instances of a traditional repetition of production in the same forms and on the same scale, handed down from generation to generation. but simple reproduction is in all these cases the source and unmistakable sign of a general economic and cultural stagnation. no important forward step in production, no memorial of civilisation, such as the great waterworks of the east, the pyramids of egypt, the military roads of rome, the arts and sciences of greece, or the development of craftsmanship and towns in the middle ages would have been possible without expanding reproduction; for the basis and also the social incentive for a decisive advancement of civilisation lies solely in the gradual expansion of production beyond immediate requirements, and in a continual growth of the population itself as well as of its demands. exchange in particular, which brought about a class society, and its historical development into the capitalist form of economy, would have been unthinkable without expanding reproduction. in a capitalist society, moreover, expanding reproduction acquires certain characteristics. as we have already mentioned, it becomes right away a coercive law to the individual capitalist. capitalist methods of production do not exclude simple or even retrogressive reproduction; indeed, this is responsible for the periodical phenomenon of crises following phases, likewise periodical, of overstrained expansion of reproduction in times of boom. but ignoring periodical fluctuations, the general trend of reproduction is ever towards expansion. for the individual capitalist, failure to keep abreast of this expansion means quitting the competitive struggle, economic death. moreover, there are certain other aspects to be considered. the concept of expanding reproduction applies only to the quantity of products, to the aggregate of manufactured objects. so long as production rests solely or mainly upon a natural economy, consumption determines the extent and character of the individual labour process, as well as that of reproduction in general, as an end in itself: this applies to the agrarian and communist village communities of india, to the roman _villa_ with its economy of slave labour, and to the medieval feudal farm based on _corvée_. but the picture is different in a capitalist economic system. capitalist production is not production for the purpose of consumption, it is production for the purpose of creating value. the whole process of production as well as of reproduction is ruled by value relationships. capitalist production is not the production of consumer goods, nor is it merely the production of commodities: it is pre-eminently the production of surplus value. expanding reproduction, from a capitalist point of view, is expanding production of surplus value, though it takes place in the forms of commodity production and is thus in the last instance the production of consumer goods. changes in the productivity of labour during the course of reproduction cause continual discrepancies between these two aspects. if productivity increases, the same amount of capital and surplus value may represent a progressively larger amount of consumer goods. expanding production, understood as the creation of a greater amount of surplus value, need not therefore necessarily imply expanding reproduction in the capitalist meaning of the term. conversely, capital may, within limits, yield a greater surplus value in consequence of a higher degree of exploitation such as is brought about by wage-cutting and the like, without actually producing a greater amount of goods. but in both cases the surplus value has a twofold aspect: it is a quantity of value as well as an aggregate of material products, and from a capitalist point of view, its elements in both instances are thus the same. as a rule, an increased production of surplus value results from an increase of capital brought about by addition of part of the appropriated surplus value to the original capital, no matter whether this capitalist surplus value is used for the expansion of an old enterprise or for founding a new one, an independent offshoot. capitalist expanding reproduction thus acquires the specific characteristics of an increase in capital by means of a progressive capitalisation of surplus value, or, as marx has put it, by the accumulation of capital. the general formula for enlarged reproduction under the rule of capital thus runs as follows: _c + v + s/x + s´_. here _s/x_ stands for the capitalised part of the surplus value appropriated in an earlier period of production; _s´_ stands for the new surplus value created by the increased capital. part of this new surplus value is capitalised again, and expanding reproduction is thus, from the capitalist point of view, a constantly flowing process of alternate appropriation and capitalisation of surplus value. so far, however, we have only arrived at a general and abstract formula for reproduction. let us now consider more closely the concrete conditions which are necessary to apply this formula. the surplus value which has been appropriated, after it has successfully cast off its commodity-form in the market, appears as a given amount of money. this money-form is the form of its absolute value, the beginning of its career as capital. but as it is impossible to create surplus value with money, it cannot, in this form, advance beyond the threshold of its career. capital must assume commodity-form, so that the particular portion of it which is earmarked for accumulation can be capitalised. for only in this form can it become productive capital; that is, capital begetting new surplus value. therefore, like the original capital, it must again be divided into two parts; a constant part, comprising the inanimate means of production, and a variable part, the wages. only then will our formula _c + v + s_ apply to it in the same way as it applied to the old capital. but the good intent of the capitalist to accumulate, his thrift and abstinence which make him use the greater part of his surplus value for production instead of squandering it on personal luxuries, is not sufficient for this purpose. on the contrary, it is essential that he should find on the commodity market the concrete forms which he intends to give his new surplus value. in the first place, he must secure the material means of production such as raw materials, machines etc. required for the branch of production he has chosen and planned, so that the particular part of the surplus value which corresponds to his constant capital may assume a productive form. secondly, the other, variable part of his surplus value must also be convertible, and two essentials are necessary for this conversion: of first importance, the labour market must offer a sufficient quantity of additional labour, and secondly, as the workers cannot live on money alone, the commodity market, too, must offer an additional amount of provisions, which the workers newly to be employed may exchange against the variable part of the surplus value they will get from the capitalist. all these prerequisites found, the capitalist can set his capitalised surplus value to work and make it, as operating capital, beget new surplus value. but still his task is not completely done. both the new capital and the surplus value produced still exist for the time being in the shape of an additional quantity of some commodity or other. in this form the new capital is but advanced, and the new surplus value created by it is still in a form in which it is of no use to the capitalist. the new capital as well as the surplus value which it has created must cast off their commodity-form, re-assume the form of pure value, and thus revert to the capitalist as money. unless this process is successfully concluded, the new capital and surplus value will be wholly or partly lost, the capitalisation of surplus value will have miscarried, and there will have been no accumulation. it is absolutely essential to the accumulation of capital that a sufficient quantity of commodities created by the new capital should win a place for itself on the market and be realised. thus we see that expanding reproduction as accumulation of capital in a capitalist system is bound up with a whole series of special conditions. let us look at these more closely. the first condition is that production should create surplus value, for surplus value is the elementary form in which alone increased production is possible under capitalist conditions. the entire process of production must abide by this condition when determining the relations between capitalist and worker in the production of commodities. once this first condition is given, the second is that surplus value must be realised, converted into the form of money, so that it can be appropriated for the purposes of expanding reproduction. this second condition thus leads us to the commodity market. here, the hazards of exchange decide the further fate of the surplus value, and thus the future of reproduction. the third condition is as follows: provided that part of the realised surplus value has been added to capital for the purpose of accumulation, this new capital must first assume its productive form of labour and inanimate means of production. moreover, that part of it which had been exchanged for labour must be converted into provisions for the workers. thus we are led again to the markets of labour and commodities. if all these requirements have been met and enlarged reproduction of commodities has taken place, a fourth condition must be added: the additional quantity of commodities representing the new capital plus surplus value will have to be realised, that is, reconverted into money. only if this conversion has been successful, can it be said that expanding capitalist reproduction has actually taken place. this last condition leads us back to the commodity market. thus capitalist production and reproduction imply a constant shifting between the place of production and the commodity market, a shuttle movement from the private office and the factory where unauthorised persons are strictly excluded, where the sovereign will of the individual capitalist is the highest law, to the commodity market where nobody sets up any laws and where neither will nor reason assert themselves. but it is this very licence and anarchy of the commodity market which brings home to the individual capitalist that he is dependent upon society, upon the entirety of its producing and consuming members. the individual capitalist may need additional means of production, additional labour and provisions for these workers in order to expand reproduction, but whether he can get what he needs depends upon factors and events beyond his control, materialising, as it were, behind his back. in order to realise his increased aggregate of products, the individual capitalist requires a larger market for his goods, but he has no control whatever over the actual increase of demand in general, or of the particular demand for his special kind of good. the conditions we have enumerated here, which all give expression to the inherent contradiction between consumption and private production and their social interconnection, are nothing new, and it is not only at the stage of reproduction that they become apparent. these conditions express the general contradiction inherent in capitalist production. they involve, however, particular difficulties as regards the process of reproduction for the following reasons. with regard to reproduction, especially expanding reproduction, the capitalist method of production not only reveals its general fundamental character, but, what is more, it shows, in the various periods of production, a definite rhythm within a continuous progression--the characteristic interplay of individual wills. from this point of view, we must inquire in a general way how it is possible for every individual capitalist to find on the market the means of production and the labour he requires for the purpose of realising the commodities he has produced, although there exists no social control whatever, no plan to harmonize production and demand. this question may be answered by saying that the capitalist's greed for surplus value, enhanced by competition, and the automatic effects of capitalist exploitation, lead to the production of every kind of commodity, including means of production, and also that a growing class of proletarianised workers becomes generally available for the purposes of capital. on the other hand, the lack of a plan in this respect shows itself in the fact that the balance between demand and supply in all spheres can be achieved only by continuous deviations, by hourly fluctuations of prices, and by periodical crises and changes of the market situation. from the point of view of reproduction the question is a different one. how is it possible that the unplanned supply in the market for labour and means of production, and the unplanned and incalculable changes in demand nevertheless provide adequate quantities and qualities of means of production, labour and opportunities for selling which the individual capitalist needs in order to make a sale? how can it be assured that every one of these factors increases in the right proportion? let us put the problem more precisely. according to our well-known formula, let the composition of the individual capitalist's production be expressed by the proportion _ c + v + s_. his constant capital is consequently four times as much as his variable capital, and the rate of exploitation is per cent. the aggregate of commodities is thus represented by a value of . let us now assume that the capitalist is in a position to capitalise and to add to the old capital of this given composition half of his surplus value. in this case, the formula _ c +  v + s = _ would apply to the next period of production. let us assume now that the capitalist can continue the annual capitalisation of half his surplus value for a number of years. for this purpose it is not sufficient that means of production, labour and markets in general should be forthcoming, but he must find these factors in a proportion that is strictly in keeping with his progress in accumulation. footnotes: [ ] 'if production be capitalistic in form, so, too, will be reproduction' (_capital_, vol. i, p. ). [ ] surplus value in our exposition is identical with profit. this is true for production as a whole, which alone is of account in our further observations. for the time being, we shall not deal with the further division of surplus value into its component parts: profit of enterprise, interest, and rent, as this subdivision is immaterial to the problem of reproduction. _chapter ii_ quesnay's and adam smith's analyses of the process of reproduction so far we have taken account only of the individual capitalist in our survey of reproduction; he is its typical representative, its agent, for reproduction is indeed brought about entirely by individual capitalist enterprises. this approach has already shown us that the problem involves difficulties enough. yet these difficulties increase to an extraordinary degree and become even more complicated, when we turn our attention from the individual capitalist to the totality of capitalists. a superficial glance suffices to show that capitalist reproduction as a social whole must not be regarded simply as a mechanical summation of all the separate processes of individual capitalist reproduction. we have seen, for instance, that one of the fundamental conditions for enlarged reproduction by an individual capitalist is a corresponding increase of his opportunities to sell on the commodity market. but the individual capitalist may not always expand because of an absolute increase in the absorptive capacity of the market, but also as a result of the competitive struggle, at the cost of other individual capitalists. thus one capitalist may win what another or many others who have been shouldered from the market must write off as a loss. this process will enable one capitalist to increase his reproduction by the amount that it compels others by losses to restrict their own. one capitalist will be able to engage in enlarged reproduction because others cannot even achieve simple reproduction. in the same way, one capitalist may enlarge his reproduction by using labour power and means of production which another's bankruptcy, that is his partial or complete retirement from reproduction, has set free. these commonplaces prove that reproduction of the social capital as a whole is not the same as the reproduction of the individual capitalist raised to the _n_th degree. they show that the reproductive activities of individual capitalists ceaselessly cut across one another and to a greater or smaller degree may cancel each other out. therefore we must clarify our concept of reproduction of capital as a whole, before we examine the laws and mechanisms of capitalist total reproduction. we must raise the question whether it is even possible to deduce anything like total reproduction from the disorderly jumble of individual capitals in constant motion, changing from moment to moment according to uncontrollable and incalculable laws, partly running a parallel course, and partly intersecting and cancelling each other out. can one actually talk of total social capital of society as an entity, and if so, what is the real meaning of this concept? that is the first question a scientific examination of the laws of reproduction has to consider. at the dawn of economic theory and bourgeois economics, quesnay, the father of the physiocrats, approached the problem with classical fearlessness and simplicity and took it for granted that total capital exists as a real and active entity. in his famous _tableau Économique_, so intricate that no one before marx could understand it, quesnay demonstrated the phases of the reproduction of aggregate capital with a few figures, at the same time taking into account that it must also be considered from the aspect of commodity exchange, that is as a process of circulation.[ ] society as quesnay sees it consists of three classes: the productive class of agriculturists; the sterile class containing all those who are active outside the sphere of agriculture--industry, commerce, and the liberal professions; and lastly the class of landowners, including the sovereign and the collectors of tithes. the national aggregate product materialises in the hands of the productive class as an aggregate of provisions and raw materials to the value of some , million livres. of this sum, , millions represent the annual working capital of agriculture, , millions represent the annual wear and tear of fixed capital, and , millions are the net revenue accruing to the landowners. apart from this total produce, the agriculturists, here conceived quite in capitalist terms as tenant farmers, have , million livres cash in hand. circulation now takes place in such a way that the tenant class pay the landowners , millions cash as rent (as the cost of the previous period of production). for this money the landowning class buy provisions from the tenants for , millions and industrial products from the sterile class for the remaining , millions. the tenants in their turn buy industrial products for the , millions handed back to them, whereupon the sterile class buy agricultural products for the , millions they have in hand: for , millions raw materials etc., to replace their annual working capital, and provisions for the remaining , millions. thus the money has in the end returned to its starting point, the tenant class; the product is distributed among all classes so that consumption is ensured for everyone; at the same time the means of production of the sterile as well as of the productive class have been renewed and the landowning class has received its revenue. the prerequisites of reproduction are all present, the conditions of circulation have all been fulfilled, and reproduction can start again on its regular course.[ ] we shall see later in the course of our investigation that this exposition, though showing flashes of genius, remains deficient and primitive. in any case, we must stress here that quesnay, on the threshold of scientific economics, had not the slightest doubt as to the possibility of demonstrating total social capital and its reproduction. adam smith, on the other hand, while giving a more profound analysis of the relations of capital, laid out what seems like a maze when compared with the clear and sweeping outlines of the physiocrat conception. by his wrong analysis of prices, smith upset the whole foundation of the scientific demonstration of the capitalist process as a whole. this wrong analysis of prices ruled bourgeois economics for a long time; it is the theory which maintains that, although the value of a commodity represents the amount of labour spent in its production, yet the price consists of three elements only: the wage of labour, the profit of capital, and the rent. as this obviously must also apply to the aggregate of commodities, the national product, we are faced with the startling discovery that, although the value of the aggregate of commodities manufactured by capitalist methods represents all paid wages together with the profits of capital and the rents, that is the aggregate surplus value, and consequently can replace these, there is no component of value which corresponds to the constant capital used in production. according to smith, _v + s_ is the formula expressing the value of the capitalist product as a whole. demonstrating his view with the example of corn, smith says as follows: these three parts (wages, profit, and rent) seem either immediately or ultimately to make up the whole price of corn. a fourth part, it may perhaps be thought, is necessary for replacing the stock of the farmer, or for compensating the wear and tear of his labouring cattle, and other instruments of husbandry. but it must be considered that the price of any instrument of husbandry, such as a labouring horse, is itself made up of the same three parts: the rent of the land upon which he is reared, the labour of tending and rearing him, and the profits of the farmer who advances both the rent of this land and the wages of this labour. though the price of the corn, therefore, may pay the price as well as the maintenance of the horse, the whole price still resolves itself either immediately or ultimately into the same three parts of rent, of labour and profit.'[ ] sending us in this manner 'from pillar to post', as marx has put it, smith again and again resolved constant capital into _v + s_. however, he had occasional doubts and from time to time relapsed into the contrary opinion. he says in the second book: 'it has been shown in the first book, that the price of the greater part of commodities resolves itself into three parts, of which one pays the wages of the labour, another the profits of the stock, and a third the rent of the land which had been employed in producing and bringing them to market.... since this is the case ... with regard to every particular commodity, taken separately; it must be so with regard to all the commodities which compose the whole annual produce of the land and labour of every country, taken complexly. the whole price or exchangeable value of that annual produce must resolve itself into the same three parts, and be parcelled out among the different inhabitants of the country, either as the wages of their labour, the profits of their stock, or the rent of their land.'[ ] here smith hesitates and immediately below explains: 'but though the whole value of the annual produce of the land and labour of every country is thus divided among and constitutes a revenue to its different inhabitants, yet as in the rent of a private estate we distinguish between the gross rent and the neat rent, so may we likewise in the revenue of all the inhabitants of a great country. 'the gross rent of a private estate comprehends whatever is paid by the farmer; the neat rent, what remains free to the landlord after deducting the expense of management, of repairs, and all other necessary charges; or what, without hurting his estate, he can afford to place in his stock reserved for immediate consumption, or to spend upon his table, equipage, the ornaments of his house and furniture, his private enjoyments and amusements. his real wealth is in proportion, not to his gross, but to his neat rent. 'the gross revenue of all the inhabitants of a great country comprehends the whole annual produce of their land and labour; the neat revenue, what remains free to them after deducting the expense of maintaining, first, their fixed, and secondly, their circulating capital, or what, without encroaching upon their capital, they can place in their stock reserved for immediate consumption, or spend upon their subsistence, conveniences, and amusements. their real wealth too is in proportion, not to their gross, but to their neat revenue.'[ ] here smith introduces a portion of value which corresponds to constant capital, only to eliminate it the very next moment by resolving it into wages, profits, and rents. and in the end, the matter rests with this explanation: 'as the machines and instruments of trade, etc. which compose the fixed capital either of an individual or of a society, make no part either of the gross or the neat revenue of either, so money, by means of which the whole revenue of the society is regularly distributed among all its different members, makes itself no part of that revenue.'[ ] constant capital, the fixed capital of adam smith, is thus put on the same level as money and does not enter into the total produce of society, its gross revenue. it does not exist within this total product as an element of value. you cannot get blood out of a stone, and so circulation, the mutual exchange of the total product constituted in this manner, can only lead to realisation of the wages (_v_) and of the surplus value (_s_). however, as it cannot by any means replace the constant capital, continued reproduction evidently must become impossible. smith indeed knew quite well, and did not dream of denying, that every individual capitalist requires constant capital in addition to his wages fund, his variable capital, in order to run his enterprise. yet the above analysis of commodity prices, when it comes to take note of capitalist production as a whole, allows constant capital to disappear without a trace in a puzzling way. thus the problem of the reproduction of capital is completely muddled up. it is plain that if the most elementary premise of the problem, the demonstration of social capital as a whole, were on the rocks, the whole analysis was bound to fail. ricardo, say, sismondi and others took up this erroneous theory of adam smith, and they all stumbled in their observations on the problem of reproduction over this most elementary difficulty: the demonstration of social capital. another difficulty is mixed up with the foregoing from the very outset of scientific analysis. what is the nature of the total capital of a society? as regards the individual producer, the position is clear: his capital consists of the expenses of his enterprise. assuming capitalist methods of production, the value of his product yields him a surplus over and above his expenses, that surplus value which does not replace his capital but constitutes his net income, which he can consume completely without encroaching upon his capital and which is thus his fund of consumption. it is true that the capitalist may save part of this net income, not consuming it himself but adding it to his capital. but that is another matter, a new step, the formation of a new capital which again must be replaced by subsequent reproduction and must again yield him a surplus. in any case, the capital of an individual always consists of what he requires for production, together with his advances on the running of his enterprise, and his income is what he himself actually consumes or may consume, his fund of consumption. if we ask a capitalist: 'what are the wages you pay your workers?' his answer will be: 'they are obviously part of my working capital.' but if we ask: 'what are these wages for the workers who have received them?'--it is impossible that he should describe them as capital, for wages received are not capital for the workers but income, their fund of consumption. let us now take another example. a manufacturer of machinery produces machines in his factory. the annual output is a certain number of machines. in its value, however, this annual output contains the capital advanced by the manufacturer as well as the net income that has been earned. part of the manufactured machines thus represent income for the manufacturer and are destined to realise this income in the process of circulation and exchange. but the person who buys these machines from the manufacturer does not buy them as income but in order to use them as a means of production; for him they are capital. these examples make it seem plausible that an object which is capital for one person may be income for another and _vice versa_. how can it be possible under these circumstances to construct anything in the nature of a total capital of society? indeed almost every scientific economist up to the time of marx concluded that there is no social capital.[ ] smith was still doubtful, undecided, vacillating about this question; so was ricardo. but already say declared categorically: 'it is in this way, that the total value of products is distributed amongst the members of the community; i say, the _total_ value, because such part of the whole value produced, as does not go to one of the consuming producers, is received by the rest. the clothier buys wool of the farmer, pays his workmen in every department, and sells the cloth, the result of their united exertion, at a price that reimburses all his advances, and affords himself a profit. he never reckons as profit, or as the revenue of his own industry, anything more than the _net_ surplus, after deducting all charges and outgoings; but those outgoings are merely an advance of their respective revenues to the previous producers, which are refunded by the _gross_ value of the cloth. the price paid to the farmer for his wool is the compound of the several revenues of the cultivator, the shepherd and the landlord. although the farmer reckons as _net_ produce only the surplus remaining after payment of his landlord and his servants in husbandry, yet to them these payments are items of revenue--rent to the one and wages to the other--to the one, the revenue of the land, to the other, the revenue of his industry. the aggregate of all these is defrayed out of the value of the cloth, the whole of which forms the revenue of some one or other, and is entirely absorbed in that way.--whence it appears that the term _net_ produce applies only to the individual revenue of each separate producer or adventurer in industry, but that the aggregate of individual revenue, the total revenue of the community, is equal to the _gross_ produce of its land, capital and industry, which entirely subverts the system of the economists of the last century, who considered nothing but the net produce of the land as farming revenue, and therefore concluded, that this net produce was all that the community had to consume; instead of closing with the obvious inference, that the whole of what had been created, may also be consumed by mankind.'[ ] say proves his theory in his own peculiar fashion. whereas adam smith tried to give a proof by referring each private capital unit to its place of production in order to resolve it into a mere product of labour, but conceived of every product of labour in strictly capitalist terms as a sum of paid and unpaid labour, as _v + s_, and thus came to resolve the total product of society into _v + s_; say, of course, is cocksure enough to 'correct' these classical errors by inflating them into common vulgarities. his argument is based upon the fact that the entrepreneur at every stage of production pays other people, the representatives of previous stages of production, for the means of production which are capital for him, and that these people in their turn put part of this payment into their own pockets as their income and partly use it to recoup themselves for expenses advanced in order to provide yet another set of people with an income. say converts adam smith's endless chain of labour processes into an equally unending chain of mutual advances on income and their repayment from the proceeds of sales. the worker appears here as the absolute equal of the entrepreneur. he has his income advanced in the form of wages, paying for it in turn by the labour he performs. thus the final value of the aggregate social product appears as the sum of a large number of advanced incomes and is spent in the process of exchange on repayment of all these advances. it is characteristic of say's superficiality that he illustrates the social connections of capitalist reproduction by the example of watch manufacture--a branch of production which at that time and partly even to-day is pure 'manufacture' where every worker is also an entrepreneur on a small scale and the process of production of surplus value is masked by a series of successive acts of exchange typical of simple commodity production. thus say gives an extremely crude expression to the confusion inaugurated by adam smith. the aggregate of annual social produce can be completely resolved as regards its value into a sequence of various incomes. therefore it is completely consumed every year. it remains an enigma how production can be taken up again without capital and means of production, and capitalist reproduction appears to be an insoluble problem. if we compare the varying approaches to the problem from the time of the physiocrats to that of adam smith, we cannot fail to recognise partial progress as well as partial regression. the main characteristic of the economic conception of the physiocrats was their assumption that agriculture alone creates a surplus, that is surplus value, and that agricultural labour is the only kind of labour which is productive in the capitalist sense of the term. consequently we see in the _tableau Économique_ that the unproductive class of industrial workers creates value only to the extent of the same , million livres which it consumes as raw materials and foodstuffs. consequently, too, in the process of exchange, the total of manufactured products is divided into two parts, one of which goes to the tenant class and the other to the landowning class, while the manufacturing class does not consume its own products. thus in the value of its commodities, the manufacturing class reproduces, strictly speaking, only that circulating capital which has been consumed, and no income is created for the class of entrepreneurs. the only income of society that comes into circulation in excess of all capital advances, is created in agriculture and is consumed by the landowning class in the form of rents, while even the tenant class do no more than replace their capital: to wit, , million livres interest from the fixed capital and , million circulating capital, two-thirds being raw materials and foodstuffs, and one-third industrial products. further it is striking that it is in agriculture alone that quesnay assumes the existence of fixed capital which he calls _avances primitives_ as distinct from _avances annuelles_. industry, as he sees it, apparently works without any fixed capital, only with circulating capital turned over each year, and consequently does not create in its annual output of commodities any element of value for making good the wear and tear of fixed capital (such as premises, tools, and so on).[ ] in contrast with this obvious defect, the english classical school shows a decisive advance above all in proclaiming every kind of labour as productive, thus revealing the creation of surplus value in manufacture as well as in agriculture. we say: the english classical school, because on this point adam smith himself occasionally relapses quietly into the physiocrat point of view. it is only ricardo who develops the theory of the value of labour as highly and logically as it could advance within the limits of the bourgeois approach. the consequence is that we must assume all capital investment to produce annual surplus value, in the manufacturing part of social production as a whole no less than in agriculture.[ ] on the other hand, the discovery of the productive, value-creating property of every kind of labour, alike in agriculture and in manufacture, suggested to smith that agricultural labour, too, must produce, apart from the rent for the landowning class, a surplus for the tenant class over and above the total of their capital expenses. thus, in addition to the replacement of capital, an annual income of the tenant class comes into being.[ ] lastly, by a systematic elaboration of the concepts of _avances primitives_ and _avances annuelles_ introduced by quesnay, which he calls fixed and circulating capital, smith has made clear, among other things, that the manufacturing side of social production requires a fixed as well as a circulating capital. thus he was well on the way to restoring to order the concepts of capital and revenue of society, and to describing them in precise terms. the following exposition represents the highest level of clarity which he achieved in this respect: 'though the whole annual produce of the land and labour of every country is, no doubt, ultimately destined for supplying the consumption of its inhabitants and for procuring a revenue to them, yet when it first comes either from the ground or from the hands of the productive labourer, it naturally divides itself into two parts. one of them, and frequently the largest, is, in the first place, destined for replacing a capital, or for renewing the provisions, materials, and finished work, which had been withdrawn from a capital; the other for constituting a revenue either to the owner of this capital, as the profit of his stock, or to some other person, as the rent of his land.'[ ] 'the gross revenue of all the inhabitants of a great country comprehends the whole annual produce of their land and labour; the neat revenue, what remains free to them after deducting the expense of maintaining, first, their fixed, and secondly, their circulating capital; or what, without encroaching upon their capital, they can place in their stock reserved for immediate consumption, or spend upon their subsistence, conveniencies, and amusements. their real wealth too is in proportion, not to their gross, but to their neat revenue.'[ ] the concepts of total capital and income appear here in a more comprehensive and stricter form than in the _tableau Économique_. the one-sided connection of social income with agriculture is severed and social income becomes a broader concept; and a broader concept of capital in its two forms, fixed and circulating capital, is made the basis of social production as a whole. instead of the misleading differentiation of production into two departments, agriculture and industry, other categories of real importance are here brought to the fore: the distinction between capital and income and the distinction, further, between fixed and circulating capital. now smith proceeds to a further analysis of the mutual relations of these categories and of how they change in the course of the social process, in production and circulation--in the reproductive process of society. he emphasises here a radical distinction between fixed and circulating capital from the point of view of the society: 'the whole expense of maintaining the fixed capital must evidently be excluded from the neat revenue of the society. neither the materials necessary for supporting their useful machines and instruments of trade, their profitable buildings, etc., nor the produce of the labour necessary for fashioning those materials into the proper form, can ever make any part of it. the price of that labour may indeed make a part of it; as the workmen so employed may place the whole value of their wages in their stock reserved for immediate consumption. but in other sorts of labour, both the price and the produce go to this stock, the price to that of the workmen, the produce to that of other people whose subsistence, convenience and amusements are augmented by the labour of those workmen.'[ ] here smith comes up against the important distinction between workers who produce means of production and those who produce consumer goods. with regard to the former he remarks that they create the value--destined to replace their wages and to serve as their income--in the form of means of production such as raw materials and instruments which in their natural form cannot be consumed. with regard to the latter category of workers, smith observes that conversely the total product, or better that part of value contained in it which replaces the wages, the income of the workers together with its other remaining value, appears here in the form of consumer goods. (the real meaning latent in this conclusion, though smith does not say so explicitly, is that the part of the product which represents the fixed capital employed in its production appears likewise in this form.) in the further course of our investigation we shall see how close smith has here come to the vantage point from which marx tackled the problem. the general conclusion, however, maintained by smith without any further examination of the fundamental question, is that, in any case, whatever is destined for the preservation and renewal of the fixed capital of society cannot be added to society's net income. the position is different with regard to circulating capital. 'but though the whole expenses of maintaining the fixed capital is thus necessarily excluded from the neat revenue of the society, it is not the same case with that of maintaining the circulating capital. of the four parts of which this latter capital is composed, money, provisions, materials and finished work, the three last, it has already been observed, are regularly withdrawn from it and placed either in the fixed capital of the society, or in their stock reserved for immediate consumption. whatever portion of those consumable goods is not employed in maintaining the former, goes all to the latter, and makes a part of the neat revenue of the society, besides what is necessary for maintaining the fixed capital.'[ ] we see that smith here simply includes in this category of circulating capital everything but the fixed capital already employed, that is to say, foodstuffs and raw materials and in part commodities which, according to their natural form, belong to the replacement of fixed capital. thus he has made the concept of circulating capital vague and ambiguous. but a further and most important distinction crops up and cuts right through this conception: 'the circulating capital of a society is in this respect different from that of an individual. that of an individual is totally excluded from making any part of his neat revenue, which must consist altogether in his profits. but though the circulating capital of every individual makes a part of that of the society to which he belongs, it is not upon that account totally excluded from making a part likewise of their neat revenues.'[ ] in the following illustration smith expounds what he means: 'though the whole goods in a merchant's shop must by no means be placed in his own stock reserved for immediate consumption, they may in that of other people, who, from a revenue derived from other funds, may regularly replace their value to him, together with its profits, without occasioning any diminution either of his capital or theirs.'[ ] here smith has established fundamental categories with regard to the reproduction and movement of circulating social capital. fixed and circulating capital, private and social capital, private and social revenue, means of production and consumer goods, are marked out as comprehensive categories, and their real, objective interrelation is partly indicated and partly drowned in the subjective and theoretical contradictions of smith's analysis. the concise, strict, and classically clear scheme of the physiocrat theory is dissolved here into a disorderly jumble of concepts and relations which at first glance appears an absolute chaos. but we may already perceive new connections within the social process of reproduction, understood by smith in a deeper, more modern and vital way than was within quesnay's grasp, though, like michelangelo's slave in the unhewn block of marble, they are still inchoate. this is the only illustration smith gives of this problem. but at the same time he attacks it from another angle--by an analysis of value. this very same theory which represents an advance beyond the physiocrats--the theory that it is an essential quality of all labour to create value; the strictly capitalist distinction between paid labour replacing wages, and unpaid labour creating surplus value; and, finally, the strict division of surplus value into its two main categories, of profit and rent--all this progress from the analysis of the physiocrats leads smith to the strange proposition that the price of every commodity consists of wages, plus profits, plus rent, or, in marx's shorthand, of _v + s_. in consequence, the commodities annually produced by society as a whole can be resolved completely, as to value, into the two components: wages and surplus value. here the category of capital has disappeared all of a sudden; society produces nothing but income, nothing but consumer goods, which it also consumes completely. reproduction without capital becomes a paradox, and the treatment of the problem as a whole has taken an immense backward step against that of the physiocrats. the followers of adam smith have tackled this twofold theory from precisely the wrong approach. before marx nobody concerned himself with the important beginnings of an exact exposition of the problem in smith's second book, while most of his followers jealously preserved smith's radically wrong analysis of prices, accepting it, like ricardo, without question, or else, like say, elaborating it into a trite doctrine. where smith raised fruitful doubts and stimulating contradictions, say flaunted the opinionated presumption of a commonplace mind. smith's observation that the capital of one person may be the revenue of another induced say to proclaim every distinction between capital and income on the social scale to be absurd. the absurdity, however, that income should completely absorb the total value of annual production which is thus consumed completely, assumes in say's treatment the character of an absolutely valid dogma. if society annually consumes its own total product completely, social reproduction without any means of production whatever must become an annual repetition of the miracle of the creation. in this state the problem of reproduction remained up to the time of karl marx. footnotes: [ ] 'quesnay's _tableau Économique_ shows ... how the result of national production in a certain year, amounting to some definite value, is distributed by means of the circulation in such a way, that ... reproduction can take place.... the innumerable individual acts of circulation are at once viewed in their characteristic social mass movement--the circulation between great social classes distinguished by their economic function' (_capital_, vol. ii, p. ). [ ] cf. _analyse du tableau Économique_, in _journal de l'agriculture, du commerce et des finances_, by dupont ( ), pp. ff. in oncken's edition of _oeuvres de f. quesnay_. quesnay remarks explicitly that circulation as he describes it is based upon two conditions: unhampered trade, and a system of taxation applying only to rent: 'yet these facts have indispensable conditions; that the freedom of commerce sustains the sale of products at a good price, ... and moreover, that the farmer need not pay any other direct or indirect charges but this income, part of which, say two sevenths, must form the revenue of the sovereign' (op. cit., p. ). [ ] adam smith, _an enquiry into the nature and causes of the wealth of nations_ (ed. macculloch, edinburgh london, ), vol. i, pp. - . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] as to the concept of 'national capital' specific to rodbertus, see below, section ii. [ ] j. b. say, _a treatise on political economy_ (transl. by c. r. prinsep, vol. ii, london, ); pp. - . [ ] attention must be drawn to the fact that mirabeau in his _explications_ on the _tableau Économique_ explicitly mentions the fixed capital of the unproductive class: 'the primary advances of this class, for the establishment of manufactures, for instruments, machines, mills, smithies (ironworks) and other factories ... (amount to) , million livres' (_tableau Économique avec ses explications_, , p. ). in his confusing sketch of the _tableau_ itself, mirabeau, too, fails to take this fixed capital of the sterile class into account. [ ] smith accordingly arrives at this general formulation: 'the value which the workmen add to the materials, therefore, resolves itself in this case into two parts, of which the one pays their wages, the other the profits of their employer upon the whole stock of materials and wages which he advanced' (op. cit., vol. i, p. ). further, in book ii, chap. , on industrial labour in particular: 'the labour of a manufacturer adds generally to the value of the materials which he works upon, that of his own maintenance and of his master's profit. the labour of a menial servant, on the contrary, adds to the value of nothing. though the manufacturer has his wages advanced to him by his master, he in reality costs him no expense, the value of those wages being generally restored, together with a profit, in the improved value of the subject upon which his labour is bestowed' (op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - ). [ ] 'the labourers ... therefore, employed in agriculture, not only occasion, like the workmen in manufactures, the reproduction of a value equal to their own consumption, or to the capital which employs them, together with its owner's profit, but of a much greater value. over and above the capital of the farmer and all its profits, they regularly occasion the reproduction of the rent of the landlord' (ibid., p. ). [ ] ibid., pp. - . yet already in the following sentence smith converts capital completely into wages, that is variable capital: 'that part of the annual produce of the land and labour of any country which replaces a capital, never is immediately employed to maintain any but productive hands. it pays the wages of productive labour only. that which is immediately destined for constituting a revenue, either as profit or as rent, may maintain indifferently either productive or unproductive hands' (ibid., p. ). [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] smith, op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., vol. i, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid. _chapter iii_ a criticism of smith's analysis let us recapitulate the conclusions to which smith's analysis has brought us: ( ) there is a fixed capital of society, no part of which enters into its net revenue. this fixed capital consists in 'the materials necessary for supporting their useful machines and instruments of trade' and 'the produce of labour necessary for fashioning those materials into the proper form'.[ ] by singling out the production of such fixed capital as of a special kind, and explicitly contrasting it with the production of consumer goods, smith in effect transformed fixed capital into what marx calls 'constant capital'--that part of capital which consists of all material means of production, as opposed to labour power. ( ) there is a circulating capital of society. after eliminating the part of fixed, or constant, capital, there remains only the category of consumer goods; these are not capital for society but net revenue, a fund of consumption. ( ) capital and net revenue of an individual do not strictly correspond with capital and net revenue of society. what is nothing but fixed, or constant capital for society as a whole cannot be capital for the individual; it must be revenue, too, a fund of consumption, comprising as it does those parts of fixed capital which represent the workers' wages and the capitalists' profits. on the other hand, the circulating capital of the individuals cannot be capital for society but must be revenue, especially in so far as it takes the form of provisions. ( ) as regards the value of the total annual social product, no trace of capital remains. it can be resolved completely into the three kinds of income: wages, profits of capital, and rents. if we tried from this haphazard collection of odd ideas to build up a picture of the annual reproduction of total social capital, and of its mechanism, we should soon despair of our task. indeed, all these observations leave us infinitely remote from the solution of the problem how social capital is annually renewed, how everybody's consumption is ensured by his income, while the individuals can nevertheless adhere to their own points of view on capital and income. yet if we wish to appreciate fully marx's contribution to the elucidation of this problem, we must be fully aware of all this confusion of ideas, the mass of conflicting points of view. let us begin with adam smith's last thesis which alone would suffice to wreck the treatment of the problem of reproduction in classical economics. smith's basic principle is that the total produce of society, when we consider its value, resolves itself completely into wages, profits and rents: this conception is deeply rooted in his scientific theory that value is nothing but the product of labour. all labour performed, however, is wage labour. this identification of human labour with capitalist wage labour is indeed the classical element in smith's doctrine. the value of the aggregate product of society comprises both the recompense for wages advanced and a surplus from unpaid labour appearing as profit for the capitalist and rent for the landowner. what holds good for the individual commodity must hold good equally for the aggregate of commodities. the whole mass of commodities produced by society--taken as a quantity of value--is nothing but a product of labour, of paid as well as unpaid labour, and thus it is also to be completely resolved into wages, profits, and rents. it is of course true that raw materials, instruments, and the like, must be taken into consideration in connection with all labour. yet is it not true also that these raw materials and instruments in their turn are equally products of labour which again may have been paid or unpaid? we may go back as far as we choose, we may twist and turn the problem as much as we like, yet we shall find no element in the value of any commodity--and therefore none in the price--which cannot be resolved purely in terms of human labour. we can distinguish, however, two parts in all labour: one part repays the wages and the other accrues to the capitalist and landlord. there seems nothing left but wages and profits--and yet, there is capital, individual and social capital. how can we overcome this blatant contradiction? the fact that marx himself stubbornly pursued this matter for a long time without getting anywhere at first as witness his _theories of the surplus value_,[ ] proves that this theoretical problem is indeed extremely hard to solve. yet the solution he eventually hit on was strikingly successful, and it is based upon his theory of value. adam smith was perfectly right: nothing but labour constitutes the value of the individual commodity and of the aggregate of commodities. he was equally right in saying that from a capitalist point of view all labour is either paid labour which restores the wages, or unpaid labour which, as surplus value, accrues to the various classes owning the means of production. what he forgot, however, or rather overlooked, is the fact that, apart from being able to create new value, labour can also transfer to the new commodities the old values incorporated in the means of production employed. a baker's working day of ten hours is, from the capitalist point of view, divided into paid and unpaid hours, into _v + s_. but the commodity produced in these ten hours will represent a greater value than that of ten hours' labour, for it will also contain the value of the flour, of the oven which is used, of the premises, of the fuel and so on, in short the value of all the means of production necessary for baking. under one condition alone could the value of any one commodity be strictly equal to _v + s_; if a man were to work in mid-air, without raw materials, without tools or workshop. but since all work on materials (material labour) presupposes means of production of some sort which themselves result from preceding labour, the value of this past labour is of necessity transferred to the new product. the process in question does not only take place in capitalist production; it is the general foundation of human labour, quite independent of the historical form of society. the handling of man-made tools is a fundamental characteristic of human civilisation. the concept of past labour which precedes all new labour and prepares its basis, expresses the nexus between man and nature evolved in the history of civilisation. this is the eternal chain of closely interwoven labouring efforts of human society, the beginnings of which are lost in the grey dawn of the socialisation of mankind, and the termination of which would imply the end of the whole of civilised mankind. therefore we have to picture all human labour as performed with the help of tools which themselves are already products of antecedent labour. every new product thus contains not only the new labour whereby it is given its final form, but also past labour which had supplied the materials for it, the instruments of labour and so forth. in the production of value, that is commodity production into which capitalist production also enters, this phenomenon is not suspended, it only receives a particular expression. here the labour which produces commodities assumes a twofold characteristic: it is on the one hand useful concrete labour of some kind or other, creating the useful object, the value-in-use. on the other hand, it is abstract, general, socially necessary labour and as such creates value. in its first aspect it does what labour has always done: it transfers to the new product past labour, incorporated in the means of production employed, with this distinction only, that this past labour, too, now appears as value, as old value. in its second aspect, labour creates new value which, in capitalist terms, can be reduced to paid and unpaid labour, to _v + s_. thus the value of every commodity must contain old value which has been transferred by labour _qua_ useful concrete labour from the means of production to the commodity, as well as the new value, created by the same labour _qua_ socially necessary labour merely as this labour is expended hour by hour. this distinction was beyond smith: he did not differentiate the twofold character of value-creating labour. marx once claimed to have discovered the ultimate source of smith's strange dogma--that the aggregate of produced values can be completely resolved into _v + s_--in his fundamentally erroneous theory of value.[ ] failure to differentiate between the two aspects of commodity-producing labour as concrete and useful labour on the one hand, and abstract and socially necessary labour on the other, indeed forms one of the most important characteristics of the theory of value as conceived not only by smith but by all members of the classical school. disregarding all social consequences, classical economics recognised that human labour alone is the factor which creates value, and it worked out this theory to that degree of clarity which we meet in ricardo's formulation. there is a fundamental distinction, however, between marx's theory of value and ricardo's, a distinction which has been misunderstood not only by bourgeois economists but also in most cases by the popularisers of marx's doctrine: ricardo, conceiving as he did, of bourgeois economy in terms of natural law, believed also that the creation of value, too, is a natural property of human labour, of the specific and concrete labour of the individual human being. this view is even more blatantly revealed in the writings of adam smith who for instance declares what he calls the 'propensity to exchange' to be a quality peculiar to human nature, having looked for it in vain in animals, particularly in dogs. and although he doubted the existence of the propensity to exchange in animals, smith attributed to animal as well as human labour the faculty of creating value, especially when he occasionally relapses into the physiocrat doctrine: 'no equal capital puts into motion a greater quantity of productive labour than that of the farmer. not only his labouring servants, but his labouring cattle, are productive labourers....'[ ] 'the labourers and labouring cattle, therefore, employed in agriculture, not only occasion, like the workmen in manufactures, the reproduction of a value equal to their own consumption, or to the capital which employs them, together with its owner's profits, but of a much greater value. over and above the capital of the farmer and all its profits, they regularly occasion the reproduction of the rent of the landlord.'[ ] smith's belief that the creation of value is a direct physiological property of labour, a manifestation of the animal organism in man, finds its most vivid expression here. just as the spider produces its web from its own body, so labouring man produces value--labouring man pure and simple, every man who produces useful objects--because labouring man is by birth a producer of commodities; in the same way human society is founded by nature on the exchange of commodities, and a commodity economy is the normal form of human economy. it was left to marx to recognise that a given value covers a definite social relationship which develops under definite historical conditions. thus he came to discriminate between the two aspects of commodity-producing labour: concrete individual labour and socially necessary labour. when this distinction is made, the solution of the money problem becomes clear also, as though a spotlight had been turned on it. marx had to establish a dynamic distinction in the course of history between the commodity producer and the labouring man, in order to distinguish the twin aspects of labour which appear static in bourgeois economy. he had to discover that the production of commodities is a definite historical form of social production before he could decipher the hieroglyphics of capitalist economy. in a word, marx had to approach the problem with methods of deduction diametrically opposed to those of the classical school, he had in his approach to renounce the latter's faith in the human and normal element in bourgeois production and to recognise their historical transience: he had to reverse the metaphysical deductions of the classics into their opposite, the dialectical. on this showing smith could not possibly have arrived at a clear distinction between the two aspects of value-creating labour, which on the one hand transfers the old value incorporated in the means of production to the new product, and on the other hand creates new value at the same time. moreover, there seems to be yet another source of his dogma that total value can be completely resolved into _v + s_. we should be wrong to assume that smith lost sight of the fact that every commodity produced contains not only the value created by its production, but also the values incorporated in all the means of production that had been spent upon it in the process of manufacturing it. by the very fact that he continually refers us from one stage of production to a former one--sending us, as marx complains, from pillar to post, in order to show the complete divisibility of the aggregate value into _v + s_--smith proves himself well aware of the point. what is strange in this connection is that he again and again resolves the old value of the means of production, too, into _v + s_, so as finally to cover the whole value contained in the commodity. 'in the price of corn, for example, one part pays the rent of the landlord, another pays the wages of maintenance of the labourers and labouring cattle employed in producing it, and the third pays the profit of the farmer. these three parts (wages, profit, and rent) seem either immediately or ultimately to make up the whole price of corn. a fourth part, it may perhaps be thought, is necessary for replacing the stock of the farmer, or for compensating the wear and tear of his labouring cattle and other instruments of husbandry. but it must be considered that the price of any instrument of husbandry, such as a labouring horse, is itself made up of the same three parts: the rent of the land upon which he is reared, the labour of tending and rearing him, and the profits of the farmer who advances both the rent of this land and the wages of this labour. though the price of the corn, therefore, may pay the price as well as the maintenance of the horse, the whole price still resolves itself either immediately or ultimately into the same three parts of rent, of labour, and profit.'[ ] apparently smith's confusion arose from the following premises: first, that all labour is performed with the help of means of production of some kind or other--yet what are these means of production associated with any given labour (such as raw materials and tools) if not the product of previous labour? flour is a means of production to which the baker adds new labour. yet flour is the result of the miller's work, and in his hands it was not a means of production but the very product, in the same way as now the bread and pastries are the product of the baker. this product, flour, again presupposes grain as a means of production, and if we go one step further back, this corn is not a means of production in the hands of the farmer but the product. it is impossible to find any means of production in which value is embodied, without it being itself the product of some previous labour. secondly, speaking in terms of capitalism, it follows further that all capital which has been completely used up in the manufacture of any commodity, can in the end be resolved into a certain quantity of performed labour. thirdly, the total value of the commodity, including all capital advances, can readily be resolved in this manner into a certain quantity of labour. what is true for every commodity, must go also for the aggregate of commodities produced by a society in the course of a year; its aggregate value can similarly be resolved into a quantity of performed labour. fourthly, all labour performed under capitalist conditions is divided into two parts: paid labour which restores the wages advanced, and unpaid labour which creates profit and rent, or surplus value. all labour carried out under capitalist conditions thus corresponds to our formula _v + s_.[ ] all the arguments outlined above are perfectly correct and unassailable. smith handled them in a manner which proves his scientific analysis consistent and undeviating, and his conceptions of value and surplus value a distinct advance on the physiocrat approach. only occasionally, in his third thesis, he went astray in his final conclusion, saying that the aggregate value of the annually produced aggregate of commodities can be resolved into the labour of that very year, although he himself had been acute enough to admit elsewhere that the value of the commodities a nation produces in the course of one year necessarily includes the labour of former years as well, that is the labour embodied in the means of production which have been handed down. but even if the four statements enumerated are perfectly correct in themselves, the conclusion smith draws from them--that the total value of every commodity, and equally of the annual aggregate of commodities in a society, can be resolved entirely into _v + s_--is absolutely wrong. he has the right idea that the whole value of a commodity represents nothing but social labour, yet identifies it with a false principle, that all value is nothing but _v + s_. the formula _v + s_ expresses the function of living labour under capitalism, or rather its double function, first to restore the wages, or the variable capital, and secondly, to create surplus value for the capitalist. wage labour fulfils this function whilst it is employed by the capitalists, in virtue of the fact that the value of the commodities is realised in cash. the capitalist takes back the variable capital he had advanced in form of wages, and he pockets the surplus value as well. _v + s_ therefore expresses the relation between wage labour and capitalist, a relationship that is terminated in every instance as soon as the process of commodity production is finished. once the commodity is sold, and the relation _v + s_ is realised for the capitalist in cash, the whole relationship is wiped out and leaves no traces on the commodity. if we examine the commodity and its value, we cannot ascertain whether it has been produced by paid or by unpaid labour, nor in what proportion these have contributed. only one fact is beyond doubt: the commodity contains a certain quantity of socially necessary labour which is expressed in its exchange. it is completely immaterial for the act of exchange as well as for the use of the commodity whether the labour which produced it could be resolved into _v + s_ or not. in the act of exchange all that matters is that the commodity represents value, and only its concrete qualities, its usefulness, are relevant to the use we make of it. thus the formula _v + s_ only expresses, as it were, the intimate relationship between capital and labour, the social function of wage labour, and in the actual product this is completely wiped out. it is different with the constant capital which has been advanced and invested in means of production, because every activity of labour requires certain raw materials, tools, and buildings. the capitalist character of this state of affairs is expressed by the fact that these means of production appear as capital, as _c_, the property of a person other than the labourer, divorced from labour, the property of those who themselves do not work. secondly, the constant capital _c_, a mere advance laid out for the purpose of creating surplus value, appears here only as the foundation of _v + s_. yet the concept of constant capital involves more than this: it expresses the function of the means of production in the process of human labour, quite independently of all its historical or social forms. everybody must have raw materials and working tools, the means of production, be it the south sea islander for making his family canoe, the communist peasant community in india for the cultivation of their communal land, the egyptian fellah for tilling his village lands or for building pharaoh's pyramids, the greek slave in the small workshops of athens, the feudal serf, the master craftsman of the medieval guild, or the modern wage labourer. they all require means of production which, having resulted from human labour, express the link between human labour and natural matter, and constitute the eternal and universal prerequisites of the human process of production. _c_ in the formula _c + v + s_ stands for a certain function of the means of production which is not wiped out in the succession of the labour process. whereas it is completely immaterial, for both the exchange and the actual use made of a commodity, whether it has been produced by paid or by unpaid labour, by wage labour, slave labour, forced labour or any other kind of labour; on the other hand, it is of decisive importance, as for using it, whether the commodity is itself a means of production or a consumer good. whether paid or unpaid labour has been employed in the production of a machine, matters to the machinery manufacturer and to his workers, but only to them; for society, when it acquires this machine by an act of exchange, only the quality of this machine as a means of production, only its function in the process of production is of importance. just as every producing society, since time immemorial, has had to give due regard to the important function of the means of production by arranging, in each period of production, for the manufacture of the means of production requisite for the next period, so capitalist society, too, cannot achieve its annual production of value to accord with the formula _v + s_--which indicates the exploitation of wage labour--unless there exists, as the result of the preceding period, the quantity of means of production necessary to make up the constant capital. this specific connection of each past period of production with the period following forms the universal and eternal foundation of the social process of reproduction and consists in the fact that in every period parts of the produce are destined to become the means of production for the succeeding period: but this relation remained hidden from smith's sight. he was not interested in means of production in respect of their specific function within the process to which they are applied; he was only concerned with them in so far as they are like any other commodity, themselves the product of wage labour that has been employed in a capitalist manner. the specifically capitalist function of wage labour in the productive process completely obscured for him the eternal and universal function of the means of production within the labour process. his narrow bourgeois approach overlooked completely the general relations between man and nature underneath the specific social relations between capital and wage labour. here, it seems, is the real source of adam smith's strange dogma, that the total value of the annual social product can be resolved into _v + s_. he overlooked the fact that _c_ as the first link in the formula _c + v + s_ is the essential expression of the general social foundation of exploitation of wage labour by capital. we conclude that the value of every commodity must be expressed by the formula _c + v + s_. the question now arises how far this formula applies to the aggregate of commodities within a society. let us turn to the doubts expressed by smith on this point, the statement that an individual's fixed and circulating capital and his revenue do not strictly correspond to the same categories from the point of view of society. (cf. above, p. , no. .) what is circulating capital for one person is not capital for another, but revenue, as for instance capital advances for wages. this statement is based upon an error. if the capitalist pays wages to the workers, he does not abandon his variable capital and let it stray into the workers' hands, to become their income. he only exchanges the value-form of his variable capital against its natural form, labour power. the variable capital remains always in the hand of the capitalist, first as money, and then as labour power, to revert to him later together with the surplus value as the cash proceeds from the commodities. the worker, on the other hand, never gains possession of the variable capital. his labour power is never capital to him, but it is his only asset, the power to work is the only thing he possesses. again, if he has sold it and taken a money wage, this wage is for him not capital but the price of his commodity which he has sold. finally, the fact that the worker buys provisions with the wages he has received, has no more connection with the function this money once fulfilled as variable capital in the hands of the capitalist, than has the private use a vendor of a commodity can make of the money he has obtained by a sale. it is not the capitalist's variable capital which becomes the workers' income, but the price of the worker's commodity 'labour power' which he has sold, while the variable capital, now as ever, remains in the hands of the capitalist and fulfils its specific function. equally erroneous is the conception that the income of the capitalist (the surplus value) which is hidden in machines--in our example of a machinery manufacturer--which has not as yet been realised, is fixed capital for another person, the buyer of the machines. it is not the machines, or parts of them, which form the income of the machinery manufacturer, but the surplus value that is hidden in them--the unpaid labour of his wage labourers. after the machine has been sold, this income simply remains as before in the hand of the machinery manufacturer; it has only changed its outward shape: it has been changed from the 'machine-form' into the 'money-form'. conversely, the buyer of this machine has not, by its purchase, newly obtained possession of his fixed capital, for he had this fixed capital in hand even before the purchase, in the form of a certain amount of cash. by buying this machine, he has only given to his capital the adequate material form for it to become productive. the income, or surplus value, remains in the hands of the machinery manufacturer before and after the sale of the machine, and the fixed capital remains in the hands of the other person, the capitalist buyer of the machine, just as the variable capital in the first example always remained in the hands of the capitalist and the income in the hands of the worker. smith and his followers have caused confusion because, in their investigation of capitalist exchange, they mixed up the use-form of the commodities with their relations of value. further, they did not distinguish the individual circulations of capitals and commodities which are ever interlacing. one and the same act of exchange can be circulation of capital, when seen from one aspect, and at the same time simple commodity exchange for the purpose of consumption. the fallacy that whatever is capital for one person must be income for another, and _vice versa_, must be translated thus into the correct statement that what is circulation of capital for one person, may be simple commodity exchange for another, and _vice versa_. this only expresses the capacity of capital to undergo transformations of its character, and the interconnections of various spheres of interest in the social process of exchange. the sharply outlined existence of capital in contrast with income still stands in both its clearly defined forms of constant and variable capital. even so, smith comes very close to the truth when he states that capital and income of the individual are not strictly identical with the same categories from the point of view of the community. only a few further connecting links are lacking for a clear revelation of the true relationship. footnotes: [ ] _an enquiry into the nature and causes of the wealth of nations_, vol. i, p. . [ ] _theorien über den mehrwert_ (stuttgart, ), vol. i, pp. - . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] smith, op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. i, pp. - . [ ] in this connection, we have disregarded the contrary conception which also runs through the work of smith. according to that, the _price_ of the commodity cannot be resolved into _v + s_, though the _value_ of commodities consists in _v + s_. this distinction, however, is more important with regard to smith's theory of value than in the present context where we are mainly interested in his formula _v + s_. _chapter iv_ marx's scheme of simple reproduction let us now consider the formula _c + v + s_ as the expression of the social product as a whole. is it only a theoretical abstraction, or does it convey any real meaning when applied to social life--has the formula any objective existence in relation to society as a whole? it was left to marx to establish the fundamental importance of _c_, the constant capital, in economic theory. yet adam smith before him, working exclusively with the categories of fixed and circulating capital, in effect transformed this fixed capital into constant capital, though he was not aware of having achieved this result. this constant capital comprises not only those means of production which wear out in the course of years, but also those which are completely absorbed by production in any one year. his very dogma that the total value is resolved into _v + s_ and his arguments on this point lead smith to distinguish between the two categories of production--living labour and inanimate means of production. on the other hand, when he tries to construe the social process of reproduction on the basis of the capitals and incomes of individuals, the fixed capital he conceives of as existing apart from these, is, in fact, constant capital. every individual capitalist uses for the production of his commodities certain material means of production such as premises, raw materials and instruments. in order to produce the aggregate of commodities in a given society, an aggregate of all material means of production used by the individual capitalists is an obvious requisite. the existence of these means of production within the society is a real fact, though they themselves exist in the form of purely private individual capitals. this is the universal absolute condition of social production in all its historical forms.[ ] the specific capitalist form manifests itself in the fact that the material means of production function as _c_, as constant capital, the property of those who do not work; it is the opposite pole to proletarianised labour power, the counterpart of wage labour. the variable capital, _v_, is the aggregate of wages actually paid in the society in the course of a year's production. this fact, too, has real objective existence, although it manifests itself in an innumerable mass of individual wages. in every society the amount of labour power actually engaged in production and the annual maintenance of the workers is a question of decisive importance. where this factor takes the specific capitalist form of _v_, the variable capital, it follows that the means of subsistence first come to the workers in form of a wage which is the price of the labour power they have sold to another person, the owner of the material means of production who does not work himself; under this aspect, it is the latter's capitalist property. further, _v_ is an aggregate of money, that is to say it is the means of subsistence for the workers in a form of pure value. this concept of _v_ implies that the workers are free in a double sense--free in person and free of all means of production. it also expresses the fact that in a given society the universal form of production is commodity production. finally, _s_, the surplus value, stands for the total of all surplus values gained by the individual capitalists. every society performs surplus labour, and even a socialist society will have to do the same. it must perform surplus labour in a threefold sense: it has to provide a quantity of labour for the maintenance of non-workers (those who are unable to work, such as children, old people, invalids, and also civil servants and the so-called liberal professions who do not take an immediate part in the satisfaction of material[ ] wants), it has to provide a fund of social insurance against elementary disasters which may threaten the annual produce, such as bad harvests, forest fires and floods; and lastly it must provide a fund for the purpose of increasing production, either because of an increase in the population, or because higher standards of civilisation lead to additional wants. it is in two respects that the capitalist character manifests itself: surplus labour comes into being ( ) as surplus value, i.e. in commodity-form, realisable in cash, and ( ) as the property of non-workers, of those who own the means of production. similarly, if we consider _v + s_, these two amounts taken together, we see that they represent objective quantities of universal validity: the total of living labour that has been performed within a society in the course of one year. every human society, whatever its historical form, must take note of this datum, with reference to both the results that have been achieved, and the existing and available labour power. the division into _v + s_ is a universal phenomenon, independent of the society's particular historical form. in its capitalist form, this division shows itself not only in the qualitative peculiarities of both _v_ and _s_ as already outlined, but also in their quantitative relationship: _v_ tends to become depressed to a minimum level, just sufficient for the physiological and social existence of the worker, and _s_ tends to increase continually at the cost of, and relative to, _v_. the predominant feature of capitalist production is expressed in this last circumstance: it is the fact that the creation and appropriation of surplus value is the real purpose of, and the incentive to, production. we have examined the relations upon which the capitalist formula of the aggregate product is based, and have found them universally valid. in every planned economy they are made the object of conscious regulation on the part of society; in a communist society by the community of workers and their democratic organs, and in a society based upon class-rule by the nucleus of owners and their despotic power. in a system of capitalist production there is no such planned regulation. the aggregate of the society's capitals and the aggregate of its commodities alike consist in reality of innumerable fragments of individual capitals and individual items of merchandise, taken together. thus the question arises whether these sums themselves mean anything more in a capitalist society than a mere statistical enumeration which is, moreover, inexact and fluid. applying the standards of society as a whole, we perceive that the completely independent and sovereign individual existence of private enterprises is only the historically conditioned form, whereas it is social interconnections that provide the foundation. although individual capitals act in complete independence of one another, and a social regulation is completely lacking, the movement of capitals forms a homogeneous whole. this movement, too, appears in specifically capitalist forms. in every planned system of production it is, above all, the relation between all labour, past and present, and the means of production (between _v + s_ and _c_, according to our formula), or the relation between the aggregate of necessary consumer goods (again, in the terms of our formula, _v + s_) and _c_ which are subjected to regulation. under capitalist conditions, on the other hand, all social labour necessary for the maintenance of the inanimate means of production and also of living labour power is treated as one entity, as capital, in contrast with the surplus labour that has been performed, i.e. with the surplus value _s_. the relation between these two quantities _c_ and (_v + s_) is a palpably real, objective relationship of capitalist society: it is the average rate of profit; every capital is in fact treated only as part of a common whole, the whole of social capital, and assigned the profit to which it is entitled, according to its size, out of the surplus value wrested from society, regardless of the quantity which this particular capital has actually created. thus social capital and its counterpart, the whole of social surplus value, are not merely real quantities, having an objective existence, but, what is more, the relation between them, the average profit, guides and directs the whole process of exchange. this it does in three ways: ( ) by the mechanism of the law of value which establishes the quantitative relations of exchange between the individual kinds of commodities independently of their specific value relationship; ( ) by the social division of labour, the assignment of certain portions of capital and labour to the individual spheres of production; ( ) by the development of labour productivity which on the one hand stimulates individual capitals to engage in pioneering work for the purpose of securing a higher profit than the average, and on the other hand extends the progress that has been achieved by individuals over the whole field of production. by means of the average rate of profit, in a word, the total capital of society completely governs the seemingly independent motions of individual capitals. the formula _c + v + s_ thus applies to the aggregate of commodities produced in a society under capitalism no less than to the value composition of every individual commodity. it is, however, only the value-composition for which this holds good--the analogy cannot be carried further. the formula is indeed perfectly exact if we regard the total product of a capitalistically producing society as the output of one year's labour, and wish to analyse it into its respective components. the quantity _c_ shows how much of the labour of former years has been taken over towards the product of the present year in the form of means of production. quantities _v + s_ show the value components of the product created by new labour during the last year only; the relation between _v_ and _s_ finally shows us how the annual labour programme of society is apportioned to the two tasks of maintaining the workers and maintaining those who do not work. this analysis remains valid and correct also with regard to the reproduction of individual capital, no matter what may be the material form of the product this capital has created. all three, _c_, _v_, and _s_, appear alike to a capitalist of the machinery industry in the form of machinery and its parts; to the owner of a music hall they are represented by the charms of the dancers and the skill of the acrobats. so long as the product is left undifferentiated, _c_, _v_, and _s_ differ from one another only in so far as they are _aliquot_ components of value. this is quite sufficient for the reproduction of individual capital, as such reproduction begins with the value-form of capital, a certain amount of money that has been gained by the realisation of the manufactured product. the formula _c + v + s_ then is the given basis for the division of this amount of money; one part for the purchase of the material means of production, a second part for the purchase of labour power, and a third part--in the case of simple reproduction assumed in the first instance--for the capitalist's personal consumption. in the case of expanding reproduction part three is further subdivided, only a fraction of it being devoted to the capitalist's personal consumption, the remainder to increasing his capital. in order to reproduce his capital actually, the capitalist must, of course, turn again to the commodity market with the capital he has divided in this manner, so that he can acquire the material prerequisites of production such as raw materials, instruments, and so on. it seems a matter of course to the individual capitalist as well as to his scientific ideologist, the 'vulgar economist', that he should in fact find there just those means of production and labour power he needs for his business. the position is different as regards the total production of a society. from the point of view of society as a whole, the exchange of commodities can only effect a shifting around, whereby the individual parts of the total product change hands. the material composition of the product, however, cannot be changed by this process. after this change of places, as well as before it, there can be reproduction of total capital, if, and only if, there is in the total product of the preceding period: first, a sufficient quantity of means of production, secondly, adequate provisions to maintain the same amount of labour as hitherto, and, last but not least, the goods necessary to maintain the capitalist class and its hangers-on in a manner suitable to their station. this brings us to a new plane: we are now concerned with material points of view instead of pure relations of value. it is the use-form of the total social product that matters now. what the individual capitalist considers nobody else's business becomes a matter of grave concern for the totality of capitalists. whereas it does not make the slightest difference to the individual capitalist whether he produces machinery, sugar, artificial manure or a progressive newspaper--provided only that he can find a buyer for his commodity so that he can get back his capital plus surplus value--it matters infinitely to the 'total capitalist' that his total product should have a definite use-form. by that we mean that it must provide three essentials: the means of production to renew the labour process, simple provisions for the maintenance of the workers, and provisions of higher quality and luxury goods for the preservation of the 'total capitalist' himself. his desire in this respect is not general and vague, but determined precisely and quantitatively. if we ask what quantities of all three categories are required by the 'total capitalist', the value-composition of last year's total product gives us a definite estimate, as long, that is, as we confine ourselves to simple reproduction, which we have taken for our starting point. hitherto we have conceived of the formula _c + v + s_ as a merely quantitative division of the total value, applicable alike to total capital and to individual capital, and representing the quantity of labour contained in the annual product of society. now we see that the formula is also the basis of the material composition of the product. obviously the 'total capitalist', if he is to take up reproduction to the same extent as before, must find in his new total product as many means of production as correspond to the size of _c_, as many simple provisions for the workers as correspond to the sum of wages _v_, and as many provisions of better quality for himself and his hangers-on as correspond to _s_. in this way our analysis of the value of the society's aggregate product is translated into a general recipe for this product as follows: the total _c_ of society must be re-embodied in an equal quantity of means of production, the _v_ in provisions for the workers, and the _s_ in provisions for the capitalists, in order that simple reproduction may take place. here we come up against palpable differences between the individual capitalist and the total capitalist. the manner in which the former always reproduces his constant and variable capital as well as his surplus value is such that all three parts are contained in the same material form within his homogeneous product, that this material form, moreover, is completely irrelevant and may have different qualities in the case of each individual capitalist. the 'total capitalist', for his part, reproduces every component of the value of his annual product in a different material form, _c_ as means of production, _v_ as provisions for the workers, and _s_ as provisions for the capitalists. in the case of the reproduction of individual capitals, there is no discrepancy between relations of value and material points of view. besides, it is quite clear that individual capital may concentrate on aspects of value, accepting material conditions as a law from heaven, as self-evident phenomena of commodity-exchange, whereas the 'total capitalist' has to reckon with material points of view. if the total _c_ of society were not reproduced annually in the form of an equal amount of means of production, every individual capitalist would be doomed to search the commodity market in vain with his _c_ realised in cash, unable to find the requisite materials for his individual reproduction. from the point of view of reproducing the total capital, the formula _c + v + s_ is inadequate. this again is proof of the fact that the concept of total capital is something real and does not merely paraphrase the concept of production. we must, however, make general distinctions in our exposition of total capital: instead of showing it as a homogeneous whole, we must demonstrate its three main categories; and we shall not vitiate our theory if, for the sake of simplicity, we consider for the present only two departments of total capital: the production of producer goods, and that of consumer goods for workers and capitalists. we have to examine each department separately, adhering to the fundamental conditions of capitalist production in each case. at the same time, we must also emphasise the mutual connections between these two departments from the point of view of reproduction. for only if each is regarded in connection with the other, do they make up the basis of the social capital as a whole. we made a start by investigating individual capital. but we must approach the demonstration of total capital and its total product in a somewhat different manner. quantitatively, as a quantity of value, the _c_ of society consists precisely in the total of individual constant capitals, and the same applies to the other amounts, _v_ and _s_. but the outward shape of each has changed--the _c_ of constant capitals re-emerges from the process of production as an element of value with infinitely varied facets, comprising a host of variegated objects for use, but in the total product it appears, as it were, contracted into a certain quantity of means of production. similarly with _v_ and _s_, which in the case of the individual capitalist re-emerge as items in a most colourful jumble of commodities, being provisions in adequate quantities for the workers and capitalists. adam smith came very close to recognising this fact when he observed that the categories of fixed and circulating capital and of revenue in relation to the individual capitalist do not coincide with these categories in the case of society. we have come to the following conclusions: ( ) the formula _c + v + s_ serves to express the production of society viewed as a whole, as well as the production of individual capitalists. ( ) social production is divided into two departments, engaged in the production of producer and consumer goods respectively. ( ) both departments work according to capitalist methods, that is to say they both aim at the production of surplus value, and thus the formula _c + v + s_ will apply to each of them. ( ) the two departments are interdependent, and are therefore bound to display a certain quantitative relationship, namely the one department must produce all means of production, the other all provisions for the workers and capitalists of both departments. proceeding from this point of view, marx devised the following diagram of capitalist reproduction: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ articles of consumption.[ ] the figures in this diagram express quantities of value, amounts of money which are chosen arbitrarily, but their ratios are exact. each department is characterised by the use-form of the commodities produced. their mutual circulation takes place as follows: department i supplies the means of production for the entire productive process, for itself as well as for department ii. from this alone it follows that for the undisturbed continuance of reproduction--for we still presume simple reproduction on the old scale--the total produce of department i (i , ) must have the same value as the sum of constant capitals in both departments: (i , _c_ + ii , _c_). similarly, department ii supplies provisions for the whole of society, for its own workers and capitalists as well as for the workers and capitalists of department i. hence it follows that for the undisturbed course of consumption and production and its renewal on the old scale it is necessary that the total quantity of provisions supplied by department ii should equal in value all the incomes of the employed workers and capitalists of society [here ii ,  = i(_ , v + , s_) + ii(_ v + s_)]. here we have indeed expressed relationships of value which are the foundation not only of capitalist reproduction but of reproduction in every society. in every producing society, whatever its social form, in the primitive small village community of the bakairi of brazil, in the _oikos_ of a timon of athens with its slaves, or in the imperial _corvée_ farm of charlemagne, the labour power available for society must be distributed in such a way that means of production as well as provisions are produced in adequate quantities. the former must suffice for the immediate production of provisions as well as for the future renewal of the means of production themselves, and the provisions in their turn must suffice for the maintenance of the workers occupied in the production alike of these same provisions and of the means of production, and moreover for the maintenance of all those who do not work. in its broad outline, marx's scheme corresponds with the universal and absolute foundation of social reproduction, with only the following specifications: socially necessary labour appears here as value, the means of production as constant capital, the labour necessary for the maintenance of the workers as variable capital and that necessary for the maintenance of those who do not work as surplus value. in capitalist society, however, the connections between these two great departments depend upon exchange of commodities, on the exchange of equivalents. the workers and capitalists of department i can only obtain as many provisions from department ii as they can deliver of their own commodities, the means of production. the demand of department ii for means of production, on the other hand, is determined by the size of its constant capital. it follows therefore that the sum of the variable capital and of the surplus value in the production of producer goods [here i(_ , v + , s_)] must equal the constant capital in the production of provisions [here ii( , _c_)]. an important proviso remains to be added to the above scheme. the constant capital which has been spent by the two departments is in reality only part of the constant capital used by society. this constant capital is divided into two parts; the first is fixed capital--premises, tools, labouring cattle--which functions in a number of periods of production, in every one of which, however, only part of its value is absorbed by the product, according to the amount of its wear and tear. the second is circulating capital such as raw materials, auxiliary semi-finished products, fuel and lighting--its whole value is completely absorbed by the new product in every period of production. yet only that part of the means of production is relevant for reproduction which is actually absorbed by the production of value; without becoming less correct, an exact exposition of social circulation may disregard the remaining part of the fixed capital which has not been absorbed by the product, though it should not completely forget it. this is easy to prove. let us assume that the constant capital, , _c_, in the two departments, which is in fact absorbed by the annual product of these departments, consists of , _c_ fixed and , _c_ circulating capital, the , _c_ of fixed capital representing here the annual wear and tear of the premises, machinery and labouring cattle. this annual wear and tear equals, say, per cent of the total value of the fixed capital employed. then the total social capital would really consist of _ , c + , v_, the constant capital in both departments being , _c_ of fixed and , _c_ of circulating capital. since the term of life of the aggregate fixed capital, with a per cent wear and tear, is ten years _ex hypothesi_, the fixed capital needs renewal only after the lapse of ten years. meanwhile one-tenth of its value enters into social production in every year. if all the fixed capital of a society, with the same rate of wear and tear, were of equal durability, it would, on our assumption, need complete renewal once within ten years. this, however, is not the case. some of the various use-forms which are part of the fixed capital may last longer and others shorter, wear and tear and duration of life are quite different in the different kinds and individual representations of fixed capital. in consequence, fixed capital need not be renewed--reproduced in its concrete use-form--all at once, but parts of it are continually renewed at various stages of social production, while other parts still function in their older form. our assumption of a fixed capital of , _c_ with a per cent rate of wear and tear does not mean that this must be renewed all at once every ten years, but that an annual average renewal and replacement must be effected of a part of the total fixed social capital corresponding to one-tenth of its value; that is to say, department i which has to satisfy the needs of society for means of production must reproduce, year by year not only all its raw and partly finished materials, etc., its circulating capital to the value of , , but must also reproduce the use-forms of its fixed capital--premises, machinery, and the like--to the extent of , , corresponding with the annual wear and tear of fixed capital. if department i continues in this manner to renew one-tenth of the fixed capital in its use-form every year, the result will be that every ten years the total fixed capital of society will have been replaced throughout by new items; thus it follows that the reproduction of those parts disregarded so far is also completely accounted for in the above scheme. in practice, the procedure is that every capitalist sets aside from his annual production, from the realisation of his commodities, a certain amount for the redemption of his fixed capital. these individual annual deductions must amount to a certain quantity of capital, therefore the capitalist has in fact renewed his fixed capital, that is, he has replaced it by new and more efficient items. this alternating procedure of building up annual reserves of money for the renewal of fixed capital and of the periodical employment of the accumulated amounts for the actual renewal of fixed capital varies with the individual capitalist, so that some are accumulating reserves, while others have already started their renewals. thus every year part of the fixed capital is actually renewed. the monetary procedure here only disguises the real process which characterises the reproduction of fixed capital. on closer observation we see that this is as it should be. the whole of the fixed capital takes part in the process of production, for physically the mass of usable objects, premises, machinery, labouring cattle, are completely employed. it is their peculiarity as fixed capital, on the other hand, that only part of the value is absorbed in the production of value, since in the process of reproduction (again postulating simple reproduction), all that matters is to replace in their natural form the values which have been actually used up as means of subsistence and production during a year's production. therefore, fixed capital need only be reproduced to the extent that it has in fact been used up in the production of commodities. the remaining portion of value, embodied in the total use-form of fixed capital, is of decisive importance for production as a labour process, but does not exist for the annual reproduction of society as a process of value-formation. besides, this process which is here expressed by relations of value applies equally to every society, even to a community which does not produce commodities. if once upon a time, for instance, say ten years' labour of , fellaheen was required for the construction of the famous lake moeris and the related nile canals--that miraculous lake, which herodotus tells us was made by hand--and if for the maintenance of this, the most magnificent drainage system of the world, the labour of a further fellaheen was annually required (the figures, of course, are chosen at random), we might say that after every hundred years the moeris dam and the canals were reproduced anew, although in fact the entire system was not constructed as a whole in every century. this is manifestly true. when, amid the stormy incidents of political history and alien conquests, the usual crude neglect of old monuments of culture set in--as displayed, e.g. by the english in india when the reproductional needs of ancient civilisations were understood no longer--then in the course of time the whole lake moeris, its water, dikes and canals, the two pyramids in its midst, the colossus upon it and other marvellous erections, disappeared without a trace, as though they had never been built. only ten lines in herodotus, a dot on ptolemy's map of the world, traces of old cultures, and of villages and cities bear witness that at one time rich life sprang from this magnificent irrigation system, where to-day there are only stretches of arid desert in inner lybia, and desolate swamps along the coast. there is only one point where marx's scheme of simple reproduction may appear unsatisfactory or incomplete in relation to constant capital, and that is when we go back to that period of production, when the total fixed capital was first created. indeed, society possesses transformed labour amounting to more than those parts of fixed capital which are absorbed into the value of the annual product and are in turn replaced by it. in the figures of our example the total social capital does not consist of _ , c + , v_, as in the diagram, but of _ , c + , v_. though , of the fixed capital (which, on our assumption, amounts to , ) are annually reproduced in the form of appropriate means of production, an equal amount is also consumed by the same production each year, though the whole of the fixed capital as a use-form, an aggregate of objects, has been renewed. after ten years, society possesses in the eleventh, just as in any other year, a fixed capital of , , whereas it has annually achieved only , _c_; and its constant capital as a whole is , , whereas it has created only , . obviously, since it must have created this surplus of , fixed capital by its labour, it possesses more accumulated past labour than our scheme of reproduction warrants. even at this stage, the annual labour of society must be based on some previous annual labour that has been hoarded. this question of past labour, however, as the foundation of all present labour, brings us to the very first beginning which is as meaningless with regard to the economic development of mankind as it is for the natural development of matter. the scheme of reproduction grasps the social process as perpetually in motion, as a link in the endless chain of events, it neither wants to demonstrate its initial origin, nor should it do so. the social reproductive process is always based on past labour, we may trace it back as far as we like. social labour has no beginning, just as it has no end. like the historical origin of herodotus' lake moeris, the beginnings of the reproductive process in the history of civilisation are lost in the twilight of legend. with the progress of techniques and with cultural development, the means of production change their form, crude paleoliths are replaced by sharpened tools, stone implements by elegant bronze and iron, the artisan's tool by steam-driven machinery. yet, though the means of production and the social organisation of the productive process continually change their form, society already possesses for its labour process a certain amount of past labour serving as the basis for annual reproduction. under capitalist methods of production past labour of society preserved in the means of production takes the form of capital, and the question of the origin of this past labour which forms the foundation of the reproductive process becomes the question of the genesis of capital. this is much less legendary, indeed it is writ in letters of blood in modern history. the very fact, however, that we cannot think of simple reproduction unless we assume a hoard of past labour, surpassing in volume the labour annually performed for the maintenance of society, touches the sore spot of simple reproduction; and it shows that simple reproduction is a fiction not only for capitalist production but also for the progress of civilisation in general. if we merely wish to understand this fiction properly, and to reduce it to a scheme, we must presume, as its _sine qua non_, results of a past productive process which cannot possibly be restricted to simple reproduction but inexorably points towards enlarged reproduction. by way of illustration, we might compare the aggregate fixed capital of society with a railway. the durability and consequently the annual wear and tear of its various parts is very different. parts such as viaducts and tunnels may last for centuries, steam engines for decades, but other rolling stock will be used up in a short time, in some instances in a few months. yet it is possible to work out an average rate of wear and tear, say thirty years, so that the value of the whole is annually depreciated by one thirtieth. this loss of value is now continually made good by partial reproduction of the railway (which may count as repairs), so that a coach is renewed to-day, part of the engine to-morrow, and a section of sleepers the day after. on our assumption then, the old railway is replaced by a new one after thirty years, a similar amount of labour being performed each year by the society so that simple reproduction takes place. but the railway can only be reproduced in this manner--it cannot be so produced. in order to make it fit for use and to make good its gradual wear and tear, the railway must have been completed in the first place. though the railway can be repaired in parts, it cannot be made fit for use piecemeal, an axle to-day and a coach to-morrow. indeed, the very essence of fixed capital is always to enter into the productive process in its entirety, as a material use-value. in order to get this use-form ready in the first place, society must apply a more concentrated amount of labour to its manufacture. in terms of our example, the labour of thirty years that is used for repairs, must be compressed into, say, two or three years. during this period of manufacture, society must therefore expend an amount of labour far greater than the average, that is to say it must have recourse to expanding reproduction; later, when the railway is finished, it may return to simple reproduction. though we need not visualise the aggregate fixed capital as a single coherent use-object or a conglomeration of objects which must be produced all at once, the manufacture of all the more important means of production, such as buildings, transport facilities, and agricultural structures, requires a more concentrated application of labour, and this is true for the modern railway or steamship as much as it was for the rough stone-axe and the handmill. therefore it is only in theory that simple reproduction can be conceived as alternating with enlarged reproduction; the latter is not only a general condition of a progressive civilisation and an expanding population, but also the _sine qua non_ for the economic form of fixed capital, or those means of production which in every society correspond to the fixed capital. marx deals with this conflict between the formation of fixed capital and simple reproduction but indirectly, in connection with fluctuations in the wear and tear of the fixed capital, more rapid in some years than in others. here he emphasises the need for perpetual 'over-production', i.e. enlarged reproduction, since a strict policy of simple reproduction would periodically lead to reproductive losses. in short, he regards enlarged reproduction under the aspect of an insurance fund for the fixed capital of the society, rather than in the light of the actual productive process.[ ] in quite a different context marx appears to endorse the opinion expressed above. in _theories on the surplus value_, vol ii, part , analysing the conversion of revenue into capital, he speaks of the peculiar reproduction of the fixed capital, the replacement of which in itself already provides a fund for accumulation. he draws the following conclusion: 'the point we have in mind is as follows: even if the aggregate capital employed in machine manufacture were just large enough to make good the annual wear and tear of the machines, many more machines could be annually produced than are required, since the wear and tear is in parts merely _idealiter_ and must be made good _realiter_, _in natura_, only after a certain number of years. capital so employed supplies each year a mass of machinery which becomes available for, and anticipates new, capital investments. let us suppose, for instance, a machine manufacturer who starts production this year. during this year, he supplies machines for £ , . if he were merely to reproduce the machines he has manufactured, he would have to produce, during the subsequent eleven years, machines for £ , only, and even then, a year's production would not be consumed within the year. still less could it be consumed, if he were to employ the whole of his capital. to keep this capital working, to keep it reproducing itself every year, a new and continuous expansion of the branches of manufacture that require these machines, is indispensable. this applies even more, if the machine manufacturer himself accumulates. in consequence, even _if the capital invested in one particular branch of production is simply being reproduced_,[ ] a continuous accumulation in the other branches of production must go with it.'[ ] we might take the machine manufacturer of marx's example as illustrating the production of fixed capital. then the inference is that if society maintains simple reproduction in this sphere, employing each year a similar amount of labour for the production of fixed capital (a procedure which is, of course, impossible in practical life), then annual production in all other spheres must expand. but if here, too, simple reproduction is to be maintained, then, if the fixed capital once created is to be merely renewed, only a small part of the labour employed in its creation can be expended. or, to put it the other way round: if society is to provide for investment in fixed capital on a large scale, it must, even assuming simple reproduction to prevail on the whole, resort periodically to enlarged reproduction. with the advance of civilisation, there are changes not only in the form of the means of production but also in the quantity of value they represent--or better, changes in the social labour stored up in them. apart from the labour necessary for its immediate preservation, society has increasingly more labour time and labour power to spare, and it makes use of these for the manufacture of means of production on an ever increasing scale. how does this affect the process of reproduction? how, in terms of capitalism, does society create out of its annual labour a _greater_ amount of capital than it formerly possessed? this question touches upon enlarged reproduction, and it is not yet time to deal with it. footnotes: [ ] for the sake of simplicity, we shall follow general usage and speak here and in the following of annual production, though this term, strictly speaking, applies in general to agriculture only. the periods of industrial production, or of the turnover of capitals, need not coincide with calendar years. [ ] the distinction between intellectual and material labour need not involve special categories of the population in a planned society, based on common ownership of the means of production. it will always find expression in the existence of a certain number of spiritual leaders who must be materially maintained. the same individuals may exercise these various functions at different times. [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . cf. also p. on the necessity of enlarged reproduction under the aspect of a reserve fund. [ ] marx's italics. [ ] _theorien über den mehrwert_, vol. ii, part , p. . _chapter v_ the circulation of money in our study of the reproductive process we have not so far considered the circulation of money. here we do not refer to money as a measuring rod, an embodiment of value, because all relations of social labour have been expressed, assumed and measured in terms of money. what we have to do now is to test our diagram of simple reproduction under the aspect of money as a means of exchange. quesnay already saw that we shall only understand the social reproductive process if we assume, side by side with the means of production and consumer goods, a certain quantity of money.[ ] two questions now arise: ( ) by whom should the money be owned, and ( ) how much of it should there be? the answer to the first question, no doubt, is that the workers receive their wages in the form of money with which they buy consumer goods. from the point of view of society, this means merely that the workers are allocated a certain share of the fund for consumption: every society, whatever its historical form of production, makes such allocations to its workers. it is, however, an essential characteristic of the capitalist form of production that the workers do not obtain their share directly in the form of goods but by way of commodity exchange, just as it is an essential feature of the capitalist mode of production that their labour power is not applied directly, as a result of a relation of personal domination, but again by way of commodity exchange: the workers selling their labour power to the owners of the means of production, and purchasing freely their consumer goods. variable capital in its money form is the expression and medium of both these transactions. money, then, comes first into circulation by the payment of wages. the capitalist class must therefore set a certain quantity of money circulating in the first place, and this must be equal to the amount they pay in wages. the capitalists of department i need , units of money, and the capitalists of department ii need to meet their wages bill. thus, according to our diagram, two quantities of money are circulating: i( , _v_) and ii( _v_). the workers spend the total of , on consumer goods, i.e. on the products of department ii. in this way, labour power is maintained, that is to say the variable capital of society is reproduced in its natural form, as the foundation of all other reproductions of capital. at the same time, the capitalists of department ii dispose of their aggregate product ( , ) in the following manner: their own workers receive and the workers of department i receive , . this exchange gives the capitalists of department ii possession of , money units: are their own variable capital which has returned to them; these may start circulating again as variable capital but for the time being they have completed their course. the other , accrue to them year by year out of the realisation of one-third of their own products. the capitalists of department ii now buy means of production from the capitalists of department i for these , money units in order to renew the part of their own constant capital that has been used up. by means of this purchase, department ii renews in its natural form half of the constant capital ii_c_ it requires. department i now has in return , money units which are nothing more than the money originally paid to its own workers. now, after having changed hands twice, the money has returned to department i, to become effective later as variable capital. this completes the circulation of this quantity of money for the moment, but the circulation within society has not yet come to an end. the capitalists of department i have not yet realised their surplus value to buy consumer goods for themselves; it is still contained in their product in a form which is of no use to them. moreover, the capitalists of department ii have not yet renewed the second half of their constant capital. these two acts of exchange are identical both in substance and in value, for the capitalists of department i receive their goods from department ii in exchange for the i( , _c_) means of production needed by the capitalists of department ii. however, a new quantity of money is required to effect this exchange. it is true that the same money which has already completed its course, might be brought into circulation again for this purpose--in theory, there could be no objection to this. in practice, however, this solution is out of the question, for the needs of the capitalists, as consumers, must be satisfied just as constantly as the needs of the workers--they run parallel to the process of production and must be mediated by specific quantities of money. hence it follows that the capitalists of both departments--that is to say all capitalists--must have a further cash reserve in hand, in addition to the money required as variable capital, in order to realise their own surplus value in the form of consumer goods. on the other hand, before the total product is realised and during the process of its production, certain parts of the constant capital must be bought continually. these are the circulating parts of the constant capital, such as raw and auxiliary materials, semi-finished goods, lighting and the like. therefore, not only must the capitalists of department i have certain quantities of money in hand to satisfy their needs as consumers, but the capitalists of department ii must also have money to meet the requirements of their constant capital. the exchange of , s i (the surplus value of department i contained in the means of production) against goods is thus effected by money which is advanced partly by the capitalists of department i in order to satisfy their needs as consumers, and partly by the capitalists of department ii in order to satisfy their needs as producers.[ ] both lots of capitalists may each advance units of the money necessary for the exchange, or possibly the two departments will contribute in different proportions. at any rate, two things are certain: (_a_) the money set aside for the purpose by both departments must suffice to effect the exchange between i( , _s_) and ii( , _c_); (_b_) whatever the distribution of this money between the two departments may have been, the exchange transaction completed, each department of capitalist production must again possess the same amount of money it had earlier put into circulation. this latter maxim applies quite generally to social circulation as a whole: once the process of circulation is concluded, money will always have returned to its point of origin. thus all capitalists, after universal exchange, have achieved a twofold result: first they have exchanged products which, in their natural form, were of no use to them, against other products which, in their natural form, the capitalists require either as means of production or for their own consumption. secondly, they have regained possession of the money which they set in circulation so as to effect these acts of exchange. this phenomenon is unintelligible from the point of view of simple commodity circulation, where commodity and money continually change places--possession of the commodity excluding the possession of money, as money constantly usurps the place which the commodity has given up, and _vice versa_. indeed, this is perfectly true with regard to every individual act of commodity exchange which is the form of social circulation. yet this social circulation itself is more than mere exchange of commodities: it is the circulation of capital. it is, however, an essential and characteristic feature of this kind of circulation, that it does not only return to the capitalist the value of his original capital plus an increase, the surplus value, but that it also assists social reproduction by providing the means of production and labour power in the natural form of productive capital, and by ensuring the maintenance of those who do not work. possessing both the means of production and the money needed, the capitalists start the total social process of circulation; as soon as the social capital has completed its circuit, everything is again in their hands, apportioned to each department according to the investments made by it. the workers have only temporary possession of money during which time they convert the variable capital from its money form into its natural form. the variable capital in the capitalists' hands is nothing but the outward shape of part of their capital, and for this reason it must always revert to them. so far, we have only considered circulation as it takes place between the two large departments of production. yet , units of the first department's produce remain there in the form of means of production to renew its constant capital of , _c_. moreover of the consumer goods produced in department ii [corresponding to the surplus value ii( _s_)] also remain in this department in the form of consumer goods for the capitalist class. since in both departments the mode of production is capitalistic, that is unplanned, private production, each department can distribute its own products--means of production in department i and consumer goods in department ii--amongst its own capitalists only by way of commodity exchange, i.e. by a large number of individual sale transactions between capitalists of the same department. therefore the capitalists of both departments must have a reserve of money with which to perform these exchange transactions--to renew both the means of production in department i and the consumer goods for the capitalist class in department ii. this part of circulation does not present any features of specific interest, as it is merely simple commodity circulation. vendor and purchaser alike belong to the same category of agents of production, and circulation is concerned only with money and commodity changing hands within the same class and department. all the same, the money needed for this circulation must from the outset be in the hands of the capitalist class: it is part of their capital. so far, the circulation of total social capital presents no peculiarities, even if we consider the circulation of money. from the very outset it is self-evident that society must possess a certain quantity of money to make this circulation possible, and this for two reasons: first, the general form of capitalist production is that of commodity production which implies the circulation of money; secondly, the circulation of capital is based upon the continuous alternation of the three forms of capital: money capital, productive capital, and commodity capital. and as it is this very money, finally, which operates as capital--our diagram referring to capitalist production exclusively--the capitalist class must have possession of this money, as it has possession of every other form of capital; it throws it into circulation in order to regain possession as soon as the process of circulation has been completed. at first glance, only one detail might strike us: if the capitalists themselves have set in motion all the money which circulates in society, they must also advance the money needed for the realisation of their own surplus value. thus it seems that the capitalists as a class ought to buy their own surplus value with their own money. as the capitalist class has possession of this money resulting from previous periods of production, even prior to the realisation of the product of each working period, the appropriation of surplus value at first sight does not seem to be based upon the unpaid labour of the wage labourer--as it in fact is--but merely the result of an exchange of commodities against an equivalent quantity of money both supplied by the capitalist class itself. a little reflection, however, dispels this illusion. after the general completion of circulation, the capitalists, now as before, possess their money funds which either reverted to them or remained in their hands. further, they acquired consumer goods for the same amount which they have consumed. (note that we are still confining ourselves to simple reproduction as the prime condition of our diagram of reproduction: the renewal of production on the old scale and the use of all surplus value produced for the personal consumption of the capitalist class.) moreover, the illusion vanishes completely if we do not confine ourselves to one period of production but observe a number of successive periods in their mutual interconnections. the value the capitalist puts into circulation to-day in the form of money for the purpose of realising his own surplus value, is in fact nothing but his surplus value resulting from the preceding period of production in form of money. the capitalist must advance money out of his own pocket in order to buy his goods for consumption. on the one hand, the surplus value which he produces each year either exists in a natural form which renders it unfit for consumption, or, if it takes a consumable form, it is temporarily in the hands of another person. on the other hand, he (the capitalist) has regained possession of the money, and he is now making his advances by realising his surplus value from the preceding period. as soon as he has realised his new surplus value, which is still embodied in the commodity-form, this money will return to him. consequently, in the course of several periods of production, the capitalist class draws its consumer goods from the pool, as well as the other natural forms of its capital. the quantity of money originally in its possession, however, remains unaffected by this process. investigation of the circulation of money in society shows that the individual capitalist can never invest the whole of his money capital in production but must always keep a certain money reserve to be employed as variable capital, i.e. as wages. further, he must keep a capital reserve for the purchase of means of production at any given period, and in addition, he must have a cash reserve for his personal consumption. the process of reproducing the total social capital thus entails the necessity of producing and reproducing the substance of money. money is also capital, for marx's diagram which we have discussed before, conceives of no other than capitalist production. thus the diagram seems incomplete. we ought to add a further department, that of production of the means of exchange, to the other two large departments of social production [those of means of production (i) and of consumer goods (ii)]. it is, indeed, a characteristic feature of this third department that it serves neither the purposes of production nor those of consumption, merely representing social labour in an undifferentiated commodity that cannot be used. though money and its production, like the exchange and production of commodities, are much older than the capitalist mode of production, it was only the latter which made the circulation of money a general form of social circulation, and thus the essential element of the social reproductive process. we can only obtain a comprehensive diagram of the essential points of capitalist production if we demonstrate the original relationship between the production and reproduction of money and the two other departments of social production. here, however, we deviate from marx. he included the production of gold (we have reduced the total production of money to the production of gold for the sake of simplicity) in the first department of social production. 'the production of gold, like that of metals generally, belongs to department i, which occupies itself with means of production.'[ ] this is correct only in so far as the production of gold is the production of metal for industrial purposes (jewellery, dental stoppings, etc.). but gold in its capacity as money is not a metal but rather an embodiment of social labour _in abstracto_. thus it is no more a means of production than it is a consumer good. besides, a mere glance at the diagram of reproduction itself shows what inconsistencies must result from confusing means of exchange with means of production. if we add a diagrammatic representation of the annual production of gold as the substance of money to the two departments of social production, we get the following three sets of figures: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence iii. _ c + v + s = _ means of exchange this quantity of value of , chosen by marx as an example, obviously does not represent the quantity of money which circulates annually in society; it only stands for that part which is annually reproduced, the annual wear and tear of the money substance which, on the average, remains constant so long as social reproduction remains on the same level. the turnover of capital goes on in a regular manner and the realisation of commodities proceeds at an equal pace. if we consider the third line as an integral part of the first one, as marx wants us to do, the following difficulty arises: the constant capital of the third department consists of real and concrete means of production, premises, tools, auxiliary materials, vessels, and the like, just as it does in the two other departments. its product, however, the _g_ which represent money, cannot operate in its natural form as constant capital in any process of production. if we therefore include this _g_ as an essential part of the product of department i ( , means of production) the means of production will show a social deficit of this size which will prevent departments i and ii from resuming their reproduction on the old scale. according to the previous assumption--which forms the foundation of marx's whole diagram--reproduction as a whole starts from the product of each department in its actual use-form. the proportions of the diagram are based upon this assumption; without it, they dissolve in chaos. thus the first fundamental relation of value is based upon the equation: i( , ) equals i( , _c_) + ii( , _c_). this cannot apply to the product iii( _g_), since neither department can use gold as a means of production [say, in the proportion of i( _c_) + ii( _c_)]. the second fundamental relation derived from this is based upon the equation i( , _v_) + i( , _s_) = ii( , _c_). this would mean, with regard to the production of gold, that as many consumer goods are taken from department ii as there are means of production supplied to it. but this is equally untrue. though the production of gold removes concrete means of production from the total social product and uses them as its constant capital, though it takes concrete consumer goods for the use of its workers and capitalists, corresponding to its variable capital and surplus value, the product it supplies yet cannot operate in any branch of production as a means of production, nor is it a consumer good, fit for human consumption. to include the production of money in the activities of department i, therefore, is to run counter to all the general proportions which express the relations of value in marx's diagram, and to diminish the diagram's validity. the attempt by marx to find room for the production of gold within department i (means of production) moreover leads to dubious results. the first act of circulation between this new sub-department (called by marx i_g_) and department ii (consumer goods) consists as usual in the workers' purchase of consumer goods from department ii with the money obtained as wages from the capitalists. this money is not yet a product of the new period of production. it has been reserved by the capitalists of department i_g_ out of the money contained in their product of an earlier period. this, indeed, is the normal procedure. but now marx allows the capitalists of department ii to buy gold from i_g_ with the money they have reserved, gold as a commodity material to the value of . this is a leap from the production of money into the industrial production of gold which is no more to do with the problem of the production of money than with the production of boot-polish. yet out of the i_g v_ that have been reserved, still remain, and as the capitalist, unable to use them as constant capital, does not know what to do with them, marx arranges for him to add them on to his own reserve of money. marx further finds the following way out to avoid a deficit in the constant capital of ii which must be exchanged completely against the means of production (i_v_ + i_s_): 'therefore, this money must be entirely transferred from ii_c_ to ii_s_, no matter whether it exists in necessities of life or articles of luxury, and vice versa, a corresponding value of commodities must be transferred from ii_s_ to ii_c_. result: a portion of the surplus-value is accumulated as a hoard of money.'[ ] a strange result, in all conscience! we have achieved an increase in money, a surplus of the money substance, by simply confining ourselves to the annual wear and tear of the money fund. this surplus value comes into existence, for some unknown reason, at the expense of the capitalists in the consumer goods department. they practise abstinence, not because they may want to expand their production of surplus value, let us say, but in order to secure a sufficient quantity of consumer goods for the workers engaged in the production of gold. the capitalists of department ii, however, get poor reward for this christian virtue. in spite of their abstinence, they are not only unable to expand their reproduction, but they are no longer even in the position to resume their production on its former scale. even if the corresponding 'commodity value' is transferred from ii_g_ to ii_c_, it is not only the value but its actual and concrete form which matters. as the new part of the product of i now consists of money which cannot be used as a means of production, department ii, in spite of its abstinence, cannot renew its constant material capital on the old scale. as our diagram presupposes simple reproduction, its condition are thus violated in two directions: surplus value is being hoarded, and the constant capital shows a deficit. marx's own results, then, prove that the production of gold cannot possibly find a place in either of the two departments of his diagram; the whole diagram is upset as soon as the first act of exchange between departments i and ii has been completed. as engels remarks in his footnote, 'the analysis of the exchange of newly produced gold within the constant capital of department i is not contained in the ms.'[ ] besides, the inconsistency would then only have been greater. the point of view we advocate is confirmed by marx himself when he gives an exhaustive answer to the question, as striking as it is brief: 'money in itself is not an element of actual reproduction.'[ ] there is another important reason why we should put the production of money in a third and separate department of social production as a whole: marx's diagram of simple reproduction is valid as the starting-point and foundation of the reproductive process not only for capitalism but also, _mutatis mutandis_, for every regulated and planned economic order, for instance a socialist one. however, the production of money, just like the commodity-form of the products, becomes obsolete when private ownership of the means of production is abolished. it constitutes the 'illegitimate' liabilities, the _faux frais_ of the anarchic economy under capitalism, a peculiar burden for a society based upon private enterprise, which implies the annual expenditure of a considerable amount of labour on the manufacture of products which are neither means of production nor yet consumer goods. this peculiar expenditure of labour by a society producing under capitalism will vanish in a socially planned economy. it is most adequately demonstrated by means of a separate department within the process of reproducing social capital. it is quite immaterial in this connection whether we picture a country which produces its own gold or a country which imports gold from abroad. the same expenditure of social labour which in the first case is necessary for the direct production of gold, is required in the second case to effect the exchange transactions. these observations show that the problem of the reproduction of total capital is not so crude as it often appears to those who approach it merely from the point of view of crises. the central problem might be formulated as follows: how is it possible that, in an unplanned economy, the aggregate production of innumerable individual capitalists can satisfy all the needs of society? one answer that suggests itself points to the continual fluctuations in the level of production in accordance with the fluctuating demand, i.e. the periodical changes in the market. this point of view, which regards the aggregate product of society as an undifferentiated mass of commodities, and treats social demand in an equally absurd way, overlooks the most important element, the _differentia specifica_ of the capitalist mode of production. we have seen that the problem of capitalist reproduction contains quite a number of precisely defined relations referring to specific capitalist categories and also, _mutatis mutandis_, to the general categories of human labour. the real problem consists in their inherent tendencies towards both conflict and harmony. marx's diagram is the scientific formulation of the problem. inquiry must now be made into the implications of this diagram analytic of the process of production. has it any real bearing on the problems of actual life? according to the diagram, circulation absorbs the entire social product; all consumers' needs are satisfied, and reproduction takes place without friction. the circulation of money succeeds the circulation of commodities, completing the cycle of social capital. but what is the position in real life? the relations outlined in the diagram lay down a precise first principle for the division of social labour in a planned production--always providing a system of simple reproduction, i.e. no changes in the volume of production. but no such planned organisation of the total process exists in a capitalist economy, and things do not run smoothly, along a mathematical formula, as suggested by the diagram. on the contrary, the course of reproduction shows continual deviations from the proportions of the diagram which become manifest (_a_) in the fluctuations of prices from day to day; (_b_) in the continual fluctuations of profits; (_c_) in the ceaseless flow of capital from one branch of production to another, and finally in the periodical and cyclical swings of reproduction between over-production and crisis. and yet, apart from all these deviations, the diagram presents a socially necessary average level in which all these movements must centre, to which they are always striving to return, once they have left it. that is why the fluctuating movements of the individual capitalists do not degenerate into chaos but are reduced to a certain order which ensures the prolonged existence of society in spite of its lack of a plan. in comparison, the similarities and the profound discrepancies between marx's diagram of reproduction and quesnay's _tableau Économique_ strike us at once. these two diagrams, the beginning and end of the period of classical economics, are the only attempts to describe an apparent chaos in precise terms, a chaos created by the interrelated movements of capitalist production and consumption, and by the disparity of innumerable private producers and consumers. both writers reduce this chaotic jumble of individual capitals to a few broadly conceived rules which serve, as it were, as moorings for the development of capitalist society, in spite of its chaos. they both achieve a synthesis between the two aspects which are the basis of the whole movement of social capital: that circulation is at one and the same time a capitalist process of producing and appropriating surplus value, and also a social process of producing and consuming material goods necessary to civilised human existence. both show the circulation of commodities to act as a mediator for the social process as a whole, and both conceive of the circulation of money as a subsidiary phenomenon, an external and superficial expression of the various stages within the circulation of commodities. it is socially necessary labour which creates value. this inspired fundamental law of marx's theory of value which provided the solution of the money problem, amongst others, further led him first to distinguish and then to integrate those two aspects in the total reproductive process: the aspect of value and that of actual material connections. secondly, marx's diagram is based upon the precise distinction between constant and variable capital which alone reveals the internal mechanisms of the production of surplus value and brings it, as a value-relationship, into precise relation with the two material categories of production: that of producer and consumer goods. after quesnay, some classical economists, adam smith and ricardo in particular, came fairly close to this point of view. ricardo's contribution, his precise elaboration of the theory of value, has even been frequently confused with that of marx. on the basis of his own theory of value, ricardo saw that smith's method of resolving the price of all commodities into _v + s_--a theory which wrought so much havoc in the analysis of reproduction--is wrong; but he was not much interested in smith's mistake, nor indeed very enthusiastic about the problem of reproduction as a whole. his analysis, in fact, represents a certain decline after that of adam smith, just as smith had partly retrogressed as against the physiocrats. if ricardo expounded the fundamental value categories of bourgeois economy--wages, surplus value and capital--much more precisely and consistently than his predecessors, he also treated them more rigidly. adam smith had shown infinitely more understanding for the living connections, the broad movements of the whole. in consequence he did not mind giving two, or, as in the case of the problem of value, even three or four different answers to the same question. though he contradicts himself quite cheerfully in the various parts of his analysis, these very contradictions are ever stimulating him to renewed effort, they make him approach the problem as a whole from an ever different point of view, and so to grasp its dynamics. ultimately, it was the limitation of their bourgeois mentalities which doomed both smith and ricardo to failure. a proper understanding of the fundamental categories of capitalist production, of value and surplus value as living dynamics of the social process demands the understanding of this process in its historical development and of the categories themselves as historically conditioned forms of the general relations of labour. this means that only a socialist can really solve the problem of the reproduction of capital. between the _tableau Économique_ and the diagram of reproduction in the second volume of _capital_ there lies the prosperity and decline of bourgeois economics, both in time and in substance. footnotes: [ ] in his seventh note to the _tableau Économique_, following up his arguments against the mercantilist theory of money as identical with wealth, quesnay says: 'the bulk of money in a nation cannot increase unless this reproduction itself increases; otherwise, an increase in the bulk of money would inevitably be prejudicial to the annual production of wealth.... therefore we must not judge the opulence of states on the basis of a greater or smaller quantity of money: thus a stock of money, equal to the income of the landowners, is deemed much more than enough for an agricultural nation where the circulation proceeds in a regular manner, and where commerce takes place in confidence and full liberty' (_analyse du tableau Économique_, ed. oncken, pp. - ). [ ] marx (_capital_, vol. ii, p. ) takes the money spent directly by the capitalists of department ii as the starting point of this act of exchange. as engels rightly says in his footnote, this does not affect the final result of circulation, but the assumption is not the correct condition of circulation within society. marx himself has given a better exposition in _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . _chapter vi_ enlarged reproduction the shortcomings of the diagram of simple reproduction are obvious: it explains the laws of a form of reproduction which is possible only as an occasional exception in a capitalist economy. it is not simple but enlarged reproduction which is the rule in every capitalist economic system, even more so than in any other.[ ] nevertheless, this diagram is of real scientific importance in two respects. in practice, even under conditions of enlarged reproduction, the greater part of the social product can be looked on as simple reproduction, which forms the broad basis upon which production in every case expands beyond its former limits. in theory, the analysis of simple reproduction also provides the necessary starting point for all scientific exposition of enlarged reproduction. the diagram of simple reproduction of the aggregate social capital therefore inevitably introduces the further problem of the enlarged reproduction of the total capital. we already know the historical peculiarity of enlarged reproduction on a capitalist basis. it must represent itself as accumulation of capital, which is both its specific form and its specific condition. that is to say, social production as a whole--which on a capitalist basis is the production of surplus value--can in every case be expanded only in so far as the social capital that has been previously active is now augmented by surplus value of its own creation. this use of part of the surplus value (and in particular the use of an increasing part of it) for the purpose of production instead of personal consumption by the capitalist class, or else the increase of reserves, is the basis of enlarged reproduction under capitalist conditions of production. the characteristic feature of enlarged reproduction of the aggregate social capital--just as in our previous assumption of simple reproduction--is the reproduction of individual capitals, since production as a whole, whether regarded as simple or as enlarged production, can in fact only occur in the form of innumerable independent movements of reproduction performed by private individual capitals. the first comprehensive analysis of the accumulation of individual capitals is given in volume i of marx's _capital_, section , chapters , . here marx treats of (_a_) the division of the surplus value into capital and revenue; (_b_) the circumstances which determine the accumulation of capital apart from this division, such as the degree of exploitation of labour power and labour productivity; (_c_) the growth of fixed capital relative to the circulating capital as a factor of accumulation; and (_d_) the increasing development of an industrial reserve army which is at the same time both a consequence and a prerequisite of the process of accumulation. in the course of this discussion, marx deals with two inspired notions of bourgeois economists with regard to accumulation: the 'theory of abstinence' as held by the more vulgar economists, who proclaim that the division of surplus value into capital, and thus accumulation itself, is an ethical and heroic act of the capitalists; and the fallacy of the classical economists, their doctrine that the entire capitalised part of the surplus value is used solely for consumption by the productive workers, that is to say spent altogether on wages for the workers employed year by year. this erroneous assumption, which completely overlooks the fact that every increase of production must manifest itself not only in the increased number of employed workers but also in the increase of the material means of production (premises, tools, and, certainly, raw materials) is obviously rooted in that 'dogma' of adam smith which we have already discussed. moreover, the assumption that the expenditure of a greater amount of capital on wages is sufficient to expand production, also results from the mistaken idea that the prices of all commodities are completely resolved into wages and surplus value, so that the constant capital is disregarded altogether. strangely enough, even ricardo who was, at any rate occasionally, aware of this element of error in smith's doctrine, subscribes most emphatically to its ultimate inferences, mistaken though they were: 'it must be understood, that all the productions of a country are consumed; but it makes the greatest difference imaginable whether they are consumed by those who reproduce, or by those who do not reproduce another value. when we say that revenue is saved, and added to capital, what we mean is, that the portion of revenue, so said to be added to capital, is consumed by productive, instead of unproductive labourers.'[ ] if all the goods produced are thus swallowed up by human consumption, there can clearly be no room to spare in the total social product for such unconsumable means of production as tools and machinery, new materials and buildings, and consequently enlarged reproduction, too, will have to take a peculiar course. what happens--according to this odd conception--is simply that staple foodstuffs for new workers will be produced to the amount of the capitalised part of surplus value instead of the choice delicacies previously provided for the capitalist class. the classical theory of enlarged reproduction does not admit of any variations other than those connected with the production of consumer goods. after our previous observations it is not surprising that marx could easily dispose of this elementary mistake of both ricardo and smith. just as simple reproduction requires a regulated renewal of the constant capital, the material means of production, quite apart from the production of consumer goods in the necessary quantity for labourer and capitalist, equally so in the case of expanding production must part of the new additional capital be used to enlarge the constant capital, that is to add to the material means of production. another law, marx discovered, must also be applied here. the constant capital, continually overlooked by the classical economists, increases relative to the variable capital that is spent on wages. this is merely the capitalist expression of the general effects of increasing labour productivity. with technical progress, human labour is able to set in motion ever larger masses of means of production and to convert them into goods. in capitalist terms, this means a progressive decrease in expenses for living labour, in wages, relative to the expenses for inanimate means of production. contrary to the assumption of adam smith and ricardo, enlarged reproduction must not only start with the division of the capitalised part of the surplus value into constant and variable capital, but, as the technique of production advances, it is bound to allocate in this division ever increasing portions to the constant, and ever diminishing portions to the variable capital. this continuous qualitative change in the composition of capital is the specific manifestation of the accumulation of capital, that is to say of enlarged reproduction on the basis of capitalism.[ ] the other side of this picture of continual changes in the relation between the portions of constant and variable capital is the formation of a relative surplus population, as marx called it, that is to say that part of the working population which exceeds the average needs of capital, and thus becomes redundant. this reserve of unemployable industrial labour (taken here in a broader sense, and including a proletariat that is dominated by merchant capital) is always present. it forms a necessary prerequisite of the sudden expansion of production in times of boom, and is another specific condition of capitalist accumulation.[ ] from the accumulation of individual capitals we can therefore deduce the following four characteristic phenomena of enlarged reproduction: ( ) the volume of enlarged reproduction is independent, within certain limits, of the growth of capital, and can transcend it. the necessary methods for achieving this are: increased exploitation of labour and natural forces, and increased labour productivity (including increased efficiency of the fixed capital). ( ) all real accumulation starts with that part of the surplus value which is intended for capitalisation being divided into constant and variable capital. ( ) accumulation as a social process is accompanied by continuous changes in the relation between constant and variable capital, whereby that portion of capital which is invested in inanimate means of production continually increases as compared with that expended on wages. ( ) concomitant with the accumulative process, and as a condition of the latter, there develops an industrial reserve army. these characteristics, derived from the reproductive process as it is performed by the individual capitals, represent an enormous step forward as compared with the analyses of bourgeois economists. now, however, our problem is to demonstrate the accumulation of the aggregate capital which originates from these movements of individual capitals, and on the basis of the diagram of simple reproduction to establish the precise relations between the aspects of value prevalent in the production of surplus value and the material considerations in the production of consumer and producer goods, with a view to accumulation. the essential difference between enlarged reproduction and simple reproduction consists in the fact that in the latter the capitalist class and its hangers-on consume the entire surplus value, whereas in the former a part of the surplus value is set aside from the personal consumption of its owners, not for the purpose of hoarding, but in order to increase the active capital, i.e. for capitalisation. to make this possible, the new additional capital must also find the material prerequisites for its activity forthcoming. here the concrete composition of the aggregate social product becomes important. marx says already in volume i, when he considers the accumulation of individual capitals: 'the annual production must in the first place furnish all those objects (use-values) from which the material components of capital, used up in the course of the year, have to be replaced. deducting these there remains the net or surplus-product, in which the surplus-value lies. and of what does this surplus-product consist? only of things destined to satisfy the wants and desires of the capitalist class, things which, consequently, enter into the consumption fund of the capitalists? were that the case, the cup of surplus-value would be drained to the very dregs, and nothing but simple reproduction would ever take place.--to accumulate it is necessary to convert a portion of the surplus-product into capital. but we cannot, except by a miracle, convert into capital anything but such articles as can be employed in the labour-process (i.e. means of production), and such further articles as are suitable for the sustenance of the labourer, (i.e. means of subsistence). consequently, a part of the annual surplus-labour must have been applied to the production of additional means of production and subsistence, over and above the quantity of these things required to replace the capital advanced. in one word, surplus-value is convertible into capital solely because the surplus-product, whose value it is, already comprises the material elements of new capital.'[ ] additional means of production, however, and additional consumer goods for the workers alone are not sufficient; to get enlarged reproduction really going, additional labour is also required. marx now finds a specific difficulty in this last condition: 'for this the mechanism of capitalist production provides beforehand, by converting the working class into a class dependent on wages, a class whose ordinary wages suffice, not only for its maintenance, but for its increase. it is only necessary for capital to incorporate this additional labour-power, annually supplied by the working class in the shape of labourers of all ages, with the surplus means of production comprised in the annual produce, and the conversion of surplus-value into capital is complete.'[ ] this is the first solution which marx gave to the problem of the accumulation of the aggregate capital. having dwelt on this aspect of the question already in volume i of _capital_, marx returns to the problem at the end of the second volume of his main work whose concluding st chapter is devoted to accumulation and enlarged reproduction of the aggregate capital. let us examine marx's diagrammatic exposition of accumulation more closely. on the model of the diagram of simple reproduction with which we are already familiar, he devised a diagram for enlarged reproduction, the difference appearing most clearly if we compare the two. assuming that society's annual aggregate product can be represented by an amount to the value of , (denoting millions of working hours, or, in capitalist monetary terms, any arbitrary amount of money), the aggregate product is to be distributed as follows: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ----- total: , department i represents means of production, department ii consumer goods. one glance at the proportion of the figures shows that in this case simple reproduction alone is possible. the means of production made in department i equal the total of the means of production actually used by the two departments. if these are merely renewed, production can be repeated only on its previous scale. on the other hand, the aggregate product of department ii equals the total of wages and surplus value in both departments. this shows that the consumer goods available permit only the employment of just as many workers as were previously employed, and that the entire surplus value is similarly spent on consumer goods, i.e. the personal consumption of the capitalist class. now let us take the same aggregate product of , in the following equation: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ----- total: , here a double disproportion confronts us: , means of production are created--more than those which are actually used by the society, i.e. _ , c + , c_, leaving a surplus of . similarly, less consumer goods ( , ) are produced than the sum of what is paid out in wages (i.e. _ , v + v_, the requirement of the workers), plus the aggregate of surplus value that has been produced (_ , s + s_). this results in a deficit of . since our premises do not allow us to decrease the number of workers employed, the consequence must be that the capitalist class cannot consume the entire surplus value it has pocketed. this proves fully consistent with the two material preconditions of enlarged reproduction on a capitalist basis: part of the appropriated surplus value is not to be consumed but is used for the purposes of production; and more means of production must be produced so as to ensure the use of the capitalised surplus value for the actual expansion of reproduction. in considering the diagram of simple reproduction, we saw that its fundamental social conditions are contained in the following equation: the aggregate of means of production (the product of department i) must be equivalent to the constant capital of both departments, but the aggregate of consumer goods (the product of department ii) must equal the sum of variable capitals _and_ surplus values of the two departments. as regards enlarged reproduction, we must now infer a precise inverse double ratio. the general precondition of enlarged reproduction is that the product of department i must be greater in value than the constant capital of both departments taken together, and that of department ii must be so much less than the sum total of both the variable capital and the surplus value in the two departments. this, however, by no means completes the analysis of enlarged reproduction; rather has it led us merely to the threshold of the question. having deduced the proportions of the diagram, we must now pursue their further activities, the flow of circulation and the continuity of reproduction. just as simple reproduction may be compared to an unchanging circle, to be repeated time and again, so enlarged reproduction, to quote sismondi, is comparable to a spiral with ever expanding loops. let us begin by examining the loops of this spiral. the first general question arising in this connection is how actual accumulation proceeds in the two departments under the conditions now known to us, i.e. how the capitalists may capitalise part of their surplus value, and at the same time acquire the material prerequisites necessary for enlarged reproduction. marx expounds the question in the following way: let us assume that half the surplus value of department i is being accumulated. the capitalists, then, use for their consumption but augment their capital by another . in order to become active, this additional capital of must be divided, as we now know, into constant and variable capital. assuming the ratio of to remains what it was for the original capital, the capitalists of department i will divide their additional capital of thus: they will buy new means of production for and new labour for . this does not present any difficulties, since we know that department i has already produced a surplus of means of production. yet the corresponding enlargement of the variable capital by units of money is not enough, since the new additional labour power must also find adequate consumer goods which can only be supplied by department ii. now the circulation between the two large departments is shifting. formerly, under conditions of simple reproduction, department i acquired , consumer goods for its own workers, and now it must find another for its new workers. department i therefore engages in enlarged reproduction as follows: _ , c + , v_. department ii, in turn, after selling these consumer goods to the value of , is now in a position to acquire additional means of production to the same amount from department i. and in fact, department i still has precisely one hundred of its surplus product left over which now find their way into department ii, enabling the latter to expand its own reproduction as well. yet here, too, the additional means of production alone are not much use; to make them operate, additional labour power is needed. assuming again that the previous composition of capital has been maintained, with a ratio of to as regards constant and variable capital, additional labour to the tune of is required to work the additional means of production. this additional labour, however, needs additional consumer goods to the amount of its wages, which are in fact supplied by department ii itself. this department must therefore produce, in addition to the additional consumer goods for the new workers of department i and the goods for the consumption of its own workers, a further amount of consumer goods to the tune of as part of its aggregate product. department ii therefore starts on enlarged reproduction at a rate of _ , c + v_. now the aggregate product of department i ( , ) has been absorbed completely. , were necessary for renewing the old and used-up means of production in both departments, and the remaining for the expansion of production: in department i and in department ii. as regards the aggregate product of department ii ( , ), , have been used for the increased labour force in the two departments, and the , consumer goods which remain serve the capitalists for their personal consumption, the consumption of their surplus value. are consumed in department i, and in department ii where, out of a surplus value of , only had been capitalised ( being expended on means of production and on wages). enlarged reproduction can now proceed on its course. if we maintain our rate of exploitation at per cent, as in the case of the original capital, the next period will give the following results: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ----- total: , the aggregate product of society has grown from , to , , the surplus value of department i from , to , , and of department ii from to . the object of the capitalist expansion of production, the increased production of surplus value, has been gained. at the same time, the material composition of the aggregate social product again shows a surplus of as regards the means of production ( , ) over and above those which are actually needed ( ,  + , ), and also a deficit in consumer goods as against the sum total made up by the wages previously paid (_ , v + v_) and the surplus value that has been created (_ , s + s_). and thus we again have the material possibility as well as the necessity to use part of the surplus value, not for consumption by the capitalist class, but for a new expansion of production. the second enlargement of production, and increased production of surplus value, thus follows from the first as a matter of course and with mathematical precision. the accumulation of capital, once it has started, automatically leads farther and farther beyond itself. the circle has become a spiral which winds itself higher and higher as if compelled by a natural law in the guise of mathematical terms. assuming that in the following years there is always capitalisation of half the surplus value, while the composition of the capital and the rate of exploitation remain unchanged, the reproduction of capital will result in the following progression: _ nd year:_ i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ------ total: , _ rd year:_ i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ------ total: , _ th year:_ i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ------ total: , _ th year:_ i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ------ total: , thus, after five years of accumulation, the aggregate social product is found to have grown from , to , , the social aggregate capital from (_ , c + , v = , _) to (_ , c + , v = , _) and the surplus value from (_ , s + s = , _) to (_ , s + , s = , _), whereby the surplus value for personal consumption, being , at the beginning of accumulation, has grown to  +  = , in the last year.[ ] the capitalist class, then, has capitalised more, it has practised greater abstinence, and yet it has been able to live better. society, in a material respect, has become richer, richer in means of production, richer in consumer goods, and it has equally become richer in the capitalist sense of the term since it produces more surplus value. the social product circulates _in toto_ in society. partly it serves to enlarge reproduction and partly it serves consumption. the requirements of capitalist accumulation correspond to the material composition of the aggregate social product. what marx said in volume i of _capital_ is true: the increased surplus value can be added on to capital because the social surplus product comes into the world from the very first in the material form of means of production, in a form incapable of utilisation except in the productive process. at the same time reproduction expands in strict conformity with the laws of circulation: the mutual supply of the two departments of production with additional means of production and consumer goods proceeds as an exchange of equivalents. it is an exchange of commodities in the course of which the very accumulation of one department is the condition of accumulation in the other and makes this possible. the complicated problem of accumulation is thus converted into a diagrammatic progression of surprising simplicity. we may continue the above chain of equations _ad infinitum_ so long as we observe this simple principle: that a certain increase in the constant capital of department i always necessitates a certain increase in its variable capital, which predetermines beforehand the extent of the increase in department ii, with which again a corresponding increase in the variable capital must be co-ordinated. finally, it depends on the extent of increase in the variable capital in both departments, how much of the total may remain for personal consumption by the capitalist class. the extent of this increase will also show that this amount of consumer goods which remains for private consumption by the capitalist is exactly equivalent to that part of the surplus value which has not been capitalised in either department. there are no limits to the continuation of this diagrammatic development of accumulation in accordance with the few easy rules we have demonstrated. but now it is time to take care lest we should only have achieved these surprisingly smooth results through simply working out certain fool-proof mathematical exercises in addition and subtraction, and we must further inquire whether it is not merely because mathematical equations are easily put on paper that accumulation will continue _ad infinitum_ without any friction. in other words: the time has come to look for the concrete social conditions of accumulation. footnotes: [ ] 'the premise of simple reproduction, that i(_v + s_) is equal to ii_c_, is irreconcilable with capitalist production, although this does not exclude the possibility that a certain year in an industrial cycle of ten or eleven years may not show a smaller total production than the preceding year, so that there would not have been even a simple reproduction, compared to the preceding year. indeed, considering the natural growth of population per year, simple reproduction could take place only in so far as a correspondingly larger number of unproductive servants would partake of the , representing the aggregate surplus-product. but accumulation of capital, actual capitalist production, would be impossible under such circumstances' (_capital_, vol. ii, p. ). [ ] ricardo, _principles_, chap. viii, 'on taxes'. macculloch's edition of ricardo's works, p. , note. (reference not given in original.) [ ] 'the specifically capitalist mode of production, the development of the productive power of labour corresponding to it, and the change thence resulting in the organic composition of capital, do not merely keep pace with the advance of accumulation, or with the growth of social wealth. they develop at a much quicker rate, because mere accumulation, the absolute increase of the total social capital, is accompanied by the centralisation of the individual capitals of which that total is made up; and because the change in the technological composition of the additional capital goes hand in hand with a similar change in the technological composition of the original capital. with the advance of accumulation, therefore, the proportion of constant to variable capital changes. if it was originally say  : , it now becomes successively  : ,  : ,  : ,  : ,  : , etc., so that, as the capital increases, instead of / of its total value, only / , / , / , / , / , etc., is transformed into labour-power, and, on the other hand, / , / , / , / , / into means of production. since the demand for labour is determined not by the amount of capital as a whole, but by its variable constituent alone, that demand falls progressively with the increase of the total capital, instead of, as previously assumed, rising in proportion to it. it falls relatively to the magnitude of the total capital, and at an accelerated rate, as this magnitude increases. with the growth of the total capital, its variable constituent or the labour incorporated in it, also does increase, but in a constantly diminishing proportion. the intermediate pauses are shortened, in which accumulation works as simple extension of production, on a given technical basis. it is not merely that an accelerated accumulation of total capital, accelerated in a constantly growing progression, is needed to absorb an additional number of labourers, or even, on account of the constant metamorphosis of old capital, to keep employed those already functioning. in its turn, this increasing accumulation and centralisation becomes a source of new changes in the composition of capital, of a more accelerated diminution of its variable, as compared with its constant constituent' (_capital_, vol. i, pp. - ). [ ] 'the course characteristic of modern industry, viz., a decennial cycle (interrupted by smaller oscillations), of periods of average activity, production at high pressure, crisis and stagnation, depends on the constant formation, the greater or less absorption, and the re-formation of the industrial reserve army or surplus population. in their turn, the varying phases of the industrial cycle recruit the surplus population, and become one of the most energetic agents of its reproduction' (ibid., pp. - ). [ ] _capital_, vol. i. pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . _chapter vii_ analysis of marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction the first enlargement of reproduction gave the following picture: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ----- total: , this already clearly expresses the interdependence of the two departments--but it is a dependence of a peculiar kind. accumulation here originates in department i, and department ii merely follows suit. thus it is department i alone that determines the volume of accumulation. marx effects accumulation here by allowing department i to capitalise one-half of its surplus value; department ii, however, may capitalise only as much as is necessary to assure the production and accumulation of department i. he makes the capitalists of department ii consume _s_ as against the consumption of only _s_ by the capitalists of department i who have appropriated twice the amount of value and far more surplus value. in the next year, he assumes the capitalists of department i again to capitalise half their surplus value, this time making the capitalists of department ii capitalise more than in the previous year--summarily fixing the amount to tally exactly with the needs of department i. _s_ now remain for the consumption of the capitalists of department ii--less than the year before--surely a rather queer result of accumulation on any showing. marx now describes the process as follows: 'then let department i continue accumulation at the same ratio, so that _s_ are spent as revenue, and _s_ accumulated. in that case, , i_v_ are first replaced by , i_c_, and i_s_ must be realised in an equal amount of commodities of ii, making a total of , i(_v + s_). but the constant capital of ii, which is to be replaced, amounts only to , , and the remaining must be made up out of ii_s_. leaving aside the money aspect of the matter, we have as a result of this transaction: 'i. _ , c + s_ (to be capitalised); furthermore, realised in commodities of ii for the fund for consumption of the capitalists and labourers of i, , (_v + s_). 'ii. _ , c + v + s_. 'in department i, _s_ must be capitalised. if the former proportion is maintained, of this amount form constant capital, and variable capital. these must be eventually taken out of ii_s_, that is to say, articles of consumption to the value of are consumed by the labourers of i instead of the capitalists of ii, so that the latter are compelled to capitalise these _s_ which they cannot consume. this leaves ii_s_ of the ii_s_. but if ii thus converts these into additional constant capital, it requires an additional variable capital of . this again must be taken out of its surplus value. subtracting this amount from ii_s_, we find that only ii_s_ remain for the consumption of the capitalists of ii, and we obtain the following values of capital after accomplishing all actual and potential transfers: i. _( , c+ c) + ( , v+ v) = , c + , v = , _ ii. _( , c+ c+ c) + ( v+ v+ v) = , c + v = , _ ----- total: , '[ ] this quotation is given at length since it shows very clearly how marx here effects accumulation in department i at the expense of department ii. in the years that follow, the capitalists of the provisions department get just as rough a deal. following the same rules, marx allows them in the third year to accumulate _s_--a larger amount this time than in the two preceding years. in the fourth year they are allowed to capitalise _s_ and to consume _s_, and in the fifth year they accumulate _s_ and consume _s_. marx even says: 'if things are to proceed normally, accumulation in ii must take place more rapidly than in i, because that portion of i(_v + s_) which must be converted into commodities of ii_c_, would otherwise grow more rapidly than ii_c_, for which it can alone be exchanged.'[ ] yet the figures we have quoted fail to show a quicker accumulation in department ii, and in fact show it to fluctuate. here the principle seems to be as follows: marx enables accumulation to continue by broadening the basis of production in department i. accumulation in department ii appears only as a condition and consequence of accumulation in department i: absorbing, in the first place, the other's surplus means of production and supplying it, secondly, with the necessary surplus of consumer goods for its additional labour. department i retains the initiative all the time, department ii being merely a passive follower. thus the capitalists of department ii are only allowed to accumulate just as much as, and are made to consume no less than, is needed for the accumulation of department i. while in department i half the surplus value is capitalised every time, and the other half consumed, so that there is an orderly expansion both of production and of personal consumption by the capitalists, the twofold process in department ii takes the following erratic course: st year: are capitalised, consumed nd rd th th here there is no rule in evidence for accumulation and consumption to follow; both are wholly subservient to the requirements of accumulation in department i. needless to say, the absolute figures of the diagram are arbitrary in every equation, but that does not detract from their scientific value. it is the _quantitative ratios_ which are relevant, since they are supposed to express strictly determinate relationships. those precise logical rules that lay down the relations of accumulation in department i, seem to have been gained at the cost of any kind of principle in construing these relations for department ii; and this circumstance calls for a revision of the immanent connections revealed by the analysis. it might, however, be permissible to assume the defect to lie in a rather unhappy choice of example. marx himself, dissatisfied with the diagram quoted above, proceeded forthwith to give a second example in order to elucidate the movements of accumulation, where the figures of the equation run in the following order: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ----- total: , in contrast to the previous example, the capital of both departments is here seen to have the same composition, i.e. constant and variable capital are in a ratio of to . this already presupposes a considerable development of capitalist production, and accordingly of social labour productivity--a considerable preliminary expansion of the scale of production, and finally, a development of all the circumstances which bring about a relatively redundant surplus population in the working class. we are no longer introduced to enlarged reproduction, as in the first example, at the stage of the original transition from simple to enlarged reproduction--the only point of that is in any case for the sake of abstract theory. this time, we are brought face to face with the process of accumulation as it goes on at a definite and rather advanced stage of development. it is perfectly legitimate to assume these conditions, and they in no way distort the principles we must employ in order to work out the individual loops of the reproductive spiral. here again marx takes for a starting point the capitalisation of half the surplus value in department i. 'now take it that the capitalist class of i consumes one-half of the surplus-value, or , and accumulates the other half. in that case (_ , v + s_) i, or , , must be converted into , ii_c_. since ii_c_ amounts to only , , it is necessary to take from the surplus-value. subtracting this sum from _s_ leaves ii_s_. then we have: 'i. _ , c + s_ (to be capitalised) + , (_v + s_) in the fund set aside for consumption by capitalists and labourers. 'ii. _ , c + s_ (to be capitalised) + _ v + s_. as ii_s_ are directly annexed by ii_c_, a variable capital of  : , or , is required to set this additional constant capital in motion. these must come out of the _s_, so that only remain, and we have: 'ii _( , ) + c + ( v + v) + s_.'[ ] after these preliminary arrangements, capitalisation can now proceed. this is done as follows: in department i the _s_ which have been capitalised are divided into five-sixths ( _c_) + one-sixth ( _v_). these _v_ withdraw a corresponding amount from ii_s_ which serves to buy units of constant capital and thus accrues to ii_c_. an increase of ii_c_ by involves the necessity of an increase in ii_v_ by (one-fifth of ). after the completion of this turnover we therefore have: i. _( , c + s) + ( , v + s)v = , c + , v = , _ ii. _( , c + s) + ( v + s) = , c + v = , _ ----- total: , the capital of department i has grown from , to , , i.e. by one-twelfth; in department ii it has grown from , to , , i.e. by just over one-ninth. at the end of the next year, the results of reproduction on this basis are: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ----- total: , if the same ratio is maintained in the continuance of accumulation, the result at the end of the second year is as follows: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ------ total: , and at the end of the third year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ ------ total: , in the course of three years, the total social capital has increased from i. ,  + ii. ,  = , to i. ,  + ii. ,  = , , and the total product from , to , . accumulation in both departments here proceeds uniformly, in marked difference from the first example. from the second year onwards, both departments capitalise half their surplus value and consume the other half. a bad choice of figures in the first example thus seems to be responsible for its arbitrary appearance. but we must check up to make sure that it is not only a mathematical manipulation with cleverly chosen figures which this time ensures the smooth progress of accumulation. in the first as well as in the second example, we are continually struck by a seemingly general rule of accumulation: to make any accumulation possible, department ii must always enlarge its constant capital by precisely the amount by which department i increases (_a_) the proportion of surplus value for consumption and (_b_) its variable capital. if we take the example of the first year as an illustration, the constant capital of department ii must be increased by . and why? because this capital was only , before. but if the capitalists of department i wish to accumulate half their surplus value ( , ) and to consume the other half, they need consumer goods for themselves and for their workers to the tune of , units which they can obtain only from department ii in exchange for their own products--means of production. since department ii has already satisfied its own demand for producer goods to the extent of its own constant capital ( , ), this exchange is only possible if department ii decides to enlarge its own constant capital by . this means that it must enlarge its own production--and it can do so only by capitalising a corresponding part of its surplus value. if this surplus value amounts to in department ii, of it must be added to the constant capital. the first step towards expansion of production in department ii is thus demonstrated to be at the same time the condition for, and the consequence of, increased consumption by the capitalists of department i. but to proceed. hitherto, the capitalists of department i could only spend one-half of their surplus value ( ) on personal consumption. to capitalise the other half, they must redistribute these _s_ in such a way as to maintain at least the previous ratio of composition, i.e. they must increase the constant capital by and the variable capital by . the first operation presents no difficulties: the surplus value of belonging to the capitalists of department i is contained in a natural form in their own product, the means of production, and is fit straightway to enter into the process of production; department i can therefore enlarge its constant capital with the appropriate quantity of its own product. but the remaining can only be used as variable capital if there is a corresponding quantity of consumer goods for the newly employed workers. here it becomes evident for the second time that accumulation in department i is dependent upon department ii: department i must receive for its workers more consumer goods than before from department ii. as this is again possible only by way of commodity exchange, department i can satisfy its demands only on condition that department ii is prepared for its part to take up products of department i, producer goods, to the tune of . since department ii has no use for the means of production except to employ them in the process of production, it becomes not only possible but even necessary that department ii should increase its own constant capital by these very which will now be used for capitalisation and are thus again withdrawn from the consumable surplus value of this department. the increase in the variable capital of department i thus entails the second step in the enlargement of production in department ii. all material prerequisites of accumulation in department i are now present and enlarged reproduction can proceed. department ii, however, has so far made only two increases in its constant capital. the result of this enlargement is that if the newly acquired means of production are indeed to be used, the quantity of labour power must be increased correspondingly. maintaining the previous ratio, the new constant capital of requires a new variable capital of . this implies the necessity to capitalise a corresponding further amount of the surplus value. thus the fund for the capitalists' personal consumption in department ii comes to be what remains of the surplus value ( _s_) after deduction of the amounts used for twice enlarging the constant capital (  + ) and a commensurate increase in the variable capital ( )--a fund of , after deducting a total of . similar operations in the second year of accumulation result for department ii in its surplus value being divided into for capitalisation and for the consumption of its capitalists, and in the third year, the figures become and respectively. we have studied this process so closely, tracing it step by step, because it shows clearly that the accumulation of department ii is completely determined and dominated by the accumulation of department i. though this dependence is no longer expressed, as in marx's first example, by arbitrary changes in the distribution of the surplus value, it does not do away with the fact itself, even if now the surplus value is always neatly halved by each department, one-half for capitalisation and the other for personal consumption. though there is nothing to choose between the capitalists of the two departments as far as the figures are concerned, it is quite obvious that department i has taken the initiative and actively carries out the whole process of accumulation, while department ii is merely a passive appendage. this dependence is also expressed in the following precise rule: accumulation must proceed simultaneously in both departments, and it can do so only on condition that the provisions-department increases its constant capital by the precise amount by which the capitalists of the means-of-production-department increase both their variable capital and their fund for personal consumption. this equation (increase ii_c_ = increase i_v_ + increase i_s.c_.)[ ] is the mathematical cornerstone of marx's diagram of accumulation, no matter what figures we may choose for its concrete application. but now we must see whether capitalist accumulation does in actual fact conform to this hard and fast rule. let us first return to simple reproduction. marx's diagram, it will be remembered, was as follows: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of consumption ----- , total production here, too, we established certain equations which form the foundation of simple reproduction; they were: (_a_) the product of department i equals in value the sum of the two constant capitals in departments i and ii. (_b_) the constant capital of department ii equals the sum of variable capital and surplus value in department i--a necessary consequence of (_a_). (_c_) the product of department ii equals the sum of variable capital and surplus value in both departments--a necessary consequence of (_a_) and (_b_). these equations correspond to the conditions of capitalist commodity production (at the restricted level of simple reproduction, however). equation (_b_), for instance, is a result of the production of commodities, entailed by the fact, in other words, that the entrepreneurs of either department can only obtain the products of the other by an exchange of equivalents. variable capital and surplus value in department i together represent the demand of this department for consumer goods. the product of department ii must provide for the satisfaction of this demand, but consumer goods can only be obtained in exchange for an equivalent part of the product of department i, the means of production. these equivalents, useless to department ii in their natural form if not employed as constant capital in the process of production, will thus determine how much constant capital there is to be in department ii. if this proportion were not adhered to, if, e.g., the constant capital of department ii (as a quantity of value) were larger than i(_v + s_), then it could not be completely transformed into means of production, since the demand of department i for consumer goods would be too small; if the constant capital (ii) were smaller than i(_v + s.c_), either the previous quantity of labour power could not be employed in this department, or the capitalists could not consume the whole of their surplus value. in all these cases, the premises of simple reproduction would be violated. these equations, however, are not just an exercise in mathematics, nor do they merely result from the system of commodity production. to convince us of this fact, there is a simple means at hand. let us imagine for a moment that, instead of a capitalist method of production, we have a socialist, i.e. a planned society in which the social division of labour has come to replace exchange. this society also will divide its labour power into producers of means of production and producers of means of consumption. let us further imagine the technical development of labour to be such that two-thirds of social labour are employed in the manufacture of producer goods and one-third in the manufacture of consumer goods. suppose that under these conditions , units (reckoned on a daily, monthly, or yearly basis) suffice to maintain the whole working population of the society, one thousand of these being employed, according to our premise, in department soc. i (making means of production), and five hundred in department soc. ii (making consumer goods), and that the means of production dating from previous labour periods and used up during one year's labour, represent , labour units. this labour programme, however, would not be adequate for the society, since considerably more labour will be needed to maintain all those of its members who do not work in the material, the productive sense of the term: the child, the old and sick, the civil servant, the artist and the scientist. moreover, every society needs certain reserves against a rainy day, as a protection against natural calamities. taking it that precisely the same quantity of labour and, similarly, of means of production as that required for the workers' own maintenance is needed to maintain all the non-workers and to build up the reserves, then, from the figures previously assumed, we should get the following diagram for a regulated production: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of consumption here _c_ stands for the material means of production that have been used, expressed in terms of social labour time; _v_ stands for the social labour time necessary to maintain the workers themselves and _s_ for that needed to maintain those who do not work and to build up the reserves. if we check up on the proportions of this diagram, we obtain the following result: there is neither commodity production nor exchange, but in truth a social division of labour. the products of department i are assigned to the workers of department ii in the requisite quantities, and the products of department ii are apportioned to everyone, worker or no, in both departments, and also to the reserve-fund; all this being the outcome not of an exchange of equivalents but of a social organisation that plans and directs the process as a whole--because existing demands must be satisfied and production knows no other end but to satisfy the demands of society. yet all that does not detract from the validity of the equations. the product of department i must equal i_c_ + ii_c_: this means simply that department i must annually renew all the means of production which society has used up during one year's labour. the product of department ii must equal the sum of i(_v + s_) + ii(_v + s_): this means that society must each year produce as many consumer goods as are required by all its members, whether they work or not, plus a quota for the reserve fund. the proportions of the diagram are as natural and as inevitable for a planned economy as they are for a capitalist economy based upon anarchy and the exchange of commodities. this proves the diagram to have objective social validity, even if, just because it concerns _simple_ reproduction, it has hardly more than theoretical interest for either a capitalist or a planned economy, finding practical application only in the rarest of cases. the same sort of scrutiny must now be turned on the diagram of enlarged reproduction. taking marx's second example as the basis for our test, let us again imagine a socialist society. from the point of view of a regulated society we shall, of course, have to start with department ii, not with department i. assuming this society to grow rapidly, the result will be an increasing demand for provisions by its members, whether they work or not. this demand is growing so quickly that a constantly increasing quantity of labour--disregarding for the moment the progress of labour productivity--will be needed for the production of consumer goods. the quantities required, expressed in terms of social labour incorporated in them, increase from year to year in a progression of, say, ,  : ,  : ,  : , and so on. let us further assume that technical conditions demand an increasing amount of means of production for producing this growing quantity of provisions, which, again measured in terms of social labour, mounts from year to year in the following progression: ,  : ,  : ,  : , and so on. to achieve this enlargement of production, we must further have a growth in the labour performed _per annum_ according to the following progression: ,  : ,  : ,  : , . [the figures correspond to the respective amounts of i(_v + s_) + ii(_v + s_).] finally, the labour performed annually must be so distributed that one-half is always used for maintaining the workers themselves, a quarter for maintaining those who do not work, and the last quarter for the purpose of enlarging production in the following year. thus we obtain the proportions of marx's second diagram of enlarged reproduction for a socialist society. in fact, three conditions are indispensable if production is to be enlarged in any society, even in a planned economy: ( ) the society must have an increasing quantity of labour power at its disposal; ( ) in every working period, the immediate needs of society must not claim the whole of its working time, so that part of the time can be devoted to making provision for the future and its growing demands; ( ) means of production must be turned out year after year in sufficiently growing quantities--without which production cannot be enlarged on a rising scale. in respect of all these general points, marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction has objective validity--_mutatis mutandis_--for a planned society. it remains to test whether it is also valid for a capitalist economy. here we must ask first of all: what is the starting point of accumulation? that is the approach on which we have to investigate the mutual dependence of the accumulative process in the two departments of production. there can be no doubt that under capitalist conditions department ii is dependent upon department i in so far as its accumulation is determined by the additional means of production available. conversely, the accumulation in department i depends upon a corresponding quantity of additional consumer goods being available for its additional labour power. it does not follow, however, that so long as both these conditions are observed, accumulation in both departments is bound, as marx's diagram makes it appear, to go on automatically year after year. the conditions of accumulation we have enumerated are no more than those without which there can be no accumulation. there may even be a desire to accumulate in both departments, yet the desire to accumulate plus the technical prerequisites of accumulation is not enough in a capitalist economy of commodity production. a further condition is required to ensure that accumulation can in fact proceed and production expand: the effective demand for commodities must also increase. where is this continually increasing demand to come from, which in marx's diagram forms the basis of reproduction on an ever rising scale? it cannot possibly come from the capitalists of departments i and ii themselves--so much is certain right away--it cannot arise out of their personal consumption. on the contrary, it is the very essence of accumulation that the capitalists refrain from consuming a part of their surplus value which must be ever increasing--at least as far as absolute figures are concerned--that they use it instead to make goods for the use of other people. it is true that with accumulation the personal consumption of the capitalist class will grow and that there may even be an increase in the total value consumed; nevertheless it will still be no more than a part of the surplus value that is used for the capitalists' consumption. that indeed is the foundation of accumulation: the capitalists' abstention from consuming the whole of their surplus value. but what of the remaining surplus value, the part that is accumulated? for whom can it be destined? according to marx's diagram, department i has the initiative: the process starts with the production of producer goods. and who requires these additional means of production? the diagram answers that department ii needs them in order to produce means of consumption in increased quantities. well then, who requires these additional consumer goods? department i, of course--replies the diagram--because it now employs a greater number of workers. we are plainly running in circles. from the capitalist point of view it is absurd to produce more consumer goods merely in order to maintain more workers, and to turn out more means of production merely to keep this surplus of workers occupied. admittedly, as far as the individual capitalist is concerned, the worker is just as good a consumer, i.e. purchaser of his commodity, as another capitalist or anyone else, provided that he can pay. every individual capitalist realises his surplus value in the price of his commodity, whether he sells it to the worker or to some other buyer. but this does not hold true from the point of view of the capitalist class as a whole. the working class in general receives from the capitalist class no more than an assignment to a determinate part of the social product, precisely to the extent of the variable capital. the workers buying consumer goods therefore merely refund to the capitalist class the amount of the wages they have received, their assignment to the extent of the variable capital. they cannot return a groat more than that; and if they are in a position to save in order to make themselves independent as small entrepreneurs, they may even return less, though this is the exception. part of the surplus value is consumed by the capitalist class itself in form of consumer goods, the money exchanged for these being retained in the capitalists' pockets. but who can buy the products incorporating the other, the capitalised part of the surplus value? partly the capitalists themselves--the diagram answers--who need new means of production for the purpose of expanding production, and partly the new workers who will be needed to work these new means of production. but that implies a previous capitalist incentive to enlarge production; if new workers are set to work with new means of production, there must have been a new demand for the products which are to be turned out. perhaps the answer is that the natural increase of the population creates this growing demand. in fact, the growth of the population and its needs provided the starting point for our examination of enlarged reproduction in an hypothetical socialist society. there the requirements of society could serve as an adequate basis, since the only purpose of production was the satisfaction of wants. in a capitalist society, however, the matter is rather different. what kind of people are we thinking of when we speak of an increase in the population? there are only two classes of the population according to marx's diagram, the capitalists and the workers. the natural increase of the former is already catered for by that part of the surplus value which is consumed inasmuch as it increases in absolute quantity. in any case, it cannot be the capitalists who consume the remainder, since capitalist consumption of the entire surplus value would mean a reversion to simple reproduction. that leaves the workers, their class also growing by natural increase. yet a capitalist economy is not interested in this increase for its own sake, as a starting point of growing needs. the production of consumer goods for i_v_ and ii_v_ is not an end in itself, as it would be in a society where the economic system is shaped for the workers and the satisfaction of their wants. in a capitalist system, department ii does not produce means of consumption in large quantities simply to keep the workers of departments i and ii. quite the contrary: a certain number of workers in departments i and ii can support themselves in every case because their labour power is useful under the obtaining conditions of supply and demand. this means that the starting point of capitalist production is not a given number of workers and their demands, but that these factors themselves are constantly fluctuating, 'dependent variables' of the capitalist expectations of profit. the question is therefore whether the natural increase of the working class also entails a growing effective demand over and above the variable capital. and that is quite impossible. the only source of money for the working class in our diagram is the variable capital which must therefore provide in advance for the natural increase of the workers. one way or the other: either the older generation must earn enough to keep their offspring--who cannot, then, count as additional consumers; or, failing that, the next generation, the young workers, must turn to work in order to obtain wages and means of subsistence for themselves--in which case the new working generation is already included in the number of workers employed. on this count, the process of accumulation in marx's diagram cannot be explained by the natural increase of the population. but wait! even under the sway of capitalism, society does not consist exclusively of capitalists and wage labourers. apart from these two classes, there are a host of other people: the landowners, the salaried employees, the liberal professions such as doctors, lawyers, artists and scientists. moreover, there is the church and its servants, the clergy, and finally the state with its officials and armed forces. all these strata of the population can be counted, strictly speaking, neither among the capitalist nor among the working class. yet society has to feed and support them. perhaps it is they, these strata apart from the capitalists and wage labourers, who call forth enlarged reproduction by their demand. but this seeming solution cannot stand up to a closer scrutiny. the landowners must as consumers of rent, i.e. of part of the surplus value, quite obviously be numbered among the capitalist class; since we are here concerned with the surplus value in its undivided, primary form, their consumption is already allowed for in the consumption of the capitalist class. the liberal professions in most cases obtain their money, i.e. the assignment to part of the social product, directly or indirectly from the capitalist class who pay them with bits of their own surplus value. and the same applies to the clergy, with the difference only that its members also obtain their purchasing power in part from the workers, i.e. from wages. the upkeep of the state, lastly, with its officers and armed forces is borne by the rates and taxes, which are in their turn levied upon either the surplus value or the wages. within the limits of marx's diagram there are in fact only the two sources of income in a society: the labourers' wages and the surplus value. all the strata of the population we have mentioned as apart from the capitalists and the workers, are thus to be taken only for joint consumers of these two kinds of income. marx himself rejects any suggestion that these 'third persons' are more than a subterfuge: 'all members of society not directly engaged in reproduction, with or without labour, can obtain their share of the annual produce of commodities--in other words, their articles of consumption ... only out of the hands of those classes who are the first to handle the product, that is to say, productive labourers, industrial capitalists, and real estate owners. to that extent their revenues are substantially derived from wages (of the productive labourers), profit and ground rent, and appear as indirect derivations when compared to these primary sources of revenue. but, on the other hand, the recipients of these revenues, thus indirectly derived, draw them by grace of their social functions, for instance that of a king, priest, professor, prostitute, soldier, etc., and they may regard these functions as the primary sources of their revenue.'[ ] and about the consumers of interest and ground rent as buyers, marx says: 'now, if that portion of the surplus-value of commodities, which the industrial capitalist yields in the form of ground rent or interest to other shareholders in the surplus-value, cannot be in the long run converted into money by the sale of the commodities, then there is an end to the payment of rent and interest, and the landowners or recipients of interest can no longer serve in the role of miraculous interlopers, who convert aliquot portions of the annual reproduction into money by spending their revenue. the same is true of the expenditure of all so-called unproductive labourers, state officials, physicians, lawyers, etc., and others who serve economists as an excuse for explaining inexplicable things, in the role of the 'general public'.[ ] seeing that we cannot discover within capitalist society any buyers whatever for the commodities in which the accumulated part of the surplus value is embodied, only one thing is left: foreign trade. but there are a great many objections to a method that conceives of foreign trade as a convenient dumping ground for commodities which cannot be found any proper place in the reproductive process. recourse to foreign trade really begs the question: the difficulties implicit in the analysis are simply shifted--quite unresolved--from one country to another. yet if the analysis of the reproductive process actually intends not any single capitalist country but the capitalist world market, there can be no foreign trade: all countries are 'home'. this point is made by marx already in the first volume of _capital_, in connection with accumulation: 'we here take no account of export trade, by means of which a nation can change articles of luxury either into means of production or means of subsistence, and _vice versa_. in order to examine the object of our investigation in its integrity, free from all disturbing subsidiary circumstances, we must treat the whole world as one nation and assume that capitalist production is everywhere established and has possessed itself of every branch of industry.'[ ] the same difficulty presents itself if we consider the matter from yet another aspect. in marx's diagram of accumulation we assumed that the portion of the social surplus value intended for accumulation exists from the first in a natural form which demands it to be used for capitalisation. 'in one word, surplus-value is convertible into capital solely because the surplus-product, whose value it is, already comprises the material elements of new capital.'[ ] in the figures of our diagram: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of consumption here, a surplus value of _s_ can be capitalised because from the very outset it consists in means of production. to this quantity of producer goods there correspond besides additional consumer goods to the amount of _s_ so that _s_ can be capitalised in all. but the process here assumed of simply transferring means of production to constant capital on the one hand, consumer goods to variable capital on the other, in commensurate quantities, is in contradiction with the very structure of capitalist commodity production. whatever natural form the surplus value may have, there can be no immediate transfer to the place of production for the purpose of accumulation. it must first be realised, it must be turned into hard cash.[ ] of the surplus value in department i, are fit to be capitalised, but not until they have first been realised; the surplus value has to shed its natural form and assume the form of pure value before it can be added to productive capital. this is true for each individual capitalist and also for the 'aggregate capitalist' of society, it being a prime condition for capitalist production that the surplus value must be realised in the form of pure value. accordingly, regarding reproduction from the point of view of society as a whole-- 'we must not follow the manner copied by proudhon from bourgeois economy, which looks upon this matter as though a society with a capitalist mode of production would lose its specific historical and economic characteristics by being taken as a unit. not at all. we have, in that case, to deal with the aggregate capitalist.'[ ] the surplus value must therefore shed its form as surplus product before it can re-assume it for the purpose of accumulation; by some means or other it must first pass through the money stage. so the surplus product of departments i and ii must be bought--by whom? on the above showing, there will have to be an effective demand outside i and ii, merely in order to realise the surplus value of the two departments, just so that the surplus product can be turned to cash. even then, we should only have got to the stage where the surplus value has become money. if this realised surplus value is further to be employed in the process of enlarging reproduction, in accumulation, an even larger demand must be expected for the future, a demand which is again to come from outside the two departments. either the demand for the surplus product will therefore have to increase annually in accordance with the rate of increase of the accumulated surplus value, or--_vice versa_--accumulation can only proceed precisely in so far as the demand outside i and ii is rising. footnotes: [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] surplus consumption. [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] op. cit., vol. i, p. , note . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] here we can leave out of account instances of products capable in part of entering the process of production without any exchange, such as coal in the mines. within capitalist production as a whole such cases are rare (cf. marx, _theorien_ ..., vol. ii, part , pp. ff.). [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . _chapter viii_ marx's attempt to resolve the difficulty complete abstraction from the circulation of money, though making the process of accumulation so smooth and simple in the diagram of enlarged reproduction, has great disadvantages of its own, we see. there was much to be said for this method in the analysis of simple reproduction, where consumption is the be-all and end-all of production. money there had an ephemeral part, mediating the distribution of the social product among the various groups of consumers--the agent for the renewal of capital. in the process of accumulation, however, the money form has an essential function: it no longer serves as a mere agent in the circulation of commodities--here it has come to be a feature of capital itself, an element in the circulation of capital. even if the transformation of the surplus value is not essential to real reproduction, it is the economic _sine qua non_ of capitalist accumulation. in the transition from production to reproduction, the surplus product is thus subjected to two metamorphoses: first it casts off its use-form and then it assumes a natural form which is fit for the purpose of accumulation. the point here is not that the different cycles of production are counted off in units of years. it would be just as well to take the month; for that matter, the successive transformation of individual portions of the surplus value in departments i and ii may even intersect in time. series of years here do not mean units of time but really intend the sequence of economic transformations. what matters is that this sequence must be observed if accumulation is to keep its capitalist character, whether it extends over a longer or a shorter period of time. this brings us back to the old question: how, and by whom, is the accumulated surplus value to be realised? marx was well aware that his seemingly water-tight scheme of accumulation did not cover this point adequately, and he himself kept reviewing the problem from various angles. what he says is this: 'it has been shown in volume i, how accumulation works in the case of the individual capitalist. by the conversion of the commodity-capital into money, the surplus-product, in which the surplus-value is incorporated, is also monetised. the capitalist reconverts the surplus-value thus monetised into additional natural elements of his productive capital. in the next cycle of production the increased capital furnishes an increased product. but what happens in the case of the individual capital, must also show in the annual reproduction of society as a whole, just as we have seen it does in the case of reproduction on a simple scale, where the successive precipitation of the depreciated elements of fixed capital in the form of money, accumulated as a hoard, also makes itself felt in the annual reproduction of society.'[ ] he examines the mechanism of accumulation further from this very point of view, focusing on the fact that surplus value must pass through the money stage before it is accumulated. 'for instance, capitalist a, who sells during one year, or during a number of successive years, certain quantities of commodities produced by him, thereby converts that portion of the commodities, which bears surplus-value, the surplus-product, or, in other words, the surplus-value produced by himself, successively into money, accumulates it gradually, and thus makes for himself a new potential money-capital. it is potential money-capital on account of its capacity and destination of being converted into the elements of productive capital. but practically he merely accumulates a simple hoard, which is not an element of actual production. his activity for the time being consists only in withdrawing circulating money out of circulation. of course, it is not impossible that the circulating money thus laid away by him was itself, before it entered into circulation, a portion of some other hoard.'[ ] 'money is withdrawn from circulation and accumulated as a hoard by the sale of commodities without a subsequent purchase. if this operation is conceived as one taking place universally, then it seems inexplicable where the buyers are to come from, since in that case everybody would want to sell in order to hoard, and no one would want to buy. and it must be so conceived, since every individual capital may be in process of accumulation. 'if we were to conceive of the process of circulation as one taking place in a straight line between the various divisions of annual reproduction--which would be incorrect as it consists with a few exceptions of mutually retroactive movements--then we should have to start out from the producer of gold (or silver) who buys without selling, and to assume that all others sell to him. in that case, the entire social surplus-product of the current year would pass into his hands, representing the entire surplus-value of the year, and all the other capitalists would distribute among themselves their relative shares in his surplus-product, which consists naturally of money, gold being the natural form of his surplus-value. for that portion of the product of the gold producer, which has to make good his active capital, is already tied up and disposed of. the surplus-value of the gold producer, in the form of gold, would then be the only fund from which all other capitalists would have to derive the material for the conversion of their annual surplus-product into gold. the magnitude of its value would then have to be equal to the entire annual surplus-value of society, which must first assume the guise of a hoard. absurd as this assumption would be, it would accomplish nothing more than to explain the possibility of a universal formation of a hoard at the same period. it would not further reproduction itself, except on the part of the gold producer, by one single step. 'before we solve this _seeming difficulty_, we must distinguish....'[ ] the obstacle in the way of realising the surplus value which marx here calls a 'seeming difficulty' nevertheless is important enough for the whole further discussion in _capital_, volume ii, to be concentrated on overcoming it. as a first attempt, marx proffers the solution of a hoard which, owing to the separation of the different individual constant capitals in the process of circulation, will inevitably be formed in a capitalist system of production. inasmuch as different capital investments have different spans of life, and there is always an interval before the parts of a plant are due for renewal, at any given moment we may find that one individual capitalist is already busy renewing his plant, while another is still building up reserves from the proceeds yielded by the sale of his commodities against the day when he will have enough to renew his fixed capital. 'for instance, let a sell , representing _ c + v + s_ to b, who may represent more than one buyer. a sells in commodities for in money, of which are surplus-value which he withdraws from circulation and hoards in the form of money. but these in money are but the money-form of the surplus-product in which a value of was incorporated.'[ ] in order to comprehend the problem in complete purity, marx here assumes the whole of the surplus value to be capitalised, for which reason he ignores altogether that part of the surplus value is used for the capitalists' personal consumption; in addition, a´, a´´ and a´´´ as well as b´, b´´ and b´´´ here belong to department i. 'the formation of a hoard, then, is not a production, nor is it an increment of production. the action of the capitalist consists merely in withdrawing from circulation obtained by the sale of his surplus-product, in holding and hoarding this amount. this operation is carried on, not alone on the part of a, but at numerous points of the periphery of circulation by other capitalists named a´, a´´, a´´´.... however, a accomplishes the formation of a hoard only to the extent that he acts as a seller, so far as his surplus-product is concerned, not as a buyer. his successive production of surplus-products, the bearers of his surplus-value convertible into money, is therefore a premise for the formation of his hoard. in the present case, where we are dealing only with the circulation within department i, the natural form of the surplus-product, and of the total product of which it is a part, is that of an element of constant capital of i, that is to say it belongs to the category of a means of production creating means of production. we shall see presently what becomes of it, what function it performs, in the hands of the buyers such as b, b´, b´´, etc. 'it must particularly be noted at this point that a, while withdrawing money from circulation and hoarding it, on the other hand throws commodities into it without withdrawing other commodities in return. the capitalists, b, b´, b´´, etc., are thereby enabled to throw only money into it and withdraw only commodities from it. in the present case, these commodities, according to their natural form and destination, become a fixed or circulating element of the constant capital of b, b´, etc.'[ ] there is nothing new about this whole process. marx had already described it extensively in connection with simple reproduction, since it alone can explain how a society is able to renew constant capital under conditions of capitalist reproduction. how this process can lay the besetting problem of our analysis of enlarged reproduction is far from self-evident. the difficulty had been that for the purpose of accumulation, part of the surplus value is not consumed by the capitalists but added to capital in order to expand production, giving rise to the question of buyers for this additional product. the capitalists do not want to consume it and the workers are not able to do so, their entire consumption being covered in every case by the available variable capital. whence the demand for the accumulated surplus value? or, as marx would have it: whence the money to pay for the accumulated surplus value? if, by way of answer, we are referred to the process of hoarding attendant upon the gradual renewal of the constant capital by the individual capitalists at various times, the connection between these two points remains obscure. as long as b, b´ and b´´, etc., buy producer goods from their colleagues a, a´ and a´´ in order to renew their constant capital that has in fact been used up, the limits of simple reproduction are not transcended, and the whole thing has nothing to do with our problem. the moment the producer goods purchased by b, b´, b´´, etc., serve to increase their constant capital, however, for purposes of accumulation, a number of new questions clamour for attention. first and foremost where do the b's get the cash to buy an additional product from the a's? the only way they could have made their money is by sale of their own surplus product. before they can acquire new means of production for expanding their enterprises, before they appear as buyers, that is to say, of the surplus product that is to be accumulated, they must first have disposed of their own surplus product--in a word, b, b´, b´´, etc., must have been vendors themselves. but who could have bought their surplus product? it is obvious that the difficulty is simply shifted from the a's to the b's without having been mastered. at one stage of the analysis it really does seem for a time as if a solution were found at last. after a short digression, marx returns to the main line of his investigation in the following words: 'in the present case, this surplus-product consists at the outset of means of production used in the creation of means of production. it is not until it reaches the hands of b, b´, b´´, etc., (i), that this surplus-product serves as an additional constant capital. but it is virtually that even in the hands of the accumulators of hoards, the capitalists a, a´, a´´, (i), before it is sold. if we consider merely the volume of values of the reproduction on the part of i, then we are still moving within the limits of simple reproduction, for no additional capital has been set in motion for the purpose of creating this virtual additional capital (the surplus-product), nor has any greater amount of surplus-labour been performed than that done on the basis of simple reproduction. the difference is here only one of the form of the surplus-labour performed, of the concrete nature of its particularly useful service. it is expended in means of production for department i_c_ instead of ii_c_, in means of production of means of production instead of means of production of articles of consumption. in the case of simple reproduction it had been assumed that the entire surplus-value was spent as revenue in the commodities of ii. hence it consisted only of such means of production as restore the constant capital of ii_c_ in its natural form. in order that the transition from simple to expanded reproduction may take place, the production in department i must be enabled to create fewer elements for the constant capital of ii and more for that of i.... considering the matter merely from the point of view of the volume of values, it follows, then, that the material requirements of expanded reproduction are produced within simple reproduction. it is simply a question of the expenditure of the surplus-labour of the working class of i for the production of means of production, the creation of virtual additional capital of i. the virtual additional money-capital, created on the part of a, a´, a´´, by the successive sale of their surplus-product, which was formed without any capitalist expenditure of money, is in this case simply the money-form of the additional means of production made by i.'[ ] on this interpretation, the difficulty seems to dissolve into thin air at our touch. accumulation requires no new sources of money at all. before, when the capitalists themselves consumed their surplus value, they had to have a corresponding money reserve in hand, the analysis of simple reproduction already having proved that the capitalist class must itself put into circulation the money needed for the realisation of their surplus value. now, instead of consumer goods, the capitalist class, or rather b, b´, and b´´, buy an equivalent amount of means of production in order to expand their production. in this way, money to the same value is accumulated in the hands of the other capitalist group, viz. a, a´, a´´, etc. 'this hoarding ... does not in any way imply an addition to the wealth in precious metals, but only a change of function on the part of money previously circulating. a while ago it served as a medium of circulation, now it serves as a hoard, as a virtual additional money-capital in process of formation.'[ ] and that is that! yet this way out of the difficulty is open to us only on one condition, and that is not far to seek: marx here takes accumulation in its first rudiments, _in statu nascendi_, as it begins to evolve from simple reproduction. in respect of the amount of value, production is not yet enlarged, it has only been rearranged so that its material elements are grouped in a different way. that the sources of money also seem adequate is therefore not surprising. this solution, however, is only true for one specific moment, the period of transition from simple reproduction to enlarged reproduction--in short, a moment that has no reference to reality and can only be conceived speculatively. once accumulation has been established for some time, when increasing amounts of value are thrown upon the market in every period of production, buyers for these additional values cannot fail to become a problem. and on this point the proffered solution breaks down. for that matter, it was never more than a seeming solution, _not a real one_. on closer scrutiny, it fails us even at the precise instant it appears to have smoothed the way for us. for if we take accumulation just at the very moment of its emergence from simple reproduction, the prime condition it demands is a decrease in the consumption of the capitalist class. no sooner have we discovered a way to expand reproduction with the means of circulation already at hand, than we find previous consumers trickling away at the same rate. what, then, is the good of expanding production; who is there able to buy from b, b´ and b´´ this increased amount of products which they could turn out only by denying themselves the money they need for buying new means of production from a, a´ and a´´? that solution, we see, was a mere illusion--the difficulty still persists. marx himself at once re-opens the question where b, b´ and b´´ get the money to buy the surplus product of a, a´ and a´´. 'to the extent that the products created by b, b´, b´´, etc., (i) re-enter in their natural form into their own process, it goes without saying that a corresponding portion of their own surplus-product is transferred directly (without any intervention of circulation) to their productive capital and becomes an element of additional constant capital. to the same extent they do not help to convert any surplus-product of a, a´, a´´ etc., (i) into money. aside from this, where does the money come from? we know that they have formed their hoard in the same way as a, a´, etc., by the sale of their respective surplus-products. now they have arrived at the point where their accumulated hoard of virtual money-capital is to enter effectually upon its function as additional money-capital. but this is merely turning around in a circle. the question still remains: where does the money come from, which the various b's (i) withdrew from the circulation and accumulated?'[ ] his prompt reply again seems surprisingly simple: 'now we know from the analysis of simple reproduction, that the capitalists of i and ii must have a certain amount of ready money in their hands, in order to be able to dispose of their surplus-products. in that case, the money which served only for the spending of revenue in articles of consumption returned to the capitalists in the same measure in which they advanced it for the purpose of disposing of their commodities. here the same money reappears, but in a different function. the a's and b's supply one another alternately with the money for converting their surplus-product into virtual additional capital, and throw the newly formed money-capital alternately into circulation as a medium of purchase.'[ ] that is harking back to simple reproduction all over again. it is quite true, of course, that the capitalists a and the capitalists b are constantly accumulating a hoard of money bit by bit so as to be able to renew their constant (fixed) capital from time to time, and in this way they really are assisting one another in realising their products. yet this accumulating hoard does not drop from the clouds--it is simply a natural precipitation of the fixed capital that is (in terms of value) continually being transferred in instalments to the products which are then one by one realised in the process of sale. owing to its very nature, the accumulated hoard can only cover the renewal of the old capital; there cannot possibly be enough to serve further for purchasing additional constant capital. that means that we are still within the limits of simple reproduction. perhaps, though, that part of the medium of circulation which hitherto served the capitalists for their personal consumption, and is now to be capitalised, becomes a new source of additional money? for that to be true, however, we should have to be back at the unique and fleeting moment that has no more than theoretical existence--the period of transition from simple to enlarged reproduction. beyond this gap accumulation cannot proceed--we are in truth going round in circles. so the capitalist hoarding will not do as a way out of our difficulties. this conclusion should not come as a surprise, since the very exposition of the difficulty was misleading. it is not the source of money that constitutes the problem of accumulation, but the source of the demand for the additional goods produced by the capitalised surplus value; not a technical hitch in the circulation of money but an economic problem pertaining to the reproduction of the total social capital. quite apart from the question which had claimed marx's entire attention so far, namely where b, b´, etc., (i), get the money to buy additional means of production from a, a´, etc., (i), successful accumulation will inevitably have to face a far more serious problem: to whom can b, b´, etc., now sell their increased surplus-product? marx finally makes them sell their products to one another: 'it may be that the different b, b´, b´´, etc., (i), whose virtual new capital enters upon its active function, are compelled to buy from one another their product (portions of their surplus-product) or to sell it to one another. in that case, the money advanced by them for the circulation of their surplus-product flows back under normal conditions to the different b's in the same proportion in which they advanced it for the circulation of their respective commodities.'[ ] 'in that case'--the problem simply has not been solved, for after all b, b´, and b´´ have not cut down on their consumption and expanded their production just so as to buy each other's increased product, i.e. means of production. even that, incidentally, would only be possible to a very limited extent. marx assumes a certain division of labour in department i itself: the a's turn out means of production for making producer goods and the b's means of production for making consumer goods, which is as much as to say that, though the product of a, a´, etc., need never leave department i, the product of b, b´, etc., is by its natural form predestined from the first for department ii. already the accumulation of b, b´, etc., it follows, must lead us to circulation between departments i and ii. thus marx's analysis itself confirms that, if department i is to accumulate, the department for means of consumption must, in the last resort, increase its immediate or mediate demand for means of production, and so it is to department ii and its capitalists that we must look for buyers for the additional product turned out by department i. sure enough, marx's second attack on the problem takes up from there: the demand of capitalists in department ii for additional means of production. such a demand inevitably implies that the constant capital ii_c_ is in process of expanding. this is where the difficulty becomes truly formidable: 'take it now that a(i) converts his surplus-product into gold by selling it to a capitalist b in department ii. this can be done only by the sale of means of production on the part of a(i) to b(ii) without a subsequent purchase of articles of consumption, in other words, only by a one-sided sale on a's part. now we have seen that ii_c_ cannot be converted into the natural form of productive constant capital unless not only i_v_ but also at least a portion of i_s_, is exchanged for a portion of ii_c_, which ii_c_ exists in the form of articles of consumption. but now that a has converted his i_s_ into gold by making this exchange impossible and withdrawing the money obtained from ii_c_ out of circulation, instead of spending it for articles of consumption of ii_c_, there is indeed on the part of a(i) a formation of additional virtual money-capital, but on the other hand there is a corresponding portion of the value of the constant capital b(ii) held in the form of commodity-capital, unable to transform itself into natural productive constant capital. in other words, a portion of the commodities of b(ii), and at that a portion which must be sold if he wishes to reconvert his entire constant capital into its productive form, has become unsaleable. to that extent, there is an over-production which clogs reproduction, even on the same scale.'[ ] department i's efforts to accumulate by selling its additional product to department ii have met with an unlooked-for result: a deficit for the capitalists of department ii serious enough to prevent even simple reproduction on the old scale. having got to this crucial point, marx seeks to lay bare the root of the problem by a careful and detailed exposition: 'let us now take a closer look at the accumulation in department ii. the first difficulty with reference to ii_c_, that is to say the conversion of an element of the commodity-capital of ii into the natural form of constant capital of ii, concerns simple reproduction. let us take the formula previously used. (_ , v + , s_) i are exchanged for , ii_c_. now, if one half of the surplus-product of i, or _s_, is reincorporated in department i as constant capital, then this portion, being detained in department i, cannot take the place of any portion of ii_c_. instead of being converted into articles of consumption, it is made to serve as an additional means of production in department i itself.... it cannot perform this function simultaneously in i and ii. the capitalist cannot spend the value of his surplus-product for articles of consumption, and at the same time consume the surplus-product itself productively, by incorporating it in his productive capital. instead of , i(_v + s_), only , are exchangeable for , ii_c_, namely _ , v + s_ of i. but i_c_ cannot, be reconverted from the form of commodities into productive constant capital of ii.'[ ] by now, hardly anybody could fail to be convinced that the difficulty is real, but we have not taken a single step nearer a solution. this, incidentally, is where marx has to do penance for his ill-advised continual recourse in an earlier over-simplification, to a fictitious moment of transition--in order in elucidate the problem of accumulation--from simple reproduction to enlarged reproduction, making his major premise accumulation at its very inception, in its feeble infancy instead its vigorous stride. there was something to be said, at least, for this fiction, so long as it was just a question of accumulation within department i. the capitalists of department i, who denied themselves part of what they had been wont to consume, at once had a new hoard of money in hand with which they could start capitalisation. but when it comes to department ii, the same fiction only piles on the difficulties. the 'abstinence' of the capitalists in department i here finds expression in a painful loss of consumers for whose expected demand production had largely been calculated. since the capitalists of department ii, on whom we tried the experiment whether they might not possibly be the long-sought buyers of the additional product of accumulation in department i, are themselves in sore straits--not knowing as yet where to go with their own unsold product--they are even less likely to be of any help to us. there is no shutting our eyes to the fact that an attempt to make one group of capitalists accumulate at the expense of the other is bound to get involved in glaring inconsistencies. yet another attempt to get round the difficulty is subsequently mentioned by marx who at once rejects it as a subterfuge. the unmarketable surplus value in department ii that is the result of accumulation in department i might be considered a reserve of commodities the society is going to need in the course of the following year. this interpretation marx counters with his usual thoroughness: '( ) ... the forming of such supplies and the necessity for it applies to all capitalists, those of i as well as of ii. considering them in their capacity as sellers of commodities, they differ only by the fact that they sell different kinds of commodities. a supply of commodities of ii implies a previous supply of commodities of i. if we neglect this supply on the one side, we must also do so on the other. but if we count them in on both sides, the problem is not altered in any way. ( ) just as this year closes on the side of ii with a supply of commodities for the next year, so it was opened by a supply of commodities on the same side, taken over from last year. in the analysis of annual reproduction, reduced to its abstract form, we must therefore strike it out at both ends. by leaving this year in possession of its entire production, including the supply held for next year, we take from it the supply of commodities transferred from last year, and thus we have actually to deal with the aggregate product of an average year as the object of our analysis. ( ) the simple circumstance that the difficulty which must be overcome did not show itself in the analysis of simple reproduction proves that it is a specific phenomenon due merely to the different arrangement of the elements of department i with a view to reproduction, an arrangement without which reproduction on an expanded scale cannot take place at all.'[ ] the last remark, be it noted, is equally damaging to his own earlier attempt at resolving the specific difficulties of accumulation by moments pertaining to simple reproduction, viz. the formation of a hoard consequent upon the gradual turnover of the fixed capital in the hands of the capitalists which was previously adduced as the explanation of accumulation in department i. marx then proceeds to set out enlarged reproduction in the form of diagrams. but no sooner does he begin to analyse his diagram, than the same difficulty crops up anew in a slightly different guise. assuming that the capitalists of department ii must for their part convert _s_ into constant capital so as to make accumulation possible for the others, he asks: 'therefore department ii must buy _s_ for cash without recovering this money by a subsequent sale of its commodities to i. and this is a process which is continually repeated in every new annual production, so far as it is reproduction on an enlarged scale. where does ii get the money for this?'[ ] in the following, marx tries out various approaches in order to discover this source. first the expenditure on variable capital by the capitalists in department ii is closely scrutinised. true, it exists in the form of money; but its proper function is the purchase of labour power, and it cannot possibly be withdrawn and made to serve, maybe, for purchasing additional means of production. 'this continually repeated departure from and return to the starting point, the pocket of the capitalist, does not add in any way to the money moving in this cycle. this, then, is not a source of the accumulation of money.'[ ] marx then considers all conceivable dodges, only to show them up as evading the issue. 'but stop!' he exclaims. 'isn't there a chance to make a little profit?'[ ] he considers whether the capitalists could not manage to save a little of the variable capital by depressing the wages of the workers below the normal average and thus to tap a new source of money for accumulation. a mere flick of his fingers, of course, disposes of this notion: 'but it must not be forgotten that the wages actually paid (which determine the magnitude of the variable capital under normal conditions) do not depend on the benevolence of the capitalists, but must be paid under certain conditions. this does away with this expedient as a source of additional money.'[ ] he even explores what hidden methods there may be of 'saving' on the variable capital, such as the truck system, frauds, etc., only to comment finally: 'this is the same operation as under ( ), only disguised and carried out by a detour. therefore it must likewise be rejected as an explanation of the present problem.'[ ] all efforts to make the variable capital yield a new source of money for the purpose of accumulation are thus unrewarded: 'in short, we cannot accomplish anything with ii_v_ for the solution of this question.'[ ] marx next turns to the cash reserves which the capitalists in department ii keep for the circulation of their own consumption and investigates whether none of this money can be diverted to the purposes of capitalisation. yet this, he allows, is 'still more impossible'. 'here the capitalists of the same department are standing face to face, heavily buying and selling their articles of consumption. the money required for these transactions serves only as a medium of circulation and must flow back to the interested parties in the normal course of things, to the extent that they have advanced it to the circulation, in order to pass again and again over the same course.'[ ] the next attempt to follow belongs, as was to have been expected, to the category of those 'subterfuges' which marx ruthlessly refutes: the attempt to explain that money-capital can be formed in the hands of one capitalist group in department ii by defrauding the other capitalists within the same department--viz. in the process of the mutual selling of consumer goods. no time need be wasted on this little effort. then comes a more sober proposition: 'or, a certain portion of ii_s_, represented by necessities of life, might be directly converted into new variable capital of department ii.'[ ] it is not quite clear how this can help us over the hurdle, help to get accumulation going. for one thing, the formation of additional variable capital in department ii is not much use if we have no additional constant capital for this department, being in fact engaged on the task of finding it. for another thing, our present concern is to see if we can find in department ii a source of money for the purchase of additional means of production from i, and department ii's problem how to place its own additional product in some way or other in the process of production is beside the point. further, is the implication that the respective consumer goods should be used 'direct', i.e. without the mediation of money, in the production of department ii, so that the corresponding amount of money can be diverted from variable capital to the purpose of accumulation? if so, we could not accept the solution. under normal conditions of capitalist production, the remuneration of the workers by consumer goods direct is precluded, one of the corner-stones of capitalist economy being the money-form of the variable capital, the independent transaction between the worker as buyer of commodities and producer of consumer goods. marx himself stresses this point in another context: 'we know that the actual variable capital consists of labour-power, and therefore the additional must consist of the same thing. it is not the capitalist of i who among other things buys from ii a supply of necessities of life for his labourers, or accumulates them for this purpose, as the slave holder had to do. it is the labourers themselves who trade with ii.'[ ] and that goes for the capitalists of department ii just as much as for those of department i, thus disposing of marx's last effort. marx ends up by referring us to the last part of _capital_, volume ii, chapter , the 'concluding remarks _sub iv_', as engels has called them. here we find the curt explanation: 'the original source for the money of ii is _v + s_ of the gold producers in department i, exchanged for a portion of ii_c_. only to the extent that the gold producer accumulates surplus-value or converts it into means of production of i, in other words, to the extent that he expands his production, does his _v + s_ stay out of department ii. on the other hand, to the extent that the accumulation of gold on the part of the gold producer himself leads ultimately to an expansion of production, a portion of the surplus-value of gold production not spent as revenue passes into department ii as additional variable capital of the gold producers, promotes the accumulation of new hoards in ii and supplies it with means by which to buy from i without having to sell to it immediately.'[ ] after the breakdown of all conceivable attempts at explaining accumulation, therefore, after chasing from pillar to post, from a i to b i, and from b i to a ii, we are made to fall back in the end on the very gold producer, recourse to whom marx had at the outset of his analysis branded as 'absurd'. the analysis of the reproductive process, and the second volume of _capital_ finally comes to a close without having provided the long sought-for solution to our difficulty. footnotes: [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . _chapter ix_ the difficulty viewed from the angle of the process of circulation the flaw in marx's analysis is, in our opinion, the misguided formulation of the problem as a mere question of 'the sources of money', whereas the real issue is the effective demand, the use made of goods, not the source of the money which is paid for them. as to money as a means of circulation: when considering the reproductive process as a whole, we must assume that capitalist society must always dispose of money, or a substitute, in just that quantity that is needed for its process of circulation. what has to be explained is the great social transaction of exchange, caused by real economic needs. while it is important to remember that capitalist surplus value must invariably pass through the money stage before it can be accumulated, we must nevertheless try to track down the economic demand for the surplus product, quite apart from the puzzle where the money comes from. as marx himself says in another passage: 'the money on one side in that case calls forth expanded reproduction on the other, because the possibility for it exists without the money. for money in itself is not an element of actual reproduction.'[ ] and in a different context, marx actually shows the question about the 'sources of money' to be a completely barren formulation of the problem of accumulation. in fact, he had come up against this difficulty once before when examining the process of circulation. still dealing with simple reproduction, he had asked, in connection with the circulation of the surplus value: 'but the commodity capital must be monetised before its conversion into productive capital, or before the surplus-value contained in it can be spent. where does the money for this purpose come from? this question seems difficult at the first glance, and neither tooke nor anyone else has answered it so far.'[ ] and he was then quite uncompromising about getting to the root of the matter: 'the circulating capital of p.st. advanced in the form of money-capital, whatever may be its period of turn-over, may now stand for the total capital of society, that is to say, of the capitalist class. let the surplus-value be p.st. how can the entire capitalist class manage to draw continually p.st. out of the circulation, when they continually throw only p.st. into it?'[ ] all that, mind you, refers to simple reproduction, where the entire surplus value is used for the personal consumption of the capitalist class. the question should therefore from the outset have been put more precisely in this form: how can the capitalists secure for themselves consumer goods to the amount of £ surplus value on top of putting £ into circulation for constant and variable capital? it is immediately obvious that those £ which, in form of capital, always serve to buy means of production and to pay the workers, cannot simultaneously defray the expense of the capitalists' personal consumption. where, then, does the additional money come from?--the £ the capitalists need to realise their own surplus value? thus all theoretical dodges one might devise for this point are summarily disposed of by marx right away: 'it should not be attempted to avoid this difficulty by plausible subterfuges. 'for instance: so far as the constant circulating capital is concerned, it is obvious that not all invest it simultaneously. while the capitalist a sells his commodities so that his advanced capital assumes the form of money, there is on the other hand, the available money-capital of the buyer b which assumes the form of his means of production which a is just producing. the same transaction, which restores that of b to its productive form, transforms it from money into materials of production and labour-power; the same amount of money serves in the two-sided process as in every simple purchase c-m. on the other hand, when a reconverts his money into means of production, he buys from c, and this man pays b with it, etc., and thus the transaction would be explained. 'but none of the laws referring to the quantity of the circulating money, which have been analysed in the circulation of commodities (vol. i, chap, iii), are in any way changed by the capitalist character of the process of production. 'hence, when we have said that the circulating capital of society, to be advanced in the form of money, amounts to p.st., we have already accounted for the fact that this is on the one hand the sum simultaneously advanced, and that, on the other hand, it sets in motion more productive capital than p.st., because it serves alternately as the money fund of different productive capitals. this mode of explanation, then, assumes that money as existing whose existence it is called upon to explain. 'it may be furthermore said: capitalist a produces articles which capitalist b consumes unproductively, individually. the money of b therefore monetises the commodity-capital of a, and thus the same amount serves for the monetisation of the surplus-value of b and the circulating constant capital of a. but in that case, the solution of the question to be solved is still more directly assumed, the question: whence does b get the money for the payment of his revenue? how does he himself monetise this surplus-portion of his product? 'it might also be answered that that portion of the circulating variable capital, which a continually advances to his labourers, flows back to him continually from the circulation, and only an alternating part stays continually tied up for the payment of wages. but a certain time elapses between the expenditure and the reflux, and meanwhile the money paid out for wages might, among other uses, serve for the monetisation of surplus-value. but we know, in the first place, that, the greater the time, the greater must be the supply of money which the capitalist a must keep continually in reserve. in the second place, the labourer spends the money, buys commodities for it, and thus monetises to that extent the surplus-value contained in them. without penetrating any further into the question at this point, it is sufficient to say that the consumption of the entire capitalist class, and of the unproductive persons dependent upon it, keeps step with that of the labouring class; so that, simultaneously with the money thrown into circulation by the labouring class, the capitalists must throw money into it, in order to spend their surplus-value as revenue. hence money must be withdrawn from circulation for it. this explanation would merely reduce the quantity of money required, but not do away with it. 'finally it might be said: a large amount of money is continually thrown into circulation when fixed capital is first invested, and it is not recovered from the circulation until after the lapse of years, by him who threw it into circulation. may not this sum suffice to monetise the surplus-value? the answer to this is that the employment as fixed capital, if not by him who threw it into circulation, then by some one else, is probably implied in the sum of p.st. (which includes the formation of a hoard for needed reserve funds). besides, it is already assumed in the amount expended for the purchase of products serving as fixed capital, that the surplus-value contained in them is also paid, and the question is precisely, where the money for this purpose came from.'[ ] this parting shot, by the way, is particularly noteworthy in that marx here expressly repudiates the attempt to explain realisation of the surplus value, even in the case of simple reproduction, by means of a hoard formed for the periodical renewal of fixed capital. later on, with a view to realising the surplus value under the much more difficult conditions of accumulation, he makes more than one tentative effort to substantiate an explanation of this type which he himself dismissed as a 'plausible subterfuge'. then follows a solution which has a somewhat disconcerting ring: 'the general reply has already been given: when a mass of commodities valued at _x_ times , p.st. has to circulate, it changes absolutely nothing in the quantity of the money required for this circulation, whether this mass of commodities contains any surplus-value or not, and whether this mass of commodities has been produced capitalistically or not. in other words, _the problem itself does not exist_. all other conditions being given, such as velocity of circulation of money, etc., a definite sum of money is required in order to circulate the value of commodities worth _x_ times , p.st., quite independently of the fact how much or how little of this value falls to the share of the direct producers of these commodities. so far as any problem exists here, it coincides with the general problem: where does all the money required for the circulation of the commodities of a certain country come from?'[ ] the argument is quite sound. the answer to the general question about the origin of the money for putting a certain quantity of commodities into circulation within a country will also tell us where the money for circulating the surplus value comes from. the division of the bulk of value contained in these commodities into constant and variable capital, and surplus value, does not exist from the angle of the circulation of money--in this connection, it is quite meaningless. but it is only from the angle of the circulation of money, or of a simple commodity circulation, that the problem has no existence. under the aspect of social reproduction as a whole, it is very real indeed; but it should not, of course, be put in that misleading form that brings us back to simple commodity circulation, where it has no meaning. we should not ask, accordingly: where does the money required for realising the surplus value come from? but: where are the consumers for this surplus value? it is they, for sure, who must have this money in hand in order to throw it into circulation. thus, marx himself, although he just now denied the problem to exist, keeps coming back to it time and again: 'now, there are only two points of departure: the capitalist and the labourer. all third classes of persons must either receive money for their services from these two classes, or, to the extent that they receive it without any equivalent services, they are joint owners of the surplus-value in the form of rent, interest, etc. the fact that the surplus-value does not all stay in the pocket of the industrial capitalist, but must be shared by him with other persons, has nothing to do with the present question. the question is: how does he maintain his surplus-value, not, how does he divide the money later after he has secured it? for the present case, the capitalist may as well be regarded as the sole owner of his surplus-value. as for the labourer it has already been said that he is but the secondary point of departure, while the capitalist is the primary starting point of the money thrown by the labourer into circulation. the money first advanced as variable capital is going through its second circulation, when the labourer spends it for the payment of means of subsistence. 'the capitalist class, then, remains the sole point of departure of the circulation of money. if they need p.st. for the payment of means of production, and p.st. for the payment of labour-power, they throw p.st. into circulation. but the surplus-value incorporated in the product, with a rate of surplus-value of per cent, is equal to the value of p.st. how can they continually draw p.st. out of circulation, when they continually throw only p.st. into it? from nothing comes nothing. the capitalist class as a whole cannot draw out of circulation what was not previously in it.'[ ] marx further explodes another device which might conceivably be thought adequate to the problem, i.e. a more rapid turnover of money enabling a larger amount of value to circulate by means of a smaller amount of money. the dodge will not work, of course, since the velocity of money in circulation is already taken into account by equating the aggregate bulk of commodities with a certain number of pounds sterling. but then at last we seem in sight of a proper solution: 'indeed, paradoxical as it may appear at first sight, it is the capitalist class itself that throws the money into circulation which serves for the realisation of the surplus-value incorporated in the commodities. but, mark well, it is not thrown into circulation as advanced money, not as capital. the capitalist class spends it for their individual consumption. the money is not advanced by them, although they are the point of departure of its circulation.'[ ] this lucid and comprehensive account is the best evidence that the problem is not just imaginary but very real. it provides a solution, not by disclosing a new 'source of money' for the realisation of the surplus value, but by pointing out at last the consumers of this surplus value. we are still, on marx's assumption, within the bounds of simple reproduction; the capitalist class, that is to say, use the whole of their surplus value for personal consumption. since the capitalists are the consumers of surplus value, it is not so much a paradox as a truism that they must, in the nature of things, possess the money for appropriating the objects of consumption, the natural form of this surplus value. the circulatory transaction of exchange is the necessary consequence of the fact that the individual capitalist cannot immediately consume his individual surplus value, and accordingly the individual surplus product, as could, for instance, the employer of slave labour. as a rule the natural material form of the surplus product tends to preclude such use. the aggregate surplus value of the capitalists in general is, however, contained in the total social product--as long as there is simple reproduction--as expressed by a corresponding quantity of consumer goods for the capitalist class, just as the sum total of variable capital has its corresponding equivalent in the quantity of consumer goods for the working class, and as the constant capital of all individual capitalists taken together is represented by material means of production in an equivalent quantity. in order to exchange the unconsumable individual surplus values for a corresponding amount of consumer goods, a double transaction of commodity exchange is needed: first, the sale of one's own surplus product and then the purchase of consumer goods out of the surplus product of society. these two transactions can only take place among members of the capitalist class, among individual capitalists, which means that their agent, the money, thereby merely changes hands as between one capitalist and another without ever being alienated from the capitalist class in general. since simple reproduction inevitably implies the exchange of equivalents, one and the same amount of money can serve year by year for the circulation of the surplus value, and only an excess of zeal will inspire the further query: where does the money which mediates the capitalists' own consumption come from in the first place? this, question, however, reduces to a more general one: how did money capital initially come into the hands of the capitalists, that money capital of which they always retain a certain part for their personal consumption, apart from what they use for productive investment? put in this way, however, the question belongs in the chapter of so-called 'primitive accumulation', i.e. the historical genesis of capital, going beyond the framework of an analysis of the process of circulation as well as of reproduction. thus the fact is clear and unequivocal--so long as we remain within the bounds of simple reproduction. here the problem is solved by the premises themselves; in fact, the solution is already anticipated by the very concept of simple reproduction which indeed is based on the entire surplus value being consumed by the capitalist class. this implies that it must also be the latter who buy it, that is to say, individual capitalists must buy it from each other. 'in the present case', marx says himself, 'we had assumed, that the sum of money which the capitalist throws into circulation until the first surplus-value flows back to him, is exactly equal to the surplus-value which he is going to produce and monetise. this is obviously an arbitrary assumption, so far as, the individual capitalist is concerned. but it must be correct when applied to the entire capitalist class, when simple reproduction is assumed. it expresses the same thing that this assumption does, namely, that the entire surplus-value is consumed unproductively, but it only, not any portion of the original capital stock.'[ ] but simple reproduction on a capitalist basis is after all an imaginary quantity in economic theory: no more and no less legitimate, and quite as unavoidable as [sqrt](- ) in mathematics. what is worse, it cannot offer any help at all with the problem of realising the surplus value in real life, i.e. with regard to enlarged reproduction or accumulation. marx himself says so for a second time in the further development of his analysis. where does the money for realising the surplus value come from if there is accumulation, i.e. not consumption but capitalisation of part of the surplus value? marx's first answer is as follows: 'in the first place, the additional money-capital required for the function of the increasing productive capital is supplied by that portion of the realised surplus-value which is thrown into circulation by the capitalists as money-capital, not as the money form of their revenue. the money is already present in the hands of the capitalists. only its employment is different.'[ ] our investigation of the reproductive process has already made us familiar with this explanation, and we are equally familiar with its defects; for one thing, the answer rests on the moment of the first transition from simple reproduction to accumulation. the capitalists only yesterday consumed their entire surplus value, and thus had in hand an appropriate amount of money for their circulation. to-day they decide to 'save' part of the surplus value and to invest it productively instead of squandering it. provided that material means of production were manufactured instead of luxury goods, they need only put part of their personal money fund to a different use. but the transition from simple reproduction to expanded reproduction is no less a theoretical fiction than simple reproduction of capital itself, for which reason marx immediately goes on to say: 'now, by means of the additional productive capital, its product, an additional quantity of commodities, is thrown into circulation. together with this additional quantity of commodities, a portion of the additional money required for its circulation is thrown into circulation, so far as the value of this mass of commodities is equal to that of the productive capital consumed in their production. this additional quantity of money has precisely been advanced as an additional money-capital, and therefore it flows back to the capitalist through the turn-over of his capital. here the same question reappears, which we met previously. where does the additional money come from, by which the additional surplus-value now contained in the form of commodities is to be realised?'[ ] the problem could not be put more precisely. but instead of a solution, there follows the surprising conclusion: 'the general reply is again the same. the sum total of the prices of the commodities has been increased, not because the prices of a given quantity of commodities have risen, but because the mass of the commodities now circulating is greater than that of the previously circulating commodities, and because this increase has not been offset by a fall in prices. the additional money required for the circulation of this greater quantity of commodities of greater value must be secured, either by greater economy in the circulating quantity of money--whether by means of balancing payments, etc., or by some measure which accelerates the circulation of the same coins,--or by the transformation of money from the form of a hoard into that of a circulating medium.'[ ] all this amounts to an exposition along these lines: under conditions of developing and growing accumulation, capitalist reproduction dumps ever larger masses of commodity values on the market. to put this commodity mass of a continually increasing value into circulation requires an ever larger amount of money. this increasing amount of money must be found somehow or other. all this is, no doubt, plausible and correct as far as it goes, but our problem is not solved, it is merely wished away. one thing or the other! either we regard the aggregate social product in a capitalist economy simply as a mass, a conglomeration of commodities of a certain value, seeing under conditions of accumulation, a mere increase in this undifferentiated mass of commodities and in the bulk of its value. then all we need say is that a corresponding quantity of money is required for circulating this bulk of value, that with an increasing bulk of value the quantity of money must also increase, unless this growth of value is offset by acceleration of, and economy in, the traffic. and the final question, where does all money originally come from, could then be answered on marx's recipe: from the gold mines. this, of course, is one way of looking at things, that of simple commodity circulation. but in that case there is no need to drag in concepts such as constant and variable capital, or surplus value, which have no place in simple commodity circulation, belonging essentially to the circulation of capitals and to social reproduction; nor is there need to inquire for sources of money for the realisation of the social surplus value under conditions of first simple, and then enlarged, reproduction. under the aspect of simple commodity circulation puzzles of this kind are without meaning or content. but once these questions have been raised, once the course has been set for an investigation into the circulation of capitals and social reproduction, there can be no appealing to the sphere of simple commodity circulation, where there is no such problem at all, and consequently no solution to it. there can be no looking for the answer there, and then saying triumphantly that the problem has long been solved and in fact never really existed. all this time, it appears, marx has been tackling the problem from a wrong approach. no intelligent purpose can be served by asking for the source of the money needed to realise the surplus value. the question is rather where the demand can arise--to find an effective demand for the surplus value. if the problem had been put in this way at the start, no such long-winded detours would have been needed to show whether it can be solved or not. on the basis of simple reproduction, the matter is easy enough: since all surplus value is consumed by the capitalists, they themselves are the buyers and provide the full demand for the social surplus value, and by the same token they must also have the requisite cash in hand for circulation of the surplus value. but in this showing it is quite evident that under conditions of accumulation, i.e. of capitalisation of part of the surplus value, it cannot, _ex hypothesi_, be the capitalists themselves who buy the entire surplus value, that they cannot possibly realise it. true, if the capitalised surplus value is to be realised at all, money must be forthcoming in adequate quantities for its realisation. but it is quite impossible that this money should come from the purse of the capitalist class itself. just because accumulation is postulated, the capitalists cannot buy their surplus value themselves, even though they might, _in abstracto_, have the money to do so. but who else could provide the demand for the commodities incorporating the capitalised surplus value? 'apart from this class (the capitalists), there is, according to our assumption--the general and exclusive domination of capitalist production--no other class but the working class. all that the working class buys is equal to the sum total of its wages, equal to the sum total of the variable capital advanced by the entire capitalist class.'[ ] the workers, then, are even less able than the capitalist class to realise the capitalised surplus value. somebody must buy it, if the capitalists are still to be able to recover the capital they have accumulated and advanced; and yet--we cannot think of any buyers other than capitalists and workers. 'how can the entire capitalist class accumulate money under such circumstances?'[ ] realisation of the surplus value outside the only two existing classes of society appears as indispensable as it looks impossible. the accumulation of capital has been caught in a vicious circle. at any rate, the second volume of _capital_ offers no way out. if we should now ask why marx's _capital_ affords no solution to this important problem of the accumulation of capital, we must bear in mind above all that this second volume is not a finished whole but a manuscript that stops short half way through. the external form of its last chapters in particular proves them to be in the nature of notes, intended to clear the author's own mind, rather than final conclusions ready for the reader's enlightenment. this fact is amply authenticated by the man best in the position to know: friedrich engels, who edited the second volume. in his introduction to the second volume he reports in detail on the conditions of the preliminary studies and the manuscripts marx had left, which were to form the basis of this volume: 'the mere enumeration of the manuscripts left by marx as a basis for volume ii proves the unparalleled conscientiousness and strict self-criticism which he practised in his endeavour to fully elaborate his great economic discoveries before he published them. this self-criticism rarely permitted him to adapt his presentation of the subject, in content as well as in form, to his ever widening horizon, which he enlarged by incessant study. 'the material ... consists of the following parts: first, a manuscript entitled "a contribution to the critique of political economy", containing , quarto pages in divisions, written in the time from august, , to june, . it is a continuation of the work of the same title, the first volume of which appeared in berlin, in .... this manuscript, valuable though it is, could not be used in the present edition of volume ii. 'the manuscript next following in the order of time is that of volume iii.... 'the period after the publication of volume i, which is next in order, is represented by a collection of four manuscripts for volume ii, marked i-iv by marx himself. manuscript i ( pages) presumably written in or , is the first independent, but more or less fragmentary, elaboration of the questions now contained in volume ii. this manuscript is likewise unsuited for this edition. manuscript iii is partly a compilation of quotations and references to the manuscripts containing marx's extracts and comments, most of them relating to the first section of volume ii, partly an elaboration of special points, particularly a critique of adam smith's statements as to fixed and circulating capital and the source of profits; furthermore, a discussion of the relations of the rate of surplus-value to the rate of profit, which belongs in volume iii. the references furnished little that was new, while the elaborations for volumes ii and iii were rendered valueless through subsequent revisions and had to be ruled out for the greater part. manuscript iv is an elaboration, ready for printing, of the first section and the first chapters of the second section of volume ii, and has been used in its proper place. although it was found that this manuscript had been written earlier than manuscript ii, yet it was far more finished in form and could be used with advantage for the corresponding part of this volume. i had to add only a few supplementary parts of manuscript ii. this last manuscript is the only fairly completed elaboration of volume ii and dates from the year . the notes for the final revision, which i shall mention immediately, say explicitly: "the second elaboration must be used as a basis." 'there is another interruption after , due mainly to ill health. marx employed this time in his customary way, that is to say he studied agronomics, agricultural conditions in america and especially russia, the money market and banking institutions, and finally natural sciences, such as geology and physiology. independent mathematical studies also form a large part of the numerous manuscripts of this period. in the beginning of , marx had recovered sufficiently to resume once more his chosen life's work. the beginning of is marked by references and notes from the above named four manuscripts intended for a new elaboration of volume ii, the beginning of which is represented by manuscript v ( pages in folio). it comprises the first four chapters and is not very fully worked out. essential points are treated in footnotes. the material is rather collected than sifted, but it is the last complete presentation of this most important first section. a preliminary attempt to prepare this part for the printer was made in manuscript vi (after october, , and before july, ), embracing quarto pages, the greater part of the first chapter. a second and last attempt was made in manuscript vii, dated july , , and consisting of pages in folio. 'about this time marx seems to have realised that he would never be able to complete the second and third volume in a manner satisfactory to himself, unless a complete revolution in his health took place. manuscripts v-viii show traces of hard struggles against depressing physical conditions far too frequently to be ignored. the most difficult part of the first section had been worked over in manuscript v. the remainder of the first, and the entire second section, with the exception of chapter , presented no great theoretical difficulties. but the third section, dealing with the reproduction and circulation of social capital, seemed to be very much in need of revision. manuscript ii, it must be pointed out, had first treated of this reproduction without regard to the circulation which is instrumental in effecting it, and then taken up the same question with regard to circulation. it was the intention of marx to eliminate this section and to reconstruct it in such a way that it would conform to his wider grasp of the subject. this gave rise to manuscript viii, containing only pages in quarto. a comparison with section iii, as printed after deducting the paragraphs inserted out of manuscript ii, shows the amount of matter compressed by marx into this space. 'manuscript viii is likewise merely a preliminary presentation of the subject, and its main object was to ascertain and develop the new points of view not set forth in manuscript ii, while those points were ignored about which there was nothing new to say. an essential part of chapter , section ii, which is more or less relevant to section iii, was at the same time drawn into this discussion and expanded. the logical sequence was frequently interrupted, the treatment of the subject was incomplete in various places, and especially the conclusion was very fragmentary. but marx expressed as nearly as possible what he intended to say on the subject. 'this is the material for volume ii, out of which i was supposed "to make something", as marx said to his daughter eleanor shortly before his death.'[ ] we cannot but admire this 'something' which engels managed to 'make' from material of such a kind. as far as our present problem is concerned, however, this detailed report makes it clear that no more than the first two of the three sections that make up volume ii were anything like ready for print in the manuscripts marx left: the section 'on the circulation of money and commodity capital' and on 'the causes of circulation and the turnover of capital'. the third section which treats of the reproduction of total capital is merely a collection of fragments which marx himself considered to be 'very much in need of revision.' yet it is the last part of this section, i.e. chapter , 'on accumulation and enlarged reproduction', which is of primary importance in the present context, and of the whole book this is the most incomplete. it comprises thirty-five pages of print in all and breaks off right in the middle of the analysis. besides this extraneous circumstance, we would suggest another point of great influence. marx's investigation of the social reproductive process starts off, as we have seen, from the analysis of adam smith which came to grief, among other reasons, because of the erroneous doctrine that the price of all commodities is composed of _v + s_. polemics against this dogma dominated marx's entire analysis of the reproductive process. he devoted all his attention to proving that the total capital of society must serve, not only for consumption to the full amount of the various sources of revenue, but also for renewal of the constant capital. and inasmuch as the purest theoretical form for this line of reasoning is given, not by enlarged reproduction, but by simple reproduction, marx tends to consider reproduction mainly from a point of view that is the very opposite of accumulation, from the assumption that the entire surplus value is consumed by the capitalists. how greatly these polemics influenced his analysis is proved by his returning time and again in the course of his work to the attack on adam smith from the most various angles. so already in volume i, the following pages are devoted to it: vol. i, sect. , chap. , ( ), pp. - , and in vol. ii, pp. - , p. , pp. - , and pp. f. marx again takes up the question of total reproduction in volume iii but from the start becomes once more involved with the problem set by smith to which he devotes the whole of his th chapter and most of chapter (pp. - and - ). finally, in _theorien ueber den mehrwert_, we again find detailed polemics against smith's dogma: pp. - in vol. i, and pp. , , , , and in vol. ii, part . marx repeatedly stressed and emphasised the fact that he considered replacement of the constant capital from the aggregate social product the most difficult and important problem of reproduction.[ ] the other problem, that of accumulation, i.e. realisation of the surplus value for the purpose of capitalisation, was thus pushed into the background, so that in the end marx hardly touched upon it. this problem being of such paramount importance for capitalist economy, it is not surprising that bourgeois economists have dealt with it again and again. attempts to grapple with this vital question for capitalist economy, with the question whether capital accumulation is possible in practice, come up time and again in the history of economic theory. to these historical attempts, before and after marx, at solving this problem we shall now turn. footnotes: [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. ii, pp. ff. [ ] cf. e.g. _capital_, vol. ii, pp. , , and . _section two_ historical exposition of the problem first round sismondi-malthus _v._ say-ricardo--macculloch _chapter_ x sismondi's theory of reproduction the first grave doubts as to the divine character of the capitalist order came to bourgeois economists under the immediate impact of the first crises of and - in england. even then it had still been external circumstances which led up to these crises, and they appeared to be ephemeral. napoleon's blockade of the continent which for a time had cut off england from her european markets and had favoured a considerable development of home industries in some of the continental countries, was partly responsible; for the rest the material exhaustion of the continent, owing to the long period of war, made for a smaller demand for english products than had been expected when the blockade was lifted. still, these early crises were enough to reveal to the contemporary world the sinister aspects of this best of all social orders. glutted markets, shops filled with goods nobody could buy, frequent bankruptcies--and on the other hand the glaring poverty of the toiling masses--for the first time all this starkly met the eyes of theorists who had preached the gospel of the beautiful harmonies of bourgeois _laissez-faire_ and had sung its praises in all keys. all contemporary trade reports, periodicals and travellers' notes told of the losses sustained by english merchants. in italy, germany, russia, and brazil, the english disposed of their commodity stocks at a loss of anything between per cent and   / per cent. people at the cape of good hope in complained that all the shops were flooded with european goods offered at lower prices than in europe and still unmarketable. from calcutta there came similar complaints. from new holland whole cargoes returned to england. in the united states, a contemporary traveller reports, 'there was no town nor hamlet from one end to the other of this immense and prosperous continent where the amount of commodities displayed for sale did not considerably exceed the means of the purchasers, although the vendors tried to attract custom by long-term credits, all sorts of facilities for payment, payment by instalments and acceptance of payment in kind'. at the same time, england was hearing the desperate outcry of her workers. the _edinburgh review_ of [ ] quotes an address by the nottingham frame-work knitters which contained the following statements: 'after working from to hours a day, we only earn from _s._ to _s._ a week, to maintain our wives and families upon; and we farther state, that although we have substituted bread and water, or potatoes and salt, for that more wholesome food an englishman's table used to abound with, we have repeatedly retired, after a heavy day's labour, and have been under the necessity of putting our children supperless to bed, to stifle the cries of hunger. we can most solemnly declare, that for the last eighteen months we have scarcely known what it was to be free from the pangs of hunger.'[ ] then owen in england, and sismondi in france, almost simultaneously raised their voices in a weighty indictment of capitalist society. owen, as a hard-headed englishman and citizen of the leading industrial state, constituted himself spokesman for a generous social reform, whereas the petty-bourgeois swiss rather lost himself in sweeping denunciations of the imperfections of the existing social order and of classical economics. and yet, by so doing, sismondi gave bourgeois economics a much harder nut to crack than owen, whose fertile practical activities were directly applied to the proletariat. sismondi explained in some detail that the impetus for his social criticism came from england, and especially her first crisis. in the second edition of his _nouveaux principes d'Économie politique ou de la richesse dans ses rapports avec la population_,[ ] eight years after the publication of the first edition in , he writes as follows: 'it was in england that i performed the task of preparing the new edition. england has given birth to the most celebrated political economists: the science is cultivated even at this time with increased ardour.... universal competition or the effort always to produce more and always cheaper, has long been the system in england, a system which i have attacked as dangerous. this system has used production by manufacture to advance with gigantic steps, but it has from time to time precipitated the manufacturers into frightful distress. it was in presence of these convulsions of wealth that i thought i ought to place myself, to review my reasonings and compare them with facts.--the study of england has confirmed me in my "new principles". in this astonishing country, which seems to be subject to a great experiment for the instruction of the rest of the world, i have seen production increasing, whilst enjoyments were diminishing. the mass of the nation here, no less than philosophers, seems to forget that the increase of wealth is not the end in political economy, but its instrument in procuring the happiness of all. i sought for this happiness in every class, and i could nowhere find it. the high english aristocracy has indeed arrived to a degree of wealth and luxury which surpasses all that can be seen in other nations; nevertheless it does not itself enjoy the opulence which it seems to have acquired at the expense of the other classes; security is wanting and in every family most of the individuals experience privation rather than abundance.... below this titled and not titled aristocracy, i see commerce occupy a distinguished rank; its enterprises embrace the whole world, its agents brave the ices of the poles, and the heats of the equator, whilst every one of its leading men, meeting on exchange, can dispose of thousands. at the same time, in the streets of london, and in those of the other great towns of england, the shops display goods sufficient for the consumption of the world.--but have riches secured to the english merchant the kind of happiness which they ought to secure him? no: in no country are failures so frequent, nowhere are those colossal fortunes, sufficient in themselves to supply a public loan to uphold an empire, or a republic, overthrown with as much rapidity. all complain that business is scarce, difficult, not remunerative. twice, within an interval of a few years, a terrible crisis has ruined part of the bankers, and spread desolation among all the english manufacturers. at the same time another crisis has ruined the farmers, and been felt in its rebound by retail dealers. on the other hand, commerce, in spite of its immense extent, has ceased to call for young men who have their fortunes to make; every place is occupied, in the superior ranks of society no less than in the inferior; the greater number offer their labour in vain, without being able to obtain remuneration.--has, then, this national opulence, whose material progress strikes every eye, nevertheless tended to the advantage of the poor? not so. the people of england are destitute of comfort now, and of security for the future. there are no longer yeomen, they have been obliged to become day labourers. in the towns there are scarcely any longer artisans, or independent heads of a small business, but only manufacturers. the operative, to employ a word which the system has created, does not know what it is to have a station; he only gains wages, and as these wages cannot suffice for all seasons, he is almost every year reduced to ask alms from the poor-rates.--this opulent nation has found it more economical to sell all the gold and silver which she possessed, to do without coin, and to depend entirely on a paper circulation; she has thus voluntarily deprived herself of the most valuable of all the advantages of coin: stability of value. the holders of the notes of the provincial banks run the risk every day of being ruined by frequent and, as it were, epidemic failures of the bankers; and the whole state is exposed to a convulsion in the fortune of every individual, if an invasion or a revolution should shake the credit of the national bank. the english nation has found it more economical to give up those modes of cultivation which require much hand-labour, and she has dismissed half the cultivators who lived in the fields. she has found it more economical to supersede workmen by steam-engines; she has dismissed ... the operatives in towns, and weavers giving place to power-looms, are now sinking under famine; she has found it more economical to reduce all working people to the lowest possible wages on which they can subsist, and these working people being no longer anything but a rabble, have not feared plunging into still deeper misery by the addition of an increasing family. she has found it more economical to feed the irish with potatoes, and clothe them in rags; and now every packet brings legions of irish, who, working for less than the english, drive them from every employment. what is the fruit of this immense accumulation of wealth? have they had any other effect than to make every class partake of care, privation and the danger of complete ruin? has not england, by forgetting men for things, sacrificed the end to the means?'[ ] this mirror, held up to capitalist society almost a century before the time of writing, is clear and comprehensive enough in all conscience. sismondi put his finger on every one of the sore spots of bourgeois economics: the ruin of small enterprise; the drift from the country; the proletarisation of the middle classes; the impoverishment of the workers; the displacement of the worker by the machine; unemployment; the dangers of the credit system; social antagonisms; the insecurity of existence; crises and anarchy. his harsh, emphatic scepticism struck a specially shrill discord with the complacent optimism, the idle worship of harmony as preached by vulgar economics which, in the person of macculloch in england and of say in france, was becoming the fashion in both countries. it is easy to imagine what a deep and painful impression remarks like the following were bound to make: 'there can only be luxury if it is bought with another's labour; only those will work hard and untiringly who have to do so in order to get not the frills but the very necessities of life.'[ ] 'although the invention of the machine which increases man's capacity, is a blessing for mankind, it is made into a scourge for the poor by the unjust distribution we make of its benefits.'[ ] 'the gain of an employer of labour is sometimes nothing if not despoiling the worker he employs; he does not benefit because his enterprise produces much more than it costs, but because he does not pay all the costs, because he does not accord the labourer a remuneration equal to his work. such an industry is a social evil, for it reduces those who perform the work to utmost poverty, assuring to those who direct it but the ordinary profits on capital.'[ ] 'amongst those who share in the national income, one group acquires new rights each year by new labours, the other have previously acquired permanent rights by reason of a primary effort which makes a year's labour more advantageous.'[ ] 'nothing can prevent that every new discovery in applied mechanics should diminish the working population by that much. to this danger it is constantly exposed, and society provides no remedy for it.'[ ] 'a time will come, no doubt, when our descendants will condemn us as barbarians because we have left the working classes without security, just as we already condemn, as they also will, as barbarian the nations who reduced those same classes to slavery.'[ ] sismondi's criticism thus goes right to the root of the matter; for him there can be no compromise or evasion which might try to gloss over the dark aspects of capitalist enrichment he exposed, as merely temporary shortcomings of a transition period. he concludes his investigation with the following rejoinder to say: 'for seven years i have indicated this malady of the social organism, and for seven years it has continuously increased. i cannot regard such prolonged suffering as the mere frictions which always accompany a change. going back to the origin of income, i believe to have shown the ills we experience to be the consequence of a flaw in our organisation, to have shown that they are not likely to come to an end.'[ ] the disproportion between capitalist production and the distribution of incomes determined by the former appears to him the source of all evil. this is the point from which he comes to the problem of accumulation with which we are now concerned. the main thread of his criticism against classical economics is this: capitalist production is encouraged to expand indefinitely without any regard to consumption; consumption, however, is determined by income. 'all the modern economists, in fact, have allowed that the fortune of the public, being only the aggregation of private fortunes, has its origin, is augmented, distributed and destroyed by the same means as the fortune of each individual. they all know perfectly well, that in a private fortune, the most important fact to consider is the income, and that by the income must be regulated consumption or expenditure, or the capital will be destroyed. but as, in the fortune of the public, the capital of one becomes the income of another, they have been perplexed to decide what was capital, and what income, and they have therefore found it more simple to leave the latter entirely out of their calculations. by neglecting a quality so essential to be determined, say and ricardo have arrived at the conclusion, that consumption is an unlimited power, or at least having no limits but those of production, whilst it is in fact limited by income.... they announced that whatever abundance might be produced, it would always find consumers, and they have encouraged the producers to cause that glut in the markets, which at this time occasions the distress of the civilised world; whereas they should have forewarned the producers that they could only reckon on those consumers who possessed income.'[ ] sismondi thus grounds his views in a theory of income. what is income, and what is capital? he pays the greatest attention to this distinction which he calls 'the most abstract and difficult question of political economics'. the fourth chapter of his second book is devoted to this problem. as usual, sismondi starts his investigation with robinson crusoe. for such a one, the distinction between capital and income was still 'confused'; it becomes 'essential' only in society. yet in society, too, this distinction is very difficult, largely on account of the already familiar myth of bourgeois economics, according to which 'the capital of one becomes the income of another', and _vice versa_. adam smith was responsible for this confusion which was then elevated to an axiom by say in justification of mental inertia and superficiality. it was loyally accepted by sismondi. 'the nature of capital and of income are always confused by the mind; we see that what is income for one becomes capital for another, and the same object, in passing from hand to hand, successively acquires different denominations; the value which becomes detached from an object that has been consumed, appears as a metaphysical quantity which one expends and the other exchanges, which for one perishes together with the object itself and which for the other renews itself and lasts for the time of circulation.'[ ] after this promising introduction, sismondi dives right into the difficult problem and declares: all wealth is a product of labour; income is part of wealth, and must therefore have the same origin. however, it is 'customary' to recognise three kinds of income, called rent, profit and wage respectively, which spring from the three sources of 'land, accumulated capital and labour'. as to the first thesis, he is obviously on the wrong tack. as the wealth of a society, i.e. as the aggregate of useful objects, of use-values, wealth is not merely a product of labour but also of nature who both supplies raw materials and provides the means to support human labour. income, on the other hand, is a concept of value. it indicates the amount to which an individual or individuals can dispose over part of the wealth of society or of the aggregate social product. in view of sismondi's insistence that social income is part of social wealth, we might assume him to understand by social income the actual annual fund for consumption. the remaining part of wealth that has not been consumed, then, is the capital of society. thus we obtain at least a vague outline of the required distinction between capital and income on a social basis. at the very next moment, however, sismondi accepts the 'customary' distinction between three kinds of income, only one of which derives exclusively from 'accumulated capital' while in the other two 'land' or 'labour' are conjoined with capital. the concept of capital thus at once becomes hazy again. however, let us see what sismondi has to say about the origin of these three kinds of income which betray a rift in the foundations of society. he is right to take a certain development of labour productivity as his point of departure. 'by reason of the advances both in industry and science, by which man has subjugated the forces of nature, every worker can produce more, far more, in a day than he needs to consume.'[ ] sismondi thus rightly stresses the fact that the productivity of labour is an indispensable condition for the historical foundation of exploitation. yet he goes on to explain the actual origin of exploitation in a way typical of bourgeois economics: 'but even though his labour produces wealth, this wealth, if he is called upon to enjoy it, will make him less and less fit for work. besides, wealth hardly ever remains in the possession of the man who must live by the work of his hands.'[ ] thus he makes exploitation and class antagonism the necessary spur to production, quite in accord with the followers of ricardo and malthus. but now he comes to the real cause of exploitation, the divorce of labour power from the means of production. 'the worker cannot, as a rule, keep the land as his own; land, however, has a productive capacity which human labour but directs to the uses of man. the master of the land on which labour is performed, reserves a share in the fruits of labour to which his land has contributed, as his remuneration for the benefits afforded by this productive capacity.'[ ] this is called rent. and further: 'in our state of civilisation, the worker can no longer call his own an adequate fund of objects for his consumption, enough to live while he performs the labours he has undertaken--until he has found a buyer. he no longer owns the raw materials, often coming from far away, on which he must exercise his industry. even less does he possess that complicated and costly machinery which facilitates his work and makes it infinitely more productive. the rich man who possesses his consumption goods, his raw materials and his machines, need not work himself, for by supplying the worker with all these, he becomes in a sense the master of his work. as reward for the advantages he has put at the worker's disposal, he takes outright the greater part of the fruits of his labour.'[ ] this is called capital profits. what remains of wealth, after the cream has been taken off twice, by landlord and capitalist, is the wage of labour, the income of the worker. and sismondi adds: 'he can consume it without reproduction.'[ ] thus, sismondi makes the fact of non-reproduction the criterion of income as distinct from capital for wages as well as for rent. in this, however, he is only right with regard to rent and the consumed part of capital profits; as for the part of the social product which is consumed in form of wages, it certainly does reproduce itself; it becomes the labour power of the wage labourer, for him a commodity by whose sale he lives, which he can bring to market again and again; for society it becomes the material form of variable capital which must reappear time and again in the aggregate reproduction of a year, if there is to be no loss. so far so good. hitherto we have only learned two facts: the productivity of labour permits of the exploitation of the workers by those who do not work themselves, and exploitation becomes the actual foundation of the distribution of income owing to the divorce of the worker from his means of production. but we still do not know what is capital and what income, and sismondi proceeds to clarify this point, starting as usual with robinson crusoe: 'in the eyes of the individual all wealth was nothing but a provision prepared beforehand for the time of need. even so, he already distinguished two elements in this provision ... one part which he budgets to have at hand for immediate or almost immediate use, and the other which he will not need until it is to afford him new production. thus one part of his corn must feed him until the next harvest, another part, reserved for sowing, is to bear fruit the following year. the formation of society and the introduction of exchange, permit to increase this seed, this fertile part of accumulated wealth, almost indefinitely, and this is what is called capital.'[ ] balderdash would be a better name for all this. in using the analogy of seed, sismondi here identifies means of production and capital, and this is wrong for two reasons. first, means of production are capital not intrinsically, but only under quite definite historical conditions; secondly, the concept of capital covers more than just the means of production. in capitalist society--with all the conditions sismondi ignores--the means of production are only a part of capital, i.e. they are constant capital. sismondi here lost his thread plainly because he tried to establish a connection between the capital concept and the material aspects of social reproduction. earlier, so long as he was concerned with the individual capitalist, he listed means of subsistence for the workers together with means of production as component parts of capital--again a mistake in view of the material aspects of the reproduction of individual capitals. yet as soon as he tries to focus the material foundations of social reproduction and sets out to make the correct distinction between consumer goods and means of production, the concept of capital dissolves in his hands. however, sismondi well knows that the means of production are not the sole requisites for production and exploitation; indeed, he has the proper instinct that the core of the relation of exploitation is the very fact of exchange with living labour. having just reduced capital to constant capital, he now immediately reduces it exclusively to variable capital: 'when the farmer has put in reserve all the corn he expects to need till the next harvest, he will find a good use for the surplus corn: he will feed what he has left over to other people who are going to work for him, till his land, spin and weave his hemp and wool, etc.... by this procedure, the farmer converts a part of his income into capital, and in fact, this is the way in which new capital is always formed.... the corn he has reaped over and above what he must eat while he is working, and over and above what he will have to sow in order to maintain the same level of exploitation, is wealth which he can give away, squander and consume in idleness without becoming any poorer; it was income, but as soon as he uses it to feed producers, as soon as he exchanges it for labour, or for the fruits to come from the work of his labourers, his weavers, his miners, it is a permanent value that multiplies and will no longer perish; it is capital.'[ ] here there is some grain mixed up with quite a lot of chaff. constant capital seems still required to maintain production on the old scale, although it is strangely reduced to circulating capital, and although the reproduction of fixed capital is completely ignored. circulating capital apparently is also superfluous for the expansion of reproduction, for accumulation: the whole capitalised part of the surplus value is converted into wages for new workers who evidently labour in mid-air, without material means of production. the same view is expressed even more clearly elsewhere: 'when the rich man cuts down his income in order to add to his capital, he is thus conferring a benefit on the poor, because he himself shares out the annual product; and whatever he calls income, he will keep for his own consumption; whatever he calls capital, he gives to the poor man to constitute an income for him.'[ ] yet at the same time sismondi gives due weight to the 'secret of profit-making' and the origin of capital. surplus value arises from the exchange of capital for labour, from variable capital, and capital arises from the accumulation of surplus value. with all this, however, we have not made much progress towards a distinction between capital and income. sismondi now attempts to represent the various elements of production and income in terms of the appropriate parts of the aggregate social product. 'the employer of labour, as also the labourer, does not use all his productive wealth for the sowing; he devotes part of it to buildings, mills and tools which render the work easier and more productive, just as a share of the labourer's wealth had been devoted to the permanent work of making the soil more fertile. thus we see how the different kinds of wealth successively come into being and become distinct. one part of the wealth accumulated by society is devoted by every one who possesses it to render labour more profitable by slow consumption, and make the blind forces of nature execute the work of man; this part is called _fixed capital_ and comprises reclaiming, irrigation, factories, the tools of trade, and mechanical contrivances of every description. a second part of wealth is destined for immediate consumption, to reproduce itself in the work it gets done, to change its form, though not its value, without cease. this part is called _circulating capital_ and it comprises seed, raw materials for manufacture, and wages. finally, a third part of wealth becomes distinguishable from the second: it is the value by which the finished job exceeds the advances which had to be made: this part is called _income_ on capitals and is destined to be consumed without reproduction.'[ ] after this laborious attempt to achieve a division of the aggregate social production according to incommensurable categories, fixed capital, circulating capital, and surplus value, sismondi soon shows unmistakable signs that he means constant capital when he speaks of fixed capital, and variable capital when he speaks of circulating capital. for 'all that is created', is destined for human consumption, though fixed capital is consumed 'mediately' while the circulating capital 'passes into the consumption fund of the worker whose wage it forms'.[ ] thus we are a little nearer to the division of the social product into constant capital (means of production), variable capital (provisions for the workers) and surplus value (provisions for the capitalists). but so far sismondi's explanations are not particularly illuminating on the subject which he himself describes as 'fundamental'. in this welter of confusion, at any rate, we cannot see any progress beyond adam smith's 'massive thought'. sismondi feels this himself and would clarify the problem 'by the simplest of all methods', sighing that 'this movement of wealth is so abstract and requires such great power of concentration to grasp it properly'.[ ] thus again we put on blinkers with a focus on robinson [crusoe], who in the meantime has changed to the extent that he has produced a family and is now a pioneer of colonial policy: 'a solitary farmer in a distant colony on the border of the desert has reaped sacks of corn this year; there is no market where to bring them; this corn, in any case, must be consumed within the year, else it will be of no value to the farmer; yet the farmer and his family eat only sacks of it; this will be his expenditure, constituting the exchange of his income; it is not reproduced for anybody whatever. then he will call for workers, he will make them clear woods, and drain swamps in his neighbourhood and put part of the desert under the plough. these workers will eat another sacks of corn: this will be their expenditure; they will be in a position to afford this expenditure at the price of their revenue, that is to say their labour; for the farmer it will be an exchange: he will have converted his sacks into fixed capital. in the end, he is left with sacks. he will sow them that year, instead of the he had sown the previous year; this constitutes his circulating capital which he will have doubled. thus the sacks will have been consumed, but of these sacks are a real investment for him, which will reappear with great increase, some of them at the very next harvest, and the others in all subsequent harvests.--the very isolation of the farmer we have just assumed gives us a better feeling for the limitations of such an operation. if he has only found consumers for of the sacks harvested in that year, who is going to eat the sacks produced the following year by the increase in his sowing? his family, you might say, which will increase. no doubt; but human generations do not multiply as quickly as subsistence. if our farmer had hands available to repeat this assumed process each year, his corn harvest will be doubled every year, and his family could at the most be doubled once in years.'[ ] though the example is naïve, the vital question stands out clearly in the end: where are the buyers for the surplus value that has been capitalised? the accumulation of capital can indefinitely increase the production of the society. but what about the consumption of society? this is determined by the various kinds of income. sismondi explains this important subject in chapter v of book ii, 'the distribution of the national income among the various classes of citizens', in a resumed effort to describe the components of the social product. 'under this aspect, the national income is composed of two parts and no more; the one consists in annual production ... the profit arising from wealth. the second is the capacity for work which springs from life. this time we understand by wealth both territorial possessions and capital, and by profit the net income accruing to the owners as well as the profit of the capitalist.'[ ] thus all the means of production are separated from the national income as 'wealth', and this income is divided into surplus value and labour power, or better, its equivalent, the variable capital. this, then, though still far too vague, is our division into constant capital, variable capital and surplus value. but 'national income', it soon transpires, means for sismondi the annual aggregate product of society: 'similarly, annual production, or the result of all the nation's work in the course of a year, is composed of two parts: one we have just discussed--the profit resulting from wealth; the other is the capacity for work, which is assumed to equal the part of wealth for which it is exchanged, or the subsistence of the workers.'[ ] the aggregate social product is thus resolved, in terms of value, into two parts: variable capital and surplus value--constant capital has disappeared. we have arrived at smith's dogma that the commodity price is resolved into _v + s_ (or is composed of _v + s_)--in other words, the aggregate product consists solely of consumer goods for workers and capitalists. sismondi then goes on to the problem of realising the aggregate product. on the one hand, the sum total of incomes in a society consists of wages, capital profits and rents, and is thus represented by _v + s_; on the other hand, the aggregate social product, in terms of value, is equally resolved into _v + s_ 'so that national income and annual production balance each other (and appear as equal quantities)', i.e. so that they must be equal in value. 'annual production is consumed altogether during the year, but in part by the workers who, by exchanging their labour for it, convert it into capital and reproduce it; in part by the capitalists who, exchanging their income for it, annihilate it. the whole of the annual income is destined to be exchanged for the whole of annual production.'[ ] this is the basis on which, in the sixth chapter of book ii, 'on reciprocal determination of production and consumption', sismondi finally sets up the following precise law of reproduction: 'it is the income of the past year which must pay for the production of the present year.'[ ] if this is true, how can there be any accumulation of capital? if the aggregate product must be completely consumed by the workers and capitalists, we obviously remain within the bounds of simple reproduction, and there can be no solution to the problem of accumulation. sismondi's theory in fact amounts to a denial of the possibility of accumulation. the aggregate social demand being the bulk of wages given to the workers and the previous consumption of the capitalists, who will be left to buy the surplus product if reproduction expands? on this count, sismondi argues that accumulation is objectively impossible, as follows: 'what happens after all is always that we exchange the whole of production for the whole production of the previous year. besides, if production gradually increases, the exchange, at the same time as it improves future conditions, must entail a small loss every year.'[ ] in other words, when the aggregate product is realised, accumulation is bound each year to create a surplus that cannot be sold. sismondi, however, is afraid of drawing this final conclusion, and prefers a 'middle course', necessitating a somewhat obscure subterfuge: 'if this loss is not heavy, and evenly distributed, everyone will bear with it without complaining about his income. this is what constitutes the national economy, and the series of such small sacrifices increases capital and common wealth.'[ ] if, on the other hand, there is ruthless accumulation, this surplus residue becomes a public calamity, and the result is a crisis. thus a petty-bourgeois subterfuge becomes the solution of sismondi: putting the dampers on accumulation. he constantly polemises against the classical school which advocates unrestricted development of the productive forces and expansion of production; and his whole work is a warning against the fatal consequences of giving full rein to the desire to accumulate. sismondi's exposition proves that he was unable to grasp the reproductive process as a whole. quite apart from his unsuccessful attempt to distinguish between the categories of capital and income from the point of view of society, his theory of reproduction suffers from the fundamental error he took over from adam smith: the idea that personal consumption absorbs the entire annual product, without leaving any part of the value for the renewal of society's constant capital, and also, that accumulation consists merely of the transformation of capitalised surplus value into variable capital. yet, if later critics of sismondi, e.g. the russian marxist ilyin,[ ] think that pointing out this fundamental error in the analysis of the aggregate product can justify a cavalier dismissal of sismondi's entire theory of accumulation as inadequate, as 'nonsense', they merely demonstrate their own obtuseness in respect of sismondi's real concern, his ultimate problem. the analysis of marx at a later date, showing up the crude mistakes of adam smith for the first time, is the best proof that the problem of accumulation is far from solved just by attending to the equivalent of the constant capital in the aggregate product. this is proved even more strikingly in the actual development of sismondi's theory: his views involved him in bitter controversy with the exponents and popularisers of the classical school, with ricardo, say and macculloch. the two parties to the conflict represent diametrically opposed points of view: sismondi stands for the sheer impossibility, the others for the unrestricted possibility, of accumulation. sismondi and his opponents alike disregard constant capital in their exposition of reproduction, and it was say in particular who presumed to perpetuate adam smith's confused concept of the aggregate product as _v + s_ as an unassailable dogma. the knowledge we owe to marx that the aggregate product must, apart from consumer goods for the workers and capitalists (_v + s_), also contain means of production to renew what has been used, that accumulation accordingly consists not merely in the enlargement of variable but also of constant capital, is not enough, as amply demonstrated by this entertaining turn of events, to solve the problem of accumulation. later we shall see how this stress on the share of constant capital in the reproductive process gave rise to new fallacies in the theory of accumulation. at present it will suffice to put on record that the deference to smith's error about the reproduction of aggregate capital is not a weakness unique to sismondi's position but is rather the common ground on which the first controversy about the problem of accumulation was fought out. scientific research, not only in this sphere, proceeds in devious ways; it often tackles the upper storeys of the edifice, as it were, without making sure of the foundations; and so this conflict only resulted in that bourgeois economics took on the further complicated problem of accumulation without even having assimilated the elementary problem of simple reproduction. at all events, sismondi, in his critique of accumulation, had indubitably given bourgeois economics a hard nut to crack--seeing that in spite of his transparently feeble and awkward deductions, sismondi's opponents were still unable to get the better of him. footnotes: [ ] in the review of an essay on _observations on the injurious consequences of the restrictions upon foreign commerce, by a member of the late parliament, london, _ (_edinburgh review_, vol. lxvi, pp. ff.). this interesting document, from which the following extracts are taken, an essay with a free trade bias, paints the general position of the workers in england in the most dismal colours. it gives the facts as follows: 'the manufacturing classes in great britain ... have been suddenly reduced from affluence and prosperity to the extreme of poverty and misery. in one of the debates in the late session of parliament, it was stated that the wages of weavers of glasgow and its vicinity which, when highest, had averaged about _s._ or _s._ a week, had been reduced in to _s._; and in to the wretched pittance of - _s._ or _s._ they have not since been materially augmented.' in lancashire, according to the same evidence, the direct weekly wage of the weavers was from _s._ to _s._ a week for hours' labour a day, whilst half-starved children worked to hours a day for _s._ or _s._ a week. distress in yorkshire was, if possible, even greater. as to the address by the frame-work knitters of nottingham, the author says that he himself investigated conditions and had come to the conclusion that the declarations of the workers 'were not in the slightest degree exaggerated'. [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] paris, . [ ] preface to the second edition. translation by m. mignet, in _political economy and the philosophy of government_ (london, ), pp. ff. [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ... ( nd ed.), vol. i, p. . [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ... ( nd ed.), vol. i, p. xv. [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. i, p. xiii (pp. - of mignet's translation). [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ... ( nd ed.), vol. i, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. i, p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. i, pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. i, pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. , . [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. i, p. . [ ] vladimir ilyich [lenin], _economic studies and essays_, _st. petersburg_, . _chapter xi_ macculloch _v._ sismondi sismondi's emphatic warnings against the ruthless ascendancy of capital in europe called forth severe opposition on three sides: in england the school of ricardo, in france j. b. say, the commonplace vulgariser of adam smith, and the st. simonians. while owen in england, profoundly aware of the dark aspects of the industrial system and of the crises in particular, saw eye to eye with sismondi in many respects, the school of that other great european, st. simon, who had stressed the world-embracing conception of large industrial expansion, the unlimited unfolding of the productive forces of human labour, felt perturbed by sismondi's alarms. here, however, we are interested in the controversy between sismondi and the ricardians which proved the most fruitful from the theoretical point of view. in the name of ricardo, and, it seemed, with ricardo's personal approval, macculloch anonymously published a polemical article[ ] against sismondi in the _edinburgh review_ in october , i.e. immediately after the publication of the _nouveaux principes_. in , sismondi replied in rossi's _annales de jurisprudence_ with an essay entitled: 'does the power of consuming necessarily increase with the power to produce? an enquiry.'[ ] in his reply sismondi[ ] himself states that his polemics were conceived under the impact of the commercial crisis: 'this truth we are both looking for, is of utmost importance under present conditions. it may be considered as fundamental for economics. universal distress is in evidence in the trade, in industry and, in many countries certainly, even in agriculture. such prolonged and extraordinary suffering has brought misfortune to countless families and insecurity and despondency to all, until it threatens the very bases of the social order. two contrasting explanations have been advanced for the distress that has caused such a stir. some say: we have produced too much, and others: we have not produced enough. "there will be no equilibrium," say the former, "no peace and no prosperity until we consume the entire commodity surplus which remains unsold on the market, until we organise production for the future in accordance with the buyers' demand."--"there will be a new equilibrium," say the latter, "if only we double our efforts to accumulate as well as to produce. it is a mistake to believe that there is a glut on the market; no more than half our warehouses are full; let us fill the other half, too, and the mutual exchange of these new riches will revive our trade."'[ ] in this supremely lucid way, sismondi sets out and underlines the real crux of the dispute. macculloch's whole position in truth stands or falls with the statement that exchange is actually an interchange of commodities; every commodity accordingly represents not only supply but demand. the dialogue then continues as follows: 'demand and supply are truly correlative and convertible terms. the supply of one set of commodities constitutes the demand for another. thus, there is a demand for a given quantity of agricultural produce, when a quantity of wrought goods equal thereto in productive cost is offered in exchange for it; and conversely, there is an effectual demand for this quantity of wrought goods, when the supply of agricultural produce which it required the same expense to raise, is presented as its equivalent.'[ ] the ricardian's dodge is obvious: he has chosen to ignore the circulation of money and to pretend that commodities are immediately bought and paid for by commodities. from the conditions of highly developed capitalist production, we are thus suddenly taken to a stage of primitive barter such as we might find still flourishing at present in central africa. there is a distant element of truth in this trick since money, in a simple circulation of commodities, plays merely the part of an agent. but of course, it is just the intervention of an agent which separates the two transactions of circulation, sale and purchase, and makes them independent of one another in respect of both time and place. that is why a further purchase need not follow hard upon a sale for one thing; and secondly, sale and purchase are by no means bound up with the same people: in fact, they will involve the same performers only in rare and exceptional cases. macculloch, however, makes just this baseless assumption by confronting, as buyer and seller, industry on the one hand and agriculture on the other. the universality of these categories, _qua_ total categories of exchange, obscures the actual splitting up of this social division of labour which results in innumerable private exchange transactions where the sale and purchase of two commodities rarely come to the same thing. macculloch's simplified conception of commodity exchange in general which immediately turns the commodity into money and pretends that it can be directly exchanged, makes it impossible to understand the economic significance of money, its historical appearance. sismondi's answer to this is regrettably clumsy. in order to show that macculloch's explanation of commodity exchange has no application for capitalist production, he takes recourse to the leipsic book fair.[ ] 'at the book fair of leipsic, booksellers from all over germany arrive, each with four or five publications of his own in some or dozen copies; these are exchanged for others and every seller takes home dozen books, just as he has brought dozen, with the sole difference, that he brought four different works and takes home . this is the demand and the production which, according to m. ricardo's disciple, are correlative and convertible; one buys the other, one pays for the other, one is the consequence of the other. but as far as we are concerned, for the bookseller and for the general public, demand and consumption have not even begun. for all that it has changed hands at leipsic, a bad book will still be just as unsold (a bad mistake of sismondi's, this!), it will still clutter up the merchants' shops, either because nobody wants it, or because everyone has a copy already. the books exchanged at leipsic will only sell if the booksellers can find individuals who not only want them but are also prepared to make sacrifices in order to withdraw them from circulation. they alone constitute an effective demand.'[ ] although this example is rather crude, it shows clearly that sismondi was not side-tracked by his opponent's trick, that he knows after all what he is talking about. macculloch then attempts to turn the examination from abstract commodity exchange to concrete social conditions: 'supposing, for the sake of illustration, that a cultivator advanced food and clothing for labourers, who raised for him _food_ for ; while a master-manufacturer also advanced food and clothing for , who fabricated for him _clothing_ for . then the farmer, besides replacing the food of his own labourers, would have food for to dispose of; while the manufacturer, after replacing the clothing of his own labourers, would have clothing for to bring to market. in this case, the two articles would be exchanged against each other, the supply of food constituting the demand for the clothing, and that of the clothing the demand for the food.'[ ] what are we to admire more in this hypothesis: the absurdity of the set-up which reverses all actual relations, or the effrontery which simply takes for granted in the premises all that is later claimed proved? in order to prove that it is always possible to create an unlimited demand for all kinds of goods, macculloch chooses for his example two commodities which pertain to the most urgent and elementary wants of every human being: food and clothing. in order to prove that commodities may be exchanged at any time, and without regard to the needs of society, he chooses for his example two products in quantities which are right from the start in strict conformity with these needs, and which therefore contain no surplus as far as society is concerned. and yet he calls this quantity needed by society a surplus--_viz._ as measured against the producer's personal requirements for his own product, and is consequently able to demonstrate brilliantly that any amount of commodity 'surplus' can be exchanged for a corresponding 'surplus' of other commodities. finally, in order to prove that different privately produced commodities can yet be exchanged, although their quantity, production costs and social importance must of course be different, he chooses for his example commodities whose quantity, production cost and general social necessity are precisely the same right from the start. in short, macculloch posits a planned, strictly regulated production without any over-production in order to prove that no crisis is possible in an unplanned private economy. the principal joke of canny mac, however, lies elsewhere. what is at issue is the problem of accumulation. sismondi was worried by, and worried ricardo and his followers with, the following question: if part of the surplus value is capitalised, i.e. used to expand production over and above the income of society, instead of being privately consumed by the capitalists, where are we to find buyers for the commodity surplus? what will become of the capitalised surplus value? who will buy the commodities in which it is hidden? thus sismondi. and the flower of ricardo's school, its official representative on the chair of london university, the authority for the then english ministers of the liberal party and for the city of london, the great mr. macculloch replies--by constructing an example in which no surplus value whatever is produced. his 'capitalists' slave away in agriculture and industry in the name of charity, and all the time the entire social product, including the 'surplus', is only enough for the needs of the workers, for the wages, while the 'farmer' and 'manufacturer' see to production and exchange without food and clothing. sismondi, justly impatient, now exclaims: 'the moment we want to find out what is to constitute the surplus of production over consumption of the workers, it will not do to abstract from that surplus which forms the due profit of labour and the due share of the master.'[ ] macculloch's only reaction is to multiply his silly argument by a thousand. he asks the reader to assume ' , farmers', and 'also , master-manufacturers' all acting as ingenuously as the individuals. the exchange, then, proceeds as smoothly as can be desired. finally, he exactly doubles labour productivity 'in consequence of more skilful application of labour and of the introduction of machinery--thus that every one of the , farmers, by advancing food and clothing for labourers, obtains a return consisting of ordinary food for together with sugar, grapes and tobacco equal in production cost to that food', while every manufacturer obtains, by an analogous procedure, in addition to the previous quantity of clothing for all workers, 'ribbands, cambrics and lace, equal in productive cost, and therefore in exchangeable value, to that clothing'.[ ] after such complete reversal of the chronological order, the assumption, that is, of first the existence of private property with wage labour, and then, at a later stage, such level of labour productivity as makes exploitation possible at all, he now assumes labour productivity to progress with equal speed in all spheres, the surplus product to contain precisely the same amount of value in all branches of industry, and to be divided among precisely the same number of people. when these various surplus products are then exchanged against one another, is it any wonder that the exchange proceeds smoothly and completely to everybody's satisfaction? it is only another of his many absurdities that macculloch makes the capitalists who had hitherto lived on air and exercised their profession in their birthday suits, now live exclusively on sugar, tobacco and wine, and array themselves only in ribbons, cambrics and lace. the most ridiculous performance, however, is the _volte-face_ by which he evades the real problem. the question had been what happens to the capitalist surplus, that surplus which is used not for the capitalist's own consumption but for the expansion of production. macculloch solves it on the one hand by ignoring the production of surplus value altogether, and on the other, by using all surplus value in the production of luxury goods. what buyers, then, does he advance for this new luxury production? the capitalists, evidently; the farmers and manufacturers, since, apart from these, there are only workers in macculloch's model. thus the entire surplus value is consumed for the personal satisfaction of the capitalists, that is to say, simple reproduction takes place. the answer to the problem of the capitalisation of surplus value is, according to macculloch, either to ignore surplus value altogether, or to assume simple reproduction instead of accumulation as soon as surplus value comes into being. he still _pretends_ to speak of expanding reproduction, but again, as before when he pretended to deal with the 'surplus', he uses a trick, _viz._ first setting out an impossible species of capitalist production without any surplus value, and then persuading the reader that the subsequent _début_ of the surplus value constitutes an expansion of production. sismondi is not quite up to these scottish acrobatics. he had up to now succeeded in pinning his mac down, proving him to be 'obviously absurd'. but now he himself becomes confused with regard to the crucial point at issue. on the above rantings of his opponent, he should have declared coldly: sir, with all respect for the flexibility of your mind, you are dodging the issue. i keep on asking, who will buy the surplus product, if the capitalists use it for the purpose of accumulation, i.e. to expand production, instead of squandering it altogether? and you reply: oh well, they will expand their production of luxury goods, which they will, of course, eat up themselves. but this is a conjuring trick, seeing that the capitalists consume the surplus value in so far as they spend it on their luxuries--they do not accumulate at all. my question is about the possibility of accumulation, not whether the personal luxuries of the capitalists are possible. answer this clearly, if you can, or else go play with your wine and tobacco, or go to blazes for all i care. but sismondi, instead of putting the screws on the vulgariser, suddenly begins to moralise with pathos and social conscience. he exclaims: 'whose demand? whose satisfaction? the masters or the workers in town or country? on this new conception [of mac's] there is a surplus of products, an advantage from labour--to whom will it accrue?'[ ] and gives his own answer in the following impassioned words: 'but we know full well, and the history of the commercial world teaches us all too thoroughly, that it is not the worker who profits from the increase in products and labour; his pay is not in the least swelled by it. m. ricardo himself said formerly that it ought not to be, unless you want the social wealth to stop growing. on the contrary, sorry experience teaches us that wages nearly always contract by very reason of this increase. where, then, does the accumulation of wealth make itself felt as a public benefit? our author assumes , farmers who profit, while , workers toil; , entrepreneurs who wax rich, while , artisans are kept under their orders. whatever good may result from the accumulation of the frivolous enjoyment of luxuries is only felt by a th part of the nation. and will this th part, called upon to consume the entire surplus product of the whole working class, be adequate to a production that may grow without let or hindrance, owing to progress of machinery and capitals? in the assumption made by the author, every time the national product is doubled, the master of the farm or of the factory must increase his consumption a hundredfold; if the national wealth to-day, thanks to the invention of so many machines, is a hundred times what it was when it only covered the cost of production, every employer would to-day have to consume enough products to support , workers.'[ ] at this point sismondi again believes himself to have a firm grasp on how crises begin to arise: 'we might imagine, if put to it, that a rich man can consume the goods manufactured by , workers, this being the fate of the ribbons, lace and cambrics whose origin the author has shown us. but a single individual would not know how to consume agricultural product to the same tune, the wines, sugar and spices which m. ricardo [whom sismondi evidently suspected of having written the article since he only got to know 'anonymous' of the _edinburgh review_ at a later date] conjures up in exchange, are too much for the table of one man. they will not sell, or else the strict proportion between agricultural and industrial products, apparently the basis of his whole system, cannot be maintained.'[ ] sismondi, we see, has thus fallen into macculloch's trap. instead of waiving an answer to the problem of accumulation which refers to the production of luxuries, he pursues his opponent into this field without noticing that the ground under his feet has shifted. here he finds two causes for complaint. for one thing, he has moral objections to macculloch's allowing the capitalists instead of the workers to benefit by the surplus value, and is side-tracked into polemising against distribution under capitalism. from this digression, he unexpectedly reverts to the original problem which he now formulates as follows: the capitalists, then, consume the entire surplus value in luxuries. let it be so. but could anyone increase his consumption as rapidly and indefinitely as the progress of labour productivity makes the surplus value increase? and in this second instance, sismondi himself abandons his own problem. instead of perceiving that it is the lack of consumers other than workers and capitalists which accounts for the difficulty in capitalist accumulation, he discovers a snag in simple reproduction because the capitalists' capacity to consume has physical limits. since the absorptive capacity of the capitalists for luxuries cannot keep up with labour productivity, that is to say with the increase in surplus value, there must be crises and over-production. we have encountered this line of thought once before in the _nouveaux principes_--so sismondi himself was manifestly not quite clear about the problem at all times. and that is hardly surprising, since one can really come to grips with the whole problem of accumulation only when one has fully grasped the problem of simple reproduction, and we have seen how much sismondi was at fault in this respect. yet in spite of all this, the first time that sismondi crossed swords with the heirs of the classical school, he proved himself by no means the weaker party. on the contrary, in the end he routed his opponent. if sismondi misunderstood the most elementary principles of social reproduction and ignored constant capital, quite in keeping with adam smith's dogma, he was in this respect no worse at any rate than his opponent. constant capital does not exist for macculloch either, his farmers and manufacturers 'advance' merely food and clothing to their workers, and food and clothing between them make up the aggregate product of society. if there is, then, nothing to choose between the two as far as this elementary blunder is concerned, sismondi towers heads above mac because of his intuitive understanding of the contradictions in the capitalist mode of production. in the end, the ricardian was at a loss to answer sismondi's scepticism concerning the possibility of realising the surplus value. sismondi also shows himself more penetrating in that he throws the nottingham proletarians' cry of distress in the teeth of the apostles and apologists of harmony with their smug complacency, of those who deny 'any surplus of production over demand, any congestion of the market, any suffering', when he proves that the introduction of the machine must of necessity create a 'superabundant population', and particularly in the end, when he underlines the tendency of the capitalist world market in general with its inherent contradictions. macculloch denies outright that general over-production is possible. he has a specific for every partial over-production up his sleeve: 'it may be objected, perhaps, that on the principle that the demand for commodities increases in the same ratio as their supply, there is no accounting for the gluts and stagnation produced by overtrading. we answer very easily--a glut is an increase in the supply of a particular class of commodities, unaccompanied by a corresponding increase in the supply of those other commodities which should serve as their equivalents. while our , farmers and , master-manufacturers are exchanging their respective surplus products, and reciprocally affording a market to each other, if , new capitalists were to join their society, employing each labourers in tillage, there would be an immediate glut in agricultural produce ... because in this case there would be no contemporaneous increase in the supply of the manufactured articles which should purchase it. but let one half of the new capitalists become manufacturers, and equivalents in the form of wrought goods will be created for the new produce raised by the other half: the equilibrium will be restored, and the , farmers and , master-manufacturers will exchange their respective surplus products with exactly the same facility with which the , farmers and , manufacturers formerly exchanged theirs.'[ ] sismondi answers this buffoonery which 'very easily' pokes about in a fog, by pointing to the real changes and revolutions which take place before his own eyes. 'it was possible to put barbarous countries under the plough, and political revolutions, changes in the financial system, and peace, at once brought cargoes to the ports of the old agricultural countries which almost equalled their entire harvest. the recent russian conquest of the vast provinces on the black sea, the change in the system of government in egypt, and the outlawing of piracy in high barbary, have suddenly poured the granaries of odessa, alexandria and tunis into the italian ports and have put such an abundance of corn on the markets that all along the coasts the farmer's trade is fighting a losing battle. nor is the remainder of europe safe from a similar revolution, caused by the simultaneous ploughing under of immense expanses of new land on the banks of the mississippi, which export all their agricultural produce. even the influence of new holland may one day be the ruin of english industry, if not in the price of foodstuffs, which are too expensive to transport, at least in respect of wool and other agricultural products which are easier to transport.'[ ] what would macculloch have to advise in view of such an agrarian crisis in southern europe? that half the new farmers should turn manufacturer. whereupon sismondi counters: 'such counsel cannot seriously apply to the tartars of the crimea or to the fellaheen of egypt.' and he adds: 'the time is not yet ripe to set up new industries in the regions oversea or in new holland.'[ ] sismondi's acuity recognised that industrialisation of the lands overseas was only a matter of time. he was equally aware of the fact that the expansion of the world market would not bring with it the solution to the difficulty but would only reproduce it in a higher degree, in yet more potent crises. his prediction for the expansive tendency of capitalism is that it will reveal an aspect of fiercer and fiercer competition, of mounting anarchy within production itself. indeed, he puts his finger on the fundamental causes of crises in a passage where he states the trend of capitalist production precisely as surpassing all limits of the market. at the end of his reply to macculloch he says: 'time and again it has been proclaimed that the equilibrium will re-establish itself, that work will start again, but a single demand each time provides an impetus in excess of the real needs of trade, and this new activity must soon be followed by a yet more painful glut.'[ ] to such a profound grasp of the real contradictions in the movements of capital, the _vulgarus_ on the chair of london university with his harmony cant and his country-dance of , beribboned farmers and , bibulous manufacturers could find no effective answer. footnotes: [ ] the article in the _edinburgh review_ was really directed against owen, sharply attacking on pages of print the latter's four treatises: ( ) 'a new view of society, or essays on the formation of human character', ( ) 'observations on the effects of the manufacturing system', ( ) 'two memorials on behalf of the working classes, presented to the governments of america and europe', and finally ( ) 'three tracts' and 'an account of public proceedings relative to the employment of the poor'. 'anonymous' here attempts a detailed proof that owen's reformist ideas by no means get down to the real causes of the misery of the english proletariat, these causes being: the transition to the cultivation of barren land (ricardo's theory of ground rent!), the corn laws and high taxation pressing upon farmer and manufacturer alike. free trade and _laissez-faire_ thus is his alpha and omega. given unrestricted accumulation, all increase in production will create for itself an increase in demand. owen is accused of 'profound ignorance' as regards say and james mill.--'in his reasonings, as well as in his plans, mr. owen shows himself profoundly ignorant of all the laws which regulate the production and distribution of wealth.'--from owen, the author proceeds to sismondi and formulates the point of contention as follows: 'he [owen] conceives that when competition is unchecked by any artificial regulations, and industry permitted to flow in its natural channels, the use of machinery may increase the supply of the several articles of wealth beyond the demand for them, and by creating an excess of all commodities, throw the working classes out of employment. this is the position which we hold to be fundamentally erroneous; and as it is strongly insisted on by the celebrated m. de sismondi in his _nouveaux principes d'Économie politique_, we must entreat the indulgence of our readers while we endeavour to point out its fallacy, and to demonstrate, that the power of consuming necessarily increases with every increase in the power of producing' (_edinburgh review_, oct. , p. ). [ ] the original title is: _examen de cette question: le pouvoir de consommer s'accroît-il toujours dans la société avec le pouvoir de produire?_ we have not been able to obtain a copy of rossi's _annales_, but the essay as a whole was incorporated by sismondi in the second edition of his _nouveaux principes_. [ ] at the time of writing, sismondi was still in the dark as to the identity of 'anonymous' in the _edinburgh review_. [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] macculloch, loc. cit., p. . [ ] incidentally, sismondi's leipsic book fair, as a microcosm of the capitalist world, has staged a come-back after years--in eugen duehring's 'system'. engels, in his devastating criticism of that unfortunate 'universal genius' adduces this idea as proof that duehring, by attempting to elucidate a real industrial crisis by means of an imaginary one on the leipsic book fair, a storm at sea by a storm in a teacup, has shown himself a 'real german _literatus_'. but, as in many other instances exposed by engels, the great thinker has simply borrowed here from someone else on the sly. [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] macculloch, loc. cit., p. . [ ] sismondi, op. cit, vol. ii, p. . [ ] macculloch, loc. cit., p. . [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] macculloch, loc. cit., pp. - . [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . _chapter xii_ ricardo _v._ sismondi macculloch's reply to sismondi's theoretical objections evidently did not settle the matter to ricardo's own satisfaction. unlike that shrewd 'scottish arch-humbug', as marx calls him, ricardo really wanted to discover the truth and throughout retained the genuine modesty of a great mind.[ ] that sismondi's polemics against him and his pupil had made a deep impression is proved by ricardo's revised approach to the question of the effects of the machine, that being the point on which sismondi, to his eternal credit, had confronted the classical school of harmony with the sinister aspects of capitalism. ricardo's followers had enlarged upon the doctrine that the machine can always create as many or even more opportunities for the wage labourers as it takes away by displacing living labour. this so-called theory of compensation was subjected to a stern attack by sismondi in the chapter 'on the division of labour and machinery'[ ] and in another chapter significantly entitled: 'machinery creates a surplus population',[ ] both published in the _nouveaux principes_ of , two years later than ricardo's main work. in , after the macculloch-sismondi controversy, ricardo inserted a new chapter in the third edition of his _principles_, where he frankly confesses to his error and says in the strain of sismondi: 'that the opinion entertained by the labouring classes, that the employment of machinery is frequently detrimental to their interests, is not founded on prejudice and error, but is conformable to the correct principles of political economy.'[ ] he, like sismondi, had to defend himself against the suspicion that he is opposing technical progress, but, less ruthless, he compromises with the evasion that the evil emerges only gradually. 'to elucidate the principle, i have been supposing, that improved machinery is _suddenly_ discovered, and extensively used; but the truth is, that these discoveries are gradual, and rather operate in determining the employment of the capital which is saved and accumulated, than in diverting capital from its actual employment.'[ ] yet the problem of crises and accumulation continued to worry ricardo also. in , the last year of his life, he spent some days in geneva in order to talk the problem over face to face with sismondi. the result of these talks is sismondi's essay 'on the balance between consumption and production', published in the _revue encyclopédique_ of may .[ ] in his _principles_, ricardo had at the crucial points completely accepted say's trite doctrine of harmony in the relations between production and consumption. in chapter xxi he had declared: 'm. say has, however, most satisfactorily shown, that there is no amount of capital which may not be employed in a country, because demand is only limited by production. no man produces, but with a view to consume or sell, and he never sells, but with an intention to purchase some other commodity, which may be immediately useful to him, or which may contribute to future production. by producing, then, he necessarily becomes either the consumer of his own goods, or the purchaser and consumer of the goods of some other person.'[ ] to this conception of ricardo's, sismondi's _nouveaux principes_ were a powerful challenge, and the dispute as a whole turned also on this point. ricardo could not deny the fact of crises which had but recently passed over england and other countries. what was at issue was the explanation for them. right at the outset of their debate, sismondi and ricardo had agreed on a remarkably lucid and precise formulation of the problem, excluding the question of foreign commerce altogether. sismondi grasped the significance and necessity of foreign trade for capitalist production, its need for expansion, well enough; in this line he was quite in step with ricardo's free traders, whom he considerably excelled in his dialectical conception of the expansionist needs of capital. he fully admitted that industry 'is increasingly led to look for its vents on foreign markets where it is threatened by greater revolutions'.[ ] he forecast, as we have seen, the rise of a dangerous competition for european industry in the overseas countries. this was after all a creditable achievement in the year , and one which reveals sismondi's deep insight into the relations of capitalist world economy. but even so, sismondi was in fact far from conceiving the problem of realising the surplus value, the problem of accumulation, to depend on foreign commerce as its only means of salvation, a view attributed to him by later critics. on the contrary, sismondi was quite explicit in the sixth chapter of volume i:[ ] 'in order to make these calculations with greater certainty and to simplify these questions, we have hitherto made complete abstraction from foreign trade and supposed an isolated nation; this isolated nation is human society itself, and what is true for a nation without foreign commerce, is equally true for mankind.' in other words: in considering the entire world market as one society producing exclusively by capitalist methods, sismondi grounds his problem in the same premises as marx was to do after him. that was also the basis on which he came to terms with ricardo. 'from the question that troubled us, we had each of us dismissed the instance of a nation that sold more abroad than it needed to buy there, that could command a growing external market for its growing internal production. in any case, it is not for us to decide whether fortunes of war or politics could perhaps bring forth new consumers for a nation--what is needed is proof that a nation can create these for itself simply by increasing its production.'[ ] this is how sismondi formulated the problem of realising the surplus value in all precision, just as it confronts us throughout the ensuing era in economics, in contrast with ricardo who actually maintains along with say, as we are already aware and shall show in further detail, that production creates its own demand. ricardo's thesis in the controversy with sismondi takes the following form: 'supposing that workers produce , sacks of corn, and weavers , yards woollen fabric. let us disregard all other products useful to man and all intermediaries between them, and consider them alone in the world. they exchange their , yards against the , sacks. supposing that the productive power of labour has increased by a tenth owing to a successive progress of industry, the same people will exchange , yards against , sacks, and each will be better clothed and fed; new progress will make them exchange , yards for , sacks, and so on. the increase in products always only increases the enjoyment of those who produce.'[ ] the great ricardo's standards of reasoning, it must regretfully be stated, are if anything even lower than those of the scottish arch-humbug, macculloch. once again we are invited to witness a harmonious and graceful country-dance of sacks and yards--the very proportion which is to be proved, is again taken for granted. what is more, all relevant premises for the problem are simply left out. the real problem--you will recollect--the object of the controversy had been the question: who are the buyers and consumers of the surplus product that comes into being if the capitalists produce more goods than are needed for their own and their workers' consumption; if, that is to say, they capitalise part of their surplus value and use it to expand production, to increase their capital? ricardo answers it by completely ignoring the capital increase. the picture he paints of the various stages of production is merely that of a gradually increasing productivity of labour. according to his assumptions, the same amount of labour first produces , sacks and , yards textiles, then , sacks and , yards, further , sacks and , yards, and so on, in a gracefully ascending curve. not only that the image of a marshalled uniform progression on both sides, of conformity even in the number of objects brought to exchange, is wearisome, the expansion of capital is nowhere as much as mentioned in the model. here we have no enlarged but simple reproduction with a greater bulk of use-values indeed, but without any increase in the value of the aggregate social product. since only the amount of value, not the number of use-values is relevant to the exchange transaction, and this amount remains constant in the example, ricardo makes no real advances, even though he seems to analyse the progressive expansion of production. finally, he is quite oblivious of the relevant categories of reproduction. macculloch had begun by making the capitalists produce without any surplus value and live on air, but at least he recognised the existence of the workers, making provision for their consumption. ricardo, however, does not even mention the workers; for him the distinction between variable capital and surplus value does not exist at all. besides this major omission, it is of small account that he, just like his disciple, takes no notice of constant capital. he wants to solve the problem of realising the surplus value and expanding capital without positing more than the existence of a certain quantity of commodities which are mutually exchanged. sismondi was blind to the fact that the venue has been changed altogether. yet he tried faithfully to bring the fantasies of his famous guest and opponent down to earth and to analyse their invisible contradictions, plaintively saying that these assumptions, 'just like german metaphysics, abstract from time and space'.[ ] he grafts ricardo's hypothesis on to 'society in its real organisation, with unpropertied workers whose wage is fixed by competition and who can be dismissed the moment their master has no further need of their work ... for'--remarks sismondi, as acute as he is modest--'it is just this social organisation to which our objection refers'.[ ] he lays bare the many difficulties and conflicts bound up with the progress of labour productivity under capitalism, and shows that ricardo's postulated changes in the technique of labour, from the point of view of society, lead to the following alternative: either a number of workers corresponding to the increase in labour productivity will have to be dismissed outright--then there will be a surplus of products on the one hand, and on the other unemployment and misery--a faithful picture of present-day society. or the surplus product will be used for the maintenance of the workers in a new field of production, the production of luxury goods. here sismondi undoubtedly proves himself superior: he suddenly remembers the existence of the constant capital, and now it is he who subjects the english classic to a frontal attack: 'for setting up a new industry for manufacturing luxuries, new capital is also needed; machines will have to be built, raw materials procured, and distant commerce brought into activity; for the wealthy are rarely content with enjoying what is immediately in front of them. where, then, could we find this new capital which may perhaps be much more considerable than that required by agriculture?... our luxury workers are still a long way from eating our labourers' grain, from wearing the clothes from our common factories; they are not yet made into workers, they may not even have been born yet, their trade does not exist, the materials on which they are to work have not arrived from india. all those among whom the former should distribute their bread, wait for it in vain.'[ ] sismondi now takes constant capital into account, not only in the production of luxuries, but also in agriculture, and further raises the following objection against ricardo: 'we must abstract from time, if we make the assumption that the cultivator, whom a mechanical discovery or an invention of rural industry enables to treble the productive power of his workers, will also find sufficient capital to treble his exploitation, his agricultural implements, his equipment, his livestock, his granaries: to treble the circulating capital which must serve him while waiting for his harvest.'[ ] in this way sismondi breaks with the superstition of the classical school that with capital expanding all additional capital would be exclusively spent on wages, on the variable capital. he clearly dissents from ricardo's doctrine--which did not, however, prevent his allowing all the errors arising out of this doctrine three years later again to creep into the second edition of his _nouveaux principes_. in opposition to ricardo's facile doctrine of harmony, sismondi underlines two decisive points: on the one hand, the objective difficulties of the process of enlarged reproduction which works by no means so smoothly in capitalist reality as it does in ricardo's absurd hypothesis; on the other hand, the fact that all technical progress in social labour productivity is always achieved under capitalism at the expense of the working class, bought with their suffering. sismondi shows himself superior to ricardo in yet a third point: he represents the broad horizon of the dialectical approach as against ricardo's blunt narrow-mindedness with its incapacity to conceive of any forms of society other than those of bourgeois economics: 'our eyes,' he exclaims, 'are so accustomed to this new organisation of society, this universal competition, degenerating into hostility between the rich and the working class, that we no longer conceive of any mode of existence other than that whose ruins surround us on all sides. they believe to prove me absurd by confronting me with the vices of preceding systems. indeed, as regards the organisation of the lower classes, two or three systems have succeeded one another; yet, since they are not to be regretted, since, after first doing some good, they then imposed terrible disasters on mankind, may we conclude from this that we have now entered the true one? may we conclude that we shall not discover the besetting vice of the system of wage labour as we have discovered that of slavery, of vassalage, and of the guilds? a time will come, no doubt, when our descendants will condemn us as barbarians because we have left the working classes without security, just as we already condemn, as they also will, as barbarian the nations who have reduced those same classes to slavery.'[ ] sismondi's statement, putting in a nutshell the vital differences between the parts played by the proletariat in a modern society and in the society of ancient rome, shows his profound insight into historical connections. he shows no less discernment, in his polemics against ricardo, when analysing the specific economic character of the slave-system and of feudal economy as well as their relative historical significance, and finally when emphasising, as the dominant universal tendency of bourgeois economy, 'that it severs completely all kind of property from every kind of labour'. the second round, no more than the first, between sismondi and the classical school, brought little glory for sismondi's opponents.[ ] footnotes: [ ] it is typical that on his election to parliament in , when he already enjoyed the highest reputation on account of his economic writings, ricardo wrote to a friend: 'you will have seen that i have taken my seat in the house of commons. i fear i shall be of little use there. i have twice attempted to speak but i proceeded in the most embarrassed manner, and i have no hope of conquering the alarm with which i am assailed the moment i hear the sound of my own voice' (_letters of d. ricardo to j. r. macculloch_, n.y., , pp. - ). such diffidence was quite unknown to the gasbag macculloch. [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., book iv, chap. vii. [ ] ibid., book vii, chap. vii. [ ] d. ricardo, _on the principles of political economy and taxation_ ( rd edition, london, ), p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] this essay, _sur la balance des consommations avec les productions_, is reprinted in the second edition of _nouveaux principes_, vol. ii, pp. ff. sismondi tells us about this discussion: 'm. ricardo, whose recent death has been a profound bereavement not only to his friends and family but to all those whom he enlightened by his brilliance, all those whom he inspired by his lofty sentiments, stayed for some days in geneva in the last year of his life. we discussed in two or three sessions this fundamental question on which we disagreed. to this enquiry he brought the urbanity, the good faith, the love of truth which distinguished him, and a clarity which his disciples themselves had not heard, accustomed as they were to the efforts of abstract thought he demanded in the lecture room.' [ ] ricardo, op. cit., p. . [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., book iv, chap, iv: 'comment la richesse commerciale suit l'accroissement du revenu' (vol. i, p. ). [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] sismondi, op. cit., vol. ii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] thus, if tugan baranovski, championing say-ricardo's views, tells us about the controversy between sismondi and ricardo (_studies on the theory and history of commercial crises in england_, p. ), that sismondi was compelled 'to acknowledge as correct the doctrine he had attacked and to concede his opponent all that is necessary'; that sismondi himself 'had abandoned his own theory which still finds so many adherents', and that 'the victory in this controversy lies with ricardo', this shows a lack of discrimination--to put it mildly--such as is practically unheard-of in a work of serious scientific pretensions. _chapter xiii_ say _v_. sismondi sismondi's essay against ricardo in the _revue encyclopédique_ of may , was the final challenge for j. b. say, at that time the acknowledged 'prince of economic science' (_prince de la science économique_), the so-called representative, heir and populariser of the school of adam smith on the continent. say, who had already advanced some arguments against sismondi in his letters to malthus, countered the following july with an essay on 'the balance between consumption and production' in the _revue encyclopédique_, to which sismondi in turn published a short reply. the chronology of sismondi's polemical engagements was thus inverse to the sequence of the opposing theories, for it had been say who first communicated his doctrine of a divinely established balance between production and consumption to ricardo who had in turn handed it down to macculloch. in fact, as early as , say, in his _traité d'Économie politique_, book i, chapter xii, had coined the following peremptory statement: 'products are paid for with other products. it follows that if a nation has too many goods of one kind, the means of selling them would be to create goods of a different kind.'[ ] here we meet again the all too familiar conjuring recipe which was accepted alike by ricardo's school and by the 'vulgar economists' as the corner-stone of the doctrine of harmony.[ ] essentially, sismondi's principal work constitutes a sustained polemic against this thesis. at this stage say charges to the attack in the _revue encyclopédique_ with a complete _volte-face_, as follows: 'objection may be made that, because of man's intelligence, because of the advantage he can draw from the means provided by nature and artifice, every human society can produce _all_ the things fit to satisfy its needs and increase its enjoyment in far larger quantities than it can itself consume. but there i would ask how it is possible that we know of no nation that is supplied with everything. even in what rank as prospering nations seven-eighths of the population are lacking in a multitude of things considered necessities in ... i will not say a wealthy family, but in a modest establishment. the village i live in at present lies in one of the richest parts of france; yet in out of houses i enter here, i see but the coarsest fare and nothing that makes for the well-being of the people, none of the things the english call comforts.'[ ] there is something to admire about the effrontery of the excellent say. it was he who had maintained that in a capitalist economy there could be no difficulties, no surplus, no crises and no misery; since goods can be bought one for the other, we need only go on producing more and more and everything in the garden will be lovely. it was in say's hands that this postulate had become a tenet of the doctrine of harmony, that doctrine so typical of vulgar economics, which had evoked a sharp protest from sismondi who proved this view untenable. the latter had shown that goods cannot be sold in any quantity you like, but that a limit is set to the realisation of goods by the income of society in each case, by _v + s_; inasmuch as the wages of the workers are depressed to a mere subsistence level, and inasmuch as there is also a natural limit to the consumptive capacity of the capitalist class, an expansion of production, sismondi says, must inevitably lead to slumps, crises and ever greater misery for the great masses. say's come-back to this is masterly in its ingenuity: if you will insist that over-production is possible, how can it happen that there are so many people in our society who are naked, hungry and in want? pray, explain this contradiction if you can. say, whose own position excels by contriving blithely to shrug off the circulation of money altogether by operating with a system of barter, now censures his critic for speaking of an over-abundance of products in relation not only to purchasing power but to the real needs of society, and that although sismondi had left no doubt at all about this very salient point of his deductions. 'even if there is a very great number of badly fed, badly clothed and badly housed people in a society, the society can only sell what it buys, and, as we have seen, it can only buy with its income.'[ ] a little further on, say concedes this point but alleges that his opponent has made a new mistake: 'it is not consumers, then, in which the nation is lacking,' he says, 'but purchasing power. sismondi believes that this will be more extensive, when the products are rare, when consequently they are dearer and their production procures ampler pay for the workers.'[ ] that is how say attempts to degrade, in his own trite method of thought, or better, method of canting, sismondi's theory which attacked the very foundations of capitalist organisation and its mode of distribution. he burlesques the _nouveaux principes_, turning them into a plea for 'rare' goods and high prices, and holds up to them the mirror of an artfully flattered capitalist accumulation at its peak. if production becomes more vigorous, he argues, labour grows in numbers and the volume of production expands, the nations will be better and more universally provided for, and he extols the conditions in countries where industrial development is at its highest, as against the misery of the middle ages. sismondi's maxims he declares subversive to capitalist society: 'why does he call for an inquiry into the laws which might oblige the entrepreneur to guarantee a living for the worker he employs? such an inquiry would paralyse the spirit of enterprise. merely the fear that the authorities might interfere with private contracts is a scourge and harmful to the wealth of a nation.'[ ] not to be diverted from his purpose by this indiscriminate apologia of say's, sismondi once more turns the discussion on the fundamental issue: 'surely i have never denied that since the time of louis xiv france has been able to double her population and to quadruple her consumption, as he contends. i have only claimed that the increase of products is a good if it is desired, paid for and consumed; that, on the other hand, it is an evil if, there being no demand, the only hope of the producer is to entice the consumers of a rival industry's products. i have tried to show that the natural course of the nations is progressive increase of their property, an increase consequent upon their demand for new products and their means to pay for them, but that in consequence of our institutions, of our legislation having robbed the working class of all property and every security, they have also been spurred to a disorderly labour quite out of touch with the demand and with purchasing power, which accordingly only aggravates poverty.'[ ] and he winds up the debate by inviting the preacher of harmony to reflect upon the circumstance that, though a nation may be rich, public misery no less than material wealth is constantly on the increase, the class which produces everything being daily brought nearer to a position where it may consume nothing. on this shrill discordant note of capitalist contradictions closes the first clash about the problem of accumulation. summing up the general direction of this first battle of wits, we must note two points: ( ) in spite of all the confusion in sismondi's analysis, his superiority to both ricardo and his followers and to the self-styled heir to the mantle of adam smith is quite unmistakable. sismondi, in taking things from the angle of reproduction, looks for concepts of value (capital and income) and for factual elements (producer and consumer goods) as best he can, in order to grasp how they are interrelated within the total social process. in this he is nearest to adam smith, with the difference only that the contradictions there appearing as merely subjective and speculative, are deliberately stressed as the keynote of sismondi's analysis where the problem of capital accumulation is treated as the crucial point and principal difficulty. sismondi has therefore made obvious advances on adam smith, while ricardo and his followers as well as say throughout the debate think solely in terms of simple commodity production. they only see the formula c--m--c, even reducing everything to barter, and believe that such barren wisdom can cover all the problems specific to the process of reproduction and accumulation. this is a regress even on smith, and over such myopic vision, sismondi scores most decisively. he, the social critic, evinces much more understanding for the categories of bourgeois economics than their staunchest champions--just as, at a later date, the socialist marx was to grasp infinitely more keenly than all bourgeois economists together the _differentia specifica_ of the mechanism of capitalist economy. if sismondi exclaims in the face of ricardo's doctrine: 'what, is wealth to be all, and man a mere nothing?'[ ] it is indicative not only of the vulnerable moral strain in his petty-bourgeois approach compared to the stern, classical impartiality of ricardo, but also of a critical perception, sharpened by social sensibilities for the living social connections of economy; an eye, that is, for intrinsic contradictions and difficulties as against the rigid, hidebound and abstract views of ricardo and his school. the controversy had only shown up the fact that ricardo, just like the followers of adam smith, was not even able to grasp, let alone solve the puzzle of accumulation put by sismondi. ( ) the clue to the problem, however, was already impossible of discovery, because the whole argument had been side-tracked and concentrated upon the problem of crises. it is only natural that the outbreak of the first crisis should dominate the discussion, but no less natural that this effectively prevented either side from recognising that crises are far from constituting _the_ problem of accumulation, being no more than its characteristic phenomenon: one element in the cyclical form of capitalist reproduction. consequently, the debate could only result in a twofold _quid pro quo_: one party deducing from crises that accumulation is impossible, and the other from barter that crises are impossible. subsequent developments of capitalism were to give the lie to both conclusions alike. and yet, sismondi's criticism sounds the first alarm of economic theory at the domination of capital, and for this reason its historical importance is both great and lasting. it paves the way for the disintegration of a classical economics unable to cope with the problem of its own making. but for all sismondi's terror of the consequences attendant upon capitalism triumphant, he was certainly no reactionary in the sense of yearning for pre-capitalistic conditions, even if on occasion he delights in extolling the patriarchal forms of production in agriculture and handicrafts in comparison with the domination of capital. he repeatedly and most vigorously protests against such an interpretation as e.g. in his polemic against ricardo in the _revue encyclopédique_: 'i can already hear the outcry that i jib at improvements in agriculture and craftsmanship and at every progress man could make; that i doubtless prefer a state of barbarism to a state of civilisation, since the plough is a tool, the spade an even older one, and that, according to my system, man ought no doubt to work the soil with his bare hands. 'i never said anything of the kind, and i crave indulgence to protest once for all against all conclusions imputed to my system such as i myself have never drawn. neither those who attack me nor those who defend me have really understood me, and more than once i have been put to shame by my allies as much as by my opponents.'--'i beg you to realise that it is not the machine, new discoveries and inventions, not civilisation to which i object, but the modern organisation of society, an organisation which despoils the man who works of all property other than his arms, and denies him the least security in a reckless over-bidding that makes for his harm and to which he is bound to fall a prey.'[ ] there can be no question that the interests of the proletariat were at the core of sismondi's criticism, and he is making no false claims when he formulates his main tendency as follows: 'i am only working for means to secure the fruits of labour to those who do the work, to make the machine benefit the man who puts it in motion.'[ ] when pressed for a closer definition of the social organisation towards which he aspires, it is true he hedges and confesses himself unable to do so: 'but what remains to be done is of infinite difficulty, and i certainly do not intend to deal with it to-day. i should like to convince the economists as completely as i am convinced myself that their science is going off on a wrong tack. but i cannot trust myself to be able to show them the true course; it is a supreme effort--the most my mind will run to--to form a conception even of the actual organisation of society. yet who would have the power to conceive of an organisation that does not even exist so far, to see the future, since we are already hard put to it to see the present?'[ ] surely it was no disgrace to admit oneself frankly powerless to envisage a future beyond capitalism in the year --at a time when capitalism had only just begun to establish its domination over the big industries, and when the idea of socialism was only possible in a most utopian form. but, as sismondi could neither advance beyond capitalism nor go back to a previous stage, the only course open to his criticism was a petty-bourgeois compromise. sceptical of the possibility of developing fully both capitalism and the productive forces, he found himself under necessity to clamour for some moderation of accumulation, for some slowing down of the triumphant march of capitalism. that is the reactionary aspect of his criticism.[ ] footnotes: [ ] 'l'argent ne remplit qu'un office passager dans ce double échange. les échanges terminés, il se trouve qu'on a payé des produits avec des produits. en conséquence, quand une nation a trop de produits dans un genre, le moyen de les écouler est d'en créer d'un autre genre' (j. b. say, _traité d'Économie politique_, paris, , vol. i, p. ). [ ] in fact, here again, say's only achievement lies in having given a pompous and dogmatic form to an idea that others had expressed before him. as bergmann points out, in his _theory of crises_ (stuttgart, ), the work of josiah tucker ( ), turgot's annotations to the french pamphlets, the writings of quesnay, dupont de nemours, and of others contain quite similar observations on a natural balance, or even identity, between demand and supply. yet the miserable say, as marx once called him, claims credit as the evangelist of harmony for the great discovery of the '_théorie des débouchés_', modestly comparing his own work to the discovery of the principles of thermo-dynamics, of the lever, and of the inclined plane. in the preface and table of contents, e.g. to the th edition of his _traité_ ( , pp. , ) he says: 'the theory of exchange and of vents, such as it is developed in this work, will transform world politics.' the same point of view is also expounded by james mill in his 'commerce defended' of , and it is he whom marx calls the real father of the doctrine of a natural equilibrium between production and demand. [ ] say in _revue encyclopédique_, vol. , july , pp. f. [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. i, p. . [ ] say, loc. cit., p. . [ ] say, loc. cit., p. . say indicts sismondi as the arch-enemy of bourgeois society in the following ranting peroration: 'it is against the modern organisation of society, an organisation which, by despoiling the working man of all property save his hands, gives him no security in the face of a competition directed towards his detriment. what! society despoils the working man because it ensures to every kind of entrepreneur free disposition over his capital, that is to say his property! i repeat: there is nothing more dangerous than views conducive to a regulation of the employment of property' for 'hands and faculties ... are also property' (ibid., p. ). [ ] sismondi, op. cit., pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] sismondi, op. cit., p. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] marx, in his history of the opposition to ricardo's school and its dissolution, makes only brief mention of sismondi, explaining: 'i leave sismondi out of this historical account, because the criticism of his views belongs to a part with which i can deal only after this treatise, the actual movement of capital (competition and credit)' (_theorien über den mehrwert_, vol. iii, p. ). later on, however, in connection with malthus, he also deals with sismondi in a passage that, on the whole, is comprehensive: 'sismondi is profoundly aware of the self-contradiction of capitalist production; he feels that its forms, its productive conditions, spur on an untrammelled development of the productive forces and of wealth on the one hand, yet that these conditions, on the other, are only relative; that their contradictions of value-in-use and value-in-exchange, of commodity and money, of sale and purchase, of production and consumption, of capital and wage-labour, and so on, take on ever larger dimensions, along with the forward strides of the productive forces. in particular, he feels the fundamental conflict: here the untrammelled development of productive power and of a wealth which, at the same time, consists in commodities, must be monetised; and there the basis--restriction of the mass of producers to the necessary means of subsistence. he therefore does not, like ricardo, conceive of the crises as merely incidental, but as essential, as eruptions of the immanent conflicts on ever grander scale and at determinate periods. which faces him with the dilemma: is the state to put restrictions on the _productive forces_ to adapt them to the productive conditions, or upon the _productive conditions_ to adapt them to the _productive forces_? frequently he has recourse to the past, becomes _laudator temporis acti_, and seeks to master the contradictions by a different regulation of income relative to capital, or of distribution relative to production, quite failing to grasp that the relations of distribution are nothing but the relations of production _sub alia specie_. he has a perfect picture of the contradictions immanent in bourgeois production, yet he does not understand them, and therefore fails also to understand the process of their disintegration. (and indeed, how could he, seeing this production was still in the making?--r.l.) and yet, his view is in fact grounded in the premonition that _new_ forms of appropriating wealth must answer to the productive forces, developed in the womb of capitalist production, to the material and social conditions of creating this wealth; that the bourgeois forms of appropriation are but transitory and contradictory, wealth existing always with contrary aspects and presenting itself at once as its opposite. wealth is ever based on the premises of poverty, and can develop only by developing poverty' (ibid., p. ). in _the poverty of philosophy_, marx opposes sismondi to proudhon in sundry passages, yet about the man himself he only remarks tersely: 'those, who, like sismondi, wish to return to the true proportions of production, while preserving the present basis of society, are reactionary, since, to be consistent, they must also wish to bring back all the other conditions of industry of former times' (_the poverty of philosophy_, london, , p. ). two short references to sismondi are in _on the critique of political economy_: once he is ranked, as the last classic of bourgeois economics in france, with ricard in england; in another passage emphasis is laid on the fact that sismondi, contrary to ricardo, underlined the specifically social character of labour that creates value.--in the _communist manifesto_, finally, sismondi is mentioned as the head of the petty-bourgeois school. _chapter xiv_ malthus at the same time as sismondi, malthus also waged war against some of the teachings of ricardo. sismondi, in the second edition of his work as well as in his polemics, repeatedly referred to malthus as an authority on his side. thus he formulated the common aims of his campaign against ricardo in the _revue encyclopédique_: 'mr. malthus, on the other hand, has maintained in england, as i have tried to do on the continent, that consumption is not the necessary consequence of production, that the needs and desires of man, though they are truly without limits, are only satisfied by consumption in so far as means of exchange go with them. we have affirmed that it is not enough to create these means of exchange, to make them circulate among those who have these desires and wants; that it can even happen frequently that the means of exchange increase in society together with a decrease in the demand for labour, or wages, so that the desires and wants of one part of the population cannot be satisfied and consumption also decreases. finally, we have claimed that the unmistakable sign of prosperity in a society is not an increasing production of wealth, but an increasing demand for labour, or the offer of more and more wages in compensation for this labour. messrs. ricardo and say, though not denying that an increasing demand for labour is a symptom of prosperity, maintained that it inevitably results from an increase of production. as for mr. malthus and myself, we regard these two increases as resulting from independent causes which may at times even be in opposition. according to our view, if the demand for labour has not preceded and determined production, the market will be flooded, and then new production becomes a cause of ruin, not of enjoyment.'[ ] these remarks suggest far-reaching agreement, a brotherhood in arms of sismondi and malthus, at least in their opposition against ricardo and his school. marx considers the _principles of political economy_, which malthus published in , an outright plagiarism of the _nouveaux principes_ which had been published the year before. yet sismondi and malthus are frequently at odds regarding the problem with which we are here concerned. sismondi is critical of capitalist production, he attacks it sharply, even denounces it, while malthus stands for the defence. this does not mean that he denies its inherent contradictions, as say or macculloch had done. on the contrary he raises them quite unmercifully to the status of a natural law and asserts their absolute sanctity. sismondi's guiding principle is the interests of the workers. he aspires, though rather generally and vaguely, towards a thoroughgoing reform of distribution in favour of the proletariat. malthus provides the ideology for those strata who are the parasites of capitalist exploitation, who live on ground rent and draw upon the common wealth, and advocates the allocation of the greatest possible portion of the surplus value to these 'unproductive consumers'. sismondi's general approach is predominantly ethical, it is the approach of the social reformer. improving upon the classics, he stresses, in opposition to them, that 'consumption is the only end of accumulation', and pleads for restricted accumulation. malthus, on the contrary, bluntly declares that production has no other purpose than accumulation and advocates unlimited accumulation by the capitalists, to be supplemented and assured by the unlimited consumption of their parasites. finally, sismondi starts off with a critical analysis of the reproductive process, of the relation between capital and income from the point of view of society; while malthus, opposing ricardo, begins with an absurd theory of value from which he derives an equally absurd theory of surplus value, attempting to explain capitalist profits as an addition to the price over and above the value of commodities.[ ] malthus opposes the postulate that supply and demand are identical with a detailed critique in chapter vi of his _definitions in political economy_.[ ] in his _elements of political economy_, james mill had declared: 'what is it that is necessarily meant, when we say that the supply and the demand are accommodated to one another? it is this: that goods which have been produced by a certain quantity of labour, exchange for goods which have been produced by an equal quantity of labour. let this proposition be duly attended to, and all the rest is clear.--thus, if a pair of shoes is produced with an equal quantity of labour as a hat, so long as a hat exchanges for a pair of shoes, so long the supply and demand are accommodated to one another. if it should so happen, that shoes fell in value, as compared with hats, which is the same thing as hats rising in value compared with shoes, this would simply imply that more shoes had been brought to market, as compared with hats. shoes would then be in more than the due abundance. why? because in them the produce of a certain quantity of labour would not exchange for the produce of an equal quantity. but for the very same reason hats would be in less than the due abundance, because the produce of a certain quantity of labour in them would exchange for the produce of more than an equal quantity in shoes.'[ ] against such trite tautologies, malthus marshals a twofold argument. he first draws mill's attention to the fact that he is building without solid foundations. in fact, he argues, even without an alteration in the ratio of exchange between hats and shoes, there may yet be too great a quantity of _both_ in relation to the demand. this will result in both being sold at less than the cost of production plus an appropriate profit. 'but can it be said on this account', he asks, 'that the supply of hats is suited to the demand for hats, or the supply of shoes suited to the demand for shoes, when they are both so abundant that neither of them will exchange for what will fulfil the conditions of their continued supply?'[ ] in other words, malthus confronts mill with the possibility of general over-production: '... when they are compared with the costs of production ... it is evident that ... they may all fall or rise at the same time'.[ ] secondly, he protests against the way in which mill, ricardo and company are wont to model their postulates on a system of barter: 'the hop planter who takes a hundred bags of hops to weyhill fair, thinks little more about the supply of hats and shoes than he does about the spots in the sun. what does he think about, then? and what does he want to exchange his hops for? mr. mill seems to be of opinion that it would show great ignorance of political economy, to say that what he wants is money; yet, notwithstanding the probable imputation of this great ignorance, i have no hesitation in distinctly asserting, that it really is money which he wants....'[ ] for the rest, malthus is content to describe the machinery by which an excessive supply can depress prices below the cost of production and so automatically bring about a restriction of production, and _vice versa_. 'but this tendency, in the natural course of things, to cure a glut or a scarcity, is no ... proof that such evils have never existed.'[ ] it is clear that in spite of his contrary views on the question of crises, malthus thinks along the same lines as ricardo, mill, say, and macculloch. for him, too, everything can be reduced to barter. the social reproductive process with its large categories and interrelations which claimed the whole of sismondi's attention, is here completely ignored. in view of so many contradictions within the fundamental approach, the criticism of sismondi and malthus have only a few points in common: ( ) contrary to say and the followers of ricardo, they both deny the hypothesis of a pre-established balance of consumption and production. ( ) they both maintain that not only partial but also universal crises are possible. but here their agreement ends. if sismondi seeks the cause of crises in the low level of wages and the capitalists' limited capacity for consumption, malthus, on the other hand, transforms the fact of low wages into a natural law of population movements; for the capitalists' limited capacity for consumption, however, he finds a substitute in the consumption of the parasites on surplus value such as the landed gentry and the clergy with their unlimited capacity for wealth and luxury. 'the church with a capacious maw is blest.' both malthus and sismondi look for a category of consumers who buy without selling, in order to redeem capitalist accumulation and save it from a precarious position. but sismondi needs them to get rid of the surplus product of society over and above the consumption of the workers and capitalists, that is to say, to get rid of the capitalised part of the surplus value. malthus wants them as 'producers' of profit in general. it remains entirely his secret, of course, how the _rentiers_ and the incumbents of the state can assist the capitalists in appropriating their profits by buying commodities at an increased price, since they themselves obtain their purchasing power mainly from these capitalists. in view of these profound contrasts, the alliance between malthus and sismondi does not go very deep. and if malthus, as marx has it, distorts sismondi's _nouveaux principes_ into a malthusian caricature, sismondi in turn stresses only what is common to them both and quotes malthus in support, giving the latter's critique of ricardo a somewhat sismondian cast. on occasion, no doubt, sismondi actually succumbs to the influence of malthus; for instance, he takes over the latter's theory of reckless state expenditure as an emergency measure in aid of accumulation and so becomes involved in contradictions with his own initial assumptions. on the whole, malthus neither rendered an original contribution to the problem of reproduction, nor even grasped it fully. in his controversy with the followers of ricardo, he operated with the concepts of simple commodity circulation, just as they did in their controversy with sismondi. his quarrel with that school turns on the 'unproductive consumption' by the parasites of the surplus value; it is not a quarrel about the social foundations of capitalist reproduction. malthus' edifice tumbles to the ground as soon as the absurd mistakes in his theory of profits are uncovered. sismondi's criticism remains valid, and his problems remain unsolved even if we accept ricardo's theory of value with all its consequences. footnotes: [ ] _nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. ii, p. . [ ] cf. marx, _theorien über den mehrwert_, vol. iii, pp. - , which gives a detailed analysis of malthus' theory of value and profits. [ ] dedicated to james mill and published in . [ ] james mill, _elements of political economy_ ( rd edition, london, ), pp. - . [ ] malthus. _definitions in political economy_ (london, ), p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] malthus, _definitions in political economy_ (london, ), pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . _section two_ historical exposition of the problem second round the controversy between rodbertus and von kirchmann _chapter xv_ v. kirchmann's theory of reproduction the second theoretical polemics about the problem of accumulation was also started by current events. if the first english crisis and its attendant misery of the working class had stimulated sismondi's opposition against the classical school, it was the revolutionary working-class movement arisen since which, almost twenty-five years later, provided the incentive for rodbertus' critique of capitalist production. the risings of the lyons silk weavers and the chartist movement in england were vastly different from the shadowy spectres raised by the first crisis, and the ears of the bourgeoisie were made to ring with their criticism of the most wonderful of all forms of society. the first socio-economic work of rodbertus, probably written for the _augsburger allgemeine zeitung_ in the late thirties but not published by that paper, bears the significant title, _the demands of the working classes_,[ ] and begins as follows: 'what do the working classes want? will the others be able to keep it from them? will what they want be the grave of modern civilisation? thoughtful people have long realised that a time must come when history would put this question with great urgency. now, the man in the street has learned it too, from the chartist meetings and the birmingham scenes.' during the forties, the leaven of revolutionary ideas was most vigorously at work in france in the formation of the various secret societies and socialist schools of the followers of proudhon, blanqui, cabet, louis blanc, etc. the february revolution and the june proclamation of the 'right to work' led to a first head-on clash between the two worlds of capitalist society--an epoch-making eruption of the contradictions latent in capitalism. as regards the other, visible form of those contradictions--the crises--the available data for observation at the time of the second controversy were far more comprehensive than in the early twenties of the century. the dispute between rodbertus and v. kirchmann took place under the immediate impact of the crises in , , , and even of the first world crisis in --rodbertus writing his interesting pamphlet _on commercial crises and the mortgage problem of the landowners_[ ] in . thus the inherent contradictions of capitalist society meeting his eyes were in strident discord with the doctrine of harmony held by the english classics and their vulgarisers both in england and on the continent, quite unlike any critique in the times when sismondi had raised his voice in warning. incidentally, a quotation from sismondi in rodbertus' first writing proves that the former's strictures immediately influenced rodbertus. he was thus familiar with contemporary french writings against the classical school, though perhaps less so with the far more numerous english literature. there is no more than this flimsy support for the myth of the german professors about the so-called 'priority' of rodbertus over marx in the 'foundation of socialism'. accordingly, professor diehl writes in his article on rodbertus in _handwörterbuch der staatswissenschaften_: 'rodbertus must be considered the real founder of scientific socialism in germany, since in his writings between and , even before marx and lassalle, he provided a comprehensive socialist system, a critique of adam smith's doctrine, new theoretical foundations and proposals for social reform.' this piece of god-fearing, pious righteousness comes from the second edition of , after all that had been written by engels, kautsky and mehring to destroy this learned legend, and in spite of it. quite inevitably, of course, and proof against any evidence to the contrary, however weighty, it was only right in the eyes of all the learned german economists that the palm of 'priority' should be wrested from marx, the revolutionary anarchist, by rodbertus, the 'socialist' with monarchist, prussian and nationalist leanings, the man who believed in communism five hundred years from now, but for the present supported a steady exploitation rate of per cent. however, we are interested in another aspect of rodbertus' analysis. the same professor diehl continues his eulogy as follows: 'rodbertus was not only a pioneer of socialism; political economy as a whole owes much stimulation and furtherance to him; economic theory in particular is indebted to him for the critique of classical economics, for the new theory of the distribution of income, for the distinction between the logical and historical categories of capital, and so on.' here we shall deal with these latter achievements of rodbertus, especially with the 'and so on'. rodbertus' decisive treatise, _towards the understanding of our politico-economic conditions_[ ] of , set the ball rolling. v. kirchmann replied in _demokratische blätter_ with two essays--_on the social aspects of ground rent_[ ] and _the society of barter_[ ]--and rodbertus parried in with his _letters on social problems_.[ ] thus the discussion entered the same theoretical arena where malthus-sismondi and say-ricardo-macculloch had fought out their differences thirty years earlier. in his earliest writings, rodbertus had already expressed the thought that the wages of labour present an ever diminishing part of the national product in modern society where the productivity of labour is increasing. he claimed this to be an original idea, and from that moment until his death thirty years later he did nothing but reiterate it and formulate it in various ways. this 'declining wage rate' is for him the root of all evils to be found in modern society, in particular of pauperism and the crises, whose combination he calls 'the social problem of our times'. v. kirchmann does not agree with this explanation. he traces pauperism back to the effects of a rising ground rent; crises, on the other hand, to a lack of markets. about the latter especially he says: 'the greatest part of social ills is caused not by defects of production but by a lack of markets for the products ... the more a country can produce, the more means it has for satisfying every need, the more it is exposed to the danger of misery and want.'--the labour-problem is here included as well, for 'the notorious right to work ultimately reduces to the question of markets'. 'we see', he concludes, 'that the social problem is almost identical with the problem of markets. even the ills of much-abused competition will vanish, once markets are secure; its advantages alone will remain. there will remain a spirit of rivalry to supply good and cheap commodities, but the life-and-death struggle will disappear which is caused only by insufficient markets.'[ ] the difference between the points of view of rodbertus and v. kirchmann is evident. rodbertus sees the root of the evil in a faulty distribution of the national product, and v. kirchmann in the limitations of the markets for capitalist production. notwithstanding all the confusion in his expositions, especially in his idealist vision of a capitalist competition content with a laudable rivalry for better and cheaper commodities, and also in his conception of the 'notorious right to work' as a problem of markets, v. kirchmann up to a point still shows more understanding for the sore spot of capitalist production, i.e. the limitations of its market, than rodbertus who clings to distribution. thus it is v. kirchmann who now takes up the problem which sismondi had originally put on the agenda. nevertheless, he by no means agrees with sismondi's elucidation and solution of the problem, siding rather with the opponents of the latter. not only does he accept ricardo's theory of ground rent, and adam smith's dogma that 'the price of the commodity is composed of two parts only, of the interests on capital and the wages of labour' (v. kirchmann transforms the surplus value into 'interest on capital'); he also subscribes to the thesis of say and ricardo that products are only bought with other products and that production creates its own demand, so that if one side appears to have produced too much, it only means there was not enough production on the other. v. kirchmann, we see, faithfully follows the classics, if in a somewhat 'german edition'. he begins by arguing, e.g., that say's law of a natural balance between production and demand 'still does not give a comprehensive picture of reality', and adds: 'commerce involves yet further hidden laws which prevent this postulated order from obtaining in complete purity. they must be discovered if we are to explain the present flooding of the market, and their discovery might perhaps also show us the way to avoid this great evil. we believe that there are three relations in the modern system of society which cause these conflicts between say's indubitable law and reality.' these relations are ( ) 'too inequitable a distribution of the products'--here, as we see, v. kirchmann somewhat approximates to sismondi's point of view; ( ) the difficulties which nature puts in the way of human labour engaged in production; and ( ) finally, the defects of commerce as a mediator between production and consumption. disregarding the last two obstacles to say's law, we shall now consider v. kirchmann's reasoning of his first point. 'the first relation', he explains, 'can be put more briefly as too low a wage of labour, which is thus the cause of a slump. those who know that the price of commodities is composed of two parts only, of the interest on capital and the wage of labour, might consider this a startling statement; if the wage of labour is low, prices are low as well, and if one is high, so is the other.' (we see v. kirchmann accepts smith's dogma even in its most misleading form: the price is not _resolved_ into wage of labour and surplus value, but is _composed_ of them as a mere sum--a view in which adam smith strayed furthest from his own theory of the value of labour.) 'wage and price thus are directly related, they balance each other. england only abolished her corn laws, her tariffs on meat and other victuals, in order to cause wages to fall and thus to enable her manufacturers to oust all other competitors from the world markets by means of still cheaper commodities. this, however, only holds good up to a point and does not affect the ratio in which the product is distributed among the workers and the capitalists. too inequitable a distribution among these two is the primary and most important cause why say's law is not fulfilled in real life, why the markets are flooded although there is production in all branches.' v. kirchmann gives a detailed illustration of this statement. using the classical method, he takes us, of course, to an imaginary isolated society which makes an unresisting, if thankless, object for the experiments of political economy. v. kirchmann suggests we should imagine a place (_ort_) which comprises inhabitants, no more, no less, _viz._ three entrepreneurs with workers each. _ort_ is to be able to satisfy all needs by its own production--in three establishments, that is to say, one for clothing, a second for food, lighting, fuel and raw materials, and a third for housing, furniture and tools. in each of these three departments, the 'capital together with the raw materials' is to be provided by the entrepreneur, and the remuneration of the workers is to be so arranged that the workers obtain as their wage one half of the annual produce, the entrepreneur retaining the other half 'as interest on capital and profits of the enterprise'. every business is to produce just enough to satisfy all the needs of the inhabitants. _ort_ accordingly has 'all the conditions necessary for general well-being', and everybody can therefore tackle his work with courage and vigour. after a few days, however, joy and delight turn into a universal misery and gnashing of teeth: something has happened on v. kirchmann's island of the blessed which was no more to be expected than for the skies to fall: an industrial and commercial crisis according to all modern specifications has broken out! only the most essential clothing, food and housing for the workers has been produced, yet the warehouses of the three entrepreneurs are full of clothes and raw materials, and their houses stand empty: they complain of a lack of demand, while the workers in turn complain that their wants are not fully satisfied. what has gone wrong? could it be that there is too much of one kind of produce and too little of another, as say and ricardo would have it? not at all, answers v. kirchmann. everything available in _ort_ in well-balanced quantities, just enough to satisfy all the wants of the community. what, then, has thrown a spanner into the works, why the crisis? the obstruction caused by distribution alone--but this must be savoured in v. kirchmann's own words: 'the obstacle, why nevertheless no smooth exchange takes place, lies solely and exclusively in the distribution of these products. they are not distributed equitably among all, but the entrepreneurs retain half of them for themselves as interest and profit, and only give half to the workers. it is clear that the worker in the clothing department can exchange, against half of his product, only half of the food, lodging, etc., that has been produced, and it is clear that the entrepreneur cannot get rid of the other half since no worker has any more products to give in exchange. the entrepreneurs do not know what to do with their stocks, the workers do not know what to do for hunger and nakedness.' nor does the reader, we might add, know what to do with v. kirchmann's constructions. his model is so childish that every advance leads deeper into the maze. first of all, there seems to be no reason whatever why, and to what purpose, v. kirchmann should devise this splitting-up of production into three parts. if analogous examples by ricardo and macculloch usually confront tenant farmers and manufacturers, that is presumably only inspired by the antiquated physiocrat conception of social reproduction which ricardo had adopted, although his own theory of value as against the physiocrats deprived it of all meaning, and although adam smith had already made a good start in considering the real material foundations of the social reproductive process. still, we have seen that the tradition of distinguishing between agriculture and industry as the foundation of reproduction was kept up in economic theory until marx introduced his epoch-making distinction of the two productive departments in society for producer and consumer goods. v. kirchmann's three departments, however, have no real significance at all. obviously, no material consideration of reproduction can have been responsible for this supremely arbitrary division which jumbles up tools and furniture, raw materials and food, but makes clothing a department in its own right. one might as well postulate one department for food, clothing and housing, another for medicines and a third for tooth brushes. v. kirchmann's primary concern, no doubt, is with the social division of labour; hence the assumption of as nearly equal quantities of products as possible in the transactions of exchange. yet this exchange, on which the argument turns, plays no part at all in v. kirchmann's example since it is not the value which is distributed but the quantities of products, the bulk of use-values as such. in this intriguing _ort_ of v. kirchmann's imagining, again, the products are distributed first, and only afterwards, when the distribution is accomplished, is there to be universal exchange, whereas on the solid ground of capitalist production it is, as we know, the exchange which inaugurates the distribution of the product and serves as its agent. besides, the queerest things happen in v. kirchmann's distributive system: 'as we all know', the prices of the products, i.e. the price of the aggregate product of society, consist of _v + s_, of wage and capital interest alone--so that the aggregate product must be distributed entirely among workers and entrepreneurs; but then unhappily v. kirchmann dimly remembers the fact that production needs things like raw materials and tools. so _ort_ is provided with raw materials furtively introduced among the food, and with tools among the furniture. but now the question arises: who is to get these indigestible items in the course of general distribution? the workers as wages, or the capitalists as profits of enterprise? they could hardly expect a warm welcome from either. and on such feeble premises the star turn of the performance is to take place: the exchange between workers and entrepreneurs. the fundamental transaction of exchange in capitalist production, the exchange between workers and capitalists, is transformed by v. kirchmann from an exchange between living labour and capital into an exchange of products. not the first act, that of exchanging labour power for variable capital, but the second, the realisation of the wage received from the variable capital is put at the centre of the whole machinery, the entire commodity exchange of capitalist society being in turn reduced to this realisation of the labour-wage. and the crowning glory is that this exchange between workers and entrepreneurs, the king-pin of all economic life, dissolves into nothing on a closer scrutiny--it does not take place at all. for as soon as all workers have received their natural wages in the form of half their product, an exchange will be possible only among the workers themselves; every worker will only keep one-third of his wage consisting exclusively of either clothing, food or furniture, as the case may be, and realise the remainder to equal parts in the two other product-groups. the entrepreneurs no longer come into this at all; the three of them are left high and dry with their surplus value: half the clothing, furniture and food that has been produced by the society; and they have no idea what to do with the stuff. in this calamity of v. kirchmann's creation, even the most generous distribution of the product would be of no use. on the contrary, if larger quantities of the social product were allotted to the workers, they would have even less to do with the entrepreneurs in this transaction: all that would happen is that the exchange of the workers among themselves would increase in volume. the surplus product which the entrepreneurs have on their hands would then contract, it is true, though not indeed because the exchange of the surplus product would be facilitated, but merely because there would be less surplus value altogether. now as before, an exchange of the social product between workers and entrepreneurs is out of the question. one must confess that the puerile and absurd economics here crammed into comparatively little space exceed the bounds even of what might be put up with from a prussian public prosecutor--such having been v. kirchmann's profession, though he must be credited with having incurred disciplinary censure on two occasions. nevertheless, after these unpromising preliminaries, v. kirchmann goes right to the root of the matter. he admits that his assuming the surplus product in a concrete use-form is the reason why the surplus value cannot be usefully employed. as a remedy he now allows the entrepreneurs to devote half of the social labour appropriated as surplus value to the production not of common goods but of luxuries. the 'essence of luxury-goods being that they enable the consumer to use up more capital and labour power than in the case of ordinary goods', the three entrepreneurs manage to consume by themselves in the form of laces, fashionable carriages and the like, their entire half-share in all the labour performed by the society. now nothing unsaleable is left, and the crisis is happily avoided; over-production is made impossible once and for all, capitalists and workers alike are safe; the name of v. kirchmann's magic cure which has brought all these benefits to pass, and which re-establishes the balance between production and consumption, being: luxury. in other words, the capitalists who do not know what to do with their surplus value which they cannot realise, are advised by the dear fellow--to eat it up! as it happens, luxury is in fact an old familiar invention of capitalist society, and still there are recurrent crises. why is this? v. kirchmann enlightens us: 'the answer can only be that in real life sluggish markets are entirely due to the fact that there are still _not enough_ luxuries, or, in other words, that the capitalists, i.e. those who can afford to consume, still consume too little.' this misguided abstinence of the capitalists, however, results from a bad habit which political economists have been ill-advised to encourage: the desire to save for purposes of 'productive consumption'. in other words: crises are caused by accumulation. this is v. kirchmann's principal thesis. he proves it again by means of a touchingly simple example: 'let us assume conditions which economists praise as more favourable,' he says, 'where the entrepreneurs say: we do not want to spend our income to the last penny in splendour and luxury, but will re-invest it productively. what does this mean? nothing but the setting-up of all sorts of productive enterprises for delivering new goods of such a kind that their sale can yield interest (v. kirchmann means profits) on a capital saved and invested by the three entrepreneurs from their unconsumed revenues. accordingly, the three entrepreneurs decide to consume only the produce of a hundred workers, that is to say to restrict their luxury considerably, and to employ the labour power of the remaining workers together with the capital they use for setting up new productive enterprises. the question now arises in what kind of productive enterprises these funds are to be used.' since, according to v. kirchmann's assumption, constant capital is not reproduced, and the entire social product consists entirely of consumer goods, 'the three entrepreneurs can only choose again between enterprises for the manufacture of ordinary goods or for that of luxuries'. in this way, however, the three entrepreneurs will be faced with the already familiar dilemma: if they turn out 'common goods', there will be a crisis, since the workers lack means to purchase these additional provisions, having been bought off with half the value of their produce. if they go in for luxuries, they will have to consume them alone. there is no other possibility. the dilemma is not even affected by foreign trade which would 'only increase the range of commodities on the home market' or increase productivity. 'these foreign commodities are therefore either common goods--then the capitalist will not, and the worker, lacking the means, cannot buy them, or they are luxuries, in which case the worker, of course, is even less able to buy them, and the capitalist will not want them either because of his efforts to save.' this argument, however primitive, yet shows quite nicely and clearly the fundamental conception of v. kirchmann and the nightmare of all economic theory: in a society consisting exclusively of workers and capitalists, accumulation will be impossible. v. kirchmann is therefore frankly hostile to accumulation, 'saving', 'productive consumption' of the surplus value, and strongly attacks these errors advocated by classical economics. his gospel is increasing luxury together with the productivity of labour as the specific against crises. we see that v. kirchmann, if he grotesquely aped ricardo and say in his theoretical assumptions, is a caricature of sismondi in his final conclusions. yet it is imperative to get v. kirchmann's approach to the problem perfectly clear, if we are to understand the import of rodbertus' criticism and the outcome of the whole controversy. footnotes: [ ] _die forderungen der arbeitenden klassen._ [ ] _die handelskrisen und die hypothekennot der grundbesitzer._ [ ] _zur erkenntnis unserer staatswirtschaftlichen zustände._ [ ] _Über die grundrente in sozialer beziehung._ [ ] _die tauschgesellschaft._ [ ] _soziale briefe._ [ ] rodbertus quotes v. kirchmann's arguments explicitly and in great detail. but according to his editors, no complete copy of _demokratische blätter_ with the original essay is obtainable. _chapter xvi_ rodbertus' criticism of the classical school rodbertus digs deeper than v. kirchmann. he looks for the roots of evil in the very foundations of social organisation and declares bitter war on the predominant free trade school--not against a system of unrestricted commodity circulation or the freedom of trade which he fully accepts, but against the manchester doctrine of _laissez-faire_ within the internal social relations of economy. at that time, after the period of storm and stress of classical economics, a system of unscrupulous apologetics was already in full sway which found its most perfect expression in the 'doctrine of harmony' of m. frédéric bastiat, the famous vulgarian and idol of all philistines, and quite soon the various schultzes were to flourish as commonplace, german imitations of the french prophet of harmony. rodbertus' strictures are aimed at these unscrupulous 'peddlers of free trade'. in his first _letter on social problems_[ ] he exclaims: 'because of their paltry incomes, five-sixths of the population are not only deprived of most of the benefits of civilisation, but are in constant danger of the most terrible outbreaks of real distress to which they sometimes succumb. yet they are the creators of all the wealth of the society. their labours begin at dawn and end at dusk, continuing even after night has fallen--but no exertion can change this fate; they cannot raise their income, and only lose that little leisure which ought to remain nowadays for the improvement of their minds. hitherto it might have seemed as if all this suffering were necessary to the progress of civilisation, but now that a series of the most wonderful discoveries and inventions have increased human labour power more than a hundredfold, new prospects of changing these grim conditions are suddenly revealed. as a result, the wealth and assets of a nation increase at a growing rate as compared with the population. could anything be more natural, i ask, or more justly demanded, than that this increase should also somehow benefit the creators of this old and new wealth? that their incomes should be raised or their working-hours shortened, or that they might join in increasing numbers the ranks of the lucky ones, privileged to reap the fruits of labour? yet state economy, or better, national economy has only achieved the opposite result. increasing poverty of these classes goes together with increasing wealth of the nation, there is even need of special legislation, lest the working day become longer, and finally, the working classes swell in number out of proportion with the others. even that is not enough! the hundredfold increase of labour efficiency which was powerless to relieve five-sixths of the population, even threatens periodically the remaining sixth of the nation and thus society as a whole.' 'what contradictions in the economic sphere in particular! and what contradictions in the social sphere in general! the wealth of society is growing, and this growth is accompanied by a growth of poverty.--the creative efficiency of the means of production is increasing, and the consequence is that they are scrapped. social conditions demand that the material position of the working classes should be raised to the level of their political status, and economic conditions, by way of answer, depress them further. society needs the unrestricted growth of wealth, and contemporary leaders of production must create restrictions, in order to discourage poverty. in a single respect alone is there harmony: just as wrong as the conditions is the authoritative section of the society with its inclination to look for the root of the evil everywhere except in the right place. this egotism, which only too often dons the scholar's gown, also accuses the vices of the workers of being the cause of poverty. the responsibility for the crimes committed against them by all-powerful facts is ascribed to their alleged discontent and shiftlessness, and where even such egotism cannot close its eyes to their innocence, it makes an elaborate dogma of the "necessity of poverty". unremittingly, it exhorts the workers only to work and to pray, impresses upon them the duty of abstinence and economy, and at best infringes upon their rights by the institution of compulsory saving, adding to the misery of the workers. it does not see that a blind force of commerce has transformed the prayer for work into the curse of enforced unemployment, that ... abstinence is impossible or cruel, and that, lastly, morals always remain ineffective if commended by those of whom the poet says that they drink wine in secret but preach water in public.'[ ] thirty years after sismondi and owen, twenty years after the indictment made by the english socialists, the followers of ricardo, and last but not least, after the publication of the communist manifesto, such bold words alone cannot claim to break new ground. what matters above all now is the theoretical foundation of this indictment. rodbertus here proposed a complete system which can be reduced to the following simple statements. owing to the laws of an economy left to its own devices, the high level of labour productivity achieved by history, together with the institutions of positive law, that is to say the right of private ownership, a whole series of wrong and unethical phenomena had emerged: ( ) in the place of 'normal', 'constituted' value we have exchange value, and accordingly coined money instead of a proper 'paper' or 'labour' currency which would genuinely correspond to the concept of money. the first principle is that all economic goods are products of labour, or, as we might put it, that labour alone is creative. this statement, however, does not imply that the value of the product must always equal the cost of labour, or that, in other words, value is even now measured in terms of labour. the truth is rather 'that this still has not become a _fact_, but is only an _idea_ of political economy'.[ ] 'if the value could be constituted in accordance with the labour expended on the product, we might imagine a kind of money which would be, as it were, a leaf torn from the public account-book, a receipt written on the most rubbishy material, on rags, which everyone would receive for the value he has produced, and which he would realise as a voucher for an equivalent part of the national product subsequently under distribution.... if, however, for some reason or another, it is _impossible_ or _not yet possible_ to establish this value, money as such must still retain the value it is designed to liquidate; made of an intrinsically valuable commodity like gold or silver, it has to represent a pledge or pawn of the same value.'[ ] 'as soon as capitalist commodity production has come into existence, everything is turned upside down: there can no longer be a constituted value, since it can only be exchange value',[ ] and, 'since the value cannot be constituted, money cannot be _purely_ money, it cannot fully conform to its concept'.[ ] in an equitable exchange, the exchange value of the products would have to equal the quantity of labour needed for producing them, and an exchange of products would always mean an exchange of equal quantities of labour. even assuming, however, that everybody produced just those use-values which another person requires, yet, 'since we are here concerned with human discernment and human volition, there must always be for a start a correct calculation, adjustment and allocation of the labour quantities contained in the products for exchange, there must be a _law_ to which the facts will conform'.[ ] it is well-known that rodbertus, in his discovery of 'constituted value', laid great stress on his priority to proudhon which we shall gladly concede him. marx, in his _poverty of philosophy_, and engels in his preface to it, have comprehensively shown that this 'concept' is a mere phantom, still used in theory but in practice buried already in england well before rodbertus' time, that it is but a utopian distortion of ricardo's doctrine of value. we therefore need not deal further with this 'music of the future, performed on a toy trumpet'. ( ) the 'economy of exchange' resulted in the 'degradation' of labour to a commodity, the labour wage being determined as an item of expenditure (_eichmann's der arbeit_) instead of representing a fixed rate of the national product. by a daring jump in history, rodbertus derives his wages law indirectly from slavery and regards the specific traits which a capitalist production of commodities imposes on exploitation as no more than a lying deception against which he fulminates from a moral point of view. 'so long as the producers themselves remained the property of those who were not producing, so long as slavery was in existence, it was the advantage of the "masters" alone which unilaterally determined the volume of this share (of the workers). with the producers attaining full liberty of person, if nothing more as yet, both parties agree on the wage in advance. the wage, in modern terminology, is the object of a "free contract", that is to say, an object of competition. labour is therefore as a matter of course subjected to the same laws of exchange as its products: labour itself acquires exchange value; the size of the wage depends on the effects of supply and demand.' rodbertus, after having thus turned everything upside down, after deriving the exchange value of labour from competition, now immediately derives its value from its exchange value. 'under the laws of exchange value, labour, like produced goods, comes to have a kind of "cost value" which exercises some magnetic effects upon its exchange value, the amount of the labour wage. it is that particular amount of payment which is necessary for the "maintenance" of labour, in other words, which enables labour to continue, if only in the persons of its progeny--it is the so-called "minimum of subsistence".' for rodbertus, however, this is not a statement of objective economic laws, but merely an object for moral indignation. he calls the thesis of the classical school, that labour is worth no more than the wages it can command, a 'cynical' statement, and he is determined to expose the 'string of lies' leading to this 'crude and unethical' conclusion.[ ] 'it was a degrading view to estimate the wages of labour in accordance with the "necessary subsistence", like so many machines to be kept in repair. now that labour, the fountainhead of all commodities, has itself become a commodity of exchange, it is no less degrading to speak of its "natural price", of its "costs", just as we speak of the natural price and costs of its product, and to include this natural price, these costs, in the amount of goods that is necessary to call forth a continuous flow of labour on the market.' this commodity character of labour power, however, and the corresponding determination of its value, are nothing but a malicious misrepresentation of the free trade school. like the good prussian he was, rodbertus put capitalist commodity production as a whole in the dock, as offending against the obtaining constitutional law, instead of pointing out its inherent contradiction, the conflict between determining the value of labour and determining the value _created by_ labour, as the english disciples of ricardo had done. 'stupid beyond words', he exclaims, 'is the dualist conception of those economists who would have the workers, as far as their legal status is concerned, join in deciding the fate of society, and would for all that, have these same workers from an economic point of view, always treated as mere commodities!'[ ] now it only remains to find out why the workers put up with such stupid and blatant injustice--an objection which hermann for instance raised against ricardo's theory of value. rodbertus is ready with this answer: 'what were the workers to do after their emancipation other than to agree to these regulations? imagine their position: when the workers were freed, they were naked or in rags, they had nothing but their labour power. the abolition of slavery or serfdom, moreover, rescinded the master's legal or moral obligation to feed them and care for their needs. yet these needs remained, they still had to live. how, then, could their labour power provide them with a living? were they simply to grab some of the capital existing in the society for their maintenance? the capital of society was already in the hands of other people, and the organs of the "law" would not have tolerated such a step. what, then, could the workers have done? only these alternatives were before them: either to overthrow the law of society or to return, under roughly the same conditions as before, to their former masters, the owners of the land and of capital, and to receive as wages what was formerly doled out to them to keep them fed.'[ ] it was fortunate for mankind and the prussian state that the workers were 'wise' enough not to overthrow civilisation and preferred to submit to the 'base demands' of their 'former masters'. this, then, is the origin of the capitalist wage system, of the wages law as 'a kind of slavery' resulting from an abuse of power on the part of the capitalists, and from the precarious position and the meek acquiescence on the part of the proletariat--if we are to believe the highly original explanations of that very rodbertus whose theories marx is reputed to have 'plagiarised'. let rodbertus claim 'priority' in this particular theory of value without challenge, seeing that english socialists and other social critics had already given far less crude and primitive analyses of the wage-system. the singular point about it all is that rodbertus' display of moral indignation about the origin and the economic laws of the wages system does not lead up to the demand for doing away with this abominable injustice, the 'dualism stupid beyond words'. far from it! he frequently reassures his fellow-men that he does not really mean anything very serious by roaring--he is no lion fell, only one snug the joiner. indeed, an ethical theory of the wages law is necessary only to achieve a further conclusion: ( ) since the 'laws of exchange value' determine the wage, an advance in labour productivity must bring about an ever declining share in the product for the workers. here we have arrived at the archimedean fulcrum of rodbertus' system. this 'declining wage rate' is his most important 'original' discovery on which he harps from his first writings on social problems (probably in ) until his death, and which he 'claims' as his very own. this conception, for all that, was but a simple corollary of ricardo's theory of value and is contained implicit in the wages fund theory which dominated bourgeois economics up to the publication of marx's _capital_. rodbertus nevertheless believed that this 'discovery' made him a kind of galileo in economics, and he refers to his 'declining wage rate' as explaining every evil and contradiction in capitalist economy. above all, he derives from the declining wage rate the phenomenon of pauperism which, together with the crises, in his opinion constitutes the social question. it would be as well to draw the attention of contemporaries, 'out for marx's blood', to the fact that it was not marx but rodbertus, a man much nearer their own heart, who set up a whole theory of progressive poverty in a very crude form, and that he, unlike marx, made it the very pivot, not just a symptom, of the entire social problem. compare for instance his argument in his first _letter on social problems_ to v. kirchmann on the absolute impoverishment of the working class. the 'declining wage rate' must serve in addition to explain the other fundamental phenomena of the social problem--the crises. in this connection rodbertus tackles the problem of balancing consumption with production, touching upon the whole lot of cognate controversial issues which had already been fought out between the schools of sismondi and ricardo. rodbertus' knowledge of crises was of course based upon far more material evidence than that of sismondi. in his first _letter on social problems_ he already gives a detailed description of the four crises in - , , - and . since his observations covered a much longer period, rodbertus could by and large gain a much deeper insight into the essential character of crises than his predecessors. as early as he formulated the periodical character of the crises which recur at ever shorter intervals and at the same time with ever increasing severity: 'time after time, these crises have become more terrible in proportion with the increase in wealth, engulfing an ever greater number of victims. the crisis of - , although even this caused panic in commerce and inspired misgivings in economics, was of small importance compared to that of - . the first crisis had made such inroads on the capital assets of england that the most famous economists doubted whether complete recovery could ever be made. yet it was eclipsed by the crisis of - . the crises of - and - wrought even greater havoc than previous ones.'--'according to recent experiences, however, the crises recur at ever shorter intervals. there was a lapse of years between the first and the third crisis, of years between the second and the fourth, and of only years between the third and the fifth. already the signs are multiplying that a new disaster is imminent, though no doubt the events of put off the catastrophe.'[ ] rodbertus remarks that an extraordinary boom in production and great progress in industrial technique always are the heralds of a crisis. 'every one of them [of the crises] followed upon a period of outstanding industrial prosperity.'[ ] from the crises in history he demonstrates that 'they occur only after a considerable increase of productivity'.[ ] rodbertus opposes what he terms the vulgar view which conceives of crises as mere disturbances in the monetary and credit system, and he criticises the whole of peel's currency legislation as an error of judgment, arguing the point in detail in his essay _on commercial crises and the mortgage problem_. there he makes the following comment among others: 'we would therefore deceive ourselves if we were to regard commercial crises merely as crises of the monetary, banking, or credit system. this is only their outer semblance when they first emerge.'[ ] rodbertus also shows a remarkably acute grasp of the part played by foreign trade in the problem of crises. just like sismondi, he states the necessity of expansion for capitalist production, but he simultaneously emphasises the fact that the periodical crises are bound to grow in volume. 'foreign trade', he says, 'is related to slumps only as charity is related to poverty. they ultimately only enhance one another.'[ ] and further: 'the only possible means of warding off further outbreaks of crises is the application of the two-edged knife of expanding foreign markets. the violent urge towards such expansion is largely no more but a morbid irritation caused by a sickly organ. since one factor on the home market, productivity, is ever increasing, and the other factor, purchasing power, remains constant for the overwhelming majority of the population, commerce must endeavour to conjure up a similarly unlimited amount of purchasing power on the foreign market.'[ ] in this way, the irritation may be soothed to some extent so that at least there will not be a new outbreak of the calamity right away. every foreign market opened defers the social problem in a like manner. colonisation of primitive countries would have similar effects: europe rears a market for herself in places where none had been before. yet such a medicine would essentially do no more than appease the ill. as soon as the new markets are supplied, the problem will revert to its former state--a conflict between the two factors: limited purchasing power versus unlimited productivity. the new attack would be warded off the small market only to re-appear, in even wider dimensions and with even more violent incidents, on a larger one. and since the earth is finite and the acquisition of new markets must some time come to an end, the time will come when the question can no longer be simply adjourned. sooner or later, a definite solution will have to be found.'[ ] rodbertus also recognises the anarchical character of capitalist private enterprise to be conducive to crises, but only as one factor among many, seeing it as the source of a particular type of crises, not as the real cause of crises in general. about the crises at v. kirchmann's _ort_, e.g., he says: 'i maintain that a slump of this kind does not occur in real life. the market of to-day is large, there are countless wants and many branches of production, productivity is considerable and the data of commerce are obscure and misleading. the individual entrepreneur does not know how much others are producing, and so it may easily happen that he over-estimates the demand for a certain commodity with which he will then overstock the market.' rodbertus says outright that the only remedy for these crises is the 'complete reversal' of contemporary property-relations or a planned economy, concentrating all means of production 'in the hands of a single social authority'. to set troubled minds at rest, however, he is quick to add that he reserves judgment as to whether there can actually be such a state of affairs--'yet this would be the only possible way to prevent slumps of this kind'. thus he expressly regards anarchy in the modern mode of production as responsible for only a specific and partial manifestation of crises. rodbertus scornfully rejects say-ricardo's axiom of a natural equilibrium between consumption and production; just like sismondi, he emphasises that everything turns on the purchasing power of society, and also takes it to be dependent upon the distribution of income. all the same, he does not endorse sismondi's theory of crises and disagrees sharply with the conclusions drawn from it. if sismondi saw the source of all evil in the unlimited expansion of production without regard to the limitations of incomes, and advocated a restriction of production, rodbertus, quite on the contrary, champions the most powerful and unrestricted expansion of production, of wealth and of the productive forces, believing this to be a social necessity. whoever rejects the wealth of society, rejects at the same time its power, its progress, and, with its progress, its virtues. whoever stands in the way of growing wealth, stands in the way of all social progress whatever. every increase in knowledge, resolve and capacity is conceived as bound up with an increase in wealth.[ ] from this point of view, rodbertus is strongly in favour of issuing houses which he regards as the indispensable foundations for a rapid and unrestricted expansion of company promoting. both his essay of on the mortgage problem and the treatise on the _financial crisis in prussia_[ ] are devoted to this plea. he even polemises outright against the sismondian type of _caveat_, as usual broaching the matter first from his peculiar utopian ethics. 'the entrepreneurs', he holds forth, 'are essentially civil servants of economy. by the institution of property, they are once and for all entrusted with the nation's means of production. if they set them to work and strain all their energies in the process, they do but their duty, since capital--let me repeat--exists entirely for the sake of production.' and a further, factual argument: 'or would you have them (the entrepreneurs) turn acute attacks of suffering into a chronic state by working persistently and from the first with fewer forces than are given by the means of production; are they to pay for a less severe form of the evil with its permanent duration? even if we were silly enough to give them this advice, they would not be able to follow it. how could the entrepreneurs of the world recognise the limits beyond which the market would cease to be healthy? they engage in production without knowing the one of the other, they are producing in the most distant corners of the earth for a market hundreds of miles away, they produce with such vast forces that a month's production may already overstep the limit. how could production--so divided and yet so powerful--conceivably estimate in good time what will be enough? where, for instance, are the organisations, the up-to-date statistical bureaux and the like to help them in this task? what is worse, the price alone, its rise and fall, indicates the position of the market, and this is not like a barometer which predicts the temperature of the market, but more like a thermometer which only registers it. if the price falls, the limit has been passed already, and the evil is with us.'[ ] these thrusts, obviously aimed at sismondi, exhibit quite fundamental differences between the two opponents. if engels then says in his _anti-duehring_ that sismondi first explained the crises as resulting from under-consumption, and that rodbertus borrowed this view from him, he is not strictly accurate. all that rodbertus and sismondi have in common is their opposition against the classical school and the general explanation of crises as the result of the distribution of incomes. even in this connection rodbertus mounts his own particular hobby horse: over-production is not caused by the low level of working class incomes, nor yet, as sismondi maintains, by the capitalists' limited capacity for consumption, but solely by the fact that with a growing productivity of labour, the workers' income, in terms of value, represents an ever smaller share of the product. rodbertus takes pains to convince the opposition that it is not the small volume of the workers' share which causes the crises. 'just imagine', he goes on to lecture v. kirchmann, 'these shares to be so small as to ensure only a bare subsistence for those who are entitled to them. as long as you establish them as representing a proportion of the national product, you will have a constant "vessel for value" which can absorb ever increasing contents, and an ever increasing prosperity of the working classes as well.... and now imagine on the contrary as large a share for the working classes as you please, and let it become an ever smaller fraction of the national product that grows with increasing productivity. then, provided it is not reduced to the present pittance, this share will still protect the workers from undue privations since the amount of products it represents will still be considerably greater than it is to-day. once this share begins to decline, however, there will be spreading discontent, culminating in a commercial crisis for which the capitalists are not to blame inasmuch as they did no more than their duty in laying down the volume of production according to the given magnitude of these shares.' that is why the 'declining wage rate' is the real cause of crises. it can only be counteracted by legal measures to ensure that the workers' share represents a stable and unchanging rate of the national product. this grotesque notion takes some understanding if we are to do justice to its economic implications. footnotes: [ ] to v. kirchmann, in . [ ] dr. carl rodbertus-jagetzow, _schriften_ (berlin, ), vol. iii, pp. - , . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, pp. f. [ ] op. cit., vol. i, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] _schriften_, vol. i, pp. - . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _schriften_, vol. iii, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. i, p. . [ ] _schriften_, vol. iv, p. . [ ] in _towards the understanding of our politico-economic conditions_, part ii, n. . [ ] in _on commercial crises and the mortgage problem of the landowners_, quoted above (op. cit., vol. iii, p. ). [ ] op. cit., vol. iv, p. . it is interesting to note in this connection how rodbertus appears in practice as an extremely sober and realistically-minded prophet of capitalist colonial policy, in the manner of the present-day 'pan-germans', his moral ranting about the unhappy fate of the working classes notwithstanding. in a footnote to the above quotation, he writes: 'we can go on to glance briefly at the importance of the opening up of asia, in particular of china and japan, the richest markets in the world, and also of the maintenance of english rule in india. it is to defer the solution of the social problem.' (the eloquent avenger of the exploited ingenuously discloses the means by which the profiteering exploiters can continue 'their stupid and criminal error', their 'flagrant injustice' for as long as possible.) 'for the solution of this problem, the present lacks in unselfishness and moral resolution no less than in intelligence.' (rodbertus' philosophical resignation is unparalleled!) 'economic advantage cannot, admittedly, constitute a legal title to intervention by force, but on the other hand, a strict application of modern natural and international law to all the nations of the world, whatever their state of civilisation, is quite impracticable.' (a comparison with dorine's words in molière's _tartuffe_ is irresistible: 'le ciel défend, de vraie, certains contentements, mais il y a avec lui des accommodements.')--'our international law has grown from a civilisation of _christian_ ethics, and since all law is based upon reciprocity, it can only provide the standard for relations between nations of the same civilisation. if it is applied beyond these limits, it is sentiment rather than natural and international law and the indian atrocities should have cured us of it. christian europe should rather partake of the spirit which made the greeks and the romans regard all the other peoples of the world as barbarians. the younger european nations might then regain the drive for making world history which impelled the ancients to spread their native civilisation over the countries of the globe. they would reconquer asia for world history by _joint action_. such common purpose and action would in turn stimulate the greatest social progress, a firm foundation of peace in europe, a reduction of armies, a colonisation of asia in the ancient roman style--in other words, a genuine solidarity of interests in all walks of social life.' the vision of capitalist colonial expansion inspires the prophet of the exploited and oppressed to almost poetical flights, all the more remarkable for coming at a time when a civilisation of christian ethics accomplished such glorious exploits as the opium wars against china and the indian atrocities--that is to say, the atrocities committed by the british in their bloody suppression of the indian mutiny.--in his second _letter on social problems_, in , rodbertus had expressed the conviction that if society lacks the 'moral resolution' necessary to solve the social question, in other words, to change the distribution of wealth, history would be forced to 'use the whip of revolution against it' (op. cit., vol. ii, p. ). eight years later, however, the stalwart prussian prefers to crack the whip of a colonial policy of christian ethics over the natives of the colonial countries. it is, of course, what one might expect of the 'original founder of scientific socialism in germany' that he should also be a warm supporter of militarism, and his phrase about the 'reduction of armies' is but poetic licence in his verbal fireworks. in his essay _on the understanding of the social question_ he explains that the 'entire national tax burden is perpetually gravitating towards the bottom, sometimes in form of higher prices for wage goods, and sometimes in form of lower money wages'. in this connection, he considers conscription 'under the aspect of a charge on the state', explaining that 'as far as the working classes are concerned, it is nothing like a tax but rather a confiscation of their entire income for many years'. he adds immediately: 'to avoid misunderstanding i would point out that i am a staunch supporter of our present military constitution (i.e. the military constitution of counter-revolutionary prussia)--although it may be oppressive to the working classes and demand great financial sacrifices from the propertied classes' (op. cit., vol. iii, p. ). that does not even sound like a lion's roar! [ ] _schriften_, vol. iii, p. . [ ] published already in . [ ] _schriften_, vol. iv, p. . _chapter xvii_ rodbertus' analysis of reproduction to begin with, what does it mean that a decrease in the workers' share is bound immediately to engender over-production and commercial crises? such a view can only make sense provided rodbertus takes the 'national product' to consist of two parts, _vide_ the shares of the workers and of the capitalists, in short of _v + s_, one share being exchangeable for the other. and that is more or less what he actually seems to say on occasions, e.g. in his first _letter on social problems_: 'the poverty of the working classes precludes their income from giving scope to increasing production. the additional amount of products from the entrepreneurs' point of view lowers the value of the aggregate product so far as to bar production on the former scale, leaving the workers at best to their accustomed straits, though, if it could be made available to the workers, it would not only improve their lot but would further act as a counterweight by increasing the value of what is retained by the capitalists (and so enable the latter to keep their enterprises at the same level).'[ ] the 'counterweight' which in the hand of the workers increases the 'value' of 'what is retained' by the entrepreneurs, can in this context only be the demand. once again, we have landed happily at the familiar _ort_ of v. kirchmann's where workers and capitalists exchange their incomes for the surplus product, and where the crises arise because variable capital is small and the surplus value large. this peculiar notion has already been dealt with above. there are other occasions, however, when rodbertus advances a somewhat different conception. the interpretation of his theory in the fourth _letter on social problems_ is that the continual shifts in the relations of demand, evident in the share of the working class and caused by the share of the capitalist class, must result in a chronic disproportion between production and consumption. 'what if the entrepreneurs endeavour to keep always within the limits of those shares, yet the shares themselves are all the time on the decline for the great majority of the society, the workers, decreasing gradually, unnoticeably, but with relentless force?--what if the share of these classes is continually decreasing to the same extent as their productivity is increasing?'--'is it not really the fact that the capitalists of necessity organise production in accordance with the present volume of shares in order to make wealth universal, and that yet they always produce over and above this volume (of previous shares), thereby perpetuating dissatisfaction which culminates in this stagnation of trade?'[ ] on this showing, the explanation of crises should be as follows: the national product consists of a number of 'common goods', as v. kirchmann puts it, for the workers, and of superior goods for the capitalists. the wages represent the quantity of the former, and aggregate surplus value that of the latter. if the capitalists organise their production on this footing, and if at the same time there is progressive productivity, a lack of proportion will immediately ensue. for the share of the workers to-day is no longer that of yesterday, but less. if the demand for 'common goods' had involved, say, six-sevenths of the national product yesterday, then to-day it involves only five-sevenths, and the entrepreneurs, having provided for six-sevenths of 'common goods', will find to their painful surprise that they over-produced by one-seventh. now, wiser by this experience, they try to organise to-morrow's output of 'common goods' to a mere five-sevenths of the total value of the national product, but they have a new disappointment coming to them, since the share of the national product falling to wages to-morrow is bound to be only four-sevenths, and so on. in this ingenious theory there are quite a few points to make us wonder. if our commercial crises are entirely due to the fact that the workers' 'wage rate', the variable capital, represents a constantly diminishing portion of the total value of the national product, then this unfortunate law brings with it the cure for the evil it has caused, since it must be an ever smaller part of the aggregate product for which there is over-production. although rodbertus delights in such terms as 'an overwhelming majority', 'the large popular masses' of consumers, it is not the number of heads that make up the demand, but the value they represent which is relevant. this value, if rodbertus is to be believed, forms a more and more trifling part of the aggregate product. crises are thus made to rest on an ever narrowing economic basis, and all that remains to discover is how in spite of it all it can still happen that the crises are universal and increasingly severe besides, as rodbertus is fully aware. the purchasing power lost by the working classes should be gained by the capitalist class; if _v_ decreases, _s_ must grow larger to make up for it. on this crude scheme, the purchasing power of society as a whole cannot change, as rodbertus says in so many words: 'i know very well that what is taken from the workers' share goes ultimately to swell that of the "rentiers" (rent and surplus value are used as synonyms, _r.l._), and that purchasing power remains constant on the whole and in the long run. but as far as the product on the market is concerned, the crisis always sets in before this increase can make itself felt.'[ ] in short, the most it can amount to is that there is 'too much' of 'common goods' and 'too little' of superior goods for the capitalists. quite unawares, and by devious ways, rodbertus here falls in with the say-ricardian theory he so ardently contested, the theory that over-production on one side always corresponds to under-production on the other. seeing that the ratio of the two shares is persistently shifting to the advantage of the capitalists, our commercial crises might be expected on the whole to take on increasingly the character of periodical under- instead of over-production! enough of this exercise in logic. the upshot of it all is that rodbertus conceives the national product in respect of its value as made up of two parts only, of _s_ and _v_, thus wholly subscribing to the views and traditions of the classical school he is fighting tooth and nail, and even adding his own flourish that the capitalists consume the entire surplus value. that is why he repeatedly says without mincing his words, as in the fourth _letter on social problems_: 'accordingly, we must abstract from the reasons which cause the division of rent in general into rent proper and capital rent, to find the basic principle underlying the division of rent (surplus value) in general, the principle underlying _the division of the labour product into wage and rent_.'[ ] and, in the third _letter_: 'ground rent, capital profit and the wage of labour are, let me repeat, revenue. by this means landlords, capitalists and workers must live, must satisfy, that is to say, their immediate human necessities. they must therefore draw their income in the form of goods suitable for this purpose.'[ ] the misrepresentation of capitalist economy has never been formulated more crudely, and there is no doubt that rodbertus claims the palm of 'priority'--not so much over marx as over all popular economists--with full justification. to leave the reader in no doubt about the utter muddle he has made, he goes on, in the same letter, to rank capitalist surplus value as an economic category on the same level as the revenue of the ancient slave-owner: 'the first state (that of slavery) goes with the most primitive natural economy: that portion of the labour product which is withheld from the income of workers or slaves and forms the master's or owner's property, will undividedly accrue to the one man who owns the land, the capital, the worker and the labour product; there is not even a distinction of thought between rent and capital profits.--the second state entails the most complicated money economy: that portion of the labour product, withheld from the income of the now emancipated workers, and accruing to the respective owners of land, and capital, will be further divided among the owners of the raw material and the manufactured product respectively; the one rent of the former state will be split up into ground rent and capital profits, and will have to be differentiated accordingly.'[ ] rodbertus regards the splitting-up of the surplus value 'withheld' from the workers' 'income' as the most striking difference between exploitation by slavery and modern capitalist exploitation. it is not the specific historical form of sharing out newly created value among labour and capital, but the distribution of the surplus value among the various people it benefits, which, irrelevant to the productive process, is yet the decisive fact in the capitalist mode of production. in all other respects, capitalist surplus value remains just the same as the old 'single rent' of the slave-owner: a private fund for the exploiter's own consumption! yet rodbertus again contradicts himself in other places, remembering all of a sudden the constant capital and the necessity for its renewal in the reproductive process. thus, instead of bisecting the aggregate product into _v_ and _s_, he posits a triple division: _c_, _v_, and _s_. in his third _letter on social problems_ he argues on the forms of reproduction in a slave-economy: 'since the master will see to it that part of the slave labour is employed in maintaining or even improving the fields, herds, agricultural and manufacturing tools, there will be "capital replacement", to use a modern term, in which part of the national economic product is immediately used for the upkeep of the estate, without any mediation by exchange or even by exchange value.'[ ] and, passing on to capitalist reproduction, he continues: 'now, in terms of value, one portion of the labour product, is used or set aside for the maintenance of the estate, for "capital replacement", another, for the workers' subsistence as their money wage; and the owners of the land, of capital, and of the labour product retain the last as their revenue or rent.'[ ] this, then, is an explicit expression of the triple division into constant capital, variable capital, and surplus value. again, in this third _letter_, he formulates the peculiarity of his 'new' theory with equal precision: 'on this theory, then, and under conditions of adequate labour productivity, the portion of the product which remains for wages after the replacement of capital, will be distributed among workers and owners as wages and rent, on the basis of the ownership in land and capital.'[ ] it does seem now as if rodbertus' analysis of the value of the aggregate product represents a distinct advance over the classical school. even adam smith's 'dogma' is openly criticised a little further on, and it is really surprising that rodbertus' learned admirers, messrs. wagner, dietzel, diehl & co. failed to claim their white-headed boy's 'priority' over marx on such an important point of economic theory. as a matter of fact, in this respect no less than in the general theory of value, rodbertus' priority is of a somewhat dubious character. if he seems on occasion to gain true insight, it immediately turns out to be a misunderstanding, or at best a wrong approach. his criticism of adam smith's dogma affords a supreme example of his failure to cope with the triple division of the national product towards which he had groped his way. he says literally: 'you know that all economists since adam smith already divided the value of the product into wage of labour, rent, and capital profit, that it is therefore not a new idea to ground the incomes of the various classes, and especially the various items of the rent, in a division of the product. but the economists at once go off the track. all of them, not even excepting ricardo's school, make the mistake, first, not to recognise that the aggregate product, the finished good, the national product as a whole, is an entity in which workers, landowners, and capitalists all share, but conceiving the division of the unfinished product to be of one kind shared among three partners, and that of the manufactured product as of another kind again, shared between only two partners. for these theories both the unfinished product and the manufactured product constitute as such separate items of revenue. secondly,--though both sismondi and ricardo are free from this particular error--they regard the natural fact that labour cannot produce goods without material help, i.e. without the land, as an economic fact, and take the social fact for a primary datum that capital as understood to-day is required by the division of labour. thus they set up the fiction of a fundamental economic relationship on which they base also for the shares of the various owners, ground rent springing from the contribution of the land lent by the owner to production, capital profits from the contribution of capital employed by the capitalist to this end, and the wages finally from labour's contribution, seeing that there are separate owners of land, capital, and labour in the society. say's school, elaborating on this mistake with much ingenuity, even invented the concept of productive service of land, capital, and labour in conformity with the shares in the product of their respective owners, so as to explain these shares as the result of productive service.--thirdly, they are caught up in the ultimate folly of deriving the wage of labour and the items of rent from the value of the product, the value of the product in turn being derived from the wage of labour and the items of rent, so that the one is made to depend on the other and _vice versa_. this absurdity is quite unmistakable when some of these authors attempt to expound "the influence of rent upon production prices" and "the influence of production prices upon rent" in two consecutive chapters.'[ ] yet for all these excellent critical comments--the last, particularly acute, actually does to some extent anticipate marx's criticism of this point in _capital_, volume ii--rodbertus calmly falls in with the fundamental blunder of the classical school and its vulgar followers: to ignore altogether that part of the value of the aggregate product which is needed to replace the constant capital of the society. this way it was easier for him to keep up the singular fight against the 'declining wage rate'. under capitalist forms of production, the value of the aggregate social product is divided into three parts: one corresponding to the value of the constant capital, the second to the wage total, i.e. the variable capital, and the third to the aggregate surplus value of the capitalist class. in this composition, the portion corresponding to the variable capital is relatively on the decline, and this for two reasons. to begin with, the relation of _c_ to (_v + s_) within _c + v + s_ changes all the time in the direction of a relative increase of _c_ and a relative decrease of _v + s_. this is the simple law for a progressive efficiency of human labour, valid for all societies of economic progress, independently of their historical forms, a formula which only states that living labour is increasingly able to convert more means of production into objects for use in an ever shorter time. and if (_v + s_) decreases as a whole, so must _v_, as its part, decrease in relation to the total value of the product. to kick against this, to try and stop the decrease, would be tantamount to contending against the general effects of a growing labour productivity. further, there is within (_v + s_) as well a change in the direction of a relative decrease in _v_ and a relative increase in _s_, that is to say, an ever smaller part of the newly created value is spent on wages and an ever greater part is appropriated as surplus value. this is the specifically capitalist formula of progressive labour productivity which, under capitalist conditions of production, is no less valid than the general law. to use the power of the state to prevent a decrease of _v_ as against _s_ would mean that the fundamental commodity of labour power is debarred from this progress which decreases production costs for all commodities; it would mean the exemption of this one commodity from the economic effects of technical progress. more than that: the 'declining wage rate' is only another expression of the rising rate of surplus value which forms the most powerful and effective means of checking a decline of the profit rate, and which therefore represents the prime incentive for capitalist production in general, and for technical progress within this system of production in particular. doing away with the 'declining wage rate' by way of legislation would be as much as to do away with the _raison d'être_ of capitalist society, to deal a crippling blow to its entire system. let us face the facts: the individual capitalist, just like capitalist society as a whole, has no glimmering that the value of the product is made up from the sum total of labour necessary in the society, and this is actually beyond his grasp. value, as the capitalist understands it, is the derivative form, reversed by competition as production costs. while in truth the value of the product is broken down into the values of its component fragments _c_, _v_ and _s_, the capitalist mind conceives of it as the summation of _c_, _v_ and _s_. these, in addition, also appear to him from a distorted perspective and in a secondary form, as ( ) the wear and tear of his fixed capital, ( ) his advances on circulating capital, including workers' wages, and ( ) the current profits, i.e. the average rate of profit on his entire capital. how, then, is the capitalist to be compelled by a law, say of the kind envisaged by rodbertus, to maintain a 'fixed wage rate' in the face of the aggregate value of the product? it would be quite as brilliant to stipulate by law for exactly one-third, no more, no less, of the total price of the product to be payable for the raw materials employed in the manufacture of any commodity. obviously, rodbertus' supreme notion, of which he was so proud, on which he built as if it were a new archimedean discovery, which was to be the specific for all the ills of capitalist production, is arrant nonsense from all aspects of the capitalist mode of production. it could only result from the muddle in the theory of value which is brought to a head in rodbertus' inimitable phrase: that 'now, in a capitalist society, the product must have value-in-exchange just as it had to have value-in-use in ancient economy'.[ ] people in ancient society had to eat bread and meat in order to live, but we of to-day are already satisfied with knowing the price of bread and of meat. the most obvious inference from rodbertus' monomania about a 'fixed wage rate' is that he is quite incapable of understanding capitalist accumulation. previous quotations have already shown that rodbertus thinks solely of simple commodity production, quite in keeping with his mistaken doctrine that the purpose of capitalist production is the manufacture of consumer goods for the satisfaction of 'human wants'. for he always talks of 'capital replacements', of the need to enable the capitalists to 'continue their enterprise on the previous scale'. his principal argument, however, is directly opposed to the accumulation of capital. to fix the rate of the surplus value, to prevent its growth, is tantamount to paralysing the accumulation of capital. both sismondi and v. kirchmann had recognised the problem of balancing production and consumption to be indeed a problem of accumulation, that is to say of enlarged capitalist reproduction. both traced the disturbances in the equilibrium of reproduction to accumulative tendencies denying the possibility of accumulation, with the only difference that the one recommended a damper on the productive forces as a remedy, while the other favoured their increasing employment to produce luxuries, the entire surplus value to be consumed. in this field, too, rodbertus follows his own solitary path. the others might try with more or less success to comprehend the _fact_ of capitalist accumulation, but rodbertus prefers to fight the very concept. 'economists since adam smith have one after the other echoed the principle, setting it up as a universal and absolute truth, that capital could only come about by saving and accumulating.'[ ] rodbertus is up in arms against this 'deluded judgment'. over sixty pages of print he sets out in detail that (_a_) it is not saving which is the source of capital but labour, that (_b_) the economists' 'delusion' about 'saving' hails from the extravagant view that capital is itself productive, and that (_c_) this delusion is ultimately due to another: the error that capital is--capital. v. kirchmann for his part understood quite well what is at the bottom of capitalist 'savings'. he had the pretty argument: 'everyone knows that the accumulation of capital is not a mere hoarding of reserves, an amassing of metal and monies to remain idle in the owners' vaults. those who want to save do it for the sake of re-employing their savings either personally or through the agency of others as capital, in order to yield them revenue. that is only possible if these capitals are used in new enterprises which can produce so as to provide the required interest. one may build a ship, another a barn, a third may reclaim a desolate swamp, a fourth may order a new spinning frame, while a fifth, in order to enlarge his shoe-making business, would buy more leather and employ more hands--and so on. only if the capital that has been saved is employed in this way, can it yield interest (meaning profit), and the latter is the ultimate object of all saving.'[ ] that is how v. kirchmann described somewhat clumsily, but on the whole correctly, what is in fact the capitalisation of surplus value, the process of capitalist accumulation, which constitutes the whole significance of saving, advocated by classical economists 'since adam smith' with unerring instinct. declaring war on saving and accumulation was quite in keeping with v. kirchmann's premises, considering that he, like sismondi, saw the immediate cause of the crises in accumulation. here, too, rodbertus is more 'thorough'. having learned from ricardo's theory of value that labour is the source of all value, and consequently of capital, too, he is completely blinded by this elementary piece of knowledge to the entire complexity of capitalist production and capital movements. since capital is generated by labour, both the accumulation of capital, i.e. 'saving', and the capitalisation of the surplus value are nothing but eyewash. in order to untangle this intricate network of errors by 'economists since adam smith', he takes, as we might expect, the example of the 'isolated husbandman' and proves all that he needs by a long-drawn vivisection of the unhappy creature. here already he discovers 'capital', that is to say, of course, that famous 'original stick' with which 'economists since adam smith' have hooked the fruits of a theory of capital from the tree of knowledge. 'would saving be able to produce this stick?' is his query. and since every normal person will understand that 'saving' cannot produce any stick, that robinson [crusoe] must have made it of wood, we have already proved that the 'savings' theory is quite mistaken. presently, the 'isolated husbandman' hooks a fruit from the tree with the stick, and this fruit is his 'income'. 'if capital were the source of income, already this most elementary and primitive event would have to give evidence of this relation. would it be true to say, then, without doing violence to facts and concepts, that the stick is a _source_ of income or of part of the income consisting in the fruit brought down? can we trace income, wholly or in part, back to the stick as its _cause_, may we consider it, wholly or in parts, as a _product_ of the stick?'[ ] surely not. and since the fruit is the product, not of the stick which brought it down, but of the tree which grew it, rodbertus has already proved that all 'economists since adam smith' are grossly mistaken if they maintain that income derives from capital. after a clear exposition of all fundamental concepts of economics on the example of robinson [crusoe]'s 'economy', rodbertus transfers the knowledge thus acquired first to a fictitious society 'without ownership in capital or land', that is to say to a society with a communist mode of possession, and then to a society 'with ownership in capital and land', that is to say contemporary society, and, lo and behold--all the laws of robinson [crusoe]'s economy apply point for point to these two forms of society as well. rodbertus contrives here a theory of capital and income which is the very crown of his utopian imagination. since he has discovered that robinson [crusoe]'s 'capital' is the means of production pure and simple, he identifies capital with the means of production in capitalist economy as well. thus reducing capital, with a wave of his hand, to constant capital, he protests in the name of justice and morality against the fact that the wages, the workers' means of subsistence, are also considered capital. he contends furiously against the _concept_ of variable capital, seeing in it the cause of every disaster. 'if only', he grieves, 'economists would pay attention to what i say, if only they would examine without prejudice whether they are right or i. this is the focal point of all errors about capital in the ruling system, this is the ultimate source of injustice against the working classes, in theory and practice alike.'[ ] for 'justice' demands that the goods constituting the 'real wages' of the workers be counted, not as part of capital, but as belonging to the category of income. though rodbertus knows very well that the capitalist must regard the wages he has 'advanced' as part of his capital, just like the other part laid out on immediate means of production, yet in his opinion this applies only to individual capitals. as soon as it is a question of the social aggregate product, of reproduction as a whole, he declares the capitalist categories of production an illusion, a malicious lie and a 'wrong'. 'capital _per se_ (properly so-called), the items which make up capital, capital from the nation's point of view, is something quite different from private capital, capital _assets_, capital _property_, all that "capital" in the modern use of the term usually stands for.'[ ] an individual capitalist produces by capitalist methods, but society as a whole must produce like robinson [crusoe], as a collective owner employing communist methods. 'it makes no difference from this general and national point of view that greater or smaller parts of the aggregate national product are now owned in all the various phases of production by private persons who must not be numbered among the producers proper, and that the latter always manufacture this national aggregate product as servants--without sharing in the ownership of their own product--of these few owners.' certain peculiarities of the relations within the society as a whole no doubt result from this, namely ( ) the institution of 'exchange' as an intermediary, and ( ) the inequality in the distribution of the product. 'yet all these consequences do not affect the movements of national production and the shaping of the national product which are always the same, now as ever (under the rule of communism), no more than they alter in any respect, as far as the _national point of view_ is concerned, the contrast between capital and income so far established.' sismondi had laboured in the sweat of his brow, as had smith and many others, to disentangle the concepts of capital and income from the contradictions of capitalist production. rodbertus has a simpler method and abstracts from the specific forms determined by capitalist production for society as a whole; he simply calls the means of production 'capital' and the article of consumption 'revenue' and leaves it at that. 'the essential influence of ownership in land and capital applies only to individuals having traffic with one another. if the nation is taken as a unit, the effects of such ownership upon the individuals completely disappear.'[ ] we see that as soon as rodbertus comes up against the real problem, the capitalist aggregate product and its movements, he exhibits the utopian's characteristic obtuseness in respect of the historical peculiarities of production. marx's comment on proudhon, that 'speaking of society as a whole, he pretends that this society is no longer capitalist' therefore fits him like a glove. the case of rodbertus again exemplifies how every economist before marx had been at a loss when it came to harmonising the concrete aspects of the labour process with the perspective of capitalist production which regards everything in terms of value, to mediating between the forms of movement performed by individual capitals and the movement of social capital. such efforts as a rule vacillate from one extreme to another: the shallow approach of say and macculloch, recognising only the conceptions of individual capital, and the utopian approach of proudhon and rodbertus who recognise only those of the process of labour. that is the context in which marx's penetration appears in its true light. his diagram of simple reproduction illuminates the entire problem by gathering up all these perspectives in their harmony and their contradictions, and so resolves the hopeless obscurities of innumerable tomes into two rows of figures of striking simplicity. on the strength of such views on capital and income as these, capitalist appropriation is clearly quite impossible to understand. indeed, rodbertus simply brands it as 'robbery' and indicts it before the forum of the rights of property it so blatantly violates. 'this personal freedom of the workers which ought legally to involve ownership in the value of the labour product, leads in practice to their renunciation of the proprietary claims extorted under pressure of ownership in land and capital; but the owners do not admit to this great and universal wrong, almost as though they were instinctively afraid that history might follow its own stern and inexorable logic.'[ ] rodbertus' 'theory in all its details is therefore conclusive proof that those who praise present-day relations of ownership without being able at the same time to ground ownership in anything but labour, completely contradict their own principle. it proves that the property relations of to-day are in fact founded on a universal violation of this principle, that the great individual fortunes being amassed in society nowadays are the result of cumulative robbery mounting up in society with every new-born worker since time immemorial.'[ ] since surplus value is thus branded as 'robbery', an increasing rate of surplus value must appear 'as a strange error of present-day economic organisation'. brissot's crude paradox with its revolutionary ring--'property is theft'--had been the starting point for proudhon's first pamphlet, but rodbertus' thesis is quite another matter, arguing that capital is theft perpetrated on property. it need only be set side by side with marx's chapter on the transformation of the laws of ownership into the laws of capitalist appropriation--this triumph of historical dialectics in vol. i of marx's _capital_--in order to show up rodbertus' 'priority'. by ranting against capitalist appropriation under the aspect of the 'right of property', rodbertus closed his mind to capital as the source of surplus value just as effectively as he had previously been prevented by his tirades against 'saving' from seeing the surplus value as a source of capital. he is thus in an even worse position than v. kirchmann, lacking all qualifications for understanding capitalist accumulation. what it amounts to is that rodbertus wants unrestricted expansion of production without saving, that is to say without capitalist accumulation! he wants an unlimited growth of the productive forces, and at the same time a rate of surplus value stabilised by an act of law. in short, he shows himself quite unable to grasp the real foundations of capitalist production he wishes to reform, and to understand the most important results of the classical economics he criticises so adversely. it is no more than to be expected, therefore, that prof. diehl should declare rodbertus a pioneer of economic theory on the strength of his 'new theory of income' and of the distinction between the logical and the historical categories of capital (capital properly so-called in contrast to individual capital), that prof. adolf wagner should call him the 'ricardo of economic socialism', proving himself ignorant at once of ricardo, rodbertus and socialism alike. lexis even judges that rodbertus is at least the equal of 'his british rival' in power of abstract thinking, and by far his superior in 'virtuosity to lay bare the phenomena in their ultimate connections', in 'imaginative vitality', and above all in his 'ethical approach to economic life'. rodbertus' real achievements in economic theory however, other than his critique of ricardo's ground rent, his at times quite clear-cut distinction between surplus value and profit, his treatment of the surplus value as a whole in deliberate contrast with its partial manifestations, his critique of smith's dogma concerning the analysis of commodities in terms of value, his precise formulation of the periodical character of the crises and his analysis of their manifestations--all these attempts to carry the investigation beyond smith, ricardo and say, promising as such, though doomed to failure because of the confused basic concepts, are rather above the heads of rodbertus' official admirers. as franz mehring already pointed out, it was rodbertus' strange fortune to be lauded to heaven for his alleged prowess in economics by the same people who called him to task for his real merits in politics. this contrast between economic and political achievements, however, does not concern us here: in the realm of economic theory, his admirers built him a grand memorial on the barren field he had dug with the hopeless zeal of the visionary, while the modest beds where he had sown a few fertile seeds, were allowed to be smothered with weeds and forgotten.[ ] it cannot be said that the problem of accumulation had on the whole been much advanced beyond the first controversy by this prusso-pomeranian treatment. if in the interim the economic theory of harmony had dropped from the level of ricardo to that of a bastiat-schultze, social criticism had correspondingly declined from sismondi to rodbertus. sismondi's critique of had been an historical event, but rodbertus' ideas of reform, even on their first appearance, were a miserable regression--still more so on their subsequent reiteration. in the controversy between sismondi on the one hand and say and ricardo on the other, one party proved that accumulation was impossible because of the crises, and therefore warned against full development of the productive forces. the other party proved that crises were impossible and advocated an unlimited development of accumulation. though all argued from wrong premises, each was logically consistent. v. kirchmann and rodbertus both started, were bound to start, from the fact of crises. here the problem of enlarged reproduction of aggregate capital, the problem of accumulation, was completely identified with the problem of crises and side-tracked in an attempt to find a remedy for the crises, although the historical experience of fifty years had shown all too clearly that crises, as witnessed by their periodical recurrence, are a necessary phase in capitalist reproduction. one side now sees the remedy in the complete consumption of the surplus value by the capitalist, that is to say in refraining from accumulation, the other in stabilisation of the rate of surplus value by legislative measures which comes to the same thing, i.e. renouncing accumulation altogether. this special fad of rodbertus' sprang from his fervent and explicit belief in an unlimited capitalist expansion of the productive forces and of wealth, without accumulation of capital. at a time when capitalist production was developed to a degree which was soon to enable marx to make his fundamental analysis, the last attempt of bourgeois economics to cope with the problem of reproduction degenerated into absurd and puerile utopianism. footnotes: [ ] _schriften_, vol. iii, p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. i, pp. , . [ ] _schriften_, vol. i, p. . [ ] ibid., vol. i, p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _schriften_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _schriften_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _schriften_, vol. i, p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] _schriften_, vol. i, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . rodbertus reiterates during a lifetime the ideas he had evolved as early as in his _towards the understanding of our politico-economic conditions_. 'under present conditions, we have, however, gone so far as to consider not only the wage of labour part of the costs of the goods, but also rents and capital profits. we must therefore refute this opinion in detail. it has a twofold foundation: (_a_) a wrong conception of capital which counts the wage of labour as part of the capital just like materials and tools, while it is on the same level as rent and profit; (_b_) a confusion of the costs of the commodity and the advances of the entrepreneur or the costs of the enterprise' (_towards the understanding of our politico-economic conditions_, neubrandenburg & friedland, g. barnovitz, , p. ). [ ] _schriften_, vol. i, p. . just so already in _towards the understanding of our politico-economic conditions_, 'we must distinguish between capital in its narrow or proper sense, and the fund of enterprise, or capital in a wider sense. the former comprises the actual reserves in tools and materials, the latter the fund necessary for running an enterprise under present conditions of division of labour. the former is capital absolutely necessary to production, and the latter achieves such relative necessity only by force of present conditions. hence only the former is capital in the strict and proper meaning of the term; this alone is completely congruent with the concept of national capital' (ibid., pp. - ). [ ] _schriften_, vol. i, p. . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] a memorial of the worst kind, by the way, was that of the editors who published his works after his death. these learned gentlemen, messrs. wagner, kozak, moritz wuertz & co., quarrelled in the prefaces to his posthumous writings like a rough crowd of ill-mannered servants in an antechamber, fighting out publicly their petty personal feuds and jealousies, and slanging one another. they did not even bother in common decency to establish the dates for the individual manuscripts they had found. to take an instance, it needed mehring to observe that the oldest manuscript of rodbertus that had been found was not published in , as laid down autocratically by prof. wagner, but in at the earliest, since it refers in its opening paragraphs to historical events connected with the chartist movement belonging, as a professor of economics really ought to know, in the year . in professor wagner's introduction to rodbertus we are constantly bored by his pomposity, his harping on the 'excessive demands on his time'; in any case wagner addresses himself solely to his learned colleagues and talks above the heads of the common crowd; he passes over in silence, as befits a great man, mehring's elegant correction before the assembled experts. just as silently, professor diehl altered the date of to in the _handwörterbuch der staatswissenschaften_, without a word to say when and by whom he had been thus enlightened. but the final touch is provided by the 'popular', 'new and inexpensive' edition of puttkamer and muehlbrecht ( ). some of the quarrelling editors collaborated on it but still continue their disputes in the introductions. wagner's former vol. ii has become vol. i in this edition, yet wagner still refers to vol. ii in the introduction to vol. i. the first _letter on social problems_ is placed in vol. iii, the second and third in vol. ii and the fourth in vol. i. the order of the _letters on social problems_, of the _controversies_, of the parts of _towards the understanding_ ..., chronological and logical sequence, the dates of publication and of writing are hopelessly mixed up, making a chaos more impenetrable than the stratification of the soil after repeated volcanic eruptions. is maintained as the date of rodbertus' earliest ms., probably out of respect to professor wagner--and this in , although mehring's rectification had been made in . if we compare this with marx's literary heritage in mehring's and kautsky's edition, published by dietz, we see how such apparently superficial matters but reflect deeper connections: one kind of care for the scientific heritage of the authority of the class-conscious proletariat, and quite another in which the official experts of the bourgeoisie squander the heritage of a man who, in their own self-interested legends, had been a first-rate genius. _suum cuique_--had this not been the motto of rodbertus? _section two_ historical exposition of the problem third round struve-bulgakov-tugan baranovski _v._ vorontsov-nikolayon _chapter xviii_ a new version of the problem the third controversy about capitalist accumulation takes place in an historical setting quite different from that of the two earlier ones. the time now is the period from the beginning of the eighties to the middle of the nineties, the scene russia. in western europe, capitalism had already attained maturity. the rose-coloured classical view of smith and ricardo in a budding bourgeois economy had long since vanished ... the self-interested optimism of the vulgarian manchester doctrine of harmony had been silenced by the devastating impact of the world collapse in the seventies, and under the heavy blows of a violent class struggle that blazed up in all capitalist countries after the sixties. even that harmony patched up with social reformism which had its hey-day after the early eighties, especially in germany, soon ended in a hangover. the trial of twelve years' special legislation against the social democratic party had brought about bitter disillusionment, and ultimately destroyed all the veils of harmony, revealing the cruel capitalist contradictions in their naked reality. since then, optimism had only been possible in the camp of the rising working class and its theorists. this was admittedly not optimism about a natural, or artificially established equilibrium of capitalist economy, or about the eternal duration of capitalism, but rather the conviction that capitalism, by mightily furthering the development of the productive forces, and in virtue of its inherent contradictions, would provide an excellent soil for the historical progress of society towards new economic and social forms. the negative, depressing tendency of the first stage of capitalism, at one time realised by sismondi alone and still observed by rodbertus as late as the forties and fifties, is compensated by a tendency towards elation: the hopeful and victorious striving of the workers for ascendancy in their trade-union movement and by political action. such was the setting in western europe. in the russia of that time, however, the picture was different indeed. here, the seventies and eighties represent in every respect a period of transition, a period of internal crises with all its agonies. big industry only now staged its real entry, fostered by the period of high protective tariffs. in particular, the introduction of a tariff on gold at the western frontier in was a special landmark in the absolutist government's new policy of forcing the growth of capitalism. 'primitive accumulation' of capital flourished splendidly in russia, encouraged by all kinds of state subsidies, guarantees, premiums and government orders. it earned profits which would already seem legendary to the west. yet the picture of internal conditions in contemporary russia was anything but attractive and auspicious. on the plains, the decline and disintegration of rural economy under the pressure of exploitation by the exchequer and the monetary system caused terrible conditions, periodical famines and peasant risings. in the towns, again, the factory proletariat had not yet been consolidated, either socially or mentally, into a modern working class. for the greater part, it was still closely connected with agriculture, and remained semi-rural, particularly in the large industrial parts of moscow-vladimir, the most important centre of the russian textile industry. accordingly, primitive forms of exploitation were countered by primitive measures of defence. not until the early eighties did the spontaneous factory revolts in the moscow district with their smashing up of machines provide the impetus for the first rudiments of factory legislation in the czarist empire. if the economic aspect of russian public life showed at every step the harsh discords of a period of transition, there was a corresponding crisis in intellectual life. 'populism', the indigenous brand of russian socialism, theoretically grounded in the peculiarities of the russian agrarian constitution, was politically finished with the failure of the terrorist party of 'narodnaya volya', its extreme revolutionary exponent. the first writings of george plekhanov, on the other hand, which were to pave the way in russia for marxist trains of thought, had only been published in and , and for about a decade they seemed to have little influence. during the eighties and up to the nineties the mental life of the russian, and in particular of the socialist intelligentsia with their tendency towards opposition, was dominated by a peculiar mixture of 'indigenous' 'populist' remnants and random elements of theoretical marxism. the most remarkable feature of this mixture was scepticism as to the possibility of capitalist development in russia. at an early date, the russian intelligentsia had been preoccupied with the question whether russia should follow the example of western europe and embark on capitalist development. at first, they noticed only the bleak aspects of capitalism in the west, its disintegrating effects upon the traditional patriarchal forms of production and upon the prosperity and assured livelihood for the broad masses of the population. as against that, the russian rural communal ownership in land, the famous _obshchina_, seemed to offer a short-cut to the blessed land of socialism, a lead direct to a higher social development of russia, without the capitalist phase and its attendant misery as experienced in western europe. would it be right to fling away this fortunate and exceptional position, this unique historical opportunity, and forcibly transplant capitalist production to russia with the help of the state? would it be right to destroy the system of rural holdings and production, and open the doors wide to proletarisation, to misery and insecurity of existence for the toiling masses? the russian intelligentsia was preoccupied with this fundamental problem ever since the agrarian reform, and even earlier, since hertzen, and especially since chernishevski. this was the wholly unique world view of 'populism' in a nutshell. an enormous literature was created in russia by this intellectual tendency ranging from the avowedly reactionary doctrines of the slavophiles to the revolutionary theory of the terrorist party. on the one hand, it encouraged the collection of vast material by separate inquiries into the economic forms of russian life, into 'national production' and its singular aspects, into agriculture as practised by the peasant communes, into the domestic industries of the peasants, the _artel_, and also into the mental life of the peasants, the sects and similar phenomena. on the other hand, a peculiar type of _belles lettres_ sprang up as the artistic reflection of the contradictory social conditions, the struggle between old and new ways which beset the mind at every step with difficult problems. finally, in the seventies and eighties, a peculiarly stuffy philosophy of history sprang up from the same root and found its champions in peter lavrov, nicolai mikhailovski, professor kareyev and v. vorontsov. it was the 'subjective method in sociology' which declared 'critical thought' to be the decisive factor in social development, or which, more precisely, sought to make a down-at-heel intelligentsia the agent of historical progress. here we are interested only in one aspect of this wide field with its many ramifications, _viz_: the struggle of opinions regarding the chances of capitalist development, and even then only in so far as these were based upon general reflections on the social conditions of the capitalist mode of production, since these latter were also to play a big part in the russian controversial literature of the eighties and nineties. the point at issue was to begin with russian capitalism and its prospects, but this, of course, led further afield to the whole problem of capitalist development. the example and the experiences of the west were adduced as vital evidence in this debate. one fact was of decisive importance for the theoretical content of the discussion that followed: not only was marx's analysis of capitalist production as laid down in the first volume of _capital_ already common property of educated russia, but the second volume, too, with its analysis of the reproduction of capital as a whole had already been published in . this gave a fundamentally new twist to the discussion. no more did the problem of crises obscure the real crux of the problem: for the first time, the argument centred purely in the reproduction of capital as a whole, in accumulation. nor was the analysis bogged any longer by an aimless fumbling for the concepts of income and of individual and aggregate capital. marx's diagram of social reproduction had provided a firm foothold. finally, the issue was no longer between _laissez-faire_ and social reform, but between two varieties of socialism. the petty-bourgeois and somewhat muddled 'populist' brand of russian socialists stood for scepticism regarding the possibility of capitalist development, much in the spirit of sismondi and, in part, of rodbertus, though they themselves frequently cited marx as their authority. optimism, on the other hand, was represented by the marxist school in russia. thus the setting of the stage had been shifted completely. one of the two champions of the 'populist' movement, vorontsov, known in russia mainly under the _nom de plume_ v. v., (his initials), was an odd customer. his economics were completely muddled, and as an expert on theory he cannot be taken seriously at all. the other, nikolayon (danielson), however, was a man of wide education, and thoroughly conversant with marxism. he had edited the russian translation of the first volume of _capital_ and was a personal friend of marx and engels, with both of whom he kept up a lively correspondence (published in the russian language in ). nevertheless it was vorontsov who influenced public opinion among the russian intelligentsia in the eighties, and marxists in russia had to fight him above all. as for our problem: the general prospects of capitalist development, a new generation of russian marxists, who had learned from the historical experience and knowledge of western europe, joined forces with george plekhanov in opposition to the above-mentioned two representatives of scepticism in the nineties. they were amongst others professor kablukov, professor manuilov, professor issayev, professor skvortsov, vladimir ilyin, peter v. struve, bulgakov, and professor tugan baranovski. in the further course of our investigation we shall, however, confine ourselves to the last three of these, since every one of them furnished a more or less finished critique of this theory on the point with which we are here concerned. this battle of wits, brilliant in parts, which kept the socialist intelligentsia spellbound in the nineties and was only brought to an end by the walkover of the marxist school, officially inaugurated the infiltration into russian thought of marxism as an economico-historical theory. 'legalist' marxism at that time publicly took possession of the universities, the reviews and the economic book market in russia--with all the disadvantages of such a position. ten years later, when the revolutionary risings of the proletariat demonstrated in the streets the darker side of this optimism about capitalist development, none of this pleïad of marxist optimists, with but a single exception, was to be found in the camp of the proletariat. _chapter xix_ vorontsov and his 'surplus' the representatives of russian 'populism' were convinced that capitalism had no future in russia, and this conviction brought them to the problem of capitalist reproduction. v. v. laid down his theories on this point in a series of articles in the review _patriotic memoirs_ and in other periodicals which were collected and published in under the title _the destiny of capitalism in russia_. he further dealt with the problem in 'the commodity surplus in the supply of the market',[ ] 'militarism and capitalism',[ ] _our trends_,[ ] and finally in _outlines of economic theory_.[ ] it is not easy to determine vorontsov's attitude towards capitalist development in russia. he sided neither with the purely slavophil theory which deduced the perversity and perniciousness of capitalism for russia from the 'peculiarities' of the russian economic structure and a specifically russian 'national character', nor with the marxists who saw in capitalist development an unavoidable historical stage which is needed to clear the way towards social progress for russian society, too. vorontsov for his part simply asserts that denunciation and acclamation of capitalism are equally futile because, having no roots in russia, capitalism is just impossible there and can have no future. the essential conditions of capitalist development are lacking in russia, and love's labour's lost if the state tries to promote it artificially--one might as well spare these efforts together with the heavy sacrifices they entail. but if we look into the matter more closely, vorontsov's thesis is not nearly so uncompromising. for if we pay attention to the fact that capitalism does not mean only the accumulation of capital wealth but also that the small producer is reduced to the proletarian level, that the labourer's livelihood is not assured and that there are periodical crises, then vorontsov would by no means deny that all these phenomena exist in russia. on the contrary, he explicitly says in his preface to _the destiny of capitalism in russia_: 'whilst i dispute the possibility of capitalism as a form of production in russia, i do not intend to commit myself in any way as to its future as a form or degree of exploiting the national resources.' vorontsov consequently is of the opinion that capitalism in russia merely cannot attain the same degree of maturity as in the west, whereas the severance of the immediate producer from the means of production might well be expected under russian conditions. vorontsov goes even further: he does not dispute at all that a development of the capitalist mode of production is quite possible in various branches of production, and even allows for capitalist exports from russia to foreign markets. indeed he says in his essay on 'the commodity surplus in the supply of the market' that 'in several branches of industry, capitalist production develops very quickly'[ ] [in the russian meaning of the term, of course--r. l.]. 'it is most probable that russia, just like any other country, enjoys certain natural advantages which enable her to act as a supplier of certain kinds of commodities on foreign markets. it is extremely possible that capital can profit by this fact and lay hands upon the branches of production concerned--that is to say the (inter)national division of labour will make it easy for our capitalists to gain a foothold in certain branches. this, however, is not the point. we do not speak of a merely incidental participation of capital in the industrial organisation of the country, but ask whether it is likely that the entire production of russia can be put on a capitalist basis.'[ ] put in this form, vorontsov's scepticism looks quite different from what might have been expected at first. he doubts whether the capitalist mode of production could ever gain possession of the entire production in russia; but then, capitalism has not so far accomplished this feat in any country of the world, not even in england. such a brand of scepticism as to the future of capitalism appears at a glance quite international in outlook. and indeed, vorontsov's theory here amounts to a quite general reflection on the nature and the essential conditions of capitalism; it is based upon a general theoretical approach to the reproductive process of social capital as a whole. vorontsov gives the following very clear formulation of the specific relations between the capitalist mode of production and the problem of markets: 'the (inter)national division of labour, the distribution of all branches of industry among the countries taking part in international commerce, is quite independent of capitalism. 'the market which thus comes into being, the demand for the products of different countries resulting from such a division of labour among the nations, has intrinsically nothing in common with the market required by the capitalist mode of production.... the products of capitalist industry come on the market for another purpose; the question whether all the needs of the country are satisfied is irrelevant to them, and the entrepreneur does not necessarily receive in their stead another material product which may be consumed. their main purpose is to realise the surplus value they contain. what, then, is this surplus value that it should interest the capitalist for its own sake? from our point of view, it is the surplus of production over consumption inside the country. every worker produces more than he himself can consume, and all these surplus items accumulate in a few hands; their owners themselves consume them, exchanging them for the purpose against the most variegated kinds of necessities and luxuries. yet eat, drink and dance as much as they like--they will not be able to squander the whole of the surplus value: a considerable remnant will be left over, of which they have to dispose somehow even though they cannot exchange it for other products. they must convert it into money, since it would otherwise just go bad. since there is no one inside the country on whom the capitalists could foist this remnant, it must be exported abroad, and that is why foreign markets are indispensable to countries embarking on the capitalist venture.'[ ] the above is a literal translation, showing all the peculiarities of vorontsov's diction, so that the reader may have a taste of this brilliant russian theorist with whom one can spend moments of sheer delight. later, in , vorontsov summarised the same views in his book _outlines of economic theory_ now claiming our attention. here he takes a stand against the views of say and ricardo, and in particular also against john stuart mill who denied the possibility of general over-production. in the course of his argument he discovers something no one had known before: he has laid bare the source of all errors the classical school made about the problem of crises. this mistake lies in a fallacious theory of the costs of production to which bourgeois economists are addicted. no doubt, from the aspect of the costs of production (which according to vorontsov's equally unheard-of assumption do not comprise profits), both profit and crises are unthinkable and inexplicable. but we can only appreciate this original thought to the full in the author's own words: 'according to the doctrine of bourgeois economists, the value of a product is determined by the labour employed in its manufacture. yet bourgeois economists, once they have given this determination of value, immediately forget it and base their subsequent explanation of the exchange phenomena upon a different theory which substitutes "costs of production" for labour. thus two products are mutually exchanged in such quantities that the costs of production are equal on both sides. such a view of the process of exchange indeed leaves no room for a commodity surplus inside the country. any product of a worker's annual labour must, from this point of view, represent a certain quantity of material of which it is made, of tools which have been used in its manufacture, and of the products which served to maintain the workers during the period of production. it [presumably the product--r. l.] appears on the market in order to change its use-form, to reconvert itself into objects, into products for the workers and the value necessary for renewing the tools. as soon as it is split up into its component parts, the process of reassembling, the productive process, will begin, in the course of which all the values listed above will be consumed. in their stead, a new product will come into being which is the connecting link between past and future consumption.' from this perfectly unique attempt to demonstrate social reproduction as a continuous process in the light of the costs of production, the following conclusion is promptly drawn: considering thus the aggregate bulk of a country's products, we shall find no commodity surplus at all over and above the demand of society; an unmarketable surplus is therefore impossible from the point of view of a bourgeois economic theory of value.' yet, after having eliminated capitalist profit from the costs of production by an extremely autocratic manhandling of the bourgeois theory of value, vorontsov immediately presents this deficiency as a great discovery: 'the above analysis, however, reveals yet another feature in the theory of value prevalent of late: it becomes evident that this theory leaves no room for capitalist profits.' the argument that follows is striking in its brevity and simplicity: 'indeed, if i exchange my own product, representing a cost of production of roubles, for another product of equal value, i receive only so much as will be sufficient to cover my expense, but for my abstinence [literally so--r. l.] i shall get nothing.' and now vorontsov really comes to grips with the root of the problem: 'thus it is proved on a strictly logical development of the ideas held by bourgeois economists that the destiny of the commodity surplus on the market and that of capitalist profit is identical. this circumstance justifies the conclusion that both phenomena are interdependent, that the existence of one is a condition of the other, and indeed, so long as there is no profit, there is no commodity surplus.... it is different if the profit comes into being inside the country. such profit is not originally related to production; it is a phenomenon which is connected with the latter not by technical and natural conditions but by an extraneous social form. production requires for its continuation ... only material, tools, and means of subsistence for the workers, therefore as such it consumes only the corresponding part of the products: other consumers must be found for the surplus which makes up the profit, and for which there is no room in the permanent structure of industrial life, in production--consumers, namely, who are not organically connected with production, who are fortuitous to a certain extent. the necessary number of such consumers may or may not be forthcoming, and in the latter case there will be a commodity surplus on the market.'[ ] well content with the 'simple' enlightenment, by which he has turned the surplus product into an invention of capital and the capitalist into a 'fortuitous' consumer who is 'not organically connected with capitalist production', vorontsov now turns to the crises. on the basis of marx's 'logical' theory of the value of labour which he claims to 'employ' in his later works, he expounds them as an immediate result of the surplus value, as follows: 'if the working part of the population consumes what enters into the costs of production in form of the wages for labour, the capitalists themselves must destroy [literally so--r. l.] the surplus value, excepting that part of it which the market requires for expansion. if the capitalists are in a position to do so and act accordingly, there can be no commodity surplus; if not, over-production, industrial crises, displacement of the workers from the factories and other evils will result.' according to vorontsov, however, it is '_the inadequate elasticity of the human organism_ which cannot enlarge its capacity to consume as rapidly as the surplus value is increasing', which is in the end responsible for these evils. he repeatedly expresses this ingenious thought as follows: 'the achilles heel of capitalist industrial organisation thus lies in the incapacity of the entrepreneurs to consume the whole of their income.' having thus 'employed' marx's 'logical' version of ricardo's theory of value, vorontsov arrives at sismondi's theory of crises which he adopts in as crude and simplified a form as possible. he believes, of course, that he is adopting the views of rodbertus in reproducing those of sismondi. 'the inductive method of research', he declares triumphantly, 'has resulted in the very same theory of crises and of pauperism which had been objectively stated by rodbertus.'[ ] it is not quite clear what vorontsov means by an 'inductive method of research' which he contrasts with the objective method--since all things are possible to vorontsov, he may conceivably mean marx's theory. yet rodbertus, too, was not to emerge unimproved from the hands of the original russian thinker. vorontsov corrects rodbertus' theory merely in so far as he eliminates the stabilisation of the wage rate in accordance with the value of the aggregate product which, to rodbertus, had been the pivot of his whole system. according to vorontsov, this measure against crises is a mere palliative, since 'the immediate cause of the above phenomena (over-production, unemployment, etc.) is not that the working classes receive too small a share of the national income, but that the capitalist class cannot possibly consume all the products which every year fall to their share.'[ ] yet, as soon as he has refuted rodbertus' reform of the distribution of incomes, vorontsov, with that 'strictly logical' consistency so peculiar to him, ultimately arrives at the following forecast for the future destiny of capitalism: 'if industrial organisation which prevails in w. europe is to prosper and flourish further still, it can only do so provided that some means will be found to destroy [_verbatim_--r. l.] that portion of the national income which falls to the capitalists' share over and above their capacity to consume. the simplest solution of this problem will be an appropriate change in the distribution of the aggregate income among those who take part in production. if the entrepreneurs would retain for themselves only so much of all increase of the national income as they need to satisfy all their whims and fancies, leaving the remainder to the working class, the mass of the people, then the régime of capitalism would be assured for a long time to come.'[ ] the hash of ricardo, marx, sismondi and rodbertus thus is topped with the discovery that capitalist production could be radically cured of over-production, that it could 'prosper and flourish' in all eternity, if the capitalists would refrain from capitalising their surplus value and would make a free gift to the working class of the corresponding part of the surplus value. meanwhile the capitalists, until they have become sensible enough to accept vorontsov's good advice, employ other means for the annual destruction of a part of their surplus value. modern militarism, amongst others, is one of these appropriate measures--and this precisely to the extent to which the bills of militarism are footed by the capitalists' income--for vorontsov can be counted upon to turn things upside down--and not by the working masses. a primary remedy for capitalism, however, is foreign trade which again is a sore spot in russian capitalism. as the last to arrive at the table of the world market, russian capitalism fares worst in the competition with older capitalist countries and thus lacks both prospects as to foreign markets and the most vital conditions of existence. russia remains the 'country of peasants', a country of 'populist' production. 'if all this is correct,' vorontsov concludes his essay on 'the commodity surplus in the supply of the market', 'then capitalism can play only a limited part in russia. it must resign from the direction of agriculture, and its development in the industrial sphere must not inflict too many injuries upon the domestic industries which under our economic conditions are indispensable to the welfare of the majority of the population. if the reader would comment that capitalism might not accept such a compromise, our answer will be: so much the worse for capitalism.' thus vorontsov ultimately washes his hands of the whole thing, declining for his part all responsibility for the further fortunes of economic development in russia. footnotes: [ ] an essay in _patriotic memoirs_, may . [ ] an essay in the review _russian thought_, september . [ ] a book published in . [ ] a book published in . [ ] _patriotic memoirs_, vol. v: 'a contemporary survey', p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _patriotic memoirs_, vol. v: 'a contemporary survey', p. . [ ] _outlines of economic theory_ (st. petersburg, ), pp. ff. [ ] 'militarism and capitalism' in _russian thought_ ( ), vol. ix, p. . [ ] 'militarism and capitalism' in _russian thought_ ( ), vol. ix, p. . [ ] ibid., p. . cf. _outlines_, p. . _chapter xx_ nikolayon the second theorist of populist criticism, nikolayon, brings quite a different economic training and knowledge to his work. one of the best-informed experts on russian economic relations, he had already in attracted attention by his treatise on the capitalisation of agricultural incomes, which was published in the review _slovo_. thirteen years later, spurred on by the great russian famine of , he pursued his inquiries further in a book entitled _outlines of our social economy since the reform_. here he gives a detailed exposition, fully documented by facts and figures, of how capitalism developed in russia, and on this evidence proceeds to show that this development is the source of all evil, and so of the famine, also, so far as the russian people are concerned. his views about the destiny of capitalism in russia are grounded in a definite theory about the conditions of the development of capitalist production in general, and it is this with which we must now deal. since the market is of decisive importance for the capitalist mode of economy, every capitalist nation tries to make sure of as large a market as possible. in the first place, of course, it relies on its home market. but at a certain level of development, the home market is no longer sufficient for a capitalist nation, and this for the following reasons: all that social labour newly produces in one year can be divided into two parts--the share received by the workers in the form of wages, and that which is appropriated by the capitalists. of the first part, only so many means of subsistence as correspond, in value, to the sum total of the wages paid within the country can be withdrawn from circulation. yet capitalist economy decidedly tends to depress this part more and more. its methods are a longer working day, stepping up the intensity of labour, and increasing output by technical improvements which enable the substitution of female and juvenile for male labour and in some cases displace adult labour altogether. even if the wages of the workers still employed are rising, such increase can never equal the savings of the capitalists resulting from these changes. the result of all this is that the working class must play an ever smaller part as buyers on the home market. at the same time, there is a further change: capitalist production gradually takes over even the trades which provided additional employment to an agricultural people; thus it deprives the peasants of their resources by degrees, so that the rural population can afford to buy fewer and fewer industrial products. this is a further reason for the continual contraction of the home market. as for the capitalist class, we see that this latter is also unable to realise the entire newly created product, though for the opposite reason. however large the requirements of this class, the capitalists will not be able to consume the entire surplus product in person. first, because part of it is needed to enlarge production, for technical improvements which, to the individual entrepreneur, will be a necessary condition of existence in a competitive society. secondly, because an expanding capitalist production implies an expansion in those branches of industry which produce means of production (e.g. the mining industry, the machine industry and so forth) and whose products from the very beginning take a use-form that is incapable of personal consumption and can only function as capital. thirdly and lastly, the higher labour productivity and capital savings that can be achieved by mass production of cheap commodities increasingly impel society towards mass production of commodities which cannot all be consumed by a mere handful of capitalists. although one capitalist can realise his surplus value in the surplus product of another capitalist and _vice versa_, this is only true for products of a certain branch, for consumer goods. however, the incentive of capitalist production is not the satisfaction of personal wants, and this is further shown by the progressive decline in the production of consumer as compared to that of producer goods. 'thus we see that the aggregate product of a capitalist nation must greatly exceed the requirements of the whole industrial population employed, in the same way as each individual factory produces vastly in excess of the requirements of both its workers and the entrepreneur, and this is entirely due to the fact that the nation is a capitalist nation, because the distribution of resources within the society does not aim to satisfy the real wants of the population but only the effective demand. just as an individual factory-owner could not maintain himself as a capitalist even for a day if his market were confined to the requirements of his workers and his own, so the home market of a developed capitalist nation must also be insufficient.' at a certain level, capitalist development thus has the tendency to impede its own progress. these obstacles are ultimately due to the fact that progressive labour productivity, involving the severance of the immediate producer from the means of production, does not benefit society as a whole, but only the individual entrepreneur; and the mass of labour power and men-hours which has been 'set free' by this process becomes redundant and thus is not only lost to society but will become a burden to it. the real wants of the masses can only be satisfied more fully in so far as there can be an ascendancy of a 'populist' mode of production based upon the union between the producer and his means of production. it is the aim of capitalism, however, to gain possession of just these spheres of production, and to destroy in the process the main factor which makes for its own prosperity. the periodical famines in india, for instance, recurring at intervals of ten or eleven years, were thus among the causes of periodical industrial crises in england. any nation that sets out on capitalist development will sooner or later come up against these contradictions inherent in this mode of production. and the later a nation embarks on the capitalist venture, the more strongly will these contradictions make themselves felt, since, once the home market has been saturated, no substitute can be found, the outside market having already been conquered by the older competing countries. the upshot of it all is that the limits of capitalism are set by the increasing poverty born of its own development, by the increasing number of redundant workers deficient in all purchasing power. increasing labour productivity which can rapidly satisfy every effective demand of society corresponds to the increasing incapacity of ever broader masses of the population to satisfy their most vital needs; on the one hand, a glut of goods that cannot be sold--and on the other, large masses who lack the bare necessities. these are nikolayon's general views.[ ] he knows his marx, we see, and has turned the two first volumes of _capital_ to excellent use. and still, the whole trend of his argument is genuinely sismondian. it is capitalism itself which brings about a shrinking home market since it impoverishes the masses; every calamity of modern society is due to the destruction of the 'populist' mode of production, that is to say the destruction of small-scale enterprise. that is his main theme. more openly even than sismondi, nikolayon sets the tenor of his critique by an apotheosis of small-scale enterprise, this sole approach to grace.[ ] the aggregate capitalist product cannot, in the end, be realised within the society, this can only be done with recourse to outside markets. nikolayon here comes to the same conclusion as vorontsov, in spite of a quite different theoretical point of departure. applied to russia, it is the economic scientific ground for a sceptical attitude towards capitalism. capitalist development in russia has been without access to foreign markets from the first, it could only show its worst aspects--it has impoverished the masses of the people. in consequence, it was a 'fatal mistake' to promote capitalism in russia. on this point, nikolayon fulminates like a prophet of the old testament: 'instead of keeping to the tradition of centuries, instead of developing our old inherited principle of a close connection between the immediate producer and his means of production, instead of usefully applying the scientific achievements of w. europe to their forms of production based on the peasants' ownership of their means of production, instead of increasing their productivity by concentrating the means of production in their hands, instead of benefiting, not by the forms of production in w. europe, but by its organisation, its powerful co-operation, its division of labour, its machinery, etc., etc.--instead of developing the fundamental principle of a landowning peasantry and applying it to the cultivation of the land by the peasants, instead of making science and its application widely accessible to the peasants--instead of all this, we have taken the opposite turning. we have failed to prevent the development of capitalist forms of production, although they are based on the expropriation of the peasants; on the contrary, we have promoted with all our might the upsetting of our entire economic life which resulted in the famine of .' though the evil is much advanced, it is not too late even now to retrace our steps. on the contrary, a complete reform of economic policy is just as urgently needed for russia in view of the threatening proletarisation and collapse, as alexander's reforms after the crimean war were necessary in their time. now a social reform as advocated by nikolayon is completely utopian. his attitude exhibits an even more blatant petty-bourgeois and reactionary bias than sismondi's ever did, considering that the russian 'populist' writes after a lapse of seventy years. for in his opinion, the old _obshchina_, the rural community founded on the communal ownership of the soil, is the raft to deliver russia from the flood of capitalism. on it, the discoveries of modern big industry and scientific technique are to be grafted by measures which remain his own secret--so that it can serve as the basis of a 'socialised' higher form of production. russia can choose no other alternative: either she turns her back upon capitalist development, or she must resign herself to death and decay.[ ] after a crushing criticism of capitalism nikolayon thus ends up with the same old 'populist' panacea which had as early as the fifties, though at that time with greater justification, been hailed as the 'peculiarly russian' guarantee of a higher social development, although its reactionary character as a lifeless relic of ancient institutions had been exposed in engels' _fluechtlingsliteratur_ in _volksstaat_ ( ). engels wrote at the time: 'a further development of russia on bourgeois lines would gradually destroy communal property there too, quite apart from any interference of the russian government "with the knout and with bayonets" (as the revolutionary populists imagined). under the pressure of taxes and usury, communal landownership is no longer a privilege, it becomes an irksome chain. the peasants frequently run away from it, either with or without their families, to seek their living as itinerant labourers, and leave the land behind. we see that communal ownership in russia has long since passed its flower and there is every indication that its decay is approaching.' with these words, engels hits right on the target of the _obshchina_ problem--eighteen years before the publication of nikolayon's principal work. if nikolayon subsequently with renewed courage again conjured up the ghost of the _obshchina_, it was a bad historical anachronism inasmuch as about a decade later the _obshchina_ was given an official burial by the state. the absolutist government which had for financial reasons tried during half a century artificially to keep the machinery of the rural community going was compelled to give up this thankless task on its own accord. the agrarian problem soon made it clear how far the old 'populist' delusion was lagging behind the actual course of economic events, and conversely, how powerfully capitalist development in russia, mourned and cursed as still-born, could demonstrate with lightning and thunder its capacity to live and to multiply. once again, and for the last time, this turn of events demonstrates in quite a different historical setting how a social critique of capitalism, which begins by doubting its capacity for development, must by a deadly logic lead to a reactionary utopianism--both in the france of and in the russia of .[ ] footnotes: [ ] cf. _outlines of our social economy_, in particular pp. - , - . [ ] vladimir ilyich [lenin] has given detailed proof of the striking similarity between the position of the russian 'populists' and the views of sismondi in his essay _on the characteristics of economic romanticism_ ( ). [ ] _outlines of our social economy_, p. . friedrich engels appraises the russian situation differently. he repeatedly tries to convince nikolayon that russia cannot avoid a high industrial development, and that her sufferings are nothing but the typical capitalist contradictions. thus he writes on september , : 'i therefore hold that at present industrial production necessarily implies big industry, making use of steam power, electricity, mechanical looms and frames, and lastly the manufacture of the machines themselves by mechanical means. from the moment that railways are introduced in russia, recourse to all these extremely modern means of production becomes inevitable. it is necessary that you should be able to mend and repair your engines, coaches, railways and the like, but to do this cheaply, you must also be in a position to make at home the things needing repair. as soon as the technique of war has become a branch of industry (armour-plated cruisers, modern artillery, machine guns, steel bullets, smokeless gun powder, etc.) a big industry that is indispensable for the production of such items has become a political necessity for you as well. all these items cannot be made without a highly developed metal industry which on its part cannot develop unless there is a corresponding development of all other branches of production, textiles in particular' (marx-engels to nikolayon, st. petersburg, , p. ). and further in the same letter: 'so long as russian industry depends on the home market alone, it can only satisfy the internal demand. the latter, however, can grow but slowly, and it seems to me that under present conditions of life in russia it is even bound to decrease, since it is one of the unavoidable consequences of high industrial development that it destroys its own home market by the same process which served to create it: by destroying the bases of the peasants' domestic industry. yet peasants cannot live without such a domestic industry. they are ruined as peasants, their purchasing power is reduced to a minimum, and unless they grow new roots in new conditions of life, unless they become proletarians, they will only represent a very small market for the newly arising plants and factories. 'capitalist production is a phase of economic transition, full of inherent contradictions which only develop and become visible to the extent that capitalist production develops. the tendency of simultaneously creating and destroying a market is just one of these contradictions. another is the hopeless situation that will ensue, all the sooner in a country like russia which lacks external markets than in countries more or less fit to compete in the open world market. these latter can find some means of relief in this seemingly hopeless situation by heroic measures of commercial policy, that is to say by forcibly opening up new markets. china is the most recent market to be opened up for english commerce, and it proved adequate for a temporary revival of prosperity. that is why english capital is so insistent on railroad building in china. yet railways in china mean the destruction of the entire foundation of china's small rural enterprises and her domestic industry. in this case, there is not even a native big industry developed to compensate for this evil to some extent, and hundreds of millions will consequently find it impossible to make a living at all. the result will be mass emigration, such as the world has never yet seen, and america, asia and europe will be flooded with the detested chinese. this new competitor on the labour market will compete with american, australian and european labour at the level of what the chinese consider a satisfactory standard of living, which is well known to be the lowest in the whole world. well then, if the whole system of production in europe has not been revolutionised by then, that will be the time to start this revolution' (ibid., p. ). engels, though he followed russian developments with attention and keen interest, persistently refused to take an active part in the russian dispute. in his letter of november , , i.e. shortly before his death, he expressed himself as follows: 'my russian friends almost daily and weekly bombard me with requests to come forward with my objections to russian books and reviews which not only misinterpret but even misquote the sayings of our author (marx). my friends assure me that my intervention would suffice to put matters right. yet i invariably and firmly refuse all such proposals because i cannot afford to become involved with a dispute held in a foreign country, in a tongue which i, at least, cannot read as easily and freely as the more familiar w. european languages, and in a literature which is at best accessible to me only in fortuitous glimpses of some fragments, and which i cannot pursue anything like systematically enough in all its stages and details without neglecting my real and serious work. there are people everywhere who, once they have taken up a certain stand, are not ashamed to have recourse to misinterpreting the thoughts of others and to all kinds of dishonest manipulations for their own ends, and if that is what has happened to our author, i am afraid they will not deal more kindly with me, so that in the end i shall be compelled to interfere in the dispute, first to defend others, and then in my own defence' (ibid., p. ). [ ] we might mention that the surviving champions of 'populist' pessimism, and vorontsov in particular, to the last remained loyal to their views, in spite of all that happened in russia--a fact that does more credit to their character than to their intelligence. referring to the and crises, vorontsov wrote in : 'the doctrinaire dogma of the neo-marxists rapidly loses its power over people's minds. that the newest successes of the individualists are ephemeral has obviously dawned even on their official advocates.... in the first decade of the twentieth century, we come back to the same views about economic development in russia that had been the legacy of the 's' (cf. the review _political economics_, october , quoted by a. finn yenotayevski in _the contemporary economy of russia - _, st. petersburg, , p. .) even to-day, then, this last of the 'populist' mohicans deduces the 'ephemeral character', not of his own theory, but of economic reality. what of the saying of barrère: 'il n'y a que les morts qui ne reviennent pas'. _chapter xxi_ struve's 'third persons' and 'three world empires' we now turn to the criticism of the above opinions as given by the russian marxists. in , peter v. struve who had already given a detailed appraisal of nikolayon's book in an essay 'on capitalist development in russia',[ ] published a book in russian,[ ] criticising the theories of 'populism' from various aspects. in respect of our present problem, however, he mainly confines himself to proving, against both vorontsov and nikolayon, that capitalism does not cause a contraction of the home market but, on the contrary, an expansion. there can be no doubt that nikolayon has made a blunder--the same that sismondi had made. they each describe only a single aspect of the destructive process, performed by capitalism on the traditional forms of production by small enterprise. they saw only the resulting depression of general welfare, the impoverishment of broad strata of the population, and failed to notice that economic aspect of the process which entails the abolition of natural economy and the substitution of a commodity economy in rural districts. and this is as much as to say that, by absorbing further and further sections of formerly independent and self-sufficient producers into its own sphere, capitalism continuously transforms into commodity buyers ever new strata of people who had not before bought its commodities. in fact, the course of capitalist development is just the opposite of that pictured by the 'populists' on the model of sismondi. capitalism, far from ruining the home market, really sets about creating it, precisely by means of a spreading money economy. struve in particular refutes the theory that the surplus value cannot possibly be realised on the home market. he argues as follows: the conviction that a mature capitalist society consists exclusively of entrepreneurs and workers forms the basis of vorontsov's theory, and nikolayon himself operates with this concept throughout. from this point of view, of course, the realisation of the capitalist aggregate product seems incomprehensible. and vorontsov's theory is correct in so far as it states the fact that neither the capitalists' nor the workers' consumption can realise the surplus value, so that the existence of 'third persons' must be presumed.[ ] but then, is it not beyond any doubt that some such 'third persons' exist in every capitalist society? the idea of vorontsov and nikolayon is pure fiction 'which cannot advance our understanding of any historical process whatever by a hair's breadth'.[ ] there is no actual capitalist society, however highly developed, composed exclusively of capitalists and workers. 'even in england and wales, out of a thousand self-supporting inhabitants, are engaged in industry, in commerce, in agriculture, in casual wage labour, and in the civil service, the liberal professions and the like.' even in england, then, there are large numbers of 'third persons', and it is they who, by their consumption, help to realise the surplus value in so far as it is not consumed by the capitalists. struve leaves it open whether these 'third persons' consume enough to realise all surplus value--however that may be, 'the contrary would have to be proved'.[ ] this cannot be done, he claims, for russia, that vast country with an immense population. she, in fact, is in the fortunate position to be able to dispense with foreign markets. in this--and here struve dips into the intellectual treasures of professors wagner, schaeffle, and schmoller--she enjoys the same privileges as the united states of america. 'if the example of the n. american union stands for anything, it is proof of the fact that under certain circumstances capitalist industry can attain a very high level of development almost entirely on the basis of the home market.'[ ] the negligible amount of industrial exports from the u.s.a. in is mentioned in support of this statement which struve formulates as a general doctrine: 'the vaster the territory, and the larger the population of a country, the less does that country require foreign markets for its capitalist development.' he infers from this, in direct opposition to the 'populists', 'a more brilliant future (for russia) than for the other countries'. on the basis of commodity production, the progressive development of agriculture is bound to create a market wide enough to support the development of russian industrial capitalism. this market would be capable of unlimited expansion, in step with the economic and cultural progress of the country, and together with the substitution of a monetary for a natural economy. 'in this respect, capitalism enjoys more favourable conditions in russia than in other countries.'[ ] struve paints a detailed and highly coloured picture of the new markets which, thanks to the trans-siberian railway, are opening up in siberia, central asia, asia minor, persia and the balkans. but his prophetic zeal blinds him to the fact that he is no longer talking about the 'indefinitely expanding' home market but about specific foreign markets. in later years, he was to throw in his lot, in politics too, with this optimistic russian capitalism and its liberal programme of imperialist expansion, for which he had laid the theoretical foundations when still a 'marxist'. indeed, the tenor of struve's argument is a fervent belief in the unlimited capacity for expansion of capitalist production, but the economic foundation of this optimism is rather weak. he is somewhat reticent as to what he means by the 'third persons' whom he considers the mainstay of accumulation, but his references to english occupational statistics indicate that he has in mind the various private and public servants, the liberal professions, in short the notorious _grand public_ so dear to bourgeois economists when they are completely at a loss. it is this 'great public' of which marx said that it serves as the explanation for things which the economist cannot explain. it is obvious that, if we categorically refer to consumption by the capitalists and the workers, we do not speak of the entrepreneur as an individual, but of the capitalist class as a whole, including their hangers-on--employees, civil servants, liberal professions, and the like. all such 'third persons' who are certainly not lacking in any capitalist society are, as far as economics is concerned, joint consumers of the surplus value for the greater part, in so far, namely, as they are not also joint consumers of the wages of labour. these groups can only derive their purchasing power either from the wage of the proletariat or from the surplus value, if not from both; but on the whole, they are to be regarded as joint consumers of the surplus value. it follows that their consumption is already included in the consumption of the capitalist class, and if struve tries to reintroduce them to the capitalists by sleight-of-hand as 'third persons' to save the situation and help to realise the surplus value, the shrewd profiteer will not be taken in. he will see at once that this great public is nothing but his old familiar retinue of parasites who buy his commodities with money of his own providing. no, no, indeed! struve's 'third persons' will not do at all. struve's theory of foreign markets and their significance for capitalist production is equally untenable. in this, he defers to the mechanist approach of the 'populists' who, along with the professors' textbooks, hold that a capitalist (european) country will first exploit the home market to the limit, and will only look to foreign markets when this is almost or completely exhausted. then, following in the footsteps of wagner, schaeffle and schmoller, struve arrives at the absurd conclusion that a country with vast territories and a large population can make its capitalist production a 'self-contained whole' and rely indefinitely on the home market alone.[ ] in actual fact, capitalist production is by nature production on a universal scale. quite contrary to the bookish decrees issued by german scholars, it is producing for a world market already from the word _go_. the various pioneering branches of capitalist production in england, such as the textile, iron and coal industries, cast about for markets in all countries and continents, long before the process of destroying peasants' property, the decline of handicraft and of the old domestic industries within the country had come to an end. and again, is it likely that the german chemical or electrotechnical industries would be grateful for the sober advice not to work for five continents, as they have done from the beginning, but to confine themselves to the german home market which, being largely supplied from abroad, is evidently far from exhausted in respect of a whole lot of other german industries? or that one should explain to the german machine industry, it should not venture yet upon foreign markets, since german import statistics are visible proof that a good deal of the demand in germany for products of this branch is satisfied by foreign supplies? no, this schematic conception of 'foreign trade' does not help us at all to grasp the complexity of the world market with its uncounted ramifications and different shades in the division of labour. the industrial development of the u.s.a. who have already at the time of writing become a dangerous rival to britain both on the world market and even in england herself, just as they have beaten german competition, e.g. in the sphere of electrotechnics, both in the world market and in germany herself, has given the lie to struve's inferences, already out-of-date when they were put on paper. struve also shares the crude view of the russian 'populists' who saw hardly more than a merchant's sordid concern for his market in the international connections of capitalist economy, and its historical tendency to create a homogeneous living organism based on social division of labour as well as the countless variety of natural wealth and productive conditions of the globe. moreover he accepts the three empire fiction of wagner and schmoller (the self-contained empires of great britain, russia and the u.s.a.) which completely ignores or artificially minimises the vital part played by an unlimited supply of means of subsistence, of raw and auxiliary materials and of labour power which is just as necessary for a capitalist industry computed in terms of a world market as the demand for finished products. alone the history of the english cotton industry, a reflection in miniature of the history of capitalism in general, spreading over five continents throughout the nineteenth century, makes a mockery of the professors' childish pretensions which have only one real significance: to provide the theoretical justification for the system of protective tariffs. footnotes: [ ] published in _sozialdemokratisches zentralblatt_, vol. iii, no. . [ ] _critical comments on the problem of economic development in russia._ [ ] op. cit., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . 'there can be no doubt that struve's attempt to refute what he calls the pessimist outlook on the analogy of the u.s.a. is fallacious. he says that russia can overcome the evil consequences of the most recent capitalism just as easily as the u.s.a. but what he forgets is that the u.s.a. from the first represent a new bourgeois state, that they were founded by a petty bourgeoisie and by peasants who had fled from european feudalism to set up a purely bourgeois society. in russia, on the other hand, we have a primitive communist foundation, a society of _gentes_, as it were, in the pre-civilised stage which, though it is already disintegrating, still serves as a material basis upon which the capitalist revolution (for it is in fact a social revolution) can take place and become effective. in america, a monetary economy had been stabilised more than a century ago, whereas a natural economy had until recently prevailed in russia. it should be obvious therefore that this revolution in russia is bound to be much more ruthless and violent, and accompanied by immensely more suffering than in america' (engels to nikolayon, october , , _letters_ ..., p. ). [ ] _critical comments_ ..., p. . [ ] professor schmoller, amongst others, clearly reveals the reactionary aspect of the 'three empire theory' (viz. great britain, russia and the u.s.a.) evolved by the german professors. in his handbook of commercial policy (_handelspolitische säkularbetrachtung_), the venerable scholar dolefully frowns upon 'neo-mercantilism', that is to say upon the imperialist designs of the three arch-villains. 'in the interests of a higher intellectual, moral and aesthetic civilisation and social progress' he demands a strong german navy and a european customs union. 'out of the economic tension of the world there arises the prime duty for germany to create for herself a strong navy, so as to be prepared for battle in the case of need, and to be desirable as an ally to the world powers'--which latter, however, professor schmoller says elsewhere, he does not wish to blame for again taking the path of large-scale colonial expansion. 'she neither can nor ought to pursue a policy of conquest like the three world powers, but she must be able, if necessary, to break a foreign blockade of the north sea in order to protect her own colonies and her vast commerce, and she must be able to offer the same security to the states with whom she forms an alliance. it is the task of the three-partite union (germany, austro-hungary, and italy) to co-operate with france towards imposing some restraint, desirable for the preservation of all other states, on the over-aggressive policy of the three world powers which constitutes a threat to all smaller states, and to ensure moderation in conquests, in colonial acquisitions, in the immoderate and unilateral policy of protective tariffs, in the exploitation and maltreatment of all weaker elements. the objectives of all higher intellectual, moral and aesthetic civilisation and of social progress depend on the fact that the globe should not be divided up among three world empires in the twentieth century, that these three empires should not establish a brutal neo-mercantilism' (_die wandlungen der europäischen handelspolitik des . jahrhunderts_, 'changes in the european commercial policy during the th century', in _jahrb. für gesetzgebung, verwaltung und volkswirtschaft_, vol. xxiv, p. ). _chapter xxii_ bulgakov and his completion of marx's analysis the second critic of 'populist' scepticism, s. bulgakov, is no respecter of struve's 'third persons' and at once denies that they form the sheet-anchor for capitalist accumulation. 'the majority of economists before marx', he declares, 'solved the problem by saying that some sort of "third person" is needed, as a _deus ex machina_, to cut the gordian knot, i.e. to consume the surplus value. this part is played by luxury-loving landowners (as with malthus), or by indulgent capitalists, or yet by militarism and the like. there can be no demand for the surplus value without some such extraordinary mediators; a deadlock will be reached on the markets and the result will be over-production and crises.'[ ] 'struve thus assumes that capitalist production in its development, too, may find its ultimate mainstay in the consumption of some fantastic sort of "third person". but if this great public is essentially characterised as consuming the surplus value, whence does it obtain the means to buy?'[ ] for his part, bulgakov centres the whole problem from the first in the analysis of the social aggregate product and its reproduction as given by marx in the second volume of _capital_. he has a thorough grasp of the fact that he must start with simple reproduction and must fully understand its working in order to solve the question of accumulation. in this context, he says, it is of particular importance to obtain a clear picture of the consumption of surplus value and wages in such branches of production as do not turn out goods for consumption, and further, to understand fully the circulation of that portion of the social aggregate product which represents used-up constant capital. this, he argues, is a completely new problem of which economists had not even been aware before marx brought it up. 'in order to solve this problem, marx divides all capitalistically produced commodities into two great and fundamentally different categories: the production of producer and consumer goods. there is more theoretical importance in this division than in all previous squabbles on the theory of markets.'[ ] bulgakov, we see, is an outspoken and enthusiastic supporter of marx's theory. the object of his study, as he puts it, is thus a critique of the doctrine that capitalism cannot exist without external markets. 'for this purpose, the author has made use of the most valuable analysis of social reproduction given by marx in volume ii of _capital_ which for reasons unknown has scarcely been utilised in economic theory. though this analysis cannot be taken as fully completed, we are yet of opinion that even in its present fragmentary shape it offers an adequate foundation for a solution of the market problem that differs from that adopted by messrs. nikolayon, v. v. and others, and which they claim to have found in marx.'[ ] bulgakov gives the following formulation of his solution which he has deduced from marx himself: 'in certain conditions, capitalism may exist solely by virtue of an internal market. it is not an inherent necessity peculiar to the capitalist mode of production that the outside market be able to absorb the surplus of capitalist production. the author has arrived at this conclusion in consequence of his study of the above-mentioned analysis of social reproduction.' and now we are eager to hear the arguments bulgakov has based on the above thesis. at first sight, they prove surprisingly simple: bulgakov faithfully reproduces marx's well-known diagram of simple reproduction, adding comments which do credit to his insight. he further cites marx's equally familiar diagram of enlarged reproduction--and this indeed is the proof we have been so anxious to find. 'consequent upon what we have said, it will not be difficult now to determine the very essence of accumulation. the means-of-production department i must produce additional means of production necessary for enlarging both its own production and that of department ii. ii, in its turn, will have to supply additional consumption goods to enlarge the variable capital in both departments. disregarding the circulation of money, the expansion of production is reduced to an exchange of additional products of i needed by ii against additional products of ii needed by i.' loyally following marx's deductions, bulgakov does not notice that so far his entire thesis is nothing but words. he believes that these mathematical _formulæ_ solve the problem of accumulation. no doubt we can easily imagine proportions such as those he has copied from marx, and _if there is expanding production_, these _formulæ_ will apply. yet bulgakov overlooks the principal problem: who exactly is to profit by an expansion such as that whose mechanism he examines? is it explained just because we can put the mathematical proportions of accumulation on paper? hardly, because just as soon as bulgakov has declared the matter settled and goes on to introduce the circulation of money into the analysis, he right away comes up against the question: where are i and ii to get the money for the purchase of additional products? when we dealt with marx, time and again the weak point in his analysis, the question really of consumers in enlarged reproduction, cropped up in a perverted form as the question of additional money sources. here bulgakov quite slavishly follows marx's approach, accepting his misleading formulation of the problem without noticing that it is not straightforward, although he knows perfectly well that 'marx himself did not answer this question in the drafts which were used to compile the second volume of _capital_'. it should be all the more interesting to see what answer marx's russian pupil attempted to work out on his own. 'the following solution', bulgakov says, 'seems to us to correspond best to marx's doctrine as a whole: the new variable capital in money-form supplied by ii for both departments has its commodity equivalent in surplus value ii. with reference to simple reproduction, we have already seen that the capitalists themselves must throw money into circulation to realise their surplus value, money which ultimately reverts to the pocket of the very capitalist it came from. the quantity of money required for the circulation of the surplus value is determined in accordance with the general law of commodity circulation by the value of the commodities that contained it, divided by the average amount of money turnover. this same law must apply here; the capitalists of department ii must dispose of a certain amount of money for the circulation of their surplus value, and must consequently possess certain money reserves. these reserves must be ample enough for the circulation both of that portion of the surplus value which represents the consumption fund and of that which is to be accumulated as capital.' bulgakov further argues that it is immaterial to the question how much money is required to circulate a certain amount of commodities inside a country, whether or not some of these commodities contain any surplus value. 'in answer to the general question as to money sources inside the country, however, our solution is that the money is supplied by the producer of gold.'[ ] if a country requires more money consequent upon an 'expansion of production', the production of gold will have to be increased accordingly. so here we are again: the producer of gold is again the _deus ex machina_, just as he had been for marx. in fact, bulgakov has sadly disappointed us in the high hopes we had of his new solution. his 'solution' of the problem does not go a step beyond marx's own analysis. it can be reduced to three extremely simple statements as follows: ( ) question: how much money do we need for the realisation of capitalised surplus value? answer: just as much as is required in accordance with the general law of commodity circulation. ( ) q.: where do the capitalists get the money for the realisation of capitalised surplus value? a.: they are supposed to have it. ( ) q.: how did the money come into the country in the first place? a.: it is provided by the producer of gold. the extreme simplicity of this method of explanation is suspicious rather than attractive. we need not trouble, however, to refute this theory which makes the gold producer the _deus ex machina_ of capitalist accumulation. bulgakov has done it himself quite adequately. eighty pages on, he returns to the gold producer in quite a different context, in the course of a lengthy argument against the theory of the wages fund in which he got involved for some mysterious reason. here he suddenly displays a keen grasp of the problem: 'we know already that there is a gold producer amongst other producers. even under conditions of simple reproduction, he increases, on the one hand, the absolute quantity of money circulating inside the country, and on the other, he buys producer and consumer goods without, in his turn, selling commodities, paying with his own product, i.e. with the general exchange equivalent, for the goods he buys. the gold producer now might perhaps render the service of buying the whole accumulated surplus value from ii and pay for it in gold which ii can then use to buy means of production from i and to increase its variable capital needed to pay for additional labour power so that the gold producer now appears as the real external market. 'this assumption, however, is quite absurd. to accept it would mean to make the expansion of social production dependent upon the expansion of gold production. (hear, hear!) this in turn presupposes an increase in gold production which is quite unreal. if the gold producer were obliged to buy all the accumulated surplus value from ii for his own workers, his own variable capital would have to grow by the day and indeed by the hour. yet his constant capital as well as his surplus value should also grow in proportion, and gold production as a whole would consequently have to take on immense dimensions. (hear, hear!) instead of submitting this sophistical presumption to statistical tests--which in any case would hardly be possible--a single fact can be adduced which would alone refute this presupposition: it is the development of the institution of credit which accompanies the development of capitalist economy. (hear, hear!) credit has the tendency to diminish the amount of money in circulation (this decrease being, of course, only relative, not absolute); it is the necessary complement of a developing economy of exchange which would otherwise soon find itself hampered by a lack of coined money. i think we need not give figures in this context to prove that the rôle of money in exchange-transactions is now very small. the hypothesis is thus proved in immediate and evident disagreement with the facts and must be confuted.'[ ] bravo! bravissimo! this is really excellent! bulgakov, however, thus 'confutes' also his former explanation of the question, in what way and by whom capitalised surplus value is realised. moreover, in refuting his own statements, bulgakov has only explained in somewhat greater detail what marx expressed in a single word when he called the hypothesis of a gold producer swallowing up the entire surplus value of society--'absurd'. admittedly, bulgakov's real solution and that of russian marxists in general who deal extensively with the problem must be sought elsewhere. just like tugan baranovski and ilyin [lenin], bulgakov underlines the fact that the opposing sceptics made a capital error with respect to the possibility of accumulation in analysing the value of the aggregate product. they, especially vorontsov, assumed that the aggregate social product consists in consumer goods, and they all started from the false premise that consumption is indeed the object of capitalist production. this, as the marxists now explain, is the source of the entire misunderstanding--of all the imaginary difficulties connected with the realisation of the surplus value, with which the sceptics racked their brains. 'this school created non-existent difficulties because of this mistaken conception. since the normal conditions of capitalist production presuppose that the capitalists' consumption fund is only a part of the surplus value, and the smaller part at that, the larger being set aside for the expansion of production, it is obvious that the difficulties imagined by this (the _populist_) school do not really exist.'[ ] the unconcern with which bulgakov here ignores the real problem is striking. apparently it has not dawned on him that the question as to the ultimate beneficiaries, quite irrelevant so long as personal consumption of the entire surplus value is assumed, only becomes acute on the assumption of enlarged reproduction. all these 'imaginary difficulties' vanish, thanks to two discoveries of marx's which his russian pupils untiringly quote against their opponents. the first is the fact that, in terms of value, the social product is composed, not of _v + s_, but of _c + v + s_. secondly, the ratio of _c_ to _v_ in this sum continually increases with the progress of capitalist production, and at the same time, the capitalised part of the surplus value as against that part of it that is consumed, is ever growing. on this basis, bulgakov establishes a complete theory of the relations between production and consumption in a capitalist society. as this theory plays such an important part for the russian marxists in general, and bulgakov in particular, it will be necessary to get better acquainted with it. 'consumption,' bulgakov says, 'the satisfaction of social needs, is but an incidental moment in the circulation of capital. the volume of production is determined by the volume of capital, and not by the amount of social requirements. not alone that the development of production is unaccompanied by a growth in consumption--the two are mutually antagonistic. capitalist production knows no other than effective consumption, but only such persons who draw either surplus value or labour wages can be effective consumers, and their purchasing power strictly corresponds to the amount of those revenues. yet we have seen that the fundamental evolutionary laws of capitalist production tend, despite the absolute increase, to diminish the relative size of variable capital as well as of the capitalists' consumption fund. we can say, then, _that the development of production diminishes consumption_.[ ] the conditions of production and of consumption are thus in conflict. production cannot and does not expand to further consumption. expansion, however, is an inherent fundamental law of capitalist production and confronts every individual capitalist in the form of a stern command to compete. this contradiction is negligible in view of the fact that expanding production as such represents a market for additional products. "inherent contradictions are resolved by an extension of the outlying fields of production."'[ ] (bulgakov here quotes a saying of marx which he has thoroughly misunderstood; we shall later have occasion to deal with it once more.) 'it has just been shown how this is possible.' (a reference to the analysis of the diagram of enlarged reproduction.) 'evidently, the greater share of the expansion is apportioned to department i, to the production, that is to say, of constant capital, and only a (relatively) smaller part to department ii which produces commodities for immediate consumption. this change in the relations of the two departments shows well enough what part is played by consumption in a capitalist society, and it indicates where we should expect to find the most important demand for capitalist commodities.'[ ] 'even within the narrow limits of the profit motive and the crises, even on this strait and narrow path, capitalist production is capable of unlimited expansion, irrespective of, and even despite, a decrease in consumption. the russian literature frequently points out that in view of diminishing consumption a considerable increase of capitalist production is impossible without external markets, but this is due to a wrong evaluation of the part played by consumption in a capitalist society, the failure to appreciate that consumption is not the ultimate end of capitalist production. capitalist production does not exist by the grace of an increase in consumption but because of an extension of the outlying fields of production which in fact constitute the market for capitalist products. a whole progression of malthusian investigators, discontented with the superficial harmony doctrine of the school of say and ricardo, have slaved away at a solution of the hopeless undertaking: to find means of increasing consumption which the capitalist mode of production is bound to decrease. marx was the only one to analyse the real connections: he has shown that the growth of consumption is fatally lagging behind that of production, and must do so whatever "third persons" one might invent. consumption and its volume then should by no means be considered as establishing the immediate limits to the expansion of production. capitalist production atones by the crises for deviating from the true purpose of production, but it is independent of consumption. the expansion of production is alone limited by, and dependent upon, the volume of capital.'[ ] the theory of bulgakov and tugan baranovski is here directly attributed to marx. in the eyes of the russian marxists, it is on the whole the direct consequence of marx's doctrine, of which it forms an organic part. on another occasion bulgakov says even more clearly that it is a faithful interpretation of marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction. once a country has embraced capitalist production, its internal movement develops along the following lines: 'the production of constant capital makes up the department i of social reproduction, thereby instituting an independent demand for consumption goods to the extent of both its own variable capital and the consumption fund of its capitalists. department ii in its turn starts the demand for the products of department i. _thus a closed circle is already formed at the initial stage of capitalist production, in which it depends on no external market but is self-sufficient and can grow, of itself, as it were, by means of accumulation._'[ ] in the hands of the russian marxists this theory becomes the favourite stick with which to beat their opponents, the 'populist' sceptics, in the question of markets. we can only appreciate its daring to the full when we look at its amazing discrepancy with everyday practice, with all the known facts of capitalist economy. a thesis pronounced so triumphantly as the purest marxist gospel is even more deserving of our admiration when we consider that it is grounded in an extremely simple confusion. we shall have further occasion to deal with this confusion when we come to the doctrine of tugan baranovski. bulgakov further develops a completely erroneous theory of foreign commerce, based upon his misapprehension of the relations between consumption and production in capitalist economy. a picture of reproduction like the above in fact has no room for foreign commerce. if capitalism forms a 'closed circle' in every country from the very beginning, if, chasing its tail like a puppy and in complete 'self-sufficiency', it is able of itself to create an unlimited market for its products and can spur itself on to ever greater expansion, then every capitalist country as such must also be a closed and self-sufficient economic whole. in but a single respect would foreign commerce appear reasonable: to compensate, by imports from abroad, for certain deficiencies due to the soil and the climate, i.e. the import of raw materials or foodstuffs from sheer necessity. completely upsetting the thesis of the 'populists', bulgakov in fact advances a theory of international commerce among capitalist states which gives pride of place to the import of agricultural products, with industrial exports merely providing the requisite funds. international traffic in commodities does not here seem to flow from the character of the mode of production but from the natural conditions of the countries concerned. this theory at any rate has not been borrowed from marx but from the economic experts of the german bourgeoisie. just as struve took over from wagner and schaeffle his three empire theory, so bulgakov adopts from the late list (_r.i.p._) the division of states on the basis of 'agriculture' and 'mixed agriculture and manufacture', or rather adapts it, in deference to the times, to the categories of 'manufacture' and 'mixed manufacture and agriculture'. nature has afflicted the first category with a deficiency in raw materials and foodstuffs, making it thus dependent upon foreign commerce. the second category has been liberally endowed with all it needs; here foreign trade is of no account. the prototype of the first category is england, of the second--the u.s.a. the stoppage of foreign commerce would mean the economic death-blow to england, but only a temporary crisis in the u.s.a. with a guarantee of full recovery. 'production there is capable of unlimited expansion on the basis of the internal market.'[ ] this theory, a hoary relic of german economics even now, has obviously not the least grasp of the interrelations obtaining in an international capitalist economy. it conceives of modern international trade in terms that may have been appropriate to the times of the phoenicians. just listen to the lecture of professor buecher: 'although the liberalist era has greatly facilitated international traffic, it would be a mistake to infer from this that the period of a national economy is nearing its end, to be replaced by a period of international economy.... granted that we see in europe to-day a number of small countries that are not independent nations in respect of their commodity supply, being compelled to import substantial amounts of their foodstuffs and luxuries, while their industrial productivity is in excess of the national needs and creates a permanent surplus for which employment must be found in alien spheres of consumption. yet although countries of industrial production and those producing raw materials exist side by side and depend upon one another, such "international division of labour" should not be regarded as a sign that mankind is about to attain to a higher stage of development which it would be proper to contrast, under the label of world economy, with the ... previous stages. no stage of economic development has ever permanently guaranteed full autonomy in the satisfaction of wants. every one of them has left certain gaps which had to be filled in by some means or other. so-called "international economy", on the other hand, has not, at any rate so far, engendered any phenomena which are essentially different from those of national economy, and we very much doubt that such phenomena will appear in the near future.'[ ] as far as bulgakov is concerned, this conception at any rate results in an unexpected conclusion: his theory of the unlimited capacity for development of capitalism is confined to certain countries with favourable natural conditions. capitalism in england is foredoomed because the world market will be exhausted before long. in the u.s.a., india and russia it can look forward to an unlimited development because these countries are 'self-sufficient'. apart from these obvious peculiarities, bulgakov's arguments about foreign commerce again imply a fundamental misconception. against the sceptics, from sismondi to nikolayon, who believed that they had to take recourse to outside markets for the realisation of capitalist surplus value, he chiefly argues as follows: 'these experts obviously consider external commerce as a "bottomless pit" to swallow up in all eternity the surplus value which cannot be got rid of inside the country.' bulgakov for his part triumphantly points out that foreign commerce is indeed not a pit and certainly not a bottomless one, but rather appears as a double-edged sword, that exports always belong with imports, and that the two usually counterbalance one another. thus, whatever is pushed out over one border, will be brought back, in a changed use-form, over another. 'we must find room for the commodities that have been imported as an equivalent of those exported, within the bounds of the given market, and as this is impossible, _ex hypothesi_, it would only generate new difficulties to have recourse to an external demand.'[ ] on another occasion he says that the way to realise the surplus value found by the russian 'populists', viz. external markets, 'is much less favourable than that discovered by malthus, v. kirchmann and vorontsov himself when he wrote the essay _on militarism and capitalism_'.[ ] although bulgakov fervently copies marx's diagram of reproduction, he here exhibits no grasp whatever of the real problem towards which the sceptics from sismondi to nikolayon were groping their way. he denies that foreign commerce solves the difficulty as pretended, since it again brings the surplus value that has been disposed of into the country, although in a 'changed form'. in conformity with the crude picture of v. kirchmann and vorontsov, he thus believes the problem to be that of destroying a certain quantity of the surplus value, of wiping it from the face of the earth. it simply does not occur to him that the real problem is the realisation of the surplus value, the metamorphosis of commodities, in fact the 'changed form' of the surplus value. bulgakov thus finally arrives at the same goal as struve, though by a different route. he preaches the self-sufficiency of capitalist accumulation which swallows up its own product as kronos swallows up his children, and breeds ever more vigorously without help from outside. now only one further step is needed for marxism to revert to bourgeois economics, and this, as luck would have it, was taken by tugan baranovski. footnotes: [ ] s. bulgakov, _on the markets of capitalist production. a study in theory_ (moscow, ), p. . [ ] ibid., p. , footnote. [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] _on the markets of capitalist production_, pp. , . [ ] _on the markets of capitalist production_, p. ff. [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] bulgakov's italics. [ ] _capital_, vol. iii, p. . [ ] bulgakov, op. cit., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] bulgakov, op. cit., p. (our italics). [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] k. buecher; the rise of national economy (_die entstehung der volkswirtschaft_), th edition, p. . professor sombart's theory is the most recent contribution in this field. he argues that we are not moving towards an international economy but rather farther and farther away from it. 'i maintain, on the contrary, that commercial relations to-day do not form a stronger but rather a weaker link between the civilised nations, in relation to their economy as a whole. individual economy takes not more but rather less account of the world market than it did a hundred or fifty years ago. at least ... it would be wrong to assume that the relative importance of international relations with regard to modern political economy is increasing. the opposite is the case.' sombart scornfully rejects the assumption of a progressive international division of labour, of a growing need for outside markets owing to an inelastic home demand. he in his turn is convinced that 'the individual national economies will develop into ever more perfect microcosms and that the importance of the home market will increasingly surpass that of the world market for all branches of industry' (_die deutsche volkswirtschaft im . jahrhundert_, nd edition, , pp. - ). this devastating discovery admittedly hinges on a full acceptance of the professor's peculiar conception which, for some reasons, only considers those as 'exporting countries' who pay for their imports with a surplus of agricultural products over and above their own needs, who pay 'with the soil'. in this scheme russia, rumania, the u.s.a. and the argentine are, but germany, england and belgium are not, 'exporting countries'. since capitalist development will sooner or later also claim the surplus of agricultural products for the home demand in russia and the u.s.a., it is evident that there will be fewer and fewer 'exporting countries' in the world--international economy will vanish.--another of sombart's discoveries is that great capitalist 'non-exporting' countries increasingly obtain 'free' imports in form of interest on exported capital--but the capital exports as well as exports of industrial commodities are of absolutely no account to professor sombart. 'in the course of time we shall probably get to a point where we import without exporting' (p. ). modern, sensational, and precious! [ ] bulgakov, op. cit., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . a quite uncompromising version of the same view is given by v. ilyin [lenin]: 'the romanticists (as he calls the sceptics) argue as follows: the capitalists cannot consume the surplus value; therefore they must dispose of it abroad. i ask: do the capitalists perhaps give away their products to foreigners for nothing, throw it into the sea, maybe? if they sell it, it means that they obtain an equivalent. if they export certain goods, it means that they import others' (_economic studies and essays_, p. ). as a matter of fact, his explanation of the part played by external commerce in capitalist production is far more correct than that of struve and bulgakov. _chapter xxiii_ tugan baranovski and his 'lack of proportion' we have left this theorist to the end, although he already developed his views in russian in , i.e. before struve and bulgakov, partly because he only gave his theories their mature form in german at a later date,[ ] and also because the conclusions he draws from the premises of the marxist critics are the most far-reaching in their implications. like bulgakov, tugan baranovski starts from marx's analysis of social reproduction which gave him the clue to this bewildering maze of problems. but while bulgakov, the enthusiastic disciple of marx, only sought to follow him faithfully and simply attributed his own conclusions to the master, tugan baranovski, on the other hand, lays down the law to marx who, in his opinion, did not know how to turn his brilliant exposition of the reproductive process to good account. tugan baranovski's most important general conclusion from marx's principles, the pivot of his whole theory, is that, contrary to the assumptions of the sceptics, capitalist accumulation is not only possible under the capitalist forms of revenue and consumption, but is, in fact, completely independent of both. it is not consumption, he says, but production itself which makes for the best market. production and the market are therefore the same, and since the expansion of production is unlimited in itself, the market, the capacity to absorb its products, has no limits either. 'the diagram quoted', he says, 'was to prove conclusively a postulate which, though simple enough, might easily give rise to objections, unless the process be adequately understood--the postulate, namely, that capitalist production creates a market for itself. so long as it is possible to expand social production, if the productive forces are adequate for this purpose, the proportionate division of social production must also bring about a corresponding expansion of the demand inasmuch as under such conditions all newly produced goods represent a newly created purchasing power for the acquisition of other goods. comparing simple reproduction of the social capital with its reproduction on a rising scale, we arrive at the most important conclusion that in capitalist economy the demand for commodities is in a sense independent of the total volume of social consumption. absurd as it may seem to "common-sense", it is yet possible that the volume of social consumption as a whole goes down while at the same time the aggregate social demand for commodities grows.'[ ] and again further on: 'arising from the abstract analysis of the reproductive process of social capital we have formed the conclusion that nothing will be left over of the social product in view of the proportionate division of the social capital.'[ ] accordingly tugan baranovski subjects marx's theory of crises to a revision which he claims to have developed from sismondi's 'over-consumption'. 'marx is in substantial agreement with the general view that the poverty of the workers, i.e. of the great majority of the population, makes it impossible to realise the products of an ever expanding capitalist production, since it causes a decline in demand. this opinion is definitely mistaken. we have seen that capitalist production creates its own market--consumption being only one of the moments of capitalist production. in a planned social production if the leaders of production were equipped with all _information_ about the demand and with the _power_ to transfer labour and capital freely from one branch of production to another, then, however low the level of social consumption, the supply of commodities would not exceed the demand.'[ ] the only circumstance which periodically causes the market to be flooded is a lack of proportion in the enlargement of production. on this assumption, therefore, tugan baranovski describes the course of capitalist accumulation as follows: 'what would the workers ... produce if production were organised on proportionate lines? obviously their own means of subsistence and production. with what object? to expand production in the second year. the production of what products? again of means of production and subsistence for the workers--and so on _ad infinitum_.'[ ] this game of question and answer, mind you, is not a form of self-mockery, it is meant in all seriousness. 'if the expansion of production has no practical limits, then we must assume that the expansion of markets is equally unlimited, for _if social production is proportionately organised, there is no limit to the expansion of the market other than the productive forces available_.'[ ] since production thus creates its own demand, foreign commerce of capitalist states is also assigned that peculiar mechanistic function we have already met in bulgakov. a foreign market, for instance, is an absolute necessity for england. 'does not this prove that capitalist production creates a surplus product for which there is no room on the internal market? why, come to that, does england require an external market? the answer is not difficult: because a considerable part of england's purchasing power is expended on obtaining foreign commodities. the import of foreign commodities for the english home market also makes it essential to export english commodities abroad. since england cannot manage without importing from abroad, exports are a vital condition for that country, since without them she would not be able to pay for her imports.'[ ] here again agricultural imports are described as a stimulating and decisive factor, quite in accordance with the scheme of the german professors. what, then, is the general line of reasoning on which tugan baranovski supports his daring solution of the problem of accumulation, the new revelation on the problem of crises and a whole lot of others? hard to believe, but quite incontrovertible for all that, tugan baranovski's proof consists exclusively and entirely--in marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction, no more no less. although he repeatedly refers rather pompously to his 'abstract analysis of the reproductive process of social capital', to the 'conclusive logic' of his analysis, this entire analysis is nothing but a copy of marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction, with a different set of figures. nowhere in the entire works of tugan baranovski shall we find a trace of any other argument. in marx's diagram, admittedly, accumulation, production, realisation and exchange run smoothly with clockwork precision, and no doubt this kind of 'accumulation' can continue _ad infinitum_, just as long, that is to say, as ink and paper do not run out. and it is this harmless written exercise with mathematical equations which tugan baranovski quite seriously considers a _demonstration_ of such a course in real events. 'the diagrams we have adduced are bound to prove conclusively that....' on another occasion he counters hobson, who is convinced that accumulation is impossible, with the following words: 'diagram no. of the reproduction of social capital on a rising scale corresponds to the case of capital accumulation hobson has in mind. but does this diagram show a surplus product to come into being? far from it.'[ ] hobson is refuted and the matter settled because 'in the diagram' no surplus product comes into being. admittedly, tugan baranovski knows quite well that in hard fact things do not work out so smoothly. there are continual fluctuations in the exchange relations and periodical crises. but these crises happen only because in the expansion of production the proper proportions are not maintained, because, that is to say, the proportions of 'diagram no. ' are not observed in the first place. if they were, there would be no crisis, and capitalist production could get along as nicely as it does on paper, in every detail. tugan baranovski is committed to the view that we can ignore the crises if we consider the reproductive process as a continuous process. although the 'proportion' may be upset at any moment, yet on average it will always be re-established by different deviations, by price-fluctuations from day to day, and in the long run by periodical crises. that on the whole this 'proportion' is more or less maintained is proved by the fact that capitalist economy is still going strong--otherwise it would long ago have ended in chaos and collapse. in the long run, then, tugan baranovski's 'proportion' is observed by and large, and we must conclude that reality obeys 'diagram no. '. and since this diagram can be indefinitely extended, it follows that capitalist accumulation can also proceed _ad infinitum_. what is striking in all this is not tugan baranovski's conclusion that the diagram corresponds to the actual course of events--as we have seen, bulgakov also shared this belief; the really startling fact is that tugan baranovski sees no necessity for as much as _inquiring_ whether the diagram is correct, that, instead of proving the diagram, he considers this, the arithmetical exercise on paper, as proof of the actual state of affairs. bulgakov honestly tried to project marx's diagram on the real concrete relations of capitalist economy and of capitalist exchange; he endeavoured to overcome the difficulties resulting from it, though without success, it is true, remaining to the last involved with marx's analysis, which he himself recognised to be incomplete and fragmentary. but tugan baranovski does not need any proof, he does not greatly exercise his brains: since the arithmetical sums come out satisfactorily, and may be continued _ad lib._, this is to him proof that capitalist accumulation can also proceed without let or hindrance--provided the said 'proportion' obtains, which it will have to do by hook or by crook, as he himself would not dream of denying. tugan baranovski, however, has one indirect proof that the diagram with its strange results corresponds to, and truly reflects, reality. this is the fact that capitalist production, quite in accordance with marx's diagram, puts human consumption second to production, that it conceives of the former as a means and of the latter as an end in itself, just as it puts human labour, the 'worker', on a par with the machine. 'technical progress is expressed by the fact that the means of labour, the machine, increases more and more in importance as compared to living labour, to the worker himself. means of production play an ever growing part in the productive process and on the commodity market. compared to the machine, the worker recedes further into the background and the demand resulting from the consumption of the workers is also put into the shade by that which results from productive consumption by the means of production. the entire workings of capitalist economy take on the character of a mechanism existing on its own, as it were, in which human consumption appears as a simple moment of the reproductive process and the circulation of capitals.'[ ] tugan baranovski considers this discovery as a fundamental law of the capitalist mode of production, which is confirmed by a quite tangible phenomenon: with the progress of capitalist development department i goes on growing relatively to, and at the expense of, department ii. it was marx himself who, as we all know, set up this law in which he grounded the schematic exposition of reproduction, though in the further development of his diagram he ignored subsequent alterations for simplicity's sake. this, the automatic growth of the producer goods as compared with the consumer goods department affords tugan baranovski the only objective proof of his theory: that in capitalist society human consumption becomes increasingly unimportant, and production more and more an end in itself. this thesis forms the corner-stone of his entire theoretical edifice. 'in all the industrial countries', he proclaims, 'we are confronted with the same type of development--the development of national economy everywhere follows the same fundamental law. the mining industry which creates the means of production for modern industry comes more and more to the fore. the relative decrease in the export of immediately consumable manufactured goods from britain is thus also an expression of the fundamental law governing capitalist development. the further technical progress advances, the more do consumer goods recede as compared with producer goods. human consumption plays an ever decreasing part as against the productive consumption of the means of production.'[ ] although this 'fundamental law' like all his other 'fundamental' laws, in so far as they mean anything at all, is borrowed ready-made from marx, baranovski does not rest content with this and immediately proceeds to preach the marxist gospel to marx himself. scrabbling about like a blind hen, marx has turned up another pearl--tugan will give him that--only he does not know what to do with it. it needed a tugan baranovski to know how to make it useful to science, and in his hand the newly discovered law suddenly throws a new light on the whole workings of capitalist economy. this law of the expansion in the department of producer goods at the cost of that of consumer goods reveals clearly, concisely, exactly, and in measurable terms, that capitalist society attaches progressively less importance to human consumption, putting man on the same level as the means of production, and that marx was therefore completely wrong both in assuming that man alone, not the machine, too, can be the creator of surplus value, and in saying, further, that human consumption represents a limit for capitalist production which is bound to cause periodical crises in the present, and the collapse and terrible end of capitalist economy in the near future. in short, the 'fundamental law' governing the increase of producer as compared to consumer goods reflects the singular nature of capitalist society as a whole which marx had not understood and which to interpret happily fell to the lot of tugan baranovski. we have seen above the decisive part played by the 'fundamental law' of capital in the controversy between the russian marxists and the sceptics. bulgakov's remarks we already know; another marxist already referred to, vladimir ilyin, expresses himself in similar terms in his polemics against the 'populists': 'it is well known that the law of capitalist production consists in the fact that the constant capital grows more rapidly than the variable capital, that is to say an ever increasing part of the newly formed capital falls to the department of social production which creates producer goods. in consequence, this department is absolutely bound to grow more rapidly than the department creating consumer goods, that is to say, the very thing happens which sismondi declared to be "impossible", "dangerous", etc. in consequence, consumer goods make up a smaller and smaller share of the total bulk of capitalist production, and this is entirely in accordance with the historical "mission" of capitalism and its specific social structure: the former in fact consists in the development of the productive forces of society (production as an end in itself), and the latter prevents that the mass of the population should turn them to use.'[ ] in this respect, of course, tugan baranovski goes even farther. with his love of paradox he actually permits himself the joke of submitting a mathematical proof that accumulation of capital and expansion of production are possible even if the absolute volume of production decreases. in this connection, karl kautsky has pointed out, he had recourse to a somewhat dubious scientific subterfuge, namely that he shaped his daring deductions exclusively for a specific moment: the transition from simple to enlarged reproduction--a moment which is exceptional even in theory, but certainly of no practical significance whatever.[ ] as to tugan baranovski's 'fundamental law', kautsky declares it to be a mere illusion due to the fact that tugan baranovski considered the organisation of production only in the old countries of capitalist big industry. 'it is correct', kautsky says, 'that with a progressive division of labour, there will be comparatively fewer and fewer factories etc. for the production of goods direct for personal consumption, together with a relative increase in the number of those which supply both the former and one another with tools, machines, raw materials, transport facilities and so on. while in original peasant economy an enterprise that cultivated the flax also made the linen with its own tools and got it ready for human consumption, nowadays hundreds of enterprises may share in the manufacture of a single shirt, by producing raw cotton, iron rails, steam engines and railway trucks that bring it to port, and so on. with international division of labour it will happen that some countries--the old industrial countries--can only slowly expand their production for personal consumption, while making large strides in their production of producer goods which is much more decisive for the heartbeat of economic life than the production of consumer goods. from the point of view of the nation concerned, we might easily form the opinion that producer goods can be turned out on a constantly rising scale with a more rapid rate of increase than in the production of consumer goods, and that their production is not bound up with that of the latter.' the opinion, that producer goods can be produced independent of consumption, is of course a mirage of tugan baranovski's, typical of vulgar economics. not so the fact cited in support of this fallacy: the quicker growth of department i as compared with department ii is beyond dispute, not only in old industrial countries but wherever technical progress plays a decisive part in production. it is the foundation also of marx's fundamental law that the rate of profit tends to fall. yet in spite of it all, or rather precisely for this reason, it is a howler if bulgakov, ilyin and tugan baranovski imagine to have discovered in this law the essential nature of capitalist economy as an economic system in which production is an end in itself and human consumption merely incidental. the growth of the constant at the expense of the variable capital is only the capitalist expression of the general effects of increasing labour productivity. the formula _c_ greater than _v_ (_c > v_), translated from the language of capitalism into that of the social labour process, means only that the higher the productivity of human labour, the shorter the time needed to change a given quantity of means of production into finished products.[ ] this is a universal law of human labour. it has been valid in all pre-capitalist forms of production and will also be valid in the future in a socialist order of society. in terms of the material use-form of society's aggregate product, this law must manifest itself by more and more social labour time being employed in the manufacture of producer than of consumer goods. in a planned and controlled social economy, organised on socialist lines, this transformation would in fact be more rapid even than it is in contemporary capitalist economy. in the first place, rational scientific techniques can only be applied on the largest scale when the barriers of private ownership in land are abolished. this will result in an immense revolution in vast provinces of production which will ultimately amount to a replacement of living labour by machine labour, and which will enable us to tackle technical jobs on a scale quite impossible under present day conditions. secondly, the general use of machinery in the productive process will be put on a new economic basis. at present the machine does not compete with living labour but only with that part of it that is paid. the cost of the labour power which is replaced by the machine represents the lowest limit of the applicability of the machine. which means that the capitalist becomes interested in a machine only when the costs of its production--assuming the same level of performance--amount to less than the wages of the workers it replaces. from the point of view of the social labour process which is the only one to matter in a socialist society, the machine competes not with the labour that is necessary to maintain the worker but with the labour he actually performs. in other words, in a society that is not governed by the profit motive but aims at saving human labour, the use of machinery is economically indicated just as soon as it can save more human labour than is necessary for making it, not to mention the many cases where the use of machinery is desirable even if it does not answer this economic minimum--for reasons of health and similar considerations, in the interest of the workers themselves. however that may be, the tension between the respective economic usefulness of the machine in (_a_) a capitalist, and (_b_) a socialist society is at least equal to the difference between labour and that part of it that is paid; it is, in other words, the precise equivalent of the whole capitalist surplus value. consequently, if the capitalist profit motive is abolished and a social organisation of labour introduced, the marginal use of the machine will suddenly be increased by the whole extent of the capitalist surplus value, so that an enormous field, not to be gauged as yet, will be open to the triumphal march of the machine. this would be tangible proof that the capitalist mode of production, alleged to spur on to the optimum technical development, in fact sets large social limits to technical progress, in form of the profit motive on which it is based. it would show that as soon as these limits are abolished, technical progress will develop such a powerful drive that the technical marvels of capitalist production will be child's play in comparison. in terms of the composition of the social product, this technical transformation can only mean that, compared to the production of consumer goods, the production of producer goods--measured in units of labour time--must increase more rapidly in a socialist society than it does even to-day. thus the relation between the two departments of social production which the russian marxists took to reveal typical capitalist baseness, the neglect of man's need to consume, rather proves to be the precise manifestation of the progressive subjection of nature to social labour, which will become even more striking when production is organised solely with a view to human needs. the only objective proof for tugan baranovski's 'fundamental law' thus collapses as a 'fundamental' confusion. his whole construction, including his 'new theory of crises', together with the 'lack of proportion', is reduced to its foundations on paper: a slavish copy of marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction. footnotes: [ ] _studies on the theory and history of commercial crises in england_ (jena, ) and _theoretical foundations of marxism_ ( ). [ ] _studies on the theory and history_ ..., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] ibid., p. , italics in the original. [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _studies on the theory and history_ ..., p. [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _studies on the theory and history_ ..., p. . [ ] v. ilyin [lenin] 'studies and essays in economics' (_oekonomische studien und artikel. zur charakterisierung des ökonomischen romantizismus_, st. petersburg, ), p. .--incidentally, the same author is responsible for the statement that enlarged reproduction begins only with capitalism. it quite escapes him that under conditions of simple reproduction, which he takes to be the rule for all pre-capitalist modes of production, we should probably never have advanced beyond the stage of the paleolithic scraper. [ ] _die neue zeit_, vol. xx, part , _krisentheorien_, p. . kautsky's mathematical demonstration to tugan baranovski that consumption is bound to grow, and 'in the precise ratio as the bulk of producer goods in terms of value', calls for two comments: first, like marx, kautsky paid no attention to the progress in the productivity of labour so that consumption appears to have a relatively larger volume than it would in fact have. secondly, the increase in consumption to which kautsky here refers is only a consequence, a result of enlarged reproduction, it is neither its basis nor its aim; it is mainly due to the growth of the variable capital, the continual employment of additional workers. the upkeep of these workers, however, neither is nor ought to be the object of the expansion of reproduction--no more, for that matter, than the increasing personal consumption of the capitalist class. kautsky's argument no doubt refutes tugan baranovski's pet notion: the whimsy to construe enlarged reproduction with an absolute decrease in consumption. but for all that, he does not get anywhere near the fundamental problem, the relations between production and consumption under the aspect of the reproductive process, though we are told in another passage of the same work: 'with the capitalists growing richer, and the workers they exploit increasing in numbers, they constitute between them a market for the consumer goods produced by capitalist big industry which expands continually, yet it does not grow as rapidly as the accumulation of capital and the productivity of labour, and must therefore remain inadequate.' an additional market is required for these consumer goods, a market outside their own province, among those occupational groups and nations whose mode of production is not yet capitalistic. this market is found and also widens increasingly, but the expansion is again too slow, since the additional market is not nearly so elastic and capable of expansion as the capitalist productive process. as soon as capitalist production has developed to the big industry stage, as in england already in the first quarter of the nineteenth century, it is capable of expanding by leaps and bounds so as soon to out-distance all expansions of the market. every period of prosperity subsequent to a considerable extension of the market is thus from the outset doomed to an early end--the inevitable crisis. this, in brief, is the theory of crises established by marx, and, as far as we can see, generally accepted by the "orthodox" marxists' (ibid., p. ). kautsky, however, is not interested in harmonising this conception of the realisation of the aggregate product with marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction, perhaps because, as our quotation also shows, he deals with the problem solely from the aspect of crises, regarding, in other words, the social product as a more or less homogeneous bulk of goods and ignoring the fact that it is differentiated in the reproductive process. l. bouding seems to come closer to the crucial point. in his brilliant review on tugan baranovski he gives the following formulation: 'with a single exception to be considered below, the existence of a surplus product in capitalist countries does not put a spoke in the wheel of production, not because production will be distributed more efficiently among the various spheres, or because the manufacture of machinery will replace that of cotton goods. the reason is rather that, capitalist development having begun sooner in some countries than in others, and because even to-day there are still some countries that have no developed capitalism, the capitalist countries in truth have at their disposal an outside market in which they can get rid of their products which they cannot consume themselves, no matter whether these are cotton or iron goods. we would by no means deny that it is significant if iron goods replace cotton goods as the main products of the principal capitalist countries. on the contrary, this change is of paramount importance, but its implications are rather different from those ascribed to it by tugan baranovski. it indicates the beginning of the end of capitalism. so long as the capitalist countries exported commodities for the purpose of consumption, there was still a hope for capitalism in these countries, and the question did not arise how much and how long the non-capitalist outside world would be able to absorb capitalist commodities. the growing share of machinery at the cost of consumer goods in what is exported from the main capitalist countries shows that areas which were formerly free of capitalism, and therefore served as a dumping-ground for its surplus products, are now drawn into the whirlpool of capitalism. it shows that, since they are developing a capitalism of their own, they can by themselves produce the consumer goods they need. at present they still require machinery produced by capitalist methods since they are only in the initial stages of capitalist development. but all too soon they will need them no longer. just as they now make their own cotton and other consumer goods, they will in future produce their own iron ware. then they will not only cease to absorb the surplus produce of the essentially capitalist countries, but they will themselves produce surplus products which they can place only with difficulty' (_die neue zeit_, vol. xxv, part , _mathematische formeln gegen karl marx_, p. ). bouding here broaches an important aspect of the general relations pertaining to the development of international capitalism. further, as a logical consequence, he comes to the question of imperialism but unfortunately he finally puts the wrong kind of edge on his acute analysis by considering the whole of militarist production together with the system of exporting international capital to non-capitalist countries under the heading of 'reckless expenditure'.--we must say in parenthesis that bouding, just like kautsky, holds that the law of a quicker growth in the means-of-production department relative to the means-of-subsistence department is a delusion of tugan baranovski's. [ ] 'apart from natural conditions, such as fertility of the soil, etc., and from the skill of independent and isolated producers (shown rather qualitatively in the genus than quantitatively in the mass of their products), the degree of productivity of labour, in a capitalist society, is expressed in the relative extent of the means of production that one labourer, during a given time, with the same tension of labour-power, turns into products. the mass of means of production which he thus transforms, increases with the productiveness of his labour. but those means of production play a double part. the increase of some is a consequence, that of the others a condition of the increasing productivity of labour. e.g., with the division of labour in manufacture, and with the use of machinery, more raw material is worked up in the same time and, therefore, a greater mass of raw material and auxiliary substances enter into the labour-process. that is the consequence of the increasing productivity of labour. on the other hand, the mass of machinery, beasts of burden, mineral manures, drainpipes, etc., is a condition of the increasing productivity of labour. so also is it with the means of production concentrated in buildings, furnaces, means of transport, etc. but whether condition or consequence, the growing extent of the means of production, as compared with the labour-power incorporated with them, is an expression of the growing productiveness of labour. the increase of the latter appears, therefore, in the diminution of the mass of labour in proportion to the mass of means of production moved by it, or in the diminution of the subjective factor of the labour-process as compared with the objective factor' (_capital_, vol. i, pp. - ). and yet another passage: 'we have seen previously, that with the development of the productivity of labour, and therefore with the development of the capitalist mode of production, which develops the socially productive power of labour more than all previous modes of production, there is a steady increase of the mass of means of production, which are permanently embodied in the productive process as instruments of labour and perform their function in it for a longer or shorter time at repeated intervals (buildings, machinery, etc.); also, that this increase is at the same time the premise and result of the development of the productivity of social labour. it is especially capitalist production, which is characterised by relative as well as absolute growth of this sort of wealth' (_capital_, vol. i, chap. xxiii, ). 'the material forms of existence of constant capital, the means of production, do not consist merely of such instruments of labour, but also of raw material in various stages of finished and of auxiliary substances. with the enlargement of the scale of production and the increase in the productivity of labour by co-operation, division of labour, machinery, etc., the mass of raw materials and auxiliary substances used in the daily process of reproduction, grows likewise' (_capital_, vol. ii, p. ). _chapter xxiv_ the end of russian 'legalist' marxism the russian 'legalist' marxists, and tugan baranovski above all, can claim the credit, in their struggle against the doubters of capitalist accumulation, of having enriched economic theory by an application of marx's analysis of the social reproductive process and its schematic representation in the second volume of _capital_. but in view of the fact that this same tugan baranovski quite wrongly regarded said diagram as the solution to the problem instead of its formulation, his conclusions were bound to reverse the basic order of marx's doctrine. tugan baranovski's approach, according to which capitalist production can create unlimited markets and is independent of consumption, leads him straight on to the thesis of say-ricardo, i.e. a natural balance between production and consumption, between supply and demand. the difference is simply that those two only thought in terms of simple commodity circulation, whilst tugan baranovski applies the same doctrine to the circulation of capital. his theory of crises being caused by a 'lack of proportion' is in effect just a paraphrase of say's old trite absurdity: the over-production of any one commodity only goes to show under-production of another; and tugan baranovski simply translates this nonsense into the terminology used in marx's analysis of the reproductive process. even though he declares that, say notwithstanding, general over-production is quite possible in the light of the circulation of money which the former had entirely neglected, yet it is in fact this very same neglect, the besetting sin of say and ricardo in their dealings with the problem of crises which is the condition for his delightful manipulations with marx's diagram. as soon as it is applied to the circulation of money, 'diagram no. ' begins to bristle with spikes and barbs. bulgakov was caught in these spikes when he attempted to follow up marx's interrupted analysis to a logical conclusion. this compound of forms of thought borrowed from marx with contents derived from say and ricardo is what tugan baranovski modestly calls his 'attempt at a synthesis between marx's theory and classical economics'. after almost a century, the theory of optimism which holds, in the face of petty-bourgeois doubts, that capitalist production is capable of development, returns, by way of marx's doctrine and its 'legalist' champions, to its point of departure, to say and ricardo. the three 'marxists' join forces with the bourgeois 'harmonists' of the golden age shortly before the fall when bourgeois economics was expelled from the garden of innocence--the circle is closed. there can be no doubt that the 'legalist' russian marxists achieved a victory over their opponents, the 'populists', but that victory was rather too thorough. in the heat of battle, all three--struve, bulgakov and tugan baranovski--overstated their case. the question was whether capitalism in general, and russian capitalism in particular, is capable of development; these marxists, however, proved this capacity to the extent of even offering theoretical proof that capitalism can go on for ever. assuming the accumulation of capital to be without limits, one has obviously proved the unlimited capacity of capitalism to survive! accumulation is the specifically capitalist method of expanding production, of furthering labour productivity, of developing the productive forces, of economic progress. if the capitalist mode of production can ensure boundless expansion of the productive forces, of economic progress, it is invincible indeed. the most important objective argument in support of socialist theory breaks down; socialist political action and the ideological import of the proletarian class struggle cease to reflect economic events, and socialism no longer appears an historical necessity. setting out to show that capitalism is possible, this trend of reasoning ends up by showing that socialism is impossible. the three russian marxists were fully aware that in the course of the dispute they had made an about-turn, though struve, in his enthusiasm for the cultural mission of capitalism, does not worry about giving up a useful warrant.[ ] bulgakov tried to stop the gaps now made in socialist theory with another fragment of the same theory as best he could: he hoped that capitalist society might yet perish, in spite of the immanent balance between production and consumption, because of the declining profit rate. but it was he himself who finally cut away the ground from under this somewhat precarious comfort. forgetting the straw he had offered for the salvation of socialism, he turned on tugan baranovski with the teaching that, in the case of large capitals, the relative decline in the profit rate is compensated by the absolute growth of capital.[ ] more consistent than the others, tugan baranovski finally with the crude joy of a barbarian destroys all objective economic arguments in support of socialism, thus building in his own spirit 'a more beautiful world' on an ethical foundation. 'the individual protests against an economic order which transforms the end (man) into a means (production) and the means (production) into an end.'[ ] our three marxists demonstrated in person that the new foundations of socialism had been frail and jerry-built. they had hardly laid down the new basis for socialism before they turned their backs on it. when the masses of russia were staking their lives in the fight for the ideals of a social order to come, which would put the end (man) before the means (production), the 'individual' went into retreat, to find philosophical and ethical solace with kant. in actual fact, the 'legalist' bourgeois marxists ended up just where we should expect them to from their theoretical position--in the camp of bourgeois harmonies. footnotes: [ ] struve says in the preface to the collection of his russian essays (published in ): 'in , when the author published his "critical comments on the problem of economic development in russia", he inclined in philosophy towards positivism, in sociology and economics towards outspoken, though by no means orthodox, marxism. since then, the author no longer sees the whole truth in positivism and marxism which is grounded in it (!), they no longer fully determine his view of the world. malignant dogmatism which not only browbeats those who think differently, but spies upon their morals and psychology, regards such work as a mere "epicurean instability of mind". it cannot understand that criticism in its own right is to the living and thinking individual one of the most valuable rights. the author does not intend to renounce this right, though he might constantly be in danger of being indicted for "instability"' (_miscellany_, st. petersburg, ). [ ] bulgakov, op. cit., p. . [ ] tugan baranovski, _studies on the theory and history_ ..., p. . _section three_ the historical conditions of accumulation _chapter xxv_ contradictions within the diagram of enlarged reproduction in the first section, we ascertained that marx's diagram of accumulation does not solve the question of who is to benefit in the end by enlarged reproduction. if we take the diagram literally as it is set out at the end of volume ii, it appears that capitalist production would itself realise its entire surplus value, and that it would use the capitalised surplus value exclusively for its own needs. this impression is confirmed by marx's analysis of the diagram where he attempts to reduce the circulation within the diagram altogether to terms of money, that is to say to the effective demand of capitalists and workers--an attempt which in the end leads him to introduce the 'producer of money' as a _deus ex machina_. in addition, there is that most important passage in _capital_, volume i, which must be interpreted to mean the same. 'the annual production must in the first place furnish all those objects (use-values) from which the material components of capital, used up in the course of the year, have to be replaced. deducting these there remains the net or surplus-product, in which the surplus-value lies. and of what does this surplus-value consist? only of things destined to satisfy the wants and desires of the capitalist class, things which, consequently, enter into the consumption fund of the capitalists? were that the case, the cup of surplus-value would be drained to the very dregs, and nothing but simple reproduction would ever take place. 'to accumulate it is necessary to convert a portion of the surplus-product into capital. but we cannot, except by a miracle, convert into capital anything but such articles as can be employed in the labour-process (i.e. means of production), and such further articles as are suitable for the sustenance of the labourer (i.e. means of subsistence). consequently, a part of the annual surplus-labour must have been applied to the production of additional means of production and subsistence, over and above the quantity of these things required to replace the capital advanced. in one word, surplus-value is convertible into capital solely because the surplus-product, whose value it is, already comprises the material elements of new capital.'[ ] the following conditions of accumulation are here laid down: ( ) the surplus value to be capitalised first comes into being in the natural form of capital (as additional means of production and additional means of subsistence for the workers). ( ) the expansion of capitalist production is achieved exclusively by means of capitalist products, i.e. its own means of production and subsistence. ( ) the limits of this expansion are each time determined in advance by the amount of surplus value which is to be capitalised in any given case; they cannot be extended, since they depend on the amount of the means of production and subsistence which make up the surplus product; neither can they be reduced, since a part of the surplus value could not then be employed in its natural form. deviations in either direction (above and below) may give rise to periodical fluctuations and crises--in this context, however, these may be ignored, because in general the surplus product to be capitalised must be equal to actual accumulation. ( ) since capitalist production buys up its entire surplus product, there is no limit to the accumulation of capital. marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction adheres to these conditions. accumulation here takes its course, but it is not in the least indicated who is to benefit by it, who are the new consumers for whose sake production is ever more enlarged. the diagram assumes, say, the following course of events: the coal industry is expanded in order to expand the iron industry in order to expand the machine industry in order to expand the production of consumer goods. this last, in turn, is expanded to maintain both its own workers and the growing army of coal, iron and machine operatives. and so on _ad infinitum_. we are running in circles, quite in accordance with the theory of tugan baranovski. considered in isolation, marx's diagram does indeed permit of such an interpretation since he himself explicitly states time and again that he aims at presenting the process of accumulation of the aggregate capital in a society consisting solely of capitalists and workers. passages to this effect can be found in every volume of _capital_. in volume i, in the very chapter on 'the conversion of surplus-value into capital', he says: 'in order to examine the object of our investigation in its integrity, free from all disturbing subsidiary circumstances, we must treat the whole world as one nation, and assume that capitalist production is everywhere established and has possessed itself of every branch of industry.'[ ] in volume ii, the assumption repeatedly returns; thus in chapter on 'the circulation of surplus-value': 'now, there are only two points of departure: the capitalist and the labourer. all third classes of persons must either receive money for their services from these two classes, or, to the extent that they receive it without any equivalent services, they are joint owners of the surplus-value in the form of rent, interest, etc.... the capitalist class, then, remains the sole point of departure of the circulation of money.'[ ] further, in the same chapter 'on the circulation of money in particular under assumption of accumulation': 'but the difficulty arises when we assume, not a partial, but a general accumulation of money-capital on the part of the capitalist class. apart from this class, there is, according to our assumption--the general and exclusive domination of capitalist production--no other class but the working class.'[ ] and again in chapter : '... there are only two classes in this case, the working class disposing of their labour-power, and the capitalist class owning the social means of production and the money.'[ ] in volume iii, marx says quite explicitly, when demonstrating the process of capitalist production as a whole: 'let us suppose that the whole society is composed only of industrial capitalists and wage workers. let us furthermore make exceptions of fluctuations of prices which prevent large portions of the total capital from reproducing themselves under average conditions and which, owing to the general interrelations of the entire process of reproduction, such as are developed particularly by credit, must always call forth general stoppages of a transient nature. let us also make abstraction of the bogus transactions and speculations, which the credit system favours. in that case, a crisis could be explained only by a disproportion of production in various branches, and by a disproportion of the consumption of the capitalists and the accumulation of their capitals. but as matters stand, the reproduction of the capitals invested in production depends largely upon the consuming power of the non-producing classes; while the consuming power of the labourers is handicapped partly by the laws of wages, partly by the fact that it can be exerted only so long as the labourers can be employed at a profit for the capitalist class.'[ ] this last quotation refers to the question of crises with which we are not here concerned. it can leave no doubt, however, that the movement of the total capital, 'as matters stand', depends in marx's view on three categories of consumers only: the capitalists, the workers and the 'non-productive classes', i.e. the hangers-on of the capitalist class (king, parson, professor, prostitute, mercenary), of whom he quite rightly disposes in volume ii as the mere representatives of a derivative purchasing power, and thus the parasitic joint consumers of the surplus value or of the wage of labour. finally, in _theories of surplus value_,[ ] marx formulates his general presuppositions with regard to accumulation as follows: 'here we have only to consider the forms through which capital passes during the various stages of its development. thus we do not set out the actual conditions of the real process of production, but always assume that the commodity is sold for what it is worth. we ignore the competition of capitalists and the credit system; we also leave out of account the actual constitution of society which never consists exclusively of the classes of workers and industrial capitalists, and where there is accordingly no strict division between producers and consumers. the first category (of consumers, whose revenues are partly of a secondary, not a primitive nature, derived from profits and the wage of labour) is much wider than the second category (of producers). therefore the manner in which it spends its income, and the extent of such income, effects very large modifications in the economic household, and especially so in the process of circulation and reproduction of capital.' speaking of the 'actual constitution of society', marx here also considers merely the parasitic joint consumers of surplus value and of the wage of labour, i.e. only the hangers-on of the principal categories of capitalist production. there can be no doubt, therefore, that marx wanted to demonstrate the process of accumulation in a society consisting exclusively of workers and capitalists, under the universal and exclusive domination of the capitalist mode of production. on this assumption, however, his diagram does not permit of any other interpretation than that of production for production's sake. let us recall the second example of marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction: st year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence ----- , nd year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence ----- , rd year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence ------ , th year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence ------ , here accumulation continues year after year without interruption, the capitalists in each case consuming half of the surplus value they have gained and capitalising the other half. in the process of capitalisation, the same technical foundation, that is to say the same organic composition or division into constant and variable capital and also the same rate of exploitation (always amounting to per cent) is consecutively maintained for the additional capital as it was for the original capital. in accordance with marx's assumption in volume i of _capital_, the capitalised part of the surplus value first comes into being as additional means of production and as means of subsistence for the workers, both serving the purpose of an ever expanding production in the two departments. it cannot be discovered from the assumptions of marx's diagram for whose sake production is progressively expanded. admittedly, production and consumption increase simultaneously in a society. the consumption of the capitalists increases (in terms of value, in the first year it amounts to  + , in the second year to  + , in the third year to  + , and in the fourth year to  + ); the consumption of the workers increases as well; the variable capital increasing year after year in both departments precisely indicates this growth in terms of value. and yet, the growing consumption of the capitalists can certainly not be regarded as the ultimate purpose of accumulation; on the contrary, there is no accumulation inasmuch as this consumption takes place and increases; personal consumption of the capitalists must be regarded as simple reproduction. rather, the question is: if, and in so far as, the capitalists do not themselves consume their products but 'practise abstinence', i.e. accumulate, for whose sake do they produce? even less can the maintenance of an ever larger army of workers be the ultimate purpose of continuous accumulation of capital. from the capitalist's point of view, the consumption of the workers is a consequence of accumulation, it is never its object or its condition, unless the principles (foundations) of capitalist production are to be turned upside down. and in any case, the workers can only consume that part of the product which corresponds to the variable capital, not a jot more. who, then, realises the permanently increasing surplus value? the diagram answers: the capitalists themselves and they alone.--and what do they do with this increasing surplus value?--the diagram replies: they use it for an ever greater expansion of their production. these capitalists are thus fanatical supporters of an expansion of production for production's sake. they see to it that ever more machines are built for the sake of building--with their help--ever more new machines. yet the upshot of all this is not accumulation of capital but an increasing production of producer goods to no purpose whatever. indeed, one must be as reckless as tugan baranovski, and rejoice as much in paradoxical statements, to assume that this untiring merry-go-round in thin air could be a faithful reflection in theory of capitalist reality, a true deduction from marx's doctrine.[ ] besides the analysis of enlarged reproduction roughed out in _capital_, volume ii, the whole of marx's work, volume ii in particular, contains a most elaborate and lucid exposition of his general views regarding the typical course of capitalist accumulation. if we once fully understand this interpretation, the deficiencies of the diagram at the end of volume ii are immediately evident. if we examine critically the diagram of enlarged reproduction in the light of marx's theory, we find various contradictions between the two. to begin with, the diagram completely disregards the increasing productivity of labour. for it assumes that the composition of capital is the same in every year, that is to say, the technical basis of the productive process is not affected by accumulation. this procedure would be quite permissible in itself in order to simplify the analysis, but when we come to examine the concrete conditions for the realisation of the aggregate product, and for reproduction, then at least we must take into account, and make allowance for, changes in technique which are bound up with the process of capital accumulation. yet if we allow for improved productivity of labour, the material aggregate of the social product--both producer and consumer goods--will in consequence show a much more rapid increase in volume than is set forth in the diagram. this increase in the aggregate of use-values, moreover, indicates also a change in the value relationships. as marx argues so convincingly, basing his whole theory on this axiom, the progressive development of labour productivity reacts on both the composition of accumulating capital and the rate of surplus value so that they cannot remain constant under conditions of increasing accumulation of capital, as was assumed by the diagram. rather, if accumulation continues, _c_, the constant capital of both departments, must increase not only absolutely but also relatively to _v + c_ or the total new value (the social aspect of labour productivity); at the same time, constant capital and similarly the surplus value must increase relatively to the variable capital--in short, the rate of surplus value, i.e. the ratio between surplus value and variable capital, must similarly increase (the capitalist aspect of labour productivity). these changes need not, of course, occur annually, just as the terms of first, second and third year in marx's diagram do not necessarily refer to calendar years but may stand for any given period. finally, we may choose to assume that these alterations, both in the composition of capital and in the rate of surplus value, take place either in the first, third, fifth, seventh year, etc., or in the second, sixth and ninth year, etc. the important thing is only that they are allowed for somewhere and taken into account as periodical phenomena. if the diagram is amended accordingly, the result of this method of accumulation will be an increasing annual surplus in the consumer at the expense of producer goods. it is true that tugan baranovski conquers all difficulties on paper: he simply constructs a diagram with different proportions where year by year the variable capital decreases by per cent. and since this arithmetical exercise is successful enough on paper, tugan triumphantly claims to have 'proved' that accumulation runs smoothly like clockwork, even if the absolute volume of consumption decreases. even he must admit in the end, however, that his assumption of such an absolute decrease of the variable capital is in striking contrast to reality. variable capital is in point of fact a growing quantity in all capitalist countries; only in relation to the even more rapid growth of constant capital can it be said to decrease. on the basis of what is actually happening, namely a greater yearly increase of constant capital as against that of variable capital, as well as a growing rate of surplus value, discrepancies must arise between the material composition of the social product and the composition of capital in terms of value. if, instead of the unchanging proportion of to between constant and variable capital, proposed by marx's diagram, we assume for instance that this increase of capital is accompanied by a progressive readjustment of its composition, the proportion between constant and variable in the second year being to , in the third year to , and in the fourth year to --if we further assume that the rate of surplus value also increases progressively in accordance with the higher productivity of labour so that, in each case, we have the same amounts as those of the diagram, although, because of the relatively decreasing variable capital, the rate of surplus value does not remain constant at the original per cent--and if finally we assume that one-half of the appropriated surplus value is capitalised in each case (excepting department ii where capitalisation exceeds per cent, out of being capitalised during the first year), the result will be as follows: st year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence nd year: i. _( ,   / )c + ( ,   / )v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _( ,   / )c + (   / )v + s = , _ means of subsistence rd year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence th year: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence if this were a true picture of the accumulative process, the means of production (constant capital) would show a deficit of in the second year, of in the third year and of in the fourth year; similarly, the means of subsistence would show a surplus of in the second year, of in the third year and of in the fourth year. this negative balance for the means of production may be only imaginary in part. the increasing productivity of labour ensures that the means of production grow faster in bulk than in value, in other words: means of production become cheaper. as it is use value, i.e. the material elements of capital, which is relevant for technical improvements of production, we may assume that the quantity of means of production, in spite of their lower value, will suffice for progressive accumulation up to a certain point. this phenomenon amongst others also checks the actual decline of the rate of profit and modifies it to a mere tendency, though our example shows that the decline of the profit rate would not only be retarded but rather completely arrested. on the other hand, the same fact indicates a much larger surplus of unsaleable means of subsistence than is suggested by the amount of this surplus in terms of value. in that case, we should have to compel the capitalists of department ii to consume this surplus themselves, which marx makes them do on other occasions; in which case, and in so far as those capitalists are concerned, there would again be no accumulation but rather simple reproduction. alternatively, we should have to pronounce this whole surplus unsaleable. yet would it not be very easy to make good this loss in means of production which results from our example? we need only assume that the capitalists of department i capitalise their surplus value to a greater extent. indeed, there is no valid reason to suppose, as marx did, that the capitalists in each case add only half their surplus value to their capital. advances in labour productivity may well lead to progressively increasing capitalisation of surplus value. this assumption is the more permissible in that the cheapening of consumer goods for the capitalist class, too, is one of the consequences of technological progress. the relative decrease in the value of consumable income (as compared with the capitalised part) may then permit of the same or even a higher standard of living for this class. we might for instance make good the deficit in producer goods by transferring a corresponding part of surplus value i to the constant capital of this department, a part which would otherwise be consumed, since this surplus value, like all other products of the department, originally takes the form of producer goods;   / would then be transferred in the second year, in the third year and in the fourth year.[ ] the solution of one difficulty, however, only adds to another. it goes without saying that if the capitalists of department i relatively restrict their consumption for purposes of accumulation, there will be a proportionately greater unsaleable residue of consumer goods in department ii; and thus it becomes more and more impossible to enlarge the constant capital even on its previous technological basis. if the capitalists in department i relatively restrict their consumption, the capitalists of department ii must relatively expand their personal consumption in proportion. the assumption of accelerated accumulation in department i would then have to be supplemented by that of retarded accumulation in department ii, technical progress in one department by regression in the other. these results are not due to mere chance. the adjustments we have tried out on marx's diagram are merely meant to illustrate that technical progress, as he himself admits, must be accompanied by a relative growth of constant as against variable capital. hence the necessity for a continuous revision of the ratio in which capitalised surplus value should be allotted to _c_ and _v_ respectively. in marx's diagram, however, the capitalists are in no position to make these allocations at will, since the material form of their surplus value predetermines the forms of capitalisation. since, according to marx's assumption, all expansion of production proceeds exclusively by means of its own, capitalistically produced means of production and subsistence,--since there are here no other places and forms of production and equally no other consumers than the two departments with their capitalists and workers,--and since, on the other hand, the smooth working of the accumulative process depends on that circulation should wholly absorb the aggregate product of both departments, the technological shape of enlarged reproduction is in consequence strictly prescribed by the material form of the surplus product. in other words: according to marx's diagram, the technical organisation of expanded production can and must be such as to make use of the aggregate surplus value produced in departments i and ii. in this connection we must bear in mind also that both departments can obtain their respective elements of production only by means of mutual exchange. thus the allocation to constant or variable capital of the surplus value earmarked for capitalisation, as well as the allotment of the additional means of production and subsistence (for the workers) to departments i and ii is given in advance and determined by the relations between the two departments of the diagram--both in material and in terms of value. these relations themselves, however, reflect a quite determinate technical organisation of production. this implies that, on the assumptions of marx's diagram, the techniques of production given in each case predetermine the techniques of the subsequent periods of enlarged reproduction, if accumulation continues. assuming, that is to say, in accordance with marx's diagram, that the expansion of capitalist production is always performed by means of the surplus value originally produced in form of capital, and further--or rather, conversely--that accumulation in one department is strictly dependent on accumulation in the other, then no change in the technical organisation of production can be possible in so far as the relation of _c_ to _v_ is concerned. we may put our point in yet another way: it is clear that a quicker growth of constant as compared with variable capital, i.e. the progressive metamorphosis of the organic composition of capital, must take the material form of faster expansion of production in department i as against production in department ii. yet marx's diagram, where strict conformity of the two departments is axiomatic, precludes any such fluctuations in the rate of accumulation in either department. it is quite legitimate to suppose that under the technical conditions of progressive accumulation, society would invest ever increasing portions of the surplus value earmarked for accumulation in department i rather than in department ii. both departments being only branches of the same social production--supplementary enterprises, if you like, of the 'aggregate capitalist',--such a progressive transfer, for technical reasons, from one department to the other of a part of the accumulated surplus value would be wholly feasible, especially as it corresponds to the actual practice of capital. yet this assumption is possible only so long as we envisage the surplus value earmarked for capitalisation purely in terms of value. the diagram, however, implies that this part of the surplus value appears in a definite material form which prescribes its capitalisation. thus the surplus value of department ii exists as means of subsistence, and since it is as such to be only realised by department i, this intended transfer of part of the capitalised surplus value from department ii to department i is ruled out, first because the material form of this surplus value is obviously useless to department i, and secondly because of the relations of exchange between the two departments which would in turn necessitate an equivalent transfer of the products of department i into department ii. it is therefore downright impossible to achieve a faster expansion of department i as against department ii within the limits of marx's diagram. however we may regard the technological alterations of the mode of production in the course of accumulation, they cannot be accomplished without upsetting the fundamental relations of marx's diagram. and further: according to marx's diagram, the capitalised surplus value is in each case immediately and completely absorbed by the productive process of the following period, for, apart from the portion earmarked for consumption, it has a natural form which allows of only one particular kind of employment. the diagram precludes the cashing and hoarding of surplus value in monetary form, as capital waiting to be invested. the free monetary forms of private capital, in marx's view, are first the money deposited gradually against the wear and tear of the fixed capital, for its eventual renewal; and secondly those amounts of money which represent realised surplus value but are still too small for investment. from the point of view of the aggregate capital, both these sources of free money capital are negligible. for if we assume that even a portion of the social surplus value is realised in monetary form for purposes of future investment, then at once the question arises: who has bought the material items of this surplus value, and who has provided the money? if the answer is: other capitalists, of course,--then, seeing that the capitalist class is represented in the diagram by the two departments, this portion of the surplus value must also be regarded as invested _de facto_, as employed in the productive process. and so we are back at immediate and complete investment of the surplus value. or does the freezing of one part of the surplus value in monetary form in the hands of certain capitalists mean that other capitalists will be left with a corresponding part of that surplus product in its material form? does the hoarding of realised surplus value by some imply that others are no longer able to realise their surplus value, since the capitalists are the only buyers of surplus value? this would mean, however, that the smooth course of reproduction and similarly of accumulation as described in the diagram would be interrupted. the result would be a crisis, due not to over-production but to a mere intention to accumulate, the kind of crisis envisaged by sismondi. in one passage of his _theories_,[ ] marx explains in so many words that he 'is not at all concerned in this connection with an accumulation of capital greater than can be used in the productive process and might lie idle in the banks in monetary form, with the consequence of lending abroad'. marx refers these phenomena to the section on competition. yet it is important to establish that his diagram veritably precludes the formation of such additional capital. competition, however wide we may make the concept, obviously cannot create values, nor can it create capitals which are not themselves the result of the reproductive process. the diagram thus precludes the expansion of production by leaps and bounds. it only allows of a gradual expansion which keeps strictly in step with the formation of the surplus value and is based upon the identity between realisation and capitalisation of the surplus value. for the same reason, the diagram presumes an accumulation which affects both departments equally and therefore all branches of capitalist production. it precludes expansion of the demand by leaps and bounds just as much as it prevents a one-sided or precocious development of individual branches of capitalist production. thus the diagram assumes a movement of the aggregate capital which flies in the face of the actual course of capitalist development. at first sight, two facts are typical for the history of the capitalist mode of production: on the one hand the periodical expansion of the whole field of production by leaps and bounds, and on the other an extremely unequal development of the different branches of production. the history of the english cotton industry from the first quarter of the eighteenth to the seventies of the nineteenth century, the most characteristic chapter in the history of the capitalist mode of production, appears quite inexplicable from the point of view of marx's diagram. finally, the diagram contradicts the conception of the capitalist total process and its course as laid down by marx in _capital_, volume iii. this conception is based on the inherent contradiction between the unlimited expansive capacity of the productive forces and the limited expansive capacity of social consumption under conditions of capitalist distribution. let us see how marx describes this contradiction in detail in chapter on 'unravelling the internal contradictions of the law' (of the declining profit rate): 'the creation of surplus-value, assuming the necessary means of production, or sufficient accumulation of capital, to be existing, finds no other limit but the labouring population, when the rate of surplus-value, that is, the intensity of exploitation, is given; and no other limit but the intensity of exploitation, when the labouring population is given. and the capitalist process of production consists essentially of the production of surplus-value, materialised in the surplus-product, which is that aliquot portion of the produced commodities, in which unpaid labour is materialised. it must never be forgotten, that the production of this surplus-value--and the re-conversion of a portion of it into capital, or accumulation, forms an indispensable part of this production of surplus-value--is the immediate purpose and the compelling motive of capitalist production. it will not do to represent capitalist production as something which it is not, that is to say, as a production having for its immediate purpose the consumption of goods, or the production of means of enjoyment for the capitalists. (and, of course, even less for the worker. r. l.) this would be overlooking the specific character of capitalist production, which reveals itself in its innermost essence. the creation of this surplus-value is the object of the direct process of production, and this process has no other limits than those mentioned above. as soon as the available quantity of surplus-value has been materialised in commodities, surplus-value has been produced. but this production of surplus-value is but the first act of the capitalist process of production, it merely terminates the act of direct production. capital has absorbed so much unpaid labour. with the development of the process, which expresses itself through a falling tendency of the rate of profit, the mass of surplus-value thus produced is swelled to immense dimensions. now comes the second act of the process. the entire mass of commodities, the total product, which contains a portion which is to reproduce the constant and variable capital as well as a portion representing surplus-value, must be sold. if this is not done, or only partly accomplished, or only at prices which are below the prices of production, the labourer has been none the less exploited, but his exploitation does not realise as much for the capitalist. it may yield no surplus-value at all for him, or only realise a portion of the produced surplus-value, or it may even mean a partial or complete loss of his capital. the conditions of direct exploitation and those of the realisation of surplus-value are not identical. they are separated logically as well as by time and space. the first are only limited by the productive power of society, the last by the proportional relations of the various lines of production and by the consuming power of society. this last-named power is not determined either by the absolute productive power or by the absolute consuming power, but by the consuming power based on antagonistic conditions of distribution, which reduces the consumption of the great mass of the population to a variable minimum within more or less narrow limits. the consuming power is furthermore restricted by the tendency to accumulate, the greed for an expansion of capital and a production of surplus-value on an enlarged scale. this is a law of capitalist production imposed by incessant revolutions in the methods of production themselves, the resulting depreciation of existing capital, the general competitive struggle and the necessity of improving the product and expanding the scale of production, for the sake of self-preservation and on penalty of failure. the market must, therefore, be continually extended, so that its interrelations and the conditions regulating them assume more and more the form of a natural law independent of the producers and become ever more uncontrollable. this eternal contradiction seeks to balance itself by an expansion of the outlying fields of production. but to the extent that the productive power develops, it finds itself at variance with the narrow basis on which the conditions of consumption rest. on this self-contradictory basis it is no contradiction at all that there should be an excess of capital simultaneously with an excess of population. for while a combination of these two would indeed increase the mass of the produced surplus-value, it would at the same time intensify the contradiction between the conditions under which this surplus-value is produced and those under which it is realised.'[ ] if we compare this description with the diagram of enlarged reproduction, the two are by no means in conformity. according to the diagram, there is no inherent contradiction between the production of the surplus value and its realisation, rather, the two are identical. the surplus value here from the very beginning comes into being in a natural form exclusively designed for the requirements of accumulation. in fact it leaves the place of production in the very form of additional capital, that is to say it is capable of realisation in the capitalist process of accumulation. the capitalists, as a class, see to it in advance that the surplus value they appropriate is produced entirely in that material form which will permit and ensure its employment for purposes of further accumulation. realisation and accumulation of the surplus value here are both aspects of the same process, they are logically identical. therefore according to the presentation of the reproductive process in the diagram, society's capacity to consume does not put a limit to production. here production automatically expands year by year, although the capacity of society for consumption has not gone beyond its 'antagonistic conditions of distribution'. this automatic continuation of expansion, of accumulation, truly is the 'law of capitalist production ... on penalty of failure'. yet according to the analysis in volume iii, 'the market must, therefore, be continually extended', 'the market' obviously transcending the consumption of capitalists and workers. and if tugan baranovski interprets the following passage 'this eternal contradiction seeks to balance itself by an expansion of the outlying fields of production' as if marx had meant production itself by 'outlying fields of production', he violates not only the spirit of the language but also marx's clear train of thought. the 'outlying fields of production' are clearly and unequivocally not production itself but consumption which 'must be continually extended'. the following passage in _theorien über den mehrwert_, amongst others, sufficiently shows that marx had this in mind and nothing else: 'ricardo therefore consistently denies the necessity for an _expansion of the market_ to accompany the expansion of production and the growth of capital. the entire capital existing within a country can also be profitably used in that country. he therefore argues against adam smith who had set up his (ricardo's) opinion on the one hand but also contradicted it with his usual sure instinct.'[ ] in yet another passage, marx clearly shows that tugan baranovski's notion of production for production's sake is wholly alien to him: 'besides, we have seen in volume ii part iii that a continuous circulation takes place between constant capital and constant capital (even without considering any accelerated accumulation), which is in so far independent of individual consumption, as it never enters into such consumption, but which is nevertheless definitely limited by it, because the production of constant capital never takes place for its own sake, but solely because more of this capital is needed in those spheres of production whose products pass into individual consumption.'[ ] admittedly, in the diagram in volume ii, tugan baranovski's sole support, market and production coincide--they are one and the same. expansion of the market here means extended production, since production is said to be its own exclusive market--the consumption of the workers being an element of production, i.e. the reproduction of variable capital. therefore the limit for both the expansion of production and the extension of the market is one and the same: it is given by the volume of the social capital, or the stage of accumulation already attained. the greater the quantity of surplus value that has been extracted in the natural form of capital, the more can be accumulated; and the greater the volume of accumulation, the more surplus value can be invested in its material form of capital, i.e. the more can be realised. thus the diagram does not admit the contradiction outlined in the analysis of volume iii. in the process described by the diagram there is no need for a continual extension of the market beyond the consumption of capitalists and workers, nor is the limited social capacity for consumption an obstacle to the smooth course of production and its unlimited capacity for expansion. the diagram does indeed permit of crises but only because of a lack of proportion within production, because of a defective social control over the productive process. it precludes, however, the deep and fundamental antagonism between the capacity to consume and the capacity to produce in a capitalist society, a conflict resulting from the very accumulation of capital which periodically bursts out in crises and spurs capital on to a continual extension of the market. footnotes: [ ] _capital_, vol. i, pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. , note . [ ] op. cit., vol. ii, p. . [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. iii, p. . [ ] _theorien_ ..., vol. ii, part , 'the accumulation of capital and crises', p. . [ ] 'it is never the original thinkers who draw the absurd conclusions. they leave that to the says and maccullochs' (_capital_, vol. ii, p. ).--and--we might add--to the tugan baranovskis. [ ] the figures result from the difference between the amounts of constant capital in department i under conditions of technical progress, and under marx's stable conditions. [ ] _theorien über den mehrwert_, vol. ii, part , p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. iii, p. ff. [ ] _theorien_ ..., vol. ii, part , p. . [ ] _capital_, vol. iii, p. . _chapter xxvi_ the reproduction of capital and its social setting marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction cannot explain the actual and historical process of accumulation. and why? because of the very premises of the diagram. the diagram sets out to describe the accumulative process on the assumption that the capitalists and workers are the sole agents of capitalist consumption. we have seen that marx consistently and deliberately assumes the universal and exclusive domination of the capitalist mode of production as a theoretical premise of his analysis in all three volumes of _capital_. under these conditions, there can admittedly be no other classes of society than capitalists and workers; as the diagram has it, all 'third persons' of capitalist society--civil servants, the liberal professions, the clergy, etc.--must, as consumers, be counted in with these two classes, and preferably with the capitalist class. this axiom, however, is a theoretical contrivance--real life has never known a self-sufficient capitalist society under the exclusive domination of the capitalist mode of production. this theoretical device is perfectly admissible so long as it merely helps to demonstrate the problem in its integrity and does not interfere with its very conditions. a case in point is the analysis of simple reproduction of the aggregate social capital, where the problem itself rests upon a fiction: in a society producing by capitalist methods, i.e. a society which creates surplus value, the whole of the latter is taken to be consumed by the capitalists who appropriate it. the object is to present the forms of social production and reproduction under these given conditions. here the very formulation of the problem implies that production knows no other consumers than capitalists and workers and thus strictly conforms to marx's premise: universal and exclusive domination of the capitalist mode of production. the implications of both fictions are the same. similarly, it is quite legitimate to postulate absolute dominance of capital in an analysis of the accumulation of individual capitals, such as is given in _capital_, volume i. the reproduction of individual capitals is an element in total social reproduction but one which follows an independent course, contrary to the movements of the other elements. in consequence it will not do simply to take together the individual movements of the respective capitals in order to arrive at the total movement of social capital, since the latter is essentially different. the natural conditions of reproducing individual capitals therefore neither conform with one another, nor do they conform to the relations of the total capital. under normal conditions of circulation, every individual capital engages in the process of circulation and of accumulation entirely on its own account, depending upon others only in so far, of course, as it is compelled to find a market for its product and must find available the means of production it requires for its specific activities. whether the strata who afford this market and provide the necessary means of production are themselves capitalist producers or not is completely immaterial for the individual capital, although, in theory, the most favourable premise for analysing the accumulation of individual capital is the assumption that capitalist production has attained universal and exclusive domination and is the sole setting of this process.[ ] now, however, the question arises whether the assumptions which were decisive in the case of individual capital, are also legitimate for the consideration of aggregate capital. 'we must now put the problem in this form: _given universal accumulation_, that is to say provided that in all branches of production there is greater or less accumulation of capital--which in fact is a condition of capitalist production, and which is just as natural to the capitalist _qua_ capitalist as it is natural to the miser to amass money (but which is also necessary for the perpetuation of capitalist production)--what are the _conditions_ of this universal accumulation, to what elements can it be reduced?' and the answer: '_the conditions for the accumulation of capital are precisely those which rule its original production and reproduction in general_: these conditions being that one part of the money buys labour and the other commodities (raw materials, machinery, etc.) ... accumulation of new capital can only proceed therefore under the same conditions under which already existing capital is reproduced.'[ ] in real life the actual conditions for the accumulation of the aggregate capital are quite different from those prevailing for individual capitals and for simple reproduction. the problem amounts to this: if an increasing part of the surplus value is not consumed by the capitalists but employed in the expansion of production, what, then, are the forms of social reproduction? what is left of the social product after deductions for the replacement of the constant capital cannot, _ex hypothesi_, be absorbed by the consumption of the workers and capitalists--this being the main aspect of the problem--nor can the workers and capitalists themselves realise the aggregate product. they can always only realise the variable capital, that part of the constant capital which will be used up, and the part of the surplus value which will be consumed, but in this way they merely ensure that production can be renewed on its previous scale. the workers and capitalists themselves cannot possibly realise that part of the surplus value which is to be capitalised. therefore, the realisation of the surplus value for the purposes of accumulation is an impossible task for a society which consists solely of workers and capitalists. strangely enough, all theorists who analysed the problem of accumulation, from ricardo and sismondi to marx, started with the very assumption which makes their problem insoluble. a sure instinct that realisation of the surplus value requires 'third persons', that is to say consumers other than the immediate agents of capitalist production (i.e. workers and capitalists) led to all kinds of subterfuges: 'unproductive consumption' as presented by malthus in the person of the feudal landowner, by vorontsov in militarism, by struve in the 'liberal professions' and other hangers-on of the capitalist class; or else foreign trade is brought into play which proved a useful safety valve to all those who regarded accumulation with scepticism, from sismondi to nicolayon. because of these insoluble difficulties, others like v. kirchmann and rodbertus tried to do without accumulation altogether, or, like sismondi and his russian 'populist' followers, stressed the need for at least putting the dampers on accumulation as much as possible. the salient feature of the problem of accumulation, and the vulnerable point of earlier attempts to solve it, has only been shown up by marx's more profound analysis, his precise diagrammatic demonstration of the total reproductive process, and especially his inspired exposition of the problem of simple reproduction. yet he could not supply immediately a finished solution either, partly because he broke off his analysis almost as soon as he had begun it, and partly because he was then preoccupied, as we have shown, with denouncing the analysis of adam smith and thus rather lost sight of the main problem. in fact, he made the solution even more difficult by assuming the capitalist mode of production to prevail universally. nevertheless, a solution of the problem of accumulation, in harmony both with other parts of marx's doctrine and with the historical experience and daily practice of capitalism, is implied in marx's complete analysis of simple reproduction and his characterisation of the capitalist process as a whole which shows up its immanent contradictions and their development (in _capital_, vol. iii). in the light of this, the deficiencies of the diagram can be corrected. all the relations being, as it were, incomplete, a closer study of the diagram of enlarged reproduction will reveal that it points to some sort of organisation more advanced than purely capitalist production and accumulation. up to now we have only considered one aspect of enlarged reproduction, the problem of realising the surplus value, whose difficulties hitherto had claimed the sceptics' whole attention. realisation of the surplus value is doubtless a vital question of capitalist accumulation. it requires as its prime condition--ignoring, for simplicity's sake, the capitalists' fund of consumption altogether--that there should be strata of buyers outside capitalist society. buyers, it should be noted, not consumers, since the material form of the surplus value is quite irrelevant to its realisation. the decisive fact is that the surplus value cannot be realised by sale either to workers or to capitalists, but only if it is sold to such social organisations or strata whose own mode of production is not capitalistic. here we can conceive of two different cases: ( ) capitalist production supplies consumer goods over and above its own requirements, the demand of its workers and capitalists, which are bought by non-capitalist strata and countries. the english cotton industry, for instance, during the first two-thirds of the nineteenth century, and to some extent even now, has been supplying cotton textiles to the peasants and petty-bourgeois townspeople of the european continent, and to the peasants of india, america, africa and so on. the enormous expansion of the english cotton industry was thus founded on consumption by non-capitalist strata and countries.[ ] in england herself, this flourishing cotton industry called forth large-scale development in the production of industrial machinery (bobbins and weaving-looms), and further in the metal and coal industries and so on. in this instance, department ii realised its products to an increasing extent by sale to non-capitalist social strata, and by its own accumulation it created on its part an increasing demand for the home produce of department i, thus helping the latter to realise its surplus value and to increase its own accumulation. ( ) conversely, capitalist production supplies means of production in excess of its own demand and finds buyers in non-capitalist countries. english industry, for instance, in the first half of the nineteenth century supplied materials for the construction of railroads in the american and australian states. (the building of railways cannot in itself be taken as evidence for the domination of capitalist production in a country. as a matter of fact, the railways in this case provided only one of the first conditions for the inauguration of capitalist production.) another example would be the german chemical industry which supplies means of production such as dyes in great quantities to asiatic, african and other countries whose own production is not capitalistic.[ ] here department i realises its products in extra-capitalist circles. the resulting progressive expansion of department i gives rise to a corresponding expansion of department ii in the same (capitalistically producing) country in order to supply the means of subsistence for the growing army of workers in department i. each of these cases differs from marx's diagram. in one case, the product of department ii exceeds the needs of both departments, measured by the variable capital and the consumed part of the surplus value. in the second case, the product of department i exceeds the volume of constant capital in both departments, enlarged though it is for the purpose of expanding production. in both cases, the surplus value does not come into being in that natural form which would make its capitalisation in either department possible and necessary. these two prototypes continually overlap in real life, supplement each other and merge. in this contest, one point seems still obscure. the surplus of consumer goods, say cotton fabrics, which is sold to non-capitalist countries, does not exclusively represent surplus value, but, as a capitalist commodity, it embodies also constant and variable capital. it seems quite arbitrary to assume that just those commodities which are sold outside the capitalist strata of society should represent nothing but surplus value. on the other hand, department i clearly can in this case not only realise its surplus value but also accumulate, and that without requiring another market for its product than the two departments of capitalist production. yet both these objections are only apparent. all we need remember is that each component of the aggregate product represents a proportion of the total value, that under conditions of capitalist production not only the aggregate product but every single commodity contains surplus value; which consideration does not prevent the individual capitalist, however, from computing that the sale of his specific commodities must first reimburse him for his outlay on constant capital and secondly replace his variable capital (or, rather loosely, but in accordance with actual practice: it must first replace his fixed, and then his circulating capital); what then remains will go down as profit. similarly, we can divide the aggregate social product into three proportionate parts which, in terms of value, correspond to ( ) the constant capital that has been used up in society, ( ) the variable capital, and ( ) the extracted surplus value. in the case of simple reproduction these proportions are also reflected in the material shape of the aggregate product: the constant capital materialises as means of production, the variable capital as means of subsistence for the workers, and the surplus value as means of subsistence for the capitalist. yet as we know, the concept of simple reproduction with consumption of the entire surplus value by the capitalists is a mere fiction. as for enlarged reproduction or accumulation, in marx's diagram the composition of the social product in terms of value is also strictly in proportion to its material form: the surplus value, or rather that part of it which is earmarked for capitalisation, has from the very beginning the form of material means of production and means of subsistence for the workers in a ratio appropriate to the expansion of production on a given technical basis. as we have seen, this conception, which is based upon the self-sufficiency and isolation of capitalist production, falls down as soon as we consider the realisation of the surplus value. if we assume, however, that the surplus value is realised outside the sphere of capitalist production, then its material form is independent of the requirements of capitalist production itself. its material form conforms to the requirements of those non-capitalist circles who help to realise it, that is to say, capitalist surplus value can take the form of consumer goods, e.g. cotton fabrics, or of means of production, e.g. materials for railway construction, as the case may be. if one department realises its surplus value by exporting its products, and with the ensuing expansion of production helps the other department to realise its surplus value on the home market, then the fact still remains that the _social_ surplus value must yet be taken as realised outside the two departments, either mediately or immediately. similar considerations enable the individual capitalist to realise his surplus value, even if the whole of his commodities can only replace either the variable or the constant capital of another capitalist. nor is the realisation of the surplus value the only vital aspect of reproduction. given that department i has disposed of its surplus value outside, thereby starting the process of accumulation, and further, that it can expect a new increase in the demand in non-capitalist circles, these two conditions add up to only half of what is required for accumulation. there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip. the second requirement of accumulation is access to material elements necessary for expanding reproduction. seeing that we have just turned the surplus product of department i into money by getting rid of the surplus means of production to non-capitalist circles, from where are these material elements then to come? the transaction which is the portal for realising the surplus value is also, as it were, a backdoor out of which flies all possibility of converting this realised surplus value into productive capital--one leads to the nether regions and the other to the deep sea. let us take a closer look. here we use _c_ in both departments i and ii as if it were the entire constant capital in production. yet this we know is wrong. only for the sake of simplifying the diagram have we disregarded that the _c_ which figures in departments i and ii of the diagram is only part of the aggregate constant capital of society, that is to say that part which, circulating during one year, is used up and embodied in the products of one period of production. yet it would be perfectly absurd if capitalist production--or any other--would use up its entire constant capital and create it anew in every period of production. on the contrary, we assume that the whole mass of means of production, for the periodical total renewal of which the diagram provides in annual instalments--renewal of the used-up part--lies at the back of production as presented in the diagram. with progressing labour productivity and an expanding volume of production, this mass increases not only absolutely but also relatively to the part which is consumed in production in every case, together with a corresponding increase in the efficiency of the constant capital. it is the more intensive exploitation of this part of the constant capital, irrespective of its increase in value, which is of paramount importance for the expansion of production. 'in the extractive industries, mines, etc., the raw materials form no part of the capital advanced. the subject of labour is in this case not a product of previous labour, but is furnished by nature gratis, as in the case of metals, minerals, coal, stone, etc. in these cases the constant capital consists almost exclusively of instruments of labour, which can very well absorb an increased quantity of labour (day and night shifts of labourers, e.g.). all other things being equal, the mass and value of the product will rise in direct proportion to the labour expended. as on the first day of production, the original produce-formers, now turned into the creators of the material elements of capital--man and nature--still work together. thanks to the elasticity of labour-power, the domain of accumulation has extended without any previous enlargement of constant capital.--in agriculture the land under cultivation cannot be increased without the advance of more seed and manure. but this advance once made, the purely mechanical working of the soil itself produces a marvellous effect on the amount of the product. a greater quantity of labour, done by the same number of labourers as before, thus increases the fertility, without requiring any new advance in the instruments of labour. it is once again the direct action of man on nature which becomes an immediate source of greater accumulation, without the intervention of any new capital. finally, in what is called manufacturing industry, every additional expenditure of labour presupposes a corresponding additional expenditure of raw materials, but not necessarily of instruments of labour. and as extractive industry and agriculture supply manufacturing industry with its raw materials and those of its instruments of labour, the additional product the former have created without additional advance of capital, tells also in favour of the latter.--general result: by incorporating with itself the two primary creators of wealth, labour-power and the land, capital acquires a power of expansion that permits it to augment the elements of its accumulation beyond the limits apparently fixed by its own magnitude, or by the value and the mass of the means of production, already produced, in which it has its being.'[ ] in addition, there is no obvious reason why means of production and consumer goods should be produced by capitalist methods alone. this assumption, for all marx used it as the corner-stone of his thesis, is in conformity neither with the daily practice, and the history, of capital, nor with the specific character of this mode of production. in the first half of the nineteenth century, a great part of the surplus value in england was produced in form of cotton fabrics. yet the material elements for the capitalisation of this surplus value, although they certainly represented a surplus product, still were by no means all capitalist surplus value, to mention only raw cotton from the slave states of the american union, or grain (a means of subsistence for the english workers) from the fields of serf-owning russia. how much capitalist accumulation depends upon means of production which are not produced by capitalist methods is shown for example by the cotton crisis in england during the american war of secession, when the cultivation of the plantations came to a standstill, or by the crisis of european linen-weaving during the war in the east, when flax could not be imported from serf-owning russia. we need only recall that imports of corn raised by peasants--i.e. not produced by capitalist methods--played a vital part in the feeding of industrial labour, as an element, that is to say, of variable capital, for a further illustration of the close ties between non-capitalist strata and the material elements necessary to the accumulation of capital. moreover, capitalist production, by its very nature, cannot be restricted to such means of production as are produced by capitalist methods. cheap elements of constant capital are essential to the individual capitalist who strives to increase his rate of profit. in addition, the very condition of continuous improvements in labour productivity as the most important method of increasing the rate of surplus value, is unrestricted utilisation of all substances and facilities afforded by nature and soil. to tolerate any restriction in this respect would be contrary to the very essence of capital, its whole mode of existence. after many centuries of development, the capitalist mode of production still constitutes only a fragment of total world production. even in the small continent of europe, where it now chiefly prevails, it has not yet succeeded in dominating entire branches of production, such as peasant agriculture and the independent handicrafts; the same holds true, further, for large parts of north america and for a number of regions in the other continents. in general, capitalist production has hitherto been confined mainly to the countries in the temperate zone, whilst it made comparatively little progress in the east, for instance, and the south. thus, if it were dependent exclusively on elements of production obtainable within such narrow limits, its present level and indeed its development in general would have been impossible. from the very beginning, the forms and laws of capitalist production aim to comprise the entire globe as a store of productive forces. capital, impelled to appropriate productive forces for purposes of exploitation, ransacks the whole world, it procures its means of production from all corners of the earth, seizing them, if necessary by force, from all levels of civilisation and from all forms of society. the problem of the material elements of capitalist accumulation, far from being solved by the material form of the surplus value that has been produced, takes on quite a different aspect. it becomes necessary for capital progressively to dispose ever more fully of the whole globe, to acquire an unlimited choice of means of production, with regard to both quality and quantity, so as to find productive employment for the surplus value it has realised. the process of accumulation, elastic and spasmodic as it is, requires inevitably free access to ever new areas of raw materials in case of need, both when imports from old sources fail or when social demand suddenly increases. when the war of secession interfered with the import of american cotton, causing the notorious 'cotton famine' in the lancashire district, new and immense cotton plantations sprang up in egypt almost at once, as if by magic. here it was oriental despotism, combined with an ancient system of bondage, which had created a sphere of activity for european capital. only capital with its technical resources can effect such a miraculous change in so short a time--but only on the pre-capitalist soil of more primitive social conditions can it develop the ascendancy necessary to achieve such miracles. another example of the same kind is the enormous increase in the world consumption of rubber which at present ( ) necessitates a supply of latex to the value of £ , , _per annum_. the economic basis for the production of raw materials is a primitive system of exploitation practised by european capital in the african colonies and in america, where the institutions of slavery and bondage are combined in various forms.[ ] between the production of surplus value, then, and the subsequent period of accumulation, two separate transactions take place--that of realising the surplus value, i.e. of converting it into pure value, and that of transforming this pure value into productive capital. they are both dealings between capitalist production and the surrounding non-capitalist world. from the aspect both of realising the surplus value and of procuring the material elements of constant capital, international trade is a prime necessity for the historical existence of capitalism--an international trade which under actual conditions is essentially an exchange between capitalistic and non-capitalistic modes of production. hitherto we have considered accumulation solely with regard to surplus value and constant capital. the third element of accumulation is variable capital which increases with progressive accumulation. in marx's diagram, the social product contains ever more means of subsistence for the workers as the material form proper to this variable capital. the variable capital, however, is not really the means of subsistence for the workers but is in fact living labour for whose reproduction these means of subsistence are necessary. one of the fundamental conditions of accumulation is therefore a supply of living labour which can be mobilised by capital to meet its demands. this supply can be increased under favourable conditions--but only up to a certain point--by longer hours and more intensive work. both these methods of increasing the supply, however, do not enlarge the variable capital, or do so only to a small extent (e.g. payment for overtime). moreover, they are confined to definite and rather narrow limits which they cannot exceed owing to both natural and social causes. the increasing growth of variable capital which accompanies accumulation must therefore become manifest in ever greater numbers of employed labour. where can this additional labour be found? in his analysis of the accumulation of individual capital, marx gives the following answer: 'now in order to allow of these elements actually functioning as capital, the capitalist class requires additional labour. if the exploitation of the labourers already employed does not increase, either extensively or intensively, then additional labour-power must be found. for this the mechanism of capitalist production provides beforehand, by converting the working class into a class dependent on wages, a class whose ordinary wages suffice, not only for its maintenance, but for its increase. it is only necessary for capital to incorporate this additional labour-power, annually supplied by the working class in the shape of labourers of all ages, with the surplus means of production comprised in the annual produce, and the conversion of surplus-value into capital is complete.'[ ] thus the increase in the variable capital is directly and exclusively attributed to the natural physical increase of a working class already dominated by capital. this is in strict conformity with the diagram of enlarged reproduction which recognises only the social classes of capitalists and workers, and regards the capitalist mode of production as exclusive and absolute. on these assumptions, the natural increase of the working class is the only source of extending the labour supply commanded by capital. this view, however, is contrary to the laws governing the process of accumulation. the natural propagation of the workers and the requirements of accumulating capital are not correlative in respect of time or quantity. marx himself has most brilliantly shown that natural propagation cannot keep up with the sudden expansive needs of capital. if natural propagation were the only foundation for the development of capital, accumulation, in its periodical swings from overstrain to exhaustion, could not continue, nor could the productive sphere expand by leaps and bounds, and accumulation itself would become impossible. the latter requires an unlimited freedom of movement in respect of the growth of variable capital equal to that which it enjoys with regard to the elements of constant capital--that is to say it must needs dispose over the supply of labour power without restriction. marx considers that this can be achieved by an 'industrial reserve army of workers'. his diagram of simple reproduction admittedly does not recognise such an army, nor could it have room for it, since the natural propagation of the capitalist wage proletariat cannot provide an industrial reserve army. labour for this army is recruited from social reservoirs outside the dominion of capital--it is drawn into the wage proletariat only if need arises. only the existence of non-capitalist groups and countries can guarantee such a supply of additional labour power for capitalist production. yet in his analysis of the industrial reserve army[ ] marx only allows for (_a_) the displacement of older workers by machinery, (_b_) an influx of rural workers into the towns in consequence of the ascendancy of capitalist production in agriculture, (_c_) occasional labour that has dropped out of industry, and (_d_) finally the lowest residue of relative over-population, the paupers. all these categories are cast off by the capitalist system of production in some form or other, they constitute a wage proletariat that is worn out and made redundant one way or another. marx, obviously influenced by english conditions involving a high level of capitalist development, held that the rural workers who continually migrate to the towns belong to the wage proletariat, since they were formerly dominated by agricultural capital and now become subject to industrial capital. he ignores, however, the problem which is of paramount importance for conditions on the continent of europe, namely the sources from which this urban and rural proletariat is recruited: the continual process by which the rural and urban middle strata become proletarian with the decay of peasant economy and of small artisan enterprises, the very process, that is to say, of incessant transition from non-capitalist to capitalist conditions of a labour power that is cast off by pre-capitalist, not capitalist, modes of production in their progressive breakdown and disintegration. besides the decay of european peasants and artisans we must here also mention the disintegration of the most varied primitive forms of production and of social organisation in non-european countries. since capitalist production can develop fully only with complete access to all territories and climes, it can no more confine itself to the natural resources and productive forces of the temperate zone than it can manage with white labour alone. capital needs other races to exploit territories where the white man cannot work. it must be able to mobilise world labour power without restriction in order to utilise all productive forces of the globe--up to the limits imposed by a system of producing surplus value. this labour power, however, is in most cases rigidly bound by the traditional pre-capitalist organisation of production. it must first be 'set free' in order to be enrolled in the active army of capital. the emancipation of labour power from primitive social conditions and its absorption by the capitalist wage system is one of the indispensable historical bases of capitalism. for the first genuinely capitalist branch of production, the english cotton industry, not only the cotton of the southern states of the american union was essential, but also the millions of african negroes who were shipped to america to provide the labour power for the plantations, and who later, as a free proletariat, were incorporated in the class of wage labourers in a capitalist system.[ ] obtaining the necessary labour power from non-capitalist societies, the so-called 'labour-problem', is ever more important for capital in the colonies. all possible methods of 'gentle compulsion' are applied to solving this problem, to transfer labour from former social systems to the command of capital. this endeavour leads to the most peculiar combinations between the modern wage system and primitive authority in the colonial countries.[ ] this is a concrete example of the fact that capitalist production cannot manage without labour power from other social organisations. admittedly, marx dealt in detail with the process of appropriating non-capitalist means of production as well as with the transformation of the peasants into a capitalist proletariat. chapter xxiv of _capital_, vol. i, is devoted to describing the origin of the english proletariat, of the capitalistic agricultural tenant class and of industrial capital, with particular emphasis on the looting of colonial countries by european capital. yet we must bear in mind that all this is treated solely with a view to so-called primitive accumulation. for marx, these processes are incidental, illustrating merely the genesis of capital, its first appearance in the world; they are, as it were, travails by which the capitalist mode of production emerges from a feudal society. as soon as he comes to analyse the capitalist process of production and circulation, he reaffirms the universal and exclusive domination of capitalist production. yet, as we have seen, capitalism in its full maturity also depends in all respects on non-capitalist strata and social organisations existing side by side with it. it is not merely a question of a market for the additional product, as sismondi and the later critics and doubters of capitalist accumulation would have it. the interrelations of accumulating capital and non-capitalist forms of production extend over values as well as over material conditions, for constant capital, variable capital and surplus value alike. the non-capitalist mode of production is the given historical setting for this process. since the accumulation of capital becomes impossible in all points without non-capitalist surroundings, we cannot gain a true picture of it by assuming the exclusive and absolute domination of the capitalist mode of production. sismondi and his school, when they attributed their difficulties entirely to the problem of realising the surplus value, indeed revealed a proper sense for the conditions vital to accumulation. yet the conditions for augmenting the material elements of constant and variable capital are quite a different matter from those which govern the realisation of surplus value. capital needs the means of production and the labour power of the whole globe for untrammelled accumulation; it cannot manage without the natural resources and the labour power of all territories. seeing that the overwhelming majority of resources and labour power is in fact still in the orbit of pre-capitalist production--this being the historical _milieu_ of accumulation--capital must go all out to obtain ascendancy over these territories and social organisations. there is no _a priori_ reason why rubber plantations, say, run on capitalist lines, such as have been laid out in india, might not serve the ends of capitalist production just as well. yet if the countries of those branches of production are predominantly non-capitalist, capital will endeavour to establish domination over these countries and societies. and in fact, primitive conditions allow of a greater drive and of far more ruthless measures than could be tolerated under purely capitalist social conditions. it is quite different with the realisation of the surplus value. here outside consumers _qua_ other-than-capitalist are really essential. thus the immediate and vital conditions for capital and its accumulation is the existence of non-capitalist buyers of the surplus value, which is decisive to this extent for the problem of capitalist accumulation. whatever the theoretical aspects, the accumulation of capital, as an historical process, depends in every respect upon non-capitalist social strata and forms of social organisation. the solution to this problem which for almost a century has been the bone of contention in economic theory thus lies between the two extremes of the petty-bourgeois scepticism preached by sismondi, v. kirchmann, vorontsov and nicolayon, who flatly denied accumulation, and the crude optimism advocated by ricardo, say and tugan baranovski who believed in capital's unlimited capacity for parthenogenesis, with the logical corollary of capitalism-in-perpetuity. the solution envisaged by marx lies in the dialectical conflict that capitalism needs non-capitalist social organisations as the setting for its development, that it proceeds by assimilating the very conditions which alone can ensure its own existence. at this point we should revise the conceptions of internal and external markets which were so important in the controversy about accumulation. they are both vital to capitalist development and yet fundamentally different, though they must be conceived in terms of social economy rather than of political geography. in this light, the internal market is the capitalist market, production itself buying its own products and supplying its own elements of production. the external market is the non-capitalist social environment which absorbs the products of capitalism and supplies producer goods and labour power for capitalist production. thus, from the point of view of economics, germany and england traffic in commodities chiefly on an internal, capitalist market, whilst the give and take between german industry and german peasants is transacted on an external market as far as german capital is concerned. these concepts are strict and precise, as can be seen from the diagram of reproduction. internal capitalist trade can at best realise only certain quantities of value contained in the social product: the constant capital that has been used up, the variable capital, and the consumed part of the surplus value. that part of the surplus value, however, which is earmarked for capitalisation, must be realised elsewhere. if capitalisation of surplus value is the real motive force and aim of production, it must yet proceed within the limits given by the renewal of constant and variable capital (and also of the consumed part of the surplus value). further, with the international development of capitalism the capitalisation of surplus value becomes ever more urgent and precarious, and the substratum of constant and variable capital becomes an ever-growing mass--both absolutely and in relation to the surplus value. hence the contradictory phenomena that the old capitalist countries provide ever larger markets for, and become increasingly dependent upon, one another, yet on the other hand compete ever more ruthlessly for trade relations with non-capitalist countries.[ ] the conditions for the capitalisation of surplus value clash increasingly with the conditions for the renewal of the aggregate capital--a conflict which, incidentally, is merely a counterpart of the contradictions implied in the law of a declining profit rate. footnotes: [ ] 'if capital and the productivity of labour advance and the standard of capitalist production in general is on a higher level of development, then there is a correspondingly greater mass of commodities passing through the market from production to individual and industrial consumption, greater certainty that each particular capital will find the conditions for its reproduction available in the market' (_theorien_ ..., vol. ii, part , p. ). [ ] _theorien_ ..., vol. ii, part , p. : _akkumulation von kapital und krisen_. (the accumulation of capital and the crises.) marx's italics. [ ] the following figures plainly show the importance of the cotton industry for english exports: in , cotton exports to the amount of £ , , made up per cent, and iron and other metal exports not quite per cent, of the total export of manufactured goods, amounting to £ , , in all. in , cotton exports to the amount of £ , , made up per cent, and metal exports per cent, of the total export of manufactured goods, amounting to £ , , in all. in comparison, the figures for the german empire show the following result: in , cotton exports to the amount of £ , , made up · per cent of the total exports, amounting to £ , , . , , , yards of cotton bales were exported in , , , , of them to india (e. jaffé: _die englische baumwollindustrie und die organisation des exporthandels_. schmoller's jahrbücher, vol. xxiv, p. ). in , british exports of cotton yarn alone amounted to £ , , (_statist. jahrb. für das deutsche reich_, ). [ ] one-fifth of german aniline dyes, and one-half of her indigo, goes to countries such as china, japan, british india, egypt, asiatic turkey, brazil, and mexico. [ ] _capital_, vol. i, pp. - . [ ] the english blue book on the practices of the peruvian amazon company, ltd., in putumayo, has recently revealed that in the free republic of peru and without the political form of colonial supremacy, international capital can, to all intents and purposes, enslave the natives, so that it may appropriate the means of production of the primitive countries by exploitation on the greatest scale. since , this company, financed by english and foreign capitalists, has thrown upon the london market approximately , tons of putumayo rubber. during this time, , natives were killed and most of the , survivors were crippled by beatings. [ ] _capital_, vol. i, p. . similarly in another passage: 'one part of the surplus value, of the surplus means of subsistence produced, must then be converted into variable capital for the purpose of purchasing new labour. this can only be done if the number of workers grows or if their working time is prolonged.... this, however, cannot be considered a ready measure for accumulation. the working population can increase if formerly unproductive workers are transformed into productive ones, or if parts of the population who previously performed no work, such as women, children and paupers, are drawn into the process of production. here, however, we shall ignore this aspect. lastly, the working population can increase through an absolute increase in population. if accumulation is to proceed steadily and continuously, it must be grounded in an absolute growth of the population, though this may decline in comparison with the capital employed. an expanding population appears as the basis of accumulation conceived as a steady process. an indispensable condition for this is an average wage which is adequate not only to the reproduction of the working population but permits its continual increase' (_theorien über den mehrwert_, vol. ii, part , in the chapter on 'transformation of revenue into capital' (_verwandlung von revenue in kapital_), p. ). [ ] _capital_, vol. i, pp. ff. [ ] a table published in the united states shortly before the war of secession contained the following data about the value of the annual production of the slave states and the number of slaves employed--for the greatest part on cotton plantations: _year_ _cotton: _slaves_ dollars_ , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , (simons, 'class struggles in american history'. supplement to _neue zeit_ (_klassenkämpfe in der geschichte amerikas._ _ergänzungsheft der 'neuen zeit'_), nr. , p. .) [ ] bryce, a former english minister, describes a model pattern of such hybrid forms in the south african diamond mines: 'the most striking sight at kimberley, and one unique in the world, is furnished by the two so-called "compounds" in which the natives who work in the mines are housed and confined. they are huge inclosures, unroofed, but covered with a wire netting to prevent anything from being thrown out of them over the walls, and with a subterranean entrance to the adjoining mine. the mine is worked on the system of three eight-hour shifts, so that the workman is never more than eight hours together underground. round the interior of the wall are built sheds or huts in which the natives live and sleep when not working. a hospital is also provided within the inclosure, as well as a school where the work-people can spend their leisure in learning to read and write. no spirits are sold.... every entrance is strictly guarded, and no visitors, white or native, are permitted, all supplies being obtained from the store within, kept by the company. the de beers mine compound contained at the time of my visit , natives, belonging to a great variety of tribes, so that here one could see specimens of the different native types from natal and pondoland, in the south, to the shores of lake tanganyika in the far north. they come from every quarter, attracted by the high wages, usually eighteen to thirty shillings a week, and remain for three months or more, and occasionally even for longer periods.... in the vast oblong compound one sees zulus from natal, fingos, pondos, tembus, basutos, bechuanas, gungunhana's subjects from the portuguese territories, some few matabili and makalaka; and plenty of zambesi boys from the tribes on both sides of that great river, a living ethnological collection such as can be examined nowhere else in south africa. even bushmen, or at least natives with some bushman blood in them, are not wanting. they live peaceably together, and amuse themselves in their several ways during their leisure hours. besides games of chance, we saw a game resembling "fox and geese" played with pebbles on a board; and music was being discoursed on two rude native instruments, the so-called "kaffir piano" made of pieces of iron of unequal length fastened side by side in a frame, and a still ruder contrivance of hard bits of wood, also of unequal size, which when struck by a stick emit different notes, the first beginning of a tune. a very few were reading or writing letters, the rest busy with their cooking or talking to one another. some tribes are incessant talkers, and in this strange mixing-pot of black men one may hear a dozen languages spoken as one passes from group to group' (james bryce, _impressions of south africa_, london, , pp. ff.). after several months of work, the negro as a rule leaves the mine with the wages he has saved up. he returns to his tribe, buying a wife with his money, and lives again his traditional life. cf. also in the same book the most lively description of the methods used in south africa to solve the 'labour-problem'. here we are told that the negroes are compelled to work in the mines and plantations of kimberley, witwatersrand, natal, matabeleland, by stripping them of all land and cattle, i.e. depriving them of their means of existence, by making them into proletarians and also demoralising them with alcohol. (later, when they are already within the 'enclosure' of capital, spirits, to which they have just been accustomed, are strictly prohibited--the object of exploitation must be kept fit for use.) finally, they are simply pressed into the wage system of capital by force, by imprisonment, and flogging. [ ] the relations between germany and england provide a typical example. _chapter xxvii_ the struggle against natural economy capitalism arises and develops historically amidst a non-capitalist society. in western europe it is found at first in a feudal environment from which it in fact sprang--the system of bondage in rural areas and the guild system in the towns--and later, after having swallowed up the feudal system, it exists mainly in an environment of peasants and artisans, that is to say in a system of simple commodity production both in agriculture and trade. european capitalism is further surrounded by vast territories of non-european civilisation ranging over all levels of development, from the primitive communist hordes of nomad herdsmen, hunters and gatherers to commodity production by peasants and artisans. this is the setting for the accumulation of capital. we must distinguish three phases: the struggle of capital against natural economy, the struggle against commodity economy, and the competitive struggle of capital on the international stage for the remaining conditions of accumulation. the existence and development of capitalism requires an environment of non-capitalist forms of production, but not every one of these forms will serve its ends. capitalism needs non-capitalist social strata as a market for its surplus value, as a source of supply for its means of production and as a reservoir of labour power for its wage system. for all these purposes, forms of production based upon a natural economy are of no use to capital. in all social organisations where natural economy prevails, where there are primitive peasant communities with common ownership of the land, a feudal system of bondage or anything of this nature, economic organisation is essentially in response to the internal demand; and therefore there is no demand, or very little, for foreign goods, and also, as a rule, no surplus production, or at least no urgent need to dispose of surplus products. what is most important, however, is that, in any natural economy, production only goes on because both means of production and labour power are bound in one form or another. the communist peasant community no less than the feudal _corvée_ farm and similar institutions maintain their economic organisation by subjecting the labour power, and the most important means of production, the land, to the rule of law and custom. a natural economy thus confronts the requirements of capitalism at every turn with rigid barriers. capitalism must therefore always and everywhere fight a battle of annihilation against every historical form of natural economy that it encounters, whether this is slave economy, feudalism, primitive communism, or patriarchal peasant economy. the principal methods in this struggle are political force (revolution, war), oppressive taxation by the state, and cheap goods; they are partly applied simultaneously, and partly they succeed and complement one another. in europe, force assumed revolutionary forms in the fight against feudalism (this is the ultimate explanation of the bourgeois revolutions in the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries); in the non-european countries, where it fights more primitive social organisations, it assumes the forms of colonial policy. these methods, together with the systems of taxation applied in such cases, and commercial relations also, particularly with primitive communities, form an alliance in which political power and economic factors go hand in hand. in detail, capital in its struggle against societies with a natural economy pursues the following ends: ( ) to gain immediate possession of important sources of productive forces such as land, game in primeval forests, minerals, precious stones and ores, products of exotic flora such as rubber, etc. ( ) to 'liberate' labour power and to coerce it into service. ( ) to introduce a commodity economy. ( ) to separate trade and agriculture. at the time of primitive accumulation, i.e. at the end of the middle ages, when the history of capitalism in europe began, and right into the nineteenth century, dispossessing the peasants in england and on the continent was the most striking weapon in the large-scale transformation of means of production and labour power into capital. yet capital in power performs the same task even to-day, and on an even more important scale--by modern colonial policy. it is an illusion to hope that capitalism will ever be content with the means of production which it can acquire by way of commodity exchange. in this respect already, capital is faced with difficulties because vast tracts of the globe's surface are in the possession of social organisations that have no desire for commodity exchange or cannot, because of the entire social structure and the forms of ownership, offer for sale the productive forces in which capital is primarily interested. the most important of these productive forces is of course the land, its hidden mineral treasure, and its meadows, woods and water, and further the flocks of the primitive shepherd tribes. if capital were here to rely on the process of slow internal disintegration, it might take centuries. to wait patiently until the most important means of production could be alienated by trading in consequence of this process were tantamount to renouncing the productive forces of those territories altogether. hence derives the vital necessity for capitalism in its relations with colonial countries to appropriate the most important means of production. since the primitive associations of the natives are the strongest protection for their social organisations and for their material bases of existence, capital must begin by planning for the systematic destruction and annihilation of all the non-capitalist social units which obstruct its development. with that we have passed beyond the stage of primitive accumulation; this process is still going on. each new colonial expansion is accompanied, as a matter of course, by a relentless battle of capital against the social and economic ties of the natives, who are also forcibly robbed of their means of production and labour power. any hope to restrict the accumulation of capital exclusively to 'peaceful competition', i.e. to regular commodity exchange such as takes place between capitalist producer-countries, rests on the pious belief that capital can accumulate without mediation of the productive forces and without the demand of more primitive organisations, and that it can rely upon the slow internal process of a disintegrating natural economy. accumulation, with its spasmodic expansion, can no more wait for, and be content with, a natural internal disintegration of non-capitalist formations and their transition to commodity economy, than it can wait for, and be content with, the natural increase of the working population. force is the only solution open to capital; the accumulation of capital, seen as an historical process, employs force as a permanent weapon, not only at its genesis, but further on down to the present day. from the point of view of the primitive societies involved, it is a matter of life or death; for them there can be no other attitude than opposition and fight to the finish--complete exhaustion and extinction. hence permanent occupation of the colonies by the military, native risings and punitive expeditions are the order of the day for any colonial regime. the method of violence, then, is the immediate consequence of the clash between capitalism and the organisations of a natural economy which would restrict accumulation. their means of production and their labour power no less than their demand for surplus products is necessary to capitalism. yet the latter is fully determined to undermine their independence as social units, in order to gain possession of their means of production and labour power and to convert them into commodity buyers. this method is the most profitable and gets the quickest results, and so it is also the most expedient for capital. in fact, it is invariably accompanied by a growing militarism whose importance for accumulation will be demonstrated below in another connection. british policy in india and french policy in algeria are the classical examples of the application of these methods by capitalism. the ancient economic organisations of the indians--the communist village community--had been preserved in their various forms throughout thousands of years, in spite of all the political disturbances during their long history. in the sixth century b.c. the persians invaded the indus basin and subjected part of the country. two centuries later the greeks entered and left behind them colonies, founded by alexander on the pattern of a completely alien civilisation. then the savage scythians invaded the country, and for centuries india remained under arab rule. later, the afghans swooped down from the iran mountains, until they, too, were expelled by the ruthless onslaught of tartar hordes. the mongols' path was marked by terror and destruction, by the massacre of entire villages--the peaceful countryside with the tender shoots of rice made crimson with blood. and still the indian village community survived. for none of the successive mahometan conquerors had ultimately violated the internal social life of the peasant masses and its traditional structure. they only set up their own governors in the provinces to supervise military organisation and to collect taxes from the population. all conquerors pursued the aim of dominating and exploiting the country, but none was interested in robbing the people of their productive forces and in destroying their social organisation. in the moghul empire, the peasant had to pay his annual tribute in kind to the foreign ruler, but he could live undisturbed in his village and could cultivate his rice on his _sholgura_ as his father had done before him. then came the british--and the blight of capitalist civilisation succeeded in disrupting the entire social organisation of the people; it achieved in a short time what thousands of years, what the sword of the nogaians, had failed to accomplish. the ultimate purpose of british capital was to possess itself of the very basis of existence of the indian community: the land. this end was served above all by the fiction, always popular with european colonisers, that all the land of a colony belongs to the political ruler. in retrospect, the british endowed the moghul and his governors with private ownership of the whole of india, in order to 'legalise' their succession. economic experts of the highest repute, such as james mill, duly supported this fiction with 'scientific' arguments, so in particular with the famous conclusion given below.[ ] as early as , the british in bengal gave landed property to all the _zemindars_ (mahometan tax collectors) or hereditary market superintendents they had found in their district so as to win native support for the campaign against the peasant masses. later they adopted the same policy for their new conquests in the agram province, in oudh, and in the central provinces. turbulent peasant risings followed in their wake, in the course of which tax collectors were frequently driven out. in the resulting confusion and anarchy british capitalists successfully appropriated a considerable portion of the land. the burden of taxation, moreover, was so ruthlessly increased that it swallowed up nearly all the fruits of the people's labour. this went to such an extreme in the delhi and allahabad districts that, according to the official evidence of the british tax authorities in , the peasants found it convenient to lease or pledge their shares in land for the bare amount of the tax levied. under the auspices of this taxation, usury came to the indian village, to stay and eat up the social organisation from within like a canker.[ ] in order to accelerate this process, the british passed a law that flew in the face of every tradition and justice known to the village community: compulsory alienation of village land for tax arrears. in vain did the old family associations try to protect themselves by options on their hereditary land and that of their kindred. there was no stopping the rot. every day another plot of land fell under the hammer; individual members withdrew from the family unit, and the peasants got into debt and lost their land. the british, with their wonted colonial stratagems, tried to make it appear as if their power policy, which had in fact undermined the traditional forms of landownership and brought about the collapse of the hindu peasant economy, had been dictated by the need to protect the peasants against native oppression and exploitation and served to safeguard their own interests.[ ] britain artificially created a landed aristocracy at the expense of the ancient property-rights of the peasant communities, and then proceeded to 'protect' the peasants against these alleged oppressors, and to bring this illegally usurped land into the possession of british capitalists. thus large estates developed in india in a short time, while over large areas the peasants in their masses were turned into impoverished small tenants with a short-term lease. lastly, one more striking fact shows the typically capitalist method of colonisation. the british were the first conquerors of india who showed gross indifference to public utilities. arabs, afghans and mongols had organised and maintained magnificent works of canalisation in india, they had given the country a network of roads, spanned the rivers with bridges and seen to the sinking of wells. timur or tamerlane, the founder of the mongol dynasty in india, had a care for the cultivation of the soil, for irrigation, for the safety of the roads and the provision of food for travellers.[ ] the primitive indian rajahs, the afghan or mongol conquerors, at any rate, in spite of occasional cruelty against individuals, made their mark with the marvellous constructions we can find to-day at every step and which seem to be the work of a giant race. 'the (east india) company which ruled india until did not make one spring accessible, did not sink a single well, nor build a bridge for the benefit of the indians.'[ ] another witness, the englishman james wilson, says: 'in the madras province, no-one can help being impressed by the magnificent ancient irrigation systems, traces of which have been preserved until our time. locks and weirs dam the rivers into great lakes, from which canals distribute the water for an area of or miles around. on the large rivers, there are to of such weirs.... the rain water from the mountains was collected in artificial ponds, many of which still remain and boast circumferences of between and miles. nearly all these gigantic constructions were completed before the year . during the war between the company and the mongol rulers--and, be it said, _during the entire period of our rule in india_--they have sadly decayed.'[ ] no wonder! british capital had no object in giving the indian communities economic support or helping them to survive. quite the reverse, it aimed to destroy them and to deprive them of their productive forces. the unbridled greed, the acquisitive instinct of accumulation must by its very nature take every advantage of the 'conditions of the market' and can have no thought for the morrow. it is incapable of seeing far enough to recognise the value of the economic monuments of an older civilisation. (recently british engineers in egypt feverishly tried to discover traces of an ancient irrigation system rather like the one a stupid lack of vision had allowed to decay in india, when they were charged with damming the nile on a grand scale in furtherance of capitalist enterprise.) not until was england able to appreciate the results of her noble efforts in this respect. in the terrible famine of that year a million people were killed in the orissa district alone; and parliament was shocked into investigating the causes of the emergency. the british government has now introduced administrative measures in an attempt to save the peasant from usury. the punjab alienation act of made it illegal to sell or mortgage peasant lands to persons other than of the peasant caste, though exceptions can be made in individual cases, subject to the tax collector's approval.[ ] having deliberately disrupted the protecting ties of the ancient hindu social associations, after having nurtured a system of usury where nothing is thought of a per cent charge of interest, the british now entrust the ruined indian peasant to the tender care of the exchequer and its officials, under the 'protection', that is to say, of those draining him of his livelihood. next to tormented british india, algeria under french rule claims pride of place in the annals of capitalist colonisation. when the french conquered algeria, ancient social and economic institutions prevailed among the arab-kabyle population. these had been preserved until the nineteenth century, and in spite of the long and turbulent history of the country they survive in part even to the present day. private property may have existed no doubt in the towns, among the moors and jews, among merchants, artisans and usurers. large rural areas may have been seized by the state under turkish suzerainty--yet nearly half of the productive land is jointly held by arab and kabyle tribes who still keep up the ancient patriarchal customs. many arab families led the same kind of nomad life in the nineteenth century as they had done since time immemorial, an existence that appears restless and irregular only to the superficial observer, but one that is in fact strictly regulated and extremely monotonous. in summer they were wont, man, woman and child, to take their herds and tents and migrate to the sea-swept shores of the tell district; and in the winter they would move back again to the protective warmth of the desert. they travelled along definite routes, and the summer and winter stations were fixed for every tribe and family. the fields of those arabs who had settled on the land were in most cases the joint property of the clans, and the great kabyle family associations also lived according to old traditional rules under the patriarchal guidance of their elected heads. the women would take turns for household duties; a matriarch, again elected by the family, being in complete charge of the clan's domestic affairs, or else the women taking turns of duty. this organisation of the kabyle clans on the fringe of the african desert bears a startling resemblance to that of the famous southern slavonic _zadruga_--not only the fields but all the tools, weapons and monies, all that the members acquire or need for their work, are communal property of the clan. personal property is confined to one suit of clothing, and in the case of a woman to the dresses and ornaments of her dowry. more valuable attire and jewels, however, are considered common property, and individuals were allowed to use them only if the whole family approved. if the clan was not too numerous, meals were taken at a common table; the women took it in turns to cook, but the eldest were entrusted with the dishing out. if a family circle was too large, the head of the family would each month ration out strictly proportionate quantities of uncooked food to the individual families who then prepared them. these communities were bound together by close ties of kinship, mutual assistance and equality, and a patriarch would implore his sons on his deathbed to remain faithful to the family.[ ] these social relations were already seriously impaired by the rule of the turks, established in algeria in the sixteenth century. yet the turkish exchequer had by no means confiscated all the land. that is a legend invented by the french at a much later date. indeed, only a european mind is capable of such a flight of fancy which is contrary to the entire economic foundation of islam both in theory and practice. in truth, the facts were quite different. the turks did not touch the communal fields of the village communities. they merely confiscated a great part of uncultivated land from the clans and converted it into crownland under turkish local administrators (_beyliks_). the state worked these lands in part with native labour, and in part they were leased out on rent or against payment in kind. further the turks took advantage of every revolt of the subjected families and of every disturbance in the country to add to their possessions by large-scale confiscation of land, either for military establishments or for public auction, when most of it went to turkish or other usurers. to escape from the burden of taxation and confiscation, many peasants placed themselves under the protection of the church, just as they had done in medieval germany. hence considerable areas became church-property. all these changes finally resulted in the following distribution of algerian land at the time of the french conquest: crownlands occupied nearly , , acres, and a further , , acres of uncultivated land as common property of all the faithful (_bled-el-islam_). , , acres had been privately owned by the berbers since roman times, and under turkish rule a further , , acres had come into private ownership, a mere , , acres remaining communal property of individual arab clans. in the sahara, some of the , , acres fertile land near the sahara oases was communally owned by the clans and some belonged to private owners. the remaining , , acres were mainly waste land. with their conquest of algeria, the french made a great ado about their work of civilisation, since the country, having shaken off the turkish yoke at the beginning of the eighteenth century, was harbouring the pirates who infested the mediterranean and trafficked in christian slaves. spain and the north american union in particular, themselves at that time slave traders on no mean scale, declared relentless war on this moslem iniquity. france, in the very throes of the great revolution, proclaimed a crusade against algerian anarchy. her subjection of that country was carried through under the slogans of 'combating slavery' and 'instituting orderly and civilised conditions'. yet practice was soon to show what was at the bottom of it all. it is common knowledge that in the forty years following the subjection of algeria, no european state suffered so many changes in its political system as france: the restoration of the monarchy was followed by the july revolution and the reign of the 'citizen king', and this was succeeded by the february revolution, the second republic, the second empire, and finally, after the disaster of , by the third republic. in turn, the aristocracy, high finance, petty bourgeoisie and the large middle classes in general gained political ascendancy. yet french policy in algeria remained undeflected by this succession of events; it pursued a single aim from beginning to end; at the fringe of the african desert, it demonstrated plainly that all the political revolutions in nineteenth-century france centred in a single basic interest: the rule of a capitalist bourgeoisie and its institutions of ownership. 'the bill submitted for your consideration', said deputy humbert on june , , in the session of the french national assembly as spokesman for the commission for regulating agrarian conditions in algeria, 'is but the crowning touch to an edifice well-founded on a whole series of ordinances, edicts, laws and decrees of the senate which together and severally have as the same object: the establishment of private property among the arabs.' in spite of the ups and downs of internal french politics french colonial policy persevered for fifty years in its systematic and deliberate efforts to destroy and disrupt communal property. it served two distinct purposes: the break-up of communal property was primarily intended to smash the social power of the arab family associations and to quell their stubborn resistance against the french yoke, in the course of which there were innumerable risings so that, in spite of france's military superiority, the country was in a continual state of war.[ ] secondly, communal property had to be disrupted in order to gain the economic assets of the conquered country; the arabs, that is to say, had to be deprived of the land they had owned for a thousand years, so that french capitalists could get it. once again the fiction we know so well, that under moslem law all land belongs to the ruler, was brought into play. just as the english had done in british india, so louis philippe's governors in algeria declared the existence of communal property owned by the clan to be 'impossible'. this fiction served as an excuse to claim for the state most of the uncultivated areas, and especially the commons, woods and meadows, and to use them for purposes of colonisation. a complete system of settlement developed, the so-called _cantonments_ which settled french colonists on the clan land and herded the tribes into a small area. under the decrees of , , , , and these thefts of arab family land were legalised. yet this system of settlement did not actually further colonisation; it only bred wild speculation and usury. in most instances the arabs managed to buy back the land that had been taken from them, although they were thus incurring heavy debts. french methods of oppressive taxation had the same tendency, in particular the law of june , , proclaiming all forests to be state property, which robbed the natives of , , acres of pasture and brushwood, and took away the prime essential for animal husbandry. this spate of laws, ordinances and regulations wrought havoc with the ownership of land in the country. under the prevailing condition of feverish speculation in land, many natives sold their estates to the french in the hope of ultimately recovering them. quite often they sold the same plot to two or three buyers at a time, and what is more, it was quite often inalienable family land and did not even belong to them. a company of speculators from rouen, e.g., believed that they had bought , acres, but in fact they had only acquired a disputed title to , acres. there followed an infinite number of lawsuits in which the french courts supported on principle all partitions and claims of the buyers. in these uncertain conditions, speculation, usury and anarchy were rife. but although the introduction of french colonists in large numbers among the arab population had aimed at securing support for the french government, this scheme failed miserably. thus, under the second empire, french policy tried another tack. the government, with its european lack of vision, had stubbornly denied the existence of communal property for thirty years, but it had learned better at last. by a single stroke of the pen, joint family property was officially recognised and condemned to be broken up. this is the double significance of the decree of the senate dated april , . general allard declared in the senate: 'the government does not lose sight of the fact that the general aim of its policy is to weaken the influence of the tribal chieftains and to dissolve the family associations. by this means, it will sweep away the last remnants of feudalism [_sic!_] defended by the opponents of the government bill.... the surest method of accelerating the process of dissolving the family associations will be to institute private property and to settle european colonists among the arab families.'[ ] the law of created special commissions for cutting up the landed estates, consisting of the chairman, either a brigadier-general or colonel, one _sous-préfet_, one representative of the arab military authorities and an official bailiff. these natural experts on african economics and social conditions were faced with the threefold task, first of determining the precise boundaries of the great family estates, secondly to distribute the estates of each clan among its various branches, and finally to break up this family land into separate private allotments. this expedition of the brigadiers into the interior of africa duly took place. the commissions proceeded to their destinations. they were to combine the office of judge in all land disputes with that of surveyor and land distributor, the final decision resting with the governor-general of algeria. ten years' valiant efforts by the commissions yielded the following result: between and , of hereditary estates, were shared out among the branches of each clan, and the foundations for future inequalities between great landed estates and small allotments were thus laid. one family, in fact, might receive between · and acres, while another might get as much as or even acres, depending on the size of the estate and the number of collaterals within the clan. partition, however, stopped at that point. arab customs presented unsurmountable difficulties to a further division of family land. in spite of colonels and brigadiers, french policy had again failed in its object to create private property for transfer to the french. but the third republic, an undisguised regime of the bourgeoisie, had the courage and the cynicism to go straight for its goal and to attack the problem from the other end, disdaining the preliminaries of the second empire. in , the national assembly worked out a law with the avowed intention immediately to split up the entire estates of all the arab clans, and forcibly to institute private property in the shortest possible time. desperate conditions in the colony were the pretext for this measure. it had taken the great indian famine of to awaken the british public to the marvellous exploits of british colonial policy and to call for a parliamentary investigation; and similarly, europe was alarmed at the end of the sixties by the crying needs of algeria where more than forty years of french rule culminated in wide-spread famine and a disastrous mortality rate among the arabs. a commission of inquiry was set up to recommend new legislation with which to bless the arabs: it was unanimously resolved that there was only one life-buoy for them--the institution of private property; that alone could save the arab from destitution, since he would then always be able to sell or mortgage his land. it was decided therefore, that the only means of alleviating the distress of the arabs, deeply involved in debts as they were because of the french land robberies and oppressive taxation, was to deliver them completely into the hands of the usurers. this farce was expounded in all seriousness before the national assembly and was accepted with equal gravity by that worthy body. the 'victors' of the paris commune flaunted their brazenness. in the national assembly, two arguments in particular served to support the new law: those in favour of the bill emphasised over and over again that the arabs themselves urgently desired the introduction of private property. and so they did, or rather the algerian land speculators and usurers did, since they were vitally interested in 'liberating' their victims from the protection of the family ties. as long as moslem law prevailed in algeria, hereditary clan and family lands were inalienable, which laid insuperable difficulties in the way of anyone who wished to mortgage his land. the law of had merely made a breach in these obstacles, and the issue now at stake was their complete abolition so as to give a free hand to the usurers. the second argument was 'scientific', part of the same intellectual equipment from which that worthy, james mill, had drawn for his abstruse conclusions regarding indian relations of ownership: english classical economics. thoroughly versed in their masters' teachings, the disciples of smith and ricardo impressively declaimed that private property is indispensable for the prevention of famines in algeria, for more intensive and better cultivation of the land, since obviously no one would be prepared to invest capital or intensive labour in a piece of land which does not belong to him and whose produce is not his own to enjoy. but the facts spoke a different language. they proved that the french speculators employed the private property they had created in algeria for anything but the more intensive and improved cultivation of the soil. in , , , acres were french property. but the capitalist companies, the algerian and setif company which owned , acres, did not cultivate the land at all but leased it to the natives who tilled it in the traditional manner, nor were per cent of the other french owners engaged in agriculture. it was simply impossible to conjure up capitalist investments and intensive agriculture overnight, just as capitalist conditions in general could not be created out of nothing. they existed only in the imagination of profit-seeking french speculators, and in the benighted doctrinaire visions of their scientific economists. the essential point, shorn of all pretexts and flourishes which seem to justify the law of , was simply the desire to deprive the arabs of their land, their livelihood. and although these arguments had worn threadbare and were evidently insincere, this law which was to put paid to the algerian population and their material prosperity, was passed unanimously on july , . but even this master-stroke soon proved a failure. the policy of the third republic miscarried because of the difficulties in substituting at one stroke bourgeois private property for the ancient clan communism, just as the policy of the second empire had come to grief over the same issue. in , when the law of july , , supplemented by a second law on april , , had been in force for seventeen years, , , francs had been spent on dealing with , , acres. it was estimated that the process would not be completed before and would require a further , , francs. and still abolition of clan communism, the ultimate purpose, had not been accomplished. what had really been attained was all too evident: reckless speculation in land, thriving usury and the economic ruin of the natives. since it had been impossible to institute private property by force, a new experiment was undertaken. the laws of and had been condemned by a commission appointed for their revision by the algerian government in . it was another seven years before the legislators on the seine made the effort to consider reforms for the ruined country. the new decree of the senate refrained in principle from instituting private property by compulsion or administrative measures. the laws of february , , and the edict of the governor-general of algeria (march , ) both provided chiefly for the introduction of private property following a voluntary application by the prospective purchaser or owner.[ ] but there were clauses to permit a single owner, without the consent of the others, to claim private property; further, such a 'voluntary' application can be extorted at any convenient moment if the owner is in debt and the usurer exerts pressure. and so the new law left the doors wide open for french and native capitalists further to disrupt and exploit the hereditary and clan lands. of recent years, this mutilation of algeria which had been going on for eight decades meets with even less opposition, since the arabs, surrounded as they are by french capital following the subjection of tunisia ( ) and the recent conquest of morocco, have been rendered more and more helpless. the latest result of the french regime in algeria is an arab exodus into turkey.[ ] footnotes: [ ] mill, in his _history of british india_, substantiates the thesis that under primitive conditions the land belongs always and everywhere to the sovereign, on evidence collected at random and quite indiscriminately from the most varied sources (mungo park, herodotus, volney, acosta, garcilasso de la vega, abbé grosier, barrow, diodorus, strabo and others). applying this thesis to india, he goes on to say: 'from these facts only one conclusion can be drawn, that the property of the soil resided in the sovereign; for if it did not reside in him, it will be impossible to show to whom it belonged' (james mill, _history of british india_ ( th edition, ), vol. i, p. ). mill's editor, h. h. wilson who, as professor of sanskrit at oxford university, was thoroughly versed in the legal relations of ancient india, gives an interesting commentary to this classical deduction. already in his preface he characterises the author as a partisan who has juggled with the whole history of british india in order to justify the theories of mr. bentham and who, with this end, has used the most dubious means for his portrait of the hindus which in no way resembles the original and almost outrages humanity. he appends the following footnote to our quotation: 'the greater part of the text and of the notes here is wholly irrelevant. the illustrations drawn from the mahometan practice, supposing them to be correct, have nothing to do with the laws and rights of the hindus. they are not, however, even accurate and mr. mill's guides have misled him.' wilson then contests outright the theory of the sovereign's right of ownership in land, especially with reference to india. (ibid., p. , footnote.) henry maine, too, is of the opinion that the british attempted to derive their claim to indian land from the mahometans in the first place, and he recognises this claim to be completely unjustified. 'the assumption which the english first made was one which they inherited from their mahometan predecessors. it was that all the soil belonged in absolute property to the sovereign,--and that all private property in land existed by his sufferance. the mahometan theory and the corresponding mahometan practice had put out of sight the ancient view of the sovereign's rights which, though it assigned to him a far larger share of the produce of the land than any western ruler has ever claimed, yet in nowise denied the existence of private property in land' (_village communities in the east and west_ ( th edition, vol. , ), p. ). maxim kovalevski, on the other hand, has proved thoroughly that this alleged 'mahometan theory and practice' is an exclusively british legend. (cf. his excellent study, written in russian, _on the causes, the development and the consequences of the disintegration of communal ownership of land_ (moscow, ), part i.) incidentally, british experts and their french colleagues at the time of writing maintain an analogous legend about china, for example, asserting that all the land there had been the emperor's property. (cf. the refutation of this legend by dr. o. franke, _die rechtsverhältnisse am grundeigentum in china_, .) [ ] 'the partitions of inheritances and execution for debt levied on land are destroying the communities--this is the formula heard nowadays everywhere in india' (henry maine, op. cit., p. ). [ ] this view of british colonial policy, expounded e.g. by lord roberts of kandahar (for many years a representative of british power in india) is typical. he can give no other explanation for the sepoy mutiny than mere 'misunderstandings' of the paternal intentions of the british rulers. '... the alleged unfairness of what was known in india as the land settlement, under which system the right and title of each landholder to his property was examined, and the amount of revenue to be paid by him to the paramount power, as owner of the soil, was regulated ... as peace and order were established, the system of land revenue, which had been enforced in an extremely oppressive and corrupt manner under successive native rulers and dynasties, had to be investigated and revised. with this object in view, surveys were made, and inquiries instituted into the rights of ownership and occupancy, the result being that in many cases it was found that families of position and influence had either appropriated the property of their humbler neighbours, or evaded an assessment proportionate to the value of their estates. although these inquiries were carried out with the best intentions, they were extremely distasteful to the higher classes, while they failed to conciliate the masses. the ruling families deeply resented our endeavours to introduce an equitable determination of rights and assessment of land revenue.... on the other hand, although the agricultural population greatly benefited by our rule, they could not realise the benevolent intentions of a government which tried to elevate their position and improve their prospects' (_forty one years in india_, london, , p. ). [ ] in his _maxims on government_ (translated from the persian into english in ), timur says: 'and i commanded that they should build places of worship, and monasteries in every city; and that they should erect structures for the reception of travellers on the high roads, and that they should make bridges across the rivers. 'and i commanded that the ruined bridges should be repaired; and that bridges should be constructed over the rivulets, and over the rivers; and that on the roads, at the distance of one stage from each other, kauruwansarai should be erected; and that guards and watchmen should be stationed on the road, and that in every kauruwansarai people should be appointed to reside.... 'and i ordained, whoever undertook the cultivation of waste lands, or built an aqueduct, or made a canal, or planted a grove, or restored to culture a deserted district, that in the first year nothing should be taken from him, and that in the second year, whatever the subject voluntarily offered should be received, and that in the third year, duties should be collected according to the regulation' (james mill, op. cit., vol. ii, pp. , ). [ ] count warren, _de l'État moral de la population indigène_. quoted by kovalevski, op. cit., p. . [ ] _historical and descriptive account of british india_ from the most remote period to the conclusion of the afghan war by hugh murray, james wilson, greville, professor jameson, william wallace and captain dalrymple (edinburgh, th edition, ), vol. ii, p. . quoted by kovalevski, op. cit. [ ] victor v. leyden, _agrarverfassung und grundsteuer in britisch ostindien. jahrb. f. ges., verw. u. volksw._, vol. xxxvi, no. , p. . [ ] 'when dying, the father of the family nearly always advises his children to live in unity, according to the example of their elders. this is his last exhortation, his dearest wish' (a. hanotaux et a. letournaux, _la kabylie et les coûtumes kabyles_, vol. ii, , 'droit civil', pp. - ). the authors, by the way, appraised this impressive description of communism in the clan with this peculiar sentence: 'within the industrious fold of the family association, all are united in a common purpose, all work for the general interest--but no one gives up his freedom or renounces his hereditary rights. in no other nation does the organisation approach so closely to equality, being yet so far removed from communism.' [ ] 'we must lose no time in dissolving the family associations, since they are the lever of all opposition against our rule' (deputy didier in the national assembly of ). [ ] quoted by kovalevski, op. cit., p. . since the great revolution, of course, it had become the fashion in france to dub all opposition to the government an open or covert defence of feudalism. [ ] g. anton, _neuere agrarpolitik in algerien und tunesien. jahrb. f. gesetzgebung, verwaltung und volkswirtschaft_ ( ), pp. ff. [ ] on june , , m. albin rozet, on behalf of the commission for the reform of the 'indigenat' (administrative justice) in algeria, stated in his speech to the french chamber of deputies that thousands of algerians were migrating from the setif district, and that , natives had emigrated from tlemcen during the last year, their destination being syria. one immigrant wrote from his new home: 'i have now settled in damascus and am perfectly happy. there are many algerians here in syria who, like me, have emigrated. the government has given us land and facilities to cultivate it.' the algerian government combats this exodus--by denying passports to prospective emigrants. (cf. _journal officiel_, june , , pp. ff.) _chapter xxviii_ the introduction of commodity economy the second condition of importance for acquiring means of production and realising the surplus value is that commodity exchange and commodity economy should be introduced in societies based on natural economy as soon as their independence has been abrogated, or rather in the course of this disruptive process. capital requires to buy the products of, and sell its commodities to, all non-capitalist strata and societies. here at last we seem to find the beginnings of that 'peace' and 'equality', the _do ut des_, mutual interest, 'peaceful competition' and the 'influences of civilisation'. for capital can indeed deprive alien social associations of their means of production by force, it can compel the workers to submit to capitalist exploitation, but it cannot force them to buy its commodities or to realise its surplus value. in districts where natural economy formerly prevailed, the introduction of means of transport--railways, navigation, canals--is vital for the spreading of commodity economy, a further hopeful sign. the triumphant march of commodity economy thus begins in most cases with magnificent constructions of modern transport, such as railway lines which cross primeval forests and tunnel through the mountains, telegraph wires which bridge the deserts, and ocean liners which call at the most outlying ports. but it is a mere illusion that these are peaceful changes. under the standard of commerce, the relations between the east india company and the spice-producing countries were quite as piratical, extortionate and blatantly fraudulent as present-day relations between american capitalists and the red indians of canada whose furs they buy, or between german merchants and the negroes of africa. modern china presents a classical example of the 'gentle', 'peace-loving' practices of commodity exchange with backward countries. throughout the nineteenth century, beginning with the early forties, her history has been punctuated by wars with the object of opening her up to trade by brute force. missionaries provoked persecutions of christians, europeans instigated risings, and in periodical massacres a completely helpless and peaceful agrarian population was forced to match arms with the most modern capitalist military technique of all the great powers of europe. heavy war contributions necessitated a public debt, china taking up european loans, resulting in european control over her finances and occupation of her fortifications; the opening of free ports was enforced, railway concessions to european capitalists extorted. by all these measures commodity exchange was fostered in china, from the early thirties of the last century until the beginning of the chinese revolution. european civilisation, that is to say commodity exchange with european capital, made its first impact on china with the opium wars when she was compelled to buy the drug from indian plantations in order to make money for british capitalists. in the seventeenth century, the east india company had introduced the cultivation of poppies in bengal; the use of the drug was disseminated in china by its canton branch. at the beginning of the nineteenth century, opium fell so considerably in price that it rapidly became the 'luxury of the people'. in , , chests of opium were imported to china at an average price of £ ; then the price fell by per cent, and chinese imports rose to , chests in , and to , chests in .[ ] the deadly effects of the drug, especially of the cheaper kinds used by the poorer population, became a public calamity and made it necessary for china to lay an embargo on imports, as an emergency measure. already in , the viceroy of canton had prohibited imports of opium, only to deflect the trade to other ports. one of the peking censors commanded to investigate the question gave the following report: 'i have learnt that people who smoke opium have developed such a craving for this noxious drug that they make every effort to obtain this gratification. if they do not get their opium at the usual hour, their limbs begin to tremble, they break out in sweat, and they cannot perform the slightest tasks. but as soon as they are given the pipe, they inhale a few puffs and are cured immediately. 'opium has therefore become a necessity for all who smoke it, and it is not surprising that under cross-examination by the local authorities they will submit to every punishment rather than reveal the names of their suppliers. local authorities are also in some cases given presents to tolerate the evil or to delay any investigation already under way. most merchants who bring goods for sale into canton also deal in smuggled opium. 'i am of the opinion that opium is by far a greater evil than gambling, and that opium smokers should therefore be punished no less than gamblers.' the censor suggested that every convicted opium smoker should be sentenced to eighty strokes of the bamboo, and anybody refusing to give the name of his supplier to a hundred strokes and three years of exile. the pigtailed cato of peking concludes his report with a frankness staggering to any european official: 'apparently opium is mostly introduced from abroad by dishonest officials in connivance with profit-seeking merchants who transport it into the interior of the country. then the first to indulge are people of good family, wealthy private persons and merchants, but ultimately the drug habit spreads among the common people. i have learnt that in all provinces opium is smoked not only in the civil service but also in the army. the officials of the various districts indeed enjoin the legal prohibition of sale by special edicts. but at the same time, their parents, families, dependants and servants simply go on smoking opium, and the merchants profit from the ban by increased prices. even the police have been won over; they buy the stuff instead of helping to suppress it, and this is an additional reason for the disregard in which all prohibitions and ordinances are held.'[ ] consequently, a stricter law was passed in which made every opium smoker liable to a hundred strokes and two months in the stocks, and provincial governors were ordered to report annually on their progress in the battle against opium. but there were two sequels to this campaign: on the one hand large-scale poppy plantations sprang up in the interior, particularly in the honan, setchuan, and kueitchan provinces, and on the other, england declared war on china to get her to lift the embargo. these were the splendid beginnings of 'opening china' to european civilisation--by the opium pipe. canton was the first objective. the fortifications of the town at the main arm of the perl estuary could not have been more primitive. every day at sunset a barrier of iron chains was attached to wooden rafts anchored at various distances, and this was the main defence. moreover, the chinese guns could only fire at a certain angle and were therefore completely ineffectual. with such primitive defences, just adequate to prevent a few merchant ships from landing, did the chinese meet the british attack. a couple of british cruisers, then, sufficed to effect an entry on september , . the sixteen battle-junks and thirteen fire-ships which the chinese put up for resistance were shot up or dispersed in a matter of forty-five minutes. after this initial victory, the british renewed the attack in the beginning of with a considerably reinforced fleet. this time the fleet, consisting in a number of battle-junks, and the forts were attacked simultaneously. the first incendiary rocket that was fired penetrated through the armour casing of a junk into the powder chamber and blew the ship with the entire crew sky-high. in a short time eleven junks, including the flag-ship, were destroyed, and the remainder precipitately made for safety. the action on land took a little longer. since the chinese guns were quite useless, the british walked right through the fortifications, climbed to a strategic position--which was not even guarded--and proceeded to slaughter the helpless chinese from above. the casualty list of the battle was: for the chinese dead, and for the british, dead and wounded, more than half of the latter having been injured by the accidental explosion of a powder magazine. a few weeks later, there followed another british exploit. the forts of anung-hoy and north wantong were to be taken. no less than twelve fully equipped cruisers were available for this task. what is more, the chinese, once again forgetful of the most important thing, had omitted to fortify the island of south wantong. thus the british calmly landed a battery of howitzers to bombard the fort from one side, the cruisers shelling it from the other. after that, the chinese were driven from the forts in a matter of minutes, and the landing met with no resistance. the ensuing display of inhumanity--an english report says--will be for ever deeply deplored by the british staff. the chinese, trying to escape from the barricades, had fallen into a moat which was soon literally filled to the brim with helpless soldiers begging for mercy. into this mass of prostrate human bodies, the sepoys--acting against orders, it is claimed--fired again and again. this is the way in which canton was made receptive to commodity exchange. nor did the other ports fare better. on july , , three british cruisers with cannon appeared off the islands in the entrance to the town of ningpo. more cruisers arrived the following day. in the evening the british admiral sent a message to the chinese governor, demanding the capitulation of the island. the governor explained that he had no power to resist but could not surrender without orders from peking. he therefore asked for a delay. this was refused, and at half-past two in the morning the british stormed the defenceless island. within eight minutes, the fort and the houses on the shore were reduced to smouldering rubble. having landed on the deserted coast littered with broken spears, sabres, shields, rifles and a few dead bodies, the troops advanced on the walls of the island town of tinghai. with daybreak, reinforced by the crews of other ships which had meanwhile arrived, they proceeded to put scaling-ladders to the scarcely defended ramparts. a few more minutes gave them mastery of the town. this splendid victory was announced with becoming modesty in an order of the day: 'fate has decreed that the morning of july , , should be the historic date on which her majesty's flag was first raised over the most beautiful island of the celestial empire, the first european flag to fly triumphantly above this lovely countryside.'[ ] on august , , the british approached the town of amoy, whose forts were armed with a hundred of the heaviest chinese guns. these guns being almost useless, and the commanders lacking in resource, the capture of the harbour was child's play. under cover of a heavy barrage, british ships drew near the walls of kulangau, landed their marines, and after a short stand the chinese troops were driven out. the twenty-six battle-junks with guns in the harbour were also captured, their crews having fled. one battery, manned by tartars, heroically held out against the combined fire of three british ships, but a british landing was effected in their rear and the post wiped out. this was the finale of the notorious opium war. by the peace treaty of august , , the island of hongkong was ceded to britain. in addition, the towns of canton, amoy, futchou, ningpo and shanghai were to open their ports to foreign commerce. but within fifteen years, there was a further war against china. this time, britain had joined forces with the french. in , the allied navies captured canton with a heroism equal to that of the first war. by the peace of tientsin ( ), the opium traffic, european commerce and christian missions were admitted into the interior. already in , however, the british resumed hostilities and attempted to destroy the chinese fortifications on the peiho river, but were driven off after a fierce battle in which people were wounded or killed.[ ] after that, britain and france again joined forces. at the end of august , , english and , french troops under general cousin-montauban first captured the taku forts without a single shot having been fired. then they proceeded towards tientsin and on towards peking. a bloody battle was joined at palikao, and peking fell to the european powers. entering the almost depopulated and completely undefended city, the victors began by pillaging the imperial palace, manfully helped by general cousin himself, who was later to become field marshal and count of palikao. then the palace went up in flames, fired on lord elgin's order as an imposed penance.[ ] the european powers now obtained concessions to set up embassies in peking, and to start trading with tientsin and other towns. the tchi-fu convention of guaranteed full facilities for importing opium into china--at a time when the anti-opium league in england agitated against the spreading of the drug habit in london, manchester and other industrial districts, when a parliamentary commission declared the consumption of opium to be harmful in the extreme. by all treaties made at that time between china and the great powers any european, whether merchant or missionary, was guaranteed the right to acquire land, to which end the legitimate arguments were ably supported by deliberate fraud. first and foremost the ambiguity of the treaty texts made a convenient excuse for european capital to encroach beyond the treaty ports. it used every loophole in the wording of the treaties to begin with, and subsequently blackmailed the chinese government into permitting the missions to acquire land not alone in the treaty ports but in all the provinces of the realm. their claim was based upon the notorious bare-faced distortion of the chinese original in abbé delamarre's official translation of the supplementary convention with france. french diplomacy, and the protestant missions in particular, unanimously condemned the crafty swindle of the catholic padre, but nevertheless they were firm that the rights of french missions obtained by this fraud should be explicitly extended to the protestant missions as well.[ ] china's entry into commodity exchange, having begun with the opium wars, was finally accomplished with a series of 'leases' and the china campaign of , when the commercial interests of european capital sank to a brazen international dogfight over chinese land. the description of the dowager empress, who wrote to queen victoria after the capture of the taku forts, subtly underlines this contrast between the initial theory and the ultimate practice of the 'agents of european civilisation': 'to your majesty, greeting!--in all the dealings of england with the empire of china, since first relations were established between us, there has never been any idea of territorial aggrandisement on the part of great britain, but only a keen desire to promote the interests of her trade. reflecting upon the fact that our country is now plunged into a dreadful condition of warfare, we bear in mind that a large proportion of china's trade, seventy or eighty per cent, is done with england; moreover, your customs duties are the lightest in the world, and few restrictions are made at your sea-ports in the matter of foreign importations; for these reasons our amiable relations with british merchants at our treaty ports have continued unbroken for the last half century, to our mutual benefit.--but a sudden change has now occurred and general suspicion has been created against us. we would therefore ask you now to consider that if, by any conceivable combination of circumstances, the independence of our empire should be lost, and the powers unite to carry out their long-plotted schemes to possess themselves of our territory'--(in a simultaneous message to the emperor of japan, the impulsive tzu hsi openly refers to 'the earth-hungry powers of the west, whose tigerish eyes of greed are fixed in our direction'[ ])--'the results to your country's interests would be disastrous and fatal to your trade. at this moment our empire is striving to the utmost to raise an army and funds sufficient for its protection; in the meanwhile we rely on your good services to act as mediator, and now anxiously await your decision.'[ ] both during the wars and in the interim periods, european civilisation was busy looting and thieving on a grand scale in the chinese imperial palaces, in the public buildings and in the monuments of ancient civilisation, not only in , when the french pillaged the emperor's palace with its legendary treasures, or in , 'when all the nations vied with each other to steal public and private property'. every european advance was marked not only with the progress of commodity exchange, but by the smouldering ruins of the largest and most venerable towns, by the decay of agriculture over large rural areas, and by intolerably oppressive taxation for war contributions. there are more than chinese treaty ports--and every one of them has been paid for with streams of blood, with massacre and ruin. footnotes: [ ] , chests were imported in . later, the imports somewhat declined, owing to increased home production. nevertheless, china remained the chief buyer. india produced just under , , tons of opium in / , of which , , tons were sold to the chinese. to-day [ ] india still exports , , tons, value £ , , , , almost exclusively to china and the malay archipelago. [ ] quoted by j. scheibert, _der krieg in china_ ( ), vol. , p. . [ ] scheibert, op. cit., p. . [ ] an imperial edict issued on the third day of the eighth moon in the tenth year of hsien-feng ( / / ) said amongst other things: 'we have never forbidden england and france to trade with china, and for long years there has been peace between them and us. but three years ago the english, for no good cause, invaded our city of canton, and carried off our officials into captivity. we refrained at that time from taking any retaliatory measures, because we were compelled to recognise that the obstinacy of the viceroy yeh had been in some measure a cause of the hostilities. two years ago, the barbarian commander elgin came north and we then commanded the viceroy of chihli, t'an ting-hsiang, to look into matters preparatory to negotiations. but the barbarian took advantage of our unreadiness, attacking the taku forts and pressing on to tientsin. being anxious to spare our people the horrors of war, we again refrained from retaliation and ordered kuei liang to discuss terms of peace. notwithstanding the outrageous nature of the barbarians' demands we subsequently ordered kuei liang to proceed to shanghai in connection with the proposed treaty of commerce and even permitted its ratification as earnest of our good faith. 'in spite of all this, the barbarian leader bruce again displayed intractability of the most unreasonable kind, and once more appeared off taku with a squadron of warships in the eighth moon. seng ko lin ch'in thereupon attacked him fiercely and compelled him to make a rapid retreat. from all these facts it is clear that china has committed no breach of faith and that the barbarians have been in the wrong. during the present year the barbarian leaders elgin and gros have again appeared off our coasts, but china, unwilling to resort to extreme measures, agreed to their landing and permitted them to come to peking for the ratification of the treaty. 'who could have believed that all this time the barbarians have been darkly plotting, and that they had brought with them an army of soldiers and artillery with which they attacked the taku forts from the rear, and, having driven out our forces, advanced upon tientsin!' (i. o. bland and e. t. blackhouse, _china under the empress dowager_ (london, ), pp. - . cf. also in this work the entire chapter, 'the flight to yehol'.) [ ] these european exploits to make china receptive to commodity exchange, provide the setting for a charming episode of china's internal history: straight from looting the manchu emperor's summer palace, the 'gordon of china' went on a campaign against the rebels of taiping. in he even took over command of the imperial fighting forces. in fact, the suppression of the revolt was the work of the british army. but while a considerable number of europeans, among them a french admiral, gave their lives to preserve china for the manchu dynasty, the representatives of european commerce were eagerly grasping this opportunity to make capital out of these fights, supplying arms both to their own champions and to the rebels who went to war against them. 'moreover, the worthy merchant was tempted, by the opportunity for making some money, to supply both armies with arms and munitions, and since the rebels had greater difficulties in obtaining supplies than the emperor's men and were therefore compelled and prepared to pay higher prices, they were given priority and could thus resist not only the troops of their own government, but also those of england and france' (m. v. brandt, _ jahre in ostasien, , vol. iii, china_, p. ). [ ] dr. o. franke, _die rechtsverhältnisse am grundeigentum in china_ (leipzig, ), p. . [ ] bland and blackhouse, op. cit., p. . [ ] ibid., p. . _chapter xxix_ the struggle against peasant economy an important final phase in the campaign against natural economy is to separate industry from agriculture, to eradicate rural industries altogether from peasant economy. handicraft in its historical beginnings was a subsidiary occupation, a mere appendage to agriculture in civilised and settled societies. in medieval europe it became gradually independent of the _corvée_ farm and agriculture, it developed into specialised occupations, i.e. production of commodities by urban guilds. in industrial districts, production had progressed from home craft by way of primitive manufacture to the capitalist factory of the staple industries, but in the rural areas, under peasant economy, home crafts persisted as an intrinsic part of agriculture. every hour that could be spared from cultivating the soil was devoted to handicrafts which, as an auxiliary domestic industry, played an important part in providing for personal needs.[ ] it is a recurrent phenomenon in the development of capitalist production that one branch of industry after the other is singled out, isolated from agriculture and concentrated in factories for mass production. the textile industry provides the textbook example, but the same thing has happened, though less obviously, in the case of other rural industries. capital must get the peasants to buy its commodities and will therefore begin by restricting peasant economy to a single sphere--that of agriculture--which will not immediately and, under european conditions of ownership, only with great difficulty submit to capitalist domination.[ ] to all outward appearance, this process is quite peaceful. it is scarcely noticeable and seemingly caused by purely economic factors. there can be no doubt that mass production in the factories is technically superior to primitive peasant industry, owing to a higher degree of specialisation, scientific analysis and management of the productive process, improved machinery and access to international resources of raw materials. in reality, however, the process of separating agriculture and industry is determined by factors such as oppressive taxation, war, or squandering and monopolisation of the nation's land, and thus belongs to the spheres of political power and criminal law no less than with economics. nowhere has this process been brought to such perfection as in the united states. in the wake of the railways, financed by european and in particular british capital, the american farmer crossed the union from east to west and in his progress over vast areas killed off the red indians with fire-arms and blood-hounds, liquor and venereal disease, pushing the survivors to the west, in order to appropriate the land they had 'vacated', to clear it and bring it under the plough. the american farmer, the 'backwoodsman' of the good old times before the war of secession, was very different indeed from his modern counterpart. there was hardly anything he could not do, and he led a practically self-sufficient life on his isolated farm. in the beginning of the nineties, one of the leaders of the farmers' alliance, senator peffer, wrote as follows: 'the american farmer of to-day is altogether a different sort of man from his ancestor of fifty or a hundred years ago. a great many men and women now living remember when farmers were largely manufacturers; that is to say, they made a great many implements for their own use. every farmer had an assortment of tools with which he made wooden implements, as forks and rakes, handles for his hoes and ploughs, spokes for his wagon, and various other implements made wholly out of wood. then the farmer produced flax and hemp and wool and cotton. these fibres were prepared upon the farm; they were spun into yarn, woven into cloth, made into garments, and worn at home. every farm had upon it a little shop for wood and iron work, and in the dwelling were cards and looms; carpets were woven, bed-clothing of different sorts was prepared; upon every farm geese were kept, their feathers used for supplying the home demand with beds and pillows, the surplus being disposed of at the nearest market town. during the winter season wheat and flour and corn meal were carried in large wagons drawn by teams of six to eight horses a hundred or two hundred miles to market, and traded for farm supplies for the next year--groceries and dry goods. besides this, mechanics were scattered among the farmers. the farm wagon was in process of building a year or two; the material was found near the shop; the character of the timber to be used was stated in the contract; it had to be procured in a certain season and kept in the drying process a length of time specified, so that when the material was brought together in proper form and the wagon made, both parties to the contract knew where every stick of it came from, and how long it had been in seasoning. during winter time the neighbourhood carpenter prepared sashes and blinds and doors and moulding and cornices for the next season's building. when the frosts of autumn came the shoemaker repaired to the dwellings of the farmers and there, in a corner set apart to him, he made up shoes for the family during the winter. all these things were done among the farmers, and a large part of the expense was paid with products of the farm. when winter approached, the butchering season was at hand; meat for family use during the next year was prepared and preserved in the smoke house. the orchards supplied fruit for cider, for apple butter, and for preserves of different kinds, amply sufficient to supply the wants of the family during the year, with some to spare. wheat was threshed, a little at a time, just enough to supply the needs of the family for ready money, and not enough to make it necessary to waste one stalk of straw. everything was saved and put to use. one of the results of that sort of economy was that comparatively a very small amount of money was required to conduct the business of farming. a hundred dollars average probably was as much as the largest farmers of that day needed in the way of cash to meet the demands of their farm work, paying for hired help, repairs of tools, and all other incidental expenses.'[ ] this arcadian life was to come to a sudden end after the war of secession. the war had burdened the union with an enormous national debt, amounting to £ , , , and in consequence the taxes were considerably increased. on the other hand, a feverish development of modern traffic and industry, machine-building in particular, was encouraged by the imposition of higher protective tariffs. the railway companies were endowed with public lands on an imposing scale, in order to promote railroad construction and farm-settlements: in alone, they were given more than , , acres, and so the permanent way grew at an unprecedented rate. in it amounted to less than , miles, in it had grown to more than , miles and in to more than , miles. (during the same period-- - --the permanent way in europe had grown from , miles to , miles.) the railways and speculations in land made for mass emigration from europe to the united states, and more than   / million people immigrated in the twenty-three years from to . in this way, the union gradually became emancipated from european, and in particular from british, industry; factories were set up in the states and home industries developed for the production of textiles, iron, steel and machinery. the process of revolutionary transformation was most rapid in agriculture. the emancipation of the slaves had compelled the southern planters to introduce the steam plough shortly after the civil war, and new farms had sprung up in the west in the wake of the railways, which from the very beginning employed the most modern machinery and technique. 'the improvements are rapidly revolutionising the agriculture of the west, and reducing to the lowest minimum ever attained, the proportion of manual labour employed in its operations.... coincident with this application of mechanics to agriculture, systematic and enlarged business aptitudes have also sought alliance with this noble art. farms of thousands of acres have been managed with greater skill, a more economical adaptation of means to ends, and with a larger margin of real profit than many others of acres.'[ ] during this time, direct and indirect taxation had increased enormously. on june , , during the civil war, a new finance bill was passed which is the basis of the present system of taxation, and which raised taxes on consumption and income to a staggering degree. this heavy war levy served as a pretext for a real orgy of protective tariffs in order to offset the tax on home production by customs duties.[ ] messrs. morrill, stevens and the other gentlemen who advanced the war as a lever for enforcing their protectionist programme, initiated the practice of wielding the implement of a customs policy quite openly and cynically to further private profiteering interests of all descriptions. any home producer who appeared before the legislative assembly with a request for any kind of special tariff to fill his own pocket saw his demands readily granted, and the tariff rates were made as high as any interested party might wish. 'the war', writes the american taussig, 'had in many ways a bracing and ennobling influence on our national life; but its immediate effect on business affairs, and on all legislation affecting moneyed interests, was demoralising. the line between public duty and private interests was often lost sight of by legislators. great fortunes were made by changes in legislation urged and brought about by those who were benefited by them, and the country has seen with sorrow that the honour and honesty of public men did not remain undefiled.'[ ] this customs bill which completely revolutionised the country's economic life, and remained in force unchanged for twenty years, was literally pushed through congress in three days, and through the senate in two, without criticism, without debate, without any opposition whatever.[ ] down to the present day it forms the basis of u.s. customs legislation. this shift in u.s. fiscal policy ushered in an era of the most brazen parliamentary log-rolling and of undisguised and unrestrained corruption of elections, of the legislature and the press to satisfy the greed of big business. '_enrichissez-vous_' became the catchword of public life after the 'noble war' to liberate mankind from the 'blot of slavery'. on the stock exchange, the yankee negro-liberator sought his fortunes in orgies of speculation; in congress, he endowed himself with public lands, enriched himself by customs and taxes, by monopolies, fraudulent shares and theft of public funds. industry prospered. gone were the times when the small or medium farmer required hardly any money, when he could thresh and turn into cash his wheat reserves as the need arose. now he was chronically in need of money, a lot of money, to pay his taxes. soon he was forced to sell all his produce and to buy his requirements from the manufacturers in the form of ready-made goods. as peffer puts it: 'coming from that time to the present, we find that everything nearly has been changed. all over the west particularly the farmer threshes his wheat all at one time, he disposes of it all at one time, and in a great many instances the straw is wasted. he sells his hogs, and buys bacon and pork; he sells his cattle, and buys fresh beef and canned beef or corned beef, as the case may be; he sells his fruit, and buys it back in cans. if he raises flax at all, instead of putting it into yarn and making gowns for his children, as he did fifty years or more ago, he threshes his flax, sells the seed, and burns the straw. not more than one farmer in fifty now keeps sheep at all; he relies upon the large sheep farmer for the wool, which is put into cloth or clothing ready for his use. instead of having clothing made up on the farm in his own house or by a neighbour woman or country tailor a mile away, he either purchases his clothing ready made at the nearest town, or he buys the cloth and has a city tailor make it up for him. instead of making implements which he uses about the farm--forks, rakes, etc.--he goes to town to purchase even a handle for his axe or his mallet; he purchases twine and rope and all sorts of needed material made of fibres; he buys his cloth and his clothing; he buys his canned fruit and preserved fruit; he buys hams and shoulders and mess pork and mess beef; indeed, he buys nearly everything now that he produced at one time himself, and these things all cost money. besides all this, and what seems stranger than anything else, whereas in the earlier time the american home was a free home, unencumbered, not one case in a thousand where a home was mortgaged to secure the payment of borrowed money, and whereas but a small amount of money was then needed for actual use in conducting the business of farming, there was always enough of it among the farmers to supply the demand. now, when at least ten times as much is needed, there is little or none to be obtained, nearly half the farms are mortgaged for as much as they are worth, and interest rates are exorbitant. as to the cause of such wonderful changes ... the manufacturer came with his woollen mill, his carding mill, his broom factory, his rope factory, his wooden-ware factory, his cotton factory, his pork-packing establishment, his canning factory and fruit preserving houses; the little shop on the farm has given place to the large shop in town; the wagon-maker's shop in the neighbourhood has given way to the large establishment in the city where ... a hundred or two hundred wagons are made in a week; the shoemaker's shop has given way to large establishments in the cities where most of the work is done by machines.'[ ] finally, the agricultural labour of the farmer himself has become machine work: 'he ploughs and sows and reaps with machines. a machine cuts his wheat and puts it in a sheaf, and steam drives his threshers. he may read the morning paper while he ploughs and sit under an awning while he reaps.'[ ] sering estimated in the middle eighties that the necessary cash 'for a very modest beginning' of the smallest farm in the north west is £ to £ .[ ] this revolution of american agriculture after the 'great war' was not the end. it was only the beginning of the whirlpool in which the farmer was caught. his history brings us automatically to the second phase of the development of capitalist accumulation of which it is an excellent illustration.--natural economy, the production for personal needs and the close connection between industry and agriculture must be ousted and a simple commodity economy substituted for them. capitalism needs the medium of commodity production for its development, as a market for its surplus value. but as soon as simple commodity production has superseded natural economy, capital must turn against it. no sooner has capital called it to life, than the two must compete for means of production, labour power, and markets. the first aim of capitalism is to isolate the producer, to sever the community ties which protect him, and the next task is to take the means of production away from the small manufacturer. in the american union, as we have seen, the 'great war' inaugurated an era of large-scale seizure of public lands by monopolist capitalist companies and individual speculators. feverish railroad building and ever more speculation in railway shares led to a mad gamble in land, where individual soldiers of fortune and companies netted immense fortunes and even entire counties. in addition a veritable swarm of agents lured the vast flow of emigrants from europe to the u.s.a. by blatant and unscrupulous advertising, deceptions and pretences of every description. these immigrants first settled in the eastern states along the atlantic seaboard, and, with the growth of industry in these states, agriculture was driven westward. the 'wheat centre' which had been near columbus, ohio, in , in the course of the subsequent fifty years shifted to a position miles further north and miles further west. whereas in · per cent of the total wheat crop had been supplied by the eastern states, in they produced only · per cent, · per cent being supplied by the northern central and per cent by the western states. in , the congress of the union under monroe had decided to transplant the red indians from the east to the west of the mississippi. the redskins put up a desperate resistance; but all who survived the slaughter of forty red indian campaigns were swept away like so much rubbish and driven like cattle to the west to be folded in reservations like so many sheep. the red indian had been forced to make room for the farmer--and now the farmer in his turn was driven beyond the mississippi to make way for capital. following the railway tracks, the american farmer moved west and north-west into the land of promise which the great land speculators' agents had painted for him in glowing colours. yet the most fertile and most favourably situated lands were retained by the companies who farmed them extensively on completely capitalistic lines. all around the farmer who had been exiled into the wilderness, a dangerous competitor and deadly enemy sprang up--the 'bonanza farms', the great capitalist agricultural concerns which neither the old world nor the new had known before. here surplus value was produced with the application of all the resources known to modern science and technology. 'as the foremost representative of financial agriculture we may consider oliver dalrymple, whose name is to-day known on both sides of the atlantic. since he has simultaneously managed a line of steamers on the red river and six farms owned by a company of financiers and comprising some , acres. each one is divided into departments of , acres, and every department is again subdivided into three sections of acres which are run by foremen and gangleaders. barracks to shelter men and stable as many horses and mules, are built on each section, and similarly kitchens, machine sheds and workshops for blacksmiths and locksmiths. each section is completely equipped with pairs of horses, double ploughs, horse-drawn drill-ploughs, steel-toothed harrows, cutters and binders, threshers and wagons. everything is done to ensure that the machines and the living labour (men, horses and mules) are in good condition and able to do the greatest possible amount of work. there is a telephone line connecting all sections and the central management. 'the six farms of , acres are cultivated by an army of workers, organised on military lines. during the harvest, the management hires another to auxiliary workers, assigning them to the various sections. after the work is completed in the fall, the workers are dismissed with the exception of the foreman and men per section. in some farms in dakota and minnesota, horses and mules do not spend the winter at the place of work. as soon as the stubble has been ploughed in, they are driven in teams of a hundred or two hundred pairs miles to the south, to return only the following spring. 'mechanics on horseback follow the ploughing, sowing and harvesting machines when they are at work. if anything goes wrong, they gallop to the machine in question, repair it and get it moving again without delay. the harvested corn is carried to the threshing machines which work day and night without interruption. they are stoked with bundles of straw fed into the stokehold through pipes of sheet-iron. the corn is threshed, winnowed, weighed and filled into sacks by machinery, then it is put into railway trucks which run alongside the farm, and goes to duluth or buffalo. every year, dalrymple increases his land under seed by , acres. in it amounted to , acres.[ ] in the late seventies, there were already individual capitalists and companies who owned , - , acres of wheat land. since the time of lafargue's writing, extensive capitalist agriculture in america has made great strides in technique and the employment of machinery.[ ] the american farmer could not successfully compete with such capitalist enterprises. at a time when the general revolution in the conditions of finance, production and transport compelled him to give up production for personal needs and to produce exclusively for the market, the great spreading of agriculture caused a heavy fall in the prices of agricultural products. and at the precise moment when farming became dependent on the market, the agricultural market of the union was suddenly turned from a local one into a world market, and became a prey to the wild speculations of a few capitalist mammoth concerns. in , a notable year for the history of agricultural conditions in europe as well as in america, there began the mass export of wheat from the u.s.a. to europe.[ ] big business was of course the only one to profit from this expanding market. the small farmer was crushed by the competition of an increasing number of extensive farms and became the prey of speculators who bought up his corn to exert pressure on the world market. helpless in the face of the immense capitalist powers, the farmer got into debt--a phenomenon typical for a declining peasant economy. in , secretary rusk of the u.s. department of agriculture sent out a circular letter with reference to the desperate position of the farmers, saying: 'the burden of mortgages upon farms, homes, and land, is unquestionably discouraging in the extreme, and while in some cases no doubt this load may have been too readily assumed, still in the majority of cases the mortgage has been the result of necessity.... these mortgages ... drawing high rates of interest ... have to-day, in the face of continued depression of the prices of staple products, become very irksome, and in many cases threaten the farmer with loss of home and land. it is a question of grave difficulty to all those who seek to remedy the ills from which our farmers are suffering. at present prices the farmer finds that it takes more of his products to get a dollar wherewith to buy back the dollar which he borrowed than it did when he borrowed it. the interest accumulates, while the payment of the principal seems utterly hopeless, and the very depression which we are discussing makes the renewal of the mortgage most difficult.'[ ] according to the census of may , , · million farms were deep in debt; two-thirds of them were managed by the owners whose obligations amounted to nearly £ , . 'the situation is this: farmers are passing through the "valley and shadow of death"; farming as a business is profitless; values of farm products have fallen per cent since the great war, and farm values have depreciated to per cent during the last ten years; farmers are overwhelmed with debts secured by mortgages on their homes, unable in many instances to pay even the interest as it falls due, and unable to renew the loans because securities are weakening by reason of the general depression; many farmers are losing their homes under this dreadful blight, and the mortgage mill still grinds. we are in the hands of a merciless power; the people's homes are at stake.'[ ] encumbered with debts and close to ruin, the farmer had no option but to supplement his earnings by working for a wage, or else to abandon his farm altogether. provided it had not yet fallen into the clutches of his creditors like so many thousands of farms, he could shake from off his feet the dust of the 'land of promise' that had become an inferno for him. in the middle eighties, abandoned and decaying farms could be seen everywhere. in , sering wrote: 'if the farmer cannot pay his debts to date, the interest he has to pay is increased to , or even per cent. he is pressed by the banker, the machine salesman and the grocer who rob him of the fruits of his hard work.... he can either remain on the farm as a tenant or move further west, to try his fortunes elsewhere. nowhere in north america have i found so many indebted, disappointed and depressed farmers as in the wheat regions of the north western prairies. i have not spoken to a single farmer in dakota who would not have been prepared to sell his farm.[ ] 'the commissioner of agriculture of vermont in reported a wide-spread desertion of farm-lands of that state. he wrote: "... there appears to be no doubt about there being in this state large tracts of tillable unoccupied lands, which can be bought at a price approximating the price of western lands, situated near school and church, and not far from railroad facilities. the commissioner has not visited all of the counties in the state where these lands are reported, but he has visited enough to satisfy him that, while much of the unoccupied and formerly cultivated land is now practically worthless for cultivation, yet very much of it can be made to yield a liberal reward to intelligent labour."'[ ] the commissioner of the state of new hampshire issued a pamphlet in , devoting pages to the description of farms for sale at the lowest figures. he describes farms with tenantable buildings, abandoned only recently. the same has happened in other districts. thousands of acres once raising corn and wheat are left untilled and run to brush and wood. in order to resettle the deserted land, speculators engaged in advertising campaigns and attracted crowds of new immigrants--new victims who were to suffer their predecessors' fate even more speedily. a private letter says: 'in the neighbourhood of railroads and markets, there remains no common land. it is all in the hands of the speculators. a settler takes over vacant land and counts for a farmer; but the management of his farm hardly assures his livelihood, and he cannot possibly compete with the big farmer. he tills as much of his land as the law compels him to do, but to make a comfortable living, he must look for additional sources of income outside agriculture. in oregon, for instance, i have met a settler who owned acres for five years, but every summer, until the end of july, he worked twelve hours a day for a dollar a day at road-making. this man, of course, also counts as one of the five million farmers in the census. again, in the county of eldorado, i saw many farmers who cultivated their land only to feed their cattle and themselves. there would have been no profit in producing for the market, and their chief income derives from gold-digging, the felling and selling of timber, etc. these people are prosperous, but it is not agriculture which makes them so. two years ago, we worked in long cañon, eldorado county, living in a cabin on an allotment. the owner of this allotment came home only once a year for a couple of days, and worked the rest of the time on the railway in sacramento. some years ago, a small part of the allotment was cultivated, to comply with the law, but now it is left completely untilled. a few acres are fenced off with wire, and there is a log cabin and a shed. but during the last years all this stands empty; a neighbour has the key and he made us free of the hut. in the course of our journey, we saw many deserted allotments, where attempts at farming had been made. three years ago i was offered a farm with dwelling house for a hundred dollars, but in a short time the unoccupied house collapsed under the snow. in oregon, we saw many derelict farms with small dwelling houses and vegetable gardens. one we visited was beautifully made: a sturdy block house, fashioned by a master-builder, and some equipment; but the farmer had abandoned it all. you were welcome to take it all without charge.'[ ] where could the ruined american farmer turn? he set out on a pilgrimage to follow the wheat centre and the railways. the former had shifted in the main to canada, the saskatchewan and the mackenzie river where wheat can still thrive on the nd parallel. a number of american farmers followed--and after some time in canada, they suffered the old fate.[ ] during recent years, canada has entered the world market as a wheat-exporting country, but her agriculture is dominated to an even greater extent by big capital than elsewhere.[ ] in canada, public lands were lavished upon private capitalist companies on an even more monstrous scale than in the united states. under the charter of the canadian pacific railway company with its grant of land, private capital perpetrated an unprecedented act of robbing the public. not only that the company was guaranteed a twenty years' monopoly of railway-building, not only that it got a building site of about miles free of charge, not only that it got a years' state guarantee of the per cent interest on the share capital of £m. --to crown it all, the company was given the choice of million acres out of the most fertile and favourably situated lands, not necessarily in the immediate vicinity of the permanent way, as a free gift. all future settlers on this vast area were thus at the mercy of railway capital from the very outset. the railway company, in its turn, immediately proceeded to sell off million acres for ready cash to the north-west land company, an association of british capitalists under the chairmanship of the duke of manchester. the second group of capitalists which was liberally endowed with public lands was the hudson bay company, which was given a title to no less than one-twentieth of all the lands between lake winnipeg, the u.s. border, the rocky mountains, and northern saskatchewan, for renouncing their privileges in the north-west. between them, these two capitalist groups had gained possession of five-ninths of all the land that could be settled. a considerable part of the other lands was assigned by the state to capitalist 'colonising companies'.[ ] thus the canadian farmer was practically everywhere ensnared by capital and capitalist speculation. and still mass immigration continued--not only from europe, but also from the united states! these are the characteristics of capitalist domination on an international scale. having evicted the peasant from his soil, it drives him from england to the east of the united states, and from there to the west, and on the ruins of the red indians' economy it transforms him back into a small commodity producer. then, when he is ruined once more, he is driven from the west to the north. with the railways in the van, and ruin in the rear--capital leads the way, its passage is marked with universal destruction. the great fall of prices in the nineties is again succeeded by higher prices for agricultural products, but this is of no more avail to the small american farmer than to the european peasant. yet the numbers of farmers are constantly swelling. in the last decade of the nineteenth century they had grown from , , to , , , and the following ten years still saw an absolute increase. the aggregate value of farms had during the same period risen from £ , , to £ , , .[ ] we might have expected the general increase in the price of farm produce to have helped the farmer to come into his own. but that is not so; we see that the growing numbers of tenant farmers outstrip the increase in the farming population as a whole. in , the proportion of tenant farmers amounted to · per cent of the total number of farmers in the union, in it was · per cent, in · per cent, and in · per cent. though prices for farm produce were rising, the tenant farmer was more and more rapidly stepping into the shoes of the independent farmer. and although much more than one-third of all farmers in the union are now tenant farmers, their social status in the united states is that of the agricultural labourer in europe. constantly fluctuating, they are indeed wage-slaves of capital; they work very hard to create wealth for capital, getting nothing in return but a miserable and precarious existence. in quite a different historical setting, in south africa, the same process shows up even more clearly the 'peaceful methods' by which capital competes with the small commodity producer. in the cape colony and the boer republics, pure peasant economy prevailed until the sixties of the last century. for a long time the boers had led the life of animal-tending nomads; they had killed off or driven out the hottentots and kaffirs with a will in order to deprive them of their most valuable pastures. in the eighteenth century they were given invaluable assistance by the plague, imported by ships of the east india company, which frequently did away with entire hottentot tribes whose lands then fell to the dutch immigrants. when the boers spread further east, they came in conflict with the bantu tribes and initiated the long period of the terrible kaffir wars. these god-fearing dutchmen regarded themselves as the chosen people and took no small pride in their old-fashioned puritan morals and their intimate knowledge of the old testament; yet, not content with robbing the natives of their land, they built their peasant economy like parasites on the backs of the negroes, compelling them to do slave-labour for them and corrupting and enervating them deliberately and systematically. liquor played such an important part in this process, that the prohibition of spirits in the cape colony could not be carried through by the english government because of puritan opposition. there were no railways until , and boer economy in general and on the whole remained patriarchal and based on natural economy until the sixties. but their patriarchal attitude did not deter the boers from extreme brutality and harshness. it is well known that livingstone complained much more about the boers than about the kaffirs. the boers considered the negroes an object, destined by god and nature to slave for them, and as such an indispensable foundation of their peasant economy. so much so that their answer to the abolition of slavery in the english colonies in was the 'great trek', although there the owners had been compensated with £ , , . by way of the orange river and vaal, the boers emigrated from the cape colony, and in the process they drove the matabele to the north, across the limpopo, setting them against the makalakas. just as the american farmer had driven the red indian west before him under the impact of capitalist economy, so the boer drove the negro to the north. the 'free republics' between the orange river and the limpopo thus were created as a protest against the designs of the english bourgeoisie on the sacred right of slavery. the tiny peasant republics were in constant guerilla warfare against the bantu negroes. and it was on the backs of the negroes that the battle between the boers and the english government, which went on for decades, was fought. the negro question, i.e. the emancipation of the negroes, ostensibly aimed at by the english bourgeoisie, served as a pretext for the conflict between england and the republics. in fact, peasant economy and great capitalist colonial policy were here competing for the hottentots and kaffirs, that is to say for their land and their labour power. both competitors had precisely the same aim: to subject, expel or destroy the coloured peoples, to appropriate their land and press them into service by the abolition of their social organisations. only their methods of exploitation were fundamentally different. while the boers stood for out-dated slavery on a petty scale, on which their patriarchal peasant economy was founded, the british bourgeoisie represented modern large-scale capitalist exploitation of the land and the natives. the constitution of the transvaal (south african) republic declared with crude prejudice: 'the people shall not permit any equality of coloured persons with white inhabitants, neither in the church nor in the state.'[ ] in the orange free state and in the transvaal no negro was allowed to own land, to travel without papers or to walk abroad after sunset. bryce tells us of a case where a farmer, an englishman as it happened, in the eastern cape colony had flogged his kaffir slave to death. when he was acquitted in open court, his neighbours escorted him home to the strains of music. the white man frequently maltreated his free native labourers after they had done their work--to such an extent that they would take to flight, thus saving the master their wages. the british government employed precisely the opposite tactics. for a long time it appeared as protector of the natives; flattering the chieftains in particular, it supported their authority and tried to make them claim a right of disposal over their land. wherever it was possible, it gave them ownership of tribal land, according to well-tried methods, although this flew in the face of tradition and of the actual social organisation of the negroes. all tribes in fact held their land communally, and even the most cruel and despotic rulers such as the matabele chieftain lobengula merely had the right as well as the duty to allot every family a piece of land which they could only retain so long as they cultivated it. the ultimate purpose of the british government was clear: long in advance it was preparing for land robbery on a grand scale, using the native chieftains themselves as tools. but in the beginning it was content with the 'pacification' of the negroes by extensive military actions. up to were fought bloody kaffir wars to break the resistance of the bantus. british capital revealed its real intentions only after two important events had taken place: the discovery of the kimberley diamond fields in - , and the discovery of the gold mines in the transvaal in - , which initiated a new epoch in the history of south africa. then the british south africa company, that is to say cecil rhodes, went into action. public opinion in england rapidly swung over, and the greed for the treasures of south africa urged the british government on to drastic measures. south africa was suddenly flooded with immigrants who had hitherto only appeared in small numbers--immigration having been deflected to the united states. but with the discovery of the diamond and gold fields, the numbers of white people in the south african colonies grew by leaps and bounds: between and , , british had immigrated into witwatersrand alone. the modest peasant economy was forthwith pushed into the background--the mines, and thus the mining capital, coming to the fore. the policy of the british government veered round abruptly. great britain had recognised the boer republics by the sand river agreement and the treaty of bloemfontein in the fifties. now her political might advanced upon the tiny republics from every side, occupying all neighbouring districts and cutting off all possibility of expansion. at the same time the negroes, no longer protected favourites, were sacrificed. british capital was steadily forging ahead. in , britain took over the rule of basutoland--only, of course, because the natives had 'repeatedly implored' her to do so.[ ] in , the witwatersrand diamond fields, or west griqualand, were seized from the orange free state and turned into a crown colony. in , zululand was subjected, later to become part of the natal colony; in followed the subjection of bechuanaland, to be joined to the cape colony. in britain took over matabele and mashonaland, and in the british south africa company was given a charter for both these districts, again, of course, only to oblige the natives and at their request.[ ] between and , britain annexed st. lucia bay and the entire east coast as far as the portuguese possessions. in , she subjected tongaland. with their last strength, the matabele and mashona fought one more desperate battle, but the company, with rhodes at the head, first liquidated the rising in blood and at once proceeded to the well-tried measure for civilising and pacifying the natives: two large railways were built in the rebellious district. the boer republics were feeling increasingly uncomfortable in this sudden stranglehold, and their internal affairs as well were becoming completely disorganised. the overwhelming influx of immigrants and the rising tides of the frenzied new capitalist economy now threatened to burst the barriers of the small peasant states. there was indeed a blatant conflict between agricultural and political peasant economy on the one hand, and the demands and requirements of the accumulation of capital on the other. in all respects, the republics were quite unable to cope with these new problems. the constant danger from the kaffirs, no doubt regarded favourably by the british, the unwieldy, primitive administration, the gradual corruption of the _volksraad_ in which the great capitalists got their way by bribery, lack of a police force to keep the undisciplined crowds of adventurers in some semblance of order, the absence of labour legislation for regulating and securing the exploitation of the negroes in the mines, lack of water supplies and transport to provide for the colony of , immigrants that had suddenly sprung up, high protective tariffs which increased the cost of labour for the capitalists, and high freights for coal--all these factors combined towards the sudden and stunning bankruptcy of the peasant republics. they tried, obstinately and unimaginatively, to defend themselves against the sudden eruption of capitalism which engulfed them, with an incredibly crude measure, such as only a stubborn and hide-bound peasant brain could have devised: they denied all civic rights to the _uitlanders_ who outnumbered them by far and who stood for capital, power, and the trend of the time. in those critical times it was an ill-omened trick. the mismanagement of the peasant republics caused a considerable reduction of dividends, on no account to be put up with. mining capital had come to the end of its tether. the british south africa company built railroads, put down the kaffirs, organised revolts of the _uitlanders_ and finally provoked the boer war. the bell had tolled for peasant economy. in the united states, the economic revolution had begun with a war, in south africa war put the period to this chapter. yet in both instances, the outcome was the same: capital triumphed over the small peasant economy which had in its turn come into being on the ruins of natural economy, represented by the natives' primitive organisations. the domination of capital was a foregone conclusion, and it was just as hopeless for the boer republics to resist as it had been for the american farmer. capital officially took over the reins in the new south african union which replaced the small peasant republics by a great modern state, as envisaged by cecil rhodes' imperialist programme. the new conflict between capital and labour had superseded the old one between british and dutch. one million white exploiters of both nations sealed their touching fraternal alliance within the union with the civil and political disfranchisement of five million coloured workers. not only the negroes of the boer republics came away empty-handed, but the natives of the cape colony, whom the british government had at one time granted political equality, were also deprived of some of their rights. and this noble work, culminating under the imperialist policy of the conservatives in open oppression, was actually to be finished by the liberal party itself, amid frenzied applause from the 'liberal cretins of europe' who with sentimental pride took as proof of the still continuing creative vigour and greatness of english liberalism the fact that britain had granted complete self-government and freedom to a handful of whites in south africa. the ruin of independent craftsmanship by capitalist competition, no less painful for being soft-pedalled, deserves by rights a chapter to itself. the most sinister part of such a chapter would be out-work under capitalism;--but we need not dwell on these phenomena here. the general result of the struggle between capitalism and simple commodity production is this: after substituting commodity economy for natural economy, capital takes the place of simple commodity economy. non-capitalist organisations provide a fertile soil for capitalism; more strictly: capital feeds on the ruins of such organisations, and although this non-capitalist _milieu_ is indispensable for accumulation, the latter proceeds at the cost of this medium nevertheless, by eating it up. historically, the accumulation of capital is a kind of metabolism between capitalist economy and those pre-capitalist methods of production without which it cannot go on and which, in this light, it corrodes and assimilates. thus capital cannot accumulate without the aid of non-capitalist organisations, nor, on the other hand, can it tolerate their continued existence side by side with itself. only the continuous and progressive disintegration of non-capitalist organisations makes accumulation of capital possible. the premises which are postulated in marx's diagram of accumulation accordingly represent no more than the historical tendency of the movement of accumulation and its logical conclusion. the accumulative process endeavours everywhere to substitute simple commodity economy for natural economy. its ultimate aim, that is to say, is to establish the exclusive and universal domination of capitalist production in all countries and for all branches of industry. yet this argument does not lead anywhere. as soon as this final result is achieved--in theory, of course, because it can never actually happen--accumulation must come to a stop. the realisation and capitalisation of surplus value become impossible to accomplish. just as soon as reality begins to correspond to marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction, the end of accumulation is in sight, it has reached its limits, and capitalist production is _in extremis_. for capital, the standstill of accumulation means that the development of the productive forces is arrested, and the collapse of capitalism follows inevitably, as an objective historical necessity. this is the reason for the contradictory behaviour of capitalism in the final stage of its historical career: imperialism. marx's diagram of enlarged reproduction thus does not conform to the conditions of an accumulation in actual progress. progressive accumulation cannot be reduced to static interrelations and interdependence between the two great departments of social production (the departments of producer and consumer goods), as the diagram would have it. accumulation is more than an internal relationship between the branches of capitalist economy; it is primarily a relationship between capital and a non-capitalist environment, where the two great departments of production sometimes perform the accumulative process on their own, independently of each other, but even then at every step the movements overlap and intersect. from this we get most complicated relations, divergencies in the speed and direction of accumulation for the two departments, different relations with non-capitalist modes of production as regards both material elements and elements of value, which we cannot possibly lay down in rigid formulæ. marx's diagram of accumulation is only the theoretical reflection of the precise moment when the domination of capital has reached its limits, and thus it is no less a fiction than his diagram of simple reproduction, which gives the theoretical formulation for the point of departure of capitalist accumulation. the precise definition of capitalist accumulation and its laws lies somewhere in between these two fictions. footnotes: [ ] until recently, in china the domestic industries were widely practised even by the bourgeoisie and in such large and ancient towns as ningpo with its , inhabitants. 'only a generation ago, the family's shoes, hats, shirts, etc., were made by the women themselves. at that time, it was practically unheard-of for a young woman to buy from a merchant what she could have made with the labour of her own hands' (dr. nyok-ching tsur, 'forms of industry in the town of ningpo' (_die gewerblichen betriebsformen der stadt ningpo_), tuebingen, , p. ). [ ] admittedly, this relation is reversed in the last stages of the history of peasant economy when capitalist production has made its full impact. once the small peasants are ruined, the entire work of farming frequently devolves on the women, old people and children, while the men are made to work for their living for capitalist entrepreneurs in the domestic industries or as wage-slaves in the factories. a typical instance is the small peasant in wuerttemberg. [ ] w. a. peffer, _the farmer's side. his troubles and their remedy_ (new york, ), part ii, 'how we got here', chap. i, 'changed conditions of the farmer', pp. - . cf. also a. m. simmons, _the american farmer_ ( nd edition, chicago, ), pp. ff. [ ] report of the u.s.a. commissioner of agriculture for the year (washington, ). quoted by lafargue: _getreidebau und getreidehandel in den vereinigten staaten_ in _die neue zeit_ ( ), p. . this essay on grain cultivation and the grain trade in the u.s.a. was first published in a russian periodical in . [ ] 'the three revenue acts of june , , practically formed one measure, and that probably the greatest measure of taxation which the world has seen.... the internal revenue act was arranged, as mr. david a. wells has said, on the principle of the irishman at donnybrook fair: "whenever you see a head, hit it, whenever you see a commodity, tax it"' (f. w. taussig, _the tariff history of the united states_ (new york-london, ), pp. - ). [ ] ibid., pp. - . [ ] 'the necessity of the situation, the critical state of the country, the urgent need of revenue, may have justified this haste, which, it is safe to say, is unexampled in the history of civilised countries' (taussig, op. cit., p. ). [ ] peffer, op. cit., pp. ff. [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] 'agricultural competition in north america' (_die landwirtschaftliche konkurrenz nordamerikas_) leipzig, , p. . [ ] lafargue, op. cit., p. . [ ] the thirteenth annual report of the commissioner of labour (washington, ) tables the advantages of machinery methods over hand methods so far achieved as follows: ---------------------------------------------------------------- | _labour time per unit_ |--------------------------- _type of work_ | _machine_ | _hand_ |-------------+------------- |_hrs._|_min._|_hrs._|_min._ ------------------------------------+------+------+------+------ planting small corn | -- | · | | harvesting and threshing small corn | | -- | | planting corn | -- | · | | cutting corn | | · | | -- shelling corn | -- | · | | planting cotton | | | | cultivating cotton | | | | -- mowing grass (scythe _v._ mower) | | · | | harvesting and baling hay | | · | | anting potatoes | | · | | -- anting tomatoes | | | | -- cultivating and harvesting tomatoes | | · | | ---------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] wheat exports from the union to europe: _year_ _million bushels_ _year_ _million bushels_ - · - · - · - · - · - · (juraschek's _uebersichten der weltwirtschaft_, vol. vii, part i, p. ). simultaneously, the price per bushel wheat _loco_ farm (in cents) declined as follows: - - since , when it had reached the low level of cents per bushel, the price is moving up again: (ibid., p. ). according to the 'monthly returns on external trade' (_monatliche nachweise über den auswärtigen handel_), the price (in marks) per , _kg._, was in june : berlin · london · new york · odessa · mannheim · paris · [ ] peffer, op. cit., part i, 'where we are', chap, ii, 'progress of agriculture', pp. - . [ ] ibid., p. . [ ] sering, op. cit., p. . [ ] peffer, op. cit., pp. f. [ ] quoted by nikolayon, op. cit., p. . [ ] , people immigrated to canada in . in , the number of immigrants was more than , -- , of them british, and , american. according to a report from montreal, the influx of american farmers continued into the spring of the present year [ ]. [ ] 'travelling in the west of canada, i have visited only one farm of less than a thousand acres. according to the census of the dominion of canada, in , when the census was taken, no more than , farmers occupied , , acres of land between them; accordingly, the share of an individual (farmer) amounted to no less than , acres--in no state of the union is the average anywhere near that' (sering, op. cit., p. ). in the early eighties, farming on a large scale was admittedly not very widely spread in canada. but already in , sering describes the 'bell farm', owned by a limited company, which comprised no fewer than , acres, and was obviously modelled on the pattern of the dalrymple farm. in the eighties, sering, who regarded the prospects of canadian competition with some scepticism, put the 'fertile belt' of western canada at three-fifths of the entire acreage of germany, and estimated that actually only , , acres of this were arable land, and no more than , , acres at best were prospective wheat land (sering, op. cit., pp. - ). the _manitoba free press_ in june , worked out that in summer, , , , acres were sown with spring wheat in canada, as against , , acres under spring wheat in the united states. (cf. _berliner tageblatt, handelszeitung_, no. , june , .) [ ] sering, op. cit., pp. ff. [ ] ernst schultze, '_das wirtschaftsleben der vereinigten staaten_', _jahrb. f. gesetzg., verw. u. volkswirtschaft _, no. , p. . [ ] article . [ ] 'moshesh, the great basuto leader, to whose courage and statesmanship the basutos owed their very existence as a people, was still alive at the time, but constant war with the boers of the orange free state had brought him and his followers to the last stage of distress. two thousand basuto warriors had been killed, cattle had been carried off, native homes had been broken up and crops destroyed. the tribe was reduced to the position of starving refugees, and nothing could save them but the protection of the british government which they had repeatedly implored' (c. p. lucas, _a historical geography of the british colonies_, part ii, vol. iv (geography of south and east africa), oxford, , p. ). [ ] 'the eastern section of the territory is mashonaland where, with the permission of king lobengula, who claimed it, the british south africa company first established themselves' (ibid., p. ). _chapter xxx_ international loans the imperialist phase of capitalist accumulation which implies universal competition comprises the industrialisation and capitalist emancipation of the _hinterland_ where capital formerly realised its surplus value. characteristic of this phase are: lending abroad, railroad constructions, revolutions, and wars. the last decade, from to , shows in particular the world-wide movement of capital, especially in asia and neighbouring europe: in russia, turkey, persia, india, japan, china, and also in north africa. just as the substitution of commodity economy for a natural economy and that of capitalist production for a simple commodity production was achieved by wars, social crises and the destruction of entire social systems, so at present the achievement of capitalist autonomy in the _hinterland_ and backward colonies is attained amidst wars and revolutions. revolution is an essential for the process of capitalist emancipation. the backward communities must shed their obsolete political organisations, relics of natural and simple commodity economy, and create a modern state machinery adapted to the purposes of capitalist production. the revolutions in turkey, russia, and china fall under this heading. the last two, in particular, do not exclusively serve the immediate political requirements of capitalism; to some extent they carry over outmoded pre-capitalist claims while on the other hand they already embody new conflicts which run counter to the domination of capital. these factors account for their immense drive, but at the same time impede and delay the ultimate victory of the revolutionary forces. a young state will usually sever the leading strings of older capitalist states by wars, which temper and test the modern state's capitalist independence in a baptism by fire. that is why military together with financial reforms invariably herald the bid for economic independence. the forward-thrusts of capital are approximately reflected in the development of the railway network. the permanent way grew most quickly in europe during the forties, in america in the fifties, in asia in the sixties, in australia during the seventies and eighties, and during the nineties in africa.[ ] public loans for railroad building and armaments accompany all stages of the accumulation of capital: the introduction of commodity economy, industrialisation of countries, capitalist revolutionisation of agriculture as well as the emancipation of young capitalist states. for the accumulation of capital, the loan has various functions: (_a_) it serves to convert the money of non-capitalist groups into capital, i.e. money both as a commodity equivalent (lower middle-class savings) and as fund of consumption for the hangers-on of the capitalist class; (_b_) it serves to transform money capital into productive capital by means of state enterprise--railroad building and military supplies; (_c_) it serves to divert accumulated capital from the old capitalist countries to young ones. in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the loan transferred capital from the italian cities to england, in the eighteenth century from holland to england, in the nineteenth century from england to the american republics and australia, from france, germany and belgium to russia, and at the present time [ ] from germany to turkey, from england, germany and france to china, and, via russia, to persia. in the imperialist era, the foreign loan played an outstanding part as a means for young capitalist states to acquire independence. the contradictions inherent in the modern system of foreign loans are the concrete expression of those which characterise the imperialist phase. though foreign loans are indispensable for the emancipation of the rising capitalist states, they are yet the surest ties by which the old capitalist states maintain their influence, exercise financial control and exert pressure on the customs, foreign and commercial policy of the young capitalist states. pre-eminently channels for the investment in new spheres of capital accumulated in the old countries, such loans widen the scope for the accumulation of capital; but at the same time they restrict it by creating new competition for the investing countries. these inherent conflicts of the international loan system are a classic example of spatio-temporal divergencies between the conditions for the realisation of surplus value and the capitalisation thereof. while realisation of the surplus value requires only the general spreading of commodity production, its capitalisation demands the progressive supercession of simple commodity production by capitalist economy, with the corollary that the limits to both the realisation and the capitalisation of surplus value keep contracting ever more. employment of international capital in the construction of the international railway network reflects this disparity. between the thirties and the sixties of the nineteenth century, railway building and the loans necessary for it mainly served to oust natural economy, and to spread commodity economy--as in the case of the russian railway loans in the sixties, or in that of the american railways which were built with european capital. railway construction in africa and asia during the last twenty years, on the other hand, almost exclusively served the purposes of an imperialist policy, of economic monopolisation and economic subjugation of the backward communities. as regards russia's railroad construction in eastern asia, for instance, it is common knowledge that russia had paved the way for the military occupation of manchuria by sending troops to protect her engineers working on the manchurian railway. with the same object in view, russia obtained railway concessions in persia, germany in asia minor and mesopotamia, and britain and germany in africa. in this connection, we must deal with a misunderstanding concerning the capital investments in foreign countries and the demand of these countries for capital imports. already in the early twenties of the last century, the export of british capital to america played an important part, being largely responsible for the first genuine industrial and commercial crises in england in . since , the london stock exchange had been flooded with south american stocks and shares. during the following year, the newly created states of south and central america raised loans in london alone for more than £ , , , and in addition, enormous quantities of south american industrial shares and similar bonds were sold. this sudden prosperity and the opening up of the south american markets in their turn called forth greatly increased exports of british commodities to the latin americas. british commodity exports to these countries amounted to £ , , in which had risen to £ , , by . cotton textiles formed the most important item of these exports; this powerful demand was the impetus for a rapid expansion of british cotton production, and many new factories were opened. in , raw cotton to the value of £m. was made up in england, and in the amount had risen to £m. . the situation was thus fraught with the elements of a crisis. tugan baranovski raises the question: 'but from where did the south american countries take the means to buy twice as many commodities in as in ? the british themselves supplied these means. the loans floated on the london stock exchange served as payment for imported goods. deceived by the demand they had themselves created, the british factory-owners were soon brought to realise by their own experience that their high expectations had been unfounded.'[ ] he thus characterises as 'deceptive', as an unhealthy, abnormal economic phenomenon the fact that the south american demand for english goods had been brought about by british capital. thus uncritically he took over the doctrine of an expert with whose other theories he wished to have nothing in common. the opinion had been advanced already during the english crisis of that it could be explained by the 'singular' development of the relations between british capital and south american demand. none other than sismondi had raised the same question as tugan baranovski and given a most accurate description of events in the second edition of his _nouveaux principes_: 'the opening up of the immense market afforded by spanish america to industrial producers seemed to offer a good opportunity to relieve british manufacture. the british government were of that opinion, and in the seven years following the crisis of , displayed unheard-of activity to carry english commerce to penetrate the remotest districts of mexico, columbia, brazil, rio de la plata, chile and peru. before the government decided to recognise these new states, it had to protect english commerce by frequent calls of battleships whose captains had a diplomatic rather than a military mission. in consequence, it had defied the clamours of the holy alliance and recognised the new republics at a moment when the whole of europe, on the contrary, was plotting their ruin. but however big the demand afforded by free america, yet it would not have been enough to absorb all the goods england had produced over and above the needs of consumption, had not their means for buying english merchandise been suddenly increased beyond all bounds by the loans to the new republics. every american state borrowed from england an amount sufficient to consolidate its government. although they were capital loans, they were immediately spent in the course of the year like income, that is to say they were used up entirely to buy english goods on behalf of the treasury, or to pay for those which had been dispatched on private orders. at the same time, numerous companies with immense capitals were formed to exploit all the american mines, but all the money they spent found its way back to england, either to pay for the machinery which they immediately used, or else for the goods sent to the localities where they were to work. as long as this singular commerce lasted, in which the english only asked the americans to be kind enough to buy english merchandise with english capital, and to consume them for their sake, the prosperity of english manufacture appeared dazzling. it was no more income but rather english capital which was used to push on consumption: the english themselves bought and paid for their own goods which they sent to america, and thereby merely forwent the pleasure of using these goods.'[ ] from this sismondi drew the characteristic conclusion that the real limits to the capitalist market are set by income, i.e. by personal consumption alone, and he used this example as one more warning against accumulation. down to the present day, the events which preceded the crisis of have remained typical for a period of boom and expansion of capital, and such 'singular commerce' is in fact one of the most important foundations of the accumulation of capital. particularly in the history of british capital, it occurs regularly before every crisis, as tugan baranovski himself showed by the following facts and figures: the immediate cause of the crisis was the flooding of the american market with british goods, again financed by british money. in , u.s. commodity imports exceeded exports by £m. · but at the same time their imports of precious metal exceeded exports by nearly £m. · . even in , the year of the crisis itself, their surplus of imported commodities amounted to £m. · , and still the excess of bullion imported was £m. . this influx of money, no less than the stream of goods, came chiefly from england, where u.s. railway shares were bought in bulk. / saw the opening in the united states of sixty-one new banks with a capital of £m. · , predominantly british. again, the english paid for their exports themselves. the unprecedented industrial boom in the northern states of the union, eventually leading to the civil war, was likewise financed by british capital, which again created an expanding market for british industry in the united states. and not only british capital--other european capitals also made every possible effort to take part in this 'singular commerce'. to quote schaeffle, in the five years between and , at least £m. were invested in american shares on the various stock exchanges of europe. the simultaneous revival of world industry attained such dimensions that it culminated in the world crash of .--in the sixties, british capital lost no time in creating similar conditions in asia as well as the united states. an unending stream was diverted to asia minor and east india, where it financed the most magnificent railroad projects. the permanent way of british india amounted in to miles, in to , miles, in to , miles and in to , miles. this at once increased the demand for british commodities. no sooner had the war of secession come to a close, than british capital again flowed into the united states. it again paid for the greater part of the enormous railroad constructions in the union during the sixties and seventies, the permanent way amounting in to , miles, in to , miles, in to , miles, in to , miles, and in to , miles. materials for these railways were also being supplied by england--one of the main causes for the rapid development of the british coal and iron industries and the reasons why these industries were so seriously affected by the american crises of , and . what sismondi considered sheer lunacy was in this instance literally true: the british with their own materials, their own iron etc., had built railroads in the united states, they had paid for the railways with their own capital and only forwent their 'use'. in spite of all periodical crises, however, european capital had acquired such a taste for this madness, that the london stock exchange was seized by a veritable epidemic of foreign loans in the middle of the seventies. between and , loans of this kind, amounting to £m. , were raised in london. the immediate consequence was a rapid increase in the overseas export of british merchandise. although the foreign countries concerned went periodically bankrupt, masses of capital continued to flow in. turkey, egypt, greece, bolivia, costa rica, ecuador, honduras, mexico, paraguay, peru, st. domingo, uruguay, and venezuela completely or partially suspended their payments of interest in the late seventies. yet undeterred by this, the fever for exotic state loans burst out again at the end of the eighties--the south american states and south african colonies were lent immense quantities of european capital. in , for instance, the argentine republic borrowed as much as £m. and the loan had risen to £m. by . england built railways with her own iron and coal in all these countries as well, paying for them with her own capital. in , the argentine permanent way had been , miles, in it was , miles. exports from england were rising accordingly: ---------------------------- | | ----------+--------+-------- | £m. | £m. iron | · | · machinery | | · coal | | ---------------------------- british total exports (mainly to the argentine) amounted to £m. · in and to £m. · a mere four years later. at the same time, british capital flowed into australia in the form of state loans. at the end of the eighties the loans to the three colonies victoria, new south wales and tasmania amounted to £m. , £m. of which were invested in railway construction. the permanent way of australia extended over , miles in , and over , miles in . britain, supplying capital and materials for these railways, was also embroiled in the crises of in the argentine, transvaal, mexico, uruguay, and in that of in australia. the following two decades made a difference only in so far as german, french and belgian capital largely participated with british capital in foreign investments, while railway construction in asia minor had been financed entirely by british capital from the fifties to the late eighties. from then on, german capital took over and put into execution the tremendous project of the anatolian railway. german capital investments in turkey gave rise to an increased export of german goods to that country. in , german exports to turkey amounted to £m. · , in to £m. · . to asiatic turkey, in particular, goods were exported in to the value of £m. · and in to the value of £m. · . in this case, german capital was used to a considerable extent to pay for german goods, the germans forgoing, to use sismondi's term, only the pleasure of using their own products. let us examine the position more closely: realised surplus value, which cannot be capitalised and lies idle in england or germany, is invested in railway construction, water works, etc. in the argentine, australia, the cape colony or mesopotamia. machinery, materials and the like are supplied by the country where the capital has originated, and the same capital pays for them. actually, this process characterises capitalist conditions everywhere, even at home. capital must purchase the elements of production and thus become productive capital before it can operate. admittedly, the products are then used within the country, while in the former case they are used by foreigners. but then capitalist production does not aim at its products being enjoyed, but at the accumulation of surplus value. there had been no demand for the surplus product within the country, so capital had lain idle without the possibility of accumulating. but abroad, where capitalist production has not yet developed, there has come about, voluntarily or by force, a new demand of the non-capitalist strata. the consumption of the capitalist and working classes at home is irrelevant for the purposes of accumulation, and what matters to capital is the very fact that its products are 'used' by _others_. the new consumers must indeed realise the products, pay for their use, and for this they need money. they can obtain some of it by the exchange of commodities which begins at this point, a brisk traffic in goods following hard on the heels of railway construction and mining (gold mines, etc.). thus the capital advanced for railroad building and mining, together with an additional surplus value, is gradually realised. it is immaterial to the situation as a whole whether this exported capital becomes share capital in new independent enterprises, or whether, as a government loan, it uses the mediation of a foreign state to find new scope for operation in industry and traffic, nor does it matter if in the first case some of the companies are fraudulent and fail in due course, or if in the second case the borrowing state finally goes bankrupt, i.e. if the owners sometimes lose part of their capital in one way or another. even the country of origin is not immune, and individual capitals frequently get lost in crises. the important point is that capital accumulated in the old country should find elsewhere new opportunities to beget and realise surplus value, so that accumulation can proceed. in the new countries, large regions of natural economy are open to conversion into commodity economy, or existing commodity economy can be ousted by capital. railroad construction and mining, gold mining in particular, are typical for the investment of capitals from old capitalist countries in new ones. they are pre-eminently qualified to stimulate a brisk traffic in goods under conditions hitherto determined by natural economy and both are significant in economic history as mile-stones along the route of rapid dissolution of old economic organisations, of social crises and of the development of modern conditions, that is to say of the development of commodity economy to begin with, and further of the production of capital. for this reason, the part played by lending abroad as well as by capital investments in foreign railway and mining shares is a fine sample of the deficiencies in marx's diagram of accumulation. in these instances, enlarged reproduction of capital capitalises a surplus value that has already been realised (in so far as the loans or foreign investments are not financed by the savings of the petty bourgeoisie or the semi-proletariat). it is quite irrelevant to the present field of accumulation, when, where and how the capital of the old countries has been realised so that it may flow into the new country. british capital which finds an outlet in argentine railway construction might well in the past have been realised in china in the form of indian opium. further, the british capital which builds railways in the argentine, is of english origin not only in its pure value-form, as money capital, but also in its material form, as iron, coal and machinery; the use-form of the surplus value, that is to say, has also come into being from the very beginning in the use-form suitable for the purposes of accumulation. the actual use-form of the variable capital, however, labour power, is mainly foreign: it is the native labour of the new countries which is made a new object of exploitation by the capital of the old countries. if we want to keep our investigation all on one plane, we may even assume that the labour power, too, has the same country of origin as the capital. in point of fact new discoveries, of gold mines for instance, tend to call forth mass emigration from the old countries, especially in the first stages, and are largely worked by labour from those countries. it might well be, then, that in a new country capital, labour power and means of production all come from the same capitalist country, say england. so it is really in england that all the material conditions for accumulation exist--a realised surplus value as money capital, a surplus product in productive form, and lastly labour reserves. yet accumulation cannot proceed here: england and her old buyers require neither railways nor an expanded industry. enlarged reproduction, i.e. accumulation, is possible only if new districts with a non-capitalist civilisation, extending over large areas, appear on the scene and augment the number of consumers. but then, who are these new consumers actually; who is it that realises the surplus value of capitalist enterprises which are started with foreign loans; and who, in the final analysis, pays for these loans? the international loans in egypt provide a classical answer. the internal history of egypt in the second half of the nineteenth century is characterised by the interplay of three phenomena: large-scale capitalist enterprise, a rapidly growing public debt, and the collapse of peasant economy. until quite recently, _corvée_ prevailed in egypt, and the wali and later the khedive freely pursued their own power policy with regard to the condition of landownership. these primitive conditions precisely offered an incomparably fertile soil for the operations of european capital. economically speaking, the conditions for a monetary economy had to be established to begin with, and the state created them by direct compulsion. until the thirties, mehemet ali, the founder of modern egypt, here applied a method of patriarchal simplicity: every year, he 'bought up' the fellaheen's entire harvest for the public exchequer, and allowed them to buy back, at a higher price, a minimum for subsistence and seed. in addition he imported cotton from east india, sugar cane from america, indigo and pepper, and issued the fellaheen with official directions what to plant and how much of it. the government again claimed the monopoly for cotton and indigo, reserving to itself the exclusive right of buying and selling these goods. by such methods was commodity exchange introduced in egypt. admittedly, mehemet ali also did something towards raising labour productivity. he arranged for dredging of the ancient canalisation, and above all he started the work of the great kaliub nile dams which initiated the series of great capitalist enterprises in egypt. these were to comprise four great fields: ( ) irrigation systems, in which the kaliub works built between and take first place--quite apart from unpaid forced labour, they swallowed up £m. · and incidentally proved quite useless at first; ( ) routes for traffic--the most important construction which proved ultimately detrimental to egypt being the suez canal; ( ) the cultivation of cotton, and ( ) the production of sugar cane. with the building of the suez canal, egypt became caught up in the web of european capitalism, never again to get free of it. french capital led the way with british capital hard on its heels. in the twenty years that followed, the internal disturbances in egypt were coloured by the competitive struggle between these two capitals. french capital was perhaps the most peculiar exponent of the european methods of capital accumulation at the expense of primitive conditions. its operations were responsible for the useless nile dams as well as for the suez canal. egypt first contracted to supply the labour of , serfs free of charge for a number of years, and secondly to take up shares in the suez company to the tune of £m. · , i.e. per cent of the company's total capital. all this for the sake of breaking through a canal which would deflect the entire trade between europe and asia from egypt and would painfully affect her part in this trade. these £m. · formed the nucleus for egypt's immense national debt which was to bring about her military occupation by britain twenty years later. in the irrigation system, sudden transformations were initiated: the ancient _sakias_, i.e. bullock-driven water-wheels, of which , had been busy for months in the year in the nile delta alone, were partially replaced by steam pumps. modern steamers now plied on the nile between cairo and assuan. but the most profound change in the economic conditions of egypt was brought about by the cultivation of cotton. this became almost epidemic in egypt when, owing to the american war of secession and the english cotton famine, the price per short ton rose from something between £ and £ to £ -£ . everybody was planting cotton, and foremost among all, the viceroy and his family. his estates grew fat, what with large-scale land robbery, confiscations, forced 'sale' or plain theft. he suddenly appropriated villages by the score though without any legal excuse. within an incredibly short time, this vast demesne was brought under cotton, with the result that the entire technique of egyptian traditional agriculture was revolutionised. dams were thrown up everywhere to protect the cotton fields from the seasonal flooding of the nile, and a comprehensive system of artificial irrigation was introduced. these waterworks together with continuous deep ploughing--a novel departure for the fellah who had until then merely scratched his soil with a plough dating back to the pharaohs--and finally the intensive labours of the harvest made between them enormous demands on egypt's labour power. this was throughout the same forced peasant labour over which the state claimed to have an unrestricted right of disposal; and thousands had already been employed on the kaliub dams and the suez canal and now the irrigation and plantation work to be done on the viceregal estates clamoured for this forced labour. the , serfs who had been put at the disposal of the suez canal company were now required by the khedive himself, and this brought about the first clash with french capital. the company was adjudged a compensation of £m. · by the arbitration of napoleon iii, a settlement to which the khedive could all the more readily agree, since the very fellaheen whose labour power was the bone of contention were ultimately to be mulcted of this sum. the work of irrigation was immediately put in hand. centrifugal machines, steam and traction engines were therefore ordered from england and france. in their hundreds, they were carried by steamers from england to alexandria and then further. steam ploughs were needed for cultivating the soil, especially since the rinderpest of had killed off all the cattle, england again being the chief supplier of these machines. the fowler works were expanded enormously of a sudden to meet the requirements of the viceroy for which egypt had to pay.[ ] but now egypt required yet a third type of machine, cotton gins and presses for packing. dozens of these gins were set up in the delta towns. like english industrial towns, sagasis, tanta, samanud and other towns were covered by palls of smoke and great fortunes circulated in the banks of alexandria and cairo. but already in the year that followed, this cotton speculation collapsed with the cotton prices which fell in a couple of days from _d._ per pound to _d._, _d._, and finally _d._ after the cessation of hostilities in the american union. the following year, ismail pasha ventured on a new speculation, the production of cane sugar. the forced labour of the fellaheen was to compete with the southern states of the union where slavery had been abolished. for the second time, egyptian agriculture was turned upside down. french and british capitalists found a new field for rapid accumulation. giant sugar factories were put on order in - with an estimated daily output of short tons of sugar, that is to say four times as much as that of the greatest then existing plant. six of them were ordered from england, and twelve from france, but england eventually delivered the lion's share, because of the franco-german war. these factories were to be built along the nile at intervals of · miles ( _km._), as centres of cane plantations of an area comprising sq. _km._ working to full capacity, each factory required a daily supply of , tons of sugar cane. fellaheen were driven to forced labour on the sugar plantations in their thousands, while further thousands of their number built the ibrahimya canal. the stick and _kourbash_ were unstintingly applied. transport soon became a problem. a railway network had to be built round every factory to haul the masses of cane inside, rolling stock, funiculars, etc., had to be obtained as quickly as possible. again these enormous orders were placed with english capital. the first giant factory was opened in , , camels providing makeshift transport. but it proved to be simply impossible to supply cane in the quantities required by the undertaking. the working staff was completely inadequate, since the fellah, accustomed to forced labour on the land, could not be transformed overnight into a modern industrial worker by the lash of the whip. the venture collapsed, even before many of the imported machines had been installed. this sugar speculation concluded the period of gigantic capitalist enterprise in egypt in . what had provided the capital for these enterprises? international loans. one year before his death in , said pasha had raised the first loan at a nominal value of £m. · which came to £m. · in cash after deduction of commissions, discounts, etc. he left to ismail pasha the legacy of this debt and the contract with the suez canal company, which was to burden egypt with a debt of £m. . ismail pasha in turn raised his first loan in with a nominal value of £m. · at per cent and a cash value of £m. · at   / per cent. what remained of it, after £m. · had been paid to the suez canal company as compensation, was spent within the year, swallowed up for the greater part by the cotton gamble. in , the first so-called daira-loan was floated by the anglo-egyptian bank, on the security of the khedive's private estates. the nominal value of this loan was £m. · at per cent, and its real value £m. · at per cent. in , _fruehling & goschen_ floated a new loan at a nominal value of £m. and a cash value of £m. . the ottoman bank floated another in of nominally £m. , really £m. · . the floating debt at that time amounted to £m. . the banking house _oppenheim & neffen_ floated a great loan in to consolidate part of this debt. its nominal value was £m. · at per cent, though ismail could actually lay hands only on £m. · at   / per cent. this money made it possible, however, to pay for the pompous celebrations on the opening of the suez canal, in presence of the leading figures in the courts of europe, in finance and in the _demi-monde_, for a madly lavish display, and further, to grease the palm of the turkish overlord, the sultan, with a new baksheesh of £m. . the sugar gamble necessitated another loan in . floated by the firm of _bischoffsheim & goldschmidt_, it had a nominal value of £m. · at per cent, and its cash value was £m. . in / _oppenheim's_ floated two further loans, a modest one amounting to £m. at per cent and a large one of £m. at per cent which reduced the floating debt by one-half, but which actually came only to £m. in cash, since the european banking houses paid it in part by bills of exchange they had discounted. in , a further attempt was made to raise a national loan of £m. at an annual charge of per cent, but it yielded no more than £m. · . egyptian securities were quoted at per cent of their face value. within the thirteen years after said pasha's death, egypt's total public debt had grown from £m. · to £m. · ,[ ] and collapse was imminent. these operations of capital, at first sight, seem to reach the height of madness. one loan followed hard on the other, the interest on old loans was defrayed by new loans, and capital borrowed from the british and french paid for the large orders placed with british and french industrial capital. while the whole of europe sighed and shrugged its shoulders at ismail's crazy economy, european capital was in fact doing business in egypt on a unique and fantastic scale--an incredible modern version of the biblical legend about the fat kine which remains unparalleled in capitalist history. in the first place, there was an element of usury in every loan, anything between one-fifth and one-third of the money ostensibly lent sticking to the fingers of the european bankers. ultimately, the exorbitant interest had to be paid somehow, but how--where were the means to come from? egypt herself was to supply them; their source was the egyptian fellah--peasant economy providing in the final analysis all the most important elements for large-scale capitalist enterprise. he provided the land since the so-called private estates of the khedive were quickly growing to vast dimensions by robbery and blackmail of innumerable villages; and these estates were the foundations of the irrigation projects and the speculation in cotton and sugar cane. as forced labour, the fellah also provided the labour power and, what is more, he was exploited without payment and even had to provide his own means of subsistence while he was at work. the marvels of technique which european engineers and european machines performed in the sphere of egyptian irrigation, transport, agriculture and industry were due to this peasant economy with its fellaheen serfs. on the kaliub nile dams and on the suez canal, in the cotton plantations and in the sugar plants, untold masses of peasants were put to work; they were switched over from one job to the next as the need arose, and they were exploited to the limit of endurance and beyond. although it became evident at every step that there were technical limits to the employment of forced labour for the purposes of modern capital, yet this was amply compensated by capital's unrestricted power of command over the pool of labour power, how long and under what conditions men were to work, live and be exploited. but not alone that it supplied land and labour power, peasant economy also provided the money. under the influence of capitalist economy, the screws were put on the fellaheen by taxation. the tax on peasant holdings was persistently increased. in the late sixties, it amounted to £ _s._ per _hectare_, but not a farthing was levied on the enormous private estates of the royal family. in addition, ever more special rates were devised. contributions of _s._ _d._ per _hectare_ had to be paid for the maintenance of the irrigation system which almost exclusively benefited the royal estates, and the fellah had to pay _s._ _d._ for every date tree felled, _d._ for every clay hovel in which he lived. in addition, every male over years of age was liable to a head tax of _s._ _d._ the total paid by the fellaheen was £m. · under mehemet ali, £m. under said pasha, and £m. · under ismail pasha. the greater the debt to european capital became, the more had to be extorted from the peasants.[ ] in all taxes were put up by per cent and the taxes for the coming year collected in advance. in , a supplementary land tax of _s._ per _hectare_ was levied. all over upper egypt people were leaving the villages, demolished their dwellings and no longer tilled their land--only to avoid payment of taxes. in , the tax on date palms was increased by _d._ whole villages went out to fell their date palms and had to be prevented by rifle volleys. north of siut, , fellaheen are said to have starved in because they could no longer raise the irrigation tax for their fields and had killed their cattle to avoid paying tax on it.[ ] now the fellah had been drained of his last drop of blood. used as a leech by european capital, the egyptian state had accomplished its function and was no longer needed. ismail, the khedive, was given his _congé_; capital could begin winding up operations. egypt had still to pay , egyptian pounds as interest on the suez canal shares for £m. which england had bought in . now british commissions to 'regulate' the finances of egypt went into action. strangely enough, european capital was not at all deterred by the desperate state of the insolvent country and offered again and again to grant immense loans for the salvation of egypt. cowe and stokes proposed a loan of £m. at per cent for the conversion of the total debt, rivers wilson thought no less than £m. would be necessary. the _crédit foncier_ bought up floating bills of exchange by the million, attempting, though without success, to consolidate the total debt by a loan of £m. . with the financial position growing hopelessly desperate, the time drew near when the country and all her productive forces was to become the prey of european capital. october saw the representatives of the european creditors landing in alexandria. british and french capital established dual control of finances and devised new taxes; the peasants were beaten and oppressed, so that payment of interest, temporarily suspended in , could be resumed in .[ ] now the claims of european capital became the pivot of economic life and the sole consideration of the financial system. in , a new commission and ministry were set up, both with a staff in which europeans made up one half. in , the finances of egypt were brought under permanent control of european capital, exercised by the _commission de la dette publique Égyptienne_ in cairo. in , the tshifliks, estates of the viceregal family, which comprised , acres, were converted into crown land and pledged to the european capitalists as collateral for the public debt, and the same happened to the daira lands, the private estates of the khedive, comprising , acres, mainly in upper egypt; this was, at a later date, sold to a syndicate. the other estates for the greatest part fell to capitalist companies, the suez canal company in particular. to cover the cost of occupation, england requisitioned ecclesiastical lands of the mosques and schools. an opportune pretext for the final blow was provided by a mutiny in the egyptian army, starved under european financial control while european officials were drawing excellent salaries, and by a revolt engineered among the alexandrian masses who had been bled white. the british military occupied egypt in , as a result of twenty years' operations of big business, never to leave again. this was the ultimate and final step in the process of liquidating peasant economy in egypt by and for european capital.[ ] it should now be clear that the transactions between european loan capital and european industrial capital are based upon relations which are extremely rational and 'sound' for the accumulation of capital, although they appear absurd to the casual observer because this loan capital pays for the orders from egypt and the interest on one loan is paid out of a new loan. stripped of all obscuring connecting links, these relations consist in the simple fact that european capital has largely swallowed up the egyptian peasant economy. enormous tracts of land, labour, and labour products without number, accruing to the state as taxes, have ultimately been converted into european capital and have been accumulated. evidently, only by use of the _kourbash_ could the historical development which would normally take centuries be compressed into two or three decades, and it was just the primitive nature of egyptian conditions which proved such fertile soil for the accumulation of capital. as against the fantastic increase of capital on the one hand, the other economic result is the ruin of peasant economy together with the growth of commodity exchange which is rooted in the supreme exertion of the country's productive forces. under ismail's rule, the arable and reclaimed land of egypt grew from to · million acres, the canal system from , to , miles and the permanent way from · to , miles. docks were built in siut and alexandria, magnificent dockyards in alexandria, a steamer-service for pilgrims to mecca was introduced on the red sea and along the coast of syria and asia minor. egypt's exports which in had amounted to £ , , rose to £m. · in ; her imports which under said pasha amounted to £m · rose under ismail to between £m. and £m. · . trade which recovered only in the eighties from the opening up of the suez canal amounted to £m. · worth of imports and £m. · worth of exports in , but in the figures were £m. for imports and £m. · for exports, and in --£m. · for imports and £m. · for exports. thanks to this development of commodity economy which expanded by leaps and bounds with the assistance of european capital, egypt herself had fallen a prey to the latter. the case of egypt, just as that of china and, more recently, morocco, shows militarism as the executor of the accumulation of capital, lurking behind international loans, railroad building, irrigation systems, and similar works of civilisation. the oriental states cannot develop from natural to commodity economy and further to capitalist economy fast enough and are swallowed up by international capital, since they cannot perform these transformations without selling their souls to capital. their feverish metamorphoses are tantamount to their absorption by international capital. another good recent example is the deal made by german capital in asiatic turkey. european capital, british capital in particular, had already at an early date attempted to gain possession of this area which marches with the ancient trade route between europe and asia.[ ] in the fifties and sixties, british capital built the railway lines smyrna-aydin-diner and smyrna-kassaba-alasehir, obtained the concession to extend the line to afyon karahisar and also leased the first tract for the anatolian railway ada-bazar-izmid. french capital gradually came to acquire influence over part of the railway building during this time. in , german capital appeared on the scene. it took up per cent of the shares in the new merger of international interests, negotiated principally with the french capitalist group represented by the _banque ottomane_. international capital took up the remaining per cent.[ ] the anatolian railway company, a turkish company, was founded on the th redsheb of the year (march , ) with the _deutsche bank_ for principal backer, to take over the railway lines between ada-bazar and izmid, running since the early seventies, as also the concession for the izmid-eskisehir-angora line ( miles). it was further entitled to complete the ada-bazar-scutari line and branch lines to brussa, in addition to building the supplementary network eskisehir-konya ( miles) on the basis of the concession, and finally to run a service from angora to kaisari ( miles). the turkish government gave the company a state guarantee of annual gross earnings amounting to £ per km. on the ada-bazar line and of £ per km. on the izmid-angora lines. for this purpose it wrote over to the _administration de la dette publique ottomane_ the revenue from tithes in the _sandshaks_ of izmid, ertoghrul, kutalia and angora, with which to make up the gross earnings guaranteed by the government. for the angora-kaisari line the government guaranteed annual gross earnings of turkish pounds, i.e. £ per km., and turkish pounds, i.e. approximately £ , provided, in the latter case, that the supplementary grant per km. did not exceed turkish pounds (£ a year). the government was to receive a quarter of the eventual surplus of gross earnings over the guaranteed amount. the _administration de la dette publique ottomane_ as executor of the government guarantee collected the tithes of the _sandshaks_ trebizonde and gumuchhane direct and paid the railway company out of a common fund which was formed of all the tithes set aside for this purpose. in , the eskisehir-konya maximum grant was raised from to turkish pounds. in , the company obtained concessions to build and run a dockyard at ada-bazar, to issue writs, to build corn-elevators and storerooms for goods of every description, further the right to employ its own staff for loading and unloading and, finally, in the sphere of customs policy, the creation of a kind of free port. in , the company acquired a concession for the baghdad railway konya-baghdad-bazra-gulf of persia ( , miles) which connects with the anatolian line by the konya-aregli-bulgurlu line. for taking up this concession, a new limited company was founded which placed the order of constructing the line, at first to bulgurlu, with a building company registered in frankfort-on-the-main. between and , the turkish government gave additional grants--£ , , for the ada-bazar-angora line and , , turkish pounds for the eskisehir-konya line--a total of £ , , .[ ] finally, by the concession of , the company was empowered to drain the karavirar lake and to irrigate the konya plain, these works to be executed within six years at government expense. in this instance, the company advanced the government the necessary capital up to £ , at per cent interest, repayable within thirty-six years. in return the turkish government pledged as securities: ( ) an annual sum of , turkish pounds, payable from the surplus of the tithes' fund assigned to the _administration de la dette publique ottomane_ to cover the railway grants and other obligations; ( ) the residual tithes over the last years in the newly irrigated regions; ( ) the net proceeds from the working of the irrigation systems, and ( ) the price of all reclaimed or irrigated land that was sold. for the execution of this work, the frankfort company had formed a subsidiary company 'for the irrigation of the konya plain' with a capital of £m. · to take this work in hand. in the company obtained the concession for extending the konya railway as far as baghdad and the gulf of persia, again with inclusion of a guaranteed revenue. to pay for this railway grant, a german baghdad railway loan was taken up in three instalments of £m. · , £m. · and £m. · respectively, on the security of the aggregate tithes for the _vilayets_ aydin, baghdad, mossul, diarbekir, ursa and aleppo, and the sheep-tax in the _vilayets_ konya, adana, aleppo, etc.[ ] the foundation of accumulation here becomes quite clear. german capital builds railways, ports and irrigation works in asiatic turkey; in all these enterprises it extorts new surplus value from the asiatics whom it employs as labour power. but this surplus value must be realised together with the means of production from germany (railway materials, machinery, etc.). how is it done? in part by commodity exchange which is brought about by the railways, the dockyards, etc., and nurtured in asia minor under conditions of natural economy. in part, i.e. in so far as commodity exchange does not grow quickly enough for the needs of capital, by using force, the machinery of the state, to convert the national real income into commodities; these are turned into cash in order to realise capital plus surplus value. that is the true object of the revenue grants for independent enterprises run by foreign capital, and of the collateral in the case of loans. in both instances so-called tithes (_ueshur_), pledged in different ways, are paid in kind by the turkish peasant and these were gradually increased from about to   / per cent. the peasant in the asiatic _vilayet_ must pay up or else his tithe would simply be confiscated by the police and the central and local authorities. these tithes, themselves a manifestation of ancient asiatic despotism based on natural economy, are not collected by the turkish government direct, but by tax-farmers not unlike the tax-collectors of the _ancien régime_; that is to say the expected returns from the levy in each _vilayet_ are separately auctioned by the state to tax-farmers. they are bought by individual speculators or syndicates who sell the tithes of each _sandshak_ (district) to other speculators and these resell their shares to a whole number of smaller agents. all these middlemen want to cover their expenses and make the greatest possible profit, and thus, by the time they are actually collected, the peasants' contributions have swollen to enormous dimensions. the tax-farmer will try to recoup himself for any mistake in his calculations at the expense of the peasant, and the latter, nearly always in debt, is impatient for the moment when he can sell his harvest. but often, after cutting his corn, he cannot start threshing for weeks, until indeed the tax-farmer deigns to take his due. his entire harvest is about to rot in the fields, and the tax-farmer, usually a grain merchant himself, takes advantage of this fact and compels him to sell at a low price. these tax-collectors know how to enlist the support of the officials, especially the muktars, the local headmen, against complaining malcontents.[ ] along with the taxes on salt, tobacco, spirits, the excise on silk, the fishing dues, etc., the tithes are pledged with the _conseil de l'administration de la dette publique ottomane_ to serve as security for the railway grant and the loans. in every case the _conseil_ reserves to itself the right to vet the tax-farmers' contracts and stipulates for the proceeds of the tithe to be paid directly into the coffers of its regional offices. if no tax-farmer can be found, the tithes are stored in kind by the turkish government; the warehouse keys are deposited with the _conseil_ which then can sell the tithes on its own account. thus the economic metabolism between the peasants of asia minor, syria and mesopotamia on the one hand and german capital on the other proceeds in the following way: in the _vilayets_ konya, baghdad, bazra, etc., the grain comes into being as a simple use-product of primitive peasant economy. it immediately falls to the tithe-farmer as a state levy. only then, in the hands of this latter, does it become a commodity, and, as such, money which falls to the state. this money is nothing but converted peasant grain; it was not even produced as a commodity. but now, as a state guarantee, it serves towards paying for the construction and operation of railways, i.e. to realise both the value of the means of production and the surplus value extorted from the asiatic peasants and proletariat in the building and running of the railway. in this process further means of production of german origin are used, and so the peasant grain of asia, converted into money, also serves to turn into cash the surplus value that has been extorted from the german workers. in the performance of these functions, the money rolls from the hands of the turkish government into the coffers of the _deutsche bank_, and here it accumulates, as capitalist surplus value, in the form of promoters' profits, royalties, dividends and interests in the accounts of messrs. gwinner, siemens, stinnes and their fellow directors, of the shareholders and clients of the _deutsche bank_ and the whole intricate system of its subsidiary companies. if there is no tax-farmer, as provided in the concessions, then the complicated metamorphoses are reduced to their most simple and obvious terms: the peasant grain passes immediately to the _administration de la dette publique ottomane_, i.e. to the representatives of european capital, and becomes already in its natural form a revenue for german and other foreign capital: it realises capitalist surplus value even before it has shed its use-form for the asiatic peasant, even before it has become a commodity and its own value has been realised. this is a coarse and straightforward metabolism between european capital and asiatic peasant economy, with the turkish state reduced to its real rôle, that of a political machinery for exploiting peasant economy for capitalist purposes,--the real function, this, of all oriental states in the period of capitalist imperialism. this business of paying for german goods with german capital in asia is not the absurd circle it seems at first, with the kind germans allowing the shrewd turks merely the 'use' of their great works of civilisation--it is at bottom an exchange between german capital and asiatic peasant economy, an exchange performed under state compulsion. on the one hand it makes for progressive accumulation and expanding 'spheres of interest' as a pretext for further political and economic expansion of german capital in turkey. railroad building and commodity exchange, on the other hand, are fostered by the state on the basis of a rapid disintegration, ruin and exploitation of asiatic peasant economy in the course of which the turkish state becomes more and more dependent on european capital, politically as well as financially.[ ] footnotes: [ ] the permanent way (in kilometres). ---------------------------------------------------------------------- _year_ | _europe_ | _america_ | _asia_ | _africa_ |_australia_ ----------+-----------+-----------+-----------+-----------+----------- | , | , | -- | -- | -- | , | , | -- | -- | -- | , | , | , | | | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , | , ---------------------------------------------------------------------- accordingly, the increase was as follows: ---------------------------------------------------------------------- | % | % | % | % | % / | | | -- | -- | -- / | | | | | / | | | | | / | | | | | / | | | | | ---------------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] tugan baranovski, _studies on the theory and history of commercial crises in england_, p. . [ ] sismondi, _nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. i, book iv, chap. iv: 'commercial wealth follows the growth of income', pp. - . [ ] engineer eyth, a representative of fowler's, tells us: 'now there was a feverish exchange of telegrams between cairo, london and leeds.--"when can fowler's deliver steam ploughs?"--answer: "working to capacity, within one year."--"not good enough. expect unloading alexandria by spring steam ploughs."--a.: "impossible."--the works at that time were barely big enough to turn out steam ploughs per week. n.b. a machine of this type costs £ , so that the order involved £m. · . ismail pasha's next wire: "quote cost immediate factory expansion. viceroy willing foot bill."--you can imagine that leeds made hay while the sun shone. and in addition, other factories in england and france as well were made to supply steam ploughs. the alexandria warehouses, where goods destined for the vice-regal estates were unloaded, were crammed to the roof with boilers, wheels, drums, wire-rope and all sorts of chests and boxes. the second-rate hostelries of cairo swarmed with newly qualified steam ploughmen, promoted in a hurry from anvil or share-plough, young hopefuls, fit for anything and nothing, since every steam plough must be manned by at least one expert pioneer of civilisation. wagonloads of this assorted cargo were sent into the interior, just so that the next ship could unload. you cannot imagine in what condition they arrived at their destination, or rather anywhere but their destination. ten boilers were lying on the banks of the nile, and the machine to which they belonged was ten miles further. here was a little heap of wire-rope, but you had to travel another hours to find the appropriate pulleys. in one place an englishman who was to set up the machines squatted desolate and hungry on a pile of french crates, and in another place his mate had taken to native liquor in his despair. effendis and katibs, invoking the help of allah, rushed to and fro between siut and alexandria and compiled endless lists of items the names of which they did not even know. and yet, in the end, some of this apparatus was set in motion. in upper egypt, the ploughs belched steam--civilisation and progress had made another step forward' (_lebendige kräfte, vorträge aus dem gebiete der technik_, berlin, , p. ). [ ] cf. evelyn baring, earl of cromer, _egypt today_ (london, ), vol. i, p. . [ ] incidentally, the money wrested from the egyptian fellah further fell, by way of turkey, to european capital. the turkish loans of , , , and were based on the contributions from egypt which were increased several times and paid direct into the bank of england. [ ] 'it is stated by residents in the delta', reports _the times_ of march , , 'that the third quarter of the year's taxation is now collected, and the old methods of collection applied. this sounds strangely by the side of the news that people are starving by the roadside, that great tracts of country are uncultivated, because of the physical burdens, and that the farmers have sold their cattle, the women their finery, and that the usurers are filling the mortgage offices with their bonds, and the courts with their suits of foreclosure' (quoted by th. rothstein, _egypt's ruin_, , pp. - ). [ ] 'this produce', wrote the correspondent of _the times_ from alexandria, 'consists wholly of taxes paid by the peasants in kind, and when one thinks of the poverty-stricken, overdriven, under-paid fellaheen in their miserable hovels, working late and early to fill the pockets of the creditors, the punctual payment of the coupon ceases to be wholly a subject of gratification' (quoted by rothstein, op. cit., p. ). [ ] eyth, an outstanding exponent of capitalist civilisation in the primitive countries, characteristically concludes his masterly sketch on egypt, from which we have taken the main data, with the following imperialist articles of faith: 'what we have learnt from the past also holds true for the future. europe must and will lay firm hands upon those countries which can no longer keep up with modern conditions on their own, though this will not be possible without all kinds of struggle, when the difference between right and wrong will become blurred, when political and historical justice will often enough mean disaster for millions and their salvation depend upon what is politically wrong. all the world over, the strongest hand will make an end to confusion, and so it will even on the banks of the nile' (op. cit., p. ). rothstein has made it clear enough what kind of 'order' the british created 'on the banks of the nile'. [ ] already in the early twenties of the last century, the anglo-indian government commissioned colonel chesney to investigate the navigability of the river euphrates in order to establish the shortest possible connection between the mediterranean and the persian gulf, resp. india. after detailed preparations and a preliminary reconnaissance in winter , the expedition proper set out in / . in due course, british staff and officials investigated and surveyed a wider area in eastern mesopotamia. these efforts dragged on until without any useful results for the british government. but at a later date great britain returned to the plan of connecting the mediterranean with india by way of the gulf of persia, though in a different form, i.e. the tigris railway project. in , cameron travelled through mesopotamia for the british government to study the lie of the land for the projected railway (max freiherr v. oppenheim, _vom mittelmeer zum persischen golf durch den hauran, die syrische wüste und mesopotamien_, vol. ii, pp. and ). [ ] s. schneider, _die deutsche bagdadbahn_ ( ), p. . [ ] saling, _börsenjahrbuch / _, p. . [ ] saling, op. cit., pp. - . engineer pressel of wuerttemberg, who as assistant to baron v. hirsch was actively engaged in these transactions in european turkey, neatly accounts for the total grants towards railway-building in turkey which european capital wrested from the turkish government: ---------------------------------------------------------------------- | _length | _paid guarantee | in km._ | in francs_ -------------------------------------------+---------+---------------- lines in european turkey | · | , , | | turkish permanent way in asia completed | | before | · | , , | | commissions and other costs connected with | | the guaranteed railway grants paid to the | | a.d.p.o. | | , , -------------------------------------------+---------+---------------- total | | , , ---------------------------------------------------------------------- all this refers only to the period before ; not until that date were the revenue grants paid in part. the tithes of no less than out of the _sandshaks_ in asiatic turkey had been pledged for the revenue grants, and with these grants, between and , a grand total of , miles of rails had been laid down in asiatic turkey. pressel, the expert, by the way gives an instance of the underhand methods employed by the railway company at turkish expense; he states that under the agreement the anatolian company promised to run the railway to baghdad via angora, but later decided that this plan of theirs would not work and, having qualified for the guarantee, left the line to its fate and got busy with another route via konya. 'no sooner have the companies succeeded in acquiring the smyrna-aydin-diner line, than they will demand the extension of this line to konya, and the moment these branch lines are completed, the companies will move heaven and earth to force the goods traffic to use these new routes for which there are no guarantees, and which, more important still, need never share their takings, whereas the other lines must pay part of their surplus to the government, once their gross revenue exceeds a certain amount. in consequence, the government will gain nothing by the aydin line, and the companies will make millions. the government will foot the bill for practically the entire revenue guarantee for the kassaba-angora line, and can never hope to profit by its contracted per cent share in the surplus above £ gross takings' (w. v. pressel, _les chemins de fer en turquie d'asie_ (zurich, ), p. ). [ ] charles moravitz, _die türkei im spiegel ihrer finanzen_ ( ), p. . [ ] 'incidentally, in this country everything is difficult and complicated. if the government wishes to create a monopoly in cigarette paper or playing cards, france and austro-hungary immediately are on the spot to veto the project in the interest of their trade. if the issue is oil, russia will raise objections, and even the powers who are least concerned will make their agreement dependent on some other agreement. turkey's fate is that of sancho panza and his dinner: as soon as the minister of finance wishes to do anything, some diplomat gets up, interrupts him and throws a veto in his teeth' (moravitz, op. cit., p. ). _chapter xxxi_ protective tariffs and accumulation imperialism is the political expression of the accumulation of capital in its competitive struggle for what remains still open of the non-capitalist environment. still the largest part of the world in terms of geography, this remaining field for the expansion of capital is yet insignificant as against the high level of development already attained by the productive forces of capital; witness the immense masses of capital accumulated in the old countries which seek an outlet for their surplus product and strive to capitalise their surplus value, and the rapid change-over to capitalism of the pre-capitalist civilisations. on the international stage, then, capital must take appropriate measures. with the high development of the capitalist countries and their increasingly severe competition in acquiring non-capitalist areas, imperialism grows in lawlessness and violence, both in aggression against the non-capitalist world and in ever more serious conflicts among the competing capitalist countries. but the more violently, ruthlessly and thoroughly imperialism brings about the decline of non-capitalist civilisations, the more rapidly it cuts the very ground from under the feet of capitalist accumulation. though imperialism is the historical method for prolonging the career of capitalism, it is also a sure means of bringing it to a swift conclusion. this is not to say that capitalist development must be actually driven to this extreme: the mere tendency towards imperialism of itself takes forms which make the final phase of capitalism a period of catastrophe. classical economics, in its period of storm and stress, had had high hopes of a peaceful development of the accumulation of capital and of a trade and industry which can only prosper in times of peace, evolving the orthodox manchester ideology of the harmony of interests among the world's commercial nations on the one hand, and between capital and labour on the other. these hopes were apparently justified in europe by the short period of free trade in the sixties and seventies, which was based upon the mistaken doctrine of the english free traders that the only theoretical and practical condition for the accumulation of capital is commodity exchange, that the two are identical. as we have seen, ricardo and his whole school identified accumulation and its reproductive conditions with simple commodity production and the conditions of simple commodity circulation. this was soon to become even more obvious in the practices of the common free trader. the special interests of the exporting lancashire cotton manufacturers in manchester determined the entire line of argument of the cobden league. their principal object was to get markets, and it became an article of faith: 'buy from foreign countries and thus in turn sell our industrial product, our cotton goods, on the new markets.' cobden and bright demanded free trade and cheaper foodstuffs in particular in the interest of consumption; but the consumer was not the worker who eats the bread, but the capitalist who consumes labour power. this teaching never expressed the interests of capitalist accumulation as a whole. in england herself it was given the lie already in the forties, when the harmony of interests of the commercial nations in the east were proclaimed to the sound of gunfire in the opium wars which ultimately, by the annexation of hongkong, brought about the very opposite of such harmony, a system of 'spheres of interest'.[ ] on the european continent, free trade in the sixties did not represent the interests of industrial capital, because the foremost free trade countries of the continent were still predominantly agrarian with a comparatively feeble development of industry. rather, the policy of free trade was implemented as a means for the political reconstruction of the central european states. in germany, under bismarck and manteuffel, it was a peculiarly prussian lever for ousting austria from the _bund_ and the _zollverein_ and to set up the new german empire under prussian leadership. economically speaking, the mainstays of free trade were in this case the interests both of commercial capital, especially in the hansa towns to whom international trade was vital, and of agrarian consumers; among industry proper, it was otherwise. the iron industry was won over only with difficulty and in exchange for the abolition of the rhine tolls. but the cotton industry in southern germany remained irreconcilable and clung to protective tariffs. in france, 'most favoured nations' clause' agreements, the basis of the free trade system all over europe, were concluded by napoleon iii without the consent, and even against the will, of parliament, industrialists and agrarians, who constituted an absolute majority, being in favour of protective tariffs. the government of the second empire only took the course of commercial treaties as an emergency measure--britain accepted it as such--in order to get round political opposition in france and to establish free trade behind the back of the legislature by international action. the first principal treaty between england and france simply rode rough-shod over public opinion in france.[ ] two imperial decrees abolished the old system of french protective tariffs which had been in force from to . with scant observance of the formalities they were 'ratified' in . in italy, free trade was a prop of cavour's policy, depending as it did on french support. under pressure of public opinion, an inquiry was made in which revealed that those most intimately concerned were hostile to the policy of free trade. in russia, finally, the tendency towards free trade in the sixties was but the first step towards creating a broad basis for commodity economy and industry on a large scale, coming at the same time as the abolition of serfdom and the construction of a railway network.[ ] thus the very inception of an international system of free trade shows it to be just a passing phase in the history of capitalist accumulation, and it shows up the fallacy of attributing the general reversion to protective tariffs after the seventies simply to a defensive reaction against english free trade.[ ] such an explanation is vitiated by the fact that both in germany and france the leaders in the reversion to protective tariffs were the agrarian interests, that the measures were directed not against british but against american competition, and that not england but germany constituted the chief danger to the rising home industry in russia, and france to that in italy. nor was britain's monopoly the cause for the world-wide depression which prevailed since the seventies and induced the desire for protective tariffs. we must look deeper for the reasons responsible for the change of front on the question of protective tariffs. the doctrine of free trade with its delusion about the harmony of interests on the world market corresponded with an outlook which conceived of everything in terms of commodity exchange. it was abandoned just as soon as big industrial capital had become sufficiently established in the principal countries of the european continent to look to the conditions for its accumulation. as against the mutual interests of capitalist countries, these latter bring to the fore the antagonism engendered by the competitive struggle for the non-capitalist environment. when the free trade era opened, eastern asia was only just being made accessible by the chinese wars, and european capital had but begun to make headway in egypt. in the eighties the policy of expansion became ever stronger, together with a policy of protective tariffs. there was an uninterrupted succession of events during the eighties: the british occupation of egypt, germany's colonial conquests in africa, the french occupation of tunisia together with the tonkin expedition, italy's advances in assab and massawa, the abyssinian war and the creation of a separate eritrea, and the english conquests in south africa. the clash between italy and france over the tunisian sphere of interest was the characteristic prelude to the franco-italian tariff war seven years later, by which drastic epilogue an end was made to the free trade harmony of interests on the european continent. to monopolise the non-capitalist areas at home and abroad became the war-cry of capital, while the free-trade policy of the 'open door' specifically represented the peculiar helplessness of non-capitalist countries in the face of international capital and the natural equilibrium which was aimed at by its competition in the preliminary stage of the partial or total occupation of these areas as colonies or spheres of interest. as the oldest capitalist empire, england alone could so far remain loyal to free trade, primarily because she had long had immense possessions of non-capitalist areas as a basis for operations which afforded her almost unlimited opportunities for capitalist accumulation. until recently, she had thus in fact been beyond the competition of other capitalist countries. these, in turn, universally strove to become self-sufficient behind a barrier of protective tariffs; yet they buy one another's commodities and come to depend ever more one upon another for replenishing their material conditions of reproduction. indeed, protective tariffs have by now completely lost their use for technical development of the productive forces, all too often being the instrument for the artificial conservation of obsolete productive methods. the inherent contradictions of an international policy of protective tariffs, exactly like the dual character of the international loan system, are just a reflection of the historical antagonism which has developed between the dual interests of accumulation: expansion, the realisation and capitalisation of surplus value on the one hand, and, on the other, an outlook which conceives of everything purely in terms of commodity exchange. this fact is evidenced particularly in that the modern system of high protective tariffs, required by colonial expansion and the increasing inner tension of the capitalist medium, was also instituted with a view to increasing armaments. the reversion to protective tariffs was carried through in germany as well as in france, italy, and russia, together with, and in the interests of, an expansion of the armed services, as the basis for the european competition in armaments which was developing at that time, first on land, and then also at sea. european free trade, with its attendant continental system of infantry, had been superseded by protective tariffs as the foundation and supplement of an imperialist system with a strong bias towards naval power. thus capitalist accumulation as a whole, as an actual historical process, has two different aspects. one concerns the commodity market and the place where surplus value is produced--the factory, the mine, the agricultural estate. regarded in this light, accumulation is a purely economic process, with its most important phase a transaction between the capitalist and wage labourer. in both its phases, however, it is confined to the exchange of equivalents and remains within the limits of commodity exchange. here, in form at any rate, peace, property and equality prevail, and the keen dialectics of scientific analysis were required to reveal how the right of ownership changes in the course of accumulation into appropriation of other people's property, how commodity exchange turns into exploitation and equality becomes class-rule. the other aspect of the accumulation of capital concerns the relations between capitalism and the non-capitalist modes of production which start making their appearance on the international stage. its predominant methods are colonial policy, an international loan system--a policy of spheres of interest--and war. force, fraud, oppression, looting are openly displayed without any attempt at concealment, and it requires an effort to discover within this tangle of political violence and contests of power the stern laws of the economic process. bourgeois liberal theory takes into account only the former aspect: the realm of 'peaceful competition', the marvels of technology and pure commodity exchange; it separates it strictly from the other aspect: the realm of capital's blustering violence which is regarded as more or less incidental to foreign policy and quite independent of the economic sphere of capital. in reality, political power is nothing but a vehicle for the economic process. the conditions for the reproduction of capital provide the organic link between these two aspects of the accumulation of capital. the historical career of capitalism can only be appreciated by taking them together. 'sweating blood and filth with every pore from head to toe' characterises not only the birth of capital but also its progress in the world at every step, and thus capitalism prepares its own downfall under ever more violent contortions and convulsions. footnotes: [ ] and not only in england. 'even in , a pamphlet, ascribed to diergardt of viersen, a factory owner, was disseminated all over germany, urging that country to make sure of the east-asiatic markets in good time. it advocated the display of military force as the only means for getting commercial advantages from the japanese and the eastern asiatic nations in general. a german fleet, built with the people's small savings, had been a youthful dream, long since brought under the hammer by hannibal fischer. though prussia had a few ships, her naval power was not impressive. but in order to enter into commercial negotiations with eastern asia, it was decided to equip a ship. graf zu eulenburg, one of the ablest and most prudent prussian statesmen, was appointed chief of this mission which also had scientific objects. under most difficult conditions he carried out his commission with great skill, and though the plan for simultaneous negotiations with the hawaiian islands had to be given up, the mission was otherwise successful. though the berlin press of that time knew better, declaring whenever a new difficulty was reported, that it was only to be expected, and denouncing all expenditure on naval demonstrations as a waste of the taxpayers' money, the ministry of the new era remained steadfast, and the harvest of success was reaped by the ministry that followed' (w. lotz, _die ideen der deutschen handelspolitik_, p. ). [ ] following on the preliminary discussion between michel chevalier and richard cobden on behalf of the french and english governments, 'official negotiations were shortly entered upon and were conducted with the greatest secrecy. on january , , napoleon iii announced his intentions in a memorandum addressed to m. fould, the minister of state. this declaration came like a bolt from the blue. after the events of the past year, the general belief was that no attempt would be made to modify the tariff system before . feelings ran high, but all the same the treaty was signed on january ' (auguste devers, _la politique commerciale de la france depuis . schriften des vereins für sozialpolitik_, vol. , p. ). [ ] between and , the revision along liberal lines of the russian tariffs and the ultimate writing-off of the insane system of _kantrin_ with regard to protective tariffs were a manifestation and corollary of the progressive reforms which the disastrous crimean wars had made inevitable. but the reduction of customs duties reflected the concern of the landowning gentry who, both as consumers of foreign goods and as producers of grain for export, were interested in unrestricted commerce between russia and western europe. the champion of agrarian interests, the 'free economic association' stated: 'during the last sixty years, between and , agriculture, russia's largest producer, was brought to a precarious position owing to four great setbacks. these could in every case be directly attributed to excessive tariffs. on the other hand, the thirty-two years between and when tariffs were moderate went by without any such emergency, in spite of three foreign wars and one civil war [meaning the polish insurrection of --_r. l._], every one of which proved a greater or less strain on the financial resources of the state' (_memorandum of the imperial free economic association on revising russian tariffs_ (st. petersburg, ), p. ). as late as the nineties, then, the scientific spokesman of the free trade movement, the said 'free economic association', had to agitate against protective tariffs as a 'contrivance to transplant' capitalist industry to russia. in a reactionary 'populist' spirit, it denounced capitalism as a breeding ground for the modern proletariat, 'those masses of shiftless people without home or property who have nothing to lose and have long been in ill repute' (p. ). this is proof enough that until most recent times the russian champions of free trade, or at least of moderate tariffs, did not to any appreciable extent represent the interests of industrial capital. cf. also k. lodyshenski: _the history of the russian tariffs_ (st. petersburg, ), pp. - . [ ] this is also the opinion of f. engels. in one of his letters to nikolayon, on june , , he writes: 'english authors, blinded by their patriotic interests, completely fail to grasp why the whole world so stubbornly rejects england's example of free trade and adopts in its place the principle of protective tariffs. of course, they simply dare not admit even to themselves that the system of protective tariffs, by now almost universal, is merely a defensive measure against english free trade which was instrumental in perfecting england's industrial monopoly. such a defence policy may be more or less reasonable--in some cases it is downright stupid, as for instance in germany who under the system of free trade had become a great industrial power and now imposes protective tariffs on agricultural products and raw materials, thus increasing the cost of her industrial production. in my view this universal reversion to protective tariffs is not a mere accident but the reaction against england's intolerable industrial monopoly. the form which this reaction takes, as i said before, may be wrong, inadequate and even worse, but its historical necessity seems to me quite clear and obvious' (_letters_ of karl marx and frederick engels to nikolayon (st. petersburg, ), p. ). _chapter xxxii_ militarism as a province of accumulation militarism fulfils a quite definite function in the history of capital, accompanying as it does every historical phase of accumulation. it plays a decisive part in the first stages of european capitalism, in the period of the so-called 'primitive accumulation', as a means of conquering the new world and the spice-producing countries of india. later, it is employed to subject the modern colonies, to destroy the social organisations of primitive societies so that their means of production may be appropriated, forcibly to introduce commodity trade in countries where the social structure had been unfavourable to it, and to turn the natives into a proletariat by compelling them to work for wages in the colonies. it is responsible for the creation and expansion of spheres of interest for european capital in non-european regions, for extorting railway concessions in backward countries, and for enforcing the claims of european capital as international lender. finally, militarism is a weapon in the competitive struggle between capitalist countries for areas of non-capitalist civilisation. in addition, militarism has yet another important function. from the purely economic point of view, it is a pre-eminent means for the realisation of surplus value; it is in itself a province of accumulation. in examining the question who should count as a buyer for the mass of products containing the capitalised surplus value, we have again and again refused to consider the state and its organs as consumers. since their income is derivative, they were all taken to belong to the special category of those who live on the surplus value (or partly on the wage of labour), together with the liberal professions and the various parasites of present-day society ('king, professor, prostitute, mercenary'). but this interpretation will only do on two assumptions: first, if we take it, in accordance with marx's diagram, that the state has no other sources of taxation than capitalist surplus value and wages,[ ] and secondly, if we regard the state and its organs as consumers pure and simple. if the issue turns on the personal consumption of the state organs (as also of the 'mercenary') the point is that consumption is partly transferred from the working class to the hangers-on of the capitalist class, in so far as the workers foot the bill. let us assume for a moment that the indirect taxes extorted from the workers, which mean a curtailment of their consumption, are used entirely to pay the salaries of the state officials and to provision the regular army. there will then be no change in the reproduction of social capital as a whole. both departments ii and i remain constant because society as a whole still demands the same kind of products and in the same quantities. only _v_ as the commodity of 'labour power' has changed in value in relation to the products of department ii, i.e. in relation to the means of subsistence. this _v_, the same amount of money representing labour power, is now exchanged for a smaller amount of means of subsistence. what happens to the products of department ii which are then left over? instead of the workers, the state officials and the regular army now receive them. the organs of the capitalist state take over the workers' consumption on the same scale exactly. although the conditions of reproduction have remained stable, there has been a redistribution of the total product. part of the products of department ii, originally intended entirely for the consumption of the workers as equivalent for _v_, is now allocated to the hangers-on of the capitalist class for consumption. from the point of view of social reproduction, it is as if the relative surplus value had in the first place been larger by a certain amount which is added on to the consumption of the capitalist class and its hangers-on. so far the crude exploitation, by the mechanism of indirect taxation, of the working class for the support of the capitalist state's officials amounts merely to an increase of the surplus value, of that part of it, that is to say, which is consumed. the difference is that this further splitting off of surplus value from variable capital only comes later, after the exchange between capital and labour has been accomplished. but the consumption by the organs of the capitalist state has no bearing on the realisation of _capitalised_ surplus value, because the additional surplus value for this consumption--even though it comes about at the workers' expense--is created afterwards. on the other hand, if the workers did not pay for the greater part of the state officials' upkeep, the capitalists themselves would have to bear the entire cost of it. a corresponding portion of their surplus value would have to be assigned directly to keeping the organs of their class-rule, either at the expense of production which would have to be curtailed accordingly, or, which is more probable, it would come from the surplus value intended for their consumption. the capitalists would have to capitalise on a smaller scale because of having to contribute more towards the immediate preservation of their own class. in so far as they shift onto the working class (and also the representatives of simple commodity production, such as peasants and artisans) the principal charge of their hangers-on, the capitalists have a larger portion of surplus value available for capitalisation. but as yet _no opportunities for such capitalisation_ have come into being, no new market, that is to say, for the surplus value that has become available, in which it could produce and realise new commodities. but when the monies concentrated in the exchequer by taxation are used for the production of armaments, the picture is changed. with indirect taxation and high protective tariffs, the bill of militarism is footed mainly by the working class and the peasants. the two kinds of taxation must be considered separately. from an economic point of view, it amounts to the following, as far as the working class is concerned: provided that wages are not raised to make up for the higher price of foodstuffs--which is at present the fate of the greatest part of the working class, including even the minority that is organised in trade unions, owing to the pressure of cartels and employers' organisations[ ]--indirect taxation means that part of the purchasing power of the working class is transferred to the state. now as before the variable capital, as a fixed amount of money, will put in motion an appropriate quantity of living labour, that is to say it serves to employ the appropriate quantity of constant capital in production and to produce the corresponding amount of surplus value. as soon as capital has completed this cycle, it is divided between the working class and the state: the workers surrender the state part of the money they received as wages. capital has wholly appropriated the former variable capital in its material form, as labour power, but the working class retains only part of the variable capital in the form of money, the state claiming the rest. and this invariably happens after capital has run its cycle between capitalist and worker; it takes place, as it were, behind the back of capital, at no point impinging direct on the vital stages of the circulation of capital and the production of surplus value, so that it is no immediate concern of the latter. but all the same it does affect the conditions for the reproduction of capital as a whole. the transfer of some of the purchasing power from the working class to the state entails a proportionate decrease in the consumption of means of subsistence by the working class. for capital as a whole, it means producing a smaller quantity of consumer goods for the working class, provided that both variable capital (in the form of money and as labour power) and the mass of appropriated surplus value remain constant, so that the workers get a smaller share of the aggregate product. in the process of reproduction of the entire capital, then, means of subsistence will be produced in amounts smaller than the value of the variable capital, because of the shift in the ratio between the value of the variable capital and the quantity of means of subsistence in which it is realised, with the money wages of labour remaining constant, according to our premise, or at any rate not rising sufficiently to offset the increase in the price of foodstuffs. this increase represents the level of indirect taxation. how will the material relations of reproduction be adjusted? when fewer means of subsistence are needed for the renewal of labour power, a corresponding amount of constant capital and living labour becomes available which can now be used for producing other commodities in response to a new effective demand arising within society. it arises from the side of the state which has appropriated, by way of tax legislation, the part wanting of the workers' purchasing power. this time, however, the state does not demand means of subsistence (after all that has already been said under the heading of 'third persons', we shall here ignore the demand for means of subsistence for state officials which is also satisfied out of taxes) but it requires a special kind of product, namely the militarist weapons of war on land and at sea. again we take marx's second diagram of accumulation as the basis for investigating the ensuing changes in social reproduction: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence now let us suppose that, owing to indirect taxation and the consequent increase in the price of means of subsistence, the working class as a whole reduces consumption by, say, a value units of the real wages. as before, the workers receive _ , v + v = , v_ in money, but for this money they only get means of subsistence to the value of . the units which represent the tax increase in the price of foodstuffs go to the state which receives in addition military taxes from the peasants, etc., to the value of units, bringing the total up to . this total constitutes a new demand--the demand for armaments. at present, however, we are only interested in the units taken from the workers' wages. this demand for armaments to the value of must be satisfied by the creation of an appropriate branch of production which requires a constant capital of · and a variable capital of · , assuming the average organic composition outlined in marx's diagram. _ · c + · v + · s = _ weapons of war this new branch of production further requires that · means of production be produced and about means of subsistence, because, of course, the real wages of the workers are also less by about one-thirteenth. you could counter by saying that the profit accruing to capital from this new expansion of demand is merely on paper, because the cut in the actual consumption of the working class will inevitably result in a corresponding curtailment of the means of subsistence produced. it will take the following form for department ii: _ · c + · v + · s = _ in addition, department i will also have to contract accordingly, so that, owing to the decreasing consumption of the working class, the equations for both departments will be: i. _ , c + · v + · s = , · _ ii. _ , · c + · v + · s = , _ if, by the mediation of the state, the same units now call forth armament production of an equal volume with a corresponding fillip to the production of producer goods, this is at first sight only an extraneous change in the material forms of social production: instead of a quantity of means of subsistence a quantity of armaments is now being produced. capital has won with the left hand only what it has lost with the right. or we might say that the large number of capitalists producing means of subsistence have lost the effective demand in favour of a small group of big armament manufacturers. but this picture is only valid for individual capital. here it makes no difference indeed whether production engages in one sphere of activity or another. as far as the individual capitalist is concerned, there are no departments of total production such as the diagram distinguishes. there are only commodities and buyers, and it is completely immaterial to him whether he produces instruments of life or instruments of death, corned beef or armour plating. opponents of militarism frequently appeal to this point of view to show that military supplies as an economic investment for capital merely put profit taken from one capitalist into the pocket of another.[ ] on the other hand, capital and its advocates try to overpersuade the working class to this point of view by talking them into the belief that indirect taxes and the demand of the state would only bring about a change in the material form of reproduction; instead of other commodities cruisers and guns would be produced which would give the workers as good a living, if not a better one. one glance at the diagram shows how little truth there is in this argument as far as the workers are concerned. to make comparison easier, we will suppose the armament factories to employ just as many workers as were employed before in the production of means of subsistence for the working class. , units will then be paid out as wages, but now they will only buy , 's worth of means of subsistence. all this looks different from the perspective of capital as a whole. for this the at the disposal of the state, which represent the demand for armaments, constitute a new market. originally this money was variable capital and as such it has done its job, it has been exchanged for living labour which produced the surplus value. but then the circulation of the variable capital was stopped short, this money was split off, and it now appears as a new purchasing power in the possession of the state. it has been created by sleight of hand, as it were, but still it has the same effects as a newly opened market. of course for the time being capital is debarred from selling units of consumer goods for the working class, and the individual capitalist considers the worker just as good a consumer and buyer of commodities as anyone else, another capitalist, the state, the peasant, foreign countries, etc. but let us not forget that for capital as a whole the upkeep of the working class is only a necessary evil, only a means towards the real end of production: the creation and realisation of surplus value. if it were possible to extort surplus value without giving labour an equal measure of means of subsistence, it would be all the better for business. to begin with indirect taxation has the same effects as if--the price of foodstuffs remaining constant--the capitalists had succeeded in depressing wages by a hundred units without detracting from the work performed, seeing that a lower output of consumer goods is equally the inevitable result of continuous wage cuts. if wages are cut heavily, capital does not worry about having to produce fewer means of subsistence for the workers, in fact it delights in this practice at every opportunity; similarly, capital as a whole does not mind if the effective demand of the working class for means of subsistence is curtailed because of indirect taxation which is not compensated by a rise in wages. this may seem strange because in the latter case the balance of the variable capital goes to the exchequer, while with a direct wage cut it remains in the capitalists' pockets and--commodity prices remaining equal--increases the relative surplus value. but a continuous and universal reduction of money wages can only be carried through on rare occasions, especially if trade union organisation is highly developed. there are strong social and political barriers to this fond aspiration of capital. depression of the real wage by means of indirect taxation, on the other hand, can be carried through promptly, smoothly and universally, and it usually takes time for protests to be heard; and besides, the opposition is confined to the political field and has no immediate economic repercussions. the subsequent restriction in the production of means of subsistence does not represent a loss of markets for capital as a whole but rather a saving in the costs of producing surplus value. surplus value is never realised by producing means of subsistence for the workers--however necessary this may be, as the reproduction of living labour, for the production of surplus value. but to come back to our example: i. _ , c + , v + , s = , _ means of production ii. _ , c + v + s = , _ means of subsistence at first it looks as if department ii were also creating and realising surplus value in the process of producing means of subsistence for the workers, and department i by producing the requisite means of production. but if we take the social product as a whole, the illusion disappears. the equation is in that case: _ , c + , v + , s = , _ now, if the means of subsistence for the workers are cut by units, the corresponding contraction of both departments will give us the following equations: i. _ , c + · v + · s = , · _ ii. _ , · c + · v + · s = , _ and for the social product as a whole: _ , · c + , · v + , · s = , · _ this looks like a general decrease in both the total volume of production and in the production of surplus value--but only if we contemplate just the abstract quantities of value in the composition of the total product; it does not hold good for the material composition thereof. looking closer, we find that nothing but the upkeep of labour is in effect decreased. fewer means of subsistence and production are now being made, no doubt, but then, they had had no other function save to maintain workers. the social product is smaller and less capital is now employed--but then, the object of capitalist production is not simply to employ as much capital as possible, but to produce as much surplus value as possible. capital has only decreased because a smaller amount is sufficient for maintaining the workers. if the total cost of maintaining the workers employed in the society came to , units in the first instance, the present decrease of the social product by · --the difference of ( , - , · )--comes off this maintenance charge, and there is a consequent change in the composition of the social product: _ , c + , · v + , s = , · _ constant capital and surplus value remain unchanged, and only the variable capital, paid labour, has diminished. or--in case there are doubts about constant capital being unaffected--we may further allow for the event that, as would happen in actual practice, concomitant with the decrease in means of subsistence for the workers there will be a corresponding cut in the constant capital. the equation for the social product as a whole would then be: _ , · c + , v + , s = , · _ in spite of the smaller social product, there is no change in the surplus value in either case, and it is only the cost of maintaining the workers that has fallen. put it this way: the value of the aggregate social product may be defined as consisting of three parts, the total constant capital of the society, its total variable capital, and its total surplus value, of which the first set of products contains no additional labour, and the second and third no means of production. as regards their material form, all these products come into being in the given period of production--though in point of value the constant capital had been produced in a previous period and is merely being transferred to new products. on this basis, we can also divide all the workers employed into three mutually exclusive categories: those who produce the aggregate constant capital of the society, those who provide the upkeep for all the workers, and finally those who create the entire surplus value for the capitalist class. if, then, the workers' consumption is curtailed, only workers in the second category will lose their jobs. _ex hypothesi_, these workers had never created surplus value for capital, and in consequence their dismissal is therefore no loss from the capitalist's point of view but a gain, since it decreases the cost of producing surplus value. the demand of the state which arises at the same time has the lure of a new and attractive sphere for realising the surplus value. some of the money circulating as variable capital breaks free of this cycle and in the state treasury it represents a new demand. for the technique of taxation, of course, the order of events is rather different, since the amount of the indirect taxes is actually advanced to the state by capital and is merely being refunded to the capitalists by the sale of their commodities, as part of their price. but economically speaking, it makes no difference. the crucial point is that the quantity of money with the function of variable capital should first mediate the exchange between capital and labour power. later, when there is an exchange between workers and capitalists as buyers and sellers of commodities respectively, this money will change hands and accrue to the state as taxes. this money, which capital has set circulating, first fulfils its primary function in the exchange with labour power, but subsequently, by mediation of the state, it begins an entirely new career. as a new purchasing power, belonging with neither labour nor capital, it becomes interested in new products, in a special branch of production which does not cater for either the capitalists or the working class, and thus it offers capital new opportunities for creating and realising surplus value. when we were formerly taking it for granted that the indirect taxes extorted from the workers are used for paying the officials and for provisioning the army, we found the 'saving' in the consumption of the working class to mean that the workers rather than the capitalists were made to pay for the personal consumption of the hangers-on of the capitalist class and the tools of their class-rule. this charge devolved from the surplus value to the variable capital, and a corresponding amount of the surplus value became available for purposes of capitalisation. now we see how the taxes extorted from the workers afford capital a new opportunity for accumulation when they are used for armament manufacture. on the basis of indirect taxation, militarism in practice works both ways. by lowering the normal standard of living for the working class, it ensures both that capital should be able to maintain a regular army, the organ of capitalist rule, and that it may tap an impressive field for further accumulation.[ ] we have still to examine the second source of the state's purchasing power referred to in our example, the units out of the total invested in armaments. they differ essentially from the hundred units considered above in that they are not supplied by the workers but by the petty bourgeoisie, i.e. the artisans and peasants. (in this connection, we can ignore the comparatively small tax-contribution of the capitalist class itself.) the money accruing to the state as taxes from the peasant masses--as our generic term for all non-proletarian consumers--was not originally advanced by capital and has not split off from capital in circulation. in the hand of the peasant it is the equivalent of goods that have been realised, the exchange value of simple commodity production. the state now gets part of the purchasing power of the non-capitalist consumers, purchasing power, that is to say, which is already free to realise the surplus value for capitalist accumulation. now the question arises, whether economic changes will result for capital, and if so, of what nature, from diverting the purchasing power of such strata to the state for militarist purposes. it almost looks as if we had come up against yet another shift in the material form of reproduction. capital will now produce an equivalent of war materials for the state instead of producing large quantities of means of production and subsistence for peasant consumers. but in fact the changes go deeper. first and foremost, the state can use the mechanism of taxation to mobilise much larger amounts of purchasing power from the non-capitalist consumers than they would ordinarily spend on their own consumption. indeed the modern system of taxation itself is largely responsible for forcing commodity economy on the peasants. under pressure of taxes, the peasant must turn more and more of his produce into commodities, and at the same time he must buy more and more. taxation presses the produce of peasant economy into circulation and compels the peasants to become buyers of capitalist products. finally, on a basis of commodity production in the peasant style, the system of taxation lures more purchasing power from peasant economy than would otherwise become active. what would normally have been hoarded by the peasants and the lower middle classes until it has grown big enough to invest in savings banks and other banks is now set free to constitute an effective demand and an opportunity for investment. further the multitude of individual and insignificant demands for a whole range of commodities, which will become effective at different times and which might often be met just as well by simple commodity production, is now replaced by a comprehensive and homogeneous demand of the state. and the satisfaction of this demand presupposes a big industry of the highest order. it requires the most favourable conditions for the production of surplus value and for accumulation. in the form of government contracts for army supplies the scattered purchasing power of the consumers is concentrated in large quantities and, free of the vagaries and subjective fluctuations of personal consumption, it achieves an almost automatic regularity and rhythmic growth. capital itself ultimately controls this automatic and rhythmic movement of militarist production through the legislature and a press whose function is to mould so-called 'public opinion'. that is why this particular province of capitalist accumulation at first seems capable of infinite expansion. all other attempts to expand markets and set up operational bases for capital largely depend on historical, social and political factors beyond the control of capital, whereas production for militarism represents a province whose regular and progressive expansion seems primarily determined by capital itself. in this way capital turns historical necessity into a virtue: the ever fiercer competition in the capitalist world itself provides a field for accumulation of the first magnitude. capital increasingly employs militarism for implementing a foreign and colonial policy to get hold of the means of production and labour power of non-capitalist countries and societies. this same militarism works in a like manner in the capitalist countries to divert purchasing power away from the non-capitalist strata. the representatives of simple commodity production and the working class are affected alike in this way. at their expense, the accumulation of capital is raised to the highest power, by robbing the one of their productive forces and by depressing the other's standard of living. needless to say, after a certain stage the conditions for the accumulation of capital both at home and abroad turn into their very opposite--they become conditions for the decline of capitalism. the more ruthlessly capital sets about the destruction of non-capitalist strata at home and in the outside world, the more it lowers the standard of living for the workers as a whole, the greater also is the change in the day-to-day history of capital. it becomes a string of political and social disasters and convulsions, and under these conditions, punctuated by periodical economic catastrophes or crises, accumulation can go on no longer. but even before this natural economic impasse of capital's own creating is properly reached it becomes a necessity for the international working class to revolt against the rule of capital. capitalism is the first mode of economy with the weapon of propaganda, a mode which tends to engulf the entire globe and to stamp out all other economies, tolerating no rival at its side. yet at the same time it is also the first mode of economy which is unable to exist by itself, which needs other economic systems as a medium and soil. although it strives to become universal, and, indeed, on account of this its tendency, it must break down--because it is immanently incapable of becoming a universal form of production. in its living history it is a contradiction in itself, and its movement of accumulation provides a solution to the conflict and aggravates it at the same time. at a certain stage of development there will be no other way out than the application of socialist principles. the aim of socialism is not accumulation but the satisfaction of toiling humanity's wants by developing the productive forces of the entire globe. and so we find that socialism is by its very nature an harmonious and universal system of economy. footnotes: [ ] dr. renner indeed makes this assumption the basis of his treatise on taxation. 'every particle of value created in the course of one year is made up of these four parts: profit, interest, rent, and wages; and annual taxation, then, can only be levied upon these' (_das arbeitende volk und die steuern_, vienna, ). though renner immediately goes on to mention peasants, he cursorily dismisses them in a single sentence: 'a peasant e.g. is simultaneously entrepreneur, worker, and landowner, his agricultural proceeds yield him wage, profit, and rent, _all in one_.' obviously, it is an empty abstraction to apply simultaneously all the categories of capitalist production to the peasantry, to conceive of the peasant as entrepreneur, wage labourer and landlord all in one person. if, like renner, we want to put the peasant into a single category, his peculiarity for economics lies in the very fact that he belongs neither to the class of capitalist entrepreneurs nor to that of the wage proletariat, that he is not a representative of capitalism at all but of simple commodity production. [ ] it would go beyond the scope of the present treatise to deal with cartels and trusts as specific phenomena of the imperialist phase. they are due to the internal competitive struggle between individual capitalist groups for a monopoly of the existing spheres for accumulation and for the distribution of profits. [ ] in a reply to vorontsov, professor manuilov, for example, wrote what was then greatly praised by the russian marxists: 'in this context, we must distinguish strictly between a group of entrepreneurs producing weapons of war and the capitalist class as a whole. for the manufacturers of guns, rifles and other war materials, the existence of militarism is no doubt profitable and indispensable. it is indeed quite possible that the abolition of the system of armed peace would spell ruin for krupp. the point at issue, however, is not a special group of entrepreneurs but the capitalists as a class, capitalist production as a whole.' in this connection, however, it should be noted that 'if the burden of taxation falls chiefly on the working population, every increase of this burden diminishes the purchasing power of the population and hence the demand for commodities'. this fact is taken as proof that militarism, under the aspect of armament production, does indeed 'enrich one group of capitalists, but at the same time it injures all others, spelling gain on the one hand but loss on the other' (_vesnik prava_, journal of the law society (st. petersburg, ), no. , 'militarism and capitalism'). [ ] ultimately, the deterioration of the normal conditions under which labour power is renewed will bring about a deterioration of labour itself, it will diminish the average efficiency and productivity of labour, and thus jeopardise the conditions for the production of surplus value. but capital will not feel these results for a long time, and so they do not immediately enter into its economic calculations, except in so far as they bring about more drastic defensive measures of the wage labourers in general. index abstinence, , , , , , , , , accumulation, its impossibility respective unrestricted possibility _ _, f., ff., , , , , , -- primitive, , , , f., africa, , f., , ; south, ff., , algeria, under french rule, , ff.; under turkish rule, allard, general, america, , , , , ; united states of, , ff., , f., f., f., , , , , f., ff., ff., ; states of south, , ff. american civil war (war of secession), f., , , f., , f., anton, g., arabs, , , ff. asia, , , ff., ff., australia, , f. baring, e., earl of cromer, barter, , f., , bastiat-schultze, f., , bentham, j., bergmann, bismarck, blackhouse, e. t., , blanc, l., bland, l. o., , blanqui, boer republics, , ff. -- war, bouding, f. brandt, m. v., bright, brissot, bruce, general, bryce, j., , buecher, prof., f. bulgakov, , - , , , , , , ff. cabet, cameron, canada, f. capital and income (marx), ; (rodbertus), ff.; (say), ; (sismondi), ff., , ; (adam smith), f., ff., ff., -- circulating, , ff., , ff., , f., f., , ff., , -- constant, _ _f., _ _f., _ _f., , , , , , f., , f., , f., , ff., ff., ff., , , , , , , ff., ff., , , , , , f., , f., f., , , ff., , , f., , -- -- definition of, , , f. -- fixed, _ _, , , ff., ff., , ff., , , , , , ff., , , -- national (_per se_), , -- productive, f., , , f., , , -- total social, , f., f., , , , , , , f., , , f., , , , , , , , f. -- variable, _ _, _ _f., _ _, , , f., , ff., , , , ff., ff., , ff., , , ff., , , , f., ff., , , , , , , , , , , , , , f., , ff., f., , f., , f.; definition, , ; in relation to surplus value, , , ; in relation to constant capital, , , , , , f. cavour, chartist movement, , chernishevski, chesney, colonel, chevalier, m., china, , , , , , ff., , ; dowager empress of, ff. class antagonism, -- rule, , , , -- society, cobden, r., f. colonial policy, , , f., ff., , , f., , -- -- english in india, , , , f., -- -- french in north africa, , , commodity economy, _see_ economy -- exchange, f., , f., ff., , f., f., , , , , , , , -- surplus, ff., - communism, , , , compensation, theory of, competition, _ _, _ _, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; 'peaceful --', , contradictions latent in capitalism, , , f., , , ff. corn laws, _corvée_, , , , , , crises, _ _, f., , , f., , f., , , , ff., , , , , , f., , ff., ff., , , , , f., , , , ff., f., f., , , f., , , , , , crusoe, robinson, , , , ff. dalrymple, oliver, f., declining wage rate, _ _f., , , , f., , f. delamarre, abbé, demand and supply (production), , , , f., , , , , ff., f., , , -- effective, _ _, , , , , , f., f., , , , , f. devers, a., dialectical approach, , , , , diehl, prof., f., , f. division of labour, , , f., , , , , , f., , f. duehring, east india company, f., f., economics, bourgeois, , , , f., , , , , , f., , , , f., , , , , , , f., , , f.; classical, , , , ff., , f., , f., , , , , , ff., , - , , , , , , , , ; vulgar, f., , , , f., economy, commodity, ff., - , , , f., f., , -- natural, , , , - , , , , , , , -- peasant, handicrafts and domestic industries, , , , , , , - , , , f., -- rural, egypt, , f., , , , ff., f. elgin, lord, f. engels, friedrich, , , , , , , , , , , ff., , f. england, ff., , f., ff., , , , , , , f., , , , , , f., , , , , ff., ff. english cotton industry, , , , f., , exploitation, _ _, _ _ff., , f., , , ff., , , , , , , , f., ff., , , , , , , eyth, engineer, , family associations, , , f. feudal system, , , , f., f. foreign trade, , f., , , , , , , , ; _see also_ market fowler's works, france, , , , , , , , , , , , f., f., , ff. franke, o., , free trade, , , , ff. general public (_grand public_), , , germany, , , f., , f., ff., , , ff. gold, production of, ff., , , f. great britain, _see_ england gros, hangers-on of the capitalist class, cf. also third persons, _ _, f., , f., f., , f., , , ff., hanotaux, a., hansen, _ _ harmony, doctrine of, , , , f., ff., f., , , , f., f. harrod, _ _ hermann, herodotus, f., hertzen, hicks, _ _ hobson, _ _, ilyin, v., , , , , , , imperialism, _ _, , , ff., , f., india, f., , , , , , f., , ff., , , , , indian famine, , -- mutiny, , industrial reserve army, _ _, , , intelligentsia, ff. ismail pasha, , ff., issayev, prof., italy, , ff. japan, , kablukov, prof., kaffir, ff. -- wars, , kalecki, _ _ kant, i., kareyev, kautsky, k., , , ff. keynes, lord, _ _f., _ _ kirchmann, v., - , , , , , f., f., , , f., , kovalevski, m., , f., labour, abstract and concrete, ff., , -- intellectual and material, -- paid and unpaid, ff., , , ff., , , , , f., -- past and present, f., , , , f. -- problem, f. labour, progressive productivity of, its capitalist and general social expression, , f., f., , lafargue, , _laissez-faire_, , , lassalle, f., lavrov, p., lenin, vladimir ilyich, _see_ ilyin letournaux, a., lexis, leyden, v. v., list, f., livingstone, dr., loans, international, , - , f. lodyshenski, k., lotz, w., lucas, c. p., luxury goods, , , , ff., , ff., , macculloch, j. r., , , - , , f., , , , , , , maine, sir henry, f. malthus, _ _, , , , - , , , , , manuilov, prof., , market, internal and external, , , f., ff., , f., , ff., -- concept revised, -- problem of, f., , , , , ff., ff. marx, k., _ _f., _ _ff., , f., , , , , , ff., - , , ff., - , - , ff., , , , , , f., , , , , , f., f., , , , f., f., , , - , f., ff., , f., ff., , f., , ff., ; his diagram of capitalist reproduction, , , ff., , , f., , , - , , , , ; his diagram of enlarged reproduction, - , f., ff., , f., - , , f., , , , ff.; his diagram of simple reproduction, , , , , , , , , , , , marxism, ff., , ; 'legalist', , , , , f., , , - , ; 'orthodox', mehemet ali, , mehring, f., , f. mikhailovski, prof., militarism, _ _, , , , , , , , , - mill, james, , , ff., f., , mill, john stuart, money, as form of pure value, f., f., , -- circulation, _ _, , - , ff., , , , ff., -- sources, ff., ff., , ff., ff. monroe, president, moravitz, c., , most favoured nations clause, napoleon bonaparte, napoleon iii, , negroes, ff., ff. neo-marxists, neo-mercantilism, nikolayon, , - , f., , , , , non-capitalist strata necessary for accumulation, f., ff., , , ff., , , , , , , , , nyok ching tsur, dr., _obshchina_, , , opium wars, _ _, , , , , oppenheim, m. v., _ort_, f., , over-production, , , , , f., , , , , , , , f., , , owen, robert, f., , palikao, count, pan-germans, peasantry, _ _; their expropriation, , , , , , f. peel, sir robert, peffer, senator, , , f., f. physiocrats, , , , f., , , , , planned economy, f., f., ff., , , , plekhanov, prof., , population increase, _ _, , , , , f., , f., populism, ff., , ff., , , , , , positivism, pressel, engineer, f. primitive social organisations, , , f., , , ff., , , , private enterprise, , , production, and consumption, f., , , , , , , f., , , , -- for social requirements, , , , , , , , , f., -- its two departments, _ _, _ _f., _ _, _ _, ff., ff., , , ff., ff., ff., , , , , , , ff., , , , -- capitalist, as creation of surplus value, ff., , , , , , , -- -- as end in itself, , f., , , -- -- its universal domination, f., , , , , , , , , , productive consumption, f., profit, of enterprise, , , -- motive, , , f. profit, rate, _ _, _ _f., f., ; (declining) , , , , f., progress, _ _, , , f., , , , , f., , , , , property, ownership, , f., , f., -- communal, , , , , -- in land, , , f., -- -- vested in sovereign, f., f. -- private, , , , , , ff. proudhon, , , , f. punjab alienation act, quesnay, , ff., , , f., railway construction, , , , , , ff., ff., , renner, k., rent, , ff., ff., , , , , f., , _rentier_, , reproduction, enlarged, _ _, ff., , ff., , - , , , , , , , , , , , f., , , f., , , , -- simple, _ _, _ _, _ _, , , , , , f., f., , f., , , ff., f., ff., , , , , , f., , , , , , , , , , , -- transition from simple to enlarged, , f., , , f., ; _see also_ marx rhodes, cecil, f., ricardo, d., f., , , f., f., f., , , , , ff., - , , ff., f., f., , f., ff., , , , , , , , ff., , f., f., , , , 'right to work', , f. roberts of kandahar, lord, rodbertus, _ _f., , ff., , - , - , , , f., rothstein, th., ff. rozet, a., rusk, secretary, russia, , , f., ff., f., ff., , , , , ff., , f., st. simon, said pasha, ff. saling, saving, _ _f., _ _ff., _ _f., _ _, , f., , f., f. say, j. b., ff., f., ff., , , , , , - , f., , ff., , , , , , , , , , f., , schaeffle, prof., , , , scheibert, j., , schmoller, prof., , ff. schneider, s., schultze, e., sering, , , f. severance of labour power from the means of production, , , -- of agriculture and trade (industry), , f. simmons, a. m., simons, sismondi, _ _, , , , - , - , - , - , f., f., ff., , , , ff., , , , , , , f., f., , , , , , ff., f., ff. skvortsov, prof., slavery, , , f., , , f., , , f., , , , , , , slavophiles, , smith, adam, , , ff., , f., ff., , , , , ff., , f., , , f., , f., ff., , , , , , socialism, f., , , f., ; english, ; utopian, ; and marx's analysis, sombart, prof., spheres of interest, , , state as consumer, , ff., , , , struve, peter v., , - , , , ff., f., suez canal, , f., , ff. surplus value, _ _, _ _f., , , , ff., , , , , ff., , , , f., , ff., ff., , f., , , ff., f., , f., f., ff., , , , ; its capitalisation, , ff., , , , , f., f., , , , , , , , , f., , f., , , , f., , , , , , , , ; its consumption, ff., , , , , , , ; 'destruction', f., , ; definition, f., ; realisation, ff., , , , ff., , , , ff., , f., , , f., , f., , , , , , , , , , , f., , , , , f.; contradiction between its production and realisation, , sweezy, _ _, tariffs, protective, , , , - , taussig, f. taxation, , f., , , , , , , ff., , , , f.; indirect, ff., f., f. tax collector, f., f. 'third persons', , , - , , , , , 'three world empires', - timur (tamerlane), tooke, trade unions, , tucker, josiah, tugan baranovski, prof., _ _, , , , f., , - , ff., , f., , , ff. turkey, , , , f., , , , unemployment, , , , usury, , , , f. utopianism, , , , , , value, problem of pure, f. -- marx's theory of, , , , -- ricardo's theory of, , -- rodbertus' theory of, ff., , value, adam smith's theory of, , ff., f. -- relationships and material points of view, f., , , , , , victoria, queen, violence, , , vorontsov, v., _ _, f., - , , ff., , , f., , , wagner, prof., , f., , , , warren, count, wilson, h. h., f. wilson, james, world (international) commerce, , f., world market, , , , f., _zadruga_, [transcriber's notes: list of errors: page "stook" changed to "stock" ("requires an increase in the stock") page "quesney" changed to "quesnay" ("of this problem: one by quesney,") page missing "(" added ("(_ v + v + v_)") pages and "e" replaced with "É" ("_nouveaux principes d'Économie politique_") page footnote reference to altered from original , assumed to be page "simulated" changed to "stimulated" ("the working class had stimulated sismondi's opposition") page "irelevant" changed to "irrelevant" ("irrelevant to the productive process,") page "." changed to "," ("one of the two champions of the 'populist' movement,") page second "." added as in "v. v." ("vorontsov, known in russia mainly under the _nom de plume_ v. v.,") page "'" added ("open whether these 'third persons'") page """ changed to "'" ("entirely on the basis of the home market.'") page two instances of "formulae" changed to "formulæ" page space added to betweenthe ("determined by the relations between the two departments") page "producduction" changed to "production" ("the sphere of capitalist production,") page " , , , acres" changed to " , , acres" [based on the german text " . . hektar" converted to acres and rounded] page "assocations" changed to "associations" ("of accelerating the process of dissolving the family associations") page "." removed after "per cent" ("an annual charge of per cent") page "alleppo" changed to "aleppo" ("_vilayets_ aydin, baghdad, mossul, diarbekir, ursa and aleppo") page "," changed to ";" (" , , , f.;") footnote missing "." added to " ." ("macculloch, loc. cit., p. .") footnote "noveaux" changed to "nouveaux" ("_nouveaux principes_ ..., vol. i, p. .") footnote "socialer" changed to "sozialer" ("_Über die grundrente in sozialer beziehung._") footnote "f," changed to "f." ("op. cit., vol. ii, pp. f.") footnote missing "." added to "ibid.," ("ibid., vol. i, p. .")] none the great illusion the great illusion a study of the relation of military power to national advantage by norman angell _fourth revised and enlarged edition_ g.p. putnam's sons new york and london the knickerbocker press copyright, , by g.p. putnam's sons copyright, , by g.p. putnam's sons copyright, , by g.p. putnam's sons foreign editions of this book are now on sale in the following countries: great britain _william heinemann_ _london_ _first published, november, . reprinted, april, ; june, _ _new editions: november, ; january, ; april, ; may, ; reprinted, may, ; july, ; november, ; january, ; april, ; september, ; october, ; november, _ france _hachette et cie_ _paris_ " (_cheap popular edition_) _nelson_ _paris_ germany _dieterichsche verlags_ _leipzig_ " (_cheap popular edition_) _vita: deutsches verlag_ _berlin_ italy _associazione della stampa periodica italiana_ _rome_ " (_cheap popular edition_) _casa humanitas_ denmark _e. jespersens_ _copenhagen_ spain _nelson_ _madrid_ finland _w. soderstrom_ _borga_ holland _a.-w. sijthoff_ _leyden_ japan _hakubankwan publishing co._ _tokio_ norway _e. jespersens_ _copenhagen_ sweden _p.-a. norstedt et soner_ _stockholm_ russia _j. maiewsky_ _moscow_ in preparation: china _christian literature society for china_ _shanghai_ bohemia _english club_ _prague_ arabic _al-hillal office_ _cairo_ urdu } hindi } bengali }_brooks_ _madras_ gujerati } marathi } tamil } the knickerbocker press, new york preface to the fourth american edition if this, the fourth american edition, is bulkier than its predecessors, it is chiefly because the events of the last two years throw an interesting light upon the bearing of the book's main thesis on actual world problems. i have, therefore, added an appendix dealing with certain criticisms based upon the nature of the first balkan war, in the course of which i attempt to show just how the principles elaborated here have been working out in european politics. that american interest in the problems here discussed is hardly less vital than that of europe i am even more persuaded than when the first american edition of this book was issued in . it is certain that opinion in america will not be equipped for dealing with her own problems arising out of her relations with the spanish american states, with japan, with the philippines, unless it has some fair understanding of the principles with which this book deals. its general interest even goes farther than this: no great community like that of modern america can remain indifferent to the drift of general opinion throughout the world on matters wrapped up with issues so important as those of war and peace. that the tangible commercial and business interests of america are involved in these european events is obvious from the very factors of financial and commercial interdependence which form the basis of the argument. that the interests of americans are inextricably, if indirectly, bound up with those of europe, has become increasingly clear as can be proved by the barest investigation of the trend of political thought in this country. the thesis on its economic side is discussed in terms of the gravest problem which now faces european statesmanship, but these terms are also the living symbols of a principle of universal application, as true with reference to american conditions as to european. if i have not "localized" the discussion by using illustrations drawn from purely american cases, it is because these problems have not at present, in the united states, reached the acute stage that they have in europe, and illustrations drawn from the conditions of an actual and pressing problem give to any discussion a reality which to some extent it might lose if discussed on the basis of more supposititious cases. it so happens, however, that in the more abstract section of the discussion embraced in the second part, which i have termed the "human nature of the case," i have gone mainly to american authors for the statement of cases based on those illusions with which the book deals. for this edition i have thought it worth while thoroughly to revise the whole of the book and to re-write the chapter on the payment of the french indemnity, in order to clear up a misunderstanding to which in its first form it gave rise. part iii has also been re-written, in order to meet the changed form of criticism which has resulted from the discussion of this subject during the last year or two. it is with very great regret that i have seen this book grow in bulk; but as it constitutes the statement of a thesis still revolutionary, it has to cover the whole ground of the discussion, sometimes in great detail. i have, however, adopted an arrangement and method of presentation by which, i trust, the increase in bulk will not render it less clear. the general arrangement is as follows: the synopsis is a very brief indication of the scope of the whole argument, which is not that war is impossible, but that it is futile--useless, even when completely victorious, as a means of securing those moral or material ends which represent the needs of modern civilized peoples; and that on a general realization of this truth depends the solution of the problem of armaments and warfare. the general economic argument is summarized in chapter iii., part i. the moral, psychological, and biological argument is summarized in chapter ii., part ii. the practical outcome--what should be our policy with reference to defence, why progress depends upon the improvement of public opinion and the best general methods of securing that--is discussed in part iii. this method of treatment has involved some small repetition of fact and illustration, but the repetition is trifling in bulk--it does not amount in all to the value of more than three or four pages--and i have been more concerned to make the matter in hand clear to the reader than to observe all the literary canons. i may add that, apart from this, the process of condensation has been carried to its extreme limit for the character of data dealt with, and that those who desire to understand thoroughly the significance of the thesis with which the book deals--it is worth understanding--had really better read every line of it! one personal word may perhaps be excused as explaining certain phraseology, which would seem to indicate that the author is of english nationality. he happens to be of english birth, but to have passed his youth and early manhood in the united states, having acquired american citizenship there. this i hope entitles him to use the collective "we" on both sides of the atlantic. i may add that the last fifteen years have been passed mainly in europe studying at first hand the problems here dealt with. n.a. london, october, . preface the present volume is the outcome of a large pamphlet published in europe at the end of last year entitled _europe's optical illusion_. the interest that the pamphlet created and the character of the discussion provoked throughout europe persuaded me that its subject-matter was worth fuller and more detailed treatment than then given it. herewith the result of that conviction. the thesis on its economic side is discussed in the terms of the gravest problem which now faces european statesmanship, but these terms are also the living symbols of a principle of universal application, as true with reference to american conditions as to european. if i have not "localized" the discussion by using illustrations drawn from purely american cases, it is because these problems have not at present in the united states reached the acute stage that they have in europe, and illustrations drawn from the conditions of an actual and pressing problem give to any discussion a reality which to some extent it might lose if discussed on the basis of more suppositious cases. it so happens, however, that in the more abstract section of the discussion embraced in the second part, which i have termed the "human nature of the case," i have gone mainly to american authors for the statement of cases based on those illusions with which the book deals. n.a. paris, august, . synopsis what are the fundamental motives that explain the present rivalry of armaments in europe, notably the anglo-german? each nation pleads the need for defence; but this implies that someone is likely to attack, and has therefore a presumed interest in so doing. what are the motives which each state thus fears its neighbors may obey? they are based on the universal assumption that a nation, in order to find outlets for expanding population and increasing industry, or simply to ensure the best conditions possible for its people, is necessarily pushed to territorial expansion and the exercise of political force against others (german naval competition is assumed to be the expression of the growing need of an expanding population for a larger place in the world, a need which will find a realization in the conquest of english colonies or trade, unless these are defended); it is assumed, therefore, that a nation's relative prosperity is broadly determined by its political power; that nations being competing units, advantage, in the last resort, goes to the possessor of preponderant military force, the weaker going to the wall, as in the other forms of the struggle for life. the author challenges this whole doctrine. he attempts to show that it belongs to a stage of development out of which we have passed; that the commerce and industry of a people no longer depend upon the expansion of its political frontiers; that a nation's political and economic frontiers do not now necessarily coincide; that military power is socially and economically futile, and can have no relation to the prosperity of the people exercising it; that it is impossible for one nation to seize by force the wealth or trade of another--to enrich itself by subjugating, or imposing its will by force on another; that, in short, war, even when victorious, can no longer achieve those aims for which peoples strive. he establishes this apparent paradox, in so far as the economic problem is concerned, by showing that wealth in the economically civilized world is founded upon credit and commercial contract (these being the outgrowth of an economic interdependence due to the increasing division of labor and greatly developed communication). if credit and commercial contract are tampered with in an attempt at confiscation, the credit-dependent wealth is undermined, and its collapse involves that of the conqueror; so that if conquest is not to be self-injurious it must respect the enemy's property, in which case it becomes economically futile. thus the wealth of conquered territory remains in the hands of the population of such territory. when germany annexed alsatia, no individual german secured a single mark's worth of alsatian property as the spoils of war. conquest in the modern world is a process of multiplying by _x_, and then obtaining the original figure by dividing by _x_. for a modern nation to add to its territory no more adds to the wealth of the people of such nation than it would add to the wealth of londoners if the city of london were to annex the county of hertford. the author also shows that international finance has become so interdependent and so interwoven with trade and industry that the intangibility of an enemy's property extends to his trade. it results that political and military power can in reality do nothing for trade; the individual merchants and manufacturers of small nations, exercising no such power, compete successfully with those of the great. swiss and belgian merchants drive english from the british colonial market; norway has, relatively to population, a greater mercantile marine than great britain; the public credit (as a rough-and-ready indication, among others, of security and wealth) of small states possessing no political power often stands higher than that of the great powers of europe, belgian three per cents. standing at , and german at ; norwegian three and a half per cents. at , and russian three and a half per cents. at . the forces which have brought about the economic futility of military power have also rendered it futile as a means of enforcing a nation's moral ideals or imposing social institutions upon a conquered people. germany could not turn canada or australia into german colonies--_i.e._, stamp out their language, law, literature, traditions, etc.--by "capturing" them. the necessary security in their material possessions enjoyed by the inhabitants of such conquered provinces, quick inter-communication by a cheap press, widely-read literature, enable even small communities to become articulate and effectively to defend their special social or moral possessions, even when military conquest has been complete. the fight for ideals can no longer take the form of fight between nations, because the lines of division on moral questions are within the nations themselves and intersect the political frontiers. there is no modern state which is completely catholic or protestant, or liberal or autocratic, or aristocratic or democratic, or socialist or individualist; the moral and spiritual struggles of the modern world go on between citizens of the same state in unconscious intellectual co-operation with corresponding groups in other states, not between the public powers of rival states. this classification by strata involves necessarily a redirection of human pugnacity, based rather on the rivalry of classes and interests than on state divisions. war has no longer the justification that it makes for the survival of the fittest; it involves the survival of the less fit. the idea that the struggle between nations is a part of the evolutionary law of man's advance involves a profound misreading of the biological analogy. the warlike nations do not inherit the earth; they represent the decaying human element. the diminishing rôle of physical force in all spheres of human activity carries with it profound psychological modifications. these tendencies, mainly the outcome of purely modern conditions (_e.g._ rapidity of communication), have rendered the problems of modern international politics profoundly and essentially different from the ancient; yet our ideas are still dominated by the principles and axioms, images and terminology of the bygone days. the author urges that these little-recognized facts may be utilized for the solution of the armament difficulty on at present untried lines--by such modification of opinion in europe that much of the present motive to aggression will cease to be operative, and by thus diminishing the risk of attack, diminishing to the same extent the need for defence. he shows how such a political reformation is within the scope of practical politics, and the methods which should be employed to bring it about. contents part i the economics of the case chapter page i. statement of the economic case for war ii. the axioms of modern statecraft iii. the great illusion iv. the impossibility of confiscation v. foreign trade and military power vi. the indemnity futility vii. how colonies are owned viii. the fight for "the place in the sun." part ii the human nature and morals of the case i. the psychological case for war ii. the psychological case for peace iii. unchanging human nature iv. do the warlike nations inherit the earth? v. the diminishing factor of physical force: psychological results vi. the state as a person: a false analogy and its consequences part iii the practical outcome i. the relation of defence to aggression ii. armament, but not alone armament iii. is the political reformation possible? iv. methods appendix on recent events in europe * * * * * part i _the economics of the case_ chapter i pages statement of the economic case for war where can the anglo-german rivalry of armaments end?--why peace advocacy fails--why it deserves to fail--the attitude of the peace advocate--the presumption that the prosperity of nations depends upon their political power, and consequent necessity of protection against aggression of other nations who would diminish our power to their advantage--these the universal axioms of international politics - chapter ii the axioms of modern statecraft are the foregoing axioms unchallengeable?--some typical statements of them--german dreams of conquest--mr. frederic harrison on results of defeat of british arms and invasion of england--forty millions starving - chapter iii the great illusion these views founded on a gross and dangerous misconception--what a german victory could and could not accomplish--what an english victory could and could not accomplish--the optical illusion of conquest--there can be no transfer of wealth--the prosperity of the little states in europe--german three per cents. at and belgian at --russian three and a half per cents. at , norwegian at --what this really means--if germany annexed holland, would any german benefit or any hollander?--the "cash value" of alsace-lorraine - chapter iv the impossibility of confiscation our present terminology of international politics an historical survival--wherein modern conditions differ from ancient--the profound change effected by division of labor--the delicate interdependence of international finance--attila and the kaiser--what would happen if a german invader looted the bank of england--german trade dependent upon english credit--confiscation of an enemy's property an economic impossibility under modern conditions--intangibility of a community's wealth - chapter v foreign trade and military power why trade cannot be destroyed or captured by a military power--what the processes of trade really are, and how a navy affects them--_dreadnoughts_ and business--while _dreadnoughts_ protect british trade from hypothetical german warships, the real german merchant is carrying it off, or the swiss or the belgian--the "commercial aggression" of switzerland--what lies at the bottom of the futility of military conquest--government brigandage becomes as profitless as private brigandage--the real basis of commercial honesty on the part of government - chapter vi the indemnity futility the real balance-sheet of the franco-german war--disregard of sir robert giffen's warning in interpreting the figures--what really happened in france and germany during the decade following the war--bismarck's disillusionment--the necessary discount to be given an indemnity--the bearing of the war and its result on german prosperity and progress - chapter vii how colonies are owned why twentieth-century methods must differ from eighteenth--the vagueness of our conceptions of statecraft--how colonies are "owned"--some little-recognized facts--why foreigners could not fight england for her self-governing colonies--she does not "own" them, since they are masters of their own destiny--the paradox of conquest: england in a worse position in regard to her own colonies than in regard to foreign nations--her experience as the oldest and most practised colonizer in history--recent french experience--could germany hope to do what england cannot do - chapter viii the fight for "the place in the sun" how germany really expands--where her real colonies are--how she exploits without conquest--what is the difference between an army and a police force?--the policing of the world--germany's share of it in the near east - part ii _the human nature and morals of the case_ chapter i the psychological case for war the non-economic motives of war--moral and psychological--the importance of these pleas--english, german, and american exponents--the biological plea - chapter ii the psychological case for peace the shifting ground of pro-war arguments--the narrowing gulf between the material and moral ideals--the non-rational causes of war--false biological analogies--the real law of man's struggles: struggle with nature, not with other men--outline sketch of man's advance and main operating factor therein--the progress towards elimination of physical force--co-operation across frontiers and its psychological result--impossible to fix limits of community--such limits irresistibly expanding--break-up of state homogeneity--state limits no longer coinciding with real conflicts between men - chapter iii unchanging human nature the progress from cannibalism to herbert spencer--the disappearance of religious oppression by government--disappearance of the duel--the crusaders and the holy sepulchre--the wail of militarist writers at man's drift away from militancy - chapter iv do the warlike nations inherit the earth? the confident dogmatism of militarist writers on this subject--the facts--the lessons of spanish america--how conquest makes for the survival of the unfit--spanish method and english method in the new world--the virtues of military training--the dreyfus case--the threatened germanization of england--"the war which made germany great and germans small" - chapter v the diminishing factor of physical force: psychological results diminishing factor of physical force--though diminishing, physical force has always had an important rôle in human affairs--what is underlying principle, determining advantageous and disadvantageous use of physical force?--force that aids co-operation in accord with law of man's advance: force that is exercised for parasitism in conflict with such law and disadvantageous for both parties--historical process of the abandonment of physical force--the khan and the london tradesman--ancient rome and modern britain--the sentimental defence of war as the purifier of human life--the facts--the redirection of human pugnacity - chapter vi the state as a person: a false analogy and its consequences why aggression upon a state does not correspond to aggression upon an individual--our changing conception of collective responsibility--psychological progress in this connection--recent growth of factors breaking down the homogeneous personality of states - part iii _the practical outcome_ chapter i the relation of defence to aggression necessity for defence arises from the existence of a motive for attack--platitudes that everyone overlooks--to attenuate the motive for aggression is to undertake a work of defence - chapter ii armament, but not alone armament not the facts, but men's belief about facts, shapes their conduct--solving a problem of two factors by ignoring one--the fatal outcome of such a method--the german navy as a "luxury"--if both sides concentrate on armament alone - chapter iii is the political reformation possible? men are little disposed to listen to reason, "therefore we should not talk reason"--are men's ideas immutable? - chapter iv methods relative failure of hague conferences and the cause--public opinion the necessary motive force of national action--that opinion only stable if informed--"friendship" between nations and its limitations--america's rôle in the coming "political reformation" - appendix on recent events in europe - index - part i the economics of the case chapter i statement of the economic case for war where can the anglo-german rivalry of armaments end?--why peace advocacy fails--why it deserves to fail--the attitude of the peace advocate--the presumption that the prosperity of nations depends upon their political power, and consequent necessity of protection against aggression of other nations who would diminish our power to their advantage--these the universal axioms of international politics. it is generally admitted that the present rivalry in armaments in europe--notably such as that now in progress between england and germany--cannot go on in its present form indefinitely. the net result of each side meeting the efforts of the other with similar efforts is that at the end of a given period the relative position of each is what it was originally, and the enormous sacrifices of both have gone for nothing. if as between england and germany it is claimed that england is in a position to maintain the lead because she has the money, germany can retort that she is in a position to maintain the lead because she has the population, which must, in the case of a highly organized european nation, in the end mean money. meanwhile, neither side can yield to the other, as the one so doing would, it is felt, be placed at the mercy of the other, a situation which neither will accept. there are two current solutions which are offered as a means of egress from this _impasse_. there is that of the smaller party, regarded in both countries for the most part as one of dreamers and doctrinaires, who hope to solve the problem by a resort to general disarmament, or, at least, a limitation of armament by agreement. and there is that of the larger, which is esteemed the more practical party, of those who are persuaded that the present state of rivalry and recurrent irritation is bound to culminate in an armed conflict, which, by definitely reducing one or other of the parties to a position of manifest inferiority, will settle the thing for at least some time, until after a longer or shorter period a state of relative equilibrium is established, and the whole process will be recommenced _da capo_. this second solution is, on the whole, accepted as one of the laws of life: one of the hard facts of existence which men of ordinary courage take as all in the day's work. and in every country those favoring the other solution are looked upon either as people who fail to realize the hard facts of the world in which they live, or as people less concerned with the security of their country than with upholding a somewhat emasculate ideal; ready to weaken the defences of their own country on no better assurance than that the prospective enemy will not be so wicked as to attack them. to this the virile man is apt to oppose the law of conflict. most of what the nineteenth century has taught us of the evolution of life on the planet is pressed into the service of this struggle-for-life philosophy. we are reminded of the survival of the fittest, that the weakest go to the wall, and that all life, sentient and non-sentient, is but a life of battle. the sacrifice involved in armament is the price which nations pay for their safety and for their political power. the power of england has been the main condition of her past industrial success; her trade has been extensive and her merchants rich, because she has been able to make her political and military force felt, and to exercise her influence among all the nations of the world. if she has dominated the commerce of the world, it is because her unconquered navy has dominated, and continues to dominate, all the avenues of commerce. this is the currently accepted argument. the fact that germany has of late come to the front as an industrial nation, making giant strides in general prosperity and well-being, is deemed also to be the result of _her_ military successes and the increasing political power which she is coming to exercise in continental europe. these things, alike in england and in germany, are accepted as the axioms of the problem, as the citations given in the next chapter sufficiently prove. i am not aware that a single authority of note, at least in the world of workaday politics, has ever challenged or disputed them. even those who have occupied prominent positions in the propaganda of peace are at one with the veriest fire-eaters on this point. mr. w.t. stead was one of the leaders of the big navy party in england. mr. frederic harrison, who all his life had been known as the philosopher protagonist of peace, declared recently that, if england allowed germany to get ahead of her in the race for armaments, "famine, social anarchy, incalculable chaos in the industrial and financial world, would be the inevitable result. britain may live on ... but before she began to live freely again she would have to lose half her population, which she could not feed, and all her overseas empire, which she could not defend.... how idle are fine words about retrenchment, peace, and brotherhood, whilst we lie open to the risk of unutterable ruin, to a deadly fight for national existence, to war in its most destructive and cruel form." on the other side we have friendly critics of england, like professor von schulze-gaevernitz, writing: "we want our [_i.e._ germany's] navy in order to confine the commercial rivalry of england within innocuous limits, and to deter the sober sense of the english people from the extremely threatening thought of attack upon us.... the german navy is a condition of our bare existence and independence, like the daily bread on which we depend not only for ourselves, but for our children." confronted by a situation of this sort, one is bound to feel that the ordinary argument of the pacifist entirely breaks down; and it breaks down for a very simple reason. he himself accepts the premise which has just been indicated--viz., that the victorious party in the struggle for political predominance gains some material advantage over the party which is conquered. the proposition even to the pacifist seems so self-evident that he makes no effort to combat it. he pleads his case otherwise. "it cannot be denied, of course," says one peace advocate, "that the thief _does_ secure some material advantage by his theft. what we plead is that if the two parties were to devote to honest labor the time and energy devoted to preying upon each other, the permanent gain would more than offset the occasional booty." some pacifists go further, and take the ground that there is a conflict between the natural law and the moral law, and that we must choose the moral even to our hurt. thus mr. edward grubb writes: self-preservation is not the final law for nations any more than for individuals.... the progress of humanity may demand the extinction (in this world) of the individual, and it may demand also the example and the inspiration of a martyr nation. so long as the divine providence has need of us, christian faith requires that we shall trust for our safety to the unseen but real forces of right dealing, truthfulness, and love; but, should the will of god demand it, we must be prepared, as jeremiah taught his nation long ago, to give up even our national life for furthering those great ends "to which the whole creation moves." this may be "fanaticism," but, if so, it is the fanaticism of christ and of the prophets, and we are willing to take our places along with them.[ ] the foregoing is really the keynote of much pacifist propaganda. in our own day, count tolstoi has even expressed anger at the suggestion that any reaction against militarism, on other than moral grounds, can be efficacious. the peace advocate pleads for "altruism" in international relationships, and in so doing admits that successful war may be to the interest, though the immoral interest, of the victorious party. that is why the "inhumanity" of war bulks so largely in his propaganda, and why he dwells so much upon its horrors and cruelties. it thus results that the workaday world and those engaged in the rough and tumble of practical politics have come to look upon the peace ideal as a counsel of perfection, which may one day be attained when human nature, as the common phrase is, has been improved out of existence, but not while human nature remains what it is. while it remains possible to seize a tangible advantage by a man's strong right arm the advantage will be seized, and woe betide the man who cannot defend himself. nor is this philosophy of force either as conscienceless, as brutal, or as ruthless as its common statement would make it appear. we know that in the world as it exists to-day, in spheres other than those of international rivalry, the race is to the strong, and the weak get scant consideration. industrialism and commercialism are as full of cruelties as war itself--cruelties, indeed, that are longer drawn out, more refined, though less apparent, and, it may be, appealing less to the common imagination than those of war. with whatever reticence we may put the philosophy into words, we all feel that conflict of interests in this world is inevitable, and that what is an incident of our daily lives should not be shirked as a condition of those occasional titanic conflicts which mould the history of the world. the virile man doubts whether he ought to be moved by the plea of the "inhumanity" of war. the masculine mind accepts suffering, death itself, as a risk which we are all prepared to run even in the most unheroic forms of money-making; none of us refuses to use the railway train because of the occasional smash, to travel because of the occasional shipwreck, and so on. indeed, peaceful industry demands a heavier toll even in blood than does a war, fact which the casualty statistics in railroading, fishing, mining and seamanship, eloquently attest; while such peaceful industries as fishing and shipping are the cause of as much brutality.[ ] the peaceful administration of the tropics takes as heavy a toll in the health and lives of good men, and much of it, as in the west of africa, involves, unhappily, a moral deterioration of human character as great as that which can be put to the account of war. beside these peace sacrifices the "price of war" is trivial, and it is felt that the trustees of a nation's interests ought not to shrink from paying that price should the efficient protection of those interests demand it. if the common man is prepared, as we know he is, to risk his life in a dozen dangerous trades and professions for no object higher than that of improving his position or increasing his income, why should the statesman shrink from such sacrifices as the average war demands, if thereby the great interests which have been confided to him can be advanced? if it be true, as even the pacifist admits that it may be true, that the tangible material interests of a nation can be advanced by warfare; if, in other words, warfare can play some large part in the protection of the interests of humanity, the rulers of a courageous people are justified in disregarding the suffering and the sacrifice that it may involve. of course, the pacifist falls back upon the moral plea: we have no right to take by force. but here again the common sense of ordinary humanity does not follow the peace advocate. if the individual manufacturer is entitled to use all the advantages which great financial and industrial resources may give him against a less powerful competitor, if he is entitled, as under our present industrial scheme he is entitled, to overcome competition by a costly and perfected organization of manufacture, of advertisement, of salesmanship, in a trade in which poorer men gain their livelihood, why should not the nation be entitled to overcome the rivalry of other nations by utilizing the force of its public services? it is a commonplace of industrial competition that the "big man" takes advantage of _all_ the weaknesses of the small man--his narrow means, his ill-health even--to undermine and to undersell. if it were true that industrial competition were always merciful, and national or political competition always cruel, the plea of the peace man might be unanswerable; but we know, as a matter of fact, that this is not the case, and, returning to our starting-point, the common man feels that he is obliged to accept the world as he finds it, that struggle and warfare, in one form or another, are among the conditions of life, conditions which he did not make. moreover he is not at all sure that the warfare of arms is necessarily either the hardest or the most cruel form of that struggle which exists throughout the universe. in any case, he is willing to take the risks, because he feels that military predominance gives him a real and tangible advantage, a material advantage translatable into terms of general social well-being, by enlarged commercial opportunities, wider markets, protection against the aggression of commercial rivals, and so on. he faces the risk of war in the same spirit as that in which a sailor or a fisherman faces the risk of drowning, or a miner that of the choke damp, or a doctor that of a fatal disease, because he would rather take the supreme risk than accept for himself and his dependents a lower situation, a narrower and meaner existence, with complete safety. he also asks whether the lower path is altogether free from risks. if he knows much of life he knows that in very many circumstances the bolder way is the safer way. that is why it is that the peace propaganda has so signally failed, and why the public opinion of the countries of europe, far from restraining the tendency of their governments to increase armaments, is pushing them into still greater expenditure. it is universally assumed that national power means national wealth, national advantage; that expanding territory means increased opportunity for industry; that the strong nation can guarantee opportunities for its citizens that the weak nation cannot. the englishman, for instance, believes that his wealth is largely the result of his political power, of his political domination, mainly of his sea power; that germany with her expanding population must feel cramped; that she must fight for elbow-room; and that if he does not defend himself he will illustrate that universal law which makes of every stomach a graveyard. he has a natural preference for being the diner rather than the dinner. as it is universally admitted that wealth and prosperity and well-being go with strength and power and national greatness, he intends, so long as he is able, to maintain that strength and power and greatness, and not to yield it even in the name of altruism. and he will not yield it, because should he do so it would be simply to replace british power and greatness by the power and greatness of some other nation, which he feels sure would do no more for the well-being of civilization as a whole than he is prepared to do. he is persuaded that he can no more yield in the competition of armaments, than as a business man or as a manufacturer he could yield in commercial competition to his rival; that he must fight out his salvation under conditions as he finds them, since he did not make them, and since he cannot change them. admitting his premises--and these premises are the universally accepted axioms of international politics the world over--who shall say that he is wrong? chapter ii the axioms of modern statecraft are the foregoing axioms unchallengeable?--some typical statements of them--german dreams of conquest--mr. frederic harrison on results of defeat of british arms and invasion of england--forty millions starving. are the axioms set out in the last chapter unchallengeable? is it true that the wealth, prosperity and well-being of a nation depend upon its military power, or have necessarily anything whatever to do therewith? can one civilized nation gain moral or material advantage by the military conquest of another? does conquered territory add to the wealth of the conquering nation? is it possible for a nation to "own" the territory of another in the way that a person or corporation would "own" an estate? could germany "take" english trade and colonies by military force? could she turn english colonies into german ones, and win an overseas empire by the sword, as england won hers in the past? does a modern nation need to expand its political boundaries in order to provide for increasing population? if england could conquer germany to-morrow, completely conquer her, reduce her nationality to so much dust, would the ordinary british subject be the better for it? if germany could conquer england, would any ordinary german subject be the better for it? the fact that all these questions have to be answered in the negative, and that a negative answer seems to outrage common sense, shows how much our political axioms are in need of revision. the literature on the subject leaves no doubt whatever that i have correctly stated the premises of the matter in the foregoing chapter. those whose special vocation is the philosophy of statecraft in the international field, from aristotle and plato, passing by machiavelli and clausewitz down to mr. roosevelt and the german emperor, have left us in no doubt whatever on the point. the whole view has been admirably summarized by two notable writers--admiral mahan, on the anglo-saxon side, and baron karl von stengel (second german delegate to the first hague conference) on the german. admiral mahan says: the old predatory instinct that he should take who has the power survives ... and moral force is not sufficient to determine issues unless supported by physical. governments are corporations, and corporations have no souls; governments, moreover, are trustees, and as such must put first the lawful interests of their wards--their own people.... more and more germany needs the assured importation of raw materials, and, where possible, control of regions productive of such materials. more and more she requires assured markets and security as to the importation of food, since less and less comparatively is produced within her own borders by her rapidly increasing population. this all means security at sea.... yet the supremacy of great britain in european seas means a perpetually latent control of german commerce.... the world has long been accustomed to the idea of a predominant naval power, coupling it with the name of great britain, and it has been noted that such power, when achieved, is commonly often associated with commercial and industrial predominance, the struggle for which is now in progress between great britain and germany. such predominance forces a nation to seek markets, and, where possible, to control them to its own advantage by preponderant force, the ultimate expression of which is possession.... from this flow two results: the attempt to possess and the organization of force by which to maintain possession already achieved.... this statement is simply a specific formulation of the general necessity stated; it is an inevitable link in the chain of logical sequences--industrial markets, control, navy bases....[ ] but in order to show that this is no special view, and that this philosophy does indeed represent the general public opinion of europe, the opinion of the great mass which prompts the actions of governments and explains their respective policies, i take the following from the current newspapers and reviews ready to my hand: it is the prowess of our navy ... our dominant position at sea ... which has built up the british empire and its commerce.--london _times_ leading article. because her commerce is infinitely vulnerable, and because her people are dependent upon that commerce for food and the wages with which to buy it.... britain wants a powerful fleet, a perfect organization behind the fleet, and an army of defence. until they are provided this country will exist under perpetual menace from the growing fleet of german _dreadnoughts_, which have made the north sea their parade-ground. all security will disappear, and british commerce and industry, when no man knows what the morrow will bring forth, must rapidly decline, thus accentuating british national degeneracy and decadence.--h.w. wilson in the _national review_, may, . sea-power is the last fact which stands between germany and the supreme position in international commerce. at present germany sends only some fifty million pounds worth, or about a seventh, of her total domestic produce to the markets of the world outside europe and the united states.... does any man who understands the subject think there is any power in germany, or, indeed, any power in the world, which can prevent germany, she having thus accomplished the first stage of her work, from now closing with great britain for her ultimate share of this millions of overseas trade? here it is that we unmask the shadow which looms like a real presence behind all the moves of present-day diplomacy, and behind all the colossal armaments that indicate the present preparations for a new struggle for sea-power.--mr. benjamin kidd in the _fortnightly review_, april , . it is idle to talk of "limitation of armaments" unless the nations of the earth will unanimously consent to lay aside all selfish ambitions.... nations, like individuals, concern themselves chiefly with their own interests, and when these clash with those of others, quarrels are apt to follow. if the aggrieved party is the weaker he usually goes to the wall, though "right" be never so much on his side; and the stronger, whether he be the aggressor or not, usually has his own way. in international politics charity begins at home, and quite properly; the duty of a statesman is to think first of the interests of his own country.--_united service magazine_, may, . why should germany attack britain? because germany and britain are commercial and political rivals; because germany covets the trade, the colonies, and the empire which britain now possesses.--robert blatchford, "germany and england," p. . great britain, with her present population, exists by virtue of her foreign trade and her control of the carrying trade of the world; defeat in war would mean the transference of both to other hands and consequent starvation for a large percentage of the wage-earners.--t.g. martin in the london _world_. we offer an enormously rich prize if we are not able to defend out shores; we may be perfectly certain that the prize which we offer will go into the mouth of somebody powerful enough to overcome our resistance and to swallow a considerable portion of us up.--the speaker of the house of commons in a speech at greystoke, reported by the london _times_. what is good for the beehive is good for the bee. whatever brings rich lands, new ports, or wealthy industrial areas to a state enriches its treasury, and therefore the nation at large, and therefore the individual.--mr. douglas owen in a letter to the _economist_, may , . do not forget that in war there is no such thing as international law, and that undefended wealth will be seized wherever it is exposed, whether through the broken pane of a jeweller's window or owing to the obsession of a humanitarian celt.--london _referee_, november , . we appear to have forgotten the fundamental truth--confirmed by all history--that the warlike races inherit the earth, and that nature decrees the survival of the fittest in the never-ending struggle for existence.... our yearning for disarmament, our respect for the tender plant of non-conformist conscience, and the parrot-like repetition of the misleading formula that the "greatest of all british interests is peace" ... must inevitably give to any people who covet our wealth and our possessions ... the ambition to strike a swift and deadly blow at the heart of the empire--undefended london.--_blackwood's magazine_, may, . these are taken from english sources, but there is not a straw to choose between them and other european opinion on the subject. admiral mahan and the other anglo-saxons of his school have their counterpart in every european country, but more especially in germany. even so "liberal" a statesman as baron karl von stengel, the german delegate to the first hague peace conference, lays it down in his book that-- every great power must employ its efforts towards exercising the largest influence possible, not only in european but in world politics, and this mainly because economic power depends in the last resort on political power, and because the largest participation possible in the trade of the world is a vital question for every nation. the writings of such classic authorities as clausewitz give full confirmation of this view, while it is the resounding note of most popular german political literature that deals with "weltpolitik." grand admiral von koster, president of the navy league, writes: the steady increase of our population compels us to devote special attention to the growth of our overseas interests. nothing but the strong fulfilment of our naval programme can create for us that importance upon the free-world-sea which it is incumbent upon us to demand. the steady increase of our population compels us to set ourselves new goals and to grow from a continental into a world power. our mighty industry must aspire to new overseas conquests. our world trade--which has more than doubled in twenty years, which has increased from million dollars to million dollars during the ten years in which our naval programme was fixed, and million dollars of which is sea-borne commerce--only can flourish if we continue honorably to bear the burdens of our armaments on land and sea alike. unless our children are to accuse us of short-sightedness, it is now our duty to secure our world power and position among other nations. we can do that only under the protection of a strong german fleet, a fleet which shall guarantee us peace with honor for the distant future. one popular german writer sees the possibility of "overthrowing the british empire" and "wiping it from the map of the world in less than twenty-four hours." (i quote his actual words, and i have heard a parallel utterance from the mouth of a serious english public man.) the author in question, in order to show how the thing could come about, deals with the matter prophetically. writing from the standpoint of ,[ ] he admits that-- at the beginning of the twentieth century great britain was a free, a rich, and a happy country, in which every citizen, from the prime minister to the dock-laborer, was proud to be a member of the world-ruling nation. at the head of the state were men possessing a general mandate to carry out their programme of government, whose actions were subject to the criticism of public opinion, represented by an independent press. educated for centuries in self-government, a race had grown up which seemed born to rule. the highest triumphs attended england's skill in the art of government, in her handling of subject peoples.... and this immense empire, which stretched from the cape to cairo, over the southern half of asia, over half of north america and the fifth continent, could be wiped from the map of the world in less than twenty-four hours! this apparently inexplicable fact will be intelligible if we keep in sight the circumstances which rendered possible the building up of england's colonial power. the true basis of her world supremacy was not her own strength, but the maritime weakness of all the other european nations. their almost complete lack of naval preparations had given the english a position of monopoly which was used by them for the annexation of all those dominions which seemed of value. had it been in england's power to keep the rest of the world as it was in the nineteenth century, the british empire might have continued for an unlimited time. the awakening of the continental states to their national possibilities and to political independence introduced quite new factors into weltpolitik, and it was only a question of time as to how long england could maintain her position in the face of the changed circumstances. and the writer tells how the trick was done, thanks to a fog, efficient espionage, the bursting of the english war balloon, and the success of the german one in dropping shells at the correct tactical moment on to the british ships in the north sea: this war, which was decided by a naval battle lasting a single hour, was of only three weeks' duration--hunger forced england into peace. in her conditions germany showed a wise moderation. in addition to a war indemnity in accordance with the wealth of the two conquered states, she contented herself with the acquisition of the african colonies, with the exception of the southern states, which had proclaimed their independence, and these possessions were divided with the other two powers of the triple alliance. nevertheless, this war was the end of england. a lost battle had sufficed to manifest to the world at large the feet of clay on which the dreaded colossus had stood. in a night the british empire had crumbled altogether; the pillars which english diplomacy had erected after years of labour had failed at the first test. a glance at any average pan-germanist organ will reveal immediately how very nearly the foregoing corresponds to a somewhat prevalent type of political aspiration in germany. one pan-germanist writer says: "the future of germany demands the absorption of austria-hungary, the balkan states, and turkey, with the north sea ports. her realms will stretch towards the east from berlin to bagdad, and to antwerp on the west." for the moment we are assured there is no immediate intention of seizing the countries in question, nor is germany's hand actually ready yet to catch belgium and holland within the net of the federated empire. "but," he says, "all these changes will happen within our epoch," and he fixes the time when the map of europe will thus be rearranged as from twenty to thirty years hence. germany, according to the writer, means to fight while she has a penny left and a man to carry arms, for she is, he says, "face to face with a crisis which is more serious than even that of jena." and, recognizing the position, she is only waiting for the moment she judges the right one to break in pieces those of her neighbors who work against her. france will be her first victim, and she will not wait to be attacked. she is, indeed, preparing for the moment when the allied powers attempt to dictate to her. germany, it would seem, has already decided to annex the grand duchy of luxemburg, and belgium, incidentally with, of course, antwerp, and will add all the northern provinces of france to her possessions, so as to secure boulogne and calais. all this is to come like a thunderbolt, and russia, spain, and the rest of the powers friendly to england will not dare to move a finger to aid her. the possession of the coasts of france and belgium will dispose of england's supremacy for ever. in a book on south africa entitled "reisen erlebnisse und beobachtungen," by dr. f. bachmar, occurs the passage: "my second object in writing this book is that it may happen to our children's children to possess that beautiful and unhappy land of whose final absorption (_gewinnung_) by our anglo-saxon cousins i have not the least belief. it may be our lot to unite this land with the german fatherland, to be equally a blessing to germany and south africa." the necessity for armament is put in other than fictional form by so serious a writer as dr. gaevernitz, pro-rector of the university of freiburg. dr. schulze-gaevernitz is not unknown in england, nor is he imbued with inimical feelings towards her. but he takes the view that the commercial prosperity of germany depends upon her political domination.[ ] after having described in an impressive way the astonishing growth of germany's trade and commerce, and shown how dangerous a competitor germany has become for england, he returns to the old question, and asks what might happen if england, unable to keep down the inconvenient upstart by economic means, should, at the eleventh hour, try to knock him down. quotations from the _national review_, the _observer_, the _outlook_, the _saturday review_, etc., facilitate the professor's thesis that this presumption is more than a mere abstract speculation. granted that they voice only the sentiments of a small minority, they are, according to our author, dangerous for germany in this--that they point to a feasible and consequently enticing solution. the old peaceful free trade, he says, shows signs of senility. a new and rising imperialism is everywhere inclined to throw the weapons of political warfare into the arena of economic rivalry. how deeply the danger is felt even by those who sincerely desire peace and can in no sense be considered jingoes may be judged by the following from the pen of mr. frederic harrison. i make no apology for giving the quotations at some length. in a letter to the london _times_ he says: whenever our empire and maritime ascendancy are challenged it will be by such an invasion in force as was once designed by philip and parma, and again by napoleon. it is this certainty which compels me to modify the anti-militarist policy which i have consistently maintained for forty years past.... to me now it is no question of loss of prestige--no question of the shrinkage of the empire; it is our existence as a foremost european power, and even as a thriving nation.... if ever our naval defence were broken through, our navy overwhelmed or even dispersed for a season, and a military occupation of our arsenals, docks, and capital were effected, the ruin would be such as modern history cannot parallel. it would not be the empire, but britain, that would be destroyed.... the occupation by a foreign invader of our arsenals, docks, cities, and capital would be to the empire what the bursting of the boilers would be to a _dreadnought_. capital would disappear with the destruction of credit.... a catastrophe so appalling cannot be left to chance, even if the probabilities against its occurring were to . but the odds are not to . no high authority ventures to assert that a successful invasion of our country is absolutely impossible if it were assisted by extraordinary conditions. and a successful invasion would mean to us the total collapse of our empire, our trade, and, with trade, the means of feeding forty millions in these islands. if it is asked, "why does invasion threaten more terrible consequences to us than it does to our neighbors?" the answer is that the british empire is an anomalous structure, without any real parallel in modern history, except in the history of portugal, venice, and holland, and in ancient history athens and carthage. our empire presents special conditions both for attack and for destruction. and its destruction by an enemy seated on the thames would have consequences so awful to contemplate that it cannot be left to be safeguarded by one sole line of defence, however good, and for the present hour however adequate.... for more than forty years i have raised my voice against every form of aggression, of imperial expansion, and continental militarism. few men have more earnestly protested against postponing social reforms and the well-being of the people to imperial conquests and asiatic and african adventures. i do not go back on a word that i have uttered thereon. but how hollow is all talk about industrial reorganization until we have secured our country against a catastrophe that would involve untold destitution and misery on the people in the mass--which would paralyze industry and raise food to famine prices, whilst closing our factories and our yards! chapter iii the great illusion these views founded on a gross and dangerous misconception--what a german victory could and could not accomplish--what an english victory could and could not accomplish--the optical illusion of conquest--there can be no transfer of wealth--the prosperity of the little states in europe--german three per cents. at and belgian at --russian three and a half per cents. at , norwegian at --what this really means--if germany annexed holland, would any german benefit or any hollander?--the "cash value" of alsace-lorraine. i think it will be admitted that there is not much chance of misunderstanding the general idea embodied in the passage quoted at the end of the last chapter. mr. harrison is especially definite. at the risk of "damnable iteration" i would again recall the fact that he is merely expressing one of the universally accepted axioms of european politics, namely, that a nation's financial and industrial stability, its security in commercial activity--in short, its prosperity and well being depend, upon its being able to defend itself against the aggression of other nations, who will, if they are able, be tempted to commit such aggression because in so doing they will increase their power, prosperity and well-being, at the cost of the weaker and vanquished. i have quoted, it is true, largely journalistic authorities because i desired to indicate real public opinion, not merely scholarly opinion. but mr. harrison has the support of other scholars of all sorts. thus mr. spenser wilkinson, chichele professor of military history at oxford, and a deservedly respected authority on the subject, confirms in almost every point in his various writings the opinions that i have quoted, and gives emphatic confirmation to all that mr. frederic harrison has expressed. in his book, "britain at bay," professor wilkinson says: "no one thought when in the american observer, captain mahan, published his volume on the influence of sea-power upon history, that other nations beside the british read from that book the lesson that victory at sea carried with it a prosperity and influence and a greatness obtainable by no other means." well, it is the object of these pages to show that this all but universal idea, of which mr. harrison's letter is a particularly vivid expression, is a gross and desperately dangerous misconception, partaking at times of the nature of an optical illusion, at times of the nature of a superstition--a misconception not only gross and universal, but so profoundly mischievous as to misdirect an immense part of the energies of mankind, and to misdirect them to such degree that unless we liberate ourselves from this superstition civilization itself will be threatened. and one of the most extraordinary features of this whole question is that the absolute demonstration of the falsity of this idea, the complete exposure of the illusion which gives it birth, is neither abstruse nor difficult. this demonstration does not repose upon any elaborately constructed theorem, but upon the simple exposition of the political facts of europe as they exist to-day. these facts, which are incontrovertible, and which i shall elaborate presently, may be summed up in a few simple propositions stated thus: . an extent of devastation, even approximating to that which mr. harrison foreshadows as the result of the conquest of great britain, could only be inflicted by an invader as a means of punishment costly to himself, or as the result of an unselfish and expensive desire to inflict misery for the mere joy of inflicting it. since trade depends upon the existence of natural wealth and a population capable of working it, an invader cannot "utterly destroy it," except by destroying the population, which is not practicable. if he could destroy the population he would thereby destroy his own market, actual or potential, which would be commercially suicidal.[ ] . if an invasion of great britain by germany did involve, as mr. harrison and those who think with him say it would, the "total collapse of the empire, our trade, and the means of feeding forty millions in these islands ... the disturbance of capital and destruction of credit," german capital would also be disturbed, because of the internationalization and delicate interdependence of our credit-built finance and industry, and german credit would also collapse, and the only means of restoring it would be for germany to put an end to the chaos in england by putting an end to the condition which had produced it. moreover, because of this delicate interdependence of our credit-built finance, the confiscation by an invader of private property, whether stocks, shares, ships, mines, or anything more valuable than jewellery or furniture--anything, in short, which is bound up with the economic life of the people--would so react upon the finance of the invader's country as to make the damage to the invader resulting from the confiscation exceed in value the property confiscated. so that germany's success in conquest would be a demonstration of the complete economic futility of conquest. . for allied reasons, in our day the exaction of tribute from a conquered people has become an economic impossibility; the exaction of a large indemnity so costly directly and indirectly as to be an extremely disadvantageous financial operation. . it is a physical and economic impossibility to capture the external or carrying trade of another nation by military conquest. large navies are impotent to create trade for the nations owning them, and can do nothing to "confine the commercial rivalry" of other nations. nor can a conqueror destroy the competition of a conquered nation by annexation; his competitors would still compete with him--_i.e._, if germany conquered holland, german merchants would still have to meet the competition of dutch merchants, and on keener terms than originally, because the dutch merchants would then be within the german's customs lines; the notion that the trade competition of rivals can be disposed of by conquering those rivals being one of the illustrations of the curious optical illusion which lies behind the misconception dominating this subject. . the wealth, prosperity, and well-being of a nation depend in no way upon its political power; otherwise we should find the commercial prosperity and social well-being of the smaller nations, which exercise no political power, manifestly below that of the great nations which control europe, whereas this is not the case. the populations of states like switzerland, holland, belgium, denmark, sweden, are in every way as prosperous as the citizens of states like germany, russia, austria, and france. the wealth _per capita_ of the small nations is in many cases in excess of that of the great nations. not only the question of the security of small states, which, it might be urged, is due to treaties of neutrality, is here involved, but the question of whether political power can be turned in a positive sense to economic advantage. . no other nation could gain any advantage by the conquest of the british colonies, and great britain could not suffer material damage by their loss, however much such loss would be regretted on sentimental grounds, and as rendering less easy a certain useful social co-operation between kindred peoples. the use, indeed, of the word "loss" is misleading. great britain does not "own" her colonies. they are, in fact, independent nations in alliance with the mother country, to whom they are no source of tribute or economic profit (except as foreign nations are a source of profit), their economic relations being settled, not by the mother country, but by the colonies. economically, england would gain by their formal separation, since she would be relieved of the cost of their defence. their "loss" involving, therefore, no change in economic fact (beyond saving the mother country the cost of their defence), could not involve the ruin of the empire, and the starvation of the mother country, as those who commonly treat of such a contingency are apt to aver. as england is not able to exact tribute or economic advantage, it is inconceivable that any other country, necessarily less experienced in colonial management, would be able to succeed where england had failed, especially in view of the past history of the spanish, portuguese, french, and british colonial empires. this history also demonstrates that the position of british crown colonies, in the respect which we are considering, is not sensibly different from that of the self-governing ones. it is _not_ to be presumed, therefore, that any european nation, realizing the facts, would attempt the desperately expensive business of the conquest of england for the purpose of making an experiment which all colonial history shows to be doomed to failure. the foregoing propositions traverse sufficiently the ground covered in the series of those typical statements of policy, both english and german, from which i have quoted. the simple statement of these propositions, based as they are upon the self-evident facts of present-day european politics, sufficiently exposes the nature of those political axioms which i have quoted. but as men even of the calibre of mr. harrison normally disregard these self-evident facts, it is necessary to elaborate them at somewhat greater length. for the purpose of presenting a due parallel to the statement of policy embodied in the quotations made from the london _times_ and mr. harrison and others, i have divided the propositions which i desire to demonstrate into seven clauses, but such a division is quite arbitrary, and made only in order to bring about the parallel in question. the whole seven can be put into one, as follows: that as the only possible policy in our day for a conqueror to pursue is to leave the wealth of a territory in the complete possession of the individuals inhabiting that territory, it is a logical fallacy and an optical illusion to regard a nation as increasing its wealth when it increases its territory; because when a province or state is annexed, the population, who are the real and only owners of the wealth therein, are also annexed, and the conqueror gets nothing. the facts of modern history abundantly demonstrate this. when germany annexed schleswig-holstein and alsatia not a single ordinary german citizen was one _pfennig_ the richer. although england "owns" canada, the english merchant is driven out of the canadian markets by the merchant of switzerland, who does not "own" canada. even where territory is not formally annexed, the conqueror is unable to take the wealth of a conquered territory, owing to the delicate interdependence of the financial world (an outcome of our credit and banking systems), which makes the financial and industrial security of the victor dependent upon financial and industrial security in all considerable civilized centres; so that widespread confiscation or destruction of trade and commerce in a conquered territory would react disastrously upon the conqueror. the conqueror is thus reduced to economic impotence, which means that political and military power is economically futile--that is to say, can do nothing for the trade and well-being of the individuals exercising such power. conversely, armies and navies cannot destroy the trade of rivals, nor can they capture it. the great nations of europe do not destroy the trade of the small nations for their own benefit, because they cannot; and the dutch citizen, whose government possesses no military power, is just as well off as the german citizen, whose government possesses an army of two million men, and a great deal better off than the russian, whose government possesses an army of something like four million. thus, as a rough-and-ready though incomplete indication of the relative wealth and security of the respective states, the three per cents. of powerless belgium are quoted at , and the three per cents. of powerful germany at ; the three and a half per cents. of the russian empire, with its hundred and twenty million souls and its four million army, are quoted at , while the three and a half per cents. of norway, which has not an army at all (or any that need be considered in this discussion), are quoted at . all of which carries with it the paradox that the more a nation's wealth is militarily protected the less secure does it become.[ ] the late lord salisbury, speaking to a delegation of business men, made this notable observation: the conduct of men of affairs acting individually in their business capacity differs radically in its principles and application from the conduct of the same men when they act collectively in political affairs. and one of the most astonishing things in politics is the little trouble business men take to bring their political creed into keeping with their daily behavior; how little, indeed, they realize the political implication of their daily work. it is a case, indeed, of the forest and the trees. but for some such phenomenon we certainly should not see the contradiction between the daily practice of the business world and the prevailing political philosophy, which the security of property in, and the high prosperity of, the smaller states involves. we are told by all the political experts that great navies and great armies are necessary to protect our wealth against the aggression of powerful neighbors, whose cupidity and voracity can be controlled by force alone; that treaties avail nothing, and that in international politics might makes right, that military and commercial security are identical, that armaments are justified by the necessity of commercial security; that our navy is an "insurance," and that a country without military power with which their diplomats can "bargain" in the council of europe is at a hopeless disadvantage economically. yet when the investor, studying the question in its purely financial and material aspect, has to decide between the great states, with all their imposing paraphernalia of colossal armies and fabulously costly navies, and the little states, possessing relatively no military power whatever, he plumps solidly, and with what is in the circumstances a tremendous difference, in favor of the small and helpless. for a difference of twenty points, which we find as between norwegian and russian, and fourteen as between belgian and german securities, is the difference between a safe and a speculative one--the difference between an american railroad bond in time of profound security and in time of widespread panic. and what is true of the government funds is true, in an only slightly less degree, of the industrial securities in the national comparison just drawn. is it a sort of altruism or quixotism which thus impels the capitalists of europe to conclude that the public funds and investments of powerless holland and sweden (any day at the mercy of their big neighbors) are to per cent. safer than those of the greatest power of continental europe. the question is, of course, absurd. the only consideration of the financier is profit and security, and he has decided that the funds of the undefended nation are more secure than the funds of one defended by colossal armaments. how does he arrive at this decision, unless it be through his knowledge as a financier, which, of course, he exercises without reference to the political implication of his decision, that modern wealth requires no defence, because it cannot be confiscated? if mr. harrison is right; if, as he implies, a nation's commerce, its very industrial existence, would disappear if it allowed neighbors who envied it that commerce to become its superiors in armaments, and to exercise political weight in the world, how does he explain the fact that the great powers of the continent are flanked by little nations far weaker than themselves having nearly always a commercial development equal to, and in most cases greater than theirs? if the common doctrines be true, the financiers would not invest a dollar in the territories of the undefended nations, and yet, far from that being the case, they consider that a swiss or a dutch investment is more secure than a german one; that industrial undertakings in a country like switzerland defended by an army of a few thousand men, are preferable in point of security to enterprises backed by two millions of the most perfectly trained soldiers in the world. the attitude of european finance in this matter is the absolute condemnation of the view commonly taken by the statesman. if a country's trade were really at the mercy of the first successful invader; if armies and navies were really necessary for the protection and promotion of trade, the small countries would be in a hopelessly inferior position, and could only exist on the sufferance of what we are told are unscrupulous aggressors. and yet norway has relatively to population a greater carrying trade than great britain,[ ] and dutch, swiss, and belgian merchants compete in all the markets of the world successfully with those of germany and france. the prosperity of the small states is thus a fact which proves a good deal more than that wealth can be secure without armaments. we have seen that the exponents of the orthodox statecraft--notably such authorities as admiral mahan--plead that armaments are a necessary part of the industrial struggle, that they are used as a means of exacting economic advantage for a nation which would be impossible without them. "the logical sequence," we are told, is "markets, control, navy, bases." the nation without political and military power is, we are assured, at a hopeless disadvantage economically and industrially.[ ] well, the relative economic situation of the small states gives the lie to this profound philosophy. it is seen to be just learned nonsense when we realize that all the might of russia or germany cannot secure for the individual citizen better general economic conditions than those prevalent in the little states. the citizens of switzerland, belgium, or holland, countries without "control," or navy, or bases, or "weight in the councils of europe," or the "prestige of a great power," are just as well off as germans, and a great deal better off than austrians or russians. thus, even if it could be argued that the security of the small states is due to the various treaties guaranteeing their neutrality, it cannot be argued that those treaties give them the political power and "control" and "weight in the councils of the nations" which admiral mahan and the other exponents of the orthodox statecraft assure us are such necessary factors in national prosperity. i want, with all possible emphasis, to indicate the limits of the argument that i am trying to enforce. that argument is not that the facts just cited show armaments or the absence of them to be the sole or even the determining factor in national wealth. it does show that the security of wealth is due to other things than armaments; that absence of political and military power is on the one hand no obstacle to, and on the other hand no guarantee of, prosperity; that the mere size of the administrative area has no relation to the wealth of those inhabiting it. those who argue that the security of the small states is due to the international treaties protecting their neutrality are precisely those who argue that treaty rights are things that can never give security! thus one british military writer says: the principle practically acted on by statesmen, though, of course, not openly admitted, is that frankly enunciated by machiavelli: "a prudent ruler ought not to keep faith when by so doing it would be against his interests, and when the reasons which made him bind himself no longer exist." prince bismarck said practically the same thing, only not quite so nakedly. the european waste-paper basket is the place to which all treaties eventually find their way, and a thing which can any day be placed in a waste-paper basket is a poor thing on which to hang our national safety. yet there are plenty of people in this country who quote treaties to us as if we could depend on their never being torn up. very plausible and very dangerous people they are--idealists too good and innocent for a hard, cruel world, where force is the chief law. yet there are some such innocent people in parliament even at present. it is to be hoped that we shall see none of them there in future.[ ] major murray is right to this extent: the militarist view, the view of those who "believe in war," and defend it even on moral grounds as a thing without which men would be "sordid," supports this philosophy of force, which flourishes in the atmosphere which the militarist regimen engenders. but the militarist view involves a serious dilemma. if the security of a nation's wealth can only be assured by force, and treaty rights are mere waste paper, how can we explain the evident security of the wealth of states possessing relatively no force? by the mutual jealousies of those guaranteeing their neutrality? then that mutual jealousy could equally well guarantee the security of any one of the larger states against the rest. another englishman, mr. farrer, has put the case thus: if that recent agreement between england, germany, france, denmark, and holland can so effectively relieve denmark and holland from the fear of invasion that denmark can seriously consider the actual abolition of her army and navy, it seems only one further step to go, for all the powers collectively, great and small, to guarantee the territorial independence of each one of them severally. in either case, the plea of the militarist stands condemned: national safety can be secured by means other than military force. but the real truth involves a distinction which is essential to the right understanding of this phenomenon: the political security of the small states is _not_ assured; no man would take heavy odds on holland being able to maintain complete political independence if germany cared seriously to threaten it. but holland's economic security _is_ assured. every financier in europe knows that if germany conquered holland or belgium to-morrow, she would have to leave their wealth untouched; there could be no confiscation. and that is why the stocks of the lesser states, not in reality threatened by confiscation, yet relieved in part at least of the charge of armaments, stand fifteen to twenty points higher than those of the military states. belgium, politically, might disappear to-morrow; her wealth would remain practically unchanged. yet, by one of those curious contradictions we are frequently meeting in the development of ideas, while a fact like this is at least subconsciously recognized by those whom it concerns, the necessary corollary of it--the positive form of the merely negative truth that a community's wealth cannot be stolen--is not recognized. we admit that a people's wealth must remain unaffected by conquest, and yet we are quite prepared to urge that we can enrich ourselves by conquering them! but if we must leave their wealth alone, how can we take it? i do not speak merely of "loot." it is evident, even on cursory examination, that no real advantage of any kind is achieved for the mass of one people by the conquest of another. yet that end is set up in european politics as desirable beyond all others. here, for instance, are the pan-germanists of germany. this party has set before itself the object of grouping into one great power all the peoples of the germanic race or language in europe. were this aim achieved, germany would become the dominating power of the continent, and might become the dominating power of the world. and according to the commonly accepted view, such an achievement would, from the point of view of germany, be worth any sacrifice that germans could make. it would be an object so great, so desirable, that german citizens should not hesitate for an instant to give everything, life itself, in its accomplishment. very good. let us assume that at the cost of great sacrifice, the greatest sacrifice which it is possible to imagine a modern civilized nation making, this has been accomplished, and that belgium and holland and germany, switzerland and austria, have all become part of the great german hegemony: _is there one ordinary german citizen who would be able to say that his well-being had been increased by such a change_? germany would then "own" holland. _but would a single german citizen be the richer for the ownership?_ the hollander, from having been the citizen of a small and insignificant state, would become the citizen of a very great one. _would the individual hollander be any the richer or any the better?_ we know that, as a matter of fact, neither the german nor the hollander would be one whit the better; and we know also, as a matter of fact, that in all probability they would be a great deal the worse. we may, indeed, say that the hollander would be certainly the worse, in that he would have exchanged the relatively light taxation and light military service of holland for the much heavier taxation and the much longer military service of the "great" german empire. the following, which appeared in the london _daily mail_ in reply to an article in that paper, throws some further light on the points elaborated in this chapter. the _daily mail_ critic had placed alsace-lorraine as an asset in the german conquest worth $ , , "cash value," and added: "if alsace-lorraine had remained french, it would have yielded, at the present rate of french taxation, a revenue of $ , , a year to the state. that revenue is lost to france, and is placed at the disposal of germany." to which i replied: thus, if we take the interest of the "cash value" at the present price of money in germany, alsace-lorraine should be worth to the germans about $ , , a year. if we take the other figure, $ , , . suppose we split the difference, and take, say, . now, if the germans are enriched by millions a year--if alsace-lorraine is really worth that income to the german people--how much should the english people draw from their "possessions"? on the basis of population, somewhere in the region of $ , , , ; on the basis of area, still more--enough not only to pay all english taxes, wipe out the national debt, support the army and navy, but give every family in the land a fat income into the bargain. there is evidently something wrong. does not my critic really see that this whole notion of national possessions benefiting the individual is founded on mystification, upon an illusion? germany conquered france and annexed alsace-lorraine. the "germans" consequently "own" it, and enrich themselves with this newly acquired wealth. that is my critic's view, as it is the view of most european statesmen; and it is all false. alsace-lorraine is owned by its inhabitants, and nobody else; and germany, with all her ruthlessness, has not been able to dispossess them, as is proved by the fact that the matricular contribution (_matrikularbeitrag_) of the newly acquired state to the imperial treasury (which incidentally is neither millions nor , but just over five) is fixed on exactly the same scale as that of the other states of the empire. prussia, the conqueror, pays _per capita_ just as much as and no less than alsace, the conquered, who, if she were not paying this $ , , to germany, would be paying it--or, according to my critic, a much larger sum--to france; and if germany did not "own" alsace-lorraine, she would be relieved of charges that amount not to five but many more millions. the change of "ownership" does not therefore of itself change the money position (which is what we are now discussing) of either owner or owned. in examining, in the last article on this matter, my critic's balance-sheet, i remarked that were his figures as complete as they are absurdly incomplete and misleading, i should still have been unimpressed. we all know that very marvellous results are possible with figures; but one can generally find some simple fact which puts them to the supreme test without undue mathematics. i do not know whether it has ever happened to my critic, as it has happened to me, while watching the gambling in the casino of a continental watering resort, to have a financial genius present weird columns of figures, which demonstrate conclusively, irrefragably, that by the system which they embody one can break the bank and win a million. i have never examined these figures, and never shall, for this reason: the genius in question is prepared to sell his wonderful secret for twenty francs. now, in the face of that fact i am not interested in his figures. if they were worth examination they would not be for sale. and so in this matter there are certain test facts which upset the adroitest statistical legerdemain. though, really, the fallacy which regards an addition of territory as an addition of wealth to the "owning" nation is a very much simpler matter than the fallacies lying behind gambling systems, which are bound up with the laws of chance and the law of averages and much else that philosophers will quarrel about till the end of time. it requires an exceptional mathematical brain to refute those fallacies, whereas the one we are dealing with is due simply to the difficulty experienced by most of us in carrying in our heads two facts at the same time. it is so much easier to seize on one fact and forget the other. thus we realize that when germany has conquered alsace-lorraine she has "captured" a province worth, "cash value," in my critic's phrase, $ , , . what we overlook is that germany has also captured the people who own the property and who continue to own it. we have multiplied by _x_, it is true, but we have overlooked the fact that we have had to divide by _x_, and that the result is consequently, so far as the individual is concerned, exactly what it was before. my critic remembered the multiplication all right, but he forgot the division. let us apply the test fact. if a great country benefits every time it annexes a province, and her people are the richer for the widened territory, the small nations ought to be immeasurably poorer than the great, instead of which, by every test which you like to apply--public credit, amounts in savings banks, standard of living, social progress, general well-being--citizens of small states are, other things being equal, as well off as, or better off than, the citizens of great states. the citizens of countries like holland, belgium, denmark, sweden, norway are, by every possible test, just as well off as the citizens of countries like germany, austria, or russia. these are the facts which are so much more potent than any theory. if it is true that a country benefits by the acquisition of territory, and widened territory means general well-being, why do the facts so eternally deny it? there is something wrong with the theory. in every civilized state, revenues which are drawn from a territory are expended on that territory, and there is no process known to modern government by which wealth may first be drawn from a territory into the treasury and then be redistributed with a profit to the individuals who have contributed it, or to others. it would be just as reasonable to say that the citizens of london are richer than the citizens of birmingham because london has a richer treasury; or that londoners would become richer if the london county council were to annex the county of hertford; as to say that people's wealth varies according to the size of the administrative area which they inhabit. the whole thing is, as i have called it, an optical illusion, due to the hypnotism of an obsolete terminology. just as poverty may be greater in the large city than in the small one, and taxation heavier, so the citizens of a great state may be poorer than the citizens of a small one, as they very often are. modern government is mainly, and tends to become entirely, a matter of administration. a mere jugglery with the administrative entities, the absorption of small states into large ones, or the breaking up of large states into small, is not of itself going to affect the matter one way or the other. chapter iv the impossibility of confiscation our present terminology of international politics an historical survival--wherein modern conditions differ from ancient--the profound change effected by division of labor--the delicate interdependence of international finance--attila and the kaiser--what would happen if a german invader looted the bank of england--german trade dependent upon english credit--confiscation of an enemy's property an economic impossibility under modern conditions--intangibility of a community's wealth. during the victorian jubilee procession an english beggar was heard to say: i own australia, canada, new zealand, india, burmah, and the islands of the far pacific; and i am starving for want of a crust of bread. i am a citizen of the greatest power of the modern world, and all people should bow to my greatness. and yesterday i cringed for alms to a negro savage, who repulsed me with disgust. what is the meaning of this? the meaning is that, as very frequently happens in the history of ideas, our terminology is a survival of conditions no longer existing, and our mental conceptions follow at the tail of our vocabulary. international politics are still dominated by terms applicable to conditions which the processes of modern life have altogether abolished. in the roman times--indeed, in all the ancient world--it may have been true that the conquest of a territory meant a tangible advantage to the conqueror; it meant the exploitation of the conquered territory by the conquering state itself, to the advantage of that state and its citizens. it not infrequently meant the enslavement of the conquered people and the acquisition of wealth in the form of slaves as a direct result of the conquering war. in mediæval times a war of conquest meant at least immediate tangible booty in the shape of movable property, actual gold and silver, land parcelled out among the chiefs of the conquering nation, as it was at the norman conquest, and so forth. at a later period conquest at least involved an advantage to the reigning house of the conquering nation, and it was mainly the squabbles of rival sovereigns for prestige and power which produced the wars of many centuries. at a still later period, civilization, as a whole--not necessarily the conquering nation--gained (sometimes) by the conquest of savage peoples, in that order was substituted for disorder. in the period of the colonization of newly-discovered land, the preemption of territory by one particular nation secured an advantage for the citizens of that nation, in that its overflowing population found homes in conditions preferable socially, or politically, to the conditions imposed by alien nations. _but none of these considerations applies to the problem with which we are dealing._ we are concerned with the case of fully civilized rival nations in fully occupied territory or with civilizations so firmly set that conquest could not sensibly modify their character, and the fact of conquering such territory gives to the conqueror no material advantage which he could not have had without conquest. and in these conditions--the realities of the political world as we find it to-day--"domination," or "predominance of armament," or the "command of the sea," can do nothing for commerce and industry or general well-being: england may build fifty _dreadnoughts_ and not sell so much as a penknife the more in consequence. she might conquer germany to-morrow, and she would find that she could not make a single englishman a shilling's worth the richer in consequence, the war indemnity notwithstanding. how have conditions so changed that terms which were applicable to the ancient world--in one sense at least to the mediæval world, and in another sense still to the world of that political renaissance which gave to great britain its empire--are no longer applicable in _any_ sense to the conditions of the world as we find them to-day? how has it become impossible for one nation to take by conquest the wealth of another for the benefit of the people of the conqueror? how is it that we are confronted by the absurdity (which the facts of the british empire go to prove) of the conquering people being able to exact from conquered territory rather less than more advantage than it was able to do before the conquest took place? i am not at this stage going to pass in review all the factors that have contributed to this change, because it will suffice for the demonstration upon which i am now engaged to call attention to a phenomenon which is the outcome of all those factors and which is undeniable, and that is, the financial interdependence of the modern world. but i will forecast here what belongs more properly to a later stage of this work, and will give just a hint of the forces which are the result mainly of one great fact--the division of labor intensified by facility of communication. when the division of labor was so little developed that every homestead produced all that it needed, it mattered nothing if part of the community was cut off from the world for weeks and months at a time. all the neighbors of a village or homestead might be slain or harassed, and no inconvenience resulted. but if to-day an english county is by a general railroad strike cut off for so much as forty-eight hours from the rest of the economic organism, we know that whole sections of its population are threatened with famine. if in the time of the danes, england could by some magic have killed all foreigners, she would presumably have been the better off. if she could do the same thing to-day, half her population would starve to death. if on one side of the frontier a community is, say, wheat-producing, and on the other coal-producing, each is dependent for its very existence, on the fact of the other being able to carry on its labor. the miner cannot in a week set to and grow a crop of wheat; the farmer must wait for his wheat to grow, and must meantime feed his family and dependents. the exchange involved here must go on, and each party have fair expectation that he will in due course be able to reap the fruits of his labor, or both must starve; and that exchange, that expectation, is merely the expression in its simplest form of commerce and credit; and the interdependence here indicated has, by the countless developments of rapid communication, reached such a condition of complexity that the interference with any given operation affects not merely the parties directly involved, but numberless others having at first sight no connection therewith. the vital interdependence here indicated, cutting athwart frontiers, is largely the work of the last forty years; and it has, during that time, so developed as to have set up a financial interdependence of the capitals of the world, so complex that disturbance in new york involves financial and commercial disturbance in london, and, if sufficiently grave, compels financiers of london to co-operate with those of new york to put an end to the crisis, not as a matter of altruism, but as a matter of commercial self-protection. the complexity of modern finance makes new york dependent on london, london upon paris, paris upon berlin, to a greater degree than has ever yet been the case in history. this interdependence is the result of the daily use of those contrivances of civilization which date from yesterday--the rapid post, the instantaneous dissemination of financial and commercial information by means of telegraphy, and generally the incredible increase in the rapidity of communication which has put the half-dozen chief capitals of christendom in closer contact financially, and has rendered them more dependent the one upon the other than were the chief cities of great britain less than a hundred years ago. a well-known french authority, writing recently in a financial publication, makes this reflection: the very rapid development of industry has given rise to the active intervention therein of finance, which has become its _nervus rerum_, and has come to play a dominating rôle. under the influence of finance, industry is beginning to lose its exclusively national character to take on a character more and more international. the animosity of rival nationalities seems to be in process of attenuation as the result of this increasing international solidarity. this solidarity was manifested in a striking fashion in the last industrial and monetary crisis. this crisis, which appeared in its most serious form in the united states and germany, far from being any profit to rival nations, has been injurious to them. the nations competing with america and germany, such as england and france, have suffered only less than the countries directly affected. it must not be forgotten that, quite apart from the financial interests involved, directly or indirectly, in the industry of other countries, every producing country is at one and the same time, as well as being a competitor and a rival, a client and a market. financial and commercial solidarity is increasing every day at the expense of commercial and industrial competition. this was certainly one of the principal causes which a year or two ago prevented the outbreak of war between germany and france _à propos_ of morocco, and which led to the understanding of algeciras. there can be no doubt, for those who have studied the question, that the influence of this international economic solidarity is increasing despite ourselves. it has not resulted from conscious action on the part of any of us, and it certainly cannot be arrested by any conscious action on our part.[ ] a fiery patriot sent to a london paper the following letter: when the german army is looting the cellars of the bank of england, and carrying off the foundations of our whole national fortune, perhaps the twaddlers who are now screaming about the wastefulness of building four more _dreadnoughts_ will understand why sane men are regarding this opposition as treasonable nonsense. what would be the result of such an action on the part of a german army in london? the first effect, of course, would be that, as the bank of england is the banker of all other banks, there would be a run on every bank in england, and all would suspend payment. but london being the clearing-house of the world, bills drawn thereon but held by foreigners would not be met; they would be valueless; the loanable value of money in other centres would be enormously raised, and instruments of credit enormously depreciated; prices of all kinds of stocks would fall, and holders would be threatened by ruin and insolvency. german finance would represent a condition as chaotic as that of england. whatever advantage german credit might gain by holding england's gold it would certainly be more than offset by the fact that it was the ruthless action of the german government that had produced the general catastrophe. a country that could sack bank reserves would be a good one for foreign investors to avoid: the essential of credit is confidence, and those who repudiate it pay dearly for their action. the german generalissimo in london might be no more civilized than attila himself, but he would soon find the difference between himself and attila. attila, luckily for him, did not have to worry about a bank rate and such-like complications; but the german general, while trying to sack the bank of england, would find that his own balance in the bank of germany would have vanished into thin air, and the value of even the best of his investments dwindled as though by a miracle; and that for the sake of loot, amounting to a few sovereigns apiece among his soldiery, he would have sacrificed the greater part of his own personal fortune. it is as certain as anything can be that, were the german army guilty of such economic vandalism, there is no considerable institution in germany that would escape grave damage--a damage in credit and security so serious as to constitute a loss immensely greater[ ] than the value of the loot obtained. it is not putting the case too strongly to say that for every pound taken from the bank of england german trade would pay many times over. the influence of the whole finance of germany would be brought to bear on the german government to put an end to a situation ruinous to german trade, and german finance would only be saved from utter collapse by an undertaking on the part of the german government scrupulously to respect private property, and especially bank reserves. it is true the german jingoes might wonder what they had made war for, and this elementary lesson in international finance would do more than the greatness of the british navy to cool their blood. for it is a fact in human nature that men will fight more readily than they will pay, and that they will take personal risks much more readily than they will disgorge money, or, for that matter, earn it. "man," in the language of bacon, "loves danger better than travail." events which are still fresh in the memory of business men show the extraordinary interdependence of the modern financial world. a financial crisis in new york sends up the english bank rate to per cent., thus involving the ruin of many english businesses which might otherwise have weathered a difficult period. it thus happens that one section of the financial world is, against its will, compelled to come to the rescue of any other considerable section which may be in distress. from a modern and delightfully lucid treatise on international finance,[ ] i take the following very suggestive passages: banking in all countries hangs together so closely that the strength of the best may easily be that of the weakest if scandal arises owing to the mistakes of the worst.... just as a man cycling down a crowded street depends for his life not only on his skill, but more on the course of the traffic there.... banks in berlin were obliged, from motives of self-protection (on the occasion of the wall street crisis), to let some of their gold go to assuage the american craving for it.... if the crisis became so severe that london had to restrict its facilities in this respect, other centres, which habitually keep balances in london which they regard as so much gold, because a draft on london is as good as gold, would find themselves very seriously inconvenienced; and it thus follows that it is to the interest of all other centres which trade on those facilities which london alone gives to take care that london's task is not made too difficult. this is especially so in the case of foreigners, who keep a balance in london which is borrowed. in fact, london drew in the gold required for new york from seventeen other countries.... incidentally it may be mentioned in this connection that german commerce is in a special sense interested in the maintenance of english credit. the authority just quoted says: it is even contended that the rapid expansion of german trade, which pushed itself largely by its elasticity and adaptability to the wishes of its customers, could never have been achieved if it had not been assisted by the large credit furnished in london.... no one can quarrel with the germans for making use of the credit we offered for the expansion of the german trade, although their over-extension of credit facilities has had results which fall on others besides themselves.... let us hope that our german friends are duly grateful, and let us avoid the mistake of supposing that we have done ourselves any permanent harm by giving this assistance. it is to the economic interests of humanity at large that production should be stimulated, and the economic interest of humanity at large is the interest of england, with its mighty world-wide trade. germany has quickened production with the help of english credit, and so has every other economically civilized country in the world. it is a fact that all of them, including our own colonies, develop their resources with the help of british capital and credit, and then do their utmost to keep out our productions by means of tariffs, which make it appear to superficial observers that england provides capital for the destruction of its own business. but in practice the system works quite otherwise, for all these countries that develop their resources with our money aim at developing an export trade and selling goods to us, and as they have not yet reached the point of economic altruism at which they are prepared to sell goods for nothing, the increase in their production means an increasing demand for our commodities and our services. and in the meantime the interest on our capital and credit, and the profits of working the machinery of exchange, are a comfortable addition to our national income. but what is a further corollary of this situation? it is that germany is to-day in a larger sense than she ever was before england's debtor, and that her industrial success is bound up with english financial security. what would be the situation in britain, therefore, on the morrow of a conflict in which that country was successful? i have seen mentioned the possibility of the conquest and annexation of the free port of hamburg by a victorious british fleet. let us assume that the british government has done this, and is proceeding to turn the annexed and confiscated property to account. now, the property was originally of two kinds: part was private property, and part was german government, or rather hamburg government, property. the income of the latter was earmarked for the payment of interest of certain government stock, and the action of the british government, therefore, renders the stock all but valueless, and in the case of the shares of the private companies entirely so. the paper becomes unsaleable. but it is held in various forms--as collateral and otherwise--by many important banking concerns, insurance companies, and so on, and this sudden collapse of value shatters their solvency. their collapse not only involves many credit institutions in germany, but, as these in their turn are considerable debtors of london, english institutions are also involved. london is also involved in another way. as explained previously, many foreign concerns keep balances in london, and the action of the british government having precipitated a monetary crisis in germany, there is a run on london to withdraw all balances. in a double sense london is feeling the pinch, and it would be a miracle if already at this point the whole influence of british finance were not thrown against the action of the british government. assume, however, that the government, making the best of a bad job, continues its administration of the property, and proceeds to arrange for loans for the purpose of putting it once more in good condition after the ravages of war. the banks, however, finding that the original titles have through the action of the british government become waste paper, and british financiers having already burned their fingers with that particular class of property, withhold support, and money is only procurable at extortionate rates of interest--so extortionate that it becomes quite evident that as a governmental enterprise the thing could not be made to pay. an attempt is made to sell the property to british and german concerns. but the same paralyzing sense of insecurity hangs over the whole business. neither german nor british financiers can forget that the bonds and shares of this property have already been turned into waste paper by the action of the british government. the british government finds, in fact, that it can do nothing with the financial world unless first it confirms the title of the original owners to the property, and gives an assurance that titles to all property throughout the conquered territory shall be respected. in other words, confiscation has been a failure. it would really be interesting to know how those who talk as though confiscation were still an economic possibility would proceed to effect it. as material property in the form of that booty which used to constitute the spoils of victory in ancient times, the gold and silver goblets, etc., would be quite inconsiderable, and as britain cannot carry away sections of berlin and hamburg, she could only annex the paper tokens of wealth--the shares and bonds. but the value of those tokens depends upon the reliance which can be placed upon the execution of the contracts which they embody. the act of military confiscation upsets all contracts, and the courts of the country from which contracts derive their force would be paralyzed if judicial decisions were thrust aside by the sword. the value of the stocks and shares would collapse, and the credit of all those persons and institutions interested in such property would also be shaken or shattered, and the whole credit system, being thus at the mercy of alien governors only concerned to exact tribute, would collapse like a house of cards. german finance and industry would show a condition of panic and disorder beside which the worst crises of wall street would pale into insignificance. again, what would be the inevitable result? the financial influence of london itself would be thrown into the scale to prevent a panic in which london financiers would be involved. in other words, british financiers would exert their influence upon the british government to stop the process of confiscation. but the intangibility of wealth can be shown in yet another fashion. i once asked an english chartered accountant, very subject to attacks of germanophobia, how he supposed the germans would profit by the invasion of england, and he had a very simple programme. admitting the impossibility of sacking the bank of england, they would reduce the british population to practical slavery, and make them work for their foreign taskmasters, as he put it, under the rifle and lash. he had it all worked out in figures as to what the profit would be to the conqueror. very well, let us follow the process. the population of great britain are not allowed to spend their income, or at least are only allowed to spend a portion of it, on themselves. their dietary is reduced more or less to a slave dietary, and the bulk of what they earn is to be taken by their "owners." but how is this income, which so tempts the germans, created--these dividends on the railroad shares, the profits of the mills and mines and provision companies and amusement concerns? the dividends are due to the fact that the population eat heartily, clothe themselves well, travel on railroads, and go to theatres and music-halls. if they are not allowed to do these things, if, in other words, they cannot spend their money on these things, the dividends disappear. if the german taskmasters are to take these dividends, they must allow them to be earned. if they allow them to be earned, they must let the population live as it lived before--spending their income on themselves; but if they spend their income on themselves, what is there, therefore, for the taskmasters? in other words, consumption is a necessary factor of the whole thing. cut out consumption, and you cut out the profits. this glittering wealth, which so tempted the invader, has disappeared. if this is not intangibility, the word has no meaning. speaking broadly and generally, the conqueror in our day has before him two alternatives: to leave things alone, and in order to do that he need not have left his shores; or to interfere by confiscation in some form, in which case he dries up the source of the profit which tempted him. the economist may object that this does not cover the case of such profit as "economic rent," and that dividends or profits being part of exchange, a robber who obtains wealth without exchange can afford to disregard them; or that the increased consumption of the dispossessed english community would be made up by the increased consumption of the "owning" germans. if the political control of economic operations were as simple a matter as in our minds we generally make it, these objections would be sound. as it is, none of them would in practice invalidate the general proposition i have laid down. the division of labor in the modern world is so complex--the simplest operation of foreign trade involving not two nations merely, but many--that the mere military control of one party to an operation where many are concerned could ensure neither shifting of the consumption nor the monopolization of the profit within the limits of the conquering group. here is a german manufacturer selling cinematograph machines to a glasgow suburb (which, incidentally, lives by selling tools to argentine ranchers, who live by selling wheat to newcastle boiler-makers). assuming even that germany could transfer the surplus spent in cinematograph shows to germany, what assurance has the german manufacturer in question that the enriched germans will want cinematograph films? they may insist upon champagne and cigars, coffee and cognac, and the french, cubans, and brazilians, to whom this "loot" eventually goes, may not buy their machinery from germany at all, much less from the particular german manufacturer, but in the united states or switzerland. the redistribution of the industrial rôles might leave german industry in the lurch, because at best the military power would only be controlling one section of a complex operation, one party to it out of many. when wealth was corn or cattle, the transference by political or military force of the possessions of one community to another may have been possible, although even then, or in a slightly more developed period, we saw the roman peasantry ruined by the slave exploitation of foreign territory. how far this complexity of the international division of labor tends to render futile the other contrivances of conquest such as exclusive markets, tribute, money indemnity, etc., succeeding chapters may help to show. chapter v foreign trade and military power why trade cannot be destroyed or captured by a military power--what the processes of trade really are, and how a navy affects them--_dreadnoughts_ and business--while _dreadnoughts_ protect british trade from hypothetical german warships, the real german merchant is carrying it off, or the swiss or the belgian--the "commercial aggression" of switzerland--what lies at the bottom of the futility of military conquest--government brigandage becomes as profitless as private brigandage--the real basis of commercial honesty on the part of government. just as mr. harrison has declared that a "successful invasion would mean to the english the total eclipse of their commerce and trade, and with that trade the means of feeding forty millions in their islands," so i have seen it stated in a leading english paper that "if germany were extinguished to-morrow, the day after to-morrow there is not an englishman in the world who would not be the richer. nations have fought for years over a city or right of succession. must they not fight for million dollars of yearly commerce?" what does the "extinction" of germany mean? does it mean that britain shall slay in cold blood sixty or seventy millions of men, women, and children? otherwise, even though the fleet and army were annihilated the country's sixty millions of workers would still remain,--all the more industrious, as they would have undergone great suffering and privation--prepared to exploit their mines and workshops with as much thoroughness and thrift and industry as ever, and consequently just as much trade rivals as ever, army or no army, navy or no navy. even if the british could annihilate germany, they would annihilate such an important section of their debtors as to create hopeless panic in london, and that panic would so react on their own trade that it would be in no sort of condition to take the place which germany had previously occupied in neutral markets, leaving aside the question that by the act of annihilation a market equal to that of canada and south africa combined would be destroyed. what does this sort of thing mean? am i wrong in saying that the whole subject is overlaid and dominated by a jargon which may have had some relation to facts at one time, but from which in our day all meaning has departed? the english patriot may say that he does not mean permanent destruction, but only temporary "annihilation." (and this, of course, on the other side, would mean not permanent, but only temporary acquisition of that millions of trade.) he might, like mr. harrison, put the case conversely--that if germany could get command of the sea she could cut england off from its customers and intercept its trade for her benefit. this notion is as absurd as the other. it has already been shown that the "utter destruction of credit" and "incalculable chaos in the financial world," which mr. harrison foresees as the result of germany's invasion, could not possibly leave german finance unaffected. it is a very open question whether her chaos would not be as great as the english. in any case, it would be so great as thoroughly to disorganize her industry, and in that disorganized condition it would be out of the question for her to secure the markets left unsupplied by england's isolation. moreover, those markets would also be disorganized, because they depend upon england's ability to buy, which germany would be doing her best to destroy. from the chaos which she herself had created, germany could derive no possible benefit, and she could only terminate financial disorder, fatal to her own trade, by bringing to an end the condition which had produced it--that is, by bringing to an end the isolation of great britain. with reference to this section of the subject we can with absolute certainty say two things: ( ) that germany can only destroy british trade by destroying british population; and ( ) that if she could destroy that population, which she could not, she would destroy one of her most valuable markets, as at the present time she sells to it more than it sells to her. the whole point of view involves a fundamental misconception of the real nature of commerce and industry. commerce is simply and purely the exchange of one product for another. if the british manufacturer can make cloth, or cutlery, or machinery, or pottery, or ships cheaper or better than his rivals, he will obtain the trade; if he cannot, if his goods are inferior or dearer, or appeal less to his customers, his rivals will secure the trade, and the possession of _dreadnoughts_ will make not a whit of difference. switzerland, without a single _dreadnought_, will drive him out of the market even of his own colonies, as, indeed, she is driving him out.[ ] the factors which really constitute prosperity have not the remotest connection with military or naval power, all our political jargon notwithstanding. to destroy the commerce of forty million people germany would have to destroy britain's coal and iron mines, to destroy the energy, character, and resourcefulness of its population; to destroy, in short, the determination of forty million people to make their living by the work of their hands. were we not hypnotized by this extraordinary illusion, we should accept as a matter of course that the prosperity of a people depends upon such facts as the natural wealth of the country in which they live, their social discipline and industrial character, the result of years, of generations, of centuries, it may be, of tradition and slow, elaborate, selective processes; and, in addition to all these deep-seated elementary factors, upon countless commercial and financial ramifications--a special technical capacity for such-and-such a manufacture, a special aptitude for meeting the peculiarities of such and-such a market, the efficient equipment of elaborately constructed workshops, the existence of a population trained to given trades--a training not infrequently involving years, and even generations, of effort. all this, according to mr. harrison, is to go for nothing, and germany is to be able to replace it in the twinkling of an eye, and forty million people are to sit down helplessly because germany has been victorious at sea. on the morrow of her marvellous victory germany is by some sort of miracle to find shipyards, foundries, cotton-mills, looms, factories, coal and iron mines, and all their equipment, suddenly created in order to take the trade that the most successful manufacturers and traders in the world have been generations in building up. germany is to be able suddenly to produce three or four times what her population has hitherto been able to produce; for she must either do that or leave the markets which england has supplied heretofore still available to english effort. what has really fed these forty millions, who are to starve on the morrow of germany's naval victory, is the fact that the coal and iron exported by them have been sent in one form or another to populations which need those products. is that need suddenly to cease, or are the forty millions suddenly to be struck with some sort of paralysis, that all this vast industry is coming to an end? what has the defeat of english ships at sea to do with the fact that the canadian farmer wants to buy english manufactures and pay for them with his wheat? it may be true that germany could stop the importation of that wheat. but why should she want to do so? how would it benefit her people to do so? by what sort of miracle is she suddenly to be able to supply products which have kept forty million people busy? by what sort of miracle is she suddenly to be able to double her industrial population? and by what sort of miracle is she to be able to consume the wheat, because if she cannot take the wheat the canadian cannot buy her products? i am aware that all this is elementary, that it is economics in words of one syllable; but what are the economics of mr. harrison and those who think like him when he talks in the strain of the passage that i have just quoted? there is just one other possible meaning that the english patriot may have in his mind. he may plead that great military and naval establishments do not exist for the purpose of the conquest of territory or of destroying a rival's trade, but for "protecting" or indirectly aiding trade and industry. we are allowed to infer that in some not clearly defined way a great power can aid the trade of its citizens by the use of the prestige which a great navy and a great army bring, and by exercising bargaining power, in the matter of tariffs, with other nations. but again the condition of the small nations in europe gives the lie to this assumption. it is evident that the neutral does not buy english products and refuse germany's because england has a larger navy. if one can imagine the representatives of an english and a german firm meeting in the office of a merchant in argentina, or brazil, or bulgaria, or finland, both of them selling cutlery, the german is not going to secure the order because he is able to show the argentinian, or the brazilian, or the bulgarian, or the finn that germany has twelve _dreadnoughts_ and england only eight. the german will take the order if, on the whole, he can make a more advantageous offer to the prospective buyer, and for no other reason whatsoever, and the buyer will go to the merchant of any nation whatever, whether he be german, or swiss, or belgian, or british, irrespective of the armies and navies which may lie behind the nationality of the seller. nor does it appear that armies and navies weigh in the least when it comes to a question of a tariff bargain. switzerland wages a tariff war with germany, and wins. the whole history of the trade of the small nations shows that the political prestige of the great ones gives them practically no commercial advantage. we continually talk as though carrying trade were in some special sense the result of the growth of a great navy, but norway has a carrying trade which, relatively to her population, is nearly three times as great as britain's, and the same reasons which would make it impossible for another nation to confiscate the gold reserve of the bank of england would make it impossible for another nation to confiscate british shipping on the morrow of a british naval defeat. in what way can her carrying trade or any other trade be said to depend upon military power? as i write these lines there comes to my notice a series of articles in the london _daily mail_, written by mr. f.a. mckenzie, explaining how it is that england is losing the trade of canada. in one article he quotes a number of canadian merchants: "we buy very little direct from england," said mr. harry mcgee, one of the vice-presidents of the company, in answer to my questions. "we keep a staff in london of twenty, supervising our european purchases, but the orders go mostly to france, germany, and switzerland, and not to england." and in a further article he notes that many orders are going to belgium. now the question arises: what more can a navy do that it has not done for england in canada? and yet the trade goes to switzerland and belgium. is england going to protect herself against the commercial "aggression" of switzerland by building a dozen more _dreadnoughts_? suppose she could conquer switzerland and belgium with her _dreadnoughts_, would not the trade of switzerland and belgium go on all the same? her arms have brought her canada--but no monopoly of the canadian orders, which go, in part, to switzerland. if the traders of little nations can snap their fingers at the great war lords, why do british traders need _dreadnoughts_? if swiss commercial prosperity is secure from the aggression of a neighbor who outweighs switzerland in military power a hundred to one, how comes it that the trade and industry, the very life-bread of her children, as mr. harrison would have us believe, of the greatest nation in history is in danger of imminent annihilation the moment she loses her military predominance? if the statesmen of europe would tell us _how_ the military power of a great nation is used to advance the commercial interest of its citizens, would explain to us the _modus operandi_, and not refer us to large and vague phrases about "exercising due weight in the councils of the nations," we might accept their philosophy. but, until they do so, we are surely justified in assuming that their political terminology is simply a survival--an inheritance from a state of things which has, in fact, passed away. it is facts of the nature of those i have instanced which constitute the real protection of the small state, and which are bound as they gain in general recognition to constitute the real protection from outside aggression of all states, great or small. one financial authority from whom i have quoted noted that this elaborate financial interdependence of the modern world has grown up in spite of ourselves, "without our noticing it until we put it to some rude test." men are fundamentally just as disposed as they were at any time to take wealth that does not belong to them, which they have not earned. but their relative interest in the matter has changed. in very primitive conditions robbery is a moderately profitable enterprise. where the rewards of labor, owing to the inefficiency of the means of production, are small and uncertain, and where all wealth is portable, raiding and theft offer the best reward for the enterprise of the courageous; in such conditions the size of man's wealth depends a good deal on the size of his club and the agility with which he wields it. but to the man whose wealth so largely depends upon his credit and on his paper being "good paper" at the bank, dishonesty has become as precarious and profitless as honest toil was in more primitive times. the instincts of the business man may, at bottom, be just as predatory as those of the cattle-lifter or the robber baron, but taking property by force has become one of the least profitable and the most speculative forms of enterprise upon which he could engage. the force of commercial events has rendered the thing impossible. i know that the defender of arms will reply that it is the police who have rendered it impossible. this is not true. there were as many armed men in europe in the days when the robber baron carried on his occupation as there are in our day. to say that the policeman makes him impossible is to put the cart before the horse. what created the police and made them possible, if it was not the general recognition of the fact that disorder and aggression make trade impossible? just note what is taking place in south america. states in which repudiation was a commonplace of everyday politics have of recent years become as stable and as respectable as the city of london, and have come to discharge their obligations as regularly. these countries were during hundreds of years a slough of disorder and a never-ending sanguinary scramble for the spoils, and yet in a matter of fifteen or twenty years the conditions have radically changed. does this mean that the nature of these populations has fundamentally altered in less than a generation? in that case many a militarist claim must be rejected. there is a simpler explanation. these countries, like brazil and the argentine, have been drawn into the circle of international trade, exchange, and finance. their economic relationships have become sufficiently extensive and complex to make repudiation the least profitable form of theft. the financier will tell you "they cannot afford to repudiate." if any attempt at repudiation were made, all sorts of property, either directly or indirectly connected with the orderly execution of governmental functions, would suffer, banks would become involved, great businesses would stagger, and the whole financial community would protest. to attempt to escape the payment of a single loan would involve the business world in losses amounting to many times the value of the loan. it is only where a community has nothing to lose, no banks, no personal fortunes dependent upon public good faith, no great businesses, no industries, that the government can afford to repudiate its obligations or to disregard the general code of economic morality. this was the case with argentina and brazil a generation ago; it is still the case, to some extent, with some central american states to-day. _it is not because the armies in these states have grown_ that the public credit has improved. their armies were greater a generation ago than they are now. it is because they know that trade and finance are built upon credit--that is, confidence in the fulfilment of obligations, upon security of tenure in titles, upon the enforcement of contract according to law--and that if credit is seriously shaken, there is not a section of the elaborate fabric which is not affected. the more our commercial system gains in complication, the more does the common prosperity of all of us come to depend upon the reliance which can be placed on the due performance of all contracts. this is the real basis of "prestige," national and individual; circumstances stronger than ourselves are pushing us, despite what the cynical critics of our commercial civilization may say, towards the unvarying observance of this simple ideal. when we drop back from it--and such relapses occur as we should expect them to occur, especially in those societies which have just emerged from a more or less primitive state--punishment is generally swift and sure. what was the real origin of the bank crisis of in the united states, which had for american business men such disastrous consequences? it was the loss by american financiers and american bankers of the confidence of the american public. at bottom there was no other reason. one talks of cash reserves and currency errors; but london, which does the banking of the universe, works on the smallest cash reserve in the world, because, as an american authority has put it, english bankers work with a "psychological reserve." i quote from mr. withers: it is because they (english bankers) are so safe, so straight, so sensible, from an american point of view so unenterprising, that they are able to build up a bigger credit fabric on a smaller gold basis, and even carry this building to a height which they themselves have decided to be questionable. this "psychological reserve" is the priceless possession that has been handed down through generations of good bankers, and every individual of every generation who receives it can do something to maintain and improve it. but it was not always thus, and it is merely the many ramifications of the english commercial and financial world that have brought this about. in the end the americans will imitate it, or they will suffer from a hopeless disadvantage in their financial competition with england. commercial development is broadly illustrating one profound truth: that the real basis of social morality is self-interest. if english banks and insurance companies have become absolutely honest in their administration, it is because the dishonesty of any one of them threatened the prosperity of all. must we assume that the governments of the world, which, presumably, are directed by men as far-sighted as bankers, are permanently to fall below the banker in their conception of enlightened self-interest? must we assume that what is self-evident to the banker--namely, that the repudiation of engagements, or any attempt at financial plunder, is sheer stupidity and commercial suicide--is for ever to remain unperceived by the ruler? then, when he realizes this truth, shall we not at least have made some progress towards laying the foundations for a sane international polity? * * * * * the following correspondence, provoked by the first edition of this book, may throw light on some of the points dealt with in this chapter. a correspondent of london _public opinion_ criticized a part of the thesis here dealt with as a "series of half-truths," questioning as follows: what is "natural wealth," and how can trade be carried on with it unless there are markets for it when worked? would the writer maintain that markets cannot be permanently or seriously affected by military conquests, especially if conquest be followed by the imposition upon the vanquished of commercial conditions framed in the interests of the victor?... germany has derived, and continues to derive, great advantages from the most-favored-nation clause which she compelled france to insert in the treaty of frankfurt.... bismarck, it is true, underestimated the financial resilience of france, and was sorely disappointed when the french paid off the indemnity with such astonishing rapidity, and thus liberated themselves from the equally crushing burden of having to maintain the german army of occupation. he regretted not having demanded an indemnity twice as large. germany would not repeat the mistake, and any country having the misfortune to be vanquished by her in future will be likely to find its commercial prosperity compromised for decades. to which i replied: will your correspondent forgive my saying that while he talks of half-truths, the whole of this passage indicates the domination of that particular half-truth which lies at the bottom of the illusion with which my book deals? what is a market? your correspondent evidently conceives it as a place where things are sold. that is only half the truth. it is a place where things are bought and sold, and one operation is impossible without the other, and the notion that one nation can sell for ever and never buy is simply the theory of perpetual motion applied to economics; and international trade can no more be based upon perpetual motion than can engineering. as between economically highly-organized nations a customer must also be a competitor, a fact which bayonets cannot alter. to the extent to which they destroy him as a competitor, they destroy him, speaking generally, and largely, as a customer. the late mr. seddon conceived england as making her purchases with "a stream of golden sovereigns" flowing from a stock all the time getting smaller. that "practical" man, however, who so despised "mere theories," was himself the victim of a pure theory, and the picture which he conjured up from his inner consciousness has no existence in fact. england has hardly enough gold to pay one year's taxes, and if she paid for her imports in gold she would exhaust her stock in three months; and the process by which she really pays has been going on for sixty years. she is a buyer just as long as she is a seller, and if she is to afford a market to germany she must procure the money wherewith to pay for germany's goods by selling goods to germany or elsewhere, and if that process of sale stops, germany loses a market, not only the english market, but also those markets which depend in their turn upon england's capacity to buy--that is to say, to sell, for, again, the one operation is impossible without the other. if your correspondent had had the whole process in his mind instead of half of it, i do not think that he would have written the passages i have quoted. in his endorsement of the bismarckian conception of political economy he evidently deems that one nation's gain is the measure of another nation's loss, and that nations live by robbing their neighbors in a lesser or greater degree. this is economics in the style of tamerlane and the red indian, and, happily, has no relation to the real facts of modern commercial intercourse. the conception of one-half of the case only, dominates your correspondent's letter throughout. he says, "germany has derived, and continues to derive, great advantage from the most-favored-nation clause which she compelled france to insert in the treaty of frankfurt," which is quite true, but leaves out the other half of the truth, somewhat important to our discussion--viz., that france has also greatly benefited, in that the scope of fruitless tariff war has been by so much restricted. a further illustration: why should germany have been sorely disappointed at france's rapid recovery? the german people are not going to be the richer for having a poor neighbor--on the contrary, they are going to be the poorer, and there is not an economist with a reputation to lose, whatever his views of fiscal policy, who would challenge this for a moment. how would germany impose upon a vanquished england commercial arrangements which would impoverish the vanquished and enrich the victor? by enforcing another frankfurt treaty, by which english ports should be kept open to german goods? but that is precisely what english ports have been for sixty years, and germany has not been obliged to wage a costly war to effect it. would germany close her own markets to our goods? but, again, that is precisely what she has done--again without war, and by a right which we never dream of challenging. how is war going to affect the question one way or another? i have been asking for a detailed answer to that question from european publicists and statesmen for the last ten years, and i have never yet been answered, save by much vagueness, much fine phrasing concerning commercial supremacy, a spirited foreign policy, national prestige, and much else, which no one seems able to define, but a real policy, a _modus operandi_, a balance-sheet which one can analyze, never. and until such is forthcoming i shall continue to believe that the whole thing is based upon an illusion. the true test of fallacies of this kind is progression. imagine germany (as our jingoes seem to dream of her) absolute master of europe, and able to dictate any policy that she pleased. how would she treat such a european empire? by impoverishing its component parts? but that would be suicidal. where would her big industrial population find their markets?[ ] if she set out to develop and enrich the component parts, these would become merely efficient competitors, and she need not have undertaken the costliest war of history to arrive at that result. this is the paradox, the futility of conquest--the great illusion which the history of our own empire so well illustrates. we british "own" our empire by allowing its component parts to develop themselves in their own way, and in view of their own ends, and all the empires which have pursued any other policy have only ended by impoverishing their own populations and falling to pieces. your correspondent asks: "is mr. norman angell prepared to maintain that japan has derived no political or commercial advantages from her victories, and that russia has suffered no loss from defeat?" what i am prepared to maintain, and what the experts know to be the truth, is that the japanese people are the poorer, not the richer for their war, and that the russian people will gain more from defeat than they could possibly have gained by victory, since defeat will constitute a check on the economically sterile policy of military and territorial aggrandizement and turn russian energies to social and economic development; and it is because of this fact that russia is at the present moment, despite her desperate internal troubles, showing a capacity for economic regeneration as great as, if not greater than, that of japan. this latter country is breaking all modern records, civilized or uncivilized, in the burdensomeness of her taxation. on the average, the japanese people pay per cent.--nearly one-third--of their net income in taxation in one form or another, and so far have they been compelled to push the progressive principle that a japanese lucky enough to possess an income of ten thousand a year has to surrender over six thousand of it in taxation, a condition of things which would, of course, create a revolution in any european country in twenty-four hours. and this is quoted as a result so brilliant that those who question it cannot be doing so seriously![ ] on the other side, for the first time in twenty years the russian budget shows a surplus. this recovery of the defeated nation after wars is not even peculiar to our generation. ten years after the franco-prussian war france was in a better financial position than germany, as she is in a better financial position to-day, and though her foreign trade does not show as great expansion as that of germany--because her population remains absolutely stationary, while that of germany increases by leaps and bounds--the french people as a whole are more prosperous, more comfortable, more economically secure, with a greater reserve of savings, and all the moral and social advantages that go therewith, than are the germans. in the same way the social and industrial renaissance of modern spain dates from the day that she was defeated and lost her colonies, and it is since her defeat that spanish securities have just doubled in value.[ ] it is since england added the "gold-fields of the world" to her "possessions" that british consols have dropped twenty points. such is the outcome in terms of social well-being of military success and political prestige! chapter vi the indemnity futility the real balance-sheet of the franco-german war--disregard of sir robert giffen's warning in interpreting the figures--what really happened in france and germany during the decade following the war--bismarck's disillusionment--the necessary discount to be given an indemnity--the bearing of the war and its result on german prosperity and progress. in politics it is unfortunately true that ten dollars which can be seen bulk more largely in the public mind than a million which happen to be out of sight but are none the less real. thus, however clearly the wastefulness of war and the impossibility of effecting by its means any permanent economic or social advantage for the conqueror may be shown, the fact that germany was able to exact an indemnity of a billion dollars from france at the close of the war of - is taken as conclusive evidence that a nation can "make money by war." in , sir robert (then mr.) giffen wrote a notable article summarizing the results of the franco-german war thus: it meant to france a loss of million dollars, and to germany a total net gain of millions, a money difference in favor of germany exceeding in value the whole amount of the british national debt! an arithmetical statement of this kind seems at first sight so conclusive that those who have since discussed the financial outcome of the war of have quite overlooked the fact that, if such a balance-sheet as that indicated be sound, the whole financial history of germany and france during the forty years which have followed the war is meaningless. the truth is, of course, that such a balance-sheet is meaningless--a verdict which does not reflect upon sir robert giffen, because he drew it up in ignorance of the sequel of the war. it does, however, reflect on those who have adopted the result shown on such a balance-sheet. indeed, sir robert giffen himself made the most important reservations. he had at least an inkling of the practical difficulties of profiting by an indemnity, and indicated plainly that the nominal figures had to be very heavily discounted. a critic[ ] of an early edition of this book seems to have adopted most of sir robert giffen's figures, disregarding, however, certain of his reservations, and to this critic i replied as follows: in arriving at this balance my critic, like the company-promoting genius who promises you per cent. for your money, leaves so much out of the account. there are a few items not considered, _e.g._ the increase in the french army which took place immediately after the war, and as the direct result thereof, compelled germany to increase her army by at least one hundred thousand men, an increase which has been maintained for forty years. the expenditure throughout this time amounts to at least a billion dollars. we have already wiped out the "profit," and i have only dealt with one item yet--to this we must add,--loss of markets for germany involved in the destruction of so many french lives and so much french wealth; loss from the general disturbance throughout europe, and still greater loss from the fact that the unproductive expenditure on armaments throughout the greater part of europe which has followed the war, the diversion of energies which is the result of it, has directly deprived germany of large markets and by a general check of development indirectly deprived her of immense ones. but it is absurd to bring figures to bear on such a system of bookkeeping as that adopted by my critic. germany had several years' preparation for the war, and has had, as the direct result thereof and as an integral part of the general war system which her own policy supports, certain obligations during forty years. all this is ignored. just note how the same principle would work if applied in ordinary commercial matters; because, for instance, on an estate the actual harvest only takes a fortnight, you disregard altogether the working expenses for the remaining fifty weeks of the year, charge only the actual cost of the harvest (and not all of that), deduct this from the gross proceeds of the crops, and call the result "profit"! such "finance" is really luminous. applied by the ordinary business man, it would in an incredibly short time put his business in the bankruptcy court and himself in gaol! but were my critic's figures as complete as they are absurdly incomplete and misleading, i should still be unimpressed, because the facts which stare us in the face would not corroborate his statistical performance. we are examining what is from the money point of view the most successful war ever recorded in history, and if the general proposition that such a war is financially profitable were sound, and if the results of the war were anything like as brilliant as they are represented, money should be cheaper and more plentiful in germany than in france, and credit, public and private, should be sounder. well, it is the exact reverse which is the case. as a net result of the whole thing germany was, ten years after the war, a good deal worse off, financially, than her vanquished rival, and was at that date trying, as she is trying to-day, to borrow money from her victim. within twenty months of the payment of the last of the indemnity, the bank rate was higher in berlin than in paris, and we know that bismarck's later life was clouded by the spectacle of what he regarded as an absurd miracle: the vanquished recovering more quickly than the victor. we have the testimony of his own speeches to this fact, and to the fact that france weathered the financial storms of - a great deal better than did germany. and to-day, when germany is compelled to pay nearly per cent. for money, france can secure it for .... we are not for the moment considering anything but the money view--the advantages and disadvantages of a certain financial operation--and by any test that you care to apply, france, the vanquished, is better off than germany, the victor. the french people are as a whole more prosperous, more comfortable, more economically secure, with greater reserve of savings and all the moral and social advantages that go therewith, than are the germans, a fact expressed briefly by french rentes standing at and german consols at . there is something wrong with a financial operation that gives these results. the something wrong, of course, is that in order to arrive at any financial profit at all essential facts have to be disregarded, those facts being what necessarily precedes and what necessarily follows a war of this kind. in the case of highly organized industrial nations like england and germany, dependent for the very livelihood of great masses of their population upon the fact that neighboring nations furnish a market for their goods, a general policy of "piracy," imposing upon those neighbors an expenditure which limits their purchasing power, creates a burden of which the nation responsible for that policy of piracy pays its part. it is not france alone which has paid the greater part of the real cost of the franco-german war, it is europe--and particularly germany--in the burdensome military system and the general political situation which that war has created or intensified. but there is a more special consideration connected with the exaction of an indemnity, which demands notice, and that is the practical difficulty with regard to the transfer of an immense sum of money outside the ordinary operations of commerce. the history of the german experience with the french indemnity suggests the question whether in every case an enormous discount on the nominal value of a large money indemnity must not be allowed owing to the practical financial difficulties of its payment and receipt, difficulties unavoidable in any circumstances which we need consider. these difficulties were clearly foreseen by sir robert giffen, though his warnings, and the important reservations that he made on this point, are generally overlooked by those who wish to make use of his conclusions. these warnings he summarized as follows: as regards germany, a doubt is expressed whether the germans will gain so much as france loses, the capital of the indemnity being transferred from individuals to the german government, who cannot use it so profitably as individuals. it is doubted whether the practice of lending out large sums, though a preferable course to locking them up, will not in the end be injurious. the financial operations incidental to these great losses and expenses seriously affect the money market. they have been a fruitful cause, in the first place, of spasmodic disturbance. the outbreak of war caused a monetary panic in july, , by the anxiety of people who had money engagements to meet to provide against the chances of war, and there was another monetary crash in september, , owing to the sudden withdrawal by the german government of the money it had to receive. the war thus illustrates the tendency of wars in general to cause spasmodic disturbance in a market so delicately organized as that of london now is. and it is to be noted in this connection that the difficulties of were trifling compared to what they would necessarily be in our day. in , germany was self-sufficing, little dependent upon credit; to-day undisturbed credit in europe is the very life-blood of her industry; it is, in fact, the very food of her people, as the events of have sufficiently proved. it is not generally realized how abundantly the whole history of the german indemnity bears out sir robert giffen's warning; how this flood of gold turned indeed to dust and ashes as far as the german nation is concerned. first, anyone familiar with financial problems might have expected that the receipt of so large a sum of money by germany would cause prices to rise and so handicap export trade in competition with france, where the reverse process would cause prices to fall. this result was, in fact, produced. m. paul beaulieu and m. léon say[ ] have both shown that this factor operated through the value of commercial bills of exchange, giving to the french exporter a bonus and to the german a handicap which affected trade most perceptibly. captain bernard serrigny, who has collected in his work a wealth of evidence bearing on this subject, writes: the rise in prices influenced seriously the cost of production, and the german manufacturers fought, in consequence, at a disadvantage with england and france. finally the goods produced at this high cost were thrown upon the home market at the moment when the increase in the cost of living was diminishing seriously the purchasing power of the bulk of consumers. these goods had to compete, not only with home over-production due to the failure to sell abroad, but with foreign goods, which, despite the tariff, were by their lower price able to push their way into the german market, where relatively higher prices attracted them. in this competition france was particularly prominent. in france the lack of metallic money had engendered great financial caution, and had considerably lowered prices all around, so that there was a general financial and commercial condition very different from that in germany, where the payment of the indemnity had been followed by reckless speculation. moreover, owing to the heavy foreign payments made by france, bills drawn on foreign centres were at a premium, a premium which constituted a sensible additional profit to french exporters, so considerable in certain cases that it was worth while for french manufacturers to sell their goods at an actual loss in order to realize the profit on the bill of exchange. the german market was thus being captured by the french at the very moment when the germans supposed they would, thanks to the indemnity, be starting out to capture the world. the german economist max wirth ("geschichte der handelskrisen") expressed in his astonishment at france's financial and industrial recovery: "the most striking example of the economic force of the country is shown by the exports, which rose immediately after the signature of peace, despite a war which swallowed a hundred thousand lives and more than ten milliards (two billion dollars)." a similar conclusion is drawn by professor biermer ("fürst bismarck als volkswirt"), who indicates that the protectionist movement in was to a large extent due to the result of the payment of the indemnity. this disturbance of the balance of trade, however, was only one factor among several: the financial disorganization, a fictitious expansion of expenditure creating a morbid speculation, precipitated the worst financial crisis in germany which she has known in modern times. monsieur lavisse summarizes the experience thus: enormous sums of money were lost. if one takes the aggregate of the securities quoted on the berlin bourse, railroad, mining and industrial securities generally, it is by thousands of millions of marks that one must estimate the value of such securities in and . but a large number of enterprises were started in germany of which the berlin bourse knew nothing. cologne, hamburg, frankfurt, leipzig, breslau, stuttgart, had all their local groups of speculative securities; hundreds of millions must be added to the thousands of millions. these differences did not represent merely a transfer of wealth, for a great proportion of the capital sunk was lost altogether, having been eaten up in ill-considered and unattractive expenditure.... there can be no sort of doubt that the money lost in these worthless enterprises constitutes an absolute loss for germany. the decade from - was for france a great recuperative period, although for several other nations in europe it was one of great depression, notably, after the "boom" of , for germany. no less an authority than bismarck himself testifies to the double fact. we know that bismarck was astonished and dismayed by seeing the regeneration of france after the war taking place more rapidly and more completely than the regeneration of germany. this weighed so heavily upon his mind that in introducing his protectionist bill in he declared that germany was "slowly bleeding to death," and that if the present process were continued she would find herself ruined. speaking in the reichstag on may , , he said: we see that france manages to support the present difficult business situation of the civilized world better than we do; that her budget has increased since by a milliard and a half, and that thanks not only to loans; we see that she has more resources than germany, and that, in short, over there they complain less of bad times. and in a speech two years later (november , ) he returned to the same idea: it was towards that i was first struck with the general and growing distress in germany as compared with france. i saw furnaces banked, the standard of well-being reduced, and the general position of workmen becoming worse and business as a whole terribly bad. in the book from which these extracts are taken[ ] the author writes as an introduction to bismarck's speeches: trade and industry were in a miserable condition. thousands of workmen were without employment, and in the winter of - unemployment took great proportions, and soup-kitchens and state workshops had to be established. every author who deals with this period seems to tell broadly the same tale, however much they may differ in detail. "if only we could get back to the general position of things before the war," said m. block in . "but salaries diminish and prices go up."[ ] at the very time that the french millions were raining in upon germany ( ) she was suffering from a grave financial crisis, and so little effect did the transfer of the money have upon trade and finance in general, that twelve months after the payment of the last of the indemnity we find the bank rate higher in berlin than in paris; and, as was shown by the german economist soetbeer, by the year far more money was in circulation in france than in germany.[ ] hans blum, indeed, directly ascribed the series of crises between the years and to the indemnity: "a burst of prosperity and then ruin for thousands."[ ] throughout the year the bank rate in paris was uniformly per cent. in berlin (preussische bank, which preceded the reichs bank) it varied from to per cent. a similar difference is reflected by the fact that, between the years and , the deposits in the state savings banks in germany actually fell by roughly per cent., while in the same period the french deposits _increased_ about per cent. two tendencies plainly show the condition of germany during the decade which followed the war: the enormous growth of socialism--relatively much greater than any which we have ever since seen--and the immense stimulus given to emigration. perhaps no thesis is commoner with the defender of war than this: that, though one may not be able in a narrow economic sense to justify an enterprise like that of , the moral stimulus which victory gave to the german people is accepted as being of incalculable benefit to the race and the nation. its alleged effect in bringing about a national solidarity, in stimulating patriotic sentiment and national pride, in the wiping out of internal differences and heaven knows what, are claims i have dealt with at greater length elsewhere, and i wish only to note here that all this high-falutin does not stand the test of facts. the two phenomena just mentioned--the extraordinary progress of socialism and the enormous stimulus given to emigration during the years which immediately followed the war--give the lie to all the claims in question. in - , the very years in which the moral stimulus of victory and the economic stimulus of the indemnity should have kept at home every able-bodied german, emigration was, relatively to the population, greater than it has ever been before or since, the figures for being , and for , .[ ] and at no period since the fifties was the internal political struggle so bitter--it was a period of repression, of prescription on the one side and class-hatred on the other--"the golden age of the drill-sergeant," some german has called it. it will be replied that, after the first decade, germany's trade has shown an expansion which has not been shown by that of france. those who are hypnotized by this, quietly ignore altogether one great fact or which has affected both france and germany, not only since the war, but during the whole of the nineteenth century, and that factor is that the population of france, from causes in no way connected with the franco-prussian war, since the tendency was a pronounced one for fifty years before, is practically quite stationary; while the population of germany, also for reasons in no way connected with the war, since the tendency was also pronounced half a century previously, has shown an abounding expansion. since the population of germany has increased by twenty million souls. that of france has not increased at all. is it astonishing that the labor of twenty million souls makes some stir in the industrial world? is it not evident that the necessity of earning a livelihood for this increasing population gives to german industry an expansion outside the limits of her territory which cannot be looked for in the case of a nation whose social energies are not faced with any such problem? there is this, moreover, to be borne in mind: germany has secured her foreign trade on what are, in the terms of the relative comfort of her people, hard conditions. in other words, she has secured that trade by cutting profits, in the way that a business fighting desperately for life will cut profits, in order to secure orders, and by making sacrifices that the comfortable business man will not make. notwithstanding the fact that france has made no sensational splash in foreign trade since the war, the standard of comfort among her people has been rising steadily, and is without doubt generally higher to-day than is that of the german people. this higher standard of comfort is reflected in her financial situation. it is germany, the victor, which is to-day in the position of a suppliant in regard to france, and it is revealing no diplomatic secrets to say that, for many years now, germany has been employing all the wiles of her diplomacy to obtain the official recognition of german securities on the french bourses. france financially has, in a very real sense, the whip hand. that is not all. those who point triumphantly to german industrial expansion, as a proof of the benefits of war and conquest, ignore certain facts which cannot be ignored if that argument is to have any value, and they are these: . such progress is not peculiar to germany; it is shown in an equal or greater degree (i am speaking now of the general wealth and social progress of the average individual citizen) by states that have had no victorious war--the scandinavian states, the netherlands, switzerland. . even if it were special to germany, which it is not, we should be entitled to ask whether certain developments of german political evolution, which _preceded the war_, and which one may fairly claim have a more direct and understandable bearing upon industrial progress, are not a much more appreciable factor in that progress than the war itself--i refer particularly, of course, to the immense change involved in the fiscal union of the german states, which was completed before the franco-german war of had been declared; to say nothing of such other factors as the invention of the thomas-gilchrist process which enabled the phosphoric iron ores of germany, previously useless, to be utilized. . the very serious social difficulties (which have, of course, their economic aspect) that _do_ confront the german people--the intense class friction, the backwardness of parliamentary government, the survival of reactionary political ideas, wrapped up with the domination of the "prussian ideal"--all difficulties which states whose political development has been less marked by successful war (the lesser european states just mentioned, for instance)--are not faced with in the same degree. these difficulties, special, among the great european nations, to germany, are certainly in a large measure a legacy of the franco-german war, a part of the general system to which that war gave rise, the general character of the political union which it provoked. the general ascription of such real progress as germany has made to the effects of the war and nothing else--a conclusion which calmly ignores factors which have evidently a more direct bearing--is one of those _a priori_ judgments repeated, parrot fashion, without investigation or care even by publicists of repute; it is characteristic of the carelessness which dominates this whole subject. this more general consideration, which does not properly belong to the special problem of an indemnity, i have dealt with at greater length in the next section. the evidence bearing on the particular question, as to whether in practice the exaction of a large monetary indemnity from a conquered foe can ever be economically profitable or of real advantage to the conqueror, is of a simpler character. if we put the question in this form, "was the receipt of the indemnity, in the most characteristic and successful case in history, of advantage to the conqueror?" the reply is simple enough: all the evidence plainly and conclusively shows that it was of no advantage; that the conqueror would probably have been better without it. even if we draw from that evidence a contrary conclusion, even if we conclude that the actual payment of the indemnity was as beneficial as all the evidence would seem to show it was mischievous; even if we could set aside completely the financial and commercial difficulties which its payment seems to have involved; if we ascribe to other causes the great financial crises which followed that payment; if we deduct no discount from the nominal value of the indemnity, but assume that every mark and thaler of it represented its full face value to germany--even admitting all this, it is still inevitable that _the direct cost of preparing for a war and of guarding against a subsequent war of retribution must, from the nature of the case, exceed the value of the indemnity which can be exacted_. this is not merely a hypothetical statement, it is a commercial fact, supported by evidence which is familiar to us all. in order to avoid repaying, with interest, the indemnity drawn from france, germany has had to expend upon armaments a sum of money at least equal to that indemnity. in order to exact a still larger indemnity from great britain, germany would have to spend a still larger sum in preparations, and to guard against repayment would be led into indefinite expenditure, which has only to go on long enough inevitably to exceed the very definite indemnity. for, it must be remembered that the amount of an indemnity extractable from a modern community, of the credit era, has very definite limits: an insolvent community can pay more. if the statesmen of europe could lay on one side, for a moment, the irrelevant considerations which cloud their minds, they would see that the direct cost of acquisition by force must in these circumstances necessarily exceed in value the property acquired. when the _indirect_ costs are also considered, the balance of loss becomes incalculably greater. those who urge that through an indemnity, war can be made to "pay" (and it is for them that this chapter is written), have before them problems and difficulties--difficulties of not merely a military, but of a financial and social character--of the very deepest kind. it was precisely in this section of the subject that german science failed in . there is no evidence that much progress has been made in the study of this phase of the problem by either side since the war--indeed, there is plenty of evidence that it has been neglected. it is time that it was scientifically and systematically attacked. those who wish well for europe will encourage the study, for it can have but one result: to show that less and less can war be made to pay; that all those forces of our world which daily gain in strength make it, as a commercial venture, more and more preposterous. the study of this department of international polity will tend to the same result as the study of any of its facets: the undermining of those beliefs which have in the past so often led to, and are to-day so often claimed as the motives likely to lead to, war between civilized peoples. chapter vii how colonies are owned why twentieth-century methods must differ from eighteenth--the vagueness of our conceptions of statecraft--how colonies are "owned"--some little recognized facts--why foreigners could not fight england for her self-governing colonies--she does not "own" them, since they are masters of their own destiny--the paradox of conquest: england in a worse position in regard to her own colonies than in regard to foreign nations--her experience as the oldest and most practised colonizer in history--recent french experience--could germany hope to do what england cannot do? the foregoing chapters dispose of the first six of the seven propositions outlined in chapter iii. there remains the seventh, dealing with the notion that in some way england's security and prosperity would be threatened by a foreign nation "taking our colonies from us"--a thing which we are assured her rivals are burning to do, as it would involve the "breaking up of the british empire" to their advantage. let us try to read some meaning into a phrase which, however childish it may appear on analysis, is very commonly in the mouths of those who are responsible for british political ideas. in this connection it is necessary to point out--as, indeed, it is in every phase of this problem of the relationship of states--that the world has moved, that methods have changed. it is hardly possible to discuss this matter of the necessary futility of military force in the modern world for ten minutes without it being urged that as england has acquired her colonies by the sword, it is evident that the sword may do a like service for modern states desiring colonies. about as reasonably could one say that, as certain tribes and nations in the past enriched themselves by capturing slaves and women among neighboring tribes, the desire to capture slaves and women will always be an operative motive in warfare between nations, as though slavery had not been put economically out of court by modern industrial methods, and as though the change in social methods had not put the forcible capture of women out of court. what was the problem confronting the merchant adventurer of the sixteenth century? there were newly-discovered foreign lands containing, as he believed, precious metals and stones and spices, and inhabited by savages or semi-savages. if other traders got those stones, it was quite evident that he could not. his colonial policy, therefore, had to be directed to two ends: first, such effective political occupation of the country that he could keep the savage or semi-savage population in check, and could exploit the territory for its wealth; and, secondly, such arrangements as would prevent other nations from searching for this wealth in precious metals, spices, etc., since, if they obtained it, he could not. that is the story of the french and dutch in india, and of the spanish in south america. but as soon as there grew up in those countries an organized community living in the country itself, the whole problem changed. the colonies, in this later stage of development, have a value to the mother country mainly as a market and a source of food and raw material, and if their value in those respects is to be developed to the full, they inevitably become self-governing communities in greater or less degree, and the mother country exploits them exactly as she exploits any other community with which she may be trading. germany might acquire canada, but it could no longer be a question of her taking canada's wealth in precious metals, or in any other form, to the exclusion of other nations. could germany "own" canada, she would have to "own" it in the same way that britain does; the germans would have to pay for every sack of wheat and every pound of beef that they might buy, just as though canada "belonged" to england or to anybody else. germany could not have even the meagre satisfaction of germanizing these great communities, for one knows that they are far too firmly "set." their language, law, morals, would have to be, after german conquest, what they are now. germany would find that the german canada was pretty much the canada that it is now--a country where germans are free to go and do go; a field for germany's expanding population. as a matter of fact, germany feeds her expanding population from territories like canada and the united states and south america without sending its citizens there. the era of emigration from germany has stopped, because the compound steam-engine has rendered emigration largely unnecessary. and it is the developments which are the necessary outcome of such forces, that have made the whole colonial problem of the twentieth century radically different from that of the eighteenth or seventeenth. i have stated the case thus: no nation could gain any advantage by the conquest of the british colonies, and great britain could not suffer material damage by their "loss," however much this would be regretted on sentimental grounds, and as rendering less easy a certain useful social co-operation between kindred peoples. for the british colonies are, in fact, independent nations in alliance with the mother country, to whom they are no source of tribute or economic profit (except in the way that foreign nations are), their economic relations being settled not by the mother country, but by the colonies. economically, england would gain by their formal separation, since she would be relieved of the cost of their defence. their loss, involving, therefore, no change in economic fact (beyond saving the mother country the cost of their defence), could not involve the ruin of the empire and the starvation of the mother country, as those who commonly treat of such a contingency are apt to aver. as england is not able to exact tribute or economic advantage, it is inconceivable that any other country, necessarily less experienced in colonial management, would be able to succeed where england had failed, especially in view of the past history of the spanish, portuguese, french, and british colonial empires. this history also demonstrates that the position of british crown colonies, in the respect which we are considering, is not sensibly different from that of the self-governing ones. it is not to be presumed, therefore, that any european nation would attempt the desperately expensive business of the conquest of england, for the purpose of making an experiment with her colonies which all colonial history shows to be doomed to failure. what are the facts? great britain is the most successful colonizing nation in the world, and the policy into which her experience has driven her is that outlined by sir c.p. lucas, one of the greatest authorities on colonial questions. he writes, speaking of the history of the british colonies on the american continent, thus: it was seen--but it might not have been seen had the united states not won their independence--that english colonists, like greek colonies of old, go out on terms of being equal, not subordinate, to those who are left behind; that when they have effectively planted another and a distant land, they must, within the widest limits, be left to rule themselves; that, whether they are right, or whether they are wrong--more, perhaps, when they are wrong than when they are right--they cannot be made amenable by force; that mutual good feeling, community of interest, and abstention from pressing rightful claims to their logical conclusion, can alone hold together a true colonial empire. but what in the name of common sense is the advantage of conquering them if the only policy is to let them do as they like, "whether they are right, or whether they are wrong--more, perhaps, when they are wrong than when they are right"? and what avails it to conquer them if they cannot be made amenable to force? surely this makes the whole thing a _reductio ad absurdum_. were a power like germany to use force to conquer colonies, she would find out that they were not amenable to force, and that the only working policy was to let them do exactly as they did before she conquered them, and to allow them, if they chose--and many of the british colonies do so choose--to treat the mother country absolutely as a foreign country. there has recently been going on in canada a discussion as to the position which that dominion should hold with reference to the british in the event of war, and that discussion has made canada's position quite plain. it has been summarized thus: "we must always be free to give or refuse support."[ ] could a foreign nation say more? in what sense does england "own" canada when canadians must always be free to give or refuse their military support to england; and in what way does canada differ from a foreign nation while england may be at war when canada can be at peace? mr. asquith formally endorses this conception.[ ] this shows clearly that no dominion is held to be bound by virtue of its allegiance to the sovereign of the british empire to place its forces at his disposition, no matter how real may be the emergency. if it should not desire so to do, it is free to refuse so to do. this is to convert the british empire into a loose alliance of independent sovereign states, which are not even bound to help each other in case of war. the military alliance between austria and germany is far more stringent than the tie which unites, for purposes of war, the component parts of the british empire. one critic, commenting on this, says: whatever language is used to describe this new movement of imperial defence, it is virtually one more step towards complete national independence on the part of the colonies. for not only will the consciousness of the assumption of this task of self-defence feed with new vigor the spirit of nationality, it will entail the further power of full control over foreign relations. this has already been virtually admitted in the case of canada, now entitled to a determinant voice in all treaties or other engagements in which her interests are especially involved. the extension of this right to the other colonial nations may be taken as a matter of course. home rule in national defence thus established reduces the imperial connection to its thinnest terms.[ ] still more significant, perhaps, is the following emphatic declaration from mr. balfour himself. speaking in london, on november , , he said: we depend as an empire upon the co-operation of absolutely independent parliaments. i am not talking as a lawyer; i am talking as a politician. i believe from a legal point of view that the british parliament is supreme over the parliament of canada or australasia or the cape or south africa, but in fact they are independent parliaments, absolutely independent, and it is our business to recognize that and to frame the british empire upon the co-operation of absolutely independent parliaments.[ ] which means, of course, that england's position with regard to canada or australia is just england's position with regard to any other independent state; that she has no more "ownership" in australia than she has in argentina. indeed, facts of very recent english history have established quite incontrovertibly this ridiculous paradox: england has more influence--that is to say, a freer opportunity of enforcing her point of view--with foreign nations than with her own colonies. indeed, does not sir c. p. lucas's statement that "whether they are right or wrong--still more, perhaps, when they are wrong," they must be left alone, necessarily mean that her position with the colonies is weaker than her position with foreign nations? in the present state of international feeling an english statesman would never dream of advocating that she should submit to foreign nations when they are wrong. recent history is illuminating on this point. what were the larger motives that pushed england into war with the dutch republics? to vindicate the supremacy of the british race in south africa, to enforce british ideals as against boer ideals, to secure the rights of british indians and other british subjects, to protect the native against boer oppression, to take the government of the country generally from a people whom, at that date, she was apt to describe as "inherently incapable of civilization." what, however, is the outcome of spending a billion and a quarter of dollars upon the accomplishment of these objects? the present government of the transvaal is in the hands of the boer party.[ ] england has achieved the union of south africa in which the boer element is predominant. britain has enforced against the british indian in the transvaal and natal the same boer regulations which were one of her grievances before the war, and the houses of parliament have ratified an act of union in which the boer attitude with reference to the native is codified and made permanent. sir charles dilke, in the debate in the house of commons on the south african bill, made this quite clear. he said: "the old british principle in south africa, as distinct from the boer principle, in regard to the treatment of natives, was equal rights for all civilized men. at the beginning of the south african war the country was told that one of its main objects, and certainly that the one predominant factor in any treaty of peace, would be the assertion of the british principle as against the boer principle. now the boer principle dominates throughout the whole of south africa." mr. asquith, as representing the british government, admitted that this was the case, and that "the opinion of this country is almost unanimous in objecting to the color bar in the union parliament." he went on to say that "the opinion of the british government and the opinion of the british people must not be allowed to lead to any interference with a self-governing colony." so that, having expended in the conquest of the transvaal a greater sum than germany exacted from france at the close of the franco-prussian war, england has not even the right to enforce her views on those whose contrary views were the _casus belli_! a year or two since there was in london a deputation from the british indians in the transvaal pointing out that the regulations there deprive them of the ordinary rights of british citizens. the british government informed them that the transvaal being a self-governing colony, the imperial government could do nothing for them.[ ] now, it will not be forgotten that, at a time when britain was quarrelling with paul krüger, one of the liveliest of her grievances was the treatment of british indians. having conquered krüger, and now "owning" his country, do the british themselves act as they were trying to compel paul krüger as a foreign ruler to act? they do not. they (or rather the responsible government of the colony, with whom they dare not interfere, although they were ready enough to make representations to krüger) simply and purely enforce his own regulations. moreover, the australian commonwealth and british columbia have since taken the view with reference to british indians which president krüger took, and which view england made almost a _casus belli_. yet in the case of her colonies she does absolutely nothing. so the process is this: the government of a foreign territory does something which we ask it to cease doing. the refusal of the foreign government constitutes a _casus belli_. we fight, we conquer, and the territory in question becomes one of our colonies, and we allow the government of that colony to continue doing the very thing which constituted, in the case of a foreign nation, a _casus belli_. do we not, taking the english case as typical, arrive, therefore, at the absurdity i have already indicated--_that we are in a worse position to enforce our views in our own territory--that is to say, in our colonies--than in foreign territory_? would england submit tamely if a foreign government should exercise permanently gross oppression on an important section of her citizens? certainly she would not. but when the government exercising that oppression happens to be the government of her own colonies she does nothing, and a great british authority lays it down that, even more when the colonial government is wrong than when it is right, must she do nothing, and that, though wrong, the colonial government cannot be amenable to force. nor can it be said that crown colonies differ essentially in this matter from self-governing dominions. not only is there an irresistible tendency for crown colonies to acquire the practical rights of self-governing dominions, but it has become a practical impossibility to disregard their special interests. experience is conclusive on this point. i am not here playing with words or attempting to make paradoxes. this _reductio ad absurdum_--the fact that when she owns a territory she renounces the privilege of using force to ensure observance of her views--is becoming more and more a commonplace of british colonial government. as to the fiscal position of the colonies, that is precisely what their political relation is in all but name; they are foreign nations. they erect tariffs against great britain; they exclude large sections of british subjects absolutely (practically speaking, no british indian is allowed to set foot in australia, and yet british india constitutes the greater part of the british empire), and even against british subjects from great britain vexatious exclusion laws are enacted. again the question arises: could a foreign country do more? if fiscal preference is extended to great britain, that preference is not the result of british "ownership" of the colonies, but is the free act of the colonial legislators, and could as well be made by any foreign nation desiring to court closer fiscal relations with great britain.[ ] is it conceivable that germany, if the real relations between great britain and her colonies were understood, would undertake the costliest war of conquest in history in order to acquire an absurd and profitless position from which she could not exact even the shadow of a material advantage? it may be pleaded that germany might on the morrow of conquest attempt to enforce a policy which gave her a material advantage in the colonies, such as spain and portugal attempted to create for themselves. but in that case, is it conceivable that germany, without colonial experience, would be able to enforce a policy which great britain was obliged to abandon a hundred years ago? is it imaginable that, if great britain has been utterly unable to carry out a policy by which the colonies shall pay anything resembling tribute to the mother country, germany, without experience, and at an enormous disadvantage in the matter of language, tradition, racial tie, and the rest, would be able to make such a policy a success? surely, if the elements of this question were in the least understood in germany, such a preposterous notion could not be entertained for a moment. does anyone seriously pretend that the present system of british colony-holding is due to british philanthropy or high-mindedness? we all know, of course, that it is simply due to the fact that the older system of exploitation by monopoly broke down. it was a complete social, commercial, and political failure long before it was abolished by law. if england had persisted in the use of force to impose a disadvantageous situation on the colonies, she would have followed in the trail of spain, portugal, and france, and she would have lost her colonies, and her empire would have broken up. it took england anything from two to three centuries to learn the real colonial policy, but it would not take so long in our day for a conqueror to realize the only situation possible between one great community and another. european history, indeed, has recently furnished a striking illustration of how the forces which compel the relationship, which england has adopted towards her colonies, are operative, even in the case of quite small colonies, which could not be termed "great communities." under the méline régime in france, less than twenty years ago, a highly protectionist policy, somewhat corresponding to the old english colonial monopoly system, was enforced in the case of certain french colonies. none of these colonies was very considerable--indeed, they were all quite small--and yet the forces which they represented in the matter of the life of france have sufficed to change radically the attitude of the french government in the matter of the policy which less than twenty years ago was imposed on them. in _le temps_ of april , , appeared the following: our colonies can consider yesterday a red-letter day. the debate in the chamber gives hope that the stifling fiscal policy imposed on them heretofore is about to be very greatly modified. the tariff commission of the chamber has hitherto been a very citadel of the blindest type of protectionism in this matter. m. thierry is the present president of this commission, and yet it is from him that we learn that a new era in the colonies is about to be inaugurated. it is a very great change, and one that may have incalculable consequences in the future development of our colonial empire. the customs law of committed two injustices with regard to our possessions. the first was that it obliged the colonies to receive, free of duty, goods coming from france, while it taxed colonial goods coming into france. now, it is impossible to imagine a treaty of that kind being passed between two free countries, and if it was passed with the colonies, it was because these colonies were weak, and not in the position to defend themselves _vis-à-vis_ the mother country.... the minister of the colonies himself, animated by a newer and better spirit, which we are so happy to see appear in our treatment of colonial questions, has promised to give all his efforts towards terminating the present bad system. a further defect of the law of is that all the colonies have been subjected to the same fiscal arrangement, as though there could be anything in common between countries separated by the width of the whole globe. happily the policy was too outrageous ever to be put into full execution. certain of our african colonies[ ] were tied by international treaties at the time that the law was voted, so that the government was compelled to make exceptions. but monsieur méline's idea at this period was to bring all the colonies under one fiscal arrangement imposed by the mother country, just as soon as the international treaty should have expired. the exceptions have thus furnished a most useful demonstration as to the results which flow from the two systems; the fiscal policy imposed by the mother country in view merely of its own immediate interest, and the fiscal policy framed to some extent by the colony in view of its own special interests. well, what is the result? it is this. that those colonies which have been free to frame their own fiscal policy have enjoyed undeniable prosperity, while those which have been obliged to submit to the policy imposed by another country have been sinking into a condition of veritable ruin; they are faced by positive disaster! only one conclusion is possible. each colony must be free to make those arrangements which in its view are suited to its local conditions. that is not at all what m. méline desired, but it is what experience imposes.... it is not merely a matter of injustice. our policy has been absurd. what is it that france desires in her colonies? an addition of wealth and power to the mother country. but if we compel the colonies to submit to disadvantageous fiscal arrangements, which result in their poverty, how can they possibly be a source of wealth and power to the mother country? a colony which can sell nothing is a colony which can buy nothing: it is a customer lost to french industry. every feature of the foregoing is significant and pregnant: this change of policy is not taking place because france is unable to impose force--she is perfectly able to do so; speaking in practical terms, the colonies have no physical force whatever to oppose to her--but this change is taking place because the imposition of force, even when completely successful and unchallenged, is economically futile. the object at which france is striving can be obtained in one way only: by an arrangement which is mutually advantageous, arrived at by the free consent of both parties, the establishment of a relationship which places a colony fiscally, economically, on the footing of a foreign country. france is now in process of doing exactly what england has done in the case of her colonies: she is undoing the work of conquest, surrendering bit by bit the right to impose force, because force fails in its object. perhaps the most significant feature of all in the french experience is this: that it has taken less than twenty years for the old colonial system, even in the case of small and relatively powerless colonies, to break down entirely. how long would a power like germany be able to impose the old policy of exploitation on great and powerful communities, a hundred times greater than the french colonies, even supposing that she could ever "conquer" them?[ ] yet so little is the real relationship of modern colonies understood, that i have heard it mentioned in private conversation by an english public man, whose position was such, moreover, as to enable him to give very great effect to his opinion, that one of the motives pushing germany to war was the projected capture of south africa, in order to seize the gold-mines, and by means of a tax of per cent. on their output, secure for herself one of the chief sources of gold in the world. one heard a good deal at the outbreak of the south african war of the part that the gold-mines played in precipitating that conflict. alike in england and on the continent, it was generally assumed that great britain was "after the gold-mines." a long correspondence took place in the london _times_ as to the real value of the mines, and speculation as to the amount of money which it was worth great britain's while to spend in their "capture." well, now that england has won the war, how many gold-mines has she captured? in other words, how many shares in the gold-mines does the british government hold? how many mines have been transferred from their then owners to the british government, as the result of british victory? how much tribute does the government of westminster exact as the result of investing two hundred and fifty millions in the enterprise? the fact is, of course, that the british government does not hold a cent's worth of the property. the mines belong to the shareholders and to no one else, and in the conditions of the modern world it is not possible for a government to "capture" so much as a single dollar's worth of such property as the result of a war of conquest. supposing that germany or any other conqueror were to put on the output of the mines a duty of per cent. what would she get, and what would be the result? the output of the south african mines to-day is, roughly, $ , , a year, so that she would get about $ , , a year.[ ] the annual total income of germany is calculated at something like $ , , , , so that a tribute of $ , , would hold about the same proportion to germany's total income that, say, fifteen cents a day would to a man in receipt of $ , a year. it would represent, say, the expenditure of a man with an income of $ or $ a year upon, say, his evening cigars. could one imagine such a householder in his right mind committing burglary and murder in order to economize a dollar a week? yet that would be the position of the german empire entering upon a great and costly war for the purpose of exacting $ , , a year from the south african mines; or, rather, the situation for the german empire would be a great deal worse than that. for this householder having committed burglary and murder for the sake of his dollar a week (the german empire, that is, having entered into one of the most frightful wars of history to exact its tribute of seventy-five millions) would then find that in order to get this dollar he had to jeopardize many of the investments upon which the bulk of his income depended. on the morrow of imposing a tax of fifty per cent. on the mines there would be such a slump in a class of security now dealt in by every considerable stock exchange in the world that there would hardly be a considerable business firm in europe unaffected thereby. in england, they know of the difficulty that a relatively mild fiscal attack, delivered rather for social and moral than economic reasons, upon a class of property like the brewing trade provokes. what sort of outcry, therefore, would be raised throughout the world when every south african mining share in the world lost at one stroke half its value, and a great many of them lost all their value? who would invest money in the transvaal at all if property were to be subject to that sort of shock? investors would argue that though it be mines to-day, it might be other forms of property to-morrow, and south africa would find herself in the position of being able hardly to borrow a quarter for any purpose whatsoever, save at usurious and extortionate rates of interest. the whole of south african trade and industry would, of course, feel the effect, and south africa as a market would immediately begin to dwindle in importance. those businesses bound up with south african affairs would border on the brink of ruin, and many of them topple over. is that the way efficient germany would set about the development of her newly-acquired empire? she would soon find that she had a ruined colony on her hands. if in south africa the sturdy dutch and english stock did not produce a george washington with a better material and moral case for independence than george washington ever had, then history has no meaning. if it costs england a billion and a quarter to conquer dutch south africa, what would it cost germany to conquer anglo-dutch south africa? such a policy could not, of course, last six months, and germany would end by doing what great britain has ended by doing--she would renounce all attempt to exact a tribute or commercial advantage other than that which is the result of free co-operation with the south african people. in other words, she would learn that the policy which great britain has adopted was not adopted by philanthropy, but in the hard school of bitter experience. germany would see that the last word in colonial statesmanship is to exact nothing from your colonies, and where the greatest colonial power of history has been unable to follow any other policy, a poor intruder in the art of colonial administration would not be likely to prove more successful, and she, too, would find that the only way to treat colonies is to treat them as independent or foreign territories, and the only way to own them is to make no attempt at exercising any of the functions of ownership. all the reasons which gave force to this principle in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries have been reinforced a hundredfold by the modern contrivances of credit and capital, quick communication, popular government, popular press, the conditions and cost of warfare--the whole weight, indeed, of modern progress. it is not a question here of theorizing, of the erection of an elaborate thesis, nor is it a question of arguing what the relations of colonies ought to be. the differences between the imperialist and the anti-imperialist do not enter into the discussion at all. it is simply a question of what the unmistakable outstanding facts of experience have taught, and we all know, imperialists and their opponents alike, that whatever the relations with the colonies are to be, that relationship must be fixed by the free consent of the colonies, by their choice, not ours. sir j.r. seeley notes in his book, "the expansion of england," that because the early spanish colonies were in a true sense of the word "possessions," britons acquired the habit of talking of "possessions" and "ownership," and their ideas of colonial policy were vitiated during three centuries, simply by the fatal hypnotism of an incorrect word. is it not time that we shook off the influence of those disastrous words? canada, australia, new zealand, and south africa, are not "possessions." they are no more possessions than is argentina or brazil, and the nation which conquered england, which even captured london, would be hardly nearer to the conquest of canada or australia than if it happened to occupy constantinople or st. petersburg. why, therefore, do we tolerate the loose talk which assumes that the master of london is also master of montreal, vancouver, cape town, johannesburg, melbourne, and sydney? have we not had about enough of this ignorant chatter, which is persistently blind to the simplest and most elementary facts of the case? and have not the english, of all people of the world, a most direct interest in aiding the general realization of these truths in europe? would not that general realization add immensely to the security of their so-called empire? chapter viii the fight for "the place in the sun" how germany really expands--where her real colonies are--how she exploits without conquest--what is the difference between an army and a police force?--the policing of the world--germany's share of it in the near east. what is the practical outcome of the situation which the facts detailed in the last chapter make plain? must nations like germany conclude that, because there can be no duplication of the fight for empty territory which took place between european nations in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and because talk of the german conquest of british colonies is childish nonsense, germany must therefore definitely surrender any hope of expansion, and accept a secondary position because she happens to have "come too late into the world"? are germans with all their activities and scientific thoroughness, and with such a lively sense of the difficulty of finding room in the world for the additional million of germans every year quietly to accept the _status quo_? if our thoughts were not so distorted by misleading political imagery, it is doubtful whether it would ever occur to us that such a "problem" existed. when one nation, say england, occupies a territory, does it mean that that territory is "lost" to germans? we know this to be an absurdity. germany does an enormous and increasing trade with the territory that has been pre-empted by the anglo-saxon race. millions of germans in germany gain their livelihood by virtue of german enterprise and german industry in anglo-saxon countries--indeed, it is the bitter and growing complaint of englishmen that they are being driven out of these territories by the germans; that where originally british shipping was universal in the east,[ ] german shipping is now coming to occupy the prominent place; that the trade of whole territories which englishmen originally had to themselves is now being captured by germans, and this not merely where the fiscal arrangements are more or less under the control of the british government, as in the crown colonies, but in those territories originally british but now independent, like the united states, as well as in those territories which are in reality independent, though nominally still under british control, like australia and canada. moreover, why need germany occupy the extraordinary position of phantom "ownership," which england occupies, in order to enjoy all the real benefits which in our day result from a colonial empire? more germans have found homes in the united states in the last half-century than have englishmen in all their colonies. it is calculated that between ten and twelve millions of the population of the united states are of direct german descent it is true, of course, that germans do not live under their flag, but it is equally true that they do not regret that fact, but rejoice in it! the majority of german emigrants do not desire that the land to which they go shall have the political character of the land which they leave behind. the fact that in adopting the united states they have shed something of the german tradition and created a new national type, partaking in part of the english and in part of the german, is, on the whole, very much to their advantage--and incidentally to ours. of course it is urged that, despite all this, the national sentiment will always desire, for the overflow of its population, territories in which that nation's language, law, and literature reign. but how far is that aspiration one of those purely political aspirations still persisting, it is true, but really the result of the momentum of old ideas, the outcome of facts long since passed away, and destined to disappear as soon as the real facts have been absorbed by the general public? thus a german will shout patriotically, and, if needs be, embroil his country in a war for an equatorial or asiatic colony; the truth being that he does not think about the matter seriously. but if he and his family have to emigrate, he _does_ think about it seriously, and then it is another matter; he does not choose equatorial africa or china; he goes to the united states, which he knows to be a far better country in which to make his home than the cameroons or kiau chau could ever be. indeed, in england's own case, are not certain foreign countries much more her real colonies for her children of the future than certain territory under her own flag? will not her children find better and more congenial conditions, more readily build real homes, in pennsylvania, which is "foreign," than in bombay, which is "british"? of course, if by sheer military conquest it were possible to turn a united states or even a canada into a real germany--of german language, law, literature--the matter would assume another aspect. but the facts dealt with in the last chapter show that the day is past for conquest in that form. quite other means must be employed. the german conqueror of the future would have to say with napoleon: "i come too late. the nations are too firmly set." even when the english, the greatest colonizers of the world, conquer a territory like the transvaal or the orange free state, they have no resort, having conquered it, but to allow its own law, its own literature, its own language to have free play, just as though the conquest had never taken place. this was even the case with quebec more than one hundred years ago, and germany will have to be guided by a like rule. on the morrow of conquest she would have to proceed to establish her real ascendancy by other than military means--a thing she is free to do to-day, if she can. it cannot throughout this discussion be too often repeated that the world has been modified, and that what was possible to the canaanites and the romans, and even to the normans, is no longer possible to us. the edict can no longer go forth to "slay every male child" that is born into the conquered territory, in order that the race may be exterminated. conquest in this sense is impossible. the most marvellous colonial history in the world--british colonial history--demonstrates that in this field physical force is no longer of avail. and germans are beginning to realize it. "we must resign ourselves in all clearness and calm to the fact that there is no possibility of acquiring colonies suitable for emigration," writes dr. p. rohrbach. he continues: but if we cannot have such colonies, it by no means follows that we cannot obtain the advantages, if only to a limited extent, which make these colonies desirable. it is a mistake to regard the mere possession of extensive trans-oceanic territories, even when they are able to absorb a part of the national surplus of population, as necessarily a direct increase of power. australia, canada, and south africa do not increase the power of the british empire because they are british possessions, nor yet because they are peopled by a few million british emigrants and their descendants, but because by trade with them the wealth and with it the defensive strength of the mother country are increased. colonies which do not produce that result have but little value; and countries which possess this importance for a nation, even though they are not its colonies, are in this decisive point a substitute for colonial possessions in the ordinary sense.[ ] in fact the misleading political imagery to which i referred a few pages back has gone far to destroy our sense of reality and sense of proportion in the matter of political control of foreign territory, a fact which the diplomatic turmoil of most certainly illustrated. i had occasion at the time to emphasize it in the following terms: the press of europe and america is very busy discussing the lessons of the diplomatic conflict which has just ended, and the military conflict which has just begun. and the outstanding impression which one gets from most of these essays in high politics--whether french, italian, or british--is that we have been and still are witnessing part of a great world movement, the setting in motion of titanic forces "deep-set in primordial needs and impulses." for months those in the secrets of the chancelleries have spoken with bated breath--as though in the presence of some vision of armageddon. on the strength of this mere talk of war by the three nations, vast commerical interests have been embarrassed, fortunes have been lost and won on the bourses, banks have suspended payment, some thousands have been ruined; while the fact that the fourth and fifth nations have actually gone to war has raised all sorts of further possibilities of conflict, not alone in europe, but in asia, with remoter danger of religious fanaticism and all its sequelæ. international bitterness and suspicion in general have been intensified, and the one certain result of the whole thing is that immense burdens will be added in the shape of further taxation for armaments to the already heavy ones carried by the five or six nations concerned. for two or three hundred millions of people in europe, life, which with all the problems of high prices, labor wars, unsolved social difficulties, is none too easy as it is, will be made harder still. the needs, therefore, that can have provoked a conflict of these dimensions must be "primordial" indeed. in fact one authority assures us that what we have seen going on is "the struggle for life among men"--that struggle which has its parallel in the whole of sentient existence. well, i put it to you, as a matter worth just a moment or two of consideration, that this conflict is about nothing of the sort; that it is about a perfectly futile matter, one which the immense majority of the german, english, french, italian, and turkish people could afford to treat with the completest indifference. for, to the vast majority of these , , people more or less, it does not matter two straws whether morocco or some vague african swamp near the equator is administered by german, french, italian, or turkish officials, so long as it is well administered. or rather one should go further: if french, german, or italian colonization of the past is any guide, the nation which wins in the contest for territory of this sort has added a wealth-draining incubus. this, of course, is preposterous; i am losing sight of the need for making provision for the future expansion of the race, for each party to "find its place in the sun"; and heaven knows what! the european press was full of these phrases at the time, and i attempted to weigh their real meaning by a comparison of french and german history in the matter of national "expansion" during the last thirty or forty years. france has got a new empire, we are told; she has won a great victory; she is growing and expanding and is richer by something which her rivals are the poorer for not having. let us assume that she makes the same success of morocco that she has made of her other possessions, of, say, tunis, which represents one of the most successful of those operations of colonial expansion which have marked her history during the last forty years. what has been the precise effect on french prosperity? in thirty years, at a cost of many millions (it is part of successful colonial administration in france never to let it be known what the colonies really cost), france has founded in tunis a colony, in which to-day there are, excluding soldiers and officials, about , genuine french colonists; just the number by which the french population in france--the real france--is diminishing every year! and the value of tunis as a market does not even amount to the sum which france spends directly on its occupation and administration, to say nothing of the indirect extension of military burdens which its conquest involved; and, of course, the market which it represents would still exist in some form, though england--or even germany--administered the country. in other words, france loses every year in her home population a colony equivalent to tunis--if we measure colonies in terms of communities made up of the race which has sprung from the mother country. and yet, if once in a generation her rulers and diplomats can point to , frenchmen living artificially and exotically under conditions which must in the long-run be inimical to their race, it is pointed to as "expansion" and as evidence that france is maintaining her position as a great power. in a few years, as history goes, unless there is some complete change in tendencies, which at present seem as strong as ever, the french race, as we know it, will have ceased to exist, swamped without the firing, may be, of a single shot, by the germans, belgians, english, italians, and jews. there are to-day more germans in france than there are frenchmen in all the colonies that france has acquired in the last half-century, and german trade with france outweighs enormously the trade of france with all french colonies. france is to-day a better colony for the germans than they could make of any exotic colony which france owns. "they _tell_ me," said a french deputy recently (in a not quite original _mot_), "that the germans are at agadir. i _know_ they are in the champs-elysées." which, of course, is in reality a much more serious matter. on the other side we are to assume that germany has during the period of france's expansion,--since the war--not expanded at all. that she has been throttled and cramped--that she has not had her place in the sun; and that is why she must fight for it and endanger the security of her neighbors. well, i put it to you again that all this in reality is false: that germany has not been cramped or throttled; that, on the contrary, as we recognize when we get away from the mirage of the map, her expansion has been the wonder of the world. she has added twenty millions to her population--one-half the present population of france--during a period in which the french population has actually diminished. of all the nations in europe, she has cut the biggest slice in the development of world trade, industry, and influence. despite the fact that she has not "expanded" in the sense of mere political dominion, a proportion of her population, equivalent to the white population of the whole colonial british empire, make their living, or the best part of it, from the development and exploitation of territory outside her borders. these facts are not new, they have been made the text of thousands of political sermons preached in england itself during the last few years; but one side of their significance seems to have been missed. we get, then, this: on the one side a nation extending enormously its political dominion, and yet diminishing in national force--if by national force we mean the growth of a sturdy, enterprising, vigorous people. (i am not denying that france is both wealthy and comfortable, to a greater degree it may be than her rival; but that is another story.) on the other side, we get immense expansion expressed in terms of those things--a growing and vigorous population, and the possibility of feeding them--and yet the political dominion, speaking practically, has hardly been extended at all. such a condition of things, if the common jargon of high politics means anything, is preposterous. it takes nearly all meaning out of most that we hear about "primordial needs" and the rest of it. as a matter of fact, we touch here one of the vital confusions, which is at the bottom of most of the present political trouble between nations, and shows the power of the old ideas and the old phraseology. in the days of the sailing ship and the lumbering wagon dragging slowly over all but impassable roads, for one country to derive any considerable profit from another it had practically to administer it politically. but the compound steam-engine, the railway, the telegraph, have profoundly modified the elements of the whole problem. in the modern world political dominion is playing a more and more effaced rôle as a factor in commerce; the non-political factors have in practice made it all but inoperative. it is the case with every modern nation, actually, that the outside territories which it exploits most successfully are precisely those of which it does not "own" a foot. even with the most characteristically colonial of all--great britain--the greater part of her overseas trade is done with countries which she makes no attempt to "own," control, coerce, or dominate--and incidentally she has ceased to do any of those things with her colonies. millions of germans in prussia and westphalia derive profit or make their living out of countries to which their political dominion in no way extends. the modern german exploits south america by remaining at home. where, forsaking this principle, he attempts to work through political power, he approaches futility. german colonies are colonies _pour rire_. the government has to bribe germans to go to them; her trade with them is microscopic; and if the twenty millions who have been added to germany's population since the war had had to depend on their country's political conquest, they would have had to starve. what feeds them are countries which germany has never "owned," and never hopes to "own": brazil, argentina, the united states, india, australia, canada, russia, france, and england. (germany, which never spent a mark on its political conquest, to-day draws more tribute from south america than does spain, which has poured out mountains of treasure and oceans of blood in its conquest.) these are germany's real colonies. yet the immense interests which they represent, of really primordial concern to germany, without which so many of her people would be actually without food, are for the diplomats and the soldiers quite secondary ones; the immense trade which they represent owes nothing to the diplomat, to agadir incidents, to _dreadnoughts_: it is the unaided work of the merchant and the manufacturer. all this diplomatic and military conflict and rivalry, this waste of wealth, the unspeakable foulness which tripoli is revealing, are reserved for things which both sides to the quarrel could sacrifice, not merely without loss, but with profit. and italy, whose statesmen have been faithful to all the old "axioms" (heaven save the mark!) will discover it rapidly enough. even her defenders are ceasing now to urge that she can possibly derive any real benefit from this colossal ineptitude. is it not time that the man in the street--verily, i believe, less deluded by diplomatic jargon than his betters, less the slave of an obsolete phraseology--insisted that the experts in the high places acquired some sense of the reality of things, of proportions, some sense of figures, a little knowledge of industrial history, of the real processes of human co-operation? but are we to assume that the extension of a european nation's authority overseas can never be worth while; or that it could, or should, never be the occasion for conflict between nations; or that the rôle of, say, england in india or egypt, is neither useful nor profitable? in the second part of this book i have attempted to uncover the general principle--which sadly needs establishing in politics--serving to indicate clearly the advantageous and disadvantageous employment of force. because force plays an undoubted rôle in human development and co-operation, it is sweepingly concluded that military force and the struggle between groups must always be a normal feature of human society. to a critic, who maintained that the armies of the world were necessary and justifiable on the same grounds as the police forces of the world ("even in communities such as london, where, in our civic capacity, we have nearly realized all your ideals, we still maintain and are constantly improving our police force"), i replied: when we learn that london, instead of using its police for the running in of burglars and "drunks," is using them to lead an attack on birmingham for the purpose of capturing that city as part of a policy of "municipal expansion," or "civic imperialism," or "pan-londonism," or what not; or is using its force to repel an attack by the birmingham police acting as the result of a similar policy on the part of the birmingham patriots--when that happens you can safely approximate a police force to a european army. but until it does, it is quite evident that the two--the army and the police force--have in reality diametrically opposed rôles. the police exist as an instrument of social co-operation; the armies as the natural outcome of the quaint illusion that though one city could never enrich itself by "capturing" or "subjugating" another, in some unexplained way one country can enrich itself by capturing or subjugating another. in the existing condition of things in england this illustration covers the whole case; the citizens of london would have no imaginable interest in "conquering" birmingham, or _vice versa_. but suppose there arose in the cities of the north such a condition of disorder that london could not carry on its ordinary work and trade; then london, if it had the power, _would_ have an interest in sending its police into birmingham, presuming that this could be done. the citizens of london would have a tangible interest in the maintenance of order in the north--they would be the richer for it. order was just as well maintained in alsace-lorraine before the german conquest as it was after, and for that reason germany has not benefited by the conquest. but order was not maintained in california, and would not have been as well maintained under mexican as under american rule, and for that reason america has benefited by the conquest of california. france has benefited by the conquest of algeria, england by that of india, because in each case the arms were employed not, properly speaking, for conquest at all, but for police purposes, for the establishment and maintenance of order; and, so far as they achieved that object, their rôle was a useful one. how does this distinction affect the practical problem under discussion? most fundamentally. germany has no need to maintain order in england, nor england in germany, and the latent struggle therefore between these two countries is futile. it is not the result of any inherent necessity of either people; it is the result merely of that woeful confusion which dominates statecraft to-day, and it is bound, so soon as that confusion is cleared up, to come to an end. where the condition of a territory is such that the social and economic co-operation of other countries with it is impossible, we may expect the intervention of military force, not as the result of the "annexationist illusion," but as the outcome of real social forces pushing to the maintenance of order. that is the story of england in egypt, or, for that matter, in india. but foreign nations have no need to maintain order in the british colonies, nor in the united states; and though there might be some such necessity in the case of countries like venezuela, the last few years have taught us that by bringing these countries into the great economic currents of the world, and so setting up in them a whole body of interests in favor of order, more can be done than by forcible conquest. we occasionally hear rumors of german designs in brazil and elsewhere, but even the modicum of education possessed by the average european statesman makes it plain to him that these nations are, like the others, "too firmly set" for military occupation and conquest by an alien people. it is one of the humors of the whole anglo-german conflict that so much has the british public been concerned with the myths and bogies of the matter that it seems calmly to have ignored the realities. while even the wildest pan-german has never cast his eyes in the direction of canada, he has cast them, and does cast them, in the direction of asia minor; and the political activities of germany may centre on that area, for precisely the reasons which result from the distinction between policing and conquest, which i have drawn. german industry is coming to have dominating interests in the near east, and as those interests--her markets and investments--increase, the necessity for better order in, and the better organization of, those territories increases in corresponding degree. germany may need to police asia minor. what interest have we in attempting to prevent her? it may be urged that she would close the markets of those territories against us. but even if she attempted it, which she is never likely to do, a protectionist asia minor organized with german efficiency would be better from the point of view of trade than a free trade asia minor organized _à la turque_. protectionist germany is one of the best markets in europe. if a second germany were created in the near east, if turkey had a population with the german purchasing power and the german tariff, the markets would be worth some two hundred to two hundred and fifty millions instead of some fifty to seventy-five. why should we try to prevent germany increasing our trade? it is true that we touch here the whole problem of the fight for the open door in the undeveloped territories. but the real difficulty in this problem is not the open door at all, but the fact that germany is beating england--or england fears she is beating her in those territories where she has the same tariff to meet that germany has, or even a smaller one; and that she is even beating england in the territories that the english already "own"--in their colonies, in the east, in india. how, therefore, would england's final crushing of germany in the military sense change anything? suppose england crushed her so completely that she "owned" asia minor and persia as completely as she owns india or hong kong, would not the german merchant continue to beat her even then, as he is beating her now, in that part of the east over which she already holds political sway? again, how would the disappearance of the german navy affect the problem one way or the other? moreover, in this talk of the open door in the undeveloped territories, we again seem to lose all our sense of proportion. english trade is in relative importance first with the great nations--the united states, france, germany, argentina, south america generally--after that with the white colonies; after that with the organized east; and last of all, and to a very small extent, with the countries concerned in this squabble for the open door--territories in which the trade really is so small as hardly to pay for the making and upkeep of a dozen battleships. when the man in the street, or, for that matter, the journalistic pundit, talks commercial diplomacy, his arithmetic seems to fall from him. some years since the question of the relative position of the three powers in samoa exercised the minds of these wiseacres, who got fearfully warlike both in england and in the united states. yet the trade of the whole island is not worth that of an obscure massachusetts village, and the notion that naval budgets should be increased to "maintain our position," the notion that either of the countries concerned should really think it worth while to build so much as a single battleship the more for such a purpose, is not throwing away a sprat to catch a whale, but throwing away a whale to catch a sprat--and then not catching it. for even when you _have_ the predominant political position, even when you _have_ got your extra _dreadnought_ or extra dozen _dreadnoughts_, it is the more efficiently organized nation on the commercial side that will take the trade. and while england is getting excited over the trade of territories that matter very little, rivals, including germany, will be quietly walking off with the trade that _does_ matter, will be increasing their hold upon such markets as the united states, argentina, south america, and the lesser continental states. if we really examined these questions without the old meaningless prepossessions, we should see that it is more to the general interest to have an orderly and organized asia minor under german tutelage than to have an unorganized and disorderly one which should be independent. perhaps it would be best of all that great britain should do the organizing, or share it with germany, though england has her hands full in that respect--egypt and india are problems enough. why should england forbid germany to do in a small degree what she has done in a large degree? sir harry h. johnston, in the _nineteenth century_ for december, , comes a great deal nearer to touching the real kernel of the problem that is preoccupying germany than any of the writers on the anglo-german conflict of whom i know. as the result of careful investigation, he admits that germany's real objective is not, properly speaking, england or england's colonies at all, but the undeveloped lands of the balkan peninsula, asia minor, mesopotamia, down even to the mouth of the euphrates. he adds that the best informed germans use this language to him: in regard to england, we would recall a phrase dropped by ex-president roosevelt at an important public speech in london, a phrase which for some reason was not reported by the london press. roosevelt said that the best guarantee for great britain on the nile is the presence of germany on the euphrates. putting aside the usual hypocrisies of the teutonic peoples, you know that this is so. you know that we ought to make common cause in our dealing with the backward races of the world. let britain and germany once come to an agreement in regard to the question of the near east, and the world can scarcely again be disturbed by any great war in any part of the globe, if such a war is contrary to the interests of the two empires. such, declares sir harry, is german opinion. and in all human probability, so far as sixty-five million people can be said to have the same opinion, he is absolutely right. it is because the work of policing backward or disorderly populations is so often confused with the annexationist illusion that the danger of squabbles in the matter is a real one. not the fact that england is doing a real and useful work for the world at large in policing india creates jealousy of her work there, but the notion that in some way she "possesses" this territory, and draws tribute and exclusive advantage therefrom. when europe is a little more educated in these matters, the european populations will realize that they have no primordial interest in furnishing the policemen. german public opinion will see that, even if such a thing were possible, the german people would gain no advantage by replacing england in india, especially as the final result of the administrative work of europe in the near and far east will be to make populations like those of asia minor in the last resort their own policemen. should some power, acting as policeman, ignoring the lessons of history, try again the experiment tried by spain in south america and later by england in north america, should she try to create for herself exclusive privileges and monopolies, the other nations have means of retaliation apart from the military ones--in the numberless instruments which the economic and financial relationships of nations furnish. part ii the human nature and morals of the case chapter i the psychological case for war the non-economic motives of war--moral and psychological--the importance of these pleas--english, german, and american exponents--the biological plea. perhaps the commonest plea urged in objection to the case presented in the first part of this book is that the real motives of nations in going to war are not economic at all; that their conflicts arise from moral causes, using that word in its largest sense; that they are the outcome of conflicting views of rights; or that they arise from, not merely non-economic, but also non-rational causes--from vanity, rivalry, pride of place, the desire to be first, to occupy a great situation in the world, to have power or prestige; from quick resentment of insult or injury; from temper; the unreasoned desire, which comes of quarrel or disagreement, to dominate a rival at all costs; from the "inherent hostility" that exists between rival nations; from the contagion of sheer passion, the blind strife of mutually hating men; and generally because men and nations always have fought and always will, and because, like the animals in watt's doggerel, "it is their nature to." an expression of the first point of view is embodied in the criticism of an earlier edition of this book, in which the critic says: the cause of war is spiritual, not material.... the great wars arose from conflicts as to rights, and the dangerous causes of war are the existence of antagonistic ideas of rights or righteousness.... it is for moral ideas that men are most ready to make sacrifices.[ ] a similar criticism is made by admiral mahan.[ ] in the same way the london _spectator_ while admitting the truth of the principles outlined in the first part of this book, deems that such facts do not seriously affect the basic cause of war: just as individuals quarrel among themselves, and fight as bitterly as the police and the law courts will allow them, not because they think it will make them rich, but because their blood is up, and they want to stand up for what they believe to be their rights, or to revenge themselves for wrongs done to them, as they think, by their fellows, so nations will fight, even though it is demonstrable that they will get no material gain thereby.... they want sometimes freedom, sometimes power. sometimes a passion for expansion or dominion comes over them. sometimes they seem impelled to fight for fighting's sake, or, as their leaders and rhetoricians vaguely say, to fulfil their destinies.... men fight sometimes for the love of fighting, sometimes for great and noble causes, and sometimes for bad causes, but practically never with an account-book and a balance-sheet in their hands. i desire to give every possible weight to this plea, and not to shirk a detail of it, and i think that the pages that follow cover every one of the points here raised. but there is a whole school of philosophy which goes much farther than the _spectator_. the view just cited rather implies that though it is a fact that men settle their differences by force and passion, instead of by reason, it is a regrettable fact. but the school to which i refer urges that men should be encouraged to fight, and that war is the preferable solution. war, declare these philosophers, is a valuable discipline for the nations, and it is not desirable to see human conflict shifted from the plane of physical force. they urge that humanity will be permanently the poorer when, as one of them has put it, the great struggles of mankind become merely the struggles of "talk and money-bags." parenthetically, it should be pointed out that the matter has a good deal more than academic interest. this philosophy constitutes a constant element of resistance to that reform of political thought and tradition in europe which must be the necessary precedent of a sounder condition. not merely, of course, do international situations become infinitely more dangerous when you get, on both sides of the frontier, a general "belief in war for war's sake," but a tendency is directly created to discredit the use of patience, a quality as much needed in the relationship of nations as in that of individuals; and further there is a tendency to justify political action making for war as against action that might avoid it. all these pleas, biological and otherwise, are powerful factors in creating an atmosphere and temperament in europe favorable to war and unfavorable to international agreement. for, be it noted, this philosophy is not special to any one country: one finds it plentifully expressed in england and america, as well as in france and germany. it is a european doctrine, part of that "mind of europe," of which someone has spoken, that, among other factors, determines the character of european civilization generally. this particular point of view has received a notable re-statement quite recently[ ] from general bernhardi, a distinguished cavalry general, and probably the most influential german writer on current strategical and tactical problems, in his book, "deutschland und der nächste krieg."[ ] he therein gives very candid expression to the opinion that germany must, regardless of the rights and interests of other peoples, fight her way to predominance. one of the chapters is headed, "the duty to make war." he describes the peace movement in germany as "poisonous," and proclaims the doctrine that the duties and tasks of the german people cannot be fulfilled save by the sword. "the duty of self-assertion is by no means exhausted in the mere repelling of hostile attacks. it includes the need of securing to the whole people, which the state embraces, the possibility of existence and development." it is desirable, declares the author, that conquest shall be effected by war, and not by peaceful means; silesia would not have had the same value for prussia if frederick the great had obtained it from an arbitration court. the attempt to abolish war is not only "immoral and unworthy of humanity," it is an attempt to deprive man of his highest possession--the right to stake physical life for ideal ends. the german people "must learn to see that the maintenance of peace cannot be, and must never be, the goal of policy." similar efforts are being made in england by english writers to secure the acceptance of this doctrine of force. many passages almost duplicating those of bernhardi, or at least extolling the general doctrine of force, may be found in the writings of such anglo-saxon authors as admiral mahan and professor spenser wilkinson.[ ] a scientific color is often given to the philosophy of force, as expressed by the authors just referred to, by an appeal to evolutionary and biological laws. it is urged that the condition of man's advance in the past has been the survival of the fit by struggle and warfare, and that in that struggle it is precisely those endowed with combativeness and readiness to fight who have survived. thus the tendency to combat is not a mere human perversity, but is part of the self-protective instinct rooted in a profound biological law--the struggle of nations for survival. this point of view is expressed by s.r. steinmetz in his "philosophie des krieges." war, according to this author, is an ordeal instituted by god, who weighs the nations in its balance. it is the essential function of the state, and the only function in which peoples can employ all their powers at once and convergently. no victory is possible save as the resultant of a totality of virtues; no defeat for which some vice or weakness is not responsible. fidelity, cohesiveness, tenacity, heroism, conscience, education, inventiveness, economy, wealth, physical health and vigor--there is no moral or intellectual point of superiority that does not tell when "god holds his assizes, and hurls the peoples one upon another" (die weltgeschichte ist das weltgericht); and dr. steinmetz does not believe that in the long-run chance and luck play any part in apportioning the issues. it is urged that international hostility is merely the psychological stimulus to that combativeness which is a necessary element of existence, and that though, like other elemental instincts--our animal appetites, for instance--it may in some of its manifestations be ugly enough, it makes for survival, and is to that extent a part of the great plan. too great a readiness to accept the "friendly assurances" of another nation and an undue absence of distrust would, in accordance with a sort of gresham's law in international relationships, make steadily for the disappearance of the humane and friendly communities in favor of the truculent and brutal. if friendliness and good-feeling towards other nations led us to relax our self-defensive efforts, the quarrelsome communities would see, in this slackening, an opportunity to commit aggression, and there would be a tendency, therefore, for the least civilized to wipe out the most. animosity and hostility between nations is a corrective of this sentimental slackness, and to that extent it plays a useful rôle, however ugly it may appear--"not pretty, but useful, like the dustman." though the material and economic motives which prompt conflict may no longer obtain, other than economic motives will be found for collision, so profound is the psychological stimulus thereto. some such view as this has found lurid expression in the recent work of an american soldier, homer lea.[ ] the author urges not only that war is inevitable, but that any systematic attempt to prevent it is merely an unwise meddling with the universal law. national entities, in their birth, activities, and death, are controlled by the same laws that govern all life--plant, animal, or national--the law of struggle, the law of survival. these laws, so universal as regards life and time, so unalterable in causation and consummation, are only variable in the duration of national existence as the knowledge of and obedience to them is proportionately true or false. plans to thwart them, to shortcut them, to circumvent, to cozen, to deny, to scorn and violate them, is folly such as man's conceit alone makes possible. never has this been tried--and man is ever at it--but what the end has been gangrenous and fatal. in theory international arbitration denies the inexorability of natural laws, and would substitute for them the veriest cagliostroic formulas, or would, with the vanity of canute, sit down on the ocean-side of life and command the ebb and flow of its tides to cease. the idea of international arbitration as a substitute for natural laws that govern the existence of political entities arises not only from a denial of their fiats and an ignorance of their application, but from a total misconception of war, its causes, and its meaning. homer lea's thesis is emphasized in the introduction to his work, written by another american soldier, general john p. storey: a few idealists may have visions that with advancing civilization war and its dread horrors will cease. civilization has not changed human nature. the nature of man makes war inevitable. armed strife will not disappear from the earth until human nature changes. "weltstadt und friedensproblem," the book of professor baron karl von stengel, a jurist who was one of germany's delegates at the first hague peace conference, contains a chapter entitled "the significance of war for development of humanity," in which the author says: war has more often facilitated than hindered progress. athens and rome, not only in spite of, but just because of their many wars, rose to the zenith of civilization. great states like germany and italy are welded into nationalities only through blood and iron. storm purifies the air and destroys the frail trees, leaving the sturdy oaks standing. war is the test of a nation's political, physical, and intellectual worth. the state in which there is much that is rotten may vegetate for a while in peace, but in war its weakness is revealed. germany's preparations for war have not resulted in economic disaster, but in unexampled economic expansion, unquestionably because of our demonstrated superiority over france. it is better to spend money on armaments and battleships than luxury, motormania, and other sensual living. we know that moltke expressed a similar view in his famous letter to bluntschli. "a perpetual peace," declared the field-marshal, "is a dream, and not even a beautiful dream. war is one of the elements of order in the world, established by god. the noblest virtues of men are developed therein. without war the world would degenerate and disappear in a morass of materialism."[ ] at the very time that moltke was voicing this sentiment, a precisely similar one was being voiced by no less a person than ernest renan. in his "la réforme intellectuelle et morale" (paris: lévy, , p. ) he writes: if the foolishness, negligence, idleness, and short-sightedness of states did not involve their occasional collision, it is difficult to imagine the degree of degeneracy to which the human race would descend. war is one of the conditions of progress, the sting which prevents a country from going to sleep, and compels satisfied mediocrity itself to awaken from its apathy. man is only sustained by effort and struggle. the day that humanity achieves a great pacific roman empire, having no external enemies, that day its morality and its intelligence will be placed in the very greatest peril. in our own times a philosophy not very dissimilar has been voiced in the public declarations of ex-president roosevelt. i choose a few phrases from his speeches and writings, at random: we despise a nation, just as we despise a man, who submits to insult. what is true of a man ought to be true of a nation.[ ] we must play a great part in the world, and especially ... perform those deeds of blood, of valor, which above everything else bring national renown. we do not admire a man of timid peace. by war alone can we acquire those virile qualities necessary to win in the stern strife of actual life. in this world the nation that is trained to a career of unwarlike and isolated ease is bound to go down in the end before other nations which have not lost the manly and adventurous qualities.[ ] professor william james covers the whole ground of these claims in the following passage: the war party is assuredly right in affirming that the martial virtues, although originally gained by the race through war, are absolute and permanent human goods. patriotic pride and ambition in their military form are, after all, only specifications of a more universal and enduring competitive passion.... pacifism makes no converts from the military party. the military party denies neither the bestiality, nor the horror, nor the expense; it only says that these things tell but half the story. it only says that war is worth these things; that, taking human nature as a whole, war is its best protection against its weaker and more cowardly self, and that mankind cannot afford to adopt a peace economy.... militarism is the great preserver of our ideals of hardihood, and human life without hardihood would be contemptible.... this natural feeling forms, i think, the innermost soul of army writings. without any exception known to me, militarist authors take a highly mystical view of their subject, and regard war as a biological or sociological necessity.... our ancestors have bred pugnacity into our bone and marrow and thousands of years of peace won't breed it out of us.[ ] even famous english clergymen have voiced the same view. charles kingsley, in his defence of the crimean war as a "just war against tyrants and oppressors," wrote: "for the lord jesus christ is not only the prince of peace, he is the prince of war, too. he is the lord of hosts, the god of armies, and whoever fights in a just war against tyrants and oppressors is fighting on christ's side, and christ is fighting on his side. christ is his captain and his leader, and he can be in no better service. be sure of it, for the bible tells you so."[ ] canon newbolt, dean farrar, and the archbishop of armagh, have all written not dissimilarly. the whole case may be summarized thus: . nations fight for opposing conceptions of right: it is the moral conflict of men. . they fight from non-rational causes of a lower kind: from vanity, rivalry, pride of place, the desire to occupy a great situation in the world, or from sheer hostility to dissimilar people--the blind strife of mutually hating men. . these causes justify war, or render it inevitable. the first is admirable in itself, the second is inevitable, in that the peoples readiest to fight, and showing most energy in fighting, replace the more peacefully inclined, and the warlike type tends thus permanently to survive; "the warlike nations inherit the earth." or it may be put deductively, thus: since struggle is the law of life, and a condition of survival as much with nations as with other organisms, pugnacity, which is merely intense energy in struggle, a readiness to accept struggle in its acutest form, must necessarily be a quality marking those individuals successful in the vital contests. it is this deep-seated, biological law which renders impossible the acceptance by mankind of the literal injunction to turn the other cheek to the smiter, or for human nature ever to conform to the ideal implied in that injunction; since, were it accepted, the best men and nations--in the sense of the kindliest and most humane--would be placed at the mercy of the most brutal, who, eliminating the least brutal, would stamp the survivors with their own brutality and re-establish the militarist virtues. for this reason a readiness to fight, which means the qualities of rivalry and pride and combativeness, hardihood, tenacity, and heroism--what we know as the manly qualities--must in any case survive as the race survives, and, since this stands in the way of the predominance of the purely brutal, it is a necessary part of the highest morality. despite the apparent force of these propositions, they are founded upon a gross misreading of certain facts, and especially upon a gross misapplication of a certain biological analogy. chapter ii the psychological case for peace the shifting ground of pro-war arguments--the narrowing gulf between the material and moral ideals--the non-rational causes of war--false biological analogies--the real law of man's struggle: struggle with nature, not with other men--outline sketch of man's advance and main operating factor therein--the progress towards elimination of physical force--co-operation across frontiers and its psychological result--impossible to fix limits of community--such limits irresistibly expanding--break up of state homogeneity--state limits no longer coinciding with real conflicts between men. those who have followed at all closely the peace advocacy of the last few years will have observed a curious shifting of ground on the part of its opponents. until quite recently, most peace advocacy being based on moral, not material grounds, pacifists were generally criticized as unduly idealistic, sentimental, oblivious to the hard necessities of men in a hard world of struggle, and disposed to ask too much of human nature in the way of altruistic self-sacrifice on behalf of an idealistic dogma. we were given to understand that while peace might represent a great moral ideal, man's evil passions and cupidity would always stand in the way of its achievement. the citations i have given in chapter ii. of the first part of this book prove sufficiently, i think, that this was, until quite recently, overwhelmingly the point of view of those who defended war as an unavoidable part of human struggle. during the last few years, however, the defence of war has been made for the most part on very different grounds. peace, we are told by those who oppose the pacifist movement, may embody the material interests of men, but the spiritual nature of mankind will stand in the way of its ever being achieved! pacifism, far from being branded as too idealistic and sentimental, is now scorned as "sordidly material." i do not desire, in calling attention to this fact, merely to score a cheap jibe. i want, on the contrary, to do every justice to the point of view of those who urge that moral motives push men into war. i have never, indeed, taken the ground that the defender of war is morally inferior to the defender of peace, or that much is to be gained by emphasizing the moral superiority of the peace ideal. too often has it been assumed in pacifist advocacy that what is needed in order to clear up the difficulties in the international field, is a better moral tone, a greater kindliness, and so forth--for that assumption ignores the fact that the emotion of humanity repelling it from war may be more than counteracted by the equally strong moral emotion that we connect with patriotism. the patriot admits that war may occasion suffering, but urges that men should be prepared to endure suffering for their country. as i pointed out in the first chapter of this book, the pacifist appeal to humanity so often fails because the militarist pleads that he too is working and suffering for humanity. my object in calling attention to this unconscious shifting of ground, on the part of the advocate of war, is merely to suggest that the growth of events during the last generation has rendered the economic case for war practically untenable, and has consequently compelled those who defend war to shift their defence. nor, of course, am i urging that the sentimental defence of war is a modern doctrine--the quotations made in the last chapter show that not to be the case--but merely that greater emphasis is now placed upon the moral case. thus, writing in , admiral mahan criticizes this book as follows: the purpose of armaments, in the minds of those maintaining them, is not primarily an economical advantage, in the sense of depriving a neighboring state of its own, or fear of such consequences to itself through the deliberate aggression of a rival having that particular end in view.... the fundamental proposition of the book is a mistake. nations are under no illusion as to the unprofitableness of war in itself.... the entire conception of the work is itself an illusion, based upon a profound misreading of human action. to regard the world as governed by self-interest only is to live in a non-existent world, an ideal world, a world possessed by an idea much less worthy than those which mankind, to do it bare justice, persistently entertains.[ ] yet hardly four years previously admiral mahan had himself outlined the elements of international politics as follows: it is as true now as when washington penned the words, and will always be true, that it is vain to expect nations to act consistently from any motive other than that of interest. this under the name of realism is the frankly avowed motive of german statecraft. it follows from this directly that the study of interests--international interest--is the one basis of sound, of provident, policy for statesmen.... the old predatory instinct, that he should take who has the power, survives ... and moral force is not sufficient to determine issues unless supported by physical. governments are corporations, and corporations have no souls ... they must put first the rival interests of their own wards ... their own people. commercial and industrial predominance forces a nation to seek markets, and, where possible, to control them to its own advantage by preponderating force, the ultimate expression of which is possession ... an inevitable link in a chain of logical sequences: industry, markets, control, navy bases.[ ] admiral mahan, it is true, anticipates this criticism by pleading the complex character of human nature (which no one denies). he says: "bronze is copper, and bronze is tin." but he entirely overlooks the fact that if one withholds copper or one withholds tin it is no longer bronze. the present author has never taken the ground that all international action can be explained in the terms of one narrow motive, but he does take the ground that if you can profoundly modify the bearing of a constituent, as important as the one to which admiral mahan has himself, in his own work, attributed such weight, you will profoundly modify the whole texture and character of international relations. thus, even though it were true that the thesis here elaborated were as narrowly economic as the criticism i have quoted would imply, it would, nevertheless, have, on admiral mahan's own showing, a very profound bearing on the problems of international statecraft. not only do the principles elaborated here postulate no such narrow conception of human motive, but it is essential to realize that you cannot separate a problem of interest from a problem of right or morality in the absolute fashion that admiral mahan would imply, because right and morality connote the protection and promotion of the general interest. a nation, a people, we are given to understand, have higher motives than money or "self-interest." what do we mean when we speak of the money of a nation, or the self-interest of a community? we mean--and in such a discussion as this can mean nothing else--better conditions for the great mass of the people, the fullest possible lives, the abolition or attenuation of poverty and of narrow circumstances; that the millions shall be better housed and clothed and fed, more capable of making provision for sickness and old age, with lives prolonged and cheered--and not merely this, but also that they shall be better educated, with character disciplined by steady labor and a better use of leisure; a general social atmosphere which shall make possible family affection, individual dignity and courtesy and the graces of life, not only among the few, but among the many. now, do these things constitute, as a national policy, an inspiring aim, or not? they are, speaking in terms of communities, pure self-interest--bound up with economic problems, with money. does admiral mahan mean us to take him at his word when he would attach to such efforts the same discredit that one implies in talking of a mercenary individual? would he have us believe that the typical great movements of our time--socialism, trades unionism, syndicalism, insurance acts, land reforms, old age pensions, charity organization, improved education--bound up as they all are with economic problems--are not the objects which, more and more, are absorbing the best activities of christendom? in the pages which follow, i have attempted to show that the activities which lie outside the range of these things--the religious wars, movements like those which promoted the crusades, or the sort of tradition which we associate with the duel (which has, in fact, disappeared from anglo-saxon society)--do not, and cannot, any longer form part of the impulse creating the long-sustained conflicts between large groups which a european war implies. i have attempted roughly to indicate certain processes at work; to show, among other things, that in the changing character of men's ideals there is a distinct narrowing of the gulf which is supposed to separate ideal and material aims. early ideals, whether in the field of politics or religion, are generally dissociated from any aim of general well-being. in early politics, ideals are concerned simply with personal allegiance to some dynastic chief, a feudal lord, or a monarch; the well-being of a community does not enter into the matter at all. later the chief must embody in his person that well-being, or he does not obtain the allegiance of a community of any enlightenment; later, the well-being of the community becomes the end in itself, without being embodied in the person of an hereditary chief, so that the people realize that their efforts, instead of being directed to the protection of the personal interests of some chief, are as a matter of fact directed to the protection of their own interests, and their altruism has become communal self-interest, since the self-sacrifice of the community for the sake of the community is a contradiction in terms. in the religious sphere a similar development has occurred. early religious ideals have no relation to the material betterment of mankind. the early christian thought it meritorious to live a sterile life at the top of a pillar, eaten by vermin, just as the hindoo saint to-day thinks it meritorious to live an equally sterile life upon a bed of spikes. but as the early christian ideal progressed, sacrifices having no end connected with the betterment of mankind lost their appeal. our admiration now goes, not to the recluse who does nothing for mankind, but rather to the priest who gives his life to bring a ray of comfort to a leper settlement. the christian saint who would allow the nails of his fingers to grow through the palms of his clasped hands would excite, not our admiration, but our revolt. more and more is religious effort being subjected to this test: does it make for the improvement of society? if not, it stands condemned. political ideals are inevitably undergoing a similar development, and will be more and more subjected to a similar test.[ ] i am aware that very often at present they are not thus tested. dominated as our political thought is by roman and feudal imagery--hypnotized by symbols and analogies which the necessary development of organized society has rendered obsolete--the ideals even of democracies are still often pure abstractions, divorced from any aim calculated to advance the moral or material betterment of mankind. the craze for sheer size of territory, the mere extent of administrative area, is still deemed a thing deserving immense, incalculable sacrifices. even these ideals, however, firmly set as they are in our language and tradition, are rapidly yielding to the necessary force of events. a generation ago it would have been inconceivable that a people or a monarch should calmly see part of its country secede and establish itself as a separate political entity without attempting to prevent it by force of arms. yet this is what happened, a year or two ago, in the scandinavian peninsula. for forty years germany has added to her own difficulties and to those of the european situation for the purpose of including alsace and lorraine in its federation, but even there, obeying the tendency which is world-wide, an attempt has been made to create a constitutional and autonomous government. the history of the british empire for fifty years has been a process of undoing the work of conquest. colonies are now neither colonies nor possessions; they are independent states. england, which for centuries has made such sacrifices to retain ireland, is now making great sacrifices in order to make her secession workable. to each political arrangement, to each political ideal, the final test will be applied: does it, or does it not, make for the widest interests of the mass of the people involved? it is true that those who emphasize the psychological causes of war might rejoin with another distinction. they might urge that, though the questions dividing nations had more or less their origin in an economic problem, the economic question becomes itself a moral question, a question of right. it was not the few pence of the tax on tea that the colonies fought about, but the question of right which its payment involved. so with nations. war, ineffective to achieve an economic end, unprofitable in the sense that the cost involved in the defence of a given economic point exceeds the monetary value of that point, will still be fought because a point, trifling in the economic sense, is all important from the point of view of right; and though there is no real division of interests between nations, though those interests are in reality interdependent, minor differences provoking a sudden and uncontrolled flash of temper suffice to provoke war. war is the outcome of the "hot fits" of men, "of the devil that is in them." although militarist literature on this, as on most similar points, shows flagrant contradictions, even that literature is against the view that war is the outcome of the sheer sudden temper of nations. most of the popular, and all of the scientific, militarist writers take the contrary view. mr. blatchford and his school normally represent a typical militarist policy, like that of germany, as actuated by a cold, deep, machiavellian, unsentimental, calculated opportunism, as diverse from a wild, irrational explosion of feeling as possible. mr. blatchford writes: german policy, based upon the teachings of clausewitz, may be expressed in two questions, the questions laid down by clausewitz: "is it expedient to do this? have we the power to do it?" if it will benefit the fatherland to break up the british empire, then it is expedient to break up the british empire. clausewitz taught germany that "war is a part of policy." he taught that policy is a system of bargaining or negotiating, backed by arms. clausewitz does not discuss the moral aspect of war; he deals with power and expediency. his pupils take his lead. they do not read poems on the blessings of peace; they do not spend ink on philanthropic theories. all the more scientific writers, without an exception, so far as i am aware, repudiate its "accidental" character. they one and all, from grotius to von der goltz, take the view that it results from definite and determinable laws, like all the great processes of human development. von der goltz ("on the conduct of war") says: one must never lose sight of the fact that war is the consequence and continuation of policy. one will act on the defensive strategically or rest on the defensive according as the policy has been offensive or defensive. an offensive and defensive policy is in its turn indicated by the line of conduct dictated historically. we see this very clearly in antiquity by the example furnished us in the persians and romans. in their wars we see the strategical rôle following the bend of the historical rôle. the people which in its historical development has arrived at the stage of inertia, or even retrogression, will not carry on a policy of offence, but merely one of defence; a nation in that situation will wait to be attacked, and its strategy will consequently be defensive, and from a defensive strategy will follow necessarily a defensive tactic. lord esher has expressed a like thought.[ ] but whether wars result from sheer temper, national "hot fits," or not, it is quite certain that the lengthy preparation for war, the condition of armed peace, the burden of armaments which is almost worse than an occasional war, does not result therefrom. the paraphernalia of war in the modern world cannot be improvised on the spur of the moment to meet each gust of ill-feeling, and be dropped when it is over. the building of battleships, the discussion of budgets and the voting of them, the training of armies, the preparation of a campaign, are a long business, and more and more in our day does each distinctive campaign involve a special and distinctive preparation. the pundits declare that the german battleships have been especially built with a view to work in the north sea. in any case, we know that the conflict with germany has been going on for ten years. this is surely a rather prolonged "hot fit." the truth is that war in the modern world is the outcome of armed peace, and involves, with all its elaborate machinery of yearly budgets, and slowly built warships and forts, and slowly trained armies, fixity of policy and purpose extending over years, and sometimes generations. men do not make these sacrifices month after month, year after year, pay taxes, and upset governments and fight in parliament for a mere passing whim; and as conflicts necessarily become more scientific, we shall in the nature of things be forced to prepare everything more thoroughly, and have clearer and sounder ideas as to their essence, their cause, and their effects, and to watch more closely their relation to national motive and policy. the final justification for all these immense, humdrum, workaday sacrifices must be more and more national well-being. this does not imply, as some critics allege, the conclusion that an englishman is to say: "since i might be just as well off under the germans, let them come"; but that the german will say: "since i shall be no better off for the going, i will not go." indeed, the case of the authorities cited in the preceding chapter is marked by a false form of statement. those who plead for war on moral grounds say: "war will go on because men will defend their ideals, moral, political, social, and religious." it should be stated thus: "war will go on because men will always attack the spiritual possessions of other men," because, of course, the necessity for defence arises from the fact that these possessions are in danger of attack. put in the second form, however, the case breaks down almost of itself. the least informed of us realizes that the whole trend of history is against the tendency for men to attack the ideals and the beliefs of other men. in the religious domain that tendency is plain, so much so that the imposition of religious ideals or beliefs by force has practically been abandoned in europe, and the causes which have wrought this change of attitude in the european mind are just as operative in the field of politics. those causes have been, in the religious field, of a twofold nature, both having direct bearing on the problem with which we are dealing. the first cause is that at which i have already hinted, the general shifting of the ideals from sterile aims to those concerned with the improvement of society; the second one being that development of communication which has destroyed the spiritual homogeneity of states. a given movement of religious opinion is not confined to one state, transforming it completely, while another current of opinion transforms completely in another sense another state; but it goes on piecemeal, _pari passu_, in the various states. very early in the religious development of europe there ceased to be such a thing as a purely catholic or a purely protestant state: the religious struggle went on inside the political frontiers--between the people of the same state. the struggle of political and social ideas must take a like course. those struggles of ideas will be carried out, not between states, but between different groups in the same state, those groups acting in intellectual co-operation with corresponding groups in other states. this intellectual co-operation across frontiers is a necessary outcome of the similar economic co-operation athwart frontiers which the physical division of labor, owing to the development of communication, has set up. it has become impossible for the army of a state to embody the fight for an ideal, for the simple reason that the great moral questions of our time can no longer be postulated in national terms. what follows will make this plain. there remains a final moral claim for war: that it is a needed moral discipline for nations, the supreme test for the survival of the fittest. in the first chapter of this section, i have pointed out the importance of this plea in determining the general character of european public opinion, on which alone depends the survival or the disappearance of the militarist regimen. yet in strict logic there is no need to rebut this claim in detail at all, for only a small fraction of those who believe in it have the courage of their convictions. the defender of large armaments always justifies his position on the ground that such armaments ensure peace. _si vis pacem_, etc. as between war and peace he has made his choice, and he has chosen, as the definite object of his endeavors, peace. having directed his efforts to secure peace, he must accept whatever disadvantages there may lie in that state. he is prepared to admit that, of the two states, peace is preferable, and it is peace towards which our efforts should be directed. having decided on that aim, what utility is there in showing that it is an undesirable one? we must, as a matter of fact, be honest for our opponent. we must assume that in an alternative, where his action would determine the issue of war or peace, he will allow that action to be influenced by the general consideration that war might make for the moral advantage of his country. more important even than this consideration is that of the general national temper, to which his philosophy, however little in keeping with his professed policy and desire, necessarily gives rise. for these reasons it is worth while to consider in detail the biological case which he presents. the illusion underlying that case arises from the indiscriminate application of scientific formulæ. struggle is the law of survival with man, as elsewhere, but it is the struggle of man with the universe, not man with man. dog does not eat dog--even tigers do not live on one another. both dogs and tigers live upon their prey. it is true that as against this it is argued that dogs struggle with one another for the same prey--if the supply of food runs short the weakest dog, or the weakest tiger, starves. but an analogy between this state and one in which co-operation is a direct means of increasing the supply of food, obviously breaks down. if dogs and tigers were groups, organized on the basis of the division of labor, even the weak dogs and tigers could, conceivably, perform functions which would increase the food supply of the group as a whole, and, conceivably, their existence would render the security of that supply greater than would their elimination. if to-day a territory like england supports in comfort, a population of , , , where in other times rival groups, numbering at most two or three millions, found themselves struggling with one another for a bare subsistence, the greater quantity of food and the greater security of the supply is not due to any process of elimination of wessex men by northumbrian men, but is due precisely to the fact that this rivalry has been replaced by common action against their prey, the forces of nature. the obvious facts of the development of communities show that there is a progressive replacement of rivalry by co-operation, and that the vitality of the social organism increases in direct ratio to the efficiency of the co-operation, and to the abandonment of the rivalry, between its parts.[ ] all crude analogies between the processes of plant and animal survival and social survival are vitiated, therefore, by disregarding the dynamic element of conscious co-operation. that mankind as a whole represents the organism and the planet the environment, to which he is more and more adapting himself, is the only conclusion that consorts with the facts. if struggle between men is the true reading of the law of life, those facts are absolutely inexplicable, for he is drifting away from conflict, from the use of physical force, and towards co-operation. this much is unchallengeable, as the facts which follow will show. but in that case, if struggle for extermination of rivals between men is the law of life, mankind is setting at naught the natural law, and must be on the way to extinction. happily the natural law in this matter has been misread. the individual in his sociological aspect is not the complete organism. he who attempts to live without association with his fellows dies. nor is the nation the complete organism. if britain attempted to live without co-operation with other nations, half the population would starve. the completer the co-operation the greater the vitality; the more imperfect the co-operation the less the vitality. now, a body, the various parts of which are so interdependent that without co-ordination vitality is reduced or death ensures, must be regarded, in so far as the functions in question are concerned, not as a collection of rival organisms, but as one. this is in accord with what we know of the character of living organisms in their conflict with environment. the higher the organism, the greater the elaboration and interdependence of its part, the greater the need for co-ordination.[ ] if we take this as the reading of the biological law, the whole thing becomes plain; man's irresistible drift away from conflict and towards co-operation is but the completer adaptation of the organism (man) to its environment (the planet, wild nature), resulting in a more intense vitality. the psychological development involved in man's struggle along these lines may best be stated by an outline sketch of the character of his advance. when i kill my prisoner (cannibalism was a very common characteristic of early man), it is in "human nature" to keep him for my own larder without sharing him. it is the extreme form of the use of force, the extreme form of human individualism. but putrefaction sets in before i can consume him (it is as well to recall these real difficulties of the early man, because, of course, "human nature does not change"), and i am left without food. but my two neighbors, each with his butchered prisoner, are in a similar difficulty, and though i could quite easily defend my larder, we deem it better on the next occasion to join forces and kill one prisoner at a time. i share mine with the other two; they share theirs with me. there is no waste through putrefaction. it is the earliest form of the surrender of the use of force in favor of co-operation--the first attenuation of the tendency to act on impulse. but when the three prisoners are consumed, and no more happen to be available, it strikes us that on the whole we should have done better to make them catch game and dig roots for us. the next prisoners that are caught are not killed--a further diminution of impulse and the factor of physical force--they are only enslaved, and the pugnacity which in the first case went to kill them is now diverted to keeping them at work. but the pugnacity is so little controlled by rationalism that the slaves starve, and prove incapable of useful work. they are better treated; there is a diminution of pugnacity. they become sufficiently manageable for the masters themselves, while the slaves are digging roots, to do a little hunting. the pugnacity recently expended on the slaves is redirected to keeping hostile tribes from capturing them--a difficult matter, because the slaves themselves show a disposition to try a change of mastership. they are bribed into good behavior by better treatment: a further diminution of force, a further drift towards co-operation; they give labor, we give food and protection. as the tribes enlarge, it is found that those have most cohesion where the position of slaves is recognized by definite rights and privileges. slavery becomes serfdom or villeiny. the lord gives land and protection, the serf labor and military service: a further drift from force, a further drift towards co-operation, exchange. with the introduction of money even the form of force disappears: the laborer pays rent and the lord pays his soldiers. it is free exchange on both sides, and economic force has replaced physical force. the further the drift from force towards simple economic interest the better the result for the effort expended. the tartar khan, who seizes by force the wealth in his state, giving no adequate return, soon has none to seize. men will not work to create what they cannot enjoy, so that, finally, the khan has to kill a man by torture in order to obtain a sum which is the thousandth part of what a london tradesman will spend to secure a title carrying no right to the exercise of force from a sovereign who has lost all right to the use or exercise of physical force, the head of the wealthiest country in the world, the sources of whose wealth are the most removed from any process involving the exercise of physical force. but while this process is going on inside the tribe, or group, or nation, force and hostility as between differing tribes or nations remain; but not undiminished. at first it suffices for the fuzzy head of a rival tradesman to appear above the bushes for primitive man to want to hit it. he is a foreigner: kill him. later, he only wants to kill him if he is at war with his tribe. there are periods of peace: diminution of hostility. in the first conflicts all of the other tribe are killed--men, women, and children. force and pugnacity are absolute. but the use of slaves, both as laborers and as concubines, attentuates this; there is a diminution of force. the women of the hostile tribe bear children by the conqueror: there is a diminution of pugnacity. at the next raid into the hostile territory it is found that there is nothing to take, because everything has been killed or carried off. so on later raids the conqueror kills the chiefs only (a further diminution of pugnacity, a further drift from mere impulse), or merely dispossesses them of their lands, which he divides among his followers (norman conquest type). we have already passed the stage of extermination.[ ] the conqueror simply absorbs the conquered--or the conquered absorbs the conqueror, whichever you like. it is no longer the case of one gobbling up the other. neither is gobbled. in the next stage we do not even dispossess the chiefs--a further sacrifice of physical force--we merely impose tribute. but the conquering nation soon finds itself in the position of the khan in his own state--the more he squeezes the less he gets, until, finally, the cost of getting the money by military means exceeds what is obtained. it was the case of spain in spanish america--the more territory she "owned" the poorer she became. the wise conqueror, then, finds that better than the exaction of tribute is an exclusive market--old english colonial type. but in the process of ensuring exclusiveness more is lost than is gained: the colonies are allowed to choose their own system--further drift from the use of force, further drift from hostility and pugnacity. final result: complete abandonment of physical force, co-operation on basis of mutual profit the only relationship, with reference not merely to colonies which have become in fact foreign states, but also to states foreign in name as well as in fact. we have arrived not at the intensification of the struggle between men, but at a condition of vital dependence upon the prosperity of foreigners. could england by some magic kill all foreigners, half the british population would starve. this is not a condition making indefinitely for hostility to foreigners; still less is it a condition in which such hostility finds its justification in any real instinct of self-preservation or in any deep-seated biological law. with each new intensification of dependence between the parts of the organism must go that psychological development which has marked every stage of the progress in the past, from the day that we killed our prisoner in order to eat him, and refused to share him with our fellow, to the day that the telegraph and the bank have rendered military force economically futile. but the foregoing does not include all the facts, or all the factors. if russia does england an injury--sinks a fishing fleet in time of peace, for instance--it is no satisfaction to englishmen to go out and kill a lot of frenchmen or irishmen. they want to kill russians. if, however, they knew a little less geography--if, for instance, they were chinese boxers, it would not matter in the least which they killed, because to the chinaman all alike are "foreign devils"; his knowledge of the case does not enable him to differentiate between the various nationalities of europeans. in the case of a wronged negro in the congo the collective responsibility is still wider; for a wrong inflicted by one white man he will avenge himself on any other--american, german, english, french, dutch, belgian, or chinese. as our knowledge increases, our sense of the collective responsibility of outside groups narrows. but immediately we start on this differentiation there is no stopping. the english yokel is satisfied if he can "get a whack at them foreigners"--germans will do if russians are not available. the more educated man wants russians; but if he stops a moment longer, he will see that in killing russian peasants he might as well be killing so many hindoos, for all they had to do with the matter. he then wants to get at the russian government. but so do a great many russians--liberals, reformers, etc. he then sees that the real conflict is not english against russians at all, but the interest of all law-abiding folk--russian and english alike--against oppression, corruption, and incompetence. to give the russian government an opportunity of going to war would only strengthen its hands against those with whom he was in sympathy--the reformers. as war would increase the influence of the reactionary party in russia, it would do nothing to prevent the recurrence of such incidents, and so quite the wrong party would suffer. were the real facts and the real responsibilities understood, a liberal people would reply to such an aggression by taking every means which the social and economic relationship of the two states afforded to enable russian liberals to hang a few russian admirals and establish a russian liberal government. in any case, the realization of the fact attenuates hostility. in the same way, as they become more familiar with the facts, the english will attenuate their hostility to "germans." an english patriot recently said, "we must smash prussianism." the majority of germans are in cordial agreement with him, and are working to that end. but if england went to war for that purpose, germans would be compelled to fight for prussianism. war between states for a political ideal of this kind is not only futile, it is the sure means of perpetuating the very condition which it would bring to an end. international hostilities repose for the most part upon our conception of the foreign state, with which we are quarrelling, as a homogeneous personality, having the same character of responsibility as an individual, whereas the variety of interests, both material and moral, regardless of state boundaries, renders the analogy between nations and individuals an utterly false one. indeed, when the co-operation between the parts of the social organism is as complete as our mechanical development has recently made it, it is impossible to fix the limits not merely of the economic interests, but of the moral interest of the community, and to say what is one community and what is another. certainly the state limits no longer define the limits of the community; and yet it is only the state limits which international antagonism predicates. if the louisiana cotton crop fails, a part of lancashire starves. there is closer community of interest in a vital matter between lancashire and louisiana than between louisiana and, say, iowa, parts of the same state. there is much closer intercommunication between britain and the united states in all that touches social and moral development than between britain and, say, bengal, part of the same state. an english nobleman has more community of thought and feeling with a european continental aristocrat (will marry his daughter, for instance) than he would think of claiming with such "fellow" british countrymen as a bengal babu, a jamaica negro, or even a dorset yokel. a professor at oxford will have closer community of feeling with a member of the french academy than with, say, a whitechapel publican. one may go further, and say that a british subject of quebec has closer contact with paris than with london; the british subject of dutch-speaking africa with holland than with england; the british subject of hong kong with pekin than with london; of egypt, with constantinople than with london, and so on. in a thousand respects, association cuts across state boundaries, which are purely conventional, and renders the biological division of mankind into independent and warring states a scientific ineptitude. allied factors, introduced by the character of modern intercourse, have already gone far to render territorial conquest futile for the satisfaction of natural human pride and vanity. just as in the economic sphere, factors peculiar to our generation have rendered the old analogy between states and persons a false one, so do these factors render the analogy in the sentimental sphere a false one. while the individual of great possessions does in fact obtain, by reason of his wealth, a deference which satisfies his pride and vanity, the individual of the great nation has no such sentimental advantage as against the citizen of the small nation. no one thinks of respecting the russian mujik because he belongs to a great nation, or despising a scandinavian or belgian gentleman because he belongs to a small one; and any society will accord prestige to the nobleman of norway, holland, belgium, spain, or even portugal, which it refuses to an american "climber." the nobleman of any country will marry the noblewoman of another more readily than a woman from a lower class of his own country. the prestige of the foreign country rarely counts for anything in the matter, when it comes to the real facts of everyday life, so shallow is the real sentiment which now divides states. just as in material things community of interest and relationship cut clear across state boundaries, so inevitably will the psychic community of interest come so to do. just as, in the material domain, the real biological law, which is association and co-operation between individuals of the same species in the struggle with their environment, has pushed men in their material struggle to conform with that law, so will it do so in the sentimental sphere. we shall come to realize that the real psychic and moral divisions are not as between nations, but as between opposing conceptions of life. even admitting that man's nature will never lose the combativeness, hostility, and animosity which are so large a part of it (although the manifestations of such feelings have so greatly changed within the historical period as almost to have changed in character), what we shall see is the diversion of those psychological qualities to the real, instead of the artificial, conflict of mankind. we shall see that at the bottom of any conflict between the armies or governments of germany and england lies not the opposition of "german" interests to "english" interests, but the conflict in both states between democracy and autocracy, or between socialism and individualism, or reaction and progress, however one's sociological sympathies may classify it. that is the real division in both countries, and for germans to conquer english, or english germans, would not advance the solution of such a conflict one iota; and as such conflict becomes more acute, the german individualist will see that it is more important to protect his freedom and property against the socialist and trade unionist, who can and do attack them, than against the british army, which cannot. in the same way the british tory will be more concerned with what mr. lloyd george's budgets can do than with what the germans can do.[ ] from the realization of these things to the realization on the part of the british democrat that what stands in the way of his securing for social expenditure enormous sums, that now go to armaments, is mainly a lack of co-operation between himself and the democrats of a hostile nation who are in a like case, is but a step, and a step that, if history has any meaning, is bound shortly to be taken. when it is taken, property, capital, individualism will have to give to its international organization, already far-reaching, a still more definite form, in which international differences will play no part. and when that condition is reached, both peoples will find inconceivable the idea that artificial state divisions (which are coming more and more to approximate to mere administrative divisions, leaving free scope within them or across them for the development of genuine nationality) could ever in any way define the real conflicts of mankind. there remains, of course, the question of time; that these developments will take "thousands" or "hundreds" of years. yet the interdependence of modern nations is the growth of little more than fifty years. a century ago england could have been self-supporting, and little the worse for it. one must not overlook the law of acceleration. the age of man on the earth is placed variously at from thirty thousand to three hundred thousand years. he has in some respects developed more in the last two hundred years than in all the preceding ages. we see more change now in ten years than originally in ten thousand. who shall foretell the developments of a generation? chapter iii unchanging human nature the progress from cannibalism to herbert spencer--the disappearance of religious oppression by government--disappearance of the duel--the crusaders and the holy sepulchre--the wail of militarist writers at man's drift away from militancy. all of us who have had occasion to discuss this subject are familiar with the catch-phrases with which the whole matter is so often dismissed. "you cannot change human nature," "what man always has been during thousands of years, he always will be," are the sort of dicta generally delivered as self-evident propositions that do not need discussion. or if, in deference to the fact that very profound changes, in which human nature is involved, _have_ taken place in the habits of mankind, the statement of the proposition is somewhat less dogmatic, we are given to understand that any serious modification of the tendency to go to war can only be looked for in "thousands of years." what are the facts? they are these: that the alleged unchangeability of human nature in this matter is not borne out; that man's pugnacity though not disappearing, is very visibly, under the forces of mechanical and social development, being transformed and diverted from ends that are wasteful and destructive to ends that are less wasteful, which render easier that co-operation between men in the struggle with their environment which is the condition of their survival and advance; that changes which, in the historical period, have been extraordinarily rapid are necessarily quickening--quickening in geometrical rather than in arithmetical ratio. with very great courtesy, one is impelled to ask those who argue that human nature in all its manifestations must remain unchanged how they interpret history. we have seen man progress from the mere animal fighting with other animals, seizing his food by force, seizing also by force his females, eating his own kind, the sons of the family struggling with the father for the possession of the father's wives; we have seen this incoherent welter of animal struggle at least partly abandoned for settled industry, and partly surviving as a more organized tribal warfare or a more ordered pillaging, like that of the vikings and the huns; we have seen even these pillagers abandon in part their pillaging for ordered industry, and in part for the more ceremonial conflict of feudal struggle; we have seen even the feudal conflict abandoned in favor of dynastic and religious and territorial conflict, and then dynastic and religious conflict abandoned. there remains now only the conflict of states, and that, too, at a time when the character and conception of the state are being profoundly modified. human nature may not change, whatever that vague phrase may mean; but human nature is a complex factor. it includes numberless motives, many of which are modified in relation to the rest as circumstances change; so that the manifestations of human nature change out of all recognition. do we mean by the phrase that "human nature does not change" that the feelings of the paleolithic man who ate the bodies of his enemies and of his own children are the same as those of a herbert spencer, or even of the modern new yorker who catches his subway train to business in the morning? if human nature does not change, may we therefore expect the city clerk to brain his mother and serve her up for dinner, or suppose that lord roberts or lord kitchener is in the habit, while on campaign, of catching the babies of his enemies on spear-heads, or driving his motor-car over the bodies of young girls, like the leaders of the old northmen in their ox-wagons. what _do_ these phrases mean? these, and many like them, are repeated in a knowing way with an air of great wisdom and profundity by journalists and writers of repute, and one may find them blatant any day in our newspapers and reviews; yet the most cursory examination proves them to be neither wise nor profound, but simply parrot-like catch-phrases which lack common sense, and fly in the face of facts of everyday experience. the truth is that the facts of the world as they stare us in the face show that, in our common attitude, we not only overlook the modifications in human nature, which have occurred historically since yesterday--occurred even in our generation--but we also ignore the modification of human nature which mere differences of social habit and custom and outlook effect. take the case of the duel. even educated people in germany, france, and italy, will tell you that it is "not in human nature" to expect a man of gentle birth to abandon the habit of the duel; the notion that honorable people should ever so place their honor at the mercy of whoever may care to insult them is, they assure you, both childish and sordid. with them the matter will not bear discussion. yet the great societies which exist in england, north america, australia--the whole anglo-saxon world, in fact--have abandoned the duel, and we cannot lump the whole anglo-saxon race as either sordid or childish. that such a change as this, which must have conflicted with human pugnacity in its most insidious form,--pride and personal vanity, the traditions of an aristocratic status, every one of the psychological factors now involved in international conflict--has been effected in our own generation should surely give pause to those who dismiss as chimerical any hope that rationalism will ever dominate the conduct of nations. discussing the impossibility of allowing arbitration to cover all causes of difference, mr. roosevelt remarked, in justification of large armaments: "we despise a nation, just as we despise a man, who fails to resent an insult."[ ] mr. roosevelt seems to forget that the duel with us is extinct. do _we_, the english-speaking people of the world, to whom presumably mr. roosevelt must have been referring, despise a man who fails to resent an insult by arms? would we not, on the contrary, despise the man who should do so? yet so recent is this charge that it has not yet reached the majority of europeans. the vague talk of national honor, as a quality under the especial protection of the soldier, shows, perhaps more clearly than aught else, how much our notions concerning international politics have fallen behind the notions that dominate us in everyday life. when an individual begins to rave about his honor, we may be pretty sure he is about to do some irrational, most likely some disreputable deed. the word is like an oath, serving with its vague yet large meaning to intoxicate the fancy. its vagueness and elasticity make it possible to regard a given incident, at will, as either harmless or a _casus belli_. our sense of proportion in these matters approximates to that of the schoolboy. the passing jeer of a foreign journalist, a foolish cartoon, is sufficient to start the dogs of war baying up and down the land.[ ] we call it "maintaining the national prestige," "enforcing respect," and i know not what other high-sounding name. it amounts to the same thing in the end. the one distinctive advance in civil society achieved by the anglo-saxon world is fairly betokened by the passing away of this old notion of a peculiar possession in the way of honor, which has to be guarded by arms. it stands out as the one clear moral gain of the nineteenth century; and, when we observe the notion resurging in the minds of men, we may reasonably expect to find that it marks one of those reversions in development which so often occur in the realm of mind as well as in that of organic forms. two or three generations since, this progress, even among anglo-saxons, towards a rational standard of conduct in this matter, as between individuals, would have seemed as unreasonable as do the hopes of international peace in our day. even to-day the continental officer is as firmly convinced as ever that the maintenance of personal dignity is impossible save by the help of the duel. he will ask in triumph, "what will you do if one of your own order openly insults you? can you preserve your self-respect by summoning him to the police-court?" and the question is taken as settling the matter offhand. the survival, where national prestige is concerned, of the standards of the _code duello_ is daily brought before us by the rhetoric of the patriots. our army and our navy, not the good faith of our statesmen, are the "guardians of our national honor." like the duellist, the patriot would have us believe that a dishonorable act is made honorable if the party suffering by the dishonor be killed. the patriot is careful to withdraw from the operation of possible arbitration all questions which could affect the "national honor." an "insult to the flag" must be "wiped out in blood." small nations, which in the nature of the case cannot so resent the insults of great empires, have apparently no right to such a possession as "honor." it is the peculiar prerogative of world-wide empires. the patriots who would thus resent "insults to the flag" may well be asked whether they would condemn the conduct of the german lieutenant who kills the unarmed civilian in cold blood "for the honor of the uniform." it does not seem to have struck the patriot that, as personal dignity and conduct have not suffered but been improved by the abandonment of the principle of the duel, there is little reason to suppose that international conduct, or national dignity, would suffer by a similar change of standards. the whole philosophy underlying the duel, where personal relations are concerned, excites in our day the infinite derision of all anglo-saxons. yet these same anglo-saxons maintain it as rigorously as ever in the relations of states. profound as is the change involved in the anglo-saxon abandonment of the duel, a still more universal change, affecting still more nearly our psychological impulses, has been effected within a relatively recent historical period. i refer to the abandonment, by the governments of europe, of their right to prescribe the religious belief of their citizens. for hundreds of years, generation after generation, it was regarded as an evident part of a ruler's right and duty to dictate what his subjects should believe. as lecky has pointed out, the preoccupation which, for numberless generations, was the centre round which all other interests revolved has simply and purely disappeared; coalitions which were once the most serious occupation of statesmen now exist only in the speculations of the expounders of prophecy. among all the elements of affinity and repulsion that regulate the combinations of nations, dogmatic influences which were once supreme can scarcely be said to exist. there is a change here reaching down into the most fundamental impulses of the human mind. "until the seventeenth century every mental discussion, which philosophy pronounces to be essential to legitimate research, was almost uniformly branded as a sin, and a large proportion of the most deadly intellectual vices were deliberately inculcated as virtues." anyone who argued that the differences between catholics and protestants were not such as force could settle, and that the time would come when man would realize this truth, and regard a religious war between european states as a wild and unimaginable anachronism, would have been put down as a futile doctrinaire, completely ignoring the most elementary facts of "unchanging human nature." there is one striking incident of the religious struggle of states which illustrates vividly the change which has come over the spirit of man. for nearly two hundred years christians fought the infidel for the conquest of the holy sepulchre. all the nations of europe joined in this great endeavor. it seemed to be the one thing which could unite them, and for generations, so profound was the impulse which produced the movement, the struggle went on. there is nothing in history, perhaps, quite comparable to it. suppose that during this struggle one had told a european statesman of that age that the time would come when, assembled in a room, the representatives of a europe, which had made itself the absolute master of the infidel, could by a single stroke of the pen secure the holy sepulchre for all time to christendom, but that, having discussed the matter cursorily twenty minutes or so, they would decide that on the whole it was not worth while! had such a thing been told to a mediæval statesman, he would certainly have regarded the prophecy as that of a madman. yet this, of course, is precisely what has taken place.[ ] a glance over the common incidents of europe's history will show the profound change which has visibly taken place, not only in the minds, but in the hearts of men. things which even in our stage of civilization would no longer be possible, owing to that change in human nature which the military dogmatist denies, were commonplace incidents with our grandfathers. indeed, the modifications in the religious attitude just touched on assuredly arise from an emotional as much as from an intellectual change. a theology which could declare that the unborn child would suffer eternal torment in the fires of hell for no crime, other than that of its conception, would be in our day impossible on merely emotional grounds.[ ] what was once deemed a mere truism would now be viewed with horror and indignation. again, as lecky says, "for a great change has silently swept over christendom. without disturbance, an old doctrine has passed away from among the realizations of mankind." not only in the religious sphere do we see this progress. in a civilization, which was in many respects an admirable one, it was possible for slaves to be slaughtered because one of them had committed some offence; for a lady of fashion to gratify a momentary caprice by ordering a slave to be crucified; and, a generation or two since, for whole populations to turn torture into a public amusement[ ] and a public festival; for kings, historically yesterday, to assist personally at the tortures of persons accused of witchcraft. it is related by pitcairn, in his "criminal trials of scotland," that james i. of scotland personally presided over the tortures of one, dr. fian, accused of having caused a storm at sea. the bones of the prisoner's legs were broken into small pieces in the boot, and it was the king himself who suggested the following variation and witnessed the execution of it: the nails of both hands were seized by a pair of pincers and torn from the fingers, and into the bleeding stump of each finger two needles were thrust up to their heads! does anyone seriously contend that the conditions of modern life have not modified psychology in these matters? does anyone seriously deny that our wider outlook, which is the result of somewhat larger conceptions and wider reading, has wrought such a change that the repetition of things like these in london, or in edinburgh, or in berlin, has become impossible? or, is it seriously argued that we may witness a repetition of these events, that we are quite capable at any moment of taking pleasure in burning alive a beautiful child? does the catholic or the protestant really stand in danger of such things from his religious rival? if human nature is unchanged by the progress of ideas, then he does, and europe's general adoption of religious freedom is a mistake, and each sect should arm against the other in the old way, and the only real hope of religious peace and safety is in the domination of an absolutely universal church. this was, indeed, the plea of the old inquisitor, just as it is the plea of the _spectator_ to-day, that the only hope of political peace is in the domination of an absolutely universal power: there is only one way to end war and preparation for war, and that is, as we have said, by a universal monarchy. if we can imagine one country--let us say russia for the sake of argument--so powerful that she could disarm the rest of the world, and then maintain a force big enough to forbid any power to invade the rights of any other power ... no doubt we should have universal peace.[ ] this dictum recalls one, equally emphatic, once voiced by a colleague of the late procurator of the holy synod in russia, who said: there is only one way to ensure religious peace in the state, to compel all in that state to conform to the state religion. those that will not conform must, in the interests of peace, be driven out. mr. lecky, who of all authors has written most suggestively, perhaps, on the disappearance of religious persecution, has pointed out that the strife between opposing religious bodies arose out of a religious spirit which, though often high-minded and disinterested (he protests with energy against the notion that persecution as a whole was dictated by interested motives), was unpurified by rationalism; and he adds that the irrationality which once characterized the religious sentiment has now been replaced by the irrationality of patriotism. mr. lecky says: if we take a broad view of the course of history, and examine the relations of great bodies of men, we find that religion and patriotism are the chief moral influences to which they have been subjected, and that the separate modifications and mutual interaction of these two agents may almost be said to constitute the moral history of mankind. is it to be expected that the rationalization and humanization which have taken place in the more complex domain of religious doctrine and belief will not also take place in the domain of patriotism? more especially, as the same author points out, since it was the necessities of material interest which brought about the reform in the first domain, and since "not only does interest, as distinct from passion, gain a greater empire with advancing civilization, but passion itself is mainly guided by its power." have we not abundant evidence, indeed, that the passion of patriotism, as divorced from material interest, is being modified by the pressure of material interest? are not the numberless facts of national interdependence, which i have indicated here, pushing inevitably to that result? and are we not justified in concluding that, just as the progress of rationalism has made it possible for the various religious groups to live together, to exist side by side without physical conflict; just as there has been in that domain no necessary choice between universal domination or unending strife, so in like manner will the progress of political rationalism mark the evolution of the relationship of political groups; that the struggle for domination will cease because it will be realized that physical domination is futile, and that instead of either universal strife or universal domination there will come, without formal treaties or holy alliances, the general determination for each to go his way undisturbed in his political allegiance, as he is now undisturbed in his religious allegiance? perhaps the very strongest evidence that the whole drift of human tendencies is away from such conflict as is represented by war between states is to be found in the writings of those who declare war to be inevitable. among the writers quoted in the first chapter of this section, there is not one who, if his arguments are examined carefully, does not show that he realizes, consciously, or subconsciously, that man's disposition to fight, far from being unchanged, is becoming rapidly enfeebled. take, for instance, one of the latest works voicing the philosophy that war is inevitable; that, indeed, it is both wicked and childish to try to prevent it.[ ] notwithstanding that the inevitability of war is the thesis of his book, homer lea entitles the first section "the decline of militancy," and shows clearly, in fact, that the commercial activities of the world lead directly away from war. trade, ducats, and mortgages are regarded as far greater assets and sources of power than armies or navies. they produce national effeminacy and effeteness. now, as this tendency is common to all nations of christendom--indeed, of the world--since commercial and industrial development is world-wide, it necessarily means, if it is true of any one nation, that the world as a whole is drifting away from the tendency to warfare. a large part of homer lea's book is a sort of carlylean girding at what he terms "protoplasmic gourmandizing and retching" (otherwise the busy american industrial and social life of his countrymen). he declares that, when a country makes wealth, production, and industries its sole aim, it becomes "a glutton among nations, vulgar, swinish, arrogant"; "commercialism, having seized hold of the american people, overshadows it, and tends to destroy not only the aspirations and world-wide career open to the nation, but the republic itself." "patriotism in the true sense" (_i.e._, the desire to go and kill other people) homer lea declares almost dead in the united states. the national ideals, even of the native-born american, are deplorably low: there exists not only individual prejudice against military ideals, but public antipathy; antagonism of politicians, newspapers, churches, colleges, labor unions, theorists, and organized societies. they combat the military spirit as if it were a public evil and a national crime. in that case, what, in the name of all that is muddleheaded, becomes of the "unchanging tendency towards warfare"? what is all this curious rhetoric of homer lea's (and i have dealt with him at some length, because his principles if not his language are those which characterize much similar literature in england, france, germany, and the continent of europe generally) but an admission that the whole tendency is not, as he would have us believe, towards war, but away from it? here is an author who tells us that war is to be forever inevitable, and in the same breath that men are rapidly conceiving not only a "slothful indifference" to fighting, but a profound antipathy to the military ideal. of course, homer lea implies that this tendency is peculiar to the american republic, and is for that reason dangerous to his country; but, as a matter of fact, homer lea's book might be a free translation of much nationalist literature of either france or germany.[ ] i cannot recall a single author of either of the four great countries who, treating of the inevitability of war, does not bewail the falling away of his own country from the military ideal, or, at least, the tendency so to fall away. thus the english journalist reviewing in the _daily mail_ homer lea's book cannot refrain from saying: is it necessary to point out that there is a moral in all this for us as well as for the american? surely almost all that mr. lea says applies to great britain as forcibly as to the united states. we too have lain dreaming. we have let our ideals tarnish. we have grown gluttonous, also.... shame and folly are upon us as well as upon our brethren. let us hasten with all our energy to cleanse ourselves of them, that we can look the future in the face without fear. exactly the same note dominates the literature of an english protagonist like mr. blatchford, the militarist socialist. he talks of the "fatal apathy" of the british people. "the people," he says, breaking out in anger at the small disposition they show to kill other people, "are conceited, self-indulgent, decadent, and greedy. they will shout for the empire, but they will not fight for it."[ ] a glance at such publications as _blackwood's_, the _national review_, the london _spectator_, the london _world_, will reveal precisely similar outbursts. of course, mr. blatchford declares that the germans are very different, and that what mr. lea (in talking of _his_ country) calls the "gourmandizing and retching" is not at all true of germany. as a matter of fact, however, the phrase i have quoted might have been "lifted" from the work of any average pan-german, or even from more responsible quarters. have mr. blatchford and mr. lea forgotten that no less a person than prince von bülow, in a speech made in the prussian diet, used almost the words i have quoted from mr. blatchford, and dwelt at length on the self-indulgence and degeneracy, the rage for luxury, etc., which possess modern germany, and told how the old qualities which had marked the founders of the empire were disappearing?[ ] indeed, do not a great part of the governing classes of germany almost daily bewail the infiltration of anti-militarist doctrines among the german people, and does not the extraordinary increase in the socialist vote justify the complaint? a precisely analogous plea is made by the nationalist writer in france when he rails at the pacifist tendencies of _his_ country, and points to the contrasting warlike activities of neighbouring nations. a glance at a copy of practically any nationalist or conservative paper in france will furnish ample evidence of this. hardly a day passes but that the _echo de paris_, _gaulois_, _figaro_, _journal des débats_, _patrie_, or _presse_, sounds this note, while one may find it rampant in the works of such serious writers as paul bourget, faguet, le bon, barrès, brunetière, paul adam, to say nothing of more popular publicists like deroulède, millevoye, drumont, etc. all these advocates of war, therefore--american, english, german, french--are at one in declaring that foreign countries are very warlike, but that their own country, "sunk in sloth," is drifting away from war. as presumably they know more of their own country than of others, their own testimony involves mutual destruction of their own theories. they are thus unwilling witnesses to the truth, which is that we are all alike--english, americans, germans, french--losing the psychological impulse to war, just as we have lost the psychological impulse to kill our neighbors on account of religious differences, and (at least in the case of the anglo-saxon) to kill our neighbors in duels for some cause of wounded vanity. how, indeed, could it be otherwise? how can modern life, with its overpowering proportion of industrial activities and its infinitesimal proportion of military ones, keep alive the instincts associated with war as against those developed by peace? not only evolution, but common sense and common observation, teaches us that we develop most those qualities which we exercise most, which serve us best in the occupation in which we are most engaged. a race of seamen is not developed by agricultural pursuits, carried on hundreds of miles from the sea. take the case of what is reputed (quite wrongly, incidentally) to be the most military nation in europe--germany. the immense majority of adult germans--practically, all who make up what we know as germany--have never seen a battle, and in all human probability never will see one. in forty years eight thousand germans have been in the field about twelve months--against naked blacks.[ ] so that the proportion of warlike activities to peaceful activities works out at one to hundreds of thousands. i wish it were possible to illustrate this diagrammatically; but it could not be done in this book, because, if a single dot the size of a full-stop were to be used to illustrate the expenditure of time in actual war, i should have to fill most of the book with dots to illustrate the time spent by the balance of the population in peace activities.[ ] in that case, how can we possibly expect to keep alive warlike qualities, when all our interests and activities--all our environments, in short--are peace-like? in other words, the occupations which develop the qualities of industry and peace are so much in excess of those which would develop the qualities we associate with war that that excess has almost now passed beyond any ordinary means of visual illustration, and has entirely passed beyond any ordinary human capacity fully to appreciate. peace is with us now nearly always; war is with us rarely, yet we are told that it is the qualities of war which will survive, and the qualities of peace which will be subsidiary. i am not forgetting, of course, the military training, the barrack life which is to keep alive the military tradition. i have dealt with that question in the next chapter. it suffices for the moment to note that that training is defended on the grounds (notably among those who would introduce it into england)--( ) that it ensures peace; ( ) that it renders a population more efficient in the arts of peace--that is to say, perpetuates that condition of "slothful ease" which we are told is so dangerous to our characters, in which we are bound to lose the "warlike qualities," and which renders society still more "gourmandizing" in mr. lea's contemptuous phrase, still more "cobdenite" in mr. leo maxse's. one cannot have it both ways. if long-continued peace is enervating, it is mere self-stultification to plead for conscription on the ground that it will still further prolong that enervating condition. if mr. leo maxse sneers at industrial society and the peace ideal--"the cobdenite ideal of buying cheap and selling dear"--he must not defend german conscription (though he does) on the ground that it renders german commerce more efficient--that, in other words, it advances that "cobdenite ideal." in that case, the drift away from war will be stronger than ever. perhaps some of all this inconsistency was in mr. roosevelt's mind when he declared that by "war alone" can man develop those manly qualities, etc. if conscription really does prolong peace and increase our aptitude for the arts of peace, then conscription itself is but a factor in man's temperamental drift away from war, in the change of his nature towards peace. it is not because man is degenerate or swinish or gluttonous (such language, indeed, applied as it is by mr. lea to the larger and better part of the human race, suggests a not very high-minded ill-temper at the stubbornness of facts which rhetoric does not affect) that he is showing less and less disposition to fight, but because he is condemned by the real "primordial law" to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow, and his nature in consequence develops those qualities which the bulk of his interests and capacities demand and favor. finally, of course, we are told that even though these forces are at work, they must take "thousands of years" to operate. this dogmatism ignores the law of acceleration, as true in the domain of sociology as in that of physics, which i have touched on at the close of the preceding chapter. the most recent evidence would seem to show that man as a fire-using animal dates back to the tertiary epoch--say, three hundred thousand years. now, in all that touches this discussion, man in northern europe (in great britain, say) remained unchanged for two hundred and ninety-eight thousand of those years. in the last two thousand years he changed more than in the two hundred and ninety-eight thousand preceding, and in one hundred he has changed more, perhaps, than in the preceding two thousand. the comparison becomes more understandable if we resolve it into hours. for, say, fifty years the man was a cannibal savage or a wild animal, hunting other wild animals, and then in the space of three months he became john smith of des moines, attending church, passing laws, using the telephone, and so on. that is the history of european mankind. and in the face of it, the wiseacres talk sapiently, and lay it down as a self-evident and demonstrable fact that inter-state war, which, by reason of the mechanics of our civilization, accomplishes nothing and can accomplish nothing, will forever be unassailable because, once man has got the habit of doing a thing, he will go on doing it, although the reason which in the first instance prompted it has long since disappeared--because, in short, of the "unchangeability of human nature." chapter iv do the warlike nations inherit the earth? the confident dogmatism of militarist writers on this subject--the facts--the lessons of spanish america--how conquest makes for the survival of the unfit--spanish method and english method in the new world--the virtues of military training--the dreyfus case--the threatened germanization of england--"the war which made germany great and germans small." the militarist authorities i have quoted in the preceding chapter admit, therefore, and admit very largely, man's drift, in a sentimental sense, away from war. but that drift, they declare, is degeneration; without those qualities which "war alone," in mr. roosevelt's phrase, can develop, man will "rot and decay." this plea is, of course, directly germane to our subject. to say that the qualities which we associate with war, and nothing else but war, are necessary to assure a nation success in its struggles with other nations is equivalent to saying that those who drift away from war will go down before those whose warlike activity can conserve those qualities essential to survival; and this is but another way of saying that men must always remain warlike if they are to survive, that the warlike nations inherit the earth; that men's pugnacity, therefore, is the outcome of the great natural law of survival, and that a decline of pugnacity marks in any nation a retrogression and not an advance in its struggle for survival. i have already indicated (chapter ii., part ii.) the outlines of the proposition, which leaves no escape from this conclusion. this is the scientific basis of the proposition voiced by the authorities i have quoted--mr. roosevelt, von moltke, renan, nietzsche, and various of the warlike clergy[ ]--and it lies at the very bottom of the plea that man's nature, in so far as it touches the tendency of men as a whole to go to war, does not change; that the warlike qualities are a necessary part of human vitality in the struggle for existence; that, in short, all that we know of the law of evolution forbids the conclusion that man will ever lose this warlike pugnacity, or that nations will survive other than by the struggle of physical force. the view is best voiced, perhaps, by homer lea, whom i have already quoted. he says, in his "valor of ignorance": as physical vigor represents the strength of man in his struggle for existence, in the same sense military vigor constitutes the strength of nations; ideals, laws, constitutions are but temporary effulgences [p. ]. the deterioration of the military force and the consequent destruction of the militant spirit have been concurrent with national decay [p. ]. international disagreements are ... the result of the primordial conditions that sooner or later cause war ... the law of struggle, the law of survival, universal, unalterable ... to thwart them, to short-cut them, to circumvent them, to cozen, to deny, to scorn, to violate them, is folly such as man's conceit alone makes possible.... arbitration denies the inexorability of natural laws ... that govern the existence of political entities [pp. , ]. laws that govern the militancy of a people are not of man's framing, but follow the primitive ordinances of nature that govern all forms of life, from simple protozoa, awash in the sea, to the empires of man.[ ] i have already indicated the grave misconception which lies at the bottom of the interpretation of the evolutionary law here indicated. what we are concerned with now is to deal with the facts on which this alleged general principle is inductively based. we have seen from the foregoing chapter that man's nature certainly does change; the next step is to show, from the facts of the present-day world, that the warlike qualities do not make for survival, that the warlike nations do not inherit the earth. which are the military nations? we generally think of them in europe as germany and france, or perhaps also russia, austria, and italy. admittedly (_vide_ all the english and american military pundits and economists) england is the least militarized nation in europe, the united states perhaps in the world. it is, above all, germany that appeals to us as the type of the military nation, one in which the stern school of war makes for the preservation of the "manly and adventurous qualities." the facts want a little closer examination. what is a career of unwarlike ease, in mr. roosevelt's phrase? in the last chapter we saw that during the last forty years eight thousand out of sixty million germans have been engaged in warfare during a trifle over a year, and that against hottentots or hereros--a proportion of war days per german to peace days per german which is as one to some hundreds of thousands. so that if we are to take germany as the type of the military nation, and if we are to accept mr. roosevelt's dictum that by war alone can we acquire "those virile qualities necessary to win in the stern strife of actual life," we shall nevertheless be doomed to lose them, for under conditions like those of germany how many of us can ever see war, or can pretend to fall under its influence? as already pointed out, the men who really give the tone to the german nation, to german life and conduct--that is to say, the majority of adult germans--have never seen a battle and never will see one. france has done much better. not only has she seen infinitely more actual fighting, but her population is much more militarized than that of germany, per cent. more, in fact, since, in order to maintain from a population of forty millions the same effective military force as germany does with sixty millions, - / per cent. of the french population is under arms as against per cent. of the german.[ ] still more military in organization and in recent practical experience is russia, and more military than russia is turkey, and more military than turkey as a whole are the semi-independent sections of turkey, arabia, and albania, and then, perhaps, comes morocco. on the western hemisphere we can draw a like table as to the "warlike, adventurous, manly, and progressive peoples" as compared with the "peaceful, craven, slothful, and decadent." the least warlike of all, the nation which has had the least training in war, the least experience of it, which has been the least purified by it, is canada. after that comes the united states, and after that the best--(excuse me, i mean, of course, the worst--_i.e._, the least warlike)--of the spanish american republics like brazil and argentina; while the most warlike of all, and consequently the most "manly and progressive," are the "sambo" republics, like san domingo, nicaragua, colombia, and venezuela. they are always fighting. if they cannot manage to get up a fight between one another, the various parties in each republic will fight between themselves. here we get the real thing. the soldiers do not pass their lives in practising the goose-step, cleaning harness, pipeclaying belts, but in giving and taking hard pounding. several of these progressive republics have never known a year since they declared their independence from spain in which they have not had a war. and quite a considerable proportion of the populations spend their lives in fighting. during the first twenty years of venezuela's independent existence she fought no less than one hundred and twenty important battles, either with her neighbors or with herself, and she has maintained the average pretty well ever since. every election is a fight--none of your "mouth-fighting," none of your craven talking-shops for them. good, honest, hard, manly knocks, with anything from one to five thousand dead and wounded left on the field. the presidents of these strenuous republics are not poltroons of politicians, but soldiers--men of blood and iron with a vengeance, men after mr. roosevelt's own heart, all following "the good old rule, the simple plan." these are the people who have taken carlyle's advice to "shut up the talking-shops." _they_ fight it out like men; _they_ talk with gatling-guns and mausers. oh, they are a very fine, manly, military lot! if fighting makes for survival, they should completely oust from the field canada and the united states, one of which has never had a real battle for the best part of its hundred years of craven, sordid, peaceful life, and the other of which homer lea assures us is surely dying, because of its tendency to avoid fighting. mr. lea does not make any secret of the fact (and if he did, some of his rhetoric would display it) that he is out of sympathy with predominant american ideals. he might emigrate to venezuela, or colombia, or nicaragua. he would be able to prove to each military dictator in turn that, in converting the country into a shambles, far from committing a foul crime for which such dictators should be, and are, held in execration by civilized men the world over, they are, on the contrary, but obeying one of god's commands in tune with all the immutable laws of the universe. i desire to write in all seriousness, but, to one who happens to have seen at first hand something of the conditions which arise from a real military conception of civilization, it is very difficult. how does mr. roosevelt, who declares that "by war alone can we acquire those virile qualities necessary to win in the stern strife of actual life"; how does von stengel, who declares that "war is a test of a nation's health, political, physical, and moral"; how do our militarists, who infer that the military state is so much finer than the cobdenite one of commercial pursuits; how does m. ernest renan, who declares that war is the condition of progress, and that under peace we should sink to a degree of degeneracy difficult to realize; and how do the various english clergymen who voice a like philosophy reconcile their creed with military spanish america? how can they urge that non-military industrialism, which, with all its shortcomings, has on the western continent given us canada and the united states, makes for decadence and degeneration, while militarism and the qualities and instincts that go with it have given us venezuela and san domingo? do we not all recognize that industrialism--mr. lea's "gourmandizing and retching" notwithstanding--is the one thing which will save these military republics; that the one condition of their advance is that they shall give up the stupid and sordid gold-braid militarism and turn to honest work? if ever there was a justification for herbert spencer's sweeping generalization that "advance to the highest forms of man and society depends on the decline of militancy and the growth of industrialism," it is to be found in the history of the south and central american republics. indeed, spanish america at the present moment affords more lessons than we seem to be drawing, and, if militancy makes for advance and survival, it is a most extraordinary thing that all who are in any way concerned with those countries, all who live in them and whose future is wrapped up in them, can never sufficiently express their thankfulness that at last there seems to be a tendency with some of them to get away from the blood and valor nonsense which has been their curse for three centuries, and to exchange the military ideal for the cobdenite one of buying cheap and selling dear which excites so much contempt. some years ago an italian lawyer, a certain tomasso caivano, wrote a letter detailing his experiences and memories of twenty years' life in venezuela and the neighboring republics, and his general conclusions have for this discussion a direct relevancy. as a sort of farewell exhortation to the venezuelans, he wrote: the curse of your civilization is the soldier and the soldier's temper. it is impossible for two of you, still less for two parties, to carry on a discussion without one wanting to fight the other about the matter in hand. you regard it as a derogation of dignity to consider the point of view of the other side, and to attempt to meet it, if it is possible to fight about it. you deem that personal valor atones for all defects. the soldier of evil character is more considered amongst you than the civilian of good character, and military adventure is deemed more honorable than honest labor. you overlook the worst corruption, the worst oppression, in your leaders if only they gild it with military fanfaronade and declamation about bravery and destiny and patriotism. not until there is a change in this spirit will you cease to be the victims of evil oppression. not until your general populace--your peasantry and your workers--refuse thus to be led to slaughter in quarrels of which they know and care nothing, but into which they are led because they also prefer fighting to work--not until all this happens will those beautiful lands which are among the most fertile on god's earth support a happy and prosperous people living in contentment and secure possession of the fruits of their labor.[ ] spanish america seems at last in a fair way to throwing off the domination of the soldier and awakening from these nightmares of successive military despotisms tempered by assassination, though, in abandoning, in signor caivano's words, "military adventure for honest labor," she will necessarily have less to do with those deeds of blood and valor of which her history has been so full. but those in south america who matter are not mourning. really they are not.[ ] the situation can be duplicated absolutely on the other side of the hemisphere. change a few names, and you get arabia or morocco. listen to this from a recent london _times_ article:[ ] the fact is that for many years past turkey has almost invariably been at war in some part or other of arabia.... at the present moment turkey is actually conducting three separate small campaigns within arabia or upon its borders, and a fourth series of minor operations in mesopotamia. the last-named movement is against the kurdish tribes of the mosul district.... another, and more important, advance is against the truculent muntefik arabs of the euphrates delta.... the fourth, and by far the largest, campaign is the unending warfare in the province of yemen, north of aden, where the turks have been fighting intermittently for more than a decade. the peoples of arabia are also indulging in conflict on their own account. the interminable feud between the rival potentates of nedjd, ibn saud of riadh and ibn rashid of hail, has broken out afresh, and the tribes of the coastal province of el katar are supposed to have plunged into the fray. the muntefik arabs, not content with worrying the turks, are harrying the territories of sheikh murbarak of koweit. in the far south the sultan of shehr and mokalla, a feudatory of the british government, is conducting a tiny war against a hostile tribe in the mysterious hadramaut. in the west the beduin are spasmodically menacing certain sections of the hedjaz railway, which they very much dislike.... ten years ago the ibn rashids were nominally masters of a great deal of arabia, and grew so aggressive that they tried to seize koweit. the fiery old sheikh of koweit marched against them, and alternately won and lost. he had his revenge. he sent an audacious scion of the ibn sauds to the old wahabi capital of riadh, and by a remarkable stratagem the youth captured the stronghold with only fifty men. the rival parties have been fighting at intervals ever since. and so on and so on to the extent of a column. so that what venezuela and nicaragua are to the american continent, arabia, albania, armenia, montenegro, and morocco are to the eastern hemisphere. we find exactly the same rule--that just as one gets away from militancy one gets towards advance and civilization; as men lose the tendency to fight they gain the tendency to work, and it is by working with one another, and not by fighting against each other, that men advance. take the progression away from militancy, and it gives us a table something like this: arabia and morocco. turkish territory as a whole. the more unruly balkan states. montenegro. russia. spain. italy. austria. france. germany. scandinavia. holland. belgium. england. the united states. canada. do mr. roosevelt, admiral mahan, baron von stengel, marshal von moltke, mr. homer lea, and the english clergymen seriously argue that this list should be reversed, and that arabia and turkey should be taken as the types of progressive nations, and england and germany and scandinavia as the decadent? it may be urged that my list is not absolutely accurate, in that england, having fought more little wars (though the conflict with the boers, waged with a small, pastoral people, shows how a little war may drain a great country), is more militarized than germany, which has not been fighting at all. but i have tried in a very rough fashion to arrive at the degree of militancy in each state, and the absence of actual fighting in the case of germany (as in that of the smaller states) is balanced by the fact of the military training of her people. as i have indicated, france is more military than germany, both in the extent to which her people are put through the mill of universal military training, and by virtue of the fact that she has done so much more small fighting than germany (madagascar, tonkin, africa, etc.); while, of course, turkey and the balkan states are still more military in both senses--more actual fighting, more military training. perhaps the militarist will argue that, while useless and unjust wars make for degeneration, just wars are a moral regeneration. but did a nation, group, tribe, family, or individual ever yet enter into a war which he did not think just? the british, or most of them, believed the war against the boers just, but most of the authorities in favor of war in general, outside of great britain, believed it unjust. nowhere do you find such deathless, absolute, unwavering belief in the justice of war as in those conflicts which all christendom knows to be at once unjust and unnecessary. i refer to the religious wars of mohammedan fanaticism. do you suppose that when nicaragua goes to war with san salvador, or costa rica or colombia with peru, or peru with chili, or chili with argentina, they do not each and every one of them believe that they are fighting for immutable and deathless principles? the civilization of most of them is, of course, as like as two peas, and there is no more reason, except their dislike of rational thought and hard work, why they should fight with one another, than that illinois should fight with indiana, despite homer lea's fine words as to the primordial character of national differences; to one another they are as alike, and whether san salvador beats costa rica or costa rica, san salvador, does not, so far as essentials are concerned, matter a continental. but their rhetoric of patriotism--the sacrifice, and the deathless glory, and the rest of it--is often just as sincere as ours. that is the tragedy of it, and it is that which gives to the solution of the problem in spanish america its real difficulty. but even if we admit that warfare _à l'espagnole_ may be degrading, and that just wars are ennobling and necessary to our moral welfare, we should nevertheless be condemned to degeneracy and decline. a just war implies that someone must act unjustly towards us, but as the general condition improves--as it is improving in europe as compared with central and south america, or morocco, or arabia--we shall get less and less "moral purification"; as men become less and less disposed to make unjustifiable attacks, they will become more and more degenerate. in such incoherence are we landed by the pessimistic and impossible philosophy that men will decay and die unless they go on killing each other. what is the fundamental error at the base of the theory that war makes for the survival of the fit--that warfare is any necessary expression of the law of survival? it is the illusion induced by the hypnotism of a terminology which is obsolete. the same factor which leads us so astray in the economic domain leads us astray in this also. conquest does not make for the elimination of the conquered; the weakest do not go to the wall, though that is the process which those who adopt the formula of evolution in this matter have in their minds. great britain has conquered india. does that mean that the inferior race is replaced by the superior? not the least in the world; the inferior race not only survives, but is given an extra lease of life by virtue of the conquest. if ever the asiatic threatens the white race, it will be thanks in no small part to the work of race conservation which england's conquests in the east have involved. war, therefore, does not make for the elimination of the unfit and the survival of the fit. it would be truer to say that it makes for the survival of the unfit. what is the real process of war? you carefully select from the general population on both sides the healthiest, sturdiest, the physically and mentally soundest, those possessing precisely the virile and manly qualities which you desire to preserve, and, having thus selected the élite of the two populations, you exterminate them by battle and disease, and leave the worst of both sides to amalgamate in the process of conquest or defeat--because, in so far as the final amalgamation is concerned, both processes have the same result--and from this amalgam of the worst of both sides you create the new nation or the new society which is to carry on the race. even supposing the better nation wins, the fact of conquest results only in the absorption of the inferior qualities of the beaten nation--inferior presumably because beaten, and inferior because we have killed off their selected best and absorbed the rest, since we no longer exterminate the women, the children, the old men, and those too weak or too feeble to go into the army.[ ] you have only to carry on this process long enough and persistently enough to weed out completely from both sides the type of man to whom alone we can look for the conservation of virility, physical vigor, and hardihood. that such a process did play no small rôle in the degeneration of rome and the populations on which the crux of the empire reposed there can hardly be any reasonable doubt. and the process of degeneration on the part of the conqueror is aided by this additional factor: if the conqueror profits much by his conquest, as the romans in one sense did, it is the conqueror who is threatened by the enervating effect of the soft and luxurious life; while it is the conquered who is forced to labor for the conqueror, and learns in consequence those qualities of steady industry which are certainly a better moral training than living upon the fruits of others, upon labor extorted at the sword's point. it is the conqueror who becomes effete, and it is the conquered who learns discipline and the qualities making for a well-ordered state. to say of war, therefore, as does baron von stengel, that it destroys the frail trees, leaving the sturdy oaks standing, is merely to state with absolute confidence the exact reverse of the truth; to take advantage of loose catch-phrases, which by inattention not only distort common thought in these matters, but often turn the truth upside down. our everyday ideas are full of illustrations of the same thing. for hundreds of years we talked of the "riper wisdom of the ancients," implying that this generation is the youth in experience, and that the early ages had the accumulated experience--the exact reverse, of course, of the truth. yet "the learning of the ancients" and "the wisdom of our forefathers" was a common catch-phrase, even in the british parliament, until an english country parson killed this nonsense by ridicule.[ ] i do not urge that the somewhat simple, elementary, selective process which i have described accounts in itself for the decadence of military powers. that is only a part of the process; the whole of it is somewhat more complicated, in that the process of elimination of the good in favor of the bad is quite as much sociological as biological; that is to say, if during long periods a nation gives itself up to war, trade languishes, the population loses the habit of steady industry, government and administration become corrupt, abuses escape punishment, and the real sources of a people's strength and expansion dwindle. what has caused the relative failure and decline of spanish, portuguese, and french expansion in asia and the new world, and the relative success of english expansion therein? was it the mere hazards of war which gave to great britain the domination of india and half of the new world? that is surely a superficial reading of history. it was, rather, that the methods and processes of spain, portugal, and france were military, while those of the anglo-saxon world were commercial and peaceful. is it not a commonplace that in india, quite as much as in the new world, the trader and the settler drove out the soldier and the conqueror? the difference between the two methods was that one was a process of conquest, and the other of colonizing, or non-military administration for commercial purposes. the one embodied the sordid cobdenite idea, which so excites the scorn of the militarists, and the other the lofty military ideal. the one was parasitism; the other co-operation.[ ] those who confound the power of a nation with the size of its army and navy are mistaking the check-book for the money. a child, seeing its father paying bills in checks, assumes that you need only plenty of check-books in order to have plenty of money; it does not see that for the check-book to have power there must be unseen resources on which to draw. of what use is domination unless there be individual capacity, social training, industrial resources, to profit thereby? how can you have these things if energy is wasted in military adventure? is not the failure of spain explicable by the fact that she failed to realize this truth? for three centuries she attempted to live upon conquest, upon the force of her arms, and year after year got poorer in the process and her modern social renaissance dates from the time when she lost the last of her american colonies. it is since the loss of cuba and the philippines that spanish national securities have doubled in value. (at the outbreak of the hispano-american war spanish fours were at ; they have since touched par.) if spain has shown in the last decade a social renaissance, not shown perhaps for a hundred and fifty years, it is because a nation still less military than germany, and still more purely industrial, has compelled spain once and for all to surrender all dreams of empire and conquest. the circumstances of the last surrender are eloquent in this connection as showing how even in warfare itself the industrial training and the industrial tradition--the cobdenite ideal of militarist scorn--are more than a match for the training of a society in which military activities are predominant. if it be true that it was the german schoolmaster who conquered at sedan, it was the chicago merchant who conquered at manila. the writer happens to have been in touch both with spaniards and americans at the time of the war, and well remembers the scorn with which the spaniards referred to the notion that the yankee pork-butchers could possibly conquer a nation of their military tradition, and to the idea that tradesmen would ever be a match for the soldiery and pride of old spain. and french opinion was not so very different.[ ] shortly after the war i wrote in an american journal as follows: spain represents the outcome of some centuries devoted mainly to military activity. no one can say that she has been unmilitary or at all deficient in those qualities which we associate with soldiers and soldiering. yet, if such qualities in any way make for national efficiency, for the conservation of national force, the history of spain is absolutely inexplicable. in their late contest with america, spaniards showed no lack of the distinctive military virtues. spain's inferiority--apart from deficiency of men and money--was precisely in those qualities which industrialism has bred in the unmilitary american. authentic stories of wretched equipment, inadequate supplies, and bad leadership show to what depths of inefficiency the spanish service, military and naval, had fallen. we are justified in believing that a much smaller nation than spain, but one possessing a more industrial and less military training, would have done much better, both as regards resistance to america and the defence of her own colonies. the present position of holland in asia seems to prove this. the dutch, whose traditions are industrial and non-military for the most part, have shown greater power and efficiency as a nation than the spanish, who are more numerous. here, as always, it is shown that, in considering national efficiency, even as expressed in military power, the economic problem cannot be divorced from the military, and that it is a fatal mistake to suppose that the power of a nation depends solely upon the power of its public bodies, or that it can be judged simply from the size of its army. a large army may, indeed, be a sign of a national--that is, military--weakness. warfare in these days is a business like other activities, and no courage, no heroism, no "glorious past," no "immortal traditions," will atone for deficient rations and fraudulent administration. good civilian qualities are the ones that will in the end win a nation's battles. the spaniard is the last one in the world to see this. he talks and dreams of castilian bravery and spanish honor, and is above shopkeeping details.... a writer on contemporary spain remarks that any intelligent middle-class spaniard will admit every charge of incompetence which can be brought against the conduct of public affairs. "yes, we have a wretched government. in any other country somebody would be shot." this is the hopeless military creed: killing somebody is the only remedy. here we see a trace of that intellectual legacy which spain has left to the new world, and which has stamped itself so indelibly on the history of spanish america. on a later occasion in this connection i wrote as follows: to appreciate the outcome of much soldiering, the condition in which persistent military training may leave a race, one should study spanish america. here we have a collection of some score of states, all very much alike in social and political make-up. most of the south american states so resemble one another in language, laws, institutions, that to an outsider it would seem not to matter a straw under which particular six-months-old republic one should live; whether one be under the government of the pronunciamento-created president of colombia, or under that of the president of venezuela, one's condition would appear to be much the same. apparently no particular country has anything which differentiates it from another, and, consequently, anything to protect against the other. actually, the governments might all change places and the people be none the wiser. yet, so hypnotized, are these little states by the "necessity for self-protection," by the glamour of armaments, that there is not one without a relatively elaborate and expensive military establishment to protect it from the rest. no conditions seem so propitious for a practical confederation as those of spanish america; with a few exceptions, the virtual unity of language, laws, general race-ideals, would seem to render protection of frontiers supererogatory. yet the citizens give untold wealth, service, life, and suffering to be protected against a government exactly like their own. all this waste of life and energy has gone on without it ever occurring to one of these states that it would be preferable to be annexed a thousand times over, so trifling would be the resulting change in their condition, than continue the everlasting and futile tribute of blood and treasure. over some absolutely unimportant matter--like that of the patagonian roads, which nearly brought argentina and chili to grips the other day--as much patriotic devotion will be expended as ever the old guard lavished in protecting the honor of the tricolor. battles will be fought which will make all the struggles in south africa appear mean in comparison. actions in which the dead are counted in thousands will excite no more comment in the world than that produced by a skirmish in natal, in which a score of yeomen are captured and released.[ ] in the decade since the foregoing was written things have enormously improved in south america. why? for the simple reason, as pointed out in chapter v. of the first part of this book, that spanish america is being brought more and more into the economic movement of the world; and with the establishment of factories, in which large capital has been sunk, banks, businesses, etc., the whole attitude of mind of those interested in these ventures is changed. the jingo, the military adventurer, the fomentor of trouble, are seen for what they are--not as patriots, but as representing exceedingly mischievous and maleficent forces. this general truth has two facets: if long warfare diverts a people from the capacity for industry, so in the long run economic pressure--the influences, that is, which turn the energies of people to preoccupation with social well-being--is fatal to the military tradition. neither tendency is constant; warfare produces poverty; poverty pushes to thrift and work, which result in wealth; wealth creates leisure and pride and pushes to warfare. where nature does not respond readily to industrial effort, where it is, at least apparently, more profitable to plunder than to work, the military tradition survives. the beduin has been a bandit since the time of abraham, for the simple reason that the desert does not support industrial life nor respond to industrial effort. the only career offering a fair apparent return for effort is plunder. in morocco, in arabia, in all very poor pastoral countries, the same phenomenon is exhibited; in mountainous countries which are arid and are removed from the economic centres, _idem_. the same may have been to some extent the case in prussia before the era of coal and iron; but the fact that to-day per cent. of the population is normally engaged in trade and industry, and per cent. only in military preparation, and some fraction too small to be properly estimated engaged in actual war, shows how far she has outgrown such a state--shows, incidentally, what little chance the ideal and tradition represented by per cent. or some fractional percentage has against interests and activities represented by per cent. the recent history of south and central america, because it is recent, and because the factors are less complicated, illustrates best the tendency with which we are dealing. spanish america inherited the military tradition in all its vigor. as i have already pointed out, the spanish occupation of the american continent was a process of conquest rather than of colonizing; and while the mother country got poorer and poorer by the process of conquest, the new countries also impoverished themselves in adherence to the same fatal illusion. the glamour of conquest was, of course, spain's ruin. so long as it was possible for her to live on extorted bullion, neither social nor industrial development seemed possible. despite the common idea to the contrary, germany has known how to keep this fatal hypnotism at bay, and, far from allowing her military activities to absorb her industrial, it is precisely the military activities which are in a fair way now to being absorbed by the industrial and commercial, and her world commerce has its foundation, not in tribute or bullion exacted at the sword's point, but in sound and honest exchange. so that to-day the legitimate commercial tribute which germany, who never sent a soldier there, exacts from spanish america is immensely greater than that which goes to spain, who poured out blood and treasure during three centuries on these territories. in this way, again, do the warlike nations inherit the earth! if germany is never to duplicate spain's decadence, it is precisely because ( ) she has never had, historically, spain's temptation to live by conquest, and ( ) because, having to live by honest industry, her commercial hold, even upon the territories conquered by spain, is more firmly set than that of spain herself. how may we sum up the whole case, keeping in mind every empire that ever existed--the assyrian, the babylonian, the mede and persian, the macedonian, the roman, the frank, the saxon, the spanish, the portuguese, the bourbon, the napoleonic? in all and every one of them we may see the same process, which is this: if it remains military it decays; if it prospers and takes its share of the work of the world it ceases to be military. there is no other reading of history. that history furnishes no justification for the plea that pugnacity and antagonism between nations is bound up in any way with the real process of national survival, shows clearly enough that nations nurtured normally in peace are more than a match for nations nurtured normally in war; that communities of non-military tradition and instincts, like the anglo-saxon communities of the new world, show elements of survival stronger than those possessed by communities animated by the military tradition, like the spanish and portuguese nations of the new world; that the position of the industrial nations in europe as compared with the military gives no justification for the plea that the warlike qualities make for survival. it is clearly evident that there is no biological justification in the terms of man's political evolution for the perpetuation of antagonism between nations, nor any justification for the plea that the diminution of such antagonism runs counter to the teachings of the "natural law." there is no such natural law; in accordance with natural laws, men are being thrust irresistibly towards co-operation between communities and not towards conflict. there remains the argument that, though the conflict itself may make for degeneration, the preparation for that conflict makes for survival, for the improvement of human nature. i have already touched upon the hopeless confusion which comes of the plea that, while long-continued peace is bad, military preparations find justification in that they insure peace. almost every defence of militarism includes a sneer at the ideal of peace because it involves the cobdenite state of buying cheap and selling dear. but, with equal regularity, the advocate of the military system goes on to argue for great armaments, not as a means of promoting war, that valuable school, etc., but as the best means of securing peace; in other words, that condition of "buying cheap and selling dear" which but a moment before he has condemned as so defective. as though to make the stultification complete, he pleads for the peace value of military training, on the ground that german commerce has benefited from it--that, in other words, it has promoted the "cobdenite ideal." the analysis of the reasoning, as has been brilliantly shown by mr. john m. robertson,[ ] gives a result something like this: ( ) war is a great school of morals, therefore we must have great armaments to insure peace; ( ) to secure peace engenders the cobdenite ideal, which is bad, therefore we should adopt conscription, (_a_) because it is the best safeguard of peace, (_b_) because it is a training for commerce--the cobdenite ideal. is it true that barrack training--the sort of school which the competition of armaments during the last generation has imposed on the people of continental europe--makes for moral health? is it likely that a "perpetual rehearsal for something never likely to come off, and when it comes off is not like the rehearsal," should be a training for life's realities? is it likely that such a process would have the stamp and touch of closeness to real things? is it likely that the mechanical routine of artificial occupations, artificial crimes, artificial virtues, artificial punishments should form any training for the battle of real life?[ ] what of the dreyfus case? what of the abominable scandals that have marked german military life of late years? if peace military training is such a fine school, how could the london _times_ write thus of france after she had submitted to a generation of a very severe form of it: a thrill of horror and shame ran through the whole civilized world outside france when the result of the rennes court-martial became known.... by their (the officers') own admission, whether flung defiantly at the judges, their inferiors, or wrung from them under cross-examination, dreyfus's chief accusers were convicted of gross and fraudulent illegalities which, anywhere, would have sufficed, not only to discredit their testimony--had they any serious testimony to offer--but to transfer them speedily from the witness-box to the prisoner's dock.... their vaunted honor "rooted in dishonor stood." ... five judges out of the seven have once more demonstrated the truth of the astounding axiom first propounded during the zola trial, that "military justice is not as other justice." ... we have no hesitation in saying that the rennes court-martial constitutes in itself the grossest, and, viewed in the light of the surrounding circumstances, the most appalling prostitution of justice which the world has witnessed in modern times.... flagrantly, deliberately, mercilessly trampled justice underfoot.... the verdict, which is a slap in the face to the public opinion of the civilized world, to the conscience of humanity.... france is henceforth on her trial before history. arraigned at the bar of a tribunal far higher than that before which dreyfus stood, it rests with her to show whether she will undo this great wrong and rehabilitate her fair name, or whether she will stand irrevocably condemned and disgraced by allowing it to be consummated. we can less than ever afford to underrate the forces against truth and justice.... hypnotized by the wild tales perpetually dinned into all credulous ears of an international "syndicate of treason," conspiring against the honor of the army and the safety of france, the conscience of the french nation has been numbed, and its intelligence atrophied.... amongst those statesmen who are in touch with the outside world in the senate and chamber there must be some that will remind her that nations, no more than individuals, cannot bear the burden of universal scorn and live.... france cannot close her ears to the voice of the civilized world, for that voice is the voice of history.[ ] and what the _times_ said then all england was saying, and not only all england, but all america. and has germany escaped a like condemnation? we commonly assume that the dreyfus case could not be duplicated in germany. but this is not the opinion of very many germans themselves. indeed, just before the dreyfus case reached its crisis, the kotze scandal--in its way just as grave as the dreyfus affair, and revealing a moral condition just as serious--prompted the london _times_ to declare that "certain features of german civilization are such as to make it difficult for englishmen to understand how the whole state does not collapse from sheer rottenness." if that could be said of the kotze affair, what shall be said of the state of things which has been revealed by maximilien harden among others? need it be said that the writer of these lines does not desire to represent germans as a whole as more corrupt than their neighbors? but impartial observers are not of opinion, and very many germans are not of opinion, that there has been either economic, social, or moral advantage to the german people from the victories of and the state of regimentation which the sequel has imposed. this is surely evidenced by the actual position of affairs in the german empire, the complex difficulty with which the german people are now struggling, the growing discontent, the growing influence of those elements which are nurtured in discontent, the growth on one side of radical intransigence and on the other of almost feudal autocracy, the failure to effect normally and easily those democratic developments which have been effected in almost every other european state, the danger for the future which such a situation represents, the precariousness of german finance, the relatively small profit which her population as a whole has received from the greatly increased foreign trade--all this, and much more, confirms that view. england has of late seemed to have been affected with the german superstition. with the curious perversity that marks "patriotic" judgments, the whole tendency of the english has been to make comparisons with germany to the disadvantage of themselves and of other european countries. yet if germans themselves are to be believed, much of that superiority which the english see in germany is as purely non-existent as the phantom german war-balloon to which the british press devoted serious columns, to the phantom army corps in epping forest, to the phantom stories of arms in london cellars, and to the german spy which english patriots see in every italian waiter.[ ] despite the hypnotism which german "progress" seems to exercise on the minds of english jingoes, the german people themselves, as distinct from the small group of prussian junkers, are not in the least enamored of it, as is proved by the unparalleled growth of the social-democratic element, which is the negation of military imperialism, and which, as the figures in prussia prove, receives support not from one class of the population merely, but from the mercantile, industrial, and professional classes as well. the agitation for electoral reform in prussia shows how acute the conflict has become; on the one side the increasing democratic element showing more and more of a revolutionary tendency, and on the other side the prussian autocracy showing less and less disposition to yield. does anyone really believe that the situation will remain there, that the democratic parties will continue to grow in numbers and be content for ever to be ridden down by the "booted prussian," and that german democracy will indefinitely accept a situation in which it will be always possible--in the words of the junker, von oldenburg, member of the reichstag--for the german emperor to say to a lieutenant, "take ten men and close the reichstag"? what must be the german's appreciation of the value of military victory and militarization when, mainly because of it, he finds himself engaged in a struggle which elsewhere less militarized nations settled a generation since? and what has the english defender of the militarist regimen, who holds the german system up for imitation, to say of it as a school of national discipline, when the imperial chancellor himself defends the refusal of democratic suffrage like that obtaining in england on the ground that the prussian people have not yet acquired those qualities of public discipline which make it workable in england?[ ] yet what prussia, in the opinion of the chancellor, is not yet fit for, scandinavian nations, switzerland, holland, belgium, have fitted themselves for without the aid of military victory and subsequent regimentation. did not someone once say that the war had made germany great and germans small? when we ascribe so large a measure of germany's social progress (which no one, so far as i know, is concerned to deny) to the victories and regimentation, why do we conveniently overlook the social progress of the small states which i have just mentioned, where such progress on the material side has certainly been as great as, and on the moral side greater than, in germany? why do we overlook the fact that, if germany has done well in certain social organizations, scandinavia and switzerland have done better? and why do we overlook the fact that, if regimentation is of such social value, it has been so completely inoperative in states which are more highly militarized even than germany--in spain, italy, austria, turkey, and russia? but even assuming--a very large assumption--that regimentation has played the rôle in german progress which english germano-maniacs would have us believe, is there any justification for supposing that a like process would be in any way adaptable to english conditions social, moral, material, and historical? the position of germany since the war of --what it has stood for in the generation since victory, and what it stood for in the generations that followed defeat--furnishes a much-needed lesson as to the outcome of the philosophy of force. practically all impartial observers of germany are in agreement with mr. harbutt dawson when he writes as follows: it is questionable whether unified germany counts as much to-day as an intellectual and moral agent in the world as when it was little better than a geographical expression.... germany has at command an apparently inexhaustible reserve of physical and material force, but the real influence and power which it exerts is disproportionately small. the history of civilization is full of proofs that the two things are not synonymous. a nation's mere force is, on ultimate analysis, its sum of brute strength. this force may, indeed, go with intrinsic power, yet such power can never depend permanently on force, and the test is easy to apply.... no one who genuinely admires the best in the german character, and who wishes well to the german people, will seek to minimize the extent of the loss which would appear to have befallen the old national ideals; hence the discontent of the enlightened classes with the political laws under which they live--a discontent often vague and indefinite, the discontent of men who do not know clearly what is wrong or what they want, but feel that a free play is denied them which belongs to the dignity and worth and essence of human personality. "is there a german culture to-day?" asks fuchs.[ ] "we germans are able to perfect all works of civilizing power as well as, and indeed better than, the best in other nations. yet nothing that the heroes of labor execute goes beyond our own border." and the most extraordinary thing is that those who do not in the least deny this condition to which germany has fallen--who, indeed, exaggerate it, and ask us with triumph to look upon the brutality of german method and german conception--ask us to go and follow germany's example! most british pro-armament agitation is based upon the plea that germany is dominated by a philosophy of force. they point to books like those of general bernhardi, idealizing the employment of force, and then urge a policy of replying by force--and force only--which would, of course, justify in germany the bernhardi school, and by the reaction of opposing forces stereotype the philosophy in europe and make it part of the general european tradition. england stands in danger of becoming prussianized by virtue of the fact of fighting prussianism, or rather by virtue of the fact that, instead of fighting it with the intellectual tools that won religious freedom in europe, she insists upon confining her efforts to the tools of physical force. some of the acutest foreign students of english progress--men like edmond demolins--ascribe it to the very range of qualities which the german system is bound to crush; their aptitude for initiative, their reliance upon their own efforts, their sturdy resistance to state interference (already weakening), their impatience with bureaucracy and red tape (also weakening), all of which is wrapped up with general rebelliousness to regimentation. though the english base part of the defence of armaments on the plea that, economic interest apart, they desire to live their own life in their own way, to develop in their own fashion, do they not run some danger that with this mania for the imitation of german method they may germanize england, though never a german soldier land on their soil? of course, it is always assumed that, though the english may adopt the french and german system of conscription, they could never fall a victim to the defects of those systems, and that the scandals which break out from time to time in france and germany could never be duplicated by _their_ barrack system, and that the military atmosphere of their own barracks, the training in their own army, would always be wholesome. but what do even its defenders say? mr. blatchford himself says:[ ] barrack life is bad. barrack life will always be bad. it is never good for a lot of men to live together apart from home influences and feminine. it is not good for women to live or work in communities of women. the sexes react upon each other; each provides for the other a natural restraint, a wholesome incentive.... the barracks and the garrison town are not good for young men. the young soldier, fenced and hemmed in by a discipline unnecessarily severe, and often stupid, has at the same time an amount of license which is dangerous to all but those of strong good sense and strong will. i have seen clean, good, nice boys come into the army and go to the devil in less than a year. i am no puritan. i am a man of the world; but any sensible and honest man who has been in the army will know at once that what i am saying is entirely true, and is the truth expressed with much restraint and moderation. a few hours in a barrack-room would teach a civilian more than all the soldier stories ever written. when i joined the army i was unusually unsophisticated for a boy of twenty. i had been brought up by a mother. i had attended sunday-school and chapel. i had lived a quiet, sheltered life, and i had an astonishing amount to learn. the language of the barrack-room shocked me, appalled me. i could not understand half i heard; i could not credit much that i saw. when i began to realize the truth, i took my courage in both hands and went about the world i had come into with open eyes. so i learnt the facts, but i must not tell them.[ ] chapter v the diminishing factor of physical force: psychological results diminishing factor of physical force--though diminishing, physical force has always had an important rôle in human affairs--what is underlying principle, determining advantageous and disadvantageous use of physical force?--force that aids co-operation in accord with law of man's advance: force that is exercised for parasitism in conflict with such law and disadvantageous for both parties--historical process of the abandonment of physical force--the khan and the london tradesman--ancient rome and modern britain--the sentimental defence of war as the purifier of human life--the facts--the redirection of human pugnacity. despite the general tendency indicated by the facts dealt with in the preceding chapter, it will be urged (with perfect justice) that, though the methods of anglo-saxondom as compared with those of the spanish, portuguese, and french empires, may have been mainly commercial and industrial rather than military, war was a necessary part of expansion; that but for some fighting the anglo-saxons would have been ousted from north america or asia, or would never have gained a footing there. does this, however, prevent us establishing, on the basis of the facts exposed in the preceding chapter, a general principle sufficiently definite to serve as a practical guide in policy, and to indicate reliably a general tendency in human affairs? assuredly not. the principle which explains the uselessness of much of the force exerted by the military type of empire, and justifies in large part that employed by britain, is neither obscure nor uncertain, although empiricism, rule of thumb (which is the curse of political thinking in our days, and more than anything else stands in the way of real progress), gets over the difficulty by declaring that no principle in human affairs can be pushed to its logical or theoretical conclusion; that what may be "right in theory" is wrong in practice. thus mr. roosevelt, who expresses with such admirable force and vigor the average thoughts of his hearers or readers, takes generally this line: we must be peaceful, but not too peaceful; warlike, but not too warlike; moral, but not too moral.[ ] by such verbal mystification we are encouraged to shirk the rough and stony places along the hard road of thinking. if we cannot carry a principle to its logical conclusion, at what point are we to stop? one will fix one and another will fix another with equal justice. what is it to be "moderately" peaceful, or "moderately" warlike? temperament and predilection can stretch such limitations indefinitely. this sort of thing only darkens counsel. if a theory is right, it can be pushed to its logical conclusion; indeed, the only real test of its value is that it _can_ be pushed to its logical conclusion. if it is wrong in practice, it is wrong in theory, for the right theory will take cognizance of all the facts, not only of one set. in chapter ii. of this part (pp. - ), i have very broadly indicated the process by which the employment of physical force in the affairs of the world has been a constantly diminishing factor since the day that primitive man killed his fellow-man in order to eat him. yet throughout the whole process the employment of force has been an integral part of progress, until even to-day in the most advanced nations force--the police-force--is an integral part of their civilization. what, then, is the principle determining the advantageous and the disadvantageous employment of force? preceding the outline sketch just referred to is another sketch indicating the real biological law of man's survival and advance; the key to that law is found in co-operation between men and struggle with nature. mankind as a whole is the organism which needs to co-ordinate its parts in order to insure greater vitality by better adaptation to its environment. here, then, we get the key: force employed to secure completer co-operation between the parts, to facilitate exchange, makes for advance; force which runs counter to such co-operation, which attempts to replace the mutual benefit of exchange by compulsion, which is in any way a form of parasitism, makes for retrogression. why is the employment of force by the police justified? because the bandit refuses to co-operate. he does not offer an exchange; he wants to live as a parasite, to take by force, and give nothing in exchange. if he increased in numbers, co-operation between the various parts of the organism would be impossible; he makes for disintegration. he must be restrained, and so long as the police use their force in such restraint they are merely insuring co-operation. the police are not attempting to settle things by force; they are preventing things from being settled in that way. now, suppose that this police-force becomes the army of a political power, and the diplomats of that power say to a smaller one: "we outnumber you; we are going to annex your territory, and you are going to pay us tribute." and the smaller power says: "what are you going to give us for that tribute?" and the larger replies: "nothing. you are weak; we are strong; we gobble you up. it is the law of life; always has been--always will be to the end." now that police-force, become an army, is no longer making for co-operation; it has simply and purely taken the place of the bandits; and to approximate such an army to a police-force, and to say that because both operations involve the employment of force they both stand equally justified, is to ignore half the facts, and to be guilty of those lazy generalizations which we associate with savagery.[ ] but the difference is more than a moral one. if the reader will again return to the little sketch referred to above, he will probably agree that the diplomats of the larger power are acting in an extraordinarily stupid fashion. i say nothing of their sham philosophy (which happens, however, to be that of european statecraft to-day), by which this aggression is made to appear in keeping with the law of man's struggle for life, when, as a matter of fact, it is the very negation of that law; but we know _now_ that they are taking a course which gives the least result, even from _their_ point of view, for the effort expended. here we get the key also to the difference between the respective histories of the military empires, like spain, france, and portugal, and the more industrial type, like england, which has been touched upon in the preceding chapter. not the mere hazard of war, not a question of mere efficiency in the employment of force, has given to great britain influence in half a world, and taken it from spain, but a radical, fundamental difference in underlying principles however imperfectly realized. england's exercise of force has approximated on the whole to the rôle of police; spain's to that of the diplomats of the supposititious power just referred to. england's has made for co-operation; spain's for the embarrassment of co-operation. england's has been in keeping with the real law of man's struggle; spain's in keeping with the sham law which the "blood and iron" empiricists are forever throwing at our heads. for what has happened to all attempts to live on extorted tribute? they have all failed--failed miserably and utterly[ ]--to such an extent that to-day the exaction of tribute has become an economic impossibility. if, however, our supposititious diplomats, instead of asking for tribute, had said: "your country is in disorder; your police-force is insufficient; our merchants are robbed and killed; we will lend you police and help you to maintain order; you will pay the police their just wage, and that is all;" and had honestly kept to this office, their exercise of force would have aided human co-operation, not checked it. again, it would have been a struggle, not against man, but against the use of force; the "predominant power" would have been living, not on other men, but by more efficient organization of man's fight with nature. that is why, in the first section of this book, i have laid emphasis on the truth that the justification of past wars has no bearing on the problem which confronts us: the precise degree of fighting which was necessary a hundred and fifty years ago is a somewhat academic problem. the degree of fighting which is necessary to-day is the problem which confronts us, and a great many factors have been introduced into it since england won india and lost part of north america. the face of the world has changed, and the factors of conflict have changed radically: to ignore that is to ignore facts and to be guided by the worst form of theorizing and sentimentalism--the theorizing that will not recognize the facts. england does not need to maintain order in germany, nor germany in france; and the struggle between those nations is no part of man's struggle with nature--has no justification in the real law of human struggle; it is an anachronism; it finds its justification in a sham philosophy that will not bear the test of facts, and, responding to no real need and achieving no real purpose, is bound with increasing enlightenment to come to an end. i wish it were not everlastingly necessary to reiterate the fact that the world has moved. yet for the purposes of this discussion it is necessary. if to-day an italian warship were suddenly to bombard liverpool without warning, the bourse in rome would present a condition, and the bank-rate in rome would take a drop that would ruin tens of thousands of italians--do far more injury, probably, to italy than to england. yet if five hundred years ago italian pirates had landed from the thames and sacked london itself, not an italian in italy would have been a penny the worse for it. is it seriously urged that in the matter of the exercise of physical force, therefore, there is no difference in these two conditions: and is it seriously urged that the psychological phenomena which go with the exercise of physical force are to remain unaffected? the preceding chapter is, indeed, the historical justification of the economic truths established in the first section of this book in the terms of the facts of the present-day world, which show that the predominating factor in survival is shifting from the physical to the intellectual plane. this evolutionary process has now reached a point in international affairs which involves the complete economic futility of military force. in the last chapter but one i dealt with the psychological consequence of this profound change in the nature of man's normal activities, showing that his nature is coming more and more to adapt itself to what he normally and for the greater part of his life--in most cases all his life--is engaged in, and is losing the impulses concerned with an abnormal and unusual occupation. why have i presented the facts in this order, and dealt with the psychological result involved in this change before the change itself? i have adopted this order of treatment because the believer in war justifies his dogmatism for the most part by an appeal to what he alleges is the one dominating fact of the situation--_i.e._, that human nature is unchanging. well, as will be seen from the chapter on that subject, that alleged fact does not bear investigation. human nature is changing out of all recognition. not only is man fighting less, but he is using all forms of physical compulsion less, and as a very natural result is losing those psychological attributes that go with the employment of physical force. and he is coming to employ physical force less because accumulated evidence is pushing him more and more to the conclusion that he can accomplish more easily that which he strives for by other means. few of us realize to what extent economic pressure--and i use that term in its just sense, as meaning, not only the struggle for money, but everything implied therein, well-being, social consideration, and the rest--has replaced physical force in human affairs. the primitive mind could not conceive a world in which everything was not regulated by force: even the great minds of antiquity could not believe the world would be an industrious one unless the great mass were made industrious by the use of physical force--_i.e._, by slavery. three-fourths of those who peopled what is now italy in rome's palmiest days were slaves, chained in the fields when at work, chained at night in their dormitories, with those who were porters chained to the doorways. it was a society of slavery--fighting slaves, working slaves, cultivating slaves, official slaves, and gibbon adds that the emperor himself was a slave, "the first slave to the ceremonies he imposed." great and penetrating as were many of the minds of antiquity, none of them show much conception of any condition of society in which the economic impulse could replace physical compulsion.[ ] had they been told that the time would come when the world would work very much harder under the impulse of an abstract thing known as economic interest, they would have regarded such a statement as that of a mere sentimental theorist. indeed, one need not go so far: if one had told an american slaveholder of sixty years ago that the time would come when the south would produce more cotton under the free pressure of economic forces than under slavery, he would have made a like reply. he would probably have declared that "a good cowhide whip beats all economic pressure"--pretty much the sort of thing that one may hear from the mouth of the average militarist to-day. very "practical" and virile, of course, but it has the disadvantage of not being true. the presumed necessity for physical compulsion did not stop at slavery. as we have already seen, it was accepted as an axiom in statecraft that men's religious beliefs had to be forcibly restrained, and not merely their religious belief, but their very clothing; and we have hundreds of years of complicated sumptuary laws, hundreds of years, also, of forcible control or, rather, the attempted forcible control of prices and trade, the elaborate system of monopolies, absolute prohibition of the entrance into the country of certain foreign goods, the violation of which prohibition was treated as a penal offence. we had even the use of forced money, the refusal to accept which was treated as a penal offence. in many countries for years it was a crime to send gold abroad, all indicating the domination of the mind of man by the same curious obsession that man's life must be ruled by physical force, and it is only very slowly and very painfully that we have arrived at the truth that men will work best when left to unseen and invisible forces. a world in which physical force was withdrawn from the regulation of men's labor, faith, clothes, trade, language, travel, would have been absolutely inconceivable to even the best minds during the three or four thousand years of history which mainly concern us. what is the central explanation of the profound change involved here--the shifting of the pivot in all human affairs, in so far as they touch both the individual and the community, from physical ponderable forces to economic imponderable forces? it is surely that, strange as it may seem, the latter forces accomplish the desired result more efficiently and more readily than do the former, which even when they are not completely futile are in comparison wasteful and stultifying. it is the law of the economy of effort. indeed, the use of physical force usually involves in those employing it the same limitation of freedom (even if in lesser degree) as that which it is desired to impose. herbert spencer illustrates the process in the following suggestive passage: the exercise of mastery inevitably entails on the master himself some sort of slavery more or less pronounced. the uncultured masses and even the greater part of the cultured will regard this statement as absurd, and though many who have read history with an eye to essentials rather than to trivialities know that this is a paradox in the right sense--that is, true in fact though not seeming true--even they are not fully conscious of the mass of evidence establishing it, and will be all the better for having illustrations recalled. let me begin with the earliest and simplest which serves to symbolize the whole. here is a prisoner, with his hands tied and a cord round his neck (as suggested by figures in assyrian bas-reliefs), being led home by his savage conqueror, who intends to make him a slave. the one you say is captive and the other free. are you quite sure the other is free? he holds one end of the cord and, unless he means his captive to escape, he must continue to be fastened by keeping hold of the cord in such way that it cannot easily be detached. he must be himself tied to the captive while the captive is tied to him. in other ways his activities are impeded and certain burdens are imposed on him. a wild animal crosses the track and he cannot pursue. if he wishes to drink of the adjacent stream he must tie up his captive, lest advantage be taken of his defenceless position. moreover, he has to provide food for both. in various ways he is no longer, then, completely at liberty; and these worries adumbrate in a simple manner the universal truth that the instrumentalities by which the subordination of others is effected themselves subordinate the victor, the master, or the ruler.[ ] thus it comes that all nations attempting to live by conquest end by being themselves the victims of a military tyranny precisely similar to that which they hope to inflict; or, in other terms, that the attempt to impose by force of arms a disadvantageous commercial situation to the advantage of the conqueror ends in the conqueror's falling a victim to the very disadvantages from which he hoped by a process of spoliation to profit. but the truth that economic force always in the long run outweighs physical or military force is illustrated by the simple fact of the universal use of money--the fact that the use of money is not a thing which we choose or can shake off, but a thing imposed by the operation of forces stronger than our volition, stronger than the tyranny of the cruellest tyrant who ever reigned by blood and iron. i think it is one of the most astounding things, to the man who takes a fairly fresh mind to the study of history, that the most absolute despots--men who can command the lives of their subjects with a completeness and a nonchalance of which the modern western world furnishes no parallel--cannot command money. one asks oneself, indeed, why such an absolute ruler, able as he is by the sheer might of his position and by the sheer force of his power to take everything that exists in his kingdom, and able as he is to exact every sort and character of service, needs money, which is the means of obtaining goods or services by a freely consented exchange. yet, as we know, it is precisely, in ancient as in modern times, the most absolute despot who is often the most financially embarrassed.[ ] is not this a demonstration that in reality physical force is operative in only very narrow limits? it is no mere rhetoric, but the cold truth, to say that under absolutism it is a simple thing to get men's lives, but often impossible to get money. and the more, apparently, that physical force was exercised, the more difficult did the command of money become. and for a very simple reason--a reason which reveals in rudimentary form that principle of the economic futility of military power with which we are dealing. the phenomenon is best illustrated by a concrete case. if one go to-day into one of the independent despotisms of central asia one will find generally a picture of the most abject poverty. why? because the ruler has absolute power to take wealth whenever he sees it, to take it by any means whatever--torture, death--up to the completest limit of uncontrolled physical force. what is the result? the wealth is not created, and torture itself cannot produce a thing which is non-existent. step across the frontier into a state under british or russian protection, where the khan has some sort of limits imposed on his powers. the difference is immediately perceptible: evidence of wealth and comfort in relative profusion, and, other things being equal, the ruler, whose physical force over his subjects is limited, is a great deal richer than the ruler whose physical force over his subjects is unlimited. in other words, the farther one gets away from physical force, in the acquisition of wealth, the greater is the result for the effort expended. at the one end of the scale you get the despot in rags, exercising sway over what is probably a potentially rich territory, reduced to having to kill a man by torture in order to obtain a sum which at the other end of the scale a london tradesman will spend on a restaurant dinner for the purpose of sitting at table with a duke--or the thousandth part of the sum which the same tradesman will spend in philanthropy or otherwise, for the sake of acquiring an empty title from a monarch who has lost all power of exercising any physical force whatsoever. which process, judged by all things that men desire, gives the better result, the physical force of blood and iron which we see, or the intellectual or psychic force which we cannot see? the principle which operates in the limited fashion which i have indicated, operates with no less force in the larger domain of modern international politics. the wealth of the world is not represented by a fixed amount of gold or money now in the possession of one power, and now in the possession of another, but depends on all the unchecked multiple activities of a community for the time being. check that activity, whether by imposing tribute, or disadvantageous commercial conditions, or an unwelcome administration which sets up sterile political agitation, and you get less wealth--less wealth for the conqueror, as well as less for the conquered. the broadest statement of the case is that all experience--especially the experience indicated in the last chapter--shows that in trade by free consent, carrying mutual benefit, we get larger results for effort expended than in the exercise of physical force, which attempts to exact advantage for one party at the expense of the other. i am not arguing over again the thesis of the first part of this book; but, as we shall see presently, the general principle of the diminishing factor of physical force in the affairs of the world carries with it a psychological change in human nature which modifies radically our impulses to sheer physical conflict. what it is important just now to keep in mind, is the incalculable intensification of this diminution of physical force by our mechanical development. the principle was obviously less true for rome than it is for great britain or america: rome, however imperfectly, lived largely by tribute. the sheer mechanical development of the modern world has rendered tribute in the roman sense impossible. rome did not have to create markets and find a field for the employment of her capital. we do. what result does this carry? rome could afford to be relatively indifferent to the prosperity of her subject territory. we cannot. if the territory is not prosperous we have no market, and we have no field for our investments, and that is why we are checked at every point from doing what rome was able to do. you can to some extent exact tribute by force; you cannot compel a man to buy your goods by force if he does not want them, and has not got the money to pay for them. now, the difference which we see here has been brought about by the interaction of a whole series of mechanical changes--printing, gunpowder, steam, electricity, improved means of communication. it is the last-named which has mainly created the fact of credit. now, credit is merely an extension of the use of money, and we can no more shake off the domination of the one than we can that of the other. we have seen that the bloodiest despot is himself the slave of money, in the sense that he is compelled to employ it. in the same way no physical force can, in the modern world, set at nought the force of credit.[ ] it is no more possible for a great people of the modern world to live without credit than without money, of which it is a part. do we not here get an illustration of the fact that intangible economic forces are setting at nought the force of arms? one of the curiosities of this mechanical development, with its deep-seated psychological results, is the general failure to realize the real bearings of each step therein. printing was regarded, in the first instance, as merely a new-fangled process which threw a great many copying scribes and monks out of employment. who realized that in the simple invention of printing there was the liberation of a force greater than the power of kings? it is only here and there that we find an isolated thinker having a glimmering of the political bearing of such inventions of the conception of the great truth that the more man succeeds in his struggle with nature, the less must be the rôle of physical force between men, for the reason that human society has become, with each success in the struggle against nature, a completer organism. that is to say, that the interdependence of the parts has been increased, and that the possibility of one part injuring another without injury to itself, has been diminished. each part is more dependent on the other parts, and the impulses to injury, therefore, must in the nature of things be diminished. and that fact must, and does, daily redirect human pugnacity. and it is noteworthy that perhaps the best service which the improvement of the instruments of man's struggle with nature performs is the improvement of human relations. machinery and the steam-engine have done something more than make fortunes for manufacturers: they have abolished human slavery, as aristotle foresaw they would. it was impossible for men in the mass to be other than superstitious and irrational until they had the printed book.[ ] "roads that are formed for the circulation of wealth become channels for the circulation of ideas, and render possible that simultaneous action upon which all liberty depends." banking done by telegraphy concerns much more than the stockbroker: it demonstrates clearly and dramatically the real interdependence of nations, and is destined to transform the mind of the statesman. our struggle is with our environment, not with one another; and those who talk as though struggle between the parts of the same organism must necessarily go on, and as though impulses which are redirected every day can never receive the particular redirection involved in abandoning the struggle between states, ignorantly adopt the formula of science, but leave half the facts out of consideration. and just as the direction of the impulses will be changed, so will the character of the struggle be changed; the force which we shall use for our needs will be the force of intelligence, of hard work, of character, of patience, self-control, and a developed brain, and pugnacity and combativeness which, instead of being used up and wasted in world conflicts of futile destructiveness, will be, and are being, diverted into the steady stream of rationally-directed effort. the virile impulses become, not the tyrant and master, but the tool and servant of the controlling brain. the conception of abstract imponderable forces by the human mind is a very slow process. all man's history reveals this. the theologian has always felt this difficulty. for thousands of years men could only conceive of evil as an animal with horns and a tail, going about the world devouring folk; abstract conceptions had to be made understandable by a crude anthropomorphism. perhaps it is better that humanity should have some glimmering of the great facts of the universe, even though interpreted by legends of demons, and goblins, and fairies, and the rest; but we cannot overlook the truth that the facts are distorted in the process, and our advance in the conception of morals is marked largely by the extent to which we can form an abstract conception of the fact of evil--none the less a fact because unembodied--without having to translate it into a non-existent person or animal with a forked tail. as our advance in the understanding of morality is marked by our dropping these crude physical conceptions, is it not likely that our advance in the understanding of those social problems, which so nearly affect our general well-being, will be marked in like manner? is it not somewhat childish and elementary to conceive of force only as the firing off of guns and the launching of _dreadnoughts_, of struggle as the physical struggle between men, instead of the application of man's energies to his contest with the planet? is not the time coming when the real struggle will inspire us with the same respect and even the same thrill as that now inspired by a charge in battle; especially as the charges in battle are getting very out of date, and are shortly to disappear from our warfare? the mind which can only conceive of struggle as bombardment and charges is, of course, the dervish mind. not that fuzzy-wuzzy is not a fine fellow. he is manly, sturdy, hardy, with a courage, and warlike qualities generally, which no european can equal. but the frail and spectacled english official is his master, and a few score of such will make themselves the masters of teeming thousands of sudanese; the relatively unwarlike englishman is doing the same thing all over asia, and he is doing it simply by virtue of superior brain and character, more thought, more rationalism, more steady and controlled hard work. the american is doing the same in the philippines. it may be said that it is superior armament which does it. but what is the superior armament but the result of superior thought and work? and even without the superior armament the larger intelligence would still do it; for what the englishman and american do, the roman did of old, with the same arms as the inhabitants of his vassal worlds. force is indeed the master, but it is the force of intelligence, character, and rationalism. i can imagine the contempt with which the man of physical force greets the foregoing. to fight with words, to fight with talk! no, not words, but ideas. and something more than ideas. their translation into practical effort, into organization, into the direction and administration of organization, into the strategy and tactics of human life. what, indeed, is modern warfare in its highest phases but this? is it not altogether out of date and ignorant to picture soldiering as riding about on horseback, bivouacking in forests, sleeping in tents, and dashing gallantly at the head of shining regiments in plumes and breastplates, and pounding in serried ranks against the equally serried ranks of the cruel foe, storming breaches as the "war," in short, of mr. henty's books for boys? how far does such a conception correspond to the reality--to the german conception? even if the whole picture were not out of date, what proportion of the most military nation would ever be destined to witness it or to take part in it? not one in ten thousand. what is the character even of military conflict but, for the most part, years of hard and steady work, somewhat mechanical, somewhat divorced from real life, but not a whit more exciting? that is true of all ranks; and in the higher ranks of the directing mind war has become an almost purely intellectual process. was it not the late w.h. steevens who painted lord kitchener as the sort of man who would have made an admirable manager of harrod's stores; who fought all his battles in his study, and regarded the actual fighting as the mere culminating incident in the whole process, the dirty and noisy part of it, which he would have been glad to get away from? the real soldiers of our time--those who represent the brain of the armies--have a life not very different from that of men of any intellectual calling; much less of physical strife than is called for in many civil occupations; less than falls to the lot of engineers, ranchers, sailors, miners, and so on. even with armies the pugnacity must be translated into intellectual and not into physical effort.[ ] the very fact that war was long an activity which was in some sense a change and relaxation from the more intellectual strife of peaceful life, in which work was replaced by danger, thought by adventure, accounted in no small part for its attraction for men. but, as we have seen, war is becoming as hopelessly intellectual and scientific as any other form of work: officers are scientists, the men are workmen, the army is a machine, battles are "tactical operations," the charge is becoming out of date; a little while and war will become the least romantic of all professions. in this domain, as in all others, intellectual force is replacing sheer physical force, and we are being pushed by the necessities even of this struggle to be more rational in our attitude to war, to rationalize our study of it; and as our attitude generally becomes more scientific, so will the purely impulsive element lose its empire over us. that is one factor; but, of course, there is the greater one. our respect and admiration goes in the long run, despite momentary setbacks, to those qualities which achieve the results at which we are all, in common, aiming. if those results are mainly intellectual, it is the intellectual qualities that will receive the tribute of our admiration. we do not make a man president because he holds the light-weight boxing championship, and nobody knows or cares whether mr. wilson or mr. taft would be the better man at golf. but in a condition of society in which physical force was still the determining factor it would matter all in the world, and even when other factors had obtained considerable weight, as during the middle ages, physical combat went for a great deal: the knight in his shining armor established his prestige by his prowess in arms, and the vestige of this still remains in those countries that retain the duel. to some small extent--a very small extent--a man's dexterity with sword and pistol will affect his political prestige in paris, rome, budapest, or berlin. but these are just interesting vestiges, which in the case of anglo-saxon societies have disappeared entirely. my commercial friend who declares that he works fifteen hours a day mainly for the purpose of going one better than his commercial rival across the street, must beat that rival in commerce, not in arms; it would satisfy no pride of either to "have it out" in the back garden in their shirt-sleeves. nor is there the least danger that one will stick a knife into the other. are all these factors to leave the national relationship unaffected? have they left it unaffected? does the military prowess of russia or of turkey inspire any particular satisfaction in the minds of the individual russian or of the individual turk? does it inspire europe with any especial respect? would not most of us just as soon be a non-military american as a military turk? do not, in short, all the factors show that sheer physical force is losing its prestige as much in the national as in the personal relationship? i am not overlooking the case of germany. does the history of germany, during the last half-century, show the blind instinctive pugnacity which is supposed to be so overpowering an element in international relationship as to outweigh all question of material interest? does the commonly accepted history of the trickery and negotiation which preceded the conflict, the cool calculation of those who swayed germany's policy during those years, show that subordination to the blind lust for battle which the militarist would persuade us is always to be an element in our international conflict? does it not, on the contrary, show that german destinies were swayed by very cool and calculating motives of interest, though interest interpreted in terms of political and economic doctrines which the development of the last thirty years or so has demonstrated to be obsolete? nor am i overlooking the "prussian tradition," the fact of a firmly entrenched, aristocratic status, the intellectual legacy of pagan knighthood and heaven knows what else. but even a prussian junker becomes less of an energumen as he becomes more of a scientist,[ ] and although german science has of late spent its energies in somewhat arid specialization, the influence of more enlightened conceptions in sociology and statecraft must sooner or later emerge from any thoroughgoing study of political and economic problems. of course, there are survivals of the old temper, but can it seriously be argued that, when the futility of physical force to accomplish those ends towards which we are all striving is fully demonstrated, we shall go on maintaining war as a sort of theatrical entertainment? has such a thing ever happened in the past, when our impulses and "sporting" instincts came into conflict with our larger social and economic interests? all this, in other words, involves a great deal more than the mere change in the character of warfare. it involves a fundamental change in our psychological attitude thereto. not only does it show that on every side, even the military side, conflict must become less impulsive and instinctive, more rational and sustained, less the blind strife of mutually hating men, and more and more the calculated effort to a definite end; but it will affect the very well-springs of much of the present defence of war. why is it that the authorities i have quoted in the first chapter of this section--mr. roosevelt, von moltke, renan, and the english clergymen--sing the praises of war as such a valuable school of morals?[ ] do these war advocates urge that war itself is desirable? would they urge going to war unnecessarily or unjustly merely because it is good for us? emphatically no. their argument, in the last analysis, resolves itself into this: that war, though bad, has redeeming qualities, as teaching staunchness, courage, and the rest. well, so has cutting our legs off, or an operation for appendicitis. whoever composed epics on typhoid fever or cancer? such advocates might object to the efficient policing of a town because, if it was full of cut-throats, the inhabitants would be taught courage. one can almost imagine this sort of teacher pouring scorn upon those weaklings who want to call upon the police for protection, and saying, "police are for sentimentalists and cowards and men of slothful ease. what will become of the strenuous life if you introduce police?"[ ] the whole thing falls to the ground; and if we do not compose poems about typhoid it is because typhoid does not attract us and war does. that is the bottom of the whole matter, and it simplifies things a great deal to admit honestly that while no one is thrilled by the spectacle of disease, most of us are thrilled by the spectacle of war--that while none of us are fascinated by the spectacle of a man struggling with a disease, most of us are by the spectacle of men struggling with one another in war. there is something in warfare, in its story and in its paraphernalia, which profoundly stirs the emotions and sends the blood tingling through the veins of the most peaceable of us, and appeals to i know not what remote instincts, to say nothing of our natural admiration for courage, our love of adventure, of intense movement and action. but this romantic fascination resides to no small extent in that very spectacular quality of which modern conditions are depriving war. as we become a little more educated, we realize that human psychology is a complex and not a simple thing; that because we yield ourselves to the thrill of the battle spectacle we are not bound to conclude that the processes behind it, and the nature behind it, are necessarily all admirable; that the readiness to die is not the only test of virility or a fine or noble nature. in the book to which i have just referred (mr. steevens' "with kitchener to khartoum") one may read the following: and the dervishes? the honor of the fight must still go with the men who died. our men were perfect, but the dervishes were superb--beyond perfection. it was their largest, best, and bravest army that ever fought against us for mahdism, and it died worthily for the huge empire that mahdism won and kept so long. their riflemen, mangled by every kind of death and torment that man can devise, clung round the black flag and the green, emptying their poor, rotten home-made cartridges dauntlessly. their spearmen charged death every minute hopelessly. their horsemen led each attack, riding into the bullets till nothing was left.... not one rush, or two, or ten, but rush on rush, company on company, never stopping, though all their view that was not unshaken enemy was the bodies of the men who had rushed before them. a dusky line got up and stormed forward: it bent, broke up, fell apart, and disappeared. before the smoke had cleared another line was bending and storming forward in the same track.... from the green army there now came only death-enamored desperadoes, strolling one by one towards the rifles, pausing to take a spear, turning aside to recognize a corpse, then, caught by a sudden jet of fury, bounding forward, checking, sinking limply to the ground. now under the black flag in a ring of bodies stood only three men, facing the three thousand of the third brigade. they folded their arms about the staff and gazed steadily forward. two fell. the last dervish stood up and filled his chest; he shouted the name of his god and hurled his spear. then he stood quite still, waiting. it took him full; he quivered, gave at the knees, and toppled with his head on his arms and his face towards the legions of his conquerors." let us be honest. is there anything in european history--cambronne, the light brigade, anything you like--more magnificent than this? if we are honest we shall say, no. but note what follows in mr. steevens' narrative. what sort of nature should we expect those savage heroes to display? cruel, perhaps; but at least loyal. they will stand by their chief. men who can die like that will not betray him for gain. they are uncorrupted by commercialism. well, a few chapters after the scene just described, one may read this: as a ruler the khalifa finished when he rode out of omdurman. his own pampered baggara horsemen killed his herdsmen and looted the cattle that were to feed them. somebody betrayed the position of the reserve camels.... his followers took to killing one another.... the whole population of the khalifa's capital was now racing to pilfer the khalifa's grain.... wonderful workings of the savage mind! six hours before they were dying in regiments for their master; now they were looting his corn. six hours before they were slashing our wounded to pieces; now they were asking us for coppers. this difficulty with the soldier's psychology is not special to dervishes or to savages. an able and cultivated british officer writes: soldiers as a class are men who have disregarded the civil standard of morality altogether. they simply ignore it. it is no doubt why civilians fight shy of them. in the game of life they do not play the same rules, and the consequence is a good deal of misunderstanding, until finally the civilian says he will not play with tommy any more. in soldiers' eyes lying, theft, drunkenness, bad language, etc., are not evils at all. they steal like jackdaws. as to language, i used to think the language of a merchant ship's forecastle pretty bad, but the language of tommies, in point of profanity and in point of obscenity, beats it hollow. this department is a speciality of his. lying he treats with the same large charity. to lie like a trooper is quite a sound metaphor. he invents all sorts of elaborate lies for the mere pleasure of inventing them. looting, again, is one of his preferred joys, not merely looting for profit, but looting for the sheer fun of the destruction.[ ] (please, please, dear reader, do not say that i am slandering the british soldier. i am quoting a british officer, and a british officer, moreover, who is keenly in sympathy with the person that he has just been describing.) he adds: are thieving, and lying, and looting, and bestial talk very bad things? if they are, tommy is a bad man. but for some reason or other, since i got to know him, i have thought rather less of the iniquity of these things than i did before. i do not know which of the two passages that i have quoted is the more striking commentary on the moral influence of military training; that such training should have the effect which captain march phillips describes, or (as mr. j.a. hobson in his "psychology of jingoism" says) that the second judgment should be given by a man of sterling character and culture--the judgment, that thieving, and lying, and looting, and bestial talk do not matter. which fact constitutes the severer condemnation of the ethical atmosphere of militarism and military training? which is the more convincing testimony to the corrupting influences of war?[ ] to do the soldiers justice, they very rarely raise this plea of war being a moral training-school. "war itself," said an officer on one occasion, "is an infernally dirty business. but somebody has got to do the dirty work of the world, and i am glad to think that it is the business of the soldier to prevent rather than to make war." not that i am concerned to deny that we owe a great deal to the soldier. i do not know even why we should deny that we owe a great deal to the viking. neither the one nor the other was in every aspect despicable. both have bequeathed a heritage of courage, sturdiness, hardihood, and a spirit of ordered adventure; the capacity to take hard knocks and to give them; comradeship and rough discipline--all this and much more. it is not true to say of any emotion that it is wholly and absolutely good, or wholly and absolutely bad. the same psychological force which made the vikings destructive and cruel pillagers made their descendants sturdy and resolute pioneers and colonists; and the same emotional force which turns so much of africa into a sordid and bloody shambles would, with a different direction and distribution, turn it into a garden. is it for nothing that the splendid scandinavian race, who have converted their rugged and rock-strewn peninsula into a group of prosperous and stable states, which are an example to europe, and have infused the great anglo-saxon stock with something of their sane but noble idealism, have the blood of vikings in their veins? is there no place for the free play of all the best qualities of the viking and the soldier in a world still sadly in need of men with courage enough, for instance, to face the truth, however difficult it may seem, however unkind to our pet prejudices? there is not the least necessity for the peace advocate to ignore facts in this matter. the race of man loves a soldier just as boys love the pirate, and many of us, perhaps to our great advantage, remain in part boys our lives through. but as, growing out of boyhood, we regretfully discover the sad fact that we cannot be pirates, that we cannot even hunt indians, nor be scouts, nor even trappers, so surely the time has come to realize that we have grown out of soldiering. the romantic appeal of the ventures of the old vikings, and even later of piracy,[ ] was as great as that of war. yet we superseded the viking, and we hanged the pirate, though i doubt not we loved him while we hanged him; and i am not aware that those who urged the suppression of piracy were vilified, except by the pirates, as maudlin sentimentalists, who ignored human nature, or, in homer lea's phrase, as "half-educated, sick-brained visionaries, denying the inexorability of the primordial law of struggle." piracy interfered seriously with the trade and industry of those who desired to earn for themselves as good a living as they could get, and to obtain from this imperfect world all that it had to offer. piracy was magnificent, doubtless, but it was not business. we are prepared to sing about the viking, but not to tolerate him on the high seas; and some of us who are quite prepared to give the soldier his due place in poetry and legend and romance, quite prepared to admit, with mr. roosevelt and von moltke and the rest, the qualities which perhaps we owe to him, and without which we should be poor folk indeed, are nevertheless inquiring whether the time has not come to place him (or a good portion of him) gently on the poetic shelf with the viking; or at least to find other fields for those activities which, however much we may be attracted by them, have in their present form little place in a world in which, though, as bacon has said, men like danger better than travail, travail is bound, alas!--despite ourselves--to be our lot. chapter vi the state as a person: a false analogy and its consequences why aggression upon a state does not correspond to aggression upon an individual--our changing conception of collective responsibility--psychological progress in this connection--recent growth of factors breaking down the homogeneous personality of states. despite the common idea to the contrary, we dearly love an abstraction--especially, apparently, an abstraction which is based on half the facts. whatever the foregoing chapters may have proved, they have at least proved this: that the character of the modern state, by virtue of a multitude of new factors which are special to our age, is essentially and fundamentally different from that of the ancient. yet even those who have great and justified authority in this matter will still appeal to aristotle's conception of the state as final, with the implication that everything which has happened since aristotle's time should be calmly disregarded. what some of those things are, the preceding chapters have indicated: first, there is the fact of the change in human nature itself, bound up with the general drift away from the use of physical force--a drift explained by the unromantic fact that physical force does not give so much response to expended effort as do other forms of energy. there is an interconnection of psychological and purely mechanical development in all this which it is not necessary to disentangle here. the results are evident enough. very rarely, and to an infinitesimal extent, do we now employ force for the achievement of our ends. there is still a factor, however, which remains to be considered, and which has perhaps a more direct bearing on the question of continued conflict between nations than any of the other factors. conflicts between nations and international pugnacity generally imply a conception of a state as a homogeneous whole, having the same sort of responsibility that we attach to a person who, hitting us, provokes us to hit back. now only to a very small and rapidly diminishing extent can a state be regarded as such a person. there may have been a time--aristotle's time--when this was possible; but it is now impossible. yet the fine-spun theories on which are based the necessity for the use of force, as between nations, and the proposition that the relationship of nations can only be determined by force, and that international pugnacity will always be expressed by a physical struggle between nations, all arise from this fatal analogy, which in truth corresponds to very few of the facts. thus professor spenser wilkinson, whose contributions to this subject have such deserved weight, implies that what will permanently render the abandonment of force between nations impossible is the principle that "the employment of force for the maintenance of right is the foundation of all civilized human life, for it is the fundamental function of the state, and apart from the state there is no civilization, no life worth living.... the mark of the state is sovereignty, or the identification of force and right, and the measure of the perfection of the state is furnished by the completeness of this identification." this, whether true or not, is irrelevant to the matter in hand. professor spenser wilkinson attempts to illustrate his thesis by quoting a case which would seem to imply that those who take their stand against the necessity of armaments do so on the ground that the employment of force is wicked. there may be those who do this, but it is not necessary to introduce the question of right. if means other than force give the same result more easily, with less effort to ourselves, why discuss the abstract right? when professor spenser wilkinson reinforces the appeal to this irrelevant abstract principle by a case which, while apparently relevant, is in truth irrelevant, he has successfully confused the whole issue. after quoting three verses from the fifth chapter of matthew, he says:[ ] there are those who believe, or fancy they believe, that the words i have quoted involve the principle that the use of force or violence between man and man or between nation and nation is wicked. to the man who thinks it right to submit to any violence or be killed rather than use violence in resistance i have no reply to make; the world cannot conquer him, and fear has no hold upon him. but even he can carry out his doctrine only to the extent of allowing himself to be ill-treated, as i will now convince him. many years ago the people of lancashire were horrified by the facts reported in a trial for murder. in a village on the outskirts of bolton lived a young woman, much liked and respected as a teacher in one of the board-schools. on her way home from school she was accustomed to follow a footpath through a lonely wood, and here one evening her body was found. she had been strangled by a ruffian who had thought in this lonely place to have his wicked will of her. she had resisted successfully, and he had killed her in the struggle. fortunately the murderer was caught, and the facts ascertained from circumstantial evidence were confirmed by his confession. now the question i have to ask the man who takes his stand on the passage quoted from the gospel is this: "what would have been your duty had you been walking through that wood and came upon the girl struggling with the man who killed her?" this is the crucial factor which, i submit, utterly destroys the doctrine that the use of violence is in itself wrong. the right or wrong is not in the employment of force, but simply in the purpose for which it is used. what the case establishes, i think, is that to use violence in resistance to violent wrong is not only right, but necessary. the above presents, very cleverly, the utterly false analogy with which we are dealing. professor spenser wilkinson's cleverness, indeed, is a little machiavellian, because he approximates non-resisters of a very extreme type to those who advocate agreement among nations in the matter of armaments--a false approximation, for the proportion of those who advocate the reduction of armaments on such grounds is so small that they can be disregarded in this discussion. a movement which is identified with some of the acutest minds in european affairs cannot be disposed of by associating it with such a theory. but the basis of the fallacy is in the approximation of a state to a person. now a state is not a person, and is becoming less so every day, and the difficulty, which professor spenser wilkinson indicates, is a doctrinaire difficulty, not a real one. professor wilkinson would have us infer that a state can be injured or killed in the same simple way in which it is possible to kill or injure a person, and that because there must be physical force to restrain aggression upon persons, there must be physical force to restrain aggression upon states; and because there must be physical force to execute the judgment of a court of law in the case of individuals, there must be physical force to execute the judgment rendered by a decision as to differences between states. all of which is false, and arrived at by approximating a person to a state, and disregarding the numberless facts which render a person different from a state. how do we know that these difficulties are doctrinaire ones? it is the british empire which supplies the answer. the british empire is made up in large part of practically independent states, and great britain not only exercises no control over their acts, but has surrendered in advance any intention of employing force concerning them.[ ] the british states have disagreements among themselves. they may or may not refer their differences to the british government, but if they do, is great britain going to send an army to canada, say, to enforce her judgment? everyone knows that that is impossible. even when one state commits what is in reality a serious breach of international comity on another, not only does great britain refrain from using force herself, but so far as she interferes at all, it is to prevent the employment of physical force. for years now british indians have been subjected to most cruel and unjust treatment in the state of natal.[ ] the british government makes no secret of the fact that she regards this treatment as unjust and cruel; were natal a foreign state, it is conceivable that she would employ force, but, following the principle laid down by sir c.p. lucas, "whether they are right or whether they are wrong, more perhaps when they are wrong than when they are right, they cannot be made amenable by force," the two states are left to adjust the difficulty as best they may, without resort to force. in the last resort the british empire reposes upon the expectation that its colonies will behave as civilized communities, and in the long run the expectation is, of course, a well-founded one, because, if they do not so behave, retribution will come more surely by the ordinary operation of social and economic forces than it could come by any force of arms. the case of the british empire is not an isolated one. the fact is that most of the states of the world maintain their relations one with another without any possibility of a resort to force; half the states of the world have no means of enforcing by arms such wrongs as they may suffer at the hands of other states. thousands of englishmen, for instance, make their homes in switzerland, and it has happened that wrongs have been suffered by englishmen at the hands of the swiss government. would, however, the relations between the two states, or the practical standard of protection of british subjects in switzerland, be any the better were switzerland the whole time threatened by the might of great britain? switzerland knows that she is practically free from the possibility of the exercise of that force, but this has not prevented her from behaving as a civilized community towards british subjects. what is the real guarantee of the good behavior of one state to another? it is the elaborate interdependence which, not only in the economic sense, but in every sense, makes an unwarrantable aggression of one state upon another react upon the interests of the aggressor. switzerland has every interest in affording an absolutely secure asylum to british subjects; that fact, and not the might of the british empire, gives protection to british subjects in switzerland. where, indeed, the british subject has to depend upon the force of his government for protection it is a very frail protection indeed, because in practice the use of that force is so cumbersome, so difficult, so costly, that any other means are to be preferred to it. when the traveller in greece had to depend upon british arms, great as was relatively the force of those arms, it proved but a very frail protection. in the same way, when physical force was used to impose on the south american and central american states the observance of their financial obligations, such efforts failed utterly and miserably--so miserably that great britain finally surrendered any attempt at such enforcement. what other means have succeeded? the bringing of those countries under the influence of the great economic currents of our time, so that now property is infinitely more secure in argentina than it was when british gunboats were bombarding her ports. more and more in international relationship is the purely economic motive--and the economic motive is only one of several possible ones--being employed to replace the use of physical force. austria, the other day, was untouched by any threat of the employment of the turkish army when the annexation of bosnia and herzegovina was consummated, but when the turkish population enforced a very successful commercial boycott of austrian goods and austrian ships, austrian merchants and public opinion made it quickly plain to the austrian government that pressure of this nature could not be disregarded. i anticipate the plea that while the elaborate interconnection of economic relations renders the employment of force as between nations unnecessary in so far as their material interests are concerned, those forces cannot cover a case of aggression upon what may be termed the moral property of nations. a critic of the first edition of this book[ ] writes: the state is the only complete form in which human society exists, and there are a multitude of phenomena which will be found only as manifestations of human life in the form of a society united by the political bond into a state. the products of such society are law, literature, art, and science, and it has yet to be shown that apart from that form of society known as the state, the family or education or development of character is possible. the state, in short, is an organism or living thing which can be wounded and can be killed, and like every other living thing requires protection against wounding and destruction.... conscience and morals are products of social and not of individual life, and to say that the sole purpose of the state is to make possible a decent livelihood is as though a man should say that the sole object of human life is to satisfy the interests of existence. a man cannot live any kind of life without food, clothing, and shelter, but that condition does not abolish or diminish the value of the life industrial, the life intellectual, or the life artistic. the state is the condition of all these lives, and its purpose is to sustain them. that is why the state must defend itself. in the ideal, the state represents and embodies the whole people's conception of what is true, of what is beautiful, and of what is right, and it is the sublime quality of human nature that every great nation has produced citizens ready to sacrifice themselves rather than submit to an external force attempting to dictate to them a conception other than their own of what is right. one is, of course, surprised to see the foregoing in the london _morning post_; the concluding phrase would justify the present agitation in india or in egypt or ireland against british rule. what is that agitation but an attempt on the part of the peoples of those provinces to resist "an external force attempting to dictate to them a conception other than their own of what is right"? fortunately, however, for british imperialism, a people's conception of "what is true, of what is beautiful, and of what is right," and their maintenance of that conception, need not necessarily have anything whatever to do with the particular administrative conditions under which they may live--the only thing that a conception of a "state" predicates. the fallacy which runs through the whole passage just quoted, and which makes it, in fact, nonsense, is the same fallacy which dominates the quotation that i have made from professor spenser wilkinson's book, "britain at bay"--namely, the approximation of a state to a person, the assumption that the political delimitation coincides with the economic and moral delimitation, that in short a state is the embodiment of "the whole people's conception of what is true, etc." a state is nothing of the sort. take the british empire. this state embodies not a homogeneous conception, but a series of often absolutely contradictory conceptions of "what is true, etc."; it embodies the mohammedan, the buddhist, the copt, the catholic, the protestant, the pagan conceptions of right and truth. the fact which vitiates the whole of this conception of a state is that the frontiers which define the state do not coincide with the conception of any of those things which the london _morning post_ critic has enumerated; there is no such thing as british morality as opposed to french or german morality, or art or industry. one may, indeed, talk of an english conception of life, because that is a conception of life peculiar to england, but it would be opposed to the conception of life in other parts of the same state, in ireland, in scotland, in india, in egypt, in jamaica. and what is true of england is true of all the great modern states. every one of them includes conceptions absolutely opposed to other conceptions in the same state, but many of them absolutely agree with conceptions in foreign states. the british state includes, in ireland, a catholic conception in cordial agreement with the catholic conception in italy, but in cordial disagreement with the protestant conception in scotland, or the mohammedan conception in bengal. the real divisions of all those ideals, which the critic enumerates, cut right across state divisions, disregarding them entirely. yet, again, it is only the state divisions which military conflict has in view. what was one of the reasons leading to the cessation of religious wars between states? it was that religious conceptions cut across the state frontiers, so that the state ceased to coincide with the religious divisions of europe, and a condition of things was brought about in which a protestant sweden was allied with a catholic france. this rendered the conflict absurd, and religious wars became an anachronism. is not precisely the same thing taking place with reference to the conflicting conceptions of life which now separate men in christendom? have not we in america the same doctrinal struggle which is going on in france and germany and great britain? to take one instance--social conflict. on the one side in each case are all the interests bound up with order, authority, individual freedom, without reference to the comfort of the weak, and on the other the reconstruction of human society along hitherto untried lines. these problems are for most men probably--are certainly coming to be, if they are not now--much more profound and fundamental than any conception which coincides with or can be identified with state divisions. indeed, what are the conceptions of which the divisions coincide with the political frontiers of the british empire, in view of the fact that that empire includes nearly every race and nearly every religion under the sun? it may be said, of course, that in the case of germany and russia we have an autocratic conception of social organization as compared with a conception based on individual freedom in england and america. both mr. hyndman and mr. blatchford seem to take this view. "to me," says the former, "it is quite evident that if we socialists were to achieve success we should at once be liable to attack from without by the military powers," an opinion which calmly overlooks the fact that socialism and anti-militarism have gone much farther and are far better organized in the "military" states than they are in england, and that the military governments have all their work cut out as it is to keep those tendencies in check within their own borders, without quixotically undertaking to perform the same service in other states. this conception of the state as the political embodiment of homogeneous doctrine is due in large part not only to the distortion produced by false analogy, but to the survival of a terminology which has become obsolete, and, indeed, the whole of this subject is vitiated by those two things. the state in ancient times was much more a personality than it is to-day, and it is mainly quite modern tendencies which have broken up its doctrinal homogeneity, and that break-up has results which are of the very first importance in their bearing upon international pugnacity. the matter deserves careful examination. professor william mcdougal, in his fascinating work, "an introduction to social psychology," says in the chapter on the instinct of pugnacity: the replacement of individual by collective pugnacity is most clearly illustrated by barbarous peoples living in small, strongly organized communities. within such communities individual combat and even expressions of personal anger may be almost completely suppressed, while the pugnacious instinct finds itself in perpetual warfare between communities whose relations remain subject to no law. as a rule no material benefit is gained, and often none is sought, in these tribal wars.... all are kept in constant fear of attack, whole villages are often exterminated, and the population is in this way kept down very far below the limit at which any pressure on the means of subsistence could arise. this perpetual warfare, like the squabbles of a roomful of quarrelsome children, seems to be almost wholly and directly due to the uncomplicated operation of the instinct of pugnacity. no material benefits are sought; a few heads and sometimes a slave or two are the only trophies gained, and if one asks an intelligent chief why he keeps up this senseless practice, the best reason he can give is that unless he does so his neighbors will not respect him and his people, and will fall upon them and exterminate them. now, how does such hostility as that indicated in this passage differ from the hostility which marks international differences in our day? in certain very evident respects. it does not suffice that the foreigner should be merely a foreigner for us to want to kill him: there must be some conflict of interest. the english are completely indifferent to the scandinavian, the belgian, the dutchman, the spaniard, the austrian, and the italian, and are supposed for the moment to be greatly in love with the french. the german is the enemy. but ten years ago it was the frenchman who was the enemy, and mr. chamberlain was talking of an alliance with the germans--england's natural allies, he called them--while it was for france that he reserved his attacks.[ ] it cannot be, therefore, that there is any inherent racial hostility in english national character, because the germans have not changed their nature in ten years, nor the french theirs. if to-day the french are england's quasi-allies and the germans her enemies, it is simply because their respective interests or apparent interests have modified in the last ten years, and their political preferences have modified with them. in other words, national hostilities follow the exigencies of real or imagined political interests. surely the point need not be labored, seeing that england has boxed the compass of the whole of europe in her likes and dislikes, and poured her hatred upon the spaniards, the dutch, the americans, the danes, the russians, the germans, the french, and again the germans, all in turn. the phenomenon is a commonplace of individual relationship: "i never noticed his collars were dirty till he got in my way," said someone of a rival. the second point of difference with professor mcdougal's savage is that when we get to grips our conflict does not include the whole tribe; we do not, in the biblical fashion, exterminate men, women, children, and cattle. enough of the old adam remains for us to detest the women and children, so that an english poet could write of the "whelps and dams of murderous foes"; but we no longer slaughter them.[ ] but there is a third fact which we must note--that professor mcdougal's nation was made up of a single tribe entirely homogeneous. even the fact of living across a river was sufficient to turn another tribe into foreigners and to involve a desire to kill them. the development from that stage to the present has involved, in addition to the two factors just enumerated, this: we now include as fellow-countrymen many who would under the old conception necessarily be foreigners, and the process of our development, economic and otherwise, has made of foreigners, between whom, in homer lea's philosophy, there should exist this "primordial hostility leading inevitably to war," one state from which all conflict of interest has disappeared entirely. the modern state of france includes what were, even in historical times, eighty separate and warring states, since each of the old gallic cities represented a different state. in england people have come to regard as fellow-citizens between whom there can be no sort of conflict of interest scores of tribes that spent their time mutually throat-cutting at no very distant period, as history goes. anyone, particularly americans, can recognize, indeed, that profound national differences like those which exist between the welshman and the englishman, or the scotsman and the irishman, need involve not only no conflict of interest, but even no separate political existence. one has heard in recent times of the gradual revival of nationalism, and it is commonly argued that the principle of nationality must stand in the way of co-operation between states. but the facts do not justify that conclusion for a moment. the formation of states has disregarded national divisions altogether. if conflicts are to coincide with national divisions, wales should co-operate with brittany and ireland against normandy and england; provence and savoy with sardinia against--i do not know what french province, because in the final rearrangement of european frontiers races and provinces have become so inextricably mixed, and have paid so little regard to "natural" and "inherent" divisions, that it is no longer possible to disentangle them. in the beginning the state is a homogeneous tribe or family, and in the process of economic and social development these divisions so far break down that a state may include, as the british state does, not only half a dozen different races in the mother country, but a thousand different races scattered over various parts of the earth--white, black, yellow, brown, copper-colored. this, surely, is one of the great sweeping tendencies of history--a tendency which operates immediately any complicated economic life is set up. what justification have we, therefore, for saying dogmatically that a tendency to co-operation, which has swept before it profound ethnic differences, social and political divisions, which has been constant from the dawn of men's attempts to live and labor together, is to stop at the wall of modern state divisions, which represent none of the profound divisions of the human race, but mainly mere administrative convenience, and embody a conception which is being every day profoundly modified? some indication of the processes involved in this development has already been given in the outline sketch in chapter ii. of this section, to which the reader may be referred. i have there attempted to make plain that _pari passu_ with the drift from physical force towards economic inducement goes a corresponding diminution of pugnacity, until the psychological factor which is the exact reverse of pugnacity comes to have more force even than the economic one. quite apart from any economic question, it is no longer possible for any government to order the extermination of a whole population, of the women and children, in the old biblical style. in the same way, the greater economic interdependence which improved means of communication have provoked must carry with it a greater moral interdependence, and a tendency which has broken down profound national divisions, like those which separated the celt and the saxon, will certainly break down on the psychological side divisions which are obviously more artificial. among the multiple factors which have entered into the great sweeping tendency just mentioned are one or two which stand out as most likely to have immediate effect on the breakdown of a purely psychological hostility embodied by merely state divisions. one is that lessening of the reciprocal sentiment of collective responsibility which the complex heterogeneity of the modern state involves. what do i mean by this sense of collective responsibility? to the chinese boxer all europeans are "foreign devils"; between germans, english, russians, there is little distinction, just as to the black in africa there is little differentiation between the various white races. even the yokel in england talks of "them foreigners." if a chinese boxer is injured by a frenchman, he kills a german, and feels himself avenged--they are all "foreign devils." when an african tribe suffers from the depredations of a belgian trader, the next white man who comes into its territory, whether he happens to be an englishman or a frenchman, loses his life; the tribesmen also feel themselves avenged. but if the chinese boxer had our clear conception of the different european nations, he would feel no psychological satisfaction in killing a german because a frenchman had injured him. there must be in the boxer's mind some collective responsibility as between the two europeans, or in the negro's mind between the two white men, in order to obtain this psychological satisfaction. if that collective responsibility does not exist, the hostility to the second white man, in each case, is not even raised. now, our international hostilities are largely based on the notion of a collective responsibility in each of the various states against which our hostility is directed, which does not, in fact, exist. there is at the present moment great ill-feeling in england against "the german." now, "the german" is a non-existent abstraction. englishmen are angry with the german because he is building warships, conceivably directed against them; but a great many germans are as much opposed to that increase of armament as are the english, and the desire of the yokel to "have a go at them germans" depends absolutely upon a confusion just as great as--indeed, greater than--that which exists in the mind of the boxer, who cannot differentiate between the various european peoples. mr. blatchford commenced that series of articles which has done so much to accentuate this ill-feeling with this phrase: germany is deliberately preparing to destroy the british empire; and later in the articles he added: britain is disunited; germany is homogeneous. we are quarrelling about the lords' veto, home rule, and a dozen other questions of domestic politics. we have a little navy party, an anti-militarist party; germany is unanimous upon the question of naval expansion. it would be difficult to pack a more dangerous untruth into so few lines. what are the facts? if "germany" means the bulk of the german people, mr. blatchford is perfectly aware that he is not telling the truth. it is not true to say of the bulk of the german people that they are deliberately preparing to destroy the british empire. the bulk of the german people, if they are represented by any one party at all, are represented by the social democrats, who have stood from the first resolutely against any such intention. now the facts have to be misstated in this way in order to produce that temper which makes for war. if the facts are correctly stated, no such temper arises. what has a particularly competent german to say to mr. blatchford's generalization? mr. fried, the editor of _die friedenswarte_, writes: there is no one german people, no single germany.... there are more abrupt contrasts between germans and germans than between germans and indians. nay, the contradistinctions within germany are greater than those between germans and the units of any other foreign nation whatever. it might be possible to make efforts to promote good understanding between germans and englishmen, between germans and frenchmen, to organize visits between nation and nation; but it will be forever impossible to set on foot any such efforts at an understanding between german social democrats and prussian junkers, between german anti-semites and german jews.[ ] the disappearance of most international hostility depends upon nothing more intricate than the realization of facts which are little more complex than the geographical knowledge which enables us to see that the anger of the yokel is absurd when he pummels a frenchman because an italian has swindled him. it may be argued that there never has existed in the past this identification between a people and the acts of its government which rendered the hatred of one country for another logical, yet that hatred has arisen. that is true; but certain new factors have entered recently to modify this problem. one is that never in the history of the world have nations been so complex as they are to-day; and the second is that never before have the dominating interests of mankind so completely cut across state divisions as they do to-day. the third factor is that never before has it been possible, as it is possible by our means of communication to-day, to offset a solidarity of classes and ideas against a presumed state solidarity. never at any stage of the world's development has there existed, as exists to-day, the machinery for embodying these interests and class ideas and ideals which cut across frontiers. it is not generally understood how many of our activities have become international. two great forces have become internationalized: capital on the one hand, labor and socialism on the other. the labor and socialist movements have always been international, and become more so every year. few considerable strikes take place in any one country without the labor organizations of other countries furnishing help, and very large sums have been contributed by the labor organizations of various countries in this way. with reference to capital, it may almost be said that it is organized so naturally internationally that formal organization is not necessary. when the bank of england is in danger, it is the bank of france which comes automatically to its aid, even in a time of acute political hostility. it has been my good fortune in the last ten years to discuss these matters with financiers on one side and labor leaders on the other, and i have always been particularly struck by the fact that i have found in these two classes precisely the same attitude of internationalization. in no department of human activity is internationalization so complete as in finance. the capitalist has no country, and he knows, if he be of the modern type, that arms and conquests and jugglery with frontiers serve no ends of his, and may very well defeat them. but employers, as apart from capitalists, are also developing a strong international cohesive organization. among the berlin despatches in the london _times_ of april , , i find the following concerning a big strike in the building trade, in which nearly a quarter of a million men went out. quoting a writer in the _north german gazette_, the correspondent says: the writer lays stress upon the efficiency of the employers' arrangements. he says, in particular, that it will probably be possible to extend the lock-out to industries associated with the building industry, especially the cement industry, and that the employers are completing a ring of cartel treaties, which will prevent german workmen from finding employment in neighboring countries, and will insure for german employers all possible support from abroad. it is said that switzerland and austria were to conclude treaties yesterday on the same conditions as sweden, norway, denmark, holland, and france, and that belgium and italy would come in, so that there will be complete co-operation on the part of all germany's neighbors except russia. in the circumstances the men's organs rather overlabor the point when they produce elaborate evidence of premeditation. the _vorwärts_ proves that the employers have long been preparing for "a trial of strength," but that is admitted. the official organ of the employers says, in so many words, that any intervention is useless until "the forces have been measured in open battle." have not these forces begun already to affect the psychological domain with which we are now especially dealing? do we place national vanity, for instance, on the same plane as individual vanity? have we not already realized the absurdity involved? i have quoted admiral mahan as follows: that extension of national authority over alien communities, which is the dominant note in the world politics of to-day, dignifies and enlarges each state and each citizen that enters its fold.... sentiment, imagination, aspiration, the satisfaction of the rational and moral faculties in some object better than bread alone, all must find a part in a worthy motive. like individuals, nations and empires have souls as well as bodies. great and beneficent achievement ministers to worthier contentment than the filling of the pocket. whatever we may think of the individuals who work disinterestedly for the benefit of backward and alien peoples, and however their lives may be "dignified and enlarged" by their activities, it is surely absurd to suppose that other individuals, who take no part in their work and who remain thousands of miles from the scene of action, can possibly be credited with "great and beneficent achievement." a man who boasts of his possessions is not a very pleasant or admirable type, but at least his possessions are for his own use and do bring a tangible satisfaction, materially as well as sentimentally. his is the object of a certain social deference by reason of his wealth--a deference which has not a very high motive, if you will, but the outward and visible signs of which are pleasing to a vain man. but is the same in any sense true, despite admiral mahan, of the individual of a big state as compared to the individual of a small one? does anyone think of paying deference to the russian _mujik_ because he happens to belong to one of the biggest empires territorially? does anyone think of despising an ibsen or a björnsen, or any educated scandinavian or belgian or hollander, because they happen to belong to the smallest nations in europe? the thing is absurd, and the notion is simply due to inattention. just as we commonly overlook the fact that the individual citizen is quite unaffected materially by the extent of his nation's territory, that the material position of the individual dutchman as a citizen of a small state will not be improved by the mere fact of the absorption of his state by the german empire, in which case he will become the citizen of a great nation, so in the same way his moral position remains unchanged; and the notion that an individual russian is "dignified and enlarged" each time that russia conquers some new asiatic outpost, or russifies a state like finland, or that the norwegian would be "dignified" were his state conquered by russia and he became a russian, is, of course, sheer sentimental fustian of a very mischievous order. this is the more emphasized when we remember that the best men of russia are looking forward wistfully, not to the enlargement, but to the dissolution, of the unwieldy giant--"stupid with the stupidity of giants, ferocious with their ferocity"--and the rise in its stead of a multiplicity of self-contained, self-knowing communities, "whose members will be united together by organic and vital sympathies, and not by their common submission to a common policeman." how small and thin a pretence is all the talk of national prestige when the matter is tested by its relation to the individual is shown by the commonplaces of our everyday social intercourse. in social consideration everything else takes precedence of nationality, even in those circles where chauvinism is a cult. british royalty is so impressed with the dignity which attaches to membership of the british empire that its princes will marry into the royal houses of the smallest and meanest states in europe, while they would regard marriage with a british commoner as an unheard-of _mésalliance_. this standard of social judgment so marks all the european royalties that at the present time not one ruler in europe belongs, properly speaking, to the race which he rules. in all social associations an analogous rule is followed. in our "selectest" circles an italian, rumanian, portuguese, or even turkish noble, is received where an american tradesman would be taboo. this tendency has struck almost all authorities who have investigated scientifically modern international relations. thus mr. t. baty, the well-known authority on international law, writes as follows: all over the world society is organizing itself by strata. the english merchant goes on business to warsaw, hamburg, or leghorn; he finds in the merchants of italy, germany, and russia the ideas, the standard of living, the sympathies, and the aversions which are familiar to him at home. printing and the locomotive have enormously reduced the importance of locality. it is the mental atmosphere of its fellows, and not of its neighborhood, which the child of the younger generation is beginning to breathe. whether he reads the _revue des deux mondes_ or _tit-bits_, the modern citizen is becoming at once cosmopolitan and class-centred. let the process work for a few more years; we shall see the common interests of cosmopolitan classes revealing themselves as far more potent factors than the shadowy common interests of the subjects of states. the argentine merchant and the british capitalist alike regard the trade union as a possible enemy--whether british or argentine matters to them less than nothing. the hamburg docker and his brother of london do not put national interests before the primary claims of caste. international class feeling is a reality, and not even a nebulous reality; the nebula has developed centres of condensation. only the other day sir w. runciman, who is certainly not a conservative, presided over a meeting at which there were laid the foundations of an international shipping union, which is intended to unite ship-owners of whatever country in a common organization. when it is once recognized that the real interests of modern people are not national, but social, the results may be surprising.[ ] as mr. baty points out, this tendency, which he calls "stratification," extends to all classes: it is impossible to ignore the significance of the international congresses, not only of socialism, but of pacificism, of esperantism, of feminism, of every kind of art and science, that so conspicuously set their seal upon the holiday season. nationality as a limiting force is breaking down before cosmopolitanism. in directing its forces into an international channel, socialism will have no difficulty whatever[ ].... we are, therefore, confronted with a coming condition of affairs in which the force of nationality will be distinctly inferior to the force of class-cohesion, and in which classes will be internationally organized so as to wield their force with effect. the prospect induces some curious reflections. we have here, at present in merely embryonic form, a group of motives otherwise opposed, but meeting and agreeing upon one point: the organization of society on other than territorial and national divisions. when motives of such breadth as these give force to a tendency, it may be said that the very stars in their courses are working to the same end. part iii the practical outcome chapter i the relation of defence to aggression necessity for defence arises from the existence of a motive for attack--platitudes that everyone overlooks--to attenuate the motive for aggression is to undertake a work of defence. the general proposition embodied in this book--that the world has passed out of that stage of development in which it is possible for one civilized group to advance its well-being by the military domination of another--is either broadly true or broadly false. if it is false, it can, of course, have no bearing upon the actual problems of our time, and can have no practical outcome; huge armaments tempered by warfare are the logical and natural condition. but the commonest criticism this book has had to meet is that, though its central proposition is in essence sound, it has, nevertheless, no practical value, because-- . armaments are for defence, not for aggression. . however true these principles may be, the world does not recognize them and never will, because men are not guided by reason. as to the first point. it is probable that, if we really understood truths which we are apt to dismiss as platitudes, many of our problems would disappear. to say, "we must take measures for defence" is equivalent to saying, "someone is likely to attack us," which is equivalent to saying, "someone has a motive for attacking us." in other words, the basic fact from which arises the necessity for armaments, the ultimate explanation of european militarism, is _the force of the motive making for aggression_. (and in the word "aggression," of course, i include the imposition of superior force by the _threat_, or implied threat, of its use, as well as by its actual use.) that motive may be material or moral; it may arise from real conflict of interest, or a purely imaginary one; but with the disappearance of prospective aggression disappears also the need for defence. the reader deems these platitudes beside the mark? i will take a few sample criticisms directed at this book. here is the london _daily mail_: the bigger nations are armed, not so much because they look for the spoils of war, as because they wish to prevent the horrors of it; arms are for defence.[ ] and here is the london _times_: no doubt the victor suffers, but who suffers most, he or the vanquished?"[ ] the criticism of the _daily mail_ was made within three months of a "raging and tearing" big navy campaign, all of it based on the assumption that germany _was_ "looking for the spoils of war," the english naval increase being thus a direct outcome of such motives. without it, the question of english increase would not have arisen.[ ] the only justification for the clamor for increase was that england was liable to _attack_; every nation in europe justifies its armaments in the same way; every nation consequently believes in the universal existence of this motive for attack. the _times_ has been hardly less insistent than the _mail_ as to the danger from german aggression; but its criticism would imply that the motive behind that prospective aggression is not a desire for any political advantage or gain of any sort. germany apparently recognizes aggression to be, not merely barren of any useful result whatsoever, but burdensome and costly into the bargain; she is, nevertheless, determined to enter upon it in order that though she suffer, someone else will suffer more![ ] in common with the london _daily mail_ and the london _times_, admiral mahan fails to understand this "platitude," which underlies the relation of defence to aggression. thus in his criticism of this book, he cites the position of great britain during the napoleonic era as proof that commercial advantage goes with the possession of preponderant military power in the following passage: great britain owed her commercial superiority then to the armed control of the sea, which had sheltered her commerce and industrial fabric from molestation by the enemy. _ergo_, military force has commercial value, a result which is arrived at by this method: in deciding a case made up of two parties you ignore one. england's superiority was not due to the employment of military force, but to the fact that she was able to prevent the employment of military force against her; and the necessity for so doing arose from napoleon's motive in threatening her. but for the existence of this motive to aggression--moral or material, just or mistaken--great britain, without any force whatsoever, would have been more secure and more prosperous than she was; she would not have been spending a third of her income in war, and her peasantry would not have been starving. of a like character to the remark of the _times_ is the criticism of the _spectator_, as follows: mr. angell's main point is that the advantages customarily associated with national independence and security have no existence outside the popular imagination.... he holds that englishmen would be equally happy if they were under german rule, and that germans would be equally happy if they were under english rule. it is irrational, therefore, to take any measures for perpetuating the existing european order, since only a sentimentalist can set any value on its maintenance.... probably in private life mr. angell is less consistent and less inclined to preach the burglar's gospel that to the wise man _meum_ and _tuum_ are but two names for the same thing. if he is anxious to make converts, he will do well to apply his reasoning to subjects that come nearer home, and convince the average man that marriage and private property are as much illusions as patriotism. if sentiment is to be banished from politics, it cannot reasonably be retained in morals. as the reply to this somewhat extraordinary criticism is directly germane to what it is important to make clear, i may, perhaps, be excused for reproducing my letter to the _spectator_, which was in part as follows: how far the foregoing is a correct description of the scope and character of the book under review may be gathered from the following statement of fact. my pamphlet does _not_ attack the sentiment of patriotism (unless a criticism of the duellist's conception of dignity be considered as such); it simply does not deal with it, as being outside the limits of the main thesis. i do _not_ hold, and there is not one line to which your reviewer can point as justifying such a conclusion, that englishmen would be equally happy if they were under german rule. i do not conclude that it is irrational to take measures for perpetuating the existing european order. i do _not_ "expose the folly of self-defence in nations." i do _not_ object to spending money on armaments at this juncture. on the contrary, i am particularly emphatic in declaring that while the present philosophy is what it is, we are bound to maintain our relative position with other powers. i admit that so long as there is danger, as i believe there is, from german aggression, we must arm. i do _not_ preach a burglar's gospel, that _meum_ and _tuum_ are the same thing, and the whole tendency of my book is the exact reverse: it is to show that the burglar's gospel--which is the gospel of statecraft as it now stands--is no longer possible among nations, and that the difference between _meum_ and _tuum_ must necessarily, as society gains in complication, be given a stricter observance than it has ever heretofore been given in history. i do _not_ urge that sentiment should be banished from politics, if by sentiment is meant the common morality that guides us in our treatment of marriage and of private property. the whole tone of my book is to urge with all possible emphasis the exact reverse of such a doctrine; to urge that the morality which has been by our necessities developed in the society of individuals must also be applied to the society of nations as that society becomes by virtue of our development more interdependent. i have only taken a small portion of your reviewer's article (which runs to a whole page), and i do not think i am exaggerating when i say that nearly all of it is as untrue and as much a distortion of what i really say as the passage from which i have quoted. what i do attempt to make plain is that the necessity for defence measures (which i completely recognize and emphatically counsel) implies on the part of someone a motive for aggression, and that the motive arises from the (at present) universal belief in the social and economic advantages accruing from successful conquest. i challenged this universal axiom of statecraft and attempted to show that the mechanical development of the last thirty or forty years, especially in the means of communication, had given rise to certain economic phenomena--of which re-acting bourses and the financial interdependence of the great economic centres of the world are perhaps the most characteristic--which render modern wealth and trade intangible in the sense that they cannot be seized or interfered with to the advantage of a military aggressor, the moral being, not that self-defence is out of date, but that aggression is, and that when aggression ceases, self-defence will be no longer necessary. i urged, therefore, that in these little-recognized truths might possibly be found a way out of the armament _impasse_; that if the accepted motive for aggression could be shown to have no solid basis, the tension in europe would be immensely relieved, and the risk of attack become immeasurably less by reason of the slackening of the motive for aggression. i asked whether this series of economic facts--so little realized by the average politician in europe, and yet so familiar to at least a few of the ablest financiers--did not go far to change the axioms of statecraft, and i urged re-consideration of such in the light of these facts. your reviewer, instead of dealing with the questions thus raised, accuses me of "attacking patriotism," of arguing that "englishmen would be equally happy under german rule," and much nonsense of the same sort, for which there is not a shadow of justification. is this serious criticism? is it worthy of the _spectator_? to the foregoing letter the _spectator_ critic rejoins as follows: if mr. angell's book had given me the same impression as that which i gain from his letter, i should have reviewed it in a different spirit. i can only plead that i wrote under the impression which the book actually made on me. in reply to his "statement of fact," i must ask your leave to make the following corrections: ( ) instead of saying that, on mr. angell's showing, englishmen would be "equally happy" under german rule, i ought to have said that they would be equally well off. but on his doctrine that material well-being is "the very highest" aim of a politician, the two terms seem to be interchangeable. ( ) the "existing european order" rests on the supposed economic value of political force. in opposition to this mr. angell maintains "the economic futility of political force." to take measures for perpetuating an order founded on a futility does seem to me "irrational." ( ) i never said that mr. angell objects to spending money on armaments "while the present philosophy is what it is." ( ) the stress laid in the book on the economic folly of patriotism, as commonly understood, does seem to me to suggest that "sentiment should be banished from politics." but i admit that this was only an inference, though, as i still think, a fair inference. ( ) i apologize for the words "the burglar's gospel." they have the fault, incident to rhetorical phrases, of being more telling than exact. this rejoinder, as a matter of fact, still reveals the confusion which prompted the first criticism. because i urged that germany could do england relatively little harm, since the harm which she inflicted would immediately react on german prosperity, my critic assumes that this is equivalent to saying that englishmen would be as happy or as prosperous under german rule. he quite overlooks the fact that if germans are convinced that they will obtain no benefit by the conquest of the english they will not attempt that conquest, and there will be no question of the english living under german rule either less or more happily or prosperously. it is not a question of englishmen saying, "let the german come," but of the german saying, "why should we go?" as to the critic's second point, i have expressly explained that not the rival's real interest but what he deems to be his real interest must be the guide to conduct. military force is certainly economically futile, but so long as german policy rests on the assumption of the supposed economic value of military force, england must meet that force by the only force that can reply to it. some years ago the bank in a western mining town was frequently subjected to "hold-ups," because it was known that the great mining company owning the town kept large quantities of gold there for the payment of its workmen. the company, therefore, took to paying its wages mainly by check on a san francisco bank, and by a simple system of clearances practically abolished the use of gold in considerable quantities in the mining town in question. the bank was never attacked again. now, the demonstration that gold had been replaced by books in that bank was as much a work of defence as though the bank had spent tens of thousands of dollars in constructing forts and earthworks, and mounting gatling guns around the town. of the two methods of defence, that of substituting checks for gold was infinitely cheaper, and more effective. even if the inferences which the _spectator_ reviewer draws were true ones, which for the most part they are not, he still overlooks one important element. if it were true that the book involves the "folly of patriotism," how is that in any way relevant to the discussion, since i also urge that nations are justified in protecting even their follies against the attack of other nations? i may regard the christian scientists, or the seventh day adventists, or the spiritualists, as very foolish people, and to some extent mischievous people; but were an act of parliament introduced for their suppression by physical force, i should resist such an act with all the energy of which i was capable. in what way are the two attitudes contradictory? they are the attitudes, i take it, of educated men the world over. the fact has no importance, and it hardly bears on this subject, but i regard certain english conceptions of life bearing on matters of law, and social habit, and political philosophy, as infinitely preferable to the german, and if i thought that such conceptions demanded defence indefinitely by great armaments this book would never have been written. but i take the view that the idea of such necessity is based on a complete illusion, not only because as a matter of present-day fact, and even in the present state of political philosophy, germany has not the least intention of going to war with us to change our notions in law or literature, art or social organization, but also because if she had any such notion it would be founded upon illusions which she would be bound sooner or later to shed, because german policy could not indefinitely resist the influence of a general european attitude on such matters any more than it has been possible for any great and active european state to stand outside the european movement which has condemned the policy of attempting to impose religious belief by the physical force of the state. and i should regard it as an essential part of the work of defence to aid in the firm establishment of such a european doctrine, as much a part of the work of defence as it would be to go on building battleships until germany had subscribed to it. a great part of the misconception just dealt with arises from a hazily conceived fear that ideas like those embodied in this book must attenuate our energy of defence, and that we shall be in a weaker position relatively to our rivals than we were before. but this overlooks the fact that if the progress of ideas weakens our energies of defence, it also weakens our rival's energy of attack, and the strength of our relative positions is just what it was originally, with this exception: that we have taken a step towards peace instead of a step towards war, to which the mere piling up of armaments, unchecked by any other factor, must in the end inevitably lead. but there is one aspect of this failure to realize the relation of defence to aggression, which brings us nearer to considering the bearing of these principles upon the question of practical policy. chapter ii armament, but not alone armament not the facts, but men's belief about facts, shapes their conduct--solving a problem of two factors by ignoring one--the fatal outcome of such a method--the german navy as a "luxury"--if both sides concentrate on armament alone. "not the facts, but men's opinions about the facts, are what matter," one thinker has remarked. and this is because men's conduct is determined, not necessarily by the right conclusion from facts, but the conclusion they believe to be right. when men burned witches, their conduct was exactly what it would have been if what they believed to be true _had_ been true. the truth made no difference to their behavior, so long as they could not see the truth. and so in politics. as long as europe is dominated by the old beliefs, those beliefs will have virtually the same effect in politics as though they were intrinsically sound. and just as in the matter of burning witches a change of behavior was the outcome of a change of opinion, in its turn the result of a more scientific investigation of the facts, so in the same way a change in the political conduct of europe can only come about as the result of a change of thought; and that change of thought will not come about so long as the energies of men in this matter are centred only upon perfecting instruments of warfare. it is not merely that better ideas can only result from more attention being given to the real meaning of facts, but that the direct tendency of war preparation--with the suspicion it necessarily engenders and the ill-temper to which it almost always gives rise--is to create both mechanical and psychological checks to improvement of opinion and understanding. here, for instance, is general von bernhardi, who has just published his book in favor of war as the regenerator of nations, urging that germany should attack certain of her enemies before they are ready to attack her. suppose the others reply by increasing their military force? it suits bernhardi entirely. for what is the effect of this increase on the minds of germans possibly disposed to disagree with bernhardi? it is to silence them and to strengthen bernhardi's hands. his policy, originally wrong, has become relatively right, because his arguments have been answered by force. for the silence of his might-be critics will still further encourage those of other nations who deem themselves threatened by this kind of opinion in germany to increase their armaments; and these increases will still further tend to strengthen bernhardi's school, and still further silence his critics. the process by which force tends to crush reason is, unhappily, cumulative and progressive. the vicious circle can only be broken by the introduction somewhere of the factor of reason. and this is precisely, my critics urge, why we need do nothing but concentrate on the instruments of force! the all but invariable attitude adopted by the man in the street in this whole discussion is about as follows: "what, as practical men, we have to do, is to be stronger than our enemy; the rest is theory, and does not matter." well, the inevitable outcome of such an attitude is catastrophe. it leads us not toward, but away from, solution. in the first edition of this book i wrote: are we immediately to cease preparation for war, since our defeat cannot advantage our enemy nor do us in the long run much harm? no such conclusion results from a study of the considerations elaborated here. it is evident that so long as the misconception we are dealing with is all but universal in europe, so long as the nations believe that in some way the military and political subjugation of others will bring with it a tangible material advantage to the conqueror, we all do, in fact, stand in danger from such aggression. not his interest, but what he deems to be his interest, will furnish the real motive of our prospective enemy's action. and as the illusion with which we are dealing does, indeed, dominate all those minds most active in european politics, we (in england) must, while this remains the case, regard an aggression, even such as that which mr. harrison foresees, as within the bounds of practical politics. (what is not within the bounds of possibility is the extent of devastation which he foresees as the result of such attack, which, i think, the foregoing pages sufficiently demonstrate.) on this ground alone i deem that england, or any other nation, is justified in taking means of self-defence to prevent such aggression. this is not, therefore, a plea for disarmament irrespective of the action of other nations. so long as current political philosophy in europe remains what it is, i would not urge the reduction of the british war budget by a single sovereign. i see no reason to alter a word of this. but if preparation of the machinery of war is to be the only form of energy in this matter--if national effort is to neglect all other factors whatsoever--more and more will sincere and patriotic men have doubts as to whether they are justified in co-operating in further piling up the armaments of any country. of the two risks involved--the risk of attack arising from a possible superiority of armament on the part of a rival, and the risk of drifting into conflict because, concentrating all our energies on the mere instrument of combat, we have taken no adequate trouble to understand the facts of this case--it is at least an arguable proposition that the second risk is the greater. and i am prompted to this expression of opinion without surrendering one iota of a lifelong and passionate belief that a nation attacked should defend itself to the last penny and to the last man. in this matter it seems fatally easy to secure either one of two kinds of action: that of the "practical man" who limits his energies to securing a policy which will perfect the machinery of war and disregard anything else; or that of the pacifist, who, persuaded of the brutality or immorality of war, is apt to deprecate effort directed at self-defence. what is needed is the type of activity which will include both halves of the problem: provision for education, for a political reformation in this matter, _as well as_ such means of defence as will meantime counterbalance the existing impulse to aggression. to concentrate on either half to the exclusion of the other half is to render the whole problem insoluble. what must inevitably happen if the nations take the line of the "practical man," and limit their energies simply and purely to piling up armaments? a british critic once put to me what he evidently deemed a poser: "do you urge that we shall be stronger than our enemy, or weaker?" to which i replied: "the last time that question was asked me was in berlin, by germans. what would you have had me reply to those germans?"--a reply which, of course, meant this: in attempting to find the solution of this question in terms of one party, you are attempting the impossible. the outcome will be war, and war would not settle it. it would all have to be begun over again. the british navy league catechism says: "defence consists in being so strong that it will be dangerous for your enemy to attack you."[ ] mr. churchill, even, goes farther than the navy league, and says: "the way to make war impossible is to make victory certain." the navy league definition is at least possible of application to practical politics, because rough equality of the two parties would make attack by either dangerous. mr. churchill's principle is impossible of application to practical politics, because it could only be applied by one party, and would, in the terms of the navy league principle, deprive the other party of the right of defence. as a matter of simple fact, both the british navy league, by its demand for two ships to one, and mr. churchill, by his demand for certain victory, deny in this matter germany's right to defend herself; and such denial is bound, on the part of a people animated by like motives to themselves, to provoke a challenge. when the british navy league says, as it does, that a self-respecting nation should not depend upon the goodwill of foreigners for its safety, but upon its own strength, it recommends germany to maintain her efforts to arrive at some sort of equality with england. when mr. churchill goes farther, and says that a nation is entitled to be so strong as to make victory over its rivals certain, he knows that if germany were to adopt his own doctrine, its certain outcome would be war. in anticipation of such an objection, mr. churchill says that preponderant power at sea is a luxury to germany, a necessity to britain; that these efforts of germany are, as it were, a mere whim in no way dictated by the real necessities of her people, and having behind them no impulse wrapped up with national needs.[ ] if that be the truth, then it is the strongest argument imaginable for the settlement of this anglo-german rivalry by agreement: by bringing about that political reformation of europe which it is the object of these pages to urge. here are those of the school of mr. churchill who say: the danger of aggression from germany is so great that england must have an enormous preponderance of force--two to one; so great are the risks germany is prepared to take, that unless victory on the english side is certain she will attack. and yet, explain this same school, the impulse which creates these immense burdens and involves these immense risks is a mere whim, a luxury; the whole thing is dissociated from any real national need. if that really be the case, then, indeed, is it time for a campaign of education in europe; time that the sixty-five millions, more or less, of hard-working and not very rich people, whose money support alone makes this rivalry possible, learned what it is all about. this "whim" has cost the two nations, in the last ten years, a sum larger than the indemnity france paid to germany. does mr. churchill suppose that these millions know, or think, this struggle one for a mere luxury, or whim? and if they did know, would it be quite a simple matter for the german government to keep up the game? but those who, during the last decade in england, have in and out of season carried on this active campaign for the increase of british armaments, do _not_ believe that germany's action is the result of a mere whim. they, being part of the public opinion of europe, subscribe to the general european doctrine that germany is pushed to do these things by real national necessities, by her need for expansion, for finding food and livelihood for all these increasing millions. and if this is so, the english are asking germany, in surrendering this contest, to betray future german generations--wilfully to withhold from them those fields which the strength and fortitude of this generation might win. if this common doctrine is true, the english are asking germany to commit national suicide.[ ] why should it be assumed that germany will do it? that she will be less persistent in protecting her national interest, her posterity, be less faithful than the british themselves to great national impulses? has not the day gone by when educated men can calmly assume that any englishman is worth three foreigners? and yet such an assumption, ignorant and provincial as we are bound to admit it to be, is the only one that can possibly justify this policy of concentrating upon armament alone. even admiral fisher can write: the supremacy of the british navy is the best security for the peace of the world.... if you rub it in, both at home and abroad, that you are ready for instant war, with every unit of your strength in the first line and waiting to be first in, and hit your enemy in the belly and kick him when he is down, and boil your prisoners in oil (if you take any), and torture his women and children, then people will keep clear of you. would admiral fisher refrain from taking a given line merely because, if he took it, someone would "hit him in the belly," etc.? he would repudiate the idea with the utmost scorn, and probably reply that the threat would give him an added incentive to take the line in question. but why should admiral fisher suppose that he has a monopoly of courage, and that a german admiral would act otherwise than he? is it not about time that each nation abandoned the somewhat childish assumption that it has a monopoly of the courage and the persistence in the world, and that things which would never frighten or deter it will frighten and deter its rivals? yet in this matter the english assume either that the germans will be less persistent than they, or that in this contest their backs will break first. a coadjutor of lord roberts is calmly talking of a naval budget of or million dollars, and universal service as well, as a possibility of the all but immediate future.[ ] if england can stand that now, why should not germany, who is, we are told, growing industrially more rapidly than the english, be able to stand as much? but when she has arrived at that point, the english, at the same rate, must have a naval budget of anything from to million dollars, a total armament budget of something in the region of millions. the longer it goes on, the worse will be england's relative position, because she has imposed on herself a progressive handicap. the end can only be conflict, and already the policy of precipitating that conflict is raising its head. sir edmund c. cox writes in the premier english review, the _nineteenth century_, for april, : is there no alternative to this endless yet futile competition in shipbuilding? yes, there is. it is one which a cromwell, a william pitt, a palmerston, a disraeli, would have adopted long ago. this is that alternative--the only possible conclusion. it is to say to germany: "all that you have been doing constitutes a series of unfriendly acts. your fair words go for nothing. once for all, you must put an end to your warlike preparations. if we are not satisfied that you do so, we shall forthwith sink every battleship and cruiser which you possess. the situation which you have created is intolerable. if you determine to fight us, if you insist upon war, war you shall have; but the time shall be of our choosing and not of yours, and that time shall be now." and that is where the present policy, the sheer bulldog piling up of armaments without reference to or effort towards a better political doctrine in europe, inevitably leads. chapter iii is the political reformation possible? men are little disposed to listen to reason, "therefore we should not talk reason"--are men's ideas immutable? we have seen, therefore-- . that the need for defence arises from the existence of a motive for attack. . that that motive is, consequently, part of the problem of defence. . that, since as between the advanced peoples we are dealing with in this matter, one party is as able in the long run to pile up armaments as the other, we cannot get nearer to solution by armaments alone; we must get at the original provoking cause--the motive making for aggression. . that if that motive results from a true judgment of the facts; if the determining factor in a nation's well-being and progress is really its power to obtain by force advantage over others, the present situation of armament rivalry tempered by war is a natural and inevitable one. . that if, however, the view is a false one, our progress towards solution will be marked by the extent to which the error becomes generally recognized in international public opinion. that brings me to the last entrenchment of those who actively or passively oppose propaganda looking towards reform in this matter. as already pointed out, the last year or two has revealed a suggestive shifting of position on the part of such opposition. the original position of the defenders of the old political creeds was that the economic thesis here outlined was just simply wrong; then, that the principles themselves were sound enough, but that they were irrelevant, because not interests, but ideals, constituted the cause of conflict between nations. in reply to which, of course, came the query, what ideals, apart from questions of interest, lie at the bottom of the conflict which is the most typical of our time--what ideal motive is germany, for instance, pursuing in its presumed aggression upon england? consequently that position has generally been abandoned. then we were told that men don't act by logic, but passion. then the critics were asked how they explained the general character of _la haute politique_, its cold intrigues and expediency, the extraordinary rapid changes in alliances and _ententes_, all following exactly a line of passionless interest reasoned, though from false premises, with very great logic indeed; and were asked whether all experience does not show that, while passion may determine the energy with which a given line of conduct is pursued, the direction of that line of conduct is determined by processes of another kind: john, seeing james, his life-long and long-sought enemy, in the distance, has his hatred passionately stirred, and harbors thoughts of murder. as he comes near he sees that it is not james at all, but a quiet and inoffensive neighbor, peter. john's thoughts of murder are appeased, not because he has changed his nature, but because the recognition of a simple fact has changed the direction of his passion. what we in this matter hope to do is to show that the nations are mistaking peter for james. well, the last entrenchment of those who oppose the work is the dogmatic assertion that though we are right as to the material fact, its demonstration can never be made; that this political reformation of europe the political rationalists talk about is a hopeless matter; it implies a change of opinion so vast that it can only be looked for as the result of whole generations of educative processes. suppose this were true. what then? will you leave everything severely alone, and leave wrong and dangerous ideas in undisturbed possession of the political field? this conclusion is not a policy; it is oriental fatalism--"kismet," "the will of allah." such an attitude is not possible among men dominated by the traditions and the impulses of the western world. we do not let things slide in this way; we do not assume that as men are not guided by reason in politics, therefore we shall not reason about politics. the time of statesmen is absorbed in the discussion of these things. our press and literature are deeply concerned in them. the talk and thought of men are about them. however little they may deem reason to affect the conduct of men, they go on reasoning. and progress in conduct is determined by the degree of understanding which results. it is true that physical conflict marks the point at which the reason has failed; men fight when they have not been able to "come to an understanding" in the common phrase, which is for once correct. but is this a cause for deprecating the importance of clear understanding? is it not, on the contrary, precisely why our energies should be devoted to improving our capacity for dealing with these things by reason, rather than by physical force? do we not inevitably arrive at the destination to which every road in this discussion leads? however we may start, with whatever plan, however elaborated or varied, the end is always the same--the progress of man in this matter depends upon the degree to which his ideas are just; man advances by the victories of his mind and character. again we have arrived at the region of platitude. but also again it is one of those platitudes which most people deny. thus the london _spectator_: for ourselves, as far as the main economic proposition goes, he preaches to the converted.... if nations were perfectly wise and held perfectly sound economic theories, they would recognize that exchange is the union of forces, and that it is very foolish to hate or be jealous of your co-operators.... men are savage, bloodthirsty creatures ... and when their blood is up will fight for a word or a sign, or, as mr. angell would put it, for an illusion. criticism at the other end of the journalistic scale--that, for instance, from mr. blatchford--is of an exactly similar character. mr. blatchford says: mr. angell may be right in his contention that modern war is unprofitable to both belligerents. i do not believe it, but he may be right. but he is wrong if he imagines that his theory will prevent european war. to prevent european wars it needs more than the truth of his theory: it needs that the war lords and diplomatists and financiers and workers of europe shall believe the theory.... so long as the rulers of nations believe that war may be expedient (see clausewitz), and so long as they believe they have the power, war will continue.... it will continue until these men are fully convinced that it will bring no advantage. therefore, argues mr. blatchford, the demonstration that war will not bring advantage is futile. i am not here, for the purpose of controversy, putting an imaginary conclusion into mr. blatchford's mouth. it is the conclusion that he actually does draw. the article from which i have quoted was intended to demonstrate the futility of books like this. it was by way of reply to an early edition of this one. in common with the other critics, he must have known that this is not a plea for the impossibility of war (i have always urged with emphasis that our ignorance on this matter makes war not only possible, but extremely likely), but for its futility. and the demonstration of its futility is, i am now told, in itself futile! i have expanded the arguments of this and others of my critics thus: the war lords and diplomats are still wedded to the old false theories; _therefore_ we shall leave those theories undisturbed, and generally deprecate discussion of them. nations do not realize the facts; _therefore_ we should attach no importance to the work of making them known. these facts profoundly affect the well-being of european peoples; _therefore_ we shall not systematically encourage the efficient study of them. if they were generally known, the practical outcome would be that most of our difficulties herein would disappear; _therefore_ anyone who attempts to make them known is an amiable sentimentalist, a theorist, and so on, and so on. "things do not matter so much as people's opinions about things"[ ]; _therefore_ no effort shall be directed to a modification of opinion. the only way for these truths to affect policy, to become operative in the conduct of nations, is to make them operative in the minds of men; _therefore_ discussion of them is futile. our troubles arise from the wrong ideas of nations; _therefore_ ideas do not count--they are "theories." general conception and insight in this matter is vague and ill-defined, so that action is always in danger of being decided by sheer passion and irrationalism; _therefore_ we shall do nothing to render insight clear and well-defined. the empire of sheer impulse, of the non-rational, is strongest when associated with ignorance (_e.g._, mohammedan fanaticism, chinese boxerism), and only yields to the general progress of ideas (_e.g._, sounder religious notions sweeping away the hate and horrors of religious persecution); _therefore_ the best way to maintain peace is to pay no attention to the progress of political ideas. the progress of ideas has completely transformed religious feeling in so far as it settles the policy of one religious group in relation to another; _therefore_ the progress of ideas will never transform patriotic feeling, which settles the policy of one political group in relation to another. what, in short, does the argument of my critics amount to? this: that so slow, so stupid is the world that, though the facts may be unassailable, they will never be learned within any period that need concern us. without in the least desiring to score off my critics, and still less to be discourteous, i sometimes wonder it has never struck them that in the eyes of the profane this attitude of theirs must appear really as a most colossal vanity. "we" who write in newspapers and reviews understand these things; "we" can be guided by reason and wisdom, but the common clay will not see these truths for "thousands of years." i talk to the converted (so i am told) when my book is read by the editors and reviewers. _they_, of course, can understand; but the notion that mere diplomats and statesmen, the men who make up governments and nations, should ever do so is, of course, quite too preposterous. personally, however flattering this notion might be, i have never been able to feel its soundness. i have always strongly felt the precise opposite--namely, that what is plain to me will very soon be equally plain to my neighbor. possessing, presumably, as much vanity as most, i am, nevertheless, absolutely convinced that simple facts which stare an ordinary busy man of affairs in the face are not going to be for ever hid from the multitude. depend upon it, if "we" can see these things, so can the mere statesmen and diplomats and those who do the work of the world. moreover, if what "we" write in reviews and books does not touch men's reasons, does not affect their conduct, why do we write at all? we do _not_ believe it impossible to change or form men's ideas; such a plea would doom us all to silence, and would kill religious and political literature. "public opinion" is not external to men; it is made by men; by what they hear and read and have suggested to them by their daily tasks, and talk and contact. if it _were_ true, therefore, that the difficulties in the way of modifying political opinion were as vast as my critics would have us believe, that would not affect our conduct; the more they emphasize those difficulties, the more they emphasize the need for effort on our part. but it is not true that a change such as that involved here necessarily "takes thousands of years." i have already dealt with the plea, but would recall only one incident that i have cited: a scene painted by a spanish artist of the court and nobles and populace in a great european city, gathered on a public holiday as for a festival to see a beautiful child burned to death for a faith that, as it plaintively said, it had sucked in with its mother's milk. how long separates us from that scene? why, not the lives of three ordinarily elderly people. and how long after that scene--which was not an isolated incident of uncommon kind, but a very everyday matter, typical of the ideas and feelings of the time at which it was enacted--was it before the renewal of such became a practical impossibility? it was not a hundred years. it was enacted in , and within the space of a short lifetime the world knew that never again would a child be burned alive as the result of a legal condemnation by a duly constituted court, and as a public festival, witnessed by the king and the nobles and the populace, in one of the great cities of europe. or, do those who talk of "unchanging human nature" and "thousands of years" really plead that we are in danger of a repetition of such a scene? in that case our religious toleration is a mistake. protestants stand in danger of such tortures, and should arm themselves with the old armory of religious combat--the rack, the thumbscrew, the iron maiden, and the rest--as a matter of sheer protection. "men are savage, bloodthirsty creatures, and will fight for a word or a sign," the _spectator_ tells us, when their patriotism is involved. well, until yesterday, it was as true to say that of them when their religion was involved. patriotism is the religion of politics. and as one of the greatest historians of religious ideas has pointed out, religion and patriotism are the chief moral influences moving great bodies of men, and "the separate modifications and mutual interaction of these two agents may almost be said to constitute the moral history of mankind."[ ] but is it likely that a general progress which has transformed religion is going to leave patriotism unaffected; that the rationalization and humanization which have taken place in the more complex domain of religious doctrine and belief will not also take place in the domain of politics? the problem of religious toleration was beset with difficulties incalculably greater than any which confront us in this problem. then, as now, the old order was defended with real disinterestedness; then it was called religious fervor; now it is called patriotism. the best of the old inquisitors were as disinterested, as sincere, as single-minded, as are doubtless the best of the prussian junkers, the french nationalists, the english militarists. then, as now, the progress towards peace and security seemed to them a dangerous degeneration, the break-up of faiths, the undermining of most that holds society together. then, as now, the old order pinned its faith to the tangible and visible instruments of protection--i mean the instruments of physical force. and the catholic, in protecting himself by the inquisition against what he regarded as the dangerous intrigues of the protestant, was protecting what he regarded not merely as his own social and political security, but the eternal salvation, he believed, of unborn millions of men. yet he surrendered such instruments of defence, and finally catholic and protestant alike came to see that the peace and security of both were far better assured by this intangible thing--the right thinking of men--than by all the mechanical ingenuity of prisons and tortures and burnings which it was possible to devise. in like manner will the patriot come finally to see that better than _dreadnoughts_ will be the recognition on his part and on the part of his prospective enemy, that there is no interest, material or moral, in conquest and military domination. and that hundred years which i have mentioned as representing an apparently impassable gulf in the progress of european ideas, a period which marked an evolution so great that the very mind and nature of men seemed to change, was a hundred years without newspapers--a time in which books were such a rarity that it took a generation for one to travel from madrid to london; in which the steam printing-press did not exist, nor the railroad, nor the telegraph, nor any of those thousand contrivances which now make it possible for the words of an american statesman spoken to-day to be read by the millions of europe to-morrow morning--to do, in short, more in the way of the dissemination of ideas in ten months than was possible then in a century. when things moved so slowly, a generation or two sufficed to transform the mind of europe on the religious side. why should it be impossible to change that mind on the political side in a generation, or half a generation, when things move so much more quickly? are men less disposed to change their political than their religious opinions? we all know that _not_ to be the case. in every country in europe we find political parties advocating, or at least acquiescing in, policies which they strenuously opposed ten years ago. does the evidence available go to show that the particular side of politics with which we are dealing is notably more impervious to change and development than the rest--less within the reach and influence of new ideas? i must risk here the reproach of egotism and bad taste to call attention to a fact which bears more directly on that point, perhaps, than any other that could be cited. it is some fifteen years since it first struck me that certain economic facts of our civilization--facts of such visible and mechanical nature as reacting bourses and bank rate-movements, in all the economic capitals of the world, and so on--would soon force upon the attention of men a principle which, though existing for long past in some degree in human affairs, had not become operative to any extent. was there any doubt as to the reality of the material facts involved? circumstances of my occupation happily furnished opportunities of discussing the matter thoroughly with bankers and statesmen of world-wide authority. there was no doubt on that score. had we yet arrived at the point at which it was possible to make the matter plain to general opinion? were politicians too ill-educated on the real facts of the world, too much absorbed in the rough-and-tumble of workaday politics to change old ideas? were they, and the rank and file, still too enslaved by the hypnotism of an obsolete terminology to accept a new view? one could only put it to a practical test. a brief exposition of the cardinal principles was embodied in a brief pamphlet and published obscurely without advertisement, and bearing, necessarily, an unknown name. the result was, under the circumstances, startling, and certainly did not justify in the least the plea that there exists universal hostility to the advance of political rationalism. encouragement came from most unlooked-for quarters: public men whose interests have been mainly military, alleged jingoes, and even from soldiers. the more considerable edition has appeared in english, german, french, dutch, danish, swedish, spanish, italian, russian, japanese, erdu, persian, and hindustani, and nowhere has the press completely ignored the book. papers of liberal tendencies have welcomed it everywhere. those of more reactionary tendencies have been much less hostile than one could have expected.[ ] does such an experience justify that universal rebelliousness to political rationalism on which my critics for the most part found their case? my object in calling attention to it is evident. if this is possible as the result of the effort of a single obscure person working without means and without leisure, what could not be accomplished by an organization adequately equipped and financed? mr. augustine birrell says somewhere: "some opinions, bold and erect as they may still stand, are in reality but empty shells. one shove would be fatal. why is it not given?" if little apparently has been done in the modification of ideas in this matter, it is because little relatively has been attempted. millions of us are prepared to throw ourselves with energy into that part of national defence which, after all, is a makeshift, into agitation for the building of _dreadnoughts_ and the raising of armies, the things in fact which can be seen, where barely dozens will throw themselves with equal ardor into that other department of national defence, the only department which will really guarantee security, but by means which are invisible--the rationalization of ideas. chapter iv methods relative failure of hague conferences and the cause--public opinion the necessary motive force of national action--that opinion only stable if informed--"friendship" between nations and its limitations--america's rôle in the coming "political reformation." much of the pessimism as to the possibility of any progress in this matter is based on the failure of such efforts as hague conferences. never has the contest of armament been so keen as when europe began to indulge in peace conferences. speaking roughly and generally, the era of great armament expansion dates from the first hague conference. well, the reader who has appreciated the emphasis laid in the preceding pages on working through the reform of ideas will not feel much astonishment at the failure of efforts such as these. the hague conferences represented an attempt not to work through the reform of ideas, but to modify by mechanical means the political machinery of europe, without reference to the ideas which had brought it into existence. arbitration treaties, hague conferences, international federation involve a new conception of relationship between nations. but the ideals--political, economical, and social--on which the old conceptions are based, our terminology, our political literature, our old habits of thought, diplomatic inertia, which all combine to perpetuate the old notions, have been left serenely undisturbed. and surprise is expressed that such schemes do not succeed. french politics have given us this proverb, "i am the leader, therefore i follow." this is not mere cynicism, but expresses in reality a profound truth. what is a leader or a ruler in a modern parliamentary sense? he is a man who holds office by virtue of the fact that he represents the mean of opinion in his party. initiative, therefore, cannot come from him until he can be sure of the support of his party--that is, until the initiative in question represents the common opinion of his party. the author happened to discuss the views embodied in this book with a french parliamentary chief, who said in effect: "of course you are talking to the converted, but i am helpless. suppose that i attempted to embody these views before they were ready for acceptance by my party. i should simply lose my leadership in favor of a man less open to new ideas, and the prospect of their acceptance would not be increased, but diminished. even if i were not already converted, it would be no good trying to convert me. convert the body of the party and its leaders will not need conversion." and this is the position of every civilized government, parliamentary or not. the struggle for religious freedom was not gained by agreements drawn up between catholic states and protestant states, or even between catholic bodies and protestant bodies. no such process was possible, for in the last resort there was no such thing as an absolutely catholic state or an absolutely protestant one. our security from persecution is due simply to the general recognition of the futility of the employment of physical force in a matter of religious belief. our progress towards political rationalism will take place in like manner. there is no royal road of this kind to a better state. it seems decreed that we shall not permanently achieve improvement which we as individuals have not paid for in the coin of hard thinking. nothing is easier to achieve in international politics than academic declarations in favor of peace. but governments being trustees have a first duty in the interests of their wards, or what they conceive to be such interests, and they disregard what is still looked upon as a conception having its origin in altruistic and self-sacrificing motives. "self-sacrifice" is the last motive governments can allow themselves to consider. they are created to protect, not to sacrifice, the interests of which they are placed in charge. it is impossible for governments to base their normal policies on conceptions which are in advance of the general standard of the political opinion of the people from whom they derive their power. the average man will, it is true, quite readily subscribe abstractly to a peace ideal, just as he will subscribe abstractly to certain religious ideals--to take no thought for the morrow, not to save up treasure upon earth--without the faintest notion of making them a guide of conduct, or, indeed, of seeing how they _can_ be a guide of conduct. at peace meetings he will cheer lustily and sign petitions, because he believes peace to be a great moral idea, and that armies, like the police, are destined to disappear one day--on about the same day in his belief--when the nature of man shall have been altered. one may be able fully to appreciate this attitude of the "average sensual man" without doubting the least in the world the sincerity, genuineness, wholeheartedness of these emotional movements in favor of peace, which from time to time sweep over a country (as on the occasion of the taft-grey exchange of views on arbitration). but what it is necessary to emphasize, what cannot be too often reiterated, is that these movements, however emotional and sincere, are not movements which can lead to breaking up the intellectual basis of the policy which produces armaments in the western world. these movements embrace only one section of the factors making for peace--the moral and the emotional. and while those factors have immense power, they are uncertain and erratic in their operation, and when the shouting dies and there is a natural reaction from emotion, and it is a question once more of doing the humdrum week-day work of the world, of pushing our interests, of finding markets, of achieving the best possible generally for our nation as against other nations, of preparing for the future, of organizing one's efforts, the old code of compromise between the ideal and the necessary will be as operative as ever. so long as his notions of what war can accomplish in an economic or commercial sense remain what they are, the average man will not deem that his prospective enemy is likely to make the peace ideal a guide of conduct. incidentally he would be right. at the bottom of his mind--and i say this not lightly and as a guess, but as an absolute conviction after very close observation--the ideal of peace is conceived as a demand that he weaken his own defences on no better assurance than that his prospective rival or enemy will be well-behaved and not wicked enough to attack him. it appeals to him as about equivalent to asking that he shall not lock his doors because to suppose people will rob him is to have a low view of human nature! though he believes his own position in the world (as a colonial power, etc.) to be the result of the use of force by himself, of his readiness to seize what could be seized, he is asked to believe that foreigners will not do in the future what he himself has done in the past. he finds this difficult to swallow. save in his sunday moods, the whole thing makes him angry. it appeals to him as "unfair," in that he is asked by his own countrymen to do something that they apparently do not ask of foreigners; it appears to him as unmanly, in that he is asked to surrender the advantage which his strength has secured him in favor of a somewhat emasculate ideal. the patriot feels that his moral intention is every bit as sincere as that of the pacifist--that, indeed, patriotism is a finer moral ideal than pacifism. the difference between the pacifist and the advocate of _real-politik_ is an intellectual and not a moral one at all, and the assumption of superior morality which the former sometimes makes does the cause which he has at heart infinite harm. until the pacifist can show that the employment of military force fails to secure material advantage, the common man will, in ordinary times, continue to believe that the militarist has a moral sanction as great as that underlying pacifism. it may seem gratuitously ungracious to suggest that the very elevation which has marked peace propaganda in the past should have been the very thing that has sometimes stood in the way of its success. but such a phenomenon is not new in human development. there was as much good intention in the world of religious warfare and oppression as there is in ours. indeed, the very earnestness of the men who burnt, tortured, and imprisoned and stamped out human thought with the very best motives, was precisely the factor which stood in the way of improvement. improvement came finally, not from better intention, but from an acuter use of the intelligence of men, from hard mental work. so long as we assume that high motive, a better moral tone is all that is needed in international relations, and that an understanding of these problems will in some wonderful way come of itself, without hard and systematic intellectual effort, we shall make little headway. good feeling and kindliness and a ready emotion are among the most precious things in life, but they are qualities possessed by some of the most retrograde nations in the world, because in them they are not coupled with the homely quality of hard work, in which one may include hard thinking. this last is the real price of progress, and we shall make none of worth unless we pay it. a word or two as to the rôle of "friendship" in international relations. courtesy and a certain measure of good faith are essential elements wherever civilized men come in direct contact; without them organized society would go to pieces. but these invaluable elements never yet of themselves settled real differences; they merely render the other factors of adjustment possible. why should one expect courtesy and good-fellowship to settle grave political differences between english and germans when they altogether fail to settle such differences between english and english? what should we say of a statesman professing to be serious who suggested that all would be well between president wilson and the lobbyists concerning the tariff, between the democrats and republicans on protection, between the millionaire and the day laborer on the question of the income tax, and a thousand and one other things--that all these knotty problems would disappear, if only the respective protagonists could be persuaded to take lunch together? is it not a little childish? yet i am bound to admit that a whole school of persons who deal with international problems would have us believe that all international differences would disappear if only we could have enough junketings, dinner-parties, exchange visits of clergymen, and what not. these things have immense use in so far as they facilitate discussion and the elucidation of the policy in which the rivalry has its birth, and to that extent only. but if they are not vehicles of intellectual comprehension, if the parties go away with as little understanding of the factors and nature of international relationship as they had before such meetings took place, they have served no purpose whatsoever. the work of the world does not get done merely by being good friends with everybody; the problems of international diplomacy are not to be solved merely by a sort of international picnic; that would make the world too easy a place to live in. however ungracious it may seem, it is nevertheless dangerous to allow to go unchallenged the notion that the cultivation of "friendship and affection" between nations, irrespective of the other factors affecting their relationship, can ever seriously modify international politics. the matter is of grave importance, because so much good effort is spent in putting the cart before the horse, and attempting to create an operative factor out of a sentiment that can never be constant and positive one way or the other, since it must in the nature of things be largely artificial. it is a psychological impossibility in any ordinary workaday circumstances to have any special feeling of affection for a hundred or sixty or forty millions of people, composed of infinitely diverse elements, good, bad, and indifferent, noble and mean, pleasing and unpleasing, whom, moreover, we have never seen and never shall see. it is too large an order. we might as well be asked to entertain feelings of affection for the tropic of capricorn. as i have already hinted, we have no particular affection for the great mass of our own countrymen--your lobbyist enthusiast for mr. wilson, your railroad striker for the employer of labor, your suffragette for your anti-suffragette, and so on _ad infinitum_. patriotism has nothing to do with it. the patriot is often the person who had the heartiest detestation for a large mass of his fellow-countrymen. consider any anti-administration literature. as an english instance a glance at mr. leo maxse's monthly masterpieces of epithet-making, or at what the pan-germans have to say of their own empire and government ("poltroons in the pay of the english" is a choice tit-bit i select from one german newspaper), will soon convince one. why, therefore, should we be asked to entertain for foreigners a sentiment we do not give to our own people? and not only to entertain that sentiment, but to make (always in the terms of the present political beliefs) great sacrifices on behalf of it! need it be said that i have not the least desire to deprecate sincere emotion as a factor in progress? emotion and enthusiasm form the divine stimulus without which no great things would be achieved; but emotion divorced from mental and moral discipline is not the kind on which wise men will place a very high value. some of the intensest emotion of the world has been given to some of the worst possible objects. just as in the physical world, the same forces--steam, gunpowder, what you will--which, controlled and directed may do an infinitely useful work--may, uncontrolled, cause accidents and catastrophes of the gravest kind. nor is it true that the better understanding of this matter is beyond the great mass of men, that sounder ideas depend upon the comprehension of complex and abstruse points, correct judgment in intricate matters of finance or economics. things which seem in one stage of thought obscure and difficult are cleared up merely by setting one or two crooked facts straight. the rationalists, who a generation or two ago struggled with such things as the prevalent belief in witchcraft, may have deemed that the abolition of superstitions of this kind would take "thousands of years." lecky has pointed out that during the eighteenth century many judges in europe--not ignorant men, but, on the contrary, exceedingly well-educated men, trained to sift evidence--were condemning people to death by hundreds for witchcraft. acute and educated men still believed in it; its disproof demanded a large acquaintance with the forces and processes of physical nature, and it was generally thought that, while a few exceptional intelligences here and there would shake off these beliefs, they would remain indefinitely the possessions of the great mass of mankind. what has happened? a schoolboy to-day would scout the evidence which, on the judgment of very learned men, sent thousands of poor wretches to their doom in the eighteenth century. would the schoolboy necessarily be more learned or more acute than those judges? they probably knew a great deal about the science of witchcraft, were more familiar with its literature, with the arguments which supported it, and they would have hopelessly worsted any nineteenth-century schoolboy in any argument on the subject. the point is, however, that the schoolboy would have two or three essential facts straight, instead of getting them crooked. all the fine theories about the advantages of conquest, of territorial aggrandizement, so learnedly advanced by the mahans and the von stengels; the immense value which the present-day politician attaches to foreign conquest, all these absurd rivalries aiming at "stealing" one another's territory, will be recognized as the preposterous illusions that they are by the younger mind, which really sees the quite plain fact that the citizen of a small state is just as well off as the citizen of a great. from that fact, which is not complex or difficult in the least, will emerge the truth that modern government is a matter of administration, and that it can no more profit a community to annex other communities, than it could profit london to annex manchester. these things will not need argument to be clear to the schoolboy of the future--they will be self-evident, like the improbability of an old woman causing a storm at sea. of course, it is true that many of the factors bearing on this improvement will be indirect. as our education becomes more rational in other fields, it will make for understanding in this; as the visible factors of our civilization make plain--as they are making plainer every day--the unity and interdependence of the modern world, the attempt to separate those interdependent activities by irrelevant divisions must more and more break down. all improvement in human co-operation--and human co-operation is a synonym for civilization--must help the work of those laboring in the field of international relationship. but again i would reiterate that the work of the world does not get itself done. it is done by men; ideas do not improve themselves, they are improved by the thought of men; and it is the efficiency of the conscious effort which will mainly determine progress. when all nations realize that if england can no longer exert force towards her colonies, others certainly could not; that if a great modern empire cannot usefully employ force as against communities that it "owns," still less can we employ it usefully against communities that we do not "own"; when the world as a whole has learned the real lesson of british imperial development, not only will that empire have achieved greater security than it can achieve by battleships, but it will have played a part in human affairs incomparably greater and more useful than could be played by any military "leadership of the human race," that futile duplication of the napoleonic rôle, which imperialists of a certain school seem to dream for us. it is to anglo-saxon practice, and to anglo-saxon experience, that the world will look as a guide in this matter. the extension of the dominating principle of the british empire to european society as a whole is the solution of the international problem which this book urges. that extension cannot be made by military means. the english conquest of great military nations is a physical impossibility, and it would involve the collapse of the principle upon which the empire is based if it were. the day for progress by force has passed; it will be progress by ideas or not at all. because these principles of free human co-operation between communities are, in a special sense, an anglo-saxon development, it is upon us that there falls the responsibility of giving a lead. if it does not come from us, who have developed these principles as between all the communities which have sprung from the anglo-saxon race, can we ask to have it given elsewhere? if we have not faith in our own principles, to whom shall we look? english thought gave us the science of political economy; anglo-saxon thought and practice must give us another science, that of international polity--the science of the political relationship of human groups. we have the beginnings of it, but it sadly needs systemization--recognition by those intellectually equipped to develop it and enlarge it. the developments of such a work would be in keeping with the contributions which the practical genius and the positive spirit of the anglo-saxon race have already made to human progress. i believe that, if the matter were put efficiently before them with the force of that sane, practical, disinterested labor and organization which have been so serviceable in the past in other forms of propaganda--not only would they prove particularly responsive to the labor, but anglo-saxon tradition would once more be associated with the leadership in one of those great moral and intellectual movements which would be so fitting a sequel to our leadership in such things as human freedom and parliamentary government. failing such effort and such response, what are we to look for? are we, in blind obedience to primitive instinct and old prejudices, enslaved by the old catchwords and that curious indolence which makes the revision of old ideas unpleasant, to duplicate indefinitely on the political and economic side a condition from which we have liberated ourselves on the religious side? are we to continue to struggle, as so many good men struggled in the first dozen centuries of christendom--spilling oceans of blood, wasting mountains of treasure--to achieve what is at bottom a logical absurdity; to accomplish something which, when accomplished, can avail us nothing, and which, if it could avail us anything, would condemn the nations of the world to never-ending bloodshed and the constant defeat of all those aims which men, in their sober hours, know to be alone worthy of sustained endeavor? appendix on recent events in europe appendix on recent events in europe at the outbreak of the balkan war "the great illusion" was subjected to much criticism, on the ground that the war tended to disprove its theses. the following quotations, one from mr. churchill, the first lord of the admiralty, and the other from the english _review of reviews_, are typical of many others. mr. churchill said, in a speech at sheffield: whether we blame the belligerents or criticise the powers, or sit in sackcloth and ashes ourselves is absolutely of no consequence at the present moment.... we have sometimes been assured by persons who profess to know that the danger of war has become an illusion.... well, here is a war which has broken out in spite of all that rulers and diplomatists could do to prevent it, a war in which the press has had no part, a war which the whole force of the money power has been subtly and steadfastly directed to prevent, which has come upon us, not through the ignorance or credulity of the people, but, on the contrary, through their knowledge of their history and their destiny, and through their intense realization of their wrongs and of their duties, as they conceived them, a war which from all these causes has burst upon us with all the force of a spontaneous explosion, and which in strife and destruction has carried all before it. face to face with this manifestation, who is the man bold enough to say that force is never a remedy? who is the man who is foolish enough to say that martial virtues do not play a vital part in the health and honor of every people? (cheers.) who is the man who is vain enough to suppose that the long antagonisms of history and of time can in all circumstances be adjusted by the smooth and superficial conventions of politicians and ambassadors? the london _review of reviews_ said in an article on "the débâcle of norman angell": mr. norman angell's theory was one to enable the citizens of this country to sleep quietly, and to lull into false security the citizens of all great countries. that is undoubtedly the reason why he met with so much success.... it was a very comfortable theory for those nations which have grown rich and whose ideals and initiative have been sapped by overmuch prosperity. but the great delusion of norman angell, which led to the writing of "the great illusion," has been dispelled for ever by the balkan league. in this connection it is of value to quote the words of mr. winston churchill, which give very adequately the reality as opposed to theory. in reply to these and similar criticisms i wrote several articles in the london press, from which the following few pages are selected. what has pacifism, old or new, to say now? is war impossible? is it unlikely? is it futile? is not force a remedy, and at times the only remedy? could any remedy have been devised on the whole as conclusive and complete as that used by the balkan peoples? have not the balkan peoples redeemed war from the charges too readily brought against it as simply an instrument of barbarism? have questions of profit and loss, economic considerations, anything whatever to do with this war? would the demonstration of its economic futility have kept the peace? are theories and logic of the slightest use, since force alone can determine the issue? is not war therefore inevitable and must we not prepare diligently for it? i will answer all these quite simply and directly without casuistry or logic-chopping and honestly desiring to avoid paradox and "cleverness." nor will these quite simple answers be in contradiction to anything that i have written, nor will they invalidate any of the principles i have attempted to explain. my answers may be summarized thus: ( ) this war has justified both the old pacifism and the new. by universal admission events have proved that the pacifists who opposed the crimean war were right and their opponents wrong. had public opinion given more consideration to those pacifist principles, this country would not have "backed the wrong horse" and this war, two wars which have preceded it and many of the abominations of which the balkan peninsula has been the scene during the last years might have been avoided. in any case great britain would not now carry upon her shoulders the responsibility of having during half a century supported the turk against the christian and of having tried uselessly to prevent what has now taken place--the break-up of the turk's rule in europe. ( ) war is not impossible, and no responsible pacifist ever said it was; it is not the likelihood of war which is the illusion, but its benefits. ( ) it is likely or unlikely according as the parties to a dispute are guided by wisdom or folly. ( ) it _is_ futile and force is no remedy. ( ) its futility is proven by the war waged daily by the turks as conquerors, during the last years. and if the balkan peoples choose the less evil of two kinds of war and will use their victory to bring a system based on force and conquest to an end, we who do not believe in force and conquest will rejoice in their action and believe it will achieve immense benefits. but if instead of using their victory to eliminate force, they in their turn pin their faith to it, continue to use it the one against the other and to exploit by its means the populations they rule; if they become not the organizers of social co-operation among the balkan populations, but merely, like the turks, their conquerors and "owners," then they in their turn will share the fate of the turks. ( ) the fundamental causes of this war are economic in the narrower, as well as in the larger sense of the term; in the first because conquest was the turk's only trade--he desired to live out of taxes wrung from a conquered people, to exploit them as a means of livelihood, and this conception was at the root of most of turkish misgovernment. and in the larger sense its cause is economic because in the balkans, remote geographically from the main drift of european economic development, there has not grown up that interdependent social life, the innumerable contacts which in the rest of europe have done so much to attenuate primitive religious and racial hatreds. ( ) a better understanding by the turk of the real nature of civilized government, of the economic futility of conquest, of the fact that a means of livelihood (an economic system) based upon having more force than someone else and using it ruthlessly against him is an impossible form of human relationship bound to break down, _would_ have kept the peace. ( ) if european statecraft had not been animated by false conceptions, largely economic in origin, based upon a belief in the necessary rivalry of states, the advantages of preponderant force and conquest, the western nations could have composed their quarrels and ended the abominations of the balkan peninsula long ago--even in the opinion of the _times_. and it is our own false statecraft--that of great britain--which has a large part of the responsibility for this failure of european civilization. it has caused us to sustain the turk in europe, to fight a great and popular war with that aim, and led us into treaties which, had they been kept, would have obliged us to fight to-day on the side of the turk against the balkan states. ( ) if by "theories" and "logic" is meant the discussion of and interest in principles, the ideas that govern human relationship, they are the only things that can prevent future wars, just as they were the only things that brought religious wars to an end--a preponderant power "imposing" peace playing no rôle therein. just as it was false religious theories which made the religious wars, so it is false political theories which make the political wars. ( ) war is only inevitable in the sense that other forms of error and passion--religious persecution for instance--are inevitable; they cease with better understanding, as the attempt to impose religious belief by force has ceased in europe. ( ) we should not prepare for war; we should prepare to prevent war; and though that preparation may include battleships and conscription, those elements will quite obviously make the tension and danger greater unless there is also a better european opinion. these summarized replies need a little expansion. had we thrashed out the question of war and peace as we must finally, it would hardly be necessary to explain that the apparent paradox in answer no. (that war is futile, and that this war will have immense benefits) is due to the inadequacy of our language, which compels us to use the same word for two opposed purposes, not to any real contradiction of fact. we called the condition of the balkan peninsula "peace" until the attack was made on turkey merely because the respective ambassadors still happened to be resident in the capitals to which they were accredited. let us see what "peace" under turkish rule really meant and who is the real invader in this war. here is a very friendly and impartial witness--sir charles elliot--who paints for us the character of the turk as an "administrator": the turk in europe has an overweening sense of his superiority, and remains a nation apart, mixing little with the conquered populations, whose customs and ideas he tolerates, but makes little effort to understand. the expression, indeed, "turkey in europe" means indeed no more than "england in asia," if used as a designation for india.... the turks have done little to assimilate the people whom they have conquered, and still less, been assimilated by them. in the larger part of the turkish dominions, the turks themselves are in a minority.... the turks certainly resent the dismemberment of their empire, but not in the sense in which the french resent the conquest of alsace-lorraine by germany. they would never use the word "turkey" or even its oriental equivalent, "the high country" in ordinary conversation. they would never say that syria and greece are parts of turkey which have been detached, but merely that they are tributaries which have become independent, provinces once occupied by turks where there are no turks now. as soon as a province passes under another government, the turks find it the most natural thing in the world to leave it and go somewhere else. in the same spirit the turk talks quite pleasantly of leaving constantinople some day, he will go over to asia and found another capital. one can hardly imagine englishmen speaking like that of london, but they might conceivably speak so of calcutta.... the turk is a conqueror and nothing else. the history of the turk is a catalogue of battles. his contributions to art, literature, science, and religion, are practically nil. their desire has not been to instruct, to improve, hardly even to govern, but simply to conquer.... the turk makes nothing at all; he takes whatever he can get, as plunder or pillage. he lives in the houses which he finds, or which he orders to be built for him. in unfavorable circumstances he is a marauder. in favorable, a _grand seigneur_ who thinks it his right to enjoy with grace and dignity all that the world can hold, but who will not lower himself by engaging in art, literature, trade, or manufacture. why should he, when there are other people to do these things for him. indeed, it may be said that he takes from others even his religion, clothes, language, customs; there is hardly anything which is turkish and not borrowed. the religion is arabic; the language half arabic and persian; the literature almost entirely imitative; the art persian or byzantine; the costumes, in the upper classes and army mostly european. there is nothing characteristic in manufacture or commerce, except an aversion to such pursuits. in fact, all occupations, except agriculture and military service are distasteful to the true osmanli. he is not much of a merchant. he may keep a stall in a bazaar, but his operations are rarely undertaken on a scale which merits the name of commerce or finance. it is strange to observe how, when trade becomes active in any seaport, or upon the railway lines, the osmanli retires and disappears, while greeks, armenians, and levantines thrive in his place. neither does he much affect law, medicine or the learned professions. such callings are followed by moslems but they are apt to be of non-turkish race. but though he does none of these things ... the turk is a soldier. the moment a sword or rifle is put into his hands, he instinctively knows how to use it with effect, and feels at home in the ranks or on a horse. the turkish army is not so much a profession or an institution necessitated by the fears and aims of the government as the quite normal state of the turkish nation.... every turk is a born soldier, and adopts other pursuits chiefly because times are bad. when there is a question of fighting, if only in a riot, the stolid peasant wakes up and shows surprising power of finding organization and expedients, and alas! a surprising ferocity. the ordinary turk is an honest and good-humored soul, kind to children and animals, and very patient; but when the fighting spirit comes on him, he becomes like the terrible warriors of the huns or genghis khan, and slays, burns, and ravages without mercy or discrimination.[ ] such is the verdict of an instructed, travelled, and observant english author and diplomatist, who lived among these people for many years and who learned to like them, who studied them and their history. it does not differ, of course, appreciably, from what practically every student of the turk has discovered: the turk is the typical conqueror. his nation has lived by the sword and to-day he is dying by the sword, because the sword, the mere exercise of force by one man or group of men upon another, conquest in other words, is an impossible form of human relationship. in order to maintain this evil form of relationship--its evil and futility constitute the whole basis of the principles i have attempted to illustrate--he has not even observed the rough chivalry of the brigand. the brigand, though he might knock men on the head, will refrain from having his force take the form of butchering women and disembowelling children. not so the turk. his attempt at government will take the form of the obscene torture of children, of a bestial ferocity which is not a matter of dispute or exaggeration, but a thing to which scores, hundreds, thousands even of credible european witnesses have testified. "the finest gentleman, sir, that ever butchered a woman or burned a village," is the phrase that _punch_ most justly puts into the mouth of the defender of our traditional turcophil policy. this condition is "peace" and the act which would put a stop to it is "war"! it is the inexactitude and inadequacy of our language which create much of the confusion of thought in this matter; we have the same term for action destined to achieve a given end and for counter-action destined to prevent it. yet we manage in other than the international field, in civil matters, to make the thing clear enough. once an american town was set on fire by incendiaries and was threatened with destruction. in order to save at least a part of it the authorities deliberately burned down a block of buildings in the pathway of the fire. would those incendiaries be entitled to say that the town authorities were incendiaries also and "believed in setting fire to towns"? yet this is precisely the point of view of those who tax pacifists with approving war because they approve the measure aimed at bringing it to an end. put it another way. you do not believe that force should determine the transfer of property or conformity to a creed, and i say to you: "hand me your purse and conform to my creed or i kill you." you say: "because i do not believe that force should settle these matters, i shall try to prevent it settling them; therefore if you attack i shall resist; if i did not i should be allowing force to settle them." i attack; you resist and disarm me and say: "my force having neutralized yours and, the equilibrium being now established, i will hear any reasons you may have to urge for my paying you money or any argument in favor of your creed. reason, understanding, adjustment shall settle it." you would be a pacifist. or, if you deem that that word connotes non-resistance, though to the immense bulk of pacifists it does not, you would be an anti-bellicist, to use a dreadful word coined by m. emile faguet in the discussion of this matter. if however you said: "having disarmed you and established the equilibrium, i shall now upset it in my favor by taking your weapon and using it against you unless you hand me _your_ purse and subscribe to _my_ creed. i do this because force alone can determine issues and because it is a law of life that the strong should eat up the weak," you would then be a bellicist. in the same way, when we prevent the brigand from carrying on his trade--taking wealth by force--it is not because we believe in force as a means of livelihood, but precisely because we do not. and if, in preventing the brigand from knocking out brains, we are compelled to knock out his brains, is it because we believe in knocking out people's brains? or would we urge that to do so is the way to carry on a trade or to govern a nation or that it could be the basis of human relationship? in every civilized country, the basis of the relationship on which the community rests is this: no individual is allowed to settle his differences with another by force. but does this mean that if one threatens to take my purse, i am not allowed to use force to prevent it? that if he threatens to kill me, i am not to defend myself, because "the individual citizens are not allowed to settle their differences by force"? it is _because_ of that, because the act of self-defence is an attempt to prevent the settlement of a difference by force, that the law justifies it.[ ] but the law would not justify me if, having disarmed my opponent, having neutralized his force by my own and re-established the social equilibrium, i immediately proceeded to upset it by asking him for his purse on pain of murder. i should then be settling the matter by force--i should then have ceased to be a pacifist and have become a bellicist. for that is the difference between the two conceptions; the bellicist says: "force alone can settle these matters; it is the final appeal, therefore fight it out; let the best man win. when you have preponderant strength, impose your view; force the other man to your will; not because it is right, but because you are able to do so." it is the "excellent policy" which lord roberts attributes to germany and approves. we anti-bellicists take an exactly contrary view. we say: "to fight it out settles nothing, since it is not a question of who is stronger, but of whose view is best and, as that is not always easy to establish, it is of the utmost importance in the interest of all parties, in the long run, to keep force out of it." the former is the policy of the turks. they have been obsessed with the idea that, if only they had enough of physical force ruthlessly exercised, they could solve the whole question of government, of existence for that matter, without troubling about social adjustment, understanding, equity, law, commerce; that "blood and iron" were all that was needed. the success of that policy can now be judged. good or evil will come of the present war according as the balkan states are on the whole guided by the bellicist or by the opposed principle. if, having now momentarily eliminated force as between themselves, they re-introduce it; if the strongest, presumably bulgaria,[ ] adopts lord roberts's "excellent policy" of striking because she has the preponderant force, enters upon a career of conquest of other members of the balkan league and of the populations of the conquered territories and uses them for exploitation by military force--why then there will be no settlement and this war will have accomplished nothing save futile waste and slaughter. for they will have taken under a new flag, the pathway of the turk to savagery, degeneration, death. if on the other hand they are guided more by the pacifist principle, if they believe that co-operation among states is better than conflict, if they believe that the common interest of all in good government is greater than the special interest of anyone in conquest, that the understanding of human relationships, the capacity for the organization of society are the means by which men progress and not the imposition of force by one man or group upon another, why, they will have taken the pathway to better civilization. but then they will have disregarded lord roberts's advice. this distinction between the two systems, far from being a matter of abstract theory of metaphysics or logic-chopping, is just the difference which distinguishes the anglo-saxon from the turk, which distinguishes america from turkey. the turk has as much physical vigor as the american, is as virile, manly, and military. the turk has the same raw materials of nature, soil, and water. there is no difference in the capacity for the exercise of physical force--or if there is, the difference is in favor of the turk. the real difference is a difference of ideas, of mind, outlook on the part of the individuals composing the respective societies; the turk has one general conception of human society and the code and principles upon which it is founded, mainly a militarist one; the american has another, mainly a pacifist one. and whether the european society as a whole is to drift towards the turkish ideal or towards the anglo-saxon ideal will depend upon whether it is animated mainly by the pacifist or mainly by the bellicist doctrine; if the former, it will stagger blindly like the turk along the path to barbarism; if the latter, it will take a better road. in dealing with answer no. i have shown how the ambiguity of terms[ ] used leads us so much astray in our notions of the real rôle of force in human relationships. but there is a curious phenomenon of thought which explains perhaps still more how misconceptions grow up on this subject and that is the habit of thinking of a war which, of course, must include two parties in terms solely of one party at a time. thus one critic[ ] is quite sure that because the balkan peoples "recked nothing of financial disaster," economic considerations have had nothing to do with their war--a conclusion which seems to be arrived at by the process of judgment just indicated: to find the cause of conditions produced by two parties you shall rigorously ignore one. for there is a great deal of internal evidence for believing that the writer of the article in question would admit very readily that the efforts of the turk to wring taxes out of the conquered peoples--not in return for a civilized administration, but simply as the means of livelihood, of turning conquest into a trade--had a very great deal to do in explaining the turk's presence there at all and the christian's desire to get rid of him; while the same article specifically states that the mutual jealousies of the great powers, based on a desire to "grab" (an economic motive), had a great deal to do with preventing a peaceful settlement of the difficulties. yet "economics" have nothing to do with it! i have attempted elsewhere to make these two points--that it is on the one hand the false economics of the turks and on the other hand the false economics of the powers of europe, coloring the policy and statecraft of both, which have played an enormous, in all human probability, a determining rôle in the immediate cause of the war; and, of course, a further and more remote cause of the whole difficulty is the fact that the balkan peoples, never having been subjected to the discipline of that complex social life which arises from trade and commerce have not, or at least not so completely, outgrown those primitive racial and religious hostilities which at one time in europe as a whole provoked conflicts like that now raging in the balkans. the following article which appeared[ ] at the outbreak of the war may summarise some of the points with which we have been dealing:-- "polite and good-natured people think it rude to say 'balkans' if a pacifist be present. yet i never understood why, and i understand now less than ever. it carries the implication that because war has broken out that fact disposes of all objection to it. the armies are at grips, therefore peace is a mistake. passion reigns in the balkans, therefore passion is preferable to reason. "i suppose cannibalism and infanticide, polygamy, judicial torture, religious persecution, witchcraft, during all the years we did these 'inevitable' things, were defended in the same way, and those who resented all criticism of them pointed in triumph to the cannibal feast, the dead child, the maimed witness, the slain heretic, or the burned witch. but the fact did not prove the wisdom of those habits, still less their inevitability; for we have them no more. "we are all agreed as to the fundamental cause of the balkan trouble: the hate born of religious, racial, national, and linguistic differences; the attempt of an alien conqueror to live parasitically upon the conquered, and the desire of conqueror and conquered alike to satisfy in massacre and bloodshed the rancor of fanaticism and hatred. "well, in these islands, not so very long ago, those things were causes of bloodshed; indeed, they were a common feature of european life. but if they are inevitable in human relationship, how comes it that adana is no longer duplicated by st. bartholomew; the bulgarian bands by the vendetta of the highlander and the lowlander; the struggle of the slav and turk, serb and bulgar, by that of scots and english, and english and welsh? the fanaticism of the moslem to-day is no more intense than that of catholic and heretic in rome, madrid, paris, and geneva at a time which is only separated from us by the lives of three or four elderly men. the heretic or infidel was then in europe also a thing unclean and horrifying, exciting in the mind of the orthodox a sincere and honest hatred and a (very largely satisfied) desire to kill. the catholic of the th century was apt to tell you that he could not sit at table with a heretic because the latter carried with him a distinctive and overpoweringly repulsive odor. if you would measure the distance europe has travelled, think what this means: all the nations of christendom united in a war lasting years for the capture of the holy sepulchre; and yet, when in our day their representatives, seated round a table, could have had it for the asking, they did not deem it worth the asking, so little of the ancient passion was there left. the very nature of man seemed to be transformed. for, wonderful though it be that orthodox should cease killing heretic, infinitely more wonderful still is it that he should cease wanting to kill him. "just as most of us are certain that the underlying causes of this conflict are 'inevitable' and 'inherent in unchanging human nature,' so are we certain that so _un_-human a thing as economics can have no bearing on it. "well, i will suggest that the transformation of the heretic-hating and heretic-killing european is due mainly to economic forces; that it is because the drift of those forces has to so great a degree left the balkans, where until yesterday the people lived a life little different from that which they lived in the time of abraham, unaffected that war is now raging; that economic factors of a more immediate kind form a large part of the provoking cause of that war; and that a better comprehension by great nations of europe of certain economic facts of their international relationship is essential before much progress towards solution can be made. "but then by 'economics' of course i mean, not a merchant's profit or a money-lender's interest, but the method by which men earn their bread, which must also mean the kind of life they lead. "we generally think of the primitive life of man--that of the herdsman or the tent liver--as something idyllic. the picture is as far as possible from the truth. those into whose lives economics do not enter, or enter very little--that is to say, those who, like the congo cannibal, or the red indian, or the bedouin, do not cultivate, or divide their labor, or trade, or save, or look to the future, have shed little of the primitive passions of other animals of prey, the tigers and the wolves, who have no economics at all, and have no need to check an impulse or a hate. but industry, even of the more primitive kind, means that men must divide their labor, which means that they must put some sort of reliance upon one another; the thing of prey becomes a partner, and the attitude towards it changes. and as this life becomes more complex, as the daily needs and desires push men to trade and barter, that means building up a social organization, rules and codes and courts to enforce them; as the interdependence widens and deepens it necessarily means the cessation of certain hostilities. if the neighboring tribe wants to trade with you it must not kill you; if you want the services of the heretic you must not kill him, you must keep your obligation towards him, and mutual good faith is death to long-sustained hatreds. "you cannot separate the moral from the social and economic development of a people. the great service of a complex social and industrial organization, which is built up by the desire of men for better material conditions, is not that it 'pays,' but that it makes a more interdependent human society, and that it leads men to recognize what is the best relationship among them. the fact of recognizing that some act of aggression is causing stocks to fall is not important because it may save oppenheim's or solomon's money but because it is a demonstration that we are dependent upon some community on the other side of the world, that their damage is our damage, and that we have an interest in preventing it. it teaches us, as only some such simple and mechanical means can teach, the lesson of human fellowship. "it is by such means as this that western europe has in some measure, within its respective political frontiers, learned that lesson. each nation has learned, within its own confines at least, that wealth is made by work, not robbery; that, indeed, general robbery is fatal to prosperity; that government consists not merely in having the power of the sword but in organizing society--in 'knowing how,' which means the development of ideas; in maintaining courts; in making it possible to run railways, post-offices, and all the contrivances of a complex society. "now rulers did not create these things; it was the daily activities of the people, born of their desires and made possible by the circumstances in which they lived, by the trading and the mining and the shipping which they carried on, that made them. but the balkans have been geographically outside the influence of european industrial and commercial life. the turk has hardly felt it at all. he has learned none of the social and moral lessons which interdependence and improved communications have taught the western european, and it is because he had not learned these lessons, because he is a soldier and a conqueror to an extent and completeness that other nations of europe lost a generation or two since, that the balkanese are fighting and that war is raging. "not merely in this larger sense, but in the more immediate, narrower sense, are the fundamental causes of this war economic. "this war arises, as the past wars against the turkish conqueror have arisen, from the desire of the christian peoples on whom he lives to shake off this burden. "to live upon their subjects is the turks' only means of livelihood," says one authority. the turk is an economic parasite and the healthy economic organism must end by rejecting him. "the management of society, simple and primitive even as that of the balkan mountains, needs some effort and work and capacity for administration; otherwise even rudimentary economic life cannot be carried on. the turkish system, founded on the sword and nothing else ('the finest soldier in europe'), cannot give that small modicum of energy or administrative capacity. the one thing he knows is brute force; but it is not by the strength of his muscles that an engineer runs a machine, but by knowing how. the turk cannot build a road or make a bridge or administer a post-office or found a court of law. and these things are necessary. he will not let them be done by the christian, who, because he did not belong to the conquering class, has had to work and has consequently come to possess whatever capacity for work and administration the country can show, because to do so would be to threaten the turk's only trade. in the turk granted the christians equal political rights they would inevitably 'run the country.' and yet the turk himself cannot do it; and he will not let others do it, because to do so would be to threaten his supremacy. "the more the use of force fails, the more, of course, does he resort to it and that is why many of us who do not believe in force and desire to see it disappear from the relationship not merely of religious but of political groups, might conceivably welcome this war of the balkan christians, in so far as it is an attempt to resist the use of force in those relationships. of course, i do not try to estimate the 'balance of criminality.' right is not all on one side--it never is. but the broad issue is clear and plain. and only those concerned with the name rather than the thing, with nominal and verbal consistency rather than realities, will see anything paradoxical or contradictory in pacifist approval of christian resistance to the use of turkish force. "one fact stands out incontrovertibly from the whole weary muddle. it is quite clear that the inability to act in concert arises from the fact that in the international sphere the european is still dominated by illusions which he has dropped when he deals with home politics. the political faith of the turk, which he would never think of applying at home as among the individuals of his nation, he applies pure and unalloyed when he comes to deal with foreigners as nations. the economic conception--using the term in that wider sense which i have indicated earlier in this article--which guides his individual conduct is the antithesis of that which guides his national conduct. "while the christian does not believe in robbery inside the frontier, he does without; while within the state he realizes that it is better for each to observe the general code, so that civilized society can exist, than for each to disregard it, so that society goes to pieces; while within the state he realizes that government is a matter of administration, not the seizure of property; that one town does not add to its wealth by 'capturing' another, that indeed one community cannot 'own' another--while, i say, he believes all these things in his daily life at home, he disregards them all when he comes to the field of international relationship, _la haute politique_. to annex some province by a cynical breach of treaty obligation (austria in bosnia, italy in tripoli) is regarded as better politics than to act loyally with the community of nations to enforce their common interest in order and good government. in fact, we do not believe that there can be a community of nations, because, in fact, we do not believe that their interests are common, but rival; like the turk, we believe that if you do not exercise force upon your 'rival' he will exercise it upon you; that nations live upon one another, not by co-operation with one another--and it is for this reason presumably that you must 'own' as much of your neighbors as possible. it is the turkish conception from beginning to end. "it is because these false beliefs prevent the nations of christendom acting loyally the one to the other, because each is playing for its own hand, that the turk, with hint of some sordid bribe, has been able to play off each against the other. "this is the crux of the matter. when europe can honestly act in common on behalf of common interests some solution can be found. and the capacity of europe to act in harmony will not be found as long as the accepted doctrines of european statecraft remain unchanged, as long as they are dominated by existing illusions." footnotes: [ ] "the true way of life" (headley brothers, london), p. . i am aware that many modern pacifists, even of the english school, to which these remarks mainly apply, are more objective in their advocacy than mr. grubb, but in the eyes of the "average sensual man" pacificism is still deeply tainted with this self-sacrificing altruism (see chapter iii., part iii.), notwithstanding the admirable work of the french pacifist school. [ ] the _matin_ newspaper recently made a series of revelations, in which it was shown that the master of a french cod-fishing vessel had, for some trivial insubordinations, disembowelled his cabin-boy alive, and put salt into the intestines, and then thrown the quivering body into the hold with the cod-fish. so inured were the crew to brutality that they did not effectively protest, and the incident was only brought to light months later by wine-shop chatter. the _matin_ quotes this as the sort of brutality that marks the newfoundland cod-fishing industry in french ships. again, the german socialist papers have recently been dealing with what they term "the casualties of the industrial battlefield," showing that the losses from industrial accidents since --the loss of life during peace, that is--have been enormously greater than the losses due to the franco-prussian war. [ ] "the interest of america in international conditions." new york: harper & brothers. [ ] that is to say, all this was to have taken place before (the book appeared some years ago). this has its counterpart in the english newspaper feuilleton which appeared some years ago entitled, "the german invasion of ." [ ] see letter to the _matin_, august , . [ ] in this self-seeking world, it is not reasonable to assume the existence of an inverted altruism of this kind. [ ] this is not the only basis of comparison, of course. everyone who knows europe at all is aware of the high standard of comfort in all the small countries--scandinavia, holland, belgium, switzerland. mulhall, in "industries and wealth of nations" (p. ), puts the small states of europe with france and england at the top of the list, germany _sixth_, and russia, territorially and militarily the greatest of all, at the very end. dr. bertillon, the french statistician, has made an elaborate calculation of the relative wealth of the individuals of each country. the middle-aged german possesses (on the established average) nine thousand francs ($ ); the hollander _sixteen thousand_ ($ ). (see _journal_, paris, august , ). [ ] the figures given in the "statesman's year-book" show that, proportionately to population, norway has nearly three times the carrying trade of england. [ ] see citation, pp. - . [ ] major stewart murray, "future peace of the anglo-saxons." london: watts and co. [ ] _l'information_, august , . [ ] very many times greater, because the bullion reserve in the bank of england is relatively small. [ ] hartley withers, "the meaning of money." smith, elder and co., london. [ ] see pp. - . [ ] see note concerning french colonial policy, pp. - . [ ] summarizing an article in the _oriental economic review_, the san francisco _bulletin_ says: "japan at this moment seems to be finding out that 'conquered' korea in every real sense belongs to the koreans, and that all that japan is getting out of her war is an additional burden of statesmanship and an additional expense of administration, and an increased percentage of international complication due to the extension of the japanese frontier dangerously close to her continental rivals, china and russia. japan as 'owner' of korea is in a worse position economically and politically than she was when she was compelled to treat with korea as an independent nation." the _oriental economic review_ notes that "the japanese hope to ameliorate the korean situation through the general intermarriage of the two peoples; but this means a racial advance, and through it closer social and economic relations than were possible before annexation, and would probably have been easier of accomplishment had not the destruction of korean independence embittered the people." [ ] spanish four per cents. were - / during the war, and just prior to the moroccan trouble, in , had a free market at per cent. f.c. penfold writes in the december ( ) _north american review_ as follows: "the new spain, whose motive force springs not from the windmills of dreamy fiction, but from honest toil, is materially better off this year than it has been for generations. since the war spanish bonds have practically doubled in value, and exchange with foreign money markets has improved in corresponding ratio. spanish seaports on the atlantic and mediterranean teem with shipping. indeed, the nature of the people seems changing from a _dolce far niente_ indolence to enterprising thrift." [ ] london _daily mail_, december , . [ ] "traité de science des finances," vol. ii., p. . [ ] "die wirtschafts finanz und sozialreform im deutschen reich." leipzig, . [ ] "la crise Économique," _revue des deux mondes_, march , . [ ] maurice block, "la crise Économique," _revue des deux mondes_, march , . see also "les conséquences Économiques de la prochaine guerre," captaine bernard serrigny. paris, . the author says (p. ): "it was evidently the disastrous financial position of germany, which had compelled prussia at the outbreak of the war to borrow money at the unheard-of price of per cent., that caused bismarck to make the indemnity so large a one. he hoped thus to repair his country's financial situation. events cruelly deceived him, however. a few months after the last payment of the indemnity the gold despatched by france had already returned to her territory, while germany, poorer than ever, was at grips with a crisis which was to a large extent the direct result of her temporary wealth." [ ] "das deutsche reich zur zeit bismarcks." [ ] the figures of german emigration are most suggestive in this connection. although they show great fluctuation, indicating their reaction to many factors, they always appear to rise after the wars. thus, after the wars of the duchies they doubled, for the five years preceding the campaigns of they averaged , , and after those campaigns rose suddenly to over , . they had fallen to , in , and then rose to , in , and what is more remarkable still, the emigration did not come from the conquered provinces, from schleswig-holstein, alsace or lorraine, but from prussia! while not for a moment claiming that the effect of the wars is the sole factor in this fluctuation, the fact of emigration as bearing on the general claim made for successful war demands the most careful examination. see particularly, "l'Émigration allemande," _revue des deux mondes_, january, . [ ] the montreal _presse_, march , . [ ] speech, house of commons, august , . the new york papers of november , , report the following from sir wilfrid laurier in the dominion parliament during the debate on the canadian navy: "if now we have to organize a naval force, it is because we are growing as a nation--it is the penalty of being a nation. i know of no nation having a sea-coast of its own which has no navy, except norway, but norway will never tempt the invader. canada has its coal-mines, its gold-mines, its wheat-fields, and its vast wealth may offer a temptation to the invader." [ ] the recent tariff negotiations between canada and the united states were carried on directly between ottawa and washington, without the intervention of london. canada regularly conducts her tariff negotiations, even with other members of the british empire. south africa takes a like attitude. the _volkstein_ of july , , says: "the union constitution is in full accord with the principle that neutrality is permissible in the case of a war in which england and other independent states of the empire are involved.... england, as well as south africa, would best be served by south africa's neutrality" (quoted in _times_, july , ). note the phrase "independent states of the empire." [ ] _times_, november , . [ ] the london _world_, an imperialist organ, puts it thus: "the electoral process of reversing the results of the war is completed in south africa. by the result of last week's contests mr. merriman has secured a strong working majority in both houses. the triumph of the bond at cape town is no less sweeping than was that of het volk at pretoria. the three territories upon which the future of the subcontinent depends are linked together under boer supremacy ... the future federated or uniformed system will be raised upon a dutch basis. if this was what we wanted, we might have bought it cheaper than with two hundred and fifty millions of money and twenty thousand lives." [ ] a bill has been introduced into the indian legislative council enabling the government to prohibit emigration to any country where the treatment accorded to british indian subjects was not such as met with the approval of the governor-general. "as just treatment for free indians has not been secured," says the london _times_, "prohibition will undoubtedly be applied against natal unless the position of free indians there is ameliorated." [ ] britain's total overseas trade for was $ , , , , of which $ , , , was with foreigners, and $ , , , with her own possessions. and while it is true that with some of her colonies britain has as much as per cent. of their trade--_e.g._, australia--it also happens that some absolutely foreign countries do a greater percentage even of their trade with britain than do her colonies. britain possesses per cent. of argentina's foreign trade, but only per cent. of canada's, although canada has recently given her a considerable preference. [ ] west africa and madagascar. [ ] it is a little encouraging, perhaps, for those of us who are doing what we may towards the dissemination of saner ideas, that an early edition of this book seems to have played some part in bringing about the change in french colonial policy here indicated. the french colonial ministry, for the purpose of emphasizing the point of view mentioned in _le temps_ article, on two or three occasions called pointed attention to the first french edition of this book. in the official report of the colonial budget for , a large part of this chapter is reprinted. in the senate (see _journal officiel de la république française_, july , ) the rapporteur again quoted from this book at length, and devoted a great part of his speech towards emphasizing the thesis here set out. [ ] a financier to whom i showed the proofs of this chapter notes here: "if such a tax were imposed the output would be _nil_." [ ] a correspondent sent me some interesting and significant details of the rapid strides made by germany in egypt. it had already been stated that a german newspaper would appear in october, , and that the official notices of the mixed courts have been transferred from the local french newspapers to the german _egyptischer nachrichten_. during the years - , german residents in egypt increased by per cent., while british residents increased by only per cent. germany's share of the egyptian imports during the period - was $ , , , but by this figure reached $ , , . the latest german undertaking in egypt was the foundation of the egyptische hypotheken bank, in which all the principal joint-stock banks of germany were interested. its capital was to be $ , , and the six directors included three germans, one austrian, and two italians. writing of "home sickness among the emigrants" (the _london world_, july , ), mr. f.g. aflalo said: "the germans are, of all nations, the least troubled with this weakness. though far more warmly attached to the hearth than their neighbors across the rhine, they feel exile less. their one idea is to evade conscription, and this offers to all continental nations a compensation for exile, which to the englishman means nothing. i remember a colony of german fishermen on lake tahoe, the loveliest water in california, where the pines of the sierra nevada must have vividly recalled their native harz. yet they rejoiced in the freedom of their adopted country, and never knew a moment's regret for the fatherland." [ ] according to a recent estimate, the germans in brazil now number some four hundred thousand, the great majority being settled in the southern states of rio grande do sul, paraná, and santa catharina, while a small number are found in sao paulo and espirito santo in the north. this population is, for the most part, the result of natural increase, for of late years emigration thither has greatly declined. in near asia, too, german colonization is by no means of recent origin. there are in transcaucasia agricultural settlements established by würtemberg farmers, whose descendants in the third generation live in their own villages and still speak their native language. in palestine, there are the german templar colonies on the coast, which have prospered so well as to excite the resentment of the natives. [ ] london _morning post_, february , . [ ] _north american review_, march, . see also citation, p. . [ ] april, . [ ] "germany and the next war," by gen. friedrich von bernhardi. london: edwin arnold, . [ ] see, notably, the article from admiral mahan, "the place of power in international relations," in the _north american review_ for january, ; and such books of professor wilkinson's as "the great alternative," "britain at bay," "war and policy." [ ] "the valor of ignorance." harpers. [ ] for an expression of these views in a more definite form, see ratzenhofer's "die sociologische erkenntniss," pp. , . leipzig: brockhaus, . [ ] speech at stationer's hall, london, june , . [ ] "the strenuous life." century co. [ ] _mcclure's magazine_, august, . [ ] thomas hughes, in his preface to the first english edition of "the bigelow papers," refers to the opponents of the crimean war as a "vain and mischievous clique, who amongst us have raised the cry of peace." see also mr. j.a. hobson's "psychology of jingoism," p. . london: grant richards. [ ] _north american review_, march, . [ ] "the interest of america in international conditions." new york: harper & brothers. [ ] it is related by critchfield, in his work on the south american republics, that during all the welter of blood and disorder which for a century or more marked the history of those countries, the roman catholic priesthood on the whole maintained a high standard of life and character, and continued, against all discouragement, to preach consistently the beauties of peace and order. however much one may be touched by such a spectacle, and pay the tribute of one's admiration to these good men, one cannot but feel that the preaching of these high ideals did not have any very immediate effect on the social progress of south america. what has effected this change? it is that those countries have been brought into the economic current of the world; the bank and factory and railroad have introduced factors and motives of a quite different order from those urged by the priest, and are slowly winning those countries from military adventure to honest work, a thing which the preaching of high ideals failed to do. [ ] "to-day and to-morrow," p. . john murray. [ ] since the publication of the first edition of this book there has appeared in france an admirable work by m.j. novikow, "le darwinisme social" (felix alcan, paris), in which this application of the darwinian theory to sociology is discussed with great ability, and at great length and in full detail, and the biological presentation of the case, as just outlined, has been inspired in no small part by m. novikow's work. m. novikow has established in biological terms what, previous to the publication of his book, i attempted to establish in economic terms. [ ] co-operation does not exclude competition. if a rival beats me in business, it is because he furnishes more efficient co-operation than i do; if a thief steals from me, he is not co-operating at all, and if he steals much will prevent my co-operation. the organism (society) has every interest in encouraging the competitor and suppressing the parasite. [ ] without going to the somewhat obscure analogies of biological science, it is evident from the simple facts of the world that, if at any stage of human development warfare ever did make for the survival of the fit, we have long since passed out of that stage. when we conquer a nation in these days, we do not exterminate it: we leave it where it was. when we "overcome" the servile races, far from eliminating them, we give them added chances of life by introducing order, etc., so that the lower human quality tends to be perpetuated by conquest by the higher. if ever it happens that the asiatic races challenge the white in the industrial or military field, it will be in large part thanks to the work of race conservation, which has been the result of england's conquest in india, egypt, and asia generally, and her action in china when she imposed commerical contact on the chinese by virtue of military power. war between people of roughly equal development makes also for the survival of the unfit, since we no longer exterminate and massacre a conquered race, but only their best elements (those carrying on the war), and because the conqueror uses up _his_ best elements in the process, so that the less fit of both sides are left to perpetuate the species. nor do the facts of the modern world lend any support to the theory that preparation for war under modern conditions tends to preserve virility, since those conditions involve an artificial barrack life, a highly mechanical training favorable to the destruction of initiative, and a mechanical uniformity and centralization tending to crush individuality, and to hasten the drift towards a centralized bureaucracy, already too great. [ ] one might doubt, indeed, whether the british patriot has really the feeling against the german that he has against his own countrymen of contrary views. mr. leo maxse, in the _national review_ for february, , indulges in the following expressions, applied, not to germans, but to english statesmen elected by a majority of the english people: mr. lloyd george is a "fervid celt animated by passionate hatred of all things english"; mr. churchill is simply a "tammany hall politician, without, however, a tammany man's patriotism." mr. harcourt belongs to "that particular type of society demagogue who slangs peers in public and fawns upon them in private." mr. leo maxse suggests that some of the ministers should be impeached and hanged. mr. mckenna is lord fisher's "poll-parrot," and the house of commons is the "poisonous parliament of infamous memory," in which ministers were supported by a vast _posse comitatus_ of german jackals. [ ] speech at stationers' hall, london, june , . [ ] i have in mind here the ridiculous furore that was made by the british jingo press over some french cartoons that appeared at the outbreak of the boer war. it will be remembered that at that time france was the "enemy," and germany was, on the strength of a speech by mr. chamberlain, a quasi-ally. britain was at that time as warlike towards france as she is now towards germany. and this is only ten years ago! [ ] in his "history of the rise and influence of the spirit of rationalism in europe," lecky says: "it was no political anxiety about the balance of power, but an intense religious enthusiasm that impelled the inhabitants of christendom towards the site which was at once the cradle and the symbol of their faith. all interests were then absorbed, all classes were governed, all passions subdued or colored, by religious fervor. national animosities that had raged for centuries were pacified by its power. the intrigues of statesmen and the jealousies of kings disappeared beneath its influence. nearly two million lives are said to have been sacrificed in the cause. neglected governments, exhausted finances, depopulated countries, were cheerfully accepted as the price of success. no wars the world had ever before seen were so popular as these, which were at the same time the most disastrous and the most unselfish." [ ] "be assured," writes st. augustine, "and doubt not that not only men who have obtained the use of their reason, but also little children who have begun to live in their mother's womb and there died, or who, having been just born, have passed away from the world without the sacrament of holy baptism, must be punished by the eternal torture of undying fire." to make the doctrine clearer, he illustrates it by the case of a mother who has two children. each of these is but a lump of perdition. neither has ever performed a moral or immoral act. the mother overlies one, and it perishes unbaptized. it goes to eternal torment. the other is baptized and saved. [ ] this appears sufficiently from the seasons in which, for instance, _autos da fé_ in spain took place. in the gallery of madrid there is a painting by francisco rizzi representing the execution, or rather the procession to the stake, of a number of heretics during the fêtes that followed the marriage of charles ii., and before the king, his bride, and the court and clergy of madrid. the great square was arranged like a theatre, and thronged with ladies in court dress. the king sat on an elevated platform, surrounded by the chief members of the aristocracy. limborch, in his "history of the inquisition," relates that among the victims of one _auto da fé_ was a girl of sixteen, whose singular beauty struck all who saw her with admiration. as she passed to the stake she cried to the queen: "great queen, is not your presence able to bring me some comfort under my misery? consider my youth, and that i am condemned for a religion which i have sucked in with my mother's milk." [ ] _spectator_, december , . [ ] see quotations, pp. - , from homer lea's book, "the valor of ignorance." [ ] thus captain d'arbeux ("l'officier contemporaine," grasset, paris, ) laments "la disparition progressive de l'idéal de revanche," a military deterioration which is, he declares, working the country's ruin. the general truth of all this is not affected by the fact that , owing to the moroccan conflict and other matters, saw a revival of chauvinism, which is already spending itself. the _matin_, december, , remarks: "the number of candidates at st. cyr and st. maixent is decreasing to a terrifying degree. it is hardly a fourth of what it was a few years ago.... the profession of arms has no longer the attraction that it had." [ ] "germany and england," p. . [ ] see the first chapter of mr. harbutt dawson's admirable work, "the evolution of modern germany." t. fisher unwin, london. [ ] i have excluded the "operations" with the allies in china. but they only lasted a few weeks. and were they war? this illustration appears in m. novikow's "le darwinisme social." [ ] the most recent opinion on evolution would go to show that environment plays an even larger rôle in the formation of character than selection (see prince kropotkin's article, _nineteenth century_, july, , in which he shows that experiment reveals the direct action of surroundings as the main factor of evolution). how immensely, therefore, must our industrial environment modify the pugnacious impulse of our nature! [ ] see citations, pp. - , notably mr. roosevelt's dictum: "in this world the nation that is trained to a career of unwarlike and isolated ease is bound to go down in the end before other nations which have not lost the manly and adventurous qualities." this view is even emphasized in the speech which mr. roosevelt recently delivered at the university of berlin (see london _times_, may , ). "the roman civilization," declared mr. roosevelt--perhaps, as the _times_ remarks, to the surprise of those who have been taught to believe that _latifundia perditere romam_--"went down primarily because the roman citizen would not fight, because rome had lost the fighting edge." (see footnote, p. .) [ ] "the valor of ignorance." harpers. [ ] see m. messimy's report on the war budget for (annexe , p. ). the importance of these figures is not generally realized. astonishing as the assertion may sound, conscription in germany is not universal, while it is in france. in the latter country every man of every class actually goes through the barracks, and is subjected to the real discipline of military training; the whole training of the nation is purely military. this is not the case in germany. very nearly half of the young men of the country are not soldiers. another important point is that the part of the german nation which makes up the country's intellectual life escapes the barracks. to all practical purposes very nearly all young men of the better class enter the army as one year volunteers, by which they escape more than a few weeks of barracks, and even then escape its worst features. it cannot be too often pointed out that intellectual germany has never been subjected to real barrack influence. as one critic says: "the german system does not put this class through the mill," and is deliberately designed to save them from the grind of the mill. france's military activities since have, of course, been much greater than those of germany--tonkin, madagascar, algeria, morocco. as against these, germany has had only the hereros campaign. the percentages of population given above, in the text, require modification as the army laws are modified, but the relative positions in germany and france remain about the same. [ ] _vox de la naçión_, caracas, april , . [ ] even mr. roosevelt calls south american history mean and bloody. it is noteworthy that, in his article published in the _bachelor of arts_ for march, , mr. roosevelt, who lectured englishmen so vigorously on their duty at all costs not to be guided by sentimentalism in the government of egypt, should write thus at the time of mr. cleveland's venezuelan message to england: "mean and bloody though the history of the south american republics has been, it is distinctly in the interest of civilization that ... they should be left to develop along their own lines.... under the best of circumstances, a colony is in a false position; but if a colony is a region where the colonizing race has to do its work by means of other and inferior races, the condition is much worse. there is no chance for any tropical colony owned by a northern race." [ ] june , . [ ] see an article by mr. vernon kellogg in the _atlantic monthly_, july, . seeley says: "the roman empire perished for want of men." one historian of greece, discussing the end of the peloponnesian wars, said: "only cowards remain, and from their broods came the new generations." three million men--the élite of europe--perished in the napoleonic wars. it is said that after those wars the height standard of the french adult population fell abruptly inch. however that may be, it is quite certain that the physical fitness of the french people was immensely worsened by the drain of the napoleonic wars, since, as the result of a century of militarism, france is compelled every few years to reduce the standard of physical fitness in order to keep up her military strength, so that now even three-feet dwarfs are impressed. [ ] i think one may say fairly that it _was_ sydney smith's wit rather than bacon's or bentham's wisdom which killed this curious illusion. [ ] see the distinction established at the beginning of the next chapter. [ ] m. pierre loti, who happened to be at madrid when the troops were leaving to fight the americans, wrote: "they are, indeed, still the solid and splendid spanish troops, heroic in every epoch; one needs only to look at them to divine the woe that awaits the american shopkeepers when brought face to face with such soldiers." he prophesied _des surprises sanglantes_. m. loti is a member of the french academy. [ ] see also letter quoted, pp. - . [ ] "patriotism and empire." grant richards. [ ] "for permanent work the soldier is worse than useless; his whole training tends to make him a weakling. he has the easiest of lives; he has no freedom and no responsibility. he is, politically and socially, a child, with rations instead of rights--treated like a child, punished like a child, dressed prettily and washed and combed like a child, excused for outbreaks of naughtiness like a child, forbidden to marry like a child, and called "tommy" like a child. he has no real work to keep him from going mad except housemaid's work" ("john bull's other island"). all those familiar with the large body of french literature, dealing with the evils of barrack-life, know how strongly that criticism confirms mr. bernard shaw's generalization. [ ] september , . [ ] things must have reached a pretty pass in england when the owner of the _daily mail_ and the patron of mr. blatchford can devote a column and a half over his own signature to reproaching in vigorous terms the hysteria and sensationalism, of his own readers. [ ] the _berliner tageblatt_ of march , , says: "one must admire the consistent fidelity and patriotism of the english race, as compared with the uncertain and erratic methods of the german people, their mistrust, and suspicion. in spite of numerous wars, bloodshed, and disaster, england always emerges smoothly and easily from her military crises and settles down to new conditions and surroundings in her usual cool and deliberate manner.... nor can one refrain from paying one's tribute to the sound qualities and character of the english aristocracy, which is always open to the ambitious and worthy of other classes, and thus slowly but surely widens the sphere of the middle classes by whom they are in consequence honored and respected--a state of affairs practically unknown in germany, but which would be to our immense advantage." [ ] "der kaiser und die zukunft des deutschen volkes." [ ] see also the confirmatory verdict of captain march phillips, quoted on p. . [ ] "my life in the army," p. . [ ] i do not think this last generalization does any injustice to the essay, "latitude and longitude among reformers" ("strenuous life," pp. - . the century company). [ ] see for further illustration of the difference and its bearing in practical politics chapter viii., part i., "the fight for the place in the sun." [ ] see chapter vii., part i. [ ] aristotle did, however, have a flash of the truth. he said: "if the hammer and the shuttle could move themselves, slavery would be unnecessary." [ ] "facts and comments," p. . [ ] buckle ("history of civilization") points out that philip ii., who ruled half the world and drew tribute from the whole of south america, was so poor that he could not pay his personal servants or meet the daily expenses of the court! [ ] i mean by credit all the mechanism of exchange which replaces the actual use or metal, or notes representing it. [ ] lecky ("rationalism in europe," p. ) says: "protestantism could not possibly have existed without a general diffusion of the bible, and that diffusion was impossible until after the two inventions of paper and printing.... before those inventions, pictures and material images were the chief means of religious instruction." and thus religious belief became necessarily material, crude, anthropomorphic. [ ] "battles are no longer the spectacular heroics of the past. the army of to-day and to-morrow is a sombre gigantic machine devoid of melodramatic heroics ... a machine that it requires years to form in separate parts, years to assemble them together, and other years to make them work smoothly and irresistibly" (homer lea in "the valor of ignorance," p. ). [ ] general von bernhardi, in his work on cavalry, deals with this very question of the bad influence on tactics of the "pomp of war," which he admits must disappear, adding very wisely: "the spirit of tradition consists not in the retention of antiquated forms, but in acting in that spirit which in the past led to such glorious success." the plea for the retention of the soldier because of his "spirit" could not be more neatly disposed of. see p. of the english edition of bernhardi's work (hugh rees, london). [ ] see quotations, pp. - . [ ] the following letter to the _manchester guardian_, which appeared at the time of the boer war, is worth reproduction in this connection: "sir,--i see that 'the church's duty in regard to war' is to be discussed at the church congress. this is right. for a year the heads of our church have been telling us what war is and does--that it is a school of character; that it sobers men, cleans them, strengthens them, knits their hearts; makes them brave, patient, humble, tender, prone to self-sacrifice. watered by 'war's red rain,' one bishop tells us, virtue grows; a cannonade, he points out, is an 'oratorio'--almost a form of worship. true; and to the church men look for help to save their souls from starving for lack of this good school, this kindly rain, this sacred music. congresses are apt to lose themselves in wastes of words. this one must not, surely cannot, so straight is the way to the goal. it has simply to draft and submit a new collect for war in our time, and to call for the reverent but firm emendation, in the spirit of the best modern thought, of those passages in bible and prayer-book by which even the truest of christians and the best of men have at times been blinded to the duty of seeking war and ensuing it. still, man's moral nature cannot, i admit, live by war alone; nor do i say with some that peace is wholly bad. even amid the horrors of peace you will find little shoots of character fed by the gentle and timely rains of plague and famine, tempest and fire; simple lessons of patience and courage conned in the schools of typhus, gout, and stone; not oratorios, perhaps, but homely anthems and rude hymns played on knife and probe in the long winter nights. far from me to 'sin our mercies,' or to call mere twilight dark. yet dark it may become; for remember that even these poor makeshift schools of character, these second-bests, these halting substitutes for war--remember that the efficiency of every one of them, be it hunger, accident, ignorance, sickness, or pain, is menaced by the intolerable strain of its struggles with secular doctors, plumbers, inventors, schoolmasters, and policemen. every year thousands who would once have been braced and steeled by manly tussles with small-pox or diphtheria are robbed of that blessing by the great changes made in our drains. every year thousands of women and children must go their way bereft of the rich spiritual experience of the widow and the orphan." [ ] captain march phillips, "with remington." methuen. see pp. - for mr. blatchford's confirmation of this verdict. [ ] and here as to the officers--again not from me but from a very imperialist and militarist quarter--the london _spectator_ (november , ), says: "soldiers might be supposed to be free from pettiness because they are men of action. but we all know that there is no profession in which the leaders are more depreciated by one another than in the profession of arms." [ ] professor william james says: "greek history is a panorama of war for war's sake ... of the utter ruin of a civilization which in intellectual respects was perhaps the highest the earth has ever seen. the wars were purely piratical. pride, gold, women, slaves, excitement were their only motives."--_mcclure's magazine_, august, . [ ] "britain at bay." constable and co. [ ] see quotation from sir c.p. lucas, p. - . [ ] see details on this matter given in chapter vii., part i. [ ] london _morning post_, april , . i pass over the fact that to cite all this as a reason for armaments is absurd. does the _morning post_ really suggest that the germans are going to attack england because they don't like the english taste in art, or music, or cooking? the notion that preferences of this sort need the protection of _dreadnoughts_ is surely to bring the whole thing within the domain of the grotesque. [ ] i refer to the remarkable speech in which mr. chamberlain notified france that she must "mend her manners or take the consequences" (see london daily papers between november and december , ). [ ] not that a very great period separates us from such methods. froude quotes maltby's report to government as follows: "i burned all their corn and houses, and committed to the sword all that could be found. in like manner i assailed a castle. when the garrison surrendered, i put them to the misericordia of my soldiers. they were all slain. thence i went on, sparing none which came in my way, which cruelty did so amaze their fellows that they could not tell where to bestow themselves." of the commander of the english forces at munster we read: "he diverted his forces into east clanwilliam, and harassed the country; killed all mankind that were found therein ... not leaving behind us man or beast, corn or cattle ... sparing none of what quality, age, or sex soever. beside many burned to death, we killed man, woman, child, horse, or beast or whatever we could find." [ ] in "the evolution of modern germany" (fisher unwin, london) the same author says: "germany implies not one people, but many peoples ... of different culture, different political and social institutions ... diversity of intellectual and economic life.... when the average englishman speaks of germany he really means prussia, and consciously or not he ignores the fact that in but few things can prussia be regarded as typical of the whole empire." [ ] "international law." john murray, london. [ ] lord sanderson, dealing with the development of international intercourse in an address to the royal society of arts (november , ), said: "the most notable feature of recent international intercourse, he thought, was the great increase in international exhibitions, associations, and conferences of every description and on every conceivable subject. when he first joined the foreign office, rather more than fifty years ago, conferences were confined almost entirely to formal diplomatic meetings to settle some urgent territorial or political question in which several states were interested. but as time had passed, not only were the number and frequency of political conferences increased, but a host of meetings of persons more or less official, termed indiscriminately conferences and congresses, had come into being." [ ] january , . [ ] march , . [ ] "the german government is straining every nerve, with the zealous support of its people, to get ready for a fight with this country" (_morning post_, march , ). "the unsatiated will of the armed state will, when an opportunity offers, attack most likely its most satiated neighbors without scruple, and despoil them without ruth" (dr. dillon, _contemporary review_, october, ). [ ] i have shown in a former chapter (chapter vi., part ii.) how these international hatreds are not the cause of conflict, but the outcome of conflicts or presumed conflicts of policy. if difference of national psychology--national "incompatibility of temper"--were the cause, how can we explain the fact that ten years since the english were still "hating all frenchmen like the devil," and talking of alliance with the germans? if diplomatic shuffling had pushed england into alliance with the germans against the french, it would never have occurred to the people that they had to "detest the germans." [ ] the german navy law in its preamble might have filched this from the british navy league catechism. [ ] in an article published in (january ) the london _spectator_ pointed out the hopeless position germany would occupy if england cared to threaten her. the organ, which is now apt to resent the increased german navy as implying aggression upon england, then wrote as follows: "germany has a mercantile marine of vast proportions. the german flag is everywhere. but on the declaration of war the whole of germany's trading ships would be at our mercy. throughout the seas of the world our cruisers would seize and confiscate german ships. within the first week of the declaration of war germany would have suffered a loss of many million pounds by the capture of her ships. nor is that all. our colonies are dotted with german trading-houses, who, in spite of a keen competition, do a great deal of business.... we should not, of course, want to treat them harshly; but war must mean for them the selling of their businesses for what they would fetch and going home to germany. in this way germany would lose a hold upon the trade of the world which it has taken her many years of toil to create.... again, think of the effect upon germany's trade of the closing of all her ports. hamburg is one of the greatest ports of the world. what would be its condition if practically not a single ship could leave or enter it? blockades are no doubt very difficult things to maintain strictly, but hamburg is so placed that the operation would be comparatively easy. in truth the blockade of all the german ports on the baltic or the north sea would present little difficulty.... consider the effect on germany if her flag were swept from the high seas and her ports blockaded. she might not miss her colonies, for they are only a burden, but the loss of her sea-borne trade would be an equivalent to an immediate fine of at least a hundred million sterling. in plain words, a war with germany, even when conducted by her with the utmost wisdom and prudence, must mean for her a direct loss of a terribly heavy kind, and for us virtually no loss at all." this article is full of the fallacies which i have endeavored to expose in this book, but it logically develops the notions which are prevalent in both england and germany; and yet germans have to listen to an english minister of marine describing their navy as a luxury! [ ] here is the real english belief in this matter: "why should germany attack britain? because germany and britain are commercial and political rivals; because germany covets the trade, the colonies, and the empire which britain now possesses.... as to arbitration, limitation of armament, it does not require a very great effort of the imagination to enable us to see that proposal with german eyes. were i a german, i should say: 'these islanders are cool customers. they have fenced in all the best parts of the globe, they have bought or captured fortresses and ports in five continents, they have gained the lead in commerce, they have a virtual monopoly of the carrying trade of the world, they hold command of the seas, and now they propose that we shall all be brothers, and that nobody shall fight or steal any more,'" (robert blatchford, "germany and england," pp. - ). [ ] "facts and fallacies." an answer to "compulsory service," by field-marshal earl roberts, v.c., k.g. [ ] discussing the first edition of this book, sir edward grey said: "true as the statement in that book may be, it does not become an operative motive in the minds and conduct of nations until they are convinced of its truth and it has become a commonplace to them" (argentine centenary banquet, may , ). [ ] lecky, "history of the progress of rationalism in europe." [ ] i do not desire in the least, of course, to create the impression that i regard the truths here elaborated as my "discovery," as though no one had worked in this field before. properly speaking, there is no such thing as priority in ideas. the interdependence of peoples was proclaimed by philosophers three thousand years ago. the french school of pacifists--passy, follin, yves guyot, de molinari, and estournelles de constant--have done splendid work in this field; but no one of them, so far as i know, has undertaken the work of testing in detail the politico-economic orthodoxy by the principle of the economic futility of military force; by bringing that principle to bear on the everyday problems of european statecraft. if there is such an one--presenting the precise notes of interrogation which i have attempted to present here--i am not aware of it. this does not prevent, i trust, the very highest appreciation of earlier and better work done in the cause of peace generally. the work of jean de bloch, among others, though covering different ground from this, possesses an erudition and bulk of statistical evidence to which this can make no claim. the work of j. novikow, to my mind the greatest of all, has already been touched upon. [ ] "turkey in europe," pp. - and - . it is significant, by the way, that the "born soldier" has now been crushed by a non-military race whom he has always despised as having no military tradition. capt. f.w. von herbert ("bye paths in the balkans") wrote (some years before the present war): "the bulgars, as christian subjects of turkey exempt from military service, have tilled the ground under stagnant and enfeebling peace conditions, and the profession of arms is new to them." "stagnant and enfeebling peace conditions" is, in view of subsequent events, distinctly good. [ ] i dislike to weary the reader with such damnable iteration, but when a british cabinet minister is unable in this discussion to distinguish between the folly of a thing and its possibility, one _must_ make the fundamental point clear. [ ] this appendix was written before the balkan states fell to fighting one another. it is scarcely necessary to point out that the events of the last few days (early summer ) lend significance to the argument in the text. [ ] see p. . [ ] _review of reviews_, november, . [ ] in the _daily mail_, to whose editor i am indebted for permission to reprint it. index acceleration, law of, relation to sociology, , adam, paul, advocate of war, aflalo, f.g., home-sickness among emigrants, , africa, south: gold-mines of, as motive of boer war, ; position of trade in, in event of war, alsace-lorraine, annexation of, - america. _see_ united states america, south: financial development of, , ; folly of aggression in states of, ; british methods of enforcing financial obligations in, annexation: of alsace-lorraine and value of, to germany, - ; alsace-lorraine, financial aspect, ; bosnia and herzegovina, effect on austria, arabia and internal wars, argentine international trade, aristotle: on slavery, ; the state, armagh, archbishop of, advocate of war, armament, armaments: _united service magazine_ quoted on limitations of, ; bernhardi school, ; motives of, ; justification of, asia minor: protection of german interest in, ; benefit of, to britain if under german tutelage, asquith, mr.: on canadian navy, ; "color problem," , austria, annexation of bosnia and herzegovina, _autos da fé_ in spain, bachmar, dr. f., on union of germany and south africa, bacon on nature of man, balfour, mr. a.j., on independence of the colonies, - bank of england: position of, if germany invaded england, - ; helped by bank of france, banking: withers on interdependence necessary in, - . _see also_ finance barracks, mr. r. blatchford on moral influence of, - barrès, m., advocate of war, baty, mr. t., social "stratification" and business, - beaulieu, paul, on french indemnity, belgium economic security, - _berliner tageblatt_, bernhardi: on defence of war, - ; war advocates and school of, ; on tactics and "pomp of war," ; policy of, bertillon, dr., on relative individual wealth in nations, biermer, professor, on protectionist movement in germany, birrell, mr. augustine, bismarck: and machiavelli's dictum as to policy of a prudent ruler, ; and the french indemnity, ; his surprise at the recuperation of france after the war, - blatchford, mr. robert, , , , , , - , , , block, maurice, on french indemnity, blum, hans, boer war: motives of, ; results of, ; cost of, bosnia and herzegovina. _see_ austria bourget, paul, advocate of war, brazil, international trade of, britain: possibility of being "wiped out" in twenty-four hours, - ; conquest of, a physical impossibility, ; sir c.p. lucas's policy of colonial government, ; position of, with regard to "ownership" of colonies, ; attitude of, with regard to german trade in asia minor, - ; prussianization of, ; contrast between, and ancient rome, ; position of, with regard to her independent states, - ; cause of hostility towards germany, ; what the world has to learn from imperial development of, - ; the real exemplar of the nations, - brunetière, advocate of war, bülow, prince von, on germany's "rage for luxury," etc., - caivano, tomasso, - canada: english merchant in, ; england's trade with, ; effect of acquisition of, by germany, ; the question of "ownership" of, ; sir wilfrid laurier on canadian navy, ; war record, capital. _see_ finance catholics and protestants, chamberlain, mr. joseph, charles ii. of spain, churchill, mr. winston; dictum of, on war, - ; on german navy "luxury," - colonies: no advantage gained by conquest of, - , - ; commercial value of, ; sir c.p. lucas on britain's policy of colonial government, - ; and national independence, ; _volkstein_ on colonial neutrality in warfare, ; britain's "ownership" of, ; administrative weaknesses of, - ; fiscal position of, - ; false policy of conquest of, ; méline régime and advantages of independent administration of french, - ; impossibility of "possession" of, ; how germany exploits her, ; economic retribution on, - colonies, crown, , - commerce: definition of, ; deterioration of international incident to war, . _see also_ trade community, what constitutes well-being of a, - competition: methods of industrial, ; impossibility of destruction of, - ; and co-operation, confiscation, the impossibility of, - conqueror, policy of, in regard to wealth and territory, - conquest: _blackwood's magazine_ in defence of, - ; impossibility of, from point of view of trade, - ; of colonies, no advantages gained by, - ; alleged benefits of, disproved by prosperity of small states, - ; no advantage gained by, in modern warfare, - , ; advantage of, in ancient and medieval times, - ; alleged benefits of, disproved, - ; unable to change national character of conquered territory, - ; inadequate value of present methods of, ; lessening rôle of, in commerce, - ; paradox of london police force applied in relation to, ; where it has benefited nations, ; effect of co-operation as a factor against, ; enervating effects of, on romans, ; spain ruined by glamour of, - ; co-operation taking place of, - ; changed nature of, ; warlike nations the victims of, ; logical absurdity of, summed up, - . _see also_ war conscription: and the peace ideal, ; in france and germany, comparison between, - ; how it might work in england, - co-operation and competition, - ; the effects of, in international relations, ; taking place of conquest, - ; advantages of, allied to force, - ; of states and nationalism, courtesy in international relations, cox, sir edmund c., credit: in its relation to war, - ; definition of, critics, arguments of, against "the great illusion," - cuba, war of, financial effect of, to spain, _daily mail_, - , - , , d'arbeux, captain, dawson, harbutt, defence: navy league on, ; the necessity of, ; problem of, considered, demolins, edmond, déroulède, advocate of war, dervishes, appreciation of, as fighters, ; w.h. steevens quoted on, - despot, financial embarrassment of the, - despotism, the reasons for poverty of, dilke, sir charles, domination. _see_ conquest dreyfus case, _times_ quoted on, - duel, survival and abandonment of, - economics. _see_ finance emigration, statistics of, for germany, emotion, need for the control of, empiricism the curse of political thinking, england. _see_ britain environment, the rôle of, in the formation of character, faguet, advocate of war, farrar, dean, advocate of war, farrer, fian, dr., finance: interdependence of credit-built position of, on german invasion, ; investment secure in small states, , , , , , ; in its relation to industry, - ; position of bank of england on german invasion, - ; effect on bank rate of financial crisis in new york, - ; effect of repudiation in south american states, - ; why repudiation is unprofitable, - ; cause of bank crisis in united states, ; withers's appreciation of english bankers, ; lavisse on germany's financial crisis, ; the meaning of "the money of a nation," ; physical force replaced by economic pressure, ; economic and physical force in their relation to money, ; british methods of enforcing financial obligations in south america, ; organization of capital, ; bank of england helped by bank of france, ; internationalization of, - ; why a western bank ceased to be robbed, - ; _spectator_ quoted on economic interdependence, - . _see also_ wealth fisher, admiral, fleet. _see_ navy force: the diminishing factor of, , ; co-operation and the advantage of, ; justification of, by police, - ; replaced by economic pressure, ; in its relation to slavery, - ; the general domination of, - ; herbert spencer quoted on limitation implied by physical, - ; difference between economic and physical, - france: max wirth on her position ftper franco-german war, ; bismarck on, - ; standard of comfort in, higher than in germany, ; financial superiority of, ; colonial administration of the méline régime, - ; supposed benefit of "expansion" to, - ; a more military nation than germany, - ; conscription in, ; physical results of napoleonic wars in, ; cause of failure of expansion in asia, ; stigmatized by _times_ in dreyfus case, - ; mr. chamberlain on, ; position of the statesman in, franco-german war: position of france after, - ; bismarck on, - ; alleged benefit of, to germany, ; some difficulties resulting from, in germany, - ; no advantage gained by, to germany, - fried, a., - friendship in international relations, ; general question of, - froude, gaevernitz. _see_ schulze-gaevernitz germany: mr. harrison on effect of military predominance of, ; dr. schulze-gaevernitz on german navy, ; r. blatchford on german attack, ; admiral von koster on overseas interest of, - ; future demands of, with regard to europe, ; aims of pan-germanists, - ; the position of german citizen if germany "owned" holland, ; value of alsace-lorraine to, - ; withers quoted on commerce of, and english credit, ; false theory of annihilation of, explained, ; lavisse on financial crisis in, ; economic effect of aforesaid crisis, - ; progress of socialism in, after war of , ; emigration statistics in, ; financial position in regard to france, ; political evolution of, before the war, ; social difficulties in, resulting from franco-german war, ; failure of war from point of view of annexation and indemnity, ; and the acquisition of canada, - ; the case of colonial conquest, - ; if germany had conducted the boer war, - ; trade of, with occupied territory, ; trade in egypt, statistics of, ; benefits of "ownership," fallacy of, ; growth and expansion of, - ; methods of colonial exploitation, - ; protection of interests in asia minor, ; commercial supremacy of, in undeveloped territory, - ; sir h. johnston on germany's real object of conquest, ; burden of alsace-lorraine, ; r. blatchford on policy of, ; r. blatchford in defence of, ; "rage for luxury" in, ; reputed military character of, disproved on investigation, - ; as type of a military nation, - ; conscription in, - ; wisdom of, in avoiding war, ; kotze scandal in, ; no advantage gained by war of , ; growth of social democratic movement in, ; _berliner tageblatt_ in praise of england as compared with, ; progress owing to regimentation, - ; mr. harbutt dawson on unified, - ; false idea of british hostility to, ; cause of british hostility towards, ; r. blatchford on warlike preparations of, to destroy britain, ; mr. fried on heterogeneous nature of, - ; _north german gazette_ on strikes in, and effects of co-operation, - ; _morning post_ on german aggression, ; mr. churchill and german defence, ; _spectator_ on position of, if attacked by britain, ; mr. blatchford on reasons for attack by, ; sir e.c. cox on british policy with regard to, ; anglo-german banquets, futility of, towards mutual understanding, giffen, sir robert, on cost of franco-german war, , , goltz, von der, - "great illusion, the," history of, - grey, sir edward, grubb, mr. edward, hague conferences, cause of failures of, hamburg, annexation of, by britain and probable result, - harrison, mr. frederic: quoted on effect of germany's predominance in military power, ; quoted on naval defence and effect of invasion by germany, - ; theories challenged, - holland: economic security of, on invasion, - ; the case of the hollander if germany "owned" holland, ; greatness of, compared to prussia, holy sepulchre, fights between infidels and christians for, honour: mr. roosevelt on national, ; consideration of general question of, - human nature: alleged unchangeability of, - ; changes of manifestations in, , , , , , , - hyndman, mr. h.m., ideas, rationalization of, indemnity; sir r. giffen quoted on, from franco-german war, ; cost of same considered in detail, - ; practical difficulties of, - ; doubtful advantage of, to conqueror, - ; problems of, not sufficiently studied, individual, false analogy between nation and, , - industrialism, cruelties of, , industry, relation of, to finance, - _l'information_, intercommunication of states, - interdependence: plea of, against war, - ; theory of, explained, - ; development of, - ; evolution of, - ; diminution of physical force owing to, - ; the vital necessity of, international politics, obsolete conception of, admiral mahan on elements of, , , investment. _see_ finance james i. of scotland, james, professor william, , japan, position of, as "owner" of korea, johnston, sir harry h., kidd, benjamin, , kingsley, charles, kitchener, lord, ; w.h. steevens' description of, korea, position of japan as "owner" of, koster, admiral von, , kotze scandal, the, and "rottenness" of german civilization, _times_ on, kropotkin, prince, labour: division of, explained from point of view of conquest, ; in the modern world, laurier, sir wilfrid, lavisse, law of acceleration. _see_ acceleration, law of law, natural, of man in relation to strife, lea, general homer, , , , , lecky, , , , limborch, loti, pierre, lucas, sir c.p., machiavelli, mcdougal, professor w., , mckenzie, f.a., mahan, admiral: quoted on international relations, , ; quoted in criticism of "the great illusion," ; quoted on elements of international politics, ; quoted on world-politics, _manchester guardian_ and peace, - mankind: biological development of, ; progress of, from barbarity to civilization, ; psychological change in, ; reasons for indisposition to fight in, ; process of civilization of, - ; attitude of "average sensual man" towards peace, - martin, t.g., _matin, le_, , , maxse, leo, , méline régime, the, in french colonies, merchant adventurer, the case of, in sixteenth century, - militarists, views of, on war, - military force: when and where it may be necessary, ; not essential to national efficiency, military support of colonies. _see_ colonies military training, its influence on peace, - moltke, von, money. _see_ finance _morning post_, , mulhall on comparative standard of comfort in european countries, murray, major, napoleonic wars, results of, nation, nations: falseness of analogy between individual and a, , - ; honour of, ; why warlike, do not inherit the earth, ; warlike and unwarlike, , , ; canada least warlike, ; power of a, not dependent on its army and navy, - ; reason for decay of military, - ; complexity of, - ; _spectator_ on economic theories of, national efficiency, relation to military power, nationalism and the co-operation of states, - navy, british: _times_ on powers of, ; h.w. wilson on necessity for powerful, ; admiral fisher on supremacy of, northmen methods, norway: the carrying trade of, ; no temptation to invade, sir wilfrid laurier on, novikow, j., darwinian theory of, owen, mr. douglas, "ownership." _see_ possession pacifists: pleas of, , , - ; case of, ; patriots and, pan-germanists, aims of, patriots: patriotism, national honour and, ; modification of aims of, owing to interdependence, ; general lea on extinction of, in united states, ; the religion of politics, ; pacifists and, , peace: why propaganda has given small results, - ; psychological case for, - ; qualities necessary to preserve, ; occupations which tend towards, - ; military training and, ; attitude of "average sensual man" towards, - penfold, f. c, philippines, financial effect of loss of, to spain, phillips, captain march, pitcairn, police force, london, paradox of, applied in relation to conquest, , , politics, obsolete terminology of, portugal, cause of failure of expansion in asia, - possession: sir j.r. seeley on, ; fallacious theory considered from german point of view, - printing: results of invention of, - ; power of, prussia: cause of prosperity of, ; agitation for electoral reform in, _public opinion_, - pugnacity: irrational nature of, - ; professor william mcdougal on, - _referee_, regimentation, germany's progress owing to, - religion: early ideals of, - ; critchfield on influence of catholic priests in south american republics, ; struggles of, and the state, - , - , ; beliefs no longer enforced by government, ; lecky on wars of, - ; freedom of opinion in, ; reason of cessation of wars of, ; relation to politics of, - renan, ernest, - repudiation. _see_ finance revenue, state, what becomes of, rizzi, francisco, robertson, john m., rohrbach, dr. p., roman civilization: mr. roosevelt on, ; sir j.r. seeley on downfall and decay of, rome, ancient: sir j.r. seeley on downfall and decay of, ; slave society of, ; contrast between, and britain, roosevelt, mr., , , , , , , , salisbury, lord, samoa, the case of the powers, sanderson, lord, schulze-gaevernitz, prof. von, sea-power, overseas trade, benjamin kidd on, - . _see also_ british navy seeley, sir j.r., , shaw, g.b., slavery, slaves: society of, in rome, ; its relation to physical force, - socialism, progress of, in germany after war of , soetbeer, soldier: r. blatchford on character of, - ; captain march phillips on, - ; _spectator_ on, ; our debt to the, ; boyish appeal of the, - ; the "poetic shelf" for the, spain: f.c. penfold on progress of, since war, ; failure of expansion of, in asia, - ; pierre loti quoted in praise of troops, ; military virtues of, ; ruin of, by conquest, spanish american. _see_ america, south _spectator_, , , , , - , , spencer, herbert, - state, states: analogy between individuals in, - ; division of, in relation to conflict, ; ancient and modern, character of, ; false analogy between, and a person, - ; independent nature of, - ; _morning post_ on the organism of, ; heterogeneous elements of, ; professor mcdougal on pugnacity of barbarous, - ; definition of, ; reasons for lessening "rôle" of hostility among, - ; position of citizen of small, if he became citizen of a large, - states small: as prosperous as the great powers, , ; investments secure in, , , ; cause of prosperity of, - statesmen: major murray on methods of, with regard to treaties, ; leo maxse on character of english, steevens, w.h., , , , steinmetz, s.r., stengel, baron von, , , story, general john p., switzerland: the commercial power of, ; compared to prussia, ; position of british subject in, if threatened by britain, _temps, le_, territorial independence, farrer on, _times_, the, , , , , , trade: t.g. martin on britain's carrying, ; admiral von koster quoted on german overseas, - ; impossible to capture, by military conquest, - ; statistics of britain's overseas, ; diminishing factor of physical force in, - . _see also_ competition, commerce, industry transvaal: treatment of british indian in, before and after the war, - ; gold-mines of, as motives for boer war, - ; national character of, still unchanged, treasury, mr. d. owen on what enriches, treaties, major stuart murray on futility of, tribute, exaction of, an economic impossibility, tripoli, ineptitude of italy in, united states: germans in, ; general lea and _daily mail_ on national ideals in, _united service magazine_, venezuela: warlike character of, ; caivano on natives of, - viking, the, our debt to, _volkstein_, war: the case of, from militarist point of view, ; cost of franco-german war, - ; bernhardi in defence of, ; s.r. steinmetz on the nature of, ; general homer lee in defence of, - ; general storey in defence of, ; baron von stengel in defence of, ; moltke in defence of, ; roosevelt in defence of, - ; professor james in defence of, ; famous clergyman in defence of, - ; defence of, summarized, - ; the reason for, ; von der goltz on nature of, ; result of armed peace, ; justification of defender of, ; and the natural law of man, ; the irrational aspect of, ; _spectator_ on means to an end, - ; procurator of russian holy synod on, ; general lea on its relation to commercial activities, ; captain d'arbeux on military deterioration, ; prominent advocates of, ; pleas of military authorities, ; general homer lea on military spirit, - ; advocates of, criticized, - ; the curse of, in south american republics, ; the question of just and unjust, - ; fundamental error of, ; real process of, ; baron von stengel's dictum, - ; national deterioration owing to, ; effects of prolonged warfare, ; changed nature of, ; not now a physical but an intellectual pursuit, - ; general homer lea on nature of modern battles, ; bernhardi on tactics and "pomp of war," ; radical change in methods of, - ; pleas of militarists analyzed, - ; _manchester guardian_ on moral influence of, ; emotional appeal of, ; mr. churchill on, . _see also_ conquest wealth: _referee_ on, in time of war, ; national, not dependent on its political power, ; policy of conqueror with regard to, - ; the question of, in international politics, - , intangibility of, . _see also_ finance wilkinson, professor, , - wilson, h.w., wirth, max, witchcraft: belief in, ; lecky on, - ; folly of, from modern point of view, withers, hartley, _world_, the, * * * * * _by the same author_ the great illusion a study of the relation of military power in nations to their economic and social advantages. mo. $ . _net_ arms and industry a study of the foundations of international polity _in preparation:_ the citizen and society first principles of their relationship * * * * * "the great illusion" and public opinion america ="new york times," march , .= "a book which has compelled thought; a book full of real ideas deserves the welcome it has received. the author is enjoying the almost unlimited praise of his contemporaries, expressed or indicated by many men of eminence and influence, by countless reviewers who have lately hungered for a hero to worship. "moreover ... it certainly makes for genuine æsthetic pleasure, and that is all most of us ask of a book." ="the evening post," chicago (mr. floyd dell), february , .= "the book, being read, does not simply satisfy curiosity; it disturbs and amazes. it is not, as one would expect, a striking expression of some familiar objections to war. it is instead--it appears to be--a new contribution to thought, a revolutionary work of the first importance, a complete shattering of conventional ideas about international politics; something corresponding to the epoch-making 'origin of species' in the realm of biology. "all of this it appears to be. one says 'appears,' not because the book fails completely to convince, but because it convinces so fully. the paradox is so perfect there must be something wrong about it!... "at first glance the statement which forms the basis of the book looks rather absurd, but before it is finished it seems a self-evident proposition. it is certainly a proposition which, if proved, will provide a materialistic common-sense basis for disarmament.... "there is subject-matter here for ironic contemplation. mr. angell gives the reader no chance to imagine that these things 'just happened.' he shows why they happened and had to happen.... "one returns again and again to the arguments, looking to find some fallacy in them. not finding them, one stares wonderingly ahead into the future, where the book seems to cast its portentous shadow." ="boston herald," january , .= "this is an epoch-making book, which should be in the hands of everyone who has even the slightest interest in human progress.... his criticism is not only masterly--it is overwhelming; for though controversy will arise on some of the details, the main argument is irrefutable. he has worked it out with a grasp of the evidence and a relentlessness of logic that will give life and meaning to his book for many a year to come." ="life" (new york).= "an inquiry into the nature and history of the forces that have shaped and are shaping our social development that throws more light upon the meaning and the probable outcome of the so-called 'war upon war' than all that has been written and published upon both sides put together. the incontrovertible service that mr. angell has rendered us in 'the great illusion' is to have introduced intellectual order into an emotional chaos." great britain. ="daily mail."= "no book has attracted wider attention or has done more to stimulate thought in the present century than 'the great illusion.' published obscurely, and the work of an unknown writer, it gradually forced its way to the front.... has become a significant factor in the present discussion of armaments and arbitration." ="nation."= "no piece of political thinking has in recent years more stirred the world which controls the movement of politics.... a fervour, a simplicity, and a force which no political writer of our generation has equalled ... rank its author, with cobden, among the greatest of our pamphleteers, perhaps the greatest since swift." ="edinburgh review."= "mr. angell's main thesis cannot be disputed, and when the facts ... are fully realized, there will be another diplomatic revolution more fundamental than that of ." ="daily news."= "so simple were the questions he asked, so unshakable the facts of his reply, so enormous and dangerous the popular illusion which he exposed, that the book not only caused a sensation in reading circles, but also, as we know, greatly moved certain persons high-placed in the political world. "the critics have failed to find a serious flaw in norman angell's logical, coherent, masterly analysis." =sir frank lascelles (formerly british ambassador at berlin) in speech at glasgow, january , .= "while i was staying with the late king, his majesty referred me to a book which had then been published by norman angell, entitled 'the great illusion.' i read the book, and while i think that at present it is not a question of practical politics, i am convinced that it will change the thought of the world in the future." =r.a. scott james in "the influence of the press."= "norman angel in recent years has done more probably than any other european to frustrate war, to prove that it is unprofitable. he was probably the guiding spirit behind the diplomacy which checked the great powers from rushing into the balkan conflict." =j.w. graham, m.a., in "evolution and empire."= "norman angell has placed the world in his debt and initiated a new epoch of thought.... it is doubtful whether since the 'origin of species' so many bubbles have been burst, and so definitely plain a step in thought been made, by any single book." =mr. harold begbie in the "daily chronicle."= "a new idea is suddenly thrust upon the minds of men.... it is hardly an exaggeration to say that this book does more to fill the mind with the intolerable weight of war, to convince the reasonable mind ... than all the moral and eloquent appeals of tolstoy.... the wisest piece of writing on the side of peace extant in the world to-day." ="birmingham post."= "'the great illusion,' by sheer force, originality, and indisputable logic, has won its way steadily forward, and made its author a person to be quoted by statesmen and diplomatists not only in england, but in france, germany, and america." ="glasgow news."= "if only for the daring with which mr. angell's extraordinary book declares that the accepted ideas are so much moonshine, it would be a work to attract attention. when we add that mr. angell makes out a decidedly brilliant and arresting case for his contention, we have said sufficient to indicate that it is worth perusal by the most serious type of reader." british colonial opinion. =w.m. hughes, acting premier of australia, in a letter to the "sydney telegraph."= "it is a great book, a glorious book to read. it is a book pregnant with the brightest promise to the future of civilized man. peace--not the timid, shrinking figure of the hague, cowering under the sinister shadow of six million bayonets--appears at length as an ideal possible of realization in our own time." =sir george reid, australian high commissioner in london (sphinx club banquet, may , ).= "i regard the author of this book as having rendered one of the greatest services ever rendered by the writer of a book to the human race. well, i will be very cautious indeed--one of the greatest services which any author has rendered during the past hundred years." france and belgium. =m. anatole france in "the english review," august, .= "one cannot weigh too deeply the reflections of this ably reasoned work." ="la petite république" (m. henri turot), décembre, .= "j'estime, pour ma part, 'la grande illusion' doit avoir, au point de vue de la conception moderne de l'économie politique internationale, un retentissement égal à celui qu'eut, en matière biologique, la publication, par darwin, de 'l'origine des espèces.' "c'est que m. norman angell joint à l'originalité de la pensée le courage de toutes les franchises, qu'il unit à une prodigieuse érudition la lucidité d'esprit et la méthode qui font jaillir la loi scientifique de l'ensemble des événements observés." ="revue bleu," mai, .= "fortement étayées, ses propositions émanent d'un esprit singulièrement réaliste, également informé et clairvoyant, qui met une connaissance des affaires et une dialectique concise au service d'une conviction, aussi passionnée que généreuse." =m. jean jaurès, during debate in french chamber of deputies, january , ; see journal officiel, janvier, .= "il a paru, il y a peu de temps, un livre anglais de m. norman angell, 'la grande illusion,' qui a produit un grand effet en angleterre. dans les quelques jours que j'ai passés de l'autre côté du détroit, j'ai vu, dans les réunions populaires, toutes les fois qu'il était fait mention de ce livre, les applaudissements éclater." germany and austria. ="kölnische zeitung."= "never before has the peace question been dealt with by so bold, novel, and clear a method; never before has the financial interdependence of nations been shown with such precision.... it is refreshing to have demonstrated in this unsentimental, practical way the fact that as our financial interdependence increases war as a business venture necessarily becomes more and more unprofitable." ="der turmer" (stuttgart).= "this demonstration should clear the air like a thunderstorm.... it is not because the book brilliantly expresses what are in many respects our own views that we urge its importance, but because of its unanswerable demonstration of the futility of military power in the economic field." ="königsberger allgemeine zeitung."= "this book proves absolutely that conquest as a means of material gain has become an impossibility.... the author shows that the factors of the whole problem have been profoundly modified within the past forty years." ="ethische kultur" (berlin).= "never has militarism been combated by economic weapons with the skill shown by norman angell.... so broad and comprehensive a grasp of the moral as well as the economic force, that the book is a real pleasure to read.... the time was ripe for a man with this keenness of vision to come forward and prove in this flawless way that military power has nothing to do with national prosperity." =professor karl von bar, the authority on international and criminal law, privy councillor, etc.= "particularly do i agree with the author in these two points: ( ) that in the present condition of organized society the attempt of one nation to destroy the commerce or industry of another must damage the victor more perhaps than the vanquished; and ( ) that physical force is a constantly diminishing factor in human affairs. the rising generation seems to be realizing this more and more." =dr. friedrich curtius.= "the book will, i hope, convince everyone that in our time the attempt to settle industrial and commercial conflicts by arms is an absurdity.... i doubt, indeed, whether educated folks in germany entertain this 'illusion' ... or the idea that colonies or wealth can be 'captured.' ... a war dictated by a moral idea, the only one we can justify, is inconceivable as between england and germany." =dr. wilhelm ostwald, who has occupied chairs in several german universities, as well as at harvard and columbia.= "from the first line to the last 'the great illusion' expresses my own opinions." =dr. sommer, member of the reichstag.= "a most timely work, and one which everyone, be he statesman or political economist, should study ... especially if he desires to understand a peace ideal which is practical and realizable.... without agreeing on all points, i admit gladly the force and suggestiveness of the thesis.... we on our side should make it our business, as you should on yours, to render it operative, to use the means, heretofore unrealized, of joint work for civilization. in rendering possible such joint work, norman angell's book must take a foremost place." =dr. max nordau.= "if the destiny of people were settled by reason and interest, the influence of such a book would be decisive.... the book will convince the far-seeing minority, who will spread the truth, and thus slowly conquer the world." =dr. albert suedekum, member of the reichstag, author of several works on municipal government, editor of municipal year-books, etc.= "i consider the book an invaluable contribution to the better understanding of the real basis of international peace." =dr. otto mugdan, member of the reichstag, member of the national loan commission, chairman of the audit commission, etc.= "the demonstration of the financial interdependence of modern civilized nations, and the economic futility of conquest, could not be made more irrefutably." =professor a. von harder.= "i agree that it is a mistake to wait for action as between governments; far better, as jaurès proved the other day in the french chamber, for the peoples to co-operate.... the book should be widely circulated in germany, where so many are still of opinion that heavy armaments are an absolute necessity for self-defence." financial and economic authorities. ="american journal of political economy."= "the best treatise yet written on the economic aspect of war." ="american political science review."= "it may be doubted whether within its entire range the peace literature of the anglo-saxon world has ever produced a more fascinating or significant study." ="economist" (london).= "nothing has ever been put in the same space so well calculated to set plain men thinking usefully on the subject of expenditure on armaments, scare and war.... the result of the publication of this book has been within the past month or two quite a number of rather unlikely conversions to the cause of retrenchment." ="investors' review" (london), november , .= "no book we have read for years has so interested and delighted us.... he proceeds to argue, and to prove, that conquests do not enrich the conqueror under modern conditions of life.... the style in which the book is written--sincere, transparent, simple, and now and then charged with fine touches of ironic humour--make it very easy to read." ="economic review" (london).= "civilization will some day acknowledge a deep debt of gratitude to mr. norman angell for the bold and searching criticism of the fundamental assumptions of modern diplomacy contained in his remarkable book.... he has laid his fingers upon some very vital facts, to which even educated opinion has hitherto been blind." ="journal des economistes."= "son livre sera beaucoup lu, car il est aussi agréable que profond, et il donnera beaucoup à réfléchir." ="export" (organ des centralvereins für handelsgeographie).= "by reason of its statement of the case against war in terms of practical politics and commercial advantage (=real-und handelspolitikers=), the keenness and the mercilessness of the logic by which the author explodes the errors and the illusions of the war phantasists ... the sense of reality, the force with which he settles accounts point by point with the militarists, this book stands alone. it is unique." ="the western mail."= "a novel, bold, and startling theory." military opinion. ="army and navy journal" (n.y.), october , .= "if all anti-militarists could argue for their cause with the candour and fairness of norman angell we should welcome them, not with 'bloody hands to hospitable graves,' but to a warm and cheery intellectual comradeship. mr. angell has packed away in his book more common sense than peace societies have given birth to in all the years of their existence...." ="united service magazine" (london), may, .= "it is an extraordinarily clearly written treatise upon an absorbingly interesting subject, and it is one which no thinking soldier should neglect to study.... mr. angell's book is much to be commended in this respect. it contains none of the nauseating sentiment which is normally parasitic to 'peace' literature. the author is evidently careful to take things exactly as he conceives them to be, and to work out his conclusions without 'cleverness' and unobscured by technical language. his method is to state the case for the defence (of present-day 'militarist' statecraft), to the best of his ability in one chapter, calling the best witnesses he can find and putting their views from every standpoint so clearly that even one who was beforehand quite ignorant of the subject cannot fail to understand. mr. angell's book is one which all citizens would do well to read, and read right through. it has the clearness of vision and the sparkling conciseness which one associates with swift at his best." ="the army service corps quarterly" (aldershot, england), april, .= "the ideas are so original and clever, and in places are argued with so much force and common sense, that they cannot be pushed aside at once as preposterous.... there is food here for profound study.... above all, we should encourage the sale of 'the great illusion' abroad, among nations likely to attack us, as much as possible." ="war office times" (london).= "should be read by everyone who desires to comprehend both the strength and the weakness of this country." * * * * * transcriber's notes: punctuation has been normalized. on page "be yond" changed to "beyond." "... beyond saving the mother country...." on page "such and-such" changed to "such-and-such." on page "reationship" changed to "relationship." "... on basis of mutual profit the only relationship...." on page "porportion" changed to "proportion." "our sense of proportion in these matters...." on page "real ze" changed to "realize." "... by the fact that she failed to realize this truth...." on page "anchronism" changed to "anachronism." "... it is an anachronism; it finds its justification in...." on page "indentification" changed to "identification." "... identification between a people and the acts...." on page "orginally" changed to "originally." "... our relative positions is just what it was originally...." on page "fanticism" changed to "fanaticism." "... mohammedan fanaticism, chinese boxerism...."