Secretary of State for War. My belief is that, if ever the history of our military administration of recent years comes to be impartially written, it will be found that most of the large reforms, which have beneficially affected the army, have been warmly supported, and sometimes initiated, by the superior civilian element in the War Office. Who, indeed, ever heard of a profession being reformed from within? One of the greatest law reformers of the last century was the author of Bleak House.

It may, indeed, be urged-perhaps Lord Wolseley would himself urge that it is no defence of a bad system to say that under one man (Lord Cardwell), whom Lord Wolseley describes as a clear-headed, logical-minded lawyer' (ii. 234), it worked very well. To this I reply that I cannot believe that the race of clear-headed, logical-minded individuals of Cabinet rank, belonging to either great party of the State, is extinct.

I have been induced to make these remarks because, in past years, I was a good deal associated with army reform, and because, since then, I have continued to take an interest in the matter. Also because. I am convinced that those officers in the army who, with the best intentions, advocate the particular change now under discussion, are making a mistake in army interests. They may depend upon it that the cause they have at heart will best be furthered by maintaining at the head of the army a civilian of intelligence and of good business habits, who, although, equally with a soldier, he may sometimes make mistakes, will give an impartial hearing to army reformers, and will probably be more alive than any one belonging to their own profession to all that is best in the outside and parliamentary pressure to which he is exposed.

I turn to the second point to which allusion was made at the commencement of this article.

Speaking of the Chinese war in 1860, Lord Wolseley says (ii. 62): 'In treating with barbarian nations during a war . . . the general to command the army and the ambassador to make peace should be one and the same man. To separate the two functions is, according to my experience, folly gone mad.' Lord Wolseley reverts to this subject in describing the Ashantee war of 1873-74 (ii. 269). I gather from his allusions to Sir John Moore's campaign in Spain, and to the fact that evil results ensued from allowing Dutch deputies to accompany Marlborough's army, that he is in favour of extending the principle which he advocates to wars other than those waged against 'barbarian nations.'

The objections to anything in the nature of a division of responsibility, at all events so long as military operations are in actual progress, are, indeed, obvious, and are now very generally recognised. Those who are familiar with the history of the revolutionary war will remember the baneful influence exercised by the Aulic Council over the

6

actions of the Austrian commanders. There can, in fact, be little doubt that circumstances may occur when the principle advocated by Lord Wolseley may most advantageously be adopted; but it is, I venture to think, one which has to be applied with much caution, especially when the question is not whether there should be a temporary cessation of hostilities-a point on which the view of the officer in command of the troops would naturally carry the greatest weight— but also involves the larger issue of the terms on which peace should finally be concluded. I am not at all sure that, in deciding on the issues which, under the latter contingency, must necessarily come under consideration, the employment of a soldier, in preference to a politician or diplomatist, is always a wise proceeding. Soldiers, equally with civilians, are liable to make erroneous forecasts of the future, and to mistake the general situation with which they have to deal. I can give a case in point.

When, in January 1885, Khartum fell, the question whether the British army should be withdrawn, or should advance and reconquer the Soudan, had to be decided. Gordon, whose influence on public opinion, great before, had been enhanced by his tragic death, had strongly recommended the policy of smashing the Mahdi.' Lord Wolseley adopted Gordon's opinion. No frontier force,' he said,

can keep Mahdiism out of Egypt, and the Mahdi sooner or later must be smashed, or he will smash you.' These views were shared by Lord Kitchener, Sir Redvers Buller, Sir Charles Wilson, and by the military authorities generally. Further, the alleged necessity of smashing the Mahdi,' on the ground that his success in the Soudan would be productive of serious results elsewhere, exercised a powerful influence on British public opinion at this period, although the best authorities on Eastern politics were at the time aware that the fears so generally entertained in this connection were either groundless or, at all events, greatly exaggerated. Under these circumstances, it was decided to smash the Mahdi,' and accordingly a proclamation, giving effect to the declared policy of the British Government, was issued. Shortly afterwards, the Penjdeh incident occurred. Public opinion in England somewhat calmed down, having found its natural safety-valve in an acrimonious parliamentary debate, in which the Government narrowly escaped defeat. The voices of politicians and diplomatists, which had been to some degree hushed by the din of arms, began to be heard.

"Art of War, Jomini, p. 59.

7 I think I am correct in saying that Sir Evelyn Wood was of a contrary opinion but I have been unable to verify this statement by reference to any contemporaneous document.

"On the 21st of March, 1884, Sir Alfred Lyall wrote to Mr. Henry Reeve: 'The Mahdi's fortunes do not interest India. The talk in some of the papers about the necessity of smashing him in order to avert the risk of some general Mohamedan uprising is futile and imaginative.'-Memoirs of Henry Reeve, vol. ii. p. 329.

The proclamation was cancelled. The project of reconquering the Soudan was postponed to a more convenient period. It was, in fact, accomplished thirteen years later, under circumstances which differed very materially from those which prevailed in 1885. In June 1885 the Government of Lord Salisbury succeeded to that of Mr. Gladstone, and, though strongly urged to undertake the reconquest of the Soudan, confirmed the decision of its predecessors.

Sir George Arthur, writing in the Fortnightly Review, strongly condemns this cynical disavowal' of Lord Wolseley's proclamation. I have nothing to say in favour of the issue of that proclamation. I am very clearly of opinion that, as it was issued, it was wise that it should be cancelled. For, in truth, subsequent events showed that the forecast made by Lord Wolseley and by Gordon was erroneous, in that it credited the Mahdi with a power of offence which he was far from possessing. No serious difficulty arose in defending the frontier of Egypt from Dervish attack. The overthrow of the Mahdi's power, though eminently desirable, was very far from constituting an imperious necessity such as was commonly supposed to exist in 1885. In this instance, therefore, it appears to me that the diplomatists and politicians gauged the true nature of the situation somewhat more accurately than the soldiers.

More than this. I conceive that, in all civilised countries, the theory of government is that a question of peace or war is one to be decided by politicians. The functions of the soldier are supposed to be confined, in the first place, to advising on the purely military aspects of the issue involved; and, in the second place, to giving effect to any decisions at which the Government may arrive. The practice in this matter not unfrequently differs somewhat from the theory. The soldier, who is generally prone to advocate vigorous action, is inclined to encroach on the sphere which should properly be reserved for the politician. The former is often masterful, and the latter may be dazzled by the glitter of arms, or too readily lured onwards by the persuasive voice of some strategist to acquire an almost endless succession of what, in technical language, are called 'keys' to some position, or to employ a metaphor of which the late Lord Salisbury once made use in writing to me—' to try and annex the moon in order to prevent its being appropriated by the planet Mars.' When this happens, a risk is run that the soldier, who is himself unconsciously influenced by a very laudable desire to obtain personal distinction, may practically dictate the policy of the nation without taking a sufficiently comprehensive view of national interests. Considerations of this nature have more especially been, from time to time, advanced in connection with the numerous frontier wars which have occurred in India. That they contain a certain element of truth can scarcely be doubted.

For these reasons, it appears to me that the application of the

principle advocated by Lord Wolseley requires much care and watchfulness. Probably, the wisest plan will be that each case should be decided on its own merits with reference to the special circumstances of the situation, which may sometimes demand the fusion, and sometimes the separation, of military and political functions.

I was talking a short time ago to a very intelligent, and also Anglophile, French friend of mine. He knew England well, but, until quite recently, had not visited the country for a few years. He told me that what struck him most was the profound change which had come over British opinion since the occasion of his last visit. We had been invaded, he said, by le militarisme continental. In common with the vast majority of my countrymen, I am earnestly desirous of seeing our military organisation and military establishments placed on a thoroughly sound footing, but I have no wish whatever to see any portion of our institutions overwhelmed by a wave of militarisme continental. It is because I think that the views advocated by Lord Wolseley tend although, I do not doubt, unconsciously to their distinguished author-in the direction of a somewhat too pronounced militarisme, that I venture in some degree to differ from one for whom I have for many years entertained the highest admiration and the most cordial personal esteem.

CROMER.

THE GERMANS AT WATERLOO AND

ANGLO-GERMAN RELATIONS

THE speech delivered at Hanover by the Kaiser on the 18th of last December, in which he told his hearers that the Germans had rescued the British army from destruction at Waterloo, attracted more attention in England and throughout the world than such an utterance seemed to merit. Political significance has been attributed to it. Many recalled the famous Kruger telegram' sent, as we all know, on the high authority of the Chancellor of the German Empire, for the purpose of testing how far certain Continental Powers were prepared to act with Germany against England. It is also not forgotten that, for many years past, it has been the steady policy of the German Government to foster hostile feelings in Germany against the British nation. The action of the Foreign Office at Berlin in this respect is well known to every diplomatist and statesman on the Continent. From time to time it is true that efforts have been made in high quarters in Berlin to check the German Anglophobe movement; but these efforts have been directed with a view not seriously to impair its power, but to hinder it from becoming a political danger. If the Government at Berlin had been really anxious to paralyse this movement during the Boer war, they had only to publish the official account, as the American Government did, of their military agents in South Africa. This would have seriously counteracted the effect which the systematic calumnies on the British army made on the mind of many generous Germans. It has at last been given to the world, but the hour has gone by when its publication would have been of value and a friendly act.

The speech of the Kaiser at Hanover was certainly not calculated to allay the friction which exists between the English nation and the German people. It has had the effect of inducing Englishmen to recall many episodes in the former relations between Prussia and Great Britain, and especially some important ones connected with the time when England was locked in a life and death struggle with the power of Napoleon. It made them remember the fatuous and