took place, and the sculptor caught sight of the real Herbert Spencer, his astonishment knew no bounds. If you could conceive a human form and face ill adapted as a model for a sculptor, it was that of Mr. Spencer. In the most delicate way Sir Edgar tried to intimate to the philosopher the insuperable difficulties of the task he had offered to perform. But all his arguments were useless. Mr. Spencer took his stand upon the ground that he had been requested to allow a bust of himself to be made, that he had agreed to the proposal, and that he intended to insist upon the execution of the promise. Again I have been told on good authority a story of how Mr. Spencer's complete works ever came to be published. A number of his personal friends who knew the extreme narrowness of his means, who admired his extraordinary energy under the most depressing circumstances, and who were anxious to relieve his embarrassments, agreed to publish a complete edition of his works and to pay him a salary for editing the volumes and seeing them through the press which would, with his simple tastes, keep him in comfort during his advancing years. After some few volumes had been published, the signatories of the agreement, who were all personal friends, found the cost of publication far exceeded the amount anticipated, and suggested to Mr. Spencer that the publication should be suspended, and that, notwithstanding this, their engagement with him should remain as heretofore. But to any suggestion of this kind Mr. Spencer absolutely refused to listen. He informed his friends that they had made a contract, and that he must insist on its rigið execution. Legally he was absolutely and entirely within his right; and I for one, though I doubt whether Mr. Spencer's magnum opus will command quite the amount of attention on the part of posterity that his admirers foretell, cannot but admit there is something really heroic about an author who believed so implicitly in the value of his own work, and was so prepared to subordinate all personal considerations to the perpetuation of its memory.

EDWARD DICEY.

The Editor of THE NINETEENTH CENTURY cannot undertake
to return unaccepted MSS.

THE autobiography of my old and highly esteemed friend, Lord Wolseley, constitutes an honourable record of a well-spent life. Lord Wolseley may justifiably be proud of the services which he has rendered to his country. The British nation, and its principal executive officials in the past, may also be proud of having quickly discovered Lord Wolseley's talents and merits, and of having advanced him to high position.

Obviously, certain conclusions of public interest may be drawn from the career of this very distinguished soldier. Sir George Arthur, in the December number of the Fortnightly Review, has stated what are the special lessons which, in his opinion, are to be derived from a consideration of that career.

Those lessons are, indeed, sufficiently numerous. I propose, however, to deal with only two of them. They are those which, apparently, Lord Wolseley himself wishes to be inculcated. Both involve questions of principle of no little importance.

In the first place, Lord Wolseley, if I understand rightly, considers that the army has suffered greatly from civilian interference. The Story of a Soldier's Life. Field-Marshal Viscount Wolseley. (Constable.) VOL. LV-No. 324

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He appears to think that it should be more exclusively than heretofore under military control.

In the second place, he thinks that, in certain cases, the political and diplomatic negotiations, which generally follow on a war, should be conducted, not by a diplomatist or politician, but by the officer who has conducted the previous military operations.

As regards the first point, I am not now dealing with Lord Wolseley's remarks in connection with our general unpreparedness for war, nor with those on the various defects, past or present, of our military organisation. In a great deal that he has said on these subjects, Lord Wolseley carries me heartily with him. I confine myself strictly to the issue as I have defined it above.

Possibly, I have mistaken the significance of Lord Wolseley's words. If so, my error is shared by Sir George Arthur, who, in dealing with the War Office, dwells with emphasis on the occasions when this great war expert was thwarted in respect of his best considered plans by the civilian element in that citadel of inefficiency,' 2 and speaks with approval of Lord Wolseley's 'severe strictures on blundering civilian interference with the army,' as also of the 'censure reserved for the criminal negligence and miserable cowardice of successive Cabinets.'

3

It seems to me that Lord Wolseley is rather hard on civilians in general-those 'iconoclastic civilian officials who meddle and muddle in army matters' (ii. 376) 3-on politicians in particular, who, I cannot but think, are not quite so black as he has painted them; and most of all on Secretaries of State, with the single exception of Lord Cardwell, to whom generous and very well deserved praise is accorded.

It is not quite clear, from a perusal of these volumes, what is the precise nature of the change which Lord Wolseley wishes to advocate, although in one passage (i. 224) a specific proposal is made. It is that a certificate should be annually laid before Parliament by the non-political Commander-in-Chief, that the whole of the military forces of the Empire can be completely and effectively equipped for war in a fortnight.' The general tendency of the reform which commends itself to Lord Wolseley may, however, readily be inferred. He complains (i. 224) that the soldiers, though in office, are never in power.' Nevertheless, as he explains with military frankness, the

2 After carefully reading the book, I am in doubt as to the specific occasions to which allusion is here made.

3 This expression is used with reference to a warning to civilians that they should 'keep their hands off the regiment.' I do not know if any recent instances have occurred when civilians have wished to touch the essential portions of what is known as the 'regimental system,' but I have a very distinct recollection of the fact that this accusation was very freely, and very unjustly, brought against the army reformers in Lord Cardwell's time. Of these, Lord Wolseley was certainly the most distinguished. I think he will bear me out in the assertion that it was only by civilian support that, in the special instances to which I allude, the opposition was overcome.

cunning politician,' when anything goes wrong, is able to turn the wrath of a deceived people upon the military authorities, and those who are exclusively to blame are too often allowed to sneak off unhurt in the turmoil of execration they have raised against the soldiers.' I may remark incidentally that exception might perhaps reasonably be taken to the use of the word 'exclusively' in this passage; but the main point to which I wish to draw attention is that clearly, in Lord Wolseley's opinion, the soldiers, under the existing system, have not sufficient power, and that it would be advisable that they should, under a reformed system, be invested with more ample power. I dare say Lord Wolseley is quite right, at all events to this extent, that it is desirable that the power, as also the responsibility, of the highest military authorities should be as clearly defined as is possible under our peculiar system of government. But it is essential to ascertain more accurately in what manner Lord Wolseley, speaking with all the high authority which deservedly attaches itself to his name, thinks that effect should be given to the principle which he advocates. In order to obtain this information, I turn to vol. i. p. 92, where I find the following passage: A man who is not a soldier, and who is entirely ignorant of war, is selected solely for political reasons to be Secretary of State for War. I might with quite as great propriety be selected to be the chief surgeon in a hospital.'

I would here digress for a moment to deal with the argument advanced in the latter part of this sentence. It is very plausible, and, at first sight, appears convincing. It is also very commonly used. Over and over again, I have heard the presumed analogy between the surgeon and the soldier advanced as a proof of the absurdity of the English system. I believe that no such analogy exists. Surgery is an exact science. To perform even the most trifling surgical operation requires careful technical training and experience. It is far otherwise with the case of the soldier. I do not suppose that any civilian in his senses would presume, on a purely technical matter, to weigh his own opinion against that of a trained soldier, like Lord Wolseley, who is thoroughly versed in the theory of his profession, and who has been through the school of actual war. But a large number of the most important questions affecting military organisation and the conduct of military affairs, require for their solution little or no technical knowledge. Any man of ordinary common sense can form an opinion on them, and any man of good business habits may readily become a capable agent for giving effect to the opinions which he, or which others have formed.

I may here perhaps give a page from my own personal experience bearing on the point under discussion.

The Soudan campaign of 1896-98 was, in official circles, dubbed a Foreign Office war.' For a variety of reasons, to which it is unnecessary to allude in detail, the Sirdar was, from the commence

ment of the operations, placed exclusively under my orders in all matters. The War Office assumed no responsibility, and issued no orders. A corresponding position was occupied by the Head-Quarters Staff of the Army of Occupation in Cairo. The result was that I found myself in the somewhat singular position of a civilian, who had had some little military training in his youth, but who had had no experience of war, whose proper functions were diplomacy and administration, but who, under the stress of circumstances in the Land of Paradox, had to be ultimately responsible for the maintenance, and even, to some extent, for the movements of an army of some 25,000 men in the field.

That good results were obtained under this system cannot be doubted. It will not, therefore, be devoid of interest to explain how it worked in practice, and what were the main reasons which contributed towards success.

I have no wish to disparage the strategical and tactical ability which were displayed in the conduct of the campaign. It is, however, a fact that no occasion arose for the display of any great skill in these branches of military knowledge. When once the British and Egyptian troops were brought face to face with the enemy, there could-unless the conditions under which they fought were altogether extraordinary-be little doubt of the result. The speedy and successful issue of the campaign depended, in fact, almost entirely upon the methods adopted for overcoming the very exceptional difficulties connected with the supply and transport of the troops. The main quality required to meet these difficulties was a good head for business. By one of those fortunate accidents which have been frequent in the history of Anglo-Saxon enterprise, a man was found equal to the occasion. Lord Kitchener of Khartum won his well-deserved peerage because he was a good man of business; he looked carefully after all important detail, and he enforced economy.

My own merits, such as they were, were of a purely negative character. They may be summed up in a single phrase. I abstained from mischievous activity, and I acted as a check on the interference of others. I had full confidence in the abilities of the commander, whom I had practically myself chosen, and, except when he asked for

• Much the same proceeding appears to have been adopted in the Red River expedition, which was conducted with such eminent success by Lord Wolseley in 1870. But there was a difference. Lord Wolseley, in describing that expedition, says (ii. 221): 'The Cabinet and parliamentary element in the War Office, that has marred so many a good military scheme, had, I may say, little or nothing to do with it from first to last. When will civilian Secretaries of State for War cease from troubling in war affairs?' In the case of the Soudan campaigns, on the other hand, Lord Kitchener and I had to rely-and our reliance was not misplaced-on the Cabinet and parliamentary elements of the Government, to prevent excessive interference from the London offices.

" I was present for a few weeks, as a spectator, with Grant's army at the siege of Petersburg in 1864, but the experience was too short to be of much value.