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THE GREAT EVENTS
BY
FAMOUS HISTORIANS
A COMPREHENSIVE AND READABLE ACCOUNT OF THE WORLD'S HISTORY, EMPHASIZING THE MORE IMPORTANT EVENTS, AND PRESENTING THESE AS COMPLETE NARRATIVES IN THE MASTER-WORDS OF THE MOST EMINENT HISTORIANS
NON-SECTARIAN NON-PARTISAN NON-SECTIONAL
ON THE PLAN EVOLVED FROM A CONSENSUS OF OPINIONS GATHERED FROM THE MOST DISTINGUISHED SCHOLARS OF AMERICA AND EUROPE, INCLUDING BRIEF INTRODUCTIONS BY SPECIALISTS TO CONNECT AND EXPLAIN THE CELEBRATED NARRATIVES. ARRANGED CHRONOLOGICALLY. WITH THOROUGH INDICES. BIBLIOGRAPHIES, CHRONOLOGIES, AND COURSES OF READING
EDITED BY
CHARLES F. HORNE, Ph.D.
Aided by a staff of specialists
CONTENTS
VOLUME XXI
An Outline Narrative of the Great Events CHARLES F. HORNE
The United States House of Governors (A.D. 1910) WILLIAM S. JORDAN THE GOVERNORS
Union of South Africa (A.D. 1910)
PROF. STEPHEN LEACOCK
Portugal Becomes a Republic (A.D. 1910)
WILLIAM ARCHER
The Crushing of Finland (A.D. 1910)
JOHN JACKOL
BARON SERGIUS WITTE
BARON VON PLEHVE
J.H. REUTER
Man's Fastest Mile (A.D. 1911)
C.F. CARTER
ISAAC MARCOSSON
The Fall of Diaz (A.D. 1911)
MRS. E.A. TWEEDIE
DOLORES BUTTERFIELD
Fall of the English House of Lords (_A.D. 1911)
ARTHUR PONSONBY
SYDNEY BROOKS
CAPTAIN GEORGE SWINTON
The Turkish-Italian War (A.D. 1911)
WILLIAM T. ELLIS
THE WAR CORRESPONDENTS
Woman Suffrage (A.D. 1911)
IDA HUSTED HARPER
ISRAEL ZANGWILL
JANE ADDAMS
DAVID LLOYD-GEORGE
ELBERT HUBBARD
Militarism (A.D. 1911)
NORMAN ANGELL
SIR MAX WAECHTER
Persia's Loss of Liberty (A.D. 1911)
W. MORGAN SHUSTER
Discovery of the South Pole (A.D. 1911)
ROALD AMUNDSEN
The Chinese Revolution (A.D. 1912)
ROBERT MACHRAY
R.F. JOHNSTON
TAI-CHI QUO
A Step Toward World Peace (A.D. 1912)
HON. WILLIAM H. TAFT
Tragedy of the "Titanic" (A.D. 1912)
W.A. INGLIS
Our Progressing Knowledge of Life Surgery (A.D. 1912)
GENEVIEVE GRANDCOURT
PROFESSOR R. LEGENDRE
Overthrow of Turkey by the Balkan States (A.D. 1912)
J. ELLIS BARKER
FREDERICK PALMER
PROF. STEPHEN P. DUGGAN
Mexico Plunged Into Anarchy (A.D. 1913)
EDWIN EMERSON
WILLIAM CAROL
The New Democracy (A.D. 1913)
PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON
The Income Tax in America (A.D. 1913)
JOSEPH A. HILL
The Second Balkan War (A.D. 1913)
PROF. STEPHEN P. DUGGAN
CAPT. A.H. TRAPMANN
Opening of the Panama Canal (A.D. 1914)
COL. GEORGE W. GOETHALS
BAMPFYLDE FULLER
Universal Chronology (1910-1914)
AN OUTLINE NARRATIVE
TRACING BRIEFLY THE CAUSES, CONNECTIONS, AND CONSEQUENCES OF
THE GREAT EVENTS
THE RECENT DAYS (1910-1914)
CHARLES F. HORNE
The awful, soul-searing tragedy of Europe's great war of 1914 came to most men unexpectedly. The real progress of the world during the five years preceding the war had been remarkable. All thinkers saw that the course of human civilization was being changed deeply, radically; but the changes were being accomplished so successfully that men hoped that the old brutal ages of military destruction were at an end, and that we were to progress henceforth by the peaceful methods of evolution rather than the hysterical excitements and volcanic upheavals of revolution.
Yet even in the peaceful progress of the half-decade just before 1914 there were signs of approaching disaster, symptoms of hysteria. This period displayed the astonishing spectacle of an English parliament, once the high example for dignity and the model for self-control among governing bodies, turned suddenly into a howling, shrieking mob. It beheld the Japanese, supposedly the most extravagantly loyal among devotees of monarchy, unearthing among themselves a conspiracy of anarchists so wide-spread, so dangerous, that the government held their trials in secret and has never dared reveal all that was discovered. It beheld the women of Persia bursting from the secrecy of their harems and with modern revolvers forcing their own democratic leaders to stand firm in patriotic resistance to Russian tyranny. It beheld the English suffragettes.
Yet the movement toward universal Democracy which lay behind all these extravagances was upon the whole a movement borne along by calm conviction, not by burning hatreds or ecstatic devotions. A profound sense of the inevitable trend of the world's evolution seemed to have taken possession of the minds of the masses of men. They felt the uselessness of opposition to this universal progress, and they showed themselves ready, sometimes eager, to aid and direct its trend as best they might.
If, then, we seek to give a name to this particular five years, let us call it the period of humanitarianism, of man's really awakened kindliness toward his brothers of other nationalities. The universal peace movement, which was a child in 1910, had by 1914 become a far-reaching force to be reckoned with seriously in world politics. Any observer who studied the attitude of the great American people in 1898 on the eve of their war with Spain, and again in 1914 during the trouble with Mexico, must have clearly recognized the change. There was so much deeper sense of the tragedy of war, so much clearer appreciation of the gap between aggressive assault and necessary self-defense, so definite a recognition of the fact that murder remains murder, even though it be misnamed glory and committed by wholesale, and that any one who does not strive to stop it becomes a party to the crime.
While the sense of brotherhood was thus being deepened among the people of all the world, the associated cause of Democracy also advanced. The earlier years of the century had seen the awakening of this mighty force in the East; these later years saw its sudden decisive renewal of advance in the West. The center of world-progress once more shifted back from Asia to America and to England. The center of resistance to that progress continued, as it had been before, in eastern Europe.
PROGRESS OF DEMOCRACY IN AMERICA
Let us note first the forward movement in the United States. The Conservation of Natural Resources, that striking step in the new patriotism, which had been begun in the preceding decade, was carried forward during these years with increasing knowledge. A new idea developed from it, that of establishing a closer harmony among the States by means of a new piece of governmental machinery, the House of Governors.[1] This was formed in 1910.
[Footnote 1: See The United States House of Governors, page 1.]
To a nation bred as the Americans have been in an almost superstitious reverence for a particular form of government, this change or any change whatever becomes a matter of great moment. It is their final recognition that the present can not be molded to fit the machinery of the past. The nearer a Constitution comes to perfection in fitting the needs of one century, the more wholly it is likely to fail in fitting the needs of the next. The United States Government was not at its beginning a genuine Democracy, though approaching it more nearly than did any other great nation of the day. Putting aside the obvious point that the American Constitution deliberately protected slavery, which is the primal foe of all Democracy, the broader fact remains that the entire trend of the Constitution was intended to keep the educated and aristocratic classes in control and to protect them from the dangers of ignorance and rascally demagoguery.
The weapons of self-defense thus reserved by the thoughtful leaders were, in the course of generations, seized upon as the readiest tools of a shrewd plutocracy, which entrenched itself in power. Rebellion against that plutocracy long seemed almost hopeless; but at last, in the year 1912, the fight was carried to a successful issue. In both the great political parties, the progressive spirit dominated. The old party lines were violently disrupted, and President Wilson was elected as the leader of a new era seeking new ideals of universal equality.[2]
[Footnote 2: See The New Democracy, page 323.]
Nor must we give to the President's party alone the credit of having recognized the new spirit of the people. Even before his election, his predecessor, Mr. Taft, had led the Republican party in its effort to make two amendments to the Constitution, one allowing an Income Tax, the other commanding the election of Senators by direct vote of the people. Both of these were assaults upon entrenched "Privilege." The Constitution had not been amended by peaceful means for over a century; yet both of these amendments were now put through easily.[1] This revolt against two of the most undemocratic of the features of the ancient and honored Constitution was almost like a second declaration of American independence.
[Footnote 1: See The Income Tax in America, page 338.]
Perhaps, too, the change in the Senate may prove a help to the cause of universal peace. The governments of both Taft and Wilson were persistent in their efforts to establish arbitration treaties with other nations, and the Senate, jealous of its own treaty-making authority, had been a frequent stumbling-block in their path. Yet, despite the Senate's conservatism, arbitration treaties of ever-increasing importance have been made year after year. A war between the United States and England or France, or indeed almost any self-ruling nation, has become practically impossible.[2]
[Footnote 2: See A Step Toward World Peace, page 259.]
In her dealing with her Spanish-American neighbors, the United States has been less fortunate. She has, indeed, achieved a labor of world-wide value by completing the "big ditch" between the Oceans.[3] Yet her method of acquiring the Panama territory from Colombia had been arbitrary and had made all her southern neighbors jealous of her power and suspicious of her purposes. Into the midst of this era of unfriendliness was injected the Mexican trouble. Diaz, who had ruled Mexico with an iron hand for a generation, was overthrown.[4] President Madero, who conquered him, was supported by the United States; and Spanish America began to suspect the "Western Colossus" of planning a protectorate over Mexico.
[Footnote 3: See Opening of the Panama Canal, page 374.]
[Footnote 4: See The Fall of Diaz, page 96.]
Then came a counter-revolution. Madero was betrayed and slain, and the savage and bloody Indian general, Huerta, seized the power.[1] The antagonism of the United States Government against Huerta was so marked that at length the anxious South American Powers urged that they be allowed to mediate between the two; and the United States readily accepted this happy method of proving her real devotion to arbitration and of reestablishing the harmony of the Americas.
[Footnote 1: See Mexico Plunged into Anarchy, page 300.]
In itself the entire Mexican movement may be regarded as another great, though confused, step in the world-wide progress of Democracy. The upheaval has been repeatedly compared to the French Revolution. The rule of Diaz was really like that of King Louis XVI in France, a government by a narrow and wealthy aristocracy who had reduced the ignorant Mexican peasants or "peons" to a state of slavery. The bloody battles of all the recent warfare have been fought by these peons in a blind groping for freedom. They have disgraced their cause by excesses as barbarous as those perpetrated by the French peasantry; but they have also fought for their ideal with a heroism unsurpassed by that of any French revolutionist.
DEMOCRACY IN THE WORLD
Equally notable as forming part of this unceasing march of Democracy was the progress of both Socialism and Woman Suffrage. But with these two movements we must look beyond America; for their advance was not limited to any single country. It became world-wide. When Woman Suffrage was first established in New Zealand and Australia, the fact made little impression upon the rest of the globe; but when northern Europe accepted the idea, and Finland and Norway granted women full suffrage and Sweden and Denmark gave them almost as much, the movement was everywhere recognized as important. In Asia women took an active and heroic part in the struggles for liberty both in Persia and in China. In England the "militant" suffragists have forced Parliament to deal with their problem seriously, amid much embarrassment. In the United States, the movement, regarded rather humorously at first, became a matter of national weight and seriousness when in 1910 the great State of California enfranchised its women, half a million of them. Woman Suffrage now dominates the Western States of America and is slowly moving eastward.[1]
[Footnote 1: See Woman Suffrage, page 156.]
Socialism, also, though some may call it a mistaken and confused dream, is yet a manifestation of Democracy and as such will have its voice along with other forms of the great world-spirit. It has made considerable advance in America, where there have recently been Socialist mayors in some cities, and even Socialist Congressmen. But its main progress has been in Europe. There it can no longer be discussed as an economic theory; it has become a stupendous and unevadable fact. It is the laboring man's protest against the tyranny of that militarism which terrorizes Europe.[2] And since military tyranny is heaviest in Germany, Socialism has there risen to its greatest strength. The increase of the Socialist vote in German elections became perhaps the most impressive political phenomenon of the past twenty years. In 1912 this vote was more than one-third of the total vote of the Empire, and the Socialists were the largest single party in Germany. The Socialists of France are almost equally strong; and so are those in Italy. When war recently threatened Europe over the Morocco dispute, the Socialists in each of these countries made solemn protest to the world, declaring that laboring men were brothers everywhere and had no will to fight over any governmental problem. Many extremists among the brotherhood even went so far as to defy their governments openly, declaring that if forced to take up arms they would turn them against their tyrannous oppressors rather than against their helpless brothers of another nation. Thus the burden of militarism did by its own oppressive weight rouse the opposing force of Socialism to curb it.
[Footnote 2: See Militarism, page 186.]
In Italy the Socialists were growing so powerful politically that it was largely as a political move against them that the government in 1911 suddenly declared war against Turkey.
Thus was started the series of outbreaks which recently convulsed southeastern Europe.[1] Seldom has a war been so unjustifiable, so obviously forced upon a weaker nation for the sake of aggrandizement, as that of Italy against the "Young Turks" who were struggling to reform their land. The Italians seized the last of Turkey's African possessions, with scarce a shadow of excuse. This increase of territory appealed to the pride and so-called "patriotism" of the Italian people. The easy victories in Africa gratified their love of display; and many of the ignorant poor who had been childish in their attachment to the romantic ideals of Socialism now turned with equal childishness to applaud and support their "glorious" government. Yet even here Democracy made its gain; for under shelter of this popularity the government granted a demand it had long withheld. Male suffrage, previously very limited in Italy, was made universal.
[Footnote 1: See The Turkish-Italian War, page 140.]
The humiliation of Turkey in this Italian war led to another and far larger contest, and to that practical elimination of Turkey from European affairs which had been anticipated for over a century. The Balkan peoples, half freed from Turkey in 1876, took advantage of her weakness to form a sudden alliance and attack her all together.[2] This, also, was a Democratic movement, a people's war against their oppressors. The Bulgars, most recently freed of the victims of Turkish tyranny, hated their opponents with almost a madman's frenzy. The Servians wished to free their brother Serbs and to strengthen themselves against the persistent encroachments of Austria. The Greeks, defeated by the Turks in 1897, were eager for revenge, hopeful of drawing all their race into a single united State. Never was a war conducted with greater dash and desperation or more complete success. The Turks were swept out of all their European possessions except for Constantinople itself; and they yielded to a peace which left them nothing of Europe except the mere shore line where the continents come together.
[Footnote 2: See The Overthrow of Turkey, page 282.]
But then there followed what most of the watchers had expected, a division among the victorious allies. Most of these were still half savage, victims of centuries of barbarity. In their moment of triumph they turned upon one another, snarling like wild beasts over the spoil. Bulgaria, the largest, fiercest, and most savage of the little States, tried to fight Greece and Servia together. She failed, in a strife quite as bloody as that against Turkey. The neighboring State of Roumania also took part against the Bulgars. So did the Turks, who, seeing the helplessness of their late tigerish opponent, began snatching back the land they had ceded to Bulgaria.[1] The exhausted Bulgars, defeated upon every side, yielded to their many foes.
[Footnote 1: See The Second Balkan War, page 350.]
Thus we face to-day a new Balkan Peninsula, consisting of half a dozen little independent nations, all thoroughly democratic, except Turkey. And even Turkey, we should remember, has made a long stride toward Democracy by substituting for the autocracy of the Sultan the constitutional rule of the "Young Turks," These still retain their political control, though sorely shaken in power by the calamities their country has undergone under their brief régime.
From this semi-barbarity of southeastern Europe, let us turn to note the more peaceful progress which seemed promising the West. Little Portugal suddenly declared herself a Republic in 1910.[2] She had been having much anarchistic trouble before, killing of kings and hurling of bombs. Now there was a brief, almost bloodless, uprising; and the young new king fled. Prophets freely predicted that the unpractical and unpractised Republic could not last. But instead of destroying itself in petty quarrels, the new government has seemed to grow more able and assured with each passing year.
[Footnote 2: See Portugal Becomes a Republic, page 28.]
In Spain also, the party favoring a Republic grew so strong that its leaders declared openly that they could overturn the monarchy any time they wished. But they said the time was not ripe, they must wait until the people had become more educated politically, and had learned more about self-government, before they ventured to attempt it. Here, therefore, we have Democracy taking a new and important step. To man's claim of the right of self-government was subjoined the recognition of the fact that until he reaches a certain level of intelligence he is unfit to exercise that right, and with it he is likely to bring himself more harm than happiness.
Perhaps even more impressive was the struggle toward Democracy in England. Here, from the year 1905 onward, a "Liberal" government in nominal power was opposed at every turn persistently, desperately, sometimes hysterically, by a "Conservative" opposition. The Liberals, after years of worsted effort, saw that they could make no possible progress unless they broke the power of the always Conservative House of Lords. They accomplished this in 1911 amid the weeping and wailing of all Britain's aristocracy, who are thoroughly committed to the doctrine of the mighty teacher, Carlyle, that men should find out their great leaders and then follow these with reverent obedience. Of course the doctrine has in the minds of the British aristocracy the very natural addendum that they are the great leaders.[1]
[Footnote 1: See Fall of the English House of Lords, page 133.]
With the power of the nobles thus swept aside, the British Liberals went on to that long-demanded extension of Democracy, the granting of Home Rule to Ireland. Here, too, England's Conservatives fought the Liberals desperately. And here there was a subtler issue to give the Conservatives justification. The great majority of Irish are of the Roman Catholic faith, and so would naturally set up a Catholic government; but a part of northern Ireland is Protestant and bitterly opposed to Catholic domination. These Protestants, or "Ulsterites," demanded that if the rest of Ireland got home rule, they must get it also, and be allowed to rule themselves by a separate Parliament of their own. The Conservatives accepted this democratic demand as an ally of their conservative clinging to the "good old laws." They encouraged the Ulsterites even to the point of open rebellion. But despite every obstacle, the Liberals continued their efforts until the Home Rule bill was assured in 1914.
Let us look now beyond Europe. England deserves credit for the big forward step taken by her colonies in South Africa. All of these joined in 1910 in a union intended to be as indissoluble as that of the United States. Thus to the mighty English-speaking nations developing in a united Australia and a united Canada, there was now added a third, the nation of South Africa.[1]
[Footnote 1: See Union of South Africa, page 17.]
In Asia, too, there was a most surprising and notable democratic step. China declared itself a Republic. Considerable fighting preceded this change, warfare of a character rather vague and purposeless; for China is so huge that a harmony of understanding among her hundreds of millions is not easily attained. Yet, on the whole, with surprisingly little conflict and confusion the change was made. The oldest nation in the world joined hands with the youngest in adopting this modern form of "government by the people."[2] The world is still watching, however, to see whether the Chinese have passed the level of political wisdom awaited by the Spanish republicans, and can successfully exercise the dangerous right they have assumed.
[Footnote 2: See The Chinese Revolution, page 238.]
Turn back, for a moment, to review all the wonderful advance in popular government these brief five years accomplished: in the United States, a political revolution with changes of the Constitution and of the machinery of government; in Britain, similar changes of government even more radical in the direction of Democracy; two wholly new Republics added to the list, one being China, the oldest and most populous country in the world, the other little Portugal, long accounted the most spiritless and unprogressive nation in Europe; a shift from autocratic British rule toward democratic home rule through all the vast region of South Africa; a similar shift in much-troubled Ireland; Socialism reaching out toward power through all central Europe; Woman Suffrage taking possession of northern Europe and western America and striding on from country to country, from state to state; a bloody and desperate people's revolution in Mexico; and a similar one of the Balkan peoples against Turkey! Individuals may possibly feel that some one or other of these steps was reckless, even perhaps that some may ultimately have to be retraced in the world's progress. But of their general glorious trend no man can doubt.
Were there no reactionary movements to warn us of the terrible reassertion of autocratic power so soon to deluge earth with horror? Yes, though there were few democratic defeats to measure against the splendid record of advance. Russia stood, as she has so long stood, the dragon of repression. In the days of danger from her own people which had followed the disastrous Japanese war, Russia had courted her subject nations by granting them every species of favor. Now with her returning strength she recommenced her unyielding purpose of "Russianizing" them. Finland was deprived of the last spark of independence; so that her own chief champions said of her sadly in 1910, "So ends Finland."[1]
[Footnote 1: See The Crushing of Finland, page 47.]
In southern Russia the persecutions of the Jews were recommenced, with charges of "ritual murder" and other incitements of the ignorant peasantry to massacre. In Asia, Russia reached out beyond her actual territory to strangle the new-found voice of liberty in Persia. Russia coveted the Persian territory; Persia had established a constitutional government a few years before; this government, with American help, seemed likely to grow strong and assured in its independence. So Russia, in the old medieval lawlessness of power, reached out and crushed the Persian government.[2] At this open exertion of tyranny the world looked on, disapproving, but not resisting. England, in particular, was almost forced into an attitude of partnership with Russia's crime. But she submitted sooner than precipitate that universal war the menace of which came so grimly close during the strain of the outbreaks around Turkey. The millennium of universal peace and brotherhood was obviously still far away. Not yet could the burden of fleets and armaments be cast aside; though every crisis thus overpassed without the "world war" increased our hopes of ultimately evading its unspeakable horror.
[Footnote 2: See Persia's Loss of Liberty, page 199.]
MAN'S ADVANCE IN KNOWLEDGE
Meanwhile, in the calm, enduring realm of scientific knowledge, there was progress, as there is always progress.
No matter what man's cruelty to his fellows, he has still his curiosity. Hence he continues forever gathering more and more facts explaining his environment. He continues also molding that environment to his desires. Imagination makes him a magician.
Most surprising of his recent steps in this exploration of his surroundings was the attainment of the South Pole in 1911.[1] This came so swiftly upon the conquest of the North Pole, that it caught the world unprepared; it was an unexpected triumph. Yet it marks the closing of an era. Earth's surface has no more secrets concealed from man. For half a century past, the only remaining spaces of complete mystery, of utter blankness on our maps, were the two Poles. And now both have been attained. The gaze of man's insatiable wonderment must hereafter be turned upon the distant stars.
[Footnote 1: See Discovery of the South Pole, page 218.]
But man does not merely explore his environment; he alters it. Most widespread and important of our recent remodelings of our surroundings has been the universal adoption of the automobile. This machine has so increased in popularity and in practical utility that we may well call ours the "Automobile Age." The change is not merely that one form of vehicle is superseding another on our roads and in our streets. We face an impressive theme for meditation in the fact that up to the present generation man was still, as regarded his individual personal transit, in the same position as the Romans of two thousand years ago, dependent upon the horse as his swiftest mode of progress. With the automobile we have suddenly doubled, quadrupled the size of our "neighborhood," the space which a man may cover alone at will for a ramble or a call. As for speed, we seem to have succumbed to an actual mania for ever-increasing motion. The automobile is at present the champion speed-maker, the fastest means of propelling himself man has yet invented. But the aeroplane and the hydroplane are not far behind, and even the electric locomotive has a thrill of promise for the speed maniac.[2]
[Footnote 2: See Man's Fastest Mile, page 73.]
In thus developing his mastery over Nature man sometimes forgets his danger, oversteps the narrow margin of safety he has left between himself and the baffled forces of his ancient tyrants, Fire and Water, Earth and Air. Then indeed, in his moments of weakness, the primordial forces turn upon him and he becomes subject to tragic and terrific punishment. Of such character was the most prominent disaster of these years, the sinking of the ocean steamer Titanic. The best talent of England and America had united to produce this monster ship, which was hailed as the last, the biggest, the most perfect thing man could do in shipbuilding. It was pronounced "unsinkable." Its captain was reckless in his confidence; and Nature reached down in menace from the regions of northern ice; and the ship perished.[1] Since then another great ship has sunk, under almost similar conditions, and with almost equal loss of life.
[Footnote 1: See Tragedy of the Titanic, page 265.]
Oddly enough at the very moment when we have thus had reimpressed upon us the uncertainty of our outward mechanical defenses against the elements, we have been making a curious addition to our knowledge of inner means of defense. The science of medicine has taken several impressive strides in recent years, but none more suggestive of future possibilities of prolonging human life than the recent work done in preserving man's internal organs and tissues to a life of their own outside the body.[2] Already it is possible to transfer healthy tissues thus preserved, or even some of the simpler organs, from one body to another. Men begin to talk of the probability of rejuvenating the entire physical form. Thus science may yet bring us to encounter as actual fact the deep philosophic thought of old, the thought that regards man as merely a will and a brain, and the body as but the outward clothing of these, mere drapery, capable of being changed as the spirit wills. There is no visible limit to this wondrous drama in which man's patient mastering of his immediate environment is gradually teaching him to mold to his purpose all the potent forces of the universe.
[Footnote 2: See Our Progressing Knowledge of Life Surgery, page 273.]
In this assurance of ultimate success, let us find such consolation as we may. Though world-war may continue its devastation, though its increasing horrors may shake our civilization to the deepest depths, though its wanton destruction may rob us of the hoarded wealth of generations and the art treasures of all the past, though its beastlike massacres may reduce the number of men fitted to bear onward the torch of progress until of their millions only a mere pitiable handful survive, yet the steps which science has already won cannot be lost. Knowledge survives; and a happier generation than ours standing some day secure against the monster of militarism shall continue to uplift man's understanding till he dwells habitually on heights as yet undreamed.
THE UNITED STATES HOUSE OF GOVERNORS
A NEW MACHINERY ADDED TO THE FEDERAL FORM OF GOVERNMENT
A.D. 1910
WILLIAM G. JORDAN
THE GOVERNORS
The formal establishment of the "House of Governors," which took place in January of 1910, marked the climax of a definite movement which has swept onward through the entire history of the United States.
When in 1775 the thirteen American colonies made their first effort toward united action, they were in truth thirteen different nations, each possessed of differing traditions and a separate history, and each suspicious and jealous of all the others. Their widely diverging interests made concerted action almost impossible during the Revolutionary War. And when necessity ultimately drove them to join in the close bond of the present United States, their constitution was planned less for union than for the protection of each suspicious State against the aggressions of the others.
Gradually the spread of intercourse among the States has worn away their more marked differential points of character and purpose. Step by step the course of history has forced our people into closer harmony and union. To-day the forty-eight States look to one another in true brotherhood. And as the final bond of that brotherhood they have established a new organization, the House of Governors. This constitutes the only definite change made in the United States machinery of government since the beginning.
The House of Governors sprang first from the suggestion of William George Jordan, who was afterward appropriately selected as its permanent secretary. Hence we give here Mr. Jordan's own account of the movement, as being its clearest possible elucidation. Then we give a series of brief estimates of the importance of the new step from the pens of those Governors who themselves took part in the gathering. In their ringing utterances you hear the voice of North and South, Illinois and Florida, of East and West, Massachusetts and Oregon, and of the great central Mississippi Valley, all announcing the fraternizing influence of the new step.
Governor Willson, of Kentucky, chairman of the committee which arranged the gathering, in an earnest speech to its members declared that, "If this conference of Governors had been in existence as an institution in 1860, there would never have been a war between the States. The issues of the day would have been settled by argument, adjustment, and compromise." It would be hard to find stronger words for measuring the possible importance of the new institution.
WILLIAM G. JORDAN
The conference of the Governors at Washington this month marks the beginning of a new epoch in the political history of the nation. It is the first meeting ever held of the State Executives as a body seeking, by their united influence, to secure uniform laws on vital subjects for the welfare of the entire country. It should not be confused with the Roosevelt conferences of May and December, 1908. It is in no sense a continuation of them. It is essentially different in aim, method, and basis, and is larger, broader, and more far-reaching in its possibilities.
The nation to-day is facing a grave crisis in its history. Vital problems affecting the welfare of the whole country, remaining unsolved through the years, have at last reached an acute stage where they demand solution. This solution must come now in some form—either in harmony with the Constitution or in defiance of it. The Federal Government has been and still is absolutely powerless to act because of constitutional limitation; the State governments have the sole power, but heretofore no way has been provided for them to exercise that power.
Senator Elihu Root points out fairly, squarely, and relentlessly the two great dangers confronting the Republic: the danger of the National Government breaking down in its effective machinery through the burdens that threaten to be cast upon it; and the danger that the local self-government of the States may, through disuse, become inefficient. The House of Governors plan seems to have in it possibilities of mastering both of these evils at one stroke.
There are three basic weaknesses in the American system of government as we know it to-day. There are three insidious evils that are creeping like a blood-poison through the body politic, threatening the very life of the Republic. They are killing the soul of self-government, though perhaps not its form; destroying its essence, though perhaps not its name.
These three evils, so intertwined as to be practically one, are: the growing centralization at Washington, the shifting, undignified, uncertain status of State rights, and the lack of uniform laws.
It was to propose a possible cure for these three evils that the writer sent in February, 1907, to President Roosevelt and to the Governors of the country a pamphlet on a new idea in American politics. It was the institution of a new House, a new representation of the people and of the States to secure uniform legislation on those questions wherein the Federal Governments could not act because of Constitutional limitation. The plan proposed, so simple that it would require no Constitutional amendment to put it into effect, was the organization of the House of Governors.
More than thirty Governors responded in cordial approval of the plan. Eight months later, October, 1907, President Roosevelt invited the State Executives to a conference at Washington in May, 1908. The writer pointed out at that time what seemed an intrinsic weakness of the convention, that it could have little practical result, because it would be, after all, only a conference, where the Federal Government, by its limitations, was powerless to carry the findings of the conference into effect, and the Governors, acting not as a co-operative body, but as individuals, would be equally powerless in effecting uniform legislation. It was a conference of conflicting powers.
The Governors were then urged to meet upon their own initiative, as a body of peers, working out by united State action those problems where United States action had for more than a century proved powerless. At the close of the Roosevelt conference the Governors, at an adjourned meeting, appointed a committee to arrange time and place for a session of the Governors in a body of their own, independently of the President. This movement differentiated the proposed meeting absolutely from that with the President in every fundamental. It essentially became more than a conference; it meant a deliberative body of the Governors uniting to initiate, to inspire, and to influence uniform laws. The committee then named, consisting of three members, later increased to five, set the dates January 18, 19, and 20, 1910, for the first session of the Governors as a separate body.
WILLIAM G. JORDAN[1]
[Footnote 1: Reproduced from The Craftsman of October, 1910, by permission of Gustav Stickley.]
When a new idea or a new institution confronts the world it must answer all challenges, show its credentials, specify its claims for usefulness, and prove its promise by its performance. As an idea the House of Governors has won the cordial approval of the American press and public; as an institution it must now justify this confidence. To grasp fully its powers and possibilities requires a clear, definite understanding of its spirit, scope, plan, and purpose, and its attitude toward the Federal Government.
The House of Governors is a union of the Governors of all the States, meeting annually in conference as a deliberative body (with no lawmaking power) for initiative, influence, and inspiration toward a better, higher, and more unified Statehood. Its organization will be simple and practical, avoiding red-tape, unnecessary formality, and elaborate rules and regulations. It will adopt the few fundamental expressions of its principles of action and the least number of rules that are absolutely essential to enunciate its plan and scope, to transmute its united wisdom into united action and to guarantee the coherence, continuity, and permanence of the organization despite the frequent changes in its membership due to the short terms of the Executives in many of the States.
With the House of Governors rests the power of securing through the cooperative action of the State legislatures uniform laws on vital questions demanded by the whole country almost since the dawn of our history, but heretofore impossible of enactment. The Federal Government is powerless to pass these laws. For many decades, tight held by the cramping bonds of Constitutional limitation, it has strained and struggled, like Samson in the temple, to find some weak spot at which it could free itself, and endangered the very supporting columns of the edifice of the Republic. It was bound in its lawmaking powers to the limitation of eighteen specific phrases, beyond which all power remained with the States and the people. In the matter of enacting uniform laws the States have been equally powerless, for, though their Constitutional right to make them was absolute and unquestioned, no way had been provided by which they could exercise that right. The States as individuals, passing their own laws, without considering their relation or harmony with the laws of other States, brought about a condition of confusion and conflict. Laws that from their very nature should be common to all of the States, in the best interests of all, are now divergent, different, and antagonistic. We have to-day the strange anomaly of forty-six States united in a union as integral parts of a single nation, yet having many laws of fundamental importance as different as though the States were forty-six distinct countries or nationalities.
Facing the duality of incapacity—that of the Government because it was not permitted to act and the States because they did not know how to exercise the power they possessed—the Federal Government sought new power for new needs through Constitutional amendments. This effort proved fruitless and despairing, for with more than two thousand attempts made in over a century only three amendments were secured, and these were merely to wind up the Civil War. The whole fifteen amendments taken together have not added the weight of a hair of permanent new power to the Federal Government. The people and the States often sleep serenely on their rights, but they never willingly surrender them, yet the surrender of a right is often the brave recognition of a higher duty, the fine assumption of a higher privilege. In many phases the need grew urgent, something had to be done. By ingeniously tapping the Constitution to find a weak place and hammering it thin by decisions, by interpretations, by liberal readings, by technical evasions and other methods, needed laws were passed in the interests of the people and the States. Many of these laws would not stand the rigid scrutiny of the Supreme Court; to many of them the Government's title may now be valid by a kind of "squatter's sovereignty" in legislation,—merely so many years of undisputed possession.
This was not the work of one administration; it ran with intermittent ebb and flow through many administrations. Then the slumbering States, turning restlessly in their complacency, at last awoke and raised a mighty cry of "Centralization." They claimed that the Government was taking away their rights, which may be correct in essence but hardly just in form; they had lost their rights, primarily, not through usurpation but through abrogation; the Government had acted because of the default of the States, it had practically been forced to exercise powers limited to the States because the States lapsed through neglect and inaction. Then the Government discovered the vulnerable spot in our great charter, the Achilles heel of the Constitution. It was just six innocent-looking words in section eight empowering Congress to "regulate commerce between the several States." It was a rubber phrase, capable of infinite stretching. It was drawn out so as to cover antitrust legislation, control and taxation of corporations, water-power, railroad rates, etc., pure-food law, white-slave traffic, and a host of others. But even with the most generous extension of this phrase, which, though it may be necessary, was surely not the original intent of the Constitution, the greatest number of the big problems affecting the welfare of the people are still outside the province of the Government and are up to the States for solution.
It was to meet this situation, wherein the Government and the States as individuals could not act, that the simple, self-evident plan of the House of Governors was proposed. It required no Constitutional amendment or a single new law passed in any State to create it or to continue it. It can not make laws; it would be unwise for it to make them even were it possible. Its sole power is as a mighty moral influence, as a focusing point for public opinion and as a body equal to its opportunity of transforming public opinion into public sentiment and inspiring legislatures to crystallize this sentiment into needed laws. It will live only as it represents the people, as it has their sympathy, support, and cooperation, as it seeks to make the will of the people prevail. But this means a longer, stronger, finer life than any mere legal authority could give it.
The House of Governors has the dignity of simplicity. It means merely the conference of the State Executives, the highest officers and truest representatives of the States, on problems that are State and Interstate, and concerted action in recommendations to their legislatures. The fullest freedom would prevail at all meetings; no majority vote would control the minority; there would have to be a quorum decided upon as the number requisite for an initial impulse toward uniform legislation. If the number approving fell below the quorum the subject would be shown as not yet ripe for action and be shelved. Members would be absolutely free to accept or reject, to do exactly as they please, so no unwilling legislation could be forced on any State. But if a sufficient number agreed these Governors would recommend the passage of the desired law to their legislatures in their next messages. The united effort would give it a greater importance, a larger dynamic force, and a stronger moral influence with each. It would be backed by the influence of the Governors, the power of public sentiment, the leverage of the press, so that the passage of the law should come easily and naturally. With a few States passing it, others would fall in line; it would be kept a live issue and followed up and in a few years we would have legislation national in scope, but not in genesis.
The House of Governors, in its attitude toward the Federal Government, is one of right and dignified non-interference. It will not use its influence with the Government, memorialize Congress, or pass resolutions on national matters. What the Governors do or say individually is, of course, their right and privilege, but as a body it took its stand squarely and positively at its first conference which met in Washington in January of this year as one of "securing greater uniformity of State action and better State Government." Governor Hughes expressed it in these words: "We are here in our own right as State Executives; we are not here to accelerate or to develop opinion with regard to matters which have been committed to Federal power." The States in their relation to the Federal Government have all needed representation in their Senators and Congressmen.
The attitude of the Governors in their conferences is one of concentration on State and Interstate problems which are outside of the domain and Constitutional rights of the Federal Government to solve. There can be no interference when each confines itself to its own duties. In keeping the time of the nation the Federal Government represents the hour-hand, the States, united, the minute-hand. There will be correct time only as each hand confines itself strictly to its own business, neither attempting to jog the other, but working in accord with the natural harmony wrapped up in the mechanism.
We need to-day to draw the sharpest clear-cut line of demarcation between Federal and State powers. This is in no spirit of antagonism, but in the truest harmony for the best interests of both. It means an illumination which will show that the "twilight zone," so called, does not exist. This dark continent of legislation belongs absolutely to the States and to the people in the unmistakable terms of the Tenth Amendment: "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution or prohibited by it to the States are reserved to the States, respectively, and to the people." This buffer territory of legislation, the domain of needed uniform laws, belongs to the States and through the House of Governors they may enter in and possess their own. The Federal Government and the States are parts of one great organization, each having its specific duties, powers, and responsibilities, and between them should be no conflict, no inharmony.
Let the Federal Government, through Congress, make laws up to the very maximum of its rights and duties under the Constitution; let the States, taking up their neglected duties and privileges, relieve the Government of those cares and responsibilities forced upon it by the inactivity of the States and which it should never have had to assume. With the burden thus equitably readjusted, with the dignity of the two powers of Government working out their individual problems in the harmony of a fuller understanding, let us face the results. If it then seem, in the light of changed conditions from those of the time of the writing of the Constitution, that certain control now held by the States can not properly be exercised by them, that in final decision of the best wisdom of the people this power should be vested in the Federal Government, let the States not churlishly hold on to the casket of a dead right, but surrender the living body of a responsibility and a duty to the power best able to be its guardian. There are few, if any, of their neglected powers of legislation that the States and the people acting in cooperation, through the House of Governors, will not be able to handle.
Some of the subjects upon which free discussion tending toward uniform laws seems desirable are: marriage and divorce, rights of married women, corporations and trusts, insurance, child labor, capital punishment, direct primaries, convict labor and labor in general, prison reforms, automobile regulations, contracts, banking, conveyancing, inheritance tax, income tax, mortgages, initiative, referendum and recall, election reforms, tax adjustment, and similar topics. In great questions, like Conservation, the Federal Government has distinct problems it must carry out alone; there are some problems that must be solved by the States alone, some that may require to be worked out in cooperation. But the greatest part of the needed conservation is that which belongs to the States, and which they can manage better, more thoroughly, more judiciously, with stronger appeal to State pride, upbuilding, and prosperity, with less conflict and clearer recognition of local needs and conditions and harmony with them than can the Federal Government. Four-fifths of the timber standing in the country to-day is owned, not by the States or the Government, but by private interests.
The House of Governors will not seek uniformity merely for the sake of uniformity. There are many questions whereon uniform laws would be unnecessary, and others where it would be not only unwise, but inconceivably foolish. Many States have purely individual problems that do not concern the other States and do not come in conflict with them, but even in these the Governors may gain an occasional incidental sidelight of illumination from the informal discussion in a conference that may make thinking clearer and action wiser. The spirit that should inspire the States is the fullest freedom in purely State problems and the largest unity in laws that affect important questions in Interstate relations.
While uniform law is an important element in the thought of the Conference it is far from being the only one. The frank, easy interchange of view, opinion, and experience brings the Governors closely together in the fine fellowship of a common purpose and a common ideal. They are broadened, stimulated, and inspired to a keener, clearer vision on a wider outlook. The most significant, vital, and inspiring phases of these conferences, those which really count for most, and are the strongest guaranties of the permanence and power of this movement, must, however, remain intangible. This fact was manifest in every moment of that first Conference last January.
The fading of sectional prejudice in the glow of sympathetic understanding was clearly evident. Some of the Western Governors in their speeches said that their people of the West had felt that they were isolated, misrepresented, misunderstood, and misjudged; but now these Governors could go back to their States and their people with messages of good will and tell them of the identity of interest, the communion of purpose, the kinship of common citizenship, and the closer knowledge that bound them more firmly to the East, to the South, and to the North. Other Governors spoke of the facilitating of official business between the States because of these meetings. They would no longer, in correspondence, write to a State Executive as a mere name without personality, but their letters would carry with them the memories of close contact and cordial association with those whom they had learned to know. There was no faintest tinge of State jealousies or rivalry. The Governors talked frankly, freely, earnestly of their States and for them, but it was ever with the honest pride of trusteeship, never the petty vanity of proprietorship.
Patriotism seemed to throw down the walls of political party and partizanship and in the three days' session the words Republican or Democrat were never once spoken. The Governors showed themselves an able body of men keenly alive to the importance of their work and with a firm grasp on the essential issues. The meeting added a new dignity to Statehood and furnished a new revelation of the power, prestige, and possibilities of the Governor's office. The atmosphere of the session was that of States' rights, but it was a new States' rights, a purified, finer, higher recognition by the States of their individual right and duty of self-government within their Constitutional limitations. It meant no lessening of interest in the Federal Government or of respect and honor of it. It was as a family of sons growing closer together, strengthened as individuals and working to solve those problems they have in common, and to make their own way rather than to depend in weakness on the father of the household to manage all their affairs and do their thinking for them. To him should be left the watchfulness of the family as a whole, not the dictation of their individual living.
President Taft had no part in the Conference, but in an address of welcome to the Governors at the White House showed his realization of the vital possibility of the meeting in these words:
"I regard this movement as of the utmost importance. The Federal Constitution has stood the test of more than one hundred years in supplying the powers that have been needed to make the central Government as strong as it ought to be, and with this movement toward uniform legislation and agreement between the States I do not see why the Constitution may not serve our purpose always."
AUGUSTUS E. WILLSON[1]
Governor of Kentucky
[Footnote 1: The following letters are reprinted by permission from a collection of such commentaries from Cottier's Weekly.]
President Roosevelt held two conferences of Governors, and as a member of a committee chosen to do so, I have invited the Governors of all of the States and Territories to meet at the White House in Washington, January 18th, 19th, and 20th.
The conference has no legal authority of any kind. At the previous conferences, the conservation subject was the one chiefly thought of, and it will be brought up in the next conference. The question of what the Governors will recommend on the income-tax constitutional amendment may come up. The matter of handling extradition papers is important. Uniform State laws on matters of universal interest, school laws, road laws, tax laws, commercial paper, warehouse receipts, bills of lading, etc.; the control of corporations, of which taxation is one branch, the action of the States in regard to water-powers within the States; marriage, divorce, wills, schools, roads, are all within the range of this conference, and the agreement of all of the Governors on some of these subjects, and by many of them on any, would be of useful influence.
The meeting has further interest and importance in being for two days in touch with the National Civic Federation, which will afford all of the Governors a chance to learn what that association of many of the most prominent men of this country is doing, and get the benefit of its discussions and the pleasure of being acquainted with many leaders of thought and action in the country, who will attend its sessions.
I am sure that I speak the sentiment of all of the Governors that they do not wish any legal power or any authority except that of the weight of their opinion as chosen State officers. They only wish the benefit of discussion of important subjects interesting to all of the States, and to establish kindly and mutually helpful relations between the Governors and the Governments of the States.
EBEN S. DRAPER
Governor of Massachusetts
I believe that a meeting of Governors may accomplish much good for every section of the country. They naturally can not legislate, nor should they attempt to. They can discuss and can learn many things which are now controlled by law in different States and which would be improvements to the laws of their own States; and they can recommend to the legislatures of their own States the enactment of laws which will bring about these improvements.
These Governors will be the forty-six [now forty-eight] representative units of the States of this great nation. By coming together they will be more than ever convinced that they are integral parts of one nation, and I believe their meeting will tend to remove all notions of sectionalism and will help the patriotism and solidarity of the country.
CHARLES S. DENEEN
Governor of Illinois
The conservation of natural resources often necessitates the cooperation of neighboring States. In such cases, the discussion of proposed conservation work by the representatives of the States concerned is of great importance. It brings to the consideration of these subjects the views and opinions of those most interested and best informed in regard to the questions involved.
The same is true in relation to many subjects of State legislation in which uniformity is desirable. This is especially the case with regard to industrial legislation. The great volume of domestic business is interstate, and the industrial legislation of one State frequently affects, and sometimes fixes, industrial conditions elsewhere. An example of the advantage of cooperation of States in the amendment and revision of laws affecting industry is seen in the agreement by the commissions recently appointed by New York, Wisconsin, and Minnesota to investigate the subjects of employers' liability and workmen's compensation to meet for the joint discussion of these matters. The General Assembly of Illinois is now convened in extraordinary session, and has under consideration the appointment of a similar commission in order that it may meet and cooperate with the commissions of the States named.
Along these and other similar lines it seems to me that the House of Governors will be of practical advantage in the beneficial influence it will exert in the promotion of joint action where that is necessary to secure desired ends.
FRANK W. BENSON Governor of Oregon
President Roosevelt rendered the American people a great service when he invited the Governors of the various States to a conference at the White House in 1908. The subject of conservation of our natural resources received such attention from the assembled Governors that the conservation movement has spread to all parts of the country, and has gained such headway that it will be of lasting benefit to our people. This one circumstance alone proves the wisdom of the conference of Governors, and it is my earnest hope that the organization be made permanent, with annual meetings at our national capital.
Such meetings can not help but have a broadening effect upon our State Executives, for, by interchanging ideas and by learning how the governments of other States are conducted, our Governors will gain experience which ought to prove of great benefit, not only to themselves, but to the commonwealths which they represent. Matters pertaining to interstate relations, taxation, education, conservation, irrigation, waterways, uniform legislation, and the management of State institutions are among the subjects that the conference of Governors will do well to discuss; and such discussions will prove of inestimable value, not only to the people of our different States, but to our country as a whole.
The West is in the front rank of all progressive movements and welcomes the conference of Governors as a step in the right direction.
ALBERT W. GILCHRIST
Governor of Florida
I can only estimate the significance and importance of this conference of Governors by my experience from such a conference in the past. It was my good fortune to be for a week last October on the steamer excursion down the Mississippi River. The Governors held daily conferences. Several elucidated the manner in which some particular governmental problems were solved in their respective States, all of which was more or less interesting. Of the several Federal matters discussed, it was specially interesting to me to hear the various Republican Governors discussing State rights, disputing the right of interference of the General Government on such lines. It "kinder" made me smile. In formal discussions of such matters in public, in Washington, it is probable that such expressions would not be made.
The result of this conference made me feel as if I knew the Governors and the people of the various States therein represented far better than I had before. Such discussions, with the attending personal intercourse, naturally tend to give those participating in them a broader nationality.
The House of Governors will convene; there will be many pleasant social functions and many pleasant associations will be formed. Some of the Governors will speak; all of them will resolute. They will behold evidences of the greatness of our common country and the evidence of the greatness of our public men, as displayed in the rollicking debates in the House, and the "knot on the log" discussions of the Senate. Everything will be as lovely as a Christmas tree. The House will then adjourn.
HERBERT S. HADLEY
Governor of Missouri
During recent years, the development of the National idea has carried with it a marked tendency on the part of the people to look to the National Government for the correction of all evils and abuses existing in commercial, industrial, and political affairs. The importance of the State Governments in the solution of such questions has been minimized, and, in some cases, entirely overlooked, although Congress has been behind, rather than in advance of, public sentiment upon many questions of national importance. The Congressmen are elected by the people of the different Congressional Districts, and regard their most important duty as looking after the interests of their respective districts. The United States Senators are elected by the legislatures of the several States, and do not feel that sense of responsibility to the people that is incident to an election by the people. The Governors of the various States are elected by all of the people of the State, and they are more directly "tribunes of the people" than any other officials, either in our National or State Governments. These officers will thus give a correct expression of the sentiment of the people of the States upon public questions.
While these expressions of opinion will naturally vary according to the sentiments and opinions of the people of the various States represented, yet, on the whole, they will represent more of progress and more of actual contact with present-day problems than could be secured from any similar number of public officials. And the addresses and discussions will also tend to mold the opinions of the people and have a marked influence not only upon State, but also upon National legislation.
UNION OF SOUTH AFRICA A.D. 1910
PROF. STEPHEN LEACOCK
Few historical events have been so impressive as the sudden and complete union of the South-African States. Seldom have men's minds progressed so rapidly, their life purposes changed so completely. In 1902 England, with the aid of her African colonists in Cape Colony and Natal, was ending a bitter war, almost of extermination, against the Dutch "Boers" of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State. In that year the ablest and most dreaded of England's enemies in Africa was the Dutch General, Louis Botha, leader of the fiercest and most irreconcilable Boers, who still waged a hopeless guerrilla warfare against all the might of the British Empire. As one English paper dramatically phrases it: "One used to see pictures of Botha in the illustrated papers in those days, a gaunt, bearded, formidable figure, with rifle and bandoliers—the most dangerous of our foes. To-day he is the chief servant of the King in the Federation, the loyal head of the Administration under the Crown, one of the half-dozen Prime Ministers of the Empire, the responsible representative and virtual ruler of all races, classes, and sects in South Africa, acclaimed by the men he led in the battle and the rout no less than by the men who faced him across the muzzles of the Mausers ten years ago. Was ever so strange a transformation, so swift an oblivion of old enmities and rancors, so rapid a growth of union and concord out of hatred and strife!"
Necessity has in a way compelled this harmony. The old issue of Boer independence being dead, new and equally vital issues confronted the South-Africans. The whites there are scarcely more than a million in number, and they dwell amid many times their number of savage blacks. They must unite or perish. Moreover, the folly and expense of maintaining four separate governments for so small a population were obvious. So was the need of uniform tariffs in a land where all sea-coast towns found their prosperity in forwarding supplies to the rich central mining regions of Kimberley and Johannesburg. Hence all earnest men of whatever previous opinion came to see the need of union. And when this union had been accomplished, Lord Gladstone, the British viceroy over South Africa, wisely selected as the fittest man for the land's first Prime Minister, General Botha. Botha has sought to unite all interests in the cabinet which he gathered around him.
The clear analysis of the new nation and its situation which follows is reproduced by permission from the American Political Science Review, and is from the pen of Professor Stephen Leacock, head of the department of Political Economy of McGill University in Montreal, Canada. A distinguished citizen of one great British federation may well be accepted as the ablest commentator on the foundation of another.
On May 31, 1910, the Union of South Africa became an accomplished fact. The four provinces of Cape Colony, Natal, the Orange Free State (which bears again its old-time name), and the Transvaal are henceforth joined, one might almost say amalgamated, under a single government. They will bear to the central government of the British Empire the same relation as the other self-governing colonies—Canada, Newfoundland, Australia, and New Zealand. The Empire will thus assume the appearance of a central nucleus with four outlying parts corresponding to geographical and racial divisions, and forming in all a ground-plan that seems to invite a renewal of the efforts of the Imperial Federationist. To the scientific student of government the Union of South Africa is chiefly of interest for the sharp contrast it offers to the federal structure of the American, Canadian, and other systems of similar historical ground. It represents a reversion from the idea of State rights, and balanced indestructible powers and an attempt at organic union by which the constituent parts are to be more and more merged in the consolidated political unit which they combine to form.
But the Union and its making are of great interest also for the general student of politics and history, concerned rather with the development of a nationality than with the niceties of constitutional law. From this point of view the Union comes as the close of a century of strife, as the aftermath of a great war, and indicates the consummation, for the first time in history, of what appears as a solid basis of harmony between the two races in South Africa. In one shape or other union has always been the goal of South-African aspiration. It was "Union" which the "prancing proconsuls" of an earlier time—the Freres, the Shepstones, and the Lanyons—tried to force upon the Dutch. A united Africa was at once the dream of a Rhodes and (perhaps) the ambition of a Kruger. It is necessary to appreciate the strength of this desire for union on the part of both races and the intense South-African patriotism in which it rests in order to understand how the different sections and races of a country so recently locked in the death-struggle of a three years' war could be brought so rapidly into harmonious concert.
The point is well illustrated by looking at the composition of the convention, which, in its sessions at Durban, Cape Town, and Bloemfontein, put together the present constitution. South Africa, from its troubled history, has proved itself a land of strong men. But it was reserved for the recent convention to bring together within the compass of a single council-room the surviving leaders of the period of conflict to work together for the making of a united state. In looking over the list of them and reflecting on the part that they played toward one another in the past, one realizes that we have here a grim irony of history. Among them is General Louis Botha, Prime Minister at the moment of the Transvaal, and now the first prime minister of South Africa. Botha, in the days of Generals Buller and the Dugela, was the hardest fighter of the Boer Republic. Beside him in the convention was Dr. Jameson, whom Botha wanted to hang after the raid in 1896. Another member is Sir George Farrar, who was sentenced to death for complicity in the raid, and still another, Sir Percy Fitzpatrick, once the secretary of the Reform League at Johannesburg and well known as the author of the "Transvaal from Within." One may mention in contrast General Jan Smuts, an ex-leader of the Boer forces, and since the war the organizing brain of the Het Volk party. There is also Mr. Merriman, a leader of the British party of opposition to the war in 1899 and since then a bitter enemy of Lord Milner and the new regime.
Yet strangely enough after some four months of session the convention accomplished the impossible by framing a constitution that met the approval of the united delegates. Of its proceedings no official journal was kept. The convention met first at Durban, October 12, 1908, where it remained throughout that month; after a fortnight's interval it met again at Capetown, and with a three weeks' interruption at Christmas continued and completed its work at the end of the first week of February. The constitution was then laid before the different colonial parliaments. In the Transvaal its acceptance was a matter of course, as the delegates of both parties had reached an agreement on its terms. The Cape Parliament passed amendments which involved giving up the scheme of proportional representation as adopted by the convention. Similar amendments were offered by the Orange River Colony in which the Dutch leader sympathized with the leader of the Afrikanderbond at the Cape in desiring to swamp out, rather than represent, minorities. In Natal, which as an ultra-British and ultra-loyal colony, was generally supposed to be in fear of union, many amendments were offered. The convention then met again at Bloemfontein, made certain changes in the draft of the constitution, and again submitted the document to the colonies. This time it was accepted. Only in Natal was it thought necessary to take a popular vote, and here, contrary to expectation, the people voted heavily in favor of union. The logic of the situation compelled it. In the history of the movement Natal was cast for the same role as Rhode Island in the making of the Federal Union of the United States of America. The other colonies, once brought together into a single system, with power to adopt arrangements in their own interests in regard to customs duties and transportation rates, sheer economic pressure would have compelled the adhesion of Natal. In the constitution now put in force in South Africa the central point of importance is that it established what is practically a unitary and not a federal government. The underlying reason for this is found in the economic circumstances of the country and in the situation in which the provinces found themselves during the years after the war. Till that event the discord of South Africa was generally thought of rather as a matter of racial rivalry and conflicting sovereignties than of simple questions of economic and material interests.
But after the conclusion of the compact of Vereiniging in 1902 it was found that many of the jealousies and difficulties of the respective communities had survived the war, and rested rather upon economic considerations than racial rivalries.
To begin with, there was the question of customs relations. The colonies were separate units, each jealous of its own industrial prosperity. Each had the right to make its own tariff, and yet the division of the country, with four different tariff areas, was obviously to its general disadvantage. Since 1903 the provinces had been held together under the Customs Union of South Africa—made by the governments of the Cape and Natal and the Crown Colony governments of the conquered provinces. This was but a makeshift arrangement, with a common tariff made by treaty, and hence rigidly unalterable, and with a pro-rata division of the proceeds.
Worse still was the railroad problem, which has been in South Africa a bone of contention ever since the opening of the mines of the Rand offered a rich prize to any port and railway that could capture the transit trade.
The essence of the situation is simple. The center of the wealth of South Africa is the Johannesburg mines. This may not be forever the case, but in the present undeveloped state of agriculture and industrial life, Johannesburg is the dominating factor of the country.
Now, Johannesburg can not feed and supply itself. It is too busy. Its one export is gold. Its quarter of a million people must be supplied from the outside. But the Transvaal is an inland country dependent on the seaports of other communities. In position Johannesburg is like the hub of a wheel from which the railways radiate as spokes to the seaports along the rim. The line from Cape Town to Johannesburg, a distance of over 700 miles, was the first completed, and until 1894 the Cape enjoyed a monopoly of carrying the whole trade of Johannesburg. But with the completion of the tunnel through the mountains at Laing's Nek the Natal government railway was able to connect with Johannesburg and the port of Durban entered into competition with the Cape Ports of Cape Town and East London over a line only 485 miles long.
Finally, the opening of the Delagoa Bay Railway in 1894 supplied Johannesburg with an access to the sea over a line 396 miles long, of which 341 was in the Transvaal itself. This last line, it should be noticed, led to a Portuguese seaport, and at the time of its building traversed nowhere British territory. Hence it came about that in the all-important matter of railroad communication the interests of the Transvaal and of the seaboard colonies were diametrically opposed.
To earn as large a revenue as possible it naturally adjusted the rates on its lines so as to penalize the freight from the colonies and favor the Delagoa Bay road. When the colonies tried in 1895 to haul freight by ox-team from their rail-head at the frontier to Johannesburg President Kruger "closed the drifts" and almost precipitated a conflict in arms. Since the war the same situation has persisted, aggravated by the completion of the harbor works and docks at Lorenzo Marques, which favors more than ever the Delagoa route. The Portuguese seaport at present receives some 67 per cent, of the traffic from the Rand, while the Cape ports, which in 1894 had 80 per cent, of the freight, now receive only n per cent.
Under Lord Milner's government the unification of the railways of the Transvaal and the Orange River colony with the Central South-African Railways amalgamated the interests of the inland colonies, but left them still opposed to those of the seaboard. The impossibility of harmonizing the situation under existing political conditions has been one of the most potent forces in creating a united government which alone could deal with the question.
An equally important factor has been the standing problem of the native races, which forms the background of South-African politics. In no civilized country is this question of such urgency. South Africa, with a white population of only 1,133,000 people, contains nearly 7,000,000 native and colored inhabitants, many of them, such as the Zulus and the Basutos, fierce, warlike tribes scarcely affected by European civilization, and wanting only arms and organization to offer a grave menace to the welfare of the white population. The Zulus, numbering a million, inhabiting a country of swamp and jungle impenetrable to European troops, have not forgotten the prowess of a Cetewayo and the victory of Isandhwana.
It may well be that some day they will try the fortune of one more general revolt before accepting the permanent over-lordship of their conquerors. Natal lives in apprehension of such a day. Throughout all South Africa, among both British and Dutch, there is a feeling that Great Britain knows nothing of the native question.
The British people see the native through the softly tinted spectacles of Exeter Hall. When they have given him a Bible and a breech-cloth they fondly fancy that he has become one of themselves, and urge that he shall enter upon his political rights. They do not know that to a savage, or a half-civilized black, a ballot-box and a voting-paper are about as comprehensible as a telescope or a pocket camera—it is just a part of the white man's magic, containing some particular kind of devil of its own. The South-Africans think that they understand the native. And the first tenet of their gospel is that he must be kept in his place. They have seen the hideous tortures and mutilations inflicted in every native war. If the native revolts they mean to shoot him into marmalade with machine guns. Such is their simple creed. And in this matter they want nothing of what Mr. Merriman recently called the "damnable interference" of the mother country. But to handle the native question there had to be created a single South-African Government competent to deal with it.
The constitution creates for South Africa a union entirely different from that of the provinces of Canada or the States of the American Republic. The government is not federal, but unitary. The provinces become areas of local governments, with local elected councils to administer them, but the South-African Parliament reigns supreme. It is to know nothing of the nice division of jurisdiction set up by the American constitution and by the British North America Act. There are, of course, limits to its power. In the strict sense of legal theory, the omnipotence of the British Parliament, as in the case of Canada, remains unimpaired. Nor can it alter certain things,—for example, the native franchise of the Cape, and the equal status of the two languages,—without a special majority vote. But in all the ordinary conduct of trade, industry, and economic life, its power is unhampered by constitutional limitations.
The constitution sets up as the government of South Africa a legislature of two houses—a Senate and a House of Assembly—and with it an executive of ministers on the customary tenure of cabinet government. This government, strangely enough, is to inhabit two capitals: Pretoria as the seat of the Executive Government and Cape Town as the meeting-place of the Parliament. The experiment is a novel one. The case of Simla and Calcutta, in each of which the Indian Government does its business, and on the strength of which Lord Curzon has defended the South-African plan, offers no real parallel. The truth is that in South Africa, as in Australia, it proved impossible to decide between the claims of rival cities. Cape Town is the mother city of South Africa. Pretoria may boast the memories of the fallen republic, and its old-time position as the capital of an independent state. Bloemfontein has the advantage of a central position, and even garish Johannesburg might claim the privilege of the money power. The present arrangement stands as a temporary compromise to be altered later at the will of the parliament.
The making of the Senate demanded the gravest thought. It was desired to avoid if possible the drowsy nullity of the Canadian Upper House and the preponderating "bossiness" of the American. Nor did the example of Australia, where the Senate, elected on a "general ticket" over huge provincial areas, becomes thereby a sort of National Labor Convention, give any assistance in a positive direction. The plan adopted is to cause each present provincial parliament, and later each provincial council, to elect eight senators. The plan of election is by proportional representation, into the arithmetical juggle of which it is impossible here to enter. Eight more senators will be appointed by the Governor, making forty in all. Proportional representation was applied also in the first draft of the constitution to the election of the Assembly.
It was thought that such a plan would allow for the representation of minorities, so that both Dutch and British delegates would be returned from all parts of the country. Unhappily, the Afrikanderbond—the powerful political organization supporting Mr. Merriman, and holding the bulk of the Dutch vote at the Cape—took fright at the proposal. Even Merriman and his colleagues had to vote it down.
Without this they could not have saved the principle of "equal rights," which means the more or less equal (proportionate) representation of town and country. The towns are British and the country Dutch, so the bearing of equal rights is obvious. Proportional representation and equal rights were in the end squared off against one another.
South Africa will retain duality of language, both Dutch and British being in official use. There was no other method open. The Dutch language is probably doomed to extinction within three or four generations. It is, in truth, not one linguistic form, but several: the Taal, or kitchen Dutch of daily speech, the "lingua franca" of South Africa; the School Taal, a modified form of it, and the High Dutch of the Scriptural translations brought with the Boers from Holland. Behind this there is no national literature, and the current Dutch of Holland and its books varies some from all of them. English is already the language of commerce and convenience. The only way to keep Dutch alive is to oppose its use. Already the bitterness of the war has had this effect, and language societies are doing their best to uphold and extend the use of the ancestral language. It is with a full knowledge of this that the leaders of the British parties acquiesced in the principle of duality.
The native franchise was another difficult question. At present neither natives nor "colored men" (the South-African term for men of mixed blood) can vote in the Transvaal, the Orange River, and Natal. Nor is there the faintest possibility of the suffrage being extended to them, both the Dutch and the British being convinced that such a policy is a mistake. In the Cape natives and colored men, if possessed of the necessary property and able to write their names, are allowed to vote. The name writing is said to be a farce, the native drawing a picture of his name under guidance of his political boss. Some 20,000 natives and colored people thus vote at the Cape, and neither the Progressives nor the Bond party dared to oppose the continuance of the franchise, lest the native vote should be thrown solid against them. As a result each province will retain its own suffrage, at least until the South-African Parliament by a special majority of two-thirds in a joint session shall decide otherwise.
The future conformation of parties under the union is difficult to forecast. At present the Dutch parties—they may be called so for lack of a better word—have large majorities everywhere except in Natal. In the Transvaal General Botha's party—Het Volk, the Party of the People—is greatly in the ascendant. But it must be remembered that Het Volk numbers many British adherents. For instance, Mr. Hull, Botha's treasurer in the outgoing Government, is an old Johannesburg "reformer," of the Uitlander days, and fought against the Boers in the war. In the Orange Free State the party called the Unie (or United party) has a large majority, while at the Cape Dr. Jameson's party of progressives can make no stand against Mr. Merriman, Mr. Malan, Mr. Sauer, and the powerful organization of the Afrikanderbond.
How the new Government will be formed it is impossible to say. Botha and Merriman will, of course, constitute its leading factors. But whether they will attempt a coalition by taking in with them such men as Sir Percy Fitzpatrick and Dr. Jameson, or will prefer a more united and less universal support is still a matter of conjecture. From the outsider's point of view, a coalition of British and Dutch leaders, working together for the future welfare of a common country, would seem an auspicious opening for the new era. But it must be remembered that General Botha is under no necessity whatever to form such a coalition. If he so wishes he can easily rule the country without it as far as a parliamentary majority goes. Not long since an illustrious South-African, a visitor to Montreal, voiced the opinion that Botha's party will rule South Africa for twenty years undisturbed. But it is impossible to do more than conjecture what will happen. Ex Africa semper quid novi.
Most important of all is the altered relation in which South Africa will now stand to the British Empire.
The Imperial Government may now be said to evacuate South Africa, and to leave it to the control of its own people. It is true that for the time being the Imperial Government will continue to control the native protectorates of Basutoland, Bechuanaland, and Swaziland. But the Constitution provides for the future transfer of these to the administration of a commission appointed by the colonial Government. Provision is also made for the future inclusion of Rhodesia within the Union. South Africa will therefore find itself on practically the same footing as Canada or Australia within the British Empire. What its future fate there will be no man can yet foretell. In South Africa, as in the other Dominions, an intense feeling of local patriotism and "colonial nationalism" will be matched against the historic force and the practical advantages of the Imperial connection. Even in Canada, there is no use in denying it, there are powerful forces which, if unchecked, would carry us to an ultimate independence. Still more is this the case in South Africa.
It is a land of bitter memories. The little people that fought for their republics against a world in arms have not so soon forgotten. It is idle for us in the other parts of the Empire to suppose that the bitter memory of the conflict has yet passed, that the Dutch have forgotten the independence for which they fought, the Vier Klur flag that is hidden in their garrets still, and the twenty thousand women and children that lie buried in South Africa as the harvest of the conqueror. If South Africa is to stay in the Empire it will have to be because the Empire will be made such that neither South Africa nor any other of the dominions would wish to leave it. For this, much has already been done. The liberation of the Transvaal and Orange River from the thraldom of their Crown Colony Government, and the frank acceptance of the Union Constitution by the British Government are the first steps in this direction. Meantime that future of South Africa, as of all the Empire, lies behind a veil.
PORTUGAL BECOMES A REPUBLIC A.D. 1910
WILLIAM ARCHER
The wave of democratic revolt which had swept over Europe during the first decade of the twentieth century was continued in 1910 by the revolution in Portugal. This, as the result of long secret planning, burst forth suddenly before dawn on the morning of October 4th. Before nightfall the revolution was accomplished and the young king, Manuel, was a fugitive from his country.
The change had been long foreseen. The selfishness and blindness of the Portuguese monarchs and their supporters had been such as to make rebellion inevitable, and its ultimate success certain. Mr. William Archer, the noted English journalist, who was sent post-haste to watch the progress of the revolution, could not reach the scene before the brief tumult was at an end; but he here gives a picture of the joyous celebration of freedom that followed, and then traces with power and historic accuracy the causes and conduct of the dramatic scene which has added Portugal to the ever-growing list of Republics.
When the poet Wordsworth and his friend Jones landed at Calais in 1790 they found
"France standing on the top of golden years
And human nature seeming born again."
Not once, but fifty times, in Portugal these lines came back to my mind. The parallel, it may be said, is an ominous one, in view of subsequent manifestations of the reborn French human nature. But there is a world of difference between Portugal and France, between the House of Braganza and the House of Bourbon.
It was nearly one in the morning when my train from Badajoz drew into the Rocio station at Lisbon; yet I had no sooner passed the barrier than I heard a band in the great hall of the station strike up an unfamiliar but not unpleasing air, the rhythm of which plainly announced it to be a national anthem—a conjecture confirmed by a wild burst of cheering at the close. The reason of this midnight demonstration I never ascertained; but, indeed, no one in Lisbon asks for a reason for striking up "A Portugueza," the new patriotic song. Before twenty-four hours had passed I was perfectly familiar with its rather plaintive than martial strains, suited, no doubt, to the sentimental character of the people. An American friend, who arrived a day or two after me, made acquaintance with "A Portugueza" even more immediately than I did. Soon after passing the frontier he fell into conversation with a Portuguese fellow traveler, who, in the course of ten minutes or so, asked him whether he would like to hear the new national anthem, and then and there sang it to him, amid great applause from the other occupants of the compartment. In the cafés and theaters of Lisbon "A Portugueza" may break out at any moment, without any apparent provocation, and you must, of course, stand up and uncover; but there is in some quarters a movement of protest against these observances as savoring of monarchical flunkyism. When I left Lisbon at half-past seven A.M. there was no demonstration such as had greeted my arrival; but at the first halting-place a man stepped out from a little crowd on the platform and shouted "Viva Machado dos Santos! Viva a Republica Portugueza!"—and I found that the compartment adjoining my own was illumined by the presence of the bright particular star of the revolt. At the next station—Torres Vedras of historic fame—the platform was crowded and scores of red and green flags were waving. As the train steamed in, two bands struck up "A Portugueza," and as one had about two minutes' start of the other, the effect was more patriotic than harmonious. The hero had no sooner alighted than he was lifted shoulder-high by the crowd, and carried in triumph from the station, amid the blaring of the bands and the crackling of innumerable little detonators, which here enter freely into the ritual of rejoicing. Next morning I read in the papers a full account of the "Apoteose" of Machado dos Santos, which seems to have kept Torres Vedras busy and happy all day long.
One can not but smile at such simple-minded ebullitions of feeling; yet I would by no means be understood to laugh at them. On the contrary, they are so manifestly spontaneous and sincere as to be really touching. Whatever may be the future of the Portuguese Republic, it has given the nation some weeks of unalloyed happiness. And amid all the shouting and waving of flags, all the manifold "homages" to this hero and to that, there was not the slightest trace of rowdyism or of "mafficking." I could not think without some humiliation of the contrast between a Lisbon and a London crowd. It really seemed as though happiness had ennobled the man in the street. I am assured that on the day of the public funeral of Dr. Bombarda and Admiral dos Reis, though the crowd was enormous and the police had retired into private life, there was not the smallest approach to disorder. The police—formerly the sworn enemies of the populace—had been reinstated at the time of my visit, without their swords and pistols; but they seemed to have little to do. That Lisbon had become a strictly virtuous city it would be too much to affirm, but I believe that crime actually diminished after the revolution. It seemed as though the nation had awakened from a nightmare to a sunrise of health and hope.
And the nightmare took the form of a poor bewildered boy, guilty only of having been thrust, without a spark of genius, into a situation which only genius could have saved. In that surface aspect of the case there is an almost ludicrous disproportion between cause and effect. But it is not what the young King was that matters—it is what he stood for. Let us look a little below the surface—even, if we can, into the soul of the people.
Portugal is a small nation with a great history; and the pride of a small nation which has anything to be proud of is apt to amount to a passion. It is all the more sensitive because it can not swell and harden into arrogance. It is all the more alert because the great nations, in their arrogance, are apt to ignore it.
What are the main sources of Portugal's pride? They are two: her national independence and her achievements in discovery and colonization.
A small country, with no very clear natural frontier, she has maintained her independence under the very shadow of a far larger and at one time an enormously preponderant Power. Portugal was Portugal long before Spain was Spain. It had its Alfred the Great in Alfonso Henriques (born 1111—a memorable date in two senses), who drove back the Moors as Alfred drove back the Danes. He founded a dynasty of able and energetic kings, which, however, degenerated, as dynasties will, until a vain weakling, Ferdinand the Handsome, did his best to wreck the fortunes of the country. On his death in 1383, Portugal was within an ace of falling into the clutches of Castile, but the Cortes conferred the kingship on a bastard of the royal house, John, Master of the Knights of Aviz; and he, aided by five hundred English archers, inflicted a crushing defeat on the Spaniards at Aljubarrota, the Portuguese Bannockburn. John of Aviz, known as the Great, married Philippa of Lancaster, daughter of John of Gaunt; and from this union sprang a line of princes and kings under whom Portugal became one of the leading nations of Europe. Prince Henry the Navigator, son of John the Great, devoted his life to the furthering of maritime adventure and discovery. Like England's First Lords of the Admiralty, he was a navigator who did not navigate; but it was unquestionably owing to the impulse he gave to Portuguese enterprise that Vasco da Gama discovered the sea route to India and Pedro Alvarez Cabral secured for his country the giant colony of Brazil. Angola, Mozambique, Diu, Goa, Macao—these names mean as much for Portugal as Havana, Cartagena, Mexico, and Lima, for Spain. The sixteenth century was the "heroic" age of Portuguese history, and the "heroes"—notably the Viceroys of Portuguese India—were, in fact, a race of fine soldiers and administrators. No nation, moreover, possesses more conspicuous and splendid memorials of its golden age. It was literally "golden," for Emmanuel the Fortunate, who reaped the harvest sown by Henry the Navigator, was the wealthiest monarch in Europe, and gave his name to the "Emmanueline" style of architecture, a florid Gothic which achieves miracles of ostentation and sometimes of beauty. As the glorious pile of Batalha commemorates the victory of Aljubarrota, so the splendid church and monastery of Belem mark the spot where Vasco da Gama spent the night before he sailed on his epoch-making voyage. But it was not gold that raised the noblest memorial to Portugal's greatness: it was the genius of Luis de Camoens. If Spenser, instead of losing himself in mazes of allegoric romance, had sung of Crécy and Agincourt, of Drake, Frobisher, and Raleigh, he might have given us a national epic in the same sense in which the term applies to The Lusiads. With such a history, so written in stone and song, what wonder if pride of race is one of the mainsprings of Portuguese character!
But the House of Aviz, like the legitimate line of Affonso Henriques, dwindled into debility. It flickered out in Dom Sebastian, who dragged his country into a mad invasion of Morocco and vanished from human ken on the disastrous battlefield of Alcazar-Khebir. Then, for sixty years, not by conquest, but by intrigue, Portugal passed under the sway of Spain, and lost to the enemies of Spain—that is to say, to England and Holland—a large part of her colonial empire. At last, in 1640, a well-planned and daring revolution expelled the Spanish intruders, and placed on the throne John, Duke of Braganza. As the house of Aviz was an illegitimate branch of the stock of Affonso Henriques, so the Braganzas were an illegitimate branch of the House of Aviz, with none of the Plantagenet blood in them. Only one prince of the line, Pedro II., can be said to have attained anything like greatness. Another, Joseph, had the sense to give a free hand to an able, if despotic, minister, the Marquis of Pombal. But, on the whole, the history of the Braganza rule was one of steady decadence, until the second half of the nineteenth century found the country one of the most backward in Europe.
Nor was there any comfort to be found in the economic aspect of the case. A country of glorious fertility and ideal climatic conditions, inhabited by an industrious peasantry, Portugal was nevertheless so poor that much of its remaining strength was year by year being drained away by emigration. The public debt was almost as heavy per head of population as that of England. Taxation was crushing. The barest necessaries of life were subject to heavy imposts. Protection protected, not industries, but monopolies and vested interests.
In short, the material condition of the country was as distressing as its spiritual state to any one with the smallest sense of enlightened patriotism.
King Charles I.—name of evil omen!—ascended the throne in 1889. His situation was not wholly unlike that of the English Charles I., inasmuch as—though he had not the insight to perceive it—his lot was cast in times when Portugal was outgrowing the traditions and methods of his family. Representative government, as it had shaped itself since 1852, was a fraud and a farce. To every municipality a Government administrator was attached (at an annual cost to the country of something like £70,000), whose business it was to "work" the elections in concert with the local caciques or bosses. Thus, except in the great towns, the Government candidate was always returned. The efficacy of the system may be judged from the fact that in a country which was at heart Republican, as events have amply shown, the Republican party never had more than fourteen representatives in a chamber of about 150. For the rest, the Monarchical parties, "Regeneradores" and "Progresistas," arranged between them a fair partition of the loaves and fishes. This "rotative" system, as it is called, is in effect that which prevails, or has prevailed, in Spain; but it was perfected in Portugal by a device which enabled Ministers, in stepping out of office under the crown, to step into well-paid posts in financial institutions, more or less associated with the State. Anything like real progress was manifestly impossible under so rotten a system; and with this system the Monarchy was identified.
Then came the scandal of the adeantamentos, or illegal advances made to the King, beyond the sums voted in the civil list. It is only fair to remember that the king of a poor country is nowadays in a very uncomfortable position, more especially if the poor country has once been immensely rich. The expenses of royalty, like those of all other professions, have enormously increased of late years; and a petty king who is to rub shoulders with emperors is very much in the position of a man with £2,000 a year in a club of millionaires. He has always the resource, no doubt, of declining the society of emperors, and even fixing his domestic budget more in accord with present exigencies than with the sumptuous traditions, the palaces and pleasure-houses, of his millionaire predecessors. It is said of Pedro II. that "he had the wisdom and self-restraint not to increase the taxes, preferring to reduce the expenses of his household to the lowest possible amount." But Dom Carlos was not a man of this kidney. Easy-going and self-indulgent, he had no notion of appearing in forma pauperis among the royalties of Europe, or sacrificing his pleasures to the needs of his country. Even his father, Dom Luis, and his uncle, Dom Pedro, had not lived within their income; and expenses had gone up since their times. The king's income, under the civil list, was a "conto of reis" a day, or something over £80,000 a year. Additional allowances to other members of the royal family amounted to about half as much again; and there was, I believe, an allowance for the upkeep of palaces. One would suppose that a reasonably frugal royal family, with no house-rent to pay, could subsist in tolerable comfort on some £2,250 a week; but as a matter of fact, Dom Carlos made large additional drafts on the treasury, which servile ministries honored without protest. He had expensive fantasies, which he was not in the habit of stinting. The total of his "anticipations" I do not know, but it is estimated in millions of pounds.
These eccentricities, combined with other abuses of finance and administration, rendered even the cacique-chosen Cortes unruly, and our Charles I. looked about for a Strafford who should apply a "thorough" remedy to what he called the parliamentary gâchis. He found his man in João Franco. This somewhat enigmatic personage can not as yet be estimated with any impartiality. No one accuses him of personal corruption or of sordidly interested motives. His great private wealth enabled him the other day to find bail, at a moment's notice, to the amount of £40,000. On the other hand, his enemies diagnose him after the manner of Lombroso, and find him to be a degenerate and an epileptic, ungovernably irritable, vain, mendacious, arrogant, sometimes quite irresponsible for his actions. A really strong man he can scarcely be; scarcely a man of true political insight, else he would not have tried to play the despot with no plausible ideal to allege in defense of his usurpation. Be that as it may, he agreed with the King that it was impossible to carry on the work of government with a fractious Cortes in session, and that the only way to keep things going was to try the experiment of a dictatorship. Dom Carlos, in his genial fashion, overcame by help of an anecdote any doubt his minister may have felt. "When the affairs of Frederick the Great were at a low ebb," said the King, "he one day, on the eve of a decisive battle, caught a grenadier in the act of making off from the camp. 'What are you about?' asked Frederick. 'Your Majesty, I am deserting,' stammered the soldier. 'Wait till to-morrow,' replied Frederick calmly, 'and if the battle goes against us, we will desert together.'" Thus lightly was the adventure plotted; and, in fact, the minister did not desert until the King lay dead upon the field of battle.
Franco dissolved the Cortes, and on May 10, 1907, published a decree declaring the "administration to be a dictatorship." The Press was strictly gagged, and all the traditional weapons of despotism were polished up. In June, the dictator went to Oporto to defend his policy at a public banquet, and on his return a popular tumult took place in the Rocio, the central square of Lisbon, which was repressed with serious bloodshed. This was made the excuse for still more galling restrictions on personal and intellectual liberty, until it was hard to distinguish between "administrative dictatorship" and autocracy. As regards the adeantamentos, Franco's declared policy was to make a clean slate of the past, and, for the future, to augment the civil list. In the autumn of that year, a very able Spanish journalist and deputy, Señor Luis Morote, visited most of the leading men in Portugal, and found among the Republicans an absolute and serene confidence that the Monarchy was in its last ditch and that a Republic was inevitable. Seldom have political prophecies been more completely fulfilled than those which Morote then recorded in the Heraldo of Madrid. Said Bernardino Machado:
"The Republic is the fatherland organized for its prosperity…. I believe in the moral forces of Portugal, which are carrying us directly toward the new order of things…. We shall triumph because the right is on our side, and the moral idealism; peacefully if we can, and I think it pretty sure that we can, since no public force can stop a nation on the march."
Said Guerra Junqueiro, the leading poet of the day: "Within two years there will be no Braganzas or there will be no Portugal….The revolution, when it comes, will be a question of hours, and it will be almost bloodless."
I could cite many other deliverances to the same effect, but one must suffice. Theophilo Braga, the "grand old man" of Portugal, said: "To stimulate the faith, conscience, will, and revolutionary energies of the country, I have imposed on myself a plan of work, and a mandate not to die until I see it accomplished."
The Paris Temps of November 14, 1907, published an interview with Dom Carlos which embittered feeling and alienated many of his supporters. "Everything is quiet in Lisbon," declared the King, echoing another historic phase: "Only the politicasters are agitating themselves…. It was necessary that the gâchis—there is no other word for it—should one day come to an end…. I required an undaunted will which should be equal to the task of carrying my ideas to a happy conclusion…. I am entirely satisfied with M. Franco. Ça marche. And it will continue; it must continue for the good of the country…. In no country can you make a revolution without the army. Well, the Portuguese Army is faithful to its King, and I shall always have it at my side…. I have no shadow of doubt of its fidelity." Poor Charles the First!
At the end of January, 1908, a revolutionary plot was discovered, and was put down with severity. After signing some decrees to that end, at one of his palaces beyond the Tagus, the King, with his whole family, returned to Lisbon and the party drove in open carriages from the wharf toward the Necessidades Palace. In the crowd at the corner of the great riverside square, the Praça do Comercio, stood two men named Buiça and Costa, with carbines concealed under their cloaks. They shot dead the King and the Crown Prince, and slightly wounded Dom Manuel. Both the assassins were killed on the spot.
It is said that there was no plot, and that these men acted entirely on their own initiative and responsibility. At any rate, none of the Republican leaders was in any way implicated in the affair. But on All Saints' day of 1910, Buiça's grave shared to the full in the rain of wreaths poured upon the tombs of the martyrs of the new Republic; and relics of the regicides hold an honored place in the historical museum which commemorates the revolution.
Franco vanished into space, and Dom Manuel, aged nineteen, ascended the throne. Had he possessed strong intelligence and character, or had he fallen into the hands of really able advisers, it is possible that the revulsion of feeling following on so grim a tragedy might have indefinitely prolonged the life of the Monarchy. But his mother was a Bourbon, and what more need be said? The opinion in Lisbon, at any rate, was that "under Dom Carlos the Jesuits entered the palace by the back door, under Dom Manuel by the front door." The Republican agitation in public, the revolutionary organization in secret, soon recommenced with renewed vigor; and the discovery of new scandals in connection with the tobacco monopoly and a financial institution, known as the "Credito Predial," added fuel to the fire of indignation. The Government, or rather a succession of Governments, were perfectly aware that the foundations of the Monarchy were undermined; but they seemed to be paralyzed by a sort of fatalistic despair. They persecuted, indeed, just enough to make themselves doubly odious; but they always laid hands on people who, if not quite innocent, were subordinate and uninfluential. Not one of the real leaders of the revolution was arrested.
The thoroughness with which the Republican party was organized says much for the practical ability of its leaders. The moving spirits in the central committee were Vice-Admiral Candido dos Reis, Affonso Costa (now Minister of Justice), Joao Chagas, and Dr. Miguel Bombarda. Simoes Raposo spoke in the name of the Freemasons; the Carbonaria Portugueza, a powerful secret society, was represented by Machado dos Santos, an officer in the navy. There was a separate finance committee, and funds were ample. The arms bought were mostly Browning pistols, which were smuggled over the Spanish frontier by Republican railway conductors. Bombs also were prepared in large numbers, not for purposes of assassination, but for use in open warfare, especially against cavalry. Meanwhile an untiring secret propaganda was going on in the army, in the navy, and among the peasantry. Almost every seaman in the navy, and in many regiments almost all the non-commissioned officers and men, were revolutionaries; while commissioned officers by the score were won over. It is marvelous that so wide-spread a propaganda was only vaguely known to the Government, and did not beget a crowd of informers. One man, it is true, who showed a disposition to use his secret knowledge for purposes of blackmail, was found dead in the streets of Cascaes. On the whole, not only secrecy but discipline was marvelously maintained.
At last the propitious moment arrived. Three ships of war—the Dom Carlos, the Adamastor, and the San Raphael—were in the Tagus to do honor to the President-elect of Brazil, who was visiting King Manuel; but the Government knew that their presence was dangerous, and would certainly order them off again as soon as possible. The blow must be struck before that occurred. At a meeting of the committee on October 2, 1910, it was agreed that the signal should be given in the early morning of October 4th. All the parts were cast, all the duties were assigned: who should call this and that barrack to arms, who should cut this and that railway line, who should take possession of the central telegraph-office, and so forth. The whole scheme was laid down in detail in a precious paper, in the keeping of Simôes Raposo. "You had better give it to me," said Dr. Bombarda, "for I am less likely than you to be arrested. Even if they should think of searching at Rilhafolles [the asylum of which he was director], I can easily hide it in one of the books of my library." His suggestion was accepted, the paper on which their lives and that of the Republic depended was handed to him, and the meeting broke up.
On the morning of Monday, October 3d, all was as quiet in Lisbon as King Carlos himself could have desired. At about eleven o'clock Dr. Bombarda sat in his office at the asylum, when a former patient, a young lieutenant who had suffered from the persecution mania, was announced to see him. Bombarda rose and asked him how he was. Without a word the visitor produced a Browning pistol and fired point blank at the physician, putting three bullets in his body. Bombarda had strength enough to seize his assailant by the wrists and hand him over to the attendants who rushed in. He then walked down-stairs unaided before he realized how serious were his wounds. It soon appeared, however, that he had not many hours to live; and when this became clear to him, he took a paper from his pocketbook and insisted that it should be burned before his eyes. What the paper was I need not say. At about six in the evening he died.
Bombarda was a passionate anticlerical, and his murderer was a fanatical Catholic. The citizens, with whom he was very popular, jumped at the conclusion that the priests had inspired the deed. As soon as his death was announced in the transparency outside the office of O Seculo, there were demonstrations of anger among the crowd and some conflicts with the police.
Meanwhile the Revolutionary Committee, to the number of fifty or thereabouts, were sitting in the Rua da Esperança, discussing the question, "To be or not to be." The military members counseled delay, for the Government had ordered all officers to be at their quarters in the various barracks which are scattered over the city. The intention had been to choose a time when most of the officers were off duty and the men could mutiny at their ease; but this plan had for the moment been frustrated. The military view might have carried the day, but for the determination shown by Candido dos Reis, who pointed out that it would be madness to give the Government time to order the ships out of the Tagus. Finally, he turned to the military group, saying, "If you will not go out, I will go out alone with the sailors. I shall have the honor of getting myself shot by my comrades of the army." His insistence carried all before it, and it was decided that the signal should be given, as previously arranged, at one o'clock in the morning.
That evening, at the Palace of Belem, some two miles down the Tagus from the Necessidades Palace, Marshal Hermes da Fonseca, President-elect of Brazil, was entertaining King Manuel at a State dinner. There was an electrical sense of disquiet in the air. Several official guests were absent, and every few minutes there came telephone-calls for this or that minister or general, some of whom reappeared, while some did not. At last the tension got so much on the nerves of the young King that he scribbled on his menu-card a request that the banquet might be shortened; and, in fact, one or two courses were omitted. Then followed the dreary ritual of toasts; and at last, at half-past eleven, Dom Manuel parted from his host and set off in his automobile, escorted by a troop of cavalry. Two bands played the royal anthem. Had he known, poor youth, that he was never to hear it again, there might have been a crumb of consolation in the thought.
It would be impossible without a map to make clear the various phases of the Battle of Lisbon. Nor would there be any great interest in so doing. There was no particular strategy in the revolutionary plans, and what strategy there was fell to pieces at an early point. It is not clear that the signal was ever formally given, but about the appointed hour mutinies broke out in several barracks. In some cases the Royalist officers were put under arrest, in one case a colonel and two other officers were shot. A mixed company of soldiers and civilians, with ten or twelve guns, marched, as had been arranged, upon the Necessidades Palace, to demand the abdication of the King; but they were met on the heights behind the palace by a body of the "guardia municipal," and, after a sharp skirmish, were forced to retire, leaving three of their guns disabled behind them. They retreated to the general rallying-point of the Republican forces, the Rotunda, at the upper end of the mile-long Avenida da Liberdade. This avenue stands to the Rocio very much in the relation of Charing Cross Road to Trafalgar Square: there is a curve at their junction which prevents you from seeing—or shooting—from the one into the other. On reaching the Rotunda, the insurgents learned that the Rocio had been occupied by Royalist troops, from the Citadel of St. George and another barrack, with one or two machine guns, but no cannon.
There, then, the two forces lay, with a short mile of sloping ground between them, awaiting the dawn. Under cover of darkness, a body of mounted gendarmes attempted to charge the insurgent position, but they were repulsed by bombs.
Meanwhile, what had become of the naval cooperation, on which so much reliance had been placed? It had failed, through the tragic weakness of one man. Candido dos Reis is one of the canonized saints of the Republic; but I think it shows a good deal of generosity in the Portuguese character that the Devil's Advocate has not made himself heard in the case. Dos Reis had undertaken the command of the naval side of the revolt; but oddly enough, he seems to have arranged no method of conveyance to his post of duty. He found at the wharf a small steamer, the captain of which agreed to take him off to the ships; but there was some delay in getting up steam. During this pause, some one as yet unidentified, but evidently a friend of Dos Reis, rushed down to the wharf and shouted to him that the revolt was crushed and all was lost. Dos Reis, who had assumed his naval uniform on board the steamer, took it off again, and, in civilian attire, went ashore. He proceeded to his sister's house, where he spent an hour; then he sallied forth again, and was found next morning in a distant quarter of the city with a bullet through his brain.
There is no doubt that he committed suicide. The theory of foul play is quite abandoned. As it was he who had vetoed the proposed postponement of the rising, one can understand that the sense of responsibility lay heavy upon him; but that, without inquiry into the alleged disaster, without the smallest attempt to retrieve it, he should have left his comrades in the lurch and taken the easiest way of escape, is surely a proof of almost criminal instability. The Republic lost in him an ardent patriot, but scarcely a great leader.
The dawn of Tuesday, October 4th, showed the fortunes of the revolt at rather a low ebb. The land forces were dismayed by the inaction of the ships; the sailors imagined, from the non-appearance of their leader, that some disaster must have occurred on land. It was in these hours of despondency that the true heroes of the revolution showed their mettle.
In the bivouac at the Rotunda, as the morning wore on, the Republican officers declared that the game was up, and that there was nothing for it but to disperse and await the consequences. They themselves actually made off; and it was then that Machado dos Santos came to the front, taking command of the insurgent force and reviving their drooping spirits. The position was not really a strong one. For one thing, it is commanded by the heights of the Misericordia; and there was, in fact, some long-range firing between the insurgents and the Guardia Municipal stationed on that eminence. Again, the gentle slope of the Avenida, a hundred yards wide, is clothed by no fewer than ten rows of low trees, acacias, and the like, five rows on each side of the comparatively narrow roadway, which is blocked at the lower end by a massive monument to the liberators of 1640. Thus the insurgents could not see their adversaries even when they ventured out of their sheltered position in the Rocio; and the artillery fire from the Rotunda did much more damage to the hotels that flanked the narrow neck of the Avenida than to the Royalist forces. On the other hand, it would have been comparatively easy for the Royalists, with a little resolution, to have crept up the Avenida under cover of the trees, and driven the insurgents from their position. Fortunately for the revolt, there was a total lack of leadership on the Royalist side, excusable only on the ground that the officers could not rely on their men.
While things were at a deadlock on the Avenida, critical events were happening on the Tagus. On all three ships, the officers knew that the men were only awaiting a signal to mutiny; but the signal did not come. At this juncture, and while it seemed that the Republican cause was lost, a piece of heroic bluff on the part of a single officer saved the situation. Lieutenant Tito de Moraes put off in a small boat from the naval barracks at Alcantara, rowed to the San Raphael, boarded it, and calmly took possession of it in the name of the Republic! He gave the officers a written guaranty that they had yielded to superior force, and then sent them off under arrest to the naval barracks. He now asked for orders from the Revolutionary Committee; and early in the afternoon the San Raphael weighed anchor and moved down the river in the direction of the Necessidades Palace. In doing so she had to pass the most powerful ship of the squadron, the Dom Carlos: would she get past in safety? Yes; the Dom Carlos made no sign. The officers were almost all Royalists, but they knew they could do nothing with the crew. As a matter of fact when the crew ultimately mutinied, the captain and a lieutenant were severely wounded; but I can find no evidence for the picturesque legend of a group of officers making a last heroic stand on the quarter-deck, and ruthlessly mowed down by the insurgents' fire. It is certain, at any rate, that no lives were lost.
In the Palace, on its bluff above the river, King Manuel was practically alone. No minister, no general, was at his side. It is said, on what seems to be good authority, that when he saw the San Raphael moving down-stream under the Republican colors, he telephoned to the Prime Minister, Teixeira de Sousa, to ask whether there was not a British destroyer in the river that could be got to sink the mutinous vessel. Even if this scheme had been otherwise feasible, it would have demanded an effort of which the minister was no longer capable. At about two in the afternoon the San Raphael, cruising slowly up and down, opened fire upon the Palace, and her second shot brought down the royal standard from its roof. What could the poor boy do? To sit still and be blown to pieces would have been heroic, but useless. Had he had the stuff of a soldier in him, he might have made his way to the Rocio and tried to put some energy into the officers, some spirit into the troops. But he had no one to encourage and support him. Such counselors as he had were all for flight. He stepped into his motor-car, set off for Cintra and Mafra, and is henceforth out of the saga.
The flight of Dom Manuel meant the collapse of his cause. It is true that the Royalists were reenforced by certain detachments of troops who came in from the country, and, beaten off by the insurgents at the Rotunda, made their way to the Rocio by a circuitous route. The Guardia Municipal, too, were stanch, and showed fight at several points. It was the total lack of spirited leadership that left the insurgents masters of the field. Having done its work at the Necessidades, the San Raphael moved up stream again, and began dropping shells over the intervening parallelogram of the "Low City" into the crowded Rocio. They caused little loss of life, for they were skilfully timed to explode in air; the object being, not to massacre, but to dismay. There is nothing so trying to soldiers as to remain inactive under fire; and as there had never been much fight in the garrison of the Rocio, the little that was left speedily evaporated. At eleven in the morning of Wednesday, October 5th, the Republic was proclaimed from the balcony of the Town Hall, and before night fell all was once more quiet in Lisbon.
The first accounts of the fighting which appeared in the European Press were, as was only natural, greatly exaggerated. A careful enumeration places the number of the killed at sixty-one and of the wounded at 417. Some of the latter, indeed, died of their wounds, but the whole death-roll certainly did not exceed a hundred.
The Portuguese Monarchy was dead; and the causes of death, as disclosed by the autopsy, were moral bankruptcy and intellectual inanition. It could not point to a single service that it rendered to the country in return for the burdens it imposed. Some of its defenders professed to see in it a safeguard for the colonies, which would somehow fly off into space in the event of a revolution. As yet there are no signs of this prophecy coming true; but the prophets may cling, if they please, to the hope of its fulfilment. For the rest, it was perfectly clear that the monarchy had done nothing for the material or spiritual advancement of the country, which remained as poverty-stricken and as illiterate as it well could be. Dom Carlos had not even the common prudence to affect, if he did not feel, a sympathy with the nation's pride in its "heroes." The Monarchy could boast neither of good deeds nor of good intentions. Its cynicism was not tempered by intelligence. It drifted toward the abyss without making any reasonable effort to save itself; for the dictatorship was scarcely an effort of reason. "The dictatorship," said Bernardino Machado, the present Foreign Minister, "left us only one liberty—that of hatred." And again, "The monarchy had not even a party—it had only a clientèle." That one word explains the disappearance of Royalism.
For it has simply disappeared. Even the Royalist Press is almost extinct. Some papers have ceased to appear, some have become Republican, the few who stick to their colors do so rather from clerical than from specifically Royalist conviction. All the leading papers of the country had long been Republican; and excellent papers they are. Both in appearance and in matter, O Mundo and A Lucta ("The Struggle") would do credit to the journalism of any country. In size, in excellence of production, and in the well-considered weight of their articles, they contrast strangely with the flimsy, ill-printed sheets that content the Spanish public.
The Provisional Government has been sneered at as a clique of "intellectuals"; but it is scarcely a reproach to the Republic that it should command the adhesion of the whole intelligence of the country. Nor is there any sign of lack of practical sense in the admirable organization which not only insured the success of the revolution (in spite of certain cross accidents) but secured its absolutely peaceful acceptance throughout the country. There are no doubt visionary and fantastic spirits in the Republican ranks, and ridiculous proposals have already been mooted. For instance, it has been gravely suggested that all streets bearing the names of saints—and there are hundreds of them—should be renamed in commemoration of Republican heroes, dates, exploits, etc. But the common sense of the people and Press is already on the alert, and such whimsies are being laughed out of court.
Of the Provisional Government I saw only the President and the Foreign Secretary. The President, an illustrious scholar, historian, and poet, is a delightful old man of the simplest, most unassuming manners, and eagerly communicative on the subjects which have been the study of his life. When I asked him to explain to me the difference of national character which made the Portuguese attitude toward the Church so different from the Spanish, he took me right back to the Ligurians—far out of my ethnological depth—and gave me a most interesting sketch of the development of the two nations. But when we came to topics of more immediate importance, he showed, if I may venture to say so, a clear practical sense, quite remote from visionary idealism. The Foreign Minister, Dr. Machado, is of more immediately impressive personality. Younger than the President by at least ten years, yet little short, I should guess, of sixty, he is extremely neat and dapper in person, while his very handsome face has a birdlike keenness and alertness of expression betokening not only great intelligence but high-strung vitality. He is a copious, eloquent, and witty talker, and his remarkable charm of manner accounts, in part at any rate, for his immense popularity. Assuredly no monarchy could have more distinguished representatives than this Republic.
The desire of the Republic to "play fair" was manifested in another little trait that interested me a good deal. In the window of every book-shop in Spain a translation from the Portuguese, entitled Los Escandalos de la Corte de Portugal, is prominently displayed. It is a ferocious lampoon upon the royal family and upon Franco; but in Lisbon I looked for it in vain. On inquiry I learned that it had been prohibited under the Monarchy, as it could not fail to be; but, had there been any demand for it, no doubt it might have been reprinted since the revolution. There was apparently no demand. The people to whom I spoke of it evidently regarded it as "hitting below the belt." "We do not fight with such weapons," said a leading journalist. In no one, in fact, did I discover the slightest desire or willingness to retail personal gossip with respect to the hated Braganzas.
THE CRUSHING OF FINLAND
A.D. 1910
JOHN JACKOL BARON VON PLEHVE BARON SERGIUS WITTE J.N. REUTER
In the midst of progress comes reaction. The far northern European country of Finland had for a century been progressing in advance of its neighbors. It was a true democracy. It had even established, first of European lands, the full suffrage for women; and numerous women sat in its parliament. But Finland was tributary to Russia; and Russia, as far back as 1898, began a deliberate policy of crushing Finland, "nationalizing" it, was the Russian phrase, by which was meant compelling it to abandon its independence, adopt the Russian language, and become an integral part of the empire under Russian officials and Russian autocracy.
Under pressure of this repressive policy, the Finns began leaving their country as early as 1903, emigrating to America in despair of successful resistance to Russia's tyranny. Many of them were exiled or imprisoned by the Czar's Government. Then came the days of the Russian Revolution; and the Czar and his advisers hurried to grant Finland everything she had desired, under fear that her people would swell the tide of revolution. But that danger once passed, the old policy of oppression was soon renewed, and was carried onward until in November of 1909 the Finnish Parliament was dismissed by imperial command. All through 1910 repressive laws were passed, reducing Finland step by step to a mere Russian province, so that before the close of that year the Finlanders themselves surrendered the struggle. One of their leaders wrote, "So ends Finland."
We give here first the despairing cry written in 1903 by a well-known Finn who fled to America. Then follows the official Russian statement by the "Minister of the Interior," Von Plehve, who held control of Finland in the early stages of the struggle, and was later slain by Russian revolutionists. Then we give the very different Russian view expressed by the great liberal Prime Minister, Baron Sergius Witte, who rescued Russia from her domestic disaster after the Japanese War. The story is then carried to its close by a well-known Finnish sympathizer.
JOHN JACKOL
"Russia is the rock against which the sigh for freedom breaks," said Kossuth, the great statesman and patriot of Hungary. Although fifty years have passed, and sigh after sigh has broken against it, the rock still stands like a colossal monument of bygone ages. It is pointing toward the northern star, as if to remind one of the all-enduring fixity. Other stars may go round as they will; there is one fixed in its place, and under that star the shadow of despotism hopes to endure forever.
While yet in Finland I used to fancy Russia as a giant devil-fish, whose arms extended from the Baltic to the Pacific, from the Black Sea to the Arctic Ocean. Then I would think of my native land as a beautiful mermaid, about whom the giant's cold, chilly arms were slowly creeping, and I feared that some day those arms would crush her. That day has come. The helpless mermaid lies prostrate in the clutch of the octopus. Not that the constitution of Finland has been annulled, as has been so often erroneously stated, and quite generally believed. The Russian Government has made only a few inroads upon it. The great grievance of the Finns is not with what has been absolutely done in opposition to their ancient rights and privileges, nor in the number of their rights which have in reality been curtailed, but with the fact that they have henceforth no security. The real grievance of the Finns is that the welfare of their country no longer rests upon an inviolable constitution, but upon the caprice of the ministers.
In 1898 the reactionists succeeded in getting one of their tools appointed as Governor-General. No sooner had General Bobrikoff taken his high office than he declared that the Finnish right to separate political existence was an illusion; that there was no substantial foundation for it in any of the acts or words of Alexander I. The people were amazed, appalled. But this was not all. Pobiedonostseff, the Procurator of the Holy Synod, and other men as reactionary as he, discovered the fact, or gave birth to the idea, that the fundamental rights of Finland could be interfered with if these fundamental rights interfered with the welfare of the Russian Empire. In other words, they discovered a loophole which they termed legal, on the principle that the parts should suffer for the whole, and that this principle was an integral part of the plan of Russian government.
The abrogation of maintenance of Finland's ancient rights would seem by this decision to rest on the arbitrary interpretation on the part of Russia as to whether or not they interfered with the welfare of the empire. It is possible that, according to the individual opinions of Russian autocrats, they might all interfere with the standard of welfare which certain individuals have arbitrarily established to fit the occasion.
In justice to the Russian Government it should be stated, however, that the joy of persecution was not the motive which led to the arbitrary acts. During the time that Finland was under Swedish control, the Finns had learned to dislike everything Russian. These anti-Russian tendencies were accentuated, after Finland became an appanage of the Russian crown, by the restrictive and often reactionary policy of the Imperial Government. Such a form of government was repugnant to the Finns, who had learned to be governed by good laws well administered, and by an enlightened public opinion. At the same time, owing to their larger liberties, their higher culture, and their susceptibility to western ideals, the Finns exerted an attractive influence over the peoples of the Baltic provinces, and even of Russia proper. A Finn would very seldom become Russianized, while many Russians became Finnicized. Unlike his Russian brother, the Finn enjoyed the privileges of free conscience, free speech, and free press.
To the average Russian such a life was enchanting, and many were so fascinated that they became citizens of Finland. In order to do so, however, they were obliged to go through the formality of changing their nationality and becoming subjects of the Grand Duchy. Doubtless this was distasteful to the Russians, but so many and so great were the advantages accruing from such a change that not a few renounced their nationality.
Such a state of affairs seemed unnatural and antagonistic to the propaganda of the Panslavistic party. Instead of Russian ideals pervading the province, provincial ideals, manners, and customs were gradually spreading into the empire. But there seemed to be no honorable way of checking the progress of the rapidly growing Finnish nationality. The Finns maintained that their rights and privileges and their laws rested upon an inviolable constitution, which could be changed only by a vote of the four estates of the Landtag. That body would never yield.
It was at this juncture that the Procurator of the Holy Synod conceived the idea that the fundamental rights of the Finns can be curtailed in so far as they interfere with those of the empire. Acting according to this new idea the Imperial Government in 1899 took for its pretext the army service of the Finns. Heretofore, according to a hereditary privilege, the Finns had not been called upon to serve in the Russian Army, and their army service had been only three years to the Russian's five. The officers of the Finnish Army were to be Finns, and this army could not be called upon to serve outside of the Grand Duchy. This was the first fundamental right of the Finns to be attacked by the Russian Government. In some mysterious way the very insignificant army of Finland "interfered with the general welfare of the Russian Empire."
Immediately following the Czar's startling proposal for a disarmament conference in 1899 came his call for a special session of the Finnish Landtag to extend the laws of conscription and the time of regular service from three to five years. Furthermore, the new law provided that instead of serving in their own country, the Finnish soldiers were to be scattered among the various troops of the empire. By this means it was hoped to Russianize them.
The representatives of the people had no time to consider the measure before the Czar's decree was issued, February 17, 1899, declaring that thenceforth the laws governing the Grand Duchy be made in the same manner as those of the empire.
It is not necessary to dwell upon the deep feeling of indignation and grief that pervaded the country. It has found a freer expression outside of the Grand Duchy than within its boundaries. Wherever the human heart is beating in sympathetic harmony with universal progress, the oppressed Finnish people have found moral support. In spite of this, one by one the Finns have been deprived of their hereditary rights and privileges. To the Finns this new order of things seems appalling. It is like the drawing of the veil of the dark ages over their beloved country. They have lost everything that is dear to the human heart: their language, their religion, and their independence. They can do nothing but mourn in silence and mortification, for a strict Russian censorship prevents the expression of their just indignation and grief.
The present condition of Finland is apathetic. Last fall the loss of crops was almost complete, and pestilence and famine are devastating the country, which has been drained of its vitality by an excessive migration and military conscription. The young men of Finland are forced to serve five years in the Russian Army, and the country is suffering from a lack of men to till the soil. The credit of the country has been mined, and panic is spreading rapidly. Wholesale migration of the more thrifty has made the already difficult problem of readjustment more complicated. Those who remain behind are literally suffering from physical, intellectual, and moral starvation. There is left nothing to refresh, fertilize, and energize the nation's vitality. The Finns are utterly helpless. In this sad extremity of their people the best men of Finland are exerting their utmost in the endeavor to alleviate suffering and infuse hope and inspiration among the masses. The young Finnish party has become exasperated by the humiliation that has been heaped upon the long-suffering people of their native land, and its leaders have advised active resistance. The old Finnish party has adopted the policy of passive resistance and protest. But the inroads upon the constitution of Finland, in the form of imperial decrees, rules, and regulations by the Governor-General and his subordinates, have been so many and so sweeping in their character that even the most conservative are beginning to lose patience. As long as the unconstitutional acts affected only the political life of the people, many were able to bear it, but when the new rules attacked the time-honored social institutions and customs, indignation could no longer be suppressed. For instance, the order to open private mail caused a general protest. The postal director and his secretary refused to sign the order and resigned. No less obnoxious was the order forbidding public meetings and directing the governors of the different provinces of Finland to appoint only such men to fill municipal rural offices as will be subservient to the Governor-General. The governor of the province of Ulrasborg resigned, while several other provinces were already governed by pliant tools of General Bobrikoff.
The long-suppressed anxiety of the people has changed into a heartrending sigh of anguish. These words of a national poet express the general sentiment, "Better far than servitude a death upon the gallows." A vicious circle has been established. The high-handed measures cause indignation, and the Governor-General is determined to suppress its expression. There is no safety in Finland for honest and patriotic men. The judiciary has been made subservient to General Bobrikoff. Latest advices are ominous. April 24, 1903, was a black day in the history of Finland. It witnessed the inauguration of a reign of terror which, by the ordinance of April 2d and the rescript of April 9th, General Bobrikoff had been authorized to establish.
Bobrikoff returned to Finland with authority, if necessary, to close hotels, stores, and factories, to forbid general meetings, to dissolve clubs and societies, and to banish without legal process any one whose presence in the country he considered objectionable.
For 700 years Finns have been free men; now they have become Russian serfs, and it is well to make closer connections between the Finnish railway system and the trans-Siberian road. Finns are long-suffering and patient, but who could endure all this?
While the expression of indignation is suppressed in Finland, outside of the Grand Duchy, especially in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, Russia's relentless tyranny has made the highest officers of state as resentful as the man in the street. Indeed entire Scandinavia is aflame with indignation and apprehension. The leading journals are warning Scandinavians "that the fate of Finland implies other tragedies of similar character, unless Pan-Scandinavia becomes something more than a political dream."
VON PLEHVE[1]
[Footnote 1: Reprinted by permission from the American Review of
Reviews.]
In criticizing Russian policy in Finland a distinction should be made between its fundamental principles—i.e., the ends which it is meant to attain, and its outward expression, which depends upon circumstances.
The former,—i.e., the aims and principles, remain unalterable; the latter,—i.e., the way in which this policy finds expression—is of an incidental and temporary character, and does not always depend on the Russian authority alone. This is what should be taken into consideration by Russia's western friends when estimating the value of the information which reaches them from Finland.
As to the program of the Russian Government in the Finland question, it is substantially as follows:
The fundamental problem of every supreme authority—the happiness and prosperity of the governed—can be solved only by the mutual cooperation of the government and the people. The requirements presented to the partners in this common task are, on the one hand, that the people should recognize the unity of state principle and policy and the binding character of its aims; and, on the other, that the Government should acknowledge the benefit accruing to the state from the public activity, along the lines of individual development, of its component elements.
Such are the grounds on which the government and the people should unite in the performance of their common task. The combination of imperial unity with local autonomy, of autocracy with self-government, forms the principle which must be taken into consideration in judging the action of the Russian Government in the Grand Duchy of Finland. The manifesto of February 3-15, 1899, is not a negation of such a peaceful cooperation, but a confirmation of the aforesaid leading principle of our Government in its full development. It decides that the issue of imperial laws, common both to Russia and Finland, must not depend altogether on the consent of the members of the Finland Diet, but is the prerogative of the Imperial Council of State, with the participation on such occasions of members of the Finland Senate. There is nothing in this manifesto to shake the belief of Russia's friends in the compatibility of the principles of autocracy with a large measure of local self-government and civic liberty. The development of the spiritual and material powers of the population by its gradual introduction to participation in the conscious public life of the state, as a healthy, conservative principle of government, has always entered into the plans of the sovereign leaders of the life of Russia as a state. These intentions were announced afresh from the throne by the manifesto of February 26, 1903. In our country this process takes place in accordance with the historical basis of the empire, with the national peculiarities of its population.
The result is that in Russia we have the organization of local institutions which give self-government in the narrow sense of the word—i.e., the right of the people to see to the satisfaction of their local economic needs. In Finland the idea of local autonomy was developed far earlier and in a far wider manner. Its present scope, which has grown and developed under Russian rule, embraces all sides, not only of the economic, but of the civil, life of the land. Russian autocracy has thus given irrefragable proof of its constructive powers in the sphere of civic development. The historian of the future will have to note its ethical importance in a far wider sphere as well: the greatest of social problems have found a peaceable solution in Russia, thanks to the conditions of its political organization.
For a full comprehension, however, of the manifesto of 1899, it must be regarded as one of the phases in the development of Finland's relations to Russia. It will then become evident that as a legacy of the past it is the outcome of the natural course of events which sooner or later must have led up to it. The initiation of Finland into the historical destinies of the Russian Empire was bound to lead to the rise of questions calling for a general solution common both to the empire and to Finland. Naturally, in view of the subordinate status of the latter, such questions could be solved only in the order appointed for imperial legislation. At the same time, neither the fundamental laws of the Swedish period of rule in Finland, which were completely incompatible with its new status, nor the Statutes of the Diet, introduced by Alexander II., and determining the order of issue of local laws, touched, or could touch, the question of the issue of general imperial laws. This question arose in the course of the legislative work on the systematization of the fundamental laws of Finland. This task, undertaken by order of the Emperor Alexander II. for the more precise determination of the status of Finland as an indivisible part of our state, was continued during the reign of his august successor, the Emperor Alexander III., and led to the question of determining the order of issue of general imperial laws. The rules drafted for this purpose in 1893 formed the contents of the manifesto of 1899. Thus we see that during six years they remained without application, there being no practical necessity for their publication. When, however, this necessity arose, owing to the lapse of the former military law, the manifesto was issued. It was, therefore, the finishing touch to the labor of many years at the determination of the manner in which the principle of a united empire was to find expression within the limits of Finland, and remained substantially true to the traditions which for a century had reigned in the relations between Russia and Finland. It presented a combination of the principle of autocracy with that of local self-government without any serious limitations of the rights of the latter. Moreover, while preserving the historical principle of Russian empire-building, this law determined the form of the expression of the autocratic power within the limits of the Grand Duchy in a manner so much in accord with the conditions of life in Finland that it did not touch the organization of a single one of the national local institutions of the duchy.
This law, in its application to the new conscription regulations, has alleviated the condition of the population of Finland. The military burden laid on the population of the land has been decreased from 2,000 men to 500 per annum, and latterly to 280. As you will see, there is in reality no opposition between the will of the Emperor of Russia as announced to Finland in 1899 and his generous initiative at The Hague Conference. But, you ask me, has not this confirmation of the ancient principles of Russian state policy in Finland been bought at too dear a price? I shall try to answer you. The hostility of public opinion toward us in the West in connection with Finnish matters is much to be regretted, but hopes may be entertained that under the influence of better information on Finnish affairs this hostility may lose its present bitterness. We are accustomed, moreover, to see that the West, while welcoming the progressive development of Russia along the old lines it, Europe, has followed itself, is not always as amicably disposed toward the growth of the political and social self-consciousness of Russia and toward the independent historical process taking place in her in the shape of the concentration of her forces for the fulfilment of her peaceful vocation in the history of the human race.
The attitude of the population of Finland toward Russia is not at all so inimical as would appear on reading the articles in the foreign press proceeding from the pen of hostile journalists. To the honor of the best elements of the Finnish population, it must be said that the degree of prosperity attained by Finland during the past century under the egis of the Russian throne is perfectly evident to them; they know that it is the Russian Government which has resuscitated the Finnish race, systematically crushed down as it had been in the days of Swedish power. The more prudent among the Finlanders realize that now, as before, the characteristic local organization of Finland remains unaltered, that the laws which guarantee the provincial autonomy of Finland are still preserved, and that now, as before, the institutions are active which satisfy its social and economic needs on independent lines.
They understand, likewise, the real causes of the increasing emigration from Finland. If, along with them, political agitation has also played a certain part, alarming the credulous peasantry with the specter of military service on the distant borders of Russia, yet their emigration was and remains an economic phenomenon. Having originated long before the issue of the manifesto of 1899, it kept increasing under the influence of bad harvests, industrial crises, and the demand for labor in foreign lands. Such is also the case in Norway, where the percentage of emigration is even greater than in Finland.
Having elucidated the substantially unalterable aims of Russian policy in Finland, let us proceed to the causes which have led to its present incidental and temporary form of expression. This, undoubtedly, is distinguished by its severity, but such are the requirements of an utilitarian policy. By the bye, the total of these severe measures amounts to twenty-six Finlanders expelled from the country and a few officials dismissed the service without the right to a pension. It was scarcely possible, however, to retain officials in the service of the state once they refused to obey their superiors. Nor was it possible to bear with the existence of a conspiracy which attempted to draw the peaceful and law-abiding population into a conflict with the Government, and that, too, at a moment when the prudent members of the population of the duchy took the side of lawful authority, thereby calling forth against themselves persecution on the part of the secret leaders of the agitation party. The upholders of the necessity for a pacific policy toward Russia were subjected to moral and sometimes physical outrage, and their opponents were not ashamed to institute scandalous legal processes against them for the purpose of damaging their reputations.
Very different is the attitude of the great mass of the population, as the following incident shows: The president of the Abo Hofgericht, declining to follow the instructions of the party hostile to Russia, was, on his arrival in Helsingfors, subjected to a variety of insults from the mob gathered at the railway station. On his return to Abo he was, on the contrary, presented with an address from the peasantry and local landowners, in which the following words occur: "We understand very well that you have been led to your patriotic resolve to continue your labors in obedience to the government by deep conviction, and do not require gratitude either from us or from any others; but at the important crisis our people is now experiencing it may be of some relief to you to learn that the preponderating majority of the people, and especially in broader classes, gratefully approve of the course you have taken."
It will scarcely be known to any one in the West that when signatures were being gathered for the great mass-address of protest dispatched to St. Petersburg in 1899, those who refused their signatures numbered martyrs among them. There are some who for their courage in refusing their signatures suffered ruin and disgrace and were imprisoned on trumped-up charges. Moreover, the agitators aimed at infecting the lower classes of the population with their intolerance and their hatred of Russians, but, it must be said, with scant success.
With regard to the essence of the question, I repeat that in matters of government temporary phenomena should be distinguished from permanent ones. The incidental expression of Russian policy, necessitated by an open mutiny against the Government in Finland, will, undoubtedly, be replaced by the former favor of the sovereign toward his Finnish subjects as soon as peace is finally restored and the current of social life in that country assumes its normal course. Then, certainly, all repressive measures will be repealed. But the realization of the fundamental aim which the Russian Government has set itself in Finland—i.e., the confirming in that land of the principle of imperial unity—must continue, and it would be best of all if this end were attained with the trustful cooperation of local workers under the guidance of the sovereign to whom Divine Providence has committed the destinies of Russia and Finland.
SERGIUS WITTE
When we talk of the means requisite for assimilating Finland we can not help reckoning, first and foremost, with this fact, that by the will of Russian emperors that country has lived its own particular life for nearly a century and governed itself in quite a special manner. Another consideration that should be taken to heart is this: the administration of the conquered country on lines which differed from the organization of other territories forming part of the empire, and which gave to Finland the semblance of a separate state, was shaped by serious causes, and did good service in the political history of the Russian Empire. One is hardly justified, therefore, in blaming this work of Alexander I., as is now so often done…. The annexation of Finland, poor by nature and at that time utterly ruined by protracted wars, was of moment to Russia, not so much from an economic or financial as from a strategical point of view. And what in those days was important was not its Russification, but solely the military position which it afforded. Besides, the incorporation of Finland took place at a calamitous juncture—for Russia. On the political horizon of Europe the clouds were growing denser and blacker, and there was a general foreboding of the coming events of the year 1812. If, at that time, Czar Alexander I. had applied to Finland the methods of administration which are wont to be employed in conquered countries, Finland would have become a millstone round Russia's neck during the critical period of her struggle with Napoleon, which demanded the utmost tension of our national forces. Fear of insurrections and risings would have compelled Russia to maintain a large army there and to spend considerable sums in administering the country. But Alexander I. struck out a different course. His Majesty recognized the necessity of "bestowing upon the people, by means of internal organization, incomparably more advantages than it had had under the sway of Sweden." And the Emperor held that an effective means of achieving this would be to give the nation such a status "that it should be accounted not enthralled by Russia, but attached to her in virtue of its own manifest interests." "This valiant and trusty people," said Czar Alexander I., when winding up the Diet of Borgo, "will bless Providence for establishing the present order of things. And I shall garner in the best fruits of my solicitude when I shall see this people tranquil from without, free within, devoting itself to agriculture and industry under the protection of the laws and their own good conduct, and by its very prosperity rendering justice in my intentions and blessing its destiny."
Subsequent history justified the rosiest hopes of the Emperor. The immediate consequence of the policy he adopted toward Finland was that the country quickly became calmed and settled after the fierce war that had been waged there, and that in this way Russia was enabled to concentrate all her forces upon the contest with Napoleon. According to the words of Alexander I. himself, the annexation of Finland "was of the greatest advantage to Russia; without it, in 1812, we might not, perhaps, have won success, because Napoleon had in Bernadotte his steward, who, being within five days' march of our capital, would have been inevitably compelled to join his forces with those of Napoleon. Bernadotte himself told me so several times, and added that he had Napoleon's order to declare war against Russia." And afterward, during almost a century, Finland never occasioned any worries, political or economic, to the Russian Government, and did not require special sacrifices or special solicitude on its part.
If we may judge, not by the speeches and articles of particular Separatists, but by overt acts, during that long period of time the Finnish people never failed in their duty as loyal subjects of their monarch or citizens of the common fatherland, Russia. The successors of the conqueror of Finland spoke many times from the height of the throne "of the numerous proofs of unalterable attachment and gratitude which the citizens of this country have given their monarchs." And in effect, neither general insurrections against Russia's dominions, nor political plots, nor the tumults of an ignorant rabble—such as our cholera riots, workmen's outbreaks, Jewish pogroms, and other like disturbances—have ever occurred in Finland; and when disorders of that kind broke out in other parts of the empire or alarming tidings from abroad came in they never evoked the slightest dangerous echo there. It is a most remarkable fact that during the trying time the Russian Government had when the Polish insurrection was going on, and later, in the equally difficult period through which we passed at the close of the seventies, Finland remained perfectly calm; and in the long list of political criminals sprung from the various nationalities of Russia, we do not find a single Finlander.
In like manner fear of Finland's aspirations toward independence, of her inordinate demands in the matter of military legislation, of her turning her population into an armed nation; in a word, all the apprehensions felt that Finland may break loose from Russia are, down to the present moment, devoid of foundation in fact.
"Finland under the egis of the Russian realm," our present Emperor has said, "and strong in virtue of Russia's protection through the lapse of almost a whole century, has advanced along the way of peaceful progress unswervingly, and in the hearts of the Finnish people lived the consciousness of their attachment to the Russian monarchs and to Russia." In moments of stress and of Russia's danger, the Finnish troops have always come forward as the fellow soldiers of our armies, and Finland has shared with us unhesitatingly our military triumphs and also the irksome consequences and tribulations of war-time. Thus, in the year 1812 and in the Crimean campaign, her armies grew in number considerably; in that eastern war almost her entire mercantile marine was destroyed—a possession which was one of the principal sources of the revenue of the country. During the Polish insurrection and the war for the emancipation of Bulgaria Finnish troops took part in the expeditions, and when in 1885 the Diet was opened, the Emperor Alexander III., in his speech from the throne, bore witness to "the unimpeachable way in which the population of the country had discharged its military obligations," and he gave utterance to his conviction that the Finnish troops would attain the object for which they existed.
By way of proving Finland's striving to cut herself apart from Russia, people point to the doctrine disseminated about the Finnish State, to its unwillingness to establish military conscription on the same lines as the empire, and to the speeches of the Deputies of the Diets of 1877-1878 and 1879. But none of these arguments carries conviction.
The theory about the independence of Finland, as a separate realm, which was worked out for the purpose of devising "the means of safeguarding its idiosyncrasies," is far from proving that "Finland aims at separation from Russia." Down to the present moment separation has not been in her interests. She was never an independent State; her historical traditions do not move her to play a political part in Europe. Besides, her population is mixed. The Swedish element constitutes only the topmost layer, and is not powerful enough to move toward an independent existence or toward union with the Power which belongs to the same race as that layer, while the mass of Finns, dreading the oppression of the Swedish party, is drawn more to Russia by the simple instinct of self-preservation. That is why the Finnish patriot may well be a true and devoted citizen of the Russian Empire, and being, as Alexander III. termed it, "a good Finlander," can also "bear in mind that he is a member of the Russian family, at the head of which stands the Russian Emperor."
The unfavorable attitude of the Finns toward the proposal of the War Ministry for extending to them the general regulations that deal with the obligation to serve in the army is also intelligible. That obligation of military service is exceedingly irksome; and it is not only the Finns who desire to fight shy of it, nor can one discover any specially dangerous symptom in their wish to preserve the privileged position which they have hitherto enjoyed as to the way of discharging their military duties. They seek to perpetuate the privileges conferred upon them in the form of fundamental laws, and they strive to avoid being incorporated in the Russian Army, because service there would be very much more onerous for them than in their own Finnish regiments…
If we now turn from the political to the economic aspect of the matter, to the question how far the order of things as at present established in Finland has proved advantageous to Russia from the financial point of view, we shall search in vain for data capable of bearing out the War Minister's opinion that, for the period of a century the Budget of Finland has been sedulously husbanded at the cost of the Russian people.