Imperialism

IMPERIALISM - 1898 - ADVERTISEMENT - EMPIRES are slow to learn. But it would seem that, at last, after years of stupor-years in which the blind were content to be led by the insane-the British Empire is by way of realising the fact that it is the greatest and the strongest which the world has seen. More that return to consciousness has been followed by the reflectioil that to be great the British Empire must be strong, lest her greatness leave her that, being great, it behoves her-it is a matter of life and death to her-to be at all points armed, at some points at least equal to the chances of assault, and at as many points as may be invulnerable. And with this reflection- the wonder is that it should ever have been anything but a commonplace in the national philosophy-we English have been recaptured by certain influences whose hold we had, or seemed to have, escaped. We had waxed fat, and we had learned to feel a kind of pride in getting kicked. We were bloated with peace, and believed, or made believe to believe, that, so far as we were concerned, war, being a costly business and one most ruinous to trade, suburban amenities, and the smiling self-complacency which comes of the consciousness of virtue and a pleasing pass-book, had no more terrors for us for that it had passed for ever from our tale of ways and means. All that has changed. We have renewed our old pride in the Flag, our old delight in the thought of a good thing done by a good man of his hands, our old faith in the ambitions and traditions of the race. I doubt, for instance, if, outside politics and, perhaps, the Stock Ex change, there be a single Englishman who does not rejoice in the triumph of Mr. Rhodes even as Ibelieve that there is none, inside or out of politics, who does not feel the prouder for his kinship with Sir Herbert Kitchener. And the reason is on the surface. To the national conscience, drugged so long and so long bewildered and bemused, such men as Rhodes and Kitchener are heroic Englishmen. The one has added some hundreds of thousands of square miles to the Empire, and is neck-deep in the work of consolidating that he has got, and of taking more. The other is wiping out the great dishonour that overtook us at Khartoum, at the same time that he is reaching down from the north to Buluwayo, and preparing the way of them that will change a place of skulls into a province of peace. Both are great and that is much. But both are, after all, but types and that is more. We know now, Mr. Kipling aiding, that all the world over are thousands of the like temper, the like capacity for government, the like impatience of anarchy and that all the world over, these--each one according to his vision and his strength-are doing Imperial work at Imperial wages the chance of a nameless death, the possibility of distinction, the certainty that the effect is worth achieving, and will surely be achieved. This is no new thing. It has been with us since Elizabeth and her lieges set the little Kingdom in the way of accomplishing its destiny. But Clive cut his throat, Hastings was tried for his life, Sir Bartle Frere-what did we make of him These are but three, and the story of each is typical of many stories besides. But of these I will say no more. It is better to insist, as I do insist, that, in our present temper, no more such martyrdoms are possible this, though the latest be but a few years old...