A Thousand Years Hence/Chapter 6
Yellowly gave us many ideas, political and general, as to the future.—Author, chap. i.
Having briefly sketched, in the preceding chapter, some chief causes of that remarkable pace of advance which set in upon our country after the nineteenth century, it was to have been my plan to have next adduced various illustrative instances through each successive century. But before entering upon that systematic detail, I propose first to devote one more chapter to a view of some of the more interesting points of the general history and progress, more especially regarding the earlier centuries of my retrospect. The events of these earlier times—as, for instance, those connected with our national political developments, or those again which had relation to the cessation of international war, and to the new world thus opened to international commerce and socialities—had no small bearing upon our after history. Let us begin then by a glance backward at the—
Any thoughtful and unbiased observer of our political tendencies in the nineteenth century could hardly have avoided the conclusion that the twentieth and succeeding centuries would see important changes in the practice at least, if not the theory or external form, of our Government. To stand still was impossible to the increasing pressure of the needs of our political life; and to what, therefore, were we driving? "The Crown" had already, in the nineteenth century, become "constitutional;" which meant that already it could have no will of its own, apart from that of the people, as indicated by the majorities of their representative system. Our Upper House had gone partly on the same road with the Crown, and might perhaps have as fully traversed the "constitutional" field, but for the saving practice of incorporating distinguished outside ability into its hereditary ranks. The Upper House, in this way, retained more or less of a real political life. Indeed, when, very early in our retrospect, as we shall presently see, the ecclesiastical element seceded from that House, and when, later on, the hereditary element was suffered to die out, there resulted quite a renovation of its political strength. But there were no available parachutes of these kinds to save "the Crown," which gradually, therefore, dropped out of practical account, paled from political view, and finally disappeared from the country's Government.
We are a people peculiarly addicted to political ways of our own, and to keeping within our own accustomed political groove. But although we do not usually move on by revolutionary bounds, yet, while keeping within so-called constitutional lines, we can be really making great political change all the time. The politico-social surface is apparently undisturbed from year to year; but yet the old monarchical relations are successively bending to the demands and necessities of an altering and advancing society. And yet, in the vitality of old forms, our royal family, even when no longer participant in practical politics, continued long at the social front with a routine of national duties. And along with such traditional royalty were the still interesting survivals of old historic family life, whose social consideration was now all the less grudged, when no longer propped up by hereditary privilege and power.
Our national political forms, indeed, continued much as they were before. The actual head of the Government was still the "Premier," who governed mainly through his majority in the "Lower House."
A change of ministry came by an "understanding," to which both Houses, but especially the "Lower," were usually parties, the understanding being, in fact, in place of the Crown. But we were still, as before, a constitutional Government. We did not assume the name of a Republic, that term being foreign to our political history and associations. We were a Commonwealth; and we finally found ourselves simply the Commonwealth of England.
As the nineteenth century drew towards its close, disturbing us with the still unsettled Eastern Question, succeeding to the terrible Russo-Turkish conflict of that time,—and as we could then look back, over even the brief term of hardly more than quarter of a century, upon quite a dozen wars of the chief civilized powers of the day, ourselves by no means outside of the fray,—it did seem as though war was fated, not to diminish, but somehow, most grievously, to increase, along with all the other and better advance of mankind. It seemed, in short, as though, in this chequered world of ours, the blessing of the one kind of advance was ever to be balanced by the curse of the other. And yet, at that very time of such despair of the world's future in that particular direction, we were, quite unawares, wonderfully close upon causes and events which were to result in the complete cessation of war, as between, at least, the great civilized powers of the world, and, in fact, in making war, in their case, a practical impossibility. Let us now see how all this came about.
Our national trust for national defence had long and proverbially been in "England's wooden walls." This figure of speech was still kept up even after our war-ships had become iron and steel instead of wood. Our military force, in those supposed safe circumstances of our insular position, had been comparatively unimportant. Defended by the said wooden walls, and behind these by our inexhaustible resources of capital, we deemed ourselves a match for all that might come against us. But, in spite of all this confidence, we might then have taken credit for being, on the whole, peaceably inclined, and not usually boastful, either as people or Government, of all the good and secure things we seemed to be possessed of. And so our national life might have flowed steadily and safely on, none outside wishing to disturb us. But, on the other hand, times and opportunities were occasionally tempting to the eloquence, penetration, and patriotic aspirations of statesmanship. And, after all, Governments are but the individual men, who, with all their special merits or infirmities, compose them.
Political difficulties will arise somehow, even in spite of every apparent care, and every professed or expressed wish for the contrary. And so it happened just about the time I now speak of. It was just after we had successfully projected, and entered upon the construction of the Grand Direct and specially officially used Express railway line to India. The unfriendly independence, and coldly unyielding character of the position taken up by allied France and Germany, with regard to the all-important liberties and privileges of that part of the line which was to traverse the few miles of the southern corner of the neutral territory of the old Duchy of Luxemburg, and the suspicious and annoying, nay even insulting fact, that these two countries had, in the most amicable way, as between themselves, united for that very object, were things which, in the estimation of our then premier, were not to be passed lightly over by a great and independent country. Although a cloud began to settle over markets, through this bold and patriotic bearing of our political head, yet the unmoved chief was quite equal to the occasion; and at the annual Guildhall dinner, which happened opportunely just then, he cheered up and delighted an enthusiastic audience with the assurance that, even if war did come, England's great fund of capital could survive that of any other country, and could carry us through, not one campaign merely, but, if necessary, two or even three in succession, to the utter prostration of any or all opponents. And, indeed, no doubt was entertained by any reasonable person, that if England were minded to spend her last shilling and throw her last man into glorious war, she could give a good deal of trouble to any opponents. But, in the present case, there was specially India concerned—India, so all-important, especially in her future; the further the future, the greater the present importance.
Under all these circumstances, a note was forwarded to the allied opposition, couched in terms of a dignified independence, which was purposely made conspicuous, while still formulated under the profoundest diplomatic courtesies. That style of thing promises, on the one side, a glorious success, where the other side may happen, from any cause at the time, to be more quiet and forbearing; and had our bold political adventure thus happily ended, there was doubtless much fame in store for the courageous premier. But what if the other side should prove to be imbued like ourselves with the full idea of a dignified independence? This unluckily proved, in the present instance, to be the case. In fact, to make matters all the worse, the Franco-German response seemed almost the very counterpart of the English note—just as dignified, just as independent. This, therefore, already looked serious. But when a second note from us, not only firm but categorical, was responded to in the like firm and categorical way, it was seen at once that war was meant—had doubtless been so from the first, and had now, in fact, become inevitable.
Consternation at once overspread the country, and markets everywhere collapsed. Within a few days the two-and-a-half Consols had fallen from ninetynine to seventy-nine, fifty thousand mercantile houses had suspended payment, a million working-men been thrown out of employment, and countless families reduced from plenty and comfort to deprivation and distress. But no help for it now; the country must face its fortunes; and after the first outburst of astonishment and despair, it did so with a good heart, proceeding to set its house in order, buckling to its new duties, and even taking comfort in the fact that the multitude of the unemployed was favourable to the prompt organization of an adequate defensive force.
The plans and projects of our powerful enemies were consistent with all the promptitude and war resources of those times. Word duly reached us that the combined Franco-German navy was to keep the English fleet engaged until at least half a million of well-disciplined soldiers were landed upon our thus unprotected shores, by help of the countless shipping and other appliances which the two great continental Governments were able to summon to their aid for just the brief interval needed. If victorious upon landing, upon which they entirely reckoned, more invading forces might easily follow through the great Calais-Dover Tunnel, which great enterprise of that time had already been nearly a score of years at work. What matter if the English fleet, in the interval, annihilated the Franco-German! The war compensation from land-subdued England would restore the loss tenfold.
The venerable field-marshal of those days tore out his remaining hairs in his utter desperation. He admitted that the country was entirely unready to oppose such a force, if the force in question were able to effect a landing; and that such force might capture London, and even overrun the best of the country, ere there was a chance of our confronting our enemies on equal terms. But he, at the same time, most clearly demonstrated, that our three millions of well-educated youth, with all the advantages of the modern arms of precision, might, with only three months military discipline, have made the whole country impregnable to any possible foe. Three months! But the Germans were to be ready in three days!
The Government, perplexed by the rapidity of events, had invited suggestions from a patriotic people, and by return of post a thousand letters lay on the desk of the anxious premier. When morning dawned on that eventful night, the dead hand was found to have grasped the five-hundreth letter; but whether it had been perused or not, like the four hundred and ninety-nine opened before it, who could tell? There was not the slightest ground to suspect suicide. All parties agreed in a magnificent funeral to the adventurous but most patriotic statesman.
The transchannel wires were in unwonted activity that morning. Some appreciable cordiality of re-approach from the other side met a prompt reciprocation from ours, and that again was succeeded by still more pronounced expressions. Ere the business day was over, the reconstituted English ministry found itself in entire accord and amity with its so lately expected enemies, to the boundless satisfaction of the many millions on either side of the question.
But the experience of this great national crisis was not to be lost upon us. We at once saw and decided that it must not occur a second time, and our precautions were as prompt as they were effectual. In passing all our youth, indiscriminately from prince to peasant, through a certain military drill, in order to qualify all, should the necessity arise, for the defence of their common country, there was never occasion to interfere with life's ordinary or business vocations. There was no necessity, even for a single day, for barrack life, with its deterioriating influence upon our youth. The drill, begun as part of the schoolboy's training, was continued as part also of his after youthful recreation, and it had a further advantage in imparting an erect and manly bearing to our entire population.
With this huge available force over the whole country, the existence of a professional army became less and less necessary, so that it was gradually reduced, and finally given up. Our neighbours on the Continent approved, and soon began, in this matter, to follow our English example. France admitted that had she been thus defensively prepared, the successful German invasion would have been impossible; and, to even better purpose and effect, she further admitted that, had she been thus only defensively ready, the German war would never have occurred. When every citizen was a possible soldier, wielding with full precision the death-dealing modern arms, how would invasion be possible?
There were not wanting, indeed, certain lively regrets at the prosaic prospect thus opened to society's future by the disappearance of the soldier. And now that, in our Old England, hunting, shooting, fishing and such-like were about to be crowded out of the busy and teeming country, here, alas! was also the last possible resource of an independent gentleman, the professional army, going with the rest! What on earth is a gentleman now to do with himself, if his careful forefathers have provided for him, and he is himself indisposed to bend his back to the world's work? But society contrived by degrees to fill up this ominous-looking blank, and even to look back upon the once gentlemanly profession of killing one's fellowmen as amongst accomplishments no longer desirable. The twentieth century had not yet rolled past, ere all prospect of war, as between at least the great civilized powers of the world, had, by universal admission, finally disappeared.
An intensity of joy overspread the civilized world, on fully realizing that international war had in reality ceased. Amongst the various peoples of that world of those days, most of whom had by this time acquired the thorough command of their own destinies, great international celebrations were inaugurated, and great schemes in connection with peaceful progress were on all hands projected. The foreign element in the human brotherhood, which before had seemed to sunder mankind, seemed now, on the contrary, rather the piquant bond of a closer union, International fetes, and other occasions of international meeting and greeting, were everywhere given and reciprocated.
One of the most striking of these, at this auspicious time, was between England and America, in the way of bridging the intermediate Atlantic. The great ocean was thenceforth to be reduced to a mere ferry, and the ferry-boats to resemble swift-travelling cities or districts, whose citizens of passage were to be hardly conscious en route that they had ever quitted terra firma. In realizing this idea there was a memorable race on either side to construct the first boat, and accomplish the first voyage of this new international visiting. But ever as the swift messages to either side told that one of the rivals was in advance of the other, a fresh relay was put on to restore the pace, each in this way falling back upon practically unlimited resource. The vain contest was therefore changed to an amicable agreement that each should finish at the same moment, as well as, at one and the same signal, start upon their respective voyage, each meeting the other in the mid-Atlantic. Fifty thousand passengers sailed simultaneously from either shore, and the accurate precision with which they met as arranged was not less satisfactory, as a scientific attainment, than the cordiality of the novel mid-ocean greeting. But these first boats of the great Atlantic ferry, which astonished their own generation, were in turn quite dwarfed by subsequent achievements of the like kind, when the twenty-first century even still further surpassed the twentieth, than that busy century of comparative progress had done its predecessor the nineteenth.
Let me here, in passing, allude to an apparently trifling incident, which, arising out of the preceding great change in our military or defence system, led us eventually into a practice which became a characteristic national principle. In view of the saving of other military expense, a system was instituted of small fees, or payments, to the youth while under drill. These fees, ere long, were usually credited to a national insurance fund, by which each contributing youth could fall back upon a certain provision for his after necessities or old age. An anticipatory suggestion of some fund of this kind had already been made in the preceding generation, but the plan had not then been found practicable. On this later occasion there was entire success; and the system proved all the more effective from a habit of generous concession, on the part of those who did not need the fund, in favour of those who did.
The political geographer of the nineteenth century could hardly have failed of a curiously busy mind over apparently impending changes. But actual events in this respect rather exemplified the proverb that the unexpected is what always happens. While the nineteenth century pointed to Eastern Europe as then most portentous of change, the striking facts of the twentieth had rather ranged themselves in the West.
The East, however, had its share, and the drama there was opened the earliest of the two, by the final break down of "the Sick Man" not very long after our retrospect opens. The fate of himself and his Government had been distinctly expedited by preceding events in Egypt, which had been at least the means of developing the long-smouldering discontent of Mohammedanism with the Turkish Caliphate. Upon the fall of the Turkish power a spiritual Caliphate was established at Mecca, thus restoring the religious supremacy of the Arab element. But by this time the power, learning, and respectability of Mohammedanism was in rapid transit to India.
We seized a favourable opportunity of ridding ourselves of the costs and responsibilities of Cyprus, thus restoring to us the lasting good-will of Russia, and materially increasing our estimation and influence in the European concert. We did not, of course, return the island to Turkish misrule, but placed it independently under European guarantees. We did practically the same with Egypt, after subduing the Arabi rebellion, our disinterestedness, well-nigh unexpected as it was, commanding the applause of the world. But not the less was this course for us a wise and far-seeing policy, as we avoided incorporating with our empire a country so exposed to other Great Powers of the world, and where our own protective insularity was totally lost to us.
We cordially helped Greece to secure, from the Turkish ruins, all that her race and history could claim, and to start afresh upon a career of national greatness, denied to her heretofore in her constrained narrow quarters. Constantinople, by the mutual jealousies of Europe, was safeguarded into a free city, which, with an adequate territorial surrounding, was once more a conspicuous object and a busy centre of the world.
The defunct empire had yet many other pickings in its wake. Not the least interesting of restitutional claims was that of the Jew for his ancient heritage. The movement was so considerable and so effective, promoted as it was alike by the cordial good-will in general as by the occasional antipathies of his whole world acquaintanceship, and not least by the aroused ambition and boundless resources of the race, as at length to remove the Syrian difficulty at least from the heritage of problems which Turkey's break up had left for Europe.
Still more interesting and even less expected was the bearing of the case on the restoration of Poland, that happy national rectification and restitution which honoured the opening twentieth century. This was not, however, in fulfilment of the old ditty that when certain parties fall out, certain others come by their due, although that particular turn of the matter had once seemed not unlikely some short time before. The causes at work were more creditable to the improving national sentiment of the time, which could appreciate the national wrongs of the case, as well as the doubtful advantage to any nation of really alien elements coercively retained. Possibly these higher arguments might have been less effectual, but for a solidly supplementary help arising out of the aforesaid Eastern unsettlement. Compensations elsewhere were thus provided for two of the parties thus restitutionally disposed, while that of the third, Germany, was happily forthcoming elsewhere, as we shall presently have occasion to see. At all events, a reconstituted Poland was one of the bright and happy features of the twentieth century. The "Italia Irridenta" question received also its final and happy solution about the same time and from like auspicious considerations.
We are already passed from Eastern to Western questions, and have come midway upon that of Poland, just narrated. There are more to follow as we further pursue the sun. Slight or small causes are proverbially productive of grand events. But presumably there is a helping and according preparation, as when the smallest spark will blow up a magazine, or a pistol-shot dislodge a mass of alpine rock; or when, as actually happened, an abstract discussion, at an international gathering in Belgium, on the advantages of a great independent, as compared with a small and dependent nationality, in the progress and destinies of civilized and enlightened peoples, led eventually to that country, by mutual accord, merging into France. The French Republic had by this time passed safely, and with fair steadiness in its trying circumstances, into the second generation, approving itself worthy of life by the moderation and forbearance of its course, especially towards the other and smaller political sections, which, if not altogether reconciled to the republic, had yet greater antipathies to each other.
This example had infectious effect upon Holland. The phlegmatic but business Hollander was not, however, credited with being moved solely by an abstract idea, or even by the more concrete attraction of bringing happily once more together the two sections of the great old German race. He had also a bright restoration vision of "the buried cities of the Zuyder Zee," and of other improvements and advantages of all kinds, which the power and capital of a great empire at his back might bring to his country.
England, from old political association and relationship, took quite a parental lead in both of these high international arrangements. Nor did her after experience fail to confirm her expectation, that the best way to be rid of the constant anxieties and responsibilities about adjacent small states was to have none of them in existence. Her cordial response on these interesting occasions gave her an influence and prestige which she willingly turned to account for the general harmony and good-will so auspicious of these times and doings.
Thus it was mainly at her instance that France, upon the union with Belgium, solemnly gave up all claim for the restoration of her old German conquest, Alsace-Lorraine. Whereupon Germany, not to be outdone in these steps of international amenity, forthwith dismissed one-half of her army. This pleasant tide in the affairs of men did not stop here. When the Dutch bride was ready to pass to the arms of her husband, the marriage present of the island of Heligoland, with which we completed the attractions of her trousseau, was not more a gracious parental attention to our late ward, than a considerate and timely act towards Germany, and one which she accepted in the best spirit.
There is but one other incident to allude to in these changes of the European map. When that federal union between Spain and Portugal, so long looked and hoped for, as the preliminary to a complete political fusion, at length took place, and Spain was thus enabled to offer to us, with due consent of its people, the island of Madeira for her famous Gibraltar, an offer which we cordially accepted, the now united and completely self-possessed Peninsular State at once entered the European concert as a seventh Great Power, and in an age of general progress was soon able to show her grand capabilities and to restore the glories of the past. Nor were our new fellow-citizens of the genial little Atlantic island disappointed of the expected advantages of their change, when British enterprise had been fully directed to the new and cherished acquisition, and Madeira had become practically a sort of suburban sanitarium, for sanitary and holiday change, to the vast and busy city England.