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take a personal interest. If our own short lifetime forms the horizon of our interests, we will have nothing to do with Major Ross; if our interest is extended to the welfare of our own children, the next generation, we will at all events consider his proposals; but only if we are large-hearted enough to do our best for a very far-reaching posterity, shall we accept him as our guide and counsellor; and even then, it must be admitted, that in this curious world, where we can see so short a distance beyond our noses, we shall follow him with a certain amount of misgiving as to whether the straight and narrow path indicating war is the only one leading to national salvation, and always on the look out for any pleasanter route that may present itself in course of time.

In the final chapter of the book Major Ross puts before us, as the means of maintaining our Imperial existence, an "Empire system," such as would enable us to hold our ground in all quarters of the globe.

The British Empire stands face to face with the world in arms and if she would exist her armaments must be increased to such an extent as will enable her to contend, if necessary, with the whole world. The navy must, it is clear be prepared to hold the seas, not against any two nations, but against the fleets of the world. The army must be similarly prepared, not to defend Great Britain or to defend Canada, or to defend India, or to squash a tribe of savages here or of farmers there, but to strike at the heart of its adversary, be that adversary who he may.

Dealing with the period subsequent to the downfall of the Great Napoleon, Major Ross says:

During this long period of peace Great Britain became confirmed in the false conclusions she had drawn from her previous experience of war. She adopted the false teaching, that provided an island power maintained a fleet, numerically vastly superior to any that might defy it, that that island power was safe from attack, and therefore safe from defeat, and therefore assured of victory.

The teaching is false; a nation, as a pugilist, can only win when it is prepared to strike its enemy again and again, and yet again, through round after round, taking punishment unflinchingly until the enemy, exhausted and demoralised, falls beaten to the earth. The navy is a purely defensive weapon; it can only strike on the sea-that is, in the case of Great Britain, on its own territory-and drive the enemy back to his own country, into which it cannot follow him. But it is only by following an enemy into his own country and forcing him back, delivering blow upon blow, until a vital point is struck, that he can be brought to his knees. Absolute command of the sea secures immunity from attack and opens the road to success; but it is the army alone that can strike the enemy until success is assured. . . . There is but one, and only one, line of defence: a navy sufficiently powerful to gain and keep the command of the sea, combined with an army consisting of the manhood of the nation, with which to strike at the enemy in his own territory.

But surely this is the dream of an enthusiast for is not

the mere revelation of the dream as put before us sufficient to prevent its realisation, were this even possible? for it is a real "letting the cat out of the bag," and foreign countries forewarned would take very good care to be forearmed, and to adopt effective measures against its realisation. By the adoption of universal Imperial service throughout the Empire and the creation of fleets at other places than in Great Britain, by Imperial decentralisation coupled with Imperial centralisation the Empire would, with its enormous resources, combined with national discipline and readiness for war, become the

ruling Power of the world-a Power which, with the assistance of the United States, will dictate terms to all. Into such a confederation the French and German nations must perforce, sooner or later, enter; and then indeed the day of peace throughout the world will be at hand. A nation cannot remain stationary; it cannot say-Thus far have I gone, but no further will I go. Even though it have conquered the world, let it seek for other worlds to conquer.

...

But the book closes with a final paragraph following the last quoted words, which strikes one as like unto the proverbially important postscript of a lady's letter. "Signs are everywhere apparent that the power of the Empire will shortly be put to the test by a combination of modern military nations. The result depends on the men of the British race; the fate of the Empire would seem to be in its own hands." This is really the matter closest at hand, nearest to the immediate interests of ourselves and of our children, and it is to this, not to the far distant future of the Empire, that in the interests of selfpreservation we must give our present and undivided attention. And Major Ross has done admirable and yeoman service in coming forward at this present time, calling spades "spades," and bringing home forcibly to us all the practical difficulties which are necessarily encountered by a free country such as ours in effectively dealing with that stern necessity to the human race-War-that necessity which Major Ross himself designates as both "horrible" and "terrible," but which has to be faced, and which must be faced, bravely and manfully. Causes are seldom if ever won save by the aid of extremists, sometimes even wild extremists, and if to some readers Major Ross comes in the latter category, they will nevertheless be compelled to admit that he has enlightened their minds considerably on one aspect of Imperialism, and that that enlightenment was well worth the time spent on receiving it through the intermediary of his really valuable book.

LONSDALE HALE.

THE POET'S DIARY

EDITED BY LAMIA

III

Rome, 190--Where can one spend such full, such various, such fascinating days, as in Rome? One may begin by paying a visit to what in London or Paris would be a flower-shop, but here is an open-air fountain-stall, on whose broad round marble rim are laid, with all the freshness of morning dew on them, violets, anemones, tulips, roses, and freesias; while arum lilies, branches of blossoming almond and peach, and what is inaccurately called mimosa, since it is botanically an acacia, tower over them. Purchases made and despatched homeward, one can then turn one's footsteps towards some early Christian Basilica, and, after loitering in it awhile, betake oneself to the Forum, the Capitoline, the Lateran or Vatican Galleries, or meditate the rest of the morning away among the inexhaustible architectural relics of the Palatine. Of an afternoon one can ride to Veii through cork-tree woods over turf and seeded asphodels; and the day may close by a fresh visit to the Colosseum, illuminated by a moon "round as my shield," or, more profanely, with a ball at some hospitable Palazzo, Can London, can Paris, can any city, nay, can all other cities in the world together, offer the catholic, cosmopolitan mind, such varied entertainment as that?

"If," said Lamia, this morning, looking as fresh as the pats of butter on the breakfast table bearing the impress of Pliny's Doves, and not in the least as though she had been dancing till three o'clock after midnight, "if I had the good fortune to be a trans-oceanic millionairess, the names of these Roman nobles are so sonorous, they live in such internally spacious and externally majestic-looking palaces, and their belief in their old Roman origin is so deep-seated, that I do not think I could resist a petition of admirably simulated desire that I would grace

Veronica," she

their hearth with my enthralling loveliness. went on, "after all, shall I? But I forgot. No such petition has yet been presented; nor is one likely to be, since my face, such as it is, is my only fortune." And, heaving a profound sigh, she consoled herself with another impression of Pliny's Doves.

"Is it not rather remarkable," asked our Biographer, "that in an age supposed to be peculiarly democratic in temper, and more especially in countries where that temper is most conspicuous, there should prevail an ever growing craving for titular rank, however insignificant?"

"Extreme, we are told," suggested Lamia, "meets extreme; and therefore perhaps mean meets mean. Still, I don't think I should care to be one of an anniversary dozen."

"Hush, Lamia !" I exclaimed," or, on returning to England, you will be sent to the Tower, and then taken out to be beheaded."

"O, tnat would be nice," she said, "for as Lamennais somewhere observes: Il manque toujours quelque chose à la belle vie, qui ne finit pas sur le champ de bataille, en exil, ou sur l'échafaud.' We poor women are not allowed to go into action, and the British Empire is now so vast, since it has annexed the whole of Africa, in addition to its previous dominions in Asia, America, and the South Sea Islands, that it would be no easy matter to go into exile. So I see nothing else for it but the scaffold, if one is not to die, as one has lived, exasperatingly obscure."

"Don't you think," asked Veronica, "that, with the aid of a little manoeuvring, you might obtain one of those modest titular distinctions that are at present so plentiful? Let me see," she went on, with unusual levity, which I felt sure would lapse into severe satire. I proved not to be mistaken; for she followed up the question with one of those ostensibly, playful observations beneath which lurks a serious moral meaning, in which she excels. But, though it was most pertinent and proper in the privacy of domestic life, it would be somewhat indiscreet to publish it; and Lamia at once exclaimed:

"Hush! Veronica ! Who will be sent to the Tower, now? Well, never mind. When you are led out to execution, I will be your tiring-woman."

"And where," I said, thinking these observations had gone far enough, "shall we go, this morning?"

"Would not a secession to the Aventine," suggested Lamia, who had not yet got to the end of her ironical tether, "be the most appropriate place after so woeful a display of plebeian feeling?"

Is

So to the Aventine we went, to Santa Sabina, and the lemontree planted by Dominic, and forgot all about stars, garters, and titles. But perhaps it is worth noting, in a more serious spirit than that which dictated the foregoing game of conversational battledore and shuttlecock, that the Papacy, which more than any other institution, can say, "Nihil Humani alienum puto," has always paid, and continues to pay, much deference to titular rank. Ecclesiastics of all communions are usually, and on principle, devout worshippers of it; and this is most observable, perhaps, in Roman Catholic ecclesiastics. In their eyes there is a sacredness even in worldly station. True it is that they preach against the "rich man" of Scripture, and make it, in theory, uncommonly difficult for him to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. But the rich man is the banker, the contractor, the cotton-spinner, not one of the old blood with the land in his keeping, and the old name with the majestic escutcheon. Kings are Kings by Divine right, and Queens are allowed to enter male monasteries, though no female footstep of lower degree must desecrate the threshold. And so downward, through the social scale, till the poor are reached, and then mankind is taken into favour again, in order that it may be apparent that the Church loves the lowly and the humble. not the truth this, that Papal Rome, here again showing itself to be the real heir of Pagan Rome, always annexes whatever may subserve its claim to universal rule? Ancient Rome, when it captured a City or a Province, always admitted their Gods to its own tolerant Pantheon; and it would not be very difficult to show that Papal Rome has annexed not only all the Gods, but many of the Goddesses, of Pagan Rome. Both alike opened wide their arms to mortal and immortal, if thereby their claim to universal dominion could be strengthened still further. In all that pertains to Creative Art, Rome for two thousand five hundred years has shown itself signally unoriginal. Conquered Athens, as Horace says, taught conquering Rome; and Rome abounds in reproductions of Greek originals, not, as the uninstructed imagine, in the originals themselves. In the well-known passage of Horace just alluded to, comes the familiar but eternally instructive line concerning Creative Art, Emollit mores nec sinit esse feros. But that would have clashed with the Virgilian Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos; and the instinct of Rome was for Rule or Dominion. Its lineal successor, Papal Rome, resembles it in that particular also. With the Popes, as with the Roman Emperors, it became a point of honour, if not of religion, to leave their names on as many halls and corridors as they could

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