BOOKS.
THE MANAGEMENT OF WAR.* Are work on the literature and history of the sixteenth century emanating from the pen of Mr. Ernest Law deserves, and is certain to command, the attention of the reading public,. In a most interesting essay, entitled England's First Great War Minister, he has presented to his countrymen a picture of the statesman who for many long years guided the footsteps of Henry VIII. of a very different nature from that which has generally been accepted by the world at large. The average Englishman, if he ware asked to say what he knew of Cardinal Wolsey, would probably reply that he was a clever, scheming, and avaricious prelate, who eventually fell a victim partly to his own vaulting ambition and partly to the machinations of Anne Boleyn. This popular view is in a great measure based on the part Wolsey is made to play in Henry Viii., which, it is well known, although always included in Shakespeare's works, was mainly written by Fletcher. I was once accidentally furnished with an amusing proof of the extent to which this aspect of the great Cardinal's character has penetrated wherever English is taught. Somo years ago I was inspecting a school in Upper Egypt, and on my inquiring what progress the pupils had made in a knowledge of the English language, a diminutive Coptic boy at once stood up and, with shrill voice and excruciating accent, adjured Cromwell, and, through Cromwell, the statesmen of all countries and of all ages, above all things, to fling away ambition.
Briefly stated, what Mr. Law has to say is that Henry VIII. was stung ko the quick by the complete failure of the expedition sent to Fontarabia, In 1512, at the instigation of his wily father-in-law, Ferdinand of Aragon. For the time being, British military prestige throughout Europe was ahattered. Henry, who was then in the heyday of a joyous and spirited youth, resolved that it should be restored. He had the good fortune to appoint Wolsey to be his " Almoner " and universal factotum. This o bscure priest set himself vigorously to work, reorganized both the Army and the Navy, enforced the most rigid economy, and, in 1513, was able to send forty thousand men to France better equipped, armed, and provisioned than any army which had up to that time left the shores of England. The "Battle of the Spurs" was fought and won. Like so many other battles recorded in history, it did not produce any permanent political results. But it shed some lustre on British arms, and furnished a convincing proof to all the Powers of Continental Europe that the military strength of England was by no means a negligible quantity.
Mr. Law's book, however, does more than evoke the academic interest of the historical student. It is apparently written as a practical guide for present action. Comparisons between the past and present abound. Cardinal Wolsey is warmly praised. Lord Haldane is severely, and, for all the purposes of Mr. Law's main argument, somewhat unneces- sarily, criticized. The principal lesson which, it would seem, Mr. Law wishes to inculcate is that, during the crisis through which we are now passing, there has been no Wolsey to steer the ship of State, and that If any such commanding personality had been forthcoming, the numerous errors and miscalculations which have admittedly been made, both immediately before the war and since its outbreak, would probably have been avoided. This thesis opens out a wide field for conjecture and useful comment. Without aspiring to pass any dogmatic judgment on its merits, it is possible that a politician, who cannot pretend to the possession of even a fraction of Mr. Law's extensive historical knowledge, may indicate some considerations which may profitably be taken into account in the treatment of this subject.
No thoughtful politician will be disposed to underrate the value of historical study. Although it is easy to push too far the time-honoured maxim that history repeats itself, it unquestionably contains a certain
e lement of truth. One of the main reasons for these real or supposed repetitions probably is that political history is made by nations, and by prominent individuals who generally mirror in a supreme degree the special qualities or the aspirations of the countries to which they respect- ively belong. If, therefore, national characteristics remain constant, there is, to say the least, a good primal facie ground for anticipating that similar combinations of circumstances will, in the end, tend to produce similar results. Is it, however, a fact that national characteristics remain constant ? M. Le Bon, who has devoted much attention to the psychological laws which govern the development of nations, is of opinion that they do so. He holds that, broadly speaking, the French- man of the present day has inherited the defects and virtues of the Gauls of the days of Caesar. It may be that he somewhat strains the argument. Even within the memory of living men, German and French national characters have alike undergone some very notable changes, the former in the sense of moral deterioration, the latter in that of moral apotheosis. But we may reasonably look for signs of special constancy in dealing with a nation such as the English, partly by reason of their insular position, and partly because their history has been con- tinuous, and has not been subject to any such devastating cataclysm as the French Revolution, which materially affected the national mind • England's First Great War Minister. By Ernest Law. London: George Bell sad dons. Las. neta of France, or to any of the intoxicating military successes which trans- formed, and also abased, the character of the people of modern Germany. Neither will our search be in vain. For centuries past, the broad features exhibited by the English in the conduct of military affairs have been reproduced over and over again with monotonous invariability. We find marked want of foresight, heedlessness to the warnings of the past, neglect of the symptoms of the present, and a reckless want of deliberation in the original conception of military enterprises. The tradition of ineptitude has been carried on by successive stages from Fontarabia to St. Domingo, Walcheron, and Sebastopol, down to the present time. When we read, in Mr. Law's pages, that the troops who were sent to Fontarabia were not supplied with "tents or any proper shelter," that their clothing was "wasted and worn," that their food was "bad and strange," and that they died like flies of "the flux "—in other words, of dysentery—we seem to be listening to the Report of the Roebuck Commission on the conduct of the Crimean War, or to the accounts, with which the newspapers have recently teemed, of malad- ministration and mismanagement in the Persian Gulf. The fact, men- tioned by Mr. Law, that, in 1513, a foreign observer said that the English soldiers "went into battle as though they were going to a sport or game" affords some confirmation of the theory that the main traits of the English character have remain unchanged. Carrying the examination somewhat further, we invariably find that these defects have been ulti- mately compensated by a splendid display of energy, tenacity of purpose, and resolution when once the somewhat lethargic nation has been roused to make a supreme effort.
There is something not only very attractive but also very useful in tho system of historical analogy which Mr. Law has sought to apply. But, in the course of its application, one peril is over prominent. It has often been pointed out by philosophic writers on political questions that those who dwell on analogies, which are often wholly or partially real, arc so carried away by the points of similitude that they are apt to ignore those of vital difference. The danger is especially groat in dealing with the circumstances in which Great Britain is at present waging war. Mr. Law attributes Wolsey's "unexampled success" as a War Minister to the fact that "his one single powerful mind oversaw, controlled, and dominated everything," and he is apparently of opinion that what we have boon suffering from lately is the lack of any "single powerful mind," and the substitution in its place of a Cabinet consisting of "a heterogeneous body of some twenty-three wrangling members." He is probably quite right in attributing Wolsey's success to the un- divided sway which the Cardinal exercisoa over all the public affairs of his day. He is certainly right in holding that the war has not as yet produced any commanding personality who has been able to acquire anything like the exclusive influence exercised by Wolsey four hundred years ago. But, under present conditions, is the production of any such individual conceivable or possible I hesitate to answer this question in the affirmative. Since Wolsey's days, since those of Chatham, whose name has of late been frequently on the lips of those who have spoken or written on the war, even since the days of Lord Palmerston, the whole political system under which this country is governed has undergone a profound change. Democracy has asserted its undisputed sway. This is not the occasion on which to dwell on the comparative merits or demerits of democracy as contrasted with other forms of government. I would only say that I have no sort of wish to decry democratio rule. On the contrary, nay belief is that, when the history of the present time comes to be written, the verdict of posterity will be that, although in all matters of detail involving preparedness, initial powers of organization, and foresight, demo- cracy has played a very sorry part, at the same time, in respect to the larger issues which ultimately dominate the affairs of the world, it will be thought to have secured a signal triumph, which will have more than compensated for minor defects. However this may be, it is certain that, whilst democracy generally tends to raise the average level of political thought, it greatly discourages the predominance of supermen. It may safely be conjectured that, in many of the recent discussions about the war held by responsible authorities, the matter to be decided has not been merely what ought to be done, but what, under existing political conditions in this country, it is possible to do.
The question of providing men for the Army is a typical case illustrative of the differences between the sixteenth and the twentieth centuries. Wolsey wanted men in 1513. How did he procure them ? He simply ordered a levy to be made, with the result that the men were readily forthcoming. He had not to deal with the individual whom Mr. Law, with scathing severity, calls "that emasculate human skunk—the modem 'conscientious objector.'" And what did the Government of Mr. Asquith do in circumstances which were very similar ? In the first instance, hesitation to abandon the voluntary system was not only comprehensible but perhaps even excusable. But long before a resort was made to compulsion it was abundantly clear to any one who was willing to look exclusively to the merits of the case that compulsory service would have to be introduced. My own belief is that if the facts had been boldly faced, and more especially if Lord Kitchener had added the weight of his great authority to the demand, this step might have been taken at an early period of the war without encountering any very serious opposition. As it was, want of moral courage to recognize the realities of the situation, accompanied by an excessive fear of alienating democratic sympathies, temporarily gained the upper hand. The bolder spirits, who were in favour of prompt action, very wisely acquiesced for a time in order to preserve national unity.
A fact such as this appears to me to go far to shatter the argument based on the presumed analogy between the present and tho past. Neither does it stand alone. Mr. Law dwells at some length on Wolsey's attention to every petty detail. The Minister himself bargained with a contractor "for the carrying of the King's two great eulverins (siege guns) with twenty-eight mares at 104i. a day for each mare." He arranged for "coffers, cases and linen cloth for the King's jewels and plate to go over the sea," and so on. Nothing was too minute to escape his attention. If, in adducing these facts, it is intended to convey that
• system at all similar to that which was adopted by WoNey could or ought to be pursued in modern circumstances, I can only say that my somewhat lengthy administrative experience leads me unhesitatingly to the conviction that it would lead, not to increased efficiency, but more probably to disaster. Consider for one moment the vast difference in the magnitude of the operations which, whether in dealing with military, civil, or political affairs, have to be conducted now as compared with those of the sixteenth century. Wolsey had to deal with an Army of some forty thousand men. The men in modern armies are reckoned by millions. Wolsey had to provide for Army expenditure in ono year to the extent of £640,000, being the equivalent of about £12,000,000 in modern currency. This sum would not suffice for three days of our present war expenditure. In fact, this close personal super- vision by one supreme head is only possible for small operations, such as the Sudan expedition, which, in the colloquial language of the day, was a "one-man show," that man being the late Lord Kitchener, who looked after every detail and conducted the operations admirably. It must inevitably break down when any attempt is made to apply it to operations on so extensive a scale as that in which we are now engaged. In truth, the success of a modern administrator, whether military or civil, is, or certainly should be, judged not by the extent to which he personally interferes in every detail of his Department—for such inter- ference is worthy of condemnation rather than of praise—but by his aptitude to keep such touch of all matters of first-rate importance as to be able to exercise a general control over them, and by his power of getting competent subordinates to take all the detail off his hands. Moreover, the attempt to do more than this almost inevitably leads to a pernicious practice from which, judging from what Mr. Law says, even Wolsey was not free. His own omnipotence "led him into a growing reluctance to delegate work to younger men, or to repose trust in those who might have lightened a burden that no man could bear alone."
The war has, without doubt, revealed all the weak spots in our present system of government and administration. Is any supreme or radical change desirable or possible ? Much might be said on this subject. Here I can only deal briefly with one suggestion which has recently been made. It is that the party system should be abolished. I have arena good deal of the working of that system since I retired from official life, and the more I see of it, the less, when considered exclusively on its own merfts, do I like it. Its defects are obvious. But I must candidly confess that I do not see how Parliamentary government is to be carried on without it. I hope that some of the greater issues now pending, such as the terms of peace, the Federation of the Empire, and the settlement of the Irish question, will escape from the meshes of party. But I greatly doubt whether much more than this can be done. If there were no party system and no party discipline, the result would be either that the healthy stimulus of organized opposition, which even the best of Governments requires, would cease to exist, or else that Parliamentary government would degenerate into a chaotic tangle of groups, as often as not led by unstatesmanlihe faddists. There is, however, one reform which might and, I think, should be effected. The number of Cabinet Ministers might profitably be reduced, and, at all events in the appoint- ment to all but the most important Ministerial posts, more attention should be paid, not, save in special eases, to the possession of expert knowledge, to which for my own part I do not attach any great weigh', but to general individual capacity apart from party services and party ties. The appointment of Mr. Birrell to be Secretary for Ireland appears to all but heated partisans to have been a reductio ad absurdum of the party system. So great a scandal should not be allowed to recur. Will, however, the British nation and its rulers learn from experience ? The history of the past precludes indulgence in any very sanguine hope
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