XVIII A FATHER OF FEDERATION

Mr Gladstone and Sir George Grey ploughed different seas, under charter from the English-speaking race. One flew his pennant in the nearer waters, the other in the farther. Now and then they met, but briefly, as ships do which pass in the night.

'What I saw of Mr. Gladstone,' said Sir George, 'was mostly at official gatherings, or gatherings arising out of official life. One session, however, during which I was in England, we dined almost every Wednesday evening at the same London house.

'Mr. Gladstone was always a most charming personality, and I recall his friendliness in walking up with me to the hall of ceremonies, when I received the honorary degree at Cambridge. He also was to have the honour conferred upon him that day, and it was considerate on his part to convoy me along, as I knew few people at Cambridge, the result of absence from England.

'As to public affairs, I suspect that he and I held widely different views, at all events on some subjects. Like everybody else, I recognised in him a commanding figure, but I am bound to say that his greatness seemed to me to lie in carrying out ideas, after they had been suggested by others, rather than in working them out himself.'

Sir George meant that Mr. Gladstone's genius as a statesman, was constructive more than creative, the fashioner of progress. For himself, a solitary idea sufficed to keep his heart warm, even in the colds of age—the federation of the English-speaking people. In one of the last letters he received from David Livingstone, there was the request, 'Write me often, because you cheer me up.' It was always possible to cheer Sir George up on federation; that set him aglow.

There were few to listen when he first preached the federal idea; he cried in the wilderness, but he did not cease to cry. He waited long for the echoes to come back, and they did come, with interest, too, when negotiations for an Anglo-American treaty of arbitration went afoot. Then, the negotiations tumbled through, whereat he said: 'Oh, the road may be a gradual one, with hills and stops, but there it lies, traced by destiny, and in the fulness of time it will be trodden.'

Peering into the twentieth century, one who would never see it, he foretold that its great problem would be this of Anglo-Saxon federation. It was not for us to dip into the future, farther than we could reasonably behold, but so far we were not only entitled, but bound, to go. He doubted whether any question, equal in importance to federation, had ever before engaged the attention of so large a portion of mankind. On that account he put forward with diffidence, the views which, after much reflection, he had formed upon it.

By Anglo-Saxon federation, he understood joint action, in the interests of mankind, on the part of those owning allegiance to the English tongue. Forms and methods might take care of themselves, so the thing itself was begotten. Yet that could only be, if the ties sought to be woven were elastic, free and freedom-giving. He wanted a golden chain, binding men to men the Anglo-Saxon world over, but a curb-chain nowhere.

'I am,' he spoke, 'merely expressing what is generally agreed, when I say that the end of the nineteenth century has brought us to a critical period in the history of the world. Systems of government do not last for ever; they decay and have to be replaced. The most perfect of machines wears itself out, and another has to be substituted.

'Not merely that, but the new one has to be of a different design, adapted to a fresh, most likely a severer, set of circumstances. A man who refused to utilise the wisdom and resources of his age in machinery, would be regarded as a madman. It is the same in the economy of the human family; to dread wise and ordered change is to court trouble.'

Thus, Sir George reasoned that we had arrived at an epoch of federation, the application of which would be something new, only the conditions needing it had not arisen before. The ancients had not discovered the art of securing political representation, or, what the moderns called the principle of federation. It was not necessary for the ancients, as it had become for the moderns. Simply, the conditions of the world had changed, and that on two planes.

In the past, there had been the continual discovery and peopling of new countries. No more remained to be discovered; no corner of the globe remained unknown to us. We knew what each nation was engaged in doing, and we were able to estimate, with some measure of assurance, what it would continue doing. Next, the mass of the people had gained a potent voice in the management of affairs. Democracy was coming to the throne, if it had not quite grasped all the trappings.

The key of what was to be, rested in those two facts, which made the world so different a working-machine from what it had been. And the using of the key was primarily confided to the Anglo-Saxon race, since it occupied the greatest extent of the globe, and included what was ripest and best in democracy.

'Everywhere,' Sir George showed, 'our people are working, with might and main, to develop the resources of the earth. They are characterised by a common language, a common literature, and common laws. Shakespeare, Milton, the riches of our classic literature, belong as much to these new nations over-sea, as they do to the Mother Country. The men and women of Anglo-Saxon stock carry with them, wherever they go, the one faith of Christianity.

'Really, there could not be anything but a unity, a oneness, in the whole structure upon which the race rests. If the progress, in natural federation, has been so great, through years when South Africa, or New Zealand, was far distant from England, when there were no swift steamers and no cables under the sea, what must it now become? Such wonderful changes has modern science brought about, that the peoples of Greater Britain and America are next-door neighbours to the folks in the Old Country.

'Nay, daily and hourly counsel goes on between all parts of the world, bringing the wisdom of the whole to each point. Communities, separated by seas and continents, are able to discuss with each other, on the minute, what action is for the highest interests of all. It is impossible that the federation we see existing in the incessant congress of the civilised world, can ever be gone back upon.'

A pretty incident of Sir George Grey's tour through Australia as a tribune might have been reported in London next morning. This was following the first conference, held in Sydney, on the great subject of Australasian federation: Sir George, after a season of heather burning, was taking ship at Sydney, to return to New Zealand. A multitude of people streamed forth to bid him good-bye, and he walked down their ranks to the steamer.

'As I was stepping on board,' he told the episode, 'I noticed a lad smoking a cigarette. Being near him, I remarked quietly, "What a pity it is to see a bright boy like you smoking! You are very young to smoke. I am sure if you consider the expense it will lead you into, and perhaps the injury to your health, you will not smoke."

'He looked up at me for a minute as if thinking, and then, with the declaration, "I'll never smoke again," threw the cigarette from him. By this time the crowd had noted what was transpiring, and they cheered the lad again and again, much, I'm afraid, to his confusion. Now, wasn't that a nice thing for a boy to do? It pleased me wonderfully.'

The proofs of federation by cable, which Sir George selected, were not, however, related to himself. One was the auspicious and happy event of the birth of a child, in direct succession to the English throne, Prince Edward of York. 'Why,' he paused, 'that was known within an hour on the farthest shores of Greater Britain, and the news, I can assure you, received with as keen a joy as in England.' The second ease was the historic London dock strike, of which he said, 'Not merely was that struggle followed from hour to hour in Australasia, but encouragements and assistance from Australasian workers to their comrades at home, swept continually across the seas.'

There was already union between the different branches of the Anglo-Saxon family, and all we had to do was to afford it assistance in growing and forming. Ever, we must provide more adequate means for utilising the onward tide of humanity, striving after higher ideals. We needed to have life permeated with all the helps and lights that were possible; not to shut these out as they became available.

There had been disturbances to the growth of Anglo-Saxon union, and opportunities for its furtherance had been thrown away. Perhaps the greatest disturbance was the war between the Northern and Southern States of America. 'It arose,' Sir George noted, 'out of the one great flaw in that wonderful creation, the American Constitution. Strangely enough, the Constitution omitted to make any provision for dealing with slavery, and inevitably, in course of time, came dispute and war.' Yet, the strands of race held unbroken through that trial, and the future was secure.

Sir George Grey found himself reinforced, in so believing, by the opinion of General Grant. This he heard from Sir T. Fowell Buxton; who had travelled in America with Mr. W. E. Forster, while Grant was President. The General took his English visitors for a drive, and his talk was of military matters and his horses, until they were nearly back at Washington. Suddenly, he went off on the subject of an alliance between Great Britain and the United States, his hopes and expectations of it. He added that he should not live to witness the drawing together, but he was certain it must become a great power in the world, especially on sea.

'Well,' Sir George commented, 'if General Grant, a man of singularly practical character, was among the prophets, I am quite content to be in his company.'

When he talked of the federation of the British Empire, or of the larger welding in which he had belief, Sir George would declare, 'No good service is rendered by creating difficulties ahead. We may be certain of this that each generation, as it comes rolling on, will hold its own views upon every subject, differing widely, perhaps, from the views of its predecessors. The essential thing, in all government, is to secure to the people at large, the power of enacting the laws they deem to be the wisest and best suited to the circumstances of their age.'

Thus, while he had worked out definite lines of federation, he was content if principles were accepted. 'No man,' he argued, 'should presume to lay down the law in such a matter; just let the vision be realised by natural process. Be there the hewing of materials, and the building would follow by and by. If it were possible to solidify the English-speaking people for common purposes, the gain to them, and to mankind, would be splendid. The blessings of federation were a hundredfold.

'Why,' said Sir George, 'war would practically die off the face of the earth. The armed camp which burdens the Old World, enslaves the nations, and impedes progress, would disappear. The Anglo-Saxon race, going together, could determine the balance of power for a fully peopled earth. Such a moral force would be irresistible, and debate would take the place of war, in the settlement of international disputes. If the arbitrament of reason, ousts the arbitrament of war, a new and beautiful world is unveiled.'

It was because Sir George saw, in federation, a vista of brighter life for the masses, that he was so persuaded an advocate of it, so keen a believer in its realisation. As a result of the cohesion of the race, we should have all life quickened and developed; unemployed energies called into action in many places where they lay stagnant. Below federation, the very essence of it, was decentralisation, the getting of the people fairly spread over the earth, not huddled into a few places where decay would follow overcrowding.

'Every section of the British Empire,' Sir George detailed this point, 'having complete self-government would contain its own life within itself, would offer the highest opportunities to the labours of its citizens. Whenever you constitute a new centre of authority you create a basis of general activity, which, in its turn, has off-shoots. There would be more employment; the waste lands of the Old World, and the still untilled ones of the New World, would be taken up. Federation is not the mere grouping of us together, but the settlement of problems that have long been forcing themselves to the front. Difficulties which we can ill solve now, which appear to block our path, we should be able to settle with ease.'

Sir George discerned an element, not fully dreamt of, which would immensely strengthen the federal idea. It was the influence of women, growing to be a powerful factor in the affairs of the world. This sweet authority would tend to keep nations from plunging into scenes of bloodshed. It would be a blessed assistance towards the peace of the world in times of excitement, and so a bulwark for federation, which was the creator of peace.

Finally, the rise of the Anglo-Saxon, by means of federation, would benefit the world in respect to religion and language kernels of all advancement. It would mean the triumph of what, if carried out, was the highest moral system that man in all his history had known—Christianity. And it would imply the dominance of probably the richest language that ever existed, our own English.

So speaking, Sir George Grey summed up: 'Given a universal code of morals and a universal tongue, how far would be the step to that last great federation, the brotherhood of mankind, which Tennyson and Burns have sung to us?'

NOTE. Those who desire to study Sir George Grey's full and final scheme for Anglo-Saxon federation, may refer to the 'Contemporary Review' of August 1894, where it appeared as an article by the present writer.