THE RIGHT HONORABLE JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN, M.P.
In the delicate task of appraising a contemporary—and that contemporary a prominent figure in a kindred state—a writer will naturally feel hesitation. This hesitation will be increased when it is considered that the subject of the notice lives and moves in the contested fields of party politics, and that to his own Englishmen the character of Mr. Chamberlain may admit of two interpretations. But none can deny him the meed of an early and continued success as a man and a publicist. And the real crux of the question centres about his transferral of party allegiance.
The Right Honorable Joseph Chamberlain, M.P. for West Birmingham, and Secretary of State for the Colonies, was born in London in 1836. As a young man he removed to Birmingham to become a partner in a manufacturing business. This enterprise he carried to such great success that in 1874 he retired definitely from its active management to devote himself to municipal affairs. Unusually honored by the city by three successive elections to the mayoralty, he was largely instrumental in bringing about such reforms as the construction of new streets and the municipal assumption of the gas and water monopolies. In 1876 he first entered Parliament as Liberal member for Birmingham; in 1886 he was returned as a Liberal opposed to Home Rule. Meanwhile he had become so prominent a member of the party that in spite of his known aversion to Home Rule, Mr. Gladstone was constrained to bid him to Government office as President of the Board of Trade, with the greatest possible latitude of independence for Mr. Chamberlain seemingly implied. Nevertheless, in March, 1886, he thought it necessary to resign his allegiance to the orthodox, Home-Rule Liberals, and with other Liberal Unionists, as they are called, he has since faithfully supported the Conservative leader, Lord Salisbury. It is this action obviously that has drawn on his head certain criticisms. At the formation of the present Ministry, in 1895, he accepted from Lord Salisbury the office of Secretary of State for the Colonies, in which he continues.
In a life that has thus covered more than sixty years, Mr. Chamberlain has exhibited in a marked degree the peculiarly British qualities of great private enterprise and pronounced public spirit. He has stood always upon the broad, utilitarian platform of the British manufacturer and man of affairs,—that common-sense and the philosophy of Franklin rule the world; that it is good for the British Empire that her sons should prosper and accumulate riches; and that what is good for the British Empire is good for the outlying portions of the planet. Despite the lack of the ideal and the smack of frank Philistinism in this doctrine, as a working theory it has the merit of continual demonstration up and down life; it is a philosophy that can teach by example; and of most men it will always be the cult. Naturally, then, Mr. Chamberlain from the start has championed the ideas of Imperial Federation and Free Trade between the Mother Country and the Colonies. In a word he is the apostle of the “Open Door.” His lifelong opposition to Home Rule for Ireland proceeds not so much from inherent Conservatism as from an abhorrence of any centrifugal tendency in the Empire. Doubtless he would be willing to grant any reasonable concessions to Ireland short of the only thing the Irish insist on having. His withdrawal from the Gladstonian Liberals was consistent and inevitable.
Mr. Chamberlain has travelled widely. Always has he come home with his convictions as to Imperial policy strengthened. It would be unfair to cite him as one of those of English travellers, satirized by Mr. Chapman,[C] who set forth on the Grand Tour with their ideas and their portmanteaus and return with their portmanteaus and their ideas. But to one of Mr. Chamberlain’s way of thinking either the British Empire or the empires not British are bound to be an instructive sight. In Egypt, the theory is proved: in Madagascar, say, or German East Africa, the theory is also proved. The successful colony—where is it not Anglo-Saxon? And the theory really seems to be true.
[C] “Emerson and Other Essays.”
When Mr. Chamberlain was called to the Salisbury Ministry, surprise was expressed in England that it was to the Colonial Secretaryship, a billet which had been considered to be of secondary importance. It does not appear that Mr. Chamberlain has considered it such. He has certainly made the position one of increasing importance; as Secretary for the Colonies he has been able decidedly to further the policies to which he is devoted. Events, too, have served him, as they often do the strenuous, single-minded man. In the outburst of loyalty and the tightening of the Imperial bonds that followed the Venezuelan incident and the Jameson Raid, the cards certainly came his way. As a man, Mr. Chamberlain has been fortunate in that he has seen his own doctrines already justified in himself, at least; as a statesman, the trend of British politics would seem to be toward the adoption of his views.
Mr. Chamberlain has never been an orator. Few are the phrases he has coined; fewer still the memorable speeches,—the moments of forensic distinction. He has perhaps been heard at his best at the meetings of societies and clubs, whether as chairman or in response to toasts. His style is informal, unpretentious, but emphatic. The limitations of his temperament keep him from any elevation of style; it is always the practical, business-like Briton that speaks. The graces of oratory do not attend him,—unless the exercise of unfailing tact be counted one. Nevertheless his speeches have the weight that accompanies the utterances of a man devoted to facts and fully in command of them. He is probably to-day (1899) one of the most quoted of British public men.
Personally Mr. Chamberlain is apparently not widely popular. The singularly youthful face, the orchid, and the monocle, have lent themselves readily to political caricature, in which often there has seemed more than a good-natured intention. And yet, if he is not a popular hero, the English public do him the honor to take him seriously. His pronouncements on current affairs may not be received as ex cathedra, but they are the pronouncements of the day that are talked about. A fair estimate of the Secretary for the Colonies will doubtless be that there are few men alive who are more sincerely devoted to what they believe the honor and glory of the British Empire.
JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN.
SPLENDID ISOLATION.
On January 21, 1896, at a banquet given in London to Lord Lamington on the eve of his departure for Queensland as Governor of the Colony, Mr. Chamberlain presided. It will be remembered that no less than three events had recently occurred to shock the dreams of the amiable sentimentalists who had decided to abolish war forever between the nations. It was the period of President Cleveland’s Venezuelan Message, of Dr. Jameson’s raid into the Transvaal, and of the German Emperor’s telegram of sympathy to President Krüger. For the moment England realized keenly that she stood alone: the Anglo-Saxon world it seemed was split in twain—not only German but American arrayed against the Englishman. Then came the outburst of loyalty from the colonies, the marvellously swift equipment of a “Flying Squadron”—and lo! after all, “Splendid Isolation” was felt to be a fine thing. The thrill of mutual interests, of Imperial solidarity, finds emphatic expression in this speech of the Secretary for the Colonies. With one exception, the marks of applause, though frequent in the report of the speeches, have been omitted.
I think that I see before me a representative gathering of British subjects, whose principal interests lie in that great group of Australian colonies, whose present greatness and importance give us but a faint indication of the splendid future which awaits them. For of one thing I am certain, whatever may be the fate of the old country—and even as to that I have sufficient confidence—no man can doubt that our vigorous offspring in the Southern Seas are bound at no distant time to rival the older civilization of the Continent of Europe in wealth, in population, and in all the attributes of a great nation. But, although, as I have said, your interests lie in this direction, I have an instinctive feeling that to-night you are thinking not so much of Australian politics and of Australian progress as you are of events that have recently occurred in another quarter of the globe and of their connection with Imperial interests. If that be so, I hail the fact as another proof of the solidarity of Imperial sentiment in making it impossible that a blow can be struck, or a chord sounded, in even the most distant portion of the Queen’s dominions, without an echo coming back from every other part of the British Empire.
It would be inopportune in me, it would be improper, if I were to dwell on the incidents which have diverted attention to South Africa. Those incidents will be the subject of judicial inquiry in this country and in Africa, and I assume that, with the fair-mindedness which distinguishes them, my countrymen will wait to hear both the indictment and the defence before they pronounce a judgment. But, in the meantime, I will venture to say that I think there is a tendency to attach too much importance to sensational occurrences which pass away and leave no trace behind, and not enough to the general course of British policy and the general current of colonial progress. I have heard it said that we never have had a colonial policy, that we have simply blundered into all the best places in the earth. I admit that we have made mistakes. I have no doubt that we are answerable for sins of commission as well as for sins of omission; but, after all is said, this remains—that we alone among the nations of the earth have been able to establish and to maintain colonies under different conditions in all parts of the world, that we have maintained them to their own advantage and to ours, and that we have secured not only the loyal attachment of all British subjects, but the general good will of the races, whether they be native or whether they be European, that have thus come under the British flag. This may be a comforting assurance when we think of occasional mistakes, and when we are rebuked even for our misfortunes we may find some consolation in our success.
There is, gentlemen, another consideration which I think is not inappropriate to such a gathering as this. A few weeks ago England appeared to stand alone in the world, surrounded by jealous competitors and by altogether unexpected hostility. Differences between ourselves and other nations which were of long standing appeared suddenly to come to a head and to assume threatening proportions; and from quarters to which we might have looked for friendship and consideration—having regard to our traditions and to a certain community of interest—we were confronted with suspicion, and even with hate. We had to recognize that our success itself, however legitimate, was imputed to us as a crime; that our love of peace was taken as a sign of weakness; and that our indifference to foreign criticism was construed into an invitation to insult us. The prospect of our discomfiture was regarded with hardly disguised satisfaction by our competitors, who, at the same time, must have been forced to own that we alone held our possessions throughout the world in trust for all, and that we admit them to our markets as freely as we do our own subjects. I regret that such a feeling should exist, and that we should be forced to acknowledge its existence; but, as it does exist, I rejoice that it found expression. No better service was ever done to this nation, for it has enabled us to show, in face of all, that while we are resolute to fulfil our obligations we are equally determined to maintain our rights.
Three weeks ago, in the words of Mr. Foster, the leader of the House of Commons of the Dominion of Canada, “the great mother-empire stood splendidly isolated.” And how does she stand to-day? She stands secure in the strength of her own resources, in the firm resolution of her people without respect to party, and in the abundant loyalty of her children from one end of the Empire to another.
The resolution which was conveyed to the Prime Minister on behalf of the Australian colonies, and the display of patriotic enthusiasm on the part of the Dominion of Canada, came to us as a natural response to the outburst of national spirit in the United Kingdom, and as a proof that British hearts beat in unison throughout the world, whatever may be the distances that separate us.
Then let us cultivate those sentiments. Let us do all in our power by improving our communications, by developing our commercial relations, by co-operating in mutual defence, and none of us then will ever feel isolated; no part of the Empire will stand alone, so long as it can count upon the common interest of all in its welfare and in its security. That is the moral I have derived from recent events. That is the lesson I desire to impress on my countrymen. In the words of Tennyson, let
“Britain’s myriad voices call,
‘Sons, be welded each and all,
Into one Imperial whole,
One with Britain, heart and soul!
One life, one flag, one fleet, one Throne!’”
And in the time to come, the time that must come, when these colonies of ours have grown in stature, in population, and in strength, this league of kindred nations, this federation of Greater Britain, will not only provide for its own security, but will be a potent factor in maintaining the peace of the world.
Our guest to-night goes out to take his part in this work of drawing tighter the bonds which unite us to our children in the Antipodes. He goes to an infant colony, an infant which is destined to become a giant, and the future possibilities of which no man can measure. Queensland has an area, which—shall I say?—is three times greater than the German Empire. (Laughter and cheers.) It has a soil which can produce anything. It has vast mineral resources. In a generation its population has increased fifteen-fold. It has already a revenue of three or four millions sterling. It has completed 2500 miles of railway. It has exports valued at ten millions sterling, all of them, except a small fraction, coming to the United Kingdom or to some of the British possessions. Yet this colony of Queensland, great as it is, is only one of seven, all equally important, equally energetic, equally prosperous, equally loyal. I say that the relations between these colonies and ourselves are questions of momentous import to us both, and I hope that our rulers and our people will leave no stone unturned to show the store that we all set on the continued amity, the continued affection, of our kindred beyond the sea. That is the message we ask Lord Lamington to take with him, and we wish him health and prosperity in the colony over which he is about to preside.
* * * * *
In responding to the toast of “The Chairman,” which was proposed by Sir James Garrick, Mr. Chamberlain said:
Nothing could be more gratifying to me than that this toast should have been proposed by the eloquent representative of the colony which we have met to honor as well as its future Governor, and nothing could be more agreeable than the kindly response which you have given to the toast. It almost emboldens me to think that there may yet be occasions upon which I shall venture to address my fellow-countrymen—a point on which, I admit, I have had grave doubts since I have become acquainted with certain criticisms of my recent performances. When I became Secretary of State for the Colonies I accepted with that office certain duties, not the least pleasant being that of presiding over gatherings similar to this. I attended a meeting of the friends of South Africa on an occasion interesting especially to our colony of Natal, and I made a speech upon that occasion in which, in my simple and ingenuous way, I ventured to point out that this was on the whole a considerable Empire, and that any true view of its perspective would take into account the greatness of the colonies, and the magnitude of their resources, as well as the past history of the mother country. And thereupon I was surprised to read, in the report of a speech of a minor luminary of the late Government on the occasion of the recent raid into the Transvaal, that that unfortunate occurrence was entirely due to the “spread-eagle speech” which I had made. It is extraordinary what great events spring from trifling causes. I had no conception that my words would travel so far or have so great an influence. To the best of my knowledge and belief, I have never made a “spread-eagle” speech in my life. I think I have been able to distinguish between patriotism and jingoism. But in order that there may be no mistake, I desire to say now, in the most formal way, that the few remarks which I have addressed to you to-night are not to be taken as an intimation to any individual to carry on war on his own account, or to make an invasion upon a friendly nation with which we are at present at peace. But this is not all, because this afternoon I read in an evening newspaper that this same speech, which I thought so natural and so innocent, was really the dictating cause of our difficulties in British Guiana, and of the complications with our cousins across the Atlantic. It appears that in speaking of Imperial unity, in endeavoring to popularize that idea among my countrymen, I am giving offence to other nations.
Gentlemen, I cannot help thinking that Lord Rosebery was mistaken when, a short time ago, he said that the “Little Englanders” no longer existed among us. A pretty pass we must have come to if the Minister who is responsible for the British colonies is forbidden to speak of their future, of their greatness, of the importance of maintaining friendly relations with them, of the necessity of promoting the unity of the British race, for fear of giving offence. I remember a story of a certain burgomaster in a continental town to whom complaints were made that naughty boys were accustomed to throw mud upon the passers-by. He was asked to intervene, and he issued a proclamation which was to the effect that all respectable inhabitants were requested to wear their second-hand clothes in order not to give offence. I do not so understand the position which I hold. I decline to speak with bated breath of our colonies for fear of giving offence to foreign nations. We mean them no harm; we hope they mean us none. But not for any such consideration will we be withheld from speaking of points which have for us the greatest interest and upon which the future of our Empire depends. Sir James Garrick has kindly attributed to me very creditable motives in seeking the office which has been conferred upon me. He is perhaps not far wrong in thinking that I have long believed that the future of the colonies and the future of this country were interdependent, and that this was a creative time, that this was the opportunity which, once let slip, might never recur, for bringing together all the people who are under the British flag, and for consolidating them into a great self-sustaining and self-protecting Empire whose future will be worthy of the traditions of the race.
JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN.
THE TRUE CONCEPTION OF EMPIRE.
This speech was delivered in London, March 31, 1897, at the annual dinner of the Royal Colonial Institute. The society and the occasion are sufficiently explained in the opening sentences. What follows is a broad and lucid statement of Mr. Chamberlain’s conception of expansive Imperial policy. At the moment when in the United States the old blood is asserting itself and men are coming to weary of adventures in stocks and raids in pork products, to Americans the pronouncement is of peculiar interest. For the speaker is a practical statesman: he himself has seen working many of the doctrines he here publishes.
I have now the honor to propose to you the toast of “Prosperity to the Royal Colonial Institute.” The Institute was founded in 1868, almost exactly a generation ago, and I confess that I admire the faith of its promoters, who, in a time not altogether favorable to their opinions, sowed the seeds of Imperial patriotism, although they must have known that few of them could live to gather the fruit and to reap the harvest. But their faith has been justified by the result of their labors, and their foresight must be recognized in the light of our present experience.
It seems to me that there are three distinct stages in our Imperial history. We began to be, and we ultimately became, a great Imperial Power in the eighteenth century, but, during the greater part of that time, the colonies were regarded, not only by us, but by every European Power that possessed them, as possessions valuable in proportion to the pecuniary advantage which they brought to the mother country, which, under that order of ideas, was not truly a mother at all, but appeared rather in the light of a grasping and absentee landlord, desiring to take from his tenants the utmost rents he could exact. The colonies were valued and maintained because it was thought that they would be a source of profit—of direct profit—to the mother country.
That was the first stage, and when we were rudely awakened by the War of Independence in America from this dream that the colonies could be held for our profit alone, the second chapter was entered upon, and public opinion seems then to have drifted to the opposite extreme; and, because the colonies were no longer a source of revenue, it seems to have been believed and argued by many people that their separation from us was only a matter of time, and that that separation should be desired and encouraged, lest haply they might prove an encumbrance and a source of weakness.
It was while those views were still entertained, while the Little Englanders were in their full career, that this Institute was founded to protest against doctrines so injurious to our interests and so derogatory to our honor; and I rejoice that what was then, as it were, “a voice crying in the wilderness” is now the expressed and determined will of the overwhelming majority of the British people. Partly by the efforts of this Institute and similar organizations, partly by the writings of such men as Froude and Seeley, but mainly by the instinctive good sense and patriotism of the people at large, we have now reached the third stage in our history, and the true conception of our Empire. What is that conception? As regards the self-governing colonies we no longer talk of them as dependencies. The sense of possession has given place to the sentiment of kinship.
We think and speak of them as part of ourselves, as part of the British Empire, united to us, although they may be dispersed throughout the world, by ties of kindred, of religion, of history, and of language, and joined to us by the seas that formerly seemed to divide us.
But the British Empire is not confined to the self-governing colonies and the United Kingdom. It includes a much greater area, a much more numerous population, in tropical climes, where no considerable European settlement is possible, and where the native population must always vastly outnumber the white inhabitants; and in these cases also the same change has come over the Imperial idea. Here also the sense of possession has given place to a different sentiment,—the sense of obligation. We feel now that our rule over these territories can only be justified if we can show that it adds to the happiness and prosperity of the people, and I maintain that our rule does, and has, brought security and peace and comparative prosperity to countries that never knew these blessings before.
In carrying out this work of civilization we are fulfilling what I believe to be our national mission, and we are finding scope for the exercise of those faculties and qualities which have made of us a great governing race. I do not say that our success has been perfect in every case, I do not say that all our methods have been beyond reproach; but I do say that in almost every instance in which the rule of the Queen has been established and the great Pax Britannica has been enforced, there has come with it greater security to life and property, and a material improvement in the condition of the bulk of the population. No doubt, in the first instance, when these conquests have been made, there has been bloodshed, there has been loss of life among the native populations, loss of still more precious lives among those who have been sent out to bring these countries into some kind of disciplined order, but it must be remembered that that is the condition of the mission we have to fulfil. There are, of course, among us—there always are among us, I think—a very small minority of men who are ready to be the advocates of the most detestable tyrants, provided their skin is black—men who sympathize with the sorrows of Prempeh and Lobengula, and who denounce as murderers those of their countrymen who have gone forth at the command of the Queen, and who have redeemed districts as large as Europe from the barbarism and the superstition in which they had been steeped for centuries. I remember a picture by Mr. Selous of a philanthropist—an imaginary philanthropist, I will hope—sitting cosily by his fireside and denouncing the methods by which British civilization was promoted. This philanthropist complained of the use of Maxim guns and other instruments of warfare, and asked why we could not proceed by more conciliatory methods, and why the impis of Lobengula could not be brought before a magistrate, fined five shillings, and bound over to keep the peace.
No doubt there is humorous exaggeration in this picture, but there is gross exaggeration in the frame of mind against which it was directed. You cannot have omelettes without breaking eggs; you cannot destroy the practices of barbarism, of slavery, of superstition, which for centuries have desolated the interior of Africa, without the use of force; but if you will fairly contrast the gain to humanity with the price which we are bound to pay for it, I think you may well rejoice in the result of such expeditions as those which have recently been conducted with such signal success in Nyassaland, Ashanti, Benin, and Nupé—expeditions which may have, and indeed have, cost valuable lives, but as to which we may rest assured that for one life lost a hundred will be gained, and the cause of civilization and the prosperity of the people will in the long run be eminently advanced. But no doubt such a state of things, such a mission as I have described, involve heavy responsibility. In the wide dominions of the Queen the doors of the temple of Janus are never closed, and it is a gigantic task that we have undertaken when we have determined to wield the sceptre of empire. Great is the task, great is the responsibility, but great is the honor; and I am convinced that the conscience and the spirit of the country will rise to the height of its obligations, and that we shall have the strength to fulfil the mission which our history and our national character have imposed upon us.
In regard to the self-governing colonies our task is much lighter. We have undertaken, it is true, to protect them with all the strength at our command against foreign aggression, although I hope that the need for our intervention may never arise. But there remains what then will be our chief duty—that is, to give effect to that sentiment of kinship to which I have referred and which I believe is deep in the heart of every Briton. We want to promote a closer and a firmer union between all members of the great British race, and in this respect we have in recent years made great progress—so great that I think sometimes some of our friends are apt to be a little hasty, and to expect even a miracle to be accomplished. I would like to ask them to remember that time and patience are essential elements in the development of all great ideas. Let us, gentlemen, keep our ideal always before us. For my own part, I believe in the practical possibility of a federation of the British race, but I know that it will come, if it does come, not by pressure, not by anything in the nature of dictation from this country, but it will come as the realization of a universal desire, as the expression of the dearest wish of our colonial fellow-subjects themselves.
That such a result would be desirable, would be in the interest of all of our colonies as well as of ourselves, I do not believe any sensible man will doubt. It seems to me that the tendency of the time is to throw all power into the hands of the greater empires, and the minor kingdoms—those which are non-progressive—seem to be destined to fall into a secondary and subordinate place. But, if Greater Britain remains united, no empire in the world can ever surpass it in area, in population, in wealth, or in the diversity of its resources.
Let us, then, have confidence in the future. I do not ask you to anticipate with Lord Macaulay the time when the New Zealander will come here to gaze upon the ruins of a great dead city. There are in our present condition no visible signs of decrepitude and decay. The mother country is still vigorous and fruitful, is still able to send forth troops of stalwart sons to people and to occupy the waste spaces of the earth; but yet it may well be that some of these sister nations whose love and affection we eagerly desire may in the future equal and even surpass our greatness. A transoceanic capital may arise across the seas, which will throw into shade the glories of London itself; but in the years that must intervene let it be our endeavor, let it be our task, to keep alight the torch of Imperial patriotism, to hold fast the affection and the confidence of our kinsmen across the seas, that so in every vicissitude of fortune the British Empire may present an unbroken front to all her foes, and may carry on even to distant ages the glorious traditions of the British flag. It is because I believe that the Royal Colonial Institute is contributing to this result that with all sincerity I propose the toast of the evening.