Part 6 (1/2)
There is, however, a reverse side to this picture. The same mental attributes which rendered Lyall somewhat unfit, in my opinion, to deal with an incident such as the Ilbert Bill episode, enabled him to come with credit and distinction out of a situation of extreme difficulty in which the reputation of many another man would have foundered. I have no wish or intention to stir up again the embers of past Afghan controversies. It will be sufficient for my purpose to say that Lord Lytton, immensely to his credit, recognised Lyall's abilities and appointed him Foreign Secretary, in spite of the fact that he was a.s.sociated with the execution of a policy to which Lord Lytton himself was strongly opposed, and which he had decided to reverse. Lyall did not conceal his opinions, but, as always, he was open to conviction, and saw both sides of a difficult question. In 1878, he was ”quite in favour of vigorous action to counteract the Russians”; but two years later, in 1880, after the Cavagnari murder, he records in a characteristic letter that he ”was mentally edging back towards old John Lawrence's counsel never to embark on the sh.o.r.eless sea of Afghan politics.” On the whole, it may be said that Lyall pa.s.sed through this supreme test in a manner which would not have been possible to any man unless endowed not merely with great abilities, but with the highest degree of moral courage and honesty of purpose. He preserved his own self-esteem, and by his unswerving honesty and loyalty gained that of the partisans on both sides of the controversy.
It is pleasant to turn from these episodes to other features in Lyall's career and character, in respect to which unstinted eulogy, without the qualification of a shade of criticism, may be recorded. It was more especially in dealing with the larger and more general aspects of Eastern affairs that Lyall's genius shone most brightly. He had what the French call a _flair_ in dealing with the main issues of Oriental politics such as, so far as my experience goes, is possessed by few. It was very similar to the qualities displayed by the late Lord Salisbury in dealing with foreign affairs generally. I give an instance in point.
In 1884, almost every newspaper in England was declaiming loudly about the dangers to be apprehended if the rebellion excited by the Mahdi in the Soudan was not promptly crushed. It was thought that this rebellion was but the precursor of a general and formidable offensive movement throughout the Islamic world. ”What,” General Gordon, whose opinion at the time carried great weight, had asked, ”is to prevent the Mahdi's adherents gaining Mecca? Once at Mecca we may look out for squalls in Turkey,” etc. He, as also Lord Wolseley, insisted on the absolute necessity of ”smas.h.i.+ng the Mahdi.” We now know that these fears were exaggerated, and that the Mahdist movement was of purely local importance. Lyall had no special acquaintance with Egyptian or Soudanese affairs, but his general knowledge of the East and of Easterns enabled him at once to gauge correctly the true nature of the danger.
Undisturbed by the clamour which prevailed around him, he wrote to Mr.
Henry Reeve on March 21, 1884: ”The Mahdi's fortunes do not interest India. The talk in some of the papers about the necessity of smas.h.i.+ng him, in order to avert the risk of some general Mahomedan uprising, is futile and imaginative.”[50]
I need say no more. I am glad, for the sake of Lyall's own reputation, that the offer of the Viceroyalty was never made to him. Apart from the question of his age, which, in 1894, was somewhat too advanced to admit of his undertaking such onerous duties, I doubt if he possessed sufficient experience of English public life--a qualification which is yearly becoming of greater importance--to enable him to fill the post in a satisfactory manner. In spite, moreover, of his splendid intellectual gifts and moral elevation of thought, it is very questionable whether on the whole he would have been the right man in the right place.
Lyall's name will not, like those of some other Indian notabilities, go down to posterity as having been specially connected with any one episode or event of supreme historical importance; but, when those of the present generation who regarded him with esteem and affection have pa.s.sed away, he will still deserve an important niche in the Temple of Fame as a thinker who thoroughly understood the East, and who probably did more than any of his contemporaries or predecessors to make his countrymen understand and sympathise with the views held by the many millions in India whose destinies are committed to their charge. His experience and special mental equipment eminently fitted him to perform the task he took in hand. England, albeit a prolific mother of great men in every department of thought and action, has not produced many Lyalls.
[Footnote 48: _Nineteenth Century_, May 1913, p. 972.]
[Footnote 49: When I was at Delhi in 1881, a Nikolsaini, _i.e._ a wors.h.i.+pper of John Nicholson, came to see me. He showed me a miniature of Nicholson with his head surrounded by an aureole.]
[Footnote 50: _Memoirs of Henry Reeve_, ii. 329.]
”THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AND AFTER”
IV
ARMY REFORM
_”The Nineteenth Century and After,” February 1904_
The autobiography[51] of my old and highly esteemed friend, Lord Wolseley, const.i.tutes an honourable record of a well-spent life. Lord Wolseley may justifiably be proud of the services which he has rendered to his country. The British nation, and its princ.i.p.al executive officials in the past, may also be proud of having quickly discovered Lord Wolseley's talents and merits, and of having advanced him to high position.
Obviously, certain conclusions of public interest may be drawn from the career of this very distinguished soldier. Sir George Arthur, in the December number of the _Fortnightly Review_, has stated what are the special lessons which, in his opinion, are to be derived from a consideration of that career.
Those lessons are, indeed, sufficiently numerous. I propose, however, to deal with only two of them. They are those which, apparently, Lord Wolseley himself wishes to be inculcated. Both involve questions of principle of no little importance.
In the first place, Lord Wolseley, if I understand rightly, considers that the army has suffered greatly from civilian interference. He appears to think that it should be more exclusively than heretofore under military control.
In the second place, he thinks that, in certain cases, the political and diplomatic negotiations, which generally follow on a war, should be conducted, not by a diplomatist or politician, but by the officer who has conducted the previous military operations.
As regards the first point, I am not now dealing with Lord Wolseley's remarks in connection with our general unpreparedness for war, nor with those on the various defects, past or present, of our military organisation. In a great deal that he has said on these subjects, Lord Wolseley carries me heartily with him. I confine myself strictly to the issue as I have defined it above.
Possibly, I have mistaken the significance of Lord Wolseley's words. If so, my error is shared by Sir George Arthur, who, in dealing with the War Office, dwells with emphasis on the occasions when ”this great war expert was thwarted in respect of his best considered plans by the civilian element in that citadel of inefficiency,”[52] and speaks with approval of Lord Wolseley's ”severe strictures on blundering civilian interference with the army,” as also of the ”censure reserved for the criminal negligence and miserable cowardice of successive Cabinets.”
It seems to me that Lord Wolseley is rather hard on civilians in general--those ”iconoclastic civilian officials who meddle and muddle in army matters”[53]--on politicians in particular, who, I cannot but think, are not quite so black as he has painted them; and most of all on Secretaries of State, with the single exception of Lord Cardwell, to whom generous and very well deserved praise is accorded.
It is not quite clear, from a perusal of these volumes, what is the precise nature of the change which Lord Wolseley wishes to advocate, although in one pa.s.sage a specific proposal is made. It is that ”a certificate should be annually laid before Parliament by the non-political Commander-in-Chief, that the whole of the military forces of the Empire can be completely and effectively equipped for war in a fortnight.” The general tendency of the reform which commends itself to Lord Wolseley may, however, readily be inferred. He complains that the soldiers, ”though in office, are never in power.” Nevertheless, as he explains with military frankness, ”the cunning politician,” when anything goes wrong, is able ”to turn the wrath of a deceived people upon the military authorities, and those who are exclusively to blame are too often allowed to sneak off unhurt in the turmoil of execration they have raised against the soldiers.” I may remark incidentally that exception might perhaps reasonably be taken to the use of the word ”exclusively” in this pa.s.sage; but the main point to which I wish to draw attention is that clearly, in Lord Wolseley's opinion, the soldiers, under the existing system, have not sufficient power, and that it would be advisable that they should, under a reformed system, be invested with more ample power. I dare say Lord Wolseley is quite right, at all events to this extent, that it is desirable that the power, as also the responsibility, of the highest military authorities should be as clearly defined as is possible under our peculiar system of government. But it is essential to ascertain more accurately in what manner Lord Wolseley, speaking with all the high authority which deservedly attaches itself to his name, thinks that effect should be given to the principle which he advocates. In order to obtain this information, I turn to vol. i. p. 92, where I find the following pa.s.sage: ”A man who is not a soldier, and who is entirely ignorant of war, is selected solely for political reasons to be Secretary of State for War. I might with quite as great propriety be selected to be the chief surgeon in a hospital.”
I would here digress for a moment to deal with the argument advanced in the latter part of this sentence. It is very plausible, and, at first sight, appears convincing. It is also very commonly used. Over and over again, I have heard the presumed a.n.a.logy between the surgeon and the soldier advanced as a proof of the absurdity of the English system. I believe that no such a.n.a.logy exists. Surgery is an exact science. To perform even the most trifling surgical operation requires careful technical training and experience. It is far otherwise with the case of the soldier. I do not suppose that any civilian in his senses would presume, on a purely technical matter, to weigh his own opinion against that of a trained soldier, like Lord Wolseley, who is thoroughly versed in the theory of his profession, and who has been through the school of actual war. But a large number of the most important questions affecting military organisation and the conduct of military affairs, require for their solution little or no technical knowledge. Any man of ordinary common sense can form an opinion on them, and any man of good business habits may readily become a capable agent for giving effect to the opinions which he, or which others have formed.
I may here perhaps give a page from my own personal experience bearing on the point under discussion.
The Soudan campaign of 1896-98 was, in official circles, dubbed a ”Foreign Office war.” For a variety of reasons, to which it is unnecessary to allude in detail, the Sirdar was, from the commencement of the operations, placed exclusively under my orders in all matters.