Uncle Sam has lately gone abroad after an entirely new fashion—new at least to him.

He went to Hawaii only after repeated and urgent invitation; hesitating because he thought it was against his principles.

He went to Cuba to help the people to get rid of their rubbish.

He went to Porto Rico because he thought that he was needed.

He went to the Philippines on a business trip, and is there yet. He will probably make up his mind to stay there though he is still halting a little. In less than a year he will have decided, and in the meantime he will do some hard thinking about it, just as he has been doing since May 1, 1898.

It is to this problem that we will now address ourselves—for it is still a problem with some—not to questions of method in administration, which should be determined by experience, but to the ethical, political and practical considerations involved in the term expansion, or if you please, imperialism.

First of all, the occupation of the Philippines by the United States is regarded by the average American citizen as a moral question. “Is it right to extend our authority over the Philippines, even, if necessary, by force of arms”? This is the question we all have been asking ourselves, the question that the “anti-imperialists” have promptly answered in the negative, while the great majority of opinion seems to be slowly swinging in the opposite direction, in agreement with the present administration.

But the answer to this question, startling as it may seem, is that it is not primarily an ethical question, whatever ethical phases it may have. “What,” you ask, “do not all governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed?” Well, let us see about that; and in order to see clearly and dispassionately let us get outside of America as it were, so that we may look at this proposition from a convenient distance.

People sometimes make mistakes. Whole nations sometimes make the same mistake. Indeed, on a fundamental proposition a whole civilization during successive periods of history covering many centuries has been known to swing from one extreme to the other and backward again. Such movements are often likened to the swing of a mighty pendulum, or better still, to the rising and narrowing coils of a spiral.

Naturally, one of the subjects upon which men have thought the most and disagreed the most and therefore made the most mistakes is the relation of the individual to the state. Less than three centuries ago one of the fundamental maxims of government was that the individual exists for the state and not the state for the individual. This is one extreme. Up to the time of Rousseau there was no marked philosophical change upon this subject on the continent of Europe. With him and those after him began that marvelous reaction—that tidal wave of philosophic thought and popular conviction away from absolutism and in the direction of the rights of man. If this movement should reach its climax in the opposite extreme it would mean anarchy—and that is what it reached in the French Revolution.

It was but a few years before its climax, however, that our own Declaration of Independence was written, the writers whereof were thoroughly in sympathy with the movement toward the rights of man. Hence we hear in America the calm statement, “We believe that all men are by nature free and equal”, while in France we hear the frenzied cry, “Liberty! Equality! Fraternity!”

The individual has at last secured his long coveted freedom. But it is only to be confronted with a still greater question, namely: What is he to do with his freedom? How is he to use it?

Well, what has he done with it? In America, as elsewhere, notwithstanding his political creed, he has wisely decided that the insane must not enjoy either freedom or equality with other men. No more can criminals; no more do women. Why? If all have a right to these things, who dares take it away?

This brings us to a point beyond the statement of the Declaration, a point, however, that must have been in the minds of the writers, namely, that

SELF-GOVERNMENT IS NOT SO MUCH A RIGHT AS IT IS A CAPACITY.

Have you a right to vote, and if so where did you get it? You may answer these questions just as you please; but the fact is, if you go insane or commit a crime the government takes away your right to vote because of your incapacity. You are assumed to have the capacity and therefore the right unless it is proved to the contrary; but let it not be forgotten that the capacity is fundamental and antecedent to the right, otherwise our theory will always seem inconsistent with our practice.

And that is what mystifies so many of us just now. We have made no mistake in our practice, but we have made a mistake in trying to justify the practice by an unfounded theory, and it doesn’t work. We as a nation have simply been idealizing the rights of man, liberty and self-government, forgetting that these are all secondary to capacity, just as did the eighteenth century doctrinaires.

So far with the analogy. Now, can any one give a good, valid reason why the same conclusions would not apply to a community or tribe or race within a state which is held to be incapable—the Indians, for instance, or the emancipated slaves? Certainly not. Now, is there any ethical reason why the same conclusions would not apply to an incompetent nation? Certainly not. The difficulty to be encountered is a practical one, because, first, there is no international court to decide upon the capacity of a race to govern itself, and, second, there is no international power to act as guardian for incompetent or backward races.

How is it with the family of nations to-day? A few of them are forging ahead at a marvelous rate, a good many more are like Micawber’s wife, continually in statu quo, while others still are suffering a noticeable decline, and finally there are races or tribes which have never been organized into states or nations, and which if left to themselves probably never will be. And to what shall we liken this family of nations? It is like a settlement beyond the frontier of civilization, with no law above them except a neighborhood agreement—a settlement made up of a few progressive men, a number of “ne’er do weels”, several idiots and insane and a number of dissolutes. The best that one could hope for in such a situation would be for the progressive men to infuse some life and energy into the “ne’er do weels”, remove all destructive agencies from the hands of the idiots and insane and put the dissolutes under watch and ward. Instead, however, the state of things that we actually see is this: the dissolutes are rebellious, the idiots are idiots, the “ne’er do weels” are suspicious, and worst of all, the progressive men are jealous of each other. In the absence of cohesiveness and harmony in this settlement, one of these progressive men has shown a disposition sometimes domineering, sometimes kindly, but a disposition nevertheless to maintain law and order, and a fondness for having a hand in enforcing it, and that man is Mr. Anglo-Saxon. He never puts his hand to this business without calling down the imprecations of the whole neighborhood upon himself as a tyrant, and yet freedom, prosperity and progress go with him. He doesn’t believe much in passive goodness. He has learned the lesson of self-government and he proposes to teach it to his less progressive neighbors whether or no; and when they have once learned it they may stay under his protection or not, just as they please, and the significant fact is that they are not only glad to stay but to fight for him when they have once learned his idea of freedom.

A fanatic may say, “I prefer my own government, not because it is the best, but because it is mine”. That may well be as between two progressive nations, but as between a progressive and a retrograde or incompetent government, it is sheer fanaticism. It avails nothing in such a case to quote the words of Lincoln: “No man is good enough to govern another man against that other man’s consent”, for these words were uttered concerning human bondage which is by no means analogous to a loss of independence by a state. Canada has no political independence, technically, but are Canadians in bondage? Are the Australians, the Hindus, the Egyptians, in bondage?

No nation has a right to remain in the backwoods (pardon the homely expression). The facilities for travel and inter-communication are so vastly improved the “double coincidence of wants and possessions” has become so general, the bar of language, custom, religion and race is so rapidly disappearing—in a word, the nations of the earth are becoming such near neighbors to each other that each must be personally interested, so to speak, in the welfare of the others. If a man’s nearest neighbors are some miles distant, the way they get their living or govern their households may be of small interest to him; but let them move up to adjoining lots and it makes a world of difference whether their business is reputable, and whether their households are quiet and orderly.

No nation is safe when it remains in the backwoods. When two races, a more civilized and a less civilized, come into close quarters as neighbors the latter must improve or go to the wall. And this is not so much a moral as it is a physical question; for an area of land that will support one hunter will support a hundred farmers, and nature is economic in this as in every other matter. It is not so much that the weak must yield to the strong as it is that the ineffectual must give way to the effectual—just the ordinary law of evolution.

Like all natural laws it is merciless; and being a natural law it is neither to be condemned nor justified; yet again, like other natural laws, its rigor may and should be mitigated. In short, the superior race should regard the inferior much as a schoolmaster does an intractable youth, who must be dealt with kindly and patiently, admonished repeatedly and perhaps punished severely.

No nation has a right to remain in the backwoods. A country that shuts its eyes to progress in other lands, a people whose all-sufficient answer is, “What was good enough for our fathers is good enough for us”, a nation which stands for tyranny, for corruption, for instability, for retrogression, of any sort, has no one to blame but itself when the widening breach which separates it from advancing civilization is closed with a violence that destroys its identity.

An unstable government is a standing menace to all neighboring governments. It is the rottenness of Turkey, more than the cupidity of the powers, that constantly endangers the peace of Europe. It was the rottenness of Spanish colonial administration and not our own cupidity, that brought on the Spanish war. It is the turbulence of the South American republics rather than their weakness, that in spite of the protection of the Monroe doctrine may yet invite European intervention. The culpability of the incompetent powers is a theme we hear much less about than the “rapacity” of the “harpy powers”—and why? Because of that childish tendency to take the part of the “under dog”, no matter whose the fault.

It would seem a necessary conclusion, therefore, that whenever a people demonstrates its incapacity to learn self-government by its own unaided effort, or whenever from any cause its civilization is far in the rear of the times, that the best interests both of itself and of the rest of humanity demand that it be placed under a governmental pedagogue, at least until it attains its majority. And this is no less true though the people rebel and many lives be lost, provided that it means progress for the race—“the greatest good to the greatest number”. Who would claim that Egypt would be better off without the wise guidance of England, or who now counts the lives that were lost in India in the establishment of her beneficent reign?

Hence, not all governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed, for this sublime statement of the Declaration applies to those only who are fit for self-government. We hold it now as we always have held it, a governmental ideal which we mean to realize; for in practice we never have followed it in our dealings with the Indians, and we never made a greater mistake than in following it too literally in the days of “reconstruction”.

It should be observed that the Philippine question, coming upon us as it did, all unlooked for and unsought, made our duty all the more unmistakable. No time was given to judge of the capacity of the people for self-government, nor to ask whether ours was the nation to assume sovereignty. We were simply confronted with a situation. The logic of events (or shall we not say the hand of Providence?) had placed upon us a responsibility which, whether desirable or undesirable, we could not shirk. We stood sponsor to the world for the islands, the sovereignty over which we had destroyed. As a question of international law there could be no doubt of our sovereignty.

“But”, says the anti-imperialist, “this is ignoring the rights of the inhabitants”, and then he proceeds in academic fashion to solve the whole problem by a very simple syllogism, thus:

Major premise—All just government is founded upon the consent of the governed.

Minor premise—The natives of the Philippines are in need of a just government.

Conclusion—The Philippines should be left to take care of themselves.

And this pleasant bit of sophistry actually passes for argument among those who do not stop to see the gaps in it—who do not reflect that a government is a growth, and not a mere artificial structure to be erected by inexperienced hands—who do not reflect that something is due to international comity, and that the nations would certainly have to be reckoned with in the advent of a new power—and finally, who will not give candid consideration to the unanimous testimony of such men as Schurman, Worcester, Denby, Otis and Dewey to the effect that “no tie of race, religion, sympathy or common interest of any kind holds the natives together or justifies a belief in their capacity for self-government”!

But other objections are raised against American occupation of the Philippines. It is alleged that it is contrary to our traditional policy; that it is in disregard of the advice of Washington to “avoid entangling alliances”; that it sacrifices our “splendid isolation”, and makes us more vulnerable to a foreign enemy.

All these objections—if objections they are—must be met by a frank admission. But it is worth while to inquire into their validity as objections—to see whether they should have as much weight henceforth as they have had in the past; for we must all see very plainly that the policy of “expansion” involves a radical change in our world relations—a change somewhat at variance with our historic policy.

Let me not be misunderstood when I say that a certain reserve (to use no stronger term) has always characterized our government—not our citizens, mind you, but our government—that we have exhibited toward the “Old World” such an attitude as, who should say—“We have come out into this New World to escape the tyranny of the Old. We have explored it, conquered it, settled it, and then won our independence from the Old. We consider our land and its government peculiarly suited to become the ‘land of the free and the home of the brave’—‘a home for the oppressed of all nations’. We intend to stay at home and not meddle in your affairs, and we expect you to do the same”.

An attitude such as this is just what one would expect in the light of colonial and revolutionary history. But there is another—a politic reason: a weak power with a flattering prospect of becoming a great one is just such a prize as would tempt the cupidity of stronger powers; hence it would desire nothing so much as to be let alone. Such a power should above all things “avoid entangling alliances”—keep to itself until its strength is developed. Such a power we were when those words were uttered, and such we remained as long as the schism of slavery existed, so that never did we realize our full, united strength until called into action against Spain. Up to the present, then, Washington’s advice has proved sound policy.

What then; are we about to abandon it? No, but we are about to abandon a perverted interpretation of it and that, too, not so much from choice as from necessity. We are beginning to see that a measure of prudence for a weak power is by no means equally wise when that power has grown strong. We are beginning to see, also, that a false interpretation of it has somehow become common, which would confine our activities, save in a commercial way, to our own boundaries. It somehow assumes that we are as large and influential now as we were ever intended to be; that our future development is to be altogether internal.

To admit the truth of this—to admit that there is a limit to the area of our country beyond which it is imprudent to go, to admit that our country, being a republic, cannot consistently possess or successfully administer any foreign territory, whether detached points of military and commercial importance or portions of mainland—to admit all this is to admit the inability of our government to hold its own with the best. The “government” in England is no less democratic than the “administration” in America, and yet England leads the world in colonization.

Expansion in its broadest sense is not new. It is as old, almost, as the government itself. We have merely come to the point of extending its application to other lands, as England has long been doing, and that, too, at a time when rapid transit and communication have simplified the task inconceivably. The policy of expansion was in the air in 1893—though it had not yet received a name—when the weight of public opinion demanded of our executive that the Hawaiian Islands should not be restored to an incompetent queen. Americans have not yet forgotten their chagrin, nor how European diplomats laughed at the spectacle of the “Great Republic”, wanting so much to do the thing it ought while imagining that its hands were tied by the stay-at-home tradition. This same timidity or reticence or reserve or self-distrust or self-satisfaction, call it by whichever term you choose, has already lost for us the Samoan Islands (save one), Hayti and other strategic points.

There is some gratification to be sure in being able to show the world, as we have done, an example of a country which is not grasping for territory—which can even reject a point of advantage offered by the inhabitants thereof, feeling that the sacrifice of territory is better for us than the sacrifice of the principle of self-government for them. But in neither Samoa nor Hayti has the subsequent history of those places justified our rejection of them, either for their sake or our own. Moreover as far as its influence on the world is concerned it seems to have failed of its effect, if one may judge by the accusation of avarice that assailed us at the outbreak of the Spanish war.

It took more than the Philippine question, more than the Spanish war, to inaugurate the policy of “expansion”. These merely furnished the occasion for that toward which the progress of the world was leading us. To put it in a word—we have expanded because our “splendid isolation” is gone, rather than that our isolation is gone because we have expanded; and our isolation is gone because of the progress of the world.

The great international factors of to-day, bringing the nations into common markets and common councils, pouring the commerce, news, literature, customs, life, of each into all the others, are the steamship and the cable. These have done more for America, probably, than for any other nation; for more than any other agency they have destroyed her isolation. But they have done even more than that; for they have made her virtually central.

It was customary a few years ago—is yet in some quarters—to speak of the Pacific Ocean as if it were the backyard of the globe. It was imagined by one devout geographer that the hand of an all-wise Providence could be seen in arranging it so that the most civilized countries of the earth front upon the same ocean—the Atlantic. But the improvement of the steamship is equivalent to the reduction of distance, and this added to the establishment of bases of traffic virtually narrows the Pacific down to a smaller ocean than the Atlantic used to be. Thus America, between the great manufacturing centers of Europe and the greatest of markets in Asia, with the best of pathways to each, seems destined to become the central market of the world; and with the Nicaragua canal severing the Isthmus and the cable crossing the Pacific her position will be made all the more central as well as defensible.

As a mere matter of policy, why should we not adopt expansion? Who ever knew a recluse of a nation to attain to national greatness of any kind, or to send forth leaders of men? In such a nation one inevitable result must be the provincializing and sectionalizing of men and measures, until breadth of statesmanship and catholicity of sympathy are unknown. Americans may well profit by contrasting the statesmanship of her consuls and diplomats abroad with that of certain leaders at home. The former, accustomed to view the national policy from without are practically unanimous so far as they have expressed themselves in urging that we come out of our seclusion. “Happily”, says one, “such an ideal is as impossible as it is ignoble and retrograde. Impelled by irresistible forces we are already beginning to look outward, and are preparing to take the high place among the nations to which our strength entitles us. We should be unworthy members of the stout-hearted race to which we belong if we were daunted by the dangers and burdens of the wider activities upon which we are entering”.

The matter of greatest concern in the policy of expansion is, after all, not financial or political gain, but the reflex influence upon the individual citizen, and here we can only speculate. It is alleged on the one hand that expansion offers opportunities for corruption such as we never have known in municipal misgovernment, that it will lodge power in the hands of officials at a distance from those to whom they are responsible, that our treatment of inferior races at home does not justify our undertaking the same thing abroad, and that it is downright hypocrisy for us, a democratic people, to attempt the government of any other people.

There are certain defects common to all of these objections. It should be noticed, in the first place, that they seize upon the most conspicuous features of misgovernment in America as if they were typical, and consequently the very thing to be expected in foreign service; secondly, they indicate a pessimistic distrust of men—a distrust masquerading as prudence and conservatism—which is neither justified by the sum of the facts nor is it healthful for those who urge them; thirdly, they assume the equal right of all men to govern themselves regardless of capacity.

It should be noticed, moreover, that, as a rule, officers who receive their positions by appointment are held more strictly to account than are those who are elected by ballot; for the latter are not as apt to be removed for inefficiency or corruption as the former. Besides they have the machine back of them instead of the people or the President. Hence, since officers for the foreign administrative service would necessarily be chosen by the administration, as are those in the consular and diplomatic service, it is not too much to expect even a better government for the dependencies than for ourselves—however strange it may seem to say so.

It should be noticed again that good government is more likely to be the rule than the exception in our dependencies for the following reasons:

First, oppression, or misgovernment of any kind, does not pay. As has often been pointed out, this is the one great lesson that England learned in the Revolutionary War, and she has made good use of it ever since. The primary object, first, last and always, must be the welfare of the dependency; otherwise it is all a hypocritical delusion, containing nothing so good as the seeds of its own destruction. Second, American pride in what Americans can do will not accept any but the best results, especially when nearly all the world is looking on distrustfully.

Third, the one race which by common consent has best solved the problem of self-government is the Anglo-Saxon, and the Philippines are to be congratulated upon being under its instruction.

It should be noticed that there are reasons for believing that instead of having a harmful influence upon the American commonwealth the influence of expansion will be healthful. Corruption in politics is generally a direct result of the indifference of the citizen, an indifference arising from an unwarranted sense of security. The citizen must learn to feel that he has now an added responsibility, a deeper obligation to humanity to make his own government as pure as possible; for the idea of expansion involves an assumption of superiority upon our part—an assumption that we must make good in every particular. Lynch law and municipal corruption must cease altogether; for we have given ourselves to the world as an example not only of good government, but of good self-government, and we cannot afford that even occasional exceptions shall be tolerated. We should have more politicians, not fewer—so that scoundrels could find no room in the business.

Moreover, our newly assumed responsibilities will have the effect of developing and training in leadership. It is a most significant lesson to Americans that this practical training of leaders and rulers of men has enabled England, according to some writers, to make such great advancement in municipal government.

Some notice is due to the objection that these outlying possessions render us more vulnerable in case of war; that because of their wide separation and the enormous increase of coast line the task of defense will be greatly augmented. This is evidently true; and it is no less true and no less evident that in the same ratio will our means of defense be augmented; for the fighting of the future will be naval more and more as the years go by; and naval warfare demands, first, a navy, and, second, bases of operation.

But a navy is expensive both to create and to maintain, and our new policy will demand a largely increased navy and an enormous outlay of money. Yes, but this has long been needed by our foreign commerce, and the lack of it for this purpose has been disastrous. A nation whose merchants pay out half a million dollars every day for transportation in foreign vessels (I quote the words of the chief engineer of the navy), certainly ought to do all in its power to encourage its own merchant marine, at least by furnishing adequate protection. Think of it! a half a million saved every day would build a $3,000,000 battleship in one week. Why, we paid out enough in pensions in one year to build twenty-five such vessels. This ought to suggest to every one that “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure”. Hence, though a navy is expensive, it is still more so to do without one.

But, you say, we are incurring a vast expense in subduing and controlling the country, and apparently there is no income to balance it. Add to all this the $20,000,000 conceded by the Treaty of Paris, and don’t you think it a rather poor investment?

Here again let us seek our answer from the experience of England in Egypt and in India. In both of these countries her outlay of money originally was enormous, and from neither of them does she now receive a penny of revenue. She taxes them to be sure, but the taxes are spent for the local administration—none for England. It is from trade with these countries—the greater because of her greater prestige—trade which is of mutual benefit, that England derives any revenue whatsoever, but that is enormous. Yet she does not forbid other nations to trade with them nor place any obstacle in their way. She has had simply the advantage of greater prestige and commercial ability.

Finally one other objection must be noticed and that is the constitutional objection. As to the merits of this question, let constitutional lawyers decide; but if the country has been expanding ever since it began, and all the arguments of statesmen, big and little, have not prevented it from expanding, it would seem to be not so much a constitutional question as it is one of national policy and international law. At any rate the constitution was made for America and not America for the constitution; and while it is one of the ablest of documents, nobody considers it faultless or supposes it ever could be. James Bryce in a burst of enthusiasm says of us: “Such a people could work any constitution”.

It is impossible to speak in so short a time of all the points involved in expansion, or even of the one case we have been considering, the details of which we can well afford to omit, if it is justified by political, international, commercial and especially ethical considerations.

We will now listen to questions.

As soon as the opportunity was given there were several ready to take advantage of it, and the questions came fast and furious—almost.

“Professor”, said one, “it seems to me that I see several inconsistencies in your position. You will not mind my saying so?”

“Certainly not. Proceed.”

“In the first place, you say that a government is a ‘growth’, and yet you would impose the authority of our government upon the Philippines. Why not give their government a chance to grow?”

“Very good; but suppose instead of resulting in a growth the Philippine attempt proves abortive, as we have every reason to suppose that it would? You seem to assume that growth must result necessarily; but an egg is more likely to spoil than to hatch when left without protection, and so it has proved with republics. The trouble with you theorizers is that you begin at the wrong end in building up your Philippine republic. You begin at the top, the general government, the president and legislature, instead of beginning at the bottom, the precinct or township. To be sure the need of a general government is imperative and immediate, but things never grow in that way. Now, what do we propose to do in the Philippines? We propose to substitute our own power for the general government while the real government is growing up among the people. In all self-government life begins at the extremities, not at the center.”

“And do you propose to withdraw as soon as it has attained full growth?”

“We propose to let that question alone until full growth has been attained. It is quite unlikely that the American people will ever care to impose their government upon an unwilling people who are abundantly able to take care of themselves. It is much more likely when that time shall come, that as a Filipino has expressed it, ‘the Filipinos will be better Americans than the Americans themselves’, just like the English colonists in their loyalty to the mother country”.

“That is all very well; but I still discover some assumptions in your answers. In the first place you assume that the Filipinos are incapable of organizing a government for themselves, and in the second place you assume that we Americans will be entirely disinterested in maintaining our authority over them. If you can satisfy me upon these points I will accept all you have said.”

“I am sorry I can’t prove everything, and must therefore make some assumptions”, said the Professor, “but as to the first I shall simply refer you to the testimony of those who know them best, which to me is conclusive upon this point. But the point itself is secondary to our international obligation to re-establish law and order. As to the second assumption, again I have little to say, though there is much to be said. I am happy to believe not only in the general efficiency of our government, particularly the general or Federal government, but also in its integrity of character and the honesty of its administration.”

“Professor”, said another man, “I suppose I am what you would call a fanatic; for I am foolish enough to prefer my own government simply because it is mine and not because it is the best.”

“You may be uninformed rather than fanatical, my friend. Did you ever live any length of time in Central or South America?”

“No.”

“Well, suppose you go down to Nicaragua, or Venezuela, or Colombia, or Hayti for four or five years; then when you come back—that is if you come back alive—count up the annual and semi-annual revolutions you have seen, and then tell us what you think about it. Don’t you see that you are getting the sentiment of patriotism and the science of government somewhat mixed. You may love your country all you will and independently of its government, but the only justification for the latter should be its efficiency—efficiency in securing life, liberty and justice to all.”

“I should like to ask a question”, said another man.

“Very well.”

“I should like to know how you would prove that the Anglo-Saxon is the one race which by common consent has best solved the problem of self-government.”

“Let me refer you for your answer to ‘Anglo-Saxon Superiority’ by Edward Demolin, a gifted French writer; also for the influence of the British and the American constitutions let me refer you to the history of almost any legislative body in the world. I think this last reference in itself is sufficient.”

“It seems to me, Professor, that your frequent references to England, especially at this time, are rather unfortunate, if you will allow me the liberty to say so; for a country with so shady a reputation as hers, cannot be held up for admiration. Will not your advocacy of expansion suffer from such an unsavory comparison?”

“Perhaps”, said the Professor, “I may be pardoned for departing so far from the subject of the evening as to reply to your criticism, since it leads up to the answer to your question.

“Has England a ‘shady reputation’? Certainly, among those who are jealous of her, and everybody outside of Anglo-Saxon sovereignty has good reason to be jealous of her. But is there no better foundation for this reputation than mere jealousy? Certainly; in her dealings with Ireland, in the early days in India, and in her treatment of the American colonists her policy was sometimes uninformed, sometimes unwise and even cruel and oppressive, and her historians offer no defense for it. Has she displayed unusual cruelty in her conquests? By no means; she has displayed such unusual activity in colonization—in doing police duty for the world, in substituting intelligent force for misdirected force, that as a natural result she is disliked by a great many people. It is not to be supposed that her purposes in colonization have always been unselfish—perhaps they never have been so; but her purposes and methods in administration are unselfish, and thus she has taught the world the secret that Rome failed to find—how to knit together a great colonial empire.

“You speak of the present unfortunate Transvaal war. So far as this bears upon your question I have only this to say; my sympathies are with the English, because, disregarding the merits of the original controversy, about which none of us who read both sides dare be positive, the English are our own kindred; and because we could never forgive ourselves if we were to forget the noble, generous and fraternal part that England played in 1898, the consequences of which she is now suffering in the hostility to the Anglo-Saxon. I do not dismiss the original controversy because it is unimportant—for the question of right or wrong far outweighs all other considerations—but in the conflict of opinions and the appeals to passion the American, it seems to me, should dismiss all; and if he feels that he must take sides, he will find that the considerations of race, national interest and national gratitude, as well as the greater probability of just government, are all on the side of the British arms.

“And now as to the point of your question: England can scarcely be held up to us as a ‘horrible example’ of what is likely to happen to a nation which allows itself to expand, because at the very worst the example isn’t sufficiently horrible. But more than that, our acquisitions have all come to us peacefully and gladly, except one fifth of the Filipinos, and our whole course has been singularly devoid of mistakes, and I can imagine that in the future this period, safely passed, will be regarded as one of the most brilliant and successful in our history.”