Political and Literary essays, 1908-1913 | Page 3

dwellers on Olympus.
From the special point of view now under consideration, the case for
Christianity admits of being even more strongly stated than this, for no
attempt will be made to deal with the principles which should guide the
government of a people imbued with the teaching of the New
Testament, but rather with the subordinate, but still highly important
question of the treatment which a people, presumed to be already
imbued with that teaching, should accord to subject races who are
ignorant or irreceptive of its precepts. From this point of view it may be
said that Christianity, far from being an explosive force, is not merely a
powerful ally. It is an ally without whose assistance continued success
is unattainable. Although dictates of worldly prudence and opportunism
are alone sufficient to ensure the rejection of a policy of official
proselytism, it is none the less true that the code of Christian morality is
the only sure foundation on which the whole of our vast Imperial fabric
can be built if it is to be durable. The stability of our rule depends to a

great extent upon whether the forces acting in favour of applying the
Christian code of morality to subject races are capable of overcoming
those moving in a somewhat opposite direction. We are inclined to
think that our Teutonic veracity and gravity, our national
conscientiousness, our British spirit of fair play, to use the cant phrase
of the day, our free institutions, and our press--which, although it
occasionally shows unpleasant symptoms of sinking beneath the yoke
of special and not highly reputable interests, is still greatly superior in
tone to that of any other nation--are sufficient guarantees against
relapse into the morass of political immorality which characterised the
relations between nation and nation, and notably between the strong
and the weak, even so late as the eighteenth century.[4] It is to be
hoped and believed that, for the time being, this contention is well
founded, but what assurance is there--if the Book which embodies the
code of Christian morality may without irreverence be quoted--that
"that which is done is that which shall be done"?[5] That is the crucial
question.
There appear to be at present existent in England two different Imperial
schools of thought, which, without being absolutely antagonistic,
represent very opposite principles. One school, which, for want of a
better name, may be styled that of philanthropy, is occasionally tainted
with the zeal which outruns discretion, and with the want of accuracy
which often characterises those whose emotions predominate over their
reason. The violence and want of mental equilibrium at times displayed
by the partisans of this school of thought not infrequently give rise to
misgivings lest the Duke of Wellington should have prophesied truly
when he said, "If you lose India, the House of Commons will lose it for
you."[6] These manifest defects should not, however, blind us to the
fact that the philanthropists and sentimentalists are deeply imbued with
the grave national responsibilities which devolve on England, and with
the lofty aspirations which attach themselves to her civilising and
moralising mission.
The other is the commercial school. Pitt once said that "British policy is
British trade." The general correctness of this aphorism cannot be
challenged, but, like most aphorisms, it only conveys a portion of the

truth; for the commercial spirit, though eminently beneficent when
under some degree of moral control, may become not merely hurtful,
but even subversive of Imperial dominion, when it is allowed to run
riot. Livingstone said that in five hundred years the only thing the
natives of Africa had learnt from the Portuguese was to distil bad spirits
with the help of an old gun barrel. This is, without doubt, an extreme
case--so extreme, indeed, that even the hardened conscience of
diplomatic Europe was eventually shamed into taking some
half-hearted action in the direction of preventing a whole continent
from being demoralised in order that the distillers and vendors of cheap
spirits might realise large profits. But it would not be difficult to cite
other analogous, though less striking, instances. Occasions are, indeed,
not infrequent when the interests of commerce apparently clash with
those of good government. The word "apparently" is used with intent;
for though some few individuals may acquire a temporary benefit by
sacrificing moral principle on the altar of pecuniary gain, it may
confidently be stated that, in respect to the wider and more lasting
benefits of trade, no real antagonism exists between commercial
self-interest and public morality.[7]
To be more explicit, what is meant when it is said that the commercial
spirit should be under some control is this--that in dealing with Indians
or Egyptians, or Shilluks, or Zulus, the first question is to consider
what course is most conducive to Indian, Egyptian, Shilluk, or