Clippings.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 291, 25 August 1877, Page 18

Clippings.

AN ENGLISH CRITICISM OF THE WAR. (From ElackivoocVs Magazine.) The last war with which Europe was afflicted caused the nerves of every one who heard of it to tingle at the tremendous powers then brought into operation, the huge and well appointed armies, the perfect weapons, the impressment of science and art into the service of war, the organisation, the rapid locomotion, the immense resources, the astounding results achieved in a few months ! It was then half a century or so since the wars of the First Napoleon over the same ground, and men were astounded at the perfection (may we use the word ?) to which the art of destruction had attained in that interval. " Away with old maxims," they said ; "we are living now under a new dispensation when wars, if bloody, must necessarily be short, from absolute want of wherewithal to feed long upon." We were inclined to fix two or three months as the extreme of the future duration of Avars. We laid down the rule that the nation that was not prepared for war before war began would have little chance of preparing afterward, for it could have but a week or two of national life left. War, in its force and rapidity, in its startling events following one upon another like claps of thunder, was to suggest continually that we live in days of electricity and steam. Fate seems never to tire of stultifying the calculations of the wise. Here is Europe, five years older in invention than she then was, now looking on at a war, waged between two of its nations, both semi-barbar-ous, both "heinously xxnprovided" with the Binews of war, and both likely to be convicted of considei-able unpreparedness before they have proceeded very far with their contest. We must not omit to note, moreover, that, whereas in the Franco-Prussian war the struggle was openly enough made for a material prize, the semi-barbarians are fighting, one in the name of Christianity, and the other for existence. We have to make a retreat from our grand ideas and brilliant epithets about war, and to condescend once more to acknowledge delays and difficulties, to recognise the old-fashioned powers of nature, to tolerate, even while war is raging, uneventful days, perhaps weeks. It is as if (parvis componere magna) we were compelled for a while to do without railways,- and to return to the coaches and waggons of our fathers. The- war drags its slow length along, and can in no wise keep pace with expectations. Nay, so dense is the darkness to which we have returned, that, with one belligerent army at least, we are not allowed to have the luxury of special correspondents. Marches are to be undertaken, towns to be stormed, ships to be sunk, battles to be fought, without the approval of, or even consultation with, the accomplished representatives of the Press. If this is not a return to the reign of Chaos and old Night, how otherwise shall we characterise it ? Do we not remember the chivalrous deeds, the hairbreadth escapes, the wonderful adventures of those devoted quill-bearers, more thrilling than any chances that ever befell poor

soldiers ? Do we not still sigh over their delightful familiarity with Emperors and Kings, the saturation of their style with military terms, the double-shotted thunder with which they rejoiced to split the ears of the groundlings ! And are these to cease ? Bah ! then, let us talk no more of progress.

ENGLAND AND THE SUEZ CANAL. (From the Saturday Review.) Englishmen will naturally direct their chief attention to, and will speculate on, what rules ought to be laid down with regard to the Suez Canal. A question on this subject was asked in the House of Commons, and Sir Stafford Northcote answered that England could not possibly abandon in the time of war her right to send through it the troops she want to place in India. No other answer could be given. If, when we are at war, we are not to send troops to India, we should debar ourselves from making the only use of the Suez Canal which is of real importance to us. But then, if our ships are to pass in time of war through the Suez Canal, we could not expect our enemies not to try to prevent them from passing. Let us suppose that we are at war with France, and that France held Egypt as France held it in the time of Napoleon. It cannot be imagined that a French army would line the- banks of the Canal, and remain calm and contented while they saw our ships go by uiider their noses. They would fire on the passing vessels, and it would be impossible to contend that they were trespassing beyond their belligerent rights in doing so. They would also try in every way to bar the passage. They would lay down torpedoes, or simply sink a ship at the entrance of the Canal. This sinking of a ship at the entrance of the Canal is really by far the greatest danger we have to fear. It it is not very likely that the French or any other Continental nation will get possession of Egypt; but if we were at war, a very inferior maritime Power might succeed in barring the Canal for a time by closing the entrance. We might perhaps try to induce all maritime Powers to agree to rule that the Canal should never be closed in this way, but we could hardly hope that they would really observe the rule in time of war. Nor is there any very obvious reason why other maritime Powers should accept such a rule. It would be a rule made exclusively for the benefit of England. As the Suez Canal is a highway of universal trade, the natural rule in the interest of Europe would be that it should be preserved as a highway, whether in peace or war, and that no vessels of war belonging to a belligerent should pass through it. Even without any rule being laid down, it might seem as if any belligerent' had a right to call upon Turkey to fuffil the duties of a neutral, and to close to the ships of all belligerents the passage through an artificial ditch made exclusively on Turkish territory. But England decline! to permit anything of the sort ; necessity compels heri She must send her troops through the Canal without regard to the • neutrality of Turkey or the commercial interests of other nations. She is strong enough to do it, .and she frankly tells the world that she is going to do it. .If she thus uses the right of the stronger—and there can be no doubt that she has no choice and must use it—there seems very slight hope of persuading other nations to agree that, if they are at war with her, they will put no obstacles in her way. She cannot have the bargain all on one side; and that the bargain would be all on one side if she might send troops through the canal in time of war, and her enemy was pledged not to stop her using this privilege, is sure to be pointed out to her if she tries to negotiate with the object of procuring such an engagement. She must rely, not on negotiations, but on her navy. If she holds the entrance to the canal in force, she can permit, and of course would permit, the vessels of neutrals to rise the canal although war might be going on. But it is the English navy which would make the arrangement possible, just as it is the English navy which makes it possible to establish the claim that English troops shall be sent to India in time of war through neutral territory.

IRISH TAXATION. (From the Daily Express.) The truth of the old saying that " there are few things as untrustworthy as facts, except figures," is finally brought home to us by the periodical debates upon Irish taxation. Here, one would have thought, is an " Irish grievance" which at least admits of being tested, weighed, and measured. It is impossible, it might be said, that an issue which to a great extent resolves itself into a question of dry arithmetic can long remain in dispute ; it is impossible that, on the one hand, Irishmen will long be able to pass off an imaginary grievance as a real one, or, on the other hand, that Englishmen will long persist in treating a real grievance as an imaginary one. One way or the other the question must surely be soon settled. Such expectations as these would be natural enough, but natural or not, we see how thoroughly they are disappointed. Statistics have been met by statistics, and it remains a drawn battle. No power on earth will convince Mr. Mitchell Henry, Sir Joseph McKenna, and Mr. Butt that Ireland is not unfairly taxed for the maintenance and support of the Empire ; while they themselves make no advance whatever towards convincing their countrymen on this side of St. George's Channel that; there is anything but Irish perversity and Irish unreason at the bottom of their complaints. We in England read Mr. Mitchell Henry's resolutions with a sort of despair at the political wrong-headedness and the unsound economical doctrine which they contain. That " the burden of Imperial taxation imposed on Ireland is excessive and out of proportion to her financial ability to bear as compared with England," is a proposition which, to Englishmen, appears a flagrant contradiction to some of the plainest facts. " That this inequality is a violation of the promises made at the Union" strikes them as a singu-

larly unjust and misleading account of what has happened with regard to the aforesaid " promises." And lastly, when they read the statement " that the expenditure out of Ireland of so large a proportion of the proceedsof Irish taxation forms an aggravation of the injustice, and makes permanent improvement hopeless until the present method of dealing with Irish revenues is altered," they feel that it is at least equally " hopeless" to reason with a people who think that such a grievance as as they allege can be remedied by such means

The complainants, in truth, have but one semblance of an argument to which they can, and to which they persistently do, appeal ; but that, as we hold, is in itself an essentially fallacious one. They point to the fact that Ireland pays income tax on 32£ millions, while England pays licorae tax on 543 millions. How unfair, then, they say, that Ireland should pay 8£ millions annually towards the Imperial revenue—thus contributing one-eighth of the total amount from an income only equal to the 1-17th of the English income. But this comparison is essentially misleading, for the reason that the bulk of the Irish taxation comes, as indeed Mr. Mitchell Henry complains, from a class of the people who are not assessed to the income tax at all, and is, moreover, however the Irish members may protest agai .st the statement, a purely voluntary payment on their part. The whole grievance comes, in short, to this, that although the taxed incomes of England and Ireland are respectively 543 millions and 32i millions, and their untaxed incomes about 460 millions and 22J respectively, yet Ireland pays, principally out of these latter incomes, as much as 6£ millions in excise duties, instead of the very much smaller sum, which would, as compared with the yield of these in England, preserve the ratio of their respective incomes ; and the whole explanation of this difference is that the Irish will not drink beer and will drink whisky, while the English are willing to drink malt liquor to a large extent as well as spirits. Such is the sum and substance of this strangest of Irish grievances. The alcohol in beer, complains Mr. Mitchell Henry, is taxed at the rate of Is. 9d. per gallon, while the alcohol in whisky is taxed at the rate of 10s. "Tax the Englishman's beer in the same proportion as the Irishman's whisky, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer could raise ninety millions a year." No doubt he could ; but would it not be better, instead of taxing the Englishman's beer like whisky, to induce the Irishman to give up whisky for beer ?

A RUSSIAN PRINCE IN THE RANKS A correspondent of the London Daily Neios writes from the Russian headquarters: —I have just been surprised by a visit from Prince Tserteleff. The prince v. 11l be remembered by many people in London society as the young and clever secretary who accompanied General Ignatieff on hip trip to England, and his name is more or less familiar to the public as the Second Secretary of the Russian Embassy at Constantinople. It is to be remembered that the pilnce resigned his situation in the diplomatic service and volunteered for the war as a common soldier. He is now serving as a simple cava I ryman in the dragoons, although he expeets soon to be transferred to the Circassian Cossacks under the command of General Skobeleff. He has been on outpost duty along the Danube ever since the beginning of the war, and is so changed by his uniform, by exposure to the weather, and his face is so sunburnt and so rough-looking that I am afraid his own mother would hai'dly recognise him. He, in fact, resembles more a good-looking butcher-boy than anything else I can think of—a fact which, with the candor which should characterise friends, I did not hesitate to communicate to him. He Avas extremely flattered by the information. His g; tat ambition is to look like a soldier, and this he considered as e preliminary accomplishment in the right direction. He is very proud of his uniform, in spite of its being about as ugly a one as could easily be imagined ; and although there was no necessity for it, he put it on at St. Petersburg to make the trip to Kischeneff, in order, as he said, to get accustomed to it as soon as possible, and not to look as though he was masquerading. The uniform is dark blue, with light blue facings, a grey overcoat of coarse, heavy eloth which a London groom would, probably, not consider respectable for a horse blanket, and which resembles somewhat the material used for convicts' clothes —a black, hideous-looking leather cap, with a visor or peak cocked up at a most ridiculous and ungainly angle. The sword is not worn attached to a belt, but to a strap slung over the shoulder. Although the prince was very proud of this costume, he found when he got to Kischeneff that it was a source of great embarrassment to him, and resulted in his getting nearly starved to deth. According to the regulations then in existence, and which have only been relaxed since, a soldier cannot go into a theatre, restaurant, cafe, club or any public place where he would be I'able to meet an officer. He had not yet been attached to his regiment, and was not therefore drawing rations. The poor fellow consequently could not go anywhere to get anything to eat except when he was invited to dinner in a private house. He went wandering about the streets, a kind of an outcast aud vagabond, without any visible means of existence, like a Constantinople dog, picking up a meal wherever he could find one. He finally found me, and from that time forward things went better, and he used to come to my hotel, order his breakfast or dinner, and eat it in my room. As I happened to be laid up with a sprained ankle at that time, the arrangement suited me very well, and being thus isolated as it were and cut off from society and the rest of the world, we might have been inclined to indulge wild Bacchanalian dissipation, had it not been for: the fact that the Hotel du No:d, in which I was stopping at Kischeneff, did not offer auy materials for excess in the way of either eating or drinking. All we could get

to eat was roast mutton and wild asparagus, while the only thing to drink consisted of some very stale beer, and a villainous kind of decoction, which they called champagne, and which no man in his senses would dream of drinking unless he were bent upon a painful and lingering suicide. Now, beer and mutton are very good in themselves, but they do not form a sufficient variety upon which to found a banquet, and although they are quite enough to sustain life, they are not calculated to tempt two young men, fresh from the restaurants of St. Petersburg, to any excees either in eating or drinking, and we were perforce obliged to remain temperate. At last the prince got his papers enabling him to join his regiment, which had gone forward, and one cold, wet, rainy morning he mounted his horse at the door of the hotel, and rode away, without servant or guide, like G. P. R. James' solitary horseman, to overtake his regiment, vvhieh was ah-eady two or three days' march in advance. He succeeded in rejoining it, and since that time has been doing duty on the Danube. He said that he likes soldiering better even than he expected, although he finds it pretty hard work to keep his arms and accoutrements clean ; and he found it rather difficult at first to get on and off his horse, which, in addition to himself, carried behind the saddle part of a tent, a sack of oats, a blanket, a frying-pan, a tea-kettle, and a large bundle of hay, together wiih various other things that are considered useful in a soldier's life. He has been under fire three or four times already, and has been over the Danube one* on a reconnoitering expedition. Everything considered, the prince may be esteemed as good a soldier, I think, as a diplomatist ; but I hope for the sake of journalism that he will be more communicative in his new than he wrs in his old profession. There was never anything to be got out of him as a diplomatist. Never would he tell you anything that you did not know before, or, if he did, you would be pretty sure to find it in some newspaper a -week old that had escaped you. In my opinion a diplomatist of this kind is utterly and entirely useless, and the sooner he exchanges it, as the prince has done, for another profession, the better for all concerned. He has, I may remark, some pretensions to the literary profession besides, and has written a couple of novels, and was engaged, I believe, on a histoiical work of some kind, when the sudden cropping up of the Eastern question interrupted it. He has hitherto kept his authorship a profound secret from his chiefs, because it would have created a great commotion in the service had it been known that he was dabbling in literature. A man With enough intellect to write anything more than a despatch beginning with "I have the honoi-," and finishing "I am," &c, would be regarded as a black sheep in any diplomatic service in the world, and dealt with accordingly. But although the prince may be a succ -sful soldier, and reap multitudinous laurels on the field of battle, his hands and face have been completely spoiled, never, I fear, to recover their pristine freshness.

THE TURKISH CAMP AND TROOPS AT SHUMLA. (From the London Times' correspondent.) The sight of the camp itself is an interesting one. Innumerable white bell-shaped tents, interspersed with the green ones of the superior officers, are clustered about all over the vast hollow in the natural amphitheatre of the mountains. The sound of bugles all over the plain breaks the stiUness of a lovely summer's evening, and from all parts men are coming at the double to fetch their rations from the kitchen camps, on the left of the road. As it is Friday (the Turkish Sunday), there is an extra treat in the way of a pilauf of boiled rice, with just a suspicion of minced lamb among it. On ordinary days there is " chaba" —that is, rice, water, and fat for breakfast, and supper too. This mess is eaten with black bread, of which two small loaves, weighing half an oke each, are served to each man daily. Shumla, in addition to its natural strength, is strongly fortified—is in the opinion of many men impregnable. It certainly appears to be so to the general observer. To my mind it appears capable of affording accommodation for a large army to be shut up in and be useless to their fellow-countrymen. I will now permit myself to say a word or two upon the general appeai-ance and characteristics ©f this army. To begin with, I have everywhere found the rank and file sound. Take your samples wheresoever you like—either from the Egyptians at Varna, the Arabs at Rustchuk, or the mixed races here, among cavalry, artillery, or infantry, and the result is the same. You get tough, broad-shouldered, patient-looking, and obedient soldiers. They have their vices, but their especial strength lies in their perfect sobriety. With a camp of, I will not say how many men, but with a great camp like this, overwhelming this little town, the grog-shops are simply being ruined, because there is no business, and the streets are as quiet as the city of London on a Sunday afternoon. I have seen other armies, and not one that I have known had that virtue.

In this respect our friends across the Danube are very heavily handicapped. Thus, among the Russians being marched into the trains at Bucharest the other day, I counted seven staggering men at 8 in the morning, and the officers took no notice whatever of their condition. So much for the Turkish private, who is as good a piece of raw stuff to make an army out of as the most exacting martinet would wish to handle. But they do not form an army yet. The officers do not impress one at all favorably, partly because most of them are evidently new to their business, two out of three having been newly promoted from the ranks without any previous training, and partly from the almost total absence of that " gentlemanly" bearing which more or less sets its stamp upon men holding a commission in most European armies. Many of the Sultan's officers seem to be so many good privates spoilt. They are also much given to the consumption of "mastic"

and innumerable tiny cups of black coffee. Mastic is a sort of Turkish imitation of absinthe, and is, I am informed, even more deleterious in its effects. Not that I have ever seen an officer exactly drunk.

THE MISSION OF THE TURK. (From the San Francisco Bulletin.) It has been said to his prejudice that the Turk has only been encamped in Europe. It is certain that he has not made the portion of it which he claims as much his own as other races. The cause is probably to be found in * the peculiarity of his social system. There is no possible amalgamation between polygamists and monogamists. We need not go any further than Salt Lake City for a confirmation of these views. Mormons and Gentiles will never assimilate, not because of the peculiar theology of the former, but because their customs allow more wives than one. Creeds more antagonistic than the Mormon and Christian get along very comfortably together. This is the reason why the Turk has remained apart in Europe while all other races were fusing. But it would be shortsighted to say that his mission there was productive of no good. To his credit it should always be remembered that he was the patron of learning when there was danger of the permanent dwarfing of the human mind. There was free inquiry in his seminaries ©f learning when the effori was being made to force human thought into a single groove. In the schools of Bagdad geography was taught by globes when there was talk in Christendom of burning for asserting that the world was round. Literature and philosophy took refuge in Constantinople and at the Coiiits of the Moorish sovereigns in Spain. In these days it »vas a grave offence to read the Greek or Latin pagan poets, or to question the established and official theory of the universe. The Turk, too, was tolerant when autos da fe were common enough among his neighbors. But this was owing probably more to the peculiarity of his position than to any very broad views. In possession of Constantinople, the Turk found himself the master of no less than seventeen different creeds. To put them all to the sword unless they embraced the faith of Islam, would have been the earlier method of proceeding. But the Turk of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries began to doubt the efficacy of that mode of proselytising. When he fell back from his advanced lines 21 Europe on his present position, he did no more than rule that estates should be secured to families in the pi'ncipalities, provided one son was brought up to believe in A Hah and his prophet Mahomet. The task which he took ou himself in the toleration of all these creeds was a very heavy one. A late English writer likens it to the government of seventeen separate and distinct Irelands. Each of them has a representative at Constantinople. There the Turk manages to play off one against the other, always, however, demanding the quid pro quo in the case of favors granted. Of this curious jumble of many creeds and various races, the Greek is beyond question the Mephistopheles. The Greek is an adept in intrigue. It is a saying of the East that one Armenian is equal to two Jews in shrewdness; one Greek to two Armenians. The Commander of the Faithful has been impassively listening to their bickering, yielding usually to the sharpest and most liberal. This explains why the Patriarch of the Greek Church at Constantinople recently ordered that prayers should be offered up for the success of the Turkish arms in a war undertaken ostensibly by Russia for the protection of his religion—perhaps for the wresting of St. Sophia from the hands of the Moslem. But if the war does not become general the time of the Turk has come. It is impossible to believe that he can stand up against the colossal power which is bearing down upon him. He has a badly organised army, a poor medical staff, a scant supply of arms and ammunition, and few interior railroad lines. la all these respects his antagonist is the equal of any nation. No doubt the Turk will fight with his old gallantry. He makes a splendid soldier. He is temperate, obedient, and fanatical. It is said of him that he will grow fat where the soldier of any other nation would starve.* But this will avail but little against the heavier masses moving against him, and the superior weight of metal.

OPENING OF MUSEUMS ON SUNDAYS. (From the London Times, June 6. The public at large do not consider the question whether it is right or wrong for people to go to picture-galleries on Sundays. They simply take as their starting point a generally received practice in this country to render one day in the week as much a day of rest as possible. It is our standing tradition, and one of the most characteristic practices of English society. Our theatres and other places of private amusement are closed by law, and every public institution is either at rest or reduces its work to the smallest amount possible. In London we have no letters on Sundays. Our railways run excursion trains at certain times in the year to enable people to have a taste of the country or the sea who could hardly get it otherwise ; but the general service of trains, is reduced as much as possible. The streets of London on a Sunday are a strong contrast to those of a great Continental towiT, and bespeak a population who are taking a day's respite from business of all kinds. The closing of our national museums and art galleries is simply an incident of this general rule, which we believe to be eminently conducive to the health, the good order, and the mental and moral balance of our population. Consequently, as a mere matter of national habit and practice, the burden of proof lies upon any one who proposes to interfere with the existing rule. The presumption is that museums and galleries, like other public institutions and places of amusement, should be closed on Sundays. It is presumptively best for all concerned—for the people at large no less

than for those who have charge of them—if only as maintaining the general principle. There ought, therefore, to be some proved case of public interest, something amounting to a practical necessity, before the rule is infringed. But, instead of this, we find the most influential advocate of the change—Mr. Eorster—simply pleading that it is about an even case. " Some desired to go, and others did not, and he desired them to be opened for those who did wish to go. They would get no harm, but would rather get good, and why should they be prevented ?" This, it will be observed, can only carry weight provided there be no strong presumption on the other side; but that presumption, based on the simple fact of a wise and healthy practice, does exist. To open these institutions on Sunday by a formal Parliamentary vote must of necessity have an extensive reflex effect. Where is the line to he drawn between public and private institutions—between galleries and theatre.-?, for instance ? In point of fact, in the parallel cases abroad to which Mr. Peter Taylor points, the line is not drawn, and we may be quite sure that, if drawn in this country, it could not be maintained. We should make a complete breach in the defences which now protect the Sunday as a day of rest, and should have definitely abandoned our general rule. Hampton Court and Kew are wholly exceptional cases. They are like the parks, and are opened as a bit of the very air of heaven itself. Above all, so long as they are exceptions the rule is maintained. But once throw open by resolution of the House of Commons all national museums and picture galleries on Sundays, and it is hard to see what institutions, public or private, we could insist on closing.