especially directed against the committees for fighting poverty among the peasants,* which have organized a tyrannical dictatorship in the villages, where the Red Guards—and especially the Chinese them among have committed wholesale massacres. The peasants in the Tula government have ruthlessly killed the members of these committees, several hundreds of whom are reported to have been buried alive.' That is how reaction, in its crudest and most brutal form, grows from tyranny and persecution. The gloomy picture drawn by the correspondent is well known to me; I recognize in it the same features I observed in April and May, 1918, in the Don region, where the Don Cossacks were throwing off the yoke of the Bolsheviki in their stanitsas.' There, also, reprisals on the Bolshevik tyrants have taken quite mediæval forms, and, as a consequence, a strongly reactionary government under General Krasnov has evolved.

There is one thing which is not contested by any liberal-minded Russian; it is that, indeed, a strong military power is necessary in order to reëstablish the State organization dissolved by the Bolsheviki, and to secure the minimum requisites of legality. Some call it 'dictatorship,' and prefer to hand it over to a single man, like Admiral Kolchak or General Denikin. Some others find it possible to try a 'directory,' i.e., a collective body based on some kind of election. But there is no substantial difference of opinion so far as the aims to be attained by this extraordinary power are concerned.

Happily for Russia there exist at least two nuclei for such military action in the persons of the two military leaders at the opposite ends of the country:

This is a euphemism for the renowned 'Committees of Paupers,' which do not 'fight poverty,' but relieve the paupers at the expense of well-todo peasants, by means of forced and arbitrary 'contributions,' which take the place of a regular taxation.

the

in Siberia and in the Northern Caucasus. Neither Admiral Kolchak nor General Denikin is inspired by selfish ambitions, but by patriotic zeal for reconstructing the unity of Russia. In both centres, in Omsk as well as in Ekaterinodar, government boards for different branches of administration are now in process of being established. Their heads are being chosen either among the more advanced representatives of the former bureaucracy, or particularly for such branches as have any political importance-among members of liberal and radical political parties, on non-party lines. The whole work is considered to be preliminary to any line of political action. General Denikin, when I last saw him in Ekaterinodar, in November last year, was quite decided not to admit any party decisions to intrude upon his preliminary work of reconstruction. Discussion of the future form of government was rife among the officers of his army, some of whom are republicans, others, constitutional monarchists. But General Denikin did not wish to commit himself to any official opinion and no watchword was permitted to be chosen as representing the view of the whole army or of the whole government. General Denikin told me personally that he was ready to fight and to sacrifice his life for Russia's statehood and unity, but that he would refuse to shed Russian blood in a civil war for or against any definite form of the government. In his telegram to Admiral Kolchak, which appeared in the newspapers together with Admiral Kolchak's answer of January 12, General Denikin laid down as a condition of his recognition of the 'supreme power' of Admiral Kolchak, that 'the future form of government shall be decided hereafter.' Thus the order of Russia's vital aims has been officially established. First, 'the reëstablish

ment of the united Russia' with the aid of an extraordinary military power; second, the settlement of 'the future form of government,' as to which opinions may differ, without going to the extremes of autocracy or syndicalism.

I have already uttered the opinion that no permanent return to obsolete political systems is any longer possible in Russia. I believe this is also the view of the great majority of active Russian politicians. But it does not mean that we must treat Russia as a fully developed and self-controlling democracy. The great illusion which seems here to be unconsciously shared by the average newspaper reader is that such a democracy really exists in Russia, and that if it does not show external signs of existence, it is because it is stifled and hampered by some tyrannical government. I was only recently asked by an interviewer whether it would not be well for 'erecting a stable government' in Russia and thus 'gradually stopping Bolshevik inroads,' to establish a Constituent Assembly outside the Bolshevik-infected areas.' Others ask in the same way whether it would not be well, in order to introduce social peace in Russia, to start with a radical agrarian reform. My answer is always the same. Before political elections can take place or agrarian reform be carried through we must first emerge from the present state of chaos, introduce some legal order, and at least safeguard the life and property of the citizens. Primum vivere, deinde philosophari.

But what sort of government will ultimately be set up in Russia? May I remind you of the Grand Old Man, the late W. E. Gladstone's definition of 'Conservative' and 'Liberal'? Conservatism, he used to say, is a disbelief in the people, tempered by fear, while Liberalism is a belief in the people tempered by prudence. Speaking for

myself, I always strongly believed in the people without ever resorting to such methods of extolling them as are known to British readers from Mr. Graham Wallas's writings. But the Russian revolution has proved more than anything else that Russian democracy is still in the making and that while it is so this strong belief in the people has got to be moderated by prudence. Bolingbroke used to say that nobody has ever learned at the hand of other people's experience. This sentence may be confirmed by the present spread of the Bolshevik propaganda all over the world. But, anyhow, one has got to learn by one's own experience.

The agrarian question is certain to be raised and solved whatever be the first government of new Russia. I stand for what is known as the 'Cadet'* solution of this thorny question. Every other solution that has as yet been tried, on more conservative, as well as on more advanced lines, has invariably proved a failure. That is why I only recently defended our party solution, when the question was under consideration in a special committee, organized by the Ukrainian Government under General Skoropadsky. But I must avow that there were also opinions, even within my own party, for more moderation so far as private ownership is concerned. These views were even shared by the best authorities on the question, who were not guided by any class feeling, but only by the interest of the whole.

There is no difference of opinion in Russia regarding the 'self-determination' principle and its application to the borderlands. Our common opinion, without distinction of parties, is that Russia must be made one again, without any separate representation for the parts detached from her by German

My party is called Constitutionalist Democratic, which was shortened to a nickname of C.D., i.e., the 'Cadet' party.

influence or by German occupation, after the Bolshevik victory of November, 1917. There exists a certain difference of opinion as to how the detached parts of Russia are to be reunited with her. Some people use the term 'federation'; others call it 'autonomy.' The difference rests more in terminology than in substance, because it is nearly universally recognized that such local freedom as is to be given to the former Russian provinces, must be extended to them by the decision of a general all-Russian national assembly which is to meet after the restoration of order, when elections will be made possible. Of course, no one thinks that Russia can come back to her former state of centralization.

Such are a few general outlines of a programme which is likely to be carried through by the next all-Russian government, whatever be its party composition. I hope it will be found liberal;

The New Europe

maybe, so far as its social side is concerned, some people will even find it 'largely liberal,' and, in the standards of this country, perhaps 'excessively liberal.' There may still be found some shortcomings, so far as its political side is concerned. But they will be found not so much in the aims as in the methods of internal policy. It is particularly difficult to dictate these methods without knowing the real conditions obtaining in a country like ours. We might, perhaps, be left here to ourselves, to be tested by experience. We feel it our duty to work our detailed programme of internal policy not for show but for practical use. Having suffered so much at the hand of dissolving agencies we now want, to use the American expression, a 'constructive' policy. If Russia is to live on and to be strong, she must move on the lines I have indicated, and this, happily, represents the average political opinion in Russia.

IN studying Lord Jellicoe's account of his term in command of the Grand Fleet, one has to be careful lest one should fail to see the forest for the trees. One school of thought will pounce eagerly on the account given of the tactics of Jutland, to confirm or confute its preconceived opinions. Another will point to the revelations contained in the book of the very slender margin of superiority possessed by the British Fleet over the German at the opening of hostilities, or to the evidence of lack

of foresight in preparation, or the inferiority of material, and will find justification therein for its expressed distrust of the politicians who ruled the country before the war. There are scores of deductions which may quite legitimately be made on these points; but, if we delve no deeper into the matter, we shall fail to get at the real working of Lord Jellicoe's mind, the considerations which guided his conduct through the perilous years, and we shall fail to do justice either to him or to the

Comrades of the Grand Fleet to whom he dedicates his book, and for whom he expresses such warm admiration. Lord Jellicoe had under his command the best brains and the widest experience which the higher ranks of the navy could produce. His plans were worked out to the minutest detail of strategy, tactics, and organization. He had the fullest possible concurrence of his colleagues and their absolute confidence from first to last.

Let it be recorded at once that the book is neither an indictment nor an apology. Nothing is extenuated, nor aught set down in malice. It is a sober and reasoned statement of facts with their causes and their consequences, the history of a stubborn struggle against untoward circumstances and of a triumph slowly and patiently won, but, in the fullness of time, complete. The following pithy and illuminating passage gives the keynote to Lord Jellicoe's strategical and tactical thought:

The last consideration present in my mind was the danger involved in leaving too much to chance in a Fleet action, because our Fleet was the one and only factor that was vital to the existence of the Empire, as indeed to the Allied cause. We had no reserve outside the Battle Fleet which could in any way take its place, should disaster befall it or even should its margin of superiority over the enemy be eliminated.

The situation was in many respects different from that with which our navy was faced in the time of the old wars. In those days disaster could only come about by reason of bad strategy or tactics owing to

our enemy being in overwhelming strength

when met, or his better handling of his force, and, apart from manoeuvring, the action was invariably decided by gunfire, a well-known and well-tried weapon.

During the recent war, two entirely new features of the greatest importance were introduced. First, the torpedo could be fired at very long range, up to 15,000 yards, either from large ships or destroyers, and at shorter range from submarines, and the mine had been developed; the invisibility of these weapons made it difficult for it to be known when they were being employed.

Elsewhere, he points out that, when Nelson took his twenty-six capital ships into action at Trafalgar, he had behind him, in home waters and the Mediterranean, no fewer than forty-seven. Indeed, the 'Grand Fleet' of the day was not with him at all, but with Cornwallis off Brest. For the first time since the Dutch wars we had all our 'eggs in one basket' from 1914 onwards - and the basket was too frail to risk a smash. There was a time, after the loss of the Audacious, when our Dreadnought fleet was reduced to seventeen battleships and five battle cruisers against fifteen and four, respectively, possessed by the Germans. Moreover, the High Sea Fleet possessed eighty-eight destroyers and the Grand Fleet only forty-two. Shortly afterwards the Invincible and Inflexible left for the Falkland Islands,. leaving the Grand Fleet, as Lord Jellicoe modestly puts it, 'in a very questionable position' as regarded battle cruisers.

All this time the Fleet had to lie in undefended bases when it was not under steam; it had no docking accommodation either at Scapa Flow or on the East Coast; it was short of cruisers, destroyers, and mine destroyers, and mine sweepers; its material was, in many respects, insufficient or inferior; it experienced a succession of mishaps to guns and machinery. And there was ever present to Lord Jellicoe's mind the thought that the German's 'selected moment' might come when he was at his weakest and they would certainly be at their strongest. When Lord Jellicoe is accused of being torpedo shy, these considerations must surely be taken into

account.

With such equipment and in such strength relatively to the enemy, Lord Jellicoe started on his momentous task as commander-in-chief, relieving Sir George Callaghan on the eve of war sorely against his will. Nothing finer

is recounted in the book, by the way, than the utter absence of jealousies among the senior officers of the Fleet. Lord Jellicoe sums up the task as follows:

The main objects for which our navy exists may be shortly summed up under four heads:

1. To insure for British ships the unimpeded use of the sea, this being vital to the existence of an island nation, particularly one which is not self-supporting in regard to food.

2. In the event of war, to bring steady economic pressure to bear on our adversary, by denying to him the use of the sea, thus compelling him to accept peace.

3. Similarly, in the event of war, to cover the passage and assist any army sent overseas, and to protect its communications and supplies.

4. To prevent invasion of this country and its overseas Dominions by enemy forces.

The above objects are achieved in the quickest and surest manner by destroying the enemy's armed naval forces, and this is, therefore, the first objective of our Fleet. The Fleet exists to achieve victory.

But history has always shown that it is a very difficult matter to impose our will upon a weaker naval adversary, and that, instead of giving us the opportunity of destroying his armed naval forces, he usually keeps the main body of those forces the Battle Fleet in positions of safety in fortified harbors, where they are a constant threat to the sea communications of the stronger naval Power, and force upon that Power a watching policy so that the enemy may be engaged, should he put to sea, before he is able to gain any advantage.

This is so true as to be a truism. Yet, strangely enough, it is often inverted by students and critics of naval affairs.

Every one of these objects was successfully achieved, though the positive results were more slowly brought about than many people expected. The country was not invaded; the armies were transported safely across the seas; the supply of food and stores was not interrupted. Lord Jellicoe records with meticulous care the progress of the blockade towards effectiveness. The

Germans did what was expected of them. They kept 'in positions of safety in fortified harbors,' and when at last the fleets met, the encounter was fortuitous. Nevertheless, the constant 'sweeps' by the Grand Fleet and cruiser squadrons showed that the 'first objective' of our Fleet was kept steadily in mind.

Why, then, did not the meeting of the fleets result in the immediately decisive victory which memories of Quiberon Bay, the Nile, and Trafalgar had taught the nation to expect? The answer is explicit in Lord Jellicoe's narrative, though it is not expressed. We based our expectations on events which occurred at the end of a period of long experience with ships of a certain type, armed with a certain class of weapon and driven by sail power. Failure to bring about decisive results had been common enough in the earlier part of the era. Even The Saints and the Glorious First of June were nothing like decisive victories: less decisive by far, in fact, than Jutland eventually proved to be. Lord Jellicoe had to handle what was practically a new weapon, for the disparity in the efficiency of the two sides at Tsu-shima was so great that few reliable inferences could be drawn from that battle. Experience was bought by both sides at Jutland: experience which led, on the British side, to improvements both in material and methods which, in Lord Jellicoe's opinion, would have made the Germans pay dearly if they had faced another encounter; experience on the German side which, according to Captain Persius, led those in authority to determine that there could not be another naval battle.

The three chapters on Jutland and the fourth in which Lord Jellicoe sets forth his reflections on the tactics employed will, no doubt, be the most eagerly read in the book. The narra