greatness, and every heart glows with pride.

Since, then, sentiment plays so great a part in forming popular opinion; since the voice of the people gives us our rulers, and therefore determines lines of policy; and therefore, still further, shapes the future of the country, it seems as if it would be worth while to watch this great force, to recognize its existence, to acknowledge its uses and its dangers to the State, and, if possible, to create, lead, and foster it; to keep it from becoming mischievous; to take care that it shall not mislead the people; to restrain it so that it shall not infuriate the people. It was a misleading or infuriating sentiment which in the last century made the mob shout and smash windows and break heads first for Tory and then for Whig, first for High Church and then for the Holy Protestant cause. The same force now makes the people hold meetings, listen with enthusiasm to enthusiastic speeches, and vote on the side which sentiment has adopted.

What have we done, as a nation, to recognize the vast importance of imagination which is only another word for sentiment in the national mind? What have we done to feed tue imagination with such right views of our position, our resources, our history, perils, as may make sentiment a source -a certain and reliable source of strength and safety, instead of an uncertain force liable to drive the people into wrong paths, into perilous lines, by ways which lead to destruction?

our

We have hitherto done nothing-absolutely nothing. Our School Boards pay no heed to the readers with which the children are supplied; the Education Department makes no regulations as to the elementary teaching of history, the growth of our institutions, the extent of the empire, the condition of the colonies, the extent of trade and industry, the meaning of freedom, or, in fact, anything practical and likely to influence the children in after-life. Yet it is certain that nothing so long remains in the mind as the teaching of childhood, a great fact fully recognized by

the Roman Catholics when they refuse consent to any form of education that is not based upon their own form of faitu. Here and there, it is true, one may find elementary books which aim at systematic teaching of patriotism and of national history; but there is no organized national intelligent attempt. It has never occurred to educational Parliaments, educational writers or teachers, that they might usefully and successfully direct and control the popular imagination and mould the popular sentiment. A child leaves school at thirteen. Probably he will never more, as long as he lives, look at a book of history again. But he will remember something of what he has been taughtthe elementary principles which he might be taught; the plain broad landmarks which have been pointed out to him-these things will become a part of him for the while of his life. The reason-the actual facts-will disappear and be forgotten, but the sentiment will remain.

In America, on the other hand, they have managed matters differently. They understood very well at the outset what they wanted-to create, namely, a profound sentiment of patriotism among their people. Let us see how they set to work. Since the opinionsthe views of life and conduct and religion-that endure in the mind are those which are taught in the schools, the Americans have been most careful in their schoolbooks to represent themselves in the most favorable light possible; of that no one can complain. They have also thought proper to present us, the people of Great Britain, in the most unfavorable light possible; they have minimized our position; they have denied us our virtues, our victories, our achievements. The sentiment which they have fostered is of an exaggerated type. The misuse of this great educational opportunity brings with it the danger of making the average man mischievously and inordinately conceited about his country, a condition of mind which may impel him in many lamentable steps. There are signs, however, that the better class of Americans

perceive the danger and regret the

cause.

I have now before me a tract by Mr. Arthur Inkersley, reprinted from the San Francisco News Letter" of Christmas, 1896. It is called "American and British Prejudice," and is a vehement plea by an American for greater justice and less prejudice against this country. I quote one passage which bears especially on my subject, as showing how the national sentiment has been formed:

Consider the attitude of the common, plain, ordinary, average, every-day American with regard to Great Britain. "Raised" in a household where everything creditable to the mother country is rigorously tabooed; fed on school text-books which represent her as a grasping, overreaching, oppressive power; nourished (God help him!) on newspapers which delight in putting every national deed of Britain and every private act of her citizens in the worst possible aspect; taught to regard the higher classes of that country as empty-headed noodles, unprincipled scoundrels, profligates, and ignoramuses is it wonderful that his prepossessions are almost invincible?

I have mentioned this point only to illustrate the manner in which sentiment may be created and fostered. Hatred of England, according to Mr. Inkersley, whose evidence is amply corroborated by others, has been a sentiment most carefully fostered in every part of the United States. It is not my business to search into the reasons for this action of the United States, but I would submit a possible explanation in order to show that it was not entirely based upon unreasoning malignity. It was thought, I venture to suggest, that it would be wise to separate as widely as possible their own people from the rest of the English-speaking race. The easiest and readiest method seemed to be the representation of the English people either as slaves or tyrants; either in an odious or a contemptible light. Perhaps it was well to make it impossible, when Americans began to people the vast territories of Western America, for the early settlers to change their flag and hoist the Union Jack. Therefore, wherever the American settler

went he took with him a bogey-the Englishman who would willingly bind him in chains if he was not afraid. It has never been thought necessary for us to raise up a bogey American, otherwise we should perhaps have done so. However that may be, here is the broad fact: the Americans recognized the prudential value of sentiment, and therefore carefully fostered that kind of sentiment which seemed best calculated to keep their own people together, and to prevent them from going over to the English. It is needless to say that no such sentiment is attempted or encouraged in the American schoolbooks as regards Frenchmen, Germans, or Russians. The young American's imagination is thus carefully provided with two figures. One of them is the fairy goddess Liberty. She bears the Stars and Stripes in the left hand and a victorious sword in the right. The other is a fallen despot; in one hand is a broken sword; in the other a flag-the Union Jackbeaten down and disgraced.

Again, for the better maintenance of the American Federation, it is recognized that a symbol should represent it; and that a symbol should everywhere be in evidence. Just as outside every Roman Catholic church and most Anglican churches the Cross proclaims the faith that is upheld within, so outside every public building in America the flag proclaims the country and reminds the people of their loyalty. It is not, as the shallow traveller believes, hoisted for mere show and display; it is there for a deliberate purpose, with intent, and with wisdom. They like to see the flag everywhere; they love the flag because it is their symbol; in foreign countries, Americans have told me, the sight of their flag flying at a masthead most strangely moves their hearts. It is the flag of sentiment.

We, too, have a flag; a flag as fine as the stars and stripes; yet, except at seaside places, you may march from end to end of the country and never see it. Where does it fly in London? I believe that a child born, say, at Mile End, might live out the whole of a long life and never see the Union Jack. As for regarding the Union Jack as the symbol

of his country; as for reading in its flying folds a reminder of loyalty to the crown and of pride in his country, it never occurs to him; he has never been taught so to regard his flag. Neither loyalty itself nor the symbolism of his flag has ever been taught that child.

There is yet another method of creating sentiment which the Americans have practised, also with the greatest success. It is to hold a day of the nation a holiday-a Day of rejoicing and of feasting and of speech-making. They have instituted two such Daysthe Day of Independence and the Day of Thanksgiving. They are days, I believe, which greatly afflict the souls of the small minority, who love not multitudes or noise; but move profoundly the many who love nothing so much as processions, flags, bands of music, scarves and decorations, and perfervid orations. These, however, are the mass of the people whose imagination-whose sentiment-the State most desires to move and to influence.

What Days have we? In one respect we are better off than the Americans, because we have six Days to their two. We have two holy Days and four Bank holidays-two of which commemorate events in our sacred books, four which are avowedly days of rest from labor. These Days have nothing to do with the empire or with the nation.

What Day of Celebration have we? None. Yet surely we have a history as great and glorious as the United States. Surely there is as much reason for us to foster a sentiment of national pride as for our cousins across the sea.

No teaching of patriotism and pride in our schools; no outward and visible symbol of the past and present greatness of the country; no incentive to loyalty; no holy Day set apart to commemorate the achievements of the past and the glories of the present. Our rulers absolutely ignore and affect to despise the power of imagination. Since such methods as those adopted by the States-the flaunting of the flag; the Day of Rejoicing-would offend the tastes of the small cultivated class, we are forbidden to teach the mass of the

people in the way that will most readily appeal to their imagination; they are not to learn the virtues and the duties which go to make a nation of patriots. From strength to strength we have marched on; from success to success; from poverty to wealth; from a little island in the west of Europe to a great and mighty empire, the like of which the world has never yet seen. And we suffer our people to grow up in ignorance of this goodly heritage; they know not what they possess; they know not how they arrived at this her.tage; they know, that, if they fail to defend it, they will throw away the most splendid possession ever entrusted to any people!

We have seen how vague and general is the popular sentiment concerning our own country; a pride of freedom-a pride in the navy. This sentiment is the same now as it was a hundred years ago. There is nothing that I can discover-literally nothing-in the history of the vast expansion of the last hundred years that has struck the popular imagination; because the people have never learned anything about it; because the story has never been presented to them by speech or by the printed page in such a way as to move their hearts and to stir their blood.

How can an average English lad learn his duty to his country, the extent of his country, the meaning and bearing, to him, of that extent? They do not teach these things at school; he cannot learn them from any national institution. If he is a lad of East London-where there are two millions of people like himself— he sees no soldiers even. There are no barracks allowed in his quarter of the city, for fear, I suppose, that the fighting instinct-the martial spirit-of the lads might be awakened and encouraged; he never sees the gallant spectacle of a regiment marching with band and colors; he never talks with soldiers who can tell him of India and Egypt and the Far East.

Put yourself in the place of that Eastend lad, and ask how he will arrive at any knowledge of his country's glories; his rare heritage, and his own duties. There is no way for him, except slowly

and painfully to read up the subject for himself. And who is to tell him what books he should call for?

The American lad gets this knowledge from every quarter: his schoolbook teaches him; the universal presence of the flag teaches him; the Days of Celebration teach him; the "spread eagle" speeches teach him. All these things foster and develop in him the sentiment of loyalty to the flag.

I have tried to show the power of sentiment and the wisdom of fostering some form of sentiment. I must again remind my readers that I am not speaking of the class to whom enthusiasm and noise are abhorrent; they are, after all, a very small class. I speak of the huge mass of the people; those who read no history, and know little about the extent, or strength, or unity of the countries and colonies farming that federation which we call our empire. Considering the immense force of sentiment-how the fostering of sentiment is recognized by every government except our own, how enormous are the interests at stake-it is surely, surely, high time to reconsider our ways.

In our own case, moreover, there are conditions which make this duty far more urgent than for any other people. Tuese conditions fill one with pride; but they are also charged with peril.

There are growing up around us, under our flag, with a rapidity which is startling and unparalleled, four great nations. Up to the present they have remained nominally under the crown; practically, they are independent and sovereign nations. There is, first, the Dominion of Canada; best loved of all our colonies, most tried and proved, most loyal, most faithful to the flag. There are, next, the five States of Australia, some time or other to be federated like those of America, and to form one nation. There is New Zealand, advanced in two generations from a mere handful of whites to a million. There are the States of South Africa, about to form another federation, into which our sons are now pouring by hundreds of thousands. These four nations are destined to become, very rapidly, each one, a country as mighty and as important

as any European State of the present day, and they are growing at a rate of acceleration increasing year by year, so that the population which increases to-day by five per cent. will to-morrow increase by six per cent., and the day after to-morrow by ten per cent. In the next fifty years the population of the Dominion will probably become thirty millions; that of Australia twenty millions; that of South Africa twenty millions. Of India, Ceylon, Tasmania, and the Isles I say nothing.

It is quite certain that the time will come when the present relations between this country and the colonies must be changed. No one, it is acknowledged, would desire the present relations to last a day longer than is felt by the colonies to be desirable. We wish them to continue nominally as colonies only so long as we can help each other; we are determined, if we must part, to part in amity. The danger before us is not, in fact, so much that the mother country shall become to her former colonies a land and a people which their young children, as in the United States, must be taught to hate and to despise; we are not afraid that this will happen; but that the colonies, when they become independent States, may fail to recognize the claims, the arguments, for creating a perpetual friendship and alliance between each other. In a word, the danger is that there will be presently witnessed Five Great Nations instead of one, and that these states, instead of supporting each other by an alliance not to be broken, by a Federation of mutual and perpetual support, may be as ready to quarrel as if they were French and German, and as willing to settle their disputes by wars which must be as bitter and as desperate as civil wars always are.

Therefore we cannot too earnestly set about the task of creating such a Sentiment of Race as may play an effective part in preventing this most deplorable and fatal result; we cannot too earnestly advocate federation between all these Five States-alliance offensive and defensive-such as may mean an alliance for all time. With such an alliance the Anglo-Saxon race will be free from the

fear of enemies without or of treachery within; free to work out the higher destiny to which it will be called.

This Federation will consist, then, of five distinct nations, no one being first or second, above or below, the others; their people will inhabit the finest and richest lands on the earth; they will mostly belong to one religion-the Church of England or the Episcopal Church will, I believe, swallow up all other Protestant sects and will become the greatest Church in the world-Canterbury will take the ecclesiastical lead instead of Rome; they will enjoy the same institutions, they will speak the same language, they will have the same education, they will nourish and raise their souls by the study of the same literature.

The sentiment which we are consider ing began with a vague pride of country; it has now become, you will have observed, a far larger and more important thing than it seemed at the outset. It is no longer only such a sentiment as would have been useful to George III.; it is such a sentiment as must serve to knit together great nations separated by broad seas. It is no longer like the American, a sentiment that can be symbolized by a flag; it is the sentiment of the Anglo-Saxon race.

For the creation and the fostering of such a sentiment, I ask, first of all, a Day. Let us follow the example of the United States. Let us develop and sustain such a sentiment by the formation of a national holiday which all our colonies with ourselves shall celebrate in such a way as may most easily impress the Day and its teaching upon the great mass of the people. They will demand, I dare say, processions, shows, pageants, bands of music, songs, feasts, and speeches. In the pageants, in the songs, in the speeches we shall celebrate the glories and the victories of the race; we shall remember the great days of old; we shall acknowledge the great days of the present. Once more it must be borne in mind that we are seeking to move the multitude, not the clubmen of Piccadilly; we are getting altogether outside the very little circle traversed by that illustrious thoroughfare; we are

going to Mile End, to Whitechapel, to Hoxton, to Islington, to Birmingham, tə Bradford, where the people live who elect our rulers and shape our policy; whom we wish to move.

Let us remember that what is very well for the Americans-a Day of Celebration for a country which is always to remain undivided-is not desirable for ourselves, who must consider the probabilities-nay, the certainties of our future. We have two distinct duties before us, both absolutely neglected up to the present-the awakening of our people to a sense of what is meant by Great Britain and the empire; and the binding of these our colonies in bonds of kinship and affection. These things can be assisted, I maintain, greatly assisted, as the Americans have proved by their success-by the schoolbook, by the flag, by the Day of Celebration. The schoolbook need not-nay, it must notmisrepresent any country; we are quite rich enough in history to found our national pride on our own record without attacking our neighbors; our flag must fly, like the Stars and Stripes, over every school and every public building. As for our Day, it must be one in which the colonists will be able to join with as much loyalty as ourselves; not an abstract Day such as would have pleased a French Republican in the first bloodless days of doctrine and devotion; a Day which in itself, apart from its main object, will be felt by all to be representative.

What do we want, then, to represent? Our common ancestry; our common possessions; our common laws, liberties and institutions; and our common literature.

Our literature is generally acknowledged to be our most precious possession. For my own part, I think of a little scrap of parchment in the Guildhall of London, which seems to me more precious still, partly because without it our noble literature would have been impossible; the parchment is the Conqueror's Charter to London, which made all our liberties possible. However, let us accept the general opinion. Of all the possessions, then. which these four nations and ourselves have in com