duties in favour of French manufactures; the new French Sugar Law strives to protect French colonial produce. As these new restrictions on exchange take effect, so will France and her colonies fall yet farther behind in the international race.

France, in her nineteenth-century efforts at colonisation, founded Algeria, but has hitherto failed to supply even that one colony with sufficient men or money to fully develop it. Yet the lust of empire has seized upon republican France, and seems to have been mistaken for the spirit of genuine colonial enterprise which has done so much to enrich England. As an instance of the really culpable ignorance in which this movement has its roots, I may recall an incident that, but for its highly injurious effects, would have been ridiculous. France came to a determination in all sober seriousness and distinct avowal to send convicts to New Caledonia, with the asserted intention of founding in that little island a colonial empire that was to be the rival and equal of that which, according to French history, English convicts had founded in Australia. It would be precisely as rational to attempt, by sending smugglers to the island of Sark, to establish in that little island a kingdom which should one day rival that of the United Kingdom. But it is no pleasing prospect to see a great and neighbourly nation like that of France apparently thus bent on national suicide. Depressed at home in most branches of industry, suffering in her foreign trade, and giving ground daily before other rivals, a policy has nevertheless been taken in hand which, for magnitude of conception, exceeds all bounds, and which could only hope for success if based on attributes not one of which can with truth be predicated of France-viz., surplus population, surplus capital, and surplus produce. Two methods the French have adopted for extending French dominion. In the one case the pioneers are travellers who seek monopoly treaties with native potentates, and then obtain native petitions for the protectorate of France. As recent instances of this, we have the work done in the back country of Senegal, which would hand over to France a territory far larger than Algeria; M. Brazza's would-be annexations of the Congo district; and those of Dr. Neis in Siam. In the other case, the task of inaugurating French rule is entrusted to naval and military expeditions, which have been so busy of late in South-eastern China and in Madagascar, upholding ancient claims, hunting pirates, and taking sides with native factions. Success is, however, quite another matter; and the outcome of all this imperial energy will never transpire until France has contrived to set up some substantial dominion over these wide areas that at present successfully resist forcible annexation.

The great trading Powers of Europe can well afford to await these problematic developments of French empire, although it may be doubtful for how long they can put up with that stoppage of trade and discredit of European prestige which accompanies warfare that

is not war, although considered by the French specially suited to their schemes both in China and Madagascar.

The expansion of Germany is, however, the precise opposite of all this. It is the legitimate overflow of a nation, and it is conducted on enlightened and unselfish principles. The Germans wish to see European civilisation spread over the waste places of the earth, and they wish European trade to open up and to vivify future demand over these wide areas, a wish identical in motive and measures to that of the English nation.

Bearing closely on the attitude Englishmen ought to take up regard to German expansion is the question as to any possible conflict in any part of the world with the colonial or the commercial enterprise of the English nation.

In regard to colonial enterprise, is there risk that Germany will press upon any of our colonial possessions? In North America this is impossible, as there is no land left. The Danish West India Islands are of little significance except as trading stations, and there the most secure protection of our colonies is in their own hands— merely the removing of all possible restrictions on shipping and trade. In South America we should warmly welcome the extension of German order and civilisation. In the Australian quarter of the world Germany can only appear as a territorial Power in the islands of the middle Pacific, where her traders are already established round Samoa as a centre. In China and the East, Germans already do a very considerable trade; but the formation of German colonies there can do no harm, seeing that our great trade-centres there are as free as ports can possibly be. By process of elimination we see that, so far as regards clashing with English colonial enterprise, German expansion can only affect us in Africa. The hoisting of the German flag at Angra Pequeña, a shipping place on the coast between Cape Colony and its dependency of Walvisch Bay, has been denounced as an attempt to secure a foothold in South Africa, whence the Germans can work inland and across to the Boers, absorbing them and passing on to overrun all the British possessions. This is forestalling history with a vengeance, and quite ignoring the probably cordial co-operation of the English and German nations to open up all that portion of Africa on mutual lines of advance. The minor question of the right of Germany to establish a colony at Angra Pequeña will be settled at Berlin, and Germany has declared herself scrupulously careful of pre-established rights of other nations. But, assuming the German flag to remain there, a German colony would have ample room for expansion to the north and the east without trenching in any way whatever on the already established English territory to the south.

On the West Coast of Africa, Germany has lately been busy establishing her claim to much unappropriated coast line, which inter

laces with our own colonies and protectorates in that part of the world. But all along this coast Portuguese, French, Dutch, and Spanish, as well as English and German colonies succeed each other in no settled order. The coast line is of value as giving access to the interior, and the general expectation is that the interior of this enormous continent will provide a new market for European wares. No wonder that the nations are eager to share in the spoils. In this struggle there may be rough contacts, if things be not taken in hand betimes; and this will be the case not only on the West Coast but on the East, where communication with the interior is being rapidly opened up. It will be well for all Africa if international arrangements can be carried out by means of mutual concession, to secure that its opening up be not hindered and burdened by quarrels and war.

So far as England is concerned, it is no doubt true that English traders at the present possess the lion's share of Central African trade, but it is none the less true that the English nation has enough colonies on hand to absorb her surplus energies for some time to come; what the English nation requires is, not more dominions, but more markets. Thus England would welcome the undertaking by other nations of the task of opening up Africa to civilisation and trade, under two provisos-justice and peace for the native races, and equal facilities of access to the traders of all nations. England needs no more than this, and in these stipulations she will have the cordial support of Germany as well as of the other trading Powers. This new Berlin Conference is an occasion of which advantage may be taken in view of this opening up of Africa to formulate, as it were, some international code of rules for the occupation of native districts not hitherto subject to the dominion of European Powers.' England has an undeniable claim thus to stipulate on the plea that she has at the least an equal right with other States herself to occupy these native areas, and that her power to do so is immeasurably greater because her traders are already there. She should only yield this her right in exchange for guarantees securing the indefeasible rights of all nations to identically equal treatment as to commercial access, and if possible some limitation of taxes on commercial intercourse. The safeguarding the rights of the natives and the maintenance of security, order, and peace, might be arranged for by instituting an appeal to some system of international arbitration constituted for this special purpose.

Thus, wherever the expansion of Europe may be extending itself over native races-that is, over peoples that are not of sufficient civilised power to take their place in the category of States—the following principles should be insisted upon as the foundation of all political action. The voice of England should be specially strong, for she has the greatest moral claim to be heard, based on her long-continued and self-sacrificing efforts to put down and to keep down the slave trade,

and to her predominant commercial interests already established among such peoples. With other nations, also, she takes at the least equal rank in virtue of the labours and triumphs of her explorers and missionaries.

The seven principles I would enumerate as among those which should form the foundations of international arrangement are:-1. Prevention of slavery.

2. Equal facilities for missionaries of all nations and denominations.

3. Disallowance of all monopolies.

4. Identical treatment for traders of all nations.

5. Limit to fiscal charges on trade.

6. Rigorous respect for the rights of the natives.

7. Arbitration to decide all disputes.

In all such action we shall have the zealous co-operation of Germany, now moved to great activity in colonial enterprise; and this will be of the highest advantage not only to our home exporting interests but to each and all of our colonial possessions. Thus, subject to some such preliminary international agreement, there is ample reason for every citizen of the British Empire most cordially to welcome this new-born expansion of Germany.

GEORGE BADEN-POWELL.

MISS ANDERSON'S JULIET.

A FEW days before the date at which I write this, I went one evening with a party of friends to witness the performance of Romeo and Juliet at the Lyceum Theatre. Perhaps I should rather say, that what we went to see was Miss Anderson's acting in the part of Juliet; for I think we had no curiosity about any other part of the performance.

Nor, even as to this part of it, was our curiosity either strong or pleasurable. In my own case, curiosity had been to some extent discounted by the opinions of the press,' and their drawingroom echoes, which unanimously assured us that we should find in Miss Anderson's Juliet, nothing but a perfectly passionless, commonplace, stagey, and more or less vulgar, piece of acting. I am a man of little faith in the opinions of the press,' be they political or literary; but on this occasion I was led to infer the probable justice of their verdict, not so much from the unanimity and confidence of its expressions as from certain recollections of my own, which sternly discouraged all sanguine expectations. It had been my privilege, or penalty, on various previous occasions of the kind, to be cordially invited by distinguished English actors (men of high aim and considerable ability) to attend their performance of Shakespearian parts. Of those performances I had afterwards read, in the daily and weekly journals, the most enthusiastic and unqualified praises. I had noticed that the critical press was unanimous in its description of them as subtle, profound, original, delightful, suggestive, instructive, grand. I had heard the genius of Shakespeare seriously congratulated upon the masterly interpretations of it reserved for the histrionic art of his countrymen in this improving age; and yet, owing to the unimprovable character of my own taste, these masterpieces of modern acting, notwithstanding a strong predisposition to admire and enjoy them, had excited in me only the uncomfortable sensations of blank, bewildered, inarticulate, stupid dismay. I felt that such sensations were sorry requitals of the hospitality I had received; and thus, between my personal liking for the performers and my mental incapacity to like their performances, my embarrassment would have been extreme, but for the merciful intervention of the critical press, which enabled me to congratulate the objects of its eulogiums upon 'an immense and indisputable success; a success so comprehensive