It seems to me that Lord Wolseley is rather hard on civilians in general—­those “iconoclastic civilian officials who meddle and muddle in army matters"[53]—­on politicians in particular, who, I cannot but think, are not quite so black as he has painted them; and most of all on Secretaries of State, with the single exception of Lord Cardwell, to whom generous and very well deserved praise is accorded.

It is not quite clear, from a perusal of these volumes, what is the precise nature of the change which Lord Wolseley wishes to advocate, although in one passage a specific proposal is made.  It is that “a certificate should be annually laid before Parliament by the non-political Commander-in-Chief, that the whole of the military forces of the Empire can be completely and effectively equipped for war in a fortnight.”  The general tendency of the reform which commends itself to Lord Wolseley may, however, readily be inferred.  He complains that the soldiers, “though in office, are never in power.”  Nevertheless, as he explains with military frankness, “the cunning politician,” when anything goes wrong, is able “to turn the wrath of a deceived people upon the military authorities, and those who are exclusively to blame are too often allowed to sneak off unhurt in the turmoil of execration they have raised against the soldiers.”  I may remark incidentally that exception might perhaps reasonably be taken to the use of the word “exclusively” in this passage; but the main point to which I wish to draw attention is that clearly, in Lord Wolseley’s opinion, the soldiers, under the existing system, have not sufficient power, and that it would be advisable that they should, under a reformed system, be invested with more ample power.  I dare say Lord Wolseley is quite right, at all events to this extent, that it is desirable that the power, as also the responsibility, of the highest military authorities should be as clearly defined as is possible under our peculiar system of government.  But it is essential to ascertain more accurately in what manner Lord Wolseley, speaking with all the high authority which deservedly attaches itself to his name, thinks that effect should be given to the principle which he advocates.  In order to obtain this information, I turn to vol. i. p. 92, where I find the following passage:  “A man who is not a soldier, and who is entirely ignorant of war, is selected solely for political reasons to be Secretary of State for War.  I might with quite as great propriety be selected to be the chief surgeon in a hospital.”

I would here digress for a moment to deal with the argument advanced in the latter part of this sentence.  It is very plausible, and, at first sight, appears convincing.  It is also very commonly used.  Over and over again, I have heard the presumed analogy between the surgeon and the soldier advanced as a proof of the absurdity of the English system.  I believe that no such analogy exists.  Surgery