Lord Asquith Quotes

THE REASON WHY all this has to be stated here is simply that women, who could state it much better, have almost unanimously refrained from discussing such matters at all. One finds, indeed, a sort of general conspiracy, infinitely alert and jealous, against the publication of the esoteric wisdom of the sex, and even against the acknowledgment that any such body of erudition exists at all. Men, having more vanity and less discretion, are a good deal less cautious. There is, in fact, a whole literature of masculine babbling, ranging from Machiavelli's appalling confession of political theory to the egoistic confidences of such men as Nietzsche, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Casanova, Max Stirner, Benvenuto Cellini, Napoleon Bonaparte and Lord Chesterfield. But it is very rarely that a Marie Bashkirtsev or Margot Asquith lets down the veils which conceal the acroamatic doctrine of the other sex. It is transmitted from mother to daughter, so to speak, behind the door. One observes its practical workings, but hears little about its principles. The causes of this secrecy are obvious. Women, in the last analysis, can prevail against men in the great struggle for power and security only by keeping them disarmed, and, in the main, unwarned. In a pitched battle, with the devil taking the hindmost, their physical and economic inferiority would inevitably bring them to disaster. Thus they have to apply their peculiar talents warily, and with due regard to the danger of arousing the foe. He must be attacked without any formal challenge, and even without any suspicion of challenge. This strategy lies at the heart of what Nietzsche called the slave morality--in brief, a morality based upon a concealment of egoistic purpose, a code of ethics having for its foremost character a bold denial of its actual aim.

Hasta mediados de 1915, las animosas multitudes de voluntarios habían excedido en mucho a nuestra capacidad para equiparlos y organizarlos. Habían acudido ya libremente más de tres millones de hombres que representaban lo que había de mejor y más fuerte en el patriotismo de la nación británica. Pero, hacia el verano de 1915, las salidas fueron ya superiores a las entradas y resultó evidente que no podría mantenerse en campaña en 1916 un ejército de 70 divisiones y menos aún de 100, sin adoptar medidas completamente nuevas. La escuela liberal pura, capitaneada por el primer ministro, era partidaria de hacer nuevos esfuerzos con la reclutación voluntaria, pero la mayor parte de los ministros conservadores, apoyados por mister Lloyd George, y también por mí hasta mi salida del Gobierno, estaban convencidos de que era inevitable el servicio obligatorio inmediato. Por entonces, lord Kitchener, orgulloso con razón de la admirable respuesta que habían encontrado sus sucesivos llamamientos de voluntarios, se inclinaba en aquella época del lado de mister Asquith y hacía pesar la balanza contra la adopción del servido militar obligatorio. Pero la guerra seguía su curso sin compasión y, ya en enero de 1916, bajo la fuerza imperiosa de las circunstancias, la crisis del Gabinete sobre el asunto del reclutamiento se renovó violentamente, siendo entonces reforzada la cruel necesidad de los hechos por un movimiento de opinión de carácter moral que excitó el apasionamiento de grandes masas de la población. Habían partido voluntariamente tres millones y medio, pero no eran bastantes. ¿Habían de volver al frente en virtud de su compromiso voluntario, cualquiera que fuese el número de veces que resultaran heridos? ¿Habían de empujarse a la lucha voluntarios maduros, debilitados y quebrantados, mientras cientos de miles de jóvenes robustos vivían en lo posible su vida ordinaria? ¿Había de obligarse a continuar a los ciudadanos del ejército territorial y a los soldados del ejército regular, cuyos compromisos habían expirado, mientras otros que no habían hecho ningún sacrificio no eran obligados siquiera a iniciarlos? De tres millones y medio de familias cuyo amado sostén, cuyo héroe, lo estaba sacrificando todo libremente para la causa de su país, familias que representaban los elementos más sanos sobre los que descansaba la vida entera de la nación, surgió la petición de que no se dilatara la victoria ni se prolongara la matanza porque otros rehusaran cumplir con su deber. Al fin, a fines de enero, lord Kitchener cambió de bando y mister Asquith tuvo que ceder. Solo un ministro, sir John Simon, dimitió de su cargo, y la ley de reclutamiento fue presentada al Parlamento y aprobada rápidamente por una mayoría aplastante.

A trial judge should be quick, courteous and wrong. That is not to say that the Court of Appeal should be slow, rude and right, for that would be usurping the role of the House of Lords.

Obituarists kept circling his all-conquering charm. It was, Lord Esher considered, ‘invincible. The individual man succumbed to it, and the multitude went down before it. When the King walked into a room everyone felt the glow of a personal greeting. When he smiled upon a vast assemblage everyone replied unconsciously.’9 Edward may have lived his life at the apex of an intensely hierarchical society, but he had possessed what Lord Fisher (the former First Sea Lord who had been raised to the peerage at the close of 1909) called an ‘astounding aptitude of appealing to the hearts of both High and Low’.10 To every domestic servant, he had expressed his appreciation. To every beggar, he had tipped his hat. G. K. Chesterton described the King ‘as a kind of universal uncle. His popularity in poor families was so frank as to be undignified; he was really spoken of by tinkers and tailors as if he were some gay and prosperous member of their own family. There was a picture of him upon the popular retina infinitely brighter and brisker than there is either of Mr Asquith or Mr Balfour.

Contemplating provisions that Balfour, the leader of the Opposition, deplored as ‘vindictive, inequitable [and] based on no principle’26, the Lords embarked upon a counter-offensive. First into the fray were the dukes, the most senior-ranking peers, whose prestige was inextricably bound up with their great estates. To the Duke of Rutland, the Liberals were nothing but ‘a crew of piratical tatterdemalions’. The Duke of Beaufort expressed his desire to see Lloyd George set upon by ‘twenty couple of dog-hounds’. In anticipation of the state of poverty into which the Budget would throw him, the Duke of Buccleuch stopped his guinea subscription to the Dumfriesshire Football Club. The Duke of Somerset withdrew all his charitable subscriptions and sacked a number of his workers. Really, remarked an incredulous Margot Asquith, ‘the speeches of our Dukes have given us a very unfair advantage’.