Freedom of Speech.

To the Editor.

Sir,—Your publication on Monday last of a letter written by Mr. Grattan Grey, of the "Hansard" staff, to the "New York Times" has betrayed you into an advocacy of intolerance, against which, I hope, you will permit me to protest as mildly as I can. I may not blame you over much; Jingoism is in the air. During the last few weeks some of my best friends have written and talked as much rhodomontade about war and glory as would more than suffice for a whole generation—sheer rhodomantade without either rhyme or reason, the "Absent-minded Beggar" included. What fun could have been made of a large portion of it; but the subject is too serious for fun or even an approach to it. "You speak of going to war," says a lady who has much at stake, "as if it were going to a wedding." A wedding indeed—the wedding of death to many a brave heart. What dreary days and sleepless nights this war has already brought to many thou ands of homes. Here are our own young fellows—standing or lying on some veldt strewn with shot and shell, ruined tumbrils, and dead men and horses—in constant danger. It is very pitiful and very cruel; and all for what? But the residents for the most part maintain an uneasy silence, unwilling to add to passions already angry and excited.

Occasionally, however, one must speak even as a measure of self-defence, and this case of Mr. Grey is one in point. This gentleman differs from you, as well as from a large majority of colonists, on the Boer war. He does not think sending contingents from New Zealand necessary, and generally disapproves of the stir which has been made. He may be wrong in these opinions; and it is part of your duty, having published his letter, page 7 to show that he is so. Simply to say, as you do, that his statements are offensive and inaccurate, as well as "couched in a sneering form of language," is hardly enough. But I am not concerned to maintain the correctness of Mr. Grey's opinions; they speak for themselves. I am, however, concerned to maintain his right, and the right of every New Zealander, to express their views, whether popular or unpopular, on every public question that may arise. Diffidently, but with unwonted confidence, I stand by the right; all the more when I find it has no friends in high places. What do I read in the "Star" of last night? This, namely, that Mr. Grey's letter had been brought under the notice of Mr. Seddon, and that but for there being no Speaker immediate action would be taken in regard to it. The meaning of that intimation is very obvious. It is intended to punish Mr. Grey for publicly exptessing opinions on the war contrary to those held by the Government. Coming events cast their shadows before.

I hold no brief for Mr. Grey, but I am sorrowfully convinced that freedom of speech and what Milton described as "the liberty of unlicensed printing," are just now seriously menaced in this colony. I do not heed much that babbling fellow, the man in the street, or even the crowd, when they hinder men from saying what they will; nothing so unstable as a crowd. But the case assumes a graver aspect when men in responsible positions take upon them at public meetings, not only to assail freedom of speech, but to suggest special treatment for those who indulge in it. If you will allow me I will show how it develops in Dunedin. A gentleman holding the office of Public Prosecutor for Otago is reported to have used this language: "Nor was this a time for criticism. Every man who criticised the policy of the British Empire at the present moment was a traitor, and ought to be hounded out of it." If so, Mr. Public Prosecutor, you have a duty to perform, and I say to you as Hamlet said to the player: "Leave thy coarse faces and begin." The writer of this letter holds Imperialism and the Boer war arising out of it to be terrific evils. He does not write anonymously; he is within your jurisdiction, hound him out or hound him down if you dare. Perhaps, however, I am attaching too much importance to the sayings of one who, although a high official, is good-naturedly credited with speaking first and thinking afterwards.

It is impossible, while on this subject, to avoid referring to what Mr. Justice Williams said regarding it At a large meeting in the Agricultural Hall he spoke as follows: "If anyone says to you 'I don't approve of the war,' then there is only one answer: 'Sir, you have got to approve of it. When your mother is in trouble it is your duty to help her even though she may to some extent have brought her trouble upon herself." I have the greatest respect for Mr. Justice Williams, if he will allow me to say so, and I don't think, from his point of view, the case could have been better put, but the least said of its logic the better. I can only suppose that in the furore of cheers and songs and martial music—an atmosphere so different from that to which he is accustomed—he was carried away by the crowded and enthusiastic meeting, and said more or less than he intended. Does Judge Williams think that an honest man should go about among his fellows day by day saying fine things about Imperialism and its war, when he believes them all the time to be outrageous wrongs? That is in effect what the Judge's dictum amounts to; it, however, suggests but poor specimens of manhood, and I at least must respectfully decline to follow it. The simile of the mother is very fine, but it lacks applicability. Children who do not help their mother when in trouble are not worth their salt, but the kind of help depends entirely upon the nature of the trouble. The Eastern sage has told us long ago that the mother may forget—alas! it is an everyday experience; a knock on the head, some mysterious illness, may turn a sweet and loving woman into a raving maniac. She is to be page 8 tenderly cared for, but she may not be allowed to work her will. She must be restrained. And our British Mother would just now be all the better of a good deal of judicious restraint.

But I pursue the subject no further. Be assured it is no pleasant experience to be compelled to differ from friends and neighbours on a matter of momentous importance, but there are times when what one believes to be the interests of truth and humanity forbid the suppression of opinions, however unpopular, and this appears to me to be eminently such a time.