I would annex the planets if I could.
The present population of the British Empire is now said to exceed three hundred and nine millions. And what a golden round of sovereignty shines in those figures. There are the dusky myriads of British India and Ceylon; the peoples of British North America, of Australasia, and South Africa, our dark fellow subjects of the Gold Coast, the West Indies, Honduras, the Straits, Guiana, Fiji and Borneo; there are tattooed Maoris and British blended in New Zealand, pig-tailed Chinese and British at Hong Kong, yellow-robed Buddhists and British in Burmah. Those figures carry the mind from the white rocks of Malta to the black crags of Perim and Aden; over vast seas dotted with the stations of the Queen’s flag; from coast to coast, from island to island round the great globe; over expanses so studded with colonies and the appanages of Her Majesty that probably no Englishman lives who could suddenly and precisely enumerate all these jewels of the Imperial crown.
Daily Telegraph, 1887
In any period, what professors, publicists and journalists write can rarely be accepted as descriptions, and even less as explanations, of what governments do. What politicians say, when they