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NONLINEAR CONTINUUM
MECHANICS FOR FINITE
ELASTICITY-PLASTICITY
 NONLINEAR
CONTINUUM
MECHANICS FOR
FINITE ELASTICITY-
PLASTICITY
Multiplicative Decomposition With
Subloading Surface Model

KOICHI HASHIGUCHI
Technical Adviser, MSC Software Ltd.
(Emeritus Professor of Kyushu University),
Tokyo, Japan
Elsevier
Radarweg 29, PO Box 211, 1000 AE Amsterdam, Netherlands
The Boulevard, Langford Lane, Kidlington, Oxford OX5 1GB, United Kingdom
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 Contents

Preface xi

1. Mathematical fundamentals 1
1.1 Matrix algebra 1
1.1.1 Summation convention 1
1.1.2 Kronecker’s delta and alternating symbol 2
1.1.3 Matrix notation and determinant 2
1.2 Vector 6
1.2.1 Definition of vector 7
1.2.2 Operations of vector 7
1.3 Definition of tensor 15
1.4 Tensor operations 18
1.4.1 Properties of second-order tensor 18
1.4.2 Tensor components 19
1.4.3 Transposed tensor 20
1.4.4 Inverse tensor 21
1.4.5 Orthogonal tensor 22
1.4.6 Tensor decompositions 24
1.4.7 Axial vector 25
1.4.8 Determinant 27
1.4.9 Simultaneous equation for vector components 30
1.5 Representations of tensors 31
1.5.1 Notations in tensor operations 31
1.5.2 Operational tensors 32
1.5.3 Isotropic tensors 34
1.6 Eigenvalues and eigenvectors 35
1.6.1 Eigenvalues and eigenvectors of second-order tensor 35
1.6.2 Spectral representation and elementary tensor functions 37
1.6.3 Cayley Hamilton theorem 38
1.6.4 Scalar triple products with invariants 39
1.6.5 Second-order tensor functions 39
1.6.6 Positive-definite tensor and polar decomposition 40
1.6.7 Representation theorem of isotropic tensor-valued tensor function 42
1.7 Differential formulae 43
1.7.1 Partial derivatives of tensor functions 43
1.7.2 Time-derivatives in Lagrangian and Eulerian descriptions 48
1.7.3 Derivatives of tensor field 49
1.7.4 Gauss’ divergence theorem 51
1.7.5 Material-time derivative of volume integration 52

v
vi CONTENTS

1.8 Variations of geometrical elements 53

1.8.1 Deformation gradient and variations of line, surface and volume
elements 53
1.8.2 Velocity gradient and rates of line, surface and volume elements 56

2. Curvilinear coordinate system 61

2.1 Primary and reciprocal base vectors 61
2.2 Metric tensor and base vector algebra 65
2.3 Tensor representations 68

3. Tensor operations in convected coordinate system 77

3.1 Advantages of description in embedded coordinate system 77
3.2 Convected base vectors 79
3.3 Deformation gradient tensor 80
3.4 Pull-back and push-forward operations 83
3.5 Convected time-derivative 88
3.5.1 General convected derivative 89
3.5.2 Corotational rate 92
3.5.3 Objectivity of convected rate 95

4. Deformation/rotation (rate) tensors 101

4.1 Deformation tensors 101
4.2 Strain tensors 106
4.2.1 Green and Almansi strain tensors 106
4.2.2 General strain tensors 109
4.2.3 Logarithmic strain tensor 113
4.3 Volumetric and isochoric parts of deformation gradient tensor 114
4.4 Strain rate and spin tensors 117
4.4.1 Strain rate and spin tensors based on velocity gradient tensor 117
4.4.2 Strain rate tensor based on general strain tensor 120

5. Conservation laws and stress tensors 123

5.1 Conservation laws 123
5.1.1 Conservation law of physical quantity 123
5.1.2 Conservation law of mass 124
5.1.3 Conservation law of linear momentum 125
5.1.4 Conservation law of angular momentum 126
5.2 Cauchy stress tensor 127
5.2.1 Definition of Cauchy stress tensor 127
5.2.2 Symmetry of Cauchy stress tensor 130
5.3 Balance laws in current configuration 132
5.3.1 Translational equilibrium 133
5.3.2 Rotational equilibrium: symmetry of Cauchy stress tensor 133
5.3.3 Virtual work principle 134
 CONTENTS vii

5.3.4 Conservation law of energy 135

5.4 Work-conjugacy 135
5.4.1 Kirchhoff stress tensor and work-conjugacy 136
5.4.2 Work-conjugate pairs 137
5.4.3 Physical meanings of stress tensors 138
5.4.4 Relations of stress tensors 141
5.4.5 Relations of stress tensors to traction vectors 142
5.5 Balance laws in reference configuration 145
5.5.1 Translational equilibrium 145
5.5.2 Virtual work principle 146
5.5.3 Conservation law of energy 146
5.6 Simple shear 147

6. Hyperelastic equations 151

6.1 Basic hyperelastic equations 151
6.2 Hyperelastic constitutive equations of metals 155
6.2.1 St. Venant Kirchhoff elasticity 155
6.2.2 Modified St. Venant Kirchhoff elasticity 156
6.2.3 Neo-Hookean elasticity 157
6.2.4 Modified neo-Hookean elasticity (1) 157
6.2.5 Modified neo-Hookean elasticity (2) 158
6.2.6 Modified neo-Hookean elasticity (3) 158
6.2.7 Modified neo-Hookean elasticity (4) 159
6.3 Hyperelastic equations of rubbers 159
6.4 Hyperelastic equations of soils 160
6.5 Hyperelasticity in infinitesimal strain 161

7. Development of elastoplastic and viscoplastic constitutive

equations 163
7.1 Basis of elastoplastic constitutive equations 163
7.1.1 Fundamental requirements for elastoplasticity 164
7.1.2 Requirements for elastoplastic constitutive equation 166
7.2 Historical development of elastoplastic constitutive equations 168
7.2.1 Infinitesimal hyperelastic-based plasticity 168
7.2.2 Hypoelastic-based plasticity 178
7.2.3 Multiplicative hyperelastic-based plasticity 181
7.3 Subloading surface model 182
7.4 Cyclic plasticity models 188
7.4.1 Cyclic kinematic hardening models with yield surface 188
7.4.2 Ad hoc Chaboche model and Ohno-Wang model excluding yield
surface 191
7.4.3 Extended subloading surface model 192
7.5 Formulation of (extended) subloading surface model 195
7.5.1 Normal-yield and subloading surfaces 195
7.5.2 Evolution rule of elastic-core 198
viii CONTENTS

7.5.3 Plastic strain rate 205

7.5.4 Strain rate versus stress rate relations 206
7.5.5 Calculation of normal-yield ratio 207
7.5.6 Improvement of inverse and reloading responses 208
7.5.7 Cyclic stagnation of isotropic hardening 209
7.6 Implicit time-integration: return-mapping 213
7.6.1 Return-mapping formulation 213
7.6.2 Loading criterion 221
7.6.3 Initial value of normal-yield ratio in plastic corrector step 224
7.6.4 Consistent tangent modulus tensor 227
7.7 Subloading-overstress model 229
7.7.1 Constitutive equation 230
7.7.2 Defects of past overstress model 238
7.7.3 On irrationality of creep model 240
7.7.4 Implicit stress integration 243
7.7.5 Temperature dependence of isotropic hardening function 249
7.8 Fundamental characteristics of subloading surface model 249
7.8.1 Distinguished abilities of subloading surface model 250
7.8.2 Bounding surface model with radial-mapping: Misuse of subloading
surface model 252

8. Multiplicative decomposition of deformation gradient tensor 255

8.1 Elastic-plastic decomposition of deformation measure 256
8.1.1 Necessity of multiplicative decomposition of deformation gradient
tensor 256
8.1.2 Isoclinic concept 259
8.1.3 Uniqueness of multiplicative decomposition 262
8.1.4 Embedded base vectors in intermediate configuration 263
8.2 Deformation tensors 264
8.2.1 Elastic and plastic right Cauchy-Green deformation tensor 264
8.2.2 Strain rate and spin tensors 265
8.3 On limitation of hypoelastic-based plasticity 269
8.4 Multiplicative decomposition for kinematic hardening 271

9. Subloading-multiplicative hyperelastic-based plastic and

viscoplastic constitutive equations 273
9.1 Stress measures 273
9.2 Hyperelastic constitutive equations 275
9.3 Conventional elastoplastic model 277
9.3.1 Flow rules for plastic strain rate and plastic spin 277
9.3.2 Confirmation for uniqueness of multiplicative decomposition 281
9.3.3 Plastic strain rate 281
9.4 Continuity and smoothness conditions 283
9.5 Initial subloading surface model 284
9.6 Multiplicative extended subloading surface model 286
9.6.1 Multiplicative decomposition of plastic deformation gradient for
elastic-core 286
 CONTENTS ix

9.6.2 Normal-yield, subloading and elastic-core surfaces 289

9.6.3 Plastic flow rules 291
9.6.4 Plastic strain rate 294
9.7 Material functions of metals and soils 296
9.7.1 Metals 296
9.7.2 Soils 300
9.8 Calculation procedure 306
9.9 Implicit calculation by return-mapping 309
9.9.1 Return-mapping 309
9.9.2 Loading criterion 312
9.9.3 Initial value of normal-yield ratio in plastic corrector step 314
9.10 Cyclic stagnation of isotropic hardening 317
9.11 Multiplicative subloading-overstress model 320
9.11.1 Constitutive equation 320
9.11.2 Calculation procedure 326
9.11.3 Implicit calculation by return-mapping 328
9.12 On multiplicative hyperelastic-based plastic equation in current
configuration 330

10. Subloading-friction model: finite sliding theory 335

10.1 History of friction models 335
10.2 Sliding displacement and contact traction vectors 336
10.3 Hyperelastic sliding displacement 339
10.4 Normal-sliding and subloading-sliding surfaces 340
10.5 Evolution rule of friction coefficient 341
10.6 Evolution rule of sliding normal-yield ratio 342
10.7 Plastic sliding velocity 344
10.8 Calculation procedure 348
10.9 Return-mapping 349
10.9.1 Return-mapping formulation 349
10.9.2 Loading criterion 353
10.10 Subloading-overstress friction model 356
10.11 Implicit stress integration 362
10.12 On crucially important applications of subloading-friction model 363
10.12.1 Loosening of screw 363
10.12.2 Deterministic prediction of earthquake occurrence 364

11. Comments on formulations for irreversible mechanical

phenomena 365
11.1 Utilization of subloading surface model 365
11.1.1 Mechanical phenomena described by subloading surface model 365
11.1.2 Standard installation to commercial software 367
11.2 Disuses of rate-independent elastoplastic constitutive equations 368
11.3 Impertinence of formulation of plastic flow rule based on second law of
thermodynamics 369
x CONTENTS

Appendix 1: Proofs for formula of scalar triple products

with invariants 371
Appendix 2: Convective stress rate tensors 373
Appendix 3: Cauchy elastic and hypoelastic equations 377
Bibliography 379
Index 393
 Preface

The elastoplasticity theory is now faced to the epoch-making devel-

opment that the exact description of the finite irreversible (plastic or vis-
coplastic) deformation/sliding behavior under the monotonic/cyclic
loading in the general rate of deformation/sliding from the static to the
impact loading is attained as the subloading multiplicative hyperelas-
tic based plasticity and viscoplasticity. This is the first book on this the-
ory, comprehensively describing the underlying concepts and the
formulations for the subloading surface model and for the multiplicative
decomposition of deformation gradient tensor into the elastic and the plastic
(or viscoplastic) parts and their combination.
The precise description of the plastic strain rate induced by the rate
of stress inside the yield surface is inevitable for the prediction of cyclic
loading behavior, which is crucial for the accurate mechanical design of
solids and structures in engineering. A lot of works have been executed
and various unconventional plastic constitutive (cyclic plasticity) models,
named by Drucker (1998), have been proposed aiming at describing the
plastic strain rate caused by the rate of stress inside the yield surface
after 1960s when the demands of mechanical designs of solids and
structures for the mechanical vibration and the seismic vibrations have
been highly raised responding to the high development of machine
industries and the frequent occurrences of earthquakes, e.g. Chile (1960)
and Niigata (Japan) (1964). Among various unconventional models the
multi surface model (Mroz, 1967; Iwan, 1967), the two surface model
(Dafalias and Popov, 1975; Krieg, 1975; Yoshida and Uemori, 2002), and
the superposed-kinematic hardening model (Chaboche et al., 1979;
Ohno and Wang, 1993) are well known. However, they assume a sur-
face enclosing a purely elastic domain and are based on the premise
that the plastic strain rate develops with the translation of the small
yield surface so that they are called the cyclic kinematic hardening model.
Therefore they possess various defects, for example, (1) the abrupt tran-
sition from the elastic to the plastic state violating the continuity and
the smoothness conditions (Hashiguchi, 1993a,b, 1997, 2000), (2) the
incorporation of the offset value of the plastic strain at yield, which is
accompanied with the unreality and the arbitrariness, (3) the incapabil-
ity of cyclic loading behavior for the stress amplitude less than the small

xi
xii Preface

surface enclosing an elastic domain, (4) the incapability of the nonpro-

portional loading behavior, (5) the incapability of extension to the rate-
dependency at high rate of deformation up to the impact loading behav-
ior, (6) the limitation to the description of deformation behavior in
metals, and (7) the necessity of the additional cumbersome operation to
pull back the stress to the yield surface or the small surface enclosing an
elastic domain. In particular, it is quite pitiful from the scientific point
of view that the superposed cyclic plasticity model, i.e. the Chaboche
model and the Ohno-Wang model are diffused widely, which are the
most primitive ad hoc cyclic plasticity models ignoring the historical
development of the plasticity but regressing to the easy going way by
the empirical method as will be explained in Section 7.4.
Now, it should be noted that the plastic strain rate is not induced
abruptly but develops gradually as the stress approaches the yield sur-
face. In fact, the mutual slips of material particles, for example, crystal
particles in metals and soil particles in sands and clays leading to the
plastic deformation is not induced simultaneously but induced gradu-
ally from parts in which mutual slips can be induced easily, exhibiting
the smooth transition from the elastic to the plastic transition. The sub-
loading surface model (Hashiguchi, 1978, 1980, 1989, 2017a; Hashiguchi
and Ueno, 1997) is free from the existence of the stress region enclosing
the purely elastic domain, while the existence has been postulated in
the other elastoplasticity models. The subloading surface, which passes
through the current stress and is similar to the yield surface, is assumed
inside the yield surface, and then it is postulated that the plastic strain
rate is not induced suddenly at the moment when the stress reaches the
yield surface but it develops as the stress approaches the yield surface,
that is, as the subloading surface expands. Therefore the smooth transi-
tion from the elastic to the plastic state, that is, the smooth elastic-plastic
transition leading to the continuous variation of the tangent stiffness
modulus tensor is described in this model. The subloading surface
model has been applied to the descriptions of the elastoplastic deforma-
tion behaviors of various solids, for example, metals, soils, concrete, etc.
Further, it has been extended to describe the viscoplastic deformation
by incorporating the concept of the overstress. The subloading surface
model would be regarded to be the governing law of the irreversible
mechanical phenomena of solids.
The subloading surface model has been incorporated into the com-
mercial software “Marc” in MSC Software Corporation as the standard
installation by the name “Hashiguchi model,” which can be used by all
Marc users (contractors) since October, 2017. Therefore it is explained in
the Marc user manual (MSC Software Corporation, 2017) in brief.
Further, the function for the automatic determination of material para-
meters was installed into the Marc as the standard function in June
 Preface xiii

2019. Furthermore, the subloading-friction model will also be incorpo-

rated into the Marc as the standard installation until the end of 2020.
The mechanisms of the elastic deformation and the plastic deforma-
tion in the solids consisting of material particles are physically different
from each other such that the former is induced by the deformation of
material particles themselves (e.g., crystal particles in metals and soil
particles in sands and clays) but the latter is induced by the mutual
slips between the material particles. Further, note that all the deforma-
tion measures, for example, the infinitesimal and the finite-strain tensors
and the strain rate tensor (skew-symmetric part of velocity gradient ten-
sor) are defined by the deformation gradient tensor. Therefore the exact
description of finite elastoplastic deformation requires the exact decom-
position of the deformation gradient tensor into the elastic and the plas-
tic parts. Furthermore, note that the deformation gradient tensor is
defined by the ratio (note: not difference) of the current infinitesimal
line element vector to the initial one. Then, the multiplicative decompo-
sition of the deformation gradient tensor has been introduced for the
exact description of finite elastoplastic deformation by the leading scho-
lars (Kroner, 1960; Lee and Liu, 1967; Lee, 1969; Mandel, 1971, 1972,
1973a; Kratochvil, 1973). However, it now passed already more than a
half century after the proposition of the multiplicative decomposition of
deformation gradient tensor. In the meantime, unfortunately the
hypoelastic-based plasticity has been studied enthusiastically by numer-
ous workers represented by Rodney Hill and James R. Rice after the
proposition of the hypoelasticity by Truesdell (1955), which is not based
on the multiplicative decomposition so that it is limited to the infinitesi-
mal elastic deformation and accompanied with the cumbersome time-
integration procedure of the corotational rates of the stress and tensor-
valued internal variables. In addition, the concept of the multiplicative
decomposition has not been delineated properly even in the
notable books referring to this concept (cf. Lubliner, 1990; Simo, 1998;
Simo and Hughes, 1998; Lubarda, 2002; Haupt, 2002; Nemat-Nasser,
2004; Asaro and Lubarda, 2006; Bonet and Wood, 2008; de Sauza Neto
et al., 2008; Gurtin et al., 2010; Hashiguchi and Yamakawa, 2012;
Belytshko et al., 2014, etc.).
The multiplicative hyperelastic based plasticity has been studied
centrally by Simo and his colleagues (e.g., Simo, 1985, 1988a,b, 1992;
Simo and Ortiz, 1985) in the last century, in which the logarithmic strain
has been used mainly leading to the coaxiality of stress and strain rate
so that it has been limited to the isotropy. It has been developed actively
from the beginning of this century by Lion (2000), Menzel and
Steinmann (2003a,b), Wallin et al. (2003), Dettmer and Reese (2004),
Menzel et al. (2005), Wallin and Ristinmaa (2005), Gurtin and Anand
(2005), Sansour et al. (2006, 2007), Vladimirov et al. (2008, 2010),
xiv Preface

Henann and Anand (2009), Brepols et al. (2014), etc., in which constitu-
tive relations are formulated in the intermediate configuration imagined
fictitiously by the unloading to the stress-free state along the hyperelas-
tic relation, based on the isoclinic concept (Mandel, 1971). However, the
plastic flow rule with the generality unlimited to the elastic isotropy
remains unsolved and only the conventional plasticity model, named by
Drucker (1998), with the yield surface enclosing the elastic domain have
been incorporated so that only the monotonic loading behavior of elasti-
cally isotropic materials is concerned in them.
The subloading multiplicative hyperelastic based plastic model has
been formulated by the author recently (Hashiguchi, 2018c), which is
capable of describing the finite elastoplastic deformation/rotation rigor-
ously under the monotonic/cyclic loading process. Further, it has been
extended to the subloading-multiplicative hyperelastic-based viscoplas-
ticity recently, which is capable of describing the rate-dependent elasto-
plastic deformation behavior at the general rate from the static to the
impact loading. It is to be the best opportunity to review the multiplica-
tive hyperelastic based plasticity comprehensively and explain the
detailed formulation of the subloading multiplicative hyperelas-
tic based plastic model systematically. This is the first book on the sub-
loading multiplicative hyperelastic based plasticity and viscoplasticity
for the description of the general irreversible deformation/sliding
behavior.
The subloading surface model and the multiplicative hyperelas-
tic based plasticity are explained comprehensively providing the
detailed physical interpretations for all relevant concepts and the deriv-
ing processes of all equations. Further, the incorporation of the subload-
ing surface model to the multiplicative hyperelastic plastic relation is
described in detail. Further, it is extended to the description of the vis-
coplastic deformation by incorporating the concept of overstress, which
is capable of describing the general rate of deformation ranging from
the quasistatic to the impact loading behaviors (Hashiguchi, 2016a,
2017a). In addition, the exact hyperelastic based plastic and viscoplastic
constitutive equation of friction (Hashiguchi, 2018c) is formulated rigor-
ously, while the hypoelastic-based plastic constitutive equation of fric-
tion has been formulated formerly (Hashiguchi et al., 2005; Hashiguchi
and Ozaki, 2008; Hashiguchi, 2013a).
The aim of this book is to give a comprehensive explanation of the
finite elastoplasticity theory and viscoplasticity under the monotonic
and the cyclic loading processes. The incorporation of the Lagrangian
tensors is required originally in the formulation of finite elastoplasticity
and viscoplasticity, since the deformation of the material involved in
the reference configuration, which is invariant through the deformation,
is physically relevant. Therefore the necessity and the meanings of the
 Preface xv

Lagrangian tensors and the transformations rules between the Eulerian

and the Lagrangian tensors, that is, the pull-back and push-forward
operations are explained concisely. Various Lagrangian stress tensors
are derived based on the requirement of the work-conjugacy from the
Cauchy stress tensor in the current configuration. To this end, the
descriptions of physical quantities and relations in the embedded (con-
vected) coordinate system, which turns into the curvilinear coordinate
system under the deformation of material, are required, since their
physical meanings can be captured clearly by observing them in the
coordinate system that not only moves but also deforms and rotates
with material itself. In other words, the essentials of continuum mechan-
ics cannot be captured without the incorporation of the general curvilin-
ear coordinate system, to which the embedded coordinate system
changes, although the explanation only in the rectangular coordinate
system is given in a lot of books entitled “continuum mechanics.”
The author expects that the readers of this book will capture the fun-
damentals in the finite-strain elastoplasticity theory and they will con-
tribute to the development of mechanical designs of machinery and
structures in the field of engineering practice by applying the theories
addressed in this book. A reader is apt to give up reading through a
book if one encounters a matter that is uneasy to understand by insuffi-
cient explanation. For this reason, the detailed explanations of physical
concepts in elastoplasticity are delineated, and the derivations/transfor-
mation processes of all equations are given with detailed proofs but
without abbreviation.
The author wishes to express cordial thanks to his colleagues at
Kyushu University, who have discussed and collaborated over several
decades: Prof. M. Ueno (currently Emeritus Professor at University of
the Ryukyus) in particular, and Dr. T. Okayasu (currently Associate
Professor at Kyushu University), Dr. S. Tsutsumi (currently Associate
Professor at Osaka University), Dr. T. Ozaki of Kyushu Electric Eng.
Consult. Inc., Dr. S. Ozaki (currently Associate Professor at Yokohama
National University), and Dr. T. Mase of Tokyo Electric Power Services
Co., Ltd. (currently Professor of Tezukayama Gakuin Univ.)
Furthermore, the author is thankful to Dr. K. Okamura, Dr. N.
Suzuki, and Dr. R. Higuchi, Nippon Steel & Sumitomo Metal
Corporation, Dr. M. Oka and Mr. T. Anjiki, Yanmar Co. Ltd., for the col-
laborations on constitutive relations of metals and the numerical calcu-
lations. In particular, the numerical calculations performed by Mr. T.
Anjiki was quite effective for the improvement of the subloading-
overstress model. The author is also grateful to Mr. T. Kato (President)
and Dr. M. Tateishi (Fellow), MSC Software, Ltd., Japan for the standard
implementation of the Hashiguchi (subloading surface) model to the
commercial FEM (Finite Element Method) software Marc.
xvi Preface

The heartfelt gratitude of the author is dedicated to Prof. Yuki

Yamakawa of Tohoku University, for various advices and close colla-
borations with detailed discussions on elastoplasticity theory, particu-
larly on the finite-strain theory and the numerical method. In addition,
the author acknowledges the great gratitude to Prof. Yamakawa for crit-
ical reading of the original manuscript and then suggesting various pre-
cious elaborations.
The author expresses his sincere gratitude to Prof. Genki Yagawa,
Emeritus Professor, The University of Tokyo, for encouraging always
the author with undeserved high appreciation of research contributions,
and thus the author was stimulated to the publication of this book.
The author is convinced that this book will contribute substantially to
the steady developments of solid mechanics and the manufacturing and
constructing industries through the readers. Finally, the author would
like to acknowledge the enthusiastic supports by the editor Mr. Dennis
Mcgonagle, the editorial project manager Mr. Joshua Mearns, and the
project manager: Mr. Sojan P. Pazhayattil, Elsevier, for the generous cor-
porations on the publication of this book.

Koichi Hashiguchi
June 2020
 C H A P T E R

1
Mathematical fundamentals

The mathematical fundamentals are addressed in this chapter, which

are required to understand sufficiently the elastoplasticity theory
described in the subsequent chapters. First, the basics of vector and ten-
sor algebra are explained and then the differential formula and the var-
iations of the geometrical elements are described comprehensively.
Readers are tempted to skip to study these mathematical fundamentals
but they are explained concisely by showing the derivation processes
for almost all equations. Component descriptions of vectors and tensors
in this chapter are limited in the normalized rectangular coordinate system,
that is, rectangular coordinate system with unit base vectors, while the
terms orthogonal, orthonormal, and Cartesian are often used instead of
rectangular. However, these tensor relations hold even in the general
curvilinear coordinate system of the Euclidian space described in the
subsequent chapters.

1.1 Matrix algebra

The basic matrix algebra with some conventions and symbols appear-
ing in the continuum mechanics are described in this section.

1.1.1 Summation convention

The Cartesian summation convention is first introduced in which
repeated suffix in a term is summed over numbers that the suffix can
take, for example,

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

DOI: https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-12-819428-7.00001-8 1 © 2020 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
2 1. Mathematical fundamentals

8
>
> X 3
>
> u v 5 ur vr 5 u1 v1 1 u2 v2 1 u3 v3 ;
>
>
r r
>
> r51
>
< X3
Trr 5 Trr 5 T11 1 T22 1 T33 (1.1)
>
>
>
> r51
>
> X 3
>
>
> Tir vr 5
: Tir vr 5 Ti1 v1 1 Ti2 v2 1 Ti3 v3 ;
r51

A letter of the repeated suffix is arbitrary and thus it is called the

dummy index as known from
ur vr 5 us vs ; T rr 5 Tss ; Tir vr 5 Tis vs : (1.2)

This rule is also called Einstein’s summation convention. A repeated index

obeys this convention unless otherwise specified by the additional
remark “(no sum)” after an equation.

1.1.2 Kronecker’s delta and alternating symbol

The Kronecker’s delta δij ði; j 5 1; 2; 3Þ is defined as follows:

1: i 5 j
δij 5 (1.3)
0 : i 6¼ j

fulfilling
δir δrj 5 δij 5 δji ; δii 5 3 (1.4)

Further, the alternating (or permutation) symbol or Eddington’s epsilon

εijk is defined as follows:
8
< 1: even permutation of ijk from 123 ð123; 231; 312Þ
>
εijk 5 2 1: odd permutation of ijk from 123 ð213; 321; 132Þ (1.5)
>
:
0: others

fulfilling the following relation for the product.

εijk εijk 5 3! (1.6)

1.1.3 Matrix notation and determinant

Let the quantity T possessing nine (3 3 3) components Tij be
expressed in the arrangement

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

 1.1 Matrix algebra 3
2 3
T11 T12 T13
T 5 ½Tij  5 4 T21 T22 T23 5 (1.7)
T31 T32 T33

which is called a matrix notation. The matrix I possessing the compo-

nents of the Kronecker’s delta is given by
2 3
1 0 0
I 5 ½δij  5 4 0 1 0 5 (1.8)
0 0 1

The quantity v possessing three (3 3 1) components is expressed as

2 3
v1  
v 5 ½vi  5 4 v2 5 5 v1 v2 v2 (1.9)
v3

The multiplications of the quantity v and the matrix B by the matrix

A are denoted as Av and AB and defined as
ðAvÞi 5 Air vr 5 vr Air 5 ðvAT Þi (1.10)
ðABÞij 5 Air Brj 6¼ Bir Arj 5 ðBAÞij (1.11)

where ð ÞT stands for the transpose of the row and the column in the
matrix.
The quantity defined by the following equation is called the determi-
nant of T and is shown by the symbol det T, that is,
 
 T11 T12 T13 
 
detT 5 εijk T1i T2j T3k 5 εijk Ti1 Tj2 Tk3 5  T21 T22 T23  (1.12)
 T31 T32 T33 

with
detTT 5 detT; detðsTÞ 5 s3 detðTÞ (1.13)

Here, the number of permutations that the suffixes i, j, and k in εijk can
take is 3!. Therefore Eq. (1.12) can be written as
1
detT 5 εijk εpqr Tip Tjq Tkr (1.14)
3!
Eq. (1.14) is rewritten as
1 1 1
detT 5 Trs ðcof TÞrs ; detT 5 T: ðcof TÞ 5 trðTðcofTÞT Þ (1.15)
3 3 3

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

4 1. Mathematical fundamentals

or
detT 5 T1s ðcofTÞ1s 5 T2s ðcofTÞ2s 5 T3s ðcofTÞ3s
(1.16)
5 Tr1 ðcofTÞr1 5 Tr1 ðcofTÞr1 5 Tr2 ðcofTÞr2 5 Tr3 ðcofTÞr3

where
1
ðcofTÞip  εijk εpqr Tjq Tkr (1.17)
2!
noting
 
1 1 1 1
εijk εpqr Tip Tjq Tkr 5 Tip εijk εpqr Tjq Tkr 5 Tip ðcofTÞip
3! 3 2! 3

ðcofTÞij is called the cofactor for the i-column and the j-row. The cofactor
is obtained through multiplying the minor determinant lacking the
ith row and jth column components by the sign ð21Þi1j .
The following lemmas for the properties of the determinant hold.

Lemma 1.1: If the first and the second rows are same, that is, T2j 5 T1j
for instance, we have εijk T1i T1j T3k 5 εjik T1j T1i T3k 5 2 εijk T1i T1j T3k .
Therefore we have the lemma “the determinant having same lines or
rows is zero.” Therefore the following relation is obtained from
Eq. (1.16) that
Tis Δjs 5 Tri Δrj 5 δij detT (1.18)

Lemma 1.2: If the first and the second lines are exchanged, that is, 122
for instance, we have εijk T2i T1j T3k 5 εjik T1i T2j T3k 5 2 εijk T1i T2j T3k .
Therefore we have the lemma “the determinant changes only its sign by
exchanging lines (or rows).”
By multiplying εijk to both sides in Eq. (1.12), we have
εijk detT 5 εijk εpqr T1p T2q T3r 5 εpqr Tip Tjq Tkr (1.19)

The transformation from the second side to the third side in

Eq. (1.19) is resulted from the abovementioned Lemmas 1.1 and 1.2.
Here, note that the expression of the determinant in Eq. (1.14) is derived
also by multiplying εijk to both sides in Eq. (1.19) and noting Eq. (1.6).

The additive decomposition of the components T2j into T2j 5 A2j 1 B2j
leads to
εijk T1i ðA2j 1 B2j ÞT2k 5 εijk T1i A2j T2k 1 εijk T1i B2j T2k (1.20)

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

 1.1 Matrix algebra 5

Therefore the value of determinant in which components in a line (or

row) are decomposed additively is the sum of the two determinants
made by exchanging the line (or row) of the original determinants into
the decomposed components.
The determinant of the multiplication of tensors is given from
Eqs. (1.12) and (1.19) as follows:
detðABÞ 5 εijk ðA1p Bpi ÞðA2q Bqj ÞðA3r Brk Þ 5 A1p A2q A3r εijk Bpi Bqj Brk
5 A1p A2q A3r εpqr detB

noting εijk Bpi Bqj Brk 5 εpqr detB due to Eq. (1.19), and thus one has the fol-
lowing product law of determinant.
detðABÞ 5 detAdetB (1.21)

The partial derivative of determinant is given from Eq. (1.14) as

1
@ εabc εpqr Tap Tbq Tcr
@detT 3!
5
@Tij @Tij
1
5 εabc εpqr ðδia δjp Tbq Tcr 1 Tap δib δjq Tcr 1 Tap Tbq δic δjr Þ
3!
1
5 εibc εjqr Tbq Tcr
2!

which leads to
@detT @detT
5 cofT ; 5 ðcofTÞij (1.22)
@T @Tij

The permutation symbol in the third order, that is, εijk appears often
hereinafter. It is related to Kronecker’s delta by the determinants as
   
 δ1i δ1j δ1k   δ1i δ2i δ3i 
   
εijk 5  δ2i δ2j δ2k  5  δ1j δ2j δ3j  (1.23)
 δ3i δ3j δ3k   δ1k δ2k δ3k 

which can be proved as follows: Note that the second side in Eq. (1.23)
is expanded as
 
 δ1i δ1j δ1k 

 
εijk 5  δ2i δ2j δ2k  5 δ1i δ2j δ3k 1 δ1k δ2i δ3j 1 δ1j δ2k δ3i
 
 δ3i δ3j δ3k 
2 δ1k δ2j δ3i 2 δ1i δ2k δ3j 2 δ1j δ2i δ3k

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

6 1. Mathematical fundamentals

Then, one has

ε123 5 δ11 δ22 δ33 1δ13 δ21 δ32 1δ12 δ23 δ31 2δ13 δ22 δ31 2δ11 δ23 δ32 2 δ12 δ21 δ33 5 1
ε213 5 δ12 δ21 δ33 1δ13 δ22 δ31 1δ11 δ23 δ32 2δ13 δ21 δ32 2δ12 δ23 δ31 2 δ11 δ22 δ33 52 1

for instance. The third side in Eq. (1.23) can be confirmed as well.
The following relations are obtained from Eqs. (1.23) and (1.21).
   2 3 2 3
 δ1i δ2i δ3i  δ1p δ1q δ1r   δ1i δ2i δ3i δ1p δ1q δ1r 
   
   6 7 6 7
εijk εpqr 5  δ1j δ2j δ3j  δ2p δ2q δ2r  5  4 δ1j δ2j δ3j 5 4 δ2p δ2q δ2r 5 
    
 δ1k δ2k δ3k  δ3p δ3q δ3r   δ1k δ2k δ3k δ3p δ3q δ3r 
  (1.24)
 δip δiq δir 
 
 
5  δjp δjq δjr 
 
 δkp δkq δkr 

from which we have

 
 δip δiq δik 
 
 
εijk εpqk 5  δjp δjq δjk 
 
 δkp δkq δkk 
5 δip δjq δkk 1 δiq δjk δkp 1 δik δjp δkq 2 δik δjq δkp 2 δip δjk δkq 2 δiq δjp δkk
5 δip δjq 2 δiq δjp
 
 δii δij δiq 
 
 
εijp εijq 5  δji δjj δjq 
 
 δpi δpj δpq 
5 δii δjj δpq 1 δij δjq δpi 1 δiq δji δpj 2 δii δjq δpj 2 δij δji δpq 2 δiq δjj δpi
5 9δpq 1 δiq δpi 1 δiq δip 2 3δpq 2 3δpq 2 3δpq 5 2δpq
εijk εijk 5 2δkk 5 6

Eventually, one obtains the following relations.

εijk εpqk 5 εkij εkpq 5 δip δjq 2 δiq δjp
(1.25)
εijp εijq 5 2δpq ; εijk εijk 5 6

The last equation is no more than Eq. (1.6).

1.2 Vector

The definitions and the operations of the vector will be delineated in

this section, which are required for the study of the continuum
mechanics.

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

 1.2 Vector 7

1.2.1 Definition of vector

The quantity having only magnitude is defined as a scalar. On the
other hand, a quantity having direction and sense in addition to magni-
tude is defined as a vector. The following commutative, distributive, and
the associative laws hold for a vector.

a 1 b 5 b 1 a; ða 1 bÞ 1 c 5 a 1 ðb 1 cÞ
(1.26)
aðbvÞ 5 ðabÞv 5 bðavÞ; ða 1 bÞv 5 ðb 1 aÞv; aða 1 bÞ 5 aa 1 ab

where v designates a vector and a and b are arbitrary scalars.

The magnitude of vector is denoted by jjvjj. In particular, the vector
whose magnitude is zero is called the zero vector and is shown as 0. The
vector whose magnitude is unity, that is, jjvjj 5 1, is called the unit
vector.

1.2.2 Operations of vector

Basic operations of vectors are delineated in this section, which are
required for the formulations of ingredients in the continuum
mechanics.

1.2.2.1 Scalar product

Denoting the angle between the two vectors a; b by θ, the scalar or
inner product is defined as :a::b:cosθ where : : designates the magni-
tude (length or norm) and it is denoted by the symbol a b, that is, 

a b  :a::b:cosθ (1.27)

Consider the normalized orthogonal coordinate system, where the word

“normalized” means to adjust the magnitude to unity and the word
“orthogonal” means to adopt the mutually orthogonal base vectors. Let
it be denoted as fO 2 xi g, while the unit vectors are denoted by the triad
fei g. The scalar product between the base vectors is given from
Eqs. (1.3) and (1.27) as follows:

ei ej 5 δij (1.28)

Vector v is described in the linear associative form as follows:

v 5 vr er ð 5 v1 e1 1 v2 e2 1 v 3 e3 Þ (1.29)

where v1, v2, and v3 are the components of v. Denoting the angle of the
direction of vector v from the direction of the base vector ei by θi ,

cosθi 5 n ei is called the direction cosine by which the component of v is
given as

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

8 1. Mathematical fundamentals

 
vi 5 v ei 5 :v:n ei 5 :v:cosθi (1.30)

The magnitude of vector v and its unit direction vector n are given
from Eq. (1.30), noting cos2 θ1 1 cos2 θ2 1 cos2 θ3 5 1 as follows:
pffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi v vr
:v:  vr vr ; n 5 er (1.31)
:v: :v:

 
Because of a b 5 ar er bs es 5 ar bs δrs , the scalar product is expressed
by using the components as

a b 5 ar br (1.32)

The magnitude of vector is also expressed by setting θ 5 0 in

Eq. (1.27) as follows:
pffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi
:v: 5 v v  (1.33)

The quantity obtained by the scalar product is a scalar and the fol-
lowing commutative, distributive, and associative laws hold.

a b5b a  (1.34)
 
a ðb 1 cÞ 5 a b 1 a c  (1.35)
  
sða bÞ 5 ðsa bÞ 5 a ðsbÞ 5 ða bÞs  (1.36)
ðaa 1 bbÞ  c 5 aa  c 1 bb  c (1.37)

for arbitrary scalars s, a, and b.

1.2.2.2 Vector product

The operation obtaining a vector having (1) magnitude identical to
the area of the parallelogram formed by the two vectors a and b, pro-
vided that they are translated to the common initial point, and (2) direc-
tion of the unit vector n which forms the right-hand bases a; b; n in this
order is defined as the vector (or cross) product and is denoted by the
symbol a 3 b as shown in Fig. 1.1. Therefore denoting the angle between
the two vectors a and b by θ when they are translated to the common
initial point, it holds that

a 3 b  :a::b:sinθn ð:n: 5 1Þ (1.38)

Incidentally, the surface vector is defined by the vector product.

Then, it follows for the normalized orthonormal base vectors
Figure 1.1 that
ei 3 ej 5 εijk ek (1.39)

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

 1.2 Vector 9

a × b = an

c v = (a × b) · c =[abc]
n
(|| n|| = 1)
b
a = || a × b|| =|| a || ||b|| sin θ
θ
a

FIGURE 1.1 Vector product (surface vector) and scalar triple product (volume) with
area.

and thus one has

a 3 b 5 ai ei 3 bj ej 5 εijk ai bj ek
(1.40)
5 ða2 b3 2 a3 b2 Þe1 1 ða3 b1 2 a1 b3 Þe2 1 ða1 b2 2 a2 b1 Þe3

which is expressed in the matrix form as follows:

 
 e1 e2 e3 

a 3 b 5  a1 a2 a3  (1.41)
 b1 b2 b3 

The following equations hold for the vector product.

a3a50 (1.42)
a3b52b3a (1.43)
a 3 ðb 1 cÞ 5 a 3 b 1 a 3 c (1.44)
sða 3 bÞ 5 ðsa 3 bÞ 5 a 3 ðsbÞ 5 ða 3 bÞs (1.45)
ðaa 1 bbÞ 3 c 5 aa 3 c 1 bb 3 c (1.46)

1.2.2.3 Scalar and vector triple products

The operation defined by the following equation for the three vectors
is called scalar triple product.
½abc  ða 3 bÞ c  (1.47)

Nonlinear Continuum Mechanics for Finite Elasticity-Plasticity

Other documents randomly have
different content
Dissenters were on the whole readier than the Church to fall in with
what he called “down-grade” tendencies in biblical criticism. For the
same reason he even withdrew from the Baptist Union. “If,” he said,
“you preach what is new, it will not be true; if you preach what is
true, it will not be new.” For Rome, Spurgeon never pretended
tolerance. When another Baptist owned that during a visit to France
he had been present at the Mass, and “had never felt nearer the
presence of God,” Spurgeon replied that it was a good illustration of
the text, “If I make my bed in hell, behold, Thou art there.” It was,
no doubt, his hatred of Rome that led him in 1886 to become a
Liberal Unionist.
His Radicalism, however, had always been of a peculiar kind. He
did not believe in “trusting the people,” since most of the people
were miserable sinners. He was not a Pacifist. “Turn the other
cheek,” he used to say, “but if that is smitten too, another law comes
in; you must either go for your man or get away from him.” It was
long, also—not, indeed, until he grew gouty—before he could be got
to adhere to the teetotal movement, while he simply jeered at an
anti-tobacco crusade. Spurgeon himself liked a good cigar; was in no
way an ascetic; lived in style at Norwood, and used to drive to the
Tabernacle in a turnout which would have done credit to a
stockbroker. On the other hand, he was the unrelenting foe of the
theatre, and he denounced dancing as having cost the first Baptist
his head. There was, indeed, in him a great deal more of the old
hard-headed than of the new soft-hearted Puritan. His only
departure from the seventeenth century was in the matter of his
jocularity. It was natural with him—perhaps an inheritance from
some jovial Hollander of the Jan Steen type—but it was also carefully
cultivated. He kept an immense library of funny books to draw on for
pulpit use, and was never more carelessly happy in the telling of a
story than when he had studied it in all its bearings the night before.
He never hesitated to use slang when it seemed to him effective;
witness the following:
“It is always best to go where God sends you. Jonah thought he
would go to Tarshish instead of Nineveh, but when the whale got
hold of him he was sucked in.”
“Though you are teetotallers you must all come to your bier at
last.”
“To some people Bible reading is like flea-catching; they pick up a
thought here and there, hold it between finger and thumb, and then
hop on somewhere else.”
“Seek to possess both unction and gumption.”
These sentences were addressed to candidates for the Baptist
ministry. It is noteworthy that in such Spurgeon always assumed a
lack of refinement—an assumption which would be hotly resented by
the Nonconformist student of to-day. Especially irritating would be
his advice never to drop an aspirate; to the importance of the initial
“H” he was continually reverting. In deeper matters he was insistent
on eternal punishment; to question hell was to question the
Scripture. But he used to say that no doubt God would show “every
consideration” to those predestined to damnation—how he never
explained in detail. He would have been very angry with feminism if
it had been an important thing in his day; woman, he thought,
should be kept in her place; and he despised the man who was
swayed by his wife. He was fond of pointing out that most of the
troubles of the Hebrew patriarchs could be traced to their too much
marriage.
And the rest of the acts of Charles Haddon Spurgeon, the
wideawake that he wore, the clerical coat that he would not wear,
the puns and money that he made, the stones that he weighed, and
the spiritual bread that he dispensed, the sermons that he preached,
the 30,000 printed copies a week that he sold, the men that he
knew, those that he consorted with, and those that he assailed
mightily—are they not written in chronicles of Nonconformity? In due
time Charles Haddon Spurgeon died, and was gathered to his
fathers, and nobody reigned in his stead, and of the mighty house
that he did not build nothing is written anywhere, for, with all his
brightness and breeziness and firm faith and sturdiness and trite
common sense, he lacked all the qualities that go to the building of
anything but a reputation. He had a voice, and after that little.

GENERAL BOOTH.

(From a portrait by J. McLure Hamilton.)

 But for just that which Spurgeon wanted William Booth would
have been another Spurgeon. But to his faith and enthusiasm he
joined something not at all common among religious enthusiasts in
this country. His heart was a chaos of crude and uncontrolled
emotionalism, but he had the head of a ruler. It is a common
reproach against English Protestantism that it does not understand
how to harness spiritual energy. Of that art William Booth was a
master, and in more favouring circumstances he would probably
have been included in the list of founders of mighty religious orders.
It is tempting to speculate what might have been the present
position of the Salvation Army had Booth, who was brought up as a
member of the Church of England, and had certainly no enmity to
that Church, been encouraged to pursue his work within its
communion. Left to himself, he was unable to provide his
organisation with that firm philosophical basis which seems a
necessary condition of permanence in a religious society. He could
invent a hierarchy, but he had to borrow a theology; and the
raggedness of his dogmatic formation was in pathetic contrast with
the splendid “dressing” of his human cohorts. He could offer a dram
to the spiritually fainting, but man cannot live by stimulants alone,
and the Salvation Army had little more in the way of spiritual
nutriment to offer those who began to hunger for something more
solid. Its only expedient was to join the excitement of definite work
to that of cloudy religion. The Army tended even in Booth’s lifetime
to become more and more an organ of social endeavour and less
and less a definitely Christian thing; it was in its lay and not in its
religious character that it won during the Nineties the goodwill of
countless excellent pagans, and was patronised by precisely the
same sort of people who had at first assailed it as the blasphemous
travesty of a sect.
“A bawling, fanatical, send-round-the-hatical, pick-up-the-pence
old pair.” So were Booth and his devoted wife described by Truth in
the early Eighties. Fifteen years later the old “General,” now a
widower, was never mentioned in a reputable paper without
profound respect. The inverted commas had long disappeared, and
even Royalty condescended to compliment him on his fine work for
the “submerged tenth.” But all this recognition was really a sign of
failure. Or, to put the matter less crudely, it was a sign that the
secondary object of the Army had become more important than its
primary aim. Booth had set out first of all to save men’s souls, and
some people threw cabbage stalks at him, while others flung him
jeers and slanders. The applause only came when it was evident
that, with the incidental disadvantage of brass bands and a crazy
vocabulary of enthusiasm, the Army was very useful for distributing
soup and getting firewood chopped.
Booth proved how thin are the partitions dividing the excess of
democracy from autocratic rule. His government was at first purely
paternal. When the family got too large for his personal rule he had
to delegate authority, but every officer whom he put in a position of
trust was given plenary power to the extent of his commission.
“Government by talk” he had tried and put aside. “This method of
work,” he said, “will never shake the Kingdom of the Devil”; and so
he adopted the military system. In this he was probably only
following the suggestion of his own imperious nature. But if he had
been actuated by the deepest craft he could hardly have hit on a
more certain method of keeping his converts together. Men and
women care a great deal less for liberty than for domination; they
will accept most cheerfully subordination for themselves if it affords
them a present chance or a sure prospect of exercising despotic
sway over others. “From the moment,” says Booth, “of our adopting
the simple method of responsible and individual commands and
personal obedience our whole campaign partook of a new character;
in place of the hesitation and almost total want of progress from
which we have been suffering, every development of the work
leaped forward.” The brass band, the flag, and the red jersey
probably had comparatively little to do with the Army’s success.
These were useful to attract attention, and may perhaps have
allured some simple-minded and very unæsthetic people. But apart
from the deeper spiritual elements, the main point, I imagine, was
the fascination of authority. Comfortable people, accustomed to
deference throughout life, have little conception of the hunger for
respect which reigns among those who seldom get it. Indeed, half
our social troubles would be over if the “better” classes could grasp
the simple fact that the “lower” classes are much more sensitive
than themselves on all points of dignity. To a mere factory hand,
man or woman—it was a novelty of the Army that it put the sexes
from the first on an exactly equal footing—it was luxury to put off
insignificance with the work-day clothes and put on importance with
the Army uniform. In the Booth hierarchy there was room for the
pride of the wretched and the ambition of the destitute.
It was the great talent of Booth to put to use the most unlikely
things. His use of vulgarity was very characteristic. The vulgarity of
some other popular preachers of the time was a natural emanation.
But Booth was not naturally vulgar; no man could be with such a
profile. He had really fine manners; to a king he would talk as if he
were an old king himself; and there was never a suggestion in his
intercourse with the greatest either of bumptiousness or servility.
The vulgarity of his methods was of set purpose, like St. Francis’s
hostility to worldly culture, and, though it was at once common form
to inveigh against the coarse profanities of a Salvation Army
meeting, I have found highly sensitive people far less repelled by
their wildest extravagances than by the much more ordinary
irreverence of the regulation “revivalist.” It might not be true to say
that while others vulgarised sacred things Booth sanctified vulgarity.
But it is true that, if one might sometimes smile at his audacities,
they never made one shudder.
In other conditions, as I have said, Booth might have won
immortality as a saint of the Church. In still other circumstances he
might have been a most considerable statesman. His Darkest
England is much more than a philanthropic manifesto. The schemes
outlined in it for dealing with unemployment by training and
emigration are eminently wise and practical, and, if it is permissible
to indulge a regret that his great qualities were not available for the
Church, it may also be suggested that something was lost by the
failure of politicians to make fuller use of his remarkable insight and
experience concerning social problems. The inspiration on these
matters gradually passed from him to the Webbs. It was not,
probably, a change for the better. For though Booth was quite hard-
headed in these concrete matters, he had also that wisdom of the
heart in which Fabianism was deficient. He would say, and quite
justly, in reply to those who argued that the Army attracted people
too lazy for regular work, and actually created a class of
unemployables, that John Jones was outside in the street, without
work or food, and something must be done for him at once; it was
useless to wait for a social revolution. But he was under no illusions
as to the nature of existing society. “There are many vices,” he
wrote, “and seven deadly sins; but of late years many of the seven
have contrived to pass themselves off as virtues. Avarice, for
instance, and Pride, when re-baptised Thrift and Self-Respect, have
become the guardian angels of Christian Civilisation, and as for Envy,
it is the corner-stone upon which much of our competitive system is
founded.” Again: “I am a strong believer in co-operation, but it must
be co-operation based on the spirit of benevolence. I don’t see how
any pacific readjustment of the social and economic relations
between classes in this country can be effected except by the
gradual substitution of co-operative associations for the present
wages system.” Assuredly the man who wrote these things was
something more than a fanatic.
Booth’s decision with regard to his children’s education was most
typical of the man. Certain friends offered to pay the expenses of a
University training for his eldest son. No, said Booth; he should enlist
in the Army at an early age, and go through the usual Salvation
training. Booth was not stupid, and could have had none of the
stupid man’s contempt for education. But he seemed to be a little
afraid of it, and from his own point of view who can say he had not
reason? In the same spirit the Churchmen of the Renaissance fought
against the teaching of Greek, not because they were all fools, but
because some of them foresaw the dangers that actually followed.
Booth was perhaps not wrong in suspecting that the higher
education of his time, while making a man cocksure about things
now debatable or disproved, would tend to make him dubious or
indifferent about things which in his view permitted neither of
incertitude nor of lukewarmness.
But if he hoped thus to secure to the thing he had made the
vitality he had temporarily imparted to it, the hope was doomed to
be disappointed. It could hardly be fulfilled, in any case, if the Army
was to continue in isolation; for the Army was an order rather than a
sect, with a discipline rather than a creed, and in the absence of its
creator’s inspiration its tendency must have been to harden into
formalism. That process had, indeed, begun even before the
General’s death. It was suggested above that during the Nineties the
Salvation Army was wounded by kindness. In the days of its
persecution it was at least free; it had the feeling that it might just
as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. But when the suburbs
threw bouquets instead of stones the Salvationists found that the
respect of the respectable is a chain. They were henceforth fettered.
They could expand, but they could not change. The movement was
canalised and stereotyped; it had won recognition as a useful social
adjunct, and it had to live up to its reputation. It became static in
everything but its statistics. Gradually its tunes have grown old-
fashioned; its uniforms are one with the tight military trouser and
the bustled skirt; the War Cry is as definitely a paper with a past as
Reynolds’s or the Referee. In its way the Army, no doubt, does as
much good as ever. But the limits of that good are known. And it
keeps nobody awake at night thinking of what might happen with
the ferment of a revolutionary Christianity working among the
English poor.
Booth was a great man of his kind—greater far than most of the
Right Honourables and Right Reverends of his day—and it was a
mighty thing that he built from defaced stones and nameless rubble
rejected by all others. But he was too honest to fabricate a new
religion, and a religious order implies a Church to order it.
 CHAPTER XXVII
SOME LAWYERS

Dim enough now is the memory of the Parnell Commission. There

are few who, without reference to record, could give an intelligent
summary of the findings of the unhappy judges whom political
exigency condemned for over a year to take “evidence” concerning a
vast amount of miscellaneous matter incapable of legal proof.
But from the general vagueness of that dreary inquiry there still
stand out in sharp and abrupt relief two main figures. One is that of
an ageing man, bald and bowed, of a threadbare respectability;
respectability, indeed, is the only real thing about him, and to that
god he is presently to make the last sacrifice. Richard Pigott was not,
one imagines, a specially bad man. But, unfortunately for himself,
there was the necessity for him and his to live respectably, and his
situation and endowments did not permit him to live at once
respectably and honestly. He had no kind of settled calling behind
the wall of which he could fruitfully cultivate such small talents as he
possessed. In a shop or an office he might have carried his little
battle of life to the point where one may at least make terms of
dignity with Death. But he had strayed into one of the dangerous
trades. Journalism abounds in perils to all men; it is quite fatal to the
man who lacks both scruple and ability. Richard Pigott was a bravo
with the parts of a small shopkeeper. One of Fagin’s pupils let others
take the risks and glory of burglary; his specialty was the “Kinchin
Lay,” or snatching pence out of the hands of small children. Pigott
belonged to the “kinchin lay” of political journalism; his business was
that of furtive slander and timid lying. He was only used by his
employers for jobs which bigger if not more scrupulous men would
disdain; and as these jobs were neither numerous nor lucrative he
had sunk in middle life to all sorts of miserable stratagems to keep
his small pot boiling. On such service, however, or the pretence of it,
Pigott acquired a certain standing with propagandist auxiliaries of
the Unionist Party, and was eventually employed to collect evidence
connecting Parnellism with crime. He was paid a guinea a day;
expenses were liberally defrayed, and for the first time for many
years the poor hack found himself in clover. During a considerable
period he enjoyed himself at first-class hotels in Ireland, Great
Britain, and on the Continent. But as time went on his patrons,
disappointed with the tame and inconclusive character of the
“evidence,” hinted that something much more sensational was
wanted, or supplies would be stopped. Pigott saw before him a new
plunge, perhaps this time without hope of re-emergence, into the
penury from which he had momentarily escaped. The prospect was
too bleak, and he decided that, whatever happened, his employers
must be satisfied, and the essential something must be supplied. So
he forged certain letters purporting to be written by Mr. Parnell—
letters which, if genuine, would have proved Parnell’s privity to the
Phœnix Park murders, and branded him as a man merely infamous.
These letters had been printed in facsimile as Parnell’s; they were
supported by all the prestige of a great newspaper; and probably a
majority of people in this country still believed they were really
Parnell’s when Richard Pigott first stood up to face the cross-
examination of Sir Charles Russell.
Those who sat through that cross-examination will never forget it.
It is usual to describe such a spectacle as dramatic, and in a sense
this spectacle was. It was, however, the drama not of the theatre,
with its surprises and quick alternations, but of one of those
gigantesque novels of Victor Hugo which depict some devoted
wretch overwhelmed by the slow march of an unrelenting destiny.
For two days Pigott saw closing round him, thread by thread and
mesh by mesh, the net from which death was the sole escape. At
first he was moderately glib and composed. But as the cross-
examination proceeded the miserable man showed in the contortion
of his features, in a brow dank with perspiration, in whitened face
and trembling limb, the agony that oppressed him. It was a sight to
awaken compassion even in those who had suffered most from his
villainy. In his easiest moments Sir Charles Russell was sufficiently
formidable. “A more frigid-looking man,” says his Irish biographer, “it
had never been my fortune to behold.” His eyes were of the kind
that take in everything and give out nothing; in one mood they
seemed to search the very soul of his interlocutor, in another they
were capable of the kind of ferocity that has the effect of physical
shock. It is said that an unfortunate suitor lost his wits at the glare
of Jeffreys, and those who had to do with Russell could find no great
difficulty in believing the legend.
Not a few judges, fenced round with scarlet dignity, felt the terror
of Russell’s manner, and as for the solicitors who brought him briefs,
“the way he treated them,” says a contemporary, “won’t bear
repeating.” Those who knew him best declared that his roughly
imperious manner concealed a kind heart. But there was no cross-
examiner at the Bar whose very personality was more likely to strike
awe into the heart of a witness with something on his conscience.
His strong features—there was something a little sinister in their
expression, the effect, so far as I remember him, of a very decisive
nose just a little out of the straight—could wear a positively terrifying
expression; it was hard to say whether his voice was most deadly
when it sank to a menacing whisper or when it boomed out in tones
of thunder; but above all there was the sense almost of an
elemental force, as resistless and unrelenting as the bog which
engulfs the incautious traveller.
There is no need to describe in detail how the wretched Pigott,
entrapped and bedevilled till there was no possible escape, broke
down under that pitiless torture, made confession during the
adjournment of the court, fled the country, and finally ended his
earthly troubles with a suicide’s bullet. But those two days, in the
words of Lord Rosebery, brought Russell at a bound “from a solid
reputation to supreme eminence.” Russell was not exaggerating
when, in his subsequent speech for Parnell, he claimed to have
reversed the whole position, placing in the dock those who had so
far been the prosecutors. “When I opened this case, my lords,” he
began in low conversational tones, “I represented the accused.”
Then, suddenly allowing his voice to reach its full volume, and
pointing a minatory finger to the place occupied by the Attorney-
General—Sir Richard Webster—he cried, “Now we are the accusers,
and the accused are there.” It was a moment of intense drama.
There was little in what was said. But the manner and the effect
were marvellous; the whole thing was a triumph, not of eloquence,
or of intellect, but of that mysterious force we call personality.
Russell, indeed, was no great orator, even in the law courts, and as a
political speaker he was very far from successful. But he was, in his
own proper way, a great person, and something akin to genius
enabled him to achieve, with less obvious endowments than many
other lawyers—for he was wholly deficient in wit, and was not
exceptionally subtle, or exceptionally learned, or exceptionally gifted
in words—a position as an advocate unequalled in his time. During
the Nineties his earning capacity was far beyond that of any other
lawyer. As early as 1874, when little more than forty, he was making
an income of over ten thousand a year; after the triumph of the
Parnell Commission the value put on his services mounted abruptly,
and in his last full year of practice at the Bar his fees amounted to
over £22,000.
It was a weakness of Russell to boast that he was a pure “Celt,”
by which he probably meant a pure Irishman. But he was really of
Anglo-Norman ancestry, the descendant of one Robert de Rosel who
accompanied Strongbow on the expedition which brought Ireland
under the English Crown. His family was in comfortable
circumstances, devoutly Catholic, and inclined to things of the mind.
Of the children only Charles followed a secular career. His brother
Matthew rose to distinction in the Society of Jesus; his three sisters
became nuns. There is a story that the two boys were once cut off
by the rising tide in Carlingford Lough. Matthew prayed; Charles
whistled. The whistle was heard, and the boys were rescued. But
Charles Russell would at no time have suggested that the appeal to
human aid was more efficacious than the prayer. For he was, in his
own way, not less devout than his brother the Jesuit. The great
advocate, gorged with suitors’ gold, the politician for whom Mr.
Gladstone strained every nerve to secure the Lord Chancellorship,
the man of pleasure so well known wherever horses ran or cards
were played, was in many ways a very different person from the
Belfast solicitor of the Fifties and the struggling barrister of the early
Sixties. But his religion remained a constant with Russell, and,
though it was a shock to him to find his daughter, like her aunts,
determined to take the veil, he accepted the situation with grace,
and his letter yielding to her wishes was as tender and delicately
expressed a renunciation of a father’s natural hopes as can be found
in the language. His religious bias was rather quaintly illustrated in
his views on divorce, not so much on the thing itself as on the
attitude of parties towards it. He had no objection to a woman
seeking relief from the Courts; but he thought she ought to wear
black when doing so. He was always annoyed by a gaily dressed
petitioner. “They may not be sorry,” he used to say, “but they should
at least pretend they are sorry.”
Russell’s fame as an advocate wholly overshadowed his reputation
as a politician. He was twice Attorney-General; he had a place of
importance in the inner councils of the Liberal Party; and he spoke
with industry and intelligence wherever he was wanted to speak. But
he was not at his happiest either in the House of Commons or on
the platform. With fellow-members of Parliament he was too
haughty, and with popular audiences too cold and formal, and his
mind had neither the breadth nor the geniality for the part either of
a statesman or a demagogue. But as Lord Chief Justice he notably
falsified the saying that a great advocate seldom makes a great
judge. Some of his faults of manner remained. He was sometimes a
little arbitrary, and often not a little rough. But he had the one great
quality of getting straight, through all kinds of incidental and
irrelevant matter, at the heart of a case; and the trial of Dr. Jameson
showed his iron disregard for mere popularity. Standing between the
Jury and public opinion, he permitted them no loophole for a verdict
of acquittal. Four years afterwards he said: “Public opinion was
apparently exasperated because any sentence had been passed at
all. When I tried them people said I was too hard on them. Now
people say I was not hard enough.” Lord Russell as a judge and a
Peer turned to account the considerable knowledge of the seamy
side of business life he acquired in his early years as a solicitor and
as an advocate appearing chiefly in commercial suits, and one of his
latest acts was the introduction of a Bill to deal with the evil of
secret commissions. “He was struck down,” wrote a great lawyer
after his death, “before the full measure of his powers as a law
reformer and administrator could be felt.”
Essentially a man of action, finding little solace in literature or art,
his amusements were of the more frivolous kind. He was fond of
racing, boxing, theatres, and billiards, and had a passion for cards
that sometimes made him indifferent in what company he played.
On one occasion this habit exposed him to a cutting retort. A young
Guardsman staying at the same hotel had been asked to make one
of a hand at whist. But Russell, whose partner he was, soon found
that the soldier was very drunk indeed. He bore for a while the
erratic play, but at last threw down his hand, exclaiming, “This is not
whist; it is tomfoolery.” The Guardsman, quite unabashed, told him
to “keep his hair on.” Any kind of familiarity was intolerable to
Russell, and this insolence at once threw him into a towering rage.
“Do you know who I am, sir?” he demanded, with that savage glare
that had frightened so many reluctant witnesses. But the soldier
faced him as coolly as he would have done a battery. “Know you! Of
course I do. But remember, my man, you’re not in your silly old
police court now.” This was precisely the kind of answer which left
Russell helpless. For, though his tastes were a little ordinary and his
manner rather rough, he was incapable of the verbal coarseness
which is in some cases the only rational alternative to silence.
Anything savouring of brutality or looseness was intolerable to him,
and it is said that nobody ever dared twice to tell a doubtful story in
his presence. He contributed little to the jollity of the Bar mess on
circuit, and in ordinary society was inclined to silence, though he
could occasionally tell well enough a story of the kind he liked.
 Mr. Balfour is credited with saying once that if he and Lord
Randolph Churchill had gone to the Bar they must have made forty
thousand a year instead of the twenty thousand or so which then
represented the high-watermark of forensic success. Few would go
so far as to make such a claim. But most people must sometimes
have wondered, in watching the great barrister in an unfamiliar
environment, how much of his eminence is due to sheer intellect.
Certainly very few high reputations in the Courts are increased in
politics, and those barristers who do succeed in the House of
Commons are generally rather lightly regarded in the Law Courts.
Lord Russell was an example of the great lawyer who is also a great
personality but is hardly a man of great general elevation. His mind,
though vigorous and acute, was essentially narrow; the sap of his
intellect was directed almost exclusively to things immediate and
practical. On all general questions he lagged behind the opinion of
his time. Thus, though he early took a keen interest in Irish politics,
and in his later years seldom spoke on anything but Home Rule, his
conversion to that cause did not ante-date Mr. Gladstone’s. He had
always held that, if Home Rule was necessary, it must come
gradually through extensions of local government, but he did not
regard it as necessary. Yet he had no difficulty in following Mr.
Gladstone when the split came. The truth was that, considered from
a worldly point of view, he was mainly a professional man, with
professional ambitions and professional thoughts, and politics were
to him, rather more than to most lawyers, a means of rounding off
his career as an advocate. At the same time, he had no small share
of the temperament that made so many of his family embrace a
religious life. Money and position were realities; so was religion;
other things were less real. It is a temperament puzzling to people in
Protestant countries, who understand neither the griping materialism
of the Papist peasant nor the scarcely less materialistic mysticism of
the Papist peasant’s brother who happens to be a saint. But it is a
temperament very Irish, and Russell, though his frigidity made him
most unlike the “typical” Irishman of our conceptions, was an
Irishman to the core.
 Lord Russell’s contemporary and rival, Sir Richard Webster, who
succeeded him as Lord Chief Justice under the title of Lord
Alverstone, was in every way his opposite. Russell had personality
and a touch of genius; Webster was wholly destitute of atmosphere.
Russell often carried judge and jury with him by sheer momentum;
with Webster it was dogged that did it. Russell, if not excessively
Irish on the surface, was, for good or ill, wholly un-English in any
part of him; Webster was a most authentic specimen of the
Englishman in his least exciting aspect. He was the kind of man who
has always been a source of splendid strength to this country—the
man who can ever be depended on to do good, honest, sterling
work, and is never under suspicion of dangerous brilliance. Whether
the task be trying a murderer, or ruling an Eastern province, or
running a civil service department, or writing a column for Punch, it
is to men like Webster that our confidence is mainly given, and we
are never really easy unless they are in a majority. Webster
happened to go in for law, his family circumstances tending that
way. But when Lord Salisbury suddenly brought him into politics,
making him a law officer before he had a seat in the House of
Commons, he at once attained the same sort of success in
Parliament that he had achieved at the Bar. If he had gone from
Trinity College, Cambridge, to Trichinopoly, it would have been the
same. Such men as Webster never fail, even as comic singers.
Webster sang a very excellent comic song, and would often do so in
congenial company, even after he had reached the Bench. And he
ran a capital mile race, was great over hurdles, played a good game
of cricket, cycled much when the bicycle was out of fashion, and to
the end of his life read the sporting papers with at least as much
interest as the Law Times.
In a word, there was much health in him, and quite as much
ability as he wanted for his purpose. The one thing he lacked was a
touch of distinction. That horrible word “level-headed” was not
inapplicable to him. If Webster was never, in any circumstances,
below a certain standard, he paid the penalty of never rising above
it. Nobody ever said, nobody ever did, fewer notable things. He had
some very big jobs as an advocate: he led for the Crown before the
Parnell Commission; he prosecuted Jabez Balfour, the Liberator
swindler; he prosecuted the authors of the Jameson Raid; he served
as junior to Russell in the Behring Sea arbitration; and he was
leading counsel for this country in the Venezuela arbitration. The
praise showered on him for his conduct of these great international
cases was undoubtedly deserved. But the quality of the praise is
worth notice. “The care and preciseness with which he prepared the
cases,” says an authority, “bore traces of tremendous labour. Unlike
the American lawyers, who dealt principally in general propositions,
Webster advanced no point that could not be legally supported and
defended.” Webster was, in fact, an almost perfect specimen of the
matter-of-fact British lawyer who, having a complete contempt for
first principles, and a vast reverence for precedent and punctilio, is
“greatly trusted and respected by solicitors.” He was helped by a
ponderously earnest and almost prayerful manner, which suggested
that a certain moral obliquity, and an element not quite English, you
know, resided with the side opposed to him.

If Sir Richard Webster had been just a little more “English,” a good
deal less able, and far less learned, he might have made another Mr.
Justice Grantham. There was just the sort of resemblance between
the two men that obtains between a first-rate portrait and a very
wild and wicked caricature. Both were intensely Conservative,
intensely respectable, intensely unimaginative, intensely moral and
well-meaning. But Mr. Justice Grantham, like necessity, knew no law,
while Lord Alverstone knew a great deal; and Lord Alverstone had
the judicial temperament in full measure, while Mr. Justice Grantham
could not, without severe mental discomfort, listen to more than one
side of a case. His ordinary course was to take a glance at both
litigants; that was generally sufficient, but if both seemed equally
objectionable he might be impelled to take sides according as he
liked or disliked counsel. Taking a side was quite necessary to him. I
remember one case in which he suffered, for quite a little time, the
agonies of choice. The issue lay between an Englishman who had
become some sort of heathen and a naturally black and heathen
man. As an intensely religious English gentleman Sir William
Grantham was bound to disapprove very strongly of anybody who
threw away the advantages of having been born a “happy English
child.” But at least equally he did not like colour. For about a quarter
of an hour his bosom was torn by conflicting feelings; then he made
up his mind that the calls of blood were paramount, and for the rest
of the hearing went strongly against the hapless dark-skinned
litigant. Judicially Sir William Grantham was simply the Great
Reversible. Personally he was an extraordinarily good-hearted man,
and those who had least respect for his judicial qualities were among
his warmest friends. There was not a dry eye in the Law Courts
when it became known that he had been called before the highest of
all tribunals.

A very different type of lawyer was Sir Francis Jeune, the famous
President of the Divorce Court. A handsome, bearded man, with
features of a slightly Semitic cast, and courtly manners not quite
English—he was born in Jersey, though little of his life had been
spent there—he was, both professionally and socially, one of the
best-known figures of the Nineties. His wife, the widow of a Peer’s
younger son, was a great entertainer, and her fondness for
everything either “smart” or intellectual was a considerable factor in
breaking down the barriers which still existed between “the classes”
and mere talent or mere money. Judges seldom make much figure in
society; and in the Nineties there still clung to them as a class much
of that Bohemian character which derived from the days when
Circuit duty implied a lengthy banishment from London and a rough
bachelor life in the Assize towns. Mr. Justice Hawkins, later Lord
Brampton, was not perhaps quite typical of his brethren, and the
exaggerated untidiness of Lord Justice Vaughan Williams was
exceptional. But not less exceptional was the combination of
scholarliness and mondaine aplomb of Sir Francis Jeune. As a
divorce judge he had a perfect style; it could hardly have been
beaten by the bedside manner of a Royal physician. It was a delight
to hear him interpreting the degree of affection implied in a wife’s
reference to her husband as “my dear little black piggie.” No man
was more apt in discussing the psychology of sex. In one case he
showed, by a wealth of refined analysis and historical allusion, how
while it was quite possible for a man to be in love with two women
at the same time, and leave each in the belief that she was the sole
mistress of his heart, no woman was capable of such liberality or
such dissimulation. He was a great advocate of temporary separation
as a possible cure for ills matrimonial; “absence,” he held, “often
made the heart grow wiser.” A rigid moralist might have ventured the
criticism that the delightful man-of-the-world way in which Sir
Francis dealt with suits and suitors was prejudicial to the interests of
marriage; a divorce as managed by him seemed so entirely ordinary
and innocent an affair. But, suave as he was, he could be strong on
occasion, and he once committed a Duchess to prison with the most
perfect and relentless good breeding. Ordinarily he shunned the rôle
of judicial humorist; Mr. Justice Darling was then a very young
judge, and the older jesters were of the coarser genre. But
occasionally a good thing came out accidentally. Thus it was once
pointed out that he had joined in prayers at the Archbishops’ Court,
whose competence was impugned in the case then being argued.
“Yes,” said Sir Francis, “but I prayed without prejudice.”

The name of Lord Coleridge has a very far-away sound; yet,

though he was born in 1820 and called in 1847, he was still a great
figure in the early Nineties. It was a majestic sight to see him rise
sweepingly from the Bench at the close of a sitting. He was six feet
three in height, erect and sturdy, though not corpulent, and this tall
column of manhood was crowned by an appropriately noble capital;
his head was large and finely shaped, and his features, while strong
and significant, were suffused with a benignancy of expression
which might be occasionally misleading. For he could say very nasty
things in his gentle and delicately modulated voice—a voice the
beauty of which Sir Charles Russell had never known surpassed. As
a cross-examiner he had shown deadly power in his days of
advocacy. The smashing of the Tichborne pretender had been one of
his great forensic feats; during the larger part of the cross-
examination his drift was not generally appreciated, but when he sat
down the fraud was completely unmasked, and at the subsequent
trial for perjury it was found that Coleridge had, in the words of a
commentator, “stopped all the earths.” He died in the spring of 1894,
after over twenty years in the great post of Lord Chief Justice. He
was undoubtedly a very great judge, but, being on a large scale all
round, his faults were not exactly small. His temper was despotic,
his language could be bitter, he had many dislikes, and was at once
subtle and indiscreet. A fondness for society, going with a disposition
to fall foul of many units in society, naturally led to many collisions,
and he was as constant in his feuds as in his friendships. Even in his
old age he could, if the matter were of sufficient importance, rouse
himself to great mental efforts. But those who saw him presiding
over his Court in the early Nineties were chiefly conscious of
dignified somnolence, and the alertness and vitality of his successor,
Russell, seemed almost indecent after the repose that had reigned
so long.
Lord Coleridge was one of those lawyers who retain their political
prejudices in unmitigated form after translation to the Bench; he was
to the last as dogmatic a Liberal as Grantham was a Conservative.
Thus in 1892 he wrote to a correspondent, “I am out of politics, of
course, but I would go far and do much to destroy the Unionists. To
them and them alone is due coercion and all the train of evils and
the denial of obvious and safe improvements in England and
Scotland. I have no feeling against the Tories; there must be such
people in every old-established and aristocratic country, and they at
least are honest and act steadily on principle. But a Unionist who
pretends to be and calls himself a Liberal, and who for seven long
years has voted for everything reactionary and entirely opposed to
his creed—I have no patience with these men.” We hear much now
about the degradation of the Press. Lord Coleridge thought the
solemn London papers of the early Nineties, though “rather better
educated” than the American, “to the full as vile,” and “with a
swagger and insufferable pretence and self-assertion” from which
American journalism was free. Moreover, the “Court and aristocracy
degrade the independence and corrupt the manners of the vast
numbers who are brought within their influence.” It can be well
understood that a man holding such opinions, and expressing them
with such vigour, was only popular among those who thought with
him. For the rest, Lord Coleridge was fond of good pictures, good
music, good living, and good stories. He was not himself the hero of
many anecdotes, but one may serve. He was sitting in Court with Mr.
Justice Groves one day when a slip of paper was handed up to the
Bench conveying the news of a most unexpected judicial
appointment. Groves exclaimed, “Well, I am damned.” “My learned
brother,” said Coleridge, “I do not indulge in profane language
myself, but if you would repeat that word it would really relieve my
mind.”

No survey of the legal landscape of the Nineties would be

complete without some reference to that most individual figure, Sir
Frank Lockwood. Of middle-class Yorkshire birth, Lockwood inherited
from his father a facility in caricature and from his mother a keen
sense of humour. He was meant for the Church, and sent to
Cambridge with orders in view. But his lively nature rebelled against
this decorous career, and after he had taken his degree and spent a
little time in tutoring he decided to go to the Bar. His first case was a
formal appearance to give consent on the part of a certain
corporation; the fee was three guineas for the brief and one guinea
for consultation. A rather testy judge remarked on the unnecessarily
large number of counsel appearing. “You, sir,” he demanded, turning
to Lockwood, “what are you here for?” “Three and one, m’lud;
merely three and one,” was the soft answer, which did not turn away
judicial wrath, but did attract professional attention to the young
barrister.
Lockwood is a singular and almost unique example of a barrister
making a very creditable success by abandoning himself frankly to
the very side of his temperament which would seem least likely to
help him in so grave a profession. He throve on a studied light-
heartedness. His parts were not specially quick; he had a
fundamental common-sense, but little more, and if he had taken
himself quite seriously it is likely the legal world would have taken
him quite lightly. But it was not easy for judges or witnesses or
jurymen to resist the fascination of his cheery presence and genial
humour. His jokes were always cracked with a shrewd eye to
business, and many of them would not have sounded very amusing
outside a court of justice. But they were above the ordinary level of
forensic humour, and there came to be a recognised “Lockwood
brief.” The character of a jester was also useful as leading to a wide
journalistic renown. “Lockwood’s latest” went the rounds as merrily
as the sparkling witticisms of the facetious lodger of Mrs. Todgers.
The paragraphists were delighted to narrate how Lockwood, seeing
a Scottish host sign for himself and his wife in the traditional
Highland way, “Cluny and Mrs. McPherson,” himself wrote, “26,
Lennox Gardens, S.W., and Mrs. Lockwood.” With equal glee they
told how Mr. Lockwood went to a chapel where his Nonconformist
friend, Mr. Samuel Danks Waddy, Q.C., was advertised to give a brief,
bright, and brotherly address, and how Waddy turned the tables on
him by solemnly giving out that “Brother Lockwood would now lead
in prayer.”
“It amuses my friends very much,” said Mr. Peter Magnus when
telling Mr. Pickwick that his initials were P.M., and that in notes to
intimate friends he sometimes signed himself “Afternoon.” Mr.
Pickwick was secretly “envious of the ease with which Mr. Magnus’s
friends were amused,” and no doubt a professional merry-maker
must have sighed over the inexpensive triumphs of Sir Frank
Lockwood. But the thing did what it was intended to do, and on the
strength of his caricatures and his jokes, far more than by any
conspicuous ability, Lockwood climbed to a Recordership, a seat in
Parliament, a good social position, and finally the Solicitor-
Generalship.
 His early death seemed the more pathetic because of his intense
enjoyment of life and the unusual bounty with which Fate had so far
treated one who was after all but a light-weight. He had always been
a little nervous about his physical health and not a little anxious lest
his professional standing should diminish. Thinking thus, he had his
eye on the Bench. Lord Halsbury, whose professional sympathies
were even stronger than his political prejudices, was favourable, and
called on him during the last month of his life. But it was too plainly
evident that Lockwood’s course was run, and the well-meaning visit
could have no result. “He must have felt,” said Lockwood to Mr.
Birrell a day or two later, glancing at his own wasted frame, “that I
should make an excellent puisne judge.”
Lockwood’s personal opinion of litigation is perhaps worth
quotation. “Never by any chance,” he wrote to a relative, “become
involved in any difficulties which will bring you into a court of law of
higher jurisdiction than a police court. An occasional drunk and
disorderly will do you no harm and only cost you five shillings.
Beyond a little indulgence of this kind—beware.”
 CHAPTER XXVIII
OLD AND NEW JOURNALISTS

What we do, are, and suffer journalistically was determined for us

in the Nineties. The decade was the meeting-ground of opposing
forces, and the battle between them was largely fought to a decision
before the end. In 1890 the old “solid” journalism—and it was very
solid indeed—decidedly enjoyed pride of place; the newer journalism
was not too firmly established; the newest journalism had conquered
but an insignificant portion of the weekly Press, and had gained no
daily representative.
Ten years later the whole scene was changed. The old journalism
was manifestly stricken to death, though it took an unconscionable
time to die. The newer journalism—its most typical representative
was The Star—had advanced but slightly. The newest journalism—
that of Alfred Harmsworth and his imitators—was in the heyday of
youthful vigour, very much alive, and perpetually kicking. It is not
easy to find a parallel to a change so swift, so silent, and so
complete—a change, moreover, so powerful and various in its effect,
for the newest journalism, with its loud and simple Imperialism, its
indifference to party ties, its lack of interest in moral or religious
questions, its intense concern in wealth and the manifestations of
wealth, has contributed as much as anything to the digging of that
great spiritual gulf which separates us from the Victorian time.
At the beginning of the Nineties the older newspaper Press
seemed to enjoy all the prestige which had been its since Gladstone
made a cheap Press possible. The “great dailies” were not largely
circulated, as circulations now go; they were very cheaply
conducted, by all modern standards of expenditure; they had few
interests, apart from politics; they do not seem, to one who turns
over the yellow files, conspicuously well written. But they
commanded an almost idolatrous respect. The average of British
mankind took his paper not much less seriously than his passbook,
and rather more seriously than his Bible. The journalist himself
might still, perhaps, be rather lightly regarded; there might be men
still who, like George Warrington, blushed when they confessed to
making an honest living out of pen and ink.

“I write,” said Warrington. “I don’t tell the world that

I do so,” he added with a blush. “I do not choose that
questions should be asked; or perhaps I am an ass,
and don’t wish it to be said that George Warrington
writes for bread.”

But the same Warrington—a much more delicious snob than any
in his creator’s special book on that species—could indulge in such a
rhapsody on the Press as the following:

They were passing through the Strand as they

talked, and by a newspaper office, which was all
lighted up and bright. Reporters were coming out of
the place, or rushing up to it in cabs; there were lamps
burning in the editors’ rooms, and above where the
compositors were at work; the windows of the building
were in a blaze of gas.
“Look at that, Pen,” Warrington said. “There she is—
the great engine—she never sleeps. She has her
ambassadors in every quarter of the world—her
couriers upon every road. Her officers march along
with armies, and her envoys walk into statesmen’s
cabinets. They are ubiquitous. Yonder journal has an
agent, at this minute, giving bribes in Madrid, and
another inspecting the price of potatoes in Covent
Garden. Look! Here comes the Foreign Express
galloping in. They will be able to give news to Downing