THE PROTECTOR OF NEUTRAL COUNTRIES—THE LIBERATOR OF EUROPE
SECOND HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
France set herself, with remarkable energy, to rebuild her fleet, which
had been annihilated in 1759. But the decision came too late, and the
errors of past years could not be repaired. Matters stood somewhat more
favorably in the case of Spain; but England had long since forgotten to
fear the Spaniards at sea, and rightly so, for the latter have never
shown themselves equal to the English on the waters.
In the third quarter of the 18th century, began the American War of
Independence; both in France and Spain the hope of crushing the pirate
empire dawned again. This hope was destined to end in disappointment;
once more was the Continent vanquished by the Island. True, England was
often in difficulties, on account of the immense extension of the seat
of war; but, as far as her struggle with France and Spain was concerned,
it was in reality decided as soon as it began. A very important factor
of English success and English strength in all these wars, was the skill
with which England’s statesmen and admirals invariably treated the
Continent as a whole. We have more than once drawn attention to the fact
that not only England’s enemies, but also neutral countries, and even
England’s friends, had to suffer during a maritime war. Under the
pretext of damaging the enemy, all trade was forbidden alike with
hostile and with neutral ports; and the English captured impartially
every ship that sailed the seas under foreign flag. This policy,
consistently followed out, had the result of gradually eliminating the
flags of all neutral and hostile countries, and of replacing them by the
English flag. With special rigor had England maintained a claim first
advanced by her during the Dutch wars: namely, that of seizing on
neutral ships cargoes destined for the enemy. During the war between
England, on the one hand, and France and Spain, on the other, neutral
shipping in the North and the Baltic Seas had suffered greatly; for
England did not wish France and Spain to obtain corn and wood from the
countries bordering the Baltic. Thereupon France and Spain allied
themselves with Russia, Sweden, and Denmark; and the “armed neutrality
of the Baltic Powers” was proclaimed under Russia’s leadership. Here at
last we see an effort made by a part of the Continent to offer joint
resistance to the monstrous claims and the insatiable greed of England,
and to demand just and considerate treatment. The following concessions
were required from Great Britain: immunity of the enemy’s cargoes
carried under neutral flag; arms and munitions alone to be contraband,
and not foodstuffs nor wood for building purposes—provided they be not
destined for the Government of a belligerent nation; neutral ships to
have the right of going to the unblockaded ports of a belligerent
country, and of carrying on trade along the latter’s coasts; lastly,
blockades to be only recognised when a sufficient naval force
effectively bars the entrance to the blockaded port.
We need scarcely point out how closely the demands made by the neutral
Powers in 1780 resemble those formulated in 1914–15. Not only does this
hold good of the definition of the word “contraband”; but also of the
demand that a harbor or a coast shall be considered as legally blockaded
only when the blockade is effective, i. e. when a sufficient fleet is
present to enforce it. This claim was raised, in 1780, against one of
the worst of England’s traditional methods of warfare. It had always
been the custom of the English simply to declare a coast to be
“blockaded”—even when no English ships were in the neighborhood. This
was the so-called “paper-blockade,” or, as the French called it, _le
blocus anglais_: a most convenient invention! Such a method released the
English fleet from all the duties incumbent on the blockading party; it
permitted English trade to reap free of cost all the advantages of the
blockade, e. g. the right of seizure of all vessels, neutral or hostile,
etc.; it rendered the Continent wholly dependent on English ships for
its sea communications. Concerning this question, and also concerning
the other, to the effect that the neutral flag may cover cargo destined
for the enemy or exported by the latter, England had been negotiating
with the leading Continental Powers during more than a hundred years.
England had often admitted the demands in question, but only in times of
peace. When herself engaged in war, she despised such international
agreements as much then as now.
One after another nearly all the Continental Powers, including Prussia,
joined the Armed Neutrality League. When Holland decided to follow suit,
England declared war on her, and the insatiable vulture flung itself on
to the Dutch colonies. Mahan writes: “The principal effect ... of the
armed neutrality upon the war was to add the colonies and commerce of
Holland to the prey of English cruisers.... The possessions of Holland
fell everywhere, except when saved by the French....”
At first, and as long as the American War of Independence lasted,
England showed herself disposed to agree to the proposals of the League
of Armed Neutrality. But she refused to allow the Baltic Powers to
participate in the peace negotiations, and subsequently declared: the
demands of the League, that is to say in substance the conditions of the
Peace of Utrecht, hold good for the contracting parties exclusively! In
this way were the very Powers excluded, who had been the first to
protest against the unjust treatment of neutral nations. It was also
proclaimed in the House of Commons that the doctrine concerning the
“effective blockade” the limitation of the term “contraband” to war
supplies, and the right of the enemy’s cargoes to sail under neutral
flag, were not considered by the British Government as in any way
binding the latter for the future. Thus had the League of Armed
Neutrality contributed to the development of a propaganda in favor of
the recognition of certain principles of international maritime law; but
it had achieved no practical result whatever. Ten years later the League
itself was dissolved. England then succeeded in stirring up the Czaritza
against revolutionary France. An agreement was drawn up, according to
the terms of which a Russian fleet was assigned the task of preventing
all communication between France and the neutral Scandinavian countries.
All these are events, the importance of which may appear to the reader,
by comparison with the epoch-making occurrences of that period, to be
insufficient to warrant their recounting in detail here. But none the
less are they important. It was certainly of more than passing
importance that the attempt made by all the neutral Continental Powers
to ally themselves against the English pirate, and to obtain in this way
recognition of the right of neutrals—that this attempt should have been
vain. To-day the neutral countries are astonished and indignant at the
matter-of-course manner in which Great Britain tramples all
international law and custom under foot. They cannot understand that the
only excuse alleged by her should be: it is unfortunately necessary that
the neutrals be compelled to suffer, seeing that Germany, the chief
enemy of Great Britain, must be crushed. About 130 years separate us
from the period of the Armed Neutrality of 1780. Many international
conferences have been held during these thirteen decades; many
agreements have been made concerning the laws of maritime warfare, and
especially concerning the right of neutral shipping in time of war. An
immense quantity of books have been written on the subject; and in no
other connection have we heard so much about the growing solidarity of
civilised people being promoted by the increased means of communication.
The nineteenth century, and the beginning of the twentieth, were periods
in which international phrases were held in high honor. The European
States—and not only the weaker ones—believed that a lot of printed paper
was sufficient to suppress the Englishman’s thieving instincts. They
thought that it was enough to talk about rights, and duties, and
solidarity; and that the civilised British nation had accepted the
principle of the existence of a supreme international law, equally
operative in times of peace and war. The disappointment was hence all
the greater—but those who shared it got what they deserved. How could
any reasonable person believe that methods systematically and
successfully adopted during centuries—that the fundamental instincts of
the English nation and the underlying principles of English policy: that
all this would suddenly be abandoned, annihilated, simply because the
Continental States hoped that it would be so, and talked about the
possibility of it happening? In England people spoke a lot, and
eloquently, about humanity and civilisation. But for every English
statesman and admiral it was self-evident that, in war, everything would
remain exactly as it always had been. It would be worth while to follow
attentively the attitude adopted by England, throughout the centuries,
not only towards the above-mentioned questions of maritime law, but
towards a great many others, and to present the results of that inquiry
to the astonished eyes of our readers. The latter would then perceive
that, under altered forms, English aims and methods have remained
invariably the same since the sixteenth century up till the present day.
Maritime war is destined by Providence to serve the ends of the Chosen
People; such wars are for them times of abundant harvest; and it is the
duty of the English people, of its statesmen and admirals, to see that
the Will of Providence is duly carried out.
The harvests reaped by England as a result of her pirate wars had always
been substantial. But the greatest harvest of all, the reaping of which
should be decisive in the influence—economic and political—exerted by it
on Britain’s future evolution, was still to come.
In 1789 the French Revolution broke violently out, on the occasion of
the summoning of the States-General in Paris. Two years later, Louis XVI
and his family were brought back to the capital as prisoners, their
attempted flight having been intercepted. Hereupon the Continental
Powers allied themselves against France with the avowed intention of
“employing every means in view of enabling the King of France to
consolidate freely, and without let or hindrance, the foundations of the
monarchy.” On behalf of Great Britain, William Pitt the Younger declared
that he declined to intervene in any way in the internal affairs of
another State.
The war against France commenced, and luck favored the French arms;
after a short time the French troops entered the Austrian Netherlands,
i. e. Belgium. At the same time the National Convention issued a decree,
declaring the Scheldt to be henceforth open, in conformity with the law
of nature. In order to enforce this decree without delay, and in such a
manner as to remove all misunderstandings, a French fleet entered the
Scheldt and blockaded Antwerp, already besieged by the army. This
happened in November, 1792. Shortly afterwards the British Government
declared that it would never see with indifference a French occupation
of the Netherlands; and that it could not admit France’s claim to act as
general arbitress of the rights and liberties of Europe. On January 21st
1793 Louis XVI was guillotined; and a little later the French Ambassador
in London received from the British Government a brief and very impolite
notice, to the effect that he must leave London within a week. This was
but the prelude to war between France and England.
From the outset it was perfectly evident that the British Government
would seek to wage this war in the name of one of those high-sounding
principles, by means of which England has invariably sought to cloak her
real designs. Nothing could have been more welcome to English Ministers
than the death of Louis XVI. Full of noble indignation, with heaving
breast and flashing eyes, the old pirate of the seas rose to arms.
France, it was said, must receive her punishment for the murder of the
King and for the atrocities of the Revolution; in view of the terrible
crimes committed it was wholly impossible for England to remain
disinterested, as Pitt had promised. England sacrifices all egotistical
considerations, and makes the cause of monarchical Europe her own.
To-day we are better able to judge the utterances of English statesmen
and of the English press; and we can imagine the superb virtuosity, the
wonderful skill, with which the “interests of Europe” and the
“atrocities of the Revolution” were exploited, in order to keep the
Continental nations in the dark as to the real motives underlying
England’s intervention in the war. As a matter of fact, these motives
were to be sought in the occupation of Belgium by French troops, and in
the opening of the Scheldt. “It was not the execution of the King, but
the conquest of Belgium, which drove England into war.” The English
historian Seeley goes still deeper into the question, when he says: “The
fight for the acquisition of new markets for English goods at the
expense of the growing French industry, was at once keener and more
popular than the fight against the Revolution.” Alexander von Peez and
Paul Dehn, the authors of that excellent book _England’s Vorherrschaft
aus der Zeit der Continentalsperre_, comment as follows on Seeley’s
words: “Commercial jealousy was reinforced by political fear. France
might be strengthened by the Revolution, even as England had been by her
own revolutions in 1649 and 1689; and the former might, in consequence,
become a very dangerous rival. The more prominent was the part played in
the world by France, and the more did England consider herself injured
and menaced. It was not the liberties of Europe that English statesmen
regarded as threatened, but rather England’s commercial and industrial
monopoly.” Every word of this statement is true.
England now proceeded to set all Europe in motion, in order to drive the
French out of Belgium and to prevent the Belgian and Dutch sea-coast
from falling into the hands of a rival naval Power. British gold flowed
once more in an uninterrupted stream into Europe, as it always did
whenever there was a probability of doing a really successful business
“deal” on a large scale. Revolutionary France had indeed done everything
that was necessary to provide England with the most admirable pretexts;
for had it not abolished the Christian religion? Can we not imagine how
the Englishman’s pious heart must have swollen within him? For the sole
purpose of protecting religion and morals England was only too happy to
be able to give money! Nothing characterises better the great comedy—the
background of which Europe would seem not even yet to have
perceived—than the literature of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Era.
The noble-heartedness of the free and pious Englishman is sung to every
tune; the _leitmotiv_ is invariably furnished by the noble and generous
nation which, albeit in safety on its island, endeavors with motherly
solicitude to diminish the sufferings of the Continental peoples, and
which, animated by the marvellous spirit of self-sacrifice, fights
indefatigably the good fight for religion, freedom, and order.
It is necessary, now, to turn our attention for a short while to
Belgium, and especially to the question of the Scheldt. The independence
of the Northern Netherlands had been recognised by the Treaty of
Westphalia (1648); the latter thus gave legal sanction to Holland’s
total separation from the powerless German Empire—a separation that had
existed _de facto_ for a very long time. The Southern Netherlands, i. e.
Belgium, remained Spanish property until 1713, when they were handed
over by the Treaty of Utrecht to Austria. This state of affairs
continued to exist until the outbreak of the wars between France and the
European Coalition.
The Treaty of Westphalia compelled Spain to give her consent to the
closing of the Scheldt. The Dutch States-General had declared that, for
Holland, this measure was one of vital importance; for if Antwerp were
to become a great and prosperous port, Amsterdam and Rotterdam must
necessarily suffer by it to a greater extent than Holland, with her
small resources, could bear. Consequently was the Scheldt closed,
Antwerp’s trade was ruined, and a terrible blow was dealt at Belgium’s
prosperity. In reality, the closing of the Scheldt was due not so much
to Dutch as to English influence. English statesmen had known for
centuries what the result would be if Antwerp were to fall into the
hands of a great Power; and that England’s trade would certainly derive
no advantage—to say the least—from the existence of a prosperous port at
the other side of the Channel, at the mouth of the Scheldt, close to the
Rhine, the Meuse, and the Thames. A more convenient maritime position,
and better means of communication with an immense commercial hinterland,
than those possessed by Antwerp, cannot be imagined; in those days, when
railroads did not exist, the situation was even superior to what it is
to-day. The closing of the Scheldt was equivalent, under these
circumstances, to the drying-up of an unusually rich source of trade and
wealth, and even sea power. The restless mind of the Emperor Joseph II
understood this, and he decided to demand the re-opening of the river.
Holland, backed up by England, resisted the demand; negotiations ensued,
which lasted several years. Mahan remarks that “Again, in 1784, she
(England) was forced to look with anxiety—less on account of Austria
than of France—upon this raising of the question of the Scheldt. There
was little cause to fear Austria becoming a great sea power now, when
she had held the Netherlands three-fourths of a century without becoming
such; but there was good reason to dread that the movements in progress
might result in increasing her rival’s sea power and influence—perhaps
even her territory—in the Low Countries.” Mahan neglects to tell us how
England’s jealousy of Austria manifested itself at that time—just as it
had done on previous occasions. At the beginning of the 18th century,
Austria had founded an East Indian trading company in Ostend. As
Alexander von Peez tells us, the enterprise flourished, and thereby
excited naturally the envy and suspicion of the English. “England
created difficulties for the Emperor on the Rhine, and at the same time
despatched envoys to the Great Mogul in India, who represented the
Emperor as the principal enemy of Mohammedanism. For this purpose,
certain highly-colored descriptions of the battles of Peterwardein and
Belgrade were given. Finally in 1727 the company was dissolved, as a
consequence of English threats.” We would remark that certainly no other
European Power could have been maltreated and exploited by England, as
Austria was; but then the German Empire of that time was not a Great
Power!
Emperor Joseph II soon gave up insisting on the opening of the Scheldt,
for other things occupied his restless mind. France paid him an
indemnity; and her statesmen drew the conclusion that it was henceforth
permissible for them to develop relations of intimacy with Belgium, and
to sign a military and naval convention with the latter. This policy of
France was directed against England; it showed that the French statesmen
understood the real motives by which Great Britain was actuated. It is
possible that they were also of the opinion that, in the event of the
Belgian question becoming acute, it would be of the greatest importance
for France if Belgium were not on England’s side. This was in 1785; and
during the following years English diplomacy did everything it could to
win over Holland.
Such was, then, the position of matters when, in 1793, the attack of the
European Powers on France resulted in the conquest of Belgium by French
troops, and in the opening of the Scheldt.
At first sight it would seem as if there were a certain similarity
between the attitude of England at that date, and her ultimatum to
Germany in 1914. There is certainly some resemblance between the two
attitudes, but there is also a fundamental difference—namely, that
Belgium, in 1793, was Austrian territory; and Austria was at war with
France. France sent her troops into Belgium in order to conquer the
latter; and she sent her fleet to open up a port of incomparable
commercial value. The French Government intended, from the beginning, to
keep Belgium; in fact, the possession of the whole of the Netherlands
had been for centuries one of the chief objects of the Kings of
France—and such an object could not possibly be attained except by
conquest. Austria had, in conjunction with the other Continental Powers,
attacked France, and the latter was in her right in invading Austrian
territory. The French Government subsequently declared that its troops
would evacuate Belgium; but it is doubtful whether it would have
permitted the Scheldt to be closed again. The occupation of Belgium,
however, together with the opening up of the river, afforded England a
sufficient reason to declare war on France. Only a short time before
this, the British Government had manifested the firm intention of not
intervening in the Continental war; its desire had merely been to
inflict, in accordance with its traditions, as much harm as possible on
the shipping trade of belligerents and neutrals; and if the occasion had
presented itself, it would have gladly seized a colony or a naval
station belonging to one of the nations at war. English statesmen had
judged a policy of “watchful waiting” to be the best—especially as the
British fleet was at that time not quite equal to its task. But in those
days of wooden ships, and in view of England’s colossal resources, the
defects of the navy could very soon be repaired.
In 1914 the German Empire was attacked by Russia and France. The German
Government requested Belgium, an independent but neutralised country, to
allow the German armies to march through Belgian territory; it gave,
further, every necessary guarantee to the effect that no territorial
acquisitions were intended; it pointed out that military necessities
alone dictated its request, and it promised compensation for all damage
done. It likewise undertook to pay cash for all the provisions needed by
its troops. Great Britain at once agitated the spectre of Belgian
neutrality, and declared that the entry of German troops into Belgium
must entail a declaration of war by the London Cabinet. A short time
afterwards documents were found in Brussels, which showed that England,
France, and Belgium had entered into a military agreement in 1906 with a
view to preparing a joint attack on Germany. Since that date,
consequently, a neutral Belgium had _de facto_ no longer existed.
Belgium—and this is the chief thing to be noted—had become a British
basis of operations in one of the strategically most important regions
of Europe. The British Government had already in advance ascribed to
Belgium, in the carefully planned-out future war against Germany, a part
similar to that played by Portugal during the Napoleonic wars.
Some years ago Lord Curzon wrote that the necessities of Indian defence
urgently demanded the occupation, by British troops, of all the
countries bordering the Indian frontier, as well as the conquest of
Arabia and the transformation of the Persian Gulf into an English lake;
for all such countries, and also the Persian Gulf, were in reality
nothing but the natural fortifications of India. In the same way does
England, as a matter of principle, regard all those European countries
whose coasts are washed by the North Sea, the Channel, and the Atlantic,
as “fortifications” of the British Isles—and as forming also England’s
commercial hinterland.
In 1793, when the last great struggle between France and England began,
Spain and the Netherlands were both considered, in London, to be British
“fortifications”; Hanover being in British hands, it was also possible
to consider Germany in the same light, whilst, in the North, Russia
formed the background to the Scandinavian States. When we consider the
various political and military combinations between 1793 and 1816 and
when we abandon the historical legends invented concerning them, we
shall see that France was the champion of the true interests of the
Continent. England, and her following of European States, represented
solely British insular interests, whereas Russia changed sides like a
weathercock. This judgment in nowise diminishes the value of the German
War of Liberation, but it certainly does call in question the
traditional opinion to the effect that it was England who liberated
Europe. The question as to whether England, as a matter of fact,
contributed anything to that “liberation,” remains an open one, even if
it be admitted that she played an important part in causing the downfall
of Napoleon.
With joyful and untiring energy did the English statesmen of that epoch
labor to prevent the flames of war being extinguished on the continent.
As far as England’s interests were concerned, Europe could never be laid
waste sufficiently. England’s participation in the military operations
was the traditional one. From the beginning, she considered the war as a
maritime one (as far as she herself was concerned), poured oil on the
flames in Europe, and paid subsidies—which were, indeed, more often
promised than actually paid. Of course it is the Germans who have always
spoken with the greatest admiration and gratitude of the “free nation’s”
superb struggle for the liberty of Europe against the Corsican
oppressor!
Admiral Mahan, whom we have often quoted, who is a passionate admirer of
Great Britain, and who only finds fault with his pets when they have not
been unscrupulous enough to suit him—Admiral Mahan writes as follows
about the part played by England in the Napoleonic wars: “For these
reasons great operations on land, or a conspicuous share in the
continental campaigns became, if not absolutely impossible to Great
Britain, at least clearly unadvisable. It was economically wiser, for
the purposes of the coalitions, that she should be controlling the sea,
supporting the commerce of the world, making money and managing the
finances, while other states, whose industries were exposed to the blast
of war and who had not the same commercial aptitudes, did the fighting
on land.” The same author says in another place: “The thriving condition
of the manufactures and commerce of England, protected from the storm of
war ravaging the Continent and of such vital importance to the general
welfare of Europe, made it inexpedient to withdraw her people from the
ranks of labor, at a time when the working classes of other nations were
being drained for the armies.” Mahan, the admirer of England, has here
unconsciously defined the part which British statesmen so artfully
ascribed to the Continent: no English workman should be allowed to
fight, for this would damage British industry. The Continental peoples
were there to do the fighting! Mahan tells us that, on the Continent,
industry had been rendered impossible by the war; and he forgets that
the latter was systematically encouraged by England. From an economic
point of view, an experience repeatedly made by England in former wars
was confirmed: namely, that the money invested in the shape of subsidies
was recouped with interest, and that the constantly increasing capital
in the country paved the way for the flooding of the foreign markets
with the cheap products of British industry. The last-mentioned
phenomenon, again, permitted in later years of the humble attempts made
elsewhere to develop a national industry being nipped in the bud. The
Continent grew ever poorer, and England ever richer. With characteristic
English hypocrisy could Pitt say, on the occasion of the reception of
some expelled French priests: “The country that has welcomed those
priests, is a country which Heaven has blessed. In the midst of the
universal distress which has befallen other nations, Providence has
permitted Great Britain to cover herself with glory and honor. Peace
reigns in her palaces, her barns are full. All parts of the globe pay
tribute to her industry, all the seas are marked with the sign of her
victories.” The same statesman said in 1801: “If we compare this year of
war with former years of peace, we shall, in the produce of our revenue,
and in the extent of our commerce, behold a spectacle at once
paradoxical, inexplicable and astonishing; we shall see, that, in spite
of the alarm and agitation which has often prevailed in the course of
this arduous contest ... we have increased our external and internal
commerce to a higher pitch than ever it was before; and we may look to
the present as the proudest year that has ever yet occurred for this
country.”
Let us return to the year 1793. Trembling with indignation at the sight
of the murder of the French sovereigns, and of the introduction of the
religion of Reason; deeply incensed by the proclamation of the Republic,
and fearing for the liberties of Europe, England flung herself—on the
trade and industry of France. The latter was to be isolated from the
rest of the world. The British Government declared that it was necessary
to starve the French nation, by preventing the importation of corn. When
we consider that France in those days had a much smaller population than
she has to-day, whereas her soil was just as fruitful then as now, it is
difficult to suppose that the starvation plan was a serious one. Some
sagacious Germans recognised afterwards, when it was too late, the truth
of the matter: the starvation of France was a pretext, the object of
which was to hold up to England’s continental allies a common aim to be
realised, and to hide the real purpose of the English blockade from
their view. The purpose in question was none other than the destruction
of the entire industry of the Continent, for England succeeded in
persuading the majority of European States to bind themselves over not
to sell anything to France. In this way did they suppress their own
export trade to that country; and the consequence was, that especially
the German industry lost a valuable, nay indispensable, market. German
industry was, in future, compelled to work at such a cost, that the
cheaper English goods were able to flood the German market. We can
observe here the time-honored English policy, which wages war only when
large business profits are to be drawn from it. The more heterogeneous
and complicated European political life grew, the more cunningly did
England proceed. At the beginning of the last century she succeeded, by
the simple means of a few high-sounding words, in inducing the whole of
Europe to destroy the latter’s own industry and the foundations of its
own economic existence.
Thus began that colossal commercial war, which, for England, was the
end-purpose of the military and naval operations. The French Republic
replied to the English blockade by the exclusion of all English
products, and by raising the French tariff. These protective measures
proved very favorable to the industrial development of the country, and
further efforts were made to stimulate such development by means of
other economic reprisals. France applied to the neutral States for help
in preventing the smuggling of English goods, all of which were
confiscated. We need hardly say that the English did not remain
inactive; and that they did not hesitate to denounce the absolutely
justifiable retaliatory measures adopted by France, as an unheard-of
crime against humanity. The English fleets exercised with greater rigor
than ever their self-assumed duties as “policemen of the sea”; that is
to say, they stole as many French and neutral ships as they could get
hold of. They further compelled all ships coming from oversea countries
to call first at an English port; this measure later on during the era
of the Continental blockade was rendered worse by the imposition of
heavy port duties on such vessels.
England’s continental allies were chained hand and foot. On the one hand
they had, as we already pointed out, bound themselves down at England’s
behest to destroy their own trade; on the other hand, she completed, in
the most friendly manner, the ruin of their shipping. As far as they
possessed any maritime trade, they likewise suffered from the French
reprisals, directed against England. The neutral countries suffered
scarcely less; they came at last, in 1800, to recognise that they had no
possible interest in sacrificing their commerce and industry merely to
please England. The Northern States concluded a new alliance on the
ruins of the old Neutrality League of 1780. The question once more arose
of the liberty of goods under neutral flag, and of the right of search
claimed by England. The neutral countries were of opinion that the right
of search, in the case of trading vessels accompanied by warships,
should be negatived on principle. Several brutal attacks on Swedish and
Prussian trading ships, and another on a Swedish warship, formed the
last straw that broke the camel’s back. Under Russia’s leadership a new
Armed Neutrality League was constituted in 1800. Its requests were both
just and moderate: liberty of transport of all goods (outside
contraband) under neutral flag; contraband to include henceforth
munitions of war only; prohibition of the so-called “right of search” in
the case of trading vessels accompanied by warships; liberty of travel
for neutral ships, which are to be allowed to sail freely to the ports
of belligerent nations provided no effective blockade exists.
These just claims roused the English to intense fury. The Government
declared them to be not only hostile, but preposterous, disgraceful,
insulting to English “supremacy.” England would under no circumstances
sacrifice her “rights” to the Jacobin principles now fashionable, and
which had been derived from France.
The Neutrality League of 1800 insisted on its demands. Prussia, Denmark,
and Sweden rallied around Russia, as leader of the neutral nations;
energetic efforts were made to keep the Baltic and North Seas open for
neutral shipping, and to close the Baltic to British shipping, as long
as England should not agree to the just demands of the neutral Powers.
We must bear in mind that the trade with Northern and Eastern Europe was
of immense importance for England at that time; the countries bordering
the Baltic constituted a rich market for British industrial products,
and it was from them that England obtained very large quantities of corn
and timber. Already at that time was Great Britain dependent to a large
extent on the importation of foodstuffs for the feeding of her
population.
The neutral Powers began their preparations for closing the entrance to
the German rivers flowing into the North Sea and the Baltic. Hereupon
England required Denmark to abandon the Neutrality League, and the
claims put forward by the latter. Denmark was further required to open
her ports without delay. The Danish Government refused to accept these
demands; the result was the bombardment of Copenhagen by English
warships, and an attack on the Danish fleet. Almost immediately before
these events took place, the Emperor Paul, the leading spirit of the
whole Neutrality movement, was assassinated in St. Petersburg. The
history of this celebrated murder has admittedly never been cleared up;
but when we consider it in the light of contemporary political
happenings, we may take it for granted that the assassins of the Czar,
and also the immediate instigators of the crime, were in the pay of the
British Government. The crime in question must be laid to the charge of
the pious and free English people—of the same nation which, in its
virtuous indignation at the murder of Louis XVI, plunged Europe into a
series of wars lasting 22 years. The assassination of the Czar and the
bombardment of Copenhagen took place at such admirably calculated
intervals, that the former could be made known in Copenhagen at the very
moment when the British guns were opening their fire on the city.
Denmark gave in, the Armed Neutrality of 1800 was at an end, and Russia
concluded a separate agreement with Great Britain. The latter maintained
all her claims with regard to neutral shipping intact.
Once more had the Continent been outwitted by England—and precisely that
part of the Continent, which, had its various component elements kept
together, would have constituted a by no means insignificant factor in
politics. The League had come to grief owing to the double-faced
attitude adopted by Russia—an attitude which the Empire of the Czars
kept up during the whole of the Napoleonic wars. We cannot now discuss
the numerous other aspects of the political situation at that time. But
when we consider this situation impartially, we must come to the
conclusion that an active co-operation of the nations forming the Armed
Neutrality League with one another, together with a rapprochement
between those nations and France, would have produced the happiest
results for Europe. And not only that. The break-up of the Armed
Neutrality League of 1800 marks another step in the development of
England’s sea power to the detriment of Europe. Once more the
determination of the “mistress of the sea” to consider and to treat
Europe exclusively as a land offering facilities for commercial
enterprise, manifested itself. English statesmen spared neither trouble
nor money in stirring up new wars on the Continent, and in endeavoring
to induce the European nations to adopt such economic measures as might
weaken them commercially and industrially. As a “reward” for their
services, England coolly and unscrupulously destroyed the maritime trade
of her friends—whether the latter were allies, or simply neutral.
England’s struggle against the Armed Neutrality was in every way an
offensive one. This is not only true of the bombardment of Copenhagen,
or of the naval expedition to the Baltic Sea; but it holds good of the
whole policy which led up to the acts in question. It is characteristic
of the immense increase of England’s strength, that she should have felt
herself capable of pursuing such a policy. For it was one thing to send
a fleet against Holland, or even against Spain; and quite another to
despatch a fleet through the North Sea into the Baltic, which was closed
in by mighty naval Powers. The energy of desperation with which England,
by means of her fleets and the murderers suborned by her, fought the
Northern Powers with beak and claw, proves how highly she rated the
danger threatening her from that quarter.