II.

The old order of things was, however, hardly demolished before two

distinct and menacing questions were raised upon its ruins—Nationality

and Socialism. Let us begin with the first.

Since the country (_patria_), in the limited sense of the word, had

disappeared—that is, the political unity which was represented by the

dynasty or flag or even simply a steeple, the early symbol of the old

societies—the sentiment of association took its concrete form in a

fresh combination, more in harmony with the democratic tendencies of

our times. It assumed the widest possible basis—to constitute a society

which should unite all common interests, and should be governed in

conformity with these. It is, indeed, not surprising that men who

speak the same language, inhabit the same zone, who are alike in their

customs and dispositions, who are, in short, what is now called a

nation, should present all these characteristics, and should therefore

become the new political unit both of the present and the future, thus

replacing the earlier units formed by heredity or conquests without

respect to the interests of all the component elements.

Nothing in nature is produced at one stroke; and some races had

already advanced towards nationality, and especially France, which had

laboriously constituted herself into a nation, before the word was used

in its political meaning. But the country to which it was allotted to

assert loudly and explicitly this new form of political life was Italy

in 1859. The formula of nationality as the basis of right was first

proposed by her and obtained acceptance by international jurisprudence,

and this basis had scarcely been established before it led to the

overthrow of six thrones which boasted of different origins, among

which was the most ancient and most venerable of all—the temporal

power of the Popes. The experiment was favorably received, and Germany

lost no time in adopting it, since the old system had produced in that

country the same conditions of divisions and of relative weakness which

had occurred in Italy. The campaigns of 1866 and of 1870 served to

contribute to the new theory the force which was necessary to convince

European diplomacy.

Even those who most reluctantly accept modern ideas do not now speak

of anything but nationality. It might be supposed that there had never

been any other basis for politics, since this has in a very short time

been so completely and universally accepted.

The production of these nationalities has, however, been accompanied by

all the defects of the system which preceded them. They have brought

with them all the rancours of ancient Europe. The rancours of Francis

I. and of Charles V. have been transmuted into the deadly enmity

which exists between French and Germans. The testament of Frederic

II. has led to the programme of the German people, and the ambitious

projects of Catherine II. have issued in the aspirations of the Slave

race. So though the new era which began with nationality indicates a

real progress in the internal constitution of the different States,

and in the fundamental reasons for their several governments; still

with respect to their international relations to universal justice

and to general peace, in a word, with respect to the progress of the

human race in morals, we find ourselves—to make use of the metaphor we

employed at first—in a fresh spiral, equally limited in space, in which

there is a relative progress, but it has only a slight influence on the

general progress of humanity. And, to turn from abstract principles to

the concrete limits of politics, the present state of things is not

promising nor hopeful for the peace of Europe.

The first and most curious phenomenon which accompanied the affirmation

of different nationalities as a guarantee of peace in Europe, has

been compulsory service—a euphemism which implies that the whole male

population of Europe is trained and educated for war; thus men are

fashioned into as deadly instruments as were ever found in barbarous

ages and during the warfare of the old system. Military education,

both technical and gymnastic, is brought to such perfection that whole

generations are trained like hounds for mortal conflict, and each man

may on an average kill ten others in the course of a minute. Even in

traversing Europe by the railway we may observe near the fortresses,

and indeed in the great centres of population, arenas, gymnasia,

drilling grounds, and young men clothed in the prescribed warlike

uniform. This strange spectacle is unnoticed because it is concealed

and confounded with the attractions of modern civilisation; but it must

strike all who seek to penetrate its external phenomena: and certainly

those who established the present civilisation did not anticipate such

a result.

We must, however, leave the speculative side of the question to

philosophers, since what concerns us in the interests of this same

civilisation is to examine the practical results of the situation

in Europe in its political aspect, with which we are at this moment

occupied. Briefly, we wish to ascertain what is now the political

situation of Europe, in consequence and in presence of the new basis on

which European rights are established.

And primarily, since the application of these new rights, all

nationalities, if they do not feel the present necessity, yet they have

potentially a tendency to assimilate the elements which properly belong

to them. And each forms a judgment of the situation in accordance with

his standard and purpose.

Thus, for example, Russia, under the pretext of consisting for the most

part of Slav peoples, begins to nourish in her bosom the ambition of

uniting all the Slav races under the well-known name of Pan-Slavism. No

matter that the Slavs of Poland and Bohemia differ widely from those

of Russia proper in their language, religion, and habits, perhaps more

widely than from those of another nationality. Panslavists extend to

the race the privileges of the nation, and as it would be difficult

to define logically where the one begins and the other ends, so among

them, and especially among those who believe, perhaps rightly, that

they speak in the name of Russia, the Slav nation consists of a third

of Europe, reaching from the North Pole to the Adriatic. In order to

unite it under Russian rule, it would be necessary to overthrow, or at

any rate seriously to mutilate, the dominions of Turkey and of Austrian

Hungary.

The demolition of the Turkish empire and the diminution of Austrian

Hungary would be carried still further by the nationality of Greece,

which requires for its proper development to absorb another portion of

Turkey, and to deprive Austria of such access to the sea as the Slavs

might leave to her.

The Italian nationality would also propose some modifications of the

geography of Europe, less searching than the above, but not without

their importance.

France and Spain are the countries which have least to ask in the way

of expansion; the former because her territory was acquired before the

enunciation of the principle was formulated, the latter because of her

limited proportions, unless, following the interpretations of Russia,

she should entertain the ambition, which up to this time is scarcely

perceptible if it exists at all, of acquiring the whole Iberian

peninsula.

If we continue our circuit of the continent we come to the two small

nationalities of Flanders and Scandinavia. These two, although their

populations are the least numerous, seem less sensible of the necessity

of political reunion. It is certain that no one in Belgium and Holland

has seriously formulated the idea of a fusion, nor yet among the

Scandinavians. These States enjoy a certain ease of circumstances

and unusual prosperity, without being tormented by the demon of

aggrandisement; they allow the claims of nationality to remain dormant

in order that they may enjoy in prosperity and contentment what they

have acquired by political shrewdness and indefatigable labor; but it

may be said that in these conditions they stand alone in Europe.

The circuit we have made from the extreme north to the centre of Europe

includes the most complete, successful, and indisputable instance of

a compact and homogeneous nationality in that of Germany. Twenty-five

years ago this was hardly regarded as an ethnographical or historical

designation, and it was certainly not political, since the tendencies

and interests of the different States of Germany were quite dissimilar,

even when, as in many of the most important questions, they were not

altogether opposed to each other. Now that the nationality has arisen,

has grown and reached maturity, and in two memorable campaigns has

swept all obstacles from its path, it would be as useless to try to

arrest its development and divert it from its path as to try and make

the Rhine flow back to its source.

The German nation must absorb a few more States in order to constitute

itself into a political unity, but since the most important would shake

to its foundations the Austro-Hungarian empire, this last annexation

will be deferred as long as possible. The fraction of Germans which

remains to be absorbed into the empire would only augment the number

of its constituents by some millions, and its territory by some

provinces; meanwhile in its present condition it fulfils the mission

of a colony detached from the parent nation, impressed with the

same characteristics, and adhering to the same interests, and thus

constituting a weighty instrument for carrying out the national views

throughout the Austro-Hungarian empire, which, amidst the conflict

of the different nationalities of which it consists, is clearly and

irresistibly impelled towards that which is the nearest, the most

energetic, and the most powerful. This state of things is too favorable

to Germany to allow her to hasten to exchange her independent colonies

in Austria into faithful subjects of the German Emperor. There

remain other tendencies to assimilation on the side of Russia and of

Switzerland. The first are so problematical that they may be regarded

as a pretext rather than a claim. The second have not, up to this time,

acquired any appearance of probability, since Switzerland has had the

privilege of constituting an artificial and political nationality

out of such as are truly geographical and ethnographical, and has

gallantly resisted any encroachment, so that on this side also any

assimilation must be regarded as immature. We must not, however, forget

the homogeneity of race, if Germany should be for any cause impelled

to approach or to cross the Alps. In such a case the effects of this

homogeneity must make themselves felt.

These tendencies are not, however, all equally active, nor have they

all the same intensity. Up to this time some of them are still latent,

and give no sign of their existence, nor are they the only factors

of the political state of Europe. Besides their tendencies to become

complete, nationalities have certain other tendencies, objects, and

ends, which may be said to be peculiar to each of them, since they

correspond with their special needs, relate to certain conditions, and

are in conformity with the mission which each State has, or thinks it

has, in the political concert of nations.

Since, therefore, we are considering the subject from the political

point of view, as it now exists, we shall only regard those tendencies

which actually demand satisfaction, and which, therefore, constitute

an element and a factor of contemporary politics. The more important

tendencies may be reduced to few, intense in character, and wielding

mighty forces. The others may be considered as depending by those

which are greater and stronger, only differing in degree of intensity

and power. They generally take an intermediate place, and receive their

satisfaction second-hand, according to their position on the right or

wrong side in the great conflict of interests. They usually follow the

fortune of the conquered or conquering leaders.

Russia, the dominant Slav race of the north, in addition to the desire

of assimilation with her brethren, tends towards the sun, in order to

exert an influence over the temperate zone, in which the most vital

interests of Europe are at issue. This is the popular tradition which

goes by the name of the testament of Peter the Great. Russia has

persistently and indefatigably extended her conquests in the direction

of the East. If this movement appears to be at present less decided,

it is because her want of success in the last war and last treaty has

reacted on the constitution of the empire, which is thus weakened and

hindered in its efforts at expansion. But as soon as this impulse

of internal dissatisfaction is subdued, her activity abroad will be

renewed. The man or the government which is able to lead Russia back

into her old course will solve the enigma by which she is now agitated.

She advances towards the east from two sides—the north and west. In

the former direction she is impelled by the force of circumstances.

The only element of order amid the nomadic and barbarous peoples which

overspread the country extending from the sides of the Caucasus to the

interior of Asia, the endless controversies about frontiers enable

her to advance stealthily and insensibly, owing, as we have said,

to the very nature of things. On the western side she makes her way

deliberately, and in spite of all the obstacles opposed to her. These

are of two kinds—the resistance of the Ottoman empire; and that of

the European Powers, which are either interested in maintaining it or

desire to succeed to its territory. England stands first in the first

category, Austria in the second, if, indeed, she is not alone in the

desire to succeed to Turkey.

Russia would have overcome the first obstacle, in spite of the

tenacity of the Ottoman policy and the bravery of the army, if it were

not complicated by the second. The great and moribund empire of Turkey

has still vitality enough to respond to the affectionate care of the

more or less interested physicians who take charge of her.

But since 1870 the political attitude of Europe with respect to

Turkey has completely changed. Each of the three Powers which with a

somewhat elaborate disinterestedness assumed her defence in 1855 has

modified its views. Italy, to whom it was hardly more than a pretext

for inaugurating her political constitution, has attained her object

and will no longer apply herself with the same tenacity of purpose

to the maintenance of the Ottoman empire. France and England have

abandoned their office of guardians, to assume the more profitable one

of heirs—the one in Tunis, the other in Egypt. As for Russia, with

which we are now occupied, her position is also different. Now that

France has taken her share, she has no great interest in upholding the

tottering giant against whom she has directed one of the most recent

and most decisive blows; and, on the other hand, she is by no means

interested in opposing the plans of Russia or in offending her, since

she recognises in this Power the only hope of vengeance remaining to

her in the present state of things.

England, on the other hand, who has taken her share of the succession,

wishes, if possible, to prolong the existence of the dying man,

especially since Russia is with more or less reason considered by a

certain section of public opinion in England to menace her influence

and even her possessions in the East, as well as in the West. The

influences of Russia and England are so heterogeneous, one to the

other, that whenever they come in contact, although it may be in the

distant future, it must be a reciprocal source of danger. But now that

England has secured Egypt, she has perhaps no longer the same intense

interest in the preservation of the Turkish empire by which she was

actuated in 1855.

From 1870 onwards, a new and very important actor appeared on the

Oriental stage. Austria, repulsed by the different nationalities—by

Italy in 1859, by Germany in 1866—for the very reason that she was the

only European State which did not rely on nationality, that exclusive

and jealous factor of modern politics, has been obliged to depend on

one of those already in existence, and also to create for herself a

scope and office which might justify her own existence. She has found

these two objects fulfilled by the Oriental question.

Since the Hapsburg dynasty found itself placed on the confines of

German nationality, and close to all the fractions of different

nationalities which the storms of past ages had thrown on the shores

of the Danube on one side, and on the Balkan peninsula on the other,

it quickly took the part of ruling all these different nationalities,

which, owing to their insignificance, could not aspire to form a

political unit, and therefore relied on the great German nationality

which was behind them. But, as we have said, this did not suffice;

another object was presented to them, dictated by the nature of

things—that is, to substitute the Mohammedans in the supremacy of

Eastern Europe, as they were incompatible with European civilisation,

and at the same time to prevent this, which is commonly called the

key of Europe, from falling into the hands of a really numerous

nationality, which would on many accounts have excited the fears of all

European interests.

Through this act, dictated, as we have said, by the necessities of

things, Austria has found herself inextricably bound to Germany

and opposed to Russia, with whom she contests the two objects most

dear to the latter—the acquisition of the Catholic Slav races which

Austria jealously cherishes in her bosom, and her progress towards

the sun, or towards whatever obstructs her advance to the East. The

indissoluble bonds which unite the policy of Germany with that of

the Austro-Hungarian empire enable the former country to enjoy the

inestimable advantage of exerting a powerful influence on Eastern

diplomacy without, however, showing the hand which she neither could

nor would withdraw.

Consequently, Russia finds in the German nationality upon her western

frontier a much more serious and permanent barrier than that which

was raised by the political combinations of 1855. Her development

in the East is opposed, as well as the expansion of her influence

in Europe, which is still more important. We see these two great

nationalities fatally opposed to each other by their most vital

necessities, and in the objects they most ardently desire. The wise and

prudent combinations of the statesmen of these two great countries are

applied to smooth difficulties and distract attention from these fatal

conditions; and owing to the calm temperament of these nations, and to

the discipline still maintained by their Governments, they have been

successful up to a certain point. The ancient alliance of the three

emperors has, however, already become that of two. On the one side

there is a true and serious alliance established between the two houses

of Germany and Austria; on the other, a close, warm, and probably

sincere friendship between the houses of Germany and Russia. But none

such can be firmly established between the three; and as for the two

most numerous and powerful nationalities of Europe, they may (and the

God of Peace will reward them for it) dissimulate, soften, temporise—do

everything in their power to avert too rapid or too violent a collision

of the important interests of their subjects, but they cannot change

the nature of things. The two great nationalities, Slav and German,

are essentially rivals, both in geographical position and in their

political aims.

These considerations naturally lead us to speak of the German

nationality.

This nationality, like all those of recent origin, desires to feel

itself secure. On the one side there is an instinctive fear of the

possible conflagrations to which the influence of their powerful

neighbor may give rise; on the other, it cannot lose sight of the

strong antagonism between Germany and France which dates from 1870. It

will for a long period be difficult to overcome this antagonism, since

it is founded on the great frontier interests which have been contested

on both sides. As long as France is deprived of her traditional

frontier she will never feel herself secure, and if it were surrendered

by Germany, she would lose all the fruits of her loss and bloodshed in

1870. Even if it were only a contest for influence and supremacy, it

is not in the French nature to submit to defeat without feeling from

time to time the desire for revenge. This impulse alone in so excitable

a nation is enough to keep Germany watchful in this direction.

Certainly such an occurrence is not at present either certain or

threatening, but it is always possible that their two formidable

neighbors may combine, and this would re-act also on the different

nationalities which compose the Austro-Hungarian empire. It is this

danger which keeps the German nation in an indefinite and indefinable

state of uneasiness, to her own economical ruin, as well as to that of

all the European States which are compelled to imitate her.

To this feeling of uneasiness must be referred the feverish activity of

the Imperial _Cabinet_, who never ceases to make and unmake plans and

combinations, dominated by the single idea which was cherished by the

rival nationality of France from the time of Louis the Fourteenth to

that of Thiers—namely, to keep all Europe in a divided state. This is

not only in order to carry out the famous maxim, _Divide et impera_,

but because among all the possible combinations, some might be, if not

fatal, yet dangerous to the existence of Germany.

This possibly was foreseen in 1870, and it is known that lengthy

negotiations secured the neutrality of Russia in that war. The

concessions made to Russia in the East were part of the price of that

neutrality, and chief among these was the revision of the Treaty of

Paris.

It was readily believed that the opportunity of securing predominance

in Europe, for which Germany had been so elaborately prepared, and

which a chance unlikely to occur twice in the lifetime of peoples so

liberally offered her, would not be let slip by the German Government.

The war with France has been justly called a Punic War, or a deadly

strife for supremacy in Europe. And therefore the second Punic War was

looked for in a period in which it should not be possible for Russia

to intervene. According to the plan by which the Roman Horatius fought

with his rivals one by one, it seemed that the dominion, if not of the

world, at any rate of Europe, was secured to Germany.

This opinion was confirmed, inasmuch as the first question which arose

after 1870 was the Eastern question. The part taken by Germany is

well known, and certainly the peace was concluded at Berlin, where

the Treaty of San Stefano, which had secured to Russia the price of

her action, was cancelled. Russia issued from the struggle seriously

shaken, nor has she yet recovered from the shock. The Russian nation,

deluded in its most cherished expectations, has been given up to a

state of discontent which it is not necessary to study in its forms but

in its essence. The people are conscious of having been misdirected in

their course, and are displeased with whoever has failed to interpret

their wishes.

It seemed as if this might have been the moment for a second war with

France, and especially since it was unlikely that Russia would forget,

when her strength returned, the _auto da fé_ made at Berlin of the

Treaty of San Stefano. To this end all the manœuvres of the Berlin

Cabinet seem to have tended, as if the powerful hand of the German

Chancellor had only been exerted to effect its conclusion.

The mountain did not, however, bring forth a mouse but a _canard_, for

such it must appear to our calmer judgment, in the unexpected rumor

of a Franco-German alliance. We are not now in a position to examine

the reasons of this abortive birth. It only concerns us to show that

when the hypothesis of this solution was overthrown by the power so

ably and opportunely exerted, the question was reproduced to the

German nation in its integrity. Placed between and in collision with

the interests of two great nationalities, the one consisting of nearly

sixty and the other of forty million inhabitants, Germany was still

uneasy and insecure. Her people are, however, strictly disciplined,

trained for conflict, and of a naturally brave temperament, and all

means have been used to develop this quality in them. We know that when

men conscious of strength are uncomfortable or of evil humor they soon

try to mend their condition, and that they expend their wrath on some

thing or person until they have regained security and calmness. This

constitutes one of the most serious questions now presented to Europe,

and whence issues much of the uncertainty and dangers which menace its

peace.

The Chancellor, with the ability and diplomatic genius which no one

can dispute that he possesses, involves this phantasm in all sorts of

wrappings, with the double aim of appeasing it and of rendering it less

alarming to Europe. He expends all the energy which was accumulated in

the violent struggle in diplomatic combinations. Hence the friendly

relations with Russia have continually become closer; hence the triple

alliance again, the courteous treatment of Spain, the favorable

recognition of the French occupation of Tunis, so acceptable to France,

although received with dissatisfaction by Italy; hence also the English

occupation of Egypt was not opposed by Germany from the first, while

it was very displeasing to France. All this incessant activity of

German diplomacy, which appeared to be ably directed, and very probably

really was so directed, to procure the isolation of France, was on

that account supposed to lead the way to a second Franco-German war.

But at the present it should rather be regarded as a long succession

of manœuvres and a complicated diplomatic strategy, which had lost

sight of its immediate object and had for the time no other interests

than those which the episodes of this grave question present to the

curiosity of all Europe—a question of which the issue is so uncertain

and indefinite that at the moment when the object in view appeared

to be obtained in the complete isolation of France, we hear of a

Franco-German alliance. Incredible as it may appear, this is the fact.

The alliance is spoken of, and this is enough to show that everything

is possible in the state of tension in which things are in Central

Europe.

The sudden transition from a state of mortal war to that of an alliance

might have been contemplated in the political exigencies of the times

of Cardinal Richelieu—that is, when foreign politics were of a kind of

sacerdotalism, only transacted by Cabinets, on which public opinion

exercised little or no influence. But it is difficult to believe, in

the present state and exigencies of public opinion, and especially in

France, that it would be easy or possible to stifle in a diplomatic

combination, however able and useful, the memories of Metz and Sedan,

the loss of the Rhine Provinces and the occupation of Paris.

Such an opinion may be to some extent accepted by the victors, but

not by those on whom the burden of the war of 1870 fell. We mean by

this that when such combinations are contemplated and the attempt

is made to carry them into effect, they will not change the actual

state of things. The rivalry, incompatibility, and rancours produced

by interests which are different and in many cases opposed to each

other in two neighboring and powerful nations, may be subdued for a

while, but they must sooner or later revive until the question is

substantially resolved by the triumph of one side or the other. It is

precisely because she has been unwilling or unable to resolve it, that

Germany remains in this condition of profound disquietude—a condition

which has taken no certain and definite direction, but which is

pregnant with possible dangers for the rest of Europe.

We have said that the movement has not yet taken a definite direction,

but not that its tendency does not begin to declare itself. While

setting aside for a little and adjourning to a more or less distant

future the question of its own safety, the German nation, in common

with others, has certain objects in view beyond that of mere existence;

it has natural aspirations which give a purpose to life. We have said

that the Slav races of Russia are drawn towards the sun, and the

Germans are as strongly attracted towards the sea.

The people of Germany are very poor, owing to the natural conditions

of the soil and climate, poor also owing to compulsory military

service, to which, however, they willingly submit for the sake of

their national existence. If a strong people does not long tolerate an

uneasy condition, neither can it tolerate poverty. One which is strong

and poor is a dangerous neighbor to richer peoples. Now, from whatever

side we cross the German frontier, we are struck by the prosperity

and riches of the neighboring nations, whether agricultural,

manufacturing, or mercantile. The only advertisement posted up in every

German village is the name of the company, battalion, and regiment

to which it belongs, instead of the numerous advertisements which we

find in similar villages of Belgium, France, and Holland, announcing

transactions of trade, commerce, and manufactures. When we see the poor

and humble villages which are thus classified, we might say that the

German nation is merely encamped in the midst of Europe.

In the present conditions of Europe, and precisely on account of

the nationalities to which the credit must be given, territorial

acquisitions among neighbors and the subjection of one people to

another have become hardly possible except in a few limited cases which

cannot enter the mind of any statesman as having any large significance

in the political future. Since European nations can no longer, as of

old, obtain expansion at the expense of one another, they now seek for

it in distant lands, amid lower civilisations and in societies which

are less firmly constituted. This is done not only by conquest, but by

colonisation and commercial establishments of every kind, which assure

influence, and still more riches and prosperity to their founders. For

this end, it is important that a nation should have easy access to

the sea. The German nation is eminently continental and has only an

inconsiderable extent of seaboard. Hence Germany has need of the sea,

and this tendency attracts her equally towards the north and east of

Europe. This has probably influenced her policy in the late Eastern

war, and this subsidiary necessity is the complement of the more

important need of securing her own safety which has been the object

of the policy of the German Chancellor in its varying transitions. It

agrees with the colonising tendencies which have come openly to a head

within the last few months.

We have thus briefly indicated the tendencies of two among the

principal nationalities. France comes next in importance, and since

she is in fact the most ancient, so that her customs and interests are

firmly welded in spite of all her misfortunes, she need not greatly

concern herself about the fact of her existence. It would be difficult

to make any breach in the unity of France, since the traces of her

ancient divisions no longer exist. Her external borders may be enlarged

or restricted wherever the popular characteristics are less marked, or

even ambiguous, so that their affections and interests may oscillate

towards neighborly nations. But the great nucleus of the people has

no fear of being other than it is, and this is not now the source of

agitation in France. It is precisely because she has long been secure

in the enjoyment and free exercise of all her faculties as a nation

that her tendencies are more clearly and explicitly displayed.

Unfortunately these tendencies are towards domination and empire as the

scope and means of her prosperity. As soon as France was constituted

into a nation, or from the Revolution onwards, her history is only a

history of aggressions which nothing but superior force from without

and exhaustion within could arrest. The necessity of expansion by

warlike means is so intense in the French nation that she is hardly

subjected to foreign compulsion before there is an outbreak of internal

disturbances. France, conquered in 1815, only remained quiet until she

had recovered strength. The blood hardly begins to circulate in her

veins when she either overthrows her Government or makes war on foreign

Powers. The dilemma imposed like an incubus on all the rulers of France

for the last hundred years issues in this—either war or revolution.

The present Government, instinctively conscious of this state of

things, and not feeling strong enough to make war on its more powerful

neighbors lest it should be ruined in its turn, has invented a

diversion by transposing the problem—waging war in Asia and Africa,

and carrying fire and flames into all parts of the world which could

offer no resistance. The first idea of this policy must be ascribed

to Louis Philippe, who owed the tranquillity of the early years of

his reign to the conquest of Algeria. Other European nations have

undertaken colonisation or conquest of distant lands with reference to

their material prosperity, but conquest has been the primary object of

France. Economic views take a secondary place, out of proportion with

the scale of the enterprise, and are, indeed, rather a pretext. This

constitutional restlessness of France, which is only arrested by force,

has long constituted one of the gravest perils which threaten the peace

of Europe.

Italy, as well as Germany, feels the need of security, and this common

need has, since 1870, united the interests of the two countries. There

are insuperable obstacles in the tendency natural to all nationalities

to absorb unconsciously the congenial elements of other States. The

only symptoms of this tendency have been displayed on the side of

Austria, which is not herself a nation, but those who so improvidently

in any respect promoted it were also perhaps not aware that behind

Austria stands Germany, and that Trieste on the Adriatic corresponds to

that nation’s tendency towards the sea. But as far as her own existence

is concerned, Italy is irrevocably bound to all the combinations which

may secure her, and is the irreconcilable enemy of all those who

threaten her.

The path of Greece is equally barred by Austria and Russia, nor has she

much hope of making way against these two great Powers, unless their

antagonism can nourish such hopes.

We have reserved England to the last, because her political condition

as it concerns her nationality is altogether distinct from those

with which we have been hitherto occupied. If by nationality we

mean homogeneous characteristics of race, a similarity in language,

religion, and customs, the Anglo-Saxon nationality extends beyond

the United Kingdom into both hemispheres. If, on the other hand,

we regard the United Kingdom as an actual political unit, we find

that it is composed of different races, in which are included the

English, Scotch, and Irish, which have nothing in common with each

other but their official language. And yet, while the English nation

has for good reasons never posed, morally speaking, as the champion

of nationalities, she presides over the most cultured, numerous, and

energetic nationality in the world. But the Anglo-Saxon nationality

does not need nor desire, and indeed is unable, to be a political

unit. It may be said that the Anglo-Saxon race has passed through

the historical period of a nationality without observing it. It has

advanced beyond this period to attain to the ideal of a civilisation

forming whole parts of the world, in which only one language is spoken,

in which we find the same customs, interests, and religion, or, at any

rate, the faculty of accepting, each man for himself, what seems good

to him, without allowing this diversity to produce, either in theory or

practice, a distinction which has any political efficacy.

In those parts of the world there are not five or six groups of men

which look askance at each other with a hostile air, and which, because

they speak a different language, have a different history and religion,

believe themselves to be justified as a matter of duty and honor in

exterminating each other two or three times in a century. Because a

scrap of ground belongs to one set of people, does not that appear to

be a sufficient reason to the others to maintain millions of armed men

trained for their reciprocal destruction? Geographical degrees do not

suffice to create different and conflicting interests which may justify

them in mutual injuries, and in inflicting on one another the long

series of small and great miseries which begin with protracted wars and

fiscal duties and end in the imposition of quarantine.

This fact gives to the English people, which represents that

nationality in Europe, an exceptional power and authority. The English

people may become decadent as an European Power, but as a nationality

it will be unmenaced, since it does not represent a limited political

unit, but the half of the world. If the German nationality should

ever be baffled in the political combination made since 1870, she

would lose her political importance in the world. But if Britain were

attacked and conquered, the Anglo-Saxon nationality would still remain

the greatest political power in the universe. Hence this nationality

or race is exalted above all the narrow sentiments which underlie the

policy of the different European States; but England herself as a State

and political unit is jealous of the power which has in less than two

centuries produced the miraculous development of the Anglo-Saxon race

to its present extent; but if this jealousy is shown by the legitimate

defence of a greatness achieved by what was, comparatively speaking,

a handful of men from a remote island in the Atlantic, it does not

express itself in the palpitations of a whole people struggling for

their existence, which is the case with continental nations.

It follows from her exceptional circumstances that the aims of England

in Europe are few, and different from those of other States, and that

her policy has gradually become more disinterested in the contests

which divide continental Europe. She has witnessed the supremacy of

France, as she now witnesses the supremacy of Germany; she has watched

the rise of Italy and the decline of the Mussulman empire, to which

she formerly appeared so warmly attached, and it has not affected

her political position. The political vicissitudes of this half of

the century have disturbed the balance of all the States of Europe,

while England has during the same half century pursued her unalterable

course through all these changes, not only without adopting compulsory

service, but also without adopting conscription, and with an army which

a continental Power would scarcely consider sufficient for a grand

review. One point, however, England holds it necessary for her honor

and interests to maintain—namely, her maritime supremacy and the free

action of her eminently commercial people, in order to carry on her

mission of civilisation, which is at once noble and lucrative. She will

strive for this object with her last penny and with the last drop of

her blood, and it is on this side only that the English nation takes

its place as a great factor in European politics. She will strive for

this object with her accumulated materials of character, power, and

wealth, and at all events she will for a long time strive with the

success and efficacy which no one can deny that she possesses. But with

this exception her points of contact with Europe are few, and there

is little probability of friction since her object is remote. Instead

of striving for her nationality in Europe, she carries on without a

conflict the advance of civilisation throughout the world.

But she cannot, we have said, be indifferent to any attacks on her

maritime supremacy, nor to the serious rivalry with her colonial

policy displayed by the European States. For this reason, and with

a recollection of all which the continental blockade cost her, she

regards with displeasure the excessive preponderance of any one of the

great European Powers. England consists of a belly and brain nourished

by scattered members which include in their manifold organism all

parts of the world. If any one member is severed or paralysed, the

blow is felt in the centre. The inclination to found colonies aroused

in different European nationalities, which is, indeed, the necessary

consequence of their development, naturally interests England in the

highest degree, nor can the cases be rare when these new aspirations

must be checked by the appearance of the British flag.

We have now indicated all the perils and difficulties which threaten

the peace of Europe under the present political conditions that come

from the principles established with so much difficulty by philosophers

who were actuated by humanitarian motives, and who inscribed on the

banner which floated above the ancient citadel of their cherished

theories, the magic word “Fraternity.”

On their banner there was also inscribed “Equality,” which would

lead me to speak of socialism, if space allowed it: as in Europe the

progress in social questions has not been more fortunate. And just as

monarchy had hardly been called in question before it was face to face

with the republic, so the rights of property have hardly been discussed

before riches and poverty are confronted, and the whole problem of the

distribution of wealth rises again like a phantom before society. But

this article has already reached such a length that I must postpone

to a future occasion the treatment of that important and extensive

subject. What I have said, however, is quite enough to show that if in

Europe the present state of opinion on these subjects should not be

modified, national wars as well as civil wars could eventually carry us

at least through a temporary period of barbarism.

Yet we do not believe that we should lose confidence in progress, and

repudiate it in order to revert to the old state of things, nor yet

that the principles and ideas of which we have spoken are not really

progressive. Progress is a law of humanity which, if it were not, as it

undoubtedly is, beneficial, must be fatal to it; and it is certainly a

mark of progress that community of language, customs, and tendencies is

regarded as a reason for political union rather than certain arbitrary

or fortuitous combinations of successions, treaties, conquests, and

the like. Above all, it is well to have substituted the right of good

government for that which is merely arbitrary. We must again regard as

progressive some of the modifications introduced in the laws relating

to property. I say some of them, since it was perhaps dangerous to

shake prematurely the foundations of the systems by which it has been

ordered up to this time, when those which are to replace them are still

imperfect and untried.

But a long process of moral discipline is required, which may by

instruction modify the ideas about the two great modern conceptions of

politics and society.

Besides, and in the meantime as a compensation, our gentler customs,

a real progress in the education of sentiments and general culture,

greatly neutralise the effect of this violent state of things. After

the Russian has made a long tirade on the future of the Slav race, he

sets out for the Rhine or Paris, and forgets the mystical and obscure

visions of Holy Russia in the genuine pleasures of civilisation. When

the German lays aside his deadly arms in order to re-enter civic

life, his prejudices against the Latin race often fade before the

amenity of a Frenchman and the glorious sun of Italy. Undoubtedly the

multiplicity, the facility and gentleness of intercourse produced by

modern civilisation, are of great efficacy in paralysing the effects of

national antagonism and of social hatreds, but our watchfulness must

not therefore relax. But, notwithstanding all these considerations,

we persist in believing that until European opinion is modified on

these important subjects, European policy must always take account of

them, constantly on the watch lest she should be surprised by wars and

unforeseen catastrophes, which would compromise the long and laborious

work of her refined civilisation.

As long as nationalities are compelled to be rivals, it is necessary

to find some compensation for this rivalry. The ancient system of

the balance and equilibrium of power, which has seemed to be old

and disused armour, was perhaps never more opportune than now. If a

general confederation after the American manner seems visionary, as

opposed to the actual state of things in Europe, it might be practical

and efficacious to substitute this system of equilibrium for partial

alliance, and to establish the political balance of Europe in a normal

position. But it is necessary that this work should be effected in

time, before the preponderance of different Powers should become more

marked, and especially before the ambitions and greed which are now

upon the surface should strike deeply into the basis of international

policy. A well-planned system of approximating those elements which

are in any sense homogeneous or guided by common interests would tend

to secure peace and strengthen governments, and would at the same time

keep in check the social discontent which is nourished by political

dissensions, gathers strength from the uncertainty and weakness of our

present institutions, and triumphs in our misfortunes.

Here we must break off on the brink of conclusions and remedies. A few

words will not suffice to sum up the moral of this long dissertation,

nor was it our intention to do so either in few words or many. The

question is too large for solution in the pages of a Review.

It simply appeared to be an opportune moment for pointing out the

singular situation created by the progress of modern ideas, and to

indicate the dangers involved in it.

We do not wish to exaggerate these dangers, and have ourselves pointed

out that modern civilisation also includes their correctives, and that

they do not imply the end of all things, nor that another flood of

Deucalion is needed to renovate the human race from its very beginnings.

But precisely because European civilisation is so elaborate and

complex, it would be an error to suppose that catastrophic causes are

needed in order seriously to affect the conditions of our comparative

civility. Feudal and tyrannical wars took place in barren lands,

amid rude castles and squalid villages; those which are national and

social must be fought out amidst gardens and the monuments of art

and manufacture. The last wars recorded by history had Lombardy and

Champagne as their theatre, or were fought in the streets of Paris.

Any of the tendencies indicated by us in the foregoing considerations

which should terminate in a conflict would take place under analogous

conditions and in the same degree of civilisation which, while it might

mitigate the modes of warfare, must make its effects more grievous. And

the same ambition to possess distant countries which are more or less

civilised may also be equally full of danger to commerce, international

relations, the peace of Europe, and the interests of civilisation.

The privileged rules of the policy of the old world imposed upon

themselves a limit to excessive power, and used the saying, _Noblesse

oblige_. A new motto might be proposed to the builders and destroyers

of Governments in our day, which would be equally noble and might be

more fertile of results—_Progrès oblige_.—_Nineteenth Century._