bring ministers of religion within its scope, and even also if it had
not proved practically a dead letter, does not, however, go far in the
direction of excluding foreign labour. For men of all nations are as
free to proceed to the United States to-day as ever they were, the only
condition being that they shall not, before landing, have made
themselves secure of finding work. If the same law were applied in
England, and even if not a single person evaded (as it would be
remarkably easy to evade) its provisions, it would not affect one in a
hundred of the foreigners who come hither to compete with our own
people. Does any one imagine that the German bakers and clerks and
costermongers, who are now so much in evidence, have before landing
entered into a contract of service?
If they have not, what further measure could be taken? Ought we to pass
a law prohibiting every foreigner from landing? Should we add to it the
condition that, if he will swear he is a _bona fide_ traveller, he may
be allowed to remain a few weeks under strict surveillance of the
police, who will not only watch very carefully that he does no stroke of
work while in England, but will see to it that he is promptly expelled
when his time is up? Are our customs officers to search incoming ships
for aliens as they do for tobacco, and is the penalty for smuggling
foreigners to be the same as for smuggling snuff? The project of totally
excluding foreign labour would be as impossible of accomplishment as it
would be repellent to attempt.
"But," some will answer, "is it right that we should be deluged with
foreign paupers, who come upon our rates without paying a penny towards
them?" That is quite another matter, and does not affect the question of
foreign labour in any but an indirect way. It certainly is not right
that we should be burdened by foreign paupers; and England would be
acting in perfect consistence with the principles of liberty and justice
if she did as the United States and the Continental countries have done,
in prohibiting the landing of paupers, and insisting upon sending them
back to the place whence they came. This is a matter of municipal rather
than international law; and a repetition of such a scandal as that of
the Greek gipsies, who were excluded from various European ports, and
were yet suffered to land here and to become a nuisance and a burden,
ought not to be allowed.
What is being argued against is not the enactment of a law to exclude
foreign paupers, but of one to exclude foreign workers. But even if the
former were to be proposed, it would have to be narrowly watched, lest
it should be so drafted as to deprive England by a sidewind of the title
of an asylum for the oppressed which she has so long and proudly worn.
For it is at the right of asylum that some of the advocates of exclusion
wish to strike. In the United States there is being formed a party to
strengthen the "Contract to Labour" Law, which avowedly wishes "to stop
the import of lawless elements"--an elastic phrase which might cover any
body of persons who wished for reform. And in England, Mr. Vincent, the
proposer of the Protectionist resolution adopted by the Tory conference
at Oxford in 1887, stated that "the indiscriminate asylum afforded here
has long been regarded by continental Governments as an outrage on good
order and civilization." He may rely upon it, however, that the English
love for the right of asylum is not to be destroyed by the wish or the
opinion of any despotic Government on earth, and that a right which
shook down the strong Administration of Lord Palmerston, when in an evil
hour he menaced it at the bidding of Louis Napoleon 30 years since, will
withstand the threatenings even of a conclave of chosen Conservatives.
Many things are possible to a Tory Government, and it may be that, in
the endeavour to secure some puff of a popular breeze to fill its
sails, it will pander to the section which demands the exclusion of
foreigners. But how could such a measure be proposed by a Ministry which
has among its members the Duke of Portland, whose family name, Bentinck,
proclaims his Dutch descent; Mr. Goschen and Baron Henry de Worms, whose
names no less emphatically announce them to have sprung from German
Jews; and Mr. Bartlett, who, though he tells the world by means of
reference-books that he was born at Plymouth, forgets to add that this
is not the town in England but one in the United States?
But it is not to be believed that England will in this matter forget her
traditions. We, who are descended from Briton and Saxon, from Norman and
Dane, have had reason to be proud of our faculty of absorbing all the
foreign elements that have reached these shores, and turning them to
good account. When our Puritan fathers were hunted down in England, it
was in a foreign clime they made their home; when other Englishmen have
lacked employment, it is to foreign lands they have gone; and the
hospitality extended to them by the foreigner we have returned. Go into
Canterbury Cathedral to-day, and there see the chapel set apart for the
French refugees, driven from their country for conscience' sake;
remember how, after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the unhappy
Huguenots fled to England to do good service to their adopted country by
establishing here the manufacture of silk. Never forget how advantageous
it has been for Englishmen to have the whole world open to their
endeavours; and hesitate long before attempting to deny to others that
right of free movement in labour which has been and is of such immense
advantage to ourselves.
XXVIII.--HOW SHOULD WE GUIDE OUR FOREIGN POLICY?
By a natural process of thought, the consideration of the proposed
exclusion of foreign labour leads to that of foreign policy generally;
and although the vast questions involved in our external relations are
not to be solved in a few lines, an attempt to lay down some general
principles upon the matter can hardly be wasted, for of all things
connected with public affairs, foreign policy is that of which the
average voter knows the least, and for which he pays the most. The
yearly twenty-seven millions as interest on the National Debt is a
perpetual legacy from the foreign policy of the past; while an equally
turbulent one in the present would increase the already heavy
expenditure on the navy and army to an alarming extent. But as all
questions covered by the phrase cannot be put in the simple form "Shall
we go to war?" there is a necessity for the leading principles which
should govern them to be considered.
A good guide to the future is experience of the past, and our English
history will have taught us little if it has not shown that many a war
has been waged which patience and wisdom might have avoided. And
although we have never avowedly gone to war "for an idea," as Louis
Napoleon said that France did concerning the expedition in which he
stole two Italian provinces, it has been because of the devotion of our
statesmen to certain pet theories that much shedding of blood is due.
One of these theories is that some nation or other is "our natural
enemy." France for several centuries held that position, and it was as
obvious to one generation that the word "Frenchman" was synonymous with
"fiend" as it was for another to link "Spaniard" with "devil" and for a
nearer still to consider that the Emperor Nicholas of Russia and "Old
Nick" were one and the same. Just now the "natural enemy" idea is
happily dormant, if not dead; but its evil effect upon our foreign
policy has been all too plainly marked in many a page of history.
Another theory, and one which has had a more far-reaching extent, is
that it is incumbent upon the nations of Europe to maintain "the balance
of power." This, again, is a phrase which has lost much of its old
force; but a Continental struggle might cause it to bloom once more with
all its baleful effects. Speaking about a quarter of a century ago, Mr.
Bright, considering the theory to be "pretty nearly dead and buried,"
observed of it to his constituents: "You cannot comprehend at a thought
what is meant by that balance of power. If the record could be brought
before you--but it is not possible to the eye of humanity to scan the
scroll upon which are recorded the sufferings which the theory of the
balance of power has entailed upon this country. It rises up before me,
when I think of it, as a ghastly phantom which during 170 years, whilst
it has been worshipped in this country, has loaded the nation with debt
and with taxes, has sacrificed the lives of hundreds of thousands of
Englishmen, has desolated the homes of millions of families, and has
left us, as the great result of the profligate expenditure which it has
caused, a doubled peerage at one end of the social scale and far more
than a doubled pauperism at the other. I am very glad to be here
to-night, amongst other things, to be able to say that we may rejoice
that this foul idol--fouler than any heathen tribe ever worshipped--has
at last been thrown down, and that there is one superstition less which
has its hold upon the minds of English statesmen and of the English
people."
The theory which was thus unsparingly denounced held that we, as a
nation, have a right to interfere to prevent any other nation from
becoming stronger than it now is, lest its increased strength should
threaten our interests. Politicians of the old school were accustomed to
assure us that, although the name might not have been known to the
ancients, the idea was; and, with that almost superstitious regard which
used to be paid to Greek and Roman precedents, Hume, in one of his
"Essays," related that "in all the politics of Greece, the anxiety with
regard to the balance of power is apparent, and is expressly pointed out
to us even by the ancient historians;" he was of opinion that "whoever
will read Demosthenes' oration for the Megalopolitans may see the utmost
refinements on this principle that ever entered into the head of a
Venetian or English speculatist;" and, having quoted a passage from
Polybius in support of the theory, he observed: "There is the aim of
modern politics pointed out in express terms."
But "the aim of modern politics" has been changed within the past
century. Since the era which closed with Waterloo in 1815, England,
Austria, Russia, France, and Germany have held in turn the dominant
power in the councils of Europe, and the balance has been so frequently
disturbed that the mapmakers have scarcely been able to keep pace with
the changes of the frontiers. Look back only thirty years, and see what
has occurred. Instead of Italy being "a fortuitous concourse of atoms,"
or merely "a geographical expression," she is the sixth great Power, the
kingdom of Sardinia, the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, the Papal States,
the grand duchies of Lucca, Parma, Tuscany, Modena, and the rest, with
Venetia (in 1858 an Austrian possession) thrown in, having been combined
to form that old dream of Mazzini, Garibaldi, and their
fellow-revolutionaries, "United Italy, with Rome for its capital." In
the place of a congeries of petty kingdoms and states, always jarring,
and with Austria and Prussia ever struggling for the mastery, we see a
German Empire, formed by the kingdom of Hanover being swept out of
existence, and those of Bavaria, Saxony, and Wurtemburg, with various
grand duchies, placed under the domination of Prussia. In the same
period Russia has gained and France has lost territory; the Ottoman
Empire has been "consolidated" into feebleness; and the kingdoms of
Roumania and Servia, with the principality of Bulgaria, have been called
in their present shape into being. All this has seriously disturbed the
"balance of power;" but what could England have done to hinder the
process if she had wished, and what right would she have had to attempt
it if she had dared?
And in addition to the disturbance of the "balance of power" by process
of war and revolution, there is that which comes from physical,
educational, industrial, and moral causes. Some nations have a greater
faculty than others of securing success in the markets of the world, and
these develop their natural resources in such fashion as to outstrip
their neighbours. If we ought to be continually fighting to prevent
other countries from aggrandizing themselves in point of territory, we
ought equally to do so to hinder them from becoming disproportionately
powerful in point of wealth. But as there is no man among us so insane
as to suggest the latter, so, it may be hoped, will there soon be none
to instigate the former. It is now over twenty years since even a Tory
Administration felt constrained to omit from the preamble of the Mutiny
Bill some words relating to the preservation of the "balance of power";
and if anything had been needed to cast undying ridicule upon the theory
it was the plea of King Milan that he went to war with Prince Alexander
in 1885, because the union of Bulgaria with Eastern Roumelia had
disturbed the "balance of power" in the Balkan States.
Another idea upon which it is often sought to provoke war is "regard for
the sanctity of treaties." There is an honest sound about this which has
caused it to deceive many worthy folk, but who in his heart believes
that there is any "sanctity" about treaties? Nations, as a fact, abide
by treaties just as long as it suits their purpose, and not a day
longer. Take the Treaty of Vienna, which after 1815 was to settle the
affairs of Europe for ever. The disruption of Belgium from Holland was
the first great blow at its provisions, and one after another of these
subsequently became a dead letter. The Treaty of Paris, concluded after
the Crimean War, Russia deliberately set aside in a most important part
as soon as she conveniently could. The Treaty of Frankfort, between
Germany and France, will last only as long as the French do not feel
themselves equal to the task of wresting back Alsace-Lorraine. And the
Treaty of Berlin, the latest great European compact of all, entered into
after the Russo-Turkish War, has already been violated in various
directions, and is daily threatened with being violated in more. A
treaty, in fact, is not like an agreement between equal parties, in
which one gives something to the other for value received; it is
customarily a bargain hardly driven by a conqueror as regards the
conquered, and one from which the latter intends to free himself as soon
as he has the chance. And so, whenever any one talks about the "sanctity
of treaties," let us first see what the treaties are, and under what
circumstances they were obtained. It will then be sufficient time to
consider the amount of reverence which is their due.
But there is a further theory upon which war is made, and that is the
most sordid of all, for, discarding all notions of honour and glory, it
simply avers that we ought to physically fight for commercial
advancement. A recent writer who seeks to tell us all about "Our
Colonies and India; how we got them, and why we keep them," devotes his
first chapter to attempting to prove that nothing but desire for gain
actuated our forefathers in every one of their great wars, or, to use
his own illustration, "we were afraid that our estate was going to be
broken up; we had a large family; and we spent money and borrowed money
to keep the property together, and to extend it. From our point of view,
as a nation, we have to set one side of our account against the other
and see whether our transaction paid. It is," he adds, "very often said
that England has very little to show for her National Debt. Nothing to
show for the National Debt! It is the price we pay for the largest
Colonial Empire the world has ever seen." This is probably the most
naked exposition of the worst side of the saying that "Trade follows the
flag" which has in late years been published; but that the idea which
underlies it still actuates a certain school of statesmen is shown by
the fact that Lord Randolph Churchill justified the expedition to Upper
Burmah--as long, tedious, and destructive a business as it was promised
to be short, easy, and dangerless--on the ground that the new territory
would "pay."
Now here are certain principles which have guided the foreign policy of
the past, and which stand as beacons to warn us against dangers in the
future. That we shall escape war for all time to come is not to be hoped
for, but, by considering the crimes and blunders and bloodshed which
have flowed from previous methods, something may be done to avoid it.
XXIX.--IS A PEACE POLICY PRACTICABLE?
The question whether a settled adherence to the principles of
non-intervention is compatible at once with our interests and our honour
is one upon which much of the future of England may depend. The answer
is not to be found in sneers at a "peace-at-any-price policy," which has
never been adopted by any section of our countrymen, or in panegyrics
upon the virtues evolved by war, made by men who sit comfortably in
their arm-chairs while they hound others on to bloodshed. It is a
question which of necessity can only be answered in certain cases as the
circumstances arise, but there is nothing either cowardly or
dishonourable in considering the general principles involved in a reply.
Looking at the world as it stands, it seems almost beyond hope that war
will ever cease. It is true that we have got rid of blood-letting in
surgery and that we have got rid of blood-letting in society, and it
may, therefore, seem to some that there is a chance of getting rid of
blood-letting between States. A century since, the doctor's lancet and
the duellist's pistol were rivals in slaughter, and all but fanatics
thought their abolition impossible. What will be said of war in the time
to come?
Whatever may be said of it then, we know what can be said of it now. It
is a grievous curse to the nations engaged, and a calamitous hindrance
to civilization. It is a barbarous and illogical method of settling
international disputes, which decides only that one side is the
stronger, and never shows which side is the right. The cynical saying
that God is on the side of the big battalions is true at bottom. We
laugh to-day at the old custom of "Trial by battle," recognizing that
the innocent combatant was often the weaker or less skilful, and that
the guilty consequently triumphed. But "Trial by battle," as between
nations, is equally absurd, if any one imagines that it shows which is
the righteous. Who would contend that France was in the right when
Napoleon Bonaparte, in his early career, by his superior skill in
tactics, swept the nations of Europe before him at Arcola and Marengo,
Austerlitz and Jena, and that he was in the wrong when, in the waning of
his powers, he was irretrievably ruined at Waterloo? That Denmark was in
the wrong because the combined forces of Austria and Prussia crushed her
in the struggle over Schleswig-Holstein, and that Prussia was in the
right when, after she and her neighbour had quarrelled like a couple of
thieves over their booty, she placed the needle-gun against the
muzzle-loader and overwhelmed Austria? The spirit which impels each
combatant to call upon the Almighty as of right for assistance, and
which leads the victor to sing a _Te Deum_ at the struggle's close, is a
blasphemous one, which should not blind us to the criminality of most
wars. To hurl thousands of men into conflict in order to extend trade or
acquire territory is an iniquity, disguise it by what phrases we will.
In private life the man who steals is called a thief, the man who kills
is called a murderer; why in public life should the nation which steals,
and which kills in order to steal, be differently treated? If there be
retributive justice beyond the grave, Frederick the Great and Napoleon
Bonaparte, who in cold blood and for selfish motives sacrificed tens of
thousands of lives, will stand at the murderers' bar side by side with
those lesser criminals who have gone to the gallows for a single
slaughter.
Let us look at war, therefore, as it is--a direful necessity, even when
justified by self-preservation, a flagrant crime when entered upon for
the extension of territory or trade. It is easy to raise the cry of
patriotism whenever a war is undertaken, but the patriotism that pays
others to fight is a cheap article which deserves no praise. As for the
bloodthirsty bray of the music halls, which even English statesmen have
not disdained to stimulate in favour of their policy, it is abhorrent to
cleanly-minded men; the ethics of the taproom and the patriotism of the
pewter-pot are not to their taste; and when it is seen that the most
sanguinary writers and the most blatant talkers are the last to put
their own bodies in peril, it cannot but be concluded that their theory
is that patriotism is a virtue to be preached by themselves and
practised by their neighbours.
But though a reckless or merely aggressive war is not only the greatest
of human ills but the gravest of national crimes, an armed struggle is
in certain instances a necessity. Self-preservation is the first law of
nature; and as no man would condemn another for slaying, if no milder
measure would do, one who attempted to kill him, and the law would
regard such a course as justifiable homicide, so a nation is right to
fight against invasion, and would deserve to be extinguished or enslaved
if it did not. "Defence, not defiance," the motto of our volunteers,
should be the motto of our statesmen; and then, if an enemy attacked us,
we should be able to give a good account of ourselves.
In order to act up to this motto, we must dabble as little as possible
with affairs that do not directly concern us. We should cease to think
that we are the arbiters of the world's quarrels--we have enough to do
to look after our colonies and ourselves--and we should withdraw from
such entangling engagements as we have, and enter upon no fresh ones.
When, for instance, we are urged to formally join the Triple Alliance,
we must ask why we should bind ourselves to fight France and Russia
because Germany would like to pay off old scores, Austria wishes to get
to Salonica, and Italy is eager to assert her position as the
latest-created "Great Power." As it is, a Continental struggle, such as
is bound to come in the near future, may sufficiently involve us. No one
seems quite to know whether we are or are not bound by treaty to defend
the territorial independence of Belgium; but as it is through "the
cockpit of Europe" that Germany may next attempt to assail France, or
France try to reach Germany, the question is a very important one.
Would it not be better to settle that before we proceed to bind
ourselves with the chains of an alliance which could do us little good,
but might easily effect considerable harm?
Non-intervention has again and again been proved to be an honourable and
beneficent policy. There has been scarcely a great war within the last
thirty years in which we have not been urged by some section in this
country to interfere. The Franco-Austrian conflict in 1859, the civil
war in America, the Austro-Prussian attack upon Denmark, the
Franco-German war, and the Russo-Turkish struggle--in every one of these
we were urged to interfere on behalf of our interests or our honour, or
both. In none did we do so, and who to-day will argue that abstention
was wrong? There are some politicians who appear wishful to see
England's finger in every international pie, and the same old arguments,
the same vehement appeals, are used whenever there is a struggle abroad.
And when the next occurs, and these weather-beaten arguments and appeals
are again brought to the fore, let those who may be swayed by them turn
to the files of the newspapers which instigated intervention in all of
the cases named; and let them reflect that non-intervention proved the
best course in every one, and that what did so well before is most
likely to do well again.