CHAPTER V
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. Th