and civilisation, let him keep his eye also on the ridiculous in the case;—on the absurdity of such pretensions put forth in the name of a people who have permitted themselves to be stripped of the most ordinary liberties which are the essential conditions of civilisation. When the Italian war began, there was little to choose between the state of the Milanese or Venetians under the Austrian yoke and that of the French in their own capital and their own provinces: and to expect us English people to march anywhere, side by side with the French, to liberate a nation from repression by a despot was to propose that we should set ourselves up for a laughing-stock to the world. The world might fairly have laughed at us in such a case, though it could not laugh at the French. There was too much that was tragic mixed up with the absurdity to permit a laugh at the nation which had lost its own liberties, and was, on that very account, dragged out to confer liberty on another people.
When the supposed taunt of De Tocqueville is quoted against England, it should be remembered that the word “interest” may mean more things than one. It seems to be assumed that, in the English case, pecuniary interest was meant,—or some kind of material advantage suitable to “a nation of shopkeepers.” Whatever might be the kind of interest that De Tocqueville had in view, he would have agreed with any one who reminded him that certain other interests which are boasted of as an aim are by no means of a loftier character than that condition of popular welfare which British statesmen value as an absolute condition of national progress in intelligence and virtue. An arbitrary government which flatters national vanity with promises of “glory,” and with costly efforts to domineer over other states under pretence of leading the civilisation of the world, may be mistaken in supposing itself more lofty-minded than a neighbour who is averse from meddling where it has no business, and who cannot conscientiously inflict suffering at home for the sake of carrying aid to people who, like the Mexicans, have no claim, and who will probably be anything but thankful for the patronage. If it were put before the moral sense of the world which is the loftier “interest,”—that of an ambition restless for notoriety, and eager to engross the world’s gaze and move the fears of a continent, or that of a self-reliant disposition, ready for war when needed, but satisfied with peace and industry, as most favourable to the general welfare and progress,—I believe the moral sense of the world would pronounce the quieter “interest” to be the nobler of the two.
It was the fashion in America till lately to charge England with a passion for territorial aggrandisement; and this was the “interest” then meant. The charge was natural, because that temptation is the one most powerful with Americans: but the imputation cannot hold its ground against the facts. It is a good many years now since the First Napoleon made a mock of England for not “getting anything” in the settlement of Europe on his overthrow. He could not understand that England did not want anything but peace and stability of affairs in Europe. Here and there the supposition has gone on to this day that England is always scheming to “get” something; but the evidence of events is so little favourable to this notion that it has for the most part yielded to the view, that we care only for trade, as a means of wealth. It is true,—the Russian war remains to be accounted for, in this case: and the refusal to help the Confederates in America as the holders of cotton; and the neutrality which prevents our helping the Federals to put down their “rebels,” by which we might break up the blockade, and get the cotton, and avoid the risk of a war with the offended North. All this, and much more, is very unaccountable to our critics: and therefore our critics are for ever looking deeper and deeper for the reasons of our course. It is a pity that they do not see events in their natural aspect, and learn the policy of England from the acts and avowals of the government of a constitutional country, whose whole people speak through their government.
The “interest” of the nation, in the broadest and highest sense, is in fact the proper aim of what our critics call “England”: and the government of the day acts and speaks accordingly. It is the interest of every free nation that the safeguards of liberty, and the restrictions upon despotism, should everywhere be steadily maintained: and therefore England was ready and willing to go to war with the Russian aggressor in support of the Turkish empire. As often as a similar danger occurs, England will be found ready for war. But where the liberties of Europe are not involved, there it would be an injury to ourselves, and an offence to society generally, that we should put ourselves forward to meddle. The French suffer in reputation by the restlessness of their government, however that government may try to deceive them in the matter. Busybodies and domineering patrons are never popular; nor are they considered particularly wise or lofty-minded. Invaders of Mexico are less admired than people who respect other people’s territory and political independence. Schemers who undertake everybody’s business abroad—from making a canal in Egypt to making an armistice in America: from confounding the Pope at Rome to humouring the King of Madagascar—are apt to succeed in their first aim,—of keeping themselves before the world’s eye and mind; but they usually fail in every enterprise with which they have not a natural and righteous concern. Mexican expeditions fail in regard to “glory”: Suez canals are mere diggings in the sand which the waves of Time will efface: belligerents in a civil war resent the interference of a foreigner: and Christendom is irritated by the suspense in which the question of the Papacy is held, while all that is most sacred in the eyes of the Catholic world is trifled with to make a show of the power of the arbitrator.
There is more real power than that arbitrator will ever possess in the state which holds its own course, constant to its principles, frank in its practice, desiring to “live and let live.” The influence of such a state is more effective than moral pretension on the one hand, and military reputation on the other. While England holds such an influence, she is not concerned with the taunts of critics, who imagine that her frankness must cover
