In the great and tragic history of Europe there is a turning-point
that marks the defeat of the ideal of a world-order and the definite
acceptance of international anarchy. That turning-point is the
emergence of the sovereign State at the end of the fifteenth century.
And it is symbolical of all that was to follow that at that point
stands, looking down the vista of the centuries, the brilliant and
sinister figure of Machiavelli. From that date onwards international
policy has meant Machiavellianism. Sometimes the masters of the craft,
like Catherine de Medici or Napoleon, have avowed it; sometimes, like
Frederick the Great, they have disclaimed it. But always they have
practised it. They could not, indeed, practise anything else. For it is
as true of an aggregation of States as of an aggregation of individuals
that, whatever moral sentiments may prevail, if there is no common law
and no common force the best intentions will be defeated by lack of
confidence and security. Mutual fear and mutual suspicion, aggression
masquerading as defence and defence masquerading as aggression, will be
the protagonists in the bloody drama; and there will be, what Hobbes
truly asserted to be the essence of such a situation, a chronic state
of war, open or veiled. For peace itself will be a latent war; and the
more the States arm to prevent a conflict the more certainly will it be
provoked, since to one or another it will always seem a better chance
to have it now than to have it on worse conditions later. Some one
State at any moment may be the immediate offender; but the main and
permanent offence is common to all States. It is the anarchy which they
are all responsible for perpetuating.
While this anarchy continues the struggle between States will tend
to assume a certain stereotyped form. One will endeavour to acquire
supremacy over the others for motives at once of security and of
domination, the others will combine to defeat it, and history will turn
upon the two poles of empire and the balance of power. So it has been
in Europe, and so it will continue to be, until either empire is
achieved, as once it was achieved by Rome, or a common law and a common
authority is established by agreement. In the past empire over Europe
has been sought by Spain, by Austria, and by France; and soldiers,
politicians, and professors in Germany have sought, and seek, to secure
it now for Germany. On the other hand, Great Britain has long stood, as
she stands now, for the balance of power. As ambitious, as quarrelsome,
and as aggressive as other States, her geographical position has
directed her aims overseas rather than toward the Continent of Europe.
Since the fifteenth century her power has never menaced the Continent.
On the contrary, her own interest has dictated that she should resist
there the enterprise of empire, and join in the defensive efforts of
the threatened States. To any State of Europe that has conceived the
ambition to dominate the Continent this policy of England has seemed as
contrary to the interests of civilization as the policy of the Papacy
appeared in Italy to an Italian patriot like Machiavelli. He wanted
Italy enslaved, in order that it might be united. And so do some
Germans now want Europe enslaved, that it may have peace under Germany.
They accuse England of perpetuating for egotistic ends the state of
anarchy. But it was not thus that Germans viewed British policy when
the Power that was to give peace to Europe was not Germany, but France.
In this long and bloody game the partners are always changing, and as
partners change so do views. One thing only does not change, the
fundamental anarchy. International relations, it is agreed, can only
turn upon force. It is the disposition and grouping of the forces alone
that can or does vary.
But Europe is not the only scene of the conflict between empire and
the balance. Since the sixteenth century the European States have been
contending for mastery, not only over one another, but over the world.
Colonial empires have risen and fallen. Portugal, Spain, Holland, in
turn have won and lost. England and France have won, lost, and
regained. In the twentieth century Great Britain reaps the reward of
her European conflicts in the Empire (wrongly so-called) on which the
sun never sets. Next to her comes France, in Africa and the East; while
Germany looks out with discontented eyes on a world already occupied,
and, cherishing the same ambitions all great States have cherished
before her, finds the time too mature for their accomplishment by the
methods that availed in the past. Thus, not only in Europe but on the
larger stage of the world the international rivalry is pursued. But it
is the same rivalry and it proceeds from the same cause: the mutual
aggression and defence of beings living in a “state of nature.”
Without this historical background no special study of the events
that led up to the present war can be either just or intelligible. The
feeling of every nation about itself and its neighbours is determined
by the history of the past and by the way in which that history is
regarded. The picture looks different from every point of view. Indeed,
a comprehension of the causes of the war could only be fully attained
by one who should know, not only the most secret thoughts of the few
men who directly brought it about, but also the prejudices and
preconceptions of the public opinion in each nation. There is nobody
who possesses these qualifications. But in the absence of such a
historian these imperfect notes are set down in the hope that they may
offer a counterpoise to some of the wilder passions that sweep over all
peoples in time of war and threaten to prepare for Europe a future even
worse than its past has been.