repulsive these conclusions may be, their statement
is a matter of duty. Were Ireland independent,
England would possess three means far more effective
for enforcing her will upon her weaker neighbour than
are coercion acts, courts, or constables. England
could deal not with individuals, but with the State,
and she could compel respect for treaties or due regard
to English interests by invasion, by a pacific blockade,
or by a hostile tariff. There is a special reason
for dwelling on the facility with which England could
compel the observance of engagements. Morally
the most serious of all the objections to England’s
conceding Irish independence is the indelible disgrace
which would rightly fall upon any country which did
not provide for the protection of men who had been
loyal and faithful citizens. Now the point to
be noted is that England’s authority, resulting
not from law but from power in an independent Ireland,
would greatly enhance her capacity for ensuring the
fair treatment of Irish Protestants. The treaty
of independence would provide guarantees for their
rights, and any breach of these guarantees would be
a
casus belli. The mere threat of a hostile
tariff would of itself be a stronger sanction than
the most strenuous provisions of an Act of Parliament
backed only by the very hypothetical power of compelling
a half-independent executive to obey the judgments
of, say, the Privy Council The guarantees of a treaty
are, it may be said, often worthless. This is
so; but their worthlessness arises from the weakness
of the country in whose favour they are made.
In any event they may be worth a good deal more than
provisions of an Act of Parliament. The deriders
of a paper Union which has lasted for a century have
no right to count on the validity of a paper Federation
which still awaits creation.
It is, again, possible that the severance of all political
connection might open the way to friendship or alliance.
This assertion is no unmeaning paradox. If one
could anticipate with any confidence that the acknowledgment
of Irish nationality would bring to Ireland happiness
and prosperity, it would not be a very bold conjecture
that as Ireland flourished and prospered, ill-will
to England might rapidly decrease. With nations,
as with individuals, to remove all causes of mutual
irritation is much the same thing as removing the
disposition to quarrel. Not twelve years have
passed since the last Austrian soldier marched out
of Italy, yet Austria is at this moment less unpopular
with the Italians than France, and Garibaldi’s
death evoked tributes of respect at Vienna. For
fifteen years the whole force of European law was
employed to keep Belgium united to Holland; the obvious
interests, moreover, of all the inhabitants of the
kingdom of the Netherlands told in favour of union.
Yet year by year the two divisions of one country
became more and more hostile to each other. Fifty
years of separation have, as far as appearances go,