The rules of maritime warfare which the American State Department so disastrously insisted upon were the direct outcome of the Hague Conference of 1907.  That assembly of the nations recognized, what had long been a palpable fact, that the utmost confusion existed in the operations of warring powers upon the high seas.  About the fundamental principle that a belligerent had the right, if it had the power, to keep certain materials of commerce from reaching its enemy, there was no dispute.  But as to the particular articles which it could legally exclude there were as many different ideas as there were nations.  That the blockade, a term which means the complete exclusion of cargoes and ships from an enemy’s ports, was a legitimate means of warfare, was also an accepted fact, but as to the precise means in which the blockade could be enforced there was the widest difference of opinion.  The Hague Conference provided that an attempt should be made to codify these laws into a fixed system, and the representatives of the nations met in London in 1908, under the presidency of the Earl of Desart, for this purpose.  The outcome of their two months’ deliberations was that document of seven chapters and seventy articles which has ever since been known as the Declaration of London.  Here at last was the thing for which the world had been waiting so long—­a complete system of maritime law for the regulation of belligerents and the protection of neutrals, which would be definitely binding upon all nations because all nations were expected to ratify it.

But the work of all these learned gentlemen was thrown away.  The United States was the only party to the negotiations that put the stamp of approval upon its labours.  All other nations declined to commit themselves.  In Great Britain the Declaration had an especially interesting course.  In that country it became a football of party politics.  The Liberal Government was at first inclined to look upon it favourably; the Liberal House of Commons actually ratified it.  It soon became apparent, however, that this vote did not represent the opinion of the British public.  In fact, few measures have ever aroused such hostility as this Declaration, once its details became known.  For more than a year the hubbub against it filled the daily press, the magazines, the two Houses of Parliament and the hustings; Rudyard Kipling even wrote a poem denouncing it.  The adoption of the Declaration, these critics asserted, would destroy the usefulness of the British fleet.  In many quarters it was denounced as a German plot—­as merely a part of the preparations which Germany was making for world conquest.  The fact is that the Declaration could not successfully stand the analysis to which it was now mercilessly submitted; the House of Lords rejected it, and this action met with more approbation than had for years been accorded the legislative pronouncements of that chamber.  The Liberal House of Commons was not in the least dissatisfied with this conclusion, for it realized that it had made a mistake and it was only too happy to be permitted to forget it.