must be bridled, not armed. No nation, with its passions unbridled or armed can be entrusted with world power, and the only effective way with autocrats who would hack their way through at all costs is to smash their tools. The time has surely come when the makers of the weapons of death and destruction should be muzzled. No trade has been more keenly pushed, none more vigilantly promoted by wealth, by science, by a subsidized press; by secret agents at every court and in touch with all governments fostering and encouraging by every means, fair and foul, that competition and rivalry, which, as we have long foreseen and, as has now been proved, could end only in the crash of war or bankruptcy. With conditions unchanged all this will be renewed with redoubled energy after the war.

The judicial section of this International Council would constitute a tribunal of the greatest weight and dignity. The adhering states would send to its bench the most learned, the wisest, and the greatest jurists. Every case coming before it would be argued by the world's ablest advocates, and the council's decision would commend universal respect and loyal acceptance. The united forces of the nations would stand behind its judgments and see its decrees carried out. Can anyone recall any differences which led to war in our own or in former times which could not have been adjusted by such a court? There are many who tell us that man is essentially a fighting animal, and that human society can never be organized in such a way as will prevent war. Force, they tell us, must always be the final arbiter. The view that wars are inevitable I hold to be quite untenable. I firmly believe that we can reach a stage of human organization that will make wars as we have known them impossible, and lasting peace inevitable.

What are the alternatives to a scheme of central control? The old formulas, "Balance of power," "Concert of Europe," "To secure peace be prepared for war," have all proved broken reeds. Democratic control can give us no security. United States of Europe will not help us much; there are other United States, and there may yet be others in the East. This would

probably mean for our children an Armageddon on the Atlantic or on the Pacific, with an expenditure in preparation of untold millions.

The only alternative to complete federation is to abandon our Christian standards and frankly accept the new Prussian philosophy. Pile up greater and still greater armaments, compel all our sons to bear arms, banish all thoughts of social reforın, and face naval and military expenditure at least four times as great as any we have known before.

Nineteenth Century. 76: 1296-1306. December, 1914.

War and Arbitration. J. W. Carliol (Bishop of Carlisle)

There are so many discrepancies in the common comparison between national police and international police that the limits of space will not allow me even to touch them all. Two observations may, however, be briefly stated. First, it is not the power and force of a community which alone stand behind its judicial tribunals and compel its criminals and litigants to obey their sentences and decisions. Behind the force of the community lies its will, its sense of equity and justice, its approval of the distribution of awards and the infliction of penalties. Take these away and the force would crumble to pieces. No force could stand for long against the resistance of the general conscience and conviction of right in any nation. In a genuine constitutional government, indeed, such as that of the British Empire, or the United States of America, the laws of the state are the expression of the will, the intelligence, the conscience of the state. The force which compels obedience to these laws is but the instrument of the nation's will, and, as that will governs the instrument of force which it employs, force cannot be the final arbiter of the intelligence and conscience which direct that will. Secondly, in individual disputes or trials it is not the whole nation which is at the back of the laws which govern it. Criminals and very ignorant people and other lawless persons disapprove of legal restraints. They prefer license. It is the majority, including the wisest and the best, who make the laws

according to which disputes are settled and transgressions punished; and because the laws express the mind and will of this majority the minority feel compelled, or at any rate find it their interest, to yield to these laws. The individual does not wait till the whole nation backs a law. When the majority backs it he realizes that the free tenure of his citizenship depends on his obedience. Similarly with international arbitrations. We need not wait till all the nations of the world agree to arbitral laws. If the majority, and those the wisest and the best, combine to agree on them, the rest will either find it their interest to submit or must be content to be regarded as outlaws.

English Review. 19: 375-81. February, 1915.

Limits of International Compromise. E. S. P. Haynes

"All government,” wrote Burke, “indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, every virtue, and every prudent act is founded on compromise and barter. We balance inconveniences, we "give and take; we remit some rights that we may enjoy others." This generalization is so obviously true in most respects that it is not unreasonable to inquire how far it is limited in its application to international affairs as well as to what is ordinarily meant by "government." The advocate of war as a better method of settling disputes than arbitration quite logically denies that compromise does or can properly settle many problems of individual conduct. The "honour" of the individual is as sacred as the "honour" of a nation.

Yet in modern England the insulted man pursues some social or legal remedy, even though the remedy may seem quite inadequate.

Our society, therefore, reposes on the collective conviction of its members that the peace of invariable compromise must, in all circumstances and at all costs, be maintained by law. An individual citizen may feel impelled to sacrifice his life for a cause by, e.g., political assassination, but he recognizes from the start that he is doomed, and even his political sympathizers do

not forcibly resist his execution, as we have seen in modern Russia. Yet even in Russia the present supporters of liberalism frankly admit that such acts do no good. It is, they say, like cutting different branches off a tree; but the only effective plan is to uproot the tree, and this they think can only be achieved by an enormous campaign of peaceful propaganda, which is, in fact, being carried out at the present time.

If the analogy of the individual and the nation is permissible at all, I think it may safely be said that the individual love of property is at least as strong as the national love of power. Yet although disputes about property have been more than usually fierce during the last ten years, comparatively little bloodshed has resulted even from the frequent strikes that have occurred, and the movement for industrial arbitration has made great strides. In any case, disputes about property never result in a yearly increase of police force at all comparable to the recent increase of armaments.

It seems equally probable that the end of the present war may result in a serious agitation for the settlement of international disputes by artbitration. War in the last resort will no doubt always exist, just as Ulster can even now wage war on the British Empire. But the uprising of Ulster would merely be equivalent to an act of political assassination by an individual, whether the act be regarded as morally laudable or not. The final issue would not be in question; the declaration of such a war would merely express the determination of a small community to achieve the same martyrdom that an anarchist desires, or at best to rouse public sympathy by asserting its readiness for such martyrdom.

Both property and power can be abused, but the abuse of either brings about, sooner or later, its own destruction. We are accustomed to boast that the British Empire makes for peace all over the world, and the boast is to some extent justified by the assistance that we have obtained from our colonies, and even our dependencies, during the war. But we may be sure that any real abuse of our power would result in its speedy unpopularity. The Boer War, rightly or wrongly, nearly raised

up a coalition of the European Powers against us. But I venture to assert that the submission of the questions then in dispute to The Hague tribunal would not only have saved this country the waste of blood and treasure that the Boer War involved, but would also have brought about a fairly satisfactory solution of them.

War is due in these days (1) to the lack of time for settling disputes when each party is feverishly preparing for the contingency of war, (2) to the same feeling of sensitiveness to the reproach of cowardice that afflicted the individual in the duelling days, and (3) to the incessant competition in armaments. But the mere existence of an international court gives a proper margin of time if nations are compelled to go to it, and although our own duelling days are not so very remote, the challenge of one French judge by another in the course of a recent lawsuit in which they were both engaged, did not inspire even the most bellicose Briton with any other feeling than that of amusement. As regards armaments, it might be possible for the Powers to pool a fairly large sum of money, and agree that the contribution of any power exceeding a certain limit in armaments should forfeit its own contribution. Each power would, of course, enjoy the income of the money so pooled, unless or until the forfeiture occurred.

Before the present war, it might well have been objected that those powers which felt themselves safe from aggression would never feel it worth their while either to join a Peace Guarantee League, or if they had done so, to obey any obligation due to the league if they could safely evade it. We now know, however, that no power, great or small, is really safe from attack, and it therefore becomes worth while for all to combine for purposes of mutual defence. Again, it may be contended that one great power, or a group of small powers, might make secret preparations for attacking the others, but the conditions of our world are so cosmopolitan that this would scarcely be feasible. The point is that if any group of nations or individuals really wants peace, peace will be achieved. Ten years ago Sir Robert Finlay, in his