on the deck of one of those swift steamships which
now cross to Ireland from so many points on the British coast, there
must, if he has any imagination, come some vision of the vast
impediment which this sea has placed in the way of direct control by
England over Ireland's domestic affairs. Looking back down the vista of
history, he must see a succession of fleets delayed by contrary winds,
of sea-sick kings and storm-battered convoys, of conquest thwarted by
the caprice of ocean, of peace messengers and high administrators
brought to anchor in the midst of their proud schemes.
The same causes still operate. In this respect, indeed, Ireland appears
to be simply one instance of a general law. It may almost be laid down
as an axiom that no nation can govern another across the sea. How often
it has been tried, and how often it has failed! France has tried it
with England, and England has tried it with France. Great Britain tried
it with North America, and Spain tried it with South. In this matter
even the great quickening of modern communications, even the miracles
of steam and electricity, seem to have made little difference. For even
at the present moment, if we look around, we shall see how great a part
the sea has played as the deciding factor in forms of government. It is
the sea which has made us give self-government to Canada, Australia,
and South Africa. It is the sea which keeps Newfoundland apart from the
Canadian Federation, and New Zealand apart from Australia. Even within
the scope of these islands the same law prevails. It is the sea which
makes us give self-government to the Isle of Man and the Channel
Islands. Almost the only exception is Ireland. In Ireland we have
defied this great law; and in Ireland that defiance is a failure.
And yet not defied it completely; for the very facts of Nature forbade.
While we have taken away the Irish Legislature, we have been obliged to
leave the Irish their separate laws, their separate Administration and
Estimates, and their separate Executive in Dublin. That Executive has
been for a whole century practically uncontrolled by any effective
Parliamentary check. The result is that it has grown, like some plant
in the dark, into such quaint and eccentric shapes and forms as to defy
the control of any Minister or any public opinion[6]. Perhaps the worst
condemnation of the Act of Union has been that while we destroyed the
Irish Parliament we have been obliged to leave Dub
|