The earliest instances of this action we find in China, where, in the thirteenth century, the Papacy concluded Treaties with the Mongol Emperors for the protection of Christian Missions.[4] It was not, however, until the Treaty of Tientsin in 1858 that Great Britain and France secured religious liberty for Christians in China.
In the Mussulman Levant, toleration for foreign Christians was secured by the so-called Capitulations. These were, in effect, treaties, although they were in the form of grants by the Sultans. They gave large exterritorial jurisdiction to the Ambassadors and Consuls of the States on whom they were conferred. The earliest grant of this kind occurs in the ninth century, when the Emperor Charlemagne obtained guarantees for his subjects visiting the Levant from the famous Khalif Haroun al-Rashid.[5] Later on, all the leading Christian States negotiated Capitulations with the Sultans. The existing British Capitulations are dated 1675, but an earlier grant was made in 1583.
One of the main objects of the Capitulations, besides personal security and trading rights, was to assure religious liberty for the nationals of the grantees. This benefited Jews at an early date, as the Capitulations and similar treaties generally provided for certain immunities for the native interpreters, servants and other employees of the privileged foreigners. As Jews were frequently so employed, they thus acquired protection against Moslem fanaticism.
In this way arose the system of Consular Protection which was long a boon to Jews in the Ottoman Empire and in the Barbary States.[6]
In spite of these experiences the idea of diplomatic intervention for the promotion of religious toleration in foreign States, especially on behalf of non-Christians, has only prevailed within narrow limits. It has been largely circumvented by the fact that such interventions must, even with the best will in the world, be more or less conditioned by the raison d'état. Unless they are likely to promote policy, or at any rate to coincide with policy, the usual course when they are invoked is to take refuge in the so-called principle of non-intervention.
It was, indeed, not until the seventeenth century that the question was seriously discussed at all by the jurists, although Cromwell had already laid down the splendid principle, in the case of the persecution of the Vaudois, that "to be indifferent to such things is a great sin, and a deeper sin still is it to be blind to them from policy or ambition." The first impulses of the international lawyers were much in the Cromwellian spirit. Bacon, Grotius, and Puffendorff all strongly maintained the legality not only of diplomatic but also of armed intervention to put down tyranny or misgovernment in a neighbouring State, and a century later they were followed by Vattel. Sweden acted upon the principle in her intervention on behalf of the Protestants of Poland in 1707, and, in 1792, it was given its widest scope, and was formally adopted, by the French Revolution in the famous decree of the Convention which promised "fraternity and succour to all peoples who wish to recover their liberty."
The doctrine, however, lingered only anæmically through the early decades of the nineteenth century. In face of the growing delicacy of the international system, it was gradually abandoned for the conservative principle of non-intervention, based on the independence and equality of all States.[7] But even this principle has not always been observed in regard to small States, although, curiously enough, Russia invoked it against Great Britain for the protection of King "Bomba" of Sicily, in the case of the Neapolitan prison horrors.[8] Abstention from intervention in certain glaring cases of inhumanity by foreign Governments—such as the persecution of the Russian Jews—has been defended on the ground of absence of treaty rights, but, as a matter of fact, this argument, too, has not been consistently adhered to.[9] In all cases, whether of great or small States, treaty rights or no treaty rights, the real test has almost always been the frigid raison d'état. The United States has been less affected by this restriction than the European Powers, and on many occasions has shown a really noble example of the purest altruism in international politics.[10]
II. INTERVENTIONS ON GROUNDS OF HUMANITY.
Long before the Peace of Westphalia an attempt was made by the famous Jewess, Donna Gracia Nasi, to obtain protection for her persecuted co-religionists by diplomatic action, and it proved successful. The circumstances will be narrated presently.[11] It stood, however, alone for two hundred years. Even after the Peace eminent Jews, who sought in a like way to enlist the sympathy and help of European governments, failed. Menasseh ben Israel made representations in this sense on behalf of the oppressed Jews of Poland, Prussia, Spain, and Portugal to both Queen Christina of Sweden and Oliver Cromwell, but although he met with much and genuine sympathy he found the raison d'état—and probably also a lingering reluctance to regard Jews as quite within the pale of humanity—too strong for him.[12] A decade later a similar attempt was made by Fernando Mendes da Costa, one of the founders of the Anglo-Jewish Community, and a member of a very distinguished Portuguese Marrano family. From a letter of his which is still extant,[13] it seems that he was deeply concerned in helping the persecuted Marranos in Spain and Portugal, and he had a scheme for organising an emigration of his hapless brethren on a large scale to Italy and England. He received much help from Don Francisco Manuel de Mello, the distinguished Portuguese soldier, author and diplomatist, and through him interested Queen Katharine of Braganza and Charles II in the scheme. It appears, too, that, with the support of these eminent personages, the scheme was brought to the notice of the Pope, but of its subsequent fate we know nothing.
(a) PERSECUTION OF THE JEWS IN BOHEMIA (1744-45).