Of course, logically many of the objections which can be urged against an agreement to make war might also be urged against an agreement for a boycott of this kind, but in practice the risks in the case of the boycott would be far less serious. Members of a club might well agree to expel and to cut a member who assaults another, but it would be a different
matter to agree that, they should be able to order the strongest man in the club to go to his house and thrash the offender until he makes such compensation as may seem satisfactory to them. A man who objected to be put on a "schedule" of members liable to be deputed for such a mission would not necessarily be a coward. He might possibly think that the member assaulted did in fact deserve a horse-whipping, though he might deprecate such a proceeding, and consider that the affair, or the dispute between the parties, ought to have been dealt with by the club committee as a case for expulsion. A hatred of injustice, resentment against wrong, if it really exists in nations and individuals, will make itself felt. Without it, formal agreements will be found to be of little use. The objections to a League of Nations having power practically to order certain of its members to make war do not in any way prevent the establishment of international tribunals being followed by useful results. Without any express sanctions to enforce them as above suggested, their decisions will usually be obeyed in practice. There is and will be plenty of scope for the action of such tribunals. A nation may hate war, may recognise its perils and the inevitable losses involved, but may feel that an unwarrantable claim is being made against it which it is bound to resist. It may, however, be perfectly willing to submit the point to any tribunal which even purports to be impartial, and abide by its decision. In this way some systems of law have grown up. They began by regulating procedure. Each of two parties claimed something as his property, was ready to fight to maintain his right; but such contests might result in injustice, and were certainly injurious to the peace of the State. In early Roman Law each party who claimed the object in dispute touched it with his spear, showing his readiness to fight for it; then some respected citizen—vir pietate gravis—stepped in, and each party, without fear that his refraining from fighting would expose him to future encroachments on his rights, could agree to abide by
his decision. As time goes on, what was merely the casual intervention of an arbitrator becomes an habitual rule, and eventually the fixed law of the land. Custom develops by general consent into law. Trial by combat may become obsolete in practice even long before it becomes illegal. There are many cases in which a man (or a nation) dare not give way, though he knows that it will cost him more to fight the case. A rough Lancashire manufacturer was once advised against fighting a difficult case on the ground that the result was uncertain, and the costs would in any event be very heavy, more than the value of the matter in dispute. He said afterwards to his solicitor with some force, "If I give in in this, that —— will come into my kitchen, kick me, and ask what business I have there. No, I'll fight him now." He brought his action and won, and found the prediction as to costs was only too fully borne out, even though judgment in the Court of Appeal was finally given in his favour. The man who says he will not fight in any circumstances invites injuries, though the man who fights when he could honourably avoid it is pretty sure to rue his decision.
Where two high-spirited persons are engaged in a dispute, and each is ready to maintain his cause with the sword, the intervention of a third may save both from the disasters of a battle. The words of the Douglas when intervening in a heated contest, "The first who strikes shall be my foe," may sometimes be a model for the real peacemaker. But he would certainly have resented the idea of agreeing to keep prepared, ready armed to fight at the bidding of a number of other chiefs, anyone who used force to prevent or punish some injury to himself.
FOOTNOTES:
The death of Lord Parker, which occurred soon after these words were written, has deprived the country of the services of one of the few great jurists at a time when they are most sorely needed. There are many good lawyers, many judicial minds acute in seizing the really relevant points in a complicated case, but very few, perhaps none, who united to legal learning and judicial penetration so broad a grasp of principle and appreciation of the larger issues involved in decisions given.