CHAPTER X

THE MERCANTILE SYSTEM IN IRELAND

Ar the close of the sixteenth century the effective power of the Holy Roman Empire is plainly declining. Henry VII., Louis XI., and Ferdinand the Catholic, the tres magi of Bacon, are seen to be the rulers of embryo nations. The Renaissance and the Reformation developed the growing national feeling. When the separate members of the ancient empire became more conscious of their own national life than of the ties that bound them to their neighbours they were easily led to confound commercial independence with political. It was not then difficult for jealousy and suspicion to convince the members of the rising nationalities that their neighbours' gain must mean their loss. That both could gain by the same transaction was a notion frankly incredible to them, for of the law of comparative advantage they had no more than the faintest glimmering. If, therefore, men traded with foreigners, it was the duty of the State to regulate transactions, for otherwise national interests must inevitably suffer. When the State undertook this duty it seemed evident that the precious metals were the most valuable articles that commerce could import.

It was obvious that if a country carried on a large export trade and a small import one, money was owing to it. This was considered a favourable balance of trade, for gold and silver came in while merely commodities went out. An exception to the rule was allowed in the case of raw material, for though money was paid for its import still more could be made by its export when

gain.

manufactured. At all costs, the export of bullion must cease, for if it went on the country became to that extent impoverished. No doubt the trader or the corporation often suffered grievously from the restrictions laid down by this Mercantile system, but private loss was but a small matter compared with public gain. Political power was the paramount object of all industrial policy in the seventeenth century: mercantile gain or loss was only to be considered in so far as it bore directly upon the welfare of the state. The Mercantile theory in its essence was political. Most writers on political economy after the time of Bodin make the aggrandisement of a particular state under the rule of an absolute monarch the aim of their teaching. The Mercantile system of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is much more political than economic it assumed that commercial independence was as desirable as political and could be as readily secured. The theory began with the Renaissance and ended with the French Revolution. This is another way of stating that it began when foreign commerce was becoming a powerful factor in European policy, and it passed away when governments were beginning to be democratic. Mercantilism reached its fullest development in Europe in the latter half of the seventeenth century.

Of

National power seemed to the statesmen of those days to depend in the last resort on three things: these were the accumulation of treasure-the primary aim of the Stuart dynasty-as a reserve to be drawn upon in time of need, the development of shipping as a school for sailors, and the increase of the population for trade and war. course the interests of the sovereign nation were paramount; any colonies belonging to it must submit to all regulations the mother country chose fit to impose. The sole purpose of the existence of a colony was to provide for the needs of the home-land. Louis and William differed in many points of international policy, but in this matter they were thoroughly at one. England, equally with France and Spain, was resolved to secure the monopoly of all trade with her own colonies. The Navigation Acts of 1651

and 1660 are unmistakably inspired by this motive. Statesmen conceived that as the mother-country had brought the colonies into existence she was entitled to treat them after the manner of the proverbial stepmother. Settlers might raise raw material for the home-land, but they must not presume to manufacture it. The American woollen industry and iron manufactures were suppressed in the interests of England. According to Lord Chatham "the British Colonists of North America had no right to manufacture even a nail for a horse-shoe." The statement sounds extreme, but it is amply warranted by the facts of the case. The trade of a colony was encouraged provided it did not compete with the home-land: the moment this happened, the export, no matter how profitable it might be, must immediately cease. Hence the export of Irish unwrought iron was received with favour and that of wool with hostility. The national outlook of the statesman was supported in this instance by the private outlook of the merchant. Naturally the English merchant rejoiced when he saw that he was able to keep the profitable colonial trade in his own hands. The Irish glass trade was destroyed in order that English glass might be used. Competition with Ireland was cut off, and as competition with foreign powers was unheard of in those days his own prosperity was consequently assured. There was then no belief in Bastiat's harmonies, for the State held that private interests might injuriously affect national welfare. The individual as such is quite a modern discovery. The individual trader as such is almost unheard of in the seventeenth century. The State was not troubled by many doubts of its omniscience when it undertook to find the true path to progress through the maze of corporate interests. That man's selfishness might be the State's providence was a proposition outside the grasp of most economists of this age. The Greek conception of the relation of the citizen to the State was one that a statesman of that time could readily understand. Plato and Colbert had more points in common than one would expect. Royal proclamations, letters of the Privy Council,

statutes of the realm laid down regulations, and these were enforced by an army of officials.

In seventeenth-century Ireland the effects of the Mercantile policy can be clearly discerned. England treated Ireland as France treated Canada, as Spain treated America, or as Holland treats Java.' She was the mothercountry; Ireland, the daughter-country, was bound by the ideas of those days to give way constantly in all cases where there was a conflict of interests. As the American colonies suffered at the hands of England in the eighteenth century, so did the Irish colony in the seventeenth. The American perhaps did not feel the effects of the restrictive policy so keenly as the Irishman. For he lived a long distance from England, and his economic prosperity assumed a form different from that of the mother-country. Ireland was close at hand, and was so rent internally that she was never in a position to offer effective resistance to the Mercantilist politician. The commercial reason for keeping Ireland in due subjection was reinforced by a political reason, for we must never forget that the dominant motive of Mercantilism is political. That island had been for a long time on friendly terms with France, and that in itself was in those days sufficient justification for trade restriction. French cruisers were perpetually interfering with English trade, capturing ships with valuable cargoes from the West Indies. Reprisals might teach the Irish that the price of the French alliance was inconveniently heavy. "Ireland is a province," wrote Archbishop King, "and generally speaking it has been the fate of all provinces to be under Governors who had no interest or concern to seek their welfare. See Eccles. chap. 5, verse 8, 'in a province.' Witness Poyning and Strafford, the one enslaved the parliament of Ireland and the other got to himself and followers above *** in five years.2 Sir John Davies

1 Lecky, Historical and Political Essays, 72. "The commercial restraints formed part of a protective policy which was at that time general in Europe, and which was severely felt in the American colonies." On French policy, cf. A. Babeau, La Province sous l'ancien régime; P. Bonnassieux, Les Grandes Compagnies de commerce; Daveste de la Chavanne, Histoire des classes agricoles en France; E. Levasseur, Histoire des classes ouvrières en France; L. Pauliat, La Politique coloniale et l'ancien régime—this is a most valuable work. 2 The exact sum of money is undecipherable.

further tells us that the covetousness and ambition of the chief governors of Ireland kept it in continual warfare and bloodshed for four hundred years and would have done so to the end of the world in all likelihood, had not James I. stopped it by chance, having admitted the Irish to the benefit of the laws.' The English statesman always felt afraid that the French might make another descent upon Ireland, that the Irish might rise afresh on behalf of James II. Filled with these fears, his hand pressed heavily upon all trade that might interfere with the home product. Unfortunately for Ireland this conflict of interests occurred at almost every possible point. The two countries had reached much the same stage of progress in their industrial development. For before the days of the industrial revolution, England was as agricultural as Ireland, and its manufactures, such as they were, were of a similar type. The Irish Parliament, unlike the Scotch, was so legislatively subordinate to the Crown of England, that it was unable to offer any opposition worthy of the name. Many of the men who might have saved their country left after the second siege of Limerick. Fourteen thousand sailed from the shores of Ireland.1 National calamity, even dearly bought victory, possesses a terrible power of debasement. Italy never lost the mark of the Hannibalic war; and it is obvious to all that the last great strife in Europe did much harm to France, and conferred perhaps but little good upon Germany. Ireland was the baser for the loss of its natural leaders in the flight of "the wild geese." Their energies impelled them in their country's hour of sore need to offer their services at foreign courts, only too often to trail back in the end with broken wings to Ireland. England felt their pecking on many a battlefield, and in her resentment she resolved to clip the wings of the birds that remained behind. If the stray geese should ever fly home they would find the flock there unable to indulge in the luxury of flight. Such a sad sight may have been vouchsafed to the dying gaze of Sarsfield, when he saw his life-blood ebbing away. "Would to God," he muttered,

1 Mullala, View of Irish Affairs since the Revolution, p. 153 (Dublin, 1795).