UC-NRLF 
 
 fll2 
 
THE 
 
 PEACE MANUAL: 
 
 WAR AND ITS REMEDIES. 
 
 BY GEO. C. BECKWITH. 
 
 BOS TO N. 
 AMERICAN PEACE SOCIETY. 
 
 1847. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 THIS little work is designed to furnish the most important 
 facts, arguments and explanations, on the main topics em 
 braced in the cause of peace. I hope it will suffice for the 
 satisfaction of most minds ; and those who wish for something 
 fuller or more thorough, can resort to the larger publications 
 on Peace by the American Peace Society, such as its Prize 
 Essays on a Congress of Nations^ a splendid octavo of more 
 than 700 pages, and its Book of Peace, containing in smaller 
 compass still more matter from some of the ablest pens that 
 ever wrote, and altogether the best thesaurus or encyclope 
 dia of information on Peace that can be found in the English 
 or any other language. 
 
 1 flatter myself that nearly every position taken in these 
 pages, will secure the concurrence of all fair minds. I have 
 sought with special care to present those aspects of the sub 
 ject which I think best fitted to awaken a practical interest 
 in the cause I plead, and to unite all good men in efforts for 
 the abolition of war. For extracts from others, due credit 
 is given, but none of oeurse for anything taken from my 
 own writings. 
 
 The cause of peace aims solely to do away the custom of 
 international war ; and I trust there will be found in this 
 book nothing that does not bear on this object, nor anything 
 that interferes with the legitimate authority of government. 
 As a friend of peace, I am of course a supporter of civil gov 
 ernment, with all the powers requisite for the condign pun 
 ishment of wrong-doers, the enforcement of law, and the 
 preservation of social order. I deem government, in spite 
 of its worst abuses, an ordinance of God for the good of man 
 kind ; nor can I, as a peace man, hold any doctrines incompat 
 ible in my view with its just and necessary powers over its 
 own subjects. I condemn only THE GREAT DUEL OF NATIONS. 
 
 769782 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 INTRODUCTION, ..... 
 
 PART I. 
 PHYSICAL EVILS OF WAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR, .... 21 
 
 II. Loss OF LIFE BY WAR, ...... 33 
 
 III. PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR, ... 43 
 SECTION i. General Treatment of Warriors, .... 43 
 
 n. Military Punishments, ...... 47 
 
 in. Marches, ......... 55 
 
 iv. Sieges, ......... 60 
 
 v._ Battles .......... 68 
 
 vi. Hospitals, or Treatment of the Sick and Wounded, 75 
 
 IV. SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC SUFFERINGS FROM WAR, 82 
 V. A FEW SKETCHES OF THE HORRORS OF WAR, . 98 
 
 PART II. 
 MORAL EVILS OF WAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR, . . . .107 
 
 II. CAUSES OF WAR, ....... 120 
 
 III. THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR, . . .124 
 
 IV. WAR VIEWED IN THE LIGHT OF NATURE, . 134 
 
 V. WAR VIEWED IN THE LIGHT OF REVELATION, . 138 
 
 SECTION i. General Contrariety of War to Revealed Religion, 138 
 
 ii. War and the Old Testament, ..... 140 
 
 in. War and the New Testament ...... 147 
 
 iv. Difficulties from the New Testament, . . . 155 
 
 v. Early Christians on War, ..... 162 
 
 VI. MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR, . . 167 
 
 SECTION i. Upon Individual and Social Character, . . 167 
 
 II. Upon Social Institutions, ..... 178 
 
 m. Upon the Enterprises of Christian Benevolence, . 187 
 iv. On the Salvation of Mankind, . . . .195 
 
 PART III. 
 REMEDIES FOR WAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. THE SUPPORTS OF WAR ...... 201 
 
 SECTION i. Pleas in Favor of War ....... 201 
 
 ii. Influences that still Support the Custom of War, 212 
 II. PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE, OR THE EVILS OF WAR 
 
 NOT INCURABLE, ....... 221 
 
 III. SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR ...... 229 
 
 SECTION i. Temporary Substitutes for War 4 .... 230 
 
 n. Permanent Substitutes for War, .... 232 
 
 IV. CONCLUDING APPEALS, ... . 244 
 

 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 PEACE is no new theme. Ancient prophets fore 
 told it as one of the peculiar glories of Messiah s 
 reign ; and the angels, sent to announce his advent, 
 sang over his manger-cradle, Glory to God in the 
 highest and on earth PEACE, good will to men ! 
 Peace was thus the birth-song of Christianity ; and 
 its principles, fully embodied by our Saviour in his 
 sermon on the mount, and thickly scattered through 
 the New Testament, were so strictly put in prac 
 tice by the early Christians, that not a few of them 
 went to the stake rather than bear arms. The 
 church, however, relapsed into a deep, protracted 
 degeneracy on this subject, as on many others ; and 
 for more than a thousand years after her fatal union 
 with the state under Constantino in the fourth cen 
 tury, did she lend her sanction to the custom of war 
 with scarce a thought of its glaring contrariety to 
 her religion of peace. Still she was not entirely 
 without witnesses on this point ; for the Waldenses 
 bore their testimony in the very midnight of the 
 dark ages, and Erasmus, the day-star of the Refor 
 mation and of Modern Literature, wrote in behalf 
 of peace with an eloquence worthy of the first 
 scholar of the world. We know too well how little 
 his voice was heeded by the warring Christians of 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that age ; but the seed sown by his hand has begun, 
 in the present century, to spring up more or less 
 among Christians of every name, and to promise in 
 due time a rich and glorious harvest. 
 
 Every one knows the noble testimonies borne 
 ugiinst lY-ir. by Oeurge Fox, William Penn, and 
 their followers for the last two centuries ; but it was 
 not till ne^r -the. downfaU of Napoleon, and the con 
 sequent- pac-iiieation of Europe, that any general or 
 effective efforts were made for the specific purpose 
 of abolishing this custom. DAVID L. DODGE, a pious, 
 philanthropic merchant of New-York, was the real 
 pioneer of these efforts in America. Pie began his 
 labors before the commencement, in 1812, of our last 
 war with England, but delayed any formal public 
 organization until several months after the close of 
 that war, when in August, 1815, there was formed 
 in the city of New-York the first Peace Society of 
 modern times. The first effectual appeal to the pub 
 lic at large, howevcy, was made by NOAH WORCES 
 TER in his Solemn Review of the Custom of TT^r, pub 
 lished in December, 1814, and followed the next 
 December by the Massachusetts Peace Society, and 
 by the London Peace Society in June, 1816; soci 
 eties that ever since have in one form or another 
 sustained the cause through the world. This con 
 cert among the friends of peace in the two hemis 
 pheres, was without any knowledge at the time of 
 each other s movements or designs, and thus gave 
 striking proof that the hand of an all-controlling 
 providence was at work to call forth and concentrate 
 the benevolent energies of Christendom for the re 
 moval of this terrible scourge. Similar societies 
 were in time multiplied. The American Peace 
 Society, as a bond of union among the friends of 
 peace through the United States, was organized in 
 1828 under the auspices of its venerable founder, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 WILLIAM LADD; and kindred efforts have been 
 made, not only in various parts of the British em 
 pire, but in France, Switzerland, and other portions 
 of Christendom. 
 
 The object of this movement should be distinctly 
 understood at the outset. It aims merely to abolish 
 the specific, well-defined custom of international war. 
 All the relations among men may be resolved into 
 the relation of individuals to one another, the rela 
 tion of individuals to society or government, and the 
 relation of one society or government to another. 
 The principles of peace may be applicable, more or 
 less, to all these relations ; but the cause of peace is 
 restricted to the latter class, those between govern 
 ments alone, and aims solely at such an application 
 of the gospel to the intercourse of nations, as shall 
 put an end to the practice of settling their disputes 
 by the sword. When this shall have been accom 
 plished, a vast deal more will doubtless remain to 
 be done ; but the associated friends of peace will 
 then have fulfilled their specific mission. 
 
 This view of peace relieves it from a variety of 
 extraneous questions. If our only province is the 
 intercourse of nations, and our sole object the aboli 
 tion of war between them, then have we nothing to 
 do with capital punishments, or the right of personal 
 self-defence, or the strict inviolability of human life, 
 or the question whether the gospel allows the appli 
 cation of physical force to the government of states, 
 schools and families. All these are grave ques 
 tions, but come not within our province. We go 
 merely against war ; and war is defined by our best 
 lexicographers to be " a contest by force between 
 nations." It is such a conflict between governments 
 alone ; and hence, neither a parent chastising his 
 child, nor a teacher punishing his pupil, nor a father 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 defending his family against a midnight assassin, nor 
 a traveller resisting by force a highway robber, nor a 
 ruler inflicting the penalties of law upon a sentenced 
 criminal, can properly be called war, because the par 
 ties are not nations alone, but either individuals, or 
 individuals and government. The cause of peace is 
 not encumbered with such cases, but confines itself 
 to the single purpose of abolishing the custom of war. 
 
 For the accomplishment of this purpose, there is 
 need of specific, associated efforts. The object itself 
 is sufficiently distinct ; as much so as that of tem 
 perance, or missions, or any other benevolent enter 
 prise. It is, also, important enough to justify and 
 require such efforts. It is tributary to the highest 
 interests of mankind, fraught with the weal or the 
 woe of our whole race for time and eternity. It is 
 difficult to conceive an enterprise aiming to prevent 
 more evil, or to secure a greater amount of good ; 
 and surely an object so immeasuraby important 
 may rightly demand the special, associated efforts 
 of good men. In no other way can it ever be accom 
 plished ; for the evil will no more cure itself than 
 would the slave-trade, or intemperance, or paganism, 
 or any other evil wrought into the web and woof 
 of a world s habits for five thousand years. A delu 
 sion so long cherished, and fortified by so many and 
 so powerful influences, can be dislodged from the 
 general mind only by specific, concentrated and 
 long continued efforts. The evil itself is specific ; 
 Christianity has provided a specific remedy ; and of 
 this remedy, Christians must make a direct, specific 
 application, before the y can expect a thorough cure 
 of the war-gangrene festering for so many ages on 
 the bosom of universal humanity. We need this 
 reform, also, to clear the skirts of Christians them- 
 selves from the guilt of war, to exhibit our religion 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 of peace in its original purity, and thus pave the way 
 for the world s speedy conversion ; nor can we doubt 
 that the extinction of war through Christendom 
 would operate as life from the dead to the church, 
 and prove the harbinger of her millennial triumphs 
 and glories. 
 
 This cause, moreover, requires the cordial union 
 of all its friends. They all believe that war ought 
 to be abolished, but reach this conclusion by diffe 
 rent modes of reasoning. A very few assert the 
 unlawfulness of all physical force, and deny the right 
 of one man to punish, coerce or even rule another ; 
 positions to which no peace society has ever been 
 committed, which our own has always regarded as 
 foreign to its object, and which most men would 
 deem subversive of all human government and all 
 social order. Others, assuming the strict inviola 
 bility of human life, oppose war mainly as a whole 
 sale violation of this simple, comprehensive princi 
 ple ; a principle adopted by a small portion of the 
 friends of peace, but never recognized as the basis 
 of our cause ; a principle involving of course the 
 abolition of all death-penalties, and extremely dim- 
 cult, if not impossible, to be reconciled with the 
 safety or legitimate functions of government. A 
 third class, far outnumbering both the former, dis 
 card this principle, yet dee in all war contrary to the 
 gospel ; while a fourth class, more numerous than 
 all the foregoing, think it right for nations to draw 
 the sword in strict self-defence, that is, when their 
 only alternative is to kill or be killed, yet hold the 
 custom itself in deep abhorrence, and sincerely desire 
 its abolition. We wish to unite all these classes of 
 peace men, unless perhaps the first one be too small 
 to be noticed ; and we would fain unite them by 
 constructing a platform on which they can all con- 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 sistently work together for their common purpose, 
 the abolition of war. On this point they perfectly 
 agree ; and, since their object is the same, we would 
 let them all labor for it, each in his own way, without 
 making one responsible for the views of another. 
 
 Let us see on what terms the friends of other 
 causes have united. They have required, not per 
 fect uniformity of views, but only cordial, active co 
 operation for the attainment of their common object. 
 If a man would from any motives unite with them 
 in putting an end to the slave-trade or intempe 
 rance, he was welcomed as a coadjutor, and left to 
 take such views, and urge such arguments, as he 
 himself felt most, and therefore thought likely to 
 make the best impression upon others. Every cast 
 of mind was to be met ; and hence all were not only 
 permitted, but desired to press each his own favorite 
 arguments upon men of kindred stamp. 
 
 Here is sound good sense ; nor do we see why it 
 should not be applied to peace, and all its professed 
 friends be allowed to retain their present views, and 
 still co-operate, if they will, for their common ob 
 ject. There are points of coincidence between 
 them sufficient for this purpose. They are one in 
 their desires for the abolition of war ; they agree in 
 most of their views touching peace, and differ only 
 on one or two points ; they would, in laboring for 
 their common cause, use essentially the same means; 
 and the diversity in their modes of exhibiting the 
 subject, is in fact necessary to reach with the best 
 effect all the variety of minds that we wish to enlist. 
 
 The cause of peace, then, ought to be prosecuted 
 with the same liberality as other enterprises, and 
 all its friends be permitted, without rebuke or sus 
 picion, to promote it in such ways as they respect 
 ively prefer. The test should be, not the belief of 
 this or that dogma, but a willingTiess to co-operate for 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 the entir abolition of war ; and all that will do this- 
 and just as far as they do it, should be regarded aa 
 friends of peace. If any doctrine be required as a 
 test, let it be the broad principle on which the first 
 General Peace Convention in London (1843) was 
 constituted, viz., that war is inconsistent with Chris 
 tianity, and the true interests of mankind. We grant 
 that this language is indefinite, allowing a pretty 
 free play of the pendulum ; but this is just what we 
 want in order to meet the diversity of opinion 
 among the friends of peace. We can make, it ex 
 press the belief of all war unchristian ; but it pledges 
 us only to a condemnation of the custom. To this 
 principle there can be no objection from any one 
 willing to labor for the abolition of war ; and hence 
 the test of principle would in fact be the very 
 test of action on which alone we insist. We ask 
 men to abolish war ; and, if they gird themselves in 
 earnest for this work, we would let them do it in 
 their own way, nor quarrel with them about their 
 motives. 
 
 Any other course must clog our cause with a 
 variety of superfluous issues. Let me suppose you 
 arguing against the slave-trade. Not satisfied with 
 proving it wrong, you try to bring it under the 
 condemnation of some general principle applicable 
 to a hundred other things the principle, if you 
 please, that all love of money, or all physical coer 
 cion of men, both of which are so deeply concerned 
 in that trade, is unchristian. Your antagonist 
 readily admits the traffic itself to be wrong, but 
 joins issue on your general principle, and thus com 
 pels you to waste nearly all your strength upon 
 what is not essential to your purpose. Were you 
 endeavoring to abolish duelling, would you first es 
 tablish the principle, that self-defence, or the taking 
 of human life in any case, or all use of brute force, 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 is unchristian, and then forbid the co-operation of 
 any that did not embrace one or all of these princi 
 pies 1 True, if you prove either, you condemn 
 duelling ; but if neither is true, that practice may 
 still be utterly wrong. So in peace. I prove it 
 just as wrong for nations to fight as it is for indi 
 viduals ; but a stickler for simplification, presses 
 me to know on what principle I condemn war. 
 4 Principle ! Why, I have just adduced a dozen in 
 the shape of so many arguments against it. " But 
 on what one in particular do you deem it wrong? 
 What is your stand-point ?" If in reply I say, that 
 human life is inviolable, or that the gospel discards 
 all physical force, or forbids my injuring another 
 for my own benefit, he starts at once a new trail of 
 objections, not against my sole aim of abolishing 
 war, but against my principle as applicable in his 
 view to something else which he thinks right. He 
 says it condemns capital punishment, and even sub 
 verts all human government ; and thus he leads me 
 away from my sole object into disputes which have 
 little or no connection with peace. If you prove 
 human life inviolable, or all use of brute force un 
 christian, you certainly condemn war ; but is it 
 wrong on no other grounds ? If it is, then let all 
 that choose, discard it on those grounds, nor insist 
 that they shall argue against it only in your own 
 favorite way. 
 
 We plead, then, for the cordial, zealous co-opera 
 tion of all peace-men, and would fain take away 
 from every friend of God or man the last shred of 
 excuse for refusing to co-operate. Associated solely 
 for the abolition of international war, they should 
 be pledged only to that end, and allowed to retain 
 each his own opinions, and to labor for their com 
 mon object in such ways as they respectively prefer, 
 without insisting upon any other basis of co-opera- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 tion than the belief, that war, being inconsistent 
 with Christianity, and the true interests of mankind, 
 ought to be abolished. Such a course would remove 
 not a few obstructions, conciliate a much larger 
 number of co-workers, and pave the way for a 
 speedier and more glorious triumph. 
 
 The time has come for a much more extensive 
 rally in behalf of this cause than has ever yet been 
 attempted. It is the grand interest of the world; 
 and its claims we would urge upon every friend 
 whether of God or man. We should spread our 
 sails for every breeze that may waft us sooner into 
 the port of universal and permanent peace. We 
 should press into our service every possible auxili 
 ary. We need and may secure all the good influ 
 ences of the world ; and, should we make our plat 
 form broad enough to include all that are really 
 desirous, from any motives, of putting an end to the 
 time-hallowed tyranny of the sword, we might ere 
 long rally for its utter abolition every well-wisher 
 to mankind. 
 
 It is by a very simple process we hope under 
 God to reach this glorious result. Public opinion 
 in the long run governs the world ; and if we can 
 once revolutionize the war-sentiments of mankind, 
 and bring the custom under their universal ban, it 
 must of necessity cease everywhere. It exists 
 solely because they choose it ; and, when nations 
 shall all discard it as the arbiter of their disputes, 
 or the instrument of their ambition, cupidity or 
 vengeance, it will of course vanish from the earth 
 like darkness before the rising sun. and give place 
 to rational, peaceful methods, such as stipulated ar 
 bitration, or a congress of nations, more effectual 
 for all purposes of protection or redress, than the 
 sword ever was, or ever can be. We propose to su 
 persede the alleged necessity of war, by the adop- 
 2 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tion of feasible, effective and satisfactory substi 
 tutes. 
 
 TESTIMONIES TO PEACE. 
 
 " AMERICA," says the Rev. Mr. JEFFRIES, a dis 
 tinguished English Missionary in India, " has the 
 honor of inventing two of the most valuable institu 
 tions that ever blessed mankind, the Peace Socie 
 ty, and the Temperance Society ; and, if every 
 American viewed them as I do, he would join them 
 immediately. 1 1 Dr. REED, of London, describes this 
 cause as " a field worthy of the church, worthy of 
 angels," and calls upon Christians to u glorify their 
 religion by banding together as an army of pacifi 
 cators." 
 
 JUDSON, the Apostle of Burmah, says, "I hail 
 the establishment of peace societies as one of the 
 most auspicious signs of the present eventful era, 
 and regard them as combining with Bible and 
 Missionary societies to form that threefold cord 
 which will ultimately bind all the families of man 
 in universal peace and love. Since war has been 
 universally advocated and applauded, it appears to 
 me that it is not optional with any to remain neu 
 tral or silent on this great question ; since, thus 
 remaining, they must be considered as belonging of 
 course to the war party. Notwithstanding, there 
 fore, I am a missionary, I have determined to make 
 whatever efforts are necessary to comply with the 
 dictates of conscience, and wash my hands of the 
 blood that is shed in war. I regret that I have so 
 long delayed to enter my protest against this prac 
 tice by some overt act ; a measure which appears, 
 in the present state of things, the indispensable duty 
 of every Christian" 
 
 Ecclesiastical bodies, representing nearly every 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 Christian denomination in our country, Lave borne 
 their testimony to this cause, Congregationalists, 
 both Unitarian and Orthodox, Baptists, Presbyteri 
 ans, Dutch Reformed, Methodists, Free-will Baptists, 
 and Christians. They " commend this cause to the 
 Christian community as worthy of a place among 
 the benevolent enterprises of the age," and regard 
 " the American Peace Society as eminently entitled 
 to the cordial cooperation and support of all the 
 churches of Christ." They deem it "the duty of 
 ministers to preach in favor of the cause of peace 
 as a prominent part of the gospel, and of Chris 
 tians to pray for the spread of peace through the 
 world." They think, also, "that the subject of 
 peace, being in its strictly evangelical principles and 
 bearings a part of the gospel, ought to be discussed 
 in the pulpit on the Sabbath, just like the other 
 principles of the Bible ;" and that " ministers should 
 continue to preach, Christians to pray, and all to 
 contribute in favor of universal and permanent 
 peace." 
 
 " Much may be done," says CHALMERS, " to accel 
 erate the advent of perpetual and universal peace, 
 by a distinct body of men embarking their every 
 talent, and their every acquirement in the prosecu 
 tion of this as a distinct object. This was the way 
 in which the British public were gained over to the 
 cause of Africa. This is the way in which some of 
 the other prophecies of the Bible are at this moment 
 hastening to their accomplishment ; and it is in this 
 way, I apprehend, that the prophecy of peace may 
 be indebted for its speedier fulfilment to the agency 
 of men selecting this as the assigned field on which 
 their philanthropy shall expatiate. Were each indi 
 vidual member of such a scheme to prosecute his 
 own walk, and come forward with his own peculiar 
 contribution, the fruit of the united labors of all 
 
16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 would be one of the finest collections of Christian 
 eloquence, and of enlightened morals, and of sound 
 political philosophy, that ever was presented to the 
 world. I could not fasten on another cause more 
 fitted to call forth such a variety of talent, and to 
 rally around it so many of the generous and accom 
 plished sons of humanity, and to give each of them 
 a devotedness and a power far beyond whatever 
 could be sent into the hearts of enthusiasts by the 
 mere impulse of literary ambition." 
 
 " It is high time," says JOHN ANGELL JAMES, " for 
 the followers of the meek and lowly Jesus to study 
 the genius of their religion. A hatred of war is an 
 essential feature of practical Christianity ; and it is 
 a shame upon what is called the Christian world, 
 that it has not long since borne universal and indig 
 nant testimony against that enormous evil which 
 still rages not merely among savages, but among 
 scholars, philosophers, Christians and divines. Real 
 Christians should come out from the world on this 
 subject, and touch not the unclean thing. Let them 
 act upon their own principles, and become not only 
 the friends but the advocates of peace. Let min 
 isters from the pulpit^ writers from the press, and 
 private Christians in their intercourse with each other 
 and the world, inculcate a fixed and irreconcilable ab 
 horrence of war. LET THE CHURCH OF GOD BE A 
 SOCIETY FOR THE DIFFUSION OF THE PRINCIPLES OF 
 UNIVERSAL PEACE." 
 
 " Would to God," exclaims Bishop WATSON, " that 
 the spirit of the Christian religion would exert its 
 influence over the hearts of individuals in their pub 
 lic capacity, as much as, we trust, it does over their 
 conduct in private life ! Then there would be no 
 war. When the spirit of Christianity shall exert its 
 proper influence over the minds of individuals, and 
 especially over the minds of public men in their 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1? 
 
 public capacities, war will cease throughout the 
 Christian world." 
 
 " War," said the sainted PAYSON, " is surrounded 
 by a deceitful lustre. The monster, unveiled in all 
 his deformity, is seen steeped from head to foot in 
 human gore, gorging his insatiable maw with the 
 yet quivering limbs of mangled victims, and feast 
 ing his ears with the wailings of disconsolate widows 
 and helpless orphans ; while the flash of cannon, the 
 glare of bombs, and the red blaze of cities wrapt in 
 conflagration, furnish the only light which illumin 
 ates his horrid banquet. Such is the idol whom the 
 votaries of war adore ; such is the Moloch on whose 
 altars men have exultingly sacrificed, not hecatombs 
 of beasts, but millions of their fellow creatures ; on 
 whose blood-thirsty worshippers beauty has lavished 
 her smiles, and genius its eulogies ; whose horrid 
 triumphs, fit only to be celebrated in the infernal 
 world, painters arid sculptors, poets and historians, 
 have combined to surround with a blaze of immor 
 tal glory. 
 
 But let the monster s hideous form be exposed 
 in its true colors ; and it will be an honor to Chris 
 tianity, a powerful argument in her favor, to be 
 known as his most decided and successful foe. To 
 accomplish this work, to place before men in naked 
 deformity the idol they have so long ignorantly 
 worshipped in disguise, and thus turn against him 
 the powerful current of public opinion, is the great 
 object of the associated friends of peace. Nor is it 
 easy to conceive how any one who believes the Scrip 
 tures, and professes to be the disciple of the Prince 
 of Peace, or a friend to the human race, can justify 
 himself in withholding his aid from a cause so evident 
 ly the cause of God. Who would not wish to share 
 this honor ? After the glorious victory shall have 
 been won. after wars shall have been made to cease 
 2* 
 
18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 under the whole heaven, who will not then wish to 
 have been among the few that first unfurled the 
 consecrated banner of peace ?" 
 
 We might, also, multiply testimonies for peace 
 from men of the world. " The very things." says 
 SENECA, " which, if men had done them in their 
 private capacity, they would expiate with their lives, 
 we extol when perpetrated in regimentals at the 
 bidding of a general. Enormities forbidden in pri 
 vate persons, are actually enjoined by legislatures, 
 and every species of barbarity authorized by decrees 
 of the senate, and votes of the people." 
 
 " War," says MACHIAVEL, " makes villains, and 
 peace brings them to the gallows." 
 
 " How frightful," exclaims WASHINGTON, " is that 
 false ambition which desolates the world with fire 
 and sword ! It is time for knight-errantry and mad 
 heroism to be at an end." 
 
 "War," says JEFFERSON, "is an instrument en 
 tirely inefficient towards redressing wrong, and multi 
 plies instead of indemnifying losses. Will nations 
 never devise a more rational umpire of their differ 
 ences than force?" 
 
 " All wars," says FRANKLIN, " are follies, very ex 
 pensive and very mischievous ones. There never 
 has been, nor ever will be, any such thing as A GOOD 
 WAR. OR A BAD PEACE. Better for mankind to settle 
 their difiiculties even by the cast of a die, than by 
 fighting and destroying each other. When will 
 mankind be convinced of this, and agree to settle 
 their difficulties by arbitration? We daily make 
 great improvements in natural philosophy; there is 
 one I wish to see in moral the discovery of a plan 
 that would induce and oblige nations to settle their 
 disputes without first cutting one another s throats." 
 
 " I have been," says Louis BUONAPARTE, " as en- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 thusiastic and joyous as any one else after victory ; 
 still I confess that even then the sight of a field of 
 battle not only struck me with horror, but even 
 turned me sick. And now that I am advanced in 
 life, I cannot understand, any more than I could at 
 fifteen years of age, how beings who call themselves 
 reasonable, can employ this short existence, not in 
 loving and aiding each other, and passing through 
 it as gently as possible, but in striving, on the con 
 trary, to destroy each other, as though time did not 
 do this with sufficient rapidity. What I thought at 
 fifteen years of age, I still think, that war, and the 
 pain of death which society draws upon itself, are 
 but organized barbarisms, an inheritance of the 
 savage state, disguised or ornamented by ingenious 
 institutions, and false eloquence." 
 
 "What," asks CARLYLE, "is the net purport and 
 upshot of war ? To my own knowledge, for exam 
 ple, there dwell and toil in the British village of 
 Dumdrudge. usually some five hundred souls. From 
 these, by certain natural enemies of the French, 
 there are successively selected during the French 
 war, say thirty able-bodied men. Dumdrudge, at 
 her own expense, has suckled and nursed them ; she 
 has, not without difficulty and sorrow, fed them up 
 to manhood, and even trained them to crafts, so 
 that one can weave, another build, another hammer, 
 and the weakest can stand under thirty stone avoir 
 dupois. Nevertheless, amid much weeping and 
 swearing, they are selected ; all dressed in red, and 
 shipped away, at the public charges, some two thou 
 sand miles, or say only to the south of Spain, and 
 fed there till wanted. And now to that same spot 
 in the south of Spain, are thirty similar French ar 
 tisans, from a French Dumdrudge, in like manner 
 wending, till at length after infinite effort, the two 
 parties come into actual juxtaposition, and thirty 
 2 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 stand fronting thirty, each with a gun in his hand. 
 Straightway the word fire ! is given ; and they 
 blow the souls out of one another ; and in place of 
 sixty brisk, useful craftsmen, the world has sixty 
 dead carcasses, which it must bury, and anew shed 
 tears for. Had these men any quarrel ? Busy as 
 the devil is, not the smallest! They lived far 
 enough apart ; were the entirest strangers ; nay, in 
 so wide a universe, there was even, unconsciously, 
 by commerce, some mutual helpfulness between 
 them. How then? Simpleton! their governers had 
 fallen out, and, instead of shooting one another, had 
 the cunning to make these poor blockheads shoot. 
 Alas, so is it in Deutschland, and hitherto in all 
 other lands ; still, as of old, what devilry soever 
 kings do, the Greeks must pay the piper. 
 
 " What a fine looking thing," says JERROLD, " is 
 war ! Yet, dress it as we may, dress and feather it, 
 daub it with gold, huzza it, and sing swaggering 
 songs about it, what is it, nine times out of ten, but 
 murder in uniform Cain taking the sergeant s 
 shilling ? 
 
 " But, man of war ! you are at length shrinking, 
 withering like an aged giant. You are not now 
 the feathered thing you were ; the fingers of Opin 
 ion have been busy at your plumes ; and that little 
 tube, the goose-quill, has sent its silent shots into 
 your huge anatomy, and the corroding ink, even 
 whilst you look at your sword, and think it shines 
 so brightly, is eating into it with a tooth of rust." 
 
PART I. 
 
 PHYSICAL EVILS OF WAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR, 
 
 WAR is the grand impoverisher of the world. 
 In estimating its havoc of property, we must in 
 quire not only how much it costs, and how much it 
 destroys, but how far it prevents the acquisition of 
 wealth ; and a full answer to these three questions 
 would exhibit an amount of waste beyond the power 
 of any imagination adequately to conceive. 
 
 I. Consider, then, how war prevents the accumula 
 tion of property. Its mere uncertainties must ope 
 rate as a very serious hindrance ; for while every 
 thing is afloat, and no forecast can anticipate what 
 changes may take place any month, men will not 
 embark in those undertakings by which alone wealth 
 is rapidly acquired. This cause alone, an invariable 
 attendant upon war, is sufficient to paralyze the 
 energies of business in all its departments. 
 
 Still worse, however, are the sudden changes of 
 war. These discourage enterprise, defeat the best 
 plans, and produce a vast multitude of failures. 
 The mere dread of such changes must paralyze, 
 more or less, every department of business, and 
 cripple nearly all efforts for the acquisition of 
 wealth. 
 
 Hence ensue a general derangement and stagna- 
 
22 WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 
 
 tion of business, which leave the main energies of 
 a people, even if not absorbed in the war, to rust in 
 idleness, or be frittered away in fruitless exertions. 
 Enterprise is checked, because there is little reward 
 or demand for its products. There is no foreign 
 market for the fruits of agriculture ; and land ceases 
 to be tilled with care and success. There is no out 
 let for manufactures ; and the shop and the factory 
 are closed, or kept at work with little vigor and less 
 profit. Intercourse between nations is almost sus 
 pended ; and commerce stands still, vessels rot at 
 the wharves, and sea-ports, once alive with the hum 
 of business, are cut off from the principal sources of 
 their wealth, and sink into speedy, perhaps irre 
 coverable decay. All the main-springs of national 
 prosperity are broken, or crippled, or kept in opera 
 tion at immense disadvantage. An incalculable 
 amount of capital in money, and ships, and stores, 
 and factories, and workshops, and machinery, and 
 tools, and raw materials, and buildings, and inven 
 tions, and canals, and railways, and industry, and 
 skill, and talent, is withdrawn from use, and for 
 want of profitable employment, goes more or less to 
 waste. How much is thus lost, it would be vain 
 even to conjecture ; but we should be safe in sup 
 posing that in these ways alone war might reduce 
 for a time the value of a nation s entire property, 
 from thirty to fifty per cent. ! 
 
 But the most direct waste conies from the sudden 
 withdrawal of men in the vigor of life. In such 
 men are found the mines or laboratories of a nation s 
 wealth ; but what multitudes of these does the war 
 system require for its support ! The standing war 
 riors of Europe are (1846) about three millions even 
 in peace, and exceed four millions and a half in 
 war. Not a few of these millions may have been 
 the main-springs of business, and all of them must 
 
WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 23 
 
 possess an unusual share of strength for labor, since 
 no others would be equal to the hardships of war ; 
 and the sudden abstraction of such men by thou 
 sands from every part of a country, and from every 
 kind of employment, must paralyze the entire indus 
 try of a nation. 
 
 Still worse is the influence of war on the habits 
 indispensable to the thrift of a people. It mars the 
 character necessary for the acquisition of property. 
 It renders them idle, dishonest and profligate. It 
 destroys the habits needed to enrich a people, and 
 introduces others fatally calculated to impoverish 
 any country. 
 
 Such considerations we might pursue to almost 
 any extent ; but enough has been said to show, that 
 all the enormous expenses of war would not equal 
 the loss of property occasioned by such causes alone 
 as we have here specified. Take an illustration. 
 When our population was some fifteen or sixteen 
 millions, the annual production of the United 
 States was estimated at $1,400,000,000; and, if 
 we suppose war to prevent only one-fifth of all this, 
 the loss would be $280,000,000 a year ! If our 
 population were forty millions, the annual sacrifice 
 would be about $700,000,000 ; and at only half this 
 rate, the whole globe, with 1,000,000,000 inhabit 
 ants, would lose no less than $8,750,000,000 a 
 year ! Hardly credible ; and yet the calculation 
 is moderate, and may serve as a clue to the bound 
 less waste of property by war, even in ways gener 
 ally overlooked. 
 
 II. Glance next at the incidental havoc of property 
 by war. Follow an army, savage or civilized ; trace 
 the course of the French in Russia or Portugal, 
 setting fire, in one case, to every house for one hun 
 dred and fifty miles ; look at even British troops in 
 Spain or India 2 trampling down harvests, and burn- 
 
24 WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 
 
 ing villages, destroying towns, ravaging entire pro 
 vinces, and pillaging city after city ; and can you 
 conceive the amount of property thus wasted ? 
 
 We can ascertain more nearly, yet very imper 
 fectly, what is destroyed on the ocean. Our own ex 
 ports and imports range from two hundred to two 
 hundred and forty millions of dollars a year ; a still 
 larger amount is interchanged along our immense 
 coast ; and no small part of both would be liable in 
 war to be seized by our enemies. Since the close 
 of our Revolution, we have been (1846) engaged in 
 foreign war less than three years ; but it would 
 probably require some hundreds of millions to cover 
 all the losses sustained in our commerce alone. 
 
 Another source of pecuniary loss is found in the 
 waste of life by war. It takes men at the very age 
 when their labor would be most productive, and short 
 ens their life more than twenty years in war, and some 
 ten or fifteen in peace ! The statistics of mortality 
 among men devoted to this work of blood, are truly 
 startling. Soldiers, though generally young and 
 vigorous, live on an average only about three years 
 in war, and die even in peace twice as fast as galley 
 slaves, and more rapidly than men ordinarily do at 
 the age of fifty and sixty ! 
 
 What a loss of property is here ! Let us suppose 
 it costs an average of $500 to raise a soldier, and 
 reckon his labor for the ten years of his life short 
 ened in peace, and twenty years in war, at $150 a 
 year. If the standing armies of Europe are three 
 millions in peace, she sustains, at this rate, a loss of 
 $1,500,000.000 for their training, $450,000,000 a 
 year for labor, and $4,500,000,000 for the shorten 
 ing of their life ten years ; an average in peace of 
 $840,000,000 a year from this source alone ! ! Re 
 duce these estimates one half, and you still have, even 
 in peace, the enormous sacrifice of $420,000,000 
 
WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 25 
 
 a year. In a time of war, the armies of Europe, 
 when full, are supposed to be some four millions 
 and a half; but putting them in round numbers at 
 four milions, the loss would be for their training 
 $2,000,000,000, for their labor $600,000,000 a 
 year, and for cutting short their life twenty years, 
 $12,000,000,000 ; an average loss in war, if we sup 
 pose a soldier s life then to be only three years, of 
 $5,266,000,000 a year ! ! 
 
 III. Look, now, at the actual cost of war. Even 
 in peace, it is enormous. The amount of money 
 wasted on fortifications and ships, on arms and am 
 munition, on monuments and other military demon 
 strations, it is impossible to calculate. France 
 alone has more than 120 fortified places; the ex 
 pense of the wall round Paris was estimated (1840) 
 at 250,000,000 francs, or nearly $50,000,000 ; and 
 a single triumphal arch in that city, only one among 
 the hundreds scattered through Christendom, cost 
 10,000,000 francs. Go to Greenwich or Chelsea, 
 and there see what immense sums are spent on 
 England s diseased, crippled and worn-out servants 
 of war. She has about 100,000 pensioners, nearly 
 all the offspring of her war-system. Survey her 
 grand arsenal at Woolwich, and imagine how many 
 millions have been wasted on its 27,000 cannons, 
 and its hundreds of thousands of small arms. 
 Millions of dollars have been expended on scraie 
 single forts in our own country ; and a hundred 
 millions more would not suffice to complete and 
 fully arm the whole circle of fortifications demanded 
 for our defense. The single arsenal at Springfield, 
 contains muskets alone to the value of $3,000,000 ; 
 upon the Military Academy at West Point, we have 
 (1846) already squandered more than $4,000,000; 
 and in our Navy Yard at Charlestown are sunk near 
 ly five millions more ! The average cost to us of a 
 3 
 
26 WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 
 
 line-of battle ship is $830,000, though some of ours 
 have absorbed in construction and repairs more than 
 a million each ; and the war ships of all Christen 
 dom probably amount to some 2,000, the cost of 
 which, at an average of half a million each, would 
 be $1,000,000,000 in all Merely to keep the ma 
 teriel or instruments of war in full repair, must eost 
 Christendom nearly $100,000,000 a year. 
 
 Still more expensive, however, is the maintenance 
 of warriors even in peace. Thiers, the distinguish 
 ed historian of France, reckons the expense of sup 
 porting a soldier to be in Austria about $130, in 
 France $146, in Prussia nearly $200, in England 
 still greater ; an average through Christendom of at 
 least $150 a year. The whole number of standing 
 warriors in Christendom, cannot be less than 3,000,- 
 000 in peace. The army of Spain has been 120,000 ; 
 that of England 100,000, with the addition of 200 f 
 000 in war ; that of France from 350,000 to 400,000, 
 in 1840 even 900,000; that of Austria 750,000 in 
 war, probably not less than 400,000 in peace ; that 
 of Russia 850,000 in peace, and reckoned by some 
 ag high as 1,000,000. These 3,000,000, at $150 
 each, would require $450,000,000 a year for their 
 sustenance ; and reckoning one officer to ten sol 
 diers, and awarding to each of the latter an English 
 shilling a day, or $87 a year for wages, and to the 
 former an average salary of $500 a year, or less 
 than six shillings a day, we should have, for the 
 pay of the whole, no less than $385,000,000 a year, 
 or a grand total, for both sustenance and pay, of 
 $835,000,000! 
 
 Few suspect how much our own country spends 
 for war even in peace. When our population was 
 about fifteen millions, Judge JAY reckoned " the 
 yearly aggregate expense of our militia not much if 
 any short of fifty millions ;" and besides all this, 
 
WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 27 
 
 no less than 80 per cent, of all our national expen 
 ditures have for years been for war purposes alone. 
 These expenditures have been growing more and 
 more prodigal. Under Washington s administra 
 tion, they were for the army and navy less than 
 $11,000,000 in eight years, or $1,365,000 a year; 
 while those of the eight years preceding 1844, 
 reached nearly $164,000,000, or $20,417,000 a 
 year ; an increase of 1500 per cent, in war expenses, 
 against an increase of some 400 per cent, in popu 
 lation! In 1817 our war expenses were about nine 
 times as large as those for all other purposes, and 
 in 1832, seventeen times as great as for all civil 
 offices. From 1791 to 1832, a period of forty-one 
 years, the aggregate of our expenditures, with some 
 two years and a half of actual war, was $842,250,- 
 89 1 ; and of this sum at least eight-ninths were for 
 war-purposes, and merely $37,158,047, or about 
 one twenty-third part of the whole, for civil offices ; 
 one dollar for the support of civil government, to 
 twenty-three dollars for war ! During our revolu 
 tionary struggle, we borrowed of France $7,962,959, 
 expended from our own resources $135,193,703, 
 and issued of paper money $359,547,027 ; in all, 
 $502,703,689, besides an indefinite amount of con 
 tributions from individuals and states. From 1816 
 to 1834, eighteen years, our national expenses 
 amounted to $463,915,756 ; and of this sum, nearly 
 four hundred millions went for war, and only sixty- 
 four millions for all other objects ! Here we have, 
 even in peace, twenty-two millions a year for war, 
 and about three millions and a half, less than one- 
 sixth of the whole, for the peaceful operations of 
 our government ! 
 
 But look at the direct expenses of war. A single 
 first-rate ship of the line is supposed to cost us, in 
 active service, full half a million of dollars a year ; 
 
28 WASTE OF PROYERTY BY WAR. 
 
 and the expense of every gun in our navy averages, 
 even in peace, some $15,000 a year. The pay of 
 officers alone amounts to a very large sum. A cap 
 tain in the navy has 4,500 a year in service, and 
 $3.500 when off duty, or doing nothing ; and we have 
 for every ship nearly three captains, five lieutenants, 
 and eight midshipmen, with salaries ranging from 
 $4,500 to $600. For 68 ships, we had, two or 
 three years ago, 1552 officers ; about 23 to each 
 ship, with an average salary of some $1500; and, 
 consequently, about $35,000 for the officers alone. 
 The cost of merely officering 45 ships in actual ser 
 vice was found, at one time, to average some 
 $45,000 for each ship ; and there was more than 
 one officer to every gun, with a salary of $1300 a 
 year ! Should any of these men be disabled, they 
 would of course retire on a pension, thus charging 
 the government with their support through life a 
 favor shown only to men of blood ; and the appro 
 priations made by Congress for such pensioners in 
 1844, more than sixty years after the close of our 
 revolutionary war, amounted to nearly a million of 
 dollars ($958,000). In England it is still worse. 
 Her navy consists of nearly 600 ships, with an 
 average of two admirals to every ship of the line, 
 upon a salary varying from $10,000 to $5,000. 
 The pay of some single field officers exceeds 
 $30,000 a year : and Wellington alone has received 
 for military services about $1 1,000,000 in all ! 
 
 Look at the actual cost of some wars. From 
 1688 to 1815, a period of 127 years, she spent 65 
 in war three more than in peace. The war of 1688 
 continued nine years, and increased her expendi 
 tures $180,000,000. Then came the war of the 
 Spanish succession, and absorbed in eleven years 
 more than $300,000,000. Next was the Spanish 
 war of 1739, which cost in nine years $270,000,000. 
 
WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 29 
 
 Then came the seven years war of 1756, in the 
 course of which England spent $560,000,000. The 
 next was the American war of 1775, which lasted 
 eight years, and cost $680,000,000. The French 
 Revolutionary war of nine years from 1793, occa 
 sioned an expenditure of $2,320,000,000. During 
 the war against Bonaparte from 1803 to 1815, 
 England raised by taxes $3,855,000,000, and by 
 loans $1,940,000,000; in all, $5,795,000,00, or an 
 average of $1,323,032 every day! From 1797 to 
 1817, 20 years, England borrowed $2,160,000,000, 
 and raised by taxes $6,192,866,066 ; in all, 
 $8,352,866,066, or an average for the twenty years 
 of $1,143,444 every day, and more than a million of 
 this for war ! During ninety days, before and after 
 the battle of Waterloo, she is supposed to have spent 
 an average of about five millions a day ! During 
 seven wars, lasting in all sixty-five years, she 
 borrowed $4,170,000,000, and raised by taxes 
 $5,949.000,000 ; making a total expenditure of 
 $10,115,000,000! It has been estimated, that 
 England spent about ten thousand millions in wars 
 undertaken first to humble the Bourbons, and then 
 to restore them to the throne which Napoleon had 
 usurped. The wars of all Europe from 1793 to 
 1815, twenty-two years, cost some $15,000,000,000, 
 and probably wasted full twice as much more in 
 other ways, thus making a grand total of more than 
 forty thousand millions of dollars ! 
 
 No wonder that war has loaded the Old World 
 with enormous debts. Their exact amount it is 
 impossible to ascertain ; but of England s war-debt 
 we subjoin a brief tabular history : 
 
 1660 1689. Debt contracted under Charles II. and James 
 
 If., $3,300,002 
 
 16891697. Contracted in the Revolution under William 
 
 III., 105,000,000 
 
30 WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 
 
 1702 1713. In the war of the Spanish Succession under 
 
 Anne 187,500,000 
 
 Total Debt in 1713, 270,000,000 
 
 17391748. In the war with Spain, and the Austrian 
 
 Succession, 157,500,000 
 
 17561763. In the Seven Years War, .... 357,500,000 
 Total Debt in 1763 732,500,000 
 
 17751783. In the American War, 515,000,000 
 
 Total Debt in J 783, 1,195,000,000 
 
 17931802. In the war of the French Revolution, . . 1,460,000,000 
 Total Debt in 1802 2,630,000.000 
 
 18031815. In the peace of 1802-3, and war with Na 
 poleon 1,695.000,000 
 
 Total Debt in 1815, .... . . 4,325,000,000 
 
 Total Debt in 1838, 3,960,000,000 
 
 When we remember that the mere interest and 
 management of this debt require about $140,000,000 
 a year, besides all the current expenses for her army, 
 and navy, and civil list, we are prepared for Sydney 
 Smith s graphic sketch of England s taxation : 
 " Taxes upon every article which enters the mouth, or 
 covers the back, or is placed under the feet ; taxes 
 upon everything which it is pleasant to see, hear, feel, 
 smell or taste ; taxes upon warmth, light and loco 
 motion ; taxes upon everything on the earth, and 
 in the waters under the earth ; taxes on everything 
 that comes from abroad, or is grown at home ; taxes 
 on the raw material, and upon every fresh value 
 that is added to it by the industry of man ; taxes on 
 the sauce that pampers man s appetite, and the drug 
 that restores him to health ; on the ermine which 
 decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs the 
 criminal ; on the poor man s salt, and the rich man s 
 spice ; on the brass nails of the coffin, and the rib 
 bons of the bride. Taxes we never escape ; at bed 
 or board, couchant or levant, we must pay. The 
 school-boy whips his taxed top; the beardless youth 
 manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, upon 
 a taxed road ; and the dying Englishman, pouring 
 his medicine which has paid seven per cent., into a 
 spoon that has paid fifteen per cent., flings himself 
 back upon his chintz bed which has paid twenty-two 
 
WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 31 
 
 per cent., makes his will on an eight-pound stamp, 
 and expires in the arms of an apothecary who has 
 paid a license of a hundred pounds for the privilege 
 of putting him to death. His whole property is 
 immediately taxed from two to ten per cent. Be 
 sides the probate, large fees are demanded for bury 
 ing him in the chancel ; his virtues are handed down 
 to posterity on taxed marble ; and then he is gath 
 ered to his fathers to/ be taxed no more." 
 
 The condition of Holland is still worse. In 
 1840 her debt was 800,000,000 German dollars ; an 
 average of $266 to each inhabitant. Her solvency 
 is very doubtful; for her expenses since 1830 have 
 almost invariably exceeded her income. The Dutch 
 have tried every expedient to extricate themselves, 
 reducing the perquisites of royalty so low as to make 
 their king little more than a burgomaster, and par 
 ing down their protective duties so as to secure the 
 largest possible amount of revenue ; yet, after all, 
 bankruptcy is staring them in the face. What a 
 catastrophe for a nation that once stood at the head 
 of the commerce of the world ! 
 
 Europe, as a whole, has of late been gradually 
 paying off her war debts ; but in 1840, they amount 
 ed tO SOme TEN THOUSAND MILLIONS OF DOLLAPv-S J an 
 
 average of about fifty dollars to every inhabitant ; 
 the bare interest upon which, at five per cent., would 
 be $500,000,000 a year. The annual cost of her 
 war-system to all Christendom, including interest 
 on her war-debts, cannot fall much short of $1,000.- 
 000,000. 
 
 What a maelstrom of the world s wealth has war 
 been! Give back all the property it has wasted 
 from the first, and the interest alone would sufiice, 
 ere long to make the whole earth a second Eden ; 
 to build a palace for every one of her nobles, and pro 
 vide luxuries for all her now famished and suffering 
 
82 WASTE OF PROPERTY BY WAR. 
 
 poor ; to spread over her entire surface a complete 
 network of canals and railways ; to beautify every one 
 of her cities, beyond all ancient or modern example, 
 with works of art and genius ; to support all her gov 
 ernments, and give a church to every village, a school 
 to every neighborhood, and a Bible to every family. 
 " Give me the money that has been spent in war, 
 and I will purchase every foot of land upon the 
 globe ; I will clothe every man, woman and child in 
 an attire that kings and queens would be proud of; 
 I will build a school-house upon every hill-side, and 
 in every valley over the whole habitable earth, and 
 will supply that school-house with a competent 
 teacher ; I will build an academy in every town, and 
 endow it ; I will establish a college in every state, 
 and fill it with able professors ; I will crown every 
 hill with a church, consecrated to the promulgation 
 of the gospel of peace, and will support in its pul 
 pit an able teacher of righteousness, so that on every 
 Sabbath morning the chime on one hill should an 
 swer to the chime on another, round the earth s 
 broad circumference ; and the voice of prayer, and 
 the song of praise, should ascend like an universal 
 holocaust to heaven." There is no end to calcula 
 tions like these. All the contributions of modern 
 benevolence are scarce a drop of the bucket in com 
 parison with what is continually wasted for war-pur 
 poses. We stared at the first suggestion of a rail 
 way from the Atlantic to the Pacific ; but a single 
 year s cost of the war-system to Christendom would 
 build that road, and two more round the globe 1 
 
LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 
 
 33 
 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 
 
 THE chief aim of war is the destruction of human 
 life ; and, in order to ascertain how far it accom 
 plishes this fell purpose, we must consider, first, how 
 it prevents the increase of mankind, and, next, how 
 it actually destroys them. 
 
 We cannot dwell on the thousand ways in which 
 war prevents the salutary growth of our species. 
 The general poverty which it creates, must tend to 
 hold back the mass of the community from mar 
 riage. Virtue is the chief nurse of population ; but 
 this custom is a hot-bed of vice and crime. It reeks 
 with licentiousness ; and every one knows that such 
 habits in a community are fatal to the increase of its 
 members, and often suffice alone to insure, as in the 
 South-Sea Islands, a steady and rapid diminution. 
 Its stern exigencies forbid in most cases the mar 
 riage of its agents ; and the great body of them 
 become reckless libertines, whose intrigues debauch 
 more or less every community they visit. There is 
 no record of their countless victims ; but the effect 
 in war-countries is seen in the fact, that in Paris 
 every third child is a bastard. In some European 
 countries, no man is permitted to marry until he 
 has served in the army a long term of years ; and 
 during this time, the common soldiers indulge in 
 the loosest debaucheries, and the officers live on a 
 species of tolerated concubinage. Hence ensues 
 such a general relaxation of morals and domestic 
 ties, as must greatly diminish the number of law- 
 
34 LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 
 
 ful marriages, and the growth of a legitimate and 
 virtuous population. 
 
 The general result you may see in war countries, 
 compared with those which have pursued a pacific 
 policy. Such has been our own policy ; and in fifty 
 years we have quadrupled our population. Such 
 has been the policy of China ; and, with a territory 
 equal to little more than one-third of Europe, she has 
 more than one third of all the people on the globe. 
 While our own population was doubling every quar 
 ter of a century, that of Europe, according to Adam 
 Smith, was increasing at a rate so slow as hardly to 
 reach the same result in five hundred years ; but 
 since the downfall of Napoleon, the inhabitants of 
 Prussia have been doubling in 26 years, those of 
 Great Britain in 42, those of Russia in 66, and those 
 of France in 105. During this period of general 
 peace, (1846,) the population of Europe, with the 
 exception of Spain and Portugal rent with civil 
 wars, has probably increased more than in any two 
 centuries before for a thousand years. The sum to 
 tal of prevention from war, we cannot of course es 
 timate or even conjecture ; but, had this custom 
 never existed, there might hitherto have been full 
 twice as many human beings on the globe, with four 
 times the amount of happiness. 
 
 War also introduces a variety of customs destruc 
 tive to life. It has written the code of even some 
 Christian states in blood. In England itself there 
 were, in the time of Blackstone, no less than 160 
 crimes punishable with death ; and in the reign of 
 Henry VIII., there perished by the hands of the 
 executioner 72,000 persons! War, likewise, orig 
 inated duelling, judicial combats, and other prac 
 tices which have swept off immense multitudes. 
 In certain departments of France, five, six, and 
 even ten per cent, of all the deaths in the army have 
 
LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 35 
 
 some years been occasioned by duelling, that spawn 
 of the war system ! 
 
 But the immediate, destruction of life by war, is 
 vast and appalling. Contemplate the thousands 
 and millions of its agents bold, blood-thirsty and 
 reckless, trained with all possible skill to the trade 
 of human butchery, armed for this purpose with in 
 struments the most terribly effective, plying every 
 art, and stretching every nerve to destroy mankind, 
 and stimulated to desperation by the promise to 
 success of the highest earthly rewards ; and can you 
 adequately conceive the havoc likely to ensue ? 
 
 Mark the incidental loss of life. In transferring 
 troops from one country to another, especially to 
 sultry regions, statesmen coolly calculate on losing 
 every third man ! In certain climates, and under 
 certain circumstances in every climate, it requires 
 only a few brief years or even months of hardship, 
 exposure and disease, to annihilate whole crews or 
 regiments without shedding a drop of blood. 
 
 Let us quote a single instance of the fatal effect 
 of climate. " The climate," says Lord Colling wood, 
 "was deadly, and no constitution could resist its 
 effects. At San Juan," near the Isthmus of Da- 
 rien, " I joined the ship, and succeeded Lord Nel 
 son, who was promoted to a larger ship ; but he had 
 received the infection of the climate before he went 
 from the port, and had .a fever from which he did 
 not recover until he quitted his ship, and went to 
 England. My constitution resisted many attacks, 
 and I survived most of my ship s company, having 
 buried, in four months, one hundred and eighty of 
 the two hundred that composed it ;" a loss of ninety 
 per cent, from the climate alone, ! " Nor was mine a 
 singular case ; for every ship that was long there, 
 suffered in the same degree. The transports men all 
 died ; and some of the ships, having none left to 
 
36 LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 
 
 take care of them, sunk in the harbor. Transport 
 ships, however, were not wanted ; for the troops 
 they had brought, were no more they had fallen, 
 not by the hand of an enemy, but from the conta 
 gion of the climate." 
 
 Deaths in the army and navy, from hardship or 
 disease, are seldom reported ; but take the case 
 (1845) of a single British regiment in Scinde: 
 " The wreck of this unhappy regiment arrived at 
 Hyderabad on new-year s day. Only one man was 
 able to walk ; 96 men had died in ten days, and 
 70 in one week after their arrival: there were 
 eighteen funerals in one day. Since the first of 
 September, they had lost in all 557 men, women 
 and children. Not one man in three of the survi 
 vors will ever be fit for field service in India. They 
 will be sent home incurable invalids, or drop away 
 one by one, so that of 1100 men on the roll in Oc 
 tober, 1844, not 200 will remain in December, 
 1845." So rapid, says an English paper in 1842, 
 is the waste of an army by other causes than the 
 sword, that there now remain of one of the regi 
 ments that carried Napoleon to his tomb, only four 
 men, though the corps then consisted of 1200. 
 
 The common usage, discipline and hardships of 
 soldiers, prey upon them like murrain. It would 
 seem impossible for them to survive some of their 
 punishments that are not designed to take life ; and 
 multitudes die either by the process, or from its 
 immediate effects. The ill treatment they receive, 
 frequently drives them to suicide ; and their scanty 
 clothing, their unwholesome food, their unhealthy 
 encampments, their want of shelter and bedding, 
 their repose on the damp, cold, frozen earth, their 
 exposures on duty, day and night, in all seasons, all 
 weathers, and every clime, cannot fail to hurry 
 countless multitudes to the grave. 
 
LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 37 
 
 How ma*iy perish from such causes, we eannot 
 conjecture; but in the Russian campaign of 1812, 
 so fatal was the effect of hunger and fatigue, ex 
 posure and disease, that of 22,000 Bavarians, though 
 they had been in no action, only 11,000 lived to 
 reach the Duna, and the very flower of the French 
 and the allied armies perished. A division of the 
 Russian forces, amounting to 120,000 at the com 
 mencement of the pursuit, could not, near Warsaw, 
 muster 35,000 ; and a re-enforcement of 10,000, 
 that had marched from Wilna, arrived with only 
 1500, of whom one half were the next day in the 
 hospitals. Not a few companies were utterly anni 
 hilated, without a single stroke from the enemy ! 
 
 But no record is kept of peaceful inhabitants 
 who perish in every country where war rages. In 
 Madrid and other cities of Spain, the French, in 
 the days of Napoleon, forced their way into the 
 houses of citizens, bayouetted all within that chanced 
 to have arms, and stationed parties of cavalry at the 
 different outlets of the town to cut off those who 
 should try to escape. In Portugal they burnt 
 villages and towns, butchered prisoners, and mas 
 sacred without distinction all classes of society; 
 and, in their retreat from that ill-fated country, 
 they literally strewed the roads with the dead 
 bodies of nobles and peasants, of women and chil 
 dren, and priests, all put to death like so many 
 dogs. In the single province of La Vendee, there 
 perished, in seven or eight months, 952, OuO of the 
 inhabitants, besides the loss of the Republicans ; in 
 all, more than 1,000,000. 
 
 Of such havoc it is impossible to form any esti 
 mate or conjecture ; but we know that war has 
 sometimes entirely depopulated immense districts. 
 In modern as well as ancient times, large tracts 
 have been left so utterly desolate, that a traveller 
 4 
 
38 LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 
 
 might pass from village to village, even from city to 
 city, without finding a solitary inhabitant ! The 
 war of 1756, waged in the heart of Europe, left in 
 one instance no less than twenty contiguous villages 
 without a single man or beast! The Thirty Yeartf 
 war, in the 1 7 th century, reduced the population of 
 Germany from twelve millions to four millions, 
 three-fourths ; and that of Wirtemburg from 500,000 
 to 48,000, more than nine-tenths ! Thirty thousand 
 villages were destroyed ; in many others the popu 
 lation entirely died out ; and over districts, once 
 studded with towns and cities, there sprang up im 
 mense forests. In one ancient campaign, 50,000 
 laborers died of hunger ; Hannibal alone, in six 
 teen years, plundered no less than four hundred 
 towns ; the barbarous invaders of the Roman Em 
 pire sometimes swept all the inhabitants from pro 
 vince after province ; and some of the most noto 
 rious conquerors have, like Jenghiz-khan, waged 
 wars of utter extermination, and butchered thou 
 sands and millions of unarmed men, women and 
 children, in cold blood. 
 
 Let us quote the testimony of an eminent re 
 viewer : " The levies of soldiers in France, during 
 her late wars, exceeded four millions ; and not less 
 than three millions of these, on the lowest calculation, 
 perished in the field, the hospital, or the bivouac. 
 If to these we add, as we unquestionably must, at 
 least an equal number out of the ranks of their an 
 tagonists, it is clear that not less than six millions 
 of human beings, in the course of twenty years, 
 perished by war in the very heart of civilized Eu 
 rope, at the commencement of the nineteenth cen 
 tury. But even these stupendous numbers give us 
 no adequate conception of the destruction of human 
 life directly consequent on the wars of the revolu 
 tion and the empire. We must add the thousands 
 
LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 39 
 
 who perished from want, outrage and exposure, and 
 the hundreds of thousands who were subsequently 
 swept away by the ravages of that pestilence which 
 took its rise amid the retreat from Russia, and the 
 crowded garrisons of the campaign of 1813, and for 
 several years afterwards desolated in succession 
 every country in Europe." 
 
 We can scarcely glance at the multitudes that 
 perish in sieges and hospitals. In the latter alone 
 nearly as many die as on the field of battle. Look 
 at the havoc of sieges. In that of Londonderry, 
 1689, there perished more than 12,000 soldiers, be 
 sides a vast number of the inhabitants. During the 
 siege of Paris, in the sixteenth century, the famine 
 was so severe that mothers ate their own children, 
 and 30,000 persons died of hunger alone. In the 
 siege of Magdeburg, 1631, more than 5000 of the 
 slain were thrown into the Elbe, to clear the streets, 
 and a much greater number had been consumed in 
 the flames ; the victims of famine, disease and hard 
 ship could not be reckoned ; but the sum total of 
 the lost was estimated at 30,000. Such was the 
 havoc of life at the storming of Belgrade, 1717, 
 that " the Jews were compelled to throw into the 
 Danube the bodies of 12,000 slain, merely to spare 
 the trouble and expense of burying them." In the 
 siege of Malplaquet in the north-east of France, 
 1709, there fell on both sides no less than 34,000 
 soldiers alone The storming of Ismail by Suwar- 
 row, 1790, cost 40,000 men. In the siege of Ham 
 burgh, 1813, there perished 15,000 of the garrison, 
 besides all the victims among the inhabitants, and 
 the besieging army. In the siege of Mexico, more 
 than 100,000 were slain in battle, and upwards of 
 50,000 more died from the infection of putrefying 
 carcasses. The siege of Vienna sacrificed 70,000 
 lives, and that of Ostend 120 5 000. At the siege 
 
40 LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 
 
 of Acre, by the crusaders, 300,000 fell; ancient 
 Carthage, containing 700,000 inhabitants, was so 
 utterly destroyed, that not a single edifice was left 
 standing; during the siege of Jerusalem, 1,100,000 
 persons perished, and during that of Troy, accord 
 ing to Burton, not less than 946,000 Trojans, and 
 870,000 Greeks; in all, 1,816,000 for a worthless 
 courtesan ! 
 
 Mark the havoc of single battles. At Durham, 
 1346, there fell 15,000; at Halidonhill and Agin- 
 court, 20,000 each ; at Bautzen and Lepanto, 25,000 
 each ; at Austerlitz. Jena and Lutzen, 30,000 each ; 
 at Eylau, 60,000 ; at Waterloo and Quatre Bras, 
 one engagement, 70,000 ; at Borodino, 80,000 ; at 
 Fontenoy, 100,000 ; at Yarmouth, 150,000 ; at Cha 
 lons, no less than 300,000 of Attila s army alone ! 
 The Moors in Spain, about the year 800, lost in one 
 battle 70,000 ; in another, four centuries later, 
 180,000, besides 50,000 prisoners, and in a third, 
 even 200,000. Still greater was the carnage in 
 ancient times. At Cannse, 70,000 fell. The Ko- 
 mans alone, in an engagement with the Cimbri and 
 Teutones. lost 80,000. Marius slew, in one battle, 
 140,000 Gauls, and in another, 290.000. In the 
 battle of Issus, between Alexander and Darius, 
 110,000 were slain, and in that of Arbela, 300.000. 
 Julius Caesar once annihilated an army of 363,000 
 Helvetians ; in a battle with the Usipetes, he slew 
 400,000 ; and on another occasion, he massacred 
 more than 430,000 Germans, who "had crossed the 
 Rhine with their herds, and flocks, and little ones, 
 in quest of new settlements." The Old Testament 
 records an instance, (2 Chron. xiii. 3-17 3 ) where one 
 side lost 500,000 lives ! 
 
 It is difficult to conceive the havoc of ancient 
 warfare. During a single war of the northern bar 
 barians in Africa, no less than five millions, accord 
 
LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 41 
 
 ing to Procopius, perished by the sword, famine and 
 pestilence ; and in the war of twenty years waged 
 by Justinian against the barbarous hordes that 
 poured into Italy, the Goths alone are supposed to 
 have lost more than fifteen millions ! 
 
 Look at two cases more. The army of Xerxes, 
 according to Dr. Dick, "must have amounted to 
 5,283,320 ;" arid, if the attendants were only one- 
 third as great as common at the present day in 
 Eastern countries, the sum total must have reached 
 nearly six millions ! Yet in one year this vast mul 
 titude was reduced to 300,000 fighting men ; and 
 of these only 3000 escaped destruction. During 
 the thirteenth century arose Jenghiz-khan, and 
 ravaged the heart of Asia. On the plains of Nessa, 
 he shot 90,000 persons in cold blood. At the 
 storming of Kharasm, he massacred 200.000, and 
 sold 10J,0 00 for slaves. In the district of Herat, 
 he butchered 1,600,000, and in two cities with their 
 dependencies, 1,760,000, During the last twenty- 
 seven years of his long reign, he is said to have 
 massacred more than half a million every year ; and 
 in the first fourteen years, he is supposed by Chi 
 nese historians to have destroyed not less than 
 eighteen millions ; a sum total of 32,000,000 hu 
 man beings sacrificed in forty-one years by a single 
 hand on the Moloch shrine of war ! 
 
 Do you ask, now, for an epitome of the havoc war 
 has made of human life ? In the Russian campaign 
 there perished in less than six months nearly half 
 a million of French alone, and perhaps as many 
 more of their enemies. Napoleon s wars sacrificed 
 full six millions, and all the wars consequent on 
 the French Revolution, some nine or ten millions. 
 The Spaniards are said to have destroyed in for 
 ty-two years more than twelve millions of Amer 
 ican Indians. The wars in the time of Sesostris 
 4* 
 
42 LOSS OF LIFE BY WAR. 
 
 cost 15,000,000 lives; those of Semiramis, Cyras 
 and Alexander, 10,000,000 each; those of Alexan 
 der s successors, 20,000,000. Grecian wars sacri 
 ficed 15,000,000; Jewish wars, 25,000,000; the 
 wars of the twelve Csesars, 30,000,000 in all; 
 the wars of the Romans before Julius Caesar, 
 60,000,000 ; the wars of the Roman Empire, of the 
 Saracens and the Turks, 60,000,000 each ; the wars 
 of the Reformation, 30,000,000 ; those of the Mid 
 dle Ages, and the nine Crusades in two centuries, 
 40,000,000 each ; those of the Tartars, 80,000,000 ; 
 those of Africa, 100,000,000 ! " If we take into con 
 sideration," says the learned Dr. Dick, " the num 
 ber not only of those who have fallen in battle, but 
 of those who have perished through the natural con 
 sequences of war, it will not perhaps be overrating 
 the destruction of human life, if we affirm, that one- 
 tenth of the human race has been destroyed by the 
 ravages of war ; and, according to this estimate, 
 more than fourteen thousand millions of human be 
 ings have been slaughtered in war since the begin 
 ning of the world." Edmund Burke went still fur 
 ther, and reckoned the sum total of its ravages 
 from the first, at no less than THIRTY-FIVE THOU 
 SAND MILLIONS i 1 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 SECTION I 
 
 GENERAL TREATMENT OF WARRIORS. 
 
 WAR begins its work of cruelty and outrage with 
 its own agents. Think of the violence practised in 
 procuring seamen and soldiers. Where the war- 
 spirit is predominant, they are forced into the army 
 and navy at the pleasure of their rulers, and doomed 
 to all the hardships, perils and sufferings of war, with 
 little or no hope of release till death. Just imagine 
 the process of manning a fleet or an army. In 
 some countries, they call first for volunteers ; yet 
 most of these are obtained by false representations, 
 or the use of intoxicating drinks. The beardless 
 boy, the thriftless husband, the reckless, desperate 
 adventurer, bereft of reason by the maddening bowl, 
 are coaxed to the fatal pledge, and then hurried 
 away from home and friends to the camp or the 
 war-ship, and forced into the work of human butch 
 ery as the business of their life. Most commonly, 
 however, the ranks of war are filled by some species 
 of compulsion. In England press-gangs, in a time 
 of war. prowl around every sea-port, to seize on any 
 seaman, if not upon any landsman, they may chance 
 to find, and drag him, handcuffed and manacled, 
 on board some war-ship. Not a poor man in the 
 British empire is safe from this species of outrage 
 ous oppression ; and yet has the practice been con 
 tinued for so many ages as now to form a part of 
 
44 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 the common law of the land, and to be justified not 
 only by popular leaders in Parliament, but by grave, 
 upright judges, the brightest luminaries of English 
 law, as indispensable to her war-system. On the 
 continent of Europe, conscription is the usual pro 
 cess. Every monarch there claims the right to 
 force into his service every well-formed man in his 
 dominions ; and so far did Frederic the Great carry 
 this species of tyranny, that it became hazardous 
 for any able-bodied man to travel in Prussia, and 
 even some foreigners of distinction were dragged 
 into hi-s army without reparation or apology. 
 
 One mode of procuring seamen in the United 
 States is called crimping. < The crimp persuades the 
 seaman by fine stories to ship, tells him he will have 
 three months advance, gets his name affixed to the 
 articles, and, if he is what is called a green hand, 
 induces him to go on board the ship for the purpose 
 of just looking at her. While there, the crimp pro 
 duces a certificate of his having entered at the ren 
 dezvous ; and the poor fellow is not permitted again 
 to go on shore. His decoyer then brings against 
 him a bill amounting to nearly or quite the whole 
 of his three months advance. This result is gene 
 rally reached through the intoxicating bowl, a vile 
 decoction of rum and sugar, mixed sometimes with 
 opium or some other drug, that produces a drunken 
 sleep, and in that state the recruits are frequently 
 carried on board. 
 
 Do you know how soldiers are generally treated? 
 They are subjected to the most iron-hearted despo 
 tism on earth ; to a bondage far worse thcnn that of a 
 Turkish peasant, or a domestic slave. They are at 
 the mercy of every superior, from the commander- 
 in-chief down to the pettiest officer. They have 
 little or no protection against hourly abuse, insult 
 and violence, nor any adequate security for life 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS OF WAR. 45 
 
 itself, against the lawless passions of officers seldom 
 called to account in war for the worst treatment of 
 soldiers. " It is generally understood." says a very 
 competent witness, " that the word of a commanding 
 officer is law. He can punish at will ; his authority 
 is well nigh absolute ; for the process of redress for 
 a common sailor, under any ordinary circumstances, 
 by an appeal to a court-martial, would be so tardy 
 and dubious, as hardly to be considered a qualifica 
 tion of the statement, that the system is one of un 
 limited despotism." " Desperation," says another, 
 " seems to be the parent of many of those acts of 
 insubordination which expose soldiers to punish 
 ment ; and this desperation is apparently induced 
 by the severe restraints to which they are subjected, 
 joined with the painful conviction, that their suffer 
 ings can end only with their lives. Of this we have 
 fearful evidence in the fact, that one death out of 
 every twenty in the cavalry regiments (English) is 
 from suicide." 
 
 Look at the provisions usually made for warriors. 
 Go to a camp or a fleet, and there see human life 
 rotting in masses into the grave. When seized 
 with sickness, there is little or no care taken of 
 them ; no mother, wife or sister near to tend their 
 couch ; no pillow of down to ease their aching head ; 
 no escape from pinching cold, or scorching heat j 
 no shelter from howling blasts, or drenching rains. 
 Thus they "languish in tents, and ships, amid 
 damps and putrefaction, pale, torpid, and spiritless ; 
 gasping and groaning unpitied among men rendered 
 obdurate by long continuance of hopeless misery, 
 and are at last whelmed in pits, or heaved into the 
 ocean, without notice or remembrance." 
 
 Glance, also, at their food, often provided by 
 avaricious, unprincipled contractors with less care 
 than a farmer ordinarily takes in feeding his swine ! 
 
46 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 It has been sometimes so intolerably bad as to be 
 refused even by wretches dying with hunger ; and 
 an eminent physician once testified under oath be 
 fore the British Parliament, that in the military 
 hospitals of Aracan, " monstrous reptiles, engender 
 ed in the mass of filth which the soldiers had been 
 obliged to take for food, were often seen crawling 
 from the mouths of the sick !" 
 
 Let us select a specimen or two of the treatment 
 of prisoners. Our numbers, says one of the suf 
 ferers, a Frenchman in Spain, thinned rapidly on 
 the way. Fatigue and insufficient provision ren 
 dered many incapable of rising to renew their march 
 after a night s halt ; and the dawn exhibited to us 
 the stiffened limbs of such as death had released 
 from further earthly trouble. The survivors were 
 gaunt and emaciated ; and frequently would a poor 
 fellow drop to the ground in the extremity of weari 
 ness and despair. No effort was made to assist 
 these sufferers ; but they were either left behind 
 to perish, or bayonetted on the spot. On our arri 
 val at St. Lucar, we were thrown, some of us into 
 prison-ships, and others into stinking casements. 
 Here the extremity of our anguish exceeded all 
 powers of description. With scarce strength enough 
 to crawl to our detestable dungeons, many of us 
 reached them only to lie down, and die broken 
 hearted ; and the fare was so wretched as to be re 
 fused in many cases, even by men fainting with 
 weariness, and famished with hunger. We were 
 not only crowded together like cattle amidst vermin 
 and pestilential effluvia, but treated with su-ch un 
 relenting severity, that many of my companions 
 sought refuge from their misery by plunging into 
 the sea. When landed, at length, on the desolate 
 island of Cabrera, we wtre exposed to every species 
 of privation. Without shelter, or sufficient cloth- 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 47 
 
 ing, or a regular supply of food, we sometimes 
 resorted to grass and dust to answer the wants of 
 nature. A great many died ; and we buried them 
 immediately in the sea, under the horrible appre 
 hension that, should their bodies remain before us, 
 the savage longings of the cannibal would rise in 
 our hearts. A cuirassier was in fact killed for food 
 by a Pole, who was discovered and shot, confessing 
 he had before done the same by two other com 
 rades. 
 
 MILITARY PUNISHMENTS 
 
 I would gladly excuse myself from a theme so 
 painful and disgusting as this ; but fidelity to truth 
 requires me to give from eye-witnesses a few speci 
 mens of the barbarous and brutal severity with 
 which soldiers are punished for the slightest of 
 fences. 
 
 I have heard, says the late William Ladd, the 
 captain of a British man-of-war order one of his 
 men to receive a dozen lashes for having on blue 
 trowsers. Sailors are subject every moment of their 
 lives, not only to a torrent of imprecations and 
 curses, but to the boatswain s cat-o -nine-tails. The 
 least complaint brings them to the gangway ; and 
 not unfrequently is a sailor sentenced to receive 
 five hundred and even a thousand lashes, to be in 
 flicted day after day as he may be able to bear them. 
 He is attended at each whipping by a surgeon, to 
 determine how much he can bear without immedi 
 ate danger to life ; and often does the flagellation 
 proceed till the victim faints, and then he is respited 
 
48 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 to renew his sufferings another day. This account I 
 had from a British surgeon. I have often shudder 
 ed at the recital of the whippings through the fleet, 
 the keel-hauling, the spread eagle, the gagging, the 
 handcuffing, and other punishments inflicted on 
 sailors who have been trepanned or forced into a 
 service from which death is the only release. 
 
 " I have been," says an American seaman, " seve 
 ral years in the service, and have served in three 
 different ships ; and I can truly say, I have seen 
 quite as much flogging in a year on board the last 
 ship, as there ever was on a southern plantation 
 during the same space of time. I have seen seamen 
 flogged with the cat-o -nine-tails until the blood ran 
 down through their pantaloons, and formed little 
 puddles on the ship s deck." John Randolph declar 
 ed in Congress he had witnessed, in a few months, 
 more flogging on board the man-of-war which carried 
 him to Russia, than had taken place in ten years on 
 his plantation, where there had been five hundred 
 slaves. 
 
 " The worst species of punishment," says Leech, 
 " is flogging through the fleet. After the offender is 
 sentenced, he is conducted into the ship s launch 
 a large boat which has been previously rigged up 
 with poles and grating, to which he is seized up, and 
 attended by the ship s surgeon, to decide when the 
 power of nature s endurance has been taxed to its ut 
 most. A boat from every ship in the fleet is also pres 
 ent, each carrying one or two officers, and two marines 
 fully armed. These boats are connected by tow-lines 
 to the launch. These preparations made, the crew 
 of the victim s ship are ordered to man the rigging, 
 while the boatswain commences the tragedy. When 
 he has administered one, two or three dozen lashes, 
 according to the number of ships in the fleet, the pris 
 oner s shirt is thrown over his gory back; the boat- 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 49 
 
 swam returns on board, the hands are piped down, the 
 drummer beats a mournful melody called the rogue s 
 inarch, and the melancholy procession moves on. 
 Arriving at the side of another ship, the brutal 
 scene is repeated, until every crew in the fleet has 
 witnessed it, and from one to three hundred lashes 
 have lacerated the back of the broken-spirited tar 
 to a bleeding pulp. He is then placed under the 
 surgeon s care, to be fitted for duty a ruined man 
 broken in spirit ! all sense of self-respect gone 
 forever ! If he survive, it is only to be a hopeless 
 wreck, a living, walking shadow of his former self." 
 Nor is the punishment of soldiers much less re 
 volting. i One day, says Ladd, I was on parade 
 when preparation was making for a kind of punish 
 ment called the gauntlet. All the soldiers in the 
 regiment were placed in two ranks, facing each 
 other, and about five feet apart. To each soldier 
 was given a stick three feet long, or more. I could 
 not bear to stay and witness the execution ; but I 
 was afterwards informed that the culprit, stripped 
 naked to his waist, arid his hands tied before him, 
 was marched between the ranks, preceded by a 
 soldier walking backwards with a bayonet at the 
 sufferer s breast, to keep him from going too fast. 
 In this way he was struck once by every soldier, offi 
 cers going down on the outside of the ranks to see 
 that each man did his duty ! and, if any one was 
 merely suspected of not laying on hard enough, he 
 received over his own head a blow from the officer s 
 cane. Sometimes the criminal has to retrace his 
 steps ; and, as a regiment consists of six hundred 
 or a thousand men, and some German regiments of 
 two thousand, he must receive from twelve hundred 
 to two or even four thousand blows ! The punish 
 ment often proves fatal ; and to such a pitch of 
 despair were those soldiers carried by their suffer- 
 
50 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 ings, that many of them committed suicide, and 
 one poor fellow shot himself near my lodgings/ 
 
 Flogging is certainly a tremendous punishment. 
 The delinquent is stripped to the waist, tied up by 
 his hands, and then flogged with a whip having nine 
 lashes, with three knots each, so that each stroks 
 makes twenty-seven wounds ; if a capital sentence 
 is awarded, he receives nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine of these stripes ; and, at every twenty-five 
 strokes, the drummer, who inflicts them, is changed, 
 in order to insure a more energetic enforcement of 
 the penalty. This punishment occurs very fre 
 quently in the English army, drunkenness and other 
 acts of insubordination being often punished with 
 from one to two hundred lashes. 
 
 " One wintry morn," says another eye-witness, 
 " when the bleak wind whistled along the ranks of 
 a regiment paraded to see corporal punishment in 
 flicted, every eye was turned in pity towards the 
 delinquent" his offence was drunkenness " until 
 the commanding officer, with stentorian lungs, cried 
 out, Strip, sir. The morning was so bitterly cold, 
 that the mere exposure of a man s naked body was 
 itself a severe punishment. When the offender was 
 tied, or rather hung, up by the hands, his back, from 
 intense cold and previous flogging, exhibited a com 
 plete black-and-blue appearance. On the first lash, 
 the blood spirted out several yards; and, after he 
 had received fifty, his back, from the neck to the 
 waist, was one continued stream of blood. When 
 taken down, he staggered, and fell to the ground. 
 The poor man never looked up again ; his prospects 
 as a soldier were utterly destroyed ; and so keenly 
 did his degradation prey upon his spirits, that he at 
 length shot himself in his barrack-room. 
 
 I will now give a specimen from our own country. 
 In 18 14, a soldier was shot at Greenbugh, New York, 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 51 
 
 for going thirty or forty miles from the camp, without 
 leave, to visit his wife arid three small children. 
 After the usual preliminaries in such cases, his coffin, 
 & box of rough pine boards, was borne before him on 
 the shoulders of two men to the place of execution. 
 He wore, as a winding-sheet, a white cotton gown, 
 having over the place of his heart the black image 
 of a heart, as a mark for the executioners to aim at. 
 His countenance was as pale as his winding-sheet, 
 and his whole frame trembled with agony. His 
 grave was dug, the coffin placed by his side, and 
 the deserter, with a cap drawn over his eyes, re 
 quired to kneel upon the lid. At this signal, the 
 eight soldiers, drawn by lot for the bloody deed, 
 stepped forward within two rods of their victim ; 
 and, at another signal from the officer, all fired at 
 the same instant. The miserable man, with a hor 
 rid scream, leaped from the earth, and fell between 
 his coffin and his grave. The sergeant, to insure 
 immediate death, shot him through the head, hold 
 ing his musket so near that the cap took fire ; and 
 there the body lay, with the head sending forth the 
 mingled fumes of burning cotton and hair. The 
 soldiers, after passing close by the corpse in a line 
 to let every one see for himself the fate of a desert 
 er, marched back to the merry notes of Yankee 
 Doodle ! and all the officers were immediately in 
 vited to the quarters of the commander, and treated 
 with grog ! ! 
 
 I will quote a recent case from England. " On 
 the 20th of June, 1839, the Tower of London and 
 its environs were thrown into great excitement by 
 the flogging of two privates for insulting non-commis 
 sioned officers ! One was sentenced to receive one 
 hundred lashes with the cat-o -nine-tails, and the 
 other one hundred and fifty. The time chosen was 
 ten o clock ; the place the most public in the Tower. 
 
52 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 The first man brought out, was a find young man, 
 named Jarman, whose crime was insulting his ser 
 geant. He was secured to the halberts by thin 
 cords, which severely cut his flesh ; and the dread 
 ful and beastly infliction commenced. He received 
 his punishment without uttering a word or a groan, 
 although the punishment was unusually severe, the 
 drummers being changed every ten lashes, instead 
 of twenty-five as heretofore, and the cat, the instru 
 ment of punishment, very heavy. After he had 
 received the hundred lashes, or nine hundred stripes, 
 his back presented a mangled appearance, and the 
 blood poured down his person. 
 
 "As soon as the first man left the square, the 
 second man, Slade, a much slighter person than the 
 other, was called to the front. He was sentenced 
 to receive one hundred and fifty lashes, or one thou 
 sand three hundred and fifty stripes. It was evi 
 dent he did not possess the nerve of the other man ; 
 he shook so violently that he was scarcely able to 
 pull his jacket off. and his terror was evident to all. 
 Upon being tied up, he shook from head to foot ; and 
 the moment he was struck, he began to shriek loud 
 ly, and earnestly called out mercy, mercy ! which 
 were heard very distinctly all over the Tower. The 
 cat fell with double force on his back, owing to its be 
 ing wetted with the blood of the other man. Slacle no 
 soonor began to call out than the drums were beaten 
 to stifle his cries, and re-echoed among the walls. 
 When about seventy or eighty lashes had been in 
 flicted, the poor fellow s head fell on his shoulder, 
 and it was supposed he had fainted ; but such was 
 not the case, as the commanding officer walked up 
 to the triangle, and, on looking him in the face, 
 ordered the drummer to proceed. At this time, 
 with the exception of the drummers who were se 
 lected to flog, it took all the others to secure him, 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 53 
 
 his back being literally cut to pieces from his neck 
 to his loins. His cries for mercy were unavailing, 
 until one hundred lashes had been inflicted, when 
 it was found he was unable to bear any more. 
 He was led away between two of his comrades, a 
 truly shocking spectacle of suffering humanity. 
 Several men fainted away ; and we could mention 
 the names of several officers who did have humanity 
 enough to loosen the stocks and coats of several 
 privates. Many clerks and others of the ordnance 
 department, witnessed part of the punishment, but, 
 to use their own words, were unable to stand it out. 
 The lady of the resident governor happened to go to 
 her window, and, hearing the cries of Slade, fell into 
 hysterics, and the whole family were for some time 
 in great confusion. Several respectable civilians 
 expressed their indignation, and said they would 
 not live in the Tower, if such scenes were repeated." 
 
 We might quote cases still more recent, and 
 equally revolting ; but let us glance at the acknowl 
 edged effects of such punishments. A British offi 
 cer says, " Men have declared to me, that the sensa 
 tion experienced at each lash, was as if the talons 
 of a hawk were tearing the flesh off their bones !" 
 Sir Charles Napier says, " I have seen many hun 
 dreds of men flogged, and have always observed 
 that, when the skin is thoroughly cut up or flayed off) 
 the great pain subsides, and they bear the remain 
 der without a groan. They will often lie as with 
 out life, and the drummers appear to be flogging a 
 lump of raw flesh" 
 
 " I remember," says an English military writer, 
 " attending the punishment of a man in 1808. He 
 was sentenced to receive 1000 lashes, but was taken 
 down upon receiving 250. After being cured, he 
 was again brought out to receive the remainder ; 
 but the first few lashes tore open the newly cica- 
 5* 
 
54 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 trized skin so mucli, that his back became instantly 
 covered with blood flowing downward under his 
 clothes, and he was taken down before he had re 
 ceived forty lashes." 
 
 Let us hear a few cases from Dr Hamilton, an 
 English military surgeon. " Henley, for desertion, 
 received 200 lashes only ; an acute inflammation fol 
 lowed, and the back sloughed. When the wounds 
 were cleaned, and the sloughed integuments re 
 moved, the back-bone, and part of the shoulder- 
 bone, were laid bare ; and it was upwards of seven 
 months before he was so far recovered as to be able 
 to do his duty. Lately a soldier, not far from the me 
 tropolis, received 400 lashes ; he scorned to flinch 
 for some time, till by a repetition of stripes he 
 groaned and died! In 1803, at Chatham, a pri 
 vate, having been found asleep at his post, was sen 
 tenced to be flogged. He was a fine-looking lad, 
 and bore an excellent character. The officers were 
 much interested in his behalf, and endeavored, but 
 without success, to prevail on the general in com 
 mand to give his case a favorable consideration. 
 During the infliction I saw the drum-major strike 
 a drummer to the ground for not laying on the 
 lashes hard enough. The man s back became black 
 as the darkest mahogany, and greatly swollen. 
 After receiving only 229 lashes, he was taken down 
 and sent to the hospital, where he died in eight 
 days. Although few or none die immediately from 
 punishments moderately inflicted, I know from expe 
 rience in the service, that constitutions have been 
 considerably impaired by them. We sometimes 
 find the body melt away into a spectre of skin and 
 bone from the large suppurations that have follow 
 ed ; nor were they ever afterwards, as long as I 
 knew them, able to bear the same hardships as 
 before, or the same exposure to disease." 
 
IERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 65 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 MARCHES. 
 
 THE sufferings incident to marches are various, 
 and exceedingly destructive to life. It cannot be 
 otherwise ; for soldiers, if not entirely exhausted by 
 disease, are obliged in all seasons to brave all weath 
 ers without a screen against heat, or cold, or storm, 
 and to encamp on the damp or frozen earth, some 
 times on ice or snow, with only a tent at best 
 stretched over them, and a single blanket wrapped 
 around them. 
 
 No precaution can prevent a vast amount of 
 hardship and suffering from this source. Look at 
 a single case even in our war with Mexico. " From 
 Las Lomitas," says one of the men, " we marched, 
 June 30th, to Ranchita ; but, the woods being very 
 wet and muddy, we were compelled in many places 
 to march through mud up to our middle ; and, as 
 many of us lost our shoes in the mud, and could not 
 draw them out, we were obliged to continue our 
 march, barefooted, through a country where the 
 prickly pear abounds. At length, with much suf 
 fering, we reached Ranchita, where we remained 
 three days without tents, or any of our baggage, 
 and with but one day s rations, which soon gave 
 out, and left us to live on fresh beef without bread 
 or salt. July 2, we were ordered to march for 
 Matamoras ; and, when within two miles of that 
 place, we encamped for the night, if throwing down 
 on the ground a blanket, and then throwing your 
 self down upon that, may be called encamping. 
 The next day at dawn we were again put under 
 march, and led to Matamoras through a swamp, 
 
66 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAE 
 
 where the mud was up to our knees all the way. 
 The day following we were ordered to Jannita, and 
 compelled to travel through a country equally bad. 
 Having bivouacked here three days, waiting for our 
 tents and baggage, we began our march anew, and 
 continued it till late at night, when we reached a 
 low swampy piece of country. Our colonel rode 
 forward to explore the way, but soon returned drip 
 ping from head to foot, his horse having found a 
 hole under the water into which he precipitated 
 himself and his rider. Here we were obliged to 
 bivouac for the night; and in the morning every 
 man refused to stir a step, until the colonel led 
 the way on foot, when we all dashed into the water 
 after him, and had to plod for two miles through 
 the water, in many places up to our arm-pits, and 
 nowhere less than to our knees." The amount of 
 such hardships may be inferred from their effects. 
 " The ranks of our regiment," says one, " have been 
 terribly thinned. We marched across the Chata- 
 hooehe with 910 men ; and to-day the regiment, all 
 told, numbers barely 600, and scarcely that." Says 
 another, " One regiment left Corpus Christi with 
 500 men. It now parades only 138, while another 
 musters only 164." 
 
 Take a very common specimen from the Peninsu 
 lar war. " Every day " says a young Scotch soldier, 
 " we were either on guard, or on fatigue. We were 
 not a night in bed out of two during all the time we 
 remained there. Besides, the weather was dread 
 ful ; we had always either snow or hail, the latter 
 often as large as nuts ; and we were forced to put 
 our knapsacks on our heads to protect us from its 
 yiolence. The frost was most severe, accompanied 
 by high winds. Often for whole days and nights 
 we could not get a tent to stand ; many of us were 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 57 
 
 frost-bitten, and others were found dead at their 
 posts. On our march, the rain poured in torrents ; 
 and melted snow was half-knee deep in many places, 
 and stained by the blood that flowed from our 
 bruised and wounded feet. There was nothing to 
 sustain our famished bodies, or shelter them from 
 the rain or snow. We were either drenched with 
 rain, or crackling with ice. Fuel we could find 
 none. The sick and the wounded whom we had 
 been still enabled with our own hands to drag along 
 with us in wagons, were now left to perish in the 
 snow. The road was one line of bloody foot-marks 
 from the sore feet of the men ; and on its sides lay 
 the dead and the dying." 
 
 The march of the French both to and from Mos 
 cow, was horrible beyond description. " Overwhelm 
 ed with whirlwinds of snow," says Labaume, " the 
 soldiers could not distinguish the road from the 
 ditches, and often fell into the latter, which served 
 them for a tomb. Others, eager to press forward, 
 dragged themselves along. Badly clothed and shod, 
 having nothing to eat or drink, groaning and shiv 
 ering with the cold, they gave no assistance, and 
 showed no signs of compassion to those who, sinking 
 from weakness, expired around them. Many of 
 these miserable creatures struggled hard in the ago 
 nies of death. Some, in the most affecting manner, 
 bade adieu to their brethren in arms, and others 
 with their last breath pronounced the name of their 
 mother and their country. Stretched on the road, 
 we could only see the heaps of snow that covered 
 them, and formed undulations in their route like 
 those iu a grave-yard. Flocks of ravens flew over our 
 heads croaking ominously ; and troops of dogs, which 
 had followed us all the way from Moscow, and lived 
 solely on our bloody remains, howled around us, as 
 if impatient for the moment when we should become 
 
58 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM 
 
 their prey, and often contended with the soldiers 
 for the dead horses which were left on the road." 
 
 Labaume, after describing the passage of the Vop, 
 in the retreat from Moscow, continues : " The last 
 night had been dreadful. To form an idea of its 
 rigors, it is necessary to conceive an army encamped 
 on the snow, in the depth of a severe winter, pur 
 sued by an enemy to whom it could oppose no ef 
 fective resistance. The soldiers, without shoes, and 
 almost destitute of clothing, were enfeebled by 
 hunger and fatigue. Seated on their knapsacks, 
 they slept on their knees. From this benumbing 
 posture they rose only to broil a few slices of horse 
 flesh, or to melt some pieces of ice. They were 
 often without wood, and to keep up a fire, demol 
 ished the houses in which the generals were lodged. 
 When we awoke in the morning, the village had 
 disappeared ; and in this manner towns that were 
 standing entire in the evening, formed the next day 
 one vast conflagration." 
 
 "Whole teams, (Nov. 15, 1812,) sinking under 
 their fatigues, fell together, and obstructed the way. 
 More than thirty thousand horses perished in a few 
 days. All the defiles that were impassable for the 
 carriages, were strewed with arms, helmets, cuiras 
 ses, broken trunks, portmanteaus, and clothes of 
 every kind. At intervals we saw trees, at the feet of 
 which the soldiers had attempted to light fires, but 
 had expired in making these useless efforts to warm 
 themselves. They were stretched by dozens around 
 the green branches which they had in vain endea 
 vored to kindle ; and the number of dead bodies 
 would have blocked up the road, if we had not em 
 ployed men to throw them into the ruts and ditches. 
 
 " It was now December. The cold was intense ; 
 the wind howled frightfully; and, towards the 
 close of the day, the darkness was illumined by the 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 59 
 
 numerous fires of the enemy who occupied the hills 
 of Zembin. At the feet of these heights, groaned 
 our companions, devoted to death ; never had they 
 experienced moments so dreadful as on this disas 
 trous night. All the horrors that can be conceived 
 by the imagination, would convey but a faint im 
 pression of what they endured. The elements, let 
 loose, seemed to have combined to afflict all nature, 
 and to chastise man. The conquerors and the con 
 quered were overwhelmed with sufferings. The 
 former, however, had enormous piles of burning 
 wood, while the latter had neither fire nor shelter ; 
 their groans alone indicated the spot that contained 
 BO many unfortunate victims. 
 
 " At every step (Dec. 5) we saw brave officers 
 supported on pine branches, covered with rags, with 
 their hair and beards matted with icicles. Those 
 warriors, once the terror of our enemies, and the con 
 querors of two thirds of Europe, having lost their 
 noble mien, dragged themselves slowly along, and 
 could not obtain a look of pity even from the sol 
 diers they had commanded. Their situation was 
 the more deplorable, as whoever had not strength 
 to march, was abandoned ; and every one who was 
 abandoned, in one hour afterwards was a dead man. 
 Every bivouac presented us the next day with the 
 appearance of a field of battle. 
 
 " The road was covered (Dec. 8) with soldiers who 
 no longer retained the human form, and whom the 
 enemy disdained to take prisoners. Every day fur 
 nished scenes too painful to relate. Some had lost 
 their hearing, others their speech, and many, by ex 
 cessive cold and hunger, were reduced to such a state 
 of stupid frenzy, that they roasted the dead bodies 
 for food, and even gnawed their own hands and arms. 
 Some, who were too weak to lift a piece of wood, or 
 to ro...l a stone towards the fire ; sat down upon their 
 
60 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FRuM WAR. 
 
 dead companions, and with an unmoved counte 
 nance, gazed upon the burning logs. When they 
 were consumed, these livid spectres, unable to get 
 up, fell by the side of those on whom they had been 
 seated. Many, in a state of delirium, plunged their 
 bare feet into the fire just to warm themselves ; some, 
 with a convulsive laugh, threw themselves into the 
 flames, and with shocking cries, perished in the 
 most horrible contortions ; while others, in a state 
 of equal madness, followed their example, and shared 
 the same fate !" " Multitudes," says Porter, " lost 
 their speech, others were seized with frenzy, and 
 many were so maddened by the extremes of pain 
 and hunger, that they tore the dead bodies of their 
 comrades in to pieces, and feasted on the remains !" 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 A S:EGE is war in miniature. Take the case of 
 Saragossa, in Spain. " The French fought their way 
 into the entrance of this ill fated city by mining and 
 exploding one house after another, while the inhab 
 itants were confined to that quarter of the city still 
 in possession of the Spaniards, who were crowded, 
 men, women and children, into the cellars to avoid 
 the cannon balls and bombs. Pestilence broke out 
 as a matter of course ; and when once begun, it was 
 impossible to check its progress, or confine it to one 
 quarter of the city. It was not long before more 
 than thirty hospitals were established. As soon as 
 one was destroyed by the bombardment, the pa 
 tients were removed to some other building, which 
 was in a state to afford them temporary shelter, and 
 
* PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 61 
 
 thus the infection was carried into every part of 
 Saragossa. The average of daily deaths from this 
 cause was, at this time, not less than three hundred 
 and fifty. Men stretched upon straw, in helpless 
 misery, lay breathing their last, and with their 
 dying breath spreading the mortal taint of their own 
 disease, without medicines, food or attendance ; for 
 the ministers of chanty themselves became the vic 
 tims of the disease. The slightest wound produced 
 gangrene and death in bodies so prepared for disso 
 lution by distress of mind, agitation, and want of 
 proper aliment and of sleep ; for there was no 
 respite, either by day or night, for this devoted city. 
 By day, it was involved in a red sulphuric atmo 
 sphere of smoke and dust, which hid the face of hea 
 ven ; by night, the fire of cannon and mortars, and 
 the flames of burning houses, kept it in a state of 
 horrible illumination. 
 
 " At length a convent and the general hospital 
 were stormed and set on fire. The sick and wounded 
 threw themselves from the windows to escape the 
 flames : and the horror of the scene was aggravated 
 by the maniacs, whose voices, raving or singing in 
 paroxysms of increased madness, were heard amidst 
 the confusion of dreadful sounds. After forcing 
 their way into the city, the French occupied one 
 side of the street, and the Spaniards the other ; and 
 the intervening space was presently heaped with the 
 dead, either slain upon the spot, or thrown from the 
 windows. It was almost death to appear by day 
 light within reach of such houses as were occupied 
 by the other party ; but, under cover of the night, 
 the combatants frequently dashed across the street 
 to attack each other s batteries ; and the battles 
 begun there, were often carried into the houses be 
 yond, where they fought from room to room, and 
 floor to floor. 
 
 6 
 
62 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 " The havoc of life was of course dreadful ; and the 
 cemeteries could no longer afford room for the dead. 
 Large pits were dug to receive them in the streets, 
 and in the courts of the public buildings, till hands 
 were wanted for the labor ; they were laid before 
 the churches, heaped upon one another, and covered 
 with sheets ; and not unfrequently these piles of 
 mortality were struck by a shell, and the shattered 
 bodies scattered in all directions. When the French 
 entered the city, six thousand bodies were lying in 
 the streets and trenches, or piled up in heaps before 
 the churches. 7 
 
 The siege of St. Jean d Acre, in Syria, (1840,) 
 terminated in a terrible bombardment, of which an 
 eye-witness gave the following account : " At half- 
 past four in the morning, all firing ceased, as if by 
 one consent, when heavens ! what a sight ! the 
 whole town seemed to be thrown into the air ! We 
 saw nothing but one dense cloud extending thou 
 sands of yards into the air on all sides ; and then 
 we felt an awful shock, which gave the line-of battle 
 ships a keel of two degrees. It was the explosion 
 caused by one of our shells bursting in their main 
 magazine of powder, by which, to speak within 
 bounds, two thousand souls, besides beasts of burden 
 of every description, were blown to atoms ! The 
 entire loss of the Egyptians is computed at three 
 thousand. At daylight, what a sight was exposed 
 to our view ! The stupendous fortification, that 
 only twelve hours before was among the strongest in 
 the world, was so riddled that we could not find a 
 square foot which had not a shot. I went ashore to 
 witness the devastation ; the sight beggared all 
 description ! The bastions were strewed with tho 
 dead, the guns dismounted, and all sorts of havoc. 
 The spot of the explosion was far worse a space of 
 two acres lakl quite bare, and hollowed out as if a 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 63 
 
 quarry had been worked there for years ! Heavens ! 
 what a sight was there before me ! Mangled human 
 Bodies, of both sexes, strewed in all directions, 
 women searching for their husbands and other rela 
 tives, tearing their hair, beating their breasts, and 
 howling and crying most piteously !" 
 
 In 1800, Genoa, occupied by 24,000 French 
 troops, was besieged at once by a British fleet, and 
 a powerful Austrian army. We will not detail the 
 horrors attendant on the sallies and assaults ; but 
 let us look at the condition of the soldiers and citi 
 zens within. The former, worn down by fatigue, 
 and wasted by famine, had consumed all the horses 
 in the city, and were at length reduced to the ne 
 cessity of feeding on dogs, cats and vermin, which 
 were eagerly hunted out in the cellars and common 
 sewers. Soon, however, even these wretched re 
 sources failed ; and they were brought to the pit 
 tance of four or five ounces a day of black bread 
 made of cocoa, rye, and other substances ransacked 
 from the shops of the city. 
 
 The inhabitants, also, were a prey to the most 
 unparalleled sufferings. The price of provisions 
 had from the first been extravagantly high, and at 
 length no kind of grain could be had at any cost. 
 Even before the city was reduced to the last ex 
 tremities, a pound of rice was sold for more than a 
 dollar, and a pound of flour for nearly two dollars. 
 Afterwards beans were sold for two cents each, and 
 a biscuit of three ounces weight, when procurable at 
 all, for upwards of two dollars. A little cheese, and 
 a few vegetables, were the only nourishment given 
 even to the sick and wounded in the hospitals. 
 
 The horrors of this prolonged famine in a city 
 containing above 100,000 souls, cannot be adequate 
 ly described. All day the cries of the miserable 
 victims were heard in the streets, while the neigh* 
 
64 PERSONAL SUFFERIN-GS FROM WAR. 
 
 boring rocks within the walls were covered with a 
 famished crowd, seeking in the vilest animals, and 
 the smallest traces of vegetation, the means of 
 assuaging the intolerable pangs of hunger. Men 
 and women, in the last agonies of despair, filled the 
 air with their groans and shrieks ; and sometimes, 
 while uttering these dreadful cries, they strove with 
 furious hands to tear out their ravening entrails, 
 and fell dead in the streets ! At night, the lamen 
 tations of the people were still more dreadful ; too 
 agitated to sleep, and unable to endure the agonies 
 around them, they prayed aloud for death to relieve 
 them from their sufferings. 
 
 Dreadful was the effect of these protracted 
 calamities in hardening the heart, and rendering 
 men insensible to anything but their own disasters. 
 Children, left by the death of their parents in utter 
 destitution, implored in vain the passing stranger 
 with tears, with mournful gestures, and heart-broken 
 accents, to give them succor and relief. Infants, 
 deserted in the streets by their own parents, and 
 women who had sunk down from exhaustion on the 
 public thorouglffares, were abandoned to their fate; 
 and. crawling to the sewers, and other receptacles 
 of filth, they sought there, with dying hands, for the 
 means of prolonging their miserable existence for a 
 few hours. In the desperation produced by such 
 long continued torments, the more ardent and im 
 petuous rushed out of the gates, and threw them 
 selves into the harbor, where they perished without 
 assistance or commiseration. To such straits were 
 they reduced, that not only leather and skins of 
 every kind were devoured, but the horror at human 
 flesh was so much abated, that numbers were sup 
 ported on the dead bodies of their fellow-citizens ! 
 
 Still more cruel, horrible beyond all description, 
 was the spectacle presented by the Austrian prison- 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAB. 65 
 
 ers of war confined on board certain old vessels in 
 the port ; for such was the dire necessity at last, 
 that they were left for some days without nutriment 
 of any kind ! They ate their shoes, they devoured 
 the leather of their pouches, and, scowling darkly at 
 each other, their sinister glances betrayed the 
 horrid fear of their being driven to prey upon one 
 another. Their French guards were at length 
 removed, under the apprehension that they might 
 be made a sacrifice to ravening hunger ; and so 
 great did their desperation finally become, that 
 they endeavored to scuttle their floating prisons in 
 order to sink them, preferring to perish thus rather 
 than endure any longer the tortures of famine. 
 
 Pestilence, as usual, came in the rear of such 
 calamities ; and contagious fevers swept off multi 
 tudes whom the strength of the survivors was 
 unable to inter. Death in every form awaited the 
 crowds whom common suffering had blended to 
 gether in the hospitals ; and the multitude of unbu- 
 ried corpses which encumbered the streets, threat 
 ened the city with depopulation almost as certainly 
 as the grim hand of famine under which they were 
 melting away. When the evacuation took place, 
 the extent of the suffering which the besieged had 
 undergone, appeared painfully conspicuous. u On 
 entering the town," says Thiebault, u all the figures 
 we met, bore the appearance of profound grief, or 
 sombre despair ; the streets resounded with the 
 most heart-rending cries ; on all sides death was 
 reaping its harvest of victims ; and the rival furies 
 of famine and pestilence were multiplying their de 
 vastations. In a word, both the army and the 
 inhabitants seemed fast approaching their dissolu 
 tion." 
 
 We will give only one specimen more in the clos- 
 hrg scenes of the siega of Magdeburg, 1631. Tile 
 6* 
 
66 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 resistance was long and obstinate 5 but at length 
 two gates were forced open by the besiegers, and 
 Tilly, marching a part of his infantry into the town, 
 immediately occupied the principal streets, and with 
 pointed cannon drove the citizens into their dwel 
 lings, there to await their destiny. Nor were they 
 held long in suspense ; a word from Tilly decided 
 the fate of Magdeburg. Even a more humane 
 general would have attempted in vain to restrain 
 such soldiers ; but Tilly never once made the 
 attempt. The silence of their general left the sol 
 diers masters of the citizens ; and they broke, with 
 out restraint, into the houses to gratify every brutal 
 appetite. The prayers of innocence excited some 
 compassion in the hearts of the Germans, but none 
 in the rude breasts of Pappenheim s Walloons. 
 Scarcely had the massacre commenced, when the 
 other gates were thrown open, and the cavalry, with 
 the fearful hordes of Croats, poured in upon the 
 devoted town. 
 
 Now began a scene of massacre and outrage 
 which history has no language, poetry no pencil, to 
 portray. Neither the innocence of childhood, nor 
 the helplessness of old age, neither youth nor sex, 
 neither rank nor beauty, could disarm the fury of 
 the conquerors. Wives were dishonored in the 
 very arms of their husbands, daughters at the feet 
 of their parents, and the defenceless sex exposed to 
 the double loss of virtue and life. No condition, 
 however obscure, or however sacred, could afford 
 protection against the cruelty or rapacity of the 
 enemy. Fifty-three women were found in a single 
 church with their heads cut off! The Croats amused 
 themselves with throwing children into the flames, 
 and Pappenheim s Walloons with stabbing infants 
 at their mothers breasts ! Some officers of the 
 League, horror-struck at scenes so dreadful, ven- 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 67 
 
 frured to remind Tilly, that he had it in his power to 
 stop the carnage. " Return in an hour," was his 
 answer, " and I will see what is to be done ; the 
 soldier must have some recompense for his dangers 
 and toils I" 
 
 No orders came from the general to check these 
 horrors, which continued without abatement till the 
 smoke and flames at last stopped the course of the 
 plunderers. To increase the confusion, and break 
 the resistance of the inhabitants, the invaders had, 
 in the commencement of the assault, fired the town 
 in several places ; and a tempest now arose, and 
 spread the flames with frightful rapidity, till the 
 blaze became universal, and forced the victors to 
 pause awhile in their work of rapine and carnage. 
 The confusion was deepened by the clouds of smoke, 
 the clash of swords, the heaps of dead bodies strew 
 ing the ground, the crash of falling ruins, and the 
 streams of blood which ran along the streets. The 
 atmosphere glowed ; and the intolerable heat finally 
 compelled even the murderers to take refuge in 
 their camp. In less than twelve hours, this strong, 
 populous and flourishing city, one of the finest in 
 all Germany, was a heap of ashes, with the excep 
 tion of only two churches, and a few houses. 
 
 Scarcely had the flames abated, when the soldiers 
 returned to satiate anew their rage for plunder amid 
 the ruins and ashes of the town. Multitudes were 
 suffocated by the smoke ; but many found rich 
 booty in the cellars where the citizens had concealed 
 their most valuable effects. At length Tilly him 
 self appeared in the town after the streets had been 
 cleared of ashes and corpses. Horrible and revolt 
 ing to humanity was the scene that presented itself! 
 The few survivors crawling from under the dead ; 
 little children wandering about, with heart-rending 
 cries, in quest of their parents now no more ; and 
 
68 PERSONAL SUFFERINGS FHOM \\Aft. 
 
 infants still sucking the dead bodies of their 
 mothers ! More than five thousand bodies were 
 thrown into the Elbe just to clear the streets ; a far 
 greater number had been consumed by the flames ; 
 the entire amount of the slaughter was estimated at 
 thirty thousand ; and in gratitude to the God of 
 peace for such horrid success in the butchery of his 
 children, for this triumph of Christian over Chris 
 tian in blood, and fire, and rapine, and brutal lust, 
 a solemn mass was performed, and Te Ddum sung 
 amid the discharge of artillery ! ! 
 
 Just think of the siege of Ismail with its 70,000 
 victims, of Ostend with its 120,000, of Mexico with 
 its 150,000, of Carthage with its 700,000, of Jerusa 
 lem with more than a million, of Troy with nearly 
 two millions ; and you may form some faint concep 
 tion of the atrocities and woes with which this sin 
 gle department of warfare has covered the earth. 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 BATTLES. 
 
 IT is difficult for any one, not familiar by experi 
 ence with the horrid reality, to form any adequate 
 conception of a battle. Carlyle calls it " a terrible 
 conjugation of the verb to kill I kill, thou killest, 
 he kills ; we kill, ye kill, they kill, all kill." Such 
 is every battle ; and mark the result. In the sea- 
 fight at Copenhagen, the wheels of the cannon soon 
 became so clogged by those who fell, that the sur 
 vivors at intervals cleared the decks by throwing 
 legs, and arms, and shattered bodies overboard as 
 they would have shovelled out a pig-sty. A man, now 
 member of a church in the city of New York, told 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 69 
 
 his pastor he was at the battle of Lodi, followed 
 Napoleon across its memorable bridge, and there 
 waded ankle-deep in the mire of human flesh tram 
 pled and crushed to jelly by the horses and cannon 
 that had passed over them. 
 
 An American officer once called " a field of battle 
 THE VERIEST HELL UPON EARTH ;" and vividly does 
 one of our best writers describe the infernal scene : 
 " Imagine a celestial spirit, on an errand of mercy, 
 descending upon our globe, and led by chance to an 
 European plain at the point of some great battle. 
 On a sudden, the field of combat opens on his aston- 
 ished vision. It is a field which men call glorious. 
 A hundred thousand warriors stand in opposing 
 ranks. Light gleams on their burnished steels. 
 Their plumes and banners wave. Hill echoes to 
 hill the noise of moving rank and squadron, the 
 neigh and tramp of steeds, the trumpet, drum and 
 bugle-call. 
 
 " There is a momentary pause, a silence like that 
 which precedes the fall of the thunderbolt, like that 
 awful stillness which is precursor to the desolating 
 rage of the whirlwind. In an instant, flash succeed 
 ing flash, pours columns of smoke along the plain. 
 The iron tempest sweeps, heaping man, horse and 
 car in undistinguished ruin. In shouts of rushing 
 hosts, in shock of breasting steeds, in peals of mus 
 ketry, in the roar of artillery, in the clash of sabres, 
 in thick and gathering clouds of smoke and dust, 
 all human eye, and ear, and sense are lost. Man 
 sees not, but the sight of onset. Man hears not, 
 but the cry of onward ! 
 
 " Not so the celestial stranger. His spiritual eye 
 unobscured by artificial night, his spiritual ear un 
 affected by mechanic noise, witness the real scene, 
 naked in all its cruel horrors. He sees lopped and 
 bleeding limbs scattered ; gashed, dismembered 
 
70 PERSONAL SOFFERING FROM WAR. 
 
 trunks outspread ; gore-clotted, lifeless brains burst 
 ing from crushed skulls ; blood gushing from sabred 
 necks ; severed heads, whose mouths mutter rage 
 amidst the palsying of the last agony. He hears 
 the mingled cry of anguish and despair issuing from 
 a thousand bosoms in which a thousand bayonets 
 turn ; the convulsive scream of anguish from heaps 
 of mangled, half expiring victims, over whom the 
 heavy artillery wheels lumber and crush into one 
 mass, bone, arid muscle, and sinew, while the fetlock 
 of the war-horse drips with blood starting from the 
 last palpitation of the burst heart on which his foot 
 pivots. This is not earth, would not such a celes 
 tial stranger exclaim ? c this is not earth this is 
 hell ! This is not man, but demon tormenting de 
 mon ! 
 
 Wait till another morn, and then go over that 
 field. Wherever your eye now turns, you behold 
 men, and horses, and weapons, and broken carriages, 
 all mingled in most shocking confusion. At every 
 step, you tread in blood that only yesterday flowed, 
 warm as your own, in the veins of a father, a son or 
 a brother. Here is a wretch with his limbs horribly 
 mangled, yet still alive ; and there is another all 
 covered with blood, and crushed by the tread of the 
 war horse, or the wheels of cannon passing over him 
 Yonder is an athletic frame that had struggled hard 
 against his pains, and survived his mortal wounds 
 long enough in his anguish to gnaw the turf with 
 his teeth, and plough the earth with his hands, 
 Here is another still that had dragged himself along 
 in his own gore till death kindly released him from 
 his agonies; and yonder is a young man of fair form 
 and noble mien, who felt the dews of death fast set 
 tling on his brow, and, knowing his hour had come, 
 pulled from his bosom the last letter of a mother, 
 the picture of a wife, or the braided lock of a loved 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 71 
 
 and plighted one, and, pressing the fond memorial 
 to his lips, expired, with no kind one near to ease 
 his dying head, or catch his last farewell. There 
 they lie, the wounded, the dying and the dead, all 
 heaped together, a mass of suffering, death and pu 
 trefaction. Often are thousands of wounded men 
 left day after day stretched on the open field, with 
 out food, or drink, or any shelter from scorching 
 suns, from drenching rains, from the damps and 
 chills of night, or even from the voracity of famish 
 ed beasts of prey, till multitudes linger out a most 
 miserable death, the wounds of many become incu 
 rable, and the excruciating pains of others drive 
 them to madness. 
 
 Let us hear the testimony of some eye-witnesses. 
 " The cannon thundered at Heilsberg, and the mus 
 ketry rolled, illuminating the atmosphere with con 
 tinued flame, until the combat gradually relaxed ; 
 but a little before ten at night, a deserter came over 
 to the Russians, and informed the general that an 
 other assault was preparing from the wood. Soon the 
 batteries were opened, and the fury of battle raged 
 again ; but the assailants, unable to force the pas 
 sage, fell back almost annihilated, and shouted, cease 
 the fight. The massacre was terminated ; but the 
 uproar of conflict was followed by the groans of the 
 wounded, who, tortured with pain, and anticipating 
 a renewal of the fight on the morrow, in vain im 
 plored removal, relief, and even death. When the 
 light broke, a most disgusting sight attracted the 
 attention of both the armies. The ground between 
 them, about a quarter of a mile, was a sheet of na 
 ked human bodies which friends and foes had during 
 the night mutually stripped, not leaving the poorest 
 rag upon them, although numbers were still alive, 
 and retained a consciousness of their situation 1" 
 
 Take the following account of scenes after the 
 
72 PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAK. 
 
 battle of Soldin, from the pen of a clergyman. " At 
 one o clock the cannonading ceased ; and I went out 
 on foot as far as Soldin to learn to whose advantage 
 the battle had turned. Towards evening, seven 
 hundred Russian fugitives came to Soldin, a most 
 pitiful sight ! some holding up their hands, cursing 
 and swearing ; others praying, and praising the 
 king of Prussia ; without hats, without clothes ; 
 some on foot, others two on a horse, with their 
 heads and arms tied up ; some dragging along by 
 the stirrups, and others by the tails of the horses. - 
 When the battle was decided in favor of the Prus 
 sians, I ventured to the place where the cannonading 
 had been. After walking some way, a Cossack s horse 
 came running full speed towards me. I mounted 
 him ; and on my way for seven miles and a half on 
 this side the field of battle, I found the dead and 
 wounded lying on the ground, sadly cut in pieces. 
 The further I advanced, the more these poor crea 
 tures lay heaped one upon another. That scene 1 
 shall never forget. The Cossacks, as soon as they 
 saw me, cried out, Dear sir, water, water, WATER ! 
 Righteous God ! what a sight ! Men, women and 
 children, Russians and Prussians, carriages and 
 horses, oxen, chests and baggage, all lying one upon 
 another to the height of a man ! and seven villages 
 around me in flames, and the inhabitants either 
 massacred, or thrown into the fire ! Nor were the 
 embers of mutual rage yet extinguished in the 
 hearts of the combatants ; for the poor wounded 
 were still firing at each other in the greatest exas 
 peration ! The field of battle was a plain two miles 
 and a half long, and so entirely covered with dead 
 and wounded, that there was not even room to set 
 my foot without treading on some of them ! Several 
 brooks were so filled up with Russians, that they 
 lay heaped one upon another as high as two men. 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 73 
 
 and appeared like hills to the even ground ! I could 
 hardly recover myself from the fright occasioned by 
 the miserable outcries of the wounded. A noble 
 Prussian officer, who had lost both his legs, cried 
 out to me, Sir, you are a priest, and preach mercy 
 pray, show me some compassion, and dispatch me 
 at once." 
 
 Hear a young sailor s description of a sea-fight. 
 " The firing," says Leech, " commenced. The roar 
 ing of cannon could now be heard from all parts of 
 our trembling ship, and mingling with that of our 
 foes, it made a most hideous noise. By and by I 
 h^ard the shot strike the sides of our ship ; the 
 whole s<3ene grew indescribably confused and horri 
 ble ; it was like some awfully tremendous thunder 
 storm, carrying death in every flash, and strewing 
 the ground with its victims ; only in our case the 
 scene was rendered more horrible by the torrents 
 of blood on our decks. 
 
 The cries of the wounded now rang through all 
 parts of the ship. These were carried to the cock 
 pit as fast as they fell, while those more fortunate 
 men who were killed outright, were immediately 
 thrown overboard. A man had one of his hands 
 cut off by a shot, and almost at the same moment 
 he received another shot, which tore open his bow 
 els in a terrible manner. As he fell, two or three 
 men took him, and as he could not live, threw him 
 overboard. The battle went on. Our men kept 
 cheering with all their might. I cheered with them, 
 though I confess I scarcely knew for what. So ter 
 rible had been the work of destruction round us, it 
 was termed the slaughter-house. We had several 
 boys and men killed and wounded near us. Tho 
 schoolmaster received a death wound. The brave 
 boatswain, who came from the sick bed to the din 
 of battle, was fastening a stopper on a back-stay 
 7 
 
74 PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 
 
 which had been shot away, when his head was 
 smashed to pieces by a cannon-ball ; another man, 
 going to complete the unfinished task, was also struck 
 down. A fellow named J ohn, was carried past me, 
 wounded ; and I distinctly heard the large blood- 
 drops fall pat, pat, on the deck ; his wounds were 
 mortal. Such was the terrible scene, amid which 
 we kept on shouting and firing. Our men fought 
 like tigers. Some of them pulled off their jackets, 
 others their jackets and vests ; while some, with 
 nothing but a handkerchief tied round the waist 
 bands of their trowsers, fought like heroes. 
 
 The din of battle continued. Grape and canis 
 ter shot were poured through our port-holes like 
 leaden rain, carrying death in their trail. The 
 large shot came against the ship s side like iron 
 hail, shaking her to the very keel, or passing through 
 her timbers, and scattering terrific splinters, which 
 $id a more appalling work than even their own 
 death-giving blows. What with splinters, cannon 
 balls, grape and canister, poured incessantly upon 
 us, the reader may be assured that the work of death 
 went on in a manner which must have been satisfac 
 tory even to the King of terrors himself. 
 
 Suddenly the rattling of the iron hail ceased. We 
 were ordered to cease firing. A profound silence 
 ensued, broken only by the stifled groans of the 
 brave sufferers below. The enemy had shot ahead 
 to repair damages, while we were so cut up that we 
 lay utterly helpless. Our head-braces were shot 
 away ; the fore and main top-masts were gone ; the 
 mizzen mast hung over the stern, having carried 
 several men over in its fall ; we were a complete 
 wreck. The officers held a council, and concluded 
 to strike our colors. 
 
 I now went below, to see how matters appeared 
 there. The first object I met was a man bearing a 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 75 
 
 limb which had just been detached from some suf 
 fering wretch. Pursuing my way to the ward-room / 
 I necessarily passed through the steerage, which 
 was strewed with the wounded ; it was a sad spec 
 tacle, made more appalling by the groans and cries 
 which rent the air. Some were groaning, others were 
 swearing most bitterly, a few were praying, while 
 those last arrived, were begging most piteously to 
 have their wounds dressed next. The surgeon and 
 his mate were smeared with blood from head to 
 foot ; they looked more like butchers than doctors. 
 Having so many patients, they had once shifted 
 their quarters from the cockpit to the steerage ; they 
 now removed to the ward-room, and the long table, 
 round which the officers had sat over many a merry 
 feast, was soon covered with the bleeding forms of 
 maimed and mutilated seamen. Most of the poor 
 fellows were stretched out on the gory deck, and it 
 was with exceeding difficulty I moved through the 
 steerage, it was so covered with mangled men, and 
 so slippery with streams of blood." 
 
 SECTION VL 
 
 HOSPITALS, OR TREATMENT OF THE SICK AND WOUNDED. 
 
 IT is hardly possible, during the progress of a war, 
 to make comfortable provisions for the diseased ; 
 and even in a time of peace, the condition of a sick 
 soldier would be regarded by most persons as quite 
 beyond endurance. A surgeon perhaps may come 
 to his barrack with occasional prescriptions, and a 
 messmate administer the medicine ; but no wife, no 
 mother, no sister is there to watch by his rude ham 
 mock, or his pallet of straw, nor a well-trained sym- 
 
76 PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 
 
 pathizing nurse to soothe his pains, and cheer his 
 drooping, anguished spirits. 
 
 Take a recent case of our diseased soldiers in 
 Mexico. u I left our sick," says an officer, " at 
 Matamoras yesterday. It makes one s heart bleed 
 to witness the sufferings of these poor fellows. In 
 camp, you must know, few of the conveniences, con 
 sidered necessary to the ill at home, can be had. 
 A man gets sick, and he is carried to the hospital, 
 with his blankets and his knapsack. Bed and bed 
 ding there are none ; and, as the country is destitute 
 of lumber, bedsteads are not to be had. A blanket 
 and the ground is, therefore, the couch upon which 
 the volunteer lies sick, and dies, if he does not re 
 cover. If he dies, the same blanket forms his 
 winding-sheet and coffin plank is not to be had." 
 The same officer says, that in ascending the Rio 
 G-! ande. seventy of the sick of the regiment were 
 left at the Matamoras Hospital, and that he was 
 shocked on his return two weeks after, to find 
 twenty-seven of the number dead. Of the victims in 
 that war, scarce one in ten ever felt the stroke of 
 the enemy. 
 
 " There was nothing," says an English soldier in 
 Spain, to sustain our famished bodies, or to shelter 
 us, when fatigued or sick, from the rain and snow. 
 The road was one line of bloody foot-marks from 
 the sore feet of the men ; and along its sides lay the 
 dead and the dying Too weak to drag the sick 
 and wounded any farther in the wagons, we now 
 left them to perish in the snow. Even Donald, the 
 hardy Highlander, who had long been bare-footed, 
 and lame like myself, at length lay down to die. 
 For two days he had been almost blind, and unable, 
 from a severe cold, to hold up his head. We sat 
 down together ; not a word escaped our lips. We 
 looked around, then at each other, and closed our 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 77 
 
 eyes. We felt there was no hope. We would have 
 given in charge a farewell to our friends ; but who 
 was to carry it?. Not far from us, there were, here 
 and there, above thirty in the same situation with 
 ourselves ; and nothing but groans mingled with 
 execrations, was to be heard between the pauses of 
 the wind" 
 
 Take from the same writer a specimen of the 
 treatment that war gives its wounded servants. 
 "We then marched off, leaving our wounded, whose 
 cries were piercing ; but we could not help them. 
 Numbers followed us, crawling on their hands and 
 knees, and filling the air with their groans. Many 
 who could not even crawl after us, held out their 
 hands, supplicating to be taken with us. We tore 
 ourselves from them, and hurried away; for we 
 could not bear the sight. On we struggled through 
 a dark and stormy night, carrying the wounded 
 officers in blankets on our shoulders 5 but such of 
 the wounded soldiers as had been able still to keep 
 up with us, made the heart bleed at their cries." 
 
 Nor is this a solitary case, or one unusually se 
 vere. In the late wars of Europe, multitudes of 
 the sick were abandoned to their fate in camps sud 
 denly forced by the enemy ; in their rapid inarches, 
 vast numbers, enfeebled by disease, or exhausted 
 with fatigue, sank down by the road-side to perish 
 without succor or sympathy ; arid sometimes thou 
 sands were left on the battle field, day after day, 
 amid the stench of putrefying carcasses, without 
 food or drink, with no shelter from the weather, and 
 no protection against the voracity of ravening 
 wolves and vultures. During the far-famed cam 
 paign of Napoleon in Russia, little attention was 
 paid to the sick, the wounded, or those who became 
 from any other cause unable to take care of them 
 selves ; and the eighty thousand victims on the fatal 
 7* 
 
78 PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 
 
 field of Borodino, were for the most part left where 
 they fell. 
 
 No kindness or skill can avert suffering from such 
 victims of war. " For ten days after the sea-fight 
 of Trafalgar, men were employed in bringing the 
 wounded ashore ; and spectacles were hourly exhi 
 bited at the wharves, and through the streets, suffi 
 cient to shock every heart not yet hardened to 
 scenes of blood and human suffering. When by the 
 carelessness of the boatmen, or the surging of the 
 sea, the boat struck against the stone piers, a horrid 
 cry. piercing the very soul, arose from the mangled 
 wretches on board. Nor was the scene less affecting 
 on the tops of the pier, where the wounded were 
 being carried away to the hospitals in every shape 
 of misery, while crowds of Spaniards either assisted 
 or looked on with signs of horror. Meanwhile their 
 companions who had escaped unhurt, walked up and 
 down, with folded arms and downcast eyes, while 
 women sat on heaps of arms, broken furniture and 
 baggage, with their heads bent between their knees, 
 I had no inclination to follow the litters of the 
 wounded ; yet I learned that every hospital in 
 Cadiz was already full, and the convents and 
 churches were appropriated to the remainder." 
 
 Sir Charles Bell, the eminent surgeon who was 
 present in the hospitals after the battle of Waterloo, 
 says, " the wounded French continued to be brought 
 in for several days; and the British soldiers, who 
 had in the morning been moved by the piteous cries 
 of those they carried, I saw in the evening so har 
 dened by the repetition of the scene, and by fatigue, 
 as to become indifferent to the sufferings they occa 
 sioned. It was now the thirteenth day after the bat 
 tle. It is impossible to conceive the sufferings of 
 men rudely carried at such a period of their wounds. 
 When I first entered the hospital, these Frenchmen 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERING. FROM WAR. 79 
 
 had been roused and excited in a degree quite ex 
 traordinary ; and in the glance of their eyes there 
 was a character of fierceness which I never expected 
 to witness in the human countenance. On the 
 second day, the temporary excitement had subsided ; 
 and, turn which way I might, I encountered every 
 form of entreaty from those whose condition left no 
 need of words to stir compassion. Surgeon Major, 
 oh, how I suffer ! Dress my wounds do dress my 
 wounds ! Doctor, cut off my leg ! Oh ! I suffer 
 too much ! And when these entreaties were una 
 vailing, you might hear in a weak, inward voice of 
 despair, I shall die I am a dead man ! " 
 
 The following sketch from a British officer in 
 Portugal will help us still farther to conceive the 
 horrors of a hospital. " I entered the town of Mi- 
 ran do Cervo about dusk. It had been a black, 
 grim, gloomy sort of day. Huge masses of clouds 
 lay motionless on the sky ; and then they would 
 break up suddenly as with a whirlwind, and roll off 
 in the red and bloody distance. I felt myself in a 
 strange sort of excitement ; my imagination got the 
 better of all my other faculties ; and, while walking 
 out in the principal street, I met a woman, an old, 
 haggard-looking wretch, who had in her hollow eyes 
 an unaccountable expression of cruelty, a glance like 
 that of madness ; but her deportment was quiet and 
 rational, and, though clad in squalidness, she was 
 evidently of the middle rank in society. Without 
 being questioned, she told me in broken English, I 
 should find comfortable accommodations in an old 
 convent at some distance in a grove of cork trees, 
 pointing to them with her long, shrivelled hand and 
 arm, and giving a sort of hysterical laugh. 
 
 " I followed her advice, anticipating no danger or 
 adventure ; yet the wild eyes, and the still wilder 
 voice of the old crone so powerfully affected me, 
 
80 PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 
 
 that I walked, in a sort of muse, up a pretty long 
 flight of steps, and found myself standing at the 
 entrance to the cloisters of the convent. A strange 
 sight now burst upon my view ! Before me lay and 
 sat more than a hundred dead bodies, all of them 
 apparently in the very attitude or posture in which 
 they had died. I gazed at them a minute or more 
 before I knew that they were all corpses ; and a des 
 perate courage then enabled me to look steadfastly 
 at the scene before me. The bodies were mostly 
 clothed in mats and rags, and tattered great-coats ; 
 some of them were merely wrapt round about with 
 girdles composed of straw ; and two or three were 
 perfectly naked. Every face had a different expres 
 sion, but all painful, horrid, agonized, bloodless. 
 Many glazed eyes were wide open ; and perhaps this 
 was the most shocking thing in the whole spectacle 
 so many eyes that saw not, all seemingly fixed upon 
 different objects ; some cast up to heaven, some 
 looking straight forward, and others with the white 
 orbs turned round, and deep sunk in their sockets. 
 It was a sort of hospital ; and these wretched beings, 
 nearly all desperately wounded, had been stripped 
 by their comrades, and left there either dead, or to 
 die. 
 
 " This ghastly sight I had begun to view with 
 some composure, when I saw, at the remotest part 
 of the hospital, a gigantic figure sitting, all covered 
 with blood, and almost naked, upon a rude bedstead, 
 with his back leaning against the wall, and his eyes 
 fixed directty on mine. I first thought him alive, 
 and shuddered ; but he was stone dead ! In his last 
 agonies he had bitten his under lip almost entirely 
 off and his long black beard was drenched in clotted 
 gore, that likewise lay in large blots upon his shag 
 gy bosom. One of his hands had convulsively 
 grasped the woodwork of the bedstead, and crushed 
 
PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 81 
 
 it in the grasp. I recognized the corpse. He was 
 a sergeant in a grenadier regiment, and had, during 
 the retreat, been distinguished for acts of savage 
 valor. One day he killed with his own hand Harry 
 Warburton, the right-hand man of my own company, 
 perhaps the most powerful man in the British army. 
 There sat the giant frozen to death. I went up to 
 him, and, raising his brawny arm, it fell down again 
 with a hollow sound against the bloody side of the 
 corpse. 
 
 "My eyes unconsciously wandered along the walls. 
 They were covered with grotesque figures and cari 
 catures of the English, absolutely drawn in blood ! 
 Horrid blasphemies, and the most shocking obscen 
 ities, in the shape of songs, were in like manner 
 written there. I observed two books lying on the 
 floor, and picked them up. One was full of the 
 most hideous obscenity ; the other was the Bible ! 
 It is impossible to tell the horror produced in me 
 by this circumstance. The books dropt from my 
 hand, and fell on the breast of one of the bodies 
 it was a woman s breast ! Yes, a woman had lived 
 and died in such a place as this ! What had been 
 in that now still, death-cold heart, perhaps only a 
 few hours before, I knew not possibly love strong 
 as death ; love, guilty, abandoned, linked by vice 
 unto misery, but still love that perished only with 
 the last throb, and yearned in its last convulsion 
 towards some one of these grim dead bodies. 
 
 " Near this corpse lay that of a perfect boy not 
 more than seventeen years of age. Round his neck 
 was suspended, by a chain of hair, a little copper 
 figure of the Virgin Mary, and in his hand was a 
 letter in French. I glanced at it, and read enough 
 to know it was from a mother My dear Son, &c. 
 It was a terrible place to think of mother of home 
 of any social, any human ties. What ! have these 
 
82 PERSONAL SUFFERING FROM WAR. 
 
 ghastly things parents, brothers, sisters, lovers? 
 Were they once all happy in peaceful homes ? Did 
 these convulsed, bloody, mangled bodies ever lie in 
 undisturbed beds? Did these clutched hands once 
 press in infancy a mother s breast ? Now, alas ! how 
 loathsome, terrible, ghostlike ! Will such creatures, 
 thought I, ever live again? Robbers, ravishers, 
 incendiaries, murderers, suicides a dragoon there 
 had obviously blown out his brains here is a very 
 pandemonium of guilt and horror 1" 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 
 
 WAR makes fearful havoc of domestic and social 
 happiness. The single battle of Waterloo called 
 forth wailings of domestic grief from a whole conti 
 nent ; nor can an army be raised, or the slightest 
 victory won, without sending a thrill of anguish 
 through the heart of two nations. 
 
 Look at the victims of conscription, the European 
 method of raising armies. " Once," says an Eng 
 lish poet 
 
 Once I beheld a captive, whom the wars 
 
 Had made an inmate of the prison-house, 
 
 Cheering with wicker-work his dreary hours. 
 
 I asked his story. In my native tongue, 
 
 (Long use had made it easy as his own,) 
 
 He answered thus: Before these wars began, 
 
 I dwelt upon the willowy banks of Loire. 
 
 I married one who from my boyish days 
 
 Had been my playmate. One morn. I ll ne er forget, 
 
 While choosing out the fairest little twigs ? 
 
 To wrap a cradle for our child unborn, 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 83 
 
 We heard the tidings, that the conscript-lot 
 Had fallen on me. It came like a death-knell. 
 The mother perished, but the babe survived ; 
 And, ere my parting day, his rocking couch 
 I made complete, and saw him sleeping smile 
 The smile that played erst on the cheek of her, 
 Who lay clay cold. Alas ! the hour soon came, 
 That forced my fettered arms to quit my child. 
 And whether now he lives to deck with flowers 
 The sod upon his mother s grave, or lies 
 Beneath it by her side, I ne er could learn. 
 I think he s gone ; and now I only wish 
 For liberty and home, that I may see, 
 And stretch myself, and die upon their grave. 
 
 Of the heart-rending miseries incident to families 
 from the progress of war, I hardly know where to 
 begin, or where to end the illustrations furnished in 
 all ages. Think of a siege or a battle, of a party 
 of lawless, ruthless marauders, or the march of a 
 brutal, exasperated army through a hostile or even 
 a friendly country. : It is difficult," says an eye 
 witness, " for the inhabitants of a peaceful territory 
 to conceive the miseries incident to the theatre of 
 such a sanguinary contest as that between the 
 French and the allied forces. While Napoleon, 
 hemmed in on all sides, now menaced one of hia 
 foes, and now sprang furiously upon another, the 
 scene of this desultory warfare was laid waste in the 
 most merciless manner. The soldiers on both parts, 
 driven to desperation, became reckless and pitiless; 
 and, straggling from their columns in all directions, 
 they committed every species of excess upon the 
 people. The peasants, with their wives and chil 
 dren, fled to caves, quarries and woods, where the 
 latter were starved to death, and the former, col 
 lecting into small bodies, increased the terrors 
 of war by pillaging the convoys of both armies, 
 attacking small parties of all nations, and cutting 
 off the sick, the wounded, and the stragglers. The 
 
84 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC 
 
 repeated advance and retreat of the contending 
 armies exasperated these evils ; for every fresh band 
 of plunderers that arrived, was savagely eager after 
 spoil in proportion as the gleaning became scarce. 
 In the words of Scripture, what the locust left, was 
 devoured by the palmer-worm ; what escaped the 
 Baskirs, and Kirgas, and Croats of the Wolga, the 
 Caspian, and Turkish frontier, was peized by the 
 half-starved conscripts of Napoleon, whom want, 
 hardship, and an embittered spirit rendered as care 
 less of the ties of country as the others were indif 
 ferent to the general claims of humanity. The 
 towns and villages that were the scenes of actual 
 conflict, were frequently burnt to the ground ; and 
 thus was the distress of the people vastly increased 
 by extending the terrors of battle, with its accom 
 paniments of slaughter, fire and famine, into the 
 most remote ^nd sequestered districts. Even the 
 woods afforded no concealment, the churches no 
 sanctuary ; nor did the grave itself protect the rel 
 ics of mortality. The villages were everywhere 
 burnt, the forms wasted and pillaged, the abodes of 
 man, and all that belongs to peaceful industry and 
 domestic comfort, desolated and destroyed to such a 
 degree, that wolves and other savage animals in 
 creased fearfully in the districts thus laid waste 
 by human hands, ferocious as their own." 
 
 What safety or repose for families during an as 
 sault upon the city where they dwell ! When the 
 English fleet was bombarding Copenhagen, and every 
 woman and child was flying in terror from the de 
 structive missiles, and from burning and falling 
 houses, a little chiH was <seen running across the 
 street for shelter, Le knew not where, when a rocket 
 struck the poor iDUo-sent, and dashed him to pieces ! 
 In 1845, an o)d bomb-shell, dug out of the sand, 
 and brought into the city of New York to b used 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 85 
 
 as old iron, accidentally exploded, and killed several 
 men. " Guided by hundreds who were rushing to 
 the spot," says an eye-witness, " I entered Charlton 
 street, and observed on both sides, for some distance, 
 that the windows were entirely demolished, the 
 doors shattered, and holes actually blown through, 
 the sides of the houses, large enough in one case, 
 some forty rods from the spot of the explosion, for 
 a man to enter. Upon the side-walk in front of a 
 shop of old iron, lay some thirty or forty rusty 
 bomb-shells, about eight inches in diameter. It was 
 said by the crowd, that a man had one of these be 
 tween his knees, endeavoring to loosen the charge 
 with a stick, when it exploded, and produced the 
 terrible scene before me. The body of the man was 
 torn to pieces, and scattered through the streets. 
 Observing a crowd around an object at a short dis 
 tance, I approached, and saw apparently a large 
 piece of butcher s meat, which a boy was pushing 
 about with his foot ; it proved to be the lower part 
 of a man s leg, with the crushed bones and mangled 
 flesh ! The other leg, said a bystander, was 
 blown over into Hudson street. I saw a crowd 
 collected around a wiridow-sill, gazing at some ob 
 ject ; it was a man s hand, torn from his body, and 
 thrown with violence against the wall, the fingers 
 burnt, and crushed, and blackened. The mangled 
 trunk of the unfortunate man, headless and limbless, 
 had been carried into the house, and the shrieks of 
 his wife were now heard over the bloody remains. 
 Upon an iron window-frame lay the torn body of 
 another man, already dead, and his blood and brains 
 dripping down upon the pavement. Two young 
 men, who happened to be passing by in the middle 
 of the street, were literally blown up into the air, 
 and fell with broken and mangled limbs, and both 
 died the next day. Such was the horrid execution 
 
86 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC 
 
 of a single shell ; and yet Napoleon, in less than 
 ten hours, threw three thousand such projectiles 
 into the heart of Vienna, three hundred every hour, 
 five every minute crashing through the roofs of 
 dwellings, and exploding at the fireside, in the in 
 fant s cradle, or on the couches of the sick !" 
 
 What confusion and consternation attend the 
 bare presence of a hostile army ! " No sooner," 
 says Shoberl. describing Napoleon s army just be 
 fore the battle of Leipsic, u had the first columns 
 arrived at their bivouacs in the neighboring villages, 
 than a thousand messengers came to announce the 
 intelligence in a way that sufficiently proved what 
 unwelcome visitors they were. Weeping mothers, 
 with beds packed up in baskets, leading two or three 
 stark-naked children by the hand, and with perhaps 
 another infant at their back ; fathers seeking their 
 wives and families ; children who had lost their pa 
 rents in the crowd ; trucks with sick persons forcing 
 their way among the thousands of horses ; cries of 
 misery and despair in every quarter such were the 
 heralds that most feelingly proclaimed the presence 
 of the warriors. The scenes of horror changed so 
 quickly, that you could not dwell more than half a 
 minute upon any one of them. One tale of woe 
 followed on the heels of another : such a person has 
 been plundered ; such an one s house has been set 
 on fire ; this man has been cut to pieces ; that has 
 been transfixed with the bayonet ; these poor crea 
 tures are seeking their children. Such were the 
 tidings brought by every new fugitive." What a 
 picture of the woes and terrors attendant on war ! 
 
 What havoc does a battle sometimes make of do 
 mestic happiness ! In a French family there were 
 three sons, two of whom were compelled, by Napo 
 leon s system of conscription, to leave their home, 
 and join the army. In their first engagement, one 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 87 
 
 of them, as he stood by the side of his brother, was 
 killed by a musket ball ; and the survivor, petrified 
 with horror, was struck motionless at the sight, and 
 sent home, a few days after, in a state of complete 
 idiocy. His arrival made a similar impression upon 
 the third son, whose consternation and stupor, says 
 Pinel, then superintendent of the Insane Hospital 
 at Paris, 4 would have defied the utmost powers of 
 description ; and it was truly heart-rending to see 
 the wretched father come to weep over those miser 
 able remains of his once enviable family. 
 
 " For two or three days after the battle of Vitto- 
 ria," says a British officer, " I was employed in col 
 lecting the guns and various articles scattered over 
 the battle-ground, and along the road. In one part, 
 very near a half-destroyed barouche, I found a very 
 interesting and beautiful letter written in English, 
 and addressed to his wife, by a Monsieur Thiebault, 
 once treasurer to Joseph Bonaparte. With a little 
 trouble, I discovered not less than twenty written 
 by the same person, in the same amiable and affec 
 tionate strain. I gathered them up and carried 
 them home, rejoicing in my treasure. In the even 
 ing I went to a cafe, and seeing there several of 
 the French officers who had been taken, I asked one 
 if he knew a Monsieur Thiebault ? Extremely 
 well, he replied ; he was killed the other day by a 
 chance-shot among the baggage ; his son. now a pri 
 soner, is quite disconsolate ; and his wife, a most 
 sweet woman, a native of Scotland, left only the day 
 before for Bayonne, and is still ignorant of her irre 
 parable loss. " There was another touching case in 
 the same battle. " A paymaster of a British regi 
 ment had two sons in his own regiment, both lieu 
 tenants. He was a widower, and had no relations 
 besides those youths ; they lived in his tent, and 
 were his pride and delight. The civil staff usually 
 
88 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC 
 
 remain with the baggage when the troops engage, 
 and join them with it afterwards ; and when this 
 paymaster came up in the evening, an officer met 
 him. My boys, said the old man, l how are they? 
 Have they done their duty ? * They have behaved 
 
 most nobly ; but you have lost Which of 
 
 them ? < Alas ! sir, both are dead. " 
 
 In a sea-fight of the ship Swallow, a seaman 
 named Phelan had a wife on board, stationed, as 
 usual, to assist the surgeon in his care of the wounded 
 as they were brought below. Among these was one 
 of Phelan s messmates, whose dying agonies she was 
 endeavoring to console, when she chanced to hear that 
 her husband was wounded, and, rushing instantly on 
 deck, she received the wounded tar in her arms. He 
 faintly raised his head to kiss her. She burst into a 
 flood of tears, and told him, like a true wife, to take 
 courage, all might yet be well ; but scarcely had she 
 uttered the last syllable, when a shot took off her 
 head ! The poor tar, closely folded in her arms, 
 opened his eyes once more, then shut them forever ! 
 
 What domestic anxiety and anguish must come 
 from a campaign like that of Napoleon in Russia ! 
 " How many wives and mothers in France," exclaims 
 Bourienne, " could not, without a palpitating heart, 
 break the cover of the official gazette ! How many 
 families lost their support and their hope ! Never 
 were more tears shed. In vain did the cannon ot 
 the Invalids thunder forth the announcement of a 
 victory. How many thousands, in the silence of 
 retirement, were even then preparing the external 
 symbols of mourning ! It is still remembered that 
 for the long space of six months, the black dresses 
 of Paris presented a very striking sight in every 
 part of the city." 
 
 How terrible, especially to the female inhabitants 
 of a city, must be the attack of a hostile army ! 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 89 
 
 On the capture of Hamburg, in 1813, the soldiers, 
 with drawn swords and loaded muskets, ran from 
 house to house, crying out to the citizens, your mo 
 ney and your women, or your life, INSTANTLY ! An 
 officer of our army, relating the assault upon Mon 
 terey, in September, 1848, says : " I was ordered to 
 take a company of my regiment, and break in the 
 doors of a row of houses in the second plaza. I had 
 gone nearly through without seeing a soul, when, 
 for a time, the efforts of my men were exerted in 
 vain to get into one that seemed barricaded with 
 care. As the hinges of the door were about to give 
 way, a tremulous voice from the inside besought me 
 not to break the door down, it should be opened. 
 When unlocked, I rushed in as well as I could over 
 beds, chairs, cushions, etc. etc., and to my surprise 
 found the room occupied by about twenty-live wo 
 men ! As soon as they saw me, and the soldiers 
 following, they ran around me, and fell on their 
 knees, the elder beseeching, in tones of deep distress, 
 my protection, and to have their lives spared ; the 
 younger begging not to be injured. While they 
 were thus kneeling, and I assuring them that no 
 harm or injury should befall them, a pretty little 
 woman slid into the circle, and knelt close to my 
 feet. * Senor, said she, in a soft and quivering 
 voice, i for the love you bore your mother, for the 
 love you have for your wife and your children, oh, 
 spare this my poor little babe holding up a bright- 
 eyed, dimpled cheeked little boy, about a year old. 
 She never asked for herself. In spite of me, tears 
 rushed to my eyes ; and I could only speak with a 
 full heart, as I told her to rise, arid assured her that 
 she and her child were perfectly safe." 
 
 There is a class of domestic sufferings from war 
 at which decency blushes. I will not stain these 
 pages with minute examples ; but take a case of 
 8* 
 
90 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC 
 
 suicidal escape from such outrages. A subaltern 
 officer in Hussia, having conceived a passion for a 
 fine-looking peasant girl, used every art to win her 
 affections ; but, finding all his efforts ineffectual, he 
 applied to the commanding officer, who immediately 
 issued an order for the couple to be forthwith joined 
 in wedlock. The parents remonstrated, but in vain. 
 The day fixed for the marriage arrived, and the boor 
 accompanied his devoted daughter ; but, just as the 
 priest was about to legalize the union, the aged 
 father, in a fit of desperation, plunged a knife into 
 her heart, and, presenting her to the soldier, ex 
 claimed, " There, sir, is your victim !" 
 
 How much do the poor, in their humble abodes, 
 suffer from war ! Take two cases of privateering 
 related by the perpetrators themselves. " These 
 prizes are of little or no value to us," remarks one, 
 " because we can get nobody to purchase them ; but 
 the poor, unhappy people who lose them, have lost 
 their all. It would need a heart of stone to see the 
 sorrow painted on their countenances when brought 
 on board. Some of them retire into corners, and 
 weep like children. If you ask what is the matter, 
 a flood of tears is the answer. Sometimes you will 
 hear them sob out my wife! my children ! what 
 will become of them ? I have been more than once 
 obliged to avoid the affecting sight, unable to re 
 strain my own tears, or to prevent theirs. It is far 
 worse when a capture is made after an engagement 
 the mangled bodies of my fellow-creatures lying 
 pale and breathless on the deck, some dying, and 
 others begging me to put -them out of their miseries, 
 while a hungry dog is lapping up the blood that 
 streams all about the ship ! )J u We were some ten 
 miles from Marseilles," says the narrator of the 
 other case, u when we saw a small vessel anchored 
 in a narrow bay ; and, fierce for prize-nioneyj we 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 91 
 
 manned a boat, and pushed forward till we came 
 within pistol-shot of the craft, without seeing any 
 one except an old woman seated in the door of a 
 cottage at some distance. Just then a musket-shot 
 from behind a rock laid our bowman a corpse ; an 
 other disabled our marine, a third tore his cravat 
 from the lieutenant s neck, and a fourth crippled 
 the coxswain s arm. Still we saw no one ; and, ex 
 asperated by these discharges, we gave three cheers, 
 and, pulling for the place whence they seemed to 
 come, saw at length a man and a boy running from 
 us. We interchanged several shots in vain, until 
 the lieutenant, resting his musket on a rock, shot 
 the child while in the act of handing a cartridge to 
 the man. The father instantly threw down his 
 musket, and fell by the side of his son. We seized 
 his musket ; but he paid no attention to us. When 
 we bade him follow us, he heeded us not ; but, with 
 the child s head in his lap, he kept wiping away the 
 blood that oozed from the wound in his forehead, 
 and neither wept nor spoke, but watched the last 
 chilling shiver of his boy with an eye of inexpressi 
 ble sadness. Then he jumped from the ground 
 with a frantic air ; the marine brought his bayonet 
 to the charge, and the miserable father tried to run 
 upon its point ; but the marine, dropping his mus 
 ket, encircled him in his arms. We desired him to 
 lead us to the cottage. The marine carried the 
 corpse, and the father walked by its side in silence, 
 till we suddenly came upon the rear of the cottage. 
 The old woman was still at her wheel, and, on dis 
 covering her son a prisoner, gave a shriek which 
 announced to a lovely female in the hut that some 
 thing painful had occurred. She rushed to assist 
 her mother her eye fell first upon her dead son in 
 the arms of an enemy : and seizing the boy, she toro 
 him from the marine, kissed him more like a maniac 
 
92 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC 
 
 than a mother, and, giving one deep, piercing sigh, 
 fell at her mother s feet. We could stand it no 
 longer, and hastened away ; but that scene I can 
 never blot from my memory. n 
 
 The late English war in China furnishes some 
 revolting instances of the domestic desolation con 
 sequent on this trade of blood. " In almost every 
 house the children had been madly murdered. 
 The bodies of most of these victims were found lying 
 usually in the chambers of the- women, as if each 
 father had assembled his whole family before the 
 massacre ; in some instances these poor little suf 
 ferers were the next day still breathing, and writh 
 ing in the agony of a broken spine : the way in 
 which they were usually put to death. In one 
 house were found, in a single room, the bodies of 
 seven dead and dying persons. It was evidently 
 the abode of a man of some consideration ; and the 
 delicate forms and features of the sufferers indicated 
 the high elevation of their rank. On the floor, 
 essaying in vain to put food into the mouths of two 
 young children that were writhing in the agonies of 
 death from dislocated spines, sat a decrepit old man, 
 weeping bitterly at the piteous moans and convul 
 sive breathings of the poor infants. On a bed near 
 these children, lay a beautiful young woman appa 
 rently asleep ; but she was cold, and had long been 
 dead. One arm clasped her neck, over which a silk 
 scarf was thrown to conceal the gash in her throat 
 which had destroyed life. Near her was the corpse 
 of a woman somewhat older, her features distorted, 
 as if she had died by strangulation ; not far from 
 her lay a dead child stabbed through the neck ; and 
 in a narrow verandah adjoining, were the corpses of 
 two more women suspended by their necks from the 
 rafters. They were both young, one quite a girl ; 
 and her features, in spite of their hideous distor 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 93 
 
 tion from the mode of her death, still retained 
 traces of their original beauty." 
 
 Glance at a specimen or two of the miseries in 
 flicted by a retreating army. " Murder and devas 
 tation," says an eye-witness, "marked the footsteps 
 of the French in their retreat from Portugal ; every 
 house was a sepulchre, a cabin of horrors ! In one 
 small village, I counted seventeen dead bodies of 
 men, women and children ; and most of the houses 
 were burnt to the ground. In a small town called 
 Safrea, I saw twelve dead bodies lying in one house 
 upon the floor ; and every house contained traces of 
 their wanton barbarity." " Often were the ditch 
 es," says another, " literally filled with clotted, coag 
 ulated blood, as with mire ; the bodies of peasants, 
 put to death like dogs, were lying there horribly 
 mangled ; little naked infants, only a year old or 
 less, were found besmeared in the mud of the road, 
 transfixed with bayonet wounds ; and in one in 
 stance I myself saw a babe, not more than a month 
 old, with the bayonet left still sticking in its neck !" 
 
 Of the general desolation attendant on the sword, 
 take a glimpse from the Thirty Years War in the 
 seventeenth century. " In the Electorate of Hesse, 
 17 towns, 47 castles, and 300 villages, were burnt 
 to the ground. In the Dutchy of Wirtemburg, 8 
 tows, 45 villages, and 36,000 houses, were laid in 
 ashes, and 70,000 hearth-fires completely extin 
 guished. Seven churches, and 444 houses, were 
 burned at Eichsted. Many towns that had escaped 
 destruction, were almost depopulated. Three hun 
 dred houses stood empty at Nordheim ; and more 
 than two hundred were pulled down at Gottingen, 
 merely to serve for fuel. The wealthy city of Augs 
 burg, which contained 80,000 inhabitants before the 
 war, had only 18,000 left when it closed ; and this 
 town ; like many others has never recovered its for- 
 
94 
 
 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC 
 
 mer prosperity. No less than 30.000 villages and 
 hamlets are said to have been destroyed ; in many 
 others the population entirely died out ; and the un- 
 buried corpses of the last victims of violence or dis 
 ease, were left exposed about the streets or fields, to 
 be mangled, and torn to pieces by birds and beasts 
 of prey." 
 
 Take one or two specimens from the Russian 
 campaign. " As we entered Smolensk," says La- 
 baume, "we marched in every direction over ruins 
 and dead bodies. The palaces, still burning, pre 
 sented to our view only walls half destroyed by the 
 flames ; and thick among the smoking fragments 
 lay the blackened carcasses of the inhabitants who 
 had perished in the fire. The soldiers had taken 
 possession of the few remaining houses, while the 
 proprietor, bereft of an asylum, stood at his door, 
 weeping the death of his children, and the loss of 
 his fortune. The churches alone afforded some 
 consolation to the wretched beings who had no lon 
 ger a shelter. The cathedral, celebrated through- 
 o it Europe, and highly venerated by the Russians, 
 became the refuge of those who had escaped the 
 conflagration. In this church, and around its 
 altars, lay whole families stretched upon rags. 
 Here we saw an old man in the agonies of death, 
 casting his last look towards the image of the saint 
 whom he had all his life invoked ; and there, an 
 infant whose cries the mother, worn down with 
 grief, was endeavoring to hush, and, as she gave it 
 the breast, bathed it in her tears." 
 
 " From the terror caused by our arrival in Mos 
 cow, a great part of the population had concealed 
 themselves in their houses ; but they left them as 
 the flames reached their asylums. Fear had ren 
 dered their grief dumb ; and as they tremblingly 
 quitted their retreats, they carried oif their most 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 95 
 
 Valuable effects, while those of more sensibility, 
 actuated by natural feelings, sought only to save 
 the lives of their parents or their children. On 
 one side we saw a son carrying a sick father ; on 
 the other, women who poured the torrent of their 
 tears on the infants whom they clasped in their 
 arms. They were followed by the rest of their 
 children, who, fearful of being lost, ran crying after 
 their mothers. Old men, overwhelmed more by 
 grief than by the weight of years, were seldom able 
 to follow their families ; and many of them, weeping 
 for the ruin of their country, lay down to die near 
 the houses where they were born. The streets, the 
 public squares, and especially the churches, were 
 crowded with these unhappy persons." 
 
 Let us select two instances of domestic anguish 
 from the war of our own revolution. A state of 
 fierce, almost savage exasperation existed between 
 the wiiigs and tories ; and a party of the latter, on 
 capturing a Capt. Huddy from New Jersey, barba 
 rously hung him with an insulting label on his 
 bosom. This excited general indignation ; and the 
 people of that state urged Washington to secure 
 justice for the murder, or make retaliation. A 
 grand council of war held on the subject, came to 
 the unanimous conclusion, that there should be 
 retaliation, that the victim should be of equal rank 
 with Capt. Huddy, and be designated by lot. The 
 lot fell on Capt. Asgill, a young man of nineteen, 
 the only son of a British nobleman. When the 
 tidings, which interested many in his fate, reached 
 England, his sister was sick with a delirious fever, 
 and his father so near his end that his family did 
 not venture to inform him of the affair. The mo 
 ther applied to the king and queen in behalf of her 
 son, and wrote an impassioned letter to the French 
 minister. "The subject." says sho, "on which I 
 
95 SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC 
 
 implore your assistance, is too heart-rending to be 
 dwelt on. My son, my only son, dear to me as he 
 is brave, amiable as he is beloved, only nineteen 
 years of age, a prisoner of war, at present coiifined 
 in America as an object of reprisal. Figure to 
 yourself, sir, the situation of a family in these cir 
 cumstances. Surrounded with objects of distress, 
 bowed down with grief, words are wanting to paint 
 the scenes of misery around me. My husband, 
 given over by his physicians some hours before the 
 arrival of this news, not in a condition to be inform 
 ed of it ; and my daughter attacked by a delirious 
 fever, and speaking of her brother in tones of wild- 
 ness without any interval of reason, unless it be to 
 listen to some circumstances which may console her 
 heart. Let your own sensibility conceive my pro 
 found, inexpressible misery, and plead in my favor 
 for a son born to abundance, to independence, and 
 the happiest prospects. Permit me once more to 
 entreat your interference ; but whether my request 
 be granted or not, I am confident you will pity the 
 distress by which it is prompted, and your human 
 ity will drop a tear on my fault, and blot it out 
 forever." 
 
 The other case is still more touching. Col. 
 Hayne. of South Carolina, a man of high character, 
 endeared to all that knew his worth, and bound fast 
 to life by six small children, and a wife tenderly 
 beloved, was taken prisoner by the British, and 
 sentenced to be hung ! His wife, falling a victim to 
 disease and grief combined, did not live to plead for 
 her husband ; but great and generous efforts were 
 made by others for his rescue. A large number, both 
 Americans and Englishmen, interceded in his behalf ; 
 the ladies of Charleston signed a petition for his re 
 lease ; and his six motherless children were presented 
 on their knees as humble suitors for the life of their 
 
SUFFERINGS FROM WAR. 97 
 
 father. It was all in vain ; for war has no heart 
 but of iron. His oldest son, a lad about thirteen 
 years old, was permitted, as a special favor, to stay 
 with him awhile in prison. On seeing his father 
 loaded with irons, and condemned to die on the 
 gallows, the poor boy was overwhelmed with con 
 sternation and grief. The wretched father tried to 
 console him by various considerations, and added, 
 " To-morrow, my son. I set out for immortality ; you 
 will follow me to the place of my execution ; and, 
 when I am dead, take my body, and bury it by the 
 side of your dear mother." Overcome by this ap 
 peal, the boy threw his arms around his father s 
 neck, crying, " my father, I ll die with you ! I 
 will die with you, father !" The wretched father, 
 still loaded down with irons, was unable to return 
 his son s embrace, and could merely say in reply, 
 No, my son, never ! Live to honor G-od by a good 
 life ; live to serve your country, and to take care of 
 your brother and little sisters." 
 
 The next morning, Col. Hayne was led forth to 
 execution. That fond and faithful boy accompanied 
 him ; and, when they came in sight of the gallows, 
 the father turned to him, and said, " Now my son, 
 show yourself a man. That tree is the boundary 
 of my life, and all its sorrows. Beyond that, the 
 wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are 
 forever at rest. Don t, my son, lay our separation 
 too much at heart ; it will be short at longest. It was 
 but the other day your dear mother died ; to-day I 
 die ; and you, my son, though young, must follow us 
 shortly." " Yes, my father," replied the broken 
 hearted boy, " I shall follow you shortly ; for I feel 
 indeed that I can t can t live long." And so it 
 was ; for, on seeing his much-loved father first in 
 the hands of the executioner, and then struggling 
 in the halter from the gallows, he stood transfixed 
 9 
 
98 A FEW SKETCHES OF 
 
 with horror. Till then, he had all along wept pro 
 fusely as some relief to his agonized feelings ; but 
 that sight ! it dried up the fountain of his tears ; 
 he never wept again. His reason reeled on the 
 spot ; he became an incurable maniac ; and in his 
 last moments, he called out, and kept calling out 
 for his father in tones that drew tears from the 
 hardest hearts. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 A FEW SKETCHES OF THE HORRORS OF WAR. 
 
 WE have already exhibited some of the horrors 
 attendant on war ; but we wish to add a few miscel 
 laneous specimens, culled mainly from the wars of 
 Christendom in the present century. 
 
 " Sir," said an old soldier to a peace lecturer in 
 England, " all you have related I have seen, and a 
 great deal more. I was on the field of Waterloo ; 
 and there I saw, on a plot of ground not much 
 larger than a gentleman s garden, six thousand of 
 my fellow-men with mangled limbs, dead and dying. r> 
 
 During the expedition of the French into Egypt, 
 they marched where the whole way was strewed with 
 the bones and bodies of men and animals : there 
 was but one solitary tree to be seen ; and to warm 
 themselves at night, they gathered together those 
 dry bones and bodies of the dead, and by a fire 
 composed of such fuel, Napoleon lay down to sleep 
 in the desert ! The sufferings and horrors of their 
 march were in some instances so great, that many 
 of his soldiers killed themselves in despair ; and 
 
THE HORRORS OF WAR. 99 
 
 some, going up to the general who had tempted them 
 to embark in this expedition, blew out their brains 
 in his presence, exclaiming, " this is your work." 
 
 Napoleon s massacre in cold blood of 4000 Turks 
 at Jaffa, was horrible beyond description. Driven 
 to the sand-hills near that city, they were halted 
 near a pool, when the officer in command divided 
 the mass into small bodies, and ordered them all to 
 be shot down in rows. This horrid operation, 
 though many troops were employed, required much 
 time ; and the soldiers, having at length exhausted 
 their cartridges, found it necessary to dispatch the 
 remainder with the bayonet and the sword ! There 
 was formed there a pyramid of the dead and the 
 dying, streaming with blood ; and the soldiers were 
 obliged to drag away the bodies of those who had 
 already expired, in order to finish the wretches who, 
 hid under this shocking rampart, had not yet been 
 reached ! 
 
 Take, from an English reviewer, a sketch of the 
 way in which the British troops re-captured the 
 cities of Spain from the French. " Thousands," he 
 says, " rushed through the breaches, and trampled 
 one another to death at the very mouths of the 
 French guns, which cut them down by regiments ; 
 while the shrieks and cries of the wounded, the 
 howls of the maddened, the roar of ordnance, the 
 shouts of an army, the bewilderment of midnight, 
 and the horrible stench of burnt human flesh, lit 
 up by the flash of unnumbered guns and musketry, 
 seemed like the wild burning waves of the bot 
 tomless pit rolling over the souls of the shrieking 
 lost. Still on, on they rush. There is no mad 
 ness like a maddened mob. Hundreds were im 
 paled upon the sharp sword-blades fastened in rows 
 across the breaches ; yet hundreds more pressed 
 on, and fell upon other tiers of the same horrible 
 
100 A FEW SKETCHES OF 
 
 instruments. Over these, as they writhed and 
 shrieked, mounted others, and trod and crushed 
 them down, till an army passed over, unharmed 
 by the pointed steel beneath ; and even horsemen 
 rushed upon this causeway of living beings, and 
 trampled and crushed it into a reeking jelly of 
 human flesh and blood, and still plunged* onward 
 through the crimson river which flowed beyond !" 
 
 The Russian campaign was a series of horrors 
 from which we will select a few specimens. Take 
 the passage of the Berezina : " There were two 
 bridges," says Labaurne, * c one for the carriages, the 
 other for the infantry ; but the crowd was so great 
 and the approaches so dangerous, that the throng 
 collected on the bank of the Berezina became inca 
 pable of moving. In spite of these difficulties, some 
 who were on foot saved themselves by their perse 
 verance ; but about 8 o clock in the morning, the 
 bridge reserved for the carriages having broken 
 down, the baggage and artillery advanced to the 
 other, and attempted to force a passage. Then be 
 gan a frightful contest between the infantry and the 
 cavalry, in which many of them perished by the 
 hands of their comrades ; and a still greater number 
 were suffocated at the foot of the bridge, where the 
 carcasses of men and horses obstructed the road to 
 such a degree, that to approach the river, it was ne 
 cessary to climb over the bodies of those who had 
 been crushed. Some of them were still alive, and 
 struggling in the agonies of death. In order to 
 extricate themselves, they caught hold of those who 
 were marching over them ; but the latter disengaged 
 themselves with violence, and trampled them under 
 their feet. While they contended with so much 
 fury, the following multitude, like a raging wave, 
 incessantly overwhelmed fresh victims. 
 
 "In the midst of this dreadful confusion, the 
 
THE HORRORS OF WAR 
 
 101 
 
 Russians made a furious attack on the rear-guard ; 
 and in the heat of the engagement, many balls fell 
 on the miserable crowd that for three days had been 
 pressing round the bridge, and even some shells 
 burst in the midst of them. Terror and despair 
 then took possession of every heart anxious for self- 
 preservation ; women and children, who had escaped 
 so many disasters, seemed to have.beea, preserved 
 to experience a death still more deplorable. .Leav 
 ing their carriages, they ran to e-nbr^ac-a the.lsnoi S 
 of the first person they met, and implored him with 
 tears to take them to the other side. The sick and 
 wounded, seated on the trunk of a tree, or support 
 ed on crutches, looked eagerly for some friend that 
 could assist them ; but their cries were lost in the 
 air every one thought only of his own safety. 
 
 " On seeing the enemy, those who had not crossed, 
 mingling with the Poles, rushed towards the bridge ; 
 artillery, baggage, cavalry and infantry, all endea 
 vored to pass first. The strong threw the weak into 
 the water, and trampled under foot the sick and 
 Bounded whom they found in their way. Many 
 hundreds were crushed under the wheels of the ar 
 tillery; and others, who had hoped to save them 
 selves by swimming, were frozen or drowned in the 
 river. Thousands and thousands of hopeless vic 
 tims, notwithsanding these sorrowful examples, 
 threw themselves into the Berezina, where they 
 nearly all perished in convulsions of grief and des 
 pair. The division of Girard succeeded by force 
 of arms in overcoming all the obstacles that retard^ 
 ed their march, and, scaling the mountain of dead 
 bodies that obstructed the road, gained the opposite 
 shore, where the Russians would soon have followed 
 them, if they had not immediately set fire to the 
 bridge. Many of those who were left on the other 
 bank with the prospect of the most horrible death, 
 9* 
 
102 A FEW SKETCHES OF 
 
 attempted to cross the bridge through the flames J 
 but midway they threw themselves into the river to 
 avoid being burnt. At length, the Russians having 
 made themselves masters of the field of battle, our 
 troops retired ; the passage of the river ceased, and 
 the most tremendous uproar was succeeded by a 
 death-like silence." 
 
 / On th .j jDo.r,aing of November 17th," says La- 
 baume, " we left Liadoui before daybreak, and were, 
 itsc.ording to custom, lighted by the fire of the build 
 ings which bogaa io burn. Among the burning 
 houses were three large barns filled with poor sol 
 diers, chiefly wounded. They could not escape 
 from two of these without passing through the one 
 in front, which was on fire. The most active saved 
 themselves by leaping out of the windows ; but all 
 those who were sick or crippled, not having strength 
 to move, saw the flames advancing rapidly to devour 
 them. Touched by their shrieks, some, who were 
 least hardened, endeavored in vain to save them ; 
 but we could scarcely see them half-buried under 
 the burning rafters. Through whirlwinds of smoke 
 they entreated us to shorten their sufferings by de 
 priving them of life ; and, from motives of humanity, 
 we thought it our duty to comply with their wishes 1 
 As there were some who still survived, we heard 
 them with feeble voices crying, Fire on us ! fire on 
 us ! at the head ! at the head ! dorft miss / " 
 
 The battle of Eylau was fought in the depth of 
 winter, amidst ice and snow, under circumstances of 
 unexampled horror. The loss on both sides was 
 immense ; and seldom in modern times had a field of 
 battle been strewn with such a multitude of slain. 
 On the side of the Russians 25,000 had fallen, of 
 whom above 7000 were already no more ; OR that of 
 the French, upwards of 3U,000 were killed or 
 wounded and nearly 10 ; 000 had left their colors, 
 
THE HORRORS OF WAR. 
 
 103 
 
 under pretence of attending to the wounded. Never 
 was a spectacle so dreadful as the field presented 
 on the following morning. Above 50,000 men lay 
 in the space of two leagues, weltering in blood. The 
 wounds were, for the most part, of the severest kind, 
 from the extraordinary quantity of cannon-balls 
 which had been discharged during the action, and 
 the close proximity of the contending masses to the 
 deadly batteries which spread their grape at half- 
 musket shot through their ranks. Though stretch 
 ed on the cold snow, and exposed to the severity of 
 an arctic winter, they were burning with thirst, and 
 piteous cries were heard on all sides for water or 
 assistance to extricate the wounded from the heaps 
 of slain, or the load of horses by which they were 
 crushed. Six thousand of these noble animals en- 
 eumbered the field, or, maddened with pain, were 
 shrieking aloud aniid the stifled groans of the 
 wounded. 
 
 Still more horrible was the field of Borodino. 
 u Before daybreak, September 7th," says Labaume, 
 " the two armies were drawn up in order of battle. 
 Two hundred and sixty thousand men waited, in awful 
 suspense, the signal to engage. At six o clock, the 
 thunder of artillery broke the dreadful silence. The 
 battle soon became general, and raged with tremend 
 ous fury. The fire of two hundred pieces of cannon 
 enveloped the two armies in smoke, and, mowing 
 down whole battalions, strewed the field with the 
 dead and the wounded. The latter fell to expose 
 themselves to a fate still more terrible. How agoni 
 zing their situation ! Forty thousand dragoons cross 
 ing the field in every direction, trampled them under 
 foot, and dyed the horses hoofs in their blood. The 
 flying artillery, in rapid and alternate advance and 
 retreat, put a period to the anguish of some, and 
 inflicted new torments on others who were mangled 
 
104 A FEW SKETCHES OF 
 
 by their wheels. A redoubt in the centre of the 
 Russian army was several times taken and retaken 
 with desperate slaughter, but finally remained in 
 possession of the French. The interior of the re 
 doubt presented a frightful scene ; the dead were 
 heaped on each other, and among them were many 
 wounded whose cries eould not be heard. Night 
 separated the cornbatants 7 but left eighty thousand 
 men dead on the field ! 
 
 " In traversing next day the elevated plain on 
 vhich we had fought, we were enabled to form an 
 estimate of the immense loss sustained by the Rus 
 sians. A surface of about nine square miles in ex 
 tent, was covered with the killed and wounded, with 
 the wreck of arms, lances, helmets and cuirasses, 
 and with balls as numerous as hail-stones after a 
 violent storm. In many places the bursting of 
 shells had overturned men and horses ; and such 
 was the havoc occasioned by repeated discharges-, 
 that mountains of dead bodies were raised. But the 
 most dreadful spectacle was the interior of the ra 
 vines, where the wounded had instinctively crawled 
 to avoid the shot. Here these unfortunate wretches, 
 lying one upon another, destitute of assistance, and 
 weltering in their blood, uttered the most horrid 
 groans. Loudly invoking death, they besought us 
 to put an end to their excruciating torments." 
 
 Nearly two months after that battle, its 80,000 
 victims were found lying where they had fallen ; 
 and the whole plain was strewed with the carcasses 
 of men and horses, intermingled with garments 
 dyed in blood, and with bones gnawed by dogs and 
 vultures. " As we were marching on our return 
 from Moscow, over the scene of the battle," says 
 Labaume, " we heard a piteous sound at a distance 5 
 and on reaching the spot, we found a French soldier 
 stretched on the ground, with both his legs broken. 
 
THE HORRORS OF WAR. 
 
 105 
 
 c I was wounded, said he, * on the day of the great 
 battle ; and finding myself in a lonely place, where 
 I could gain no assistance, I dragged myself with 
 niy hands to the brink of a rivulet, and have lived 
 nearly two months on grass and roots, and a few 
 pieces of bread which I found among the dead 
 bodies. At night I have lain in the carcasses of 
 dead horses ; and with the flesh of these animals I 
 have dressed niy wounds. " 
 
 Thus far Labauine ; and Alison quotes from eye 
 witnesses statements not less terribly graphic. 
 " On Sunday forenoon," says one, " I found a crowd 
 collected round a car in which some wounded sol 
 diers had just returned from Russia. No grenade 
 or grape could have so disfigured these victims of 
 the cold. One of them had lost the upper joints of 
 all his ten fingers, and he showed us the stumps. 
 Another wanted both ears and nose. More horrible 
 still was the look of a third, whose eyes had been 
 frozen ; the eyelids hung down rotting, and the 
 globes of the eyes were burst, and protruded from 
 their sockets. It was awfully hideous ; but a spec 
 tacle yet more dreadful was to present itself. Out 
 of the straw in the bottom of a car, I now beheld a 
 figure creep painfully, which one could scarcely be 
 lieve to be a human being, so wild and distorted 
 were the features ; the lips were rotted away, and 
 the teeth stood exposed ; he pulled the cloth from 
 before his mouth, and grinned upon us like a death s 
 head!" 
 
 Most persons seem to suppose there never were 
 such wars as those of Napoleon ; but take a few 
 general facts respecting the Thirty Years War in 
 the middle of the seventeenth century. " The crimes 
 and cruelties of which the troops were frequently 
 guilty, would appear almost incredible, were they 
 not attested in a manner to render doubt altogether 
 
106 A FEW SKETCHES OF 
 
 impossible. But independent of private accounts, 
 we have various reports from the authorities of 
 towns, villages and provinces, complaining of the 
 atrocities committed by the lawless soldiery. Peace 
 ful peasants were hunted for mere sport, like the 
 beasts of the forest ; citizens were nailed up against 
 doors and walls, and fired at like targets ; while 
 horsemen and Croats tried their skill at striking off 
 the heads of young children at a blow ! Ears and 
 noses were cut off, eyes were scooped out, and the 
 most horrible tortures contrived to extract money 
 from the sufferers, or to make them disclose where 
 property was concealed ! Women were exposed to 
 every species of indignity ; they were collected in 
 bands, and driven, like slaves, into the camps of the 
 ruffian soldiery ; and men had to fly from their 
 homes to escape witnessing the dishonor to which 
 their wives and daughters were subjected ! 
 
 Houses and villages were burnt out of mere wan 
 tonness, and the wretched inhabitants too often 
 forced into the flames, to be consumed along with 
 their dwellings. Amid these scenes of horror, in 
 temperance, dissipation and profligacy were carried 
 to the highest pitch. The peasants, expelled from 
 their homes, enlisted with their oppressors to inflict 
 upon others the sufferings which they had them 
 selves been made to endure. The fields were al 
 lowed to run waste ; and the absence of industry 
 on one side, added to destruction on the other, soon 
 produced famine, which, as usual, brought infectious 
 and pestilential diseases in its train. In 1635 there 
 were not hands enough left at Schweidnitz to bury 
 the dead, and the town of Ohlau had lost its last 
 citizen ! In many places hunger had overcome all 
 repugnance to human flesh ; and the tales of canni 
 balism handed down to us, are far too horrible to 
 be repeated. Forests sprung up over entire dis- 
 
MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 107 
 
 tricts, which had been in full cultivation before the 
 war ; and wolves and other beasts of prey prowled 
 alone over the deserted haunts of men." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 MORAL EVILS OF WAR, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 
 
 WAR is not an abstraction, but a terrible reality. 
 We must take it as we find it in fact ; and, if we 
 would ascertain its real character, we must analyze 
 its moral elements, as the measure of its actual tur 
 pitude. We may perhaps theorize war into com 
 parative innocence ; but its principles, its practice, 
 and invariable results, will ever give the lie to such 
 theories, and prove the custom a tissue of wicked 
 ness and misery. 
 
 War is purely, intensely selfish. A nation fights, 
 not for the welfare of its enemies, nor for the 
 general good of mankind, but for its own pride, am 
 bition, or other interests. Individuals may be dis 
 interested ; but nations have little regard for the 
 brotherhood of their race. They commonly act on 
 the principle of a base, all-engrossing selfishness, 
 and glory in it as the very acme of their aspirations. 
 " A statesman," says Channing, " is expected to 
 take advantage of the weaknesses and wants of other 
 
108 M.OHAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 
 
 countries. How loose a morality governs the inter 
 course of states ! What falsehoods and intrigues 
 are licensed by diplomacy ! What nation regards 
 another with true friendship ? What nation makes 
 sacrifices to another s good ? What nation is as 
 anxious to perform its duties, as to assert its rights ? 
 What nation chooses to suffer wrong, rather than 
 to inflict it ? What nation lays down the everlast 
 ing law of right, casts itself fearlessly on its princi 
 ples, and chooses to be poor, or to perish, rather than 
 to do wrong ? Can communities so selfish, so un 
 friendly, so uprincipled. so unjust, be expected to 
 wage righteous wars ? Especially if with this sel 
 fishness are joined national prejudices, antipathies, 
 and exasperated passions, what else can be expected 
 in the public policy but inhumanity and crime?" 
 
 War is, also, an instrument of great practical in 
 justice. It has no real criterion of right. It pro 
 poses to determine justice by an appeal not to rea 
 son, or law, or competent, impartial umpires, but to 
 the blind, brutal arbitrament of the sword. When 
 a point of honor, or a claim for indemnity, or a ques 
 tion of boundary, is in dispute, war sets a few hun 
 dred thousand men, who know no cause of quarrel 
 between themselves, to cutting each others throats 
 in order to settle the controversy : and, after con 
 tinuing this mutual butchery awhile, the parties, as 
 the only way to a satisfactory adjustment, stop fight 
 ing, and dispatch plenipotentiaries to negotiate a 
 treaty of peace, generally on the principle of put 
 ting everything back, as far as possible, in the same 
 state as before the conflict began. 
 
 Nor do the evils of war fall upon its guilty abet 
 tors. A few rulers of one nation get into a quarrel 
 with those of another, and then set the people of 
 both to blowing out each others brains, destroying 
 each others property, and inflicting the greatest 
 
MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR, 109 
 
 rsible amount of reciprocal mischief and misery. 
 the real authors of war would themselves do the 
 fighting, pay the expenses, and endure all the suf 
 fering, humanity could afford to witness now and 
 then the spectacle of so righteous a retribution upon 
 the titled madmen who kindle the strife of nations ; 
 but these giants of crime, carefully keeping them 
 selves aloof from the deluge of evils they have 
 opened upon the people, merely " cry havoc, and let 
 slip the dogs of war." They go not to the war 
 themselves, except as officers with enormous salaries, 
 and then fight their country s battles very much as 
 Napoleon fought the battle of Waterloo with his 
 spy-glass two miles off! The people are the chief, 
 almost the only sufferers from war. It is their 
 blood that is poured out like water, their property 
 that is squandered or destroyed by millions, their 
 cities and villages that are laid in ashes, their fam 
 ilies that are butchered or beggared, their sinews 
 that are taxed through all coming time to pay for 
 these games of blood played by rulers solely for 
 their own gratification or emolument. There is 
 not on earth such a system of popular injustice, op 
 pression and outrage. 
 
 Well does Dr. Johnson say, " If he that shared 
 the danger enjoyed the profit, and, after bleeding 
 in the battle, grew rich by the victory, he might 
 then enjoy his gains without envy ; but, at the con 
 clusion of a ten years war, how are we recompensed 
 for the death of multitudes, and the expense of mil 
 lions, by contemplating the sudden glories of pay 
 masters and agents, contractors and commissaries, 
 whose equipages shine like meteors, and whose pala 
 ces rise like exhalations ? These are the men who, 
 without virtue, labor or hazard, grow rich as their 
 country is impoverished. They rejoice when obsti 
 nacy or ambition adds another year to slaughter and 
 10 
 
110 MOKAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 
 
 t 
 
 devastation, and laugh from their desks at bravery 
 and science, while they are adding figure to figure, 
 cipher to cipher, hoping for a new contract from a 
 new armament, and computing the profits of a siege 
 or a tempest." 
 
 Dean Swift s definition of a soldier holds the 
 mirror up to war. " A soldier," says he, " is a being 
 hired to kill, in cold blood, as many as he possibly 
 can of his own species who have never injured him." 
 Equally just is Voltaire s scorching sarcasm : " A 
 genealogist sets forth to a prince, that he is descend 
 ed from a count whose kindred, three or four hun 
 dred years ago, had made a family compact with a 
 house, the memory of which is now extinguished. 
 That house had some distant claim to a province ; 
 and hereupon the prince and his council resolve, 
 that this province belongs to him of divine right. 
 The province itself protests it does not even know 
 him ; but he insists that his right is incontestable. 
 So he instantly picks up a multitude who have no 
 thing to do, and nothing to lose, clothes them in 
 coarse blue cloth, puts on them hats bound with 
 coarse white worsted, makes them turn to the right 
 and left, and thus marches them away to glory ! 
 Other princes, on hearing of this armament, take part 
 in it, to the best of their ability, and soon cover a 
 small extent of country with more hireling murder 
 ers than Jenghiz-khan, Tamerlane and Bajazet had 
 at their heels. And these multitudes furiously 
 murder one another, not only without having any 
 concern in the quarrel, but without so much as 
 knowing what it is about !" 
 
 Nor is Leigh Hunt s account of the matter lesa 
 true to the life : " Two nations, or, most likely, two 
 governments, have a dispute ; they reason the point 
 backwards and forwards : they cannot determine it, 
 perhaps do not wish to determine it ; so, like two 
 
MORAL ELEMENTS OF W^R. Ill 
 
 carmen in the street, they fight it out ; first, how 
 ever, dressing themselves up to look fine, and plum 
 ing themselves on their absurdity, just as if the two 
 carmen were to go and put on their Sunday clothes, 
 and stick a feather in their hats besides, in order to 
 be as dignified and fantastic as possible. Then they 
 go at it, and cover themselves with mud, blood and 
 glory ! Can anything be more ridiculous ? Yet 
 the similitude is not one atom too ludicrous ; no, 
 nor a thousandth part enough so. I firmly believe 
 that war, or the sending thousands of our fellow- 
 creatures to cut one another to bits, often for what 
 they have no concern in, nor understand, will one 
 day be reckoned far more absurd than if people 
 were to settle an argument over the dinner table 
 with their knives ; a logic, indeed, which was once 
 fashionable in some places during the i good old 
 times. The world has seen the absurdity of that 
 practice ; why should ifc not come to years of dis 
 cretion with respect to violence upon a larger scale ?" 
 War, moreover, is an engine of wholesale mischief. 
 It has no other aim. Its weapons are all formed, 
 its plans all laid, its operations all carried on, for 
 the sole purpose of making others as miserable as 
 possible, and thus compelling their submission to 
 our terms. Sufferings of every kind are not merely 
 incidental to war ; they are inseparable from any of 
 its forms, and constitute its grand, essential elements. 
 They are a part of the system. Misery is always 
 its object or its means ; and war, without a fearful 
 waste of property, life and happiness, is an utter 
 impossibility, a contradiction in terms. Its whole 
 business is to plunder, and burn, and butcher, and 
 ravage, and destroy ; and to talk of a war that did 
 not perpetrate such atrocities, and inflict such mise 
 ries by wholesale, would be as contradictory as to 
 speak of vision without light, or of fire without heat. 
 
112 MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 
 
 " War," says an eloquent writer, " is a state in 
 which all our feelings and all our duties suffer a 
 strange, a total invasion ; a state in which life dies, 
 death lives, and nature produces all monstrous, all 
 prodigious things ; a state in which it becomes our 
 business to hurt and annoy our neighbors by all 
 possible means instead of cultivating, to destroy ; 
 instead of building, to pull down ; instead of peo 
 pling, to desolate ; a state in which we drink the 
 tears and miseries of our fellow-creatures. We 
 should therefore do well to translate this word war 
 into language more intelligible ; and, when we pay our 
 army and navy estimates, let us set down so much for 
 killing, so much for maiming, so much for making wid 
 ows and orphans, so much for bringing famine upon 
 a district, so much for corrupting citizens and sub 
 jects into spies and traitors ; so much for ruining 
 industrious tradesmen, and making bankrupts ; so 
 much for letting loose the demons of fury, rapine 
 and rage within the folds of cultivated society, and 
 giving to the brutal ferocity of the most ferocious 
 its full scope and its widest range of devastation." 
 
 It requires no argument, then, to prove the es 
 sential malevolence of war. If misery is its very 
 aim, its sole element, it must of course have its life 
 and being in malice. It is a system of hatred^ 
 retaliation and vengeance. These are its chief in 
 gredients ; nor is it possible, except by some special 
 interposition of God, as in the case of his ancient 
 people, for war to exist without such elements as the 
 very main-spring of its movements. The Apostle, 
 tinder the high seal of God s authority, assures us 
 that it comes from the bad passions of men ; and the 
 custom is itself the great channel through which the 
 foulest and fiercest depravity, panting for plunder, 
 or thirsting for blood, has, for more than five thousand 
 years, poured the burning lava of its wrath over the 
 
MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 113 
 
 world. You cannot eoncieve a worse hell upon 
 earth than a battle field ; and well does Franklin s 
 fable of the young angel illustrate its infernal char 
 acter : " A young angel of distinction," he says, 
 u being sent down to this world for the first time 
 on some important business, had an old courier 
 spirit assigned him for his guide. They arrived 
 over the sea of Martinique in the midst of the long 
 and obstinate fight between .the English and French 
 fleets under Rodney and DeGrasse. When through 
 the clouds of smoke, the young angel saw the fire 
 of the guns ; the decks covered with mangled limbs, 
 and bodies of the dead and dying ; the ships sink 
 ing, burning, or blown into the air ; and the quan 
 tity v of pain, misery and destruction, which the 
 crews yet alive were so eagerly dealing round to 
 one another ; he turned indignantly to his guide, 
 and said, l You undertook to conduct me to the 
 earth ; but you have brought me to hell i No, 
 replies the guide, 1 1 have made no mistake at all 
 this is really earth, and these are men. Devils 
 never treat one another in this cruel manner ; they 
 have more sense, and more of what men vainly call 
 humanity. " 
 
 Retaliation is an essential principle of war. Du 
 ring the Carlist war in Spain, several ofiicers of high 
 rank were taken prisoners ; and the general hu 
 manely dispatched a courier to propose an exchange 
 of them for some officers of his own previously taken. 
 In two days the courier returned, and found the 
 general seated with his prisoners at his mess, and 
 treating them with all kindness and honor. The 
 letter was instantly opened, and read thus : " The 
 officers you require, I have already shot." The 
 general, throwing the letter to his guests, said, 
 " Gentlemen, I am sorry it is so ; but there is no 
 alternative. Blood for blood ! Send for the con- 
 ia* 
 
114 MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 
 
 fessor ; for you have but a few minutes to live. 8 
 They were dragged from the table, and immediately 
 shot in the court-yard. 
 
 Wilson, in one of his Lay Sermons, gives a very 
 just epitome of this custom. " The history of every 
 war," he says, " is very like a scene I once saw in 
 Nithsdale. Two boys from different schools met 
 one fine day upon the ice, and eyed each other 
 awhile with rather jealous, indignant looks, and 
 with defiance on each brow. What are you glow- 
 rin at, Billy? asked Donald. What s that to 
 you ? J retorted Billy. I ll look where I have a 
 mind ; and hinder me, if you daur. The answer 
 to this was a hearty blow ; arid then such a battle 
 began ! It being Saturday, all the boys of both 
 schools were on the ice, and the fight instantly 
 became general and desperate. At one time they 
 fought with missile weapons, such as stones and 
 snow-balls ; but at length they met and coped in a 
 rage, and many bloody raps were liberally given and 
 received. I went up to try if I could pacify them ; 
 for by this time a number of little girls Lad joined 
 the affray, and I was afraid they would be killed. 
 So, addressing one of the parties, I asked, What 
 are you pelting the others for 1 What have they 
 done to you? naething at a , they replied, 
 1 naething at a , mon ; i we just want to gie t/iem a 
 good thrashing} And at it they went again, and 
 continued till they were quite exhausted, when one 
 of the principal heroes, covered with blood, and his 
 clothes torn to tatters, stepped forth between the 
 belligerent parties, and addressed them thus : i Weel, 
 I ll tell you what we ll do wi ye if ye 1 II let us alane, 
 we ll let you alane} There was no more of it ; the 
 war was at an end, and the boys scattered away to 
 their play. 
 
 " That trivial affray was the best epitome of war 
 
MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 115 
 
 in general that I have ever seen. Kings and min 
 isters of state are just a set of grown-up children, 
 exactly like the children I speak of, with only this 
 material difference, that, instead of fighting out the 
 needless quarrels they have raised, they sit in safety 
 and look on, hound out their innocent but servile 
 subjects to battle, and then, after a fearful waste of 
 blood and treasure, are glad to make the boy s con 
 ditions if ye!ll let us alane, well let you alane" 
 
 This case show, also, the rise of malevolent pas 
 sions in war. It may perhaps begin without any 
 considerable degree of active or conscious malice 
 on either side ; but it soon gangrenes both par 
 ties with malignity, and makes their bosoms boil or 
 seethe with hatred and revenge. Jacob Abbot, in 
 his " Corner Stone," finely illustrates this process. 
 He says, men here are ; shocked at cock-fighting. 
 Cruel, unrelenting wretches prepare their victims 
 for the contest by sawing off their natural spurs, 
 and fastening deadlier ones of steel upon the bleed 
 ing trunks. Then, having forced the innocent ani 
 mals to a quarrel by thrusting their beaks into each 
 others faces, they sit around to enjoy the spectacle 
 of seeing them fight till one is killed. The commu 
 nity are shocked at this, but look, calm and unmov 
 ed, upon precisely the same experiment when tried 
 with men. Military leaders bring together thou 
 sands of men who have no quarrel with each other, 
 and would gladly live in peace. They drive them 
 up together, front to front ; and, having armed them 
 with such weapons of death and torture as nature 
 never furnished, they succeed, half by compulsion, 
 and half by malicious art, in getting the first blow 
 struck, and the first blood flowing, as a means of 
 bringing the angry passions into play. This they 
 call getting the men engaged ! There is no dif 
 ficulty after this. The work goes on of itself a 
 
116 MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 
 
 work of unutterable horror. The blood, the agony, 
 the groans which follow, are nothing. It is the 
 raging fires of hatred, anger, revenge, and furious 
 passion, which nerve every arm, and boil in every 
 heart, and with which thousands upon thousands 
 pour into the presence of their Maker these con 
 stitute the real horrors of a battle-field." 
 
 Let us, also, learn the spirit of war from its own 
 rules. Suwarrow s catechism, a series of directions 
 by that great general to his soldiers, says. l Push 
 hard with the bayonet. The ball will lose its way ; 
 the bayonet never. The ball is a fool ; the bayonet 
 a hero. Stab once ; and off with the Turk from 
 the bayonet. Stab the second. Stab the third. 
 A hero will stab half a dozen. If three attack you, 
 stab the first, fire on the second, and bayonet the 
 third." Lord Nelson, the military idol of England, 
 gave to his midshipmen the following directions, 
 as the essence of their duties : " There are three 
 things which you are constantly to bear in mind 
 first, you must always implicitly obey orders without 
 attempting to form any opinion of your own re 
 specting their propriety ; secondly, you must con 
 sider every man your enemy who speaks ill of your 
 king ; and, thirdly, you must hate a Frenchman as 
 you do the devil. " 
 
 War, indeed, is a system of well-nigh unrestrained, 
 illimitable wickedness. It tramples under foot all 
 laws, human and divine. It knows no rule save the 
 will of its leaders, or the impulse of its own wild, 
 ferocious passions. It is the perfection of moral 
 anarchy, such as makes outlaws on earth, and fiends 
 in hell. It confounds or annihilates nearly all mo 
 ral distinction. It dethrones the divinity of right, 
 and puts in its place the war-demon of violence and 
 outrage, lust and crime. It spurns every restraint, 
 and claims to do just what it pleases. " We ll fight 
 
MOKAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 117 
 
 now, right or wrong," was the reckless, savage shout 
 of our troops, as they rushed down the great valley 
 of the West to invade Mexico, and revel in the 
 halls of the Montezumas. Commodore Decatur, 
 long ago, gave the toast " Our country ! may she 
 always be right ; but, right or wrong, may she al 
 ways be victorious ;" a sentiment which has since 
 been abbreviated into the maxim our country, right 
 or wrong ! The rabble have translated this watch 
 word of wholesale crime into still briefer and more 
 vigorous, as well as more vulgar Saxon GO IT 
 BLIND ! 4 When your country is at war, shut your 
 eyes to the question whether she is right or wrong, 
 help her to fight out the quarrel, however wicked, 
 and hold yourself ready to do any deeds of atrocity 
 which the men in power, though ever so selfish, un 
 principled and reckless, may require at your hands. 
 Is it possible to conceive, on earth or in hell, a prin 
 ciple worse than this? Yet such a principle is 
 essential to war, and thus brands the custom as a 
 tissue of outrages upon the first principles of relig 
 ion, morality, and social order. 
 
 But let us look at the actual spirit of war as seen 
 in its agents. Just before the battle of Barossa, in 
 Spain, Gren. Graham, riding in front of his troops, 
 and waving his hat, pointed to the enemy, and ex 
 claimed, " Now, my lads, there they are ! Spare your 
 powder, but give them steel enough !" The soldiers 
 responded in three cheers, and rushed fiercely to 
 the charge. Pagans are not wont to conceal the 
 real malignity of war ; and hence Scipio, the com 
 mander of the Roman army that destroyed Car 
 thage, prefaced that work of vengeance with this 
 prayer : " dreadful Pluto ! let terror and ven 
 geance loose against the Carthagenians ! May the 
 cities and people who have taken up arms against 
 us, be destroyed ! To you 3 ye Furies, I devote 
 
118 MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 
 
 all the enemies of my republic." Of this spirit, the 
 battle of Cannae left a memorable illustration. At 
 its close, a Numidian, still alive, was found lying 
 upon a dead Ptoman. The nose and ears of the 
 former were miserably torn ; for the Roman, hav 
 ing his hands so disabled that he could not use his 
 arms, had risen from anger to fury, and expired in 
 the very act of tearing his enemy with his teeth ! 
 
 Nor is modern Christian warfare barren of ex 
 amples equally horrid. We might refer to the 
 thousand Arabs all burnt to death in a cave by the 
 French, so late as 1845, or the wanton, cold-blooded 
 butcheries by the English in China, Scinde, and 
 Afghanistan ; but take one or two cases from the 
 French under Napoleon in Egypt. Denon, describ 
 ing the attack upon Alexandria, says : " We were 
 under the necessity of putting to death all the men 
 at the breach ; but the slaughter did not end there. 
 The inhabitants fled to their mosques for protection ; 
 and there men and women, old and young, and in 
 fants at the breast, were slaughtered ! This butch 
 ery continued four hours ; and yet we might have 
 spared them, by only summoning the town ; but it 
 was necessary to begin by confounding our enemy !" 
 In another place he gives a vivid account of their 
 fighting with the Mamelukes. u We are attacked," 
 he says, " in a mass with cries of rage. The cour 
 age is equal on both sides ; they are animated by 
 hope, we by indignation. Those who are dismount 
 ed, drag themselves under our bayonets, cutting at 
 our soldiers legs with their sabres ; and the dying 
 man summons his last effort to throttle his adver 
 sary ! One of our men, lying on the ground, had 
 seized an expiring Mameluke, and begun to strangle 
 him, when an officer said to him, How can you, in 
 your condition, do such an act T < Why, replied 
 the dying man, i you speak much at your ease you 
 
MORAL ELEMENTS OF WAR. 119 
 
 who are unhurt ; but I, who have not long to live, 
 must have some enjoyment while I may ! " 
 
 Let us come to our own country. In our war 
 with Mexico, Maj. Ringgold, when mortally wound 
 ed, spent the last hours of his life in telling " with 
 much pride how he directed his cannon not only to 
 groups and masses of the enemy, but to particular 
 men, and felt as confident of hitting his mark as if 
 he had been using a rifle." He only regretted that 
 he had not men enough to kill more of the Mexi 
 cans ! Another officer (Page) had his lower jaw so 
 entirely shot away, that he could not speak, yet ex 
 ulted over the success of our troops in butchering 
 the enemy, and concluded one answer to the inqui 
 ries of his friends by writing We gave the Mexi 
 cans hell ! 
 
 Well might old Burton ask, " Is not this a mad 
 world ? Are not these madmen, who leave such 
 memorials of their madness to all succeeding gene 
 rations ? What fury put so brutish a thing as war 
 first into the minds of men ? Why should crea 
 tures, born to exercise mercy and meekness, so war 
 and rage like beasts rushing on their own destruc 
 tion 1 So abominable a thing is war !" 
 
 " There is something," says Cecil, " worse than the 
 plunder of the ruffian, than the outrage of the rav- 
 isher, than the stab of the murderer. These are com 
 paratively but the momentary evils of war. There 
 is also a shocking moral appendage which naturally 
 grows out of national conflicts. Instead of listening 
 to the counsels of divine mercy, and concurring in 
 the design of a kingdom of heaven set up on earth 
 in righteousness and peace, and joy in the Holy 
 Ghost, the spirit of warlike discord tends to entomb 
 every such idea. It tends rather to set up some 
 thing like a kingdom of hell, a reign of violence, 
 where destruction is the grand enterprise ; where 
 
120 CAUSES OF WAR. 
 
 the means of death and desolation are cultivated as 
 a science ; where invention is racked to produce 
 ruin, and the performance of it is ennobled by pub 
 lic applause. Moloch seems once more enthroned ; 
 while ambition, revenge and oppression, erect heir 
 banners amidst groans and tears, amidst cities de 
 solated, or smoking in their ashes." 
 
 " While the philanthropist," says Robert Hall, 
 "is devising means to mitigate the evils, and augment 
 the happiness of the world, the warrior is revolving 
 in the gloomy recesses of his capacious mind, plans 
 of future devastation and ruin. Prisons crowded 
 with captives, cities emptied of their inhabitants, 
 fields desolate and waste, are among his proudest 
 trophies. The fabric of his fame is cemented with 
 tears and blood ; and, if his name is wafted to the 
 ends of the earth, it is in the shrill cry of suffering 
 humanity, in the curses and imprecations of those 
 whom his sword has reduced to despair." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CAUSES OF WAR. 
 
 THE moral character of an act is determined by 
 its motives ; and Dr. Knox avers, that " the causes 
 of war are, for the most part, such as must disgrace 
 any animal pretending to rationality." Pride or 
 ambition, rapacity or revenge, a love of power, or a 
 thirst for blood, a personal pique, or the merest 
 whim, a question of prerogative, or strife about a 
 title or a boundary, a point of etiquette, or the fig 
 ment of national honor, the assertion of unjust or 
 
CAUSES OF WAR. 121 
 
 doubtful claims, retaliation for real or imaginary 
 wrongs such are some of the most common motives 
 for drawing the sword. 
 
 " War," it has been said with graphic truthful 
 ness, " begins very like the quarrels of children. I 
 recollect well when the great boys used to set the 
 little ones to fighting, that they might enjoy the 
 fun. It was necessary only to put a chip on one 
 boy s head, and dare the other to knock it off. No 
 sooner said than off goes the chip, and down comes 
 the blow ; and now the little heroes maul each other 
 and pull hair, to the great delight of all mischief- 
 loving spectators." 
 
 This story is almost literally applicable to the 
 origin of some wars. Two nations of Europe, 
 France and England, I believe, were once plunged 
 into a long, bloody conflict, by a childish squabble 
 between two boy -princes. Near the time of the set 
 tlement of the Pilgrims in New England, there 
 arose between two tribes of Indians what was called 
 " The Grasshopper War." An Indian woman, with 
 her little son, went to visit a friend in a neighbor 
 ing tribe. The little fellow, on the way, caught a 
 grasshopper, and carried it in his hand to the cabin 
 of her friend, whose child, of nearly the same age, 
 wanted the grasshopper. The children, unable to 
 agree which should have it, got into a quarrel. The 
 mothers soon became parties in the strife; next 
 came the husbands, and fought each for his own 
 wife and child ; and finally warriors of both tribes 
 espoused the dispute, and plunged into a war that 
 continued until one tribe was entirely destroyed, 
 and the other nearly so. 
 
 The war for a bucket is well known. In the year 
 
 1005, some soldiers of Modena, either in malice or 
 
 mere sport, ran away with a bucket from a public 
 
 well in Bologna. It might have been worth an 
 
 11 
 
122 CAUSES OF WAR. 
 
 English shilling ; but it occasioned a fierce, pro 
 tracted war. The king of Sardinia who assisted the 
 Modencse to keep the bucket, was taken prisoner, 
 and confined for twenty-two years in prison, where 
 he pined away and died. The fatal bucket, care 
 fully inclosed in an iron cage, is said to be still ex 
 hibited in the tower of the cathedral at Modena. 
 So much for a bucket worth twenty-five cents ! 
 
 The real causes of war are almost invariably tri 
 vial or wicked. " A hundred thousand mad ani 
 mals, whose heads are covered with hats, advance," 
 says Voltaire, to kill or be killed by a like num 
 ber of their fellow mortals covered with turbans. 
 By this strange procedure, they want at best to de 
 cide whether a tract of land, to which none of them 
 have any claim, shall belong to a certain man whom 
 they call Sultan, or to another whom they call Czar, 
 neither of whom ever saw or will see the spot so fu 
 riously contended for, and very few of these crea 
 tures who thus butcher each other. What an ex 
 cess of madness !" 
 
 " Sometimes," says Dean Swift, "a war between 
 two princes is to decide which of them shall dispos 
 sess a third of his dominions, whereto neither of 
 them pretends to have any right. Sometimes one 
 prince quarrelleth with another for fear the other 
 should quarrel with him. Sometimes a war is en 
 tered upon because the enemy is too strong, and 
 sometimes because he is too weak. Sometimes our 
 neighbors want the things that we have, or have the 
 things that we want ; and we both fight till they 
 have ours, or give us theirs. It is justifiable to 
 enter into a war even against our nearest ally, when 
 one of his towns is convenient for us, or a part of 
 his territory would render our dominions round and 
 compact. If a prince sends forces into a nation, 
 
CAUSES OF WAR. 123 
 
 where the people are poor and ignorant, he may law 
 fully put half of them to death, and make slaves of 
 the rest, in order to civilize and reduce them from 
 their barbarous way of living." 
 
 History is full of facts on this point. Pericles, 
 to gratify the spite of his mistress Aspasia, instigat 
 ed the Athenians to make war upon Samos ; and, 
 in a like spirit of revenge, she brought on a war 
 with Megara, which led to the Peloponnesian war, 
 and this one war to the ultimate subjugation of all 
 Greece, under Philip and Alexander. The ten 
 years 1 war of the Greeks against Troy, which cost 
 some two million lives, was all for a worthless cour 
 tezan ; and often has the mistress of a monarch, or 
 of his minister, whelmed nations in blood. In the 
 reign of Edward I., a petty strife between the crews 
 of an English and a French vessel at a spring near 
 Bayonne, to determine which should supply them 
 selves with water first, involved the two countries in 
 a war that destroyed not less than 100,000 lives. 
 The war of 1756, which cost France the flower of 
 her youth, and more than half of her current mo 
 ney, besides the loss of her navy, her commerce and 
 her credit, originated in the desire of a few ambi 
 tious persons to render themselves necessary and 
 important. 
 
 The Peace Society of Mass., about 1825, instituted 
 an inquiry into the actual causes of war ; and, be 
 sides a multitude of petty ancient wars, and of those 
 waged by Christian nations with tribes of savages, 
 ascertained 286 wars of magnitude to have had the 
 following origin : 22 for plunder or tribute ; 44 for 
 the extension of territory ; 24 for retaliation or re 
 venge ; 6 about disputed boundaries ; 8 respecting 
 points of honor or prerogative ; 5 for the protection 
 or extension of commerce ; 55 civil wars ; 41 about 
 
124 THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 
 
 contested titles to crowns ; 30 under pretence of as 
 sisting allies ; 23 from mere jealousy of rival great 
 ness ; 28 religious wars, including the crusades ; 
 not one for defence alone, ! 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 
 
 WAR is the parent of all manner of wickedness. 
 It is a school of error, and a vast hot-bed of iniqui 
 ties. It panders to the lowest vices, instigates to 
 the foulest crimes, and throws a loose rein upon the 
 basest and fiercest passions of our nature. A war 
 rior himself says, u the moment a recruit is enlist 
 ed, and gets a forage cap on his head, and a stick in 
 his hand, he considers himself, whatever may have 
 been his previous character, licensed to drink, and 
 curse, and swear, and associate with women of the 
 town." Napoleon used to say, "the readiest way 
 to govern soldiers is by their vices ; and when they 
 have iione, they must be taught to contract them." 
 
 Machiavel says, " War is a profession by which 
 men cannot live honorably at all times ; and the 
 soldier, if he would reap any profit, is obliged to be 
 false, and rapacious, and cruel. No man, who 
 makes war his profession, can be otherwise than vi 
 cious. 1 Voltaire thus sums up the moral results of 
 war : "Put together all the vices of all ages and 
 places, and never will they come up to the mischiefs 
 and enormities of a single campaign." 
 
 Erasmus puts this aspect of war in its true light. 
 " Do you detest robbery and pillage ? These are 
 
THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 125 
 
 among the duties of war. Do you shudder at the 
 idea of murder ? To commit it with dispatch, and 
 by wholesale, constitutes the celebrated art of war. 
 Do you regard debauchery, rapes, incest, and crimes 
 of a dye still deeper than these, as foul disgraces to 
 human nature ? Depend upon it, war leads to them 
 all in their most aggravated atrocity. Is impiety, 
 or a total neglect of religion, the true source of all 
 villainy ? Religion is always overwhelmed in the 
 storms of war." 
 
 Warriors themselves, or their eulogists, occasion 
 ally admit these vicious tendencies of their profes 
 sion. Doddridge, in his Life of Col. Gardiner, says, 
 " The generality of our youth are debased, enervated 
 and undone by the bad influences of the camp ; and 
 so many are the temptations, and so great the pre 
 valence of vicious characters, that it may seem no 
 inconsiderable praise and felicity for one to be free 
 from dissolute vice." Gardiner himself was, before 
 his conversion, a mass of reeking corruption, one of 
 the vilest libertines that ever rioted in debauchery. 
 One day Frederick the Great at his table jestingly 
 said, that his light troops had been commanded only 
 by robbers ; and added with a laugh, and a roguish 
 eye upon the colonel who commanded those troops, 
 " Col. Guichard had all the difficulty in the world, 
 after the war, to lose the habit of plundering ; and 
 now, when he is near me, I have special care of my 
 snuif-box and purse, lest he should play off against 
 me some slight-of-hand trick." The colonel, not 
 relishing this pleasantry at all, tartly replied, 
 " True, sire, I have pillaged and robbed ; but it was 
 by your majesty s orders, and you always had the 
 best share of the booty." 
 
 Our war with Mexico furnishes instances enough 
 of the immoralities inseparable from this custom. 
 a Pity," said one of its officers, " we are not engaged 
 11* 
 
126 THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 
 
 in actual fight for the sake of the reckless gamesters 
 who night and day are throwing away their scanty 
 pay in the inhuman recreation of gambling. If you 
 would witness wickedness and vice, drunkenness, 
 and all the vicious propensities of the human heart 
 in their most odious colors, the American camp, I 
 grieve to say, is the place where you may behold 
 them. This campaign is a grand school of iniquity 
 and vice." 
 
 Mark the natural, inevitable growth of crime 
 under the high example of government in war. A 
 man who robs and kills for the state, may in time 
 take it into his head to do so for himself ; nor can 
 we expect the great body of soldiers to make much, 
 if any distinction, in point of moral turpitude, 
 between the same deeds in the two cases. One of 
 Wellington s soldiers, an Irish private, once at 
 tempted to shoot and rob a French peasant, and 
 was sentenced to be hung for it. Just before he 
 swung from the gallows, he cried out in the follow 
 ing imprecation upon his commander : u Bad luck 
 to the Duke ! He s no Irishman s friend, any way. 
 "Why, I ve killed many a score of Frenchmen by 
 his orders ; and now, when I just took it into my 
 head to kill a single one on my own account, by the 
 powers ! he has tucked me up for it !" 
 
 An English warrior, after describing the recap 
 ture of Spanish towns, adds : Then did British 
 soldiers, who had crossed the seas to rescue Span 
 iards from French thraldom, rush upon the city, 
 and slaughter, and pillage, and violate every house. 
 There was no order, no restraint ; officers were 
 shot in the streets by drunken soldiers ; old men 
 and children they slaughtered promiscuously : there 
 was scarce a woman whose person they did not 
 violate ; whole families were burnt up in their own 
 houses ; and thus reigned horror and dreadful car 
 
THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 127 
 
 nage for several days in succession. The after- 
 scene was indeed hell broke loose. We cannot 
 read it without a shudder ; and yet no effort was 
 made to restrain the fierce and brutal licentious 
 ness of the soldiers." 
 
 Take a case from the French in the same coun 
 try. Ucles, a decayed town, was taken by them in 
 1809. Plunder was their first object ; and, in 
 order to make the people disclose where their 
 valuables were secreted, they put them to the tor 
 ture. Having obtained all the portable wealth of 
 the place, they yoked the inhabitants like beasts, 
 especially the clergy, loaded them with their own 
 furniture, and made them carry it to the castle-hill, 
 and pile it in heaps, where they set fire to it, and 
 consumed the whole. They then proceeded, in 
 mere wantonness, to murder about threescore per 
 sons, dragging them to the shambles, that this 
 butchery might be committed in its proper place. 
 Among these sufferers were several women ; and 
 they might be regarded as happy in being deliv 
 ered from the worse horrors that ensued ; for the 
 French laid hands on all the surviving women of 
 the place for the gratification of their brutal lusts. 
 They tore the nun from the altar, the widow from 
 her husband s corpse, the virgin from her mother s 
 arms ; and these victims of the foulest brutality 
 they abused till many of them actually expired on 
 the spot ! Nor was even this all ; but the further 
 abominations, perpetrated without restraint by 
 those monsters in the open day, could not, the 
 historian assures us. even be hinted at without 
 violating the decencies of language, and the rever 
 ence due to humanity. 
 
 The licentiousness of war is proverbial. It must, 
 from the nature of the case, reek with this species 
 of vice, the prolific parent of all others. Mar- 
 
128 THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 
 
 riage is virtually forbidden, to nearly all its agents ; 
 and wherever troops are quartered, or a war-ship 
 moored, or even single officers found for any length 
 of time, there is woman too surely tempted to her 
 ruin. " On a ship coming into port," says an Eng 
 lish naval officer, " large numbers of prostitutes are 
 allowed to come and live on board, or come off in 
 the evening, and are sent ashore in the morning." 
 An officer of our own says of his ship while in Port 
 Mahon, " I have seen five hundred of these lost, de 
 graded creatures, on board at a time ; all the decks 
 full of them ; between the guns, and in every di 
 rection, were they to be seen with the seamen." 
 
 " When the impressed seaman returns from a 
 long cruise," says Ladd, " to what horrid tempta 
 tions to licentiousness is he exposed ! I have vis 
 ited the fleets and dock-yards atGosport and Ports 
 mouth, and I have lived five years in the midst of 
 slavery ; and I may safely say, that I have seen 
 more of lasciviousness, more degradation of the fe 
 male sex, in one day in England, than I have seen 
 in my whole life-time in America. - On board some* 
 of the ships of war there were nearly as many wo 
 men as men, and on shore crowds of drunken, prof 
 ligate females ! It seemed to me I had got into the 
 midst of Sodom and Gomorrah." 
 
 Let us hear a few facts from the Rev. Mr. Smith, 
 once a seaman himself, but at the time a missionary 
 to his brethren of the sea. Having gone on board 
 a man-of-war, in a British port, to distribute tracts, 
 and converse on religion with the sailors, he was 
 " rudely ordered off by the commander with the as 
 surance, You have no right down below in my ship.* 
 1 Why, sir, I found many of the vilest, unmarried 
 females below, teaching the men all sorts of ob 
 scenity and abomination. Surely, if these are al 
 lowed to crowd the ship, a minister of the gospel 
 
THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 129 
 
 might be permitted also. No, sir, they come to 
 the men by my sanction ; you do not. < I am truly 
 sorry for it ; for they will corrupt and ruin the 
 whole ship s company. i Don t you mind that, sir ; 
 mind your own business. " I visited, also, the 
 Albion, 74, just from Navarino ; and the scenes of 
 debauchery, and the language of obscenity and 
 blasphemy on board, were most shocking. I stood 
 upon the quarter-deck of the Genoa, 74, and beheld 
 the sailors handing on board the vilest and most 
 reprobate women, with the permission and sanction 
 of the officers. I walked round the decks of the 
 Asia, 84, and beheld abominations my pen dares 
 not describe. I could have entered into contract 
 with the seamen, on their arrival in port, to supply 
 them with three or four hundred of the most blas 
 phemous, abandoned and obscene characters, that 
 they might break God s holy law, insult his sacred 
 majesty, and ruin their bodies and souls to all eter 
 nity all this I could have done with free permission 
 from all the officers ; but to send a person on board 
 with the same number of religious tracts for the 
 sailors, would have been the highest insult to hu 
 man authority, and the most dangerous experiment 
 to myself." 
 
 Take from our own country another illustration of 
 the licentiousness inseparable from the war-system 
 even in peace : u After the old French war," says 
 Ladd, who got the facts from a relative of the vic 
 tim, " an English regiment came to Albany. The 
 flash and finery of the officers quite turned the 
 heads of the young ; and, ingratiating themselves 
 by degrees, they corrupted at length the morals 
 of both sexes by balls and dances, masquerades, 
 temporary theatres, and other arts of seduction. 
 The good old minister (Frelinghuysen,) early took 
 the alarm, and preached boldly against these 
 
130 THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 
 
 demoralizing innovations ; but, though sustained 
 by the aged and wise, the influence of the army, 
 rallying the young on their side, prevailed, and 
 drove the preacher from his pulpit, from the city, 
 and even the country. They silenced his voice, 
 but could not falsify his predictions, which soon 
 began to be visibly fulfilled. More than a dozen 
 of the most ancient and respectable families were 
 disgraced, and a multitude of the common people. 
 
 " The fall of one female was too deplorable to be 
 soon forgotten. She was the favorite grand-daugh 
 ter of an ancient, superannuated domine of great 
 respectability and wealth, by the name of Lydius. 
 at whose house Col. Schuyler, commander of the 
 regiment, was billeted. In vain did the wife of 
 Col. Schuyler warn the young lady of her danger. 
 She fell a victim to seduction. The poor old 
 grand-father offered her seducer, a Capt. Rogers, all 
 his property, if he would marry his grand-daughter, 
 and thus remove the disgrace from his family. He 
 offered in vain ; perhaps the villain was already 
 married. Proud and high-spirited, of great preten 
 sions from her birth and fortune, the disgrace 
 bereft the young lady of her reason ; and for thirty 
 years after the birth of her child, did the maniac 
 mother constantly sit at the garret window of the 
 house in which she was born, anxiously looking 
 down the river for the return of her seducer, who 
 had told her he was going to Ireland, his native 
 country, and would soon return and marry her. 
 She believed it all ; and, when the south wind 
 blew, the poor lunatic was in ecstacies, expecting 
 every moment to see him coming up to fulfil his 
 promise ; arid then she would clap her hands in a 
 rapture of delight, and tears of joy would flow 
 down her cheeks. Her deceiver never came ; in- 
 
THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 131 
 
 Btead of going to Ireland, he merely got transferred 
 to a regiment in Quebec. 
 
 " When the brother of his victim learned the 
 truth of the case, he publicly vowed revenge, and 
 followed him to Quebec ; but a friend of Rogers, 
 hastening to inform him of his danger, arrived 
 three days before the avenger, and thus gave the 
 villain time to apply for a furlough. The cause of 
 it got wind, and drew so many gibes and jeers from 
 his brother officers, that he challenged them all, 
 and wounded three of them in duels ; but the sedu 
 cer, however brave, dared not meet the exasperated 
 brother of his victim, and embarked the very day 
 on which Lydius arrived. The latter had not the 
 means of following him ; but he vowed, if ever he 
 set foot on this continent again, he would be the 
 death of the gold-laced villain. He never came ; 
 but the influence of that regiment on the morals of 
 Albany has not to this day been entirely effaced." 
 
 We can hardly believe how many victims of lust 
 strew the pathway of war. No less than forty 
 thousand women of ill fame were said to have 
 accompanied Napoleon s grand army into Hussia, 
 in 1812 ; and it may well be doubted whether a 
 solitary one ever returned to France ! " Most of 
 them," says Labaume, " being on foot, with shoes of 
 stuff little fitted to defend them from the frozen 
 snow, and clad in robes of silk or the thinnest mus 
 lin, were glad to cover themselves with tattered 
 pieces of military cloaks torn from the bodies of 
 dead soldiers. But of all these victims, none ex 
 cited a warmer pity than the young and interesting 
 Fanny. Beautiful and affectionate, amiable and 
 sprightly, speaking many different languages, and 
 possessing every quality calculated to win the most 
 insensible heart, she now begged for the most 
 menial employment ; and the morsel of bread she 
 
132 THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 
 
 obtained, drew from her the strongest expressions 
 of gratitude. Imploring succor from us all, she 
 was compelled to submit to the vilest abuse ; and, 
 though her soul loathed the prostitution, she be- 
 longed every night to him who would charge him 
 self with her support. I saw her when we quitted 
 Smolensko. She was no longer able to walk. She 
 was clinging to the tail of a horse, and was thus 
 dragged along ! At length her powers were quite 
 exhausted ; she fell on the snow, and there remained 
 unburied, without exciting one emotion of pity, or 
 obtaining one look of compassion ! !" 
 
 What a scene of mingled rapine, lust and ven 
 geance, must a captured city be! "When the 
 generals were ordered to leave Moscow," says La- 
 baume, " the soldiers, no longer restrained by that 
 awe which is always inspired by the presence of 
 their chiefs, gave themselves up to every excess, 
 and to the most unbridled licentiousness. No 
 retreat was safe, no place sufficiently sacred to 
 secure it from their rapacious search. To all the 
 excesses of lust, were added the highest depravity 
 and debauchery. No respect was paid to the 
 nobility of blood, the innocence of youth, or the tears 
 of beauty." 
 
 " The French troops, as they poured into the 
 devoted city," says Porter, " had spread themselves 
 in every direction in search of plunder ; and in 
 their progress they committed outrages so horrid 
 on the persons of all whom they discovered, that 
 fathers, desperate to save their children from pollu 
 tion, would set fire to their places of refuge, and 
 find a surer asylum in the flames. The streets, 
 the houses, the cellars, flowed with blood, and were 
 filled with violation and carnage." 
 
 But we need not continue these illustrations of 
 war. All history proves it to be a gigantic imper 
 
THE VICES AND CRIMES OF WAR. 183 
 
 sonation of all wickedness. It is steeped in pollu 
 tion ; it reeks with every form of vice ; it riots and 
 revels in the foulest crimes as its very element ; it 
 is a mass of the vilest and most horrible abomina 
 tions. It cannot be otherwise ; for its spirit is the 
 essence of malignity, and its tactics the science of 
 crime. It teaches crime ; it compels crime ; it 
 rewards crime with pay, and titles, and monuments. 
 Too truly does Charming say, " war is the concen 
 tration of all human crimes. Under its standard 
 gather violence, malignity, rage, fraud, perfidy, 
 rapacity and lust. It is a theatre got up, at im 
 mense expense, for the exhibition of crime on a 
 grand scale. A more fearful hell than the field of 
 battle, cannot well be conceived in any region of 
 the universe. There the fiends hold their revels, 
 and spread their fury." Well does Lord Brougham 
 exclaim, " I hold war to be the greatest of human 
 crimes. I deem it to include all others violence, 
 blood, rapine, fraud, everything which can deform 
 the character, alter the nature, and debase the 
 name of man." 
 
134 WAR IN THE LIGHT OF NATURE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WAR VIEWED IN THE LIGHT OF NATURE, 
 
 WE are not left to unaided reason alone for the 
 discovery of our duties ; and yet nature does shed 
 some light upon the subject now under considera 
 tion. On consulting her oracles, we hear no respone 
 against the right of violent self-defence in cases 
 where we must either kill or be killed ; but she does 
 give forth strong, unequivocal utterances against the 
 general practice of war. It receives countenance 
 only from her depravity and perversion. Not one 
 of her principles, instincts or interests, will justify 
 such a system of violence, outrage and revenge ; but 
 on her heart are engraven, and all over her brow 
 are written, those laws of love and sympathy, of 
 mutual dependence and universal brotherhood, 
 which forbid this whole custom, and prove it con 
 trary to the original intentions of nature, and to the 
 benevolent purposes of nature s God. 
 
 Self-defence is another thing, quite as distinct 
 from the custom of war as it is from that of duel 
 ling. " When two nations, after mutual prepara 
 tions, continued perhaps through many years, ap 
 peal," says Sumner, u to war, and invoke the God 
 of battles, they voluntarily adopt this unchristian 
 umpirage of right ; nor can either side strongly 
 plead the overruling necessity on which alone the 
 right of self-defence is founded. Self-defence is 
 independent of law ; it knows no law ; it springs 
 from the tempestuous urgency of the moment, which 
 brooks neither circumscription nor delay. Define 
 
WAR IN THE LIGHT OF NATURE. 135 
 
 it, give it laws, circumscribe it by a code, invest it 
 with form, refine it by punctilio, and it becomes the 
 duel ; and modern war, with its innumerable rules 
 and regulations, its limitations and refinements, is 
 the duel of nations." No man pleads the right of 
 self-defence in justification of duelling ; and yet 
 most truly does Dr. Johnson say, u If public war be 
 allowed to be consistent with morality, private war 
 must be equally so and, in my opinion, it is ex 
 ceedingly clear, that duelling, having better reasons 
 for its barbarous violence, is more justifiable than 
 war, in which thousands, without any cause of per 
 sonal quarrel, go forth and massacre each other." 
 
 Erasmus represents Peace as expostulating with 
 mankind against war as unnatural. " It is a cir 
 cumstance equally shameful and marvellous, that, 
 though nature has formed one animal, one alone, 
 capable of sentimental affection and social union, 
 with powers of reason, and a mind participating of 
 divinity, yet Peace can find admission among the 
 wildest of wild beasts, and the most brutal of brutes, 
 sooner than with this one animal the rational, im 
 mortal animal called man. There is nothing more 
 unnaturally wicked, more productive of misery, more 
 extensively destructive, more obstinate in mischief, 
 more unworthy of man as formed by nature, much 
 more of man professing Christianity, 
 
 " If any one considers for a moment the organiza 
 tion and external figure of the body, will he not 
 instantly perceive that nature, or rather the God 
 of nature, created the human animal not for war, 
 but for love and friendship ; not for mutual destruc 
 tion, but for mutual service and safety ; not to com 
 mit injuries upon one another, but to perform acts 
 of reciprocal beneficence ? Man she brought into 
 the world naked, weak, tender, unarmed, his flesh 
 of the softest texture, his skin smooth and delicate, 
 
136 WAR IN THE LIGHT OF NATURE. 
 
 and susceptible of the slightest injury. There is 
 nothing observable in his limbs adapted to fighting 
 or violence. Unable either to speak, or walk, or 
 help himself to food, he can implore relief only by 
 tears and wailing ; so that from this circumstance 
 alone might be collected, that man is an animal 
 born for that friendship which is formed and ce 
 mented by the mutual interchange of benevolent 
 offices. 
 
 " Moreover, nature evidently intended that man 
 should consider himself indebted for the boon of 
 life, not so much to himself, as to the kindness of 
 his fellow-man, and thus might perceive himself 
 designed for social affections, and the attachment 
 of friendship and love. Then she gave him a coun 
 tenance not frightful and forbidding, but mild and 
 placid, imitating by external signs the benignity of 
 his disposition. She gave him eyes full of affec 
 tionate expression, the indices of a mind delighting 
 in social sympathy. She gave him arms to embrace 
 his fellow-creatures. She gave him lips to express 
 a union of heart and soul. To him alone she gave 
 the power of laughing, a mark of the joy of which 
 he is susceptible. She gave him tears, the symbol 
 of clemency and compassion. She gave him, for 
 the utterance of his thoughts and feelings, not a 
 menacing and frightful yell, but a voice bland, 
 soothing and friendly. Not satisfied with all these 
 marks of her peculiar favor, she bestowed on man 
 alone the use of speech and reason ; a gift which 
 tends, more than any other, to conciliate and cher 
 ish benevolence, and a desire of rendering mutual 
 services. She implanted in him a hatred of soli 
 tude, and a love of company. She sowed in his 
 heart the seeds of every benevolent affection, and 
 thus rendered what is most salutary at the same 
 time most agreeable. Lastly, to man is given that 
 
WAR IN THE LIGHT OF NATURE. 137 
 
 spark of the divine mind which stimulates hinij of 
 his own free will, to do good to all. 
 
 " In contrast with all this, view in imagination sav 
 age troops of men, horrible in their very visages and 
 voices ; men clad in steel, drawn up in battle array, 
 and armed with weapons that are frightful in their 
 crash and very glitter ; mark the horrid murmur of 
 the confused multitude, their threatening eyeballs, 
 the harsh, jarring din of drums and clarions, the 
 terrific sound of the trumpet, the thunder of the 
 cannon ; a mad shout like the shrieks of bedlamites ; 
 a furious onset, a cruel butchery of each other ! See 
 the slaughtered and the slaughtering, heaps of dead 
 bodies, fields flowing with blood, rivers reddened 
 with human gore ! Sometimes a brother falls by 
 the hand of a brother, a kinsman upon his nearest 
 kindred, a friend upon his friend, both actuated by 
 the same fit of insanity, and each plunging his sword 
 into the heart of one who never offended him even 
 by a word !" 
 
 Such is war. And is this bantling of blood one 
 of nature s legitimate offspring? Does it spring 
 from any of her unperverted laws or instincts? 
 Does she require, or prompt, or sanction such a 
 custom ? Is it a fulfilment of her wise and merci 
 ful provisions for the common happiness of her 
 children? Is there the slightest proof, that man 
 kind were made for such mutual hatred and butch 
 ery ? Did the Almighty create this fair and smiling 
 earth to be the slaughter-yard of beings formed in 
 his own image for immortality and heaven ? The 
 very thought is a libel on nature and nature s God. 
 12* 
 
 
138 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WAR VIEWED IN THE LIGHT OF REVELATION. 
 SECTION I. 
 
 GENERAL CONTRARIETY OF WAR TO REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 WE may safely presume warriors to understand 
 the nature and principles of their own profession. 
 Napoleon, in a temporary fit of candor, denounced 
 war as "the trade of barbarians," and he excluded 
 priests from his armies, because he held the maxim, 
 the ivorse the man, the better the soldier. Wellington 
 himself once declared in the House of Lords, that 
 men who have nice notions about religion, have no busi 
 ness to be soldiers. Two British officers were once 
 cashiered for refusing, on a foreign station, to join in 
 what they conscientiously deemed idolatrous wor 
 ship ; and the king, in confirming that sentence, said. 
 u If religious principles were allowed to be urged by 
 individual officers as a plea for disobedience of or 
 ders, the discipline of the army would sustain an 
 injury which might be dangerous to the state." 
 
 Well, then, does the venerable missionary Ward 
 say, " Either our religion is a fable, or there are 
 unanswerable arguments against war, and the pro 
 fession of arms. 13 With equal truth does Jeremy 
 Taylor aver, " If men would obey Christ s doctrine, 
 they would never war one against another ; for, as 
 contrary as cruelty is to mercy, tyranny to charity, 
 so is war and bloodshed to the meekness and gen 
 tleness of the Christian religion." 
 
 " War," eays Robert Hall, " is the fruitful parent 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 139 
 
 of crimes. It reverses all the rides of morality. It is 
 nothing- less than A TEMPORARY REPEAL OF THE PRIN 
 CIPLES OF VIRTUE. It is a system out of which almost 
 adl the virtues are excluded, and in which nearly all the 
 vices are included. Whatever renders human nature 
 amiable or respectable, whatever engages love or 
 confidence, is sacrificed at its shrine. It removes, 
 so far as an enemy is concerned, the basis of all so 
 ciety, of all civilization and virtue ; for the basis of 
 these is the good-will due to every individual of the 
 species, as being a part of ourselves. The sword, 
 and that alone, cuts asunder the bond of consan 
 guinity which unites man to man. Hence the mo 
 rality of peaceful times is directly opposite to the 
 maxims of war. The fundamental rule of the first 
 is to do good ; of the latter, to inflict injuries. The 
 former teaches men to love their enemies ; the latter, 
 to make themselves terrible even to strangers. The 
 rules of morality will not suffer us to promote the 
 dearest interests by falsehood ; the maxims of war 
 applaud it when employed in the destruction of 
 others." 
 
 Let us put war and Christianity side by side, and 
 see how far they agree. Christianity saves men; 
 war destroys them. Christianity elevates men ; 
 war debases and degrades them. Christianity puri 
 fies men ; war corrupts and defiles them. Christ 
 ianity blesses men ; war curses them. God says, 
 thou shalt not kill ; war says, thou shalt kill. God 
 says, blessed are the peace-makers ; war says, blessed 
 are the war-makers. God says, love your enemies ; 
 war says, hate them, God says, forgive men their 
 trespasses ; war says, forgive them not. God enjoins 
 forgiveness, and forbids revenge ; while war scorns 
 the former, and commands the latter. God says, 
 resist not evil ; war says, you may and must resist 
 evil. God says, if any man smite thee on one cheek, 
 9 
 
140 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 turn to him the other also ; war says, turn not the 
 other cheek, but knock the smiter down. God says, 
 bless those who curse you ; bless, and curse not : 
 war says, curse those who curse you; curse, and 
 bless not. God says, pray for those who despite- 
 fully use you ; war says, pray against them, and 
 seek their destruction. God says, see that none 
 render evil for evil unto any man ; war says, be 
 sure to render evil for evil unto all that injure you. 
 God says, overcome evil with good ; war says, over 
 come evil with evil. God says, if thine enemy hun 
 ger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink : war 
 says, if you do supply your enemies with food and 
 clothing, you shall be shot as a traitor. God says, 
 do good unto all men ; war says, do as much evil 
 as you can to your enemies. God says to all men, 
 love one another ; war says, hate and kill one an 
 other. God says, they that take the sword, shall 
 perish by the sword j war says, they that take the 
 sword, shall be saved by the sword. God says, 
 blessed is he that trusteth in the Lord ; war says, 
 cursed is such a man, and blessed is he who trusteth 
 in swords and guns. God says, beat your swords 
 into ploughshares, your spears into pruning-hooks, 
 and learn war no more ; war says, make swords and 
 spears still, and continue to learn war. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 WAR AND THE OLD TESTAMENT. 
 
 The Old Testament has been supposed to coun 
 tenance war. It does of course justify those which 
 God expressly commanded ; but it lends no en 
 couragement or sanction to the custom itself. The 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 141 
 
 wars divinely enjoined or permitted, were excep 
 tions for specific, peculiar, temporary purposes; 
 and if we separate the precepts of the Old Testa 
 ment from its somewhat mysterious history, we 
 shall find its general principles implicitly forbid 
 ding war. It inculcates love, and meekness, and 
 forbearance, and forgiveness, and general benefi 
 cence, and a variety of other duties that are quite 
 incompatible with this trade of blood. 
 
 Let us analyze the decalogue as an epitome of the 
 moral teachings found in the Jewish scriptures. 
 If we adopt the common division into two tables 
 our duties directly to God, and our duties to each 
 other, we shall find that war violates the whole 
 spirit and every precept of each table. 
 
 Tfiou shalt have no other gods before me, nor make 
 unto thee any graven image, nor bow down thyself to 
 them, nor serve them. War contravenes all such pre 
 cepts. It sprang from paganism ; its spirit is es 
 sentially pagan still ; and its laws everywhere re 
 quire soldiers to obey their officers rather than God 
 himself. Does it not thus dethrone Jehovah from 
 the hearts of an army ? Are not soldiers notorious 
 for their neglect of God? Can war be anything 
 else than a vast nursery of irreligion ? Every man, 
 whether a private, an officer, or even a chaplain, is 
 bound by his oath to obey his superiors, right or 
 wrong, rather than God himself. War was the 
 origin of nearly all the demi-gods ever worshipped ; 
 and, had Napoleon lived three thousand years ear 
 lier, he would have been the very Mars or Jupiter 
 Tonans of the World. 
 
 Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God 
 in vain. War is a. school of impiety and profane- 
 ness ; blasphemy is the well-known dialect of the 
 army and navy ; you can hardly enter a camp or a 
 war-ship without meeting a volley of oaths, or find 
 
142 WAR TIE WED IN THE 
 
 a warrior on land or sea, who does not habitually 
 blaspheme the name of God. An eye-witness, 
 speaking of one of our own armies, says we should 
 not wonder at their frequent defeats, " if we could 
 hear the men, from the general to the private, strive 
 to outvie each other in uttering the most horrid 
 imprecations and blasphemy, and ridiculing every 
 thing like religion." 
 
 Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. War 
 scorns to acknowledge any Sabbath. Its battles 
 are fought, its marches continued, its fortifications 
 constructed, all its labors exacted, all its recreations 
 indulged, quite as much on this as any other day of 
 the week, It is the chosen time for special and 
 splendid reviews ; all the millions of soldiers in 
 Christendom are compelled to violate the Sabbath ; 
 and, where the war-spirit is rife, it will be found 
 well nigh impossible to preserve, in any degree of 
 vigor, this mainspring of Gad s moral government 
 over our world. 
 
 Honor thy father and thy mother. Here is God a 
 shield of home with its garnered affections ; but 
 war sports with these affections, and rudely tram 
 ples the hearth and the altar under its bloody hoof.. 
 Its spirit, its aims, its very laws, its legitimate, 
 and designed results, are adverse to this command ; 
 and its whole history has been a crusade upon the, 
 endearments, the rights and interests of that do 
 mestic constitution which God established in Eden 
 itself, as the grand nursery of social virtue and 
 happiness. 
 
 Thou shalt not kill. It is the very object, the 
 main business of war to kill men. It is the most 
 terrible engine ever contrived for their destruction * 
 incomparably more destructive to life than the in 
 quisition or the slave-trade, than famine, or pesti 
 lence, or any form of disease that .ever swept over 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 143 
 
 the earth. It was not possible for men or devils to 
 devise a more wholesale violation of a precept so 
 vital to the welfare of society, and to all the great 
 interests of our race. 
 
 Thou shall not commit adultery. -War is a hot-bed 
 of the foulest licentiousness. It is deemed the sol 
 dier s privilege ; and, wherever an army is encamped, 
 a war-ship moored, or a city taken, he is permitted 
 to indulge his lusts at will. In 1380, some English 
 troops, while wind-bound near Portsmouth, and 
 waiting for provisions, forcibly carried off men s 
 wives and daughters ; and, among other outrages, 
 their commander went to a nunnery, and demanded 
 admittance for his soldiers ; and being refused, they 
 entered by violence, compelled the nuns to go with 
 them, and afterwards threw them into the sea! 
 When an English man-of-war was accidentally sunk 
 near Spithead, she carried down with her no less 
 than six hundred lewd women ; and amidst the 
 fires of captured Magdeburg and Moscow, were 
 heard continually the wild, despairing shrieks of 
 ravished mothers and daughters. War is a Sodom ; 
 and, could all its impurities be collected in one 
 place, we might well expect another storm of fire 
 and brimstone, 
 
 Thou shalt not steal, War is a system of legal 
 ized national robbery ; the very same thing, only 
 on a larger scale, and under the sanction of govern 
 ment, for which individuals are sent to the prison 
 or the gallows. To plunder, burn and destroy, is 
 the soldier s professed business. All this accords 
 with the laws of war ; and every government, in its 
 letters of marque and reprisal, licences men to com 
 mit piracy at pleasure ! 
 
 Thou shalt not bear false witness. War glories in 
 violating this prohibition by wholesale. It culti 
 vates the art of lying as one of its excellencies, and 
 
144 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 rewards it as a meritorious service. It is a part of 
 the trade to misrepresent, and deceive, and traduce, 
 and circumvent an enemy. It even hires traitors 
 and spies to practise deception for the most malig 
 nant purposes. Almost every war is a tissue of 
 practical falsehoods on both sides. 
 
 T/wu shalt not covet. We can hardly find a war 
 that did not begin and end with the violation of 
 this principle. What are countries wasted, and ter 
 ritory conquered, and cities plundered, all its legal 
 ized robberies and piracies, but so many forms of 
 prohibited coveting ? At Hamburg, 40,000 per 
 sons were driven from their homes without clothes, 
 money, or provisions, of which their enemies had 
 despoiled them : and around Leipsic nothing was 
 spared, neither the ox, nor the calf two days old ; 
 neither the ewe, nor the lamb scarcely able to walk, 
 neither the brood-hen, nor the tender chicken. 
 Whatever had life, was slaughtered ; and even the 
 meanest bedstead of the meanest beggar was car 
 ried off. Such things are inseparable from war. 
 
 Yet one of the strongest pleas for this custom 
 has been drawn from the divinely authorized wars, 
 recorded in the Old Testament. No one can deny, 
 that the Israelites were engaged in many, and often 
 very destructive wars, under the sanction of Jeho 
 vah ; but - those wars" says the excellent Gurney, 
 " differed from all others in certain very important 
 particulars. That very divine sanction which is 
 pleaded, did in fact distinguish them from all those 
 in which any other nation is known to have been 
 ever engaged. They were undertaken in pursuance 
 of God s express command, and directed to the ac 
 complishment of his revealed designs. These de 
 signs had a twofold object the temporal preserva 
 tion and prosperity of his peculiar people, and the 
 punishment and destruction of idolatrous nations. 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 145 
 
 The Israelites were sometimes engaged in war with 
 out any direction from God ; but such of their mili 
 tary operations as were sanctioned by the Lord, as 
 sumed the character of a work of obedience and 
 faith. They went forth to battle in compliance 
 with his command, and in reliance upon his aid. 
 These characteristics of their warfare were attended 
 with two very marked consequences : first, that 
 their conflicts, so far from being attended by that 
 destruction of moral and pious feeling which is so 
 generally the effect of war, were often accompanied 
 by high religious excellence in those who thus 
 fought the battles of the Lord, as in the case of 
 Joshua, the Judges, and David ; and secondly, that 
 these contests were followed by uniform success. 
 Now, it cannot be predicated even of the justest 
 wars among other nations, that they are undertaken 
 by the direct command of Jehovah ; or that they 
 are a work of obedience and faith ; or that they are 
 often accompanied with high religious excellence in 
 those who undertake them ; or that they are fol 
 lowed by uniform success. Even if the system of 
 Israelitish morals, then, was still in force without 
 alteration, we could not justly conclude from such 
 an example, that warfare, as generally practised, is 
 in any case consistent with the will of God." 
 
 It is clear that the " Old Testament does not sanc 
 tion war in the abstract, or as a custom ; for every 
 case of lawful war was expressly enjoined or per 
 mitted ; and. if such authority were now given, we 
 too might properly resort to arms." But this com 
 mand or permission just neutralizes the example 
 as a guide to us. God bade Abraham sacrifice Isaac. 
 Will this justify parents now in murdering their 
 children at pleasure ? God commanded Moses to 
 stone the Sabbath-breaker to death. Are we bound 
 to do the same ? God indulged patriarchs in po- 
 13 
 
146 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 lygamy and concubinage. Does their example 
 make such things lawful for us V We are remind 
 ed, however, that God could never have enjoined or 
 permitted anything that is necessarily wrong. Few 
 things are so ; but, if not necessarily wrong, who 
 now regards filicide, and polygamy, and concubi 
 nage, and arbitrary divorce, and many other prac 
 tices allowed to the Israelites, as lawful under the 
 gospel ? But the wars of the Israelites were pro 
 perly penal executions ; merely the infliction of such 
 penalties as God himself prescribed against trans 
 gressors of his law. Should a bevy of constables 
 attempt to imprison or execute a gang of sentenced 
 criminals, and meet from them a desperate and 
 bloody resistance, would the conflict deserve to be 
 called war ? Yet such were the wars of the Israel 
 ites. The idolaters of Canaan had committed high 
 treason against Heaven ; God denounced upon them 
 the penalty of utter extermination 5 the Israelites 
 were commissioned to inflict this penally ; and all 
 they did, resembles an execution far more than it 
 docs war. God assumed the whole responsibility 
 of the deed ; the Israelites were mere executioners 
 of his will. But those wars were distinguished 
 from all others by two peculiarities ; they occurred 
 under a theocracy, a government of which God him 
 self was the head ; and they were expressly enjoined 
 or permitted by him. Since the close of revelation, 
 men cannot be placed in the same circumstances, 
 and therefore can never apply to themselves this 
 example of the Israelites. But if applied, the ex 
 ample would prove too much. The chief wars of 
 the Israelites were wars of aggression, conquest and 
 utter extermination ; and such an example, if it 
 proves anything, would justify the most horrid, 
 wholesale butcheries ever committed in the strife 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 147 
 
 of nations. "Would any man now deem such wars 
 right ? If not, he should never quote those of the 
 Israelites; for there the aggressors were justified, 
 and those who acted in self-defence were condemned. 
 
 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 WAR AND THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 So far the Old Testament ; but the gospel, re 
 pealing the ancient law or license of retaliation, 
 and putting in its place the principle of universal 
 good-will, is still more repugnant to the custom of 
 war. Its spirit, its principles, its legitimate results 
 are all antagonistic to those of Christianity. Peace 
 was the song chanted over her cradle by angels 
 fresh from the God of love. Her Founder was the 
 Prince of Peace ; her gospel is the statute-book of 
 peace ; the principles of peace are scattered 
 throughout the New Testament ; and most fully 
 were they enforced by the example of Christ, his 
 apostles, and all his early disciples. 
 
 Glance at the general contrariety of war to the 
 gospel. " It contradicts," says Dr. Malcom, " the 
 very genius and intention of Christianity. Christ 
 ianity, if it prevailed, would make the earth a para 
 dise ; war, wherever it prevails, makes it a slaughter 
 house, a den of thieves, a brothel, a hell. Christ 
 ianity is the remedy for all human woes ; war pro 
 duces every woe known to man. All the features, 
 all the concomitants, all the results of war, are the 
 opposite of the features, the concomitants, the results 
 of Christianity. The two systems conflict in every 
 part irreconcilably and eternally." 
 
 " The whole structure of an army is in violation 
 
148 
 
 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 of New Testament precepts. What absolute despo 
 tism ! k Condescending to men of low estate would 
 spoil discipline. Esteeming others better than 
 ourselves would degrade the officers. Instead of 
 humility, must be gay trappings. Instead of 
 Christ s law of love, must be man s rule of honor. 
 Instead of examining all things, the soldier must 
 be like a trained blood-hound, ready to be let loose 
 against any foe. Instead of returning good for 
 evil, the army is organized expressly to return 
 injuries with interest. The qualities required in 
 the Christian, spoil a soldier for the field. He 
 must then cast away meekness, and fight. He 
 must cast away honesty, and forage. He must 
 cast away forgiveness, and revenge his country. He 
 must return blow for blow, wound for wound. 
 Thus, when we take the common soldier individu 
 ally, we find him compelled to violate every precept of 
 his religion." 
 
 The celebrated Erasmus, more than three centu 
 ries ago, put the contrariety of war to the gospel, 
 in a startling light. " Let us," says he, " imagine 
 we hear a soldier among these fighting Christians 
 saying the Lord s Prayer just before battle. OUR 
 FATHER ! says he. 0, hardened wretch ! can you 
 call God Father, when you are just going to cut 
 your brother s throat ? Hallowed be thy name. 
 How can the name of God be more impiously un- 
 hallowed than by mutual bloody murder among his 
 sons? Thy kingdom come. Do you pray for the 
 coming of his kingdom, while you are endeavoring 
 to establish an earthly despotism by spilling the 
 blood of God s sons and subjects ? Thy will be done 
 on earth as it is in heaven. His will in heaven is 
 for PEACE ; but you are now meditating WAR Give 
 us this day our daily bread. How dare you say this 
 to your Father in heaven at the moment you are 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 149 
 
 going to burn your brother s corn-fields, and would 
 rather lose the benefit of them yourself than suffer 
 him to enjoy them unmolested ? Forgive us our 
 trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. 
 With what face can you pray thus, when, so far 
 from forgiving your brother, you are going with all 
 the haste you can, to murder him in cold blood for 
 an alleged trespass which, after all, is but im 
 aginary I Lead us not into temptation. And do 
 you presume to deprecate temptation or danger 
 you who are not only rushing into it yourself, but 
 doing all you can to force your brother into it ? 
 Deliver us from evil. You pray to be delivered from 
 evil, that is, from the evil being, Satan, to whose 
 impulses you are now submitting yourself, and by 
 whose spirit you are guided in contriving the great 
 est possible evil to your brother I" 
 
 Let us state a few points that will probably be 
 conceded by all. 1. The deeds of war in themselves 
 considered, are confessedly forbidden in the New 
 Testament, and can be justified only on the suppo 
 sition, that government has a right in war to re 
 verse or suspend the enactments of Heaven. 
 
 2. The spirit of war is acknowledged by all to 
 be contrary to that of the gospel. But can we 
 have war without its spirit ? What is the spirit of 
 any custom or act but the moral character of that 
 custom or act ? Blasphemy without the spirit of 
 blasphemy ! Perpetrate the deeds of war without 
 the spirit of war, and destroy property, life and 
 happiness by wholesale, from motives of pure be 
 nevolence ! Kill men just for their own benefit! 
 Send them to perdition for their good ! ! Tre 
 mendous logic ; yet the only sort of logic that ever 
 attempts to reconcile war with the gospel ; a logic 
 that would require us to suppose, that thousands 
 of cut-throats by profession, generally unprincipled 
 13* 
 
150 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 and reckless, fierce, irascible and vindictive, the 
 tigers of society, will shoot, and stab, and trample 
 one another down in the full exercise of Christian 
 patience, forgiveness and love ! ! 
 
 3. The qualities required of warriors, are the 
 reverse of those which characterize the Christian. 
 Even Paley, the ablest champion of war, avers that 
 " no two things can be more different than the 
 Heroic and the Christian characters," and then 
 proceeds to exhibit the two in striking contrast as 
 utterly irreconcilable. Must not war itself be 
 equally incompatible with Christianity ? 
 
 4. The gospel enjoins no virtue which the sol 
 dier may not discard without losing his military 
 rank or reputation ; nor does it forbid a solitary 
 vice which he may not practise without violating the 
 principles of war. 
 
 5. While the gospel prescribes rules for every 
 lawful relation and employment in life, it lays 
 down not a single principle applicable to the sol 
 dier s peculiar business, and evidently designed for 
 his use. If war is right, why this studious avoid 
 ance, this utter neglect of its agents ? 
 
 6. The Old Testament predicts that the gospel 
 will one day banish war from the earth forever. 
 But, if consistent with Christianity, how will the 
 gospel ever abolish it ? The gospel destroy what it 
 sanctions and supports ! 
 
 7. Christians, in the warmest glow of their love 
 to God and man, shrink with instinctive horror 
 from the deeds of cruelty and blood essential to 
 war ; nor can they, in such a state of mind, perpe 
 trate them without doing violence to their best 
 feelings. 
 
 8. Converts from paganism, in the simplicity of 
 their first faith, have uniformly understood the gos 
 pel as forbidding this custom. Such was remark- 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 151 
 
 ably the case in the South Sea Islands ; and the 
 fact goes far to prove, that no mind, not under the 
 hereditary delusions of war, would ever find in the 
 gospel any license for its manifold abominations. 
 
 But let the New Testament speak for itself. It 
 may forbid war either by a direct condemnation of it, 
 or by the prohibition of its moral elements, the things 
 which go to constitute war : and we contend that 
 the gospel does forbid it in both these ways. 
 
 I. Note first its express condemnation of war. 
 " From whence come wars and fighting among you ? 
 Come they not hence even of your lusts?" James 
 iv. 1. We cannot well conceive a denunciation 
 more direct or more decisive. Our Saviour before 
 Pilate declared, " if my kingdom were of this 
 world, then would my servants fight ; but now is 
 my kingdom not from hence." John xviii. 36. A 
 most unequivocal condemnation of war as inconsis 
 tent with Christianity. " Follow peace with all 
 men." Heb. xii. 14. Or, as it is in the original, 
 seek earnestly, with all your might, after peace, not 
 only with your own countrymen, but with foreign 
 ers ; not with your friends alone, but with your ene 
 mies, with the whole human race. What language 
 could, if these passages do not, condemn war as 
 utterly unchristian ? 
 
 II. But look at the still more decisive mode of 
 forbidding war by the condemnation of its moral ele- 
 ments. The gospel puts them all under ban. War 
 contravenes the fundamental principle of Christianity. 
 This principle is, enmity subdued by love, evil over 
 come with good, injury requited by kindness. It 
 pervades the whole New Testament ; it is the soul 
 of the Christian system. The peculiar precepts of 
 the gospel all rest on this principle ; nor can we 
 take it away without subverting the entire fabric of 
 Christianity. But this principle is incompatible 
 
152 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 with war, because war always aims to overcome evil 
 with evil, to return injury JOT injury, to subdue our 
 enemies by making them wretched, to inflict on our 
 assailants the very evils they meditate against us, 
 to save our own life, property and happiness by sac 
 rificing theirs. Such is war in its best form ; but, 
 if this be not a contradiction of the gospel, we know 
 not what is, and challenge you to conceive a prin 
 ciple more directly opposed to that which lies at 
 the foundation of Christianity. 
 
 But the gospel condemns in detail the moral ele 
 ments of war. " Lay aside all malice ; and let all 
 bitterness, and wrath, and anger be put away. 
 Avenge not yourselves. Recompense to no man 
 evil for evil. See that none render evil for evil to 
 any man. Whereas there is among you envying, 
 and strife, and division, are ye not carnal ? Now, 
 the works of the flesh are these : hatred, variance, 
 emulation, wrath, strife, sedition, envyings, murders, 
 revilings, and such like." Need any one be told, 
 that the things here denounced, are inseparable 
 from war, and constitute its very essence ? What ! 
 war without malice or hatred, without bitterness, 
 wrath or anger, without division or strife, without 
 variance, emulation or murder! Nations go to 
 war without avenging themselves, and rendering 
 evil for evil ! 
 
 The gospel, however, still more fully condemns 
 war by enjoining what is inconsistent with it. " Thou 
 shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;" and the parable 
 of the Good Samaritan makes every human being 
 our neighbor. " Love worketh no ill to his neigh 
 bor ; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law. 
 Charity (love) suffereth long, and is kind ; seeketh 
 not her own ; is not easily provoked : thinketh no 
 evil ; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth 
 all things, endureth all things. Do good unto all 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 153 
 
 men. Whatsoever ye would that men should do 
 unto you, do ye even so to them. By this shall all 
 men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love 
 one to another. Have peace one with another. 
 The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suf 
 fering, gentleness, goodness, meekness. Put on 
 bowels of mercies, kindness, peaceableness of mind, 
 meekness, long-suffering, forbearing one another, 
 forgiving one another, even as Christ forgave you. 
 The wisdom which is from above, is first pure, then 
 peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated. Bless 
 ed are the poor in spirit the meek the merciful 
 the peace-makers. Resist not evil ; but whoso 
 ever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to 
 him the other also. Overcome evil with good. 
 Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do 
 good to them that hate you." 
 
 Now, do not such passages convey a most un 
 equivocal condemnation of war in all its forms 1 
 Love thy neighbor AS thyself- by shooting and stab 
 bing him ! Love worketh no ill to his neighbor. The 
 soldier s only business is to do his neighbor all the 
 ill he can. Do unto others as ye would that they should 
 do unto you. Would you like to have them burn 
 your dwelling over your head, butcher your whole 
 family, and then send a bullet or a bayonet through 
 your own heart 1 Love your enemies, and do them 
 govd. War teaches us to hate them, and do them 
 all the evil in our power. Forgive as Christ for 
 gives. Do soldiers forgive in this way ? Avenge 
 not yourselves. War is a system of avowed and 
 studied vengeance. If thine enemy hunger, feed him ; 
 if he thirst, give him drink. Is war ever waged on 
 this principle ? Can it be, without ceasing to be 
 war ? 
 
 We know well the plea, that these precepts are 
 addressed to individuals, not to governments ; but 
 
154 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 we challenge the slightest proof from the New Tes 
 tament, that one government, in its intercourse with 
 another, is exempt from these obligations, or author 
 ized to exempt its subjects from them. We are also 
 told, that many of these passages are obviously fig 
 urative. True ; but they mean something. What 
 then do they moan ? Resist not evil, turn the other 
 cheek to the smiter, overcome evil with good. Do such 
 passages mean to allow bombardment, pillage, de 
 vastation, slaughter? If not, they do not allow 
 war. Love your enemies, and do them good. Does 
 this mean, rui/i their commerce, sink their fleets, burn 
 their milages, plunder their cities, blow out their brains ? 
 So of all the precepts we have quoted ; no possible 
 construction can make them allow war. 
 
 War is confessedly a bad business ; and, if we 
 must have it, and still wish its work of blood and 
 vengeance performed according to the gospel, its 
 deeds of hell executed in the spirit of heaven, then 
 must we change its agents, and, instead of such vil 
 lains and desperadoes as Napoleon wanted for war 
 riors, instead of releasing felons, as England has 
 "been wont to do, from the-prison and the gallows, 
 on condition of their becoming soldiers, we must 
 select from the church her best members, her dea 
 cons and elders, her pastors, rectors and bishops, 
 as the only men that can, if anybody can, rob, and 
 burn, and ravage, and murder by wholesale, all 
 without malice, from motives of pure benevolence, 
 in a Christian way ! as Paul, or Gabriel, or Christ 
 himself would have done! ! If unfit for such hands, 
 then is the whole business of war unchristian. 
 
 Here is a fair test. If war is right for us, it must 
 have been equally so for our Saviour ; but can you 
 conceive the Prince of Peace, or one of his apos 
 tles, leading forth an army to their work of plun 
 der, blood and devastation ? Can you point to a 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 155 
 
 modern field of battle, on which Christ or Paul 
 would have been in his element amidst fire, and 
 blood, and groans, and dying curses ? Is there a 
 Christian way of burning villages, and plundering 
 cities, of perpetrating the wholesale butcheries of 
 the battle-field, and hurling thousands on thousands 
 of guilty souls into the eternal world ? Does the 
 gospel tell us how to do such things aright how 
 apostles, how Christ himself, would have done 
 them ? If not, then is war utterly incompatible 
 with that gospel which proclaims peace on earth as 
 one of its first and most glorious peculiarities ; whose 
 promised reign on earth is to be a reign of universal 
 peace ; whose disciples are all required to overcome 
 evil with good, to love even their enemies, and imi 
 tate the blessed example of Him who reviled not 
 his revilers, nor returned one curse for the many 
 curses heaped upon himself by his crucifiers, but 
 prayed on his cross, " Father, forgive them ; they 
 know not what they do." 
 
 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 DIFFICULTIES FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 1. WE should of course expect to find some dif 
 ficulties even in the New Testament ; and the first 
 is the plea, that John the Baptist did not require 
 the soldiers who came to him for instruction, to quit 
 the army. Now, we submit, that John, the fore 
 runner of Christ, belonged not to the Christian, 
 but to the Jewish dispensation ; and hence his re 
 ply, whatever it might be, could not prove war to 
 be consistent with Christianity, because it has no 
 bearing on the point. Even if admitted, to what 
 
156 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 does it amount? He did not bid the soldiers 
 abandon their occupation : nor did Christ tell the 
 woman of Samaria to cease from her adulteries, or 
 any others to relinquish the business in which they 
 had been engaged. The grossest idolatry formed a 
 part of the Roman military service. Did John s 
 answer justify that? If not, then it could lend no 
 sanction to the custom of war. He did not in fact 
 touch the question of the lawfulness of their pro 
 fession. 
 
 2. But the New Testament nowhere condemns 
 war by name} We deny the assertion ; but, if true, 
 what would it prove ? The New Testament does 
 not in this way condemn polygamy or concubinage, 
 gambling or suicide, duelling, the slave-trade or pi 
 racy ; but does the gospel allow such practices 
 merely because it does not denounce them by name ? 
 It does condemn what constitutes them, every one 
 of their moral elements ; a mode of condemnation 
 much less equivocal, and far more decisive. 
 
 3. Equally futile is the plea, that neither Christ 
 nor his apostles ever expressly censured the pro 
 fession of arms. Nor did they thus censure other 
 professions or employments ; and this argument^ 
 if it proves anything, would justify almost every 
 species of wickedness prevalent in their day. Be 
 cause our Saviour did not condemn the religion of 
 the Syro-Phenician woman that came to him. (Matt, 
 xv. 21 28.) does the gospel sanction idolatry ? Be 
 cause he did not reprove the woman of Samaria at 
 Jacob s well, for the adultery and concubinage in 
 which she had lived for years. (John iv. 7 30.) are 
 we to regard his silence in the case as an approval 
 of such things? Because he did not expressly 
 condemn the former profession even of the penitent 
 Magdalene, (Luke vii. 37 50 ; ) does the gospel con 
 nive at harlotry ? 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 157 
 
 4. Essentially the same answer may be given to 
 the ease of the " centurion having soldiers under 
 him," who besought that his servant might be 
 healed, and of whom our Saviour said, " I have not 
 found so great faith, no, not in Israel, (Matt, 
 viii. 5 13 ;) and to the still more striking case of 
 " Cornelius, a centurion, a devout man, one that 
 feared Grod, gave much alms, and prayed to God al 
 ways," (Acts x. 1 35.) Make the most of these 
 cases ; and what do they prove? Merely that men, 
 under the Jewish dispensation, to which they both 
 belonged at the time, might be devout, and still re 
 main soldiers; a position which nobody disputes. 
 Neither Christ, nor Peter, says a word respecting 
 their profession ; they leave us to determine in 
 other ways whether it is consistent with the gospel ; 
 their usual mode of treating the former profession 
 or employment of converts to Christianity. Idol 
 atry was an essential part of the profession of those 
 centurions ; and, if the notice taken of them as de 
 vout men, proves the military part to be right, it 
 equally proves the idolatrous part to be so. The 
 truth is, those men were first soldiers, then Chris- 
 tians ; nor have we the slightest proof that they re 
 mained in the profession of arms, but strong pre 
 sumptive evidence that they relinquished it, both 
 from the idolatrous rites which it enjoined, and from 
 the fact that there is no authentic record, for the 
 two or three first centuries, of a single Christian 
 continuing in the trade of blood. 
 
 5. <; But our Saviour himself bade his disciples 
 procure swords, even by selling their garments." 
 (Luke xxii. 35 38; Matt. xxvi. 51 53.) We 
 will not here attempt a full explanation of this 
 vexed passage ; it is enough for our present purpose 
 to say, that no interpretation can make it sanction 
 any use of the sword. When one of his disciples 
 
 14 
 
158 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 said, " Lord, here are two swords," he replied, " it 
 is enough." Two swords enough to arm twelve 
 men ! When one of them, at the crisis of danger, 
 asked, " Lord, shall we smite with the sword ?" he 
 gave no answer that is recorded ; but his influence 
 in restraining the disciples from violence, proves 
 again that he did not design the effusion of blood. 
 Nor did he need the sword for his protection, since 
 he might at will have brought to his rescue u more 
 than twelve legions of angels." When Peter, mis 
 taking his Master s design, or yielding to his own 
 passions, drew his sword, and smote the servant s 
 ear, Christ performed a miracle to heal the wound, 
 and added this severe rebuke, " put up thy sword ; 
 for all they that take the sword, shall perish by the 
 sword." Can anything be plainer than that our 
 Saviour did not, in this case, sanction any use of 
 the sword? The whole transaction, so far from 
 countenancing war, is a most decisive condemnation 
 of the custom. 
 
 6. We are gravely told, moreover, that our Sav 
 iour, with a scourge of small cords, drove the deal 
 ers in cattle from the temple. (John ii. 14 17.) 
 But what has this case to do with war ? Before it 
 can touch the question, you must prove, not only 
 that Christ drove out the cattle with the cords, but 
 actually killed their owners, since this alone re 
 sembles war ; and that his example, thus explained, 
 he left on record expressly for the guidance of gov 
 ernments in settling their disputes ! ! 
 
 7. We are reminded, however, of our duty to 
 obey civil government as " an ordinance of God ;" 
 and hence the alleged right and even obligation of 
 Christians to engage in war at the call of their 
 rulers. Now, there is not in all the New Testament 
 a syllable that requires or permits us to disobey 
 God at the bidding of our rulers ; and both Christ, 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 159 
 
 his apostles, and all his early disciples, uniformly 
 refused, at the hazard of their lives, to obey any 
 requisition of civil government that involved dis 
 obedience to God. The question then returns, does 
 the gospel allow war ? If so, then we may wage it 
 at the command of our rulers ; but, if not, no hu 
 man authority can make it right for us to do so, 
 If he authorizes rulers to wage war at pleasure, 
 and requires us to support them, whether right or 
 wrong, a supposition impiously absurd, then we 
 may engage in it at their command ; but if not, 
 then no human authority can make it right for us 
 to do so in violation of Christian principle. 
 
 The Bible, however, allows to government what 
 it forbids to individuals} True, in some cases it 
 does ; but in such cases there is a dear exception in 
 favor of government. Government, as the repre 
 sentative of associated individuals, is regarded by 
 all writers on international law, and by the common 
 sense of the world, as a moral person, subject to the 
 same obligations with individuals in all cases not ex- 
 cepted by God himself; and, unless he has expressly 
 exempted government, the general principles of the 
 gospel are just as binding upon rulers as upon sub 
 jects. Every precept of his word, unless an ex 
 ception is made in their favor expressly, or from 
 the nature of the case, is as applicable to nations as 
 to individuals, and bind the former as truly as they 
 do the latter. God has nowhere prescribed one 
 set of moral principles for individuals, and another 
 for nations or governments ; and, unless the gen 
 eral principles of his word are obligatory alike on 
 them both, the latter have no obligations to bind 
 them, and no rules to guide them. 
 
 8. But we are confidently referred to the passage 
 which speaks of civil government as ordained of 
 God, and of the magistrate as a minister of God, 
 
160 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 armed with tlie sword, to execute wrath upon evil 
 doers. (Rom. xiii. 1 7.) Now, the whole aim of 
 this passage is to enforce the duty of implicit sub 
 mission to government, though it be as bad as that 
 of Nero himself, then on the throne ; a principle 
 which cuts up by the roots the assumed right of 
 armed resistance and revolution, which all advocates 
 of war take for granted. The apostle is prescri 
 bing the duty, not of rulers, but of subjects alone, 
 and authorizes only by implication, if at all, merely 
 the sword of the magistrate, not the sword of the 
 warrior ; the sword being used here, not as an in 
 strument of death, but only as an emblem of author 
 ity. He is looking, not at the intercourse of one 
 nation with another, but solely at the relation and 
 duties of subjects to their own governments. Not 
 a word does he say about international wars ; nor 
 does the passage express or involve a solitary prin 
 ciple that would justify any species of war. The 
 most it can possibly mean is, that government may 
 enforce its laws upon its own subjects, and punish 
 them for disobedience ; a position which the strong 
 est friends of peace are not at all disposed to deny 
 or doubt, but most fully believe. 
 
 Yet it may be said, for it has been, that this right 
 of government to punish or restrain its own subjects 
 by force, involves the right of war. We think not, 
 but contend, that the right to inflict capital pun 
 ishment, and to use the sword in suppressing mobs 
 and insurrections, does not include in itself the right 
 of nations to wage war with each other. War is 
 an affair, not between individuals and governments, 
 but between GOVERNMENTS THEMSELVES; and the 
 agents employed in carrying it on are treated, 
 not as individuals, but as representatives of their 
 respective governments, What then is the sole 
 point of inquiry ? Not how government may treat 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 1(51 
 
 its own subjects, but how one NATION may treat AN 
 OTHER nation, The former is the government ques 
 tion, the latter the peace question ; points that are 
 entirely distinct, and ought never to be confounded. 
 Take an illustration. As the head of a family, I 
 will suppose I have a right from God to punish my 
 children ; but this right cannot justify bloody con 
 tention between two families. My authority is re 
 stricted to my own household ; arid from what I 
 may lawfully do there, you cannot argue to what I 
 may do to any other family. They are distinct, in 
 dependent domestic com in unities, under the protec 
 tion of a government common to them both ; if one 
 injures the other, redress must be sought in the 
 way which that government prescribes; and their 
 duties and rights in respect to one another must be 
 determined, not by what the father of each family 
 may do in his own sphere, but by the laws under 
 which they live. If these laws permit families to 
 fight each other, then have they such a right, so far 
 as the government over them can give it ; and on 
 the same principle, if the government of God, the 
 only one over nations, allows them to war against 
 each other, then, and only then, have they a right 
 from God to do so. But no man, at all acquainted 
 with the genius of Christianity, or the teachings of 
 the New Testament, can believe that God has ap 
 pointed war, like civil government, for the good of 
 mankind, or authorized nations, any more than in- 
 dividuals, to fight out their quarrels. A duel be 
 tween twenty or fifty millions is far more inconsist 
 ent with Christianity, than is a duel between two 
 individuals. 
 
 1 4* 
 
162 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 EARLY CHRISTIANS ON WAR. 
 
 THE Bible, rather than any human authority, 
 should be our guide ; but, since the early Chris 
 tians learned its meaning from the apostles them 
 selves, or their immediate successors, we naturally 
 wish to ascertain how they regarded the custom of 
 war. Of their general views and practice on this 
 point, there now remains little, if any doubt ; for it 
 is undeniable that, for a considerable period, so long 
 indeed as the lamp of Christianity burnt pure and 
 bright, they held it unlawful to bear arms, and ac 
 tually abstained from war at the hazard of their 
 lives ; nor was it till the Church became corrupt, 
 that her members began without remorse or rebuke 
 to be soldiers. " It would be as easy," says a 
 learned writer of the seventeenth century, " to ob 
 scure the sun at mid-day, as to deny that the prim 
 itive Christians renounced all revenge and war." 
 
 Justin Martyr, Tatian, Clemens of Alexandria, 
 Tertullian, Cyprian, Lactantius, and a multitude of 
 others among the early fathers, declared it unlaw 
 ful for Christians to engage in war. It seems to 
 have been for nearly three centuries the common 
 sentiment, avowed and defended by the great cham 
 pions of Christianity. Justin Martyr and Tatian 
 talk of soldiers and Christians as distinct charac 
 ters ; and Tatian says that the Christians declined 
 even military commands. Clemens of Alexandria 
 calls his Christian contemporaries the "followers 
 of peace," and expressly tells us " that the followers 
 of peace used none of the implements of war." Lac 
 tantius says expressly, " It can never be lawful for 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 163 
 
 a righteous man to go to war." About the end of 
 the second century, Celsus, one of the opponents of 
 Christianity, charged the Christians with refusing 
 to bear arms even in cases of necessity. Origen, 
 their defender, does not deny the fact ; he admits 
 the refusal, and justifies it on the ground that war 
 is unlawful for Christians. Even after Christianity 
 had spread over almost the whole known world, 
 Tertullian, in speaking of a part of the lloman ar 
 mies, including more than one-third of the standing 
 legions of Koine, distinctly informs us that " not a 
 Christian could be found amongst them." 
 
 All this is explicit ; but the following facts are 
 still more decisive. Some of the arguments which 
 are now brought against the advocates of peace, 
 were then urged against those early Christians ; 
 and these arguments they examined and repelled. 
 This indicates investigation, and manifests that 
 their belief of the unlawfulness of war was not a 
 vague opinion, hastily admitted, and loosely float 
 ing amongst them, but was the result of deliberate 
 examination, and a consequent firm conviction that 
 Christ had forbidden it. The very same arguments 
 that are brought in defence of war at the present 
 day, were brought against Christians sixteen hun 
 dred years ago, and were promptly repelled by 
 them. It is remarkable, too, that Tertullian appeals 
 to the precepts from the Mount as proving that the 
 dispositions which these precepts inculcate, are not 
 compatible with war, and that the custom there 
 fore is irreconcilable with Christianity. 
 
 If it be possible, a still stronger evidence of the 
 primitive belief is contained in the circumstance, 
 that some of the Christian authors regarded the 
 refusal of the Christians to bear arms, as a fulfil 
 ment of ancient prophecy. The peculiar strength 
 of this evidence consists in this, tha*, the fact of a 
 
164 WAR VIEWED IN THE 
 
 refusal to bear arras is assumed as notorious and 
 unquestioned. Irengeus, who lived about the year 
 180, affirms that the prophecy of Isaiah, which 
 declares that men shall turn their swords into 
 ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks, 
 had been fulfilled in his time ; "for the Christians," 
 says he, u have changed their swords and lances 
 into instruments of, peace, and they know not how 
 to fight." Justin Martyr, his contemporary, writes, 
 " that the prophecy is fulfilled, you have good rea 
 son to believe ; for we who in times past killed one 
 another, do not now fight with our enemies." 
 Tertullian, who lived later, says, "you must con 
 fess that the prophecy has been accomplished as 
 far as the practice of every individual is concerned, 
 to whom it is applicable." 
 
 Take a few cases of actual martyrdom to this 
 principle. " Maximilian, as related in the Acts of 
 Kuinart, was brought before the tribunal to be 
 enrolled as a soldier. On the proconsul s asking 
 his name, Maximilian replied, I am a Christian, 
 and cannot fight. It was, however, ordered that 
 he should be enrolled ; but he refused to serve, 
 still alleging that he was a Christian. He was 
 immediately told that there was no alternative 
 between bearing arms, and being put to death. 
 But his fidelity was not to be shaken ; I cannot 
 fight, said he, if I die. He continued steadfast 
 to his principles, and was consigned to the execu 
 tioner." 
 
 The primitive Christians when already enlisted, 
 abandoned the profession on embracing Chris 
 tianity. Marcellus was a centurion in the legion 
 called Trajana. Whilst holding this commission, 
 he became a Christian ; and, believing in common 
 with his fellow-Christians, that war was no longer 
 permitted to him, he threw down his belt at the 
 
LIGHT OF REVELATION. 165 
 
 head of the legion, declaring he had become a 
 Christian, and would serve no longer. He was 
 committed to prison ; but he was still faithful to 
 Christianity. u It is not lawful, 7 said he u for a 
 Christian to bear arms for any earthly considera 
 tion ;" and he was, in consequence, put to death. 
 Almost immediately afterwards, Cassian, notary to 
 the same legion, gave up his office. He steadfastly 
 maintained the sentiments of Marcellus, arid like 
 him was consigned to the executioner. Martin, of 
 whom so much is said by Sulpicius Severus, was 
 bred to the profession of arms, which, on his ac 
 ceptance of Christianity, he abandoned. To Julian 
 the Apostate, the only reason that we find he gave 
 for his conduct, was this, " I am a Christian, and 
 therefore I cannot fight." Tarachus, another mili 
 tary man and martyr, underwent his examination 
 at Tarsus in Cilicia. Numerianus Maxiinus sat as 
 President. " What is your condition ?" says Maxi 
 inus. " I have led a military life, and am a Ro 
 man ; but because I am a Christian, I have aban 
 doned my profession of a soldier} 1 
 
 It has been sometimes said, that the motive which 
 influenced the early Christians to declare war un 
 lawful consisted in the idolatry connected with the 
 lloinan armies. One motive this idolatry unques 
 tionably afforded ; but it is obvious from the quota 
 tions we have given, that their belief of the unlaw 
 fulness of fighting, independent of idolatry, was an 
 insuperable objection to engaging in war. Their 
 words are explicit : " I cannot fight, if I die." 
 "I am a Christian, and therefore I cannot fight." 
 " Christ," says Tertullian, * by disarming Peter, 
 disarmed every soldier ;" and Peter was not about 
 to fight in the armies of idolatry. So entire was 
 their conviction of the incompatibility of war with 
 our religion, that they would not even be present 
 
166 WAR AND REVELATION. 
 
 at the gladiatorial fights, " lest," says Theophilus, 
 "we should become partakers of the murders com- 
 mitted there." Can any one believe that they who 
 would not even witness a battle between two men, 
 would themselves fight in a battle between armies ? 
 And the destruction of a gladiator, it should be 
 remembered, was authorized by the state, as much 
 as the destruction of enemies in war." 
 
 In time, however, Christians became soldiers, but 
 not till they degenerated in other respects, as well as 
 in this. When they sank into a general conformity 
 to the world around them ; when they began " to 
 indulge in luxuries, to be envious and quarrelsome, 
 to dissemble, and cheat, and falsify their word ;" 
 when they scrupled not to sit at meat in idolatrous 
 temples, and aid in the sacrifices ; when the manufac 
 turers of idols were admitted to the Christian minis 
 try, and Christians filled offices in the pagan priest 
 hood : when the Church became thus corrupt, then 
 she lent her sanction to war, and her members be 
 came soldiers without scruple. 
 
 This degeneracy, however, was not suddenly gen 
 eral. " During the first two hundred years, not a 
 Christian soldier is upon record ; but in the third 
 century, when Christianity became partially cor 
 rupted, Christian soldiers were common. The num 
 ber increased with the increase of the general prof 
 ligacy, until at last, in the fourth century, Chris 
 tians became soldiers without hesitation, and the 
 tenet that war is unlawful, ceased at length to be a 
 tenet of the Church." 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF WAR UPON INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL CHARACTER, 
 
 WE have already given facts enough to prove in 
 general the bad moral influences of war ; but we 
 wish still further to show how it sears the con 
 science, and steels the heart, sometimes brutalizes 
 the whole inner man. and always tends to debaso 
 the character alike of individuals and communities, 
 
 It cannot be otherwise, for almost everything 
 about war tends to these results. The rottenness 
 of its principles, the essential malignity of its spirit, 
 the extreme servility of its discipline, its familiarity 
 with violence and blood, its intimacy with every 
 species of vice, its release from nearly all moral re 
 straints, its low estimate of social and civil virtues, 
 its contempt for the habits and acquisitions of hon 
 est industry, its wanton, remorseless violation of 
 others rights, its reckless gratification of the basest 
 and most ferocious passions, its claim to trample at 
 will on every law alike of man and of God, must all 
 conspire with fearful efficacy to demoralize the ope 
 rators in this trade of human butchery. 
 
 Let us hear the warrior s testimony respecting his 
 own profession. " If there is one method," says a 
 military officer, " better fitted than another to make 
 a man an abject slave to the will of his superior, 
 without a conscience or judgment of his own ; one 
 calculated to smother every generous and noble 
 
1G8 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 feeling, to destroy his morals and his constitution, 
 there could not have been a better school chosen 
 than the army." 
 
 There is a kind of fatality about the influence of 
 war upon its own agents. It seems to obscure or 
 destroy their moral perceptions, to benumb their 
 consciences, and debase their feelings and habits. 
 During our war of 1812, a company went from the 
 capital of Vermont to the relief of Plattsburgh. Its 
 commander, subsequently a judge, said it contained 
 some of the worthiest men in the town, a fair ave 
 rage of its moral character ; but they had not been 
 three days in the service, before they began to in 
 dulge freely in deeds of which they would have 
 been ashamed at home, nor deemed themselves ca 
 pable of such degradation ! 
 
 Nor is this a solitary case. " I know," said a 
 good deacon, " too much about war to feel any com 
 placency in it ; for, when a young man, I was in it. 
 In the war of 1812, I was drafted, and sent down 
 upon the coast (in Massachusetts) for only a short 
 time, yet long enough to learn more of war than I 
 could otherwise have believed possible. I did not, 
 indeed, fall a victim myself; but multitudes around 
 me did, and I was saved only by the skin of my 
 teetL, My mother told me, as I left home, not to 
 drink, and all would be well. I heeded her, and 
 that alone saved me ; but I saw what a dreadfully 
 demoralizing influence the service has upon sol 
 diers." Equally strong was the testimony of a 
 Presbyterian elder : " In our last war," said he, " I 
 took the command of a company from Albany. It 
 was a picked band, all in the bloom of youth, or the 
 vigor of manhood, the very flower of the city. We 
 were out only three months without once seeing the 
 enemy ; but, though only on camp duty, the men 
 were half spoiled. Had we continued six months. 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 169 
 
 It seems to me they must nearly all have been 
 ruined." 
 
 In the same war, Plattsburgh was an encamp 
 ment for years ; and, as one illustration of its in 
 fluence on character, the wife of a pious physician 
 there related the case of a young man, naturally 
 amiable, and religiously educated, whom the service 
 had converted into a kind of monster. He con 
 fessed the change himself. I am. said he, the 
 son of pious parents ; but I care not now for any 
 thing they taught me. I was trained to reverence 
 Grod and his Sabbath ; but now I can trample with 
 out remorse on his name and his day. Once I was 
 so tender-hearted I could not bear to see a lamb or 
 an ox slaughtered ; but now the sight of a whole 
 regiment weltering in their own blood, would scarce 
 ly move me. Once I could not stay in a room where 
 there was a corpse ; but now I could go into my tent 
 with half a dozen of my comrades lying there dead, 
 and, pillowing my head upon one of them, could 
 sleep as sweetly as ever. 
 
 Mark the emphatic language of a Frenchman re 
 specting his brethren in arms. ; The soldier," says 
 Miot, " abandons himself to all the fury which an 
 assault authorizes. He strikes, he slays ; nothing 
 can impede him ; and everywhere the desire of pil 
 lage makes him brave danger, and forget his wounds. 
 All the horrors of the general storm are repeated 
 in every street, in every house. You hear the cries 
 of violated females, calling in vain for help to those 
 relatives whom the soldiers are butchering. No 
 asylum is respected. The blood streams on every 
 side, and, at every step, you meet with human 
 beings groaning and expiring ; but the soldier is 
 restrained only by weariness of slaughter, or the 
 necessity of securing his plunder." 
 
 Such habits must of course sear the conscience, 
 15 
 
170 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 and brutalize the heart. " Yesterday," says Denon 
 in Egypt, " I was in the company of warriors 
 whose qualities I admired ; to day I attended their 
 funeral, and to-morrow shall abandon their remains 
 on a straDge soil. Just now a young man was at 
 tacked ; I saw him fall, and heard his accents of 
 grief succeeding his valorous impetuosity. He 
 called in vain for succor ; and, as he dragged him 
 self along, his cartridges exploded, and horribly 
 mutilated his limbs and body. I saw him expire ; 
 and to-morrow the post he held, will console for his 
 loss the companion by whom he is to be succeeded." 
 " A grand list of promotions !" exclaimed an Eng 
 lish officer, on hearing of a sanguinary battle. 
 " Ah ! my brother," said an inferior officer in the 
 American Revolution, to his own brother, a colonel 
 of the same regiment, as he lay wounded near his 
 heart, and his horse dead by his side, " One inch 
 nearer, my brother, and I should have had your reg 
 iment !" The infection of this barbarity diffuses it. 
 self even into society. " What a pity," exclaimed 
 a well-educated girl in her teens, " we could not 
 have had a war with France ! (1835) there are so 
 many cadets and midshipmen waiting for promo 
 tion ! 
 
 The soldier s life is a tissue of such savage de 
 velopments. " At the siege of Lerida," says Count 
 de Bussy, u a company of us, all intimate friends, 
 fell one day to drinking and singing after dinner. 
 In the height of our jollity, the Chevalier de 
 Valiere was called to give some instructions con 
 cerning certain works then in progress, and left us 
 for half an hour. In less than fifteen minutes, his 
 servant came crying out, my master is dead ! And 
 so it was ; for, while walking along the trenches, 
 and scorning to show more caution than his com? 
 panion, he was knocked on the head by a musket* 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 171 
 
 ball. We looked at each other in silence for a mo 
 ment ; and then the songs and glasses went round 
 as briskly as if nothing had happened !" " We 
 pitied our comrades when wounded," says Rocca in 
 Spain ; " but when once they had ceased to live, 
 the indifference shown them amounted almost to 
 irony. When the soldiers passing by, recognized 
 one of their companions stretched among the dead, 
 they just said, he is in want of nothing now ; 
 he ll not have his horse to abuse again ; he has 
 got drunk for the last time. " " A poor French 
 soldier in Egypt was attacked with the plague ; 
 and, as he saw the army starting to leave him, and 
 felt the venom of that dreadful malady circulating 
 in his veins, he made a last desperate effort to rise, 
 staggered a few steps, and then fell headlong on the 
 sand. He rose a second and a third time, writhing 
 in strange contortions, and staring wildly in terror 
 and despair. His comrades only ran from him, as 
 from the plague, and, turning round, burst, like a 
 set of drunken revellers, into roars of laughter at 
 his odd motions ; and, as he sank to rise no more, 
 ( he has got his last account ! shouted one ; 4 he ll 
 not march far ! cried a second ; while others ex 
 claimed. c see, he has taken up his last quarters ! It 
 is a terrible truth," adds Miot, " that indifference 
 and selfishness are the predominant traits of an 
 army." 
 
 Napoleon s campaign in Eussia was a horrible 
 commentary on this tendency of war. "Its hor 
 rors," says Labaume, " so far from exciting our sen 
 sibility, only hardened our hearts. Having no 
 longer the power of exercising our cruelty on our 
 enemies, we turned it on each other. The best 
 friends were estranged ; and whoever experienced 
 the least sickness, was certain of never seeing his 
 country again, unless he had good horses and faith- 
 
172 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 ful servants. Preserving the plunder of Moscaw 
 was preferred by most to the pleasure of saving a 
 comrade. We heard around us the groans of the 
 dying, and the plaintive voice of those who were 
 abandoned ; but all were deaf to their cries, and, if 
 any one approached them when on the point of 
 death, it was for the purpose of stripping them, 
 and searching whether they had any remains of 
 food. Whenever a soldier sunk from fatigue, his 
 next neighbor rushed on him, and stripped him 
 of his clothes, even before he was dead. Every 
 moment we heard them begging the aid of some 
 charitable hand. * My comrades, exclaimed one 
 with a heart-rending voice, help me to rise ; deign 
 to lend me a hand to pursue my march. All 
 passed by without even regarding him. Ah, I 
 conjure you not to abandon me to the enemy ; in the 
 name of humanity grant me the trifling assistance 
 I ask ; help me to rise. Instead of being moved 
 by a prayer so touching, they considered him as al 
 ready dead, and began to strip him ; and then we 
 heard his cries, Hep ! help ! they murder me ! 
 Why do you trample me under your feet ? Why 
 do you take from me the remainder of my money 
 and my bread? You even take away my clothes ! 3 
 If some officer, urged by generous feeling, did not 
 arrive in time to prevent it, many in the like situa 
 tion would have been assassinated by their own 
 comrades." 
 
 We cannot wonder at such results ; for the gov 
 ernment in war lends its high sanction to deeds that 
 would in individuals be deemed worthy of the prison 
 and the scaffold. War is the very anarchy and 
 carnival of crime. It teaches, for instance, the 
 worst forms of robbery. u A man who rushes to the 
 highway to rob, maddened by the sight of a fam 
 ished family, may plead powerful temptation j but 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR, 173 
 
 armies rob, burn and destroy in the coolest malice. 
 See a file of men, well fed and well clothed by a 
 great and powerful nation, proceed on a foraging 
 party. They enter a retired vale, where a peaceful 
 old man, by hard-handed toil, supports his humble 
 family. The officer coolly points with. his sword to 
 the few stacks of hay and grain laid up for winter. 
 Remonstrances are vain tears are vain. They 
 bear off his only supply, take his cow, his pet lamb, 
 add insult to oppression, and leave the ruined fam 
 ily to an almshouse or starvation. Nor is the seiz 
 ure or destruction of public stores any the less rob 
 bery. A nation has no more right to steal from a 
 nation, than an individual has to steal from an in 
 dividual. In principle, the act is the same; in 
 magnitude, the sin is greater, for all the private 
 robberies in a thousand years, are not a tithe of the 
 robberies of one war. In one of the Punic wars, 
 Carthage, with 100,000 houses, was burnt and de 
 stroyed, so that not a house remained ; and the 
 plunder carried away by the Romans in precious 
 metals and jewels alone, is reported to have been 
 eojual to five million pounds of silver. Who can 
 compute the number of similar events, from the de 
 struction of Jerusalem to that of Moscow ? A great 
 part also of the private robberies in Christendom, 
 may be traced to the deterioration of morals caused 
 by war. Thousands of pirates received their infa 
 mous education in national ships. Thousands of 
 thieves were disbanded soldiers. War taught these 
 men to disregard the rights of property, to trample 
 upon justice, and refuse mercy; and even if dis 
 posed to honest labor, which a military life always 
 tends to render unpalatable, the disbanded soldier 
 often finds himself unable to obtain employment, 
 and is thus compelled to steal or starve." So well 
 is this understood in the old world, that a veteran 
 15* 
 
174 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 regiment there is seldom disbanded at home, lest 
 they should turn highwaymen. 
 
 No war is exempt from such results. Our own 
 revolutionary struggle, though elevated far above 
 most wars, not only by the justness of its cause, but 
 by the general excellence of the men who fought its 
 battles, nevertheless confessedly left a blighting in 
 fluence upon the character of the nation. Wash 
 ington himself complained, " Our conflict is not 
 likely to cease so soon as every good man could 
 wish. The measure of our iniquity is not yet full ; 
 for speculation, peculation, engrossing, forestalling, 
 with all their concomitants, afford too many proofs 
 of the decay of public virtue, and too glaring instances 
 of its being the interest and desire of too many who 
 would be thought friends, to continue the war!" 
 a Such a spirit of avarice and peculation," says one 
 of our own historians, " had crept into the public 
 departments, and taken a deep hold of the majority 
 of the people, as Americans a few years before were 
 thought incapable of." This was the effect of the 
 war. " There sprang up. during the war," says an 
 other, " a race of men who sought to make private 
 advantage out of the public distress. This public 
 pest spread wider every day, and finally gangrened 
 the very heart of the state." Such men as Franklin, 
 Adams, and others uttered similar complaints ; and 
 Congress itself, writing to its commissioners in 
 France, said, " There is scarce an officer, civil or 
 military, but that feels something of a desire to be 
 engaged in mercantile speculation ; we are almost a 
 continental tribe of Jews." 
 
 The Christians of that day took a still more seri 
 ous view of the case. A Presbytery in New Eng 
 land, all friends of the war itself, published a vol 
 ume to illustrate and arrest its malign influences 
 upon the moral character of the community. They 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 175 
 
 specify the vices and sins that had become most 
 prevalent. " The profanest language," say they, 
 " is become the fashionable dialect. The youth, that 
 was bred in innocence, and was never heard to de 
 file his tongue with one profane oath in his life, no 
 sooner gets on board a privateer, or has spent a few 
 days in a camp, than we find him learned in all the 
 language of hell ! The most horrid oaths and infer 
 nal curses load and taint the air about him. And 
 this language passes current as graces of conversa 
 tion, as a polish of style that should suffice to dub 
 him a fine gentlemen !" 
 
 Corruption, fraud and cruelty grew apace. " Be 
 nevolence to our fellow-men," say they, " was per 
 haps never less cultivated in any country, than of 
 late among us. Hard-hearted indifference to the 
 distress of the poor, the widow, and the orphan, has 
 risen up, and seized her throne. The base-born 
 spirit of selfishness never had so unrestrained sway 
 in this land. This has cut out work for all the 
 passions, and kept them in constant employ. Pride 
 and false honor have disgraced our armies with the 
 barbarous practice of duelling, and friends have im 
 brued their hands in the blood of friends, while the 
 connivance of superiors has given sanction to the 
 crime. Avarice stalks in the streets, or lurks in 
 the corners, and has stained the public roads with 
 inhuman murders. Avarice and extortion were 
 never carried here to such lengths. Fraud and op 
 pression sweep all before them ; while debauchery 
 and vice fill both town and country. Glaring in 
 stances of peculation, and breach of public trust, 
 are sheltered and uncensured ; and private robbery, 
 thefts, and burglaries abound more and more." 
 
 " Intemperance, also, is become sadly common 
 among us men ; and this monster, not content 
 with human sacrifices among the men ? and with 
 
176 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 making shipwreck of many professors of religion 
 too, has begun to ravage and destroy even the 
 gentler sex ! 7 It is well known that the war of 
 our revolution was the starting point, the great 
 fountain of our national intemperance. 
 
 Licentiousness, however, was perhaps the foulest 
 offshoot of the war. " It is well known," say these 
 men, who admired the war evon while deploring so 
 many of its evil results, " that this period never had 
 its parallel in America for the prevalence of all the 
 vices of sensuality. Uncleanness is awfully in 
 creased ; ante-nuptial fornications are so frequent, 
 and so slightly censured, that it has almost ceased 
 to be regarded as a crime ; adulteries are excused 
 under the name of gallantries ; books utterly unfit 
 for a modest eye, are published avowedly on pur 
 pose to teach intrigue as a science ; and the poison 
 ous letters of a British nobleman are eagerly 
 bought up, read and commended as a standard of 
 politeness and true taste, though the direct tend 
 ency is to patronize lewdness, and make the world 
 forget that chastity is a virtue." 
 
 The influence of the war-system even in peace is 
 extremely pernicious to good morals. It was of 
 ficially stated in the British Parliament, that of the 
 soldiers stationed in the United Kingdom, one in 
 twenty annually passes through the public jails ; 
 while of the general population, including the 
 army itself, there is but one to five hundred more 
 than twenty-five to one in favor of civil life ! It 
 would appear from other official disclosures, that 
 the army and navy of England are vast nurseries 
 of intemperance ; for a high officer a few years ago 
 testified, " that nine tenths of the murders, and 
 other crimes of great enormity, committed by Brit 
 ish soldiers in India, are induced by drunkenness, 
 and that generally the crimes for which men are 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 177 
 
 flogged in the army, originate from the same 
 cause." 
 
 The demoralizing influence even of our own mi 
 litia drills has long been notorious to a proverb. It 
 has been a source of general corruption to the 
 community, and formed habits of idleness, dissipa 
 tion and profligacy. It has done a great deal to 
 flood our land with intemperance ; and muster- 
 fields have generally been scenes or occasions of 
 gambling, licentiousness, and almost every vice. 
 The history of our militia drills is a tissue of such 
 facts. In answer to inquiries made by our General 
 Government in 1826, the highest officers of the 
 militia in different sections of the country repre 
 sented i militia musters as prejudicial to the morals 
 of the community ; as assemblies of idle and dis 
 sipated persons ; as making idlers and drunkards 
 rather than soldiers ; as attended, under the most 
 favorable circumstances, with riot, drunkenness, and 
 every species of immorality ; as always scenes of 
 the lowest and most destructive dissipation, where 
 nothing was acquired but the most pernicious hab 
 its. Nor has the progress of temperance cured 
 these evils ; for they are well-nLjh inseparable from 
 any part of the war-system. An eye-witness of a 
 New England training, so late as 1845, says, 
 " beastly drunkenness, and other immoralities, were 
 enough to make good men shudder at the very 
 name of a muster. Never, on any occasion, have I 
 seen so many rational beings turned by the power 
 of rum, into babbling idiots and fierce madmen. 
 More than one of these wretches I saw stretched 
 out by the roadside, retaining only the power to 
 utter the rude oath or obscene jest, and exhibiting 
 a spectacle of loathsome degradation, which might 
 well make the very beasts of the field bellow." 
 
178 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 INFLUENCE OF WAR ON SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 MAN was made for society ; and society, so essen 
 tial to his improvement and well-being, rests for 
 support mainly on the domestic constitution, on public 
 worship, and civil government. These are each co 
 eval with our race, the divinely appointed guardians 
 of man s welfare, and the chief handmaids to his 
 happiness, both here and hereafter. 
 
 Now, mark the influence of war upon these cen 
 tral, indispensable institutions of society. It is a 
 deadly foe to the hearth. It sports with the sym 
 pathies of home, rudely sunders its most sacred 
 bonds, and fiercely tramples in the dust all its vir 
 tues and all its interests. It takes the brother 
 from his sisters, and the son from his parents, the 
 husband from his wife, and the father from his 
 children ; nor can its operation be carried on with 
 out a wide and fearful amount of domestic misery. 
 It forbids marriage to most of its agents, and thus 
 prevents the rise of families as incompatible with 
 their vagrant trade of blood. Its very breath taints 
 the pure and balmy atmosphere of home. It pan 
 ders to vices, arid forms habits, that are fatal to do 
 mestic happiness. It tends to overwhelm, or un 
 dermine, or rot down in the slime and stench of its 
 own impurity, that domestic constitution which God 
 established in Eden, as the basis of whatever is 
 good or great, useful or happy, on earth. Review 
 the entire history of war ; and you will find it a 
 perpetual crusade against this elementary and es 
 sential institution of society. Let every family on 
 earth engage in war for fifty years in succession ; 
 and it would extinguish nearly all the hearth-fires 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 179 
 
 tff the world, and well-nigh exterminate the whole 
 human race. 
 
 The worship of God, equally indispensable to 1 
 the welfare of individuals and society, depends 
 almost entirely on the Sabbath, or the consecration 
 of some specified time to religious services. Here 
 is its essence. We insist only on this principle ; 
 for the devout Quaker who discards the Sabbath 
 as an institution, still has his stated periods for the 
 worship of God, and thus secures to himself a Sab 
 bath as truly as any Puritan ever did. In this 
 sense the Sabbath is the sheet-anchor of religion 
 and good morals. All experience prows it so ; for 
 France tried to do without it, and plunged at once 
 into atheism, anarchy, and a sea of vices and crimes. 
 It is the nurse and guardian of intelligence, and 
 piety, and virtue, and good order, and general 
 prosperity. It is the hinge of God s moral govern 
 ment over our world, and the main-spring or pivot 
 of all the instrumentalities employed or appointed 
 for the salvation of mankind. 
 
 War, however, cannot respect the Sabbath. The 
 common routine of the camp forbids it ; and extra 
 duties are generally assigned to this day. Even 
 when the army is not present, the heavy trains of 
 the commissary must move on ; the arsenal and the 
 ship-yard must maintain their activity ; and innu 
 merable mechanics, watermen and laborers, must 
 be kept busy. During our late war with England, 
 who did not witness on all our frontiers the general 
 desecration of the holy day ? Men swarmed like 
 ants on a mole hill, to throw up intrenchments ; 
 the wharves resounded with the din of business ; and 
 idlers forsook the house of God to gaze upon the 
 scenes of preparation. War knows no Sabbath. 
 Its battles are fought, its inarches continued, its 
 
 
180 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 fortifications constructed, its drills performed, all 
 its labors exacted, all its recreations indulged on 
 this, even more than any other day of the week, 
 The battle of Waterloo, like a multitude of others, 
 was fought without scruple on the Sabbath ; and 
 even Christians among ourselves have been heard 
 to say, there is no Sabbath in times of war. Nor 
 indeed is there any Sabbath for soldiers even in a 
 time of peace ; for all over Europe, even in our 
 own army, is the Sabbatli the chosen time for spe 
 cial and splendid reviews. Soldiers are absolutely 
 compelled to trample under foot this day of God ; 
 and their example, backed by men in power, and 
 justified by the best members of society, as the 
 necessary privilege of war, must in time unclinch 
 the hold of the Sabbath upon the conscience, heart 
 and habits of any community. Even the sons of 
 the Puritans are not proof against influences like 
 these ; for the Sabbath of New England itself has 
 received from three wars, the French, the Revolu 
 tionary, and the last, a shock from which only the 
 millennium can ever restore it to the sanctity and 
 moral power which it had in the days of our fathers. 
 Let us on this point take a few facts from our 
 revolutionary war. " The holy Sabbath," say good 
 men on the spot at the time, u is grown into such 
 contempt, that all the force of civil laws can scarcely 
 suffice to preserve even the appearance of regard 
 for it. IN ever was the public worship of God so 
 generally voted away as at the present. Many, 
 grudging the expense of supporting it, have dis 
 missed God s ambassadors, and locked up the doors 
 of his house. The regular churches through the 
 land have suffered sorely from the common storm ; 
 and in New England the houses of God, wherever 
 the British army went, became the prime butt of 
 their vengeance. Some were turned into stables, 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 181 
 
 gome into riding-houses, some consumed with 
 flames, and some razed to the foundation. Of 
 those which remained, not a few were shut by the 
 death or removal of the pastors, and many deserted 
 by the dispersion of the congregations that used to 
 worship in them. How often is the pious eye now 
 (near the close of the war) shocked at the sight of 
 men hurrying away the most precious moments of 
 the Lord s day in sending vessels to sea, in begin 
 ning or pursuing journeys or worldly business, or 
 wasting that holy season in indolence at home, or 
 impertinent visits, or idle walks about the wharves, 
 streets or fields. How many there are that habitu 
 ally combine to kill the time on that sacred day, in 
 coffee-houses and sots holes, in bargains or news, 
 in gaming or intemperance. And if such outrages 
 against God and religion are called in question, 
 the answer in almost every mouth is ready /is 
 war times" 
 
 Mark, also, the influence of war upon civil gov 
 ernment. It is claimed as the support of govern 
 ment ; but has war been wont to sustain any other 
 than arbitrary, despotic rule ? In every age and 
 clime has it been the origin and chief support of 
 oppression in all its forms. You cannot find in all 
 history a despotism that did not originate in war, 
 and rely upon the sword for the continuance of its 
 power over the people. What gave rise to slavery 
 and the slave-trade ? What stabbed the liberties 
 of Greece and Rome ? What has proved the ruin 
 of nearly all republics ? War. Look at Greece 
 under Philip, at Rome under Caesar, at France 
 under Napoleon, at nearly all the republics south 
 of us, where freedom is little else than a foot-ball 
 bandied in blood through the land by military 
 chieftains. 
 
 16 
 
 
182 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAS. 
 
 Nor can we wonder at this ; for the spirit and 
 the principles of war are thoroughly despotic. 
 " The discipline and the customs of the camp," says 
 Channing, " are the confines of the slave. What 
 is the liberty of a soldier ? An iron discipline. 
 In the case of an offence, how is he to be tried 1 
 Not by a jury of his peers, but by the stern rules 
 of a court martial." What is a soldier? A mere 
 tool of arbitrary power ! " one who yields," says a 
 distinguished officer, " implicit obedience to all 
 commands, who regards no law but the will of his 
 superiors, and never scruples to do whatever is re 
 quired of him." So we find it in fact. A British 
 officer, when marching a detachment to attack a 
 fortification in Spain, strictly charged them not to 
 fire. -What then shall we do?" asked one of 
 them. " Turn the corner of yonder wall," replied 
 the officer, " and stab with your bayonet every mail 
 you meet." And this has been admired as a fin 
 specimen of military discipline ! 
 
 Let us quote some high testimonies on this point. 
 " With war," says Ex-President Adams. " conies a 
 full and plenary power over the whole subject even 
 of slavery. It is a war power ; and, when your 
 country is actually in war, whether it be a war of 
 invasion, or a war of insurrection, Congress has 
 power to carry it on, and must carry it on accord 
 ing to the laws of war ; and by those laws an in 
 vaded country has all its laws and institutions 
 swept by the board, and martial law takes the 
 place of them." The venerable statesman quoted 
 the conduct of Gen. Jackson to confirm his positions; 
 and two of our commanders (Sloat and Kearney) in 
 the war with Mexico added to our republic territory 
 enough for an empire twice as large as France, and 
 erected therein a civil government, all by a mere 
 word in the exercise of the war-power. It was an 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 183 
 
 aot of sheer despotism, but did not nevertheless 
 transcend the powers essential to the war-system. 
 
 " It has been," says Franklin, " a generally re 
 ceived opinion, that a military man is not to inquire 
 whether a war be just or unjust: he is to execute 
 his orders ! All princes that are disposed to be 
 come tyrants, must probably approve of this opin 
 ion ; but is it not a dangerous one? On this 
 principle," essential to the war system, " if the 
 tyrant commands his t army to attack and destroy, 
 not only an unoffending neighbor nation, but even 
 his own subjects, his army is bound to obey. A 
 negro slave in our colonies, being commanded by 
 his master to rob or murder a neighbor, or do any 
 other immoral act, may refuse, and the magistrate 
 will protect him in his refusal. The slavery of a 
 soldier then is worse than that of a negro}" 1 
 
 General Wilkinson, an officer in the war of 1812, 
 says, a dupe during my whole life to the preju 
 dices I now reprobate, I warn my country against 
 military enthusiasm, and the pride of arms, by 
 which the yeomanry, the palladium of the republic, 
 are depreciated, and standing armies and navies are 
 encouraged. Who would exchange the blessings of 
 freedom for the repute of having eclipsed the whole 
 human race in feats of valor? This is a serious 
 question ; it affects the vital interest of every free 
 man ; and we should pause arid reflect before it is 
 too late. We have escaped from one war, with a 
 crippled constitution ; the next will probably de 
 stroy it ; therefore, let the motto of the state be 
 PEACE." 
 
 Peace is essential to our prosperous or permanent 
 freedom. Almost every other republic in the world 
 has fallen a victim to war ; and, if our liberties are 
 ever lost, they too will, in like manner, be cloven 
 down by the sword. The soldiers even of Wash- 
 
>J84 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 ington urged him. in a moment of passion, to as 
 sume the sceptre ; had he been almost any other 
 man, he would have seized the occasion, to raise 
 for himself a throne upon the ruins of our nascent 
 freedom ; and though that incomparable man spurn 
 ed the offer, yet must war, once become either ha 
 bitual or frequent, bring on, sooner or later, such 
 exigencies as will leave us at the mercy of some 
 future Cesar or Napoleon. 
 
 Weil has Judge Jay said^" war has always been 
 adverse to political freedom. A Roman statesman 
 declared, that laws are silent in the midst of arms ; 
 and the experience of ages has converted the words 
 into a proverb. Civil liberty requires the substitu 
 tion of laws for the will of the ruler; but in war, 
 the will of the ruler becomes the source of legiti 
 mate authority, and the bulwarks erected around 
 civil rights, are all levelled on the proclamation of 
 martial law. Constitutional liberty is often sacri 
 ficed to the policy of war, and almost every cam 
 paign produces its dictator. Few men have ever 
 been more jealous of encroachments on their rights 
 than the fathers of the American Revolution ; yet 
 were they frequently induced by the exigencies of 
 the war to submit to the most despotic measures. 
 At one period, no citizen of New York was per 
 mitted to pass from one county to another without 
 a passport ; and the convention of the same state 
 authorized a committee of three to send for persons 
 and papers ; to call out detachments of the militia ; 
 to apprehend, imprison, and banish whom they 
 thought proper ; to impose secrecy on those they 
 employed ; to make draughts on the treasury ; to 
 raise officers, and employ as they pleased 220 sol 
 diers. All history bears testimony to the natural 
 tendency of war to establish and strengthen arbi 
 trary power. The pride and pomp of war, the un- 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 185 
 
 limited power of the commander, the gradations of 
 rank, and the blind, mechanical obedience exacted 
 from the troops, all conspire to render an army a 
 fit instrument of tyranny." 
 
 Madison is very fall and emphatic on the despotic 
 tendencies of war. * ; Of all the enemies of public 
 liberty," he says, " war is perhaps the most to be 
 dreaded. It is the parent of armies ; from these 
 proceed debts and taxes ; and armies, and debts, 
 and taxes are the well-known instruments for bring 
 ing the many under the dominion of the few. War 
 is the true nurse of executive aggrandizement. In 
 war, a physical force is to be created ; and it is the 
 executive will that is to direct it. The public 
 treasures are to be unlocked ; and it is the execu 
 tive hand which is to dispense them. The honors 
 and emoluments of office are to be multiplied ; and 
 it is the executive patronage under which they are 
 to be enjoyed. It is in war, finally, that laurels 
 are to be gathered ; and it is the executive brow 
 they are to encircle. \The strongest passions and 
 most dangerous weaknesses of the human breast, 
 ambition, avarice, vanity, the honorable or the ven 
 ial love of fame, are all in conspiracy against the 
 desire and the duty of peace. Hence it has grown 
 into an axiom, that it is the executive department 
 of power most distinguished by its propensity to 
 war ; and hence the practice of all states, in pro 
 portion as they are free, to disarm this propensity 
 of its influence. In war, too, the discretionary 
 power of the executive is extended ; and all the 
 means of seducing the mind, are added to those of 
 subduing the force of the people. No NATION 
 
 COULD PRESERVE ITS FREEDOM IN THE MIDST OF 
 
 CONTINUED WARFARE. These truths are well 
 established." 
 
 Still worse is the mental despotism of war, the 
 16* 
 
186 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 cruellest and coarsest of all despotisms, the very 
 genius of pagan barbarism lording it over civilized, 
 nominally Christian men. It allows the soldier 
 neither liberty of speech, nor freedom of inquiry, 
 nor the safe, unshackled exercise of his own con 
 science. It turns him into a mere wheel in the vast 
 machinery of war, and forbids his moving beyond 
 his prescribed sphere in the work of carnage and de 
 vastation. It well-nigh annihilates all individuality 
 of mind and character. The will of thousands it 
 holds in stern subjection to a single mind, and keeps 
 them in a state of bondage more galling to the soul 
 than that of a Polish serf, a Turkish peasant, or a 
 galley slave. 
 
 We might, also, glance at the baleful effects of 
 war upon other institutions of society, especially 
 those of learning. Even the war of 1812 turned 
 some of our colleges into barracks ; and in that of 
 our revolution " some were rifled," say the men of 
 those times, u others reduced to ashes, and not one 
 in America, except Dartmouth, escaped without 
 harm. Education languished ; and many of the 
 youth destined for the service of the church, be 
 took themselves to the law, to trade, to the army 
 and the navy." 
 
 War is a very demon of vandalism. Whose 
 torch burnt those treasures of knowledge which so 
 many centuries had been accumulating in Egypt ? 
 Whose hand seized the noblest monuments of an 
 cient art, and hurled them in fragments to the 
 ground 1 Whose heel of iron trampled on the 
 statues, and temples, and arches, and columns of 
 Greece and Home 1 The richest treasures of learn 
 ing, the finest works of art, the most splendid pro 
 ductions of taste and genius, war has wantonly de 
 stroyed, and seemed to glory in the ruin. 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 187 
 
 War is a fearful incubus on the mass of minds. 
 It would, if habitual, paralyze the national intellect, 
 and roll back the wheels of general improvement. 
 It would blight, more or less, every seminary of 
 learning, from the highest to the lowest. It stalks 
 rough-shod over all such institutions. It would 
 thin even our Sabbath and common schools, as 
 well as our academies, colleges, and professional 
 seminaries ; and not a few of the youth destined to 
 these nurseries of intellect and knowledge, would 
 be forced into fleets and camps, or be dragged from 
 the very temples of science to meet the hardships 
 and horrors of war. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 
 INFLUENCE OF WAR UPON THE ENTERPRISES OF CHRISTIAN 
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 : 
 
 THE Church of Christ, after centuries of com 
 parative slumber, has at length girded herself in 
 earnest for the work of reclaiming the whole world 
 to Grod, and has organized her Sabbath Schools, and 
 her Peace and Temperance, Tract and Bible, Mis 
 sionary and kindreJ Societies, as the special ma 
 chinery wherewith to work out this grand and glo 
 rious result. 
 
 But war either stops or cripples all this ma 
 chinery. It impedes every enterprise of Christian 
 benevolence. Would you roll back the waves of 
 intemperance ? War would open its flood-gates 
 wider than ever, and pour over the whole land its 
 waves of liquid fire and death. It has ever been a 
 hot-bed of this evil ; nor could a war rage through 
 out our country, without putting back the cause 
 
188 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 of temperance a whole generation. Its fleets, its 
 camps, and recruiting rendezvous, are all so many 
 nurseries of drunkenness and kindred vices. So 
 all experience, all observation, testify. The war- 
 system even in peace is a most prolific source of in 
 temperance ; for its musters, its parades, and its 
 military visits, and dinners, and balls, and other 
 displays, are so many incentives to habits of intoxi 
 cation. 
 
 Would you fain convert our seamen to God? 
 Alas ! war would soon carry them beyond your 
 reach, on board those war-ships which warriors 
 themselves have sometimes called u floating hells. 1 
 This department of benevolence a vigorous naval 
 war would almost entirely suspend, and leave at its 
 close nearly our whole marine in a state of moral 
 degeneracy, from which it would perhaps require a 
 score of years fully to reclaim them. 
 
 Would you check the tide of impurity ? War 
 would multiply its reeking Sodoms all over the 
 land. Would you follow hard upon the farthest 
 wave of Western population, or thread the dark 
 alleys and lanes of our cities, to gather the young 
 into Sabbath schools, and there bring them under 
 the power of God s truth ? "War would thwart you 
 at every step, and either drive the children from 
 you, or paralyze no small part of your efforts. 
 Would you plant on the very confines of the wil 
 derness, churches that shall one day make the moral 
 desert there bud and blossom like the rose, and 
 send back thence men. and money, and prayers for 
 the world s evangelization ? W r ar would drive your 
 home missionaries from their field, or well-nigh 
 neutralize their power. The mere anticipation of a 
 war in Canada once disbanded a whole presbytery 
 of missionaries, and drove them out of the country; 
 and, amid the whirlwind of war excitement that 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 189 
 
 swept for a time down the great valley of the 
 West, when our troops rushed to the Rio Grande, 
 what could the best preachers in the world have 
 done for the conversion of sinners, or the sanctifi- 
 cation of Christians ? 
 
 As a specimen of all the rest, however, take the 
 great enterprise of evangelizing the world, and see 
 how the custom of war bears upon this noblest form 
 of benevolence. The providence of God pretty fully 
 discloses his views of its influences in this respect. 
 What time did he select for our Saviour s great 
 mission from heaven ? A time when the temple of 
 Janus at Rome, in token of general peace and tran 
 quillity, was shut more than twenty years ; a longer 
 period of rest from war than had then been known for 
 ages. Review the history of his church from that 
 day to this ; and where will you find her eras of 
 zealous, successful evangelization ? Not in war, but 
 in peace almost alone ; and during the thirty years 
 of general peace after the battle of Waterloo, more 
 was done towards the world s conversion to God, 
 than had been done for centuries before. 
 
 Peace fosters the spirit of missions. It was the 
 spirit of peace that brought our Saviour from the 
 bosom of his father ; that breathed through his 
 whole life, and drew from his cross the prayer, 
 " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they 
 do." The same spirit animated the martyr at the 
 stake, and carried the apostles from continent to 
 continent, through fire and blood, with their mes 
 sage of salvation to perishing men. Look at 
 Brainerd in the Indian s wigwam ; track the Mo 
 ravian through the snows of Greenland ; follow the 
 footsteps of Schwartz across the burning plains of 
 India, or of Martyn over the mountains of Persia; 
 and you find in each case the same spirit that loves 
 its enernies ; turns the other cheek to the smiter, 
 
190 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 and seeks to overcome evil only with good. Such 
 is the spirit of peace ; nor can it exist without 
 nourishing the disposition to bless the world with 
 our religion of peace. 
 
 How unlike such a spirit is that of war ! They 
 are antagonistic, utterly incompatible. Could two 
 neighbors, while fiercely panting each for the other s 
 blood, seek one another s salvation ? No more can 
 two nations, while putting forth their utmost ener 
 gies in vindictive, murderous strife, labor one for 
 the spiritual good of the other. So of the world ; 
 and, if all its myriads were simultaneously engaged 
 in war, the work of its Christiariization must cease 
 for the time, nor could ever begin again until the 
 fires of war were quenched. 
 
 Peace is somewhat necessary, also, to secure God s 
 blessing upon this enterprise. Why did he give to 
 the fishermen of Galilee so much more success than 
 he does to modern missionaries 1 There may be 
 many other reasons ; but we think a chief one is to 
 be found in the war-degeneracy of the church. Even 
 under the Jewish dispensation, God manifested his 
 abhorrence of blood by forbidding David, expressly 
 for this reason, to build the temple ; and ever since 
 the war-degeneracy of his followers, has the Prince 
 of Peace shown his displeasure, by his diminished 
 blessing on their efforts to spread his religion. 
 How rapid its early progress ! How signal, how 
 glorious the success of its first missionaries ! 
 Without scrip or purse, with no diadem on her brow 
 save a crown of thorns, and no weapon in her hand 
 but the sword of the Spirit, the church went forth 
 under God s smiles, from conquering to conquer. 
 Paganism bowed or fled before her ; and in less 
 than three centuries did she fill the Eoman Empire 
 with her converts. At length she took the sword, 
 and well-nigh perished by the sword. The Holy 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES* OF WAR. 191 
 
 Spirit, the Dove of peace from heaven, fled before 
 the vultures of war ; and from that day the church 
 lost the secret of her power, the mainspring of her 
 progress, her simple reliance under Grod on moral 
 means alone. For a thousand years she lost far 
 more than she gained, and left nearly all the coun 
 tries touching the Mediterranean on three conti 
 nents, which had been the very centre of her primi 
 tive triumphs, in a condition less favorable to the 
 religion of Jesus than they were at the hour of his 
 crucifixion. Her whole war-period was at best a 
 dead loss to the church ; it merely embalmed in 
 blood the trophies of her primitive purity and zeal. 
 So with the Reformation ; it won all its triumphs 
 with the sword of the Spirit, and cut the sinews of 
 its strength when it drew the sword of war ; nor 
 has it in the last two centuries gained so much as it 
 once did in a single year. 
 
 Peace is, also, indispensable to secure the men 
 and the money requisite for the world s conversion. 
 It has been estimated, that 30,000 heralds of the 
 cross would suffice for this purpose ; but the wars of 
 Europe alone sacrificed in twenty-two years three 
 hundred times that number, and the war-system of 
 Christendom employs for its support, even in peace, 
 about one hundred times as many ! 
 
 Nor is peace less necessary to procure the requi 
 site funds. Our best laborers dragged by war from 
 their fields and shops to the camp, our commerce 
 swept from the ocean, our vessels rotting at our 
 wharves, the grass growing in the very heart of our 
 cities, our manufactures crippled, our agriculture 
 neglected, every department of gainful industry 
 paralyzed, all the great sources of our wealth dried 
 up at the very time that the expenses of living, and 
 the taxes of government are enormously increased, 
 whence could we get the means of giving the gospel 
 
192 MALIGN Hft)RAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 to the whole world ? But, if we spent in our war 
 with a handful of Indians in Florida, more than 
 $40,000,000 ; if our revolutionary war cost Eng 
 land some seven hundred millions, and her wars 
 with the French revolutionists four or five thousand 
 millions ; if those wars wasted for all Europe from 
 thirty to forty thousand millions ; if the war debts 
 of Christendom are now some ten thousand mill 
 ions ; how easy, by a mere fraction of the bare in 
 terest on such sums, to furnish all the money needed 
 to evangelize forthwith every tribe and family on 
 the globe ! 
 
 But war, moreover, dries up or poisons the very 
 fountains of those moral influences which sustain 
 the missionary enterprise. These are all found in 
 the general prosperity of the church at home in 
 the growth of her members and her graces ; in her 
 frequent and glorious revivals of religion ; in the 
 multitude and ceaseless activity of her Sabbath 
 schools ; in her system of educating a body of able, 
 devoted men for her ministry ; in the success of 
 her efforts to stay the ravages of intemperance, and 
 fill the land with tracts, and Bibles, and churches, 
 and the benign influences of a Sabbath devoted to 
 the worship of God, and the salvation of souls. Here 
 are the mainsprings of the missionary cause ; and 
 every one of them a vigorous, long-protracted war 
 would either destroy, suspend, or seriously paralyze. 
 
 But suppose the church, even in the midst of 
 war, to do more than ever for the spread of her 
 gospel, how are her missionaries to reach their dis 
 tant fields, or to carry on their blessed work there ? 
 Our vessels of commerce, which now transport 
 them, war would of course sweep from the ocean ; 
 and so entirely dependent should we be on the 
 mercy of a powerful, exasperated foe, that France, 
 with a solitary war-ship, might drive most of our 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 193 
 
 missionaries from the Pacific, and England, with a 
 single dash of her premier s pen, might silence 
 half our missionaries now in the eastern world. 
 
 But let the missionary reach his field, and what 
 does he there meet ? A host of strong, bitter 
 prejudices against his religion of peace, from the 
 history of warring Christendom. Why were the 
 Jesuit missionaries expelled from China, and all 
 Christians forbidden to set foot on the shores of 
 Japan ? Those countries caught a horror of men so 
 notorious, as nominal Christians are, for their ra 
 pacity, and their terrible success in war. What 
 drew down the wrath of Burmah upon Judson and 
 his co-workers 1 Not hatred of Christianity, for 
 the Burmans as a body knew not enough about the 
 gospel to hate it intelligently ; but their dread of 
 British bayonets bristling along their borders, of 
 baptized warriors carrying, or threatening to carry, 
 fire and sword into the heart of their dominions. 
 Had those missionaries never been confounded with 
 warriors from Christendom, they might have been 
 permitted to continue their work unmolested, until 
 all Burmah had bowed at the foot of the cross. 
 "Why was it for ages so extremely difficult to Chris 
 tianize the aborigines of America ? Ask the story 
 of their wrongs, the history of our wars against 
 them. A Romish priest, soon after the conquest 
 of South America by the Spaniards, was one day 
 conversing with some Indians, and urging them, by 
 the awful retributions of heaven and of hell, to em 
 brace Christianity, the religion of their conquerors. 
 " Are there any Spaniards in heaven ? 3 inquired 
 those savages. " Spaniards !" replied the priest ; 
 " to be sure ; the Spaniards are the children of the 
 church they all go to heaven." " Then," retorted 
 those indignant, outraged sons of the forest, " then, 
 sir, we ll go to hell !" What a plunge ! Yet so 
 17 
 
194 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 felt not only the twelve millions whom the Span 
 iards are said to have destroyed in little more than 
 forty years, but nearly all the Indians both in South 
 and North America ; and the gangrene of a sim 
 ilar prejudice has crept more or less over the great 
 mass of unevangelized minds on the globe. 
 
 Still more specific are the statements of Wolfe, 
 the missionary who traversed three continents. 
 " A Jew once said to me, i You go to war, and you 
 call Jesus Christ the Prince of Peace, and pray to 
 him to help your warriors to vanquish your enemies ; 
 and, after battle, you go to your churches, and there 
 sing Te Deum for the victory. When in the land 
 of the Afghans, a minister of the prince asked me, 
 4 What is your religion in England ? Have you 
 any at all ? Yes, said I. we have. What then is 
 it he retorted. You send messengers here to 
 bribe the king, and stir up war. Is that your re 
 ligion ? I once gave a Turk the gospel to read, 
 and pointed him to the fifth chapter of Matthew as 
 showing the beauty of its doctrines. But, said he, 
 you Christians are the greatest hypocrites in the 
 world. How so ? Why, here it is said, Blessed 
 are the peace-makers ; and yet you, more than any 
 others, teach us to make war, and are yourselves 
 the greatest warriors on earth ! How can you be 
 so shameless ? " 
 
 The heathen are not ignorant of our war char 
 acter. Have they read none of our history written 
 for ages in blood? Know they not that Christen 
 dom is now covered with barracks, and bristling 
 with millions of bayonets ? Nay, have we not our 
 selves carried the proof of our guilt to the very 
 doors of the heathen ? Show us in the wide world 
 any considerable country which nominal Christiana 
 have not drenched in blood. Traverse all Asia ? 
 all Africa, all America : and where will you not 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 195 
 
 find their war-tracks in fire, and blood, and tears ? 
 Thus has war made the very name of Christianity 
 a hissing, a scorn and a loathing through the pagan 
 world ; and the missionary, go where he will, must 
 meet these deep, bitter, almost incurable prejudices 
 against our religion of peace, so strangely belied for 
 fifteen centuries by her warring votaries. Not a 
 sea can he cross, not a country reach, scarce an isl 
 and touch, but the war-dogs from Christendom 
 have been there before him, to throw in his way 
 obstacles which ages can hardly suffice to remove. 
 Abolish war among nominal Christians ; and you 
 pave the way for the speedy, thorough conversion 
 of the whole world to God, and peace will be found 
 to be quite indispensable to the full success of the 
 missionary enterprise. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF WAR ON THE SALVATION OF MANKIND. 
 
 THE soul is man s great interest ; and no created 
 mind can adequately conceive how much will be 
 gained by its salvation, or lost by its ruin. Earth 
 has no arithmetic for such calculations. Ask the 
 tenants of the spirit-world, the saint bowing in 
 rapture before the eternal throne, or the lost sinner 
 writhing in the agonies of perdition ; ask Him who 
 made the soul for himself, or Him who came from 
 heaven to redeem the soul by his own blood, or that 
 blessed Spirit who is now at work amid the ruins 
 of the fall to renew the soul, and render it meet 
 for the paradise a43ove ; for the omniscient God alone 
 can tell the sum total of bliss or woe which awaits 
 every traveller to eternity. 
 
196 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR 
 
 Here lies the chief evil of war in its tendency 
 to ruin the soul. It does so with a wide and fear 
 ful efficacy. It makes men forget their immortal 
 interests. A war, in actual progress, becomes of 
 course the all-engrossing theme of society ; the 
 whole land is full of it ; the public mind is satu 
 rated with it ; and such an absorption of high and 
 low, old and young, saints and sinners, on any other 
 subject than that of vital godliness, cannot fail to 
 obstruct their salvation. 
 
 War, also, disqualifies men for a saving reception 
 of the gospel. Metals must be melted before you can 
 cast them ; you must heat iron before you can weld 
 it ; and upon a community of minds impregnated 
 with war-passions, the strongest truths of God s 
 word would fall powerless as moon-beams on a 
 mountain of ice. But war throws millions of minds 
 into such a state. It fills whole empires with ani 
 mosity, malevolence, revenge. It makes the public 
 heart a caldron of seething, boiling passions. It 
 blinds the mind to God s truth ; it sears or per 
 verts the conscience ; it hardens or exasperates 
 the heart ; it renders the whole soul well-nigh im 
 penetrable for the time to any arrows even from 
 the quiver of the Almighty. Can you bring the 
 truth of God into saving contact with minds thus 
 affected ? Can you, with any hope of success, 
 preach the gospel to an army on tiptoe for battle, 
 or to a community roused and convulsed with the 
 fierce, vindictive passions of war ? No : breathe the 
 genuine war-spirit into every bosom on earth ; and 
 from that moment must the work of conversion and 
 sanctification cease everywhere. 
 
 War, moreover, prevents the use of means for the 
 salvation of men. The millions of standing warriors 
 now in Christendom, it deprives even in peace of 
 nearly all religious privileges, and thus exposes them 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 197 
 
 to almost certain perdition. No class of men, not 
 even seamen, are so poorly provided with the means 
 of grace. Next to nothing is done for their salva 
 tion. There is no pastor, no missionary among 
 them to care for their souls ; and, if there were, his 
 labors, generally subject to the dictation of an un 
 godly commander, would probably be, like those of 
 Baxter himself even in a Puritan camp, well-nigh 
 useless. No Sabbath dawns upon them ; no sanc 
 tuary opens its doors to them ; no Sabbath-schools, 
 no prayer-meeting, no family altar, scarce a Bible 
 or a tract, can be found among the mass of men 
 trained to the work of human butchery for a liveli 
 hood. So it must be. Look at the very nature of 
 war ; and tell us what can be done for the souls of 
 men cast in its own mould, imbued with its spirit, 
 and steepod in its vices and crimes, lleview the 
 history of war ; and tell us what has been done or 
 attempted for the salvation of warriors. Among 
 the millions that fought, and the millions that fell, 
 during the late wars of Europe, did one in ten or a 
 hundred enjoy the ordinary means of grace ? We 
 grant that much more is now done in a few Chris 
 tian countries for warriors ; but how very little, 
 and with results how meagre and miserable ! We 
 hear indeed of war-chaplains ; but what do they do 
 for their spiritual charge ? What can they do ? 
 The whole business of war-chaplaincies is little else 
 than a piece of solemn mockery. 
 
 The war-system, then, makes fearful havoc of 
 souls among its own agents even in peace. It is a 
 school of irreligion, vice and profligacy ; nor could 
 you well select a surer way to perdition, than the 
 army or the navy. How few in either give any evi 
 dence of being prepared for heaven ! Yet are there 
 in Christendom itself some three millions, even in 
 peace, training in this school of error and sin for a 
 
196 MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 
 
 miserable eternity. If these millions all die off on 
 an average in twenty years, there would annually 
 go into the world of spirits 150,000 souls; and 
 how few of them prepared for their last account ! 
 With this number, compare the sum total of church- 
 members at all the missionary stations among the 
 heathen in 1844, when they amounted to 17/i,233, 
 or a little more, as the result of half a century s 
 labors, than the annual sacrifice of souls in Chris 
 tendom itself at the shrine of the war-demon even 
 in peace ! ! 
 
 War, also, stifles the very disposition to use the 
 means of grace. Breathe its spirit of anger, hatred 
 and revenge into any circle of families ; and would 
 the Christians in that circle be intent on the salva 
 tion of its impenitent members? Were the same 
 war-passions to pervade and convulse a whole con 
 gregation, would their pastor be able, or his church 
 inclined, to use the means indispensable to a gene 
 ral revival of religion ? War tends to check all 
 efforts for the salvation of men : and, could its 
 malignant, vindictive spirit gangrene the bosom of 
 every Christian on earth, not another missionary, 
 not even another Bible or tract would ever go from 
 Christian shores, to light the lamp of life everlast 
 ing amid the six or eight hundred millions of our 
 race, now groping their way to eternity beneath 
 the death-shades of paganism. 
 
 But war, likewise, tends in many ways to neutral 
 ize the best means of grace when used. It shuts or 
 steels the minds of men against their power. Were 
 two professors of religion embroiled in a well known 
 disgraceful feud, would their impenitent neighbors 
 be disposed to receive religious instruction from 
 their lips? Should a preacher of the gospel, stain 
 ed with the blood of an enemy slain in duel or 
 battle, enter the pulpit of your own church, would 
 
MALIGN MORAL INFLUENCES OF WAR. 199 
 
 you not instantly shut against him every avenue to 
 your heart ? Yet such is the attitude in which the 
 church of Christ, belied by the wars of Christen 
 dom, has for centuries stood before the whole 
 world. 
 
 Few suspect how far the gospel is neutralized by 
 the incidental influences of war. It is well known 
 that the old French war put an end to the glorious 
 revivals in this country under Whiten eld ; and 
 during the forty years of war-ferment from that 
 war to the treaty of 1783, there was an almost uni 
 versal and unbroken dearth of revivals. In 1841 
 I visited a retired town in Massachusetts, and ex 
 amined the records of its only church for more than 
 a century previous. No battle had been fought 
 there ; no army, scarce a recruiting officer, had 
 prowled over or near it ; nor had the ordinary 
 means of grace been interrupted more than is com 
 mon even in a time of peace. Yet mark the result. 
 From 1729 to 1744, fourteen years of peace, 149 
 were added to the church ; an average of nearly 
 eleven a year. From the beginning of the old 
 French war to the close of our revolution in 1783, 
 some forty years of military excitement, there were 
 only 77 additions ; less than two a year, or a dimi 
 nution of more than five hundred per cent, from 
 the previous period of peace. From 1810 to 1815, 
 the time of our last war with two years of antece 
 dent exasperation, only three persons were received 
 into the church ; one in a little less than two years! 
 From 1830 to 1839, there were 183 additions; 
 about nineteen a year, or an increase upon the last 
 case of nearly four thousand per cent! Thus we 
 find the mere excitements of war diminishing the 
 efficacy of essentially the same means, first more 
 than 500 per cent., next some 2000 per cent., and 
 finally almost 4000 per cent. ; nor is it any exag- 
 
200 MALIGN MOEAL INFLUEECES OF WAR. 
 
 geration to say that war probably neutralizes four- 
 fifths, if not nine- tenths, of the saving power of the 
 gospel ! 
 
 How fearfully, then, must war tend to prevent 
 the indispensable influences of God s Spirit. Vain, 
 without his blessing, would be the labors of Paul or 
 Gabriel ; but will he succeed the instrumentality 
 of those who breathe a war-spirit ? Should all the 
 churches in our land catch such a spirit, and cher 
 ish hatred instead of love, revenge in place of for 
 giveness, the entire cluster of war-passions, could 
 they expect, in such a state, seasons of " refreshing 
 from the presence of the Lord V 1 Yet such pas 
 sions are inseparable from actual warfare, and, per 
 vading more or less a whole people, must inevitably 
 drive the Spirit of God from his work of reviving 
 grace among them. 
 
 Surely, then, war must be a fearful destroyer of 
 immortal souls. It is the devil s master-device for 
 their wholesale destruction. It ripens them fast 
 for perdition, and then sweeps them into the bot 
 tomless pit by thousands, and even by millions ! 
 Would to God there were more room for doubt on 
 this point ! I know, indeed, the belief of some, that 
 none, however wicked and impenitent, will finally 
 be lost ; but if, as evangelical Christians believe, 
 we must all repent, or perish, must be born again, 
 or never see the kingdom of heaven ; if, in the lan 
 guage of Paul, neither fornicators, nor adulterers, 
 nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor re- 
 vilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom 
 of God ; how impossible to suppose, that any con 
 siderable number of warriors, the mass of whom 
 answer so notoriously to the characters here given, 
 can ever enter the world of glory ! 
 
 How immense, then, the ruin of souls by war! 
 Think of a battle-field where ten, twenty, fifty, a 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 201 
 
 hundred, two hundred, three hundred thousand 
 fell in a day ; of nine or ten millions sacrificed in 
 the late wars of Europe ; of thirty-two millions by 
 Jenghiz-Khan alone in forty years ! God only 
 knows we dare not even conjecture how many 
 souls this custom may in all past time have sent, 
 unrenewed and unforgiven, to their last account ! 
 
 PART III. 
 
 REMEDIES FOR WAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 PLEAS JN FAVOR OF WAR. 
 
 WE have looked at the evil ; and we now inquire 
 for a remedy. This remedy must suit the nature 
 of the malady ; and, since war comes from the 
 wrong choice of men, we must correct their modes 
 of reasoning on the subject, and shall consider first 
 the pleas urged in its behalf, and then the influ 
 ences which still sustain the custom even in Chris 
 tendom. 
 
 Many of the old arguments for war are too ab 
 surd or too cold-blooded to deserve a moment s con 
 sideration. It used to be gravely asserted, that 
 war is a healthy stimulus to the body-politic ; that 
 
202 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 it tends, if it be not indispensable, to preserve na 
 tions from degeneracy ; that it is the natural state 
 of mankind, the general law of their being, and 
 peace the exception ; that it serves, like storms and 
 hurricanes in the physical world, to purify the 
 moral atmosphere ; that nations must, now and 
 then, fight, just to let off the pent-up steam of their 
 passions ; that occasional wars are necessary to 
 keep population, wealth and luxury down to a safe 
 and proper level. Such assumptions may seem 
 strange and savage enough ; but they have been 
 seriously maintained by eminent statesmen, philos 
 ophers and theologians, at the head of whom we 
 must place Lord Monboddo, who also contends, that 
 man is only a monkey, with his tail worn off by 
 long attrition ! 
 
 We are told, moreover, that war furnishes em 
 ployment, and a livelihood for vast multitudes. So 
 does idolatry ; so does the slave-trade ; and so do 
 counterfeiters, robbers and pirates, live by their vil 
 lainies. Can such a plea justify those practices ? 
 
 But we are often reminded, that war calls forth 
 some of man s noblest powers such as ingenuity, 
 skill, energy, high enterprise, indomitable perseve 
 rance. So also does every species of high-handed 
 wickedness call forth similar qualities. It requires 
 the union of them all to make a consummate vil 
 lain, a man that can rob, or forge, or counterfeit 
 with success on a large scale ; and in our state- 
 prisons you will find some of the strongest, shrew 1- 
 est, boldest minds, the very metal that makes he 
 roes. Does this prove such crimes commendable ? 
 If war occasionally produces instances of self- 
 sacrifice, we reply that this is not the fruit of war ; 
 and, even if it were, you may often find essentially 
 the same in a crew of pirates, every one of whom 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 203 
 
 is just as selfish in fighting for the whole gang, as 
 he would be in fighting for himself alone. 
 
 Another plea for this custom, is the universal ex 
 ample of nations. There is no vice, no crime, no 
 enormity in morals, that cannot plead precedents 
 enough ; but, " because war is according to the 
 practice of the world, it does not follow that it is 
 right. For ages the world worshipped false gods ; but 
 those gods were not the less false because all bowed 
 before them. At this moment the larger portion of 
 mankind are heathen ; but heathenism is not true." 
 It is said, also, that the war system is necessary 
 to national character and influence. A sheer delu 
 sion, as much a figment of the imagination as 
 would be the supposition, that the custom of duel 
 ling is indispensable for the same purpose to indi 
 viduals. It may be thought so in a community of 
 duellists ; but the necessity, if there be any, is 
 created solely by the custom itself; and, were that 
 practice discarded, it would serve the purpose of 
 respectability about as well, as would the habit of 
 intoxication. So of nations. Just abolish war ; and 
 the world will no longer look to the battle-field for 
 proofs of their excellence ; and even now are they 
 fast coming to be estimated by the arts, the virtues, 
 and various prosperities of peace. 
 
 It is said, that war sweeps off the idle, dissolute 
 and vicious members of the community. Monstrous 
 argument! If a government may for this end 
 plunge a nation into war, it may with equal justice 
 consign to the executioner any number of its sub 
 jects whom it may deem a burden on the state. So 
 do dram-shops and brothels drain off the refuse of 
 society ; but does this fact prove these purlieus of 
 perdition to be right or wise ? They are the great 
 nurseries of profligacy ; and so does war make four 
 villainSj where it kills off cme. 
 
204 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 Here comes the Malthusian bug-bear of a super 
 abundant population. It is said, that perpetual 
 peace among all nations would in time cover the 
 earth with a number of inhabitants far beyond its 
 capacity to support, and thus entail in the end more 
 evil than would result from occasional wars. How 
 little reason there is to fear any such result, may 
 be seen from a few estimates. It has been calcu 
 lated by a scientific agriculturist, that nearly one- 
 third of Ireland s 12,000,000 arable acres, if devo 
 ted to the potatoe crop, would yield food for a pop 
 ulation of 40,000,000, and that one half of its en 
 tire Surface, containing nearly 20.000,000 acres, 
 would, if cultivated in the same way, support no 
 less than 100,000,000! Just extend such calcula 
 tions over the globe, and the result would be as 
 tounding. The entire surface of the earth com 
 prises nearly 200,000,000 square miles ; and, if we 
 suppose only 60,000,000, or less than one-third of 
 the whole, to be dry land, and barely one-half of 
 this, or 19.200,000,000 acres, to be cultivated with po 
 tatoes, or some other crop equally productive of food 
 for man, it would, at this rate, maintain in comfort 
 the prodigious number of 192,000,000,000, or 240 
 times as many as the present population of the 
 globe ! ! 
 
 War is supposed, also, to kindle patriotism. 
 But the patriotism," says Channing, " which is 
 cherished by war, is ordinarily false and spurious, 
 a vice, and not a virtue, a scourge to the world, a 
 narrow, unjust passion, which aims to exalt a par 
 ticular state on the humiliation and destruction of 
 other nations. A genuine, enlightened patriot dis 
 cerns that the welfare of his own country is in 
 volved in the general progress of society ; and, in 
 the character of a patriot, as well as of a Christian, 
 he rejoices in the liberty and prosperity of other 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 205 
 
 communities, and is anxious to maintain with them 
 the relations of peace and amity." 
 
 A much stronger plea for war, is found in the 
 maxim, that self preservation is the first law of our 
 nature. If it be so, this will not justify the cus 
 tom of war, because it is not necessary for our safety, 
 nor does the instinct of self-preservation prompt us 
 to kill our assailants ; it stops with saving ourselves. 
 But is instinct the rule of our duty, the Christian s 
 standard of right and wrong? It has indeed been 
 said, that such instincts are the first edition of God s 
 revelation to mankind; but this very argument in 
 fidel libertines, in the time of Voltaire and llousseau. 
 employed to justify unrestrained licentiousness, and 
 insisted on its being right for the debauchee to in 
 dulge, at will, those passions which God had im 
 planted in his nature. Do you scout such logic ? 
 Well you may ; but wherein does it differ from your 
 own ? You plead instinct ; so did they ; and if you 
 may, why may not infidels, appeal to the instincts of 
 our fallen nature, for a rule of duty, or a measure 
 of permitted indulgence ? No man can doubt either 
 the right or the duty of self-defence, or self preserva 
 tion | but we are to preserve our lives only by such 
 means as God enjoins, or clearly permits. Does he 
 then authorize war for such a purpose? To save 
 life, did he appoint, or does he now sanction, a cus 
 tom which has deluged the whole earth with blood 
 for five thousand years? War necessary to pre 
 serve life ! Seldom, if ever : and, if you search all 
 profane history, you will probably find no war in 
 which the only alternative for a people was to kill, 
 or be killed. After they began to light, that was 
 the alternative ; but, had they at the outset refused 
 to fight, they would have been spared. True, 
 other things might have been lost ; but life, the 
 only thing now in question, would have been saved. 
 18 
 
206 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 Several hundred thousand perished in the war of 
 our revolution ; but, had we never drawn the 
 -word, probably not a dozen lives would have been 
 sacrificed. 
 
 It is sometimes said, that war, or a military spirit, 
 favors liberty. Nothing could be farther from the 
 truth. It is a contradiction of nearly all history ; 
 for nations, after fighting for ages, have generally 
 been enslaved by the rush or recoil of the war-power 
 upon them. Liberty has no foundation but in pri 
 vate and public virtue ; and these, as we have seen, 
 are not the common growth of war. It is true, that 
 liberty, when attained, has pretty generally been 
 won apparently by the sword ; but it resulted in 
 fact from other causes, might have been secured in 
 better form without war, and probably would have 
 come in the end by peaceful means rightly used. It 
 might have taken longer time, but would have cost 
 far less, and been incomparably more sure. Peace 
 ful agitation, as the result of such agitations in Great 
 Britain most fully proves, is by far the safest, easi 
 est, and most effectual method of obtaining political 
 reforms. Liberty, free institutions, popular rights, 
 are the growth, not of war, but of peace ; and one 
 century of universal, unbroken peace would do 
 more for the world in these respects, than five thou 
 sand years of blood have done, or five thousand more 
 could do. 
 
 It is said, also, that a military spirit, with ample 
 preparations for war, is the safeguard of a people. 
 All history contradicts the assertion ; for the more 
 warlike nations have been most frequently assailed. 
 From 1700 to 1815, "Great Britain," says Judge 
 Jay, "was engaged in war 69 years, Russia 68, 
 France 63, Holland 43, Portugal 40, Denmark 28. 
 Their wars have been pretty much in proportion to 
 their military strength j and thus- in the righteous 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 207 
 
 retribution of Providence, those nations which most 
 cultivate the arts of war, are made to drink most 
 deeply of its bloody cup." 
 
 Is it. however, urged that, so long as other na 
 tions keep armed, we must too ? True, if we rely 
 upon the sword for protection ; but we should find 
 far greater safety in cultivating towards all nations 
 a spirit of peace and perfect justice. Such a peo 
 ple, without a single war-ship, fort or musket, would 
 be safe, even if all the world besides were armed to 
 the teeth. We urge a peaceful policy, however, 
 not upon one nation alone, but upon the whole bro 
 therhood of nations ; and, if they should all agree 
 to adopt pacific expedients in place of the sword for 
 the adjustment of their difficulties, and should come 
 in time to find no use for their warlike preparations, 
 and hence to unite in simultaneously dismantling 
 their fleets, disbanding their armies, and leaving 
 their fortifications to disuse and decay, would there 
 be any danger then ? The very reverse ; such a pro 
 cess would just guarantee the permanent safety and 
 peace of the world. 
 
 " A much stronger argument is," says Channing, 
 u that without war to excite and invigorate the hu 
 man mind, some of its noblest energies will slumber, 
 and its highest qualities, courage, magnanimity, 
 fortitude, will perish. To this I answer, that if 
 war is to be encouraged among nations, because it 
 nourishes energy and heroism, on the same princi 
 ple, war in our families, and between villages ought 
 to be encouraged ; for such contests would equally 
 tend to promote heroic daring, and contempt of 
 death. Why shall not different provinces of the 
 same empire annually meet with the weapons of 
 death, just to keep alive their courage ? We shrink 
 at this suggestion with horror ; but why shall con 
 tests of nations, rather than of provinces or families, 
 
208 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 find shelter under this barbarous argument? Tf 
 war be a blessing, because it awakens energy and 
 courage, then the savage state is peculiarly privi 
 leged 5 for every savage is a soldier, and all his 
 modes of life tend to form him to invincible resolu 
 tion. On the same principle, those early periods of 
 society were happy, when men were called to con 
 tend not only with one another, but with beasts of 
 prey ; for to these excitements we owe the heroism 
 of Hercules and Theseus. The feudal ages, too, 
 were more favored than the present ; for then every 
 baron was a military chief, every castle frowned de 
 fiance, and every vassal was trained to arms. 
 
 < ; But there is no need of war to awaken human 
 energy. There is at least equal scope for courage 
 and magnanimity in blessing as in destroying man 
 kind. In relieving the countless wants and sor 
 rows of the world, in exploring unknown regions, 
 in carrying the arts -and virtues of civilization to 
 unimproved communities, in extending the bounds 
 of knowledge, in diffusing the spirit of freedom, and 
 especially in spreading the light and influence of 
 Christianity, how much may be dared, how much 
 endured ! Philanthropy invites us to services which 
 demand the most intense, and elevated, and resolute, 
 and adventurous activity. Let it not be imagined, 
 that were nations imbued with the spirit of Chris 
 tianity, they would slumber in ignoble ease ; that 
 instead of the high-minded murderers who are 
 formed on the present system of war, we should 
 have effeminate and timid slaves. Christian benev 
 olence is as active as it is forbearing. It will call 
 forth sympathy on behalf of the suffering in every 
 region under heaven. It will give a new extension 
 to the heart, open a wider sphere to enterprise, in 
 spire a courage of exhaustless resource, and prompt 
 to every sacrifice arid exposure for the improvement 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 209 
 
 and happiness of the human race. The energy of 
 this principle has been tried and displayed in the 
 fortitude of the martyr, and in the patient labors 
 of those who have carried the gospel into the dreary * 
 abodes of idolatry. Away then with the argument, 
 that war is needed as a nursery of heroism. The 
 school of the peaceful Redeemer is infinitely more 
 adapted to teach the nobler as well as the milder 
 virtues which adorn humanity." 
 
 It is, also, said by some, that war, or its system of 
 preparations, is necessary for the enforcement of 
 law, and the support of government. Thus used, 
 it would no longer be war, but justice; not the 
 sword of the warrior, but that of the magistrate ; 
 quite as distinct one from the other, as the act of 
 two boys mauling each other in the streets, would 
 be from that of their parents duly punishing both 
 for the quarrel. Peace paralyze the arm of law ! 
 No ; it is the operations of war, not the prin 
 ciples of peace, that crush or cripple government, 
 and introduce the reign of violence, terror and law 
 less crime. War necessary to government ! How ? 
 Must nations butcher one another in order to gov 
 ern themselves I If duelling should cease, would 
 parents lose their authority over their own families 1 
 Should the whole war-system come to an end, would 
 not every government still retain its right to control 
 and punish its own subjects / Could it not, if it 
 chose, continue to hang the murderer, to imprison 
 the thief, and employ an armed police for the sup 
 pression of mobs, riots, and other popular outbreaks? 
 
 4 But war, we are told, is at times a dire neces 
 sity, the last possible resort of nations ; and, in such 
 extreme cases, how can they settle their disputes 
 without it V Why, by negotiation, by reference 
 to umpires, or mediation of some friendly power ; 
 methods far better than the sword for all justifiable 
 18* 
 
210 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 purposes ; and to some of these, all belligerents must 
 come, sooner or later, as the only possible way of 
 adjusting their difficulties. War necessary for na 
 tions ! No more than duels are for indi\ 7 iduals. 
 War settle their disputes ! Never between civilized 
 nations ; for such parties invariably sheathe the 
 sword before they dream of a settlement, and then 
 dispatch, not men of blood to light, but men of 
 peace, plenipotentiaries, to negotiate. And why 
 not do this before fighting, and thus obviate all ne 
 cessity of war ? We had a Controversy with Eng 
 land about our north-eastern boundary ; and, had 
 we gone to war, would that have settled the dis 
 pute ? No ; it would only have aggravated its dif 
 ficulties. There is no logic in bullets and bomb 
 shells ; the butchery of millions on the disputed 
 territory, could never have thrown a single ray of 
 new light upon the points in controversy ; and, 
 after wasting myriads of treasure, and shedding 
 oceans of blood, we should have been obliged to em 
 ploy, for the final adjustment, the very same pacific 
 means that might have been used even more suc 
 cessfully before the war than after it. 
 
 But suppose a nation will come to no reasonable 
 terms. Then let them alone ; better far than to 
 fight them. War is a suicidal process, and gene 
 rally serves only to aggravate the evils it seeks to 
 redress or cure. If your neighbor owes you a hun 
 dred dollars, would you spend a thousand in efforts 
 to compel payment, and meanwhile give him leave, 
 if he can, to blow out your brains, to burn your 
 dwelling, and butcher your family ? Such is war. 
 Talk of conquering a peace ! As well attempt to 
 conquer temperance by getting drunk ! 
 
 But the strongest, or most logical plea for war, 
 represents it as a judicial process, a tribunal of jus 
 tice between nations, a method of determining their 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 211 
 
 rights, redressing their wrongs, and inflicting con 
 dign punishment upon the guilty. Lieber calls it 
 " a mode of obtaining rights ;" Vattel defines it to 
 be " that state in which we prosecute our rights by 
 force ;" and Lord Bacon describes it as " one of the 
 highest trials of right, when princes and states put 
 themselves upon the justice of God for the deciding 
 of their controversies by such success as it shall 
 please him to give to either side." 
 
 This plea is quite plausible ; but will facts jus 
 tify it ? In every judicial trial, we see first, a law 
 common to the parties ; next a judge and jury, as 
 impartial umpires between them ; then the ac 
 cuser publicly meeting the accused face to face 
 with his charges 5 next the witnesses testifying in 
 open court, and subject to the most searching ex 
 amination by each party ; then the whole case fully 
 argued or. b^th sides, and closed by the charge of 
 the judge, and the verdict of the jury, each deliv 
 ered under all the solemnities of an oath ; and 
 finally, the sentence of the court, to be executed 
 according to law only by a special warrant from the 
 highest executive authority. 
 
 Now, what shadow of resemblance to all this, 
 can you find in war ? There is no law to define 
 right; no judge to interpret that law, or jury to 
 apply it ; no tribunal to try the cause : no rules 
 prescribing- the mode of trial, and requiring notice 
 of the complaint, and opportunity for vindication ; 
 no charges duly preferred ; no testimony give a 
 under oath, and fairly examined ; no delay or 
 chance for the correction of errors ; no privilege of 
 appeal to a higher tribunal : no right to claim a 
 new hearing 5 no hope of reprieve or pardon ; no 
 trustworthy oflicer to execute the precise sentence 
 of the law ; no restriction of the penalty to the 
 exact demerits of the criminal ; no precautions to 
 
212 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 guard the innocent against suffering with the 
 guilty ! Each party makes a law for itself, erects 
 its own tribunal of blood, and then proceeds to act 
 as accuser and witness, as counsel, judge and execu 
 tioner. What a burlesque on all ideas of justice ! 
 Justice by the process of twenty, fifty, or a hundred 
 thousand professional cut-throats, the very blood 
 hounds, of society, meeting on a field of battle to 
 shoot, and stab, and hew, and trample each other 
 down ! What an outrage on common sense to call 
 this a judicial process, a mode of redress for national 
 grievances ! As well might we call a fight between 
 two madmen, or a dozen jackals, a process of 
 justice ! 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 INFLUENCES THAT STILL SUPPORT THE CUSTOM OF WAR. 
 
 EVERY argument for war is a prop to the custom, 
 a plea or apology for its continuance j but, besides 
 the direct arguments in its favor already refuted, 
 we wish to dwell on some of those general influences 
 which are most effectual in upholding this relic of 
 a barbarous paganism. 
 
 War is an inheritance from other times, the 
 bloody legacy of more than a hundred generations ; 
 and during the lapse of all past ages, has it been 
 gathering influences to strengthen and perpetuate 
 its terrible reign. Antiquity is all in its favor ; and 
 the ever-flowing stream of time has worn out for it 
 a channel too broad and deep to be easily changed. 
 Incorporated in every form of government, wrought 
 into the texture of all society, imbedded in the 
 strongest passions of our nature, indentifying with 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 213 
 
 Itself the sanctities of religion, and enlisting in its 
 own behalf the prejudices of universal and imme 
 morial usage, we cannot wonder at the iron grasp 
 of this custom upon the mind of the world, and the 
 exceeding difficulty of its abolition. 
 
 This difficulty is much increased by the general 
 mode of reasoning on the subject. Men do not 
 treat war as they do other forms of sin, nor hold 
 nations subject to the same obligations that confess 
 edly rest upon individuals and minor communities. 
 War is a kind of moral outlaw, and scorns all re 
 straints. It is a priveleged wrong-doer, and acknowl 
 edges no responsibility to man or to God for its 
 gigantic, wholesale crimes. On this subject govern 
 ment is supposed to be exempt from the general 
 rules of right ; nor may we apply to it here the au- 
 * thority of God, or the reason of men, the precepts 
 of religion, the principles of morality, or the dic 
 tates of common sense ; but must in war support 
 our rulers, right or wrong, nor ever allow ourselves 
 to inquire whether they are right. Thus is war put 
 almost beyond the reach of those influences which 
 suffice for the removal of ordinary evils. 
 
 One of the chief obstacles to the extinction of 
 war," says Chalmers. " is a sentiment whichs seems to 
 be universally gone into, that the rules and prom 
 ises of the gospel which apply to a single individual, 
 do not apply to a nation of individuals. Just think 
 of the mighty effect it would have on the politics 
 of the world, were this sentiment to be practically 
 deposed from its wonted authority over the counsels 
 a,nd the doings of nations, in their transactions with 
 each other. If forbearance be the virtue of an in 
 dividual, forbearance is also the virtue of a nation. 
 If it be incumbent on men in honor to prefer each 
 other, it is incumbent on the very largest societies 
 of men, through the constituted organ of their gov- 
 
214 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 ernment, to do the same. If it be the glory of a 
 man to defer his anger, and to pass over a trans 
 gression, that nation mistakes its glory, which is so 
 feelingly alive to the slightest insult, and musters 
 up its threats and its armaments upon the faintest 
 shadow of a provocation. If it be the magnanimity 
 of an injured man to abstain from vengeance, and 
 if by so doing, he heaps coals of fire upon the head 
 ot his enemy, then that is the magnanimous nation, 
 which, recoiling from violence and from blood, will 
 do no more than send its Christian embassy, and 
 prefer its mild and impressive remonstrance ; and 
 that is the disgraced nation, which will refuse the 
 impressiveness of the moral appeal that has been 
 made to it." 
 
 Another guaranty for the continuance of this 
 custom, is found in the general apathy and want of * 
 reflection on the subject. Most men neither know,, 
 nor care to know, much about ic. They let it alone, 
 as a thing with which they have little or nothing to 
 do. They are too ignorant even to feel their need 
 of information, and will neither read nor hear. 
 They seldom reflect upon it, and hardly dream of 
 applying to it the common principles of morality, 
 or the teachings of Christ and his apostles. Even 
 of educated men, not one in ten thoroughly under 
 stands it j while the mass of the community have 
 not yet learned the alphabet of this vast and mo 
 mentous theme. The custom has been a sort of 
 torpedo to the minds of most men, and paralyzed 
 them into a lazy, sleepy assent to its continuance. 
 
 Hence a general lack of information upon it 
 serves to keep up the custom. If men only knew 
 what it is, and what it does ; if they were well ac 
 quainted with the enormity of its guilt, and the 
 countless multitude of its evils ; if they duly con 
 sidered how it ha& deluged the earth with blood,. 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR, 215 
 
 and crime, and misery for more than five thousand 
 years ; if they could realize that Christendom alone 
 has wasted in war blood enough to re-people the 
 whole earth, and treasure enough to purchase every 
 foot of its surface thrice over ; if they would bear 
 in mind that we ourselves have expended upon the 
 war-system some five or six times as much as for 
 all other governmental purposes put together ; if 
 they would just refiect how a war in actual progress 
 suspends commerce, and cripples every department 
 of gainful industry, and loads the nation with enor 
 mous debts, and sweeps away the bone and sinew 
 of its population to feed this insatiate Moloch, and 
 sends the voice of lamentation and sorrow into 
 thousands of bereaved families, and demoralizes the 
 whole community, and pours over it a flood of in 
 temperance, vice and crime ; if men would only 
 make and keep themselves familiar with such facts, 
 could they tolerate this custom much longer ? 
 
 It is, however, upheld by a variety of misconcep 
 tions still prevalent even among good, well-informed 
 men. How many of them suppose that the evil is 
 incurable for the present ; that war is inevitable, 
 like earthquakes, and as necessary, now and then, as 
 occasional storms j that society cannot exist, or its 
 highest welfare be secured, without the war-system ; 
 that patriotism, morality and religion itself require 
 or permit the custom ; that even the God of Peace, 
 the common Father of all, has authorized nations to 
 engage at will in this work of wholesale robbery, 
 murder and vengeance ; that the gospel itself, hea 
 ven s own charter and pledge of ultimate peace to 
 the world, does not forbid a custom which contra 
 venes its whole spirit, and tramples in the dust 
 every one of its distinctive principles j but the cus 
 tom, as a guardian of right, an avenger of wrong, 
 and an outlet of fierce, lawless passions, must be 
 
216 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 tolerated until the millennium comes. How fatally 
 must such misconceptions tend to grapple upon the 
 bosom of humanity this mammoth incubus of guilt 
 and misery ! 
 
 The chief agencies of society are giving coun 
 tenance and currency to such delusions as these. 
 The fireside and the school-room, the pulpit and the 
 press, the forum, the senate and the ballot-box, all 
 have hitherto conspired for the most part to uphold, 
 to spread and perpetuate them. 
 
 Mark especially how the mass of every community 
 are educated on this subject. It is a war education. 
 Look at the usual training of the young. What 
 are the toys of children ? Toys of war. What 
 pictures do they most frequently see and admire? 
 Pictures of war and warriors. What songs did 
 they use most commonly to hear ? Songs of war. 
 Whom are they still taught to hold in the highest 
 admiration ? Heroes, men of blood. What books 
 are now most generally, most eagerly read by the 
 young ? Tales, real or fictitious, of war and war 
 riors. Do parents, even Christian parents, carefully 
 guard their own children against the manifold de 
 lusions of this custom ? Alas ! they talk before 
 their little ones, ere the dawn of reason or con 
 science, about the glories of war, the trade of human 
 butchery, and train them, with scarce a thought of 
 what they are doing, to look upon it as the great 
 theatre of man s noblest deeds ! The surest means 
 are taken to dazzle and delude their young minds in 
 its favor. When a company of gayly-dressed sol 
 diers are passing through the street, the children who 
 are old enough, go forth to gaze on the pageantry, 
 and the mother takes even her babe to the window, 
 that he may inhale with his first breath a bewitch 
 ing fondness for war. The glowing canvass, and 
 the breathing marble, and the glittering sword, and 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR 217 
 
 the gilded epaulette, and the nodding plume, and the 
 prancing steed, and all the witchery of fife, and 
 idrum, and bugle-horn, are suffered to beguile the 
 young into a blind, wild admiration of what, if seen 
 as it really is, they would regard with almost in 
 stinctive disgust or abhorrence. 
 
 The evil is well-nigh universal Even pious 
 mothers and Christian ministers will purchase - 
 once they certainly did caps, and feathers, and tin 
 swords, and wooden guns, for their own sons, and 
 then encourage them in forming little companies 
 of juvenile volunteers, to prepare in beardless boy 
 hood for the trade of blood ! Thus have Christians 
 themselves been, age after age, scattering broadcast 
 over Christendom the veriest seeds of war, and then 
 started back aghast to see everywhere springing up 
 such a harvest of death as lately waved in blood 
 and fire all over Europe. 
 
 I must avow it ; for on every side do I see at 
 work causes not designed, yet fatally calculated to 
 nourish the war spirit, to perpetuate the war-system, 
 and thus pave the way for more military Molochs, 
 for other deluges of blood. Gro to many a toy-shop, 
 kept perhaps by Christians themselves ; and what 
 will you there find ? A whole cart-load of war toys 
 drums, and guns, and swords, and rude busts of 
 warriors, and entire platoons of mounted horsemen, 
 or armed footmen, all painted and gilded, to dazzle 
 the minds of children into a premature, unnatural 
 fondness for war. Gro to the houses of Christians ; 
 and will you there find no portraits of ancient or 
 modern warriors, no pictures of battles or other 
 war-scenes 1 Almost the only pictures I ever saw 
 in my childhood ; and, should you go through the 
 land, you would, I fear, find a hundred portraits of 
 Napoleon to one of such a man as Brainard, 
 or ScbwartZj or Howard. 
 19 
 
218 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 The whole system of preparations for war seems, 
 also, to prolong the custom. They form a species 
 of investment that interests society at large in its 
 continuance. Every appropriation for war purposes, 
 every military school, every fort and war-ship, every 
 regiment and every crew, every office in the army 
 or the navy, every pensioner entailed by war upon 
 the government, all are so many arrangements for 
 upholding the system ; and its social ramifications, 
 in a country like England, interest in one way or 
 another almost every considerable family in its sup 
 port and perpetuity. 
 
 These preparations, moreover, nourish that spirit 
 of national honor, which forms the chief incentive 
 to war. " It is difficult," says Sumner, " to define 
 what is so evanescent, so impalpable, so chimerical, 
 so unreal, and yet which exerts such power over 
 many men, and controls the relations of states. 
 Our community frowns with indignation upon the 
 profaneness of the duel, which has its rise in this 
 irrational point of honor ; but are they aware that 
 they themselves indulge the sentiment on a gigan 
 tic scale, when they recognize what is called the 
 honor of the country as a proper ground for war? 
 The point of honor belongs to a semi-barbarous age ; 
 and let it stay with the daggers, the swords, and 
 the weapons of combat by which it was guarded ; 
 let it appear only with its inseparable companions, 
 the bowie-knife and the pistol!" 
 
 War is, also, upheld by a variety of adventitious 
 charms. Addressing itself to the lowest, most 
 puerile tastes, it flaunts before the multitude in 
 gaudy, fantastic decorations. Its finery is peculiar 
 and proverbial. "The soldier," says Channing, "is 
 the only harlequin left in the nineteenth century." 
 Rush used to say, that war could not live without 
 its uniforms ; and if it had no splendid trappings, 
 
THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 219 
 
 no inspiring music, no set days for parade and dis 
 play ; if its agents were simply enrolled for ser 
 vice, as men are for the jury-box, and called out only 
 to do their foul and bloody work ; if they were then 
 to come forth without fife, or drum, or bugle, with 
 no waving plume, or gilded epaulette, but dressed 
 appropriately for their work as human butchers, 
 or as the hangman goes with halter, coffin and grave 
 ready for his victim ; how long would men bear the 
 naked abomination ? 
 
 A multitude of higher influences are everywhere 
 conspiring to perpetuate this grand delusion. " On 
 every side of me," says Chalmers, a I see causes 
 at work, which go to spread a most delusive color 
 ing over war, and to remove its shocking barbari 
 ties to the background of our contemplations alto 
 gether. I see it in the history which tells me of 
 the superb appearance of the troops, and the 
 brilliancy of their successive charges. I see it in 
 the poetry which lends the magic of its numbers to 
 the narrative of blood, and transports its many 
 admirers, as by its images, and its figures, and its 
 nodding plumes of chivalry, it throws its treacher 
 ous embellishments over a scene of legalized slaugh 
 ter. I see it in the music which represents the 
 progress of the battle ; and where, after being in 
 spired by the trumpet-notes of preparation, the 
 whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing-room, 
 are seen to bend over the sentimental entertain 
 ment ; nor do I hear the utterance of a single sigh 
 to interrupt the death-tones of the thickening con 
 test, and the moans of the wounded men as they 
 fade away upon the ear, and sink into lifeless 
 silence. All, all goes to prove what strange and 
 half-sighted creatures we are." 
 
 There seems to be a general conspiracy in sup 
 port of this custom. Public opinion is utterly 
 
220 THE SUPPORTS OF WAR. 
 
 wrong. It canonizes war, and prompts the poet to 
 chant its praises, and the historian to eulogize its 
 deeds of blood, and the hand of beauty to weave 
 chaplets for its gory brow, and government to 
 lavish on its agents large pay, liberal pensions, and 
 the highest honors, both in life, and after death. 
 Not a monument nor a statue, not a peerage nor a 
 pension won by war, that does not act as a sentinel 
 to guard the custom alike from assault and decay. 
 
 War has intrenched itself in nearly all the high 
 places of the world. It has subsidized the hearth, 
 the pulpit and the press, poetry and eloquence, 
 philosophy and history, the harp, the chisel, and 
 the pencil. Its mania has overspread the whole 
 earth ; its mighty spell has bound the master-minds 
 of every age ; and its atmosphere of death hangs 
 over all the fields of ancient and modern literature. 
 Scarce a poet or orator, historian or philosopher of 
 antiquity, that did not worship at the shrine of the 
 war-demon, and bequeathe to posterity some memo 
 rial of his devotion. All history is a virtual eulogy 
 of war and warriors. The literature of the world 
 reeks with the war-spirit. It is a vast, prolific 
 nursery of war-delusions, and does more than 
 almost any one thing else to keep the demon in 
 repute among civilized men. Go over the fields of 
 literature ; and at every step you tread among the 
 scorpions of war, with every breath you inhale its 
 delicious infection, and are met at every turn by 
 its gilded, glorious, bewildering fascinations. You 
 cannot escape the world-wide atmosphere of its 
 delusions. The richest banquets of taste and in 
 tellect are strongly spiced with the spirit of war. 
 The very nectar and ambrosia of ancient literature 
 are steeped in it. The plague-spots are all over 
 the noblest creations of genius. This moral gan 
 grene cankers nearly all literature, and mars, more 
 
PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE. 221 
 
 or less the best specimens of ancient and modern 
 poetry and eloquence, history and philosophy. 
 
 Such are some of the influences that support 
 war. Christendom itself is full of them ; and can 
 we wonder that the custom still continues, and fat 
 tens on the very vitals even of civilized, Christian 
 nations ? Such influences must be swept away, or 
 held in check, before this evil will ever cease from 
 any portion of the world. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE, OR THE EVILS OF WAR 
 NOT INCURABLE. 
 
 SOME persons deny the possibility of abolishing 
 war, and tell us we might as well think to chain up 
 the lightning, or hold down an earthquake. Such, 
 skepticism is neither new, nor peculiar to this 
 cause. " How apt, 7 says Dr. liush, " are mankind 
 to brand as visionary every proposition for innova 
 tion. There never was an improvement in any art 
 or science, nor a proposal for meliorating the condi 
 tion of man, in any age or country, that has not 
 been considered as an Utopian scheme." The 
 present methods of treating the small-pox, fevers, 
 and other diseases, were at first viewed, not only 
 with distrust, but absolute horror : and every one 
 knows, that efforts in the cause of temperance, and 
 for the abolition of the slave-trade, were for a time 
 regarded as utterly visionary and hopeless. The 
 use of the magnet in navigation, the application of 
 steam to mechanical purposes, and a multitude of 
 19* 
 
222 PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE. 
 
 inventions and improvements now familiar as house 
 hold words, were once treated with utter incredu 
 lity and contempt. Our own Congress refused 
 Fulton the use of the Representatives Hall, to ex 
 plain one part of his scheme for applying steam to 
 navigation. What, said members of the French 
 cabinet to Fulton, when soliciting their patronage, 
 4 do you presume, sir, to think you can ever propel 
 a boat by steam, at the rate of four miles an hour V 
 c Yes, indeed, replied the enthusiast; and if you ll 
 furnish me the means, I will eventually reach even 
 six miles an hour. The wise men of France 
 turned their backs on the poor inventor ; and before 
 the lapse of one generation, thousands of steam- 
 vessels, moving at the rate, not of six, but fifteen or 
 twenty miles an hour, are everywhere proclaiming 
 the enthusiast to have been far wiser than the 
 skeptic, and infinitely more useful to mankind. 
 
 Let us look at the specific aim of this cause. It 
 seeks to diminish the frequency of war, to mitigate 
 its evils when it does occur, and ultimately to sweep 
 the custom itself first from Christendom, and finally 
 from the world. 
 
 On some of these points there can be no doubt. 
 We certainly can, if we will, diminish the frequency 
 of this scourge; and everybody knows that, since 
 the downfall of Napoleon, wars have actually been 
 for less frequent. The general peace of Christen 
 dom has continued for more than thirty years, 
 nearly all the time since the friends of peace began 
 their associated labors. We might refer to some 
 cases in which their special efforts for the purpose 
 did confessedly prevent war ; and the acknowl 
 edged change of public sentiment on the subject 
 through Christendom, has been the chief cause of 
 keeping the sword so long in its scabbard, and of 
 
PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE. 223 
 
 inducing governments to employ better means for 
 the adjustment of their difficulties. 
 
 Nor would it be a trifling gain merely to mitigate 
 the evils of war. This might be done with ease, 
 and be gradually pushed to an indefinite extent. 
 Already has war, in the lapse of ages, lost some 
 of its worst original features, atrocities at which 
 Christendom would now shudder ; and this process 
 of melioration might be carried so far, as to leave 
 at length a mere skeleton or shadow of its present 
 evils. The sages of our revolution were so intent 
 on this object, that the journals of Congress (1784) 
 were at times " full of such programs as now emanate 
 only from peace-societies/ Such men as Franklin 
 and Jefferson labored hard, especially to have pri 
 vateering abolished, and the rights of individuals, 
 their persons and their property, respected as much 
 on sea as on land. Here is only one among a hun 
 dred meliorations that might be introduced into 
 the code of war ; but this alone would remove more 
 than half its remaining pecuniary evils, and leave 
 the commerce and general industry of the world to 
 go on undisturbed by its ravages. 
 
 But our great and only ultimate aim is the entire, 
 perpetual abolition of war. We seek to supersede 
 the custom itself, by putting in its place legal, 
 Christian methods of justice and peace between 
 nations. We dream not of accomplishing all this at 
 once, or ever without the gospel ; but we do hope, by 
 God s blessing on a right application of its pacific 
 principles, to drive the custom eventually from 
 Christendom, and then to spread permanent peace, 
 hand in hand with our religion of peace, over the 
 whole earth. 
 
 Now, we contend that all this may be done. 
 There is nothing in the war-passions of mankind, 
 nothing in the habits of society, or the structure of 
 
224 PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE. 
 
 government, nothing in the nature or the long con 
 tinuance of this custom, nothing in all the influen 
 ces that have so long been accumulating the world 
 over for its support and perpetuity nothing in all 
 these, or anything else, to forbid the hope of its 
 utter and everlasting extinction. 
 
 War is not a physical, but a moral necessity, only 
 such as there is for duelling, intemperance, or any 
 other form of folly and sin. It comes solely from 
 the wrong choice of men, and might be prevented 
 by a general change of that choice. It never 
 rushes upon them, like a tornado or the cholera, 
 like the eruptions of a volcano, or like lightning 
 from the cloud. A war without men to will it, and 
 carry it on, would be a contradiction in terms ; and, 
 if so entirely dependent on their will, can they not, 
 if they choose, discard forever this brutal mode of 
 settling their disputes ? 
 
 Glance at the history of kindred reforms. Long 
 was knight-errantry the admiration of all Christen 
 dom ; but where is it now ? Vanished from the 
 earth, its very name a term of reproach, and its 
 memory living mainly in those works of genius 
 which ridiculed its follies from the world. Nearly 
 the same might be said of the crusades, and all 
 wars of religion, the prosecution of which was once 
 regarded as the highest service a Christian could 
 render the God of peace ! So of trials by ordeal, 
 and judicial combat, in which the accused was 
 required to fight his accuser in single encounter, or 
 plunge his arm into boiling water, or lift a red-hot 
 iron with his naked hand, or walk bare-footed over 
 burning ploughshares, or pass through other trials 
 equally severe and perilous. It were easy to multi 
 ply examples ; but why allude to intemperance, and 
 persecution, and witchcraft, and other evils already 
 abolished, or put in a train which promises their 
 
PRACTICABILITY OP PEACE. 225 
 
 ultimate abolition ? I need not surely specify any 
 more cases ; for if such customs as these have 
 already been wholly, or but partially done away, 
 is there no possibility of putting an end to war f 
 
 Review, next, the meliorations of war itself. Bad 
 as the custom still is, it has already lost more than 
 half its primitive horrors, and undergone changes 
 much greater than would now suffice to abolish it 
 entirely. Its former atrocities are well-nigh incred 
 ible. Belligerents employed whatever means would 
 best subserve their purposes of conquest, plunder 
 or revenge. They poisoned wells, and butchered 
 men, women and children, without distinction. 
 They spared none. Prisoners they massacred in 
 cold blood, or tortured with the most exquisite cru 
 elty ; and, when unable to reduce a fortiiied place, 
 they would sometimes collect before it a multitude 
 of these victims, and, putting them all to the sword, 
 leave their carcasses unburied, that the stench might 
 compel the garrison to retire ! Such atrocities were 
 practised by the most polished nations of antiquity. 
 In Rome, prisoners were either sold as slaves, or 
 put to death at pleasure. Kings and nobles, women 
 and children of high birth, chained to the victor s 
 car, were dragged in triumph through the streets, 
 and then doomed to a cruel death, or left to end 
 their days in a severe and hopeless bondage ; while 
 others less distinguished, were compelled, as gladi 
 ators, to butcher one another by hundreds for the 
 amusement of Roman citizens ! But such barbari 
 ties are indignantly discarded from the present 
 war system of Christendom ; and if thus ten steps 
 have already been taken they confessedly have 
 towards abolishing this custom, is there no possi 
 bility of taking the six more that alone are requi 
 site to complete its abolition ? 
 
 Still more ; certain kinds of war have actually 
 
226 PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE. 
 
 been abolished. Private or feudal wars, once waged 
 between the petty chieftains of Europe, and fre 
 quently occasioning even more mischief than flows 
 now from the collision of empires, continued for 
 centuries to make the very heart of Chtistendom a 
 scene of confusion and terror. There was no safety, 
 no repose. Every baron claimed the right, just as 
 nations now do, of warring against his neighbor at 
 pleasure. His castle was his fortress, and every 
 one of his vassals a soldier, bound to take the field 
 at the bidding of his lord. War was their busi 
 ness ; and all Europe they kept in ceaseless com 
 motion or alarm. The evil seemed intolerable ; and 
 finally, emperors and popes, magistrates and priests, 
 rulers and citizens, all combined against it, and suc 
 ceeded, after the lapse of four or five centuries, in 
 exterminating a species of war as dreadful as any 
 that ever scourged our world. And would not sim 
 ilar efforts bring international wars to an end ? 
 
 Glance at some of the causes now at work for 
 such a result. I cannot here pause even to name a 
 tithe of these causes ; arid it must for the present 
 suffice to know, that all the means of general im 
 provement, all the good influences of the age, are 
 so many handmaids to the cause of peace, and har 
 bingers of its universal spread and triumph. The 
 progress of freedom, and popular education ; the 
 growing influence of the people, always the chief 
 sufferers from war, over every form of government ; 
 the vastly augmented power of public opinion, 
 fast becoming more and more pacific ; the spirit 
 of free inquiry, and the wide diffusion of knowledge 
 through presses, and pulpits, and schools the 
 disposition to force old usages, institutions and 
 opinions through the severest ordeals ; the various 
 improvements which philanthropy, genius, and even 
 avarice itself, are everywhere making in the char- 
 
PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE. 227 
 
 acter and condition of mankind, all demanding 
 peace ; the actual disuse of war, and the marked 
 desire of rulers themselves to supersede it by the 
 adoption of pacific expedients that promise ere 
 long to re-construct the international policy of the 
 civilized world ; the pacific tendencies of litera- 
 vure, science, and all the arts that minister to indi 
 vidual comfort, or national prosperity ; the more 
 frequent, more extended intercourse of Christians 
 and learned men in different parts of the earth ; 
 the wide extension of commerce, and the consequent 
 inter-linking over the globe of interests which war 
 must destroy ; the rapid spread of the gospel in 
 pagan lands, the fuller development of its spirit in 
 Christendom, and the more direct, more efficacious 
 application of its principles to every species of sin 
 and misery ; all the enterprises of associated be 
 nevolence and reform, but especially the combined 
 efforts made to disseminate the principles of peace, 
 to pour the full light of heaven on the guilt and 
 evils of war, and thus unite the friends of Grod and 
 man everywhere against this master-scourge of our 
 race ; such are some of the influences now at work 
 for the world s perpetual peace. 
 
 Nor have these causes been at work in vain. 
 " Already," says Ware, " is the process begun, by 
 which Jehovah is going to fulfil the amazing predic 
 tions of his word. Even now is the fire kindled at 
 the forges where swords are yet to be beaten into 
 ploughshares, and spears into pruning-hooks. The 
 teachers are already abroad who shall persuade the 
 nations to learn war no more. If we would hasten 
 that day, we have only to throw ourselves into the 
 current, and we may row with the tide. There 
 may be, here and there, a counter-current ; but the 
 main stream is flowing steaiily on, and the order 
 of Providence is rolling forward the sure result." 
 
228 PRACTICABILITY OF PEACE. 
 
 The gospel, rightly applied, is amply sufficient 
 for such a result. It is God s own power at work 
 for the world s eventual deliverance from all forms 
 of error, sin and misery. There is no passion it 
 cannot subdue, no vice it cannot reform, no evil 
 custom it cannot abolish, no moral malady it cannot 
 cure, no inveteracy of error or sin from which it 
 cannot reclaim. Its history, as well as its nature, 
 proves its power ; and a libel would it be on God 
 himself, to suppose his chosen instrument for a 
 world s spiritual renovation, inadequate to the task 
 of exterminating war from every land blest with 
 its heavenly light, and eventually from the whole 
 earth. 
 
 On this point God has taken care to leave no 
 room for doubt. Expressly, repeatedly has he 
 promised, that the earth shall be filled with the 
 knowledge of his name, even as the waters cover 
 the sea ; that the kingdoms of this world shall all 
 become the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour, Je 
 sus Christ ; and then shall they beat their swords 
 into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning- 
 hooks ; nation shall no longer lift up sword against 
 nation, neither shall they learn war any more. 
 Thus has God promised the world s eventual pacifi 
 cation as explicitly as he has the world s conversion, 
 or even the salvation of any believer in Jesus ; and 
 we must either discard the whole Bible, or believe 
 in the possibility, the absolute certainty of univer 
 sal and permanent peace. 
 
 It is not incumbent on us to show how these pro 
 phecies are to be fulfilled ; and yet it were easy to 
 point out a variety of expedients that might, with 
 safety and success, take the place of war. There is 
 in truth no more need of this custom among Chris 
 tian nations than there is of paganism itself. They 
 could, if they would, settle all their difficulties with- 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 229 
 
 out war, as well as tlie members of a church can 
 theirs without duels. There is no impossibility in 
 the case. Substitutes far better than the sword for 
 all purposes of protection and redress, might be 
 made to supersede entirely the alleged necessity of 
 war between nations. Once, individuals had no 
 other means than brute force for the redress of 
 their wrongs, or the adjustment of their difficulties; 
 but, if that old practice of private wars gave place, 
 ages ago, to codes and courts of law between indi 
 viduals, it is equally possible for nations, if they 
 choose, to provide similar methods for the settle 
 ment of their disputes without the effusion of 
 blood. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 ALL our methods of peace, or substitutes for 
 war, resolve themselves into the simple principle of 
 having nations adjust their difficulties as individ 
 uals do theirs. The latter, when any dispute arises, 
 either agree between themselves, or refer the case 
 to umpires mutually chosen, or carry it into a court 
 of law for a fair and equitable decision ; and, in 
 pursuance of the same policy, nations should first 
 employ negotiation, next resort, by arbitration or 
 mediation, to some form of amicable reference, or, 
 better than all. should establish a system of justice 
 between nations, like our codes and courts of law 
 for individuals. Some of these expedients are oc 
 casional, others would be permanent ; and we will 
 just glance at each of these classes. 
 20 
 
230 SUBSTITUTES FOU WAR 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 TEMPORARY SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 THE first of these temporary expedients, then 9 
 would be NEGOTIATION. So long as nations keep 
 cool and kind enough to adjust their own difficul 
 ties, this method is decidedly the best of all. If 
 they made the sword really their last resort, instead 
 of their first ; or if popular sentiment should al 
 ways hold them back from conflict till mutual 
 forbearance, explanation and concession, had ex 
 hausted their utmost power, this expedient alone 
 wouliJ, in nine cases out of ten, prevent an appeal 
 to arms. 
 
 Our next resort would be to ARBITRATION ; a 
 substitute adopted when the parties are unable to 
 adjust their own difficulties, or prefer the decision of 
 an impartial umpire. Better for the parties to agree 
 among themselves, if they can ; but, if they can 
 not, nations should in every case settle their dis 
 putes by some mode of reference. Nor is there 
 any objection in their case, that would not apply to 
 individuals ; for it is just as feasible and safe, as 
 equitable and honorable, for the former as for the 
 latter. 
 
 But there is another form of reference in the 
 principle of MEDIATION. When rulers become so 
 exasperated against each other, as to withdraw 
 from official intercourse, and the strange, semi-bar 
 barous code of national honor requires them to keep 
 aloof, or to meet only on the field of battle, a third, 
 power, friendly to both, occasionally interposes with 
 the offer of its services as mediator. Such services 
 the parties are now bound in courtesy to accept ; 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 231 
 
 and this simple expedient, a new development of 
 the pacific tendencies of the age, promises to obvi 
 ate the most delicate and difficult cases of misun 
 derstanding. It is well known, that duellists can 
 not fight so long as a mutual friend stands between 
 them as mediator ; and, if so effectual for the pre 
 vention of duels, the principle, equally applicable to 
 war, would be likely to prove still more successful 
 here, from the longer delay necessary, from the 
 greater publicity of the transaction, and from the 
 overwhelming majority on both sides interested in 
 a peaceful issue of the dispute. Thus might a 
 single cabinet, by the well-timed tender of its ser 
 vices, hold in check the war-spirit of the whole 
 civilized world, and do much to keep its nations in 
 permanent peace. 
 
 Another occasional substitute for war is NON- 
 INTERCOURSE. If a neighbor habitually maltreats 
 us, and will neither make reparation, nor come to 
 any reasonable terms, we sometimes find it best 
 simply to let him alone, and have nothing whatever 
 to do with him, until he proves himself worthy of 
 our renewed confidence and intercourse. So the 
 church, and all voluntary associations, when a mem 
 ber can no longer be tolerated within their pale, 
 merely exclude him, and leave him to the recoil of 
 his own misdeeds. The principle is equally appli 
 cable to nations. If a government neglects its 
 treaty-engagements, or violates in other respects the 
 law of riations, and persists in its refusal to make 
 due reparation, it would be far better to withdraw 
 from all intercourse with a nation so unreasonable, 
 and wait for the frowns of the world, and a return 
 ing sense of justice and self respect to set them 
 right, than to embroil scores of innocent mill 
 ions in war. Such a contest would soon hide or 
 change the real, original issue, while non-inter- 
 
232 SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 course would keep that issue steadily before all 
 men, and thus concentrate the rays of truth, and 
 right, and public opinion, in a burning focus upon 
 the offender s conscience. It could do very little 
 injury in comparison with war. while it would be 
 likely to accomplish far more good. Had France, 
 in 1835, persisted in her refusal to pay the five 
 million dollars confessedly due to us, such a course 
 as this would in time have secured the payment ; 
 but, had we gone to war for it, she would have 
 fought till doomsday before she would have paid a 
 farthing. To this principle of non-intercourse as 
 a pacific measure, or substitute for war in extreme 
 cases, Jefferson gave the seal of his approbation and 
 example. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 PERMANENT SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 I. Stipulated Arbitration. 
 
 NOT content with palliatives, we seek effectual 
 remedies for war ; and, for this purpose, we urge the 
 adoption of permanent substitutes. The first of 
 these is stipulated arbitration ; by which we mean, 
 that nations incorporate in every treaty a clause, 
 binding themselves to adjust whatever difficulties 
 may arise between them, in no case by the sword, 
 but always by reference to umpires mutually 
 chosen, and agree either to abide by their decision, 
 or to claim, if dissatisfied, only a new hearing, or a 
 different reference. 
 
 To such a substitute, what objection can be 
 urged ? It relinquishes no right ; it sacrifices no 
 interest ; it would startle few, if any prejudices ; 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 233 
 
 it can offend neither the strong nor the moderate 
 peace-man, neither the Quaker nor the warrior; it 
 is adapted to the present state of the world, and 
 consistent alike with the precepts of Christianity, 
 and the dictates of sound policy ; a measure level 
 to the comprehension of all, and commending itself 
 to their common sense as simple, feasible, and likely 
 to prove successful. 
 
 The plan speaks for itself. Common sense de 
 cides, that no man should be allowed to judge in 
 his own case; and this principle is quite as appli 
 cable to communities as to individuals. The for 
 mer, equally liable to all the influences that bias the 
 judgment, and lead to wrong conclusions, should 
 never be permitted, any more than individuals, to 
 act as witness, jury and judge in their own case. 
 Nor is this principle new or untried. It is as old 
 as human society ; it has been acted upon more or 
 less from the earliest dawn of civilization ; we often 
 find the wisest and best men preferring it even to a 
 regular course of law, for the adjustment of their 
 own differences ; and we simply ask, tht t nations 
 should exercise an equal degree of sense, candor 
 and justice, by referring their disputes, in like man 
 ner, to competent and impartial arbiters. 
 
 The same principle lies at the bottom of all our 
 courts. Every trial in them is a reference. No 
 litigant is allowed to decide, or even to testify in 
 his own case ; but he must, whether willing or un 
 willing, submit to the ju igment of his peers on the 
 testimony of credible witnesses. Nor has he any 
 direct voice in the selection of his arbiters ; society 
 chooses them for him ; and before a judge and jury 
 thus appointed, he is compelled to go, and abide 
 their decision. Such is the ordinary course of jus 
 tice, the common, legal mode of reference ; and 
 ought not governments, in the adjustment of their 
 20* 
 
234 SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 difficulties, to act on principles as equitable and 
 elevated, as those which they prescribe to their own 
 subjects ? Shall common sense, common honesty, 
 the established vules of right and wrong, never be 
 extended to the intercourse of nations? 
 
 In behalf of this plan, we might quote the high 
 est authorities, the voice of public opinion fast 
 growing in favor of the principle, and the example 
 of nearly all Christendom, now beginning to adopt 
 it in some form as their last resort, instead of the 
 sword. Do you deem it disreputable? It cer 
 tainly cannot be more so than occasional reference, 
 which all the world approve. Dp you say that na 
 tions cannot, or should not. thus pledge themselves 
 in advance, ? They do and must in every treaty. 
 Such a pledge is quite as proper in the former as 
 in the latter case, and is just the thing we need to 
 prevent a sudden, passionate rush to arms. Do 
 you plead that arbitration is at best uncertain ? 
 Not half so much so as war confessedly is. Do 
 you say you can judge for yourselves? So can 
 the other party ; but, since you differ, and conse 
 quently cannot both be right, nor each have his 
 own way, how shall the dispute be settled ? Can 
 you find a cheaper, juster, surer way, than reference 
 to umpires in whom you both have confidence, and 
 before whom you are allowed a full and fair hear 
 ing ? 
 
 II. A Congress of Nations. 
 
 1. Outlines. We shall not enter into the details 
 of a plan for a congress of nations. We are not 
 sticklers for any particular plan or name, but pro 
 pose merely to incorporate the grand principle of 
 reference in some standing tribunal for the peaceful 
 adjustment of all international difficulties. 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR*. 235 
 
 This plan includes two measures one temporary, 
 the other settled and permanent. We would first 
 have a diplomatic congress of nations, a grand con 
 vention of delegates plenipotentiary, from all parts 
 of the civilized world, that could be brought into the 
 measure, to deliberate and agree upon a code of in 
 ternational law. We would have them invested, 
 like ambassadors, with power, not to establish such 
 a code themselves, but merely to recommend its 
 principles in detail to their respective governments 
 for their adoption or rejection. The next measure 
 would be the establishment of an international tri 
 bunal to interpret that code, and adjudicate what 
 ever cases any nations in dispute might refer to 
 their decision. Its jurisdiction should extend only 
 to matters connected with the intercourse of na 
 tions ; and no case should come before it except by 
 consent and choice of parties. Its decisions should 
 be final, and preclude, by mutual agreement, all 
 right of appealing to any further means of adjust 
 ment, except a new hearing, an amicable consulta 
 tion, or reference to special umpires mutually cho 
 sen. Its decrees, however, should be merely ad 
 visory. Whether legislative or judicial, they should 
 bind no party without their consent, and depend for 
 success entirely on the high repute of the tribunal, 
 on the obvious equity of its decisions, and the strong 
 tide of public opinion in their favor. It should act 
 as a diet of ambassadors, to mature terms for the 
 ratification of their respective constituents, or as a 
 board of referees, whose arbitrament the parties 
 would still be at liberty to accept or reject. Nor 
 should its sanctions ever include or involve a resort 
 to the sword. Its decrees should be enforced only 
 by moral or peaceful means. Penalties there might 
 be ; but they should all be pacific, and consist in the 
 recoil of public opinion, in the withdrawal of friend- 
 
236 SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 ly intercourse, or the curtailment of commercial and 
 other privileges. 
 
 These outlines should be constantly borne in 
 mind; for they obviate most of the objections hith 
 erto brought against the project of a Congress of 
 nations, and would at least render such a tribunal 
 perfectly harmless. 
 
 2. Objects sought. Our plan would, in time, 
 secure a variety of results highly important to the 
 welfare of nations. It would seek mainly to pre- 
 eerve peace without the sword ; but this is only one 
 among the multitude of its legitimate results. It 
 would perform for the kingdoms associated no small 
 part of the services that our own Congress does for 
 the different members of our republic, and would 
 thus have three distinct departments of duty to 
 settle and complete the law of nations, to adjust all dis 
 putes between them without an appeal to the sword, and 
 direct their intercourse and combined energies in ways 
 best adapted to the improvement, prosperity and happi 
 ness of t lie whole human race. 
 
 Few are aware how unsettled and imperfect is the 
 present law of nations. We have in truth no such 
 law ; and what passes under the name, is of recent 
 origin, and insufficient authority. It is only a com 
 pilation of precedents, opinions and arguments. It 
 is the work, not of legislators, but of scholars ; no 
 law-making power was ever concerned in enacting 
 any of its statutes ; and all its authority has resulted 
 from the deference spontaneously paid to the genius, 
 erudition and wisdom of its compilers. It is not 
 law, but argument ; not decrees, but rules ; not a 
 code, but a treatise ; and the nations are at liberty, 
 except from the force of custom and public opinion, 
 to adopt or reject it as they please. A uniform, 
 authoritative code of international law is still a de 
 sideratum ; to supply this deficiency would be one 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 237 
 
 of the first and highest duties of the tribunal we 
 propose ; and a mere glance at the subjects which 
 would thus come before it, must suffice to show its 
 necessity and vast importance. 
 
 Our limits will hardly allow us even to name 
 these subjects such as articles contraband of war ; 
 protection of neutral commerce ; security of pri 
 vate property in war; the rights and rules of block 
 ade] right of search and impressment; protection 
 of non-combatants; property in navigable rivers; 
 the armed interposition of one nation in the domes 
 tic affairs of another : right of interference with a 
 nation at war ; passage of belligerents through a 
 neutral territory ; surrender of fugitives from jus 
 tice or oppression various meliorations of war ; 
 measures for the entire extinction of the custom ; 
 the settlement of national boundaries ; the regula 
 tion of cartels, and flags of truce ; the rules and 
 rates of salvage; the improvement and expansion 
 of commerce ; the adoption of some common stand 
 ard of weights and measures ; the interpretation 
 of treaties by definite and established rules : the 
 naturalization of foreigners, and the transfer of 
 their allegiance ; the determination of what shall 
 be deemed the inalienable rights of man, such as 
 life, liberty of conscience, and the use of his own 
 powers ; the reconcilement of laws that come into 
 conflict in the intercourse of nations, such as those 
 respecting contracts, majority, evidence, and the 
 law of domicile ; improvements in various parts of 
 the international code ; measures in common for 
 the relief of suffering nations, and for the suppres 
 sion or punishment of such practices as torture, in 
 fanticide, human sacrifices, the slave-trade, and sim 
 ilar outrages upon humanity. 
 
 For the sake of a brief illustration, just glance at 
 one or two of these topics. Take the question of 
 
238 SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 blockade. The law of nations is very loose on this 
 subject ; the practice of belligerents has taken a 
 still wider license ; and the exigencies of the case 
 call aloud for some means to prevent the repetition 
 of such outrages. Some writers have questioned 
 the propriety, under any circumstances, of block 
 ade against neutrab ; but, right or wrong, it ought 
 certainly to be restrained from that immense sweep 
 of mischief to which it has so often aspired in 
 modern times. All the ports of a nation, most of 
 those skirting an entire continent, have, by a mere 
 stroke of the pen, been closed against all neutral 
 vessels. England once declared the whole coast of 
 France to be under blockade, and Napoleon in re 
 turn did the same to all England, without a fleet 
 in either case sufficient to enforce a tenth part of 
 the blockade. It was a mere scare-crow, a block 
 ade only on paper, a shallow pretence for licensing 
 a species of wholesale piracy ; yet did an English 
 admiral, in the late war between Great Britain and 
 ourselves, declare our whole coast, two thousand 
 miles in extent, under blockade, without a twen 
 tieth part of the ships requisite to enforce a block 
 ade so extensive. The evils of such a practice 
 must be immense ; for the blockade of a single 
 port might cripple the commerce of the world. 
 
 There is an obvious and urgent necessity for 
 something like a Congress of nations. The defi 
 ciencies of their present code can never be sup 
 plied, the evils now incident to their intercourse 
 never be remedied, and their highest welfare, or 
 their perfect safety secured, without some tribunal 
 of the kind as their acknowledged lawgiver and 
 judge. No treatises on the law of nations, no "decis 
 ions of admiralty courts, no treaty stipulations, no 
 rectitude, capacity or vigilance of rulers, no degree 
 of intelligence or honesty among the people, no 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. . 239 
 
 force of custom or public opinion, can ever meet 
 all the exigencies of the case, and thus supersede 
 the necessity of an international tribunal for the 
 various and vastly important purposes already sug 
 gested. Can such a chasm in the wants of the 
 world never be filled ? 
 
 OBJECTIONS. Public opinion is not yet ripe for 
 such a measure. Then let us make it so. It is in 
 some degree prepared even now for the measure ; 
 and soon might the wise and good, by the right 
 use of means within their reach, form through 
 Christendom such a public sentiment as would 
 ere-long secure this or some other permanent sub 
 stitute for war. Public opinion is certainly ripe 
 enough to start in earnest the train of efforts in 
 dispensable to the final accomplishment of our 
 object. 
 
 We have other means now in use sufficient for the 
 preservation of peace. True, they might suffice ; 
 but they do not in fact supersede war. So might 
 similar means suffice for the adjustment of all dis 
 putes between individuals ; but we still deem it 
 expedient, if not necessary, to have our codes and 
 courts of law. In spite of all methods now in use^ 
 the war-system still continues, and we wish to in 
 troduce a substitute that shall actually supersede 
 it entirely and forever. 
 
 * Christendom is unwilling to give up the war-sys 
 tem. If rulers are. the people are not ; and the 
 results of the French Revolution made even the 
 sturdiest despots anxious for peace as their only 
 security. All Europe, crushed beneath the enor 
 mous burdens of war, is even now panting for 
 release in some way from its evils, and would hail 
 with joy any effectual antidote or remedy. 
 
 4 But diversities of language, and religion, and 
 manners, and government, and pursuits, would sure- 
 
240 SUBSTITUTES FOR. WAR. 
 
 ly defeat the object. None of these would oppose 
 insuperable, or very serious impediments, to the 
 slight degree of union required in such a confed 
 eracy. Not a few of them were overcome in the 
 formation of our own general government ; and 
 they were all found in the Diet of Switzerland, 
 where each of the twenty-two cantons is internally 
 as independent as any nation on earth; where the 
 form of government varies from the purest de 
 mocracy to the stiffest aristocracy, and where the 
 people differ in language, manners and religion. 
 
 Such a tribunal would be dangerous. To whom 
 or what ? Would it trample on the weak ? It 
 would have no power for such a purpose : but its 
 first care would be to guard them against encroach 
 ment and abuse. Would it endanger liberty and 
 popular governments ? Called into existence by 
 their voice, it would become of course a servant to 
 their wishes, and a guardian of their rights and 
 interests. Would it interfere with the domestic 
 concerns of states ? It would itself be the surest 
 check upon such interference. Would it become a 
 conclave of political intrigue, and serve only to em 
 broil the nations ? History refutes the charge ; and 
 the supposition is just as absurd as it would be to 
 expect that ambassadors, appointed to negotiate 
 peace, would only foment new wars. Would it 
 become a tool in the hands of some future Alexan 
 der or Napoleon, to subjugate all Christendom ? 
 Such monsters are the offspring only of war ; and 
 the peaceful policy inseparable from a congress of 
 nations, would put an end forever to the whole brood. 
 By what process then could such a tribunal be thus 
 perverted ? With no fleets or armies at their com 
 mand, with no offices of emolument or honor to 
 bestow, with no right to touch any subject not sub 
 mitted to them by their constituents, how could 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 241 
 
 such a body become an engine of conquest, tyranny 
 and blood I 
 
 c Composed chiefly of representatives from mon 
 archies, such a tribunal would, at all events, be un 
 friendly, if not dangerous to republican govern 
 ments. We see not how it could be ; for it would 
 have no power to interfere with the internal affairs 
 of any government, or to sit in judgment on any 
 dispute not voluntarily referred to it by the parties. 
 No nation would be bound by any of its decisions, 
 without their own consent ; and we might as well 
 say, that treaties with monarchies, and still more 
 such references as we ourselves have repeatedly 
 made to them, must endanger the freedom of our 
 institutions. Such a court, guided by a common 
 code, and responsible to the whole world for the 
 rectitude of its adjudications, could not be half so 
 dangerous as those kings and autocrats whom we 
 have occasionally selected as umpires. Yet who 
 has ever dreamed of the least danger to our gov 
 ernment from such references ? 
 
 1 But the Congress, after all. would be powerless. 
 History and reason alike refute the assertion. The 
 experiment has already been made in a variety of 
 ancient and modern cases : and the general result 
 justifies the belief, that such a tribunal as we pro 
 pose, would eventually put an end forever to the 
 wars of Christendom. The Amphictyonic Council 
 of Greece, composed of delegates from each of its 
 states, and empowered to examine and decide all 
 their disputes, did much to preserve peace between 
 them for a long series of ages ; and, though unable, 
 in times so barbarous and warlike, to keep the 
 sword continually in its scabbard, still it must have 
 saved rivers of blood. The Achaean League did 
 the same, and was often solicited, even by foreign 
 nations, to act as the arbiter of their disputes. We 
 21 
 
242 SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 
 
 might also quote almost every government in Eu 
 rope as a virtual illustration of this principle ; for 
 Austria, France, Great Britain, and all the leading 
 states of Christendom, kept for the most part in 
 domestic peace for centuries, are each a cluster of 
 small tribes or baronies, so long associated under one 
 head as to have lost, in some cases, their original 
 distinction as independent principalities. Aus 
 tria and Great Britain are obvious, striking exam 
 ples ; and the fact that the three kingdoms of the 
 latter, and the numerous principalities of the for 
 mer, are preserved in amity by the general govern 
 ment common to them all, goes far to prove the 
 efficacy of our principle. This principle has like 
 wise kept peace between our own states the greater 
 part of a century, and between the confederated 
 cantons of Switzerland for more than five centuries. 
 Even the occasional congresses or conferences, so 
 frequently held, during the last two centuries, 
 between the leading powers of Europe, as to average 
 one every four years, have seldom failed either to 
 preserve or restore peace. Not that they have 
 always been completely successful ; but they have 
 fully evinced the efficacy of the principle, and 
 added strong confirmation to the hope of an event 
 ual confederacy of all Christendom under a con 
 gress or court, that shall keep its members in 
 constant and perpetual peace. If experiments so 
 partial, and under circumstances comparatively so 
 unfavorable, have still accomplished so much even 
 for pagan or half-christianized nations ; what may 
 we not expect from a tribunal perfect as the highest 
 wisdom of modern times can make it, cheerfully 
 recognized by the whole civilized world, and en 
 forced by a strong, universal, omnipresent public 
 Opinion ? 
 
 Such a Congress would remove the grand 
 
SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR. 243 
 
 tives to war. It would crush, or chain, or neutral 
 ize the war-spirit. It would make the warrior s 
 business odious, and render it the chief glory of 
 rulers, not to wage war, but to preserve unbroken, 
 universal peace. It would give a new direction to 
 the energies of all Christendom, and turn the ambi 
 tion of princes and statesmen into peaceful chan 
 nels. It would sweep away the grand nurseries of 
 war, by superseding all war-establishments. It 
 would eventually convert standing armies into 
 handfuls of police-men, and leave war-ships to rot, 
 arsenals to moulder, and fortifications to crumble 
 into ruins. Here are the chief combustibles of 
 war ; and, when these are all removed, it will be 
 well-nigh impossible to kindle its fires on any 
 emergency. 
 
 Such a Congress, moreover, would obviate nearly 
 all the occasions of war. These are now found in 
 points of national honor ; in sudden bursts of 
 passion among rulers ; in occasional outrages of 
 officers or citizens ; in clashing views, customs, or 
 interests; in temporary misconceptions and ani 
 mosities ; in claims for redress denied, or unduly 
 delayed ; in mutual jealousies, suspicions and 
 fears. Most of these difficulties, such a tribunal 
 would either prevent, or easily settle ; and for the 
 rest, it would provide an antidote sufficient to 
 supersede ninety-nine wars in a hundred. 
 
 Nay ; would not this grand expedient suffice for 
 the worst emergency ? It would make nations, 
 just like the members of a Christian church, cease 
 to think of settling their disputes by arms. They 
 could never draw the sword at the outset ; and the 
 long delay occasioned by an appeal to the Congress, 
 and by subsequent preparations for conflict, would 
 give ample time for passion to cool, and reason to 
 gain such an ascendency as she seldom, if ever, had 
 
244 CONCLUDING APPEALS. 
 
 in any declaration of war by men. If the parties 
 disliked the first decision, they might claim repeated 
 hearings ; and every new trial would create new 
 obstructions in the way of appealing to the sword. 
 But why suppose such a tribunal powerless for 
 the preservation of peace ? Because it would wear 
 no crown, wield no sword, hold no purse ? Such 
 logic mistakes the age. Opinion is now the mis 
 tress of the world. Her voice could light or 
 quench the fires of a thousand battle-fields. It 
 changed the government of France in a day. and 
 reformed the parliament of England without blood 
 shed. It made us free. It once marshalled all 
 Europe in the cms ides. It called up the demon- 
 spirits of the French Revolution, and sent hurricane 
 after hurricane of war howling in wrath over the 
 fairest portions of Christendom. All this it has 
 done ; and, when embodied in the grand Areopagus 
 of the world, would it then be powerless ? 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 CONCLUDING APPEALS. 
 
 IT would be difficult to exaggerate the claims of 
 this cause ; and voices from the past, the present 
 and the future, from time and eternity, from earth 
 and from heaven, are calling aloud for a prompt, 
 vigorous use of the means requisite to exorcise the 
 war-spirit from Christendom, to bring the custom 
 of war under the ban of its entire population, and 
 form everywhere such a public sentiment as shall 
 constrain nations to employ, as they could if they 
 
CONCr.TIDJNG APPEALS. 245 
 
 would, pacific expedients alone for the settlement 
 of all tlieir disputes. 
 
 For such a result, means are obviously indispen 
 sable. The moral suasion of the gospel, the power 
 of Christian truth and love, must be applied long 
 and well to this custom. Light must be poured 
 upon it from reason and history ; its enormous guilt 
 must be set forth in the full blaze of revelation ; its 
 immeasurable evils must be spread as far as possi 
 ble before every class in the community ; and such 
 a process of exposure must be continued, until the 
 mass of minds in every Christian land shall come to 
 regard this relic of a bloody and barbarous paganism 
 with a portion of God s own unmingled abhorrence, 
 and call in thunder-tones upon rulers to settle their 
 quarrels without the countless crimes and miseries 
 of war. 
 
 But who shall use these means ? Surely the fol 
 lowers of Christ ; for God has chosen them as his 
 special co-workers in every cause like this. In his 
 gospel he has furnished means the most effectual 
 for the permanent peace of our world, and prom 
 ised in due time to render them, if rightly used, 
 completely successful. As children of the God of 
 peace, as disciples of the Prince of peace, this 
 cause is eminently their own ; and, if they do not 
 lead its van, they are recreant to their high and 
 sacred obligations. Had they from the first done 
 their whole duty on this subject, war would long 
 ago have vanished from Christendom ; and, would 
 they now do what they might and should, this cus 
 torn would cease ere long from every Christian land, 
 and eventually from the whole earth. And are they 
 not responsible to God for what they might do, if 
 they would? 
 
 Still greater is the responsibility of Christian 
 ministers as leaders of the church. Their influence 
 21* 
 
246 CONCLUDING A 
 
 is proverbial. Their character, their office, their 
 relations to society, all arm them with a vast 
 amount of moral power. They speak in God s 
 name, on God s day, from God s word. Their influ 
 ence is well-nigh omnipresent in every Christian 
 community. Almost every mind is open to their 
 appeals. They touch the great main-springs of 
 society, and hold in their hands the chief engines 
 of moral power. If they would all unite as one 
 man, concentrate the full weight of their influ 
 ence against war, how soon would it melt away, like 
 dew before the rising sun ; from every land blessed 
 with the light of the gospel ! And will ambassa 
 dors of the Prince of peace refuse or neglect any 
 longer to do their whole duty on this subject ? 
 Will they not preach upon it, and lead their people 
 to pray, contribute and labor for this blessed cause I 
 
 The press, too, must be fully enlisted in its be- 
 lialf. Its ten thousand tongues must be made to 
 speak in the ear of every reading community, and 
 pour forth a ceaseless stream of facts, arguments 
 and appeals, to illustrate the sin and curse of war, 
 and the duty, the glory, and the blessedness of 
 peace. Would to God that editors, and writers for 
 the press, and others who have, or might have, in 
 fluence over it, would unite to bring- this mighty 
 engine into frequent, habitual, earnest advocacy of 
 this cause. No war can come, where the press is 
 free, without first obtaining its permission ; and it 
 is in the power of newspapers and other periodicals 
 alone, if fully united for the purpose, to insure the 
 permanent peace of all Christendom. An enviable 
 power, but an awful responsibility ! 
 
 Still more, if possible, do we expect from teach 
 ers. Their influence is universal ; they are scat 
 tering everywhere the seeds of character ; and 
 hence every college, and every professional semi- 
 
CONCLUDING APPEALS. 247 
 
 nary, every common and Sabbath school, every fire 
 side in Christendom, ought to become a nursery of 
 peace, to train up everywhere such a generation of 
 peace-makers as would spontaneously keep the peace 
 of the world. 
 
 Nor do we depend less upon the aid of women. 
 As mothers and teachers, they are the chief educa 
 tors of mankind ; they have access in childhood to 
 every mind under circumstances peculiarly favora 
 ble ; they cast the mould of society through the 
 world ; they may, under God, make its character 
 Very much what they please ; and, would they stamp 
 upon every young mind under their care a deep, in 
 delible impression of peace, war must of necessity 
 cease with the very next generation thus trained. 
 Daughter of God ! there is hardly a relation in life 
 where you cannot serve the cause of peace. Are 
 you a wife 1 You can mould, more or less, your 
 husband s habits of thinking on this subject. Are 
 you a mother 1 You can train your children to a 
 love of peace, and a deep, habitual abhorrence of 
 war. You may, if you will, diffuse the principles 
 of peace through the whole circle of your relatives 
 and acquaintances. Are you a teacher in a Sabbath 
 or any other school ? You can impress your views 
 of peace upon the minds of your pupils, and infuse 
 your spirit into their hearts. Do you write for the 
 press ? You can there plead this cause with an 
 eloquence all your own. 
 
 There ought to be a general rally of the good for 
 the support of this cause, by the use of such 
 means as are essential to success. Let them use 
 these means aright, and God will not long withhold 
 his blessing. Let the gospel, wherever preached, 
 be rightly applied to this custom ; let the press 
 be freely enlisted in behalf of this cause ; let 
 preachers of the gospel enforce its pacific, just as 
 
248 CONCLUDING APPEALS. 
 
 they do any of its other truths ; let Christians of 
 every name come up to this work as one man, and 
 put forth their utmost energies ; let associations, if 
 necessary, be formed, and scores of selected advo 
 cates plead, and the friends of humanity all rally 
 with their gifts, and prayers, and personal efforts ; 
 let books, and tracts, and pamphlets, and periodi 
 cals, full of stirring facts, and logic on fire, be scat 
 tered far and wide in every city and town, in every 
 village, hamlet, and habitation ; let every church, 
 every Sabbath and common school, every academy 
 and college, every seminary of learning, from the 
 highest to the lowest, every fire-side in Christen 
 dom, become a nursery of peace, to train up a gene 
 ration of peace-makers ; let all these hold up war 
 before every class in the community, as a giant 
 offender against God, as the master-scourge of our 
 world ; and could this custom long stand before 
 guch an array of influences ? 
 
 We have the strongest encouragement. The 
 promises of God render the ultimate prevalence of 
 peice over the whole earth absolutely certain. His 
 providence is also enlisting in its behalf the best 
 and mightiest influences of the world, and giving 
 unexpected efficacy to the means thus far used in 
 this cause. How little has hitherto been done for 
 it only a few thousand dollars expended annually 
 throughout Christendom ! Yet, with this mere 
 pittance of money and effort, have we already 
 reached results vastly important, and prospects still 
 more cheering. In no cause has so much been ac 
 complished with such slender means. Mark some 
 of the acknowledged results. Our own country 
 has been saved from several wars that threatened it 
 (1846) ; the general peace of Europe has, for a 
 wonder, been preserved more than thirty years ; 
 public sentiment on this subject is widely different 
 
CONCLUDING APPEALS. 249 
 
 from what it was even at the beginning of the pres 
 ent century ; difficulties which would once have 
 plunged nations in blood, are now adjusted with 
 scarce a thought of resorting to arms ; negotiation, 
 reference and mediation, are actually taking the 
 place of war, and gradually effacing the traditional 
 belief of its necessity ; the leading cabinets of 
 Christendom seem disposed to adopt these substi 
 tutes as their settled, permanent policy ; and this 
 course, if continued only half a century longer, 
 will probably supersede in time the whole war sys 
 tem, by accustoming nations to settle their disputes 
 in essentially the same way that individuals now do 
 theirs. 
 
 Say not there is no need of special efforts in this 
 cause. If war has been for so many ages pouring 
 over the whole earth a deluge of evils ; if it is still 
 the chief scourge and terror of our race ; if it is 
 at this moment taxing Christendom nearly one 
 thousand millions of dollars every year for its sup 
 port even in peace ; if it is continually liable, like 
 a pent-up volcano, to pour forth a burning torrent 
 of woes upon the world ; is there no call for special 
 endeavors to hold in check this mammoth evil? 
 
 Tell us not to rely upon the gospel without an ap 
 plication of its pacific principles. Will medicine not 
 taken ever cure disease ? No ; you must apply 
 even the best remedy, before it can effect a cure. 
 Is the gospel an exception to this law of common 
 sense ? Can it cure any evils to which it is never 
 applied ? The gospel is, indeed, the only effectual 
 antidote to war ; but we insist on a right applica 
 tion of its pacific principles to the case. It has 
 never been thus applied ; and the mistake lies in 
 supposing that the gospel, as hitherto received by 
 Christians, will abolish this custom. The nations 
 of Christendom are the most notorious fighters on 
 
250 CONCLUDING APPEALS. 
 
 earth, and its standing armies have increased in a 
 single century from half a million to three millions 
 -six hundred per cent. ! Can such a process ever 
 bring war to an end ? 
 
 But you need only make men real Christians, 
 arid they will cease to fight. Will they 1 ? Have 
 they? No real Christians ever engage in war! 
 None such among the millions of standing warriors 
 now in Christendom ! None among the fathers of 
 our own revolution ! Not one among all the myri 
 ads who have fought from time immemorial in the 
 wars of Christendom ? 
 
 Perhaps you say, let existing agencies, such as 
 the church, the ministry, and the press, do the work 
 for peace, and thus supersede the necessity of spe 
 cial, associated efforts. Most earnestly do we wish 
 they would ; and whenever they shall, they will 
 take the matter very much out of our hands. As 
 yet, however, they have not done so ; and, until they 
 do, shall nothing be done for peace ? May we not 
 even attempt to rouse the church ? She ought to 
 have arrested the ravages of intemperance, and 
 spread the gospel over the whole earth ; but, since 
 she did neither, and gave no promise of doing either 
 very soon, was it a superfluous, reprehensible ser 
 vice for individual volunteers, as they did, to lead 
 the van in those movements, and rouse the church 
 to her long-neglected duty on those subjects ? If 
 the church will do what is needed in the cause of 
 peace, then let her do it the sooner the better, 
 and thus supersede our efforts ; but, until she does 
 this, we certainly ought, as the pioneers of temper 
 ance and of missions did. to stimulate her to her 
 duty on this subject, and rally as many as we can 
 in special efforts for the extinction of war. 
 
 Tell us not, wait till the millennium ; when that 
 comes, peace will follow as a matter of course^ 
 
CONCLUDING APPEALS. 251 
 
 Very true ; and so will repentance and faith follow 
 equally as a matter of course. Bat how? Is tho 
 millennium to come first, and then all mankind to be 
 converted as one of its results ; or is the conversion 
 of the whole world to usher in and to constitute the 
 millennium itself? How would you introduce a 
 millennium of repentance ? Solely by first filling 
 the world with repentance with men penitent for 
 their sins. How a millennium of faith I By filling 
 the earth with faith with believers in Jesus. How 
 then a millennium of peace ? In the same way ; for 
 peace, just like repentance and faith, must come 
 before the millennium, as one of its indispensable 
 harbingers, or along with the millennium, as one of 
 its inseparable concomitants. 
 
 Say not, ws are peaceable enough ; go to war 
 riors and war makers. So we mean to do ; but, if 
 you are so pacific, will you not go with us, and help 
 make them as peaceable as yourselves ? We look 
 to the temperate for the promotion of temperance, 
 to Christians for the spread of Christianity ; and 
 must we not rely in like manner upon the professed 
 friends of peace to carry forward this enterprise ? 
 
 Away, then, with all excuses whatsoever. Wake 
 to the claims of this cause, and gird yourself in 
 earnest for its support. Whether minister or lay 
 man, high or low, old or young, male or female, 
 rally, one and all, for a cheerful, vigorous prosecu 
 tion of this great work. Give to it your prayers, 
 your money, your time, your talents. The voice 
 of prophecy and of Providence summons you to this 
 high arid blessed service. The spirit of the age. 
 the wants of the church and the world, demand it. 
 " The mighty conquerors of the past, from their 
 fiery sepulchres, demand it ; the blood of millions 
 unjustly shed in war, crying from the ground, de 
 mands it: the voices of all good men demand ife 
 
252 CONCLUDING APPEALS. 
 
 We should lead in this great work. To this should 
 bend the patriotic ardor of the land, the ambition 
 of the statesman, the efforts of the scholar, the per 
 vasive influence of the press, the mild persuasion 
 of the sanctuary, the early teachings of the school. 
 Here, in ampler ether and diviner air, are untried 
 fields for triumphs more exalted and glorious than 
 any snatched from rivers of blood." 
 
 that the friends of God and man could be made 
 to feel and meet the high claims of this cause ! 
 There is none more worthy, more godlike ; and in 
 no other way could you, by a given amount of 
 money and effort, accomplish more for God s glory 
 in the present and immortal welfare of mankind. 
 For its publications, and agencies, and other pur 
 poses, this cause requires funds as truly as any 
 other one ; but it has hitherto received scarce a tithe 
 of what it needs, and most richly deserves. Will 
 not those who bestow their thousands upon other 
 objects, remember this also ? To what other pur 
 pose could you better give a few hundreds a year 
 through life, and thousands in your will ? If you 
 expect soon to stand in judgment before the God 
 of peace, and hope to spend a blissful eternity in 
 mansions prepared for you by the Prince of peace, 
 will you leave at death no memorial of your regard 
 for his cause, or make before that hour no earnest 
 efforts to echo round the globe his own birth-song 
 of universal peace and good will ? 
 
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