Part 9

_For what use is the Militia of the United States?_ This immense system spreads, with innumerable suckers, over the whole country, draining its best life-blood, the unbought energies of our youth. The same painful discipline which we observe in the soldier absorbs their time, though to a less degree than in the Regular Army. Theirs also is the savage pomp of War. We read with astonishment of the painted flesh and uncouth vestments of our progenitors, the ancient Britons. But the generation will come, that must regard with equal wonder the pictures of their ancestors closely dressed in padded and well-buttoned coats of blue "besmeared with gold," surmounted by a huge mountain-cap of shaggy bear-skin, and with a barbarous device, typical of brute force, _a tiger_, painted on oil-skin tied with leather to their backs! In the streets of Pisa the galley-slaves are compelled to wear dresses stamped with the name of the crime for which they are suffering punishment,--as theft, robbery, murder. Is it not a little strange that Christians, living in a land "where bells have tolled to church," should voluntarily adopt devices which, if they have any meaning, recognize the example of beasts as worthy of imitation by man?

The general considerations belonging to Preparations for War illustrate the inanity of the Militia for purposes of _national defence_. I do not know, indeed, that it is now strongly urged on this ground. It is oftener approved as an important part of the _police_. I would not undervalue the advantage of an active, efficient, ever-wakeful police; and I believe that such a police has been long required. But the Militia, where youth and character are without the strength of experience, is inadequate for this purpose. No person who has seen this arm of the police in an actual riot can hesitate in this judgment. A very small portion of the means absorbed by the Militia would provide a substantial police, competent to all the domestic emergencies of disorder and violence. The city of Boston has discarded a Fire Department composed of _accidental volunteers_. Why not do the same with the police, and set another example to the country?

I am well aware that efforts to reduce the Militia are encountered by some of the dearest prejudices of the common mind,--not only by the War Spirit, but by that other, which first animates childhood, and, at a later day, "children of a larger growth," inviting to finery of dress and parade,--the same which fantastically bedecks the dusky feather-cinctured chief of the soft regions warmed by the tropical sun,--which inserts a ring in the nose of the North American Indian,--which slits the ears of the Australian savage, and tattoos the New Zealand cannibal.

* * * * *

Such are the national armaments, in their true character and value. Thus far I have regarded them in the plainest light of ordinary worldly economy, without reference to those higher considerations, drawn from the nature and history of man and the truths of Christianity, which pronounce them vain. It is grateful to know, that, though having yet the support of what Jeremy Taylor calls "popular noises," the other more economical, more humane, more wise, more Christian system is daily commending itself to good people. On its side are all the virtues that truly elevate a state. Economy, sick of pygmy efforts to stanch the smallest fountain and rill of exuberant expenditure, pleads that here is a measureless, fathomless, endless river, an Amazon of waste, rolling its prodigal waters turbidly, ruinously, hatefully, to the sea. It chides us with unnatural inconsistency, when we strain at a little twine and paper, and swallow the monstrous cables and armaments of War. Humanity pleads for the surpassing interests of Knowledge and Benevolence, from which such mighty means are withdrawn. Wisdom frowns on these Preparations, as nursing sentiments inconsistent with Peace; Christianity calmly rebukes the spirit in which they have their origin, as of little faith, and treacherous to her high behests; while History, exhibiting the sure, though gradual, Progress of Man, points with unerring finger to that destiny of True Grandeur, when nations, like individuals, disowning War as a proper Arbiter of Justice, shall abandon the oppressive apparatus of Armies, Navies, and Fortifications, by which it is waged.

* * * * *

Before considering the familiar injunction, _In time of Peace prepare for War_, I hope I shall not seem to descend from the proper sphere of this discussion, if I refer to the parade of _barbarous mottoes_, and of _emblems from beasts_, as another impediment to the proper appreciation of these Preparations. These mottoes and emblems, prompting to War, are obtruded on the very ensigns of power and honor, and, careless of their discreditable import, men learn to regard them with patriotic pride. In the armorial bearings of nations and individuals, beasts and birds of prey are the exemplars of True Grandeur. The lion appears on the flag of England; the leopard on the flag of Scotland; a double-headed eagle spreads its wings on the imperial standard of Austria, and again on that of Russia; while a single-headed eagle was adopted on the Napoleonic seal, and thus far the same single-headed bird is enough for Prussia. The pennons of knights, after exhausting the known kingdom of Nature, were disfigured by imaginary and impossible monsters, griffins, hippogriffs, unicorns, all intended to represent the exaggeration of brute force. The people of Massachusetts unconsciously adopt this early standard. The escutcheon used as the seal of the State has an unfortunate combination, to which I refer briefly by way of example. On that part in the language of heraldry termed the _shield_ stands an Indian with a bow in his hand,--certainly no agreeable memento, except to those who find honor in the disgraceful wars where our fathers robbed and murdered King Philip of Pokanoket, and his tribe, rightful possessors of the soil. The _crest_ is a raised arm _holding a drawn sabre in a threatening attitude_,--being precisely the emblem once borne on the flag of Algiers. The _scroll_, or legend, is the latter of two favorite verses, in modern Latin, which are not traced to any origin more remote than Algernon Sidney, by whom they were inscribed in an album at Copenhagen:-

"Manus hæc inimica tyrannnis _Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem_."[89]

[89] The Earl of Leicester, father of Sidney, in an anxious letter, August 30, 1660, writes his son: "It is said that the University of Copenhagen brought their Album unto you, desiring you to write something therein, and that your did _scribere in Albo_ these words [setting forth the verses], and put your name to it"; and then he adds, "This cannot but be publicly known, if it be true.... Either you must live in exile or very privately here, and perhaps not safely." The restoration of Charles the Second had just taken place. (Meadley, Memoirs of Algernon Sidney, pp. 84, 323-325.) Lord Molesworth, in a work which first appeared in 1694, mentions the verses as written by Sidney in "the Book of Mottoes in the King's Library," and then tells the story, that the French Ambassador, who did not know a word of Latin, on learning their meaning, tore them from the book, as a libel on the French government, and its influence in Denmark. (Molesworth, Account of Denmark, Preface.) The inference from this narrative would seem to be that the verses were by Sidney himself.

With singular unanimity, the Legislature of Massachusetts has expressed an earnest desire for the establishment of a High Court of Nations to adjudge international controversies, and thus supersede the Arbitrament of War. It would be an act of moral dignity consistent with these professions, and becoming the character it vaunts before the world, if it abandoned the bellicose escutcheon,--at least, that _Algerine_ emblem, fit only for corsairs, if not also the Latin motto with its menace of the sword. If a Latin substitute for the latter be needed, it might be those words of Virgil, "_Pacisque_ imponere morem,"[90] or that sentence of noble truth from Cicero, "Sine SUMMA JUSTITIA rempublicam geri nullo modo posse":[91] the first a homage to Peace, and the second a consecration to Justice. Where such a spirit prevailed, there would be little occasion to consider the question of War Preparations.

[90] Æneid, VI. 852.

[91] De Republica, Lib. II. cap. 43.

Massachusetts is not alone in the bellicose anachronism of her banner. The nation is in the same category. Our fathers would have hesitated long before accepting the eagle for the national escutcheon, had they recalled the pungent words of Erasmus on this most unrepublican bird. "Let any physiognomist, not a blunderer in his trade," says this most learned scholar, "consider the look and features of an eagle, those rapacious and wicked eyes, that menacing curve of the beak, those cruel cheeks, that stern front,--will he not at once recognize _the image of a king_, a magnificent and majestic king? Add to these a dark, ill-omened color, an unpleasing, dreadful, appalling voice, and that threatening scream at which every kind of animal trembles." Proceeding with his indictment, he describes the eagle in old age as satisfied with nothing but blood, with which he prolongs his hateful life, the upper mandible growing so that he cannot feed on flesh, while the natural rapacity continues,--all of which typifies the wicked prince. But the scholar becomes orator, when, after mentioning that there are innumerable species of birds, some admirable for richness of plumage, some remarkable for snowy whiteness, some shining with befitting blackness, some pre-eminent in bodily stature, some notable for fecundity, some grateful at the rich banquet, some pleasant from loquacity, some captivating in song, some distinguished for courage, some created for the entertainment of man,--he proceeds to say: "Of all birds, the eagle alone has seemed to wise men _the apt type of royalty_: not beautiful, not musical, not fit for food,--but carnivorous, ravenous, plundering, destroying, fighting, solitary, hateful to all, the curse of all, and though able to do the greatest harm, yet wishing to do more than he can."[92] Erasmus, who says this and much more, is no mean authority. Brightest and best among the scholars who illustrated the modern revival of letters, loving peace, and detesting kings, he acquired a contemporary power and fame such as letters never bestowed before, if since,--at least until Voltaire, kindred in versatile genius, mounted the throne. In all the homage profusely offered to the latter there was nothing stronger than that of Luther to Erasmus, when the great Reformer asked, "Who is the man whose soul Erasmus does not occupy, whom Erasmus does not instruct, over whom Erasmus does not reign?" His face is still familiar from the devotion of two great artists, Albert Dürer and Hans Holbein, each of whom has left to us his portrait,--while he is commemorated by a bronze statue in Rotterdam, his birthplace, and by a monument in the ancient cathedral at Basel, where he died. It is this renowned scholar who castigates our eagle. Doubtless for fighting qualities this royal bird was transferred to the coin and seal of a Republic. His presence there shows the spirit which unconsciously prevailed; and this same presence, beyond all question, exercises a certain influence, especially with the young, nursing a pride in that beak and those pounces which are the menace of War.

[92] Erasmi Adagia, Chil. III. Cent. VII. Prov. 1: _Scarabæus aquilam quærit._ Hallam, Literature of Europe, Part I. ch. 4. sec. 43, 44.

* * * * *

The maxim, _In time of Peace prepare for War_,[93] is transmitted from distant ages, when brute force was the general law. It is the terrible inheritance which painfully reminds present generations of their connection with the Past. It belongs to the dogmas of barbarism. It is the companion of harsh, tyrannical rules by which the happiness of the many is offered up to the few. It is the child of suspicion, and the forerunner of violence. Having in its favor almost uninterrupted usage, it possesses a hold on popular opinion not easily unloosed. And yet no conscientious man can fail, on careful observation, to detect its mischievous fallacy,--_at least among Christian nations in the present age_,--a fallacy the most costly the world has witnessed, dooming nations to annual tribute in comparison with which the extortions of conquest are as the widow's mite. So true is what Rousseau said, and Guizot has since repeated, that "a bad principle is far worse than a bad fact"; for the operations of the latter are finite, while those of the former are infinite.

[93] If countenance were needed in thus exposing a pernicious maxim, I might find it in the German philosopher Kant, whose work on Perpetual Peace treats it with very little respect. (Kant, Sämmtliche Werke, Band VII., _Zum Ewigen Frieden_, § 1.) Since this Oration, Sir Robert Peel and the Earl of Aberdeen, each Prime Minister of England, and practically conversant with the question, have given their valuable testimony in the same direction. Life has its surprises; and I confess one in my own, when the latter, in conversation on this maxim, most kindly thanked me for what I had said against it.

I speak of this principle with earnestness; for I believe it erroneous and false, founded in ignorance and wrong, unworthy of civilization, and disgraceful to Christians. I call it a principle; but it is a mere _prejudice_,--sustained by vulgar example only, and not by enlightened truth,--obeying which, we imitate the early mariners, who, steering from headland to headland, hugged the shore, unwilling to venture upon the broad ocean, with the luminaries of heaven for their guide. If not yet discerned in its true character, it is because the clear light of truth is discolored and refracted by an atmosphere where the cloud of War covers all.

Dismissing the actual usage on the one side, and considerations of economy on the other, I would regard these Preparations in the simple light of reason, in a just appreciation of the nature of man, and in the injunctions of the highest truth. Our conclusion will be very easy. They are twice pernicious, and whoso would vindicate them must satisfactorily answer these two objections: _first_, that they inflame the people, exciting to deeds of violence, otherwise alien to the mind; and, _secondly_, that, having their origin in the low motives of distrust and hate, inevitably, by a sure law of the human mind, they excite to corresponding action in other nations. Thus, in fact, are they _promoters of War_, rather than _preservers of Peace_.

In illustration of the _first_ objection, it will occur at once to every inquirer that the possession of power is in itself dangerous, tempting the purest and highest, and too rarely enjoyed without abuse. Nor is the power to employ force in War an exception. Nations possessing the greatest armaments are the most belligerent. It is the feebler powers which enjoy eras of Peace. Throughout more than seven hundred years of Roman history resounds the din of War, with only two short lulls of Peace; and in modern times this din has been echoed from France. But Switzerland has had no din. Less prepared, this Republic had less incentive to War. Not only in nations do we find this law. It applies to individuals also. The same din which resounded in Rome and was echoed from France has filled common life, and from the same cause. The _wearing of arms_ has been a provocative, too often exciting, as it furnished the weapon of strife. The odious system of private quarrels, with altercation and hostile meetings even in the street, disgracing the social life of modern Europe, continued with this habit. This was its origin. But who can measure the extent of its influence? Dead bodies stretched on the pavements, and vacant chairs at home, were the contemporary witnesses. If death was hasty and unpremeditated, it was only according to the law of such encounter. Poets and authors, wearing arms, were exposed to the rude chances. The dramatist Marlowe, in some respects almost Shakespearian, "renowned for his rare art and wit," perished ignominiously under the weapon of a vulgar adversary; and Savage, whose genius and misfortune inspired the friendship and praise of Samuel Johnson, was tried at the Old Bailey for murder committed in a sudden broil. Nothing of this could have occurred without the habit of wearing arms, which was a fashion. Out of this came the _Dance of Death_.

This pernicious influence is illustrated by Judge Jay with admirable plainness. He shows the individual as an example to nations. Listen, a moment, to what he says so well. "The expert swordsman, the practised marksman, is ever more ready to engage in personal combats than the man who is unaccustomed to the use of deadly weapons. In those portions of our country where it is supposed essential to personal safety to go armed with pistols and bowie-knives mortal affrays are so frequent as to excite but little attention, and to secure, with exceedingly rare exceptions, perfect impunity to the murderer; whereas at the North and East, where we are unprovided with such facilities for taking life, comparatively few murders of the kind are perpetrated. We might, indeed, safely submit the decision of the principle we are discussing to the calculations of pecuniary interest. Let two men, equal in age and health, apply for an insurance on their lives,--one known to be ever armed to defend his honor and his life against every assailant, and the other a meek, unresisting Quaker: can we doubt for a moment which of these men would be deemed by an Insurance Company most likely to reach a good old age?"[94]

[94] Address before the American Peace Society, pp. 23, 24.

With this practical statement and its strong sense I leave this objection to War Preparations, adding a single supplementary remark,--What is good for the individual is good for nations.

The _second_ objection, though different in character, is not less operative. It is founded on that law of human nature according to which the very hate or distrust to which these Preparations testify excites in others a corresponding sentiment. This law is general and fundamental. Though rarely recognized by nations as a rule of conduct, it was never without its influence on individuals. Indeed, it is little more than a practical illustration of the Horatian adage, _Si vis me flere, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi_: If you wish me to weep, you must yourself first grieve. Nobody questions its truth or applicability. But does it not proclaim that War Preparations in a period of professed Peace must naturally prompt adverse Preparations, and everywhere within the circle of their influence quicken the Spirit of War? So are we all knit together that the feelings in our own bosoms awaken corresponding feelings in the bosoms of others,--as harp answers to harp in its softest vibration, as deep responds to deep in the might of its power. What in us is good invites the good in our brother; generosity begets generosity; love wins love; Peace secures Peace;--while all in us that is bad challenges the bad in our brother; distrust engenders distrust; hate provokes hate; War arouses War. Therefore are we admonished to avoid such appeal, and this is the voice of Nature itself.

This beautiful law is everywhere. The wretched maniac, in whose mind the common principles of conduct are overthrown, confesses its overruling power; and the vacant stare of madness is illumined by a word of love. The wild beasts confess it: and what is the story of Orpheus, whose music drew in listening rapture the lions and panthers of the forest, or of St. Jerome, whose kindness soothed the lion to lie down at his feet, but expressions of its prevailing power?[95]

[95] Scholars will remember the incident recorded by Homer in the Odyssey (XIV. 30, 31), where Ulysses, on reaching his loved Ithaca, is beset by dogs, described as wild beasts in ferocity, who rush towards him barking; but he, with _craft_ (that is the word of Homer), seats himself upon the ground _and lets his staff fall from his hand_. A similar incident is noticed by Mr. Mure, in his entertaining travels in Greece, and also by Mr. Borrow, in his "Bible in Spain." Pliny remarks, that all dogs may be appeased in the same way: "_Impetus eorum et sævitia mitigatur ab homine considente humi._" Nat. Hist., Lib. VIII. cap. 40.

Even a fable may testify. I would not be tempted too far, but, at the risk of protracting this discussion, I cannot forget illustrations which show how poetry at least, if not history, has interpreted the heart of man.

Looking back to the historic dawn, one of the most touching scenes illumined by that auroral light is the peaceful visit of the aged Priam to the tent of Achilles, entreating the body of his son. The fierce combat ended in the death of Hector, whose unhonored corse the bloody Greek has trailed behind his chariot. After twelve days of grief, the venerable father is moved to seek the remains of the son he has so dearly loved. He leaves his lofty cedarn chamber, and with a single aged attendant, unarmed, repairs to the Grecian camp beside the distant sounding sea. Entering alone, he finds Achilles in his tent, with two of his chiefs. Grasping his knees, the father kisses those terrible homicidal hands which had taken the life of his son. Touched by the sight which he beholds, the heart of the inflamed, the angry, the inflexible Achilles responds to the feelings of Priam. He takes the suppliant by the hand, seats him by his side, consoles his grief, refreshes his weary body, and concedes to the prayers of a weak, unarmed old man what all Troy in arms could not win. In this scene, which fills a large space in the Iliad,[96] the master poet, with unconscious power, has presented a picture of the omnipotence of that law, making all mankind of kin, in obedience to which no word of kindness, no act of confidence, falls idly to the earth.

[96] Book XXIV.

Among the early passages of Roman history, perhaps none makes a deeper impression than that scene, after the Roman youth were consumed at the Allia, and the invading Gauls under Brennus had entered the city, where in a temple were seated the venerable Senators of the Republic, too old to flee, and careless of surviving the Roman name, each on his curule chair, unarmed, looking, as Livy says, more august than mortal, and with the majesty of the gods. The Gauls gaze as upon sacred images; and the hand of slaughter, which had raged through the streets of Rome, is stayed by the sight of an unarmed assembly. This continued until one of the invaders standing nearest reached his hand to stroke gently the silver beard of a Senator, who, indignant at the license, smote the barbarian with his ivory staff, which was the signal for general vengeance. Think you that a band of savages could have slain these Senators, if the _appeal to Force_ had not been made first by one of their own number? This story, though recounted by Livy, and also by Plutarch,[97] is repudiated by Niebuhr; but it is none the less interesting as a legend, attesting the law by which hostile feelings are aroused or subdued.

[97] Liv., Lib. V. cap. 41. Plutarch, Life of Camillus.