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37. Christendom in resorting to hostilities; recourse had to arms for
slight motives or for none; and when war was once begun an utter
rejection of all reverence for divine or human law, just as if the
unrestrained commission of every crime became thenceforth
legitimate. Yet, instead of throwing the weight of his judgment into
the scale of opinion which opposed the custom altogether (though
he did advocate an international tribunal that should decide
differences and compel obedience to its decisions), he only tried to
shackle it with rules of decency that are absolutely foreign to it, with
the result, after all, that he did very little to humanise wars, and
nothing to make them less frequent.
Nevertheless, though Grotius admitted the abstract lawfulness of
military service, he made it conditional on a thorough conviction of
the righteousness of the cause at issue. This is the great and
permanent merit of his work, and it is here that we touch on the
pivot or central question of military ethics. The orthodox theory is,
that with the cause of war a soldier has no concern, and that since
the matter in contention is always too complicated for him to judge
of its merits, his only duty is to blindfold his reason and conscience,
and rush whithersoever his services are commanded. Perhaps the
best exposition of this simple military philosophy is that given by
Shakespeare in his scene of the eve of Agincourt, where Henry V., in
disguise, converses with some soldiers of the English army.
‘Methinks,’ says the king, ‘I could not die anywhere so contented as
in the king’s company, his cause being just and his quarrel
honourable.’
William. ‘That’s more than we know.’
Bates. ‘Ay, or more than we should seek after, for we know enough if
we know we are the king’s subjects. If his cause be wrong, our
obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us.’
Yet the whisper of our own day is, Does it? For a soldier, nowadays,
enjoys equally with the civilian, who by his vote contributes to
prevent or promote hostilities, the greater facilities afforded by the
38. spread of knowledge for the exercise of his judgment; and it is to
subject him to undeserved ignominy to debar him from the free use
of his intellect, as if he were a minor or an imbecile, incompetent to
think for himself. Putting even the difficulty of decision at its worst, it
can never be greater for the soldier than it is for the voter; and if the
former is incompetent to form an opinion, whence does the peasant
or mechanic derive his ability? Moreover, the existence of a just and
good cause has always been the condition insisted on as alone
capable of sanctioning military service by writers of every shade of
thought—by St. Augustine as representing the early Catholic Church,
by Bullinger or Becon as representatives of the early Reformed
Church, and by Grotius as representative of the modern school of
publicists. Grotius contends that no citizen or subject ought to take
part in an unjust war, even if he be commanded to do so. He openly
maintains that disobedience to orders is in such a case a lesser evil
than the guilt of homicide that would be incurred by fighting. He
inclines to the opinion that, where the cause of war seems doubtful,
a man would do better to refrain from service, and to leave the king
to employ those whose readiness to fight might be less hampered by
questions of right and wrong, and of whom there would always be a
plentiful supply. Without these reservations he regards the soldier’s
task as so much the more detestable than the executioner’s, as
manslaughter without a cause is more heinous than manslaughter
with one,[316] and thinks no kind of life more wicked than that of
men who, without regard for the cause of war, fight for hire, and to
whom the question of right is equivalent to the question of the
highest wage.[317]
These are strong opinions and expressions, and as their general
acceptance would logically render war impossible, it is no small gain
to have in their favour so great an authority as Grotius. But it is an
even greater gain to be able to quote on the same side an actual
soldier. Sir James Turner at the end of his military treatise called
‘Pallas Armata,’ published in 1683, came to conclusions which,
though adverse to Grotius, contain some remarkable admissions and
39. show the difference that two centuries have made on military
maxims with regard to this subject. ‘It is no sin for a mere soldier,’
he says, ‘to serve for wages, unless his conscience tells him he fights
in an unjust cause.’ Again, ‘That soldier who serves or fights for any
prince or State for wages in a cause he knows to be unjust, sins
damnably.’ He even argues that soldiers whose original service
began for a just cause, and who are constrained by their military
oaths to continue in service for a new and unjust cause of war,
ought to ‘desert their employment and suffer anything that could be
done to them before they draw their swords against their own
conscience and judgments in an unjust quarrel.’[318]
These moral sentiments of a military man of the seventeenth
century are absolutely alien to the military doctrines of the present
day; and his remarks on wages recall yet another important
landmark of ancient thought that has been removed by the progress
of time. Early Greek opinion justly made no distinction between the
mercenary who served a foreign country and the mercenary who
served his own. All hired military service was regarded as
disgraceful, nor would anyone of good birth have dreamt of serving
his own country save at his own expense. The Carians rendered
their names infamous as the first of the Greek race who served for
pay; whilst at Athens Pericles introduced the custom of supporting
the poorer defenders of their country out of the exchequer.[319]
Afterwards, of course, no people ever committed itself more eagerly
to the pursuit of mercenary warfare.
In England also gratuitous military service was originally the
condition of the feudal tenure of land, nor was anyone bound to
serve the king for more than a certain number of days in the year,
forty being generally the longest term. For all service in excess of
the legal limit the king was obliged to pay; and in this way, and by
the scutage tax, by which many tenants bought themselves off from
their strict obligations, the principle of a paid military force was
recognised from the time of the Conquest. But the chief stipendiary
forces appear to have been foreign mercenaries, supported, not out
40. of the commutation tax, but out of the king’s privy purse, and still
more out of the loot won from their victims in war. These were those
soldiers of fortune, chiefly from Flanders, Brabançons, or Routers,
whose excesses as brigands led to their excommunication by the
Third Lateran Council (1179), and to their destruction by a crusade
three years later.[320]
But the germ of our modern recruiting system must rather be looked
for in those military contracts or indentures, by which from about the
time of Edward III. it became customary to raise our forces: some
powerful subject contracting with the king, in consideration of a
certain sum, to provide soldiers for a certain time and task. Thus in
1382 the war-loving Bishop of Norwich contracted with Richard II. to
provide 2,500 men-at-arms and 2,500 archers for a year’s service in
France, in consideration of the whole fifteenth that had been voted
by Parliament for the war.[321] In the same way several bishops
indented to raise soldiers for Henry V. And thus a foreign war
became a mere matter of business and hire, and armies to fight the
French were raised by speculative contractors, very much as men
are raised nowadays to make railways or take part in other works
needful for the public at large. The engagement was purely
pecuniary and commercial, and was entirely divested of any
connection with conscience or patriotism. On the other hand, the
most obviously just cause of war, that of national defence in case of
invasion, continued to be altogether disconnected with pay, and
remained so much the duty of the militia or capable male population
of the country, that both Edward III. and Richard II. directed writs
even to archbishops and bishops to arm and array all abbots, priors,
and monks, between the ages of sixteen and sixty, for the defence
of the kingdom.[322]
Originally, therefore, the paid army of England, as opposed to the
militia, implied the introduction of a strictly mercenary force
consisting indifferently of natives or foreigners, into our military
system. But clearly there was no moral difference between the two
classes of mercenaries so engaged. The hire, and not the cause,
41. being the main consideration of both, the Englishman and the
Brabançon were equally mercenaries in the ordinary acceptation of
the term. The prejudice against mercenaries either goes too far or
not far enough. If a Swiss or an Italian hiring himself to fight for a
cause about which he was ignorant or indifferent was a mercenary
soldier, so was an Englishman who with equal ignorance and
indifference accepted the wages offered him by a military contractor
of his own nation. Either the conduct of the Swiss was blameless, or
the Englishman’s moral delinquency was the same as his.
The public opinion of former times regarded both, of course, as
equally blameless, or rather as equally meritorious. And it is worth
noticing that the word mercenary was applied alike to the hired
military servant of his own as of another country. Shakespeare, for
instance, applies the term mercenary to the 1,600 Frenchmen of low
degree slain at Agincourt, whom Monstrelet distinguishes from the
10,000 Frenchmen of position who lost their lives on that memorable
day—
In this ten thousand they have lost,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries.
And even so late as 1756, the original signification of the word had
so little changed, that in the great debate in the House of Lords on
the Militia Bill of that year Lord Temple and several other orators
spoke of the national standing army as an army of mercenaries,
without making any distinction between the Englishmen and the
Hessians who served in it.[323]
The moral distinction that now prevails between the paid service of
natives and of foreigners is, therefore, of comparatively recent
origin. It was one of the features of the Reformation in Switzerland
that its leaders insisted for the first time on a moral difference
between Swiss soldiers who served their own country for pay, and
42. those who with equal bravery and credit sold their strength to the
service of the highest foreign bidder.
Zwingli, and after him his disciple Bullinger, effected a change in the
moral sentiment of Switzerland equivalent to that which a man
would effect nowadays who should persuade men to discountenance
or abandon military service of any kind for pay. One of the great
obstacles to Zwingli’s success was his decided protest against the
right of any Swiss to sell himself to foreign governments for the
commission of bloodshed, regardless of any injury in justification;
and it was mainly on that account that Bullinger succeeded in 1549
in preventing a renewal of the alliance or military contract between
the cantons and Henry II. of France. ‘When a private individual,’ he
said, ‘is free to enrol himself or not, and engages himself to fight
against the friends and allies of his sovereign, I know not whether
he does not hire himself to commit homicide, and whether he does
not act like the gladiators, who, to amuse the Roman people, let
themselves to the first comer to kill one another.’
But it is evident that, except with a reservation limiting a man’s
service to a just national cause, Bullinger’s argument will also apply
to the case of a hired soldier of his own country. The duty of every
man to defend his country in case of invasion is intelligible enough;
and it is very important to notice that originally in no country did the
duty of military obedience mean more. In 1297 the High Constable
and Marshal of England refused to muster the forces to serve
Edward I. in Flanders, on the plea that neither they nor their
ancestors were obliged to serve the king outside his dominions;[324]
and Sir E. Coke’s ruling in Calvin’s case,[325] that Englishmen are
bound to attend the king in his wars as well without as within the
realm, and that their allegiance is not local but indefinite, was not
accepted by writers on the constitution of the country. The existing
militia oath, which strictly limits obedience to the defence of the
realm, covered the whole military duty of our ancestors; and it was
only the innovation of the military contract that prepared the way for
our modern idea of the soldier’s duty as unqualified and unlimited
43. with regard to cause and place and time. The very word soldier
meant originally stipendiary, his pay or solde (from the Latin
solidum) coming to constitute his chief characteristic. From a servant
hired for a certain task for a certain time the steps were easy to a
servant whose hire bound him to any task and for the whole of his
life. The existing military oath, which binds a recruit and practically
compels him as much to a war of aggression as of defence at the
bidding of the executive, owes its origin to the revolution of 1689,
when the refusal of Dumbarton’s famous Scotch regiment to serve
their new master, William III., in the defence of Holland against
France, rendered it advisable to pass the Mutiny Act, containing a
more stringent definition of military duty by an oath couched in
extremely general terms. Such has been the effect of time in
confirming this newer doctrine of the contract implied by the military
status, that the defence of the monarch ‘in person, crown, and
dignity against all enemies,’ to which the modern recruit pledges
himself at his attestation, would be held to bind the soldier not to
withhold his services were he called upon to exercise them in the
planet Mars itself.
Hence it appears to be an indisputable fact of history that the
modern military theory of Europe, which demands complete spiritual
self-abandonment and unqualified obedience on the part of a soldier,
is a distinct trespass outside the bounds of the original and, so to
speak, constitutional idea of military duty; and that in our own
country it is as much an encroachment on the rights of Englishmen
as it is on the wider rights of man.
But what is the value of the theory itself, even if we take no account
of the history of its growth? If military service precludes a man from
discussing the justice of the end pursued in a war, it can hardly be
disputed that it equally precludes him from inquiries about the
means, and that if he is bound to consider himself as fighting in any
case for a lawful cause he has no right to bring his moral sense to
bear upon the details of the service required of him. But here occurs
a loophole, a flaw, in the argument; for no subject nor soldier can be
44. compelled to serve as a spy, however needful such service may be.
That proves that a limit does exist to the claims on a soldier’s
obedience. And Vattel mentions as a common occurrence the refusal
of troops to act when the cruelty of the deeds commanded of them
exposed them to the danger of savage reprisals. ‘Officers,’ he says,
‘who had the highest sense of honour, though ready to shed their
blood in a field of battle for their prince’s service, have not thought it
any part of their duty to run the hazard of an ignominious death,’
such as was involved in the execution of such behests. Yet why not,
if their prince or general commanded them? By what principle of
morality or common sense were they justified in declining a
particular service as too iniquitous for them and yet in holding
themselves bound to the larger iniquity of an aggressive war? What
right has a machine to choose or decide between good and bad any
more than between just and unjust? Its moral incompetence must
be thoroughgoing, or else in no case afford an extenuating plea. You
must either grant it everything or nothing, or else offer a rational
explanation for your rule of distinction. For it clearly needs
explaining, why, if there are orders which a soldier is not bound to
obey, if there are cases where he is competent to discuss the moral
nature of the services required of him, it should not also be open to
him to discuss the justice of the war itself of which those services
are merely incidents.
Let us turn from the abstract to the concrete, and take two instances
as a test of the principle. In 1689, Marshal Duras, commander of the
French army of the Rhine, received orders to destroy the Palatinate,
and make a desert between France and Germany, though neither
the Elector nor his people had done the least injury to France. Did a
single soldier, did a single officer quail or hesitate? Voltaire tells us
that many officers felt shame in acting as the instrument of this
iniquity of Louis XIV., but they acted nevertheless in accordance with
their supposed honour, and with the still orthodox theory of military
duty. They stopped short at no atrocity. They cut down the fruit-
trees, they tore down the vines, they burnt the granaries; they set
fire to villages, to country-houses, to castles; they desecrated the
45. tombs of the ancient German emperors at Spiers; they plundered
the churches; they reduced well-nigh to ashes Oppenheim, Spiers,
Worms, Mannheim, Heidelberg, and other flourishing cities; they
reduced 400,000 human beings to homelessness and destruction—
and all in the name of military duty and military honour! Yet, of a
truth, those were dastardly deeds if ever dastardly deeds have been
done beneath the sun; and it is the sheerest sophistry to maintain
that the men who so implicitly carried out their orders would not
have done more for their miserable honour, would not have had a
higher conception of duty, had they followed the dictates of their
reason and conscience rather than those of their military superiors,
and refused to sacrifice their humanity to an overstrained theory of
their military obligation, and their memory to everlasting execration.
In the case of these destroyers military duty meant simply military
servility, and it was this reckless servility that led Voltaire in his
‘Candide’ to put into the mouth of his inimitable philosopher, Martin,
that definition of an army which tales like the foregoing suggested
and justified: ‘A million of assassins, in regiments, traversing Europe
from end to end, and committing murder and brigandage by rules of
discipline for the sake of bread, because incompetent to exercise any
more honest calling.’[326]
An English case of this century may be taken as a parallel one to the
French of the seventeenth, and as an additional test of the orthodox
military dogma that with the cause of war a soldier has no concern.
It is the Copenhagen expedition of 1807, than which no act of might
within this century was more strongly reprobated by the public
opinion of Europe, and by all but the Tory opinion of England. A fleet
and army having been sent to the Danish capital, and the Danish
Government having refused to surrender their fleet, which was
demanded as the alternative of bombardment, the English military
officials proceeded to bombard the city, with infinite destruction and
slaughter, which were only stayed at last by the surrender of the
fleet as originally demanded. There was no quarrel with Denmark at
the time, there was no complaint of injury; only the surrender of the
46. fleet was demanded. English public opinion was both excited and
divided about the morality of this act, which was only justified on the
plea that the Government was in possession of a secret article of the
Treaty of Tilsit between Napoleon and the Czar of Russia, by which
the Danish fleet was to be made use of in an attack upon England.
But this secret article was not divulged, according to Alison, till ten
years afterwards,[327] and many disbelieved in its existence
altogether, even supposing that its existence would have been a
good case for war. Many military men therefore shared in the feeling
that condemned the act, yet they scrupled not to contribute their aid
to it. Were they right? Read Sir C. Napier’s opinion of it at the time,
and then say where, in the case of a man so thinking, would have
lain his duty: ‘This Copenhagen expedition—is it an unjust action for
the general good? Who can say that such a precedent is
pardonable? When once the line of justice has been passed, there is
no shame left. England has been unjust.... Was not our high honour
worth the danger we might perhaps have risked in maintaining that
honour inviolate?’[328]
These opinions, whether right or wrong, were shared by many men
in both services. Sir C. Napier himself says: ‘Were there not plenty of
soldiers who thought these things wrong? ... but would it have been
possible to allow the army and navy ... to decide upon the propriety
of such attacks?’[329] The answer is, that if they did, whether
allowed or not, such things would be impossible, or, at all events,
less probable: which is the best reason possible for the contention
that they should. Had they done so in this very instance, our
historians would have been spared the explanation of an episode
that is a dark blot upon our annals.
A more pleasing precedent, therefore, than that of the French
officers in the Palatinate, or of the English at Copenhagen, is the
case of Admiral Keppel, who, whilst numbers of naval officers flocked
to the Admiralty to offer their services or to request employment,
steadily declined to take part in the war of England against her
47. American colonies, because he deemed her cause a bad one.[330] He
did no violence to his reason or conscience nor tarnished his fame by
acting a part, of which in his individual capacity he disapproved. His
example is here held up as illustrating the only true doctrine, and
the only one that at all accords with the most rudimentary principles
of either religion or morality. The contrary doctrine bids a man to
forswear the use of both his reason and his conscience in
consideration for his pay, and deprives him of that liberty of thought
and moral action compared with which his civil and political liberty
are nothing worth. For what indeed is this contrary time-honoured
doctrine when stripped of all superfluities, and displayed in the outfit
of common sense and common words? What is it but that the duty
of military obedience overrides all duty of a man towards himself;
that, though he may not voluntarily destroy his body, he cannot do
too much violence to his soul; that it is his duty to annihilate his
moral and intellectual being, to commit spiritual suicide, to forego
the use of the noblest faculties which belong to him as a man; that
to do all this is a just cause of pride to him, and that he is in all
respects the nobler and better for assimilating himself to that
brainless and heartless condition which is that also of his charger or
his rifle?
If this doctrine is true and sound, then it may be asked whether
there has ever been or exists upon the earth any tyranny,
ecclesiastical or political, comparable to this military one; whether
any but the baser forms of priestcraft have ever sought to deprive a
man so completely of the enjoyment of his highest human
attributes, or to absolve him so utterly from all moral responsibility
for his actions.
This position can scarcely be disputed, save by denying the reality of
any distinction between just and unjust in international conduct; and
against this denial may be set not only the evidence of every age,
but of every language above the stage of mere barbarism. Disregard
of the difference is one of the best measures of the civilisation of a
people or epoch. We at once, for instance, form a higher estimate of
48. the civilisation of ancient India, when we read in Arrian that her
kings were so apprehensive of committing an unjust aggression that
they would not lead their armies out of India for the conquest of
other nations.[331] One of the best features in the old pagan world
was the importance attached to the justice of the motives for
breaking the peace. The Romans appear never to have begun a war
without a previous consultation with the College of Fecials as to its
justice; and in the same way, and for the same purpose, the early
Christian emperors consulted the opinion of the bishops. If a Roman
general made an unjust attack upon a people his triumph was
refused, or at least resisted; nor are the instances infrequent in
which the senate decreed restitution where a consul, acting on his
own responsibility, had deprived a population of its arms, its lands,
or its liberties.[332] Hence the Romans, with all their apparent
aggressiveness, won the character of a strict regard to justice, which
was no small part of the secret of their power. ‘You boast,’ the
Rhodians said to them, ‘that your wars are successful because they
are just, and plume yourselves not so much on the victory which
concludes them as on the fact that you never begin them without
good cause.’[333] Conquest corrupted the Romans in these respects
as it has done many another people; but even to the end of the
Republic the tradition of justice survived; nor is there anything finer
in the history of that people than the attempt of the party headed by
Ateius the tribune to prevent Crassus leaving Rome when he was
setting out to make war upon the Parthians, who not only had
committed no injury, but were the allies of the Republic; or than the
vote of Cato, that Cæsar, who, in time of peace, had slain or routed
300,000 Germans, should be given up to the people he had injured
in atonement for the wrong he had done to them.
The idea of the importance of a just cause of war may be traced, of
course, in history, after the extinction of the grand pagan philosophy
in which it had its origin. It was insisted on even by Christian writers
who, like St. Augustine, did not regard all military service as wicked.
What, he asked, were kingdoms but robberies on a vast scale, if
49. their justice were put out of the reckoning.[334] A French writer of
the time of Charles V. concluded that while soldiers who fell in a just
cause were saved, those who died for an unjust cause perished in a
state of mortal sin.[335] Even the Chevalier Bayard, who
accompanied Charles VIII. without any scruple in his conquest of
Naples, was fond of saying that all empires, kingdoms, and
provinces were, if without the principle of justice, no better than
forests full of brigands;[336] and the fine saying is attributed to him,
that the strength of arms should only be employed for the
establishment of right and equity. But on the whole the justice of the
cause of war became of less and less importance as time went on;
nor have our modern Christian societies ever derived benefit in that
respect from the instruction or guidance of their churches at all
equal to that which the society of pagan Rome derived from the
institution of its Fecials, as the guardians of the national conscience.
It was among the humane endeavours of Grotius to try to remedy
this defect in modern States by establishing certain general
principles by which it might be possible to test the pretext of any
given war from the side of its justice. At first sight it appears obvious
that a definite injury is the only justification for a resort to hostilities,
or, in other words, that only a defensive war is just; but then the
question arises how far defence may be anticipatory, and an injury
feared or probable give the same rights as one actually sustained.
The majority of wars, that have not been merely wars of conquest
and robbery, may be traced to that principle in history, so well
expressed by Livy, that men’s anxiety not to be afraid of others
causes them to become objects of dread themselves.[337] For this
reason Grotius refused to admit as a good casus belli the fact that
another nation was making warlike preparations, building garrisons
and fortresses, or that its power might, if unchecked, grow to be
dangerous. He also rejected the pretext of mere utility as a good
ground for war, or such pleas as the need of better territory, the
right of first discovery, or the improvement or punishment of
barbarous nations.
50. A strict adherence to these principles, vague as they are, would have
prevented most of the bloodshed that has occurred in Europe since
Grotius wrote. The difficulty, however, is, that, as between nations,
the principle of utility easily overshadows that of justice; and
although the two are related as the temporary to the permanent
expediency, and therefore as the lesser to the greater expediency,
the relation between them is seldom obvious at the time of choice,
and it is easy beforehand to demonstrate the expediency of a war of
which time alone can show both the inexpediency and the injustice.
Any war, therefore, however unjust it may seem, when judged by
the canons of Grotius, is easily construed as just when measured by
the light of an imperious and magnified passing interest; and the
absence of any recognised definition or standard of just dealing
between nations affords a salve to many a conscience that in the
matters of private life would be sensitive and scrupulous enough.
The story of King Agesilaus is a mirror in which very few ages or
countries may not see their own history reflected. When Phœbidas,
the Spartan general, seized the Cadmeia of Thebes in the time of
peace, the greater part of Greece and many Spartans condemned it
as a most iniquitous act of war; but Agesilaus, who at other times
was wont to talk of justice as the greatest of all the virtues, and of
valour without it as of little worth, defended his officer’s action, on
the plea that it was necessary to regard the tendency of the action,
and to account it even as glorious if it resulted in an advantage to
Sparta.
But when every allowance is made for wars of which the justice is
not clearly defined from the expediency, many wars have occurred of
so palpably unjust a character, that they could not have been
possible but for the existence of the loosest sentiments with regard
to the responsibility of those who took part in them. We read of wars
or the pretexts of wars in history of which we all, whether military
men or civilians, readily recognise the injustice; and by applying the
same principles of judgment to the wars of our own country and
time we are each and all of us furnished for the direction of our
conscience with a standard which, if not absolutely scientific or
51. consistent, is sufficient for all the practical purposes of life, and is
completely subversive of the excuse which is afforded by occasional
instances of difficult and doubtful decision. The same facilities which
exist for the civilian when he votes for or against taxation for a given
war, or in approval or disapproval of the government which
undertakes it, exist also for the soldier who lends his active aid to it;
nor is it unreasonable to claim for the action of the one the same
responsibility to his own conscience which by general admission
attaches to the other.
It is surely something like a degradation to the soldier that he should
not enjoy in this respect the same rights as the civilian; that his
merit alone should be tested by no higher a theory of duty than that
which is applied to the merit of a horse; and that his capacity for
blind and unreasoning obedience should be accounted his highest
attainable virtue. The transition from the idea of military vassalage
to that of military allegiance has surely produced a strange
conception of honour, and one fitter for conscripts than for free men,
when a man is held as by a vice to take part in a course of action
which he believes to be wrong. Not only does no other profession
enforce such an obligation, but in every other walk of life a man’s
assertion of his own personal responsibility is a source rather of
credit to him than of infamy. That in the performance of any social
function a man should be called upon to make an unconditional
surrender of his free will, and yield an obedience as thoughtless as a
dummy’s to superior orders, would seem to be a principle of conduct
pilfered from the Society of Jesus, and utterly unworthy of the
nobility of a soldier. As a matter of history, the priestly organisation
took the military one for its model: which should lead us to suspect
that the tyranny we find fault with in the copy is equally present in
the original, and that the latter is marked by the same vices that it
transmitted to the borrowed organisation.
The principle here contended for, that the soldier should be fully
satisfied in his own mind of the justice of the cause he fights for, is
the condition that Christian writers, from Augustine to Grotius, have
52. placed on the lawfulness of military service. The objection to it, that
its adoption would mean the ruin of military discipline, will appear
the greatest argument of all in its favour when we reflect that its
universal adoption would make war itself, which is the only reason
for discipline, altogether impossible. Where would have been the
wars of the last two hundred years had it been in force? Or where
the English wars of the last six, with their thousands of lives and
their millions of money spent for no visible good nor glory in fighting
with Afghans, Zulus, Egyptians, and Arabs? Once restrict legitimate
warfare to the limits of national defence, and it is evident that the
refusal of men to take part in a war of aggression would equally put
an end to the necessity of defensive exertion. If no government
could rely on its subjects for the purposes of aggression and
injustice, it goes without saying that the just cause of war would
perish simultaneously. It is therefore altogether to be wished that
that reliance should be weakened and destroyed.
The reasoning, then, which contains the key that is alone capable of
closing permanently the portals of Janus is this: that there exists a
distinction between a just and an unjust war, between a good and a
bad cause, and that no man has a right either to take part knowingly
and wilfully in a cause he believes to be unjust, nor to commit
himself servilely to a theory of duty which deprives him, at the very
outset, of his inalienable human birthright of free thought and free
will. This is the principle of personal responsibility which has long
since won admission everywhere save in the service of Mars, and
which requires but to be extended there to free the world from the
custom that has longest and most ruinously afflicted it. For it attacks
that custom where it has never yet been seriously attacked before,
at its real source—namely, in the heart, the brain, and the
conscience, that, in spite of all warping and training, still belong to
the individual units who alone make it possible. It behoves all of us,
therefore, who are interested in abolishing military barbarism, not
merely to yield a passive assent to it ourselves, but to claim for it
assent and assertion from others. We must ask and reask the
question: What is the title by which a man, through the mere fact of
53. his military cloth, claims exemption from the moral law that is
universally binding upon his fellows?
For this principle of individual military responsibility is of such power,
that if carried to its consequences, it must ultimately prove fatal to
militarism; and if it has not yet the prescription of time and common
opinion in its favour, it is sealed nevertheless with the authority of
many of the best intellects that have helped to enlighten the past,
and is indissolubly contained in the teaching alike of our religious as
of our moral code. It can, in fact, only be gainsaid by a denial of the
fundamental maxims of those two guides of our conduct, and for
that reason stands absolutely proof against the assaults of
argument. Try to reconcile with the ordinary conceptions of the
duties of a man or a Christian the duty of doing what his conscience
condemns, and it may be safely predicted that you will try in vain.
The considerations that may occur of utility and expediency beat in
vain against the far greater expediency of a world at peace, freed
from the curse of the warrior’s destructiveness; nor can the whole
armoury of military logic supply a single counter-argument which
does not resolve itself into an argument of supposed expediency,
and which may not therefore be effectually parried, even on this
narrower debating ground, by the consideration of the overwhelming
advantages which could not but flow from the universal acceptance
of the contrary and higher principle—the principle that for a soldier,
as for anyone else, his first duty is to his conscience.
Or, to put the conclusion in the fewest words: The soldier claims to
be a non-moral agent. That is the corner-stone of the whole military
system. Challenge then the claimant to justify his first principle, and
the custom of war will shake to its foundation, and in time go the
way that other evil customs have gone before it, when once their
moral support has been undermined or shattered.
FOOTNOTES:
54. [1] Halleck’s International Law, ii. 21. Yet within three weeks of
the beginning of the war with France 60,000 Prussians were hors
de combat.
[2] ‘Artem illam mortiferam et Deo odibilem balistrariorum et
sagittariorum adversus Christianos et Catholicos exerceri de
cætero sub anathemate prohibemus.’
[3] Fauchet’s Origines des Chevaliers, &c. &c., ii. 56; Grose’s
Military Antiquities, i. 142; and Demmin’s Encyclopédie
d’Armurerie, 57, 496.
[4] Fauchet, ii. 57. ‘Lequel engin, pour le mal qu’il faisait (pire que
le venin des serpens), fut nommé serpentine,’ &c.
[5] Grose, ii. 331.
[6] Dyer, Modern Europe, iii. 158.
[7] Scoffern’s Projectile Weapons, &c., 66.
[8] Sur l’Esprit, i. 562.
[9] Reade, Ashantee Campaign, 52.
[10] Livy, xliv. 42.
[11] These Instructions are published in Halleck’s International
Law, ii. 36-51; and at the end of Edwards’s Germans in France.
[12] ‘It would have been desirable,’ said the Russian Government,
‘that the voice of a great nation like England should have been
heard at an inquiry of which the object would appear to have met
with its sympathies.’
[13] Jus Gentium, art. 887, 878.
[14] Florus, ii. 20.
[15] Edwards’s Germans in France, 164.
[16] This remarkable fact is certified by Mr. Russell, in his Diary in
the last Great War, 398, 399.
[17] Cicero, In Verrem, iv. 54.
[18] See even the Annual Register, lvi. 184, for a denunciation of
this proceeding.
55. [19] Sismondi’s Hist. des Français, xxv.
[20] Edwards’s Germans in France, 171.
[21] Lieut-Col. Charras, La Campagne de 1815, i. 211, ii. 88.
[22] Woolsey’s International Law, p. 223.
[23] Cf. lib. xii. 81, and xiii. 25, 26; quoted by Grotius, iii. xi. xiii.
[24] iii. 41.
[25] Cambridge Essays, 1855, ‘Limitations to Severity in War,’ by
C. Buxton.
[26] See Raumer’s Geschichte Europa’s, iii. 509-603, if any doubt
is felt about the fact.
[27] General Order of October 9, 1813. Compare those of May
29, 1809, March 25, 1810, June 10, 1812, and July 9, 1813.
[28] Vattel, iii. ix. 165.
[29] Sir W. Napier (Peninsular War, ii. 322) says of the proceeding
that it was ‘politic indeed, yet scarcely to be admitted within the
pale of civilised warfare.’ It occurred in May 1810.
[30] Bluntschli’s Modernes Völkerrecht, art. 573.
[31] For the character of modern war see the account of the
Franco-German war in the Quarterly Review for April 1871.
[32] Halleck, ii. 22.
[33] Vehse’s Austria, i. 369. Yet, as usual on such occasions, the
excesses were committed in the teeth of Tilly’s efforts to oppose
them.
‘Imperavit Tillius a devictorum cædibus et corporum castimonia
abstinerent, quod imperium a quibusdam furentibus male
servatum annales aliqui fuere conquesti.’—Adlzreiter’s Annales
Boicæ Gentis, Part iii. l. 16, c. 38.
[34] Battles in the Peninsular War, 181, 182.
[35] Ibid. 396.
[36] Foxe’s Actes and Monuments, iii. 52.
[37] Saint-Palaye, Mémoires sur la Chevalerie, iii. 10, 133.
56. [38] Vinsauf’s Itinerary of Richard I., ii. 16.
[39] Matthew of Westminster, 460; Grose, ii. 348.
[40] Monstrelet, ii. 115.
[41] Mémoires sur la Chevalerie, i. 322.
[42] Petitot, v. 102; and Ménard, Vie de B. du Guesclin, 440.
[43] Petitot, v. 134.
[44] Meyrick, Ancient Armour, ii. 5.
[45] i. 123.
[46] Monstrelet, i. 259.
[47] ii. 5.
[48] ii. 11.
[49] ii. 22, compare ii. 56.
[50] Monstrelet, ii. 111.
[51] ii. 113.
[52] See for some, Livy, xxix. 8, xxxi. 26, 30, xxxvii. 21, xliii. 7,
xliv. 29.
[53] Livy, xliv. 29.
[54] Meyrick, i. 41.
[55] Demmin, Encyclopédie d’Armurerie, 490.
[56] Meyrick, ii. 204.
[57] Grose, ii. 114.
[58] Petitot, xvi. 134.
[59] Grose, ii. 343.
[60] iv. 27.
[61] iv. 36.
[62] iii. 109.
[63] Mémoires, vi. 1.
57. [64] Halleck, International Law, ii. 154.
[65] Elements of Morality, sec. 1068.
[66] Des Droits et Devoirs des Nations neutres, ii. 321-323.
[67] History of the Royal Navy, i. 357.
[68] Nicolas, ii. 341.
[69] Nicolas, ii. 405.
[70] Monstrelet, i. 12.
[71] Nicolas, ii. 108.
[72] Ibid. i. 333.
[73] Froissart, ii. 85.
[74] Entick, New Naval History (1757), 823. ‘Some of the Spanish
prizes were immensely rich, a great many of the French were of
considerable value, and so were many of the English; but the
balance was about two millions in favour of the latter.’
[75] From Entick’s New Naval History (1757), 801-817.
[76] Martens, Essai sur les Corsaires (Horne’s translation), 86, 87.
[77] Ibid. 93.
[78] III. xv. 229.
[79] Emerigon, On Insurances (translation), 442.
[80] Martens, 19.
[81] Hautfeuille, Des Droits et Devoirs des Nations neutres, ii.
349.
[82] De Jure Maritimo, i. 72.
[83] Despatches, vi. 145.
[84] Despatches, vi. 79.
[85] The last occasion was on April 13, 1875.
[86] Halleck, International Law, ii. 316.
[87] Bluntschli, Modernes Völkerrecht, art. 665.
58. [88] James, Naval History, i. 255.
[89] James, ii. 71.
[90] Ibid. ii. 77.
[91] Ortolan, Diplomatie de la Mer, ii. 32.
[92] Campbell’s Admirals, viii. 40.
[93] Campbell, vii. 21. James, i. 161. Stinkpots are jars or shells
charged with powder, grenades, &c.
[94] James, i. 283.
[95] Brenton, ii. 471.
[96] Caltrops, or crows’-feet, are bits of iron with four spikes so
arranged that however they fall one spike always remains
upwards. Darius planted the ground with caltrops before Arbela.
[97] Chapter xix. of the Tactica.
[98] Frontinus, Strategematicon, IV. vii. 9, 10. ‘Amphoras pice et
tæda plenas; ... vascula viperis plena.’
[99] Roger de Wendover, Chronica. ‘Calcem vivam, et in pulverem
subtilem redactam, in altum projicientes, vento illam ferente,
Francorum oculos excæcaverunt.’
[100] Brenton, i. 635.
[101] De Jure Maritimo, i. 265.
[102] Rees’s Cyclopædia, ‘Fire-ship.’
[103] Brenton, ii. 493, 494.
[104] Halleck, ii. 317.
[105] Woolsey, International Law, 187.
[106] James, i. 277.
[107] Phillimore, International Law, iii. 50-52.
[108] International Law, ii. 95.
[109] Villiaumé, L’Esprit de la Guerre, 56.
[110] De Commines, viii. 8.
59. [111] Watson’s Philip II., ii. 74.
[112] Ibid. i. 213.
[113] Memoirs, c. 19.
[114] Villiaumé (L’Esprit de la Guerre, 71) gives the following
version: ‘En 1793 et en 1794, le gouvernement anglais ayant violé
le droit des gens contre la République Française, la Convention,
dans un accès de brutale colère, décréta qu’il ne serait plus fait
aucun prisonnier anglais ou hanovrien, c’est-à-dire que les
vaincus seraient mis à mort, encore qu’ils se rendissent. Mais ce
décret fut simplement comminatoire; le Comité de Salut Public,
sachant très-bien que de misérables soldats n’étaient point
coupables, donna l’ordre secret de faire grâce à tous les vaincus.’
[115] Herodotus, vii. 136.
[116] Livy, xlv. 42.
[117] Ibid. xlv. 43.
[118] Ward, Law of Nations, i. 250.
[119] Petitot’s Mémoires, xvi. 177.
[120] Livy, xlii. 8, 9.
[121] Monstrelet, Chronicles, i. 200.
[122] Ibid. i. 224.
[123] Ibid. i. 249.
[124] Ibid. i. 259.
[125] Monstrelet, ii. 156.
[126] Ibid. 120.
[127] Philip de Commines, ii. 1.
[128] Ibid. ii. 2.
[129] Ibid. ii. 14.
[130] Philip de Commines, iii. 9.
[131] Motley’s United Netherlands, iii. 323.
[132] Vattel, iii. 8, 143.
60. [133] Borbstaedt, Franco-German War (translation), 662.
[134] Ward, i. 223.
[135] Quintus Curtius, iv. 6, and Grote, viii. 368.
[136] Quintus Curtius, vii. 11.
[137] Ibid. iv. 15.
[138] Arrian, iii. 18.
[139] Quintus Curtius, vii. 5.
[140] ‘Tous deux furent très braves, très vaillants, fort bizarres et
cruels.’
[141] Lyttleton, Henry II., i. 183.
[142] Hoveden, 697.
[143] 2 Samuel xii. 31.
[144] Memoirs of a Cavalier, i. 47.
[145] Memoirs of a Cavalier, 49.
[146] ‘Life of Bayard’ in Petitot’s Mémoires, xvi. 9.
[147] Major-General Mitchell’s Biographies of Eminent Soldiers,
92.
[148] Livy, xxxi. 40. When Pelium was taken by storm, only the
slaves were taken as spoil; the freemen were even let off without
ransom.
[149] Ibid. xxviii. 3.
[150] Ibid. xxviii. 20, xxvii. 16, xxxi. 27.
[151] De Officiis, i. 12. Yet on this passage is founded the
common assertion that among the Romans ‘the word which
signified stranger was the same with that which in its original
denoted an enemy’ (Ward, ii. 174); implying that in their eyes a
stranger and an enemy were one and the same thing. Cicero says
exactly the reverse.
[152] Recueil de Documents sur les exactions, vols, et cruautés
des armées prussiennes en France. The book is out of print, but
may be seen at the British Museum, under the title, ‘Prussia—
61. Army of.’ It is to be regretted that, whilst every book, however
dull, relating to that war has been translated into English, this
record has hitherto escaped the publicity it so well deserves.
[153] Ibid. 19.
[154] Ibid. 8.
[155] Ibid. 13.
[156] Chaudordy’s Circular of November 29, 1870, in the Recueil.
[157] Recueil, 12, 15, 67, 119.
[158] Ibid. 56.
[159] Ibid. 54.
[160] Recueil, 33-37, and Lady Bloomfield’s Reminiscences, ii.
235, 8, 9.
[161] The Times, March 7, 1881.
[162] Recueil, 29; compare 91.
[163] Morley’s Cobden, ii. 177.
[164] Professor Sheldon Amos quotes the fact, but refrains from
naming the paper, in his preface to Manning’s Commentaries on
the Law of Nations, xl. Was it not the Journal de France for Nov.
21, 1871?
[165] iii. i. viii. 4.
[166] De Officiis, i. 13.
[167] Modernes Völkerrecht, Art. 565.
[168] Polyænus, Strategematum libri octo, i. 34.
[169] Polyænus, v. 41.
[170] Ortolan’s Diplomatie de la mer, ii. 31, 375-7.
[171] James’s Naval History, ii. 211; Campbell’s Admirals, vii. 132.
[172] James, Naval History, ii. 225.
[173] Nicolas, Royal Navy, ii. 27.
62. [174] Hautefeuille, Droit Maritime, iii. 433. ‘Les vaisseaux de l’Etat
eux-mêmes ne rougissent pas de ces grossiers mensonges qui
prennent le nom de ruses de guerre.’
[175] xiii. 1.
[176] Montaigne, ch. v.
[177] vii. 4. ‘Quia appellatione nostra vix apte exprimi possunt,
Græca pronuntiatione Stratagemata dicuntur.’
[178] Livy, xlii. 47.
[179] Histoire de la France, iii. 401.
[180] The word musket is from muschetto, a kind of hawk,
implying that its attack was equally destructive and unforeseen.
[181] Polyænus, ii. 19.
[182] Polyænus, iii. 2; from Thucydides, iii. 34.
[183] Ibid. vii. 27, 2.
[184] Ibid. iv. 2-4.
[185] Liskenne, Bibliothèque Historique et Militaire, iii. 845.
[186] Memoirs, ch. xix.
[187] ix. 6, 3.
[188] vi. 22.
[189] vi. 15.
[190] iv. 7, 17.
[191] E. Fournier, L’Esprit dans l’Histoire, 145-150.
[192] iii. 10.
[193] Liskenne, v. 233-4.
[194] Soldier’s Pocket-Book, 81.
[195] Polyænus, viii. 16, 8. ‘Lege Romanorum jubente hostium
exploratores interficere.’
[196] Livy, xxx. 29. According to Polyænus, he gave them a
dinner and sent them back with instructions to tell what they had
63. seen; viii. 16, 8.
[197] Watson’s Philip II. iii. 311.
[198] Liskenne, iii. 840.
[199] Hoffman, Kriegslist, 15.
[200] Petitot’s Mémoires de la France, xv. 317.
[201] Polyænus, ii. 27.
[202] Ibid. v. 1, 4.
[203] Memoirs, ch. xix.
[204] Livy, xxxiv. 17.
[205] As at the Brussels Conference, 1874, when such a proposal
was made by the member for Sweden and Norway.
[206] In Pinkerton, xvi. 817.
[207] Turner’s Nineteen Years in Samoa, 304.
[208] Schoolcraft’s Indian Tribes, iv. 52.
[209] The Basutos, 223.
[210] Potter’s Grecian Antiquities, ii. 69.
[211] Turner’s Samoa, 298.
[212] Ellis’s Polynesian Researches, i. 275.
[213] Hutton’s Voyage to Africa, 1821, 337.
[214] Colenso and Durnford’s Zulu War, 364, 379.
[215] Petitot’s Mémoires, xv. 329.
[216] The evidence is collected in Cetschwayo’s Dutchman, 99-
103.
[217] Henty’s March to Coomassie, 443. Compare Reade’s
Ashantee Campaign, 241-2.
[218] Florus, ii. 19; iii. 4; Velleius Paterculus, ii. 1.
[219] Florus, ii. 20.
[220] Ibid. iii. 7.
64. [221] Florus, iii. 4; Cæsar, De Bello Gallico, ix. 44.
[222] Morley’s Cobden, ii. 355.
[223] Sir A. Helps’ Las Casas, 29.
[224] T. Morton’s New England Canaan, 1637, iii.
[225] Belknap’s New Hampshire, i. 262.
[226] Penhallow’s Indian Wars, 1826, republished 1859, 31-3.
[227] Ibid. 105, 6.
[228] Ibid. 103. For further details of this debased military
practice, see Adair’s History of American Indians, 245; Kercheval’s
History of the Valley of Virginia, 263; Drake’s Biography and
History of the Indians, 210, 373; Sullivan’s History of Maine, 251.
[229] Kercheval’s Virginia, 113.
[230] Eschwege’s Brazil, i. 186; Tschudi’s Reisen durch
Südamerika, i. 262.
[231] Parkman’s Expedition against Ohio Indians, 1764, 117.
[232] Argensola, Les Isles Molucques, i. 60.
[233] Drake’s Biography and History of the Indians, 489, 490.
[234] R. C. Burton’s City of the Saints, 576; Eyre’s Central
Australia, i. 175-9.
[235] Borwick’s Last of the Tasmanians, 58.
[236] Tschudi’s Reisen, ii. 262.
[237] Maccoy’s Baptist Indian Missions, 441; Froebel’s Seven
Years in Central America, 272; Wallace’s Travels on the Amazon,
326.
[238] Bancroft’s United States, ii. 383-5; and compare Clarkson’s
Life of Penn, chaps. 45 and 46.
[239] Brooke’s Ten Years in Sarawak, i. 74.
[240] Captain Hamilton’s East Indies, in Pinkerton, viii. 514.
[241] W. H. Russell’s My Diary in India, 150.
[242] Annals of the Propagation of the Faith, viii. 280-6.
65. [243] Caffres and Caffre Missions, 210.
[244] Memorials of Henrietta Robertson, 259, 308, 353.
[245] Ibid. 353.
[246] Colenso and Durnford’s Zulu War, 215.
[247] Holden’s History of Natal, 210, 211.
[248] Moister’s Africa, Past and Present, 310, 311.
[249] Tams’s Visit to Portuguese Possessions, i. 181, ii. 28, 179.
[250] Robertson’s America; Works, vi. 177, 205.
[251] Thomson’s Great Missionaries, 30; Halkett’s Indians of
North America, 247, 249, 256.
[252] Le Blant, Inscriptions Chrétiennes, i. 86.
[253] Bingham, Christian Antiquities, i. 486.
[254] Cæsar, De Bello Gallico, vi. 14. ‘Druides a bello abesse
consuerunt ... militiæ vacationem habent;’ and Origen, In Celsum,
viii. 73, for the Romans.
[255] Vaughan’s Life of Wycliffe, ii. 212-3.
[256] Turner’s England, iv. 458, from Duchesne, Gesta Stephani.
[257] ‘Non filius meus est vel ecclesiæ; ad regis autem
voluntatem redimetur, quia potius Martis quam Christi miles
judicatur.’
[258] Turner’s England, v. 92.
[259] ‘Sanxit ut nullus in posterum sacerdos in hostem pergeret,
nisi duo vel tres episcopi electione cæterorum propter
benedictionem populique reconciliationem, et cum illis electi
sacerdotes qui bene scirent populis pœnitentias dare, missas
celebrare, etc.’ (in Du Cange, ‘Hostis’).
[260] Guicciardini. ‘Prometteva che se i soldati procedevano
virilmente, che non accetterebbe la Mirandola con alcuno patto:
ma lascierebbe in potestà loro il saccheggiarla.’
[261] Monstrelet, i. 9.
[262] Crichton’s Scandinavia, i. 170.
66. [263] Mémoires du Fleurange. Petitot, xvi. 253.
[264] See Palmer, Origines Liturgicæ, ii. 362-65, for the form of
service.
[265] Petitot, xvi. 229.
[266] Ibid. 135.
[267] Petitot, viii. 55. ‘Feciono venire per tutto il campo un prete
parato col corpo di Christo, e in luogo di communicarsi ciascuno
prese uno poco di terra, e la si mise in boca.’
[268] Livy, xxxvi. 2.
[269] Robertson, Charles V., note 21. Ryan, History of Effects of
Religion on Mankind, 124.
[270] M. J, Schmidt, Histoire des Allemands traduite, etc., iv. 232,
3.
[271] ‘Christianis licet ex mandato magistratus arma portare et
justa bella administrare.’
[272] Policy of War a True Defence of Peace, 1543.
[273] Pallas Armata, 369, 1683.
[274] In his treatise Du droit de la guerre.
[275] L’Esprit, i. 562.
[276] Strafgesetzbuch, Jan. 20, 1872, 15, 75, 150.
[277] Fleming’s Volkommene Teutsche Soldat, 96.
[278] Benet’s United States Articles of War, 391.
[279] Grose, ii. 199.
[280] See Turner’s Pallas Armata, 349, for these and similar
military tortures.
[281] Crichton’s Scandinavia, i. 168.
[282] Grose, ii. 6.
[283] Sir S. Scott’s History of the British Army, ii. 436.
[284] ii. 16. ‘Omnes autem signarii vel signiferi quamvis pedites
loricas minores accipiebant, et galeas ad terrorem hostium ursinis
67. pellibus tectas.’
[285] Scott, ii. 9.
[286] Scott, i. 311.
[287] Said to have been invented about 400 B.C. by Dionysius,
tyrant of Syracuse.
[288] Mitchell’s Biographies of Eminent Soldiers, 208, 287.
[289] Compare article 14 of the German Strafgesetzbuch of
January 20, 1872.
[290] Nineteenth Century, November 1882: ‘The Present State of
the Army.’
[291] De Re Militari, vi. 5.
[292] Bruce’s Military Law (1717), 254.
[293] See Fleming’s Teutsche Soldat, ch. 29.
[294] See the War Articles for 1673, 1749, 1794.
[295] 82.
[296] Quintus Curtius, viii. 2.
[297] Military Law, 163.
[298] 286, 290.
[299] Despatches, iii. 302, June 17, 1809.
[300] Compare also Despatches, iv. 457; v. 583, 704, 5.
[301] China War, 225.
[302] Scott’s British Army, ii. 411.
[303] Wellington’s Despatches, v. 705.
[304] See Windham’s Speech in the House of Commons. April 3,
1806.
[305] Ibid.
[306] P. 122.
[307] Fleming, 109.