CHAPTER XV. · Part 1

CHAPTER XV.

_THE DECLARATION OF WAR._

I think we have already distinct evidence that the Fecial Law was something more than our Treaty and Diplomatic Law. Let us examine it more particularly in action. If the law of nations ever was appealed to, and, if over and above, there was a tradition of a Divine revelation, or even of a prescriptive law founded on natural right, and having reference to war, which was ever invoked, it would have been in the first instance of aggression, supposing, as is implied in the term, that it was without fair cause and without fair warning. The declaration of war, therefore, is manifestly the hinge upon which the whole system of the law of nations turns.[324] Accordingly, the further we go back the more solemn and formal do we find the declaration of war to be.

[324] I must here do Mr Urquhart the justice to point out that he has been the principal advocate of this doctrine, that the declaration of war is the turning-point upon which everything depends, and more than any other man has laboured to enforce it. (_Vide_ "Effects on the World of the Restoration of Canon Law," by D. Urquhart, 1869.) At p. 61, Mr Urquhart refers to the action taken by the Fecials. I have the misfortune to differ with Mr Urquhart on many points, but I have pleasure in bearing testimony as above.

"In every instance the declaration of war was accompanied by _religious formalities_. When the Senate believed that it had cause of complaint against a nation, it sent a Fecial to his frontier. There the pontiff, his head bound with a woollen veil,[325] exposed the griefs of the Romans and demanded satisfaction. If it was not granted, he went back to render an account of his mission to the Senate, ... and after a delay of thirty or thirty-three days they voted a declaration of war. Then the Fecial returned to the frontier, and, _casting a javelin_ into the enemy's country, he pronounced the following formula--'Quod populus Hermundulus,' &c.... Every war which had not been declared in this manner was considered as unjust, and certain to incur the displeasure of the gods. In the _course of time_ this solemn declaration was replaced by a vain formality."[326]

[325] The Very Rev. Dr Rock ("Textile Fabrics," p. xii.) says--"The ancient British speciality was wool, and the postulants asking admission to the different castes, the sacerdotal, bardic, and the leeches or natural philosophers, were distinguished by _stripes_ of white [Cicero (De Legibus, ii. 18) says, "Color autem albus præcipere decorus deo est quum in cateris tum maxima in textili"], blue, and green severally on their mantles, although the bards themselves were distinguished by some one of the colours above-mentioned (_vide infra_). [The significance of this will be noted at p. 391.] I may further remark, parenthetically, that here is an instance of national civilisation being _pari passu_ with religious traditions. The British speciality was wool--_query_, because "of the heavy stress laid upon the rule which taught that the official colour in their dress," &c. (_Id., vide ante_, chap. xii. p. 292.)

St Paul says (Heb. ix. 19), "For when every commandment of the Lord had been read by Moses to all the people, he took the blood of calves and goats, with water, and scarlet _wool_, and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book itself and all the people" (Goguet, "Origin of Laws," ii. p. 9). The Spaniards in 1643 made a treaty of peace with the Indians of Chili; they have preserved the memory of the forms used at the ratification. It is said that the Indians killed many sheep, and stained in their blood a _branch_ of the cane-tree, which the deputy of the Caciques put into the hands of the Spanish general in token of peace and alliance." Goguet also refers to Heb. ix. 19.

[326] De Fresquet, "_Droit Romain_," i. 48.

Montfauçon ("L'Antiquité Expliquée," ii. 1, p. iv., p. 35) says:--

"Lorsqu'ils alloient parlementer, ils avoient sur la tête un voile tissu de laine,[327] et ils étoient couronnéz de vervaine: leur office étoit d'impêcher que les Romains n'entreprissent point de guerre injuste: d'aller comme legats vers les nations qui violoient les traitez, etc.... ils prenoient aussi connaissance faits au legats de _part et d'autre_. Quand la paix ne se trouvoit pas faite selon les loix, ils la declaroient nulle. Si les commandans avoient fait quelque chose _contre la justice et contre le droit des gens_, ils reparoient leur faute et expioient leur crime, ... à cause du violement des traites faits devant Numance, dit Ciceron par un décret du Senat le Patrapatratus livra, C. Mancinus aux Numantins."[328]

[327] Compare with the description of Saturn, "Saturnus, velato capite falcam gerens."--_Fulgent. Mythol._ i. c. 2.

[328] In the above extract from Montfauçon it should have been added, that when the Romans sent one of their fecials to declare war he went in sacerdotal habit--"Arrivant au confins de la ville, il _appelloit_ à temoins Jupiter et les autres dieux comme il alloit demander réparation de l'injure au nom des Romains, il faisoit des _imprécations_ sur lui et sur la ville de Rome, s'il disoit rien contre la vérité, et continuoit son chemin ... s'il rencontroient quelque citoien quelque payisan (paysan) il _repétoit toujours_ ses imprécations," &c.

We must content ourselves, of course, with what evidence we may get of similar institutions elsewhere; but what strikes me as strange in the contrast of modern civilisation with barbarism, is, that whereas our advances, whether in the sense of peace and war (whenever they are formally made), are commonly understood, the corresponding demonstrations on the side of barbarism are invariably misconstrued.

When, for instance, Captain Cook approached the shores of Bolabola, he describes the following scene, which reads to me very like the account we have just been reading of the Roman herald:--

"Soon after a _single man_ ran along the shore armed with _his lance_, and when he came abreast of the boat he began to dance, brandish his weapon, and call out in a very _shrill tone_, which Tupia [a native of an adjacent island who was on board] said was a _defiance from the people_.... As the boat rowed slowly along the shore back again, _another_ champion came down, shouting defiance, and brandishing his lance. His appearance was more formidable than that of the other, for he wore a large cap made of the tail feathers of the topia bird, and his body was covered _with stripes of different coloured cloth_, _yellow, red, and brown_.... Soon after a more grave and elderly man came down to the beach, and hailing the people in the boat, inquired who they were, and from whence they came.[329]... After a short conference they all began _to pray very loud_. Tupia made his responses, but continued to tell us they were not our friends" (i. 119).

[329] A somewhat similar scene is also indistinctly traced in the following:--"Wood relates that on his visit to St Julian in 1670, in walking inland he 'met seven savages, who came running down the hill to us, making _several signs_ for us to go back again, with much warning and noise, yet did _not offer to_ draw their arrows. But one of them who was _an old man_ came nearer to us than the rest, and made also signs we should depart, to whom I threw a knife, a bottle of brandy, and a neckcloth, to pacify him; but seeing him persist in the _same signs as before_, and that the savageness of the people seemed incorrigible, we returned on board again.'" Quoted by R. O. Cunningham, "Natural History of the Straits of Magellan and West Coast of Patagonia," 1871, p. 143. A similar scene is described by Roggerwsen in his voyage, I think, to Easter Island.

This, in connection with the scene at Bolabola, recalls the mode of procedure in the Odyssey, ix. 95 (Pope), when Ulysses reaches

"The land of Lotus and the flowering coast. We climbed the beach and springs of water found, Then spread our hasty banquet on the ground. Three men were sent deputed from the crew (A herald one) the dubious coast to view, And learn what habitants possessed the place. They went and found a hospitable race, Not prone to ill, nor strange to foreign guest: As our dire neighbours of Cyclopean birth."

Let this be taken in connection with the following narrative:--[330]

"The large canoes came close round the ship, some of the Indians playing on a kind of flute, others singing, and the rest blowing on a sort of shells. Soon after, a large canoe advanced, in which was an awning, on the top of which sat _one_ of the natives holding some _yellow_ and _red_ feathers in his hand. The captain having consented to his coming alongside, he delivered the feathers, and while a present was preparing for him, he put back from the ship, and _threw the branch_ of a cocoa-tree in the air. This was doubtless the _signal_ for an onset, for there was an instant shout from all the canoes, which, approaching the ship, threw volleys of stones into every part of her."

[330] _Vide_ Captain Wallis' Voyage, in "Hist. Account of all the Voyages round the World," 1773, iii. p. 79.

Here the question appears to me to be whether this act of throwing the branch, so analogous to the throwing the javelin, which was the final act in the Roman declaration of war (and to which our throwing down the glove or the gauntlet has analogy), was merely the signal to themselves, or whether it was not also the _notice_ of attack to the enemy. Upon this will depend whether we are to consider it a treacherous "ruse" (and the presentation of the feathers has that aspect), or whether it was their traditional mode of declaration of war, and construed to be a treacherous attack, because the gallant navigator belonged to a nation more ignorant of the laws of nations than the savages they encountered.

From the very fact of their having enacted this comedy or ceremonial, it must be inferred either that they attached some superstitious importance to its performance, and expected some good effects from it to themselves, or that they thought that it would be understood by their adversaries, in which case they must implicitly have believed it to be common to all nations.

In either case it is just possible that after the manner of savages, they may have confused the symbols of peace and war, and ran into one what the Romans had carefully distinguished--the "caduceatores",[331] who went to demand peace, and the "fecials," who were sent to denounce war.

[331] Caduceatores--compare _supra_, p. 348. In connection with these latter, let us inquire more particularly as to their wand of office, the _caduceus_. "In its _oldest_ form" it "was merely a _bough_ twined round with _white wool_; afterwards a white or gilded staff with imitations of _foliage_ and _ribands_ was substituted for the old rude symbol. These were probably not turned into snakes till a much later age, when that reptile had acquired a mystic character." Müller's explanation is that it was originally the _olive branch_ with the stemmata, which latter became developed into serpents.--_Encyc. of Arts and Sciences._ If, therefore, Müller's explanation is correct, the oldest form of the symbol of office of those who were the depositaries of laws of nations in the matter of peace and war, was a symbol which has a special history and significance in connection with the Deluge. Will this not tend to identify their institution with that epoch? It will, perhaps, be said that the branch of a tree is in any case a natural symbol of peace. But why a symbol or token at all?

Why more than a simple gesture of salutation? unless the symbol embodied some idea which conveyed a pledge over and above? What, then, was this idea, unless the traditional idea? It may appear to us a natural emblem, but it is not so from association of ideas with the scriptural dove and olive branch? and yet consider how universal it is. Captain Cook's Voyages (i. p. 38; London, 1846) says, "It is remarkable that the chief, like the people in the canoes, presented to us the same symbol of peace that is known to have been in use _among the ancient_ and mighty nations of the northern hemisphere, _the green branch of a tree_." This occurred both in New Zealand and Otaheite. Wallis ("Voyages round the World," iii. 98) says that on an occasion when the Otaheitans wished to testify fidelity and friendliness, "the Indians cut branches from the trees and laid them in a _ceremonious_ manner at the feet of the seamen; they painted themselves _red_ with the berries of a tree, and stained their garments _yellow_ with the bark of another."

We have, as we have just seen, found this symbol in the caduceus, and it appears to me that the caduceus in its earlier form of a staff with foliage and ribands, is recognisable in the Gothic monuments as given in Stephens' "Central America." _Vide_ also Cunningham's "Bhilsa Topes." Washington Irving ("Life of Columbus," iii. 214) speaks of the natives coming forward to meet them with _white flags_; and the same, if I remember rightly, is recorded in Cook's visit to the Sandwich Islanders. The _white flag_ is our own symbol; but what is the white flag but the development and refinement of the staff and white wool? Again, why are _stripes_, in a variety of combination of colour, the characteristic symbol of flags? The reader will find the answer on returning to the text, where he will also learn the significance of the red and yellow, in the above descriptions.

The red and yellow colours of the feathers in the above account may afford a clue, when it is remembered (_vide_ note), that they coincide with the colour used by the Otaheitans to testify fidelity and friendliness; but, to appreciate this in its full significance, it will be necessary to show how commonly the traditional symbols of peace among the ancients had reference to the diluvian traditions, more especially the Dove and the Rainbow.

Assuming for the moment that Bryant is right in his derivation of the names of Juno and Venus from Jönah (Hebrew), and [Greek: Oinas] (Greek) = Dove,[332] I ask attention to the following, in connection with the red and yellow feathers of the Polynesians, and the tail feathers of the topia bird mentioned by Cook (_supra_, p. 388).[333] (Bryant, ii. 345), "As the peacock, in the full expansion of his plumes, displays all the beautiful colours of the Iris (the rainbow), it was probably for that reason made the bird of Juno, instead of the dove, which was appropriated to Venus. The same history was variously depicted in different places, and consequently as variously interpreted." (Compare p. 279.)

[332] II. p. 317.

[333] _Vide_ also in Carver's "North America" (p. 296), an engraving of the Indian "Calumet of Peace,"--the stem is of a light wood curiously painted with hieroglyphics in various colours, and adorned with the _feathers_ of the _most beautiful_ birds. It is not in my power to convey an idea of the _various tints_ and pleasing ornaments of this much-esteemed Indian implement"(p. 359).

If this is true, if the rainbow is the symbol of peace, and the peacock is the symbol of the rainbow, will it absolutely surprise us to find feathers of various colours presented as tokens of peace? I am prepared for the reply, that Bryant's etymology is now considered obsolete; but I shall fall back upon the argument which I have urged elsewhere, that in cases where tradition renders the transmission of certain words probable, there is a presumption which overrides the ordinary canons of philological criticism. Philologers very properly lay down, _e.g._ Mr Max Müller's "Chapter of Accidents in Comparative Theology," _Contemp. Rev._, April 1870, p. 8:--

"Comparative philology has taught us again and again that when we find a word exactly the same in Greek and Sanscrit, we may be certain that it cannot be the same word; and the same applies to comparative mythology ... for the simple reason that Sanscrit and Greek have deviated from each other, have both followed their own way, have both suffered their own phonetic corruptions, and hence, if they do possess the same word, they can only possess it either in its Greek or in its Sanscrit disguise."

This is of course only upon the assumption that the languages have gone their own way, have followed their own corruptions; but if it can be shown that certain words, &c. &c., were preserved in tradition, and so guarded as not to come under the laws of deviation which philology traces out, or to come under them on different conditions, then, on the contrary, it is exceedingly probable that we should find them identical, or at least recognisable; in any case, this is a point which must be decided according to the evidences of tradition, and not according to the laws of philology. This will be better understood from a case in point. I append the evidence respecting the traditions of the Dove and the Rainbow--which are just the incidents which are likely to have impressed the imagination and memory of mankind.[334]

[334] It will hardly be denied that the tradition of the rainbow as a sign and pledge to man existed among the ancients. _Vide_ Bryant, ii. 348. [The goddess Iris, who was sent with the _messages_ of the gods, bore the same name as the rainbow Iris.]

_E.g._ Homer--

"[Greek: Irissin eoikotes has te Kroniôn en nephehi stêrixe, teras meropôn anthrôpôn].--_Il._ xi. 27.

"Like to the bow which Jove amid the clouds Placed _as a token to desponding man_."

Also--Il. xvii. 547.

[Greek: hêute porphyreên irin thnêtoisi tanhussê Zeus ex ouranothen teras emmenai].

"Just as when Jove mid the high heavens displays His bow mysterious for a _lasting sign_."

And the lines (Theog. v. 700) in Hesiod, in which Iris is called the daughter of Wonder, who is sent over the broad surface of the sea when strife and discord arose among the immortals, and who is also called "the _great oath_ of the gods"--["This is the token of the _covenant_ between you and me, for _perpetual generations_," Gen. ix. 12.]--who is told to bring from afar in her golden pitcher the many-named water.

Iris is called the daughter of Thaumas (which so closely approximates to the Greek [Greek: Thauma] = wonder, Bryant says to the Egyptian "Thaumus"). Bryant further thinks that Iris and Eros were originally the same term, but that in time the latter was formed into the boyish deity Cupid = Eros. According to some, Iris was the mother of Eros by Zephyrus. [There were indeed three Eroses, which mark three different lines of tradition, _vide_ Gladstone on Iris (the rainbow), "Homer and the Homeric Age," ii. 156.] Eros (Cupid), though a boy, was supposed to have been at the commencement of all things; and Lucian says, "How came you with that childish face, when we know you to be as _old as Japetus_?" The union of Cupid and Chaos (the Deluge is frequently alluded to as chaos, _vide_ Bryant) "gave birth to men and all the animals." Hesiod makes Eros the first to appear after Chaos. "At this season (Deluge) another era began; the earth was supposed to be renewed, and time to return to a second infancy. They therefore formed an emblem of a child with a rainbow, to denote this renovation of the world, and called him Eros, or Divine Love," ...

"yet esteemed the most ancient among the gods."--Bryant, ii. 349. (Cupid is represented with a bow, as is also Apollo and Diana, which was an allusion to the supposed resemblance of the bow and the rain_bow_.) Probably from his connection with Iris, he is represented as breaking the thunderbolts of Jupiter, and riding on _dolphins_ and subduing other monsters of the sea. Smith ("Myth. Dict.") says Iris is derived from [Greek: erô eirô], "so that Iris would mean the speaker or messenger," ... "but it is not impossible that it may be connected with [Greek: eirô], 'I join,' whence [Greek: eirênê]; so that Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, would be the joiner, or conciliator, or the messenger of heaven, who restores peace in nature," It appears to me more likely that [Greek: eirênê] = _peace_ (derivation uncertain--Liddell and Scott) was derived directly from Iris, in accordance with the tradition, and that the Greek word for wool, [Greek: eiros], was cognate to [Greek: eirênê], from being an emblem of peace (_e.g._ the pontiff's caduceator, woollen veil). In the same way, if we do not actually find the rainbow as the token of the herald or caduceator, may we not discover it conversely in the circumstance that _Iris_ is represented as carrying in her hand a _herald's_ staff?

It is curious that we actually find, what I may call the sister emblem, viz. the Dove, used by the ancients, though just as we find, if I am right in the conjecture, the rainbow among the Polynesians, used in a perverted way as an ensign of war. It was possibly in superstitious remembrance of the tradition which we find more directly among the ancient Aryans and the Peruvians (p. 326-400), that war ought only to be made with a disposition towards peace; and that they thought to place themselves under the sanction of heaven by carrying this emblem as their ensign of war. Such, however, was the fact. Bryant (ii. 302) says:--"The dove became a favourite hieroglyphic among the Babylonians and Chaldees.... In respect to the Babylonians, it seems to have been taken by them for their national ensign, and to have been depicted on their military standard when they went to war. They seem likewise to have been styled Iönim, or the children of _the Dove_;" and they are thus alluded to by the Prophet Jeremiah, ch. xxv. ver. 38 (_id._) Bryant says (ii. 285), "The name of the Dove among the ancient Amonians (by which term he intends the descendants of Chus) was Iön and Iönah; sometimes expressed Iönas, from whence came the [Greek: Oinas] of the Greeks."

I should rather put it that we find the word for the Dove common to the Hebrew and the Greek (Iönah, Hebrew; [Greek: Oivas], Greek), and, as Bryant seems to imply, among other nations also--_e.g._ the Babylonians--which is precisely what we should have expected. But if this identity is allowed, we must proceed with Bryant to see in Juno, Venus, and Diana, simply embodiments of the tradition of the Dove. Bryant says that "Juno is the same as Iöna," and although, as we have seen, the peacock is said to be her bird (with reference to the other symbol, the rainbow), and although Ovid (Bryant, 344) sends her to heaven accompanied by Iris (rainbow), yet in the plate (from Gruter) p. 410, she will be seen with a dove on her wand, and a pomegranate, as symbol of the ark (_vide_ p. 380), in her hand. Bryant, moreover (344), considers Juno to be identical with Venus. There was a statue in Laconia called Venus-Junonia. Of Dione and Venus Bryant says (ii. 341):--"I have mentioned that the name Diona was properly Ad, or Ada, Iöna.

Hence came the term Idione; which Idione was an object of idolatry as early as the days of Moses. But there was a similar personage named Deione.... This was a compound of De Iöne, the dove; and Venus Dionoea may sometimes have been formed in the same manner.... Dionusus was likewise called Thyomus." _Vide_ also Bryant, pp. 316, 317. In Genesis viii. 9, the dove returned to the ark, not having found "where her foot might rest." "In the hieroglyphical sculptures and paintings where this history was represented, the dove could not well be depicted otherwise than as hovering over the face of the deep. Hence it is that Venus or Dione is said to have risen from the sea. Hence it is, also, that she is said to preside over waters; to appease the troubled ocean; and to cause by her presence an universal calm; that to her were owing [on the retiring of the waters] the fruits of the earth.... She was the Oenas ('[Greek: Oinas]') of the Greeks; whence came the Venus of the Latins." The address of Lucretius to this deity concludes with two lines of remarkable significance--

"Te Dea, te fugiunt venti; te nubila coeli Adventumque tuum; tibi rident æquora ponti; _Pacatumque_ nitet diffuso lumine _coelum_."

"In Sicily, upon Mount Eryx, was a celebrated temple of this goddess, which is taken notice of by Cicero and other writers. Doves were here held as sacred as they were in Palestine or Syria [_vide_ also in Cashmere, p. 64]. It is remarkable that there were two days of the year set apart in this place for festivals, called [Greek: Anagôgia] and [Greek: Katagôgia], at which time Venus was supposed to _depart over the sea_, and after a season to return. There were _also sacred pigeons_, which then took their flight from the island; but one of them was observed on the ninth day to come back from the sea, and to fly to the shrine of the goddess. This was upon the festival of [Greek: Anagôgia]. Upon this day it is said that there were great rejoicings. On what account can we imagine this veneration for the bird to be kept up, ... but for a memorial of the dove sent out of the ark, and of its return from the deep to Noah? The history is recorded upon the ancient coins of Eryx; which have on one side the head of _Janus_ bifrons, and on the other the sacred dove."--Bryant, ii. 319.

Mr Cox's ("Mythology," ii. ch. ii. sec. vii.) counter-explanation, if I rightly gather it, is that "on Aphroditê (Venus), the child of _the froth or foam of the sea_, was lavished all the wealth of words denoting the loveliness of the morning; and thus the Hesiodic poet goes on at once to say that the grass sprung up under her feet as she moved, that Eros, Love, walked by her side, and Himeros, longing, followed after her." "This is but saying, in other words, that the morning, the child of the heavens, springs up _first from_ the sea, as Athene is born by the water-side." But why should the morning spring first from the sea?--more particularly when the effects of her rising is noted in the springing up of flowers on the land? If the rainbow, we see the reason in her connection with the Deluge, and her connection with the subsequent renovation of nature. Mr Cox also says (p. 3):--"In her brilliant beauty she is Argunî, a name which appears again in that of Arguna, the companion of Krishna and the Hellenic Argynius."

Does not this complete the chain of her connection with Juno? Mr Cox (p. 8) says:--"The Latin Venus is, in strictness of speech, a mere name, to which any epithet might be attached according to the conveniences or the needs of the worshipper.... The name itself has been, it would seem, with good reason, connected with the Sanscrit root 'van,' to desire love or favour,"--a derivation which equally accords with Bryant's view. Then there is the striking connection of Venus with Dionusos (_vide_ p. 395). Mr Cox (p. 9) says, "The myth of Adonis links the legends of Aphrodite (Venus) with those _of Dionusos_. Like the Theban _wine_-god Adonis, born only on the death of his mother; and the two myths are, in one version, _so far the same_ that _Dionysos_, like Adonis, is placed _in a chest_, which, being _cast into the sea_, is carried to Brasiæ, where the body of his mother is buried." (Comp. Kabiri, Bunsen.) Mr Cox connects Athene with Aphrodite (Venus) (p. 4). Therefore we must ask him to reconsider his explanation of "the Athenian maidens embroidering the sacred peplos for _the ship_ presented to Athêne at the great Dionysiac festival." Compare evidence, _supra_, in chap. on Boulanger, &c.; Catlin.

The digression we have just made involves some risk of distracting attention from the point it was intended to enforce--viz. the traditionary character of the mode, and, by implication, the traditionary recognition of the obligation, of the declaration of war. We have already seen in Ozanam (_supra_, p. 371) indications of the probability of similar traditions among the primitive tribes of Germany. Will it clench the argument if we find Romans and Gauls on a common understanding in these matters, when brought for the first time into contact since their original separation?--

"The great misfortunes which befel the city from the Gauls, are said to have proceeded from the violation of these sacred rites. For when the barbarians were besieging Clusium, Fabius Ambustus was sent ambassador to their camp with proposals of peace, in favour of the besieged. But receiving a harsh answer, he thought himself released from his character of ambassador, and rashly taking up arms for the Clusians, challenged the bravest man in the Gaulish army. He proved victorious, ... but the Gauls having discovered who he was, sent _a herald_ to Rome to accuse Fabius of bearing arms against them, contrary to _treaties and good faith_, and _without a declaration of war_. Upon this the Feciales exhorted the Senate to deliver him up to the Gauls, but he appealed to the people, and, being a favourite with them, was screened from the sentence. Soon after this, the Gauls marched to Rome, and sacked the whole city except the Capitol, as we have related at large in the life of Camillus."--_Plutarch's Numa._

I venture further to think that the traditionary modes of the declaration of war may be detected among the Gauls in Cæsar's time, in the manner of their challenge. _E.g._ it so came about that Cæsar wished to draw the enemy (the Nervii) to his side of the valley and to engage them at a disadvantage before his camp. To this end he simulated fear. "Our men meanwhile retiring from the rampart, they approached still nearer, _cast their darts_ on all sides within the trenches and _sent heralds_ round the camp to proclaim," &c. (Duncan's Cæsar, B. v. xlii.)

We will now turn to the Greek tradition. I quote from an old author who has examined the matter more fully than I find it treated elsewhere. Rous. ("Archæologiæ Atticæ," lib. 6, s. 3, civ.) says:--"As careful and cunning as they were in warlike affairs, I cannot find but that they did 'propere signi quæ piget inchoare,' bear a great affection to _peace_; as may appear in their honourable receiving of ambassadors, to whom they gave hearing in no worse place than a _temple_.... The usual ensign carried by Greek ambassadours was [Greek: kêrykeon], _caduceus_,[335] a right _staff of wood_ with snakes twisted about it and looking one another in the face.... If the peace could not be kept, but they must needs have war, yet they would be sure to give warning and fair play, and make proclamations of their intentions before they marcht. The manner in proclaiming war was to send a fellow of purpose _either to cast a spear_ or let loose _a lamb_ into the borders of the country, or into the city itself whither they were marching (which Hesychius rather thinks to have been the signal before a battel), thereby showing them, that what was then a habitation for men, should shortly be a pasture for sheep."[336] I should rather have thought that it had analogy with the Jewish scapegoat; but, whatever the idea, it was apparently symbolled and commemorated in the _woollen_ veil prescribed to the Roman pontiff in the declaration of war. It would seem, however, that the signal for battle (chap. v.) was "instead of sounding a trumpet, they had fellows whom they called [Greek: pyrphorous], that went before with torches, and throwing them down in the midst between the two armies, gave the sign.... Now, this business they might do safely and without any danger, ... for the torch-bearers were peculiarly protected by Mars, and accounted sacred."[337]

[335] _Vide ante_, 391. That the entwined snakes were of late date would appear, I think, from the allusions to the suppliants' wands in Æschylus, _e.g._ (_vide_ Plumtre's Æschylus, "Libation Pourers," v. 1024) when Orestes puts on the suppliants wreaths, and takes the olive branch in his hand--

"The branch of _olive_ from the topmost growth, With amplest tufts of _white wool_ meetly wreathed."

and in the Supplicants (22)--

"Holding in one hand the branches Suppliant, wreathed with _white wool_ fillets."

[336] Also, "Joannis Meursii Themis Athica, sive de Legibus Alticis," i. xi. says, "Postquam vero exercitus eductus esset pugnam inire, non _licebat antiquam_ emissum agmen hostium quis, hunc _expectans accepisset_."

[337] This has something in common with the fiery cross sent round by the Highlanders as the summons to war. In another aspect it has resemblances with the Indian mode of declaration of war. "The manner in which the Indians declare war against each other is by sending a slave with a hatchet, the handle of which is painted _red_, to the nation which they intend to break with; and the messenger, notwithstanding the danger to which he is exposed from the sudden fury of those whom he thus sets at defiance, executes his commission with great fidelity."--_Carver's "Travels in North America,"_ p. 307.

The sense of national responsibility in war, and the reluctance of kings to involve themselves without the consent of their people would appear from OEschylos' "Supplicants" (v. 393, 363).

I have referred (p. 326) to the Peruvian traditions of Manco Capac's laws of war, and that "in every stage of the war the Peruvian was open to propositions for peace."

From the Hindoo tradition, apparently, Manu's code was conceived in an identical spirit. (_Vide_ "Hist. of India," "The Hindu and Mahometan Periods," by the Hon. Mountstuart Elphinstone; Murray, 1866, ch. ii. p. 26.) "The laws of war (Manu's code) are honourable and humane. Poisoned arrows and mischievously barbed arrows and fire arrows are all prohibited." [Dr Hooker, in his "Himalayan Journal," mentions a similar tradition among the Limboos, I think, or Lepchas.[338]] "There are many situations in which it is by no means allowable to destroy the enemy. Among those who must always be spared are unarmed or wounded men, and those who have broken their weapons, and one who says, 'I am thy captive.' Other prohibitions are still more generous.... The settlement of a conquered country is conducted on equally liberal principles. Immediate security is to be assured to all by proclamation. The religion and laws of the country are to be maintained and respected." And I have fancied (_vide_ 395) that the recognition at least of such a tradition, if it be only the "homage which vice pays to virtue," is to be read in the devices carried by the Babylonians.[339]

[338] That there may be limitations to the horrors of war, seems to be established by the instance of the prohibition of explosive bullets. I read in the _Times_ (March 11, 1871):--"The _British Medical Journal_ declares its opinion that the charges which have been put forward of _explosive bullets_ having been used by the contending armies have been groundless; and is inclined to believe that the _articles of the St Petersburg Convention_ have been _faithfully adhered to_, notwithstanding the mutual recriminations to the contrary by both French and German Governments."

[339] Indirect evidence of the importance formerly attached to the declaration of war may, I think, be discovered in the formal addresses and invocations of the gods by the Homeric heroes previous to combat, which to us seem so forced and unnatural; and the same sentiment was noticed by the Spaniards, when they first came over, among the Peruvians, who did not neglect the punctilio of the declaration of war even in their most high-handed aggressions, _e.g_. Garcilasso de la Vega (Hakluyt Soc. ed. ii. 141) says--"The invaders sent _the usual summons_ that the people might not be able to allege afterwards that they had been taken unawares."

There was, moreover, a law at Athens which forbade them to declare war until after a deliberation of three days--"Bellum vero antequam decerneretur, triduo deliberare lex jubebat" (Apsines, Marcell. in Hermog. ap. J. Meursii Them. Att., l. i. c. xi.); and we have seen that the Senate at Rome postponed the declaration of war for thirty days. I cannot help thinking, though it is the merest surmise, that it is in the dim recollection of some such tradition that we must account for the meaningless and superstitious delays which we occasionally read of in the warfare of barbarous nations; _e.g_. Cæsar (De Bello Gallico, i. xl. c.) had drawn up his troops and offered the enemy battle, but Ariovistus thought proper to sound a retreat. "Cæsar inquiring of the prisoners why Ariovistus so obstinately refused an engagement, found that it was the custom among the Germans for _the women_ to decide by lots and divination when it was proper to decide a battle; and that these had declared the army would not be victorious if they fought _before the new moon_."[340] [There was also a law at Athens that it was not lawful to lead forth an army before the seventh day of the month. "Vetitum Athenis erat, exercitum educere ante diem septimum."] J. Muersii, _id._

[340] Carver ("Travels in North America," p. 301) says of the Indians--"Sometimes private chiefs make excursions.... These irregular sallies, however, are not always approved of by the elder chiefs, though they are often obliged to connive at them.... But when war is national, and undertaken by the community, their deliberations are formal and slow. The elders assemble in council, to which all the head warriors and young men are admitted, when they deliver their opinions in solemn speeches; weighing with maturity the nature of the enterprise they are about to engage in, and balancing with great sagacity the advantages or inconveniences that will arise from it. Their priests are also consulted on the subject, and even sometimes the advice of the most intelligent of _their women_ is asked. If the determination be for war they prepare for it with much ceremony."

I have discussed the ancient mode of declaration of war at some length as an instance of tradition. There are some, I am afraid, to whom the discussion will appear ineffably trifling; and I may even be misconstrued to say that everything would be set right in Europe, if only a herald were sent in proper form to declare war. There are men of a certain cast of mind to whom forms are repugnant; there are others to whom they are unintelligible. It has been observed, however, that the rejection of forms is one thing, the neglect of them another. The rejection of forms may be, on some principle, good, though misapplied, often does unconscious homage when it means to spurn, and may be compensated for in other ways. The neglect of them is simply evidence of laxity. Cromwell perfectly well knew the divinity which attached to forms when he said, "Take away that bauble;" and, on the other hand, no one better than he would have judged the state of an army (not his own) in which he was told that it was the custom of soldiers not to salute their officers.

The declaration of war without any solemnity, still more the commencement of hostilities without any declaration at all,[341] seems to me closely analogous--as a sign of disorganisation--to the absence of any form of salute at a parade. I am far from contending that old forms, when they have become obsolete, can be resuscitated; but I do contend for the resuscitation of ancient maxims and ideas. In any age fully imbued with the responsibility of war, in which it was considered unseemly to declare it until after a three days' deliberation in solemn conclave, and which even then protracted the declaration till the seventh or the thirtieth day, would it have been possible for two great nations to have gone to war because there had been "a breach of etiquette," if indeed there was a breach of etiquette, "at a German watering-place?"[342] Allowing that this was merely the ostensible pretext, and that the real grounds remained behind--if these long deliberations had been necessarily interposed, would there not have been a thousand chances in favour of such a European intervention as saved the peace of Europe three years before in the affair of Luxembourg? Yet, so far as we know at present, the following is the history of the commencement of the most horrible, the most destructive, and the most barbarous war[343] of modern times.

[341] "In ancient times war was solemnly declared either by certain fixed ceremonies or by the announcement of heralds; and a war commenced without such declaration was regarded as informal and irregular, and contrary to the usages of nations. Grotius says that a declaration of war is not necessary by the law of nations--"Naturali jure nulla requiritur declaratio," but _that it was required by the law of nations, jure gentium_, by which term, be it remembered, he means the usages of nations. And in this he was right, as until the age in which he lived wars were almost invariably preceded by solemn declarations. The Romans, according to Albericus Gentilis, did not grant a triumph for any war which had been commenced without a formal declaration (De Jure Belli, c. ii. § i.); but the Greeks do not seem to have been at all regular in the observance of the custom (Bynkershock, Quæs. Jur. Pub., l. i. c. ii.) During the times of chivalry declarations of war were usually given with great formality, the habits of knighthood being carried into the customs of general warfare, and it being held mean to fall upon an adversary when unprepared to defend himself (Ward, Introd.

ii. 206-230). With the decline of chivalry this custom fell into disuse. Gustavus Adolphus invaded Germany without any declaration of war (Zouch, De Judicio inter Gentes, P. ii. § x. 1); but this appears to have been _an exception_ to the usages of the age, and Clarendon speaks of declarations of war as being customary in his time, and blames the war in which the Duke of Buckingham went to France, as entered into 'without so much as the formality of a declaration from the king, containing the ground and provocation and end of it, according to custom and obligation in the like cases.' Formal denunciations of war _by heralds_ were discontinued about the time of Grotius; the last instance having been, according to Voltaire, when Louis XIII. sent a herald to Brussels to declare war against Spain in 1635."--_W. Oke Manning's Commentaries on Law of Nations._

[342] "Looking back on the history of the autumn ... we may yet be impressed by the conviction that, had the union of the _European family of nations_ been strengthened as it might have been before the war broke out, it might never have been begun, or would have long since terminated. The Treaty of Paris put on record a declaration in favour of arbitration, but it proved to be worthless when sought to be applied."--_Times_, Feb. 15, 1871. I shall have a word to say presently on the declaration of the Treaty of Paris.

[343] It must not be forgotten, however, that it was the revolution in Paris which gave this war its abnormal character, and created situations for which the law of nations had no precedents, or precedents only which were of doubtful application.

"A private letter from Paris relates that the Duc de Grammont, who has taken to spend his evenings at the Jockey Club, was lately asked there, 'How he came to blunder into such a fatal war?'[344] He replied, 'I asked the Minister of War, Leboeuf, if he was ready, and he answered, "Ready! ay, and doubly ready;" _otherwise_,' added the Duc, 'I should have taken care not _to have counselled_ a war which there _were twenty modes of averting_.'"--_Times_, Sept. 1, 1870.[345]

[344] Compare _infra_, p. 412.

[345] Compare with the following account of the declaration of war by M. F. de Champagny, de L'Acad. Fr., in the _Correspondant_, 25 Juin 1871:--"A government wrongly inspired proposed to us a war. Without asking it why it wished to make it, without asking if it could make it, without reflection, without discussion, without listening to the men of name and experience, who implored of us _at least twenty-four hours for reflection_, we accepted this war, I do not say with enthusiasm, but with frivolous levity, not as crusaders, but as children. It seemed to us sufficient to tipple in the 'cafés,' singing the 'Marseillaise,' to intoxicate the soldiers, to throw squibs into what were then called sensational journals, to cry 'à Berlin!' in order to go right off to Berlin. And when it was discovered that we were not going on at all to Berlin, but that Berlin was coming to Paris, that this enthusiasm of the 'café' did not cause armies to spring into life, what was our resource? Always the same: to overthrow a government!"

The extent of the disorganisation and the laxity into which we have fallen, appears perhaps as strikingly as in any anything else in the frequency of the complaints of the little regard paid to "parlémentaires" and officers bearing flags of truce. But what startles us more than all is the light manner in which this transgression of the law of nations is referred to even by the parties aggrieved.

I will here place two extracts which I have made in juxtaposition:--

Carver ("Travels in North America," p. 358) says, that when a deputation sets out together for their enemy's country with propositions of peace, "They bear before them the pipe of peace, which, I need not inform my readers, is of the same nature _as a flag of truce_ among the Europeans, and is treated with the greatest respect and veneration _even by the most barbarous_ nations. _I never heard of an instance_ wherein the _bearers of this sacred_ badge of friendship were ever treated disrespectfully, or its rights violated. The Indians believe that the Great Spirit _never suffers an infraction_ of this kind to go unpunished."

Count Chandordy, in his reply to Count Bismarck, dated Bordeaux, Jan. 25, 1871, says:--"Count Bismarck reproaches the French armies with having _fired on parlémentaires_." An accusation of this nature had already been brought to the knowledge of the Paris Government, and we may quote the following words of M. Jules Favre in his circular of 12th January--"I have the satisfaction to acquaint your excellency that the Governor of Paris has hastened to order an inquiry into the facts alleged by Count Bismarck, and in announcing this to him he has brought _much more numerous facts_ of the same nature to his own cognizance which are imputed to Prussian sentinels, but _which he never would have allowed to interrupt ordinary relations_."

I do not know whether this contrast between barbarism, such as it existed in the last century, and modern civilisation, will astonish those partisans of success whom in truth nothing in all the multiform atrocities of this dreadful war seems to have astonished or shocked, so that it was at times almost ludicrous to hear these _introuvables_ declare such things as the bombardment of hospitals and churches, as at Strasburg and Paris, quite right, which even the German commanders, when the matter was brought to their attention, admitted to be wrong.

This perhaps is the worst symptom of corruption we have yet seen, and yet there was a time, and that quite recent, when a different sentiment prevailed. I have just referred[346] to the declaration in the Treaty of Paris, which thought to inaugurate a new era by bringing all causes of conflict in Europe to a settlement of arbitration. But let no one be discouraged or cease to believe in the possibility of such a consummation because of the result. There never was a stronger instance of the intellect of the world vainly striving to create an international code and system for itself which was to be distinct from the law of nations; for at the same moment that the diplomatists who were collected in Paris set to work upon their tower, which was to erect itself above the waters of any future inundation, they one and all agreed to demolish, and as a first step to pull down, the cornerstone from the temple of the past. How this was brought about will best be told in an extract from the Count de Montalembert's "Pie IX. et la France en 1849 et 1859," p. 10:--

"Let us go back to the origin of the evil, ... it dates back more especially from the Congress of Paris in 1856, from that diplomatic reunion which, after having solemnly declared that none of the contracting powers _had the right to interfere either collectively or individually in the relations of a sovereign with his subjects_ (Protocol of 18th March), after having proclaimed the principle of the absolute independence of the sovereigns, for the benefit of the Turkish Sultan against his Christian subjects, thought it within its competency, in its protocol of the 8th of April, and in the absence of any representative of the august accused, to proclaim that the situation of the Pontifical States was 'abnormal' and 'irregular.' This accusation developed and exaggerated at the Tribune, and elsewhere by Lord Palmerston and Count Cavour, was equally formulated under the Presidency and upon the initiative of the Minister of Foreign Affairs in France, and it is consequently France which must bear the principal responsibility before the Church and Europe. We can recall the grief and surprise which this strange proceeding created in the Catholic world."

[346] _Vide_ note 19, p. 403.

Thus was the game set rolling; and the policy thus indicated was pursued with the eager and unrelenting pertinacity of some, and with the tacit approval of the rest of the co-signatories.

The war declared by France against Austria, which was the precipitating cause of the storm which broke upon the Papal States, can, it is true, only be regarded as evidence of the conspiracy--inasmuch as it was declared by one of the conspirators at the instigation of another, whose ultimate aim was the seizure of the States of the Church and of the other independent Italian sovereignties to the profit of Piedmont. So soon as the victory of the French arms was decided, the Emperor's proclamation from Milan appeared, inciting the populations to insurrection. All then followed in sequence--the revolt of the Romagnas four days after the Milan manifesto, their annexation along with the other independent states of Central Italy by Piedmont, this annexation being effected with the connivance, if not the consent, of France, and for which payment was eventually made in the cession of Nice and Savoy (all this being in contravention of the treaties of Villafranca and Zurich). But what mattered the contravention of treaties in comparison with the scenes which followed? The programme of the congress, or, if that is denied, the programme of two (if not three, for it is difficult to acquit Lord Palmerston and Lord John Russell of participation by consent) of the powers who had entered into the conspiracy against European order, and these, at that time, the powers in the highest state of military efficiency, was to be carried out _per fas et nefas_.

Naples and the patrimony of St Peter had to be secured, and as they morally presented no vulnerable side, they were seized by the hand of the marauder in defiance of "all law, human and divine."[347] Garibaldi's descent on Sicily, effected under the cover of the English navy, was simply a brusque and flagrant act of piracy, for which no plea of justification has ever been set up. The usurpation of the Papal States, though not less ruthlessly accomplished in the end, was carried through with more regard to form in its preliminary stages; yet at the last the diplomatic mask was torn off, and the invasion was made without any pretext or justification known to the law of nations, and without even a declaration of war.

[347] These were the words which the Marquis of Bath had the courage to use in the House of Lords when everybody else was joining in a ludicrous "dirge of homage" to Cavour. I wish to put this protest, as well as the similar protests of the Marquis of Normanby and the Earl of Donoughmore on record, as there may come a time when England will be glad to recur to them.

Here, again, the Imperial diplomacy and Italian intrigue went hand in hand. Lamoriciere, in reliance upon the honour of France, had made _all his dispositions against Garibaldi_, and had received a letter from the French ambassador as late as the 7th September (bearing the same date as the so-called ultimatum of Cavour, although the Piedmontese troops had crossed the frontier before it was delivered), which I shall here reproduce, seeing that it is not on record in the _Annuaire des Deux Mondes_ (1860)--"I inform you by the Emperor's orders that the Piedmontese _will not_ enter the Roman States, and that 20,000 French are about to occupy the different places of those states. Make, then, all your dispositions against Garibaldi.--Le Duc de Grammont."[348] (This letter was dated September 7, 1860, the battle of Castelgidardo was fought on the 18th September 1860.) It is needless to add that no reinforcements from France appeared, and that the assurance served no other purpose than to mislead, and to throw Lamoriciere off his guard. Indeed, in spite of various protestations and the subsequent withdrawal of the French ambassador from Turin, the Catholic world settled down into the belief, not only that the Emperor of the French had never had the intention of sending troops to the rescue, but that the whole scheme of the invasion had been deliberately devised at the ominous interview which took place on the 28th of August previous, between the Emperor, Farini, and General Cialdini. It was even said that the words used by the Emperor on the occasion transpired, "frappez fort et frappez vite,"--a terse and striking phrase, which will fitly perpetuate in the human memory the most flagrant violation of the law of nations which history affords.[349]

[348] _Vide_ "Current Events," in _Rambler_, 1860.

[349] "Does the faith of treaties, the right of treaties, still exist? Look at what has happened in Europe during the last twenty years. The treaties made with the Church were the first violated; they have declared that a 'concordat' is nothing more than a law of the State, which the State can alter at will--in other words, that, unlike all other contracts, conventions of this nature, inviolable for one of the parties, can be broken by the other at its pleasure; kings have thus put the Church outside the law of nations. But, in consequence, they have excluded themselves. When the most sacred of all treaties were thus trampled upon, how would they have the others respected? They have even written, or caused to be written, on a solemn occasion ('Napoleon III. et L'Italie, 1859') that treaties no longer bind when the general sentiment declares against them; in other terms, when they displease us. At this epoch, in 1859, we were disputing with Austria a possession which all treaties had guaranteed to her, and the neutral signatories of these treaties did not protest.

Victorious over Austria, we have in our turn made a treaty with her; and this treaty was violated when scarcely signed; and neither we nor the rest of Europe protested. Later on, the dissensions between Germany and Denmark ended in a treaty, which the rest of Europe guaranteed; but soon Germany broke this treaty by force of arms, and Europe did not say a word. I omit here the convention of September, ... the treaty of 1856. On all these occasions the indifference of third parties has come to the aid of the cupidity of the aggressors; and the moral sense has been so far wanting in the Cabinets that they have assisted and applauded acts of brigandage for the love of the art, and without even thinking that the brigand, when he grew strong, would fall on the morrow on themselves. Will you find in European history twelve years so fruitful in pledges and perjuries?"

All this was done with the undisguised satisfaction of several veteran English statesmen, who were, moreover, directly or indirectly represented at the same congress which sought to bind the European powers to call in the arbitration of a friendly power, in case of disagreement, before making an appeal to arms.

Now there is no reason why this rule, good in itself, and congruous to the spirit and maxims of the law of nations, should not have been embodied as a fundamental article in the code; for the law of nations is not a dead-letter, but, like everything that is of tradition, easily lending itself to adaptation and development according to the changing circumstances of the world.

Can we be surprised that this principle, good and according to reason, but which nevertheless presupposes certain sentiments in the world in correspondence with it, should in the actual circumstances have been barren of results? Is it wonderful that it should have miscarried in the hands of men who were parties to the invasion, without even the form of a declaration of war, of the State predestined by divine Providence to be the cornerstone of Christendom? Would it have been befitting that this beneficent arrangement should have been destined to be the work of men who, either by participation or as accessories after the fact, had set their hands to a deed which shocked every principle of morality, and made the very notion of public law in Europe ridiculous?

The early commencements of this policy cannot be studied at a more appropriate moment than now, when we are witnessing its _denouement_.

What has been the result to France of its Italian policy? To Austria? To England? To Europe?

Has any power prospered that had a hand in setting the ball rolling, or, for that matter, any power that had the responsibility of staying the parricidal hand, and held back? If Austria, the first victim, had firmly and strenuously resisted the early instigations of evil, would she ever, according to human calculations, have had to fight at Magenta and Solferino? and, in another way, was there not something dramatic in the sudden reverse and displacement of Count Buol, who had been the Austrian representative at the Congress, immediately after he had hurled the fatal _ultimatum_? The retort will be triumphant. Did not France, the great culprit of all, who both cast its own responsibility to the winds and sowed the hurricane, conquer at Solferino? Truly she did; but _respice finem_, or rather, we may say, we have lived to see the end. Did not Solferino, after some ten years of delusive prosperity, lead up to Sedan? Of England I do not wish to say more than that since that date she has unaccountably fallen in the esteem of men; has, in her turn, met with injustice, and no longer maintains the same relative position which she held during the fifty years preceding the Congress.

Everything, in fine, since that date, seems to have gone in favour of that European power which remained in the background, and which, if it did no good act at the Congress, at least had the worldly wisdom to fold its arms and refrain from sacrilege. Yes, Prussia has had her victory; but by all accounts there never was a victory which has made a nation so sad and mournful, and which was greeted with fewer manifestations of joy. It was peace rather than victory which was welcomed home. Here, too, we seem to see the subtle and nicely-measured retaliation. Again, was there no significance in the unlooked-for disasters at Forbach and Woerth, occurring coincidently with the final abandonment of Rome by France?

These are things which strike the eye, but which are difficult of demonstration, and it would appear a hopeless errand to convince a generation which has witnessed the burning of Paris, if not without emotion, at any rate without serious reflection, and, in spite of manifest prediction, has refused to see in it "the finger of retribution and the hand of God."

And yet belief in this retribution of heaven is at the foundation of the law of nations. Previously to the astounding experiences of the recent war, during those years so fruitful "in pledges and perjuries," it was a common phrase, and most frequently used with reference to France, that war was no longer an affair of divine Providence, but that Providence was always on the side of the big battalions.

With one word as to the significance of this phrase, which is tantamount to a negation of the law of nations, I shall conclude.

It may certainly happen, that in a contest one party may be consciously hypocrite, whilst the other is conscious of its rectitude; but presumedly, and until the contrary is manifested, both parties must be supposed to believe themselves in the right, and to run the tilt like knights in the mediæval tournament. Nevertheless, as Dr Johnson said, there are arguments for a "plenum" and for a "vacuum," but one conclusion only can be true; and in some way in every conflict, which is true and which is just is known only to the inscrutable judgment of the Most High. We do not know all the secrets of courts, neither could we exactly determine the point if we had before us all the deliberations of councils, it is sufficient for us to know that victory is not always on the side of the big battalions, as witness, _inter alia_, Marathon, Morgarten, Bannockburn, Lepanto, Mentana. Will any Englishman maintain the proposition that victory is always on the side of the big battalions? Then, beginning with Cressy and Poictiers, and following Marlborough through the fields of Blenheim, Ramilies, and Malplaquet, and the Duke of Wellington through the Peninsular War, we must renounce that which gives "the _éclat_ to all our victories."

Doubtless, then, the quality of troops will in some instances weigh far more than numbers. You allow it? We now introduce an element of great uncertainty, and about which there will always be much dispute, and moreover it will always be a matter concerning which religion and morality will have much to say. It is no longer an affair of big battalions, it is no longer reduced to a matter of calculation, on which side the victory is to be. Let me further remark, that whilst there is one set of writers who will be ready to say that Providence is on the side of the big battalions, there is another set of writers, and these the men who are more conversant with the details, who will with great acuteness undertake to prove to you that it is so much an affair of Providence that in each case the victory was scarcely a victory, and only such because some casualty on the other side intervened to convert what would otherwise have been a victory into a defeat. It is unfortunately true that this latter class of historians and strategists do not, as a rule, trace in the turn of events the retribution of Providence.

Still, the presumption will always be that victory favours the righteous cause, although it may be only _pro hac vice_, and ultimate success may not crown the career of the victorious nation, because its virtues may not have merited more than a signal and single success;--or it may even be that its merits may be of a kind such as to gain it a reward which transcends the rewards of earthly victory; or, again, the career of victory must be explained and measured by the depths of the final catastrophe and discomfiture.

In any case, it is a great thing for a nation to have won a victory in a rightful cause. The reward of virtue remains and gladdens the heart in the day of disaster and distress. Whatever may chance to us, there will always lie in store for us the consolation of reading the history of the battle of Waterloo; not, let us say, as the victory of one nation over another nation, but as the great and final triumph of a righteous over an unrighteous cause, gained by England. It is, thank God! impossible alike for the conqueror and the revolutionary multitude to destroy the Past.

INDEX.

Aboriginal races, their mysterious origin, 35.

Acton, Lord, 251.

Adam, supposed identity with Prometheus and Hercules, 42, 180; with Fohi, 64, 232; meaning of the word, 134; correspondence of, with Chaldæan god, Ana, 189.

Adams, Mr Arthur, 348.

Adaptability of law of nations, 410.

Adonis and Venus, myths of, 396, 397.

Adrastus, the legend of, 179.

Æneid, the, of Virgil quoted, 212.

Æschylus, the "Supplicants" of, quoted, 131.

Africa, commemorative ceremonies of Deluge, 248, 250; Captain Burton's account of, 251; compared with Catlin's narrative, 254-260. _See also_ Deluge, Commemorative Festivals.

Africanus, 95.

Age of Bronze, the, 334, 335; commencement of, 336.

Age, the Golden, 323; theory of and commencement, 323; tradition of, 328.

Age, the Iron, 129.

Agnatic relationship, 357, 358, 360.

Algonquins, the, 152.

Allies, Mr, on divergence between religion and philosophy, 108.

America, the Mozca Indians of, 70; diluvian traditions in, 242; the "O-kee-pa" of the Mandans, 245, 246; Catlin's account of ceremonies, 254-262; the Peruvian deity, 186; Peruvian worship, 304. _See also_ Deluge, Commemorative Festivals.

America, the discovery of, a proof of tradition, 324.

American continent, source of peoples of, 263-266.

American Indians, the legend of Michabo among the, 152, 153; tradition of fire among, 320.

Amida or Adima, the Japanese god, 65.

Amphictyonic Council and League, 361-365.

Ana, a Chaldæan god, 187; traditional identity of with Adam, 189; a reduplication of Enu or Enoch, 192.

Ancestors, worship of, 161, 205.

Ancient society, the unit of, 339.

Andamans, the, 308, 313.

Andriossy's hypothesis regarding overflow of the Nile, 68.

Anthisteries, the, 226.

Antiquity of man, 91.

Apollo, 241.

Apotheosis of Nimrod, 160.

Arab and Iroquois, exceptional instances of human progress, 33.

Arba-Lisun, the, or Four Tongues, 184.

Arbitration instead of war, 380.

Areopagus, a cosmopolitic, 383.

Argos, feast of the deluge at, 243.

Argyll, Duke of, on tradition, 120, 123; on capability of savage races, 314.

Arrival and conflict of different races in India, 35-38.