THE COST OF A WAR.

“You may remember, Oswald,” said Mr. B. to his son, “that I gave you some time ago a notion ofthe price of a victoryto the poor souls engaged in it.”

“I shall not soon forget it, I assure you, sir,” replied Oswald.

Father.Very well; I mean now to give you some ideaof the cost of a warto the people among whom it is carried on. This may serveto abate something of the admiration with which historians are to apt to inspire us for great warriors and conquerors. You have heard, I doubt not, of Louis the Fourteenth, king of France?

Oswald.Oh, yes!

Fa.He was entitled by his subjectsLouis le Grand, and was compared by them to the Cesars and Alexanders of antiquity; and with some justice as to the extent of his power, and the use he made of it. He was the most potent prince of his time; commanded mighty and victorious armies; and enlarged the limits of his hereditary dominions. Louis was not naturally a hard-hearted man; but having been taught from his cradle that everything ought to give way to the interests of his glory, and that this glory consisted in domineering over his neighbours, and making conquests, he grew to be insensible to all the miseries brought on his own and other people, in pursuit of this noble design, as he thought it. Moreover, he was plunged in dissolute pleasures, and the delights of pomp and splendour, from his youth; and he was ever surrounded by a tribe of abject flatterers, who made him believe that he had a full right, in all cases to do as he pleased. Conquest abroad and pleasure at home, were therefore the chief business of his life.

One evening, his minister, Louvois, came to him and said, “Sire, it is absolutely necessary to make a desert of thePalatinate.”

This is a country in Germany, on the banks of the Rhine, one of the most populous and best-cultivated districts in that empire, filled with towns and villages, and industrious inhabitants.

“I should be sorry to do it,” replied the king, “for you know how much odium we acquired throughout Europe when a part of it was laid waste sometime ago, under Marshal Turenne.”

“It cannot be helped, sire,” returned Louvois. “All the damage he did has been repaired, and the country is as flourishing as ever. If we leave it in its present state it will afford quarters to your majesty’s enemies, and endanger your conquests. It must be entirely ruined—the good of the service will not permit it to be otherwise.”

“Well, then,” answered Louis, “if it must be so, you are to give orders accordingly.” So saying, he left the cabinet, and went to assist a magnificent festival given in honour of his favourite mistress by a prince of the blood.

The pitiless Louvois lost no time; but despatched a courier that very night, with positive orders to the French generals in the Palatinate to carryfire and desolation through the whole country—not to leave a house or a tree standing—and to expel all the inhabitants.

It was the midst of a rigorous winter.

Os.O horrible! but surely the generals would not obey such orders?

Fa.What, a general disobey the commands of his sovereign!—That would be contrary to every maxim of thetrade. Right and wrong are no considerations to a military man. He is only to do as he is bid. The French generals who were upon the spot, and must see with their own eyes all that was done, probably felt somewhat like men on the occasion; but the sacrifice to their duty as soldiers was so much the greater. The commands were peremptory, and they were obeyed to a tittle. Towns and villages were burnt to the ground; vineyards and orchards were cut down and rooted up; sheep and cattle were killed; all the fair works of ages were destroyed in a moment; and the smiling face of culture was turned to a dreary waste.

The poor inhabitants were driven from their warm and comfortable habitations into the open fields, to confront all the inclemencies of the season. Their furniture was burnt or pillaged, and nothing was left them but the clothes on their backs, and the few necessaries they could carry with them. The roads were covered with trembling fugitives, going they knew not whither, shivering with cold and pinched with hunger. Here an old man, dropping with fatigue, lay down to die—there a woman with a new-born infant sunk perishing on the snow, while her husband hung over them in all the horror of despair.

Os.O, what a scene! Poor creatures! What became of them at last?

Fa.Such of them as did not perish on the road got to the neighbouring towns, where they were received with all the hospitality that such calamitous times would afford; but they were beggared for life. Meantime, their country for many a league round displayed no other sight than that of black smoking ruins in the midst of silence and desolation.

Os.I hope, however, that such things do not often happen in war.

Fa.Not often, perhaps, to the same extent: but in some degree they must take place in every war. A village which would afford a favourable post to the enemy is always burnt without hesitation. A country which can no longer be maintained, is cleared of all its provision and forage before it is abandoned, lest the enemy should have the advantage of them; and the poor inhabitants are left to subsist as they can. Crops of corn are trampled down by armies in their march, or devoured whilegreen as fodder for their horses. Pillage, robbery and murder, are always going on in the outskirts of the best-disciplined camp. Then consider what must happen in every siege. On the first approach of the enemy, all the buildings in the suburbs of a town are demolished, and all the trees in gardens and public walks are cut down, lest they should afford shelter to the besiegers. As the siege goes on, bombs, hot balls, and cannon-shot, are continually flying about; by which the greatest part of a town is ruined or laid in ashes, and many of the innocent people killed or maimed. If the resistance is obstinate, famine and pestilence are sure to take place; and if the garrison holds out to the last, and the town is taken by storm, it is generally given up to be pillaged by the enraged and licentious soldiery.

It would be easy to bring too many examples of cruelty exercised upon a conquered country, even in very late times, when war is said to be carried on with so much humanity; but, indeed, how can it be otherwise? The art of war is essentially that of destruction, and it is impossible there should be a mild and merciful way of murdering and ruining one’s fellow-creatures. Soldiers, as men, are often humane; but war must ever be cruel. Though Homer has filled his Iliad with the exploits of fighting heroes, yet he makes Jupiter address Mars, the god of War, in terms of the utmost abhorrence:—

“Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies,Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes;In human discord is thy dire delight,The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight:No bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells.”—Pope.

“Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies,

Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes;

In human discord is thy dire delight,

The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight:

No bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells.”—Pope.

Os.Surely, as war is so bad a thing, there might be some way of preventing it.

Fa.Alas! I fear mankind have been too long accustomed to it, and it is too agreeable to their bad passions, easily to be laid aside, whatever miseries it may bring upon them. But, in the meantime, let us correct our own ideas of the matter, and no longer lavish admiration upon such a pest of the human race as aConqueror, how brilliant soever his qualities may be; nor ever think that a profession which binds a man to be the servile instrument of cruelty and injustice is anhonourablecalling.

The Gain of a Loss, p.344.EVENING XXVIII.

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