History of Civilization in England, Vol. 1 of 3

In England, on the other hand, opposite causes have produced opposite results. With us intellectual progress is so rapid, and the authority of the middle class so great, that not only have military men no influence in the government of the state, but there seemed at one time even a danger lest we should push this feeling to an extreme; and lest, from our detestation of war, we should neglect those defensive precautions which the enmity of other nations makes it advisable to adopt. But this at least we may safely say, that, in our country, a love of war is, as a national taste, utterly extinct. And this vast result has been effected, not by moral teachings, nor by the dictates of moral instinct; but by the simple fact, that in the progress of civilization there have been formed certain classes of society which have an interest in the preservation of peace, and whose united authority is sufficient to control those other classes whose interest lies in the prosecution of war.

It would be easy to conduct this argument further, and to prove how, by an increasing love of intellectual pursuits, the military service necessarily declines, not only in reputation, but likewise in ability. In a backward state of society men of distinguished talents crowd to the army, and are proud to enrol themselves in its ranks. But, as society advances, new sources of activity are opened, and new professions arise, which, being essentially mental, offer to genius opportunities for success more rapid than any formerly known. The consequence is, that in England, where these opportunities are more numerous than elsewhere, it nearly always happens that if a father has a son whose faculties are remarkable, he brings him up to one of the lay professions, where intellect, when accompanied by industry, is sure to be rewarded. If, however, the inferiority of the boy is obvious, a suitable remedy is at hand: he is made either a soldier or a clergyman; he is sent into the army, or hidden in the church. And this, as we shall hereafter see, is one of the reasons why, as society advances, the ecclesiastical spirit and the military spirit never fail to decline. As soon as eminent men grow unwilling to enter any profession, the lustre of that profession will be tarnished: first its reputation will be lessened, and then its power will be abridged. This is the process through which Europe is actually passing, in regard both to the church and to the army. The evidence, so far as the ecclesiastical profession is concerned, will be found in another part of this work. The evidence respecting the military profession is equally decisive. For although that profession has in modern Europe produced a few men of undoubted genius, their number is so extremely small, as to amaze us at the dearth of original ability. That the military class, taken as a whole, has a tendency to degenerate, will become still more obvious if we compare long periods of time. In the ancient world, the leading warriors were not only possessed of considerable accomplishments, but were comprehensive thinkers in politics as well as in war, and were in every respect the first characters of their age. Thus – to give only a few specimens from a single people – we find that the three most successful statesmen Greece ever produced were Solon, Themistocles, and Epaminondas, – all of whom were distinguished military commanders. Socrates, supposed by some to be the wisest of the ancients, was a soldier; and so was Plato; and so was Antisthenes, the celebrated founder of the Cynics. Archytas, who gave a new direction to the Pythagorean philosophy; and Melissus, who developed the Eleatic philosophy – were both of them well-known generals, famous alike in literature and in war. Among the most eminent orators, Pericles, Alcibiades, Andocides, Demosthenes, and Æschines were all members of the military profession; as also were the two greatest tragic writers, Æschylus and Sophocles. Archilochus, who is said to have invented iambic verses, and whom Horace took as a model, was a soldier; and the same profession could likewise boast of Tyrtæus, one of the founders of elegiac poetry, and of Alcæus, one of the best composers of lyric poetry. The most philosophic of all the Greek historians was certainly Thucydides; but he, as well as Xenophon and Polybius, held high military appointments, and on more than one occasion succeeded in changing the fortunes of war. In the midst of the hurry and turmoil of camps, these eminent men cultivated their minds to the highest point that the knowledge of that age would allow: and so wide is the range of their thoughts, and such the beauty and dignity of their style, that their works are read by thousands who care nothing about the sieges and battles in which they were engaged.

These were among the ornaments of the military profession in the ancient world; and all of them wrote in the same language, and were read by the same people. But in the modern world this identical profession, including many millions of men, and covering the whole of Europe, has never been able, since the sixteenth century, to produce ten authors who have reached the first class either as writers or as thinkers. Descartes is an instance of an European soldier combining the two qualities; he being as remarkable for the exquisite beauty of his style as for the depth and originality of his inquiries. This, however, is a solitary case; and there is, I believe, no second one of a modern military writer thus excelling in both departments. Certainly, the English army, during the last two hundred and fifty years, affords no example of it, and has, in fact, only possessed two authors, Raleigh and Napier, whose works are recognized as models, and are studied merely for their intrinsic merit. Still, this is simply in reference to style; and these two historians, notwithstanding their skill in composition, have never been reputed profound thinkers on difficult subjects, nor have they added anything of moment to the stock of our knowledge. In the same way, among the ancients, the most eminent soldiers were likewise the most eminent politicians, and the best leaders of the army were generally the best governors of the state. But here, again, the progress of society has wrought so great a change, that for a long period instances of this have been excessively rare. Even Gustavus Adolphus and Frederick the Great failed ignominiously in their domestic policy, and showed themselves as short-sighted in the arts of peace as they were sagacious in the arts of war. Cromwell, Washington, and Napoleon are, perhaps, the only first-rate modern warriors of whom it can be fairly said, that they were equally competent to govern a kingdom and command an army. And, if we look at England as furnishing a familiar illustration, we see this remark exemplified in our two greatest generals, Marlborough and Wellington. Marlborough was a man not only of the most idle and frivolous pursuits, but was so miserably ignorant, that his deficiencies made him the ridicule of his contemporaries; and of politics he had no other idea but to gain the favour of the sovereign by flattering his mistress, to desert the brother of that sovereign at his utmost need, and afterwards, by a double treachery, turn against his next benefactor, and engage in a criminal, as well as a foolish, correspondence with the very man whom a few years before he had infamously abandoned. These were the characteristics of the greatest conqueror of his age, the hero of a hundred fights, the victor of Blenheim and of Ramilies. As to our other great warrior, it is indeed true that the name of Wellington should never be pronounced by an Englishman without gratitude and respect: these feelings are, however, due solely to his vast military services, the importance of which it would ill become us to forget. But whoever has studied the civil history of England during the present century knows full well that this military chief, who in the field shone without a rival, and who, to his still greater glory be it said, possessed an integrity of purpose, an unflinching honesty, and a high moral feeling, which could not be surpassed, was nevertheless utterly unequal to the complicated exigencies of political life. It is notorious, that in his views of the most important legislative measures he was always in the wrong. It is notorious, and the evidence of it stands recorded in our Parliamentary Debates, that every great measure which was carried, every great improvement, every great step in reform, every concession to the popular wishes, was strenuously opposed by the Duke of Wellington, became law in spite of his opposition, and after his mournful declarations that by such means the security of England would be seriously imperilled. Yet there is now hardly a forward schoolboy who does not know that to these very measures the present stability of our country is mainly owing. Experience, the great test of wisdom, has amply proved, that those vast schemes of reform, which the Duke of Wellington spent his political life in opposing, were, I will not say expedient or advisable, but were indispensably necessary. That policy of resisting the popular will which he constantly advised is precisely the policy which has been pursued, since the Congress of Vienna, in every monarchy except our own. The result of that policy is written for our instruction: it is written in that great explosion of popular passion, which in the moment of its wrath upset the proudest thrones, destroyed princely families, ruined noble houses, desolated beautiful cities. And if the counsel of our great general had been followed, if the just demands of the people had been refused – this same lesson would have been written in the annals of our own land; and we should most assuredly have been unable to escape the consequence of that terrible catastrophe, in which the ignorance and selfishness of rulers did, only a few years ago, involve a large part of the civilized world.

Thus striking is the contrast between the military genius of ancient times, and the military genius of modern Europe. The causes of this decay are clearly traceable to the circumstance that, owing to the immense increase of intellectual employments, few men of ability will now enter a profession into which, in antiquity, men of ability eagerly crowded, as supplying the best means of exercising those faculties which, in more civilized countries, are turned to a better account. This, indeed, is a very important change; and thus to transfer the most powerful intellects from the arts of war to the arts of peace, has been the slow work of many centuries, the gradual, but constant, encroachments of advancing knowledge. To write the history of those encroachments would be to write the history of the human intellect – a task impossible for any single man adequately to perform. But the subject is one of such interest, and has been so little studied, that though I have already carried this analysis farther than I had intended, I cannot refrain from noticing what appear to me to be the three leading ways in which the warlike spirit of the ancient world has been weakened by the progress of European knowledge.

The first of these arose out of the invention of Gunpowder; which, though a warlike contrivance, has in its results been eminently serviceable to the interests of peace.347 This important invention is said to have been made in the thirteenth century;348 but was not in common use until the fourteenth, or even the beginning of the fifteenth, century. Scarcely had it come into operation, when it worked a great change in the whole scheme and practice of war. Before this time, it was considered the duty of nearly every citizen to be prepared to enter the military service, for the purpose either of defending his own country, or of attacking others.349 Standing armies were entirely unknown; and in their place there existed a rude and barbarous militia, always ready for battle, and always unwilling to engage in those peaceful pursuits which were then universally despised. Nearly every man being a soldier, the military profession, as such, had no separate existence; or, to speak more properly, the whole of Europe composed one great army, in which all other professions were merged. To this the only exception was the ecclesiastical profession; but even that was affected by the general tendency, and it was not at all uncommon to see large bodies of troops led to the field by bishops and abbots, to most of whom the arts of war were in those days perfectly familiar.350 At all events, between these two professions men were necessarily divided: the only avocations were war and theology; and if you refused to enter the church, you were bound to serve in the army. As a natural consequence, everything of real importance was altogether neglected. There were, indeed, many priests and many warriors, many sermons and many battles.351 But, on the other hand, there was neither trade, nor commerce, nor manufactures; there was no science, no literature: the useful arts were entirely unknown; and even the highest ranks of society were unacquainted, not only with the most ordinary comforts, but with the commonest decencies of civilized life.

But so soon as gunpowder came into use, there was laid the foundation of a great change. According to the old system, a man had only to possess, what he generally inherited from his father, either a sword or a bow, and he was ready equipped for the field.352 According to the new system, new means were required, and the equipment became more costly and more difficult. First, there was the supply of gunpowder;353 then there was the possession of muskets, which were expensive weapons, and considered difficult to manage.354 Then, too, there were other contrivances to which gunpowder naturally gave rise, such as pistols, bombs, mortars, shells, mines, and the like.355 All these things, by increasing the complication of the military art, increased the necessity of discipline and practice; while, at the same time, the change that was being effected in the ordinary weapons deprived the great majority of men of the possibility of procuring them. To suit these altered circumstances, a new system was organized: and it was found advisable to train up bodies of men for the sole purpose of war, and to separate them as much as possible from those other employments in which formerly all soldiers were occasionally engaged. Thus it was that there arose standing armies; the first of which were formed in the middle of the fifteenth century,356 almost immediately after gunpowder was generally known. Thus, too, there arose the custom of employing mercenary troops; of which we find a few earlier instances, though the practice was not fully established until the latter part of the fourteenth century.357

The importance of this movement was soon seen, by the change it effected in the classification of European society. The regular troops being, from their discipline, more serviceable against the enemy, and also more immediately under the control of the government, it naturally followed that, as their merits became understood, the old militia should fall, first into disrepute, then be neglected, and then sensibly diminish. At the same time, this diminution in the number of undisciplined soldiers deprived the country of a part of its warlike resources, and therefore made it necessary to pay more attention to the disciplined ones, and to confine them more exclusively to their military duties. Thus it was that a division was first broadly established between the soldier and the civilian; and there arose a separate military profession,358 which, consisting of a comparatively small number of the total amount of citizens, left the remainder to settle in some other pursuit.359 In this way immense bodies of men were gradually weaned from their old warlike habits; and being, as it were, forced into civil life, their energies became available for the general purposes of society, and for the cultivation of those arts of peace which had formerly been neglected. The result was, that the European mind, instead of being, as heretofore, solely occupied either with war or with theology, now struck out into a middle path, and created those great branches of knowledge to which modern civilization owes its origin. In each successive generation this tendency towards a separate organization was more marked; the utility of a division of labour became clearly recognized; and by this means knowledge itself advanced, the authority of this middle or intellectual class correspondingly increased. Each addition to its power lessened the weight of the other two classes, and checked those superstitious feelings and that love of war, on which, in an early state of society, all enthusiasm is concentrated. The evidence of the growth and diffusion of this intellectual principle is so full and decisive, that it would be possible, by combining all the branches of knowledge, to trace nearly the whole of its consecutive steps. At present, it is enough to say, that, taking a general view, this third, or intellectual, class, first displayed an independent, though still a vague, activity in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; that in the sixteenth century, this activity, assuming a distinct form, showed itself in religious outbreaks; that in the seventeenth century, its energy, becoming more practical, was turned against the abuses of government, and caused a series of rebellions, from which hardly any part of Europe escaped; and finally, that in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it has extended its aim to every department of public and private life, diffusing education, teaching legislators, controlling kings, and, above all, settling on a sure foundation that supremacy of Public Opinion, to which not only constitutional princes, but even the most despotic sovereigns, are now rendered strictly amenable.

These, indeed, are vast questions; and, without some knowledge of them, no one can understand the present condition of European society, or form the least idea of its future prospects. It is, however, sufficient that the reader can now perceive the way in which so slight a matter as the invention of gunpowder diminished the warlike spirit, by diminishing the number of persons to whom the practice of war was habitual. There were, no doubt, other and collateral circumstances which tended in the same direction; but the use of gunpowder was the most effectual, because, by increasing the difficulty and expense of war, it made a separate military profession indispensable; and thus, curtailing the action of the military spirit, left an overplus, an unemployed energy, which soon found its way to the pursuits of peace, infused into them a new life, and began to control that lust of conquest, which, though natural to a barbarous people, is the great enemy of knowledge, and is the most fatal of those diseased appetites by which even civilized countries are too often afflicted.

The second intellectual movement, by which the love of war has been lessened, is much more recent, and has not yet produced the whole of its natural effects. I allude to the discoveries made by Political Economy: a branch of knowledge with which even the wisest of the ancients had not the least acquaintance, but which possesses an importance it would be difficult to exaggerate, and is, moreover, remarkable, as being the only subject immediately connected with the art of government that has yet been raised to a science. The practical value of this noble study, though perhaps only fully known to the more advanced thinkers, is gradually becoming recognized by men of ordinary education: but even those by whom it is understood seem to have paid little attention to the way in which, by its influence, the interests of peace, and therefore of civilization, have been directly promoted.360 The manner in which this has been brought about, I will endeavour to explain, as it will furnish another argument in support of that great principle which I wish to establish.

It is well known, that, among the different causes of war, commercial jealousy was formerly one of the most conspicuous; and there are numerous instances of quarrels respecting the promulgation of some particular tariff, or the protection of some favourite manufacture. Disputes of this kind were founded upon the very ignorant, but the very natural notion, that the advantages of commerce depend upon the balance of trade, and that whatever is gained by one country must be lost by another. It was believed that wealth is composed entirely of money; and that it is, therefore, the essential interest of every people to import few commodities and much gold. Whenever this was done, affairs were said to be in a sound and healthy state; but, if this was not done, it was declared that we were being drained of our resources, and that some other country was getting the better of us, and was enriching itself at our expense.361 For this the only remedy was to negotiate a commercial treaty, which should oblige the offending nation to take more of our commodities, and give us more of their gold: if, however, they refused to sign the treaty, it became necessary to bring them to reason; and for this purpose an armament was fitted out to attack a people who, by lessening our wealth, had deprived us of that money by which alone trade could be extended in foreign markets.362

This misconception of the true nature of barter was formerly universal;363 and being adopted even by the ablest politicians, was not only an immediate cause of war, but increased those feelings of natural hatred by which war is encouraged; each country thinking that it had a direct interest in diminishing the wealth of its neighbours.364 In the seventeenth, or even late in the sixteenth century, there were, indeed, one or two eminent thinkers who exposed some of the fallacies upon which this opinion was based.365 But their arguments found no favour with those politicians by whom European affairs were then administered. It is doubtful if they were known; and it is certain that, if known, they were despised by statesmen and legislators, who, from the constancy of their practical occupations, cannot be supposed to have sufficient leisure to master each new discovery that is successively made; and who in consequence are, as a body, always in the rear of their age. The result was, that they went blundering on in the old track, believing that no commerce could flourish without their interference, troubling that commerce by repeated and harassing regulations, and taking for granted that it was the duty of every government to benefit the trade of their own people by injuring the trade of others.366

But in the eighteenth century, a long course of events, which I shall hereafter trace, prepared the way for a spirit of improvement, and a desire for reform, of which the world had then seen no example. This great movement displayed its energy in every department of knowledge; and now it was that a successful attempt was first made to raise Political Economy to a science, by discovering the laws which regulate the creation and diffusion of wealth. In the year 1776, Adam Smith published his Wealth of Nations; which, looking at its ultimate results, is probably the most important book that has ever been written, and is certainly the most valuable contribution ever made by a single man towards establishing the principles on which government should be based. In this great work, the old theory of protection as applied to commerce was destroyed in nearly all its parts;367 the doctrine of the balance of trade was not only attacked, but its falsehood was demonstrated; and innumerable absurdities, which had been accumulating for ages, were suddenly swept away.368

If the Wealth of Nations had appeared in any preceding century, it would have shared the fate of the great works of Stafford and Serra; and although the principles which it advocated would, no doubt, have excited the attention of speculative thinkers, they would, in all probability, have produced no effect on practical politicians, or, at all events, would only have exercised an indirect and precarious influence. But the diffusion of knowledge had now become so general, that even our ordinary legislators were, in some degree, prepared for these great truths, which, in a former period, they would have despised as idle novelties. The result was, that the doctrines of Adam Smith soon found their way into the House of Commons;369 and, being adopted by a few of the leading members, were listened to with astonishment by that great assembly, whose opinions were mainly regulated by the wisdom of their ancestors, and who were loth to believe that anything could be discovered by the moderns which was not already known to the ancients. But it is in vain that such men as these always set themselves up to resist the pressure of advancing knowledge. No great truth which has once been found has ever afterwards been lost; nor has any important discovery yet been made which has not eventually carried everything before it. Even so, the principles of Free Trade, as demonstrated by Adam Smith, and all the consequences which flow from them, were vainly struggled against by the most overwhelming majorities of both Houses of Parliament. Year by year the great truth made its way; always advancing, never receding.370 The majority was at first deserted by a few men of ability, then by ordinary men, then it became a minority, then even the minority began to dwindle; and at the present day, eighty years after the publication of Smith's Wealth of Nations, there is not to be found any one of tolerable education who is not ashamed of holding opinions which, before the time of Adam Smith, were universally received.