Another political question arises about the mode of government which ought to be established. I think the proclamation (which I read before I had proceeded far in this memorial) puts it on the best footing, by postponing that arrangement to a time of peace.

When our politics lead us to enterprise a great and almost total political revolution in Europe, we ought to look seriously into the consequences of what we are about to do. Some eminent persons discover an apprehension that the monarchy, if restored in France, may be restored in too great strength for the liberty and happiness of the natives, and for the tranquillity of other states. They are therefore of opinion that terms ought to be made for the modification of that monarchy. They are persons too considerable, from the powers of their mind, and from their situation, as well as from the real respect I have for them, who seem to entertain these apprehensions, to let me pass them by unnoticed.

As to the power of France as a state, and in its exterior relations, I confess my fears are on the part of its extreme reduction. There is undoubtedly something in the vicinity of France, which makes it naturally and properly an object of our watchfulness and jealousy, whatever form its government may take. But the difference is great between a plan for our own security and a scheme for the utter destruction of France. If there were no other countries in the political map but these two, I admit that policy might justify a wish to lower our neighbor to a standard which would even render her in some measure, if not wholly, our dependant. But the system of Europe is extensive and extremely complex. However formidable to us, as taken in this one relation, France is not equally dreadful to all other states. On the contrary, my clear opinion is, that the liberties of Europe cannot possibly be preserved but by her remaining a very great and preponderating power. The design at present evidently pursued by the combined potentates, or of the two who lead, is totally to destroy her as such a power. For Great Britain resolves that she shall have no colonies, no commerce, and no marine. Austria means to take away the whole frontier, from the borders of Switzerland to Dunkirk. It is their plan also to render the interior government lax and feeble, by prescribing, by force of the arms of rival and jealous nations, and without consulting the natural interests of the kingdom, such arrangements as, in the actual state of Jacobinism in France, and the unsettled state in which property must remain for a long time, will inevitably produce such distraction and debility in government as to reduce it to nothing, or to throw it back into its old confusion. One cannot conceive so frightful a state of a nation. A maritime country without a marine and without commerce; a continental country without a frontier, and for a thousand miles surrounded with powerful, warlike, and ambitious neighbors! It is possible that she might submit to lose her commerce and her colonies: her security she never can abandon. If, contrary to all expectations, under such a disgraced and impotent government, any energy should remain in that country, she will make every effort to recover her security, which will involve Europe for a century in war and blood. What has it cost to France to make that frontier? What will it cost to recover it? Austria thinks that without a frontier she cannot secure the Netherlands. But without her frontier France cannot secure herself. Austria has been, however, secure for an hundred years in those very Netherlands, and has never been dispossessed of them by the chance of war without a moral certainty of receiving them again on the restoration of peace. Her late dangers have arisen not from the power or ambition of the king of France. They arose from her own ill policy, which dismantled all her towns, and discontented all her subjects by Jacobinical innovations. She dismantles her own towns, and then says, "Give me the frontier of France!" But let us depend upon it, whatever tends, under the name of security, to aggrandize Austria, will discontent and alarm Prussia. Such a length of frontier on the side of France, separated from itself, and separated from the mass of the Austrian country, will be weak, unless connected at the expense of the Elector of Bavaria (the Elector Palatine) and other lesser princes, or by such exchanges as will again convulse the Empire.

Take it the other way, and let us suppose that France so broken in spirit as to be content to remain naked and defenceless by sea and by land. Is such a country no prey? Have other nations no views? Is Poland the only country of which it is worth while to make a partition? We cannot be so childish as to imagine that ambition is local, and that no others can be infected with it but those who rule within certain parallels of latitude and longitude. In this way I hold war equally certain. But I can conceive that both these principles may operate: ambition on the part of Austria to cut more and more from France; and French impatience under her degraded and unsafe condition. In such a contest will the other powers stand by? Will not Prussia call for indemnity, as well as Austria and England? Is she satisfied with her gains in Poland? By no means. Germany must pay; or we shall infallibly see Prussia leagued with France and Spain, and possibly with other powers, for the reduction of Austria; and such may be the situation of things, that it will not be so easy to decide what part England may take in such a contest.

I am well aware how invidious a task it is to oppose anything which tends to the apparent aggrandizement of our own country. But I think no country can be aggrandized whilst France is Jacobinized. This post removed, it will be a serious question how far her further reduction will contribute to the general safety, which I always consider as included. Among precautions against ambition, it may not be amiss to take one precaution against our own. I must fairly say, I dread our own power and our own ambition; I dread our being too much dreaded. It is ridiculous to say we are not men, and that, as men, we shall never wish to aggrandize ourselves in some way or other. Can we say that even at this very hour we are not invidiously aggrandized? We are already in possession of almost all the commerce of the world. Our empire in India is an awful thing. If we should come to be in a condition not only to have all this ascendant in commerce, but to be absolutely able, without the least control, to hold the commerce of all other nations totally dependent upon our good pleasure, we may say that we shall not abuse this astonishing and hitherto unheard-of power. But every other nation will think we shall abuse it. It is impossible but that, sooner or later, this state of things must produce a combination against us which may end in our ruin.

As to France, I must observe that for a long time she has been stationary. She has, during this whole century, obtained far less by conquest or negotiation than any of the three great Continental powers. Some part of Lorraine excepted, I recollect nothing she has gained,—no, not a village. In truth, this Lorraine acquisition does little more than secure her barrier. In effect and substance it was her own before.

However that may be, I consider these things at present chiefly in one point of view, as obstructions to the war on Jacobinism, which must stand as long as the powers think its extirpation but a secondary object, and think of taking advantage, under the name of indemnity and security, to make war upon the whole nation of France, royal and Jacobin, for the aggrandizement of the allies, on the ordinary principles of interest, as if no Jacobinism existed in the world.

So far is France from being formidable to its neighbors for its domestic strength, that I conceive it will be as much as all its neighbors can do, by a steady guaranty, to keep that monarchy at all upon its basis. It will be their business to nurse France, not to exhaust it. France, such as it is, is indeed highly formidable: not formidable, however, as a great republic; but as the most dreadful gang of robbers and murderers that ever was embodied. But this distempered strength of France will be the cause of proportionable weakness on its recovery. Never was a country so completely ruined; and they who calculate the resurrection of her power by former examples have not sufficiently considered what is the present state of things. Without detailing the inventory of what organs of government have been destroyed, together with the very materials of which alone they can be recomposed, I wish it to be considered what an operose affair the whole system of taxation is in the old states of Europe. It is such as never could be made but in a long course of years. In France all taxes are abolished. The present powers resort to the capital, and to the capital in kind. But a savage, undisciplined people suffer a robbery with more patience than an impost. The former is in their habits and their dispositions. They consider it as transient, and as what, in their turn, they may exercise. But the terrors of the present power are such as no regular government can possibly employ. They who enter into France do not succeed to their resources. They have not a system to reform, but a system to begin. The whole estate of government is to be reacquired.

What difficulties this will meet with in a country exhausted by the taking of the capital, and among a people in a manner new-principled, trained, and actually disciplined to anarchy, rebellion, disorder, and impiety, may be conceived by those who know what Jacobin France is, and who may have occupied themselves by revolving in their thoughts what they were to do, if it fell to their lot to reestablish the affairs of France. What support or what limitations the restored monarchy must have may be a doubt, or how it will pitch and settle at last. But one thing I conceive to be far beyond a doubt: that the settlement cannot be immediate; but that it must be preceded by some sort of power, equal at least in vigor, vigilance, promptitude, and decision, to a military government. For such a preparatory government, no slow-paced, methodical, formal, lawyer-like system, still less that of a showy, superficial, trifling, intriguing court, guided by cabals of ladies, or of men like ladies, least of all a philosophic, theoretic, disputatious school of sophistry,—none of these ever will or ever can lay the foundations of an order that can last. Whoever claims a right by birth to govern there must find in his breast, or must conjure up in it, an energy not to be expected, perhaps not always to be wished for, in well-ordered states. The lawful prince must have, in everything but crime, the character of an usurper. He is gone, if he imagines himself the quiet possessor of a throne. He is to contend for it as much after an apparent conquest as before. His task is, to win it: he must leave posterity to enjoy and to adorn it. No velvet cushions for him. He is to be always (I speak nearly to the letter) on horseback. This opinion is the result of much patient thinking on the subject, which I conceive no event is likely to alter.

A valuable friend of mine, who I hope will conduct these affairs, so far as they fall to his share, with great ability, asked me what I thought of acts of general indemnity and oblivion, as a means of settling France, and reconciling it to monarchy. Before I venture upon any opinion of my own in this matter, I totally disclaim the interference of foreign powers in a business that properly belongs to the government which we have declared legal. That government is likely to be the best judge of what is to be done towards the security of that kingdom, which it is their duty and their interest to provide for by such measures of justice or of lenity as at the time they should find best. But if we weaken it not only by arbitrary limitations of our own, but preserve such persons in it as are disposed to disturb its future peace, as they have its past, I do not know how a more direct declaration can be made of a disposition to perpetual hostility against a government. The persons saved from the justice of the native magistrate by foreign authority will owe nothing to his clemency. He will, and must, look to those to whom he is indebted for the power he has of dispensing it. A Jacobin faction, constantly fostered with the nourishment of foreign protection, will be kept alive.

This desire of securing the safety of the actors in the present scene is owing to more laudable motives. Ministers have been made to consider the brothers of the late merciful king, and the nobility of France who have been faithful to their honor and duty, as a set of inexorable and remorseless tyrants. How this notion has been infused into them I cannot be quite certain. I am sure it is not justified by anything they have done. Never were the two princes guilty, in the day of their power, of a single hard or ill-natured act. No one instance of cruelty on the part of the gentlemen ever came to my ears. It is true that the English Jacobins, (the natives have not thought of it,) as an excuse for their infernal system of murder, have so represented them. It is on this principle that the massacres in the month of September, 1792, were justified by a writer in the Morning Chronicle. He says, indeed, that "the whole French nation is to be given up to the hands of an irritated and revengeful noblesse";—and, judging of others by himself and his brethren, he says, "Whoever succeeds in a civil war will be cruel. But here the emigrants, flying to revenge in the cars of military victory, will almost insatiably call for their victims and their booty; and a body of emigrant traitors were attending the King of Prussia and the Duke of Brunswick, to suggest the most sanguinary counsels." So says this wicked Jacobin; but so cannot say the King of Prussia nor the Duke of Brunswick, who never did receive any sanguinary counsel; nor did the king's brothers, or that great body of gentlemen who attended those princes, commit one single cruel action, or hurt the person or property of one individual. It would be right to quote the instance. It is like the military luxury attributed to these unfortunate sufferers in our common cause.

If these princes had shown a tyrannic disposition, it would be much to be lamented. We have no others to govern France. If we screened the body of murderers from their justice, we should only leave the innocent in future to the mercy of men of fierce and sanguinary dispositions, of which, in spite of all our intermeddling in their Constitution, we could not prevent the effects. But as we have much more reason to fear their feeble lenity than any blamable rigor, we ought, in my opinion, to leave the matter to themselves.

If, however, I were asked to give an advice merely as such, here are my ideas. I am not for a total indemnity, nor a general punishment. And first, the body and mass of the people never ought to be treated as criminal. They may become an object of more or less constant watchfulness and suspicion, as their preservation may best require, but they can never become an object of punishment. This is one of the few fundamental and unalterable principles of politics.

To punish them capitally would be to make massacres. Massacres only increase the ferocity of men, and teach them to regard their own lives and those of others as of little value; whereas the great policy of government is, to teach the people to think both of great importance in the eyes of God and the state, and never to be sacrificed or even hazarded to gratify their passions, or for anything but the duties prescribed by the rules of morality, and under the direction of public law and public authority. To punish them with lesser penalties would be to debilitate the commonwealth, and make the nation miserable, which it is the business of government to render happy and flourishing.

As to crimes, too, I would draw a strong line of limitation. For no one offence, politically an offence of rebellion, by council, contrivance, persuasion, or compulsion, for none properly a military offence of rebellion, or anything done by open hostility in the field, should any man at all be called in question; because such seems to be the proper and natural death of civil dissensions. The offences of war are obliterated by peace.

Another class will of course be included in the indemnity,—namely, all those who by their activity in restoring lawful government shall obliterate their offences. The offence previously known, the acceptance of service is a pardon for crimes. I fear that this class of men will not be very numerous.

So far as to indemnity. But where are the objects of justice, and of example, and of future security to the public peace? They are naturally pointed out, not by their having outraged political and civil laws, nor their having rebelled against the state as a state, but by their having rebelled against the law of Nature and outraged man as man. In this list, all the regicides in general, all those who laid sacrilegious hands on the king, who, without anything in their own rebellious mission to the Convention to justify them, brought him to his trial and unanimously voted him guilty,—all those who had a share in the cruel murder of the queen, and the detestable proceedings with regard to the young king and the unhappy princesses,—all those who committed cold-blooded murder anywhere, and particularly in their revolutionary tribunals, where every idea of natural justice and of their own declared rights of man have been trod under foot with the most insolent mockery,—all men concerned in the burning and demolition of houses or churches, with audacious and marked acts of sacrilege and scorn offered to religion,—in general, all the leaders of Jacobin clubs,—not one of these should escape a punishment suitable to the nature, quality, and degree of their offence, by a steady, but a measured justice.

In the first place, no man ought to be subject to any penalty, from the highest to the lowest, but by a trial according to the course of law, carried on with all that caution and deliberation which has been used in the best times and precedents of the French jurisprudence, the criminal law of which country, faulty to be sure in some particulars, was highly laudable and tender of the lives of men. In restoring order and justice, everything like retaliation ought to be religiously avoided; and an example ought to be set of a total alienation from the Jacobin proceedings in their accursed revolutionary tribunals. Everything like lumping men in masses, and of forming tables of proscription, ought to be avoided.

In all these punishments, anything which can be alleged in mitigation of the offence should be fully considered. Mercy is not a thing opposed to justice. It is an essential part of it,—as necessary in criminal cases as in civil affairs equity is to law. It is only for the Jacobins never to pardon. They have not done it in a single instance. A council of mercy ought therefore to be appointed, with powers to report on each case, to soften the penalty, or entirely to remit it, according to circumstances.

With these precautions, the very first foundation of settlement must be to call to a strict account those bloody and merciless offenders. Without it, government cannot stand a year. People little consider the utter impossibility of getting those who, having emerged from very low, some from the lowest classes of society, have exercised a power so high, and with such unrelenting and bloody a rage, quietly to fall back into their old ranks, and become humble, peaceable, laborious, and useful members of society. It never can be. On the other hand, is it to be believed that any worthy and virtuous subject, restored to the ruins of his house, will with patience see the cold-blooded murderer of his father, mother, wife, or children, or perhaps all of these relations, (such things have been,) nose him in his own village, and insult him with the riches acquired from the plunder of his goods, ready again to head a Jacobin faction to attack his life? He is unworthy of the name of man who would suffer it. It is unworthy of the name of a government, which, taking justice out of the private hand, will not exercise it for the injured by the public arm.

I know it sounds plausible, and is readily adopted by those who have little sympathy with the sufferings of others, to wish to jumble the innocent and guilty into one mass by a general indemnity. This cruel indifference dignifies itself with the name of humanity.

It is extraordinary, that, as the wicked arts of this regicide and tyrannous faction increase in number, variety, and atrocity, the desire of punishing them becomes more and more faint, and the talk of an indemnity towards them every day stronger and stronger. Our ideas of justice appear to be fairly conquered and overpowered by guilt, when it is grown gigantic. It is not the point of view in which we are in the habit of viewing guilt. The crimes we every day punish are really below the penalties we inflict. The criminals are obscure and feeble. This is the view in which we see ordinary crimes and criminals. But when guilt is seen, though but for a time, to be furnished with the arms and to be invested with the robes of power, it seems to assume another nature, and to get, as it were, out of our jurisdiction. This I fear is the case with many. But there is another cause full as powerful towards this security to enormous guilt,—the desire which possesses people who have once obtained power to enjoy it at their ease. It is not humanity, but laziness and inertness of mind, which produces the desire of this kind of indemnities. This description of men love general and short methods. If they punish, they make a promiscuous massacre; if they spare, they make a general act of oblivion. This is a want of disposition to proceed laboriously according to the cases, and according to the rules and principles of justice on each case: a want of disposition to assort criminals, to discriminate the degrees and modes of guilt, to separate accomplices from principals, leaders from followers, seducers from the seduced, and then, by following the same principles in the same detail, to class punishments, and to fit them to the nature and kind of the delinquency. If that were once attempted, we should soon see that the task was neither infinite nor the execution cruel. There would be deaths, but, for the number of criminals and the extent of France, not many. There would be cases of transportation, cases of labor to restore what has been wickedly destroyed, cases of imprisonment, and cases of mere exile. But be this as it may, I am sure, that, if justice is not done there, there can be neither peace nor justice there, nor in any part of Europe.

History is resorted to for other acts of indemnity in other times. The princes are desired to look back to Henry the Fourth. We are desired to look to the restoration of King Charles. These things, in my opinion, have no resemblance whatsoever. They were cases of a civil war,—in France more ferocious, in England more moderate than common. In neither country were the orders of society subverted, religion and morality destroyed on principle, or property totally annihilated. In England, the government of Cromwell was, to be sure, somewhat rigid, but, for a new power, no savage tyranny. The country was nearly as well in his hands as in those of Charles the Second, and in some points much better. The laws in general had their course, and were admirably administered. The king did not in reality grant an act of indemnity; the prevailing power, then in a manner the nation, in effect granted an indemnity to him. The idea of a preceding rebellion was not at all admitted in that convention and that Parliament. The regicides were a common enemy, and as such given up.

Among the ornaments of their place which eminently distinguish them, few people are better acquainted with the history of their own country than the illustrious princes now in exile; but I caution them not to be led into error by that which has been supposed to be the guide of life. I would give the same caution to all princes. Not that I derogate from the use of history. It is a great improver of the understanding, by showing both men and affairs in a great variety of views. From this source much political wisdom may be learned,—that is, may be learned as habit, not as precept,—and as an exercise to strengthen the mind, as furnishing materials to enlarge and enrich it, not as a repertory of cases and precedents for a lawyer: if it were, a thousand times better would it be that a statesman had never learned to read,—vellem nescirent literas. This method turns their understanding from the object before them, and from the present exigencies of the world, to comparisons with former times, of which, after all, we can know very little and very imperfectly; and our guides, the historians, who are to give us their true interpretation, are often prejudiced, often ignorant, often fonder of system than of truth. Whereas, if a man with reasonable good parts and natural sagacity, and not in the leading-strings of any master, will look steadily on the business before him, without being diverted by retrospect and comparison, he may be capable of forming a reasonable good judgment of what is to be done. There are some fundamental points in which Nature never changes; but they are few and obvious, and belong rather to morals than to politics. But so far as regards political matter, the human mind and human affairs are susceptible of infinite modifications, and of combinations wholly new and unlooked-for. Very few, for instance, could have imagined that property, which has been taken for natural dominion, should, through the whole of a vast kingdom, lose all its importance, and even its influence. This is what history or books of speculation could hardly have taught us. How many could have thought that the most complete and formidable revolution in a great empire should be made by men of letters, not as subordinate instruments and trumpeters of sedition, but as the chief contrivers and managers, and in a short time as the open administrators and sovereign rulers? Who could have imagined that atheism could produce one of the most violently operative principles of fanaticism? Who could have imagined, that, in a commonwealth in a manner cradled in war, and in an extensive and dreadful war, military commanders should be of little or no account, —that the Convention should not contain one military man of name,—that administrative bodies, in a state of the utmost confusion, and of but a momentary duration, and composed of men with not one imposing part of character, should be able to govern the country and its armies with an authority which the most settled senates and the most respected monarchs scarcely ever had in the same degree? This, for one, I confess I did not foresee, though all the rest was present to me very early, and not out of my apprehension even for several years.

I believe very few were able to enter into the effects of mere terror, as a principle not only for the support of power in given hands or forms, but in those things in which the soundest political speculators were of opinion that the least appearance of force would be totally destructive,—such is the market, whether of money, provision, or commodities of any kind. Yet for four years we have seen loans made, treasuries supplied, and armies levied and maintained, more numerous than France ever showed in the field, by the effects of fear alone.

Here is a state of things of which in its totality if history furnishes any examples at all, they are very remote and feeble. I therefore am not so ready as some are to tax with folly or cowardice those who were not prepared to meet an evil of this nature. Even now, after the events, all the causes may be somewhat difficult to ascertain. Very many are, however, traceable. But these things history and books of speculation (as I have already said) did not teach men to foresee, and of course to resist. Now that they are no longer a matter of sagacity, but of experience, of recent experience, of our own experience, it would be unjustifiable to go back to the records of other times to instruct us to manage what they never enabled us to foresee.

FOOTNOTES:

[33] Some accounts make them five times as many.

[34] Before the Revolution, the French noblesse were so reduced in numbers that they did not much exceed twenty thousand at least of full-grown men. As they have been very cruelly formed into entire corps of soldiers, it is estimated, that, by the sword, and distempers in the field, they have not lost less than five thousand men; and if this course is pursued, it is to be feared that the whole body of the French nobility may be extinguished. Several hundreds have also perished by famine, and various accidents.

[35] This was the language of the Ministerialists.

[36] Vattel.

[37] The first object of this club was the propagation of Jacobin principles.



APPENDIX.

EXTRACTS FROM VATTEL'S LAW OF NATIONS.

[The Titles, Marginal Abstracts, and Notes are by Mr. BURKE, excepting such of the Notes as are here distinguished.]

CASES OF INTERFERENCE WITH INDEPENDENT POWERS.

"If, then, there is anywhere a nation of a restless and mischievous disposition, always ready to injure others, to traverse their designs, and to raise domestic troubles[38] it is not to be doubted that all have a right to join in order to repress, chastise, and put it ever after out of its power to injure them. Such should be the just fruits of the policy which Machiavel praises in Caesar Borgia. The conduct followed by Philip the Second, King of Spain, was adapted to unite all Europe against him; and it was from just reasons that Henry the Great formed the design of humbling a power formidable by its forces and pernicious by its maxims."—Book II. ch. iv. Sec. 53.

"Let us apply to the unjust what we have said above (Sec. 53) of a mischievous or maleficent nation. If there be any that makes an open profession of trampling justice under foot, of despising and violating the right of others,[39] whenever it finds an opportunity, the interest of human society will authorize all others to unite in order to humble and chastise it. We do not here forget the maxim established in our preliminaries, that it does not belong to nations to usurp the power of being judges of each other. In particular cases, liable to the least doubt, it ought to be supposed that each of the parties may have some right; and the injustice of that which has committed the injury may proceed from error, and not from a general contempt of justice. But if, by constant maxims, and by a continued conduct, one nation shows that it has evidently this pernicious disposition, and that it considers no right as sacred, the safety of the human race requires that it should be suppressed. To form and support an unjust pretension is to do an injury not only to him who is interested in this pretension, but to mock at justice in general, and to injure all nations."—Ibid. ch. v. Sec. 70.

[Sidenote: To succor against tyranny.]

[Sidenote: Case of English Revolution.]

[Sidenote: An odious tyrant.]

[Sidenote: Rebellious people.]

[Sidenote: Case of civil war.]

[Sidenote: Sovereign and his people, when distinct powers.]

"If the prince, attacking the fundamental laws, gives his subjects a legal right to resist him, if tyranny, becoming insupportable, obliges the nation to rise in their defence, every foreign power has a right to succor an oppressed people who implore their assistance. The English justly complained of James the Second. The nobility and the most distinguished patriots resolved to put a check on his enterprises, which manifestly tended to overthrow the Constitution and to destroy the liberties and the religion of the people, and therefore applied for assistance to the United Provinces. The authority of the Prince of Orange had, doubtless, an influence on the deliberations of the States-General; but it did not make them commit injustice: for when a people, from good reasons, take up arms against an oppressor, justice and generosity require that brave men should be assisted in the defence of their liberties. Whenever, therefore, a civil war is kindled in a state, foreign powers may assist that party which appears to them to have justice on their side. He who assists an odious tyrant, he who declares FOR AN UNJUST AND REBELLIOUS PEOPLE, offends against his duty. When the bands of the political society are broken, or at least suspended between the sovereign and his people, they may then be considered as two distinct powers; and since each is independent of all foreign authority, nobody has a right to judge them. Either may be in the right, and each of those who grant their assistance may believe that he supports a good cause. It follows, then, in virtue of the voluntary law of nations, (see Prelim. Sec. 21,) that the two parties may act as having an equal right, and behave accordingly, till the decision of the affair.

[Sidenote: Not to be pursued to an extreme.]

[Sidenote: Endeavor to persuade subjects to a revolt.]

"But we ought not to abuse this maxim for authorizing odious proceedings against the tranquillity of states. It is a violation of the law of nations to persuade those subjects to revolt who actually obey their sovereign, though they complain of his government.

[Sidenote: Attempt to excite subjects to revolt.]

"The practice of nations is conformable to our maxims. When the German Protestants came to the assistance of the Reformed in France, the court never undertook to treat them otherwise than as common enemies, and according to the laws of war. France at the same time assisted the Netherlands, which took up arms against Spain, and did not pretend that her troops should be considered upon any other footing than as auxiliaries in a regular war. But no power avoids complaining of an atrocious injury, if any one attempts by his emissaries to excite his subjects to revolt.

[Sidenote: Tyrants.]

"As to those monsters, who, under the title of sovereigns, render themselves the scourges and horror of the human race,—these are savage beasts, from which every brave man may justly purge the earth. All antiquity has praised Hercules for delivering the world from an Antaeus, a Busiris, and a Diomedes."—Ibid. ch. iv. Sec. 56.

After stating that nations have no right to interfere in domestic concerns, he proceeds,—"But this rule does not preclude them from espousing the quarrel of a dethroned king, and assisting him, if he appears to have justice on his side. They then declare themselves enemies of the nation which has acknowledged his rival; as, when two different nations are at war, they are at liberty to assist that whose quarrel they shall think has the fairest appearance."—Book IV. ch. ii. Sec. 14.

CASE OF ALLIANCES.

[Sidenote: When an alliance to preserve a king takes place.]

[Sidenote: King does not lose his quality by the loss of his kingdom.]

"It is asked if that alliance subsists with the king and the royal family when by some revolution they are deprived of their crown. We have lately remarked, (Sec. 194,) that a personal alliance expires with the reign of him who contracted it: but that is to be understood of an alliance with the state, limited, as to its duration, to the reign of the contracting king. This of which we are here speaking is of another nature. For though it binds the state, since it is bound by all the public acts of its sovereign, it is made directly in favor of the king and his family; it would therefore be absurd for it to terminate at the moment when they have need of it, and at an event against which it was made. Besides, the king does not lose his quality merely by the loss of his kingdom. If he is stripped of it unjustly by an usurper, or by rebels, he preserves his rights, in the number of which are his alliances.[40]

[Sidenote: Case wherein aid may be given to a deposed king.]

"But who shall judge if the king be dethroned lawfully or by violence? An independent nation acknowledges no judge. If the body of the nation declares the king deprived of his rights by the abuse he has made of them, and deposes him, it may justly do it when its grievances are well founded, and no other power has a right to censure it. The personal ally of this king ought not then to assist him against the nation that has made use of its right in deposing him: if he attempts it, he injures that nation. England declared war against Louis the Fourteenth, in the year 1688, for supporting the interest of James the Second, who was deposed in form by the nation. The same country declared war against him a second time, at the beginning of the present century, because that prince acknowledged the son of the deposed James, under the name of James the Third. In doubtful cases, and when the body of the nation has not pronounced, or HAS NOT PRONOUNCED FREELY, a sovereign may naturally support and defend an ally; and it is then that the voluntary law of nations subsists between different states. The party that has driven out the king pretends to have right on its side; this unhappy king and his ally flatter themselves with having the same advantage; and as they have no common judge upon earth, they have no other method to take but to apply to arms to terminate the dispute; they therefore engage in a formal war.

[Sidenote: Not obliged to pursue his right beyond a certain point.]

"In short, when the foreign prince has faithfully fulfilled his engagements towards an unfortunate monarch, when he has done in his defence, or to procure his restoration, all he was obliged to perform in virtue of the alliance, if his efforts are ineffectual, the dethroned prince cannot require him to support an endless war in his favor, or expect that he will eternally remain the enemy of the nation or of the sovereign who has deprived him of the throne. He must think of peace, abandon the ally, and consider him as having himself abandoned his right through necessity. Thus Louis the Fourteenth was obliged to abandon James the Second, and to acknowledge King William, though he had at first treated him as an usurper.

[Sidenote: Case of defence against subjects.]

[Sidenote: Case where real alliances may be renounced.]

"The same question presents itself in real alliances, and, in general, in all alliances made with the state, and not in particular with a king for the defence of his person. An ally ought, doubtless, to be defended against every invasion, against every foreign violence, and even against his rebellious subjects: in the same manner a republic ought to be defended against the enterprises of one who attempts to destroy the public liberty. But it ought to be remembered that an ally of the state or the nation is not its judge. If the nation has deposed its king in form,—if the people of a republic have driven out their magistrates and set themselves at liberty, or acknowledged the authority of an usurper, either expressly or tacitly,—to oppose these domestic regulations, by disputing their justice or validity, would be to interfere in the government of the nation, and to do it an injury. (See Sec. 54, and following, of this Book.) The ally remains the ally of the state, notwithstanding the change that has happened in it. However, when this change renders the alliance useless, dangerous, or disagreeable, it may renounce it; for it may say, upon a good foundation, that it would not have entered into an alliance with that nation, had it been under the present form of government.

[Sidenote: Not an eternal war.]

"We may say here, what we have said on a personal alliance: however just the cause of that king may be who is driven from the throne either by his subjects or by a foreign usurper, his aides are not obliged to support an eternal war in his favor. After having made ineffectual efforts to restore him, they must at length give peace to their people, and come to an accommodation with the usurper, and for that purpose treat with him as with a lawful sovereign. Louis the Fourteenth, exhausted by a bloody and unsuccessful war, offered at Gertruydenberg to abandon his grandson, whom he had placed on the throne of Spain; and when affairs had changed their appearance, Charles of Austria, the rival of Philip, saw himself, in his turn, abandoned by his allies. They grew weary of exhausting their states in order to give him the possession of a crown which they believed to be his due, but which, to all appearance, they should never be able to procure for him."—Book II. ch. xii. Sec.Sec. 196, 197.

DANGEROUS POWER.

[Sidenote: All nations may join.]

"It is still easier to prove, that, should this formidable power betray any unjust and ambitious dispositions by doing the least injustice to another, every nation may avail themselves of the occasion, and join their forces to those of the party injured, in order to reduce that ambitious power, and disable it from so easily oppressing its neighbors, or keeping them in continual awe and fear. For an injury gives a nation a right to provide for its future safety by taking away from the violator the means of oppression. It is lawful, and even praiseworthy, to assist those who are oppressed, or unjustly attacked."—Book III. ch. iii. Sec. 45.

SYSTEM OF EUROPE.

[Sidenote: Europe a republic to preserve order and liberty.]

"Europe forms a political system, a body where the whole is connected by the relations and different interests of nations inhabiting this part of the world. It is not, as anciently, a confused heap of detached pieces, each of which thought itself very little concerned in the fate of others, and seldom regarded things which did not immediately relate to it. The continual attention of sovereigns to what is on the carpet, the constant residence of ministers, and the perpetual negotiations, make Europe a kind of a republic, the members of which, though independent, unite, through the ties of common interest, for the maintenance of order and liberty. Hence arose that famous scheme of the political equilibrium, or balance of power, by which is understood such a disposition of things as no power is able absolutely to predominate or to prescribe laws to others."—Book III. ch. iii. Sec. 47.

"Confederacies would be a sure way of preserving the equilibrium, and supporting the liberty of nations, did all princes thoroughly understand their true interests, and regulate all their steps for the good of the state."—Ibid. Sec. 49.

CONTRIBUTIONS IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.

[Sidenote: To be moderate.]

"Instead of the pillage of the country and defenceless places, a custom has been substituted more humane and more advantageous to the sovereign making war: I mean that of contributions. Whoever carries on a just war[41] has a right of making the enemy's country contribute to the support of the army, and towards defraying all the charges of the war. Thus he obtains a part of what is due to him, and the subjects of the enemy, on submitting to this imposition, are secured from pillage, and the country is preserved. But a general who would not sully his reputation is to moderate his contributions, and proportion them to those on whom they are imposed. An excess in this point is not without the reproach of cruelty and inhumanity: if it shows less ferocity than ravage and destruction, it glares with avarice."—Book III. ch. ix. Sec. 165.

ASYLUM.

"If an exile or banished man is driven from his country for any crime, it does not belong to the nation in which he has taken refuge to punish him for a fault committed in a foreign country. For Nature gives to mankind and to nations the right of punishing only for their defence and safety (Sec. 169): whence it follows that he can only be punished by those he has offended.

"But this reason shows, that, if the justice of each nation ought in general to be confined to the punishment of crimes committed in its own territories, we ought to except from this rule the villains who, by the quality and habitual frequency of their crimes, violate all public security, and declare themselves the enemies of the human race. Poisoners, assassins, and incendiaries by profession may be exterminated wherever they are seized; for they attack and injure all nations by trampling under foot the foundations of their common safety. Thus pirates are brought to the gibbet by the first into whose hands they fall. If the sovereign of the country where crimes of that nature have been committed reclaims the authors of them in order to bring them to punishment, they ought to be restored to him, as to one who is principally interested in punishing them in an exemplary manner: and it being proper to convict the guilty, and to try them according to some form of law, this is a second [not sole] reason why malefactors are usually delivered up at the desire of the state where their crimes have been committed."—Book I. ch. xix. Sec.Sec. 232, 233.

"Every nation has a right of refusing to admit a stranger into the country, when he cannot enter it without putting it in evident danger, or without doing it a remarkable prejudice."[42]—Ibid. Sec. 230.

FOREIGN MINISTERS.

"The obligation does not go so far as to suffer at all times perpetual ministers, who are desirous of residing with a sovereign, though they have nothing to negotiate. It is natural, indeed, and very agreeable to the sentiments which nations owe to each other, that these resident ministers, when there it nothing to be feared from their stay, should be friendly received; but if there be any solid reason against this, what is for the good of the state ought unquestionably to be preferred: and the foreign sovereign cannot take it amiss, if his minister, who has concluded the affairs of his commission, and has no other affairs to negotiate, be desired to depart.[43] The custom of keeping everywhere ministers continually resident is now so strongly established, that the refusal of a conformity to it would, without very good reasons, give offence. These reasons may arise from particular conjunctures; but there are also common reasons always subsisting, and such as relate to the constitution of a government and the state of a nation. The republics have often very good reasons of the latter kind to excuse themselves from continually suffering foreign ministers who corrupt the citizens in order to gain them over to their masters, to the great prejudice of the republic and fomenting of the parties, &c. And should they only diffuse among a nation, formerly plain, frugal, and virtuous, a taste for luxury, avidity for money, and the manners of courts, these would be more than sufficient for wise and provident rulers to dismiss them."—Book IV. ch. v. Sec. 66.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] This is the case of France:—Semonville at Turin,—Jacobin clubs,—Liegeois meeting,—Flemish meeting,—La Fayette's answer,—Clootz's embassy,—Avignon.

[39] The French acknowledge no power not directly emanating from the people.

[40] By the seventh article of the Treaty of TRIPLE ALLIANCE, between France, England, and Holland, signed at the Hague, in the year 1717, it is stipulated, "that, if the kingdoms, countries, or provinces of any of the allies are disturbed by intestine quarrels, or by rebellions, on account of the said successions," (the Protestant succession to the throne of Great Britain, and the succession to the throne of France, as settled by the Treaty of Utrecht,) "or under any other pretext whatever, the ally thus in trouble shall have full right to demand of his allies the succors above mentioned": that is to say, the same succors as in the case of an invasion from any foreign power,—8,000 foot and 2,000 horse to be furnished by France or England, and 4,000 foot and 1,000 horse by the States-General.

By the fourth article of the Treaty of QUADRUPLE ALLIANCE, between England, France, Holland, and the Emperor of Germany, signed in the year 1718, the contracting powers "promise and oblige themselves that they will and ought to maintain, guaranty, and defend the right of succession in the kingdom of France, according to the tenor of the treaties made at Utrecht the 11th day of April, 1713; ... and this they shall perform against all persons whosoever who may presume to disturb the order of the said succession, in contradiction to the previous acts and treaties subsequent thereon."

The above treaties have been revived and confirmed by every subsequent treaty of peace between Great Britain and France.—EDIT.

[41] Contributions raised by the Duke of Brunswick in France. Compare these with the contributions raised by the French in the Netherlands.—EDIT.

[42] The third article of the Treaty of Triple Alliance and the latter part of the fourth article of the Treaty of Quadruple Alliance stipulate, that no kind of refuge or protection shall be given to rebellious subjects of the contracting powers.—EDIT.

[43] Dismission of M. Chauvelin.—EDIT.



END OF VOL. IV.