WAR is that state in which we prosecute our right by force. We also understand, by this term, the act itself, or the manner of prosecuting our right by force: but it is more conformable to general usage, and more proper in a treatise on the law of war, to understand this term in the sense we have annexed to it.
Public war is that which takes place between nations or sovereigns, and which is carried on in the name of the public power, and by its order. This is the war we are here to consider: — private war, or that which is carried on between private individuals, belongs to the law of nature properly so called.
In treating of the right to security (Book II. Chap. IV.), we have shown that nature gives men a right to employ force, when it is necessary for their defence, and for the preservation of their rights. This principle is generally acknowledged: reason demonstrates it; and nature herself has engraved it on the heart of man. Some fanatics indeed, taking in a literal sense the moderation recommended in the gospel, have adopted the strange fancy of suffering themselves to be massacred or plundered, rather than oppose force to violence. But we need not fear that this error will make any great progress. The generality of mankind will, of themselves, guard against its contagion — happy, if they as well knew how to keep within the just bounds which nature has set to a right that is granted only through necessity! To mark those just bounds, — and, by the rules of justice, equity, and humanity, to moderate the exercise of that harsh, though too often necessary right — is the intention of this third book.
As nature has given men no right to employ force, unless when it becomes necessary for self defence and the preservation of their rights (Book II. § 49, &c.), the inference is manifest, that, since the establishment of political societies, a right, so dangerous in its exercise, no longer remains with private persons except in those encounters where society cannot protect or defend them. In the bosom of society, the public authority decides all the disputes of the citizens, represses violence, and checks every attempt to do ourselves justice with our own hands. If a private person intends to prosecute his right against the subject of a foreign power, he may apply to the sovereign of his adversary, or to the magistrates invested with the public authority: and if he is denied justice by them, he must have recourse to his own sovereign, who is obliged to protect him. It would be too dangerous to allow every citizen the liberty of doing himself justice against foreigners; as, in that case, there would not be a single member of the state who might not involve it in war. And how could peace be preserved between nations, if it were in the power of every private individual to disturb it? A right of so momentous a nature, — the right of judging whether the nation has real grounds of complaint, whether she is authorized to employ force, and justifiable in taking up arms, whether prudence will admit of such a step, and whether the welfare of the state requires it, — that right, I say, can belong only to the body of the nation, or to the sovereign, her representative. It is doubtless one of those rights, without which there can be no salutary government, and which are therefore called rights of majesty (Book I. § 45).
Thus the sovereign power alone is possessed of authority to make war. But, as the different rights which constitute this power, originally resident in the body of the nation, may be separated or limited according to the will of the nation (Book I. § 31 and 45), it is from the particular constitution of each state, that we are to learn where the power resides, that is authorized to make war in the name of the society at large. The kings of England, whose power is in other respects so limited, have the right of making war and peace.1 Those of Sweden have lost it. The brilliant but ruinous exploits of Charles XII. sufficiently warranted the states of that kingdom to reserve to themselves a right of such importance to their safety.
War is either defensive or offensive. He who takes up arms to repel the attack of an enemy, carries on a defensive war. He who is foremost in taking up arms, and attacks a nation that lived in peace with him, wages offensive war. The object of a defensive war is very simple; it is no other than self defence: in that of offensive war there is as great a variety as in the multifarious concerns of nations; but, in general, it relates either to the prosecution of some rights, or to safety. We attack a nation with a view either to obtain something to which we lay claim, to punish her for an injury she has done us, or to prevent one which she is preparing to do, and thus avert a danger with which she seems to threaten us. I do not here speak of the justice of war: — that shall make the subject of a particular chapter; — all I here propose is to indicate, in general, the various objects for which a nation takes up arms — objects which may furnish lawful reasons, or unjust pretences, but which are at least susceptible of a colour of right. I do not, therefore, among the objects of offensive war, set down conquest, or the desire of invading the property of others: views of that nature, destitute even of any reasonable pretext to countenance them, do not constitute the object of regular warfare, but of robbery, which we shall consider in its proper place.
(136) See definition of war and of the king's sole right to declare it, as regards England, per Sir Wm. Scott, The Hoop 1 Rob. R. 196; Nayade, 4 Rob. Rep. 252; Bro. Ab. tit. Denizen, pl. 20. and Chitty's L.N. 28, 29, 30. — C.
(137) The right of declaring war is, by his prerogative, vested in the king of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Bro. Ab. tit. Denizen, pl. 20. The ship Hoop, per Sir W. Scott, 1 Rob. R. 196, post, 432. — C. {And, by the Constitution of the United States, in Congress. Art. 1 § 8.}
1. I here speak of the right considered in itself. But as a king of England cannot, without the concurrence of parliament, either raise money or compel his subjects to take up arms, his right of making war is, in fact, but a slender prerogative, unless the parliament second him with supplies. — Ed. 1797.
THE sovereign is the real author of war, which is carried on in his name, and by his order. The troops, officers, soldiers, and, in general, all those by whose agency the sovereign makes war, are only instruments in his hands. They execute his will and not their own. The arms, and all the apparatus of things used in war, are instruments of an inferior order. For the decision of questions that will occur in the sequel, it is of importance to determine precisely what are the things which belong to war. Without entering here into a minute detail, we shall only observe that whatever is peculiarly used in waging war, is to be classed among the instruments of war; and things which are equally used at all times, such as provisions, belong to peace, unless it be in certain particular junctures, when those things appear to be specially destined for the support of war. Arms of all kinds, artillery, gun-powder, salt-petre and sulphur of which it is composed, ladders, gabions, tools and all other implements for sieges, materials for building ships of war, tents, soldiers' clothes, &c.: these always belong to war.
As war cannot be carried on without soldiers, it is evident that whoever has the right of making war, has also naturally that of raising troops. The latter, therefore, belongs likewise to the sovereign (§ 4), and is one of the prerogatives of majesty (Book I. § 45). The power of levying troops, or raising an army, is of too great consequence in a state, to be intrusted to any other than the sovereign. The subordinate authorities are not invested with it; they exercise it only by order or commission from the sovereign. But it is not always necessary that they should have an express order for the purpose. On those urgent exigencies which do not allow time to wait for the supreme order, the governor of a province, or the commandant of a town, may raise troops for the defence of the town or province committed to their care: and this they do by virtue of the power tacitly given them by their commission in cases of this nature.
I say that this important power is the appendage of sovereignty; it makes a part of the supreme authority. But we have already seen that those rights which together constitute the sovereign power, may be divided (Book I. §§ 31, 45), if such be the will of the nation. It may then happen that a nation does not intrust her chief with a right so dangerous to her liberty as that of raising and supporting troops, or at least that she limits the exercise of it, by making it depend on the consent of her representatives. The king of England, who has the right of making war, has also, indeed that of granting commissions for raising troops; but he cannot compel any person to enlist, nor, without the concurrence of parliament, keep an army on foot.(140)
Every citizen is bound to serve and defend the state as far as he is capable.(140) Society cannot otherwise be maintained; and this concurrence for the common defence is one of the principal objects of every political association. Every man capable of carrying arms should take them up at the first order of him who has the power of making war.
In former times, and especially in small states, immediately on a declaration of war, every man became a soldier; the whole community took up arms, and engaged in the war. Soon after, a choice was made, and armies were formed of picked men, — the remainder of the people pursuing their usual occupations. At present, the use of regular troops is almost everywhere adopted, especially in powerful states. The public authority raises soldiers, distributes them into different bodies under the command of generals and other officers, and keeps them on foot as long as it thinks necessary. As every citizen or subject is bound to serve the state, the sovereign has a right to enlist whom he pleases. But he ought to choose such only as are fit for the occupation of war; and it is highly proper that he should, as far as possible, confine his choice to volunteers who enlist without compulsion.
No person is naturally exempt from taking up arms in defence of the state, — the obligation of every member of society being the same. Those alone are excepted, who are incapable of handling arms, or supporting the fatigues of war. This is the reason why old men, children, and women are exempted. Although there be some women who are equal to men in strength and courage, such instances are not usual; and rules must necessarily be general, and derived from the ordinary course of things. Besides, women are necessary for other services in society; and, in short, the mixture of both sexes in armies would be attended with too many inconveniences.
A good government should, as far as possible, so employ all the citizens, and distribute posts and employments in such manner, that the state may be most effectually served in all its affairs. Therefore, when not urged by necessity, it should exempt from military service all those who are employed in stations useful or necessary to society. Upon this ground, magistrates are usually exempted, — their whole time not being too much for the administration of justice and the maintenance of order.
The clergy cannot naturally, and, as matter of right, arrogate to themselves any peculiar exemption. To defend one's country is an action not unworthy of the most sacred hands. That article of the canon law which forbids ecclesiastics to shed blood, is a convenient device to exempt from personal danger those men who are often so zealous to fan the flame of discord and excite bloody wars. Indeed, for the same reasons which we have above alleged in favour of magistrates, an exemption from bearing arms should be allowed to such of the clergy as really useful, — to those who are employed in teaching religion, governing the church, and celebrating the public worship.1
But those immense multitudes of useless monks and friars, — those drones, who, under pretence of dedicating themselves to God, dedicate themselves in fact to sloth and effeminacy; — by what right do they pretend to a prerogative that is ruinous to the state? And if the prince exempts them from military service, is he not guilty of injustice to the other members, on whom he thus throws the whole burthen? I do not here mean to advise a sovereign to fill his armies with monks, but gradually to diminish a useless class of men, by depriving them of injurious and ill-founded privileges. History mentions a martial bishop2 whose weapon was a club, with which he knocked down the enemy, to avoid incurring the censure of the canon law by shedding their blood, it would be much more reasonable, when monks are exempted from carrying arms, that they should be employed in the work as pioneers, and thus made to alleviate the toil of the soldiers. They have, on many occasions, zealously undertaken the task in cases of necessity. I could mention more than one famous siege where monks have usefully served in defence of their country. When the Turks besieged Malta, the ecclesiastics, the women, the very children, all, according to their respective strength or capacity, contributed to that glorious defence, which baffled the utmost efforts of the Ottoman empire.
There is another class of idle drones, whose exemption is a still more glaring abuse, — I mean those swarms of useless footmen who crowd the dwellings of the great and the wealthy, — and who, by the very nature of their employment, are themselves corrupted in displaying the luxury of their masters.
Among the Romans, while every citizen took his turn to serve in the army, their service was gratuitous. But when a choice is made, and standing armies are kept on foot, the state is bound to pay them, as no individual is under an obligation to perform more than his quota of the public service: and if the ordinary revenues are not sufficient for the purpose, the deficiency must be provided for by taxation. It is but reasonable that those who do not serve should pay their defenders.
When the soldier is not in the field, he must necessarily be provided with quarters. The burthen, in such case, naturally falls on housekeepers: but as that is attended with many inconveniences, and proves very distressing to the citizens, it becomes a good prince, or a wise and equitable government, to ease them of it as far as possible. In this particular, the king of France has made magnificent and ample provision in many towns, by the erection of barracks for the accommodation of the garrison.
The asylums prepared for indigent soldiers and officers who are grown gray in the service, and whom toil or the enemy's sword has rendered incapable of providing for their own subsistence, may be considered as part of the military pay. In France and England, magnificent establishments have been made in favour of invalids, which, while they discharge a debt of a sacred nature, do honour to the sovereign and the nation. The care of those unfortunate victims of war is the indispensable duty of every state, in proportion to its ability. It is repugnant, not only to humanity, but to the strictest justice that generous citizens, heroes who have shed their blood for the safety of their country, should be left to perish with want, or unworthily forced to beg their bread. The honourable maintenance of such persons might very properly be imposed upon rich convents and large ecclesiastical benefices. Nothing can be more just than that those citizens who avoid all the dangers of war, should bestow part of their riches for the relief of their valiant defenders.
Mercenary soldiers are foreigners voluntarily engaging to serve the state for money, or a stipulated pay. As they owe no service to a sovereign whose subjects they are not, the advantages he offers them are their sole motive. By enlisting, they incur the obligation to serve him; and the prince, on his part, promises them certain conditions, which are settled in the articles of enlistment. Those articles, being the rule and measure of the respective obligations and rights of the contracting parties, are to be religiously observed. The complaints of some French historians against the Swiss troops, who on several occasions formerly refused to march against the enemy, and even withdrew from the service, because they were not paid, — those complaints, I say, are equally ridiculous and unjust. Why should the articles of enlistment be more strongly binding on one of the parties than on the other? Whenever the prince fails to perform what he has promised, the foreign soldiers are discharged from any further duty to him. I own it would be ungenerous to forsake a prince who, without any fault on his own part, is by accident alone rendered for a while unable to make good his payments. There may even be occasions when such an inflexibility on the part of the soldier would be, if not contrary to strict justice, at least very repugnant to equity. But this was never the case with the Switzers: they never were known to quit the service on the first failure of payment; and when they perceived the good intentions of a sovereign labouring under a real inability to satisfy them, their patience and zeal always supported them under such difficulties. Henry the Fourth owed them immense sums: yet they did not, in his greatest necessities, abandon him; and that hero found the nation equally generous as brave, I here speak of the Switzers, because, in fact, those above alluded to were often mere mercenaries. But a distinction is to be made between troops of this kind and those Switzers who at present serve different powers, and with the permission of their sovereign, and in virtue of alliances subsisting between those powers and the Helvetic body, or some particular canton. The latter are real auxiliaries, though paid by the sovereign whom they serve.
Much has been said on the question — Whether the profession of a mercenary soldier be lawful or not? Whether individuals may, for money or any other reward, engage to serve a foreign prince in his wars? This question does not to me appear very difficult to be solved. Those who enter into such engagements without the express or tacit consent of their sovereign, offend against their duty as citizens. But if their sovereign leaves them at liberty to follow their inclination for a military life, they are perfectly free in that respect. Now, every free man may join whatever society he pleases, according as he finds it most to his advantage. He may make its cause his own, and espouse its quarrels. He becomes in some measure, at least for a time, a member of the state in whose service he engages: and as an officer is commonly at liberty to quit the service when he thinks proper, and the private soldier at the expiration of his engagement, — if that state embark in a war which is evidently unjust, the foreigner may quit its service. And the mercenary soldier, having now learned the art of war, has rendered himself more capable of serving his country, if ever she require his assistance. This last consideration will furnish us with an answer to a question proposed on this head — Whether the sovereign can with propriety permit his subjects to serve foreign powers indiscriminately for money? He can for this simple reason — that his subject will thus learn an art, of which a thorough knowledge is both useful and necessary. The tranquillity, the profound peace which Switzerland has so long enjoyed in the midst of all the commotions and wars which have agitated Europe, — that long repose would soon become fatal to her, did not her citizens, by serving foreign princes, qualify themselves for the operations of war, and keep alive their martial spirit.
Mercenary soldiers enlist voluntarily. The sovereign has no right to compel foreigners: he must not even employ stratagem or artifice, in order to induce them to engage in a contract, which like all others, should be founded on candour and good faith.
As the right of levying soldiers belongs solely to the nation or the sovereign (§ 7), no person must attempt to enlist soldiers, in a foreign country, without the permission of the sovereign; and, even with that permission, none but volunteers are to be enlisted; for the service of their country is out of the question here; and no sovereign has a right to give or sell his subjects to another.
The man who undertakes to enlist soldiers in a foreign country, without the sovereign's permission, — and, in general, whoever entices away the subjects of another state, violates one of the most sacred rights of the prince and the nation. This crime is distinguished by the name of kidnapping, or man-stealing, and is punished with the utmost severity in every well-regulated state. Foreign recruiters are hanged without mercy, and with great justice. It is not presumed that their sovereign has ordered them to commit a crime; and, supposing even that they had received such an order, they ought not to have obeyed it, — their sovereign having no right to command what is contrary to the law of nature. It is not, I say, presumed that these recruiters act by order of their sovereign; and with respect to such of them as have practised seduction only, it is generally thought sufficient to punish them when they can be detected and caught: if they have used violence, and made their escape, it is usual to demand a surrender of the delinquents, and to claim the persons they have carried off. But if it appears that they acted by order, such a proceeding in a foreign sovereign is justly considered as an injury, and as a sufficient cause for declaring war against him, unless he makes suitable reparation.
All soldiers, natives or foreigners, are to take an oath to serve faithfully, and not desert the service. This is no more than what they are already obliged to, the former as subjects, the latter by their engagement; but their fidelity is of so great importance to the state, that too many precautions cannot be taken for rendering it secure. Deserters merit severe and exemplary punishment; and the sovereign may, if he thinks it necessary, annex the penalty of death to desertion. The emissaries who solicit them to desert are far more guilty than the recruiters mentioned in the preceding section.
Good order and subordination, so useful in all places, are nowhere so necessary as in the army. The sovereign should exactly specify and determine the functions, duties, and rights of military men, — of soldiers, officers, commanders of corps, and generals. He should regulate and fix the authority of commanders in all the gradations of rank, — the punishments to be inflicted on offenders, — the form of trials, &c. The laws and ordinances relative to these several particulars form the military code.
Those regulations, whose particular tendency is to maintain order among the troops, and to enable them to perform their military service with advantage to the state, constitute what is called military discipline. This is of the highest importance. The Switzers were the first among the modern nations that revived it in its ancient vigour. It was a good discipline, added to the valour of a free people, that produced, even in the infancy of their republic, those brilliant achievements which astonished all Europe. Machiavel says that the Switzers are the masters of all Europe in the art of war.3 In our times, the Prussians have shown what may be expected from good discipline and assiduous exercise: soldiers, collected from all quarters, have, by the force of habit, and the influence of command, performed all that could be expected from the most zealous and loyal subjects.
Every military officer, from the ensign to the general, enjoys the rights and authority assigned him by the sovereign; and the will of the sovereign, in this respect, is known by his express declarations, contained either in the commissions he confers or in the military code, — or is, by fair deduction, inferred from the nature of the functions assigned to each officer; for every man who is intrusted with an employment is presumed to be invested with all the powers necessary to enable him to fill his station with propriety, and successfully discharge the several functions of his office.
Thus, the commission of a commander in chief, when it is simple and unlimited, gives him an absolute power over the army — a right to march it whither he thinks proper, to undertake such operations as he finds conducive to the service of the state, &c. It is true, indeed, that the powers of a general are often limited; but the example of Marshal Turenne sufficiently shows, that, when the sovereign is certain of having made a good choice, the best thing he can do in this respect is to give the general an unlimited power. Had the operations of the Duke of Marlborough depended on the directions of the cabinet, there is little probability that all his campaigns would have been crowned with such distinguished success.
When a governor is besieged in the place where he commands, and all communication with his sovereign is cut off, that very circumstance confers on him the whole authority of the state, so far as respects the defence of the town and the safety of the garrison.
These particulars merit the utmost attention, as they furnish a principle for determining what the several commanders, who are the subordinate or inferior powers in war, may execute with sufficient authority. Exclusive of the consequences which may be deduced from the very nature of their employments, we are likewise to consider the general practice and established usage in this respect. If it be a known fact, that, in the service of a particular nation, officers of a certain rank have been uniformly invested with such or such powers, it may reasonably be presumed that the person we are engaged with is furnished with the same powers.
Every promise made by any of the subordinate powers, by any commander within his department, in conformity to the terms of his commission and to the authority which he naturally derives from his office and the functions intrusted to his care, — every such promise, I say, is, for the reasons above alleged, made in the name and by the authority of the sovereign, and equally obligatory on him as if he had himself personally made it. Thus, a governor capitulates for the town which he commands, and for the garrison; and what he has promised, the sovereign cannot invalidate. In the last war, the general who commanded the French at Lintz, engaged to march back his troops on this side of the Rhine. Governors of towns have often promised that, for a limited time, their garrisons should not carry arms against the enemy with whom they capitulated: and these capitulations have always been faithfully observed
But, if a subordinate power allows himself a greater latitude, and exceeds the authority annexed to his office, his promise becomes no more than a private engagement, or what is called sponsio, of which we have already treated, (Book II. Chap. XIV.) This was the case with the Roman consuls at the Furcæ Caudinæ. They might, indeed, agree to deliver hostages, and that their army should pass under the yoke, &c., but they were not authorized to conclude a peace, as they took care to signify to the Samnites.
If a subordinate power assumes an authority which he does not possess, and thus deceives the party treating with him, though an enemy, — he is naturally responsible for the damage caused by his deception, and bound to make reparation. I say "though an enemy:" for the faith of treaties is to be observed between enemies, as all men of principle agree, and as we shall prove in the sequel. The sovereign of that fraudulent officer ought to punish him, and oblige him to repair his fault: it is a duty which the prince owes to justice, and to his own character.
Promises made by a subordinate power are obligatory on those who are subject to his control, and bind them in every particular in which he is authorized and accustomed to command their obedience: for, with respect to such particulars, he is vested with the sovereign authority, which his inferiors are bound to respect in his person. Thus, in a capitulation, the governor of a town stipulates and promises for his garrison, and even for the magistrates and citizens.
(138) What are instruments of war, or contraband, and of the prohibitions respecting them, as regards neutral commerce, see Chitty's L.N. 119 to 128; 1 Chitty's Commercial Law, 445 to 449. L'art de la guerre n'est pas ainsi qu'on le croit vulgairement, l'art de detreure mais l'art de paralyser des forces de l'ennemi. Cours le Droit Public. — Paris, 1830; tom 2, pages 85, 86, & Id 406. — C.
(139) But semble, that anciently the king might press men to serve on land as soldiers. Barrington's Observations on Ancient Statutes, 334. The right of pressing men to serve in the Navy constitutes an exception. Its legality cannot now be effectually disputed, per Lord Mansfield, King v. Jubbs, Cowp. 517; per Lord Kenyon, 5 Term R. 276; 9 East, 466; 5 East, 477; 14 East, 346; 2 Camp. 320, and see Barrington's Observations on Ancient Statutes, 334, 5 edit.; 1 Bla. Com. 420 n. 13. It should seem that every passenger on board a merchant ship is bound to assist in her defence; and if he refuse, he may be confined until all danger from the attack has subsided. Boyce v. Bailiff, 1 Campb. 60. — C.
(140) See note (139) ante.
1. Formerly bishops went to war in virtue of their fiefs, and led with them their vassals. The Danish bishops were not inattentive to a function which pleased them better than the peaceful cares of episcopacy. The famous Absalom, bishop of Roschild, and afterwards archbishop of Lunden, was the principal general of king Waldemarl. And since the use of regular troops has superseded that feudal service, there have not been wanting some martial prelates who eagerly courted the command of armies. The cardinal De la Valette, and Sourdis, archbishop of Bordeaux, appeared in arms under the ministry of cardinal Richelieu, who also acted himself in a military capacity at the attack of the pass of Susa. This is an abuse which the church very justly opposes. A bishop makes a better appearance in his proper station, in his diocese, than in the army; and, at present, sovereigns are in no want of generals and officers, who will perform more useful services than can be expected from churchmen. In short, let every person keep to his vocation. All I dispute with the clergy, is their exemption as matter of right and in cases of necessity. — Ed. 1797.
2. A bishop of Beauvais, under Philip Augustus. He fought at the battle of Bouvines.
3. Disc. on Livy.
WHOEVER entertains a true idea of war, — whoever considers its terrible effects, its destructive and unhappy consequences, will readily agree that it should never be undertaken without the most cogent reasons. Humanity revolts against a sovereign, who, without necessity or without very powerful reasons, lavished the blood of his most faithful subjects, and exposes his people to the calamities of war, when he has it in his power to maintain them in the enjoyment of an honourable and salutary peace. And if to this imprudence, this want of love for his people, he moreover adds injustice towards those he attacks, — of how great a crime, or rather, of what a frightful scries of crimes, does he not become guilty! Responsible for all the misfortunes which ho draws down on his own subjects, he is moreover loaded with the guilt of all those which he inflicts on an innocent nation. The slaughter of men, the pillage of cities, the devastation of provinces, — such is the black catalogue of his enormities. He is responsible to God, and accountable to human nature, for every individual that is killed, for every hut that is burned down. The violences, the crimes, the disorders of every kind, attendant on the tumult and licentiousness of war, pollute his conscience, and are set down to his account, as he is the original author of them all. Unquestionable truths! alarming ideas!! which ought to affect the rulers of nations, and, in all their military enterprises, inspire them with a degree of circumspection proportionate to the importance of the subject!
Were men always reasonable, they would terminate their contests by the arms of reason only; natural justice and equity would be their rule, or their judge. Force is a wretched and melancholy expedient against those who spurn at justice, and refuse to listen to the remonstrances of reason: but, in short, it becomes necessary to adopt that mode, when every other proves ineffectual. It is only in extremities that a just and wise nation, or a good prince, has recourse to it, as we have shown in the concluding chapter of the second book. The reasons which may determine him to take such a step are of two classes. Those of the one class show that he has a right to make war, — that he has just grounds for undertaking it: — these are called justificatory reasons. The others, founded on fitness and utility, determine whether it be expedient for the sovereign to undertake a war, — these are called motives.
The right of employing force, or making war, belongs to nations no farther than is necessary for their own defence, and for the maintenance of their rights (§ 3). Now, if any one attacks a nation, or violates her perfect rights, he does her an injury. Then, and not till then, that nation has a right to repel the aggressor, and reduce him to reason. Further, she has a right to prevent the intended injury, when she sees herself threatened with it (Book II. § 50). Let us then say in general, that the foundation, or cause of every just war is injury, either already done or threatened. The justificatory reasons for war show that an injury has been received, or so far threatened as to authorize a prevention of it by arms. It is evident, however, that here the question regards the principal in the war, and not those who join in it as auxiliaries. When, therefore, we would judge whether a war be just, we must consider whether he who undertakes it has in fact received an injury, or whether he be really threatened with one. And, in order to determine what is to be considered as an injury, we must be acquainted with a nation's rights, properly so called, — that is to say, her perfect rights. These are of various kinds, and very numerous, but may all be referred to the general heads of which we have already treated, and shall further treat in the course of this work. Whatever strikes at these rights is an injury, and a just cause of war.
The immediate consequence of the premises is, that if a nation takes up arms when she has received no injury, nor is threatened with any, she undertakes an unjust war. Those alone, to whom an injury is done or intended, have a right to make war.
From the same principle we shall likewise deduce the just and lawful object of every war, which is, to avenge or prevent injury. To avenge signifies here to prosecute the reparation of an injury, if it be of a nature to be repaired, — or, if the evil be irreparable, to obtain a just satisfaction, — and also to punish the offender, if requisite, with a view of providing for our future safety. The right to security authorizes us to do all this (Book II. §§ 49-52). We may therefore distinctly point out, as objects of a lawful war, the three following: — 1. To recover what belongs, or is due to us. 2. To provide for our future safety by punishing the aggressor or offender. 3. To defend ourselves, or to protect ourselves from injury, by repelling unjust violence. The two first are the objects of an offensive, the third of a defensive war. Camillus, when on the point of attacking the Gauls, concisely set forth to his soldiers all the subjects on which war can be grounded or justified — omnia, quæ defendi, repetique, et ulcisci fas sit.1
As the nation, or her ruler, ought, in every undertaking, not only to respect justice, but also to keep in view the advantage of the state, it is necessary that proper and commendable motives should concur with the justificatory reasons, to induce a determination to embark in a war. These reasons show that the sovereign has a right to take up arms, that he has just cause to do so. The proper motives show, that in the present case it is advisable and expedient to make use of his right. These latter relate to prudence, as the justificatory reasons come under the head of justice.
I call proper and commendable motives those derived from the good of the state, from the safety and common advantage of the citizens. They are inseparable from the justificatory reasons, — a breach of justice being never truly advantageous. Though an unjust war may for a time enrich a state, and extend her frontiers, it renders her odious to other nations, and exposes her to the danger of being crushed by them. Besides, do opulence and extent of dominion always constitute the happiness of states? Amidst the multitude of examples which might here be quoted, let us confine our view to that of the Romans. The Roman republic ruined herself by her triumphs, by the excess of her conquests and power. Rome, when mistress of the world, but enslaved by tyrants and oppressed by a military government, had reason to deplore the success of her arms, and to look back with regret on those happy times when her power did not extend beyond the bounds of Italy, or even when her dominion was almost confined within the circuit of her walls.
Vicious motives are those which have not for their object the good of the state, and which, instead of being drawn from that pure source, are suggested by the violence of the passions. Such are the arrogant desire of command, the ostentation of power, the thirst of riches, the avidity of conquest, hatred, and revenge.
The whole right of the nation, and consequently of the sovereign, is derived from the welfare of the state; and by this rule it is to be measured. The obligation to promote and maintain the true welfare of the society or state gives the nation a right to take up arms against him who threatens or attacks that valuable enjoyment. But if a nation, on an injury done to her, is induced to take up arms, not by the necessity of procuring a just reparation, but by a vicious motive, she abuses her right. The viciousness of the motive tarnishes the lustre of her arms, which might otherwise have shone in the cause of justice: — the war is not undertaken for the lawful cause which the nation had to engage in it: that cause is now no more than a pretext. As to the sovereign in particular, the ruler of the nation — what right has he to expose the safety of the state, with the lives and fortunes of the citizens, to gratify his passions? It is only for the good of the nation that the supreme power is intrusted to him; and it is with that view that he ought to exert it: that is the object prescribed to him even in his least important measures: and shall he undertake the most important and the most dangerous, from motives foreign or contrary to that great end? Yet nothing is more common that such a destructive inversion of views; and it is remarkable, that, on this account, the judicious Polybius gives the name of causes2 to the motives on which war is undertaken, — and of pretexts3 to the justificatory reasons alleged in defence of it. Thus he informs us that the cause of the war which Greece undertook against the Persians was the experience she had had of their weakness, and that the pretext alleged by Philip, or by Alexander after him, was the desire of avenging the injuries which the Greeks had so often suffered, and of providing for their future safety.
Let us, however, entertain a better opinion of nations and their rulers. There are just causes of war, real justificatory reasons; and why should there not be sovereigns who sincerely consider them as their warrant, then they have besides reasonable motives for taking up arms? We shall therefore give the name of pretexts to those reasons alleged as justificatory, but which are so only in appearance, or which are even absolutely destitute of all foundation. The name of pretexts may likewise be applied to reasons which are, in themselves, true and well-founded, but, not being of sufficient importance for undertaking a war, are made use of only to cover ambitious views, or some other vicious motive. Such was the complaint of the czar Peter I. that sufficient honours had not been paid him on his passage through Riga. His other reasons for declaring war against Sweden I here omit.
Pretexts are at least a homage which unjust men pay to justice. He who screens himself with them shows that he still retains some sense of shame. He does not openly trample on what is most sacred in human society: he tacitly acknowledges that a flagrant injustice merits the indignation of all mankind.
Whoever, without justificatory reasons, undertakes a war merely from motives of advantage, acts without any right, and his war is unjust. And he, who, having in reality just grounds for taking up arms, is nevertheless solely actuated by interested views in resorting to hostilities, cannot indeed be charged with injustice, but he betrays a vicious disposition: his conduct is reprehensible, and sullied by the badness of his motives. War is so dreadful a scourge, that nothing less than manifest justice, joined to a kind of necessity, can authorize it, render it commendable, or at least exempt it from reproach,
Nations that are always ready to take up arms on any prospect of advantage, are lawless robbers: but those who seem to delight in the ravages of war, who spread it on all sides, without reasons or pretexts, and even without any other motive than their own ferocity, are monsters, unworthy the name of men. They should be considered as enemies to the human race, in the same manner as, in civil society, professed assassins and incendiaries are guilty, not only towards the particular victims of their nefarious deeds, but also towards the state, which therefore proclaims them public enemies. All nations have a right to join in a confederacy for the purpose of punishing and even exterminating those savage nations. Such were several German tribes mentioned by Tacitus — such those barbarians who destroyed the Roman empire: nor was it till long after their conversion to Christianity that this ferocity wore off. Such have been the Turks and other Tartars — Genghis Khan, Timur Bec or Tamerlane, who, like Attila, were scourges employed by the wrath of Heaven, and who made war only for the pleasure of making it. Such are, in polished ages and among the most civilized nations, those supposed heroes, whose supreme delight is a battle, and who make war from inclination purely, and not from love to their country.
Defensive war is just when made against an unjust aggressor. This requires no proof. Self-defence against unjust violence is not only the right, but the duty of a nation, and one of her most sacred duties. But if the enemy who wages offensive war has justice on his side, we have no right to make forcible opposition; and the defensive war then becomes unjust: for that enemy only exerts his lawful right: — he took arms only to obtain justice which was refused to him; and it is an act of injustice to resist any one in the exertion of his right.
All that remains to be done in such a case is, to offer the invader a just satisfaction. If he will not be content with this, a nation gains one great advantage — that of having turned the balance of justice on her own side; and his hostilities, now becoming unjust, as having no longer any foundation, may very justly be opposed.
The Samnites, instigated by the ambition of their chiefs, had ravaged the lands of the allies of Rome. When they became sensible of their misconduct, they offered full reparation for the damages, with every reasonable satisfaction: but all their submissions could not appease the Romans; whereupon Caius Pontius, general of the Samnites, said to his men, "Since the Romans are absolutely determined on war, necessity justifies it on our side; an appeal to arms becomes lawful on the part of those who are deprived of every other resource." — Justum est bellum, quibus necessarium; et pia arma, quibus nulla nisi in armis relinquitur spes.4
In order to estimate the justice of an offensive war, the nature of the subject for which a nation takes up arms must be first considered. We should be thoroughly assured of our right, before we proceed to assert it in so dreadful a manner. If, therefore, the question relates to a thing which is evidently just, as the recovery of our property, the assertion of a clear and incontestable right, or the attainment of just satisfaction for a manifest injury, and if we cannot obtain justice otherwise than by force of arms, offensive war becomes lawful. Two things are therefore necessary to render it just: 1, some right which is to be asserted — that is to say, that we be authorized to demand something of another nation: 2, that we be unable to obtain it otherwise than by force of arms, Necessity alone warrants the use of force. It is a dangerous and terrible resource. Nature, the common parent of mankind, allows of it only in cases of the last extremity, and when all other means fail. It is doing wrong to a nation, to make use of violence against her, before we know whether she be disposed to do us justice, or to refuse it.
Those who without trying pacific measures, run to arms on every trifling occasion, sufficiently show that justificatory reasons are, in their mouths, mere pretexts: they eagerly seize the opportunity of indulging their passions and gratifying their ambition under some colour of right.
In a doubtful cause, where the rights are uncertain, obscure and disputable, all that can be reasonably required is, that the question be discussed (Book II. § 331), and that, if it be impossible fully to clear it up, the contest be terminated by an equitable compromise. If, therefore, one of the parties should refuse to accede to such conciliatory measures, the other is justifiable in taking up arms to compel him to an accommodation. And we must observe, that war does not decide the question: victory only compels the vanquished to subscribe to the treaty which terminates the difference. It is an error, no less absurd than pernicious, to say that war is to decide controversies between those who acknowledge no superior judge — as is the case with nations. Victory usually favours the cause of strength and prudence, rather than that of right and justice. It would be a bad rule of decision; but it is an effectual mode of compelling him who refuses to accede to such measures as are consonant to justice; and it becomes just in the hands of a prince who uses it seasonably, and for a lawful cause.
War cannot be just on both sides. One party claims a right; the other disputes it: the one complains of an injury: the other denies having done it. They may be considered as two individuals disputing on the truth of a proposition; and it is impossible that two contrary sentiments should be true at the same time.
It may however happen that both the contending parties are candid and sincere in their intentions; and, in a doubtful cause, it is still uncertain which side is in the right. Wherefore, since nations are equal and independent (Book II. § 36, and Prelim. §§ 18, 19), and cannot claim a right of judgment over each other, it follows, that in every case susceptible of doubt, the arms of the two parties at war are to be accounted equally lawful, at least as to external effects, and until the decision of the cause. But neither does that circumstance deprive other nations of the liberty of forming their own judgment on the case, in order to determine how they are to act, and to assist that party who shall appear to have right on his side; nor does that effect of the independence of nations operate in exculpation of the author of an unjust war, who certainly incurs a high degree of guilt. But if he acts in consequence of invincible ignorance or error, the injustice of his arms is not imputable to him.
When offensive war has for its object the punishment of a nation, it ought, like every other war, to be founded on right and necessity. 1. On right: — an injury must have been actually received. Injury alone being a just cause of war (§ 26), the reparation of it may be lawfully prosecuted: or if, in its nature, it be irreparable (the only case in which we are allowed to punish), we are authorized to provide for our own safety, and even for that of all other nations, by inflicting on the offender a punishment capable of correcting him, and serving as an example to others. 2. A war of this kind must have necessity to justify it; that is to say, that, to be lawful, it must be the only remaining mode to obtain a just satisfaction; which implies a reasonable security for the time to come. If that complete satisfaction, be offered, or if it may be obtained without a war, the injury is done away, and the right to security no longer authorizes us to seek vengeance for it. — (See Book II. §§ 49, 52.)
The nation in fault is bound to submit to a punishment which she has deserved, and to suffer it by way atonement: but she is not obliged to give herself up to the discretion of an incensed enemy. Therefore, when attacked she ought to make a tender of satisfaction, and ask what penalty is required; and if no explicit answer be given, or the adversary attempts to impose a disproportionate penalty, she then acquires a right to resist, and her defence becomes lawful.
On the whole, however, it is evident that the offended party alone has a right to punish independent persons. We shall not here repeat what we have said elsewhere (Book II. § 7) of the dangerous mistake, or extravagant pretensions, of those who assume a right of punishing an independent nation for faults which do not concern them — who, madly setting themselves up as defenders of the cause of God, take upon them to punish the moral depravity, or irreligion, of a people not committed to their superintendency.
Here a very celebrated question, and of the highest importance, presents itself. It is asked, whether the aggrandizement of a neighbouring power, by whom a nation fears she may one day be crushed, be a sufficient reason for making war against him — whether she be justifiable in taking up arms to oppose his aggrandizement, or to weaken him, with the sole view of securing herself from those dangers which the weaker states have almost always reason to apprehend from an overgrown power. To the majority of politicians this question is no problem: it is more difficult of solution to those who wish to see justice and prudence ever inseparably united.
On the one hand, a state that increases her power by all the arts of good government, does no more than what is commendable — she fulfils her duties towards herself without violating those which she owes to other nations. The sovereign, who, by inheritance, by free election, or by any other just and honourable means, enlarges his dominions by the addition of new provinces or entire kingdoms, only makes use of his right, without injuring any person. How then should it be lawful to attack a state which, for its aggrandizement, makes use only of lawful means? We must either have actually suffered an injury or be visibly threatened with one, before we are authorized to take up arms, or have just grounds for making war (§§ 26, 27). On the other hand, it is but too well known, from sad and uniform experience, that predominating powers seldom fail to molest their neighbours, to oppress them, and even totally subjugate them, whenever an opportunity occurs, and they can do it with impunity. Europe was on the point of falling into servitude for want of a timely opposition to the growing fortune of Charles V. Is the danger to be waited for? Is the storm, which might be dispersed at its rising, to be permitted to increase? Are we to allow of the aggrandizement of a neighbour, and quietly wait till he makes his preparations to enslave us? Will it be a time to defend ourselves when we are deprived of the means? Prudence is a duty incumbent on all men, and most pointedly so on the heads of nations, as being commissioned to watch over the safety of a whole people. Let us endeavour to solve this momentous question, agreeably to the sacred principles of the law of nature and of nations. We shall find that they do not lead to weak scruples, and that it is an invariable truth that justice is inseparable from sound policy.
And first, let us observe, that prudence, which is, no doubt, a virtue highly necessary in sovereigns, can never recommend the use of unlawful means for the attainment of a just and laudable end. Let not the safety of the people, that supreme law of the state, be alleged here in objection; for the very safety of the people itself, and the common safety of nations, prohibit the use of means which are repugnant to justice and probity. Why are certain means unlawful? If we closely consider the point, if we trace it to its first principles, we shall see that it is purely because the introduction of them would be pernicious to human society, and productive of fatal consequences to all nations.
See particularly what we have said concerning the observance of justice (Book II. Chap. V.). For the interest, therefore, and even the safety of nations, we ought to hold it as a sacred maxim, that the end does not sanctify the means. And since war is not justifiable on any other ground than that of avenging an injury received, or preserving ourselves from one with which we are threatened (§ 26), it is a sacred principle of the law of nations, that an increase of power cannot, alone and of itself, give any one a right to take up arms in order to oppose it.
No injury has been received from that power (so the question supposes); we must, therefore, have good grounds to think ourselves threatened by him, before we can lawfully have recourse to arms. Now power alone does not threaten an injury: — it must be accompanied by the will. It is, indeed, very unfortunate for mankind, that the will and inclination to oppress may be almost always supposed, where there is a power of oppressing with impunity. But these two things are not necessarily inseparable: and the only right which we derive from the circumstance of their being generally or frequently united, is, that of taking the first appearances for a sufficient indication. When once a state has given proofs of injustice, rapacity, pride, ambition, or an imperious thirst of rule, she becomes an object of suspicion to her neighbours, whose duty it is to stand on their guard against her. They may come upon her at the moment when she is on the point of acquiring a formidable accession of power, — may demand securities, — and if she hesitates to give them, may prevent her designs by force of arms. The interests of nations are, in point of importance, widely different from those of individuals: the sovereign must not be remiss in his attention to them, nor suffer his generosity and greatness of soul to supersede his suspicions. A nation that has a neighbour at once powerful and ambitious has her all at stake. As men are under a necessity of regulating their conduct in most cases by probabilities, those probabilities claim their attention in proportion to the importance of the subject: and (to make use of a geometrical expression) their right to obviate a danger is in a compound ratio of the degree of probability and the greatness of the evil threatened. If the evil in question be of a supportable nature, — if it be only some slight loss, — matters are not to be precipitated: there is no great danger in delaying our opposition to it till there be a certainty of our being threatened. But if the safety of the state lies at stake, our precaution and foresight cannot be extended too far. Must we delay to avert our ruin till it is become inevitable? If the appearances are so easily credited, it is the fault of that neighbour who has betrayed his ambition by several indications. If Charles the Second, King of Spain, instead of settling the succession on the Duke of Anjou, had appointed for his heir Louis XIV. himself — to have tamely suffered the union of the monarchy of Spain with that of France, would, according to all the rules of human foresight, have been nothing less than delivering up all Europe to servitude, or at least reducing it to the most critical and precarious situation. But then, if two independent nations think fit to unite, so as afterwards to form one joint empire, have they not a right to do it? And who is authorized to oppose them? I answer, they have a right to form such a union, provided the views by which they are actuated be not prejudicial to other states. Now, if each of the two nations in question be, separately and without assistance, able to govern and support herself, and to defend herself from insult and oppression, it may be reasonably presumed that the object of their coalition is to domineer over their neighbours. And, on occasions where it is impossible or too dangerous to wait for an absolute certainty, we may justly act on a reasonable presumption. If a stranger levels a musket at me in the middle of a forest, I am not yet certain that he intends to kill me; but shall I, in order to be convinced of his design, allow him time to fire? What reasonable casuist will deny me the right to anticipate him? But presumption becomes nearly equivalent to certainty, if the prince who is on the point of rising to an enormous power has already given proofs of imperious pride and insatiable ambition. In the preceding supposition, who could have advised the powers of Europe to suffer such a formidable accession to the power of Louis the Fourteenth? Too certain of the use he would have made of it, they would have joined in opposing it: and in this their safety warranted them. To say that they should have allowed him time to establish his dominion over Spain, and consolidate the union of the two monarchies, — and that, for fear of doing him an injury, they should have quietly waited till he crushed them all, — would not this be, in fact, depriving mankind of the right to regulate their conduct by the dictates of prudence, and to act on the ground of probability? Would it not be robbing them of the liberty to provide for their own safety, as long as they have not mathematical demonstration of its being in danger? It would have been in vain to have preached such a doctrine. The principal sovereigns of Europe, habituated, by the administration of Louvois, to dread the views and power of Louis XIV., carried their mistrust so far, that they would not even suffer a prince of the house of France to sit on the throne of Spain, though invited to it by the nation, whose approbation had sanctioned the will of her former sovereign. He ascended it, however, notwithstanding the efforts of those who so strongly dreaded his elevation; and it has since appeared that their policy was too suspicious.
It is still easier to prove, that, should that formidable power betray an unjust and ambitious disposition, by doing the least injustice to another, all nations may avail themselves of the occasion, and, by joining the injured party, thus form a coalition of strength, in order to humble that ambitious potentate, and disable him from so easily oppressing his neighbours, or keeping them in continual awe and fear. For an injury gives us a right to provide for our future safety, by depriving the unjust aggressor of the means of injuring us; and it is lawful and even praiseworthy to assist those who are oppressed, or unjustly attacked.
Enough has been said on this subject, to set the minds of politicians at case, and relieve them from all apprehension that a strict and punctilious observance of justice in this particular would pave the way to slavery. It is perhaps wholly unprecedented that a state should receive any remarkable accession of power, without giving other states just causes of complaint. Let the other nations be watchful and alert in repressing that growing power, and they will have nothing to fear. The emperor Charles V. laid hold on the pretext of religion, in order to oppress the princes of the empire, and subject them to his absolute authority. If, by following up his victory over the elector of Saxony, he had accomplished that vast design, the liberties of all Europe would have been endangered. It was therefore with good reason that France assisted the protestants of Germany: — the care of her own safety authorized and urged her to the measure. When the same prince seized on the duchy of Milan, the sovereigns of Europe ought to have assisted France in contending with him for the possession of it, and to have taken advantage of the circumstance, in order to reduce his power within just bounds. Had they prudently availed themselves of the just causes which he soon gave them to form a league against him, they would have saved themselves the subsequent anxieties for their tottering liberty.
But, suppose that powerful state, by the justice and circumspection of her conduct, affords us no room to take exception to her proceedings, are we to view her progress with an eye of indifference? Are we to remain quiet spectators of the rapid increase of her power, and imprudently expose ourselves to such designs as it may inspire her with? — No, beyond all doubt. In a matter of so high importance, imprudent supineness would be unpardonable. The example of the Romans is a good lesson for all sovereigns. Had the potentates of those times concerted together to keep a watchful eye on the enterprises of Rome, and to check her incroachments, they would not have successively fallen into servitude. But force of arms is not the only expedient by which we may guard against a formidable power. There are other means, of a gentler nature, and which are at all times lawful. The most effectual is a confederacy of the less powerful sovereigns, who, by this coalition of strength, become able to hold the balance against that potentate whose power excites their alarms. Let them be firm and faithful in their alliance; and their union will prove the safety of each.
They may also mutually favour each other, to the exclusion of him whom they fear; and by reciprocally allowing various advantages to the subjects of the allies, especially in trade, and refusing them to those of that dangerous potentate, they will augment their own strength, and diminish his, without affording him any just cause of complaint, since every one is at liberty to grant favours and indulgences at his own pleasure.
Europe forms a political system, an integral body, closely connected by the relations and different interests of the nations inhabiting this part of the world. It is not, as formerly, a confused heap of detached pieces, each of which though herself very little concerned in the fate of the others, and seldom regarded things which did not immediately concern her. The continual attention of sovereigns to every occurrence, the constant residence of ministers, and the perpetual negotiations, make of modern Europe a kind of republic, of which the members — each independent, but all linked together by the ties of common interest — unite for the maintenance of order and liberty. Hence arose that famous scheme of the political balance, or the equilibrium of power; by which is understood such a disposition of things, as that no one potentate be able absolutely to predominate, and prescribe laws to the others.
The surest means of preserving that equilibrium would be, that no power should be much superior to the others, that all, or at least the greater part, should be nearly equal in force. Such a project has been attributed to Henry the Fourth:5 but it would have been impossible to carry it into execution without injustice and violence. Besides, suppose such equality once established, how could it always be maintained by lawful means? Commerce, industry, military pre-eminence, would soon put an end to it. The right of inheritance, vesting even in women and their descendants, — a rule, which it was so absurd to establish in the case of sovereignties, but which nevertheless is established, — would completely overturn the whole system.
It is a more simple, an easier, and a more equitable plan, to have recourse to the method just mentioned, of forming confederacies in order to oppose the more powerful potentate, and prevent him from giving law to his neighbours. Such is the mode at present pursued by the sovereigns of Europe. They consider the two principal powers, which, on that very account, are naturally rivals, as destined to be checks on each other; and they unite with the weaker, like so many weights thrown into the lighter scale, in order to keep it in equilibrium with the other. The house of Austria has long been the preponderating power: at present France is so in her turn. England, whose opulence and formidable fleets have a powerful influence, without alarming any state on the score of its liberty, because that nation seems cured of the rage for conquest, — England, I say, has the glory of holding the political balance. She is attentive to preserve it in equilibrium: — a system of policy, which is in itself highly just and wise, and will ever entitle her to praise, as long as she continues to pursue it only by means of alliances, confederacies, and other methods equally lawful.
Confederacies would be a sure mode of preserving the equilibrium, and thus maintaining the liberty of nations, did all princes thoroughly understand their true interests, and make the welfare of the state serve as the rule in all their proceedings. Great potentates, however, are but too successful in gaining over partisans and allies, who blindly adopt all their views. Dazzled by the glare of a present advantage, seduced by their avarice, deceived by faithless ministers — how many princes become the tools of a power which will one day swallow up either themselves or their successors! The safest plan, therefore, is to seize the first favourable opportunity, when we can, consistently with justice, weaken the potentate who destroys the equilibrium (§ 45) — or to employ every honourable means to prevent his acquiring too formidable a degree of power. For the purpose, all the other nations should be particularly attentive not to suffer him to aggrandize himself by arms: and this they may at all times do with justice. For, if this prince makes an unjust war, every one has a right to succour the oppressed party. If he makes a just war, the neutral nations may interfere as mediators for an accommodation — they may induce the weaker state to propose reasonable terms and offer a fair satisfaction, and may save her from falling under the yoke of a conqueror. On the offer of equitable conditions to the prince who wages even the most justifiable war, he has all that he can demand. The justice of his cause, as we shall soon see, never gives him a right to subjugate his enemy, unless when that extremity becomes necessary to his own safety, or when he has no other mode of obtaining indemnification for the injury he has received. Now, that is not the case here, as the interposing nations can by other means procure him a just indemnification, and an assurance of safety.
In fine, there cannot exist a doubt, that, if that formidable potentate certainly entertain designs of oppression and conquest, — if he betray his views by his preparations and other proceedings, — the other states have a right to anticipate him; and if the fate or war declares in their favour, they are justifiable in taking advantage of this happy opportunity to weaken and reduce a power too contrary to the equilibrium, and dangerous to the common liberty.
This right of nations is still more evident against a sovereign, who, from an habitual propensity to take up arms without reasons, or even so much as plausible pretexts, is continually disturbing the public tranquillity.
This leads us to a particular question, nearly allied to the preceding. When a neighbour, in the midst of a profound peace, erects fortresses on our frontier, equips a fleet, augments his troops, assembles a powerful army, fills his magazines, — in a word when he makes preparations for war, — are we allowed to attack him, with a view to prevent the danger with which we think ourselves threatened? The answer greatly depends on the manner and character of that neighbour. We must inquire into the reasons of those preparations, and bring him to an explanation: — such is the mode of proceeding in Europe: and if his sincerity be justly suspected, securities may be required of him. His refusal in this case, would furnish ample indication of sinister designs, and a sufficient reason to justify us in anticipating them. But if that sovereign has never betrayed any symptoms of baseness and perfidy, and especially if at that time there is no dispute subsisting between him and us, why should we not quietly rest on his word, only taking such precautions as prudence renders indispensable? We ought not, without sufficient cause, to presume him capable of exposing himself to infamy by adding perfidy to violence. As long as he has not rendered his sincerity questionable, we have no right to require any other security from him.
It is true, however, that, if a sovereign continues to keep up a powerful army in profound peace, his neighbours must not suffer their vigilance to be entirely lulled to sleep by his bare word; and prudence requires that they should keep themselves on their guard. However certain they may be of the good faith of that prince, unforeseen differences may intervene; and shall they leave him the advantage of being provided, at that juncture, with a numerous and well disciplined army, while they themselves will have only new levies to oppose it? Unquestionably no. This would be leaving themselves almost wholly at his discretion. They are, therefore, under the necessity of following his example, and keeping, as he does, a numerous army on foot: and what a burden is this to a state! Formerly, and without going any further back than the last century, it was pretty generally made an article in every treaty of peace, that the belligerent powers should disarm on both sides — that they should disband their troops. If, in a time of profound peace, a prince was disposed to keep up any considerable number of forces, his neighbours took their measures accordingly, formed leagues against him, and obliged him to disarm. Why has not that salutary custom been preserved? The constant maintenance of numerous armies deprives the soil of its cultivators, checks the progress of population, and can only serve to destroy the liberties of the nation by whom they are maintained. Happy England! whose situation exempts it from any considerable charge in supporting the instruments of despotism. Happy Switzerland! if, continuing carefully to exercise her militia, she keeps herself in a condition to repel any foreign enemies, without feeding a host of idle soldiers, who might one day crush the liberties of the people, and even bid defiance to the lawful authority of the sovereign. Of this the Roman legions furnish a signal instance, This happy method of a free republic, — the custom of training up all her citizens to the art of war, — renders the state respectable abroad, and saves it from a very pernicious defect at home. It would have been everywhere imitated, had the public good been everywhere the only object in view.
Sufficient has now been said on the general principles for estimating the justice of a war. Those who are thoroughly acquainted with the principles, and have just ideas of the various rights of nations, will easily apply the rules to particular cases.
(141) See further, as to what are, or are not, just causes for rescinding a treaty of peace, and which seem also to be here applicable, post. B. 4, ch. 4, § 41, 45, p. 49.
1. Livy, lib. v. cap. 49.
2. Aitial. Histor. lib. iii. cap. 6.
3. Prophaseis
4. Livy, lib. ix. init.
5. Of France.
THE right of making war belongs to nations only as a remedy against injustice: it is the offspring of unhappy necessity. This remedy is so dreadful in its effects, so destructive to mankind, so grievous even to the party who has recourse to it, that unquestionably the law of nature allows of it only in the last extremity, — that is to say, when every other expedient proves ineffectual for the maintenance of justice. It is demonstrated in the foregoing chapter, that, in order to be justifiable in taking up arms it is necessary — 1. That we have a just cause of complaint. 2. That a reasonable satisfaction have been denied us. 3. The ruler of the nation, as we have observed, ought maturely to
consider whether it be for the advantage of the state to prosecute his right by force of arms. But all this is not sufficient. As it is possible that the present fear of our arms may make an impression on the mind of our adversary, and induce him to do us justice, — we owe this further regard to humanity, and especially to the lives and peace of the subjects, to declare to that unjust nation, or its chief, that we are at length going to have recourse to the last remedy, and make use of open force, for the purpose of bringing him to reason. This is called declaring war. All this is included in the Roman manner of proceeding, regulated in their fecial law. They first sent the chief of the feciales, or heralds, called pater patratus, to demand satisfaction of the nation who had offended them; and if, within the space of thirty-three days, that nation did not return a satisfactory answer, the herald called the gods to be witnesses of the injustice, and came away, saying that the Romans would consider what measures they should adopt. The king, and in after times the consul, hereupon asked the senate's opinion: and when war was resolved on, the herald was sent back to the frontier, where he declared it.1 It is surprising to find among the Romans such justice, such moderation and prudence, at a time too when, apparently, nothing but courage and ferocity was to be expected from them. By such scrupulous delicacy in the conduct of her wars, Rome laid a most solid foundation for her subsequent greatness.
A declaration of war being necessary, as a further effort to terminate the difference without the effusion of blood, by making use of the principle of fear, in order to bring the enemy to more equitable sentiments, — it ought, at the same time that it announces our settled resolution of making war, to set forth the reasons which have induced us to take up arms. This is, at present, the constant practice among the powers of Europe.
After a fruitless application for justice, a nation may proceed to a declaration of war, which is then pure and simple. But, to include the whole business in a single act, instead of two separate ones, the demand of justice (called by the Romans rerum repetitio) may, if we think proper, be accompanied by a conditional declaration of war, notifying that we will commence hostilities unless we obtain immediate satisfaction on such or such subject, in this case there is no necessity for adding a pure and simple declaration of war, — the conditional one sufficing, if the enemy delays giving satisfaction.
§ 54. The right to make war ceases on
If the enemy, on either declaration of war, offers equitable conditions of peace, we are bound to refrain from hostilities: for as soon as justice is done to us, that immediately supersedes all right to employ force, which we are not allowed to use unless for the necessary maintenance of our rights. To these offers, however, are to be added securities; for we are under no obligation to suffer ourselves to be amused by empty proposals. The word of a sovereign is a sufficient security, as long as he has not disgraced his credit by any act of perfidy: and we should be contented with it. As to the conditions themselves, — besides the principal subject, we have a right to demand a reimbursement of the expenses incurred in our preparations for war.
It is necessary that the declaration of war be known to the state against whom it is made. This is all which the natural law of nations requires. Nevertheless, if custom has introduced certain formalities in the business, those nations who, by adopting the custom, have given their tacit consent to such formalities, are under an obligation of observing them, as long as they have not set them aside by a public renunciation (Prelim. § 26). Formerly, the powers of Europe used to send heralds, or ambassadors to declare war; at present, they content themselves with publishing the declaration in the capital, in the principal towns, or on the frontiers: manifestoes are issued; and, through the easy and expeditious channels of communication which the establishment of posts now affords, the intelligence is soon spread on every side.
Besides the foregoing reasons, it is necessary for a nation to publish the declaration of war for the instruction and direction of her own subjects, in order to fix the date of the rights which belong to them from the moment of this declaration, and in relation to certain effects which the voluntary law of nations attributes to a war in form. Without such a public declaration of war, it would, in a treaty of peace, be too difficult to determine those acts which are to be considered as the effects of war, and those that each nation may set down as injuries of which she means to demand reparation. In the last treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, between France and Spain on the one side, and England on the other, it was agreed that all the prizes taken before the declaration of war should be restored.
He who is attacked and only wages defensive war, needs not to make any hostile declaration, — the state of warfare being sufficiently ascertained by the enemy's declaration, or open hostilities. In modern times, however, the sovereign who is attacked, seldom omits to declare war in his turn, whether from an idea of dignity, or for the direction of his subjects.
If the nation on whom we have determined to make war will not admit any minister or herald to declare it, — whatever the custom may otherwise be, we may content ourselves with publishing the declaration of hostilities within our own territories, or on the frontier; and if the declaration does not come to the knowledge of that nation before hostilities are commenced, she can only blame herself. The Turks imprison and maltreat even the ambassadors of those powers with whom they are determined to come to a rupture: it would be a perilous undertaking for a herald to go and declare war against them in their own country. Their savage disposition therefore, supersedes the necessity of sending one.
But no person being exempted from his duty for the sole reason that another has been wanting in his, we are not to omit declaring war against a nation, previous to commencement of hostilities, because that nation has, on a former occasion, attacked us without any declaration. That nation, in so doing, has violated the law of nature (§ 51); and her fault does not authorise us to commit a similar one.
The law of nations does not impose the obligation of declaring war, with a view to give the enemy time to prepare for an unjust defence. The declaration, therefore, need not be made till the army has reached the frontiers; it is even lawful to delay it till we have entered the enemy's territories, and there possessed ourselves of an advantageous post: it must, however, necessarily precede the commission of any act of hostility, For thus we provide for our own safety, and equally attain the object of a declaration of war, which is, to give an unjust adversary the opportunity of seriously considering his past conduct, and avoiding the horrors of war, by doing justice. Such was the conduct of that generous prince, Henry the Fourth, towards Charles Emanuel duke of Savoy; who had wearied his patience by vain and fraudulent negotiations.2
If he, who enters a country with an army kept under strict discipline, declares to the inhabitants that he does not come as an enemy, that he will commit no violence, and will acquaint the sovereign with the cause of his coming, — the inhabitants are not to attack him; and should they dare to attempt it, he has a right to chastise them. But they are not to admit him into any strong-holds, nor can he demand admission. It is not the business of subjects to commence hostilities without orders from their sovereign: but if they are brave and loyal, they will, in the mean time, seize on all the advantageous posts, and defend themselves against any attempt made to dislodge them.
After a declaration of war on the part of the sovereign who has thus invaded the country, if equitable conditions are not offered him without delay, he may commence his operations; for, I repeat it, he is under no obligation to suffer himself to be amused. But, at the same time, we are never to lose sight of the principles before laid down (§§ 26 and 51) concerning the only legitimate causes of war. To march an army into a neighbouring country by which we are not threatened, and without having endeavoured to obtain, by reason and justice, an equitable reparation for the wrongs of which we complain, would be introducing a mode pregnant with evils to mankind, and sapping the foundations of the safety and tranquillity of states. If this mode of proceeding be not exploded and proscribed by the public indignation and the concurrence of every civilized people, it will become necessary to continue always in a military posture, and to keep ourselves constantly on our guard, no less in times of profound peace, than during the existence of declared and open war.
The sovereign declaring war can neither detain the persons nor the property of those subjects of the enemy who are within his dominions at the time of the declaration. They came into his country under the public faith. By permitting them to enter and reside in his territories, he tacitly promised them full liberty and security for their return. He is therefore bound to allow them a reasonable time for withdrawing with their effects; and, if they stay beyond the term prescribed, he has a right to treat them as enemies, — as unarmed enemies, however. But, if they are detained by an insurmountable impediment, as by sickness, he must necessarily, and for the same reasons, grant them a sufficient extension of the time. At present, so far from being wanting in this duty, sovereigns carry their attention to humanity still farther, so that foreigners, who are subjects of the state against which war is declared, are very frequently allowed full time for the settlement of their affairs. This is observed in a particular manner with regard to merchants; and the case is moreover carefully provided for in commercial treaties. The king of England has done more than this. In his last declaration of war against France, he ordained that all French subjects who were in his dominions should be at liberty to remain, and be perfectly secure in their persons and effects, "provided they demeaned themselves properly,"
We have said (§ 56), that a sovereign is to make the declaration of war public within his dominions, for the information and direction of his subjects. He is also to make known his declaration of war to the neutral powers, in order to acquaint them with the justificatory reasons which authorize it, — the cause which obliges him to take up arms, — and to notify to them that such or such a nation is his enemy, that they may conduct themselves accordingly. We shall even see that this is necessary in order to obviate all difficulty, when we come to treat of the right to seize certain things which neutral persons are carrying to the enemy, and of what termed contraband, in time of war. This publication of the war may be called declaration, and that which is notified directly to the enemy, denunciation; and indeed the Latin term is denunciatio belli.
War is at present published and declared by manifestoes. These pieces never fail to contain the justificatory reasons, good or bad, on which the party grounds his right to take up arms. The least scrupulous sovereign would wish to be thought just, equitable, and a lover of peace: he is sensible that a contrary reputation might be detrimental to him. The manifestoe implying a declaration of war, or the declaration itself, printed, published, and circulated throughout the whole state, contains also the sovereign's general orders to his subjects, relative to their conduct in the war.3
In so civilized an age, it may be unnecessary to observe, that, in those pieces which are published on the subject of war, it is proper to abstain from every opprobrious expression indicative of hatred, animosity, and rage, and only calculated to excite similar sentiments in the bosom of the enemy. A prince ought to preserve the most dignified decorum, both in his words and in his writings. He ought to respect himself in the person of his equals: and, though it is his misfortune to be at variance with a nation, shall he inflame the quarrel by offensive expressions, and thus deprive himself even of the hopes of a sincere reconciliation? Homer's heroes call each other "dog" and "drunkard": but this was perfectly in character, since, in their enmity, they knew no bounds. Frederic Barbarossa, and other emperors, and the popes their enemies, treated each other with as little delicacy. Let us congratulate our age on the superior gentleness of its manners, and not give the name of unmeaning politeness to those attentions which are productive of real and substantial effects.
Those formalities, of which the necessity is deducible from the principles and the very nature of war, are the characteristics of a lawful war in due form (justum bellum). Grotius says.4 that, according to the law of nations, two things are requisite to constitute a solemn or formal war — first, that it be on both sides, made by the sovereign authority, — secondly, that it be accompanied by certain formalities. These formalities consist in the demand of a just satisfaction (rerum repetitio), and in the declaration of war, at least on the part of him who attacks: — for defensive war requires no declaration (§ 57), nor even, on urgent occasions an express order from the sovereign. In effect, these two conditions are necessarily required in every war which shall, according to the law of nations, be a legitimate one, that is to say, such a war as nations have a right to wage. The right of making war belongs only to the sovereign (§ 4); and it is only after satisfaction has been refused to him (§ 37), and even after he has made a declaration of war (§ 51), that he has a right to take up arms.(145)
A war in due form is also called a regular war, because certain rules, either prescribed by the law of nature, or adopted by custom, are observed in it.(146)
Legitimate and formal warfare must be carefully distinguished from those illegitimate and informal wars, or rather predatory expeditions, undertaken either without lawful authority or without apparent cause, as likewise without the usual formalities, and solely with a view to plunder. Grotius relates several instances of the latter.5 Such were the enterprises of the grandes compagnies which had assembled in France during the wars with the English, — armies of banditti, who ranged about Europe, purely for spoil and plunder: such were the cruises of the buccaneers, without commission, and in time of peace; and such in general are the depredations of pirates. To the same class belong almost all the expeditions of the Barbary corsairs: though authorized by a sovereign, they are undertaken without any apparent cause, and from no other motive than the lust of plunder. These two species of war, I say, — the lawful and the illegitimate, — are to be carefully distinguished, as the effects and the rights arising from each are very different.
In order fully to conceive the grounds of this distinction, it is necessary to recollect the nature and object of lawful war. It is only as the last remedy against obstinate injustice that the law of nature allows of war. Hence arise the rights which it gives, as we shall explain in the sequel: hence, likewise, the rules to be observed in it. Since it is equally possible that either of the parties may have right on his side, — and since, in consequence of the independence of nations, that point is not to be decided by others (§ 40), — the condition of the two enemies is the same, while the war lasts. Thus, when a nation, or a sovereign, has declared war against another sovereign on account of a difference arisen between them, their war is what among nations is called a lawful and formal war; and its effects are, by the voluntary law of nations, the same on both sides, independently of the justice of the cause, as we shall more fully show in the sequel.6 Nothing of this kind is the case in an informal and illegitimate war, which is more properly called depredation. Undertaken without any right, without even an apparent cause, it can be productive of no lawful effect, nor give any right to the author of it. A nation attacked by such sort of enemies is not under any obligation to observe towards them the rules prescribed in formal warfare. She may treat them as robbers,(146a) The inhabitants of Geneva, after defeating the famous attempt to take their city by escalade,7 caused all the prisoners whom they took from the Savoyards on that occasion to be hanged up as robbers, who had come to attack them without cause and without a declaration of war. Nor were the Genevese censured for this proceeding, which would have been detested in a formal war.
(142) See in general, Grotius, B. iii. c. iv. s. 8: and 1 Chitty's Com. Law, 378. — C.
1. Livy, lib. i. cap. 31.
(143) But there seems to be no absolute necessity for a formal declaration of war to render it legal. See observations of Sir William Scott, in Nayede, 4 Rob. Rep. 252; Chitty's Law Nat. 29, 3. But in England the king must have assented to a war to render it strictly legal. Brooke's Abrid. tit. "Denizen," pl. 26; The Hoop, 1 Rob. Rep, 196. — C. {The late war between the United States and Great Britain was declared by Act of Congress, June 18th, 1812. (Laws U.S. 1812, p. 227.) But war had existed, in fact, from March 4th until May 13th, 1846, between Mexico and the United States, without any formal declaration. The act of Congress of 13th May, 1846, declares that, "by the act of the Republic of Mexico," war existed between the countries. (Laws U. States, 1846, p. 14.)}
2. See Sully's Memoirs.
(144) See in general 1 Chitty's Com. L. 414. — C.
3. It is remarked as a very singular circumstance, that Charles the Second, king of Great Britain, in his declaration of war against France, dated February 9, 1668, promised security to French subjects who should "demean themselves properly," — and, moreover, his protection and favour to such of them as might choose to emigrate to his dominions.
4. De Jure Belli et Pacis, lib. i. cap. iii. § 4.
(145) Ante, the notes to the same sections. — C.
(146) It has been laid down, that whenever the king's courts are open in a given country, it is time of peace in judgment of law; but, when by hostile measures such courts are shut up or interrupted, then it is said to he time of war. Earl Lancaster's case. Hale's Pleas Crown, Part I. c. 26, p. 344; Co. Litt. 249 b. cited, and other points as to what is war; Elphinstone v. Bedreechund, Knapp's Rep. 316. But at present, when in courts of justice, whether of Common Law, Equity, Admiralty, or Prize Court, it becomes necessary to ascertain what is, or not, evidence of a war, or a peace or neutrality, the same is now usually determined by distinct acts of the state. Upon this question, the following cases are material: — Sir Wm. Grant (in case of Pelham Burke, 1 Edward's Rep. Appendix D; 3 Camp. 62; Blackburne v. Thompson, 15 East, 90, S.P.) observed, that, in order to ascertain whether or not a war or state of amity or neutrality subsists, it always belongs to the Government of the country to determine in what relation any other country stands towards it; and that is a point upon which courts of justice cannot decide; (i.e. without evidence aliunde as to the declarations or resolutions of Government;) and the most potent evidence upon such a subject is the declaration of the state. And if the state recognises any place as being or as not being in the relation of hostility to this country, that is obligatory on courts of justice. Per Lord Ellenborough, 3 Camp. 66; and see other instances and authorities, 1 Chitty's Commercial Law, 393-4. — C. (See, also, The U. States v. Palmer, 3 Wheat. Rep. 634, 635.)
5. Lib. iii. cap, iv.
6. See chap. xii. of this book.
{(146a) Pirates may be lawfully captured by the public or private armed ships of any nation, in peace or war; for they are hostes humani generie. The Mariana Flora, 11 Wheat. Rep, 1.}[This note was numbered (1) by Chitty.]
7. In the year 1602.
THE enemy is he with whom a nation is at open war. The Latins had a particular term (Hostis) to denote a public enemy, and distinguished him from a private enemy (Inimicus). Our language affords but one word for these two classes of persons, who ought, nevertheless to be carefully distinguished. A private enemy is one who seeks to hurt us, and takes pleasure in the evil that befalls us. A public enemy forms claims against us, or rejects ours, and maintains his real or pretended rights by force of arms. The former is never innocent; he fosters rancour and hatred in his heart. It is possible that the public enemy may be free from such odious sentiments, that he does not wish us ill, and only seeks to maintain his rights. This observation is necessary in order to regulate the dispositions of our heart towards a public enemy.
When the sovereign or ruler of the state declares war against another sovereign, it is understood that the whole nation declares war against another nation; for the sovereign represents the nation, and acts in the name of the whole society (Book I. §§ 40, 41;) and it is only in a body, and in her national character, that one nation has to do with another. Hence, these two nations are enemies, and all the subjects of the one are enemies to all the subjects of the other. In this particular, custom and principle are in accord.
Enemies continue such wherever they happen to be. The place of abode is of no consequence here. It is the political ties which determine the character. Whilst a man continues a citizen of his own country, he is the enemy of all those with whom his nation is at war. But we must not hence conclude that these enemies may treat each other as such, wherever they happen to meet. Every one being master in his respective country, a neutral prince will not allow them to use any violence in his territories.
Since women and children are subjects of the state, and members of the nation, they are to be ranked in the class of enemies. But it does not thence follow that we are justifiable in treating them like men who bear arms, or are capable of bearing them. It will appear in the sequel, that we have not the same rights against all classes of enemies.
When once we have precisely determined who our enemies are, it is easy to know what are the things belonging to the enemy (res hostiles). We have shown that not only the sovereign with whom we are at war is an enemy, but also his whole nation, even the very women and children. Every thing, therefore, which belongs to that nation, — to the state, to the sovereign, to the subjects, of whatever age or sex, — everything of that kind, I say, falls under the description of things belonging to the enemy.
And, with respect to things, the case is the same as with respect to persons: — things belonging to the enemy continue such, wherever they are.(147a) But we are not hence to conclude, any more than in the case of persons (§ 71), that we everywhere possess a right to treat those things as things belonging to the enemy.
Since it is not the place where a thing is, which determines the nature of that thing, but the character of the person to whom it belongs, — things belonging to neutral persons, which happen to be in an enemy's country, or on board an enemy's ships, are to be distinguished from those which belong to the enemy. But it is the owner's business to adduce evident proof that they are his property: for, in default of such proof, a thing is naturally presumed to belong to the nation in whose possession it is found.(148)
The preceding section relates to movable property: but the rule is different with respect to immovable possessions, such as landed estates. Since all these do in some measure belong to the nation, are part of its domain, of its territory, and under its government (Book I, §§ 204, 235, Book ii. § 114) — and since the owner is still a subject of the country as possessor of a landed estate, — property of this kind does not cease to be enemy's property (res hostiles), though possessed by a neutral foreigner. Nevertheless, war being now carried on with so much moderation and indulgence, protections are granted for houses and lands possessed by foreigners in an enemy's country. For the same reason, he who declares war does not confiscate the immovable property possessed in his country by his enemy's subjects. By permitting them to purchase and possess such property, he has in that respect admitted them into the number of his subjects. But the income may be sequestrated, in order to prevent its being remitted to the enemy's country.
Among the things belonging to the enemy, are likewise incorporeal things, — all his rights, claims, and debts, excepting, however, those kind of rights granted by a third party, and in which the grantor is so far concerned, that it is not a matter of indifference to him, in what hands they are vested. Such, for instance, are the rights of commerce. But as debts are not of this number, war gives us the same rights over any sums of money due by neutral nations to our enemy, as it can give over his other property.(149)
When Alexander, by conquest, became absolute master of Thebes, he remitted to the Thessalians a hundred talents which they owed to the Thebans.1 The sovereign has naturally the same right over what his subjects may owe to enemies, he may therefore confiscate debts of this nature, if the term of payment happen in the time of war; or at least he may prohibit his subjects from paying while the war continues. But, at present, a regard to the advantage and safety of commerce has induced all the sovereigns of Europe to act with less rigour in this point.(150) And as the custom has been generally received, he who should act contrary to it would violate the public faith; for strangers trusted his subjects only from a firm persuasion that the general custom would be observed. The state does not so much as touch the sums which it owes to the enemy: money lent to the public is everywhere exempt from confiscation and seizure in case of war.
(147) As to the definition of an alien enemy, and of what is less than a general enemy, and merely an hostile character, or hostile residence, or hostile trade, and of the modern decisions on the diversities; see Boedes Lust, 5 Rob. Rep. 233; 1 Chitty's Commercial Law, 394 to 412, Id. Index, tit, Hostile Character, and Chitty L. Nat. 30 to 64.
In some cases, the generous and beneficial conduct of an enemy will obliterate his hostile character, and preclude his property from becoming subject to seizure, as was beautifully Illustrated by Sir W. Scott's decision in Jonge J. Baumannn, where an English frigate, with her officers and crew, having been saved from shipwreck by a foreign (neutral) vessel and crew, the former ingratefully carried the latter into port as prize; {asserting she had French property on board;} but a restoration was decreed, on the ground that such a service had blotted out and obliterated the character of an enemy, {if it had ever existed, which was not the fact.} 1 Rob. Rep. 245; and see §§ 176, post, pp. 374-5.
Of the illegality of commerce between subjects of belligerent states. — Vattel is very succinct upon this, in modern times, the most important consequence of war. In general it is illegal for the private subjects of belligerents to have any commercial transactions or dealings between each other, in expectation of or pending the war; for otherwise assistance might be rendered to the enemy, enabling them to protract the war, and under colour of commerce, secret communications might be made injurious to the states of each country; and therefore there is no such thing as a war for arms, and a peace for commerce. The rule and the principle upon which it is founded, are fully commented upon in the case of The Hoop, 1 Rob. Rep. 196; Potts v. Bell, 8 Term Rep. 546; Mennet v. Bonham, 15 East, 489; William v. Patteson. 7 Taunt. 439; Grotius, B. 3, c. 4, s. 8; Binkershoek, B. 1, c. 3; Chitty's L. Nat. 1 to 27. The exceptions to that rule are sometimes by express treaty; (see 2 Ward's Law of Nat. 358); and in Great Britain have been permitted by temporary acts, or by orders in council, authorizing the privy council to grant licenses. (See Phillimore on Licenses, 5.) The case of prisoners at war contracting for necessaries, constitutes an exception. Antoine v. Morshead, 6 Taunt. 237-447; 1 Marsh. Rep. 558; Danby v. Morshead, 6 Taunt. 332; Vattel, post, § 264, p. 414.
Questions sometimes arise, whether a commercial transaction between parties in different countries, afterwards at war with each other, as for instance, Great Britain and America, pending war, or on the eve of war, between these countries, was pactum illicitum. If it be pending war, or in contemplation of it, and against its spirit, and not expressly licensed by the Government, then it is illegal, See the rule in the case of McGaven v. Stewart, in the House of Lords, (14 July, 1830), 4 Wlls. & Shaw, 193-4. An alien carrying on trade in an enemy's country, though resident there also in the character of consul of a neutral state, has been considered an alien enemy, and as such disabled to sue, and liable to confiscation. Albrecht v. Sussmann, 2 Ves. & Beames, 323.
But these rules prohibiting commerce between the subjects of belligerent states, do not affect neutrals: (excepting, indeed the liability to visitation and search); and therefore, actions may be sustained in England by a neutral on a promissory note given to him by a British subject in an enemy's country, for goods sold by the neutral to the latter there. Cowp. 363; Hourret v. Morris, 3 Camp. 303. And it has even been held, that an Englishman domiciled in a foreign state in amity with this country may lawfully exercise the privileges of a subject of the place where he is resident, to trade with a nation in hostility with England, 1 Maule & Selwyn 726, sed quæ re. {See Livingston v. The Maryland Ins. Co. 7 Cranch, 506.} But in general he who maintains an establishment or house of commerce in a hostile country, is to be considered as impressed with a hostile character, with reference at least to so much of his commerce as may be connected with that establishment; and this, whether he maintains that establishment as a partner, or as a sole trade, The Citto, 3 Rob. 38; The Portland, Id. 41 to 44. — C.
{(147a)See Johnson et al. v. Twenty-one Bales, &c. Van Ness, Prize Causes, p. 7.}[This note was numbered (1) by Chitty.]
(148) As to protection to neutrals' property and modern decisions, see 1 Chitty's Commercial Law, 385-440; Id. Index, tit. Neutrals; 1 Chitty's L. Nat. 34, 54, 110-113, 183; Id. Index, tit. Neutrals. — C.
(149) This was the ancient law of nations. Att. Gen. v. Weedon,
Parker Rep. 267, though certainly denied by Rolle, J. At all events it
is now altered; see authorities, ante, 284, n. (134) 1 Chitty's
Commercial Law, 423; 1 Chitty's L. Nat. 82 to 86. — C.
{But see Fairfax v. Hunter, 5 Cranch, 19.}
1. Grotius, De Jure Belli et Pacis, lib. iii. cap. viii § 4.
WE have sufficiently spoken of treaties in general, and shall here touch on this subject only in its particular relations to war. Treaties relating to war are of several kinds, and vary in their objects and clauses, according to the will of those who make them. Besides applying to them all that we have said of treaties in general (Book II. Ch. XII. &c.), they may also be divided into treaties real and personal, equal and unequal, &c. But they have also their specific differences, viz. those which relate to their particular object, war.
Under this relation, alliances made for warlike purposes are divided in general into defensive and offensive alliances. In the former, the nation engages only to defend her ally in case he be attacked: in the latter, she unites with him for the purpose of making an attack, — of jointly waging war against another nation. Some alliances are both offensive and defensive; and there seldom is an offensive alliance which is not also a defensive one. But it is very usual for alliances to be purely defensive: and these are in general the most natural and lawful. It would be a tedious and even a useless task to enumerate in detail all the varieties incident to such alliances. Some are made, without restriction, against all opponents: in others, certain states are excepted: others again are formed against such or such a nation expressly mentioned by name.
But a difference of great importance to be observed, especially in defensive alliances, is that between an intimate and complete alliance, in which we agree to a union of interests, — and another, in which we only promise a stated succour. The alliance in which we agree to a union of interests is a warlike association: each of the parties acts with his whole force; all the allies become principals in the war, they have the same friends and the same enemies. But an alliance of this nature is more particularly termed a warlike association, when it is offensive.
When a sovereign, without directly taking part in the war made by another sovereign, only sends him succours of troops or ships, these are called auxiliaries.
The auxiliary troops serve the prince to whom they are sent, according to their sovereign's orders. If they are purely and simply sent without restriction, they are to serve equally on the offensive and the defensive; and for the particulars of their operations, they are to obey the directions of the prince to whose assistance they come. Yet this prince has not the free and entire disposal of them, as of his own subjects: they are granted to him only for his own wars; and he has no right to transfer them, as auxiliaries, to a third power.
Sometimes, this succour from a potentate who does not directly take part in the war, consists in money; and then it is called a subsidy. This term is now often taken in another sense, and signifies a sum of money annually paid by one sovereign to another, in return for a body of troops which the latter furnishes to the other to carry on his wars, or keeps in readiness for his service. The treaties for procuring such a resource are called subsidiary treaties. France and England have at present such treaties existing with several of the northern powers and princes in Germany, and continue them even in times of peace.
In order, now, to judge of the morality of these several treaties or alliances, — of their legitimacy according to the law of nations, we must, in the first place, lay down this incontrovertible principle, that It is lawful and commendable to succour and assist, by all possible means, a nation engaged in a just war; and it is even a duty incumbent on every nation, to give such assistance, when she can give it without injury to herself. But no assistance whatever is to be afforded to him who is engaged in an unjust war. There is nothing in this which is not demonstrated by what we have said of the common duties of nations towards each other. (Book II. Ch. I.) To support the cause of justice when we are able, is always commendable: but, in assisting the unjust, we partake of his crime, and become, like him, guilty of injustice.
If, to the principle we have now laid down, you add the consideration of what a nation owes to her own safety, and of the care which it is so natural and so fit that she should take to put herself in a condition to resist her enemies, you will the more readily perceive how clear a right a nation has to make warlike alliances, and especially defensive alliances, whose sole tendency is to maintain all parties in the quiet and secure possession of their property.
But great circumspection is to be used in forming such alliances. Engagements by which a nation maybe drawn into a war at a moment when she least expects it, ought not to be contracted without very important reasons, and a direct view to the welfare of the state. We here speak of alliances made in time of peace, and by way of precaution against future contingencies.
If there be question of contracting an alliance with a nation already engaged in a war, or on the point of engaging in one, two things are to be considered: 1. The justice of that nation's quarrel. 2. The welfare of the state. If the war which a prince wages, or is preparing to wage, be unjust, it is not allowable to form an alliance with him; for injustice is not to be supported. If he is justifiable in taking up arms, it still remains to be considered whether the welfare of the state allows or requires us to embark in his quarrel: for it is only with a view to the welfare of the state that the sovereign ought to use his authority: to that all his measures should tend, and especially those of the most important nature. What other consideration can authorise him to expose his people to the calamities of war?
As it is only for the support of a just war that we are allowed to give assistance or contract alliances, — every alliance, every warlike association, every auxiliary treaty, contracted by way of anticipation in time of peace, and with no view to any particular war, necessarily and of itself includes this tacit clause — that the treaty shall not be obligatory except in case of a just war. On any other footing, the alliance could not be validly contracted. (Book II. §§ 161, 168.)
But care must be taken that treaties of alliance be not thereby reduced to empty and delusive formalities. The tacit restriction is to be understood only of a war which is evidently unjust; for otherwise a pretence for eluding treaties would never be wanting. Is there question of contracting an alliance with a power actually at war? It behooves you most religiously to weigh the justice of his cause: the judgment depends solely on you, since you owe him no assistance any further than as his quarrel is just, and your own circumstances make it convenient for you to embark in it. But when once engaged, nothing less than the manifest injustice of his cause can excuse you from assisting him. In a doubtful case, you are to presume that your ally has justice on his side; that being his concern.
But if you entertain strong doubts, you may very fairly and commendably interpose to effect an accommodation. Thus you may bring the justice of the cause to the test of evidence, by discovering which of the contending parties refuses to accede to equitable conditions.
As every alliance implies the tacit clause above mentioned, he who refuses to succour his ally in a war that is manifestly unjust is not chargeable with a breach of alliance.
When alliances have thus been contracted beforehand, the question is, to determine, in the course of events, those cases in which our engagements come in force, and we are bound to act in consequence of the alliance. This is what is called casus fœderis, or case of the alliance, and is to be discovered in the concurrence of the circumstances for which the treaty has been made, whether those circumstances have been expressly specified in it, or tacitly supposed. Whatever has been promised in the treaty of alliance is due in the casus fœderis, and not otherwise.
As the most solemn treaties cannot oblige any one to favour an unjust quarrel (§ 86): the casus fœderis never takes place in a war that is manifestly unjust.
In a defensive alliance, the casus fœderis does not exist immediately on our ally being attacked. It is still our duty to examine whether he has not given his enemy just cause to make war against him: for we cannot have engaged to undertake his defence with the view of enabling him to insult others, or to refuse them justice. If he is in the wrong, we must induce him to offer a reasonable satisfaction; and if his enemy will not be contented with it, then, and not till then, the obligation of defending him commences.
But if the defensive alliance contains a guarantee of all the territories at that time possessed by the ally, the casus fœderis immediately takes place whenever those territories are invaded or threatened with an invasion. If they are attacked for a just cause, we must prevail on our ally to give satisfaction; but we may on good grounds oppose his being deprived of his possessions, as it is generally with a view to our own security that we undertake to guaranty them. On the whole, the rules of interpretation, which we have given in an express chapter,1 are to be consulted, in order to determine, on particular occasions, the existence of the casus fœderis.
If the state that has promised succours finds herself unable to furnish them, her inability alone is sufficient to dispense with the obligation; and if she cannot give her assistance without exposing herself to evident danger, this circumstance also dispenses with it.
This would be one of those cases in which a treaty becomes pernicious to the state, and therefore not obligatory (Book II. § 160). But we here speak of an imminent danger, threatening the very existence of the state. The case of such a danger is tacitly and necessarily reserved in every treaty. As to remote dangers, or those of no extraordinary magnitude, — since they are inseparable from every military alliance, it would be absurd to pretend that they should create an exception; and the sovereign may expose the nation to them in consideration of the advantages which she reaps from the alliance.
In virtue of these principles, we are absolved from the obligation of sending assistance to an ally while we are ourselves engaged in a war which requires our whole strength. If we are able to oppose our own enemies and to assist our ally at the same time, no reason can be pleaded for such dispensation. But, in such cases, it rests with ourselves to determine what our circumstances and strength will allow. It is the same with other things which may have been promised, as, for instance, provisions. There is no obligation to furnish an ally with them when we want them for our own use.
We forbear to repeat in this place what we have said of various other cases, in discoursing of treaties in general, as, for example, of the preference due to the more ancient ally (Book II. § 167), and to a protector (ibid. § 204), of the meaning to be annexed to the term "allies," in a treaty in which they are reserved (ibid. § 309). Let us only add, on this last question, that, in a warlike alliance made against all opponents, the allies excepted, this exception is to be understood only of the present allies. Otherwise, it would afterwards be easy to elude the former treaty by new alliances; and it would be impossible for us to know either what we are doing in concluding such a treaty, or what we gain by it.
A case which we have not spoken of is this: — Three powers have entered into a treaty of defensive alliance: two of them quarrel, and make war on each other: — how is the third to act? The treaty does not bind him to assist either the one or the other; for it would be absurd to say that he has promised his assistance to each against the other, or to one of the two in prejudice of the other. The only obligation, therefore, which the treaty imposes on him, is to endeavour, by the interposition of his good offices, to effect a reconciliation between his allies; and if his mediation proves unsuccessful, he remains at liberty to assist the party who appears to have justice on his side.
To refuse an ally the succours due to him, without having any just cause to allege for such refusal, is doing him an injury, since it is a violation of the perfect right which we gave him by a formal engagement. I speak of evident cases, it being then only that the right is perfect; for, in those of a doubtful nature, it rests with each party to judge what he is able to do (§ 92): but he is to judge maturely and impartially, and to act with candour. And as it is an obligation naturally incumbent on us, to repair any damage caused by our fault, and especially by our injustice, we are bound to indemnify an ally for all the losses he may have sustained in consequence of our unjust refusal. How much circumspection, therefore, is to be used in forming engagements, which we cannot refuse to fulfil without material injury to our affairs or our honour, and which, on the other hand, if complied with, may be productive of the most serious consequences.
An engagement, which may draw us into a war, is of great moment: in it the very existence of the state is at stake. He who in an alliance promises a subsidy or a body of auxiliaries, sometimes imagines that he only risks a sum of money or a certain number of soldiers; whereas he often exposes himself to war and all its calamities. The nation against whom he furnishes assistance will lo