SAFETY OF PACIFIC PRINCIPLES.

THERE are two ways to keep men from injuring us by compulsion, or persuasion; by brute force, or kind moral influence; by appeals to their fears alone, or addresses to their conscience and better feelings. We may resort to the law of violence, or the law of love; we may rely on the principle of war, or the principle of peace. One threatens, the other persuades; one hates and curses, the other loves and blesses; the former gives back insult and injury with interest, while the latter meekly turns the other cheek to the smiter, forgives even its bitterest enemies, and strives to overcome evil only with good.

No man, at all acquainted with the gospel, needs to be told which of these methods is most accordant with its principles. The bare statement must suffice for any one who has read either the New Testament or the Old; who has traced the example of Christ and his Apostles, or caught from their lips such instructions as these,-lay aside all malice; do good unto all men; love your enemies, bless them that curse you, and do good to them that despitefully use you; resist not evil, but whoso smiteth you on one cheek, turn to him the other also; recompense to no man evil for evil, but overcome evil with good.

Here is the Christian mode of preventing or curing evils; but most persons deem it unsafe, and resort to some form of violence. They have little confidence in the power of reason or truth, of justice or kindness, to hold in check the bad passions of mankind; but employ for this purpose threats of evil, and engines of vengeance and death. Fear they seem to regard as the only effectual restraint upon mischief or guilt; and hence they arm themselves with pistols and daggers against their personal foes, and think it madness for nations to rely for protection, one against another, on any thing but fleets and armies, a soldiery well trained, and fortifications well manned. Milder means, appeals to the better feelings of our nature, they would not entirely discard; but the former they make their last resort, their sole reliance, and honestly believe that war is the only sure way to peace; that there is no real security but in bloodshed; that we must either fight, or become the prey of malice or ambition, of rapacity or revenge. Nor can we deny that the history of our world, written mainly in blood, and detailing a series of almost incessant jealousies and conflicts between nations, would seem to justify such an opinion; and yet we verily believe that pacific principles are the surest safeguard, and would, if rightly used, suffice, far better than any war-methods, to avert or mitigate the evils incident from bad passions to individual or national intercourse.

P. T. NO. XL.

Let us first ascertain the precise point in dispute. The question is not whether the principles of peace, any measures of forbearance, kindness and conciliation will, in every case, avert all evil. The depravity of mankind forbids the hope. It is morally impossible; and no means devised by the policy of man, or the wisdom of God, have hitherto succeeded in securing such a result. The war-principle has been tried all over the earth for nearly six thousand years; but has it kept man from preying upon his brother, or nation from rising against nation? Has it prevented bloodshed, violence, rapine, injustice, oppression, despotism, the countless wrongs and evils that form nearly the sum total of history? Surely then war is no security against the bad passions of men; it would seem hardly possible for any system to produce worse results; and hence we are forced to the inquiry, as the only point at issue, whether a policy strictly pacific will prevent more evil, and secure more good, than war-methods actually have.

The advocates of war seem even now to concede the very point in debate; for they all admit, that we ought to use pacific expedients as long as we can, and to draw the sword only as a last and inevitable resort. This admission recognizes the superiority of pacific over warlike measures; and we should, if consistent, abandon the latter, and adopt the former as our uniform and permanent policy.

History too, though extremely barren of examples to illustrate the efficacy of pacific principles, does nevertheless furnish some strong presumptions in their favor. War, as an engine of mere force and vengeance, belongs to a state entirely savage; and communities, like individuals, abandon or relax the war-principle just as fast as they rise in the scale of general cultivation, and come under the sway of moral influences. Nations, even while retaining the war-system in the back-ground as their ultimate reliance, have already reached the wisdom of employing for the most part pacific expedients for the prevention or adjustment of difficulties with each other. They retain the sword, but keep it in the scabbard, and are fast superceding its use by the substitution of pacific methods. They continue the war-system either by the force of habit, or as a sort of scare-crow; it looms up before the world very like an old, useless hulk afloat on the ocean as a memento of the past, and a warning to the future; while they sedulously use in its stead the policy of peace in more than nine cases out of ten, and thus bear an unconscious but decisive testimony to the vast superiority of the former.

We can find in history no considerable nation acting on the strictest principles of peace; but those which approach the nearest to these principles, uniformly enjoy the highest degree of safety and prosperity. Take China, Switzerland, or the United States; and you will see in their case a striking confirmation of this truth, and a strong presumptive argument for the strictest principles of peace. None of them have given up the system of armed self-defence; but they have for the most part adopted a

policy unusually pacific. They have professedly acted only on the defensive; they have betrayed few, if any wishes for aggression or conquest; they have kept up no fleets or armies sufficient to intimidate or provoke their neighbors; they have been respectful, courteous and conciliatory in their intercourse with other nations, and relied mainly on their own character, and the force of reason and justice, for the vindication of their rights, and the redress of their wrongs. What is the result? No nations on earth have ever been so exempt from aggression, injury and insult; and, if the partial adoption of our principles has been so successful, would not their full application be still more so?

Let us dwell a little on cases like these. Rome, while under her warlike kings, kept a great part of Italy in arms against her; but Numa, changing this policy, turned his people from the pursuits of war to the arts of peace, quelled the dissensions among themselves, and cultivated a friendly intercourse with the nations around them. Their neighbors, astonished at the change, threw aside their arms, hailed the Romans as friends, and lived in peace with them so long as they continued this new policy. So of the Chinese. Disinclined to war, and nearly destitute of military resources, still what nation has suffered fewer invasions of its soil or its rights?-Look at Switzerland. For more than five centuries has she, with very few and brief exceptions, been at peace with her neighbors. While the flames of war have raged all around her, she has remained quiet upon her mountains, tilled her rugged soil, and reaped the fruits of her industry and pacific policy in the enjoyment of health, competence and domestic happiness. Nor is this owing to her Alpine position, to the bravery of her sons, or the peculiar form of her government; for there is nothing in all these to shield her against the assaults of any power disposed to invade her territory. It would have been very easy for neighboring states to conquer Switzerland; and yet she remains unmolested, a republic free and flourishing in the midst of surrounding despotisms. Why? Not because she has any formidable power, but because she pursues a pacific policy. She betrays no ambition to enlarge her territory, seeks only security within her own limits, and is scrupulously upright, honorable and conciliatory in her intercourse with other nations. She aims to give no just ground for offence; and, when complaints arise, she holds herself ready to meet every fair and equitable claim for redress. Her policy and her character are the bulwarks of her defence, almost the only pledges of her safety.-Here, too, is the secret of our own security. More than sixty years have elapsed since our independence was acknowledged by Great Britain; and during all this time no invader, except when provoked by the hostilities we had ourselves begun, has set foot upon our soil; nor has there been any real need of drawing the sword to secure from other nations a proper respect for our rights, or an equitable redress for our wrongs. Yet has our policy ever been essentially and eminently pacific. We have had the merest handful of men

for a standing army; our navy too, though in high repute for its skill and bravery, has always been comparatively small; and in all our intercourse with other nations, we have relied almost entirely on the excellence of our principles, and the justice of our cause. We have doubtless experienced occasional injury, and some delays of justice; but we have suffered as little as any other people in the same time, and far less than we should from an opposite policy.

An example still more striking is found in the commonwealth of San Marino. This little republic in Italy, the smallest independent state in Europe, covers, on a single mountain and two adjoining hills, some thirty square miles, and contains in its capital, and four villages, only 7000 inhabitants. Yet has this petty republic existed, very much in its present form, more than thirteen centuries. The thunderbolts of war have fallen thick but harmless around it; other republics, proud of their military strength, have been swept from the earth; Italy has repeatedly been covered with armies, and drenched in blood; thrones have crumbled, and dynasties perished, and all Europe been shaken to its centre by political convulsions; yet San Marino, strong in its very weakness, and safe mainly by its reliance on a pacific policy, has remained without harm or assault. It claims the right of violent defence, but provides few means for the purpose, and none sufficient to deter or provoke its neighbors. How shall we account for its long and perfect safety? No state is too poor for the clutches of avarice, none too small for the grasp of ambition; and but for its pacific policy, and the indelible disgrace of assailing a community so defenceless, San Marino would long since have been merged in some neighboring nation.

Such are the results of peace principles partially applied; and would not their full application be still more successful? Such a conclusion, indeed, might well seem almost self-evident; but let us proceed to prove it, first from the promised protection of heaven, next from the natural tendency of such principles, and finally from the history of their actual influence.

God, then, has promised protection to those who act on the pacific principles of his gospel. Here is security enough. It is always safe to do right; and no man, or body of men, ever did their duty, and trusted God in vain. It may have seemed otherwise for a time; but it was not in vain, nor ever can be. History is full of proofs on this point; and if God has made it the duty of nations in their intercourse to put in practice the principles of peace, then may they do so in full confidence of his protection. His promises insure their safety. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing, thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Who is he that will harm you, if ye be followers of that which is good? When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him." Both the New Testament and the Old are replete with promises of divine protection to those who obey and trust God; and ever will the

path of obedience to him be found a path of safety both for individuals and for nations.

This point needs little proof; but take an illustration from the Old Testament. God bade the Israelites, "thrice in a year shall all your man-children appear before the Lord ;" and he added the promise, "neither shall any man desire thy land when thou shalt go up to appear before the Lord thy God thrice in the year." So the result proved; for a learned author assures us, "that the Hebrew territories remained free from invasions, while all the adult males three times every year went to the Tabernacle or the Temple, without leaving in their cities and villages any guard to protect them from foreign incursions; and in no instance does there appear to have been any hostile attack made upon them at such times."

The Bible is full of instances very like this; the history of God's ancient people exhibits a series of similar interpositions; nor should we, from the nature of the case, expect any other result. If he knows what is best for us, can we suppose that a God of infinite love would enjoin upon us a course of conduct fatal to our welfare? The supposition would impeach every attribute of his character. If he hath the hearts of all entirely in his hand; if he doeth his pleasure in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of earth; if he controls every event from the falling of a sparrow to the revolutions of an empire and a world; if all his attributes are pledged for the protection of such as obey his will, and trust his promises for safety; can we doubt that he will fulfil those promises in their actual preservation from danger?

To this question, the history not only of the Israelites, but of Christian missionaries in every age, gives a most triumphant answer. They have gone forth to combat the errors and sins of a world lying in wickedness; and while assailing time-hallowed prejudices, and thus provoking both anger and revenge, they have for the most part been safe under the invisible but omnipotent and almighty protection of Him who called them to such perilous, godlike services. Look at the herald of the cross. He is far away from his native land, with no promise or hope of safety from its power; he takes up his abode in Greenland or Caffraria, among savages and cannibals; he has no means whatever of defence, but, like a lamb among wolves, is entirely at the mercy of men inured to blood, and steeled to compassion. Yet is the missionary safe even there. Trusting in his character, in his work, in his God, he walks unharmed, and sleeps without fear, in the midst of those whose chief business is the butchery of mankind. The warrior just returned from battle, the savage holding still in his hand the green scalps of his victims, the cannibal fresh from the taste of human flesh, all unite in spontaneous deference to the man of peace, the messenger of love from the Great Spirit to his wild, wandering children. There is no weapon of death in his hand, no word of menace on his lips, no scowl of defiance or malice on his brow; and the rude, untutored sons of nature welcome