appealing to the conscience in general terms, they asked, with Alcuin, "where will be the proud ambition of secular pomp when the spirit returns to the Lord who gave it ?"* “O, wondrous and miserable condition of men," exclaims Bartholomew de Neo Castro, "O, wondrous prodigy of divine power! Those whom we so lately beheld in glory are now prostrated. O ye, therefore, who glory in the world, learn that the turnings of this earth are in the hand of the Most High, and that besides the law of the Lord there is nothing durable. What profit is there in the favour and pomp of the sons of men, if laying aside the fear of Christ, you begin to rage against the innocent, and afterwards are struck and removed by the hand of the Lord? Learn whom you ought to fear in heaven, and whom to love on earth, that you may dread the Lord of heaven, and never rise up against your brethren."+ The school, however, had its formal decisions, following the holy fathers, which it adduced in all treatises on government. "To wage war upon neighbouring countries," it said with St. Augustin, "and then to proceed against others, like Ninus, who was the first to wage such wars, and to attack and subdue nations through the desire of empire, is nothing but robbery on a great scale. Kingdoms so extended are great robberies, just as robberies are little kingdoms. Only when the evil gains such increase that places are seized, cities occupied, and peopled subdued, the name of kingdom is applied to them, which changes nothing, for the cupidity is the same, only in this case there is added impunity.""If with the wish of killing another," says St. Bernard, addressing the Templars, and alluding to secular warfare, "you should happen to be slain, you will die guilty of homicide. If you prevail, and with the will of conquering, or of punishing, should slay a man, you will live guilty of homicide: but it is not expedient for you, whether dead or alive, conqueror or conquered, to be guilty of homicide." The church knew the evils consequent on peace, but her voice was that of St. Augustin, who said that "it was better to pay the penalty of indolence than to seek the glory of arms, and afford the impious spectacle of nation warring against nation." Writing to king Ethelred, and to the princes and people of Northumberland, Alcuin says, "The sweetness of holy love often compels me to admonish you to maintain that peace which ought to be between you." To the former he says, "Amongst the good works, by which you can ascend to heaven, are the charity of God, the love of men, and mercy to men, and patience and benignity to all men. Let no secular ambition, no desire of vengeance upon enemies impede your course, but run while you have light, work while it is day, that you may come to eternal light, and with Christ and his saints to everlasting glory. A king must not desire to seize the inheritance of others, for the rapacious shall never possess the kingdom of God. See how your predecessors perished on account of their rapines. Alas! how miserably will they be tormented in eternal pains! Have peace with each other, and benignity, and mercy, and justice; and by concord let your kingdom be maintained.”* The sermon of John Gerson, chancellor of Paris, before the king of France and his nobles in 1408, beginning with the words of Isaiah, "Veniat pax," will show with what eloquence the scholastic and mystic wisdom of peace was announced to monarchs down to the close of the middle ages. Indeed, many of the ancient laws and ordinances commence with declaring that nothing better than peace can be obtained in this life. But let us hear what was taught by laymen respecting this beatitude. "War," says Savedra, "is a violence opposed to the nature and end of man, whom God has formed in His own image, and to whom He has imparted a share of His power over all things for their preservation, but not for their destruction." That kings must prefer an honest peace to a useful war was the maxim of every writer who touched upon the subject.|| Petrarch, in a letter to Andrew Dandolo, doge of Venice, after reminding him that he had from the first exhorted him to preserve Italy from war, continues thus: "Beware, lest when nature has made you mild and pacific, and not you only, but all your people, whose happiness depends, not on the success of wars, but on the maintenance of peace and justice, you should seem to be of the herd of those who, as the psalmist says, thought iniquity in their hearts, and all day long urged battles. For nothing, I think, is more odious to God than when He Ap. de Civ. Dei, iii. 14. + Gersonii Op. tom. iv. Carol. v. in Procem. Leg. Reg. Capit. Christian Prince, ii. 321. Joan. Palatius, Aquila inter lilia, x. 2. has adorned you with some especial gift, or virtue, of your own accord, to endeavour to become evil. Follow then, not the fury of the vulgar, but your own nature, and withdraw your foot while there is time, while, as yet, between the bitter and horrible threats of war, one can still hear pronounced the sweetest name of peace, that you may be called the peace-maker of Italy, and transmit that glorious title to posterity. I beseech and implore you; I conjure you, by the love of virtue, by the love of your country, by the five wounds of Christ, through which issued that most sacred and innocent blood which has redeemed us, not to despise this counsel."* In another letter to the same duke, he says, Though armed, think of peace, love peace, and be assured that you can win no more brilliant triumph, and endow your country with no richer spoil than peace. When it is a question of war, I would use the words of Hannibal, who, though of all men the most warlike, said, as if the words were extorted from his lips by Truth, that a certain peace is better and safer than a hoped-for victory.' And if he, who burned with such a desire of conquering, and who disturbed peace throughout the whole world, said this, what will be urged by the friend of peace? Will he not say, better and holier is a certain peace than a certain victory; because the one is replete with calm, and brightness, and grace, and the other with labour, and crime, and insolence? What is pleasanter than peace? what sweeter? what happier? Never can I understand what pleasure there can be in making war upon men, who under other circumstances, would expose their breasts for your safety as for their own. They can tell this who feel an effeminate delight in the revenge of injuries. But it is better to forget than to punish, to appease than to destroy an enemy. Gentleness is the part of men, rage of wild animals, and of those only the most ignoble. If my voice can be heard in your grave deliberations, not only you will not reject peace when it approaches, but you will go forth to meet, and, with a close embrace, to welcome it, that it may remain with you for ever."† That the new law of forgiveness was binding even upon states, and that public measures opposed to it were the evil deeds of worldly men, was a lesson taught by the great Dominican who filled the see of Genoa: "It would be long," he says, "to tell of the victorious deeds of our state; therefore, we shall only speak of four of these; for every city has duties to fulfil towards God, towards itself, towards its friends, and towards its enemies. It is bound to evince honour to God, to procure common benefits for itself, to give consolation to its friends, and, according to the evangelic rule, to show love to its enemies; but as worldly men desire rather to have victories over enemies than to show them charity, after relating how well our city has fulfilled the three first of these obligations, we shall have to speak of its victories by arms in ancient and modern times."* In fact, novel as the assertion may seem to those who only read Froissart, the historians of the middle ages speak in general with regret of all warlike deeds. It is not in their volumes that we should find a parallel to the seventh book of Cæsar's Commentaries, where he describes, in the polished easy style of Madame de Sevigné, the terrible wars of conquest in Gaul, which led to such immense results, so smoothly relating the numbers of the slain, and the shocking amounts of amputated limbs. In relation to such events they might have chosen for their motto the verse referring to a battle in Ireland, cited by "the Four Masters," which says, "the poet sung not the slaughter of that field, for he came away from it with sadness in his heart;" or these lines of Fulbert of Chartres : In quâ fortes ceciderunt Prælio doctissimi, Pater, mater, soror, frater, The chronicles of St. Denis might justly praise the French for defending their country against merciless invaders; and yet, speaking of the wars between Philip of Valois and the king of England, they only say, "This was a year of misery and confusion; for, between the two kings, there was nothing done which deserves praise: but the churches and the poor common people were aggrieved, to the dishonour of all Christendom, which these princes ought to have sustained."+ When James de Voragine speaks of the victory of his countrymen, the Genoese, over the Pisans, in 1245, which was in his day, he exclaims, "But it would move compassion to mention what was the slaughter of the Pisans." Relating how the Genoese and Venetians were about to engage, Raphagni Caresini, chancellor of Venice, says, "It would have softened the hardest hearts of stone to see two of the most notable and powerful communities of the world intent upon destroying each other by sea and land."S Speaking of the wars of the Normans and , others, another ancient writer says, "What tongue would suffice to describe all the desolations, and slaughter, and horror of every kind which followed! Alas! it would shame me to tell of what happened during that time in the Church of Christ: but these are the Divine judgments, which, though hidden to mortals, are yet, in the providence of God, never unjust. Otho of Frisengen, in this respect laudable, says, in his Prologue to the emperor Frederic I., that he esteems happy those who are now to write history, since there is a return of peace, and that the virtues of the reigning Cæsar promise a long and happy rest to the people of the empire. It is in consequence of the encouragement he draws from the cessation of war that he undertakes to record the deeds of Frederic."¶ Francis Carpensari of Parma begins his history of Italy, in his own times, with pathetic lamentations, on account of the From a MS. of the eleventh century, in the ancient Abbey of St. Martial, at Limoges. + Ad an. 1340. Jac. Vorag. Chronic. Januens. Ap. Mur. Rer. It. Script. ix. Raph. Car. Continuat. Chronic. And. Danduli, ap. Mur. Rer. It. Script. xii. Hist. Monast. S. Florentii, Salmar. ap. Mar tene Vet. Script. Collect. t. v. 1084. Ap. Mur. Rer. It. Script. vi. 66 ; wars of the French, under Louis XII. and Francis I., which had afflicted his country so long. Reflecting," he says, "as to the cause of these evils, which have disturbed my days since my boyhood, I concluded that it was nothing else but the ambition of a few, than which no pestilence is more fatal for this it is which subverts both public and private tranquillity, as in the days of Marius, Sylla, Julius Cæsar, and Poinpey. Always it has been the same study, the same insatiable rage, agitating the minds of men."* After relating the advice of Louis XII., on his death-bed, to Francis I., to carry on the war in Italy, he adds this terrible sentence: "For as he thirsted after warlike deeds while living, so going down to the dead, he had still the same solicitude, as if his bones would rest more softly when his ghost was appeased with hunan blood."† Speaking of the war of two years between the kings of France and England, caused by the Castle of Gisors, in 1109, the chroniclers of St. Denis say, "They came back to former love; but before this could be, there were many innocent people slain and destroyed." And Suger calls that war "an execrable perdition of men." Let us hear the preface of another historian. "I know not, venerable father, why you should have committed to me what you could execute better than any one else. You have commissioned me to write histories who are yourself full of histories, old and new. What I have written, therefore, is all to be ascribed to your command; and if you should order my whole work to be thrown into the flaines, I shall not be troubled. Four things, especially, seem to have excited the ancients to write histories: the glory of praise, the hope of gain, the love of eloquence, and a desire of imitation, of which I approve only of the last, and not even of that wholly, for will it profit you, or rather, how fatal will it not be to the salvation of your soul to emulate either Hector the brave, fighting for Troy, or direful Achilles, for the Greeks, or the beautiful Turnus, or the pious Æneas, waging war against each other, or, to go farther back still, the giants, as they say, sons of earth, taking up arms against God? These things, however grand, are, in imitation, most vain. What shall I say of the glory of praise, what of gain, what of inflated style? Nevertheless, such imitators have not been wholly frustrated in their aim. Carpensari Comment. suorum temp. L ap. id. tom. v. + Id. vii. Chroniques de St. Denis. They found what they sought. Their praise has ever been, and ever will be heard while the world lasts: but, oh, wretched men, who made war, and triumphed thus! Here is all your recompense, all the reward of your labour. You have nothing more to receive; but to a Christian man, who has a better hope, who not in this world alone expects to live, there should be a more reasonable ground and motive of action."* Honoré Bonnor begins his celebrated manual, the "Tree of Battles," saying, "But since I have chosen this matter, it has come into my imagination to make a tree of mourning at the commencement of my book, to signify the state of tribulation in which the holy church is at present from the wars between princes, and the disputes between the nobles and the communes." Walafried Strabo contrasts the historians of wars with those of the saints : "Si tantam meruere suo pro carmine famam A curious contrast with later writers occurs also in the desire of the old Catholic historians to avoid the least word that can possibly occasion animosities between the living. The Annalist of Modena speaks as follows: "In 1266 the Modenese besieged the Castle of Monte Valerio, in which were the Grasulfi and many nobles, who had been expelled by the Argones from Modena. One thousand persons were in the castle, many of whom were put to death by the besiegers, whose names, I think it is more honest to pass over for the sake of peace."‡ Finally, these historians generally take occasion to express their own earnest desire of peace. Thus William Ventura, in his history of Asti, says, "Though I have suffered many injuries, yet He, who knoweth all things, can witness that I have set down naught in malice. Only may he grant peace in our days;" a prayer to which we would, with a pure heart respond, Amen. "Fiat pax, Domine, fiat pax."§ Roderic Santius concludes his history of Spain by praying, Joan. Legatii Chronic. Crenobii S. Godehardi in Hildesheim Prol. ap. Leibnitz Script. Brunsvic. illustrant. ii. + De B. Blaithmaic ap. Canisii Lect. Antiq. ii. Annal. Veteres Mutinensium ap. Mur. Rer. It. Script. xi. § Chronic. Astense, c. 157. ap. id. xi. that the Most High may teach the reigning monarch, Henry IV., to direct himself and his subjects in the way of peace.* Lanckmann of Valckenstein, in the conclusion of his narrative, after stating that the empress Leonora has left a son, Maximilian, and a daughter, Cunegond, adds, "to whom may Almighty God grant pacific times. Amen."† And the bendiction of God on the Emperor Lewis is thus invoked by Walafried Strabo: "Pacem consilio faciat retinere salubri Quem paci æternæ muneribusque parat." On the other hand, the horror with which every idea of war was associated is often expressed in a very striking manner by the ancient writers. John de Monsterolio, secretary to Charles VI. of France, writes as follows to Benedict XI., who is celebrated, he says, throughout the world for his love of peace, which, in one word, expresses all good. "It is now about sixty years, as I have heard from my elders, since this war between kings commenced, the thought of which fills me || with bitterness. If I wished to relate the evils following from this war, I should not know where to begin. Who could describe the slaughter, robbery, burning of sacred places, and inhuman ferocities? O pious Jesu, who can relate with dry eyes how children were torn from their parents, and butchered before their eyes? O cruel deeds! O execrable barbarities! O heavens, to what times have we been reserved, when Christians thus persecute Christians? If the just can scarcely be saved, O what becomes of those multitudes living and dying thus?" Radulf Coggeshale describing the devastations caused by the wars of the kings of France and England in Richard's time, and the desolation of provinces which ensued from their dissensions, adds, "the divine wrath was not slow to avenge such great impiety, visiting the territories of both princes with pestilence and intemperate seasons during seven years."§ "What then," exclaims St. Bernard, "is the end of this, I do not say warfare, but malice—non dico militiæ, sed malitiæ-if the slayer sins mortally and the slain perishes eternally? Nothing causes wars between you, or dissensions, but either a movement of irrational anger, or a vain appetite of glory, Ap. Hispania Illustrata, tom. i. + Ap. Pez, Script. Rer. Aust. ii. Ap. Martene, Vet. Script. Collect. ii. p. 1315. Chronicon Anglicarum a. мCXCVIII. ap. Martene, Vet. Script. Collect. tom. v. or the cupidity of some earthly possession. Truly for such causes it is not safe either to slay or to be slain."* Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God will never. That the blos soms of each generation should be destroyed, that war should leave once happy parents destitute ere the cheek of him be clothed with down, who is now rocked with lullaby asleep, that the blood-stained sword destructive of young breasts, as the Greek poet Save, σπλάγχνων βλάβας νέων, furious with rage not caused by wine, should leave them to deplore a comfortless old age, these were reflections which inspired with an infinite horror of war, the vast multitude who sought to imitate Him, whose thoughts, as is declared, are of peace and not of affliction. On one occasion the duke of Burgundy having ordered that no quarter should be given to the Liegois, the body of the sire de Perwez who commanded them was found on the field of battle, still holding by the hand that of his son slain at his side. These were the spectacles, the bare mention of which disarmed the eloquence of vain orators, when they magnified the advantages of war. The mind's eye of those who heard them, was fixed on the father's agony; they wept not, they were silent; but not all the decorations of a conqueror, though like another Siccius Dentatus, he might wear fourteen civic, three mural, one obsidional, and eight golden crowns to mark his success in a hundred and twenty battles, could ever make such glory appear enviable again. An Irish synod in the eighth century, enumerating the evils of war, as consequent on a wicked king, notices even the sufferings of | animals, which are so multiplied in such times, not overlooking those groans of the expecting creature, of which the apostle so beautifully speaks. The hatred of war diffused throughout the people, is indicated strongly in these old national proverbs, one of which requires for an enemy who turns a silver bridge. The line of Prudentius was a popular axiom : a manuscript found in the abbey of S. Matthew at Treves, bears proof of the preponderance of the pacific desire: as in the lines "Pacis donum omnibus est bonum. Qui in pace fundantur non eradicantur. Incendium bellorum corruptio est morum. Bene credit qui neminem lædit." Even artists conspired to the same end. Spanish writers say that Aurelius, son of Alfonso the Catholic, is always painted with his face turned back, as if through shame not showing it, but, like another Cain, for having killed his brother.† It is very important to remark that Lucifer, the rst-born of the demons, was chiefly known in the middle ages under the title of "the enemy of peace." Such he is called in the chronicles of St. Denis, as where we read, relative to Louis-le-Débonnaire, "the enemy of peace did not suffer the holy devotion of the good man to be without battle, but endeavoured by himself and his members to trouble him in every manner." So also Ottobonus, the continuator of Caffari, speaking of the civil feuds in Genoa, in 1183, occasioned by the murder of Ingo de Frexia, says, "the seed of Satan fell and took root in the city." And in the book of the deeds of the Mareschal de Bouicaut, the parties of Guelph and Gibilline are described as "the diabolic custom Sown amongst the Italians by the enemy of hell."§ The holy Scriptures dictated such titles, for Solomon makes the absence of Satan synonymous with peace. "Requiem dedit mihi Dominus per circuitum, et non est Satan." "The demons," says Vincent of Beauvais, "fallen from the state of peace, endeavour multifariously to disturb our peace." Now observe how this idea was ever present upon suitable occasions. "In the second year of his reign," says a chronicle, the emperor Henry III. celebrated Pentecost at Mayence. Shortly before mass, while seats were preparing in the church, a quarrel arose between the men of the archbishop and those of the two abbots of St. Gall and Fulda, both of whom by usage were to sit with the emperor. The two parties came to blows; the bishops and princes hastened to appease the tumult; the combatants were reconciled; the church |