of wearing a sword, without the least hope of pardon: this would be the most proper method to restrain men of spirit, provided that due care was taken to make a distinction between different offenders, according to the degree of the offence. As to persons below the rank of nobility, and who do not belong to the army, their quarrels should be left to the cognisance of the ordinary courts, which, in case of bloodshed, should punish the offenders according to the common laws against violence and murder. It should be the same with respect to any quarrel that might arise between a commoner and a man entitled to carry arms: it is the business of the ordinary magistrate to preserve order and peace between those two classes of men, who cannot have any points of honour to settle, the one with the other. To protect the people against the violence of those who wear the sword, and to punish the former severely, if they should dare to insult the latter, should further be, as it is at present, the business of the magistrate.
I am sanguine enough to believe that these regulations, and this method of proceeding, if strictly adhered to, would extirpate that monster, duelling, which the most severe laws have been unable to restrain. They go to the source of the evil by preventing quarrels, and oppose a lively sensation of true and real honour to that false and punctilious honour which occasions the spilling of so much blood. It would be worthy a great monarch to make a trial of it: its success would immortalise his name; and by the bare attempt he would merit the love and gratitude of his people. <87>
The third Object of a good Government,—to fortify itself against external Attacks.
§177. A nation ought to fortify itself against external attacks.
We have treated at large of what relates to the felicity of a nation: the subject is equally copious and complicated. Let us now proceed to a third division of the duties which a nation owes to itself,—a third object of good government. One of the ends of political society is to defend itself with its combined strength against all external insult or violence (§15). If the society is not in a condition to repulse an aggressor, it is very imperfect,—it is unequal to the principal object of its destination, and cannot long subsist. The nation ought to put itself in such a state as to be able to repel and humble an unjust enemy: this is an important duty, which the care of its own perfection, and even of its preservation, imposes both on the state and its conductor.
It is its strength alone that can enable a nation to repulse all aggressors, to secure its rights, and render itself every where respectable. It is called upon by every possible motive, to neglect no circumstance that can tend to place it in this happy situation. The strength of a state consists in three things,—the number of the citizens, their military virtues, and their riches. Under this last article we may comprehend fortresses, artillery, arms, horses, ammunition, and, in general, all that immense apparatus at present necessary in war, since they can all be procured with money.
To increase the number of the citizens as far as it is possible or convenient, is then one of the first objects that claim the attentive care of the state or its conductor: and this will be successfully effected by complying with the obligation to procure the country a plenty of the necessaries of life,—by enabling the people to support their families with the fruits of their labour,—by giving proper directions that the poorer classes, and especially the husbandmen, be not harassed and oppressed by the levying of taxes,—by governing with mildness, and in a manner, which, instead of disgusting and dispersing the present subjects of the state, shall rather attract new ones,—and, finally, by encouraging marriage, after the example of the Romans. That nation, so attentive to every thing capable of increasing and supporting their power, made wise laws against celibacy (as we have already observed in §149), and granted privileges and exemptions to married men, particularly to those who had numerous families: laws that were equally wise and just, since a citizen who rears <88> subjects for the state, has a right to expect more favour from it than the man who chuses to live for himself alone.*.
Every thing tending to depopulate a country is a defect in a state not overstocked with inhabitants. We have already spoken of convents and the celibacy of priests. It is strange that establishments, so directly repugnant to the duties of a man and a citizen, as well as to the advantage and safety of society, should have found such favour, and that princes, instead of opposing them as it was their duty to do, should have protected and enriched them. A system of policy, that dextrously took advantage of superstition to extend its own power, led princes and subjects astray, caused them to mistake their real duties, and blinded sovereigns even with respect to their own interest. Experience seems at length to have opened the eyes of nations and their conductors; the pope himself (let us mention it to the honour of Benedict XIV.) endeavours gradually to reform so palpable an abuse; by his orders, none in his dominions are any longer permitted to take the vow of celibacy before they are twenty-five years of age. That wise pontiff gives the sovereigns of his communion a salutary example; he invites them to attend at length to the safety of their states,—to narrow at least, if they cannot entirely close up, the avenues of that sink that drains their dominions. Take a view of Germany; and there, in countries which are in all other respects upon an equal footing, you will see the protestant states twice as populous as the catholic ones. Compare the desert state of Spain with that of England teeming with inhabitants:—survey many fine provinces, even in France, destitute of hands to till the soil;—and then tell me, whether the many thousands of both sexes, who are now locked up in convents, would not serve God and their country infinitely better, by peopling those fertile plains with useful cultivators? It is true, indeed, that the catholic cantons of Switzerland are nevertheless very populous: but this is owing to a profound peace, and the nature of the government, which abundantly repair the losses occasioned by convents. Liberty is able to remedy the greatest evils; it is the soul of a state, and was with great justice called by the Romans alma Libertas.
A cowardly and undisciplined multitude are incapable of repulsing a warlike enemy: the strength of the state consists less in the number than the military virtues of its citizens. Valour, that heroic virtue which makes us undauntedly encounter danger <89> in defence of our country, is the firmest support of the state: it renders it formidable to its enemies, and often even saves it the trouble of defending itself. A state whose reputation in this respect is once well established, will be seldom attacked, if it does not provoke other states by its enterprises. For above two centuries the Swiss have enjoyed a profound peace, while the din of arms resounded all around them, and the rest of Europe was desolated by the ravages of war. Nature gives the foundation of valour; but various causes may animate it, weaken it, and even destroy it. A nation ought then to seek after and cultivate a virtue so useful; and a prudent sovereign will take all possible measures to inspire his subjects with it:—his wisdom will point out to him the means. It is this generous flame that animates the French nobility: fired with a love of glory and of their country, they fly to battle, and cheerfully spill their blood in the field of honour. To what an extent would they not carry their conquests, if that kingdom were surrounded by nations less warlike! The Briton, generous and intrepid, resembles a lion in combat; and in general, the nations of Europe surpass in bravery all the other people upon earth.
But valour alone is not always successful in war: constant success can only be obtained by an assemblage of all the military
