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It is the same with the raging passions of man, as with these storms on the ocean, with this raging element of fire. By and in these the human species has sharpened its reason, and invented a thousand means, regulations, and arts, not only to restrain them, but even to turn them to advantage, as all history shows. A race of men without passions would never have cultivated their understanding; they would have still lain as troglodytes in some cave.
Man-devouring war, for example, was during ages the trade of robbery rudely exercised. It was long the practice of men swayed by turbulent passions; for while personal strength, cunning, and address, were its requisites, it could cherish only the dangerous virtues of robbers and murderers, even in those who possessed the most laudable qualities; as the wars of ancient times, of the Middle Ages, and even some of modern date, abundantly testify. But in the midst of this depraving trade the art of war was invented, perhaps involuntarily; for the inventors of this art perceived not, that it would sap the foundations of war itself. In proportion as the art of fighting became a profound study, and various mechanical inventions were introduced into it, the passions and brute strength of individuals became useless. Soldiers were converted into mere machines, moved by the mind of a single general, and at the order of a few commanders; till at length sovereigns alone were permitted to play this dangerous and costly game, while in ancient times almost all warlike nations were continually in arms. We have seen proofs of this in several Asiatic nations, and not less in the Greeks and Romans. The latter were for centuries almost constantly in the field: the Volscian war continued 106 years; the Samnite, 71: the city of Veii was besieged ten years, like a second Troy: and the destructive Peloponnesian war of 28 years among the Greeks is sufficiently known. But as in all wars, to fall in battle is the least of evils, while the diseases and devastation, that attend the motions of an army, or the siege of a town, with the lawless spirit of plunder, that then pervades all ranks and conditions, are much greater evils, which passion-stirring war calls forth in a thousand frightful forms; we may thank the Greeks and Romans, and still more the inventors of gunpowder and firearms, for having reduced the most savage trade to an art, and latterly indeed the most honorable art of crowned heads. Since kings have personally engaged in this game of honor, with armies as devoid of passion as numerous, we are secured from sieges of ten years duration, or wars of seventy, carried on merely for the honor of the commander; for the very magnitude of an army is sufficient to prevent the continuance of war. Thus, conformably to an unalterable law of nature, the evil itself has produced some good; the art of war having suppressed in a certain degree the practice of warfare. This art has likewise diminished plunder and devastation, if not from philanthropy, yet for the honor of the general. The laws of war, and the treatment of prisoners, are become incomparably milder, than they were even among the Greeks; not to mention the public security, which first existed merely in warlike states. The whole Roman Empire, for instance, enjoyed security in its highways, as they were covered by the wings of its eagles; while traveling was dangerous to a foreigner in Asia and Africa, and even in Greece, because in these countries a general spirit of security was wanting. Thus the poison was converted into a medicine, as soon as it came into the hands of art: generations indeed were swept away, but the immortal whole outlived the sufferings of the parts that disappeared, and learned good even from evil.
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