7. You may not kill your prisoners of war; but you may order your soldiers not to take any.
8. You may not ask a ransom for your prisoners; but you may more than cover their cost in the lump sum you exact for the expenses of the war.
9. You may not purposely destroy churches, hospitals, museums, or libraries; but ‘military exigencies’ will cover your doing so, as they will almost anything else you choose to do in breach of any other restrictions on your conduct.
And it is into these absurdities that the reasonings of Grotius and his followers have led us. The real dreamers, it appears, have been, not those who, like Henri IV., Sully, St. Pierre, or Kant, have dreamed of a world without wars, but those who have dreamed of wars waged without lawlessness, passion, or crime. On them be thrown back the taunts of Utopianism which they have showered so long on the only view of the matter which is really logical and consistent. On them, at least, rests the shadow, and must rest the reproach, of an egregious failure, unless recent wars are of no account and teach no lesson. And if their failure be real and signal, what remains for those who wish for better things, and for some check on deeds that threaten our civilisation, but to turn their backs on the instructors they once trusted; to light their fires rather than to load their shelves with Grotius, Vattel, and the rest; and to throw in their lot for the future with the opinion, hitherto despised, though it was Kant’s, and the endeavour hitherto discredited, though it was Henry the Great’s, Sully’s, and Elizabeth’s—the opinion, that is, that it were easier to abolish war than to humanise it, and that only in the growth of a spirit of international confidence lies any possible hope of its ultimate extinction?
[CHAPTER II.]
WARFARE IN CHIVALROUS TIMES.
Voi m’avete fatto tornare quest’arte del soldo quasi che nulla, ed io ne l’aveva presupposta la più eccellente e la più onorevole che si facesse.—Machiavelli, Dell’Arte della Guerra.
Delusion about character of war in days of chivalry—The common slaughter of women and children—The Earl of Derby’s sack of Poitiers—The massacres of Grammont and Gravelines—The old poem of the Vow of the Heron—The massacre of Limoges by Edward the Black Prince—The imprisonment of ladies for ransom—Prisoners of war starved to death; or massacred, if no prospect of ransom; or blinded or otherwise mutilated—The meaning of a surrender at discretion, as illustrated by Edward III. at Calais; and by several instances in the same and the next century—The practice of burning in aid of war; and of destroying sacred buildings—The practice of poisoning the air—The use of barbarous weapons—The influence of religion on war—The Church in vain on the side of peace—Curious vows of the knights—The slight personal danger incurred in war by them—The explanation of their magnificent costume—Field-sports in war-time—The desire of gain the chief motive to war—The identity of soldiers and brigands—The career and character of the Black Prince—The place of money in the history of chivalry—Its influence as a war-motive between England and France—General low character of chivalrous warfare.
For an impartial estimate of the custom of war, the best preparation is a study of its leading features in the days of chivalry. Not only are most of our modern military usages directly descended from that period, though many claim a far remoter ancestry, and go back to the days of primitive savagery, but it is the tradition of chivalry that chiefly keeps alive the delusion that it is possible for warfare to be conducted with humanity, generosity, and courtesy.