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knowledge as to the nature of the evil and its true remedy. This is surely not Peace-at-any-price, but practical good sense.
But a grave and definite charge has been laid against the Peace Society, which is considered to be unanswerable evidence of the mischievous tendency of its proceedings. The assertion is constantly made by persons who ought to be better informed, that a heavy responsibility lies at its door in connection with the Crimean War! Over and over again, during the late election contests, and on other occasions, the statement has been put forward in most unqualified terms, that but for a deputation which the Peace Society sent to St. Petersburg that war would probably never have broken out! Even so accurate and impartial a writer as Mr. Justin M'Carthy falls into this popular error, so far as regards the origin of the delegation, and gravely records it as if it were historic truth.
Now the fact is that the Peace Society never sent any deputation to Russia, and had nothing whatever to do with such an undertaking. The Society of Friends as a Christian Church-when the nation was on the brink of war, when statesmen had almost abandoned the helm, and surrendered the ship to the furious drift of a blind, unreasoning passion-did, as a forlorn hope, and as a religious duty, send three of its members to wait upon the Emperor of Russia, in the name of Christ, and in the interests of righteousness and truth. They had laboured in vain at home to stem the torrent of mad passion, and they now made a final appeal to the other side. But how utterly unfounded and absurd is the charge that their effort in this direction precipitated the war, will be seen by the following dates :
It is plain from these figures that the Rubicon had been passed, and the war had practically begun, before these brave men, undismayed by the frantic scorn of excited multitudes, set out on their noble enterprise. And history will some day record how near they were to the attainment of their end; how eagerly the Emperor clutched at the chance unexpectedly presented, of withdrawing from the strife with honour, by accepting the appeals of religion and philanthropy; and how this growing resolve was frustrated by the arrival of the mail from England with full details of the defiant and warlike attitude of the English Parliament and press. And some day, perhaps, it will be felt by Christian people to be a wonder and a shame, that in the nineteenth century of the Christian era, when the nations of Europe were on the brink of a dreadful strife, which a few years afterwards men of all parties united in regarding as a ghastly and
gigantic blunder, which the historian tells us condemned a million of people to destruction, only one Christian Church came forward to remonstrate in the name of Christ, and to plead for peace!
As regards that unorganised body of politicians which is often called the Peace party, a section of which has come to be known as the Manchester School, but little need be said. It may, perhaps, be considered to include such men as the present Lord Derby, whose sympathies are undoubtedly on the side of a pacific policy, and who once said: When you attempt to set things right by war, you run the risk of producing a greater amount of misery than you came to remedy. You cannot in public, any more than in private, do violent and aggressive acts without inspiring distrust, and to inspire distrust is a source of weakness.' The Bishop of Manchester would surely be willing to rank himself in this party, since he once declared that 'he considered it nothing less than a monstrous anachronism that nations should still be found settling their quarrels, not before the tribunals of equity and reason, but by the brutal and irrational arbitrament of the sword.'
In the Peace party we may also probably include a considerable proportion of Liberal politicians, whose antagonism to the foreign policy of Lord Beaconsfield's Government has been largely based upon their discontent with all military doings that are not the outcome of stern necessity. But it needs no argument or lengthened quotations to show that these men are by no means for a Peace-atany-price policy. Even the late Mr. Cobden, perhaps the most pronounced member of the party-who for his zeal in the cause has been sometimes called the Apostle of Peace-again and again asserted that it was the duty of the British Government to maintain its navy in supreme force, and to keep the army in sufficient strength for the defence of the empire.
After all, it must be admitted that there is one class of men in the world whose action constantly leads to the policy-nay, the necessity-of Peace-at-any-price. These are the extreme military people, the men of blood and iron,' who despise moral force, who are easily scared into panics, and whose only faith is in gunpowder. There is no disputing the fact that the policy and the doings of these people are almost certain to result at last in one of the contending parties, according to the fortune of war, being driven to accept,— not the decision of reason and equity, but Peace-at-any-price! History is often little else than a record of events leading to these humiliating conclusions. At the end of our American War, in 1783, England, having adopted a 'spirited' and despotic policy towards her colonies, had, so far as the point in dispute was concerned, to accept Peace-at-any-price. During the course of the long French war which closed at Waterloo, Prussia and Austria, whose governments had precipitated that war by their shameful interference with the affairs of France, had to submit to the same penalty. At the close of the war, France, led astray by a military adventurer, was reduced to the same humiliating terms.
sive policy in France, under another Napoleon, brought similarly disastrous results in 1871. In neither of these cases was there any dispute which, if rationally and fairly considered, need have brought in its settlement any humiliation.
The method of force often condemns those who are notoriously in the wrong. But the fortune of war has no regard for either justice or right, and smites the innocent and aggrieved at least equally with the guilty and the oppressor. Poland, Hungary, Denmark, China with her opium grievance, are as ruthlessly struck down, and brought to accept Peace-at-any-price, as the most lawless banditti. It must needs be so, of a system which is based upon nothing but brute force. The arbitrament of the sword leans unmistakably to the side, not of justice, but of the strongest battalions.
On this aspect of the subject it would be easy to enlarge, for everywhere it is practically the same story. The appeal to the sword compels the acceptance of humiliation, of Peace-at-any-price, by at least half the appellants. On the other hand, the appeal to reason honourably accepted, is found to result in the satisfactory removal of the cause of dispute without humiliation, and in the establishment of an entente cordiale between the disputants. As we estimate facts and weigh the evidence, we find that it is the Peace party which stands out as both courageous and moral in its policy, and practical in its aims. The believers in war, on the other hand, are the timid party, scared by imaginary terrors, and often blustering and overbearing in a policy which after all issues in the acceptance by one or other of the combatants of Peace-at-any-price.
Lord Beaconsfield has revived for us a grand watchword, which might be accepted as the motto of the party we have been seeking to defend-Peace with honour!-Peace springing from freedom and goodwill, and based on justice and law. The old Puritan poet tells
They err who count it glorious to subdue
But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter and enslave,
The nineteenth century was ushered in amidst war and bloodshed, producing inconceivable misery for thousands. Let us hope that it will close in amity, and that the European Concert' may grow into a federation of reason and righteousness guarding the peace of the world! WILLIAM POLLARD.
INVERAWE AND TICONDEROGA.
was in the dreary autumn of 1877 that in the dark woods of Roseneath I heard the following tale from the parish clergyman who ministers with so much ability to the inhabitants of that famous and beautiful spot. I repeat it in the first instance as it was repeated to me, reserving to a subsequent page the variations which further investigations have rendered necessary.
In the middle of the last century the chief of the Campbells of Inverawe had been giving an entertainment at his castle on the banks of the Awe. The party had broken up and Campbell was left He was roused by a violent knocking at the gate, and was surprised at the appearance of one of his guests, with torn garments and dishevelled hair, demanding admission. 'I have killed a man, and I am pursued by enemies. I beseech you to let me in. Swear upon your dirk-upon the cruachan or hip where your dirk restsswear by Ben Cruachan '-that you will not betray me.' Campbell swore, and placed the fugitive in a secret place in the house. Presently there was a second knocking at the gate. It was a party of his guests, who said, 'Your cousin Donald has been killed; where is the murderer?' At this announcement Campbell remembered the great oath which he had sworn, gave an evasive answer, and sent off the pursuers in a wrong direction. He then went to the fugitive and said, 'You have killed my cousin Donald. I cannot keep you here.' The murderer appealed to his oath, and persuaded Campbell to let him stay for the night. Campbell did so, and retired to rest. In the visions of that night the blood-stained Donald appeared to him with these words: Inverawe, Inverawe, blood has been shed; shield not the murderer.' In the morning Campbell went to his guest, and told him that any further shelter was impossible. He took him, however, to a cave in Ben Cruachan, and there left him. The night again closed in, and Campbell again slept, and again the bloodstained Donald appeared. Inverawe, Inverawe, blood has been shed; shield not the murderer.' On the morning he went to the cave on the mountain, and the murderer had fled. Again at night he slept, and again the blood-stained Donald rose before him and said, 'Inverawe, Inverawe, blood has been shed. We shall not meet again till we meet at Ticonderoga.' He woke in the morning, and behold it was a dream. But the story of the triple apparition
It was not clear whether the oath was by Ben Cruachan, or by cruachan,' the
hip where the dirk rests.
Cruachan ' is the hip or haunch of a man.
remained by him, and he often told it amongst his kinsmen, asking always what the ghost could mean by this mysterious word of their final rendezvous.
In 1758 there broke out the French and English war in America, which after many rebuffs ended in the conquest of Quebec by General Wolfe. Campbell of Inverawe went out with the Black Watch, the 42nd Highland regiment, afterwards so famous. There, on the eve of an engagement, the general came to the officers and said, "We had better not tell Campbell the name of the fortress which we are to attack to-morrow. It is Ticonderoga. Let us call it Fort George.' The assault took place in the morning. Campbell was mortally wounded. He sent for the general. These were his last words: 'General, you have deceived me; I have seen him again. This is Ticonderoga.'
The story, romantic in itself, was the more impressive from the fact that Ticonderoga was a name familiar to me from the monuments in the south aisle of Westminster Abbey to two officers killed in that disastrous affair. One is to Lord Howe, erected by 'the Province of Massachusetts Bay,' not yet the State of Massachusetts. The other is to Colonel Townsend, with the fortress carved on the monument, and two Red Indians underneath it.2
When in the following year, 1878, I visited America, I was resolved, if possible, to explore the place and discover any traces of Campbell of Inverawe. It was on a delightful evening spent at Hartford in Connecticut with that flower of the American Episcopate, Bishop Williams, who had made the lakes of those regions his especial study, that I repeated the story of Campbell of Inverawe, which he had never heard before. We arranged for a rendezvous on the spot at a later time of my journey. We shall not meet again till we meet at Ticonderoga.' It so happened that unexpected engagements prevented the good Bishop from keeping his appointment, and we were therefore compelled to visit the spot without the benefit of his guidance.
Ticonderoga is situated on the isthmus which unites Lake George with Lake Champlain. These two lakes, in connection with the Hudson which runs as it were to their feet, in those early days of American history, were the great thoroughfare of the country-the only means of penetrating through the dense masses of tangled forest which then as now overhung them from rock, and pinnacle, and hill. Lake George especially was the Loch Katrine of those highlands, and the natural features gave additional interest to the movements of English or French armies on the surface of its waters. I venture to give a brief memorandum supplied for our journey by Bishop Williams. It conveys much interesting information:
Its Indian name was Canaderioit-meaning, the Tail of the Lake,
2 The date on the monument is 1759, but this is probably a mistake for 1758.