oppose it by intervention at the proper time.

An invasion, to be successful, must, be proportioned in magnitude to the end to be attained and to the obstacles to be overcome.

An invasion against an exasperated people, ready for all sacrifices and likely to be aided by a powerful neighbor, is a dangerous enterprise, as was well proved by the war in Spain, (1808,) and by the wars of the Revolution in 1792, 1793, and 1794. In these latter wars, if France was better prepared than Spain, she had no powerful ally, and she was attacked by all Europe upon both land and sea.

Although the circumstances were different, the Russian invasion of Turkey developed, in some respects, the same symptoms of national resistance. The religious hatred of the Ottoman powerfully incited him to arms; but the same motive was powerless among the Greeks, who were twice as numerous as the Turks. Had the interests of the Greeks and Turks been harmonized, as were those of Alsace with France, the united people would have been stronger, but they would have lacked the element of religious fanaticism. The war of 1828 proved that Turkey was formidable only upon the frontiers, where her bravest troops were found, while in the interior all was weakness.

When an invasion of a neighboring territory has nothing to fear from the inhabitants, the principles of strategy shape its course. The popular feeling rendered the invasions of Italy, Austria, and Prussia so prompt. (These military points are treated of in Article XXIX.) But when the invasion is distant and extensive territories intervene, its success will depend more upon diplomacy than upon strategy. The first step to insure success will be to secure the sincere and devoted alliance of a state adjoining the enemy, which will afford reinforcements of troops, and, what is still more important, give a secure base of operations, depots of supplies, and a safe refuge in case of disaster. The ally must have the same interest in success as the invaders, to render all this possible.

Diplomacy, while almost decisive in distant expeditions, is not powerless in adjacent invasions; for here a hostile intervention may arrest the most brilliant successes. The invasions of Austria in 1805 and 1809 might have ended differently if Prussia had interfered. The invasion of the North of Germany in 1807 was, so to speak, permitted by Austria. That of Rumelia in 1829 might have ended in disaster, had not a wise statesmanship by negotiation obviated all chance of intervention.

ARTICLE VII.

Wars of Opinion.

Although wars of opinion, national wars, and civil wars are sometimes confounded, they differ enough to require separate notice.

Wars of opinion may be intestine, both intestine and foreign, and, lastly, (which, however, is rare,) they may be foreign or exterior without being intestine or civil.

Wars of opinion between two states belong also to the class of wars of intervention; for they result either from doctrines which one party desires to propagate among its neighbors, or from dogmas which it desires to crush,—in both cases leading to intervention. Although originating in religious or political dogmas, these wars are most deplorable; for, like national wars, they enlist the worst passions, and become vindictive, cruel, and terrible.

The wars of Islamism, the Crusades, the Thirty Years' War, the wars of the League, present nearly the same characteristics. Often religion is the pretext to obtain political power, and the war is not really one of dogmas. The successors of Mohammed cared more to extend their empire than to preach the Koran, and Philip II., bigot as he was, did not sustain the League in France for the purpose of advancing the Roman Church. We agree with M. Ancelot that Louis IX., when he went on a crusade in Egypt, thought more of the commerce of the Indies than of gaining possession of the Holy Sepulcher.

The dogma sometimes is not only a pretext, but is a powerful ally; for it excites the ardor of the people, and also creates a party. For instance, the Swedes in the Thirty Years' War, and Philip II. in France, had allies in the country more powerful than their armies. It may, however, happen, as in the Crusades and the wars of Islamism, that the dogma for which the war is waged, instead of friends, finds only bitter enemies in the country invaded; and then the contest becomes fearful.

The chances of support and resistance in wars of political opinions are about equal. It may be recollected how in 1792 associations of fanatics thought it possible to propagate throughout Europe the famous declaration of the rights of man, and how governments became justly alarmed, and rushed to arms probably with the intention of only forcing the lava of this volcano back into its crater and there extinguishing it. The means were not fortunate; for war and aggression are inappropriate measures for arresting an evil which lies wholly in the human passions, excited in a temporary paroxysm, of less duration as it is the more violent. Time is the true remedy for all bad passions and for all anarchical doctrines. A civilized nation may bear the yoke of a factious and unrestrained multitude for a short interval; but these storms soon pass away, and reason resumes her sway. To attempt to restrain such a mob by a foreign force is to attempt to restrain the explosion of a mine when the powder has already been ignited: it is far better to await the explosion and afterward fill up the crater than to try to prevent it and to perish in the attempt.

After a profound study of the Revolution, I am convinced that, if the Girondists and National Assembly had not been threatened by foreign armaments, they would never have dared to lay their sacrilegious hands upon the feeble but venerable head of Louis XVI. The Girondists would never have been crushed by the Mountain but for the reverses of Dumouriez and the threats of invasion. And if they had been permitted to clash and quarrel with each other to their hearts' content, it is probable that, instead of giving place to the terrible Convention, the Assembly would slowly have returned to the restoration of good, temperate, monarchical doctrines, in accordance with the necessities and the immemorial traditions of the French.

In a military view these wars are fearful, since the invading force not only is met by the armies of the enemy, but is exposed to the attacks of an exasperated people. It may be said that the violence of one party will necessarily create support for the invaders by the formation of another and opposite one; but, if the exasperated party possesses all the public resources, the armies, the forts, the arsenals, and if it is supported by a large majority of the people, of what avail will be the support of the faction which possesses no such means? What service did one hundred thousand Vendeans and one hundred thousand Federalists do for the Coalition in 1793?

History contains but a single example of a struggle like that of the Revolution; and it appears to clearly demonstrate the danger of attacking an intensely-excited nation. However the bad management of the military operations was one cause of the unexpected result, and before deducing any certain maxims from this war, we should ascertain what would have been the result if after the flight of Dumouriez, instead of destroying and capturing fortresses, the allies had informed the commanders of those fortresses that they contemplated no wrong to France,