[ 52 ] [JAN. 



WAR : ITS USES. 



To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. 



I BEL i EVE, Mr. Editor, it is Lady Mary Wortley Montague who says that 

 she considers the world as having now attained the age of FIFTEEN; and 

 that our wars remind her of the boxing matches of schoolboys, who fight 

 without very well knowing for what. I do not remember this lively 

 lady's words ; but I have no doubt that she has said in ten syllables as 

 much as such a dull dog as I am would require ten lines for. " At some 

 future day," I think she goes on to say, " the world will arrive at the 

 age of FIFTY or SIXTY:" and then, I presume, we shall discover that 

 all this was very foolish ; and, like Pyrrhus, be content to sit down to 

 our wine v and be happy. 



How many lustrums go to a minute of the world's life, is a problem 

 in calculation which the Phoenix and the Sun fire-offices have not yet 

 pretended to solve ; and therefore I should be much obliged to Mr. 

 Morgan, or Mr. Babbage, if they could throw any light upon the 

 matter. 



The divine gentlemen, indeed, have at times offered us a variety of 

 calculations on the subject ; but the worst of it is, that they do not 

 agree. They go on squabbling about the Millenium, which answers, I 

 suppose, to about FOURSCORE of this tedious, halting, snail-paced globe, 

 or to a hundred and thirty (for aught I know), if it was originally built 

 on the proportional model of old Parr. Probably that is the very reason 

 why this said Millenium is not yet arrived, as it ought to have done a 

 long time ago. 



When it is to come, I really cannot inform you : yet when it does 

 come, I shall be very sorry ; though I have been a good deal fatigued 

 and deafened in my life-time with " gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss, 

 and thunder." The fact is, Mr. Editor, that I am on half pay ; so that 

 while old " FIFTEEN" is at this vagary, there is nothing left for us, her 

 children, but to go on beating each other's eyes to a state of caliginosity 

 and nigirescence. For in time, we must hope, the old fool of FIFTEEN 

 will begin again to divide itself against itself; gaining just as much by 

 that operation (but that is between you and me) as Beelzebub would 

 do if he was ass enough to try the same experiment: eating off 

 its own head, mining its own intestines, crimsoning its own green waters, 

 obscuring its own fair sunshine with fiery and sulphureous vapours ; 

 sinking, burning, cutting, slaying, hacking, hewing, marauding, thieving, 

 plundering, bombarding, trumpeting, spearing, shooting, thundering, 

 smoking, starving, fortifying, besieging, drumming, ravishing, taxing, 

 debating, bullying, diplomatizing, cannon-founding, ship-building, making 

 treaties, breaking treaties, digging up villanous saltpetre, tailoring 

 uniforms, amputating legs, trepanning skulls, issuing brevets, and per- 

 suading itself that it is a noble, glorious, chivalrous, brilliant, honourable, 

 generous, enviable, immortal thing, to put on a fool's coat, sell itself to 

 slavery fora guinea, and run its head into the mouth of a cannon for a 

 shilling, whenever it is ordered. 



What a glorious thing is war ! What are its causes, what are its 

 proceedings, what are its effects, what are its uses ? Are these all the 

 categories which the question involves ? the quo, quomodo, quando, 

 f/uarc, and all the other Q's which the Magister and his followers have 

 regimented ? No What are its beauties, its blessings, its delights, its 



