Dismissing the actual usage on the one side, and considerations of economy on the other, I would regard these Preparations in the simple light of reason, in a just appreciation of the nature of man, and in the injunctions of the highest truth. Our conclusion will be very easy. They are twice pernicious, and whoso would vindicate them must satisfactorily answer these two objections: _first_, that they inflame the people, exciting to deeds of violence, otherwise alien to the mind; and, _secondly_, that, having their origin in the low motives of distrust and hate, inevitably, by a sure law of the human mind, they excite to corresponding action in other nations. Thus, in fact, are they _promoters of War_, rather than _preservers of Peace_. In illustration of the _first_ objection, it will occur at once to every inquirer that the possession of power is in itself dangerous, tempting the purest and highest, and too rarely enjoyed without abuse. Nor is the power to employ force in War an exception. Nations possessing the greatest armaments are the most belligerent. It is the feebler powers which enjoy eras of Peace. Throughout more than seven hundred years of Roman history resounds the din of War, with only two short lulls of Peace; and in modern times this din has been echoed from France. But Switzerland has had no din. Less prepared, this Republic had less incentive to War. Not only in nations do we find this law. It applies to individuals also. The same din which resounded in Rome and was echoed from France has filled common life, and from the same cause. The _wearing of arms_ has been a provocative, too often exciting, as it furnished the weapon of strife. The odious system of private quarrels, with altercation and hostile meetings even in the street, disgracing the social life of modern Europe, continued with this habit. This was its origin. But who can measure the extent of its influence? Dead bodies stretched on the pavements, and vacant chairs at home, were the contemporary witnesses. If death was hasty and unpremeditated, it was only according to the law of such encounter. Poets and authors, wearing arms, were exposed to the rude chances. The dramatist Marlowe, in some respects almost Shakespearian, "renowned for his rare art and wit," perished ignominiously under the weapon of a vulgar adversary; and Savage, whose genius and misfortune inspired the friendship and praise of Samuel Johnson, was tried at the Old Bailey for murder committed in a sudden broil. Nothing of this could have occurred without the habit of wearing arms, which was a fashion. Out of this came the _Dance of Death_.