longer formed their notions upon war, and therefore are guided by
thoughts and feelings which soldiers as such--soldiers educated
simply by their trade--are too hard to understand.

Very like this is the contempt for physical weakness and for women
which marks early society too. The non-combatant population is sure
to fare ill during the ages of combat. But these defects, too, are
cured or lessened; women have now marvellous means of winning their
way in the world; and mind without muscle has far greater force than
muscle without mind. These are some of the after-changes in the
interior of nations, of which the causes must be scrutinised, and I
now mention them only to bring out how many softer growths have now
half-hidden the old and harsh civilisation which war made. But it is
very dubious whether the spirit of war does not still colour our
morality far too much. Metaphors from law and metaphors from war
make most of our current moral phrases, and a nice examination would
easily explain that both rather vitiate what both often illustrate.
The military habit makes man think far too much of definite action,
and far too little of brooding meditation. Life is not a set
campaign, but an irregular work, and the main forces in it are not
overt resolutions, but latent and half-involuntary promptings. The
mistake of military ethics is to exaggerate the conception of
discipline, and so to present the moral force of the will in a barer
form than it ever ought to take. Military morals can direct the axe
to cut down the tree, but it knows nothing of the quiet force by
which the forest grows. What has been said is enough, I hope, to
bring out that there are many qualities and many institutions of the
most various sort which give nations an advantage in military
competition; that most of these and most warlike qualities tend
principally to good; that the constant winning of these favoured