the moral heritage of mankind. Lord Roberts described war as “the tonic of races.” He confused substance with shadow, I think. It is a stimulant, not a tonic. Most of us know the difference. Iron is a tonic; alcohol a stimulant. Iron strengthens the system; alcohol seems to give temporary strength. Iron is a permanent gain; the reaction makes alcohol a permanent loss. It is related that the Oriental alchemist who first discovered alcohol thought he had the elixir of life—and drank himself to death. The militarist mind, still primitive in its workings, still believing that things are so because they seem to be so, makes the same mistake. Regarded in the most favorable light, the state of war is a stimulant, not a tonic.
At the beginning of the late war, we heard from German, French, British and American militarists that nations grew soft through peace. China they set up as the awful example—notwithstanding the fact that war is the only practical activity for which China of the past two hundred years has shown any aptitude. Her Tai-Ping rebellion spilled more blood than any other military struggle of the nineteenth century. But do nations grow soft through peace? The late war seemed to prove quite the contrary.
During the forty-four years between 1870–1914, the Western nations of the European continent, while armed for war, had preserved peace by the concert of the powers. There were small colonial
