the modern world has hitherto raised its temper above that of half-naked savages. It is quite unnecessary to insist on any particular enormities in the way of statecraft or violence, which have been, or are said to have been, committed by them in the course of the present war. The peculiarity exhibited by the Germans at the present time lies in the fact, not that this or that particular enormity has been committed by them, but that there is no atrocity within the limits of human performance which, so long as it can be regarded as conducing to national power, is not amply justified beforehand by clauses of the political creed which they have adopted in cold blood; and this creed is merely the logical expansion of that doctrine of which Treitschke is recognised as the logical exponent, and according to which the Power of the State is, as an object of action, supreme over all others.

But if, in the light of its consequences, as shown by the case of Germany, we repudiate this doctrine as false, we are raising a much wider question than any involved in a condemnation of the sinking of the 'Lusitania.' We are implicitly assuming the correctness of a counterdoctrine of some kind; and, whatever this last may be, it must be applicable, not only to Germany, but to ourselves. Such being the case, then, one thing will be evident. This counter-doctrine cannot be an absolute negation of the other; for, if to sacrifice every principle of private conduct to the State (the State being identified with power) makes a nation of savages, the spirit which would sacrifice nothing to it is the negation of all patriotism. There are persons, no doubt, who, animated by what they regard as ultra-popular principles, condemn patriotism as a disease, and would substitute for it what they call an international class consciousness'; by which they mean that the majority of the human race has, in every country alike, one enemy only-namely, anybody who in point of efficiency is appreciably superior to the rest. Of this view it is sufficient to say here that it is contradicted by world-wide, and more particularly by contemporary, experience. The patriotism of the French, the Belgian, the Serbian and the Russian masses is a sentiment no less spontaneous than the patriotism of the Roman noble. It is a sentiment which pervades America,

and is not confined to the magnates of Fifth Avenue; and even English trade-unionists, who once professed to scoff at it, have felt its fire in common with the rest of their fellow-countrymen.

What, then, when correctly analysed, is the object of this sentiment which every healthy nation cherishes? Patriotism is commonly described as 'devotion to country'; but what does the word 'country,' when used in this connexion, mean? It cannot mean a mere geographical According to Treitschke it means primarily a number of persons who, because they are penned up within certain geographical limits, are enabled and obliged to submit to a common system of laws. But his argument, at the very beginning of it, is much too narrow in its scope. What binds such persons together is not only a unity of laws, but a unification of customs, intimacies, and a mutual understanding which makes intercourse easy; and finally the association of memories, hopes, affections, with some common background of mountain, wood and river, and the smoke from familiar chimneys, so that a local landscape, either seen by the eyes, or (as in the case of great countries) comprehensively visualised by the mind, becomes for all the symbol of life as directly experienced by each. Logically, if not in all cases chronologically, this combination of social and geographical elements as an object of common affection precedes all ideas arising out of the necessity of defending it. Only when this object exists, and already gives rise to the sentiment which we call patriotism, does the task of defending this object, whether by way of resistance or attack, acquire any thinkable meaning.

According to Treitschke's doctrine that the State is Power, this order of things is inverted. War is an end for its own sake; and everything else is subsidiary to it. He thus robs of all meaning what would otherwise be the fruitful argument that war is good because it is a school of valour, by adding, with even greater emphasis, that valour is only valuable in so far as it leads to war. Mr Davis observes that Treitschke, in this connexion, might have profitably remembered the observation of Aristotle, that war was the ruin of the Spartans, because it left them, when not actually fighting, nothing to do with their leisure. Nevertheless the fact remains

that, in the estimation of all countries-of England no less than of Germany-those qualities of valour and selfsacrifice which are honoured with the name of heroism, and which war demands and elicits, occupy a high rank amongst the recognised moral virtues. How, then, can we reconcile this fact with a repudiation of the doctrine that war, as a means to national power, and as an expression of it, does not justify every act which, whether on the part of the nation as a whole, or of the citizens whose services are invoked by it, may conduce to making the power of such a nation prevail?

The proper answer to this question cannot be comprised within the limits of a single formula, but may in outline be briefly set forth thus. In the first place, the peculiar virtues elicited by the exigencies of war, however exalted may be the place which the moral judgment assigns to them, are in practical life not virtues at all unless they exist in combination with others. Courage is a virtue if exercised to protect a woman from a brigand. It is no virtue as exercised by a brigand in the gratification of his appetites or the perpetration of robbery. We call such a man, not a hero, but a desperado; that is to say, if we take men as concrete beings, their moral characters are not mechanical aggregates of so many separate characteristics, any one of which can be judged on its own merits, but are the joint results of their interaction, just as gunpowder is a compound which has qualities different from those of any one of its constituent parts. Now all action, says Aristotle, is necessarily a means to some end. Thus the labour of boat-building has for its end a boat. A boat, however, is not an end in itself. It is but an implement for transporting goods or passengers. Indeed, of all the ends at which human action aims, one only is final; and this, whatever may be its nature, is what men mean by 'happiness.'

But between the intermediate ends and the final end there is one radical difference. The former are definite, and can only be achieved by action which aims directly at their achievement. The latter is indefinite, and eludes direct endeavour; but when, in respect of the proximate ends of action, all the moral faculties harmoniously work together, the final end is reached by not directly seeking

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it, and happiness emerges as a by-product, like the bloom on the cheek of health.' The case of the virtues which are developed by the translation of patriotism into Power is analogous. It is impossible that States shall in the long run continue to exist unless they have Power at the back of them; and Power is the logical end of those moral virtues and moral actions which make for Power, just as happiness is the logical end of individual action generally. But these particular actions, if they are to possess the quality of virtues, must not aim at Power considered directly and in isolation. Modified by, and in co-operation with others, they must aim at some end of which Power is only one ingredient, and which is not in its totality recognisable as mere brute power at all. Only by not thus aiming at it, but by aiming at something else, will such actions by any State, or on behalf of it, represent Power in any civilised or tolerable form, or acquire that moral character which the apostles of Power claim for them, and which distinguishes heroism and its kindred virtues from barbarism.

In view of the fact that Treitschke regarded Aristotle as the greatest political thinker that the world has ever known, this statement of the case in terms of Aristotelian logic is particularly pertinent here; for it enables us by contrast to realise the futility of Treitschke's own attempts to associate the exercise of mere brute power by a nation with subjection to the moral imperative of some supernational principle. deals with composite facts. In relation to supernational The logic of Aristotle morality, the logic of Treitschke deals with mere abstractions; and these abstractions are absolutely inconsistent with the principles on which his entire reasoning as to concrete facts is based. As we have seen already, in his very definition of a State, he sets out with declaring that no State can exist, unless it is one State co-existing with, and therefore distinct from, others. A World-State embracing all Humanity' would, according to him, not be a State at all. But, when he attempts to elaborate some conception of a supreme authority which shall regulate and moralise the conduct of one State towards another, the nearest approach he can make to it is a moral World-State, which, if it is not a World-State,' is nothing; and which, as he explicitly says, is an authority Vol. 226.-No. 448.

only for the reason that 'all humanity is embraced by it,' and must for that very reason be lacking in that exclusiveness which he himself describes as essential to a State's existence. The only way in which, even metaphorically, such a moral World-State could be said to exist would be as a symbol of certain views with regard to national conduct, in which, as foregone conclusions, all States actually agree. But how could an authority which represents nothing but permanent agreements settle quarrels which arise out of conduct with regard to which States differ, and which are the only questions demanding any settlement at all? In whatever way we look at the matter, Treitschke's arguments with regard to national or supernational ethics are arguments in the air, and they are also arguments in a circle.

But, in condemning both his doctrines-his doctrine of Power as shown to be intolerable by its consequences, and his doctrine of a supernational morality as empty of any power to mitigate them-we must recognise that their mutual antagonism is not due wholly to the fact that both are incorrectly stated by him. However they may be reconstructed, there will always remain an antagonism between the two which cannot be completely harmonised. The practical reason has its antinomies no less than transcendental reason. Evolution, if careful of the type,' is careless of the individual. There are paradoxes inherent in human nature itself. This was recognised by Paul, who, in exalting chastity as a virtue, admitted that its universal practice would leave nobody alive to practise it. And here, again, we are brought back to Aristotle, whose philosophy in this respect was the secular counterpart of Paul's. With regard to morality, as applicable to mankind at large, the principle Aristotle formulates is the principle which Paul suggests. It is this-that for mankind at large every practicable virtue is a compromise. It is a mean, or a point which lies somewhere between two extremes, and which, like the apex of a triangle, is at the same time above them. And he bases this principle, not on any appeal to an imaginary moral World-State in the clouds, but on the common experience and the instinctive judgment of mankind. Thus true temperance is recognised by all men when they see it, as a mean between the profligacy