With the dawn of civilisation a terrible paradox occurred. Warfare was not abolished, but made more destructive. Again we find this a natural and intelligible development. Each early civilisation found itself surrounded by barbaric tribes, with which no compact of justice could be established or trusted. The great Stoic humanitarians of Rome, who preached the brotherhood of men and denounced violence, dared not, in the interest of civilisation, plead disarmament. There were, of course, moral sophisms in support of this plain need. The profit of aggression, the prestige of conquering, were adorned with phrases akin to our "white man's burden." Yet it is true that until modern times warfare could not have been abolished without grave danger to civilisation. The crime of warfare became a crime only in these later centuries. Now that fully three-fourths of the race are gathered into civilised states, a compact of justice, an international tribunal with an international executive, _is_ possible; and we are guilty, either of a base hypocrisy or a ghastly insensibility to our gravest interests, in refusing to set up that compulsory international tribunal. No writer will be expected to discuss patiently to-day the pitiful sophistry with which, until yesterday, a few defended the retention of the military institution. Germany resounded with, and England and France and the United States echoed here and there, the pompous and hollow claims of its Treitschkes and Moltkes. War was a splendid moral discipline: an institution appointed by Providence for purging the race of sloth and materialism, for restoring chivalry and brightening the shield of honour and rebuking selfishness. War has grimly belied its apologists and we need notice them no longer. It has betrayed one of the greatest nations of modern times into horrors and outrages which are a supreme and eternal mockery of their moral claims for it.