Here one is a
human being--an end in himself. Oh, Mrs Knox, if only your military
genius were equal to your moral genius--if that conquest of Europe by
France which inaugurated the new age after the Revolution had only
been an English conquest, how much more enlightened the world would
have been now! We, alas, can only fight. France is unconquerable.
We impose our narrow ideas, our prejudices, our obsolete institutions,
our insufferable pedantry on the world by brute force--by that stupid
quality of military heroism which shews how little we have evolved
from the savage: nay, from the beast. We can charge like bulls; we
can spring on our foes like gamecocks; when we are overpowered by
reason, we can die fighting like rats. And we are foolish enough to
be proud of it! Why should we be? Does the bull progress? Can you
civilize the gamecock? Is there any future for the rat? We cant even
fight intelligently: when we lose battles, it is because we have not
sense enough to know when we are beaten. At Waterloo, had we known
when we were beaten, we should have retreated; tried another plan; and
won the battle. But no: we were too pigheaded to admit that there is
anything impossible to a Frenchman: we were quite satisfied when our
Marshals had six horses shot under them, and our stupid old grognards
died fighting rather than surrender like reasonable beings. Think of
your great Wellington: think of his inspiring words, when the lady
asked him whether British soldiers ever ran away.
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