This is the core of the tragic episode. It is the torture and rage of Catullus rather than the pain of Shakespeare in the Dark Lady series, or of Meredith in Modern Love. In these twentyseven sonnets there is none which stands out above the rest; they make their impression as a whole. The workmanship strikes one as hasty, there are one or two absurdly bad lines; but it is all passionately alive.

Very different is the 'Night Rhapsody,' written in lyrical blank verse with the refrain:

his sudden flashes of felicity. Of the
three other 'idylls,' 'The Sprig of
Lime' is the best and most original.
It is full of the summer scent of the
lime-blossom, poignantly evoking mem-
ories for a dying man, for whom one
sprig of it seems to hold all youth.
'Seventeen,' in its turn, is full of the
sights and sounds of a windy spring
morning as they come to the senses of
a girl in the woods; she listens to the
'gay roar' of the wind in the trees and
then

Suddenly her eyelashes were dimmed,
Caught in tense tears of spiritual joy.

"The Deliverer' is of a type of poem much affected by the Georgians' it is well done, yet might not the prose short story be the better medium! Among the other pieces in the volume 'November' claims to be singled out for its tender, melancholy beauty and completeness. And the fragment of a pastoral, 'Polyphemus,' makes us crave for the whole, for here Mr Nichols's blank verse is at its best and his power to create imaginative pictures is married to fine rhythm:

...

Like to the baffled wind among the crags
Or as the mournful blowing of the waves
Which in the pyloned gloom of norward cave
Nightly with flood soon-swallowed and discharg
Of pouring foam, deep tide, and troubled ebb,
Makes profound plaint and dreary melody
To lightless waste, huge night, and solemn stars
Such was the Cyclops' music.

If this volume does not mark a grea advance in Mr. Nichols's art, it show him expanded and growing. He need self-discipline; writes, it may be, to easily in response to the moment' inspiration, and might chastise hi verse to good purpose. But he ha plenty of time before him, and plent of gift.

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the dark' is a truer simile of the conditions of modern war. When two men are fighting in a fog, once they are at grips they can see each other clearly. In this the situation resembles earlier wars, in which, directly the armies came within sight of each other, their dispositions were no longer a mystery to their opponents. But in modern war, with its wide dispersion and universal use of cover, natural or artificial, enforced by the range and deadliness of present-day weapons, the dispositions of the enemy can never be definitely ascertained except by actual attack. So also in the dark a man can only reconnoitre his opponent fully by actually touching and feeling him, in which he thus resembles the commander in modern war. Having decided this point, let us examine the correct principles of action which a man seeking to attack an enemy in the dark would naturally adopt.

THIS saying derives a lot of its truth from the fact that we never try to make war simple to understand. The young military student is taught the higher mathematics of war before he has grasped the rule of four. To understand the few essential principles of war, as distinct from the mass of precepts and reservations with which the deteaching of it is usually overloaded, we must simplify it and reduce it to the essential elements which are true of any fighting, whether between two individual men or two great national armies. Let us, therefore, examine the principles which the combat of govern two individuals. From the course of action which is correct in their case we can deduce the essential principles, and can then proceed to apply the latter to the conduct of war. But it may be argued that the conditions of war are entirely different from those of a straightforward fight between two men; that in war the enemy's movements are hidden from us until we are actually at grips with him. Certainly, we agree, but will not the situation resemble that of two men fighting under similar conditions, such as in a fog or in the dark? Assuredly, therefore, let us consider such a contest.

That time-worn phrase 'the fog of war' has long been used to denote the chief element of difficulty or friction peculiar to the conduct of war. We suggest, however, that the phrase 'in

(1) In the first place he must seek his enemy. Therefore the man stretches out one arm to grope for his enemy, keeping it supple, however, and ready to guard himself. This may be termed the active principle of 'discovery.'

(2) When his outstretched arm touches his enemy he will rapidly feel his way to the latter's throat. We may term this the active principle of 'searching.'

(3) As soon as he has reached his enemy's throat the man will seize it,

and hold his adversary at arm's length so that the latter cannot strike back effectively, while the grip is firm enough to prevent him wriggling away and avoiding the decisive blow. This is the principle of 'fixing.'

(4) Then, while his enemy's whole attention is absorbed by the menacing hand at his throat, with his other fist the man strikes his opponent from an unexpected direction in an unguarded spot, delivering out of the dark a decisive knockout blow. This is the principle of 'decisive manœuvre.'

(5) Before his enemy can recover, the man instantly follows up his advantage by taking steps to render him finally powerless. This is the principle of full and immediate 'exploitation' of

success.

To follow these principles will be the only sure path to victory, and our actual execution of each one of them can only be neglected with impunity, if some mistake or mischance on the part of our enemy has accomplished the desired result without need for active intervention on our part. Thus, for instance, if the enemy had stumbled and thus 'fixed' himself without need for the man to seize him by the throat, the latter could instantly have proceeded to deliver the knockout blow.

In the sequence of active principles which we have dealt with, we notice that certain governing principles appear. On the one hand we see the man concerned with 'security,' both from personal injury from the enemy and also from the upsetting of his own plan of action; and, on the other hand, economizing his strength so that while he only uses just sufficient strength for guarding himself and seizing hold of the enemy, he can devote the utmost possible energy to his decisive blow. He attains security by keeping his arm supple ready for parrying any attack

of the enemy, by feeling the enemy, and by seizing the enemy at a spot (the throat) so vital that it will force the latter to concentrate all his energy on the defense of it. On the other hand, the man increases the effect of his own available energy by surprise, striking the enemy from an unexpected direction at an unexpected moment in an unexpected spot; by rapid movements which bewilder his enemy; by achieving the maximum impulsion or 'follow through' behind his blows; by aiming at the spots at which he can inflict the most discomfiture on his enemy; by moving his limbs and muscles in harmony.

All these may be grouped under the one term 'Economy of Force.' These two principles, therefore, of security and economy of force may be said to cut 'laterally' across the five principles of action.

A diagram may simplify the idea:

In war, just as in individual combat, there are two kinds of security - material and tactical. The former consists of security from visible injury inflicted by the actual blows of the enemy, the latter of security from the risk of one's plans being upset by any action which the enemy might possibly take, or even by indirect or defensive movements on his part.

How does one obtain security? Just in the same way as the man in the dark does, by feeling for the enemy, which in war is information; by keeping the arm supple, which in war is readiness for resistance; by seizing the

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enemy, which in war means offensive action. Let us briefly consider these three means to security.

(1) Information concerning the enemy and his movements or the absence of them. This depends, above all, on a knowledge of where to look a knowledge which can only be gained by acquiring an eye for ground, which faculty covers everything from military geography to the choice of a fire-position by a section commander, and by studying psychology, which means, in brief, an intuitive understanding of what the enemy is most likely to do. To have information is to have an advantage over our enemy similar to that which the man in the dark' would possess if he were equipped with an electric torch with which to pierce the gloom.

(2) Resistance. Holding off the enemy in order to afford yourself time in which to take measures for parrying his blow, or to enable you to plant your own blow at the enemy first. Moreover, as mere passive resistance can never beat your enemy, it is obvious that the object of security by resistance is to delay the enemy. This result is obtained by a mobile defense in depth or by attacking, if resistance alone is not likely to cause sufficient delay to the enemy's progress.

Security by resistance depends, therefore, on a calculation of time and e distance, which chiefly demands a knowledge of the rate of movement of different units and arms and of the resisting power of bodies of varying size and composition. Its achievement is aided greatly by recent developments in tactics and weapons. In the latter connection we may mention in particular the machine gun and automatic rifle. The dispersion also which is due to modern weapons resulting in the battlefield wearing a deserted appearance is a great fac

tor in increasing the possibilities of an attack by inferior numbers succeeding in its purpose of delaying the enemy's progress.

(3) Offensive Action. It is of no use to aim a decisive blow at your adversary if he is able to slip out of reach before the blow has been planted. In such a case your blow will only strike into the void, and there is no more dangerous moment than that which occurs when you have gathered up all your energies for a knockout blow only to waste it on the air. For the moment you are off your balance and exposed to the will of your opponent. Similarly in war one has concentrated one's forces and deployed them in a particular direction, and some interval must elapse before one can reconcentrate in a fresh direction.

Therefore, tactical security must also include means for seizing hold of your adversary and preventing him either avoiding your blow or himself hitting at you in another direction; in other words, you must deny to him that freedom of manoeuvre which is so vital. The aim must be to pin the enemy to his ground and also to absorb thither his energies or, in other words, his reserves thus uncovering the vulnerable spot which you have chosen for your knockout blow. One can best achieve this object by attacking him at a spot which is so vital that he is bound to concentrate all his energies on defending it, just as 'the man in the dark' seized hold of his opponent's throat - his vital point.

Now let us consider the principle of economy of force, or, to express it more fully, the economic distribution of one's forces. It is defined by Foch as the art of pouring out all one's resources at a given moment on one spot, setting up one's forces in a system so that one can bring the maximum weight to bear at the spot where

success will be decisive. One must use the minimum for the phase of preparation, essential though it is, and this force will consist of detachments to discover the enemy, to reconnoitre him, to fix him and absorb his reserves, as well as detachments to cover one's own and prevent his concentration, and to keep his forces scattered if it is necessary to beat him piecemeal, as in the case of Napoleon's Montenotte campaign or Jackson's Valley campaign. One must devote the maximum possible force to the main phases of the decisive attack and subsequent pursuit.

By what means can one fulfill the principle of economy of force other than by the correct distribution of mere numbers? By following the same sub-principles as does the man in the dark, which are:

(1) Surprise. Striking the enemy from an unexpected direction at an unexpected moment or in an unguarded spot. This may be achieved by mystifying the enemy by means of camouflage and secrecy of preparation, by rapidity of movement, and by distracting his attention, and therefore his forces, from the spot at which one intends to strike.

(2) Mobility concurrent with keeping the enemy scattered, executing rapid movements so that one effects successive concentrations of superior force against the scattered portions of the enemy's forces, thus beating him in detail.

(3) Impulsion.-Executing each movement or attack, when one has initiated it, with the greatest possible vigor, so that one will double the actual weight of the blow by the momentum behind it, just as one warship when ramming another, which is stationary, will penetrate it in proportion to the speed at which the rammer itself is traveling.

(4) Soft Spot.-Seeking and striking one's adversary's 'soft spot,' instead of dashing one's head against his strongest rampart.

(5) Husbanding one's own men by the aid of correct tactics and the use of covered lines of approach.

(6) The use of new and improved weapons, which should be utilized in combination to the best advantage.

(7) By Mutual Support, whether of armies or sections, all acting together as part of a system, like the members of a football team or the muscles of the body.

It is in connection with this last principle also that true mental discipline is so important; that a subordinate should not carry out his superior's orders in a merely wooden manner, but should do everything in his power to contribute to the full execution of his superior's intentions, using his intelligence to foresee any obstacles which may arise to prevent him carrying out the orders he receives, and taking measures accordingly. It should be no excuse that enemy action prevented those orders being executed. As Foch says, 'To be disciplined means that one frankly adopts the thoughts and views of the superior in command, and that one uses all humanly practicable means in order to give him satisfaction.' It is the duty of the subordinate so to follow those principles of security and economy of force in his own smaller sphere that his superior's orders and intentions are fully carried out.

On the other hand, it is for the superior to furnish his subordinate with full indications of his intentions, so that the latter may bring his intelligence, instead of mere mechanical obedience, to bear upon the problems which will confront him. Let us again quote Foch: "The power to command has never meant the power to remain