iasm of any kind. In this case courage is not
so much a normal condition as an impulse.

We may conceive that the two kinds act differently. The first kind is
more certain, because it has become a second nature, never forsakes the
man; the second often leads him farther. In the first there is more
of firmness, in the second, of boldness. The first leaves the judgment
cooler, the second raises its power at times, but often bewilders it.
The two combined make up the most perfect kind of courage.

War is the province of physical exertion and suffering. In order not to
be completely overcome by them, a certain strength of body and mind is
required, which, either natural or acquired, produces indifference to
them. With these qualifications, under the guidance of simply a sound
understanding, a man is at once a proper instrument for War; and these
are the qualifications so generally to be met with amongst wild and
half-civilised tribes. If we go further in the demands which War makes
on it, then we find the powers of the understanding predominating. War
is the province of uncertainty: three-fourths of those things upon which
action in War must be calculated, are hidden more or less in the clouds
of great uncertainty. Here, then, above all a fine and penetrating mind
is called for, to search out the truth by the tact of its judgment.

An average intellect may, at one time, perhaps hit upon this truth by
accident; an extraordinary courage, at another, may compensate for the
want of this tact; but in the majority of cases the average result will
always bring to light the deficient understanding.

War is the province of chance. In no sphere of human activity is such a
margin to be left for this intruder, because none is so much in constant
contact with him on all sides. He increases the uncertainty of every
circumstance, and deranges the course of events.

From this uncertainty of all intelligence and suppositions, this
continual interposition of chance, the actor in War constantly finds
things different from his expectations; and this cannot fail to have an
influence on his plans, or at least on the presumptions connected
with these plans. If this influence is so great as to render the
pre-determined plan completely nugatory, then, as a rule, a new one must
be substituted in its place; but at the moment the necessary data are
often wanting for this, because in the course of action circumstances
press for immediate decision,