Now, as to all these changes we can at least be sure of the main facts.

We know that the Hollander remains in Holland, though the greatness

of Holland has passed; we know that the Latin blood remains in Italy,

whether to a greater or less extent; and that the Latin culture has

died out in the African realm it once won, while it has lasted in Spain

and France, and thence has extended itself to continents beyond the

ocean. We may not know the causes of the facts, save partially; but

the facts themselves we do know. But there are other cases in which

we are at present ignorant even of the facts; we do not know what the

changes really were, still less the hidden causes and meaning of these

changes. Much remains to be found out before we can speak with any

certainty as to whether some changes mean the actual dying out or the

mere transformation of types. It is, for instance, astonishing how

little permanent change in the physical make-up of the people seems to

have been worked in Europe by the migrations of the races in historic

times. A tall, fair-haired, long-skulled race penetrates to some

southern country and establishes a commonwealth. The generations pass.

There is no violent revolution, no break in continuity of history,

nothing in the written records to indicate an epoch-making change at

any given moment; and yet after a time we find that the old type has

reappeared and that the people of the locality do not substantially

differ in physical form from the people of other localities that did

not suffer such an invasion. Does this mean that gradually the children

of the invaders have dwindled and died out; or, as the blood is mixed

with the ancient blood, has there been a change, part reversion and

part assimilation, to the ancient type in its old surroundings? Do

tint of skin, eyes and hair, shape of skull, and stature change in the

new environment, so as to be like those of the older people who dwelt

in this environment? Do the intrusive races, without change of blood,

tend under the pressure of their new surroundings to change in type

so as to resemble the ancient peoples of the land? Or, as the strains

mingled, has the new strain dwindled and vanished, from causes as yet

obscure? Has the blood of the Lombard practically disappeared from

Italy, and of the Visigoth from Spain, or does it still flow in large

populations where the old physical type has once more become dominant?

Here in England, the long-skulled men of the long barrows, the

short-skulled men of the round barrows--have they blended, or has one

or the other type actually died out; or are they merged in some older

race which they seemingly supplanted, or have they adopted the tongue

and civilization of some later race which seemingly destroyed them?

We can not say. We do not know which of the widely different stocks

now speaking Aryan tongues represents in physical characteristics the

ancient Aryan type, nor where the type originated, nor how or why it

imposed its language on other types, nor how much or how little mixture

of blood accompanied the change of tongue.

The phenomena of national growth and decay, both of those which can

and those which can not be explained, have been peculiarly in evidence

during the four centuries that have gone by since the discovery of

America and the rounding of the Cape of Good Hope. These have been the

four centuries of by far the most intense and constantly accelerating

rapidity of movement and development that the world has yet seen. The

movement has covered all the fields of human activity. It has witnessed

an altogether unexampled spread of civilized mankind over the world, as

well as an altogether unexampled advance in man’s dominion over nature;

and this together with a literary and artistic activity to be matched

in but one previous epoch. This period of extension and development

has been that of one race, the so-called white race, or, to speak more

accurately, the group of peoples living in Europe, who undoubtedly have

a certain kinship of blood, who profess the Christian religion, and

trace back their culture to Greece and Rome.

The memories of men are short, and it is easy to forget how brief is

this period of unquestioned supremacy of the so-called white race.

It is but a thing of yesterday. During the thousand years which went

before the opening of this era of European supremacy, the attitude of

Asia and Africa, of Hun and Mongol, Turk and Tartar, Arab and Moor, had

on the whole been that of successful aggression against Europe. More

than a century went by after the voyages of Columbus before the mastery

in war began to pass from the Asiatic to the European. During that time

Europe produced no generals or conquerors able to stand comparison with

Selim and Solyman, Baber and Akbar. Then the European advance gathered

momentum; until at the present time peoples of European blood hold

dominion over all America and Australia and the islands of the sea,

over most of Africa, and the major half of Asia. Much of this world

conquest is merely political, and such a conquest is always likely in

the long run to vanish. But very much of it represents not a merely

political, but an ethnic conquest; the intrusive people having either

exterminated or driven out the conquered peoples, or else having

imposed upon them its tongue, law, culture, and religion, together

with a strain of its blood. During this period substantially all of

the world achievements worth remembering are to be credited to the

people of European descent. The first exception of any consequence is

the wonderful rise of Japan within the last generation--a phenomenon

unexampled in history; for both in blood and in culture the Japanese

line of ancestral descent is as remote as possible from ours; and yet

Japan, while hitherto keeping most of what was strongest in her ancient

character and traditions, has assimilated with curious completeness

most of the characteristics that have given power and leadership to the

West.

During this period of intense and feverish activity among the peoples

of European stock, first one and then another has taken the lead.

The movement began with Spain and Portugal. Their flowering-time was

as brief as it was wonderful. The gorgeous pages of their annals are

illumined by the figures of warriors, explorers, statesmen, poets,

and painters. Then their days of greatness ceased. Many partial

explanations can be given, but something remains behind, some hidden

force for evil, some hidden source of weakness upon which we can not

lay our hands. Yet there are many signs that in the New World, after

centuries of arrested growth, the peoples of Spanish and Portuguese

stock are entering upon another era of development, and there are other

signs that this is true also in the Iberian peninsula itself.

About the time that the first brilliant period of the leadership of the

Iberian peoples was drawing to a close, at the other end of Europe, in

the land of melancholy steppe and melancholy forest, the Slav turned in

his troubled sleep and stretched out his hand to grasp leadership and

dominion. Since then almost every nation of Europe has at one time or

another sought a place in the movement of expansion; but for the last

three centuries the great phenomenon of mankind has been the growth of

the English-speaking peoples and their spread over the world’s waste

spaces.

Comparison is often made between the empire of Britain and the

empire of Rome. When judged relatively to the effect on all modern

civilization, the empire of Rome is of course the more important,

simply because all the nations of Europe and their offshoots in other

continents trace back their culture either to the earlier Rome by

the Tiber, or the later Rome by the Bosphorus. The empire of Rome

is the most stupendous fact in lay history; no empire later in time

can be compared with it. But this is merely another way of saying

that the nearer the source the more important becomes any deflection

of the stream’s current. Absolutely, comparing the two empires one

with the other in point of actual achievement, and disregarding the

immensely increased effect on other civilizations which inhered in the

older empire because it antedated the younger by a couple of thousand

years, there is little to choose between them as regards the wide and

abounding interest and importance of their careers.

In the world of antiquity each great empire rose when its predecessor

had already crumbled. By the time that Rome loomed large over the

horizon of history, there were left for her to contend with only

decaying civilizations and raw barbarism. When she conquered Pyrrhus,

she strove against the strength of but one of the many fragments into

which Alexander’s kingdom had fallen. When she conquered Carthage,

she overthrew a foe against whom for two centuries the single Greek

city of Syracuse had contended on equal terms; it was not the Sepoy

armies of the Carthaginian plutocracy, but the towering genius of the

House of Barca, which rendered the struggle forever memorable. It was

the distance and the desert, rather than the Parthian horse-bowmen,

that set bounds to Rome in the east; and on the north her advance was

curbed by the vast reaches of marshy woodland, rather than by the

tall barbarians who dwelt therein. During the long generations of her

greatness, and until the sword dropped from her withered hand, the

Parthian was never a menace of aggression, and the German threatened

her but to die.

On the contrary, the great expansion of England has occurred, the great

empire of Britain has been achieved, during the centuries that have

also seen mighty military nations rise and flourish on the continent

of Europe. It is as if Rome, while creating and keeping the empire she

won between the days of Scipio and the days of Trajan, had at the same

time held her own with the Nineveh of Sargon and Tiglath, the Egypt of

Thothmes and Rameses, and the kingdoms of Persia and Macedon in the red

flush of their warrior-dawn. The empire of Britain is vaster in space,

in population, in wealth, in wide variety of possession, in a history

of multiplied and manifold achievement of every kind, than even the

glorious empire of Rome. Yet, unlike Rome, Britain has won dominion in

every clime, has carried her flag by conquest and settlement to the

uttermost ends of the earth, at the very time that haughty and powerful

rivals, in their abounding youth or strong maturity, were eager to

set bounds to her greatness, and to tear from her what she had won

afar. England has peopled continents with her children, has swayed

the destinies of teeming myriads of alien race, has ruled ancient

monarchies, and wrested from all corners the right to the world’s waste

spaces, while at home she has held her own before nations, each of

military power comparable to Rome’s at her zenith.

Rome fell by attack from without only because the ills within her own

borders had grown incurable. What is true of your country, my hearers,

is true of my own; while we should be vigilant against foes from

without, yet we need never really fear them so long as we safeguard

ourselves against the enemies within our own households; and these

enemies are our own passions and follies. Free peoples can escape

being mastered by others only by being able to master themselves. We

Americans and you people of the British Isles alike need ever to keep

in mind that, among the many qualities indispensable to the success of

a great democracy, and second only to a high and stern sense of duty,

of moral obligation, are self-knowledge and self-mastery. You, my

hosts, and I may not agree in all our views; some of you would think

me a very radical democrat--as, for the matter of that, I am--and my

theory of imperialism would probably suit the anti-imperialists as

little as it would suit a certain type of forcible-feeble imperialist.

But there are some points on which we must all agree if we think

soundly. The precise form of government, democratic or otherwise, is

the instrument, the tool, with which we work. It is important to have

a good tool. But, even if it is the best possible, it is only a tool.

No implement can ever take the place of the guiding intelligence that

wields it. A very bad tool will ruin the work of the best craftsman;

but a good tool in bad hands is no better. In the last analysis the

all-important factor in national greatness is national character.

There are questions which we of the great civilized nations are ever

tempted to ask of the future. Is our time of growth drawing to an

end? Are we as nations soon to come under the rule of that great law

of death which is itself but part of the great law of life? None can

tell. Forces that we can see, and other forces that are hidden or that

can but dimly be apprehended, are at work all around us, both for good

and for evil. The growth in luxury, in love of ease, in taste for

vapid and frivolous excitement, is both evident and unhealthy. The

most ominous sign is the diminution in the birth-rate, in the rate of

natural increase, now to a larger or lesser degree shared by most of

the civilized nations of central and western Europe, of America and

Australia--a diminution so great that, if it continues for the next

century at the rate which has obtained for the last twenty-five years,

all the more highly civilized peoples will be stationary or else

have begun to go backward in population, while many of them will have

already gone very far backward.

There is much that should give us concern for the future. But there

is much also which should give us hope. No man is more apt to be

mistaken than the prophet of evil. After the French Revolution in

1830 Niebuhr hazarded the guess that all civilization was about to go

down with a crash, that we were all about to share the fall of third-

and fourth-century Rome--a respectable, but painfully overworked,

comparison. The fears once expressed by the followers of Malthus as to

the future of the world have proved groundless as regards the civilized

portion of the world; it is strange indeed to look back at Carlyle’s

prophecies of some seventy years ago, and then think of the teeming

life of achievement, the life of conquest of every kind, and of noble

effort crowned by success, which has been ours for the two generations

since he complained to High Heaven that all the tales had been told and

all the songs sung, and that all the deeds really worth doing had been

done. I believe with all my heart that a great future remains for us;

but whether it does or does not, our duty is not altered. However the

battle may go, the soldier worthy of the name will with utmost vigor

do his allotted task, and bear himself as valiantly in defeat as in

victory. Come what will, we belong to peoples who have not yielded

to the craven fear of being great. In the ages that have gone by, the

great nations, the nations that have expanded and that have played a

mighty part in the world, have in the end grown old and weakened and

vanished; but so have the nations whose only thought was to avoid all

danger, all effort, who would risk nothing, and who therefore gained

nothing. In the end, the same fate may overwhelm all alike; but the

memory of the one type perishes with it, while the other leaves its

mark deep on the history of all the future of mankind.

A nation that seemingly dies may be born again; and even though in

the physical sense it die utterly, it may yet hand down a history of

heroic achievement, and for all time to come may profoundly influence

the nations that arise in its place by the impress of what it has

done. Best of all is it to do our part well, and at the same time to

see our blood live young and vital in men and women fit to take up

the task as we lay it down; for so shall our seed inherit the earth.

But if this, which is best, is denied us, then at least it is ours to

remember that if we choose we can be torch-bearers, as our fathers were

before us. The torch has been handed on from nation to nation, from

civilization to civilization, throughout all recorded time, from the

dim years before history dawned down to the blazing splendor of this

teeming century of ours. It dropped from the hands of the coward and

the sluggard, of the man wrapped in luxury or love of ease, the man

whose soul was eaten away by self-indulgence; it has been kept alight

only by those who were mighty of heart and cunning of hand. What they

worked at, provided it was worth doing at all, was of less matter than

how they worked, whether in the realm of the mind or the realm of the

body. If their work was good, if what they achieved was of substance,

then high success was really theirs.

In the first part of this lecture I drew certain analogies between what

has occurred to forms of animal life through the procession of the ages

on this planet, and what has occurred and is occurring to the great

artificial civilizations which have gradually spread over the world’s

surface during the thousands of years that have elapsed since cities

of temples and palaces first rose beside the Nile and the Euphrates,

and the harbors of Minoan Crete bristled with the masts of the Ægean

craft. But of course the parallel is true only in the roughest and most

general way. Moreover, even between the civilizations of to-day and

the civilizations of ancient times there are differences so profound

that we must be cautious in drawing any conclusions for the present

based on what has happened in the past. While freely admitting all

of our follies and weaknesses of to-day, it is yet mere perversity to

refuse to realize the incredible advance that has been made in ethical

standards. I do not believe that there is the slightest necessary

connection between any weakening of virile force and this advance in

the moral standard, this growth of the sense of obligation to one’s

neighbor and of reluctance to do that neighbor wrong. We need have

scant patience with that silly cynicism which insists that kindliness

of character only accompanies weakness of character. On the contrary,

just as in private life many of the men of strongest character are

the very men of loftiest and most exalted morality, so I believe that

in national life, as the ages go by, we shall find that the permanent

national types will more and more tend to become those in which,

though intellect stands high, character stands higher; in which rugged

strength and courage, rugged capacity to resist wrongful aggression

by others, will go hand in hand with a lofty scorn of doing wrong

to others. This is the type of Timoleon, of Hampden, of Washington,

and Lincoln. These were as good men, as disinterested and unselfish

men, as ever served a state; and they were also as strong men as ever

founded or saved a state. Surely such examples prove that there is

nothing Utopian in our effort to combine justice and strength in the

same nation. The really high civilizations must themselves supply the

antidote to the self-indulgence and love of ease which they tend to

produce.

Every modern civilized nation has many and terrible problems to

solve within its own borders, problems that arise not merely from

juxtaposition of poverty and riches, but especially from the

self-consciousness of both poverty and riches. Each nation must deal

with these matters in its own fashion, and yet the spirit in which the

problem is approached must ever be fundamentally the same. It must

be a spirit of broad humanity, of brotherly kindness, of acceptance

of responsibility, one for each and each for all, and at the same

time a spirit as remote as the poles from every form of weakness and

sentimentality. As in war to pardon the coward is to do cruel wrong

to the brave man whose life his cowardice jeopardizes, so in civil

affairs it is revolting to every principle of justice to give to the

lazy, the vicious, or even the feeble or dull-witted a reward which

is really the robbery of what braver, wiser, abler men have earned.

The only effective way to help any man is to help him to help himself;

and the worst lesson to teach him is that he can be permanently

helped at the expense of some one else. True liberty shows itself to

best advantage in protecting the rights of others, and especially

of minorities. Privilege should not be tolerated because it is to

the advantage of a minority; nor yet because it is to the advantage

of a majority. No doctrinaire theories of vested rights or freedom

of contract can stand in the way of our cutting out abuses from the

body politic. Just as little can we afford to follow the doctrinaires

of an impossible--and incidentally of a highly undesirable--social

revolution which, in destroying individual rights--including property

rights--and the family, would destroy the two chief agents in the

advance of mankind, and the two chief reasons why either the advance

or the preservation of mankind is worth while. It is an evil and a

dreadful thing to be callous to sorrow and suffering and blind to our

duty to do all things possible for the betterment of social conditions.

But it is an unspeakably foolish thing to strive for this betterment

by means so destructive that they would leave no social conditions to

better. In dealing with all these social problems, with the intimate

relations of the family, with wealth in private use and business use,

with labor, with poverty, the one prime necessity is to remember that,

though hardness of heart is a great evil, it is no greater an evil than

softness of head.

But in addition to these problems, the most intimate and important

of all, and which to a larger or less degree affect all the modern

nations somewhat alike, we of the great nations that have expanded,

that are now in complicated relations with one another and with alien

races, have special problems and special duties of our own. You belong

to a nation which possesses the greatest empire upon which the sun has

ever shone. I belong to a nation which is trying, on a scale hitherto

unexampled, to work out the problems of government for, of, and by the

people, while at the same time doing the international duty of a great

Power. But there are certain problems which both of us have to solve,

and as to which our standards should be the same. The Englishman, the

man of the British Isles, in his various homes across the seas, and

the American, both at home and abroad, are brought into contact with

utterly alien peoples, some with a civilization more ancient than our

own, others still in, or having but recently arisen from, the barbarism

which our people left behind ages ago. The problems that arise are

of well-nigh inconceivable difficulty. They can not be solved by the

foolish sentimentality of stay-at-home people, with little patent

recipes and those cut-and-dried theories of the political nursery which

have such limited applicability amid the crash of elemental forces.

Neither can they be solved by the raw brutality of the men who, whether

at home or on the rough frontier of civilization, adopt might as the

only standard of right in dealing with other men, and treat alien races

only as subjects for exploitation.

No hard-and-fast rule can be drawn as applying to all alien races,

because they differ from one another far more widely than some of

them differ from us. But there are one or two rules which must not

be forgotten. In the long run there can be no justification for

one race managing or controlling another unless the management and

control are exercised in the interest and for the benefit of that

other race. This is what our peoples have in the main done, and must

continue in the future in even greater degree to do, in India, Egypt,

and the Philippines alike. In the next place, as regards every race,

everywhere, at home or abroad, we can not afford to deviate from the

great rule of righteousness which bids us treat each man on his worth

as a man. He must not be sentimentally favored because he belongs to a

given race; he must not be given immunity in wrong-doing or permitted

to cumber the ground, or given other privileges which would be denied

to the vicious and unfit among ourselves. On the other hand, where he

acts in a way which would entitle him to respect and reward if he was

one of our own stock, he is just as entitled to that respect and reward

if he comes of another stock, even though that other stock produces a

much smaller proportion of men of his type than does our own. This has

nothing to do with social intermingling, with what is called social

equality. It has to do merely with the question of doing to each man

and each woman that elementary justice which will permit him or her

to gain from life the reward which should always accompany thrift,

sobriety, self-control, respect for the rights of others, and hard

and intelligent work to a given end. To more than such just treatment

no man is entitled, and less than such just treatment no man should

receive.

History as literature, and other essays · 第 4 / 15 段