To this ancient land, with its glorious past and splendid present, to

this land of many memories and of eager hopes, I come from a young

nation, which is by blood akin to, and yet different from, each of the

great nations of Middle and Western Europe; which has inherited or

acquired much from each, but is changing and developing every

inheritance and acquisition into something new and strange. The German

strain in our blood is large, for almost from the beginning there has

been a large German element among the successive waves of newcomers

whose children's children have been and are being fused into the

American nation; and I myself trace my origin to that branch of the

Low Dutch stock which raised Holland out of the North Sea. Moreover,

we have taken from you, not only much of the blood that runs through

our veins, but much of the thought that shapes our minds. For

generations American scholars have flocked to your universities, and,

thanks to the wise foresight of his Imperial Majesty the present

Emperor, the intimate and friendly connection between the two

countries is now in every way closer than it has ever been before.

Germany is pre-eminently a country in which the world movement of

to-day in all of its multitudinous aspects is plainly visible. The

life of this University covers the period during which that movement

has spread until it is felt throughout every continent; while its

velocity has been constantly accelerating, so that the face of the

world has changed, and is now changing, as never before. It is

therefore fit and appropriate here to speak on this subject.

When, in the slow procession of the ages, man was developed on this

planet, the change worked by his appearance was at first slight.

Further ages passed, while he groped and struggled by infinitesimal

degrees upward through the lower grades of savagery; for the general

law is that life which is advanced and complex, whatever its nature,

changes more quickly than simpler and less advanced forms. The life of

savages changes and advances with extreme slowness, and groups of

savages influence one another but little. The first rudimentary

beginnings of that complex life of communities which we call

civilization marked a period when man had already long been by far the

most important creature on the planet. The history of the living world

had become, in fact, the history of man, and therefore something

totally different in kind as well as in degree from what it had been

before. There are interesting analogies between what has gone on in

the development of life generally and what has gone on in the

development of human society, and these I shall discuss elsewhere.[9]

But the differences are profound, and go to the root of things.

[9] In the Romanes Lecture at Oxford.--L.F.A.

Throughout their early stages the movements of civilization--for,

properly speaking, there was no one movement--were very slow, were

local in space, and were partial in the sense that each developed

along but few lines. Of the numberless years that covered these early

stages we have no record. They were the years that saw such

extraordinary discoveries and inventions as fire, and the wheel, and

the bow, and the domestication of animals. So local were these

inventions that at the present day there yet linger savage tribes,

still fixed in the half-bestial life of an infinitely remote past, who

know none of them except fire--and the discovery and use of fire may

have marked, not the beginning of civilization, but the beginning of

the savagery which separated man from brute.

Even after civilization and culture had achieved a relatively high

position, they were still purely local, and from this fact subject to

violent shocks. Modern research has shown the existence in prehistoric

or, at least, protohistoric times of many peoples who, in given

localities, achieved a high and peculiar culture, a culture that was

later so completely destroyed that it is difficult to say what, if

any, traces it left on the subsequent cultures out of which we have

developed our own; while it is also difficult to say exactly how much

any one of these cultures influenced any other. In many cases, as

where invaders with weapons of bronze or iron conquered the neolithic

peoples, the higher civilization completely destroyed the lower

civilization, or barbarism, with which it came in contact. In other

cases, while superiority in culture gave its possessors at the

beginning a marked military and governmental superiority over the

neighboring peoples, yet sooner or later there accompanied it a

certain softness or enervating quality which left the cultured folk at

the mercy of the stark and greedy neighboring tribes, in whose savage

souls cupidity gradually overcame terror and awe. Then the people that

had been struggling upward would be engulfed, and the levelling waves

of barbarism wash over them. But we are not yet in position to speak

definitely on these matters. It is only the researches of recent years

that have enabled us so much as to guess at the course of events in

prehistoric Greece; while as yet we can hardly even hazard a guess as

to how, for instance, the Hallstadt culture rose and fell, or as to

the history and fate of the builders of those strange ruins of which

Stonehenge is the type.

The first civilizations which left behind them clear records rose in

that hoary historic past which geologically is part of the immediate

present--and which is but a span's length from the present, even when

compared only with the length of time that man has lived on this

planet. These first civilizations were those which rose in Mesopotamia

and the Nile valley some six or eight thousand years ago. As far as we

can see, they were well-nigh independent centres of cultural

development, and our knowledge is not such at present as to enable us

to connect either with the early cultural movements, in southwestern

Europe on the one hand, or in India on the other, or with that Chinese

civilization which has been so profoundly affected by Indian

influences.

Compared with the civilizations with which we are best acquainted, the

striking features in the Mesopotamian and Nilotic civilizations were

the length of time they endured and their comparative changelessness.

The kings, priests, and peoples who dwelt by the Nile or Euphrates are

found thinking much the same thoughts, doing much the same deeds,

leaving at least very similar records, while time passes in tens of

centuries. Of course there was change; of course there were action and

reaction in influence between them and their neighbors; and the

movement of change, of development, material, mental, spiritual, was

much faster than anything that had occurred during the æons of mere

savagery. But in contradistinction to modern times the movement was

very slow indeed, and, moreover, in each case it was strongly

localized; while the field of endeavor was narrow. There were certain

conquests by man over nature; there were certain conquests in the

domain of pure intellect; there were certain extensions which spread

the area of civilized mankind. But it would be hard to speak of it as

a "world movement" at all; for by far the greater part of the

habitable globe was not only unknown, but its existence unguessed at,

so far as peoples with any civilization whatsoever were concerned.

With the downfall of these ancient civilizations there sprang into

prominence those peoples with whom our own cultural history may be

said to begin. Those ideas and influences in our lives which we can

consciously trace back at all are in the great majority of instances

to be traced to the Jew, the Greek, or the Roman; and the ordinary

man, when he speaks of the nations of antiquity, has in mind

specifically these three peoples--although, judged even by the history

of which we have record, theirs is a very modern antiquity indeed.

The case of the Jew was quite exceptional. His was a small nation, of

little more consequence than the sister nations of Moab and Damascus,

until all three, and the other petty states of the country, fell under

the yoke of the alien. Then he survived, while all his fellows died.

In the spiritual domain he contributed a religion which has been the

most potent of all factors in its effect on the subsequent history of

mankind; but none of his other contributions compare with the legacies

left us by the Greek and the Roman.

The Græco-Roman world saw a civilization far more brilliant, far more

varied and intense, than any that had gone before it, and one that

affected a far larger share of the world's surface. For the first time

there began to be something which at least foreshadowed a "world

movement" in the sense that it affected a considerable portion of the

world's surface and that it represented what was incomparably the most

important of all that was happening in world history at the time. In

breadth and depth the field of intellectual interest had greatly

broadened at the same time that the physical area affected by the

civilization had similarly extended. Instead of a civilization

affecting only one river valley or one nook of the Mediterranean,

there was a civilization which directly or indirectly influenced

mankind from the Desert of Sahara to the Baltic, from the Atlantic

Ocean to the westernmost mountain chains that spring from the

Himalayas. Throughout most of this region there began to work certain

influences which, though with widely varying intensity, did

nevertheless tend to affect a large portion of mankind. In many of the

forms of science, in almost all the forms of art, there was great

activity. In addition to great soldiers there were great

administrators and statesmen whose concern was with the fundamental

questions of social and civil life. Nothing like the width and variety

of intellectual achievement and understanding had ever before been

known; and for the first time we come across great intellectual

leaders, great philosophers and writers, whose works are a part of all

that is highest in modern thought, whose writings are as alive to-day

as when they were first issued; and there were others of even more

daring and original temper, a philosopher like Democritus, a poet like

Lucretius, whose minds leaped ahead through the centuries and saw what

none of their contemporaries saw, but who were so hampered by their

surroundings that it was physically impossible for them to leave to

the later world much concrete addition to knowledge. The civilization

was one of comparatively rapid change, viewed by the standard of

Babylon and Memphis. There was incessant movement; and, moreover, the

whole system went down with a crash to seeming destruction after a

period short compared with that covered by the reigns of a score of

Egyptian dynasties, or with the time that elapsed between a Babylonian

defeat by Elam and a war sixteen centuries later which fully avenged

it.

This civilization flourished with brilliant splendor. Then it fell. In

its northern seats it was overwhelmed by a wave of barbarism from

among those half-savage peoples from whom you and I, my hearers, trace

our descent. In the south and east it was destroyed later, but far

more thoroughly, by invaders of an utterly different type. Both

conquests were of great importance; but it was the northern conquest

which in its ultimate effects was of by far the greatest importance.

With the advent of the Dark Ages the movement of course ceased, and it

did not begin anew for many centuries; while a thousand years passed

before it was once more in full swing, so far as European

civilization, so far as the world civilization of to-day, is

concerned. During all those centuries the civilized world, in our

acceptation of the term, was occupied, as its chief task, in slowly

climbing back to the position from which it had fallen after the age

of the Antonines. Of course a general statement like this must be

accepted with qualifications. There is no hard and fast line between

one age or period and another, and in no age is either progress or

retrogression universal in all things. There were many points in which

the Middle Ages, because of the simple fact that they were Christian,

surpassed the brilliant pagan civilization of the past; and there are

some points in which the civilization that succeeded them has sunk

below the level of the ages which saw such mighty masterpieces of

poetry, of architecture--especially cathedral architecture--and of

serene spiritual and forceful lay leadership. But they were centuries

of violence, rapine, and cruel injustice; and truth was so little

heeded that the noble and daring spirits who sought it, especially in

its scientific form, did so in deadly peril of the fagot and the

halter.

During this period there were several very important extra-European

movements, one or two of which deeply affected Europe. Islam arose,

and conquered far and wide, uniting fundamentally different races into

a brotherhood of feeling which Christianity has never been able to

rival, and at the time of the Crusades profoundly influencing European

culture. It produced a civilization of its own, brilliant and here and

there useful, but hopelessly limited when compared with the

civilization of which we ourselves are the heirs. The great cultured

peoples of southeastern and eastern Asia continued their checkered

development totally unaffected by, and without knowledge of, any

European influence.

Throughout the whole period there came against Europe, out of the

unknown wastes of central Asia, an endless succession of strange and

terrible conqueror races whose mission was mere destruction--Hun and

Avar, Mongol, Tartar, and Turk. These fierce and squalid tribes of

warrior horsemen flailed mankind with red scourges, wasted and

destroyed, and then vanished from the ground they had overrun. But in

no way worth noting did they count in the advance of mankind.

At last, a little over four hundred years ago, the movement towards a

world civilization took up its interrupted march. The beginning of the

modern movement may roughly be taken as synchronizing with the

discovery of printing, and with that series of bold sea ventures which

culminated in the discovery of America; and after these two epochal

feats had begun to produce their full effects in material and

intellectual life, it became inevitable that civilization should

thereafter differ not only in degree but even in kind from all that

had gone before. Immediately after the voyages of Columbus and Vasco

da Gama there began a tremendous religious ferment; the awakening of

intellect went hand in hand with the moral uprising; the great names

of Copernicus, Bruno, Kepler, and Galileo show that the mind of man

was breaking the fetters that had cramped it; and for the first time

experimentation was used as a check upon observation and theorization.

Since then, century by century, the changes have increased in rapidity

and complexity, and have attained their maximum in both respects

during the century just past. Instead of being directed by one or two

dominant peoples, as was the case with all similar movements of the

past, the new movement was shared by many different nations. From

every standpoint it has been of infinitely greater moment than

anything hitherto seen. Not in one but in many different peoples there

has been extraordinary growth in wealth, in population, in power of

organization, and in mastery over mechanical activity and natural

resources. All of this has been accompanied and signalized by an

immense outburst of energy and restless initiative. The result is as

varied as it is striking.

In the first place, representatives of this civilization, by their

conquest of space, were enabled to spread into all the practically

vacant continents, while at the same time, by their triumphs in

organization and mechanical invention, they acquired an unheard-of

military superiority as compared with their former rivals. To these

two facts is primarily due the further fact that for the first time

there is really something that approaches a world civilization, a

world movement. The spread of the European peoples since the days of

Ferdinand the Catholic and Ivan the Terrible has been across every sea

and over every continent. In places the conquests have been ethnic;

that is, there has been a new wandering of the peoples, and new

commonwealths have sprung up in which the people are entirely or

mainly of European blood. This is what happened in the temperate and

sub-tropical regions of the Western Hemisphere, in Australia, in

portions of northern Asia and southern Africa. In other places the

conquest has been purely political, the Europeans representing for the

most part merely a small caste of soldiers and administrators, as in

most of tropical Asia and Africa and in much of tropical America.

Finally, here and there instances occur where there has been no

conquest at all, but where an alien people is profoundly and radically

changed by the mere impact of Western civilization. The most

extraordinary instance of this, of course, is Japan; for Japan's

growth and change during the last half-century has been in many ways

the most striking phenomenon of all history. Intensely proud of her

past history, intensely loyal to certain of her past traditions, she

has yet with a single effort wrenched herself free from all hampering

ancient ties, and with a bound has taken her place among the leading

civilized nations of mankind.

There are of course many grades between these different types of

influence, but the net outcome of what has occurred during the last

four centuries is that civilization of the European type now exercises

a more or less profound effect over practically the entire world.

There are nooks and corners to which it has not yet penetrated; but

there is at present no large space of territory in which the general

movement of civilized activity does not make itself more or less felt.

This represents something wholly different from what has ever hitherto

been seen. In the greatest days of Roman dominion the influence of

Rome was felt over only a relatively small portion of the world's

surface. Over much the larger part of the world the process of change

and development was absolutely unaffected by anything that occurred in

the Roman Empire; and those communities the play of whose influence

was felt in action and reaction, and in inter-action, among

themselves, were grouped immediately around the Mediterranean. Now,

however, the whole world is bound together as never before; the bonds

are sometimes those of hatred rather than love, but they are bonds

nevertheless.

Frowning or hopeful, every man of leadership in any line of thought or

effort must now look beyond the limits of his own country. The student

of sociology may live in Berlin or St. Petersburg, Rome or London, or

he may live in Melbourne or San Francisco or Buenos Aires; but in

whatever city he lives, he must pay heed to the studies of men who

live in each of the other cities. When in America we study labor

problems and attempt to deal with subjects such as life insurance for

wage-workers, we turn to see what you do here in Germany, and we also

turn to see what the far-off commonwealth of New Zealand is doing.

When a great German scientist is warring against the most dreaded

enemies of mankind, creatures of infinitesimal size which the

microscope reveals in his blood, he may spend his holidays of study in

central Africa or in eastern Asia; and he must know what is

accomplished in the laboratories of Tokyo, just as he must know the

details of that practical application of science which has changed the

Isthmus of Panama from a death-trap into what is almost a health

resort. Every progressive in China is striving to introduce Western

methods of education and administration, and hundreds of European and

American books are now translated into Chinese. The influence of

European governmental principles is strikingly illustrated by the fact

that admiration for them has broken down the iron barriers of Moslem

conservatism, so that their introduction has become a burning question

in Turkey and Persia; while the very unrest, the impatience of

European or American control, in India, Egypt, or the Philippines,

takes the form of demanding that the government be assimilated more

closely to what it is in England or the United States. The deeds and

works of any great statesman, the preachings of any great ethical,

social, or political teacher, now find echoes in both hemispheres and

in every continent. From a new discovery in science to a new method of

combating or applying Socialism, there is no movement of note which

can take place in any part of the globe without powerfully affecting

masses of people in Europe, America, and Australia, in Asia and

Africa. For weal or for woe, the peoples of mankind are knit together

far closer than ever before.

So much for the geographical side of the expansion of modern

civilization. But only a few of the many and intense activities of

modern civilization have found their expression on this side. The

movement has been just as striking in its conquest over natural

forces, in its searching inquiry into and about the soul of things.

The conquest over Nature has included an extraordinary increase in

every form of knowledge of the world we live in, and also an

extraordinary increase in the power of utilizing the forces of

Nature. In both directions the advance has been very great during the

past four or five centuries, and in both directions it has gone on

with ever-increasing rapidity during the last century. After the great

age of Rome had passed, the boundaries of knowledge shrank, and in

many cases it was not until well-nigh our own times that her domain

was once again pushed beyond the ancient landmarks. About the year 150

A.D., Ptolemy, the geographer, published his map of central Africa and

the sources of the Nile, and this map was more accurate than any which

we had as late as 1850 A.D. More was known of physical science, and

more of the truth about the physical world was guessed at, in the days

of Pliny, than was known or guessed until the modern movement began.

The case was the same as regards military science. At the close of the

Middle Ages the weapons were what they had always been--sword, shield,

bow, spear; and any improvement in them was more than offset by the

loss in knowledge of military organization, in the science of war, and

in military leadership since the days of Hannibal and Cæsar. A hundred

years ago, when this University was founded, the methods of

transportation did not differ in the essentials from what they had

been among the highly civilized nations of antiquity. Travellers and

merchandise went by land in wheeled vehicles or on beasts of burden,

and by sea in boats propelled by sails or by oars; and news was

conveyed as it always had been conveyed. What improvements there had

been had been in degree only and not in kind; and in some respects

there had been retrogression rather than advance. There were many

parts of Europe where the roads were certainly worse than the old

Roman post-roads; and the Mediterranean Sea, for instance, was by no

means as well policed as in the days of Trajan. Now steam and

electricity have worked a complete revolution; and the resulting

immensely increased ease of communication has in its turn completely

changed all the physical questions of human life. A voyage from Egypt

to England was nearly as serious an affair in the eighteenth century

as in the second; and the news communications between the two lands

were not materially improved. A graduate of your University to-day can

go to mid-Asia or mid-Africa with far less consciousness of performing

a feat of note than would have been the case a hundred years ago with

a student who visited Sicily and Andalusia. Moreover, the invention

and use of machinery run by steam or electricity have worked a

revolution in industry as great as the revolution in transportation;

so that here again the difference between ancient and modern

civilization is one not merely of degree but of kind. In many vital

respects the huge modern city differs more from all preceding cities

than any of these differed one from the other; and the giant factory

town is of and by itself one of the most formidable problems of modern

life.

African and European Addresses · 第 6 / 12 段