History of Civilization in England, Vol. 1 of 3

Now, so far as natural phenomena are concerned, it is evident, that whatever inspires feelings of terror, or of great wonder, and whatever excites in the mind an idea of the vague and uncontrollable, has a special tendency to inflame the imagination, and bring under its dominion the slower and more deliberate operations of the understanding. In such cases, Man, contrasting himself with the force and majesty of Nature, becomes painfully conscious of his own insignificance. A sense of inferiority steals over him. From every quarter innumerable obstacles hem him in, and limit his individual will. His mind, appalled by the indefined and indefinable, hardly cares to scrutinize the details of which such imposing grandeur consists.225 On the other hand, where the works of Nature are small and feeble, Man regains confidence; he seems more able to rely on his own power; he can, as it were, pass through and exercise authority in every direction. And as the phenomena are more accessible, it becomes easier for him to experiment on them, or to observe them with minuteness; an inquisitive and analytic spirit is encouraged, and he is tempted to generalize the appearances of Nature, and refer them to the laws by which they are governed.

Looking in this way at the human mind as affected by the Aspects of Nature, it is surely a remarkable fact, that all the great early civilizations were situated within and immediately adjoining the tropics, where those aspects are most sublime, most terrible, and where Nature is, in every respect, most dangerous to Man. Indeed, generally, in Asia, Africa, and America, the external world is more formidable than in Europe. This holds good not only of the fixed and permanent phenomena, such as mountains, and other great natural barriers, but also of occasional phenomena, such as earthquakes, tempests, hurricanes, pestilences; all of which are in those regions very frequent and very disastrous. These constant and serious dangers produce effects analogous to those caused by the sublimity of Nature, in so far, that in both cases there is a tendency to increase the activity of the imagination. For the peculiar province of the imagination being to deal with the unknown, every event which is unexplained, as well as important, is a direct stimulus to our imaginative faculties. In the tropics, events of this kind are more numerous than elsewhere; it therefore follows that in the tropics the imagination is most likely to triumph. A few illustrations of the working of this principle will place it in a clearer light, and will prepare the reader for the arguments based upon it.

Of those physical events which increase the insecurity of Man, earthquakes are certainly among the most striking, in regard to the loss of life which they cause, as also in regard to their sudden and unexpected occurrence. There is reason to believe that they are always preceded by atmospheric changes which strike immediately at the nervous system, and thus have a direct physical tendency to impair the intellectual powers.226 However this may be, there can be no doubt as to the effect they produce in encouraging particular associations and habits of thought. The terror which they inspire excites the imagination even to a painful extent, and, overbalancing the judgment, predisposes men to superstitious fancies. And what is highly curious, is, that repetition, so far from blunting such feelings, strengthens them. In Peru, where earthquakes appear to be more common than in any other country,227 every succeeding visitation increases the general dismay; so that, in some cases, the fear becomes almost insupportable.228 The mind is thus constantly thrown into a timid and anxious state: and men witnessing the most serious dangers, which they can neither avoid nor understand, become impressed with a conviction of their own inability, and of the poverty of their own resources.229 In exactly the same proportion, the imagination is aroused, and a belief in supernatural interference actively encouraged. Human power failing, superhuman power is called in; the mysterious and the invisible are believed to be present; and there grow up among the people those feelings of awe and of helplessness, on which all superstition is based, and without which no superstition can exist.230

Further illustration of this may be found even in Europe, where such phenomena are, comparatively speaking, extremely rare. Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions are more frequent and more destructive in Italy, and in the Spanish and Portuguese peninsula, than in any other of the great countries; and it is precisely there that superstition is most rife, and the superstitious classes most powerful. Those were the countries where the clergy first established their authority, where the worst corruptions of Christianity took place, and where superstition has during the longest period retained the firmest hold. To this may be added another circumstance, indicative of the connexion between these physical phenomena and the predominance of the imagination. Speaking generally, the fine arts are addressed more to the imagination; the sciences to the intellect.231 Now it is remarkable, that all the greatest painters, and nearly all the greatest sculptors, modern Europe has possessed, have been produced by the Italian and Spanish peninsulas. In regard to science, Italy has no doubt had several men of conspicuous ability; but their numbers are out of all proportion small when compared with her artists and poets. As to Spain and Portugal, the literature of those two countries is eminently poetic, and from their schools have proceeded some of the greatest painters the world has ever seen. On the other hand, the purely reasoning faculties have been neglected, and the whole Peninsula, from the earliest period to the present time, does not supply to the history of the natural sciences a single name of the highest merit; not one man whose works form an epoch in the progress of European knowledge.232

The manner in which the Aspects of Nature, when they are very threatening, stimulate the imagination,233 and by encouraging superstition discourage knowledge, may be made still more apparent by one or two additional facts. Among an ignorant people, there is a direct tendency to ascribe all serious dangers to supernatural intervention; and a strong religious sentiment being thus aroused,234 it constantly happens, not only that the danger is submitted to, but that it is actually worshipped. This is the case with some of the Hindus in the forest of Malabar;235 and many similar instances will occur to whoever has studied the condition of barbarous tribes.236 Indeed, so far is this carried, that in some countries the inhabitants, from feelings of reverential fear, refuse to destroy wild-beasts and noxious reptiles; the mischief these animals inflict being the cause of the impunity they enjoy.237

It is in this way, that the old tropical civilizations had to struggle with innumerable difficulties unknown to the temperate zone, where European civilization has long flourished. The devastations of animals hostile to man, the ravages of hurricanes, tempests, earthquakes,238 and similar perils, constantly pressed upon them, and affected the tone of their national character. For the mere loss of life was the smallest part of the inconvenience. The real mischief was, that there were engendered in the mind, associations which made the imagination predominate over the understanding; which infused into the people a spirit of reverence instead of a spirit of inquiry; and which encouraged a disposition to neglect the investigation of natural causes, and ascribe events to the operation of supernatural ones.

Everything we know of those countries proves how active this tendency must have been. With extremely few exceptions, health is more precarious, and disease more common, in tropical climates than in temperate ones. Now, it has been often observed, and indeed is very obvious, that the fear of death makes men more prone to seek supernatural aid than they would otherwise be. So complete is our ignorance respecting another life, that it is no wonder if even the stoutest heart should quail at the sudden approach of that dark and untried future. On this subject the reason is perfectly silent; the imagination, therefore, is uncontrolled. The operation of natural causes being brought to an end, supernatural causes are supposed to begin. Hence it is, that whatever increases in any country the amount of dangerous disease, has an immediate tendency to strengthen superstition, and aggrandize the imagination at the expense of the understanding. This principle is so universal, that, in every part of the world, the vulgar ascribe to the intervention of the Deity those diseases which are peculiarly fatal, and especially those which have a sudden and mysterious appearance. In Europe it used to be believed that every pestilence was a manifestation of the divine anger;239 and this opinion, though it has long been dying away, is by no means extinct, even in the most civilized countries.240 Superstition of this kind will of course be strongest, either where medical knowledge is most backward, or where disease is most abundant. In countries where both these conditions are fulfilled, the superstition is supreme; and even where only one of the conditions exists, the tendency is so irresistible, that, I believe, there are no barbarous people who do not ascribe to their good or evil deities, not only extraordinary diseases, but even many of the ordinary ones to which they are liable.241

Here, then, we have another specimen of the unfavourable influence, which, in the old civilizations, external phenomena exercised over the human mind. For those parts of Asia where the highest refinement was reached, are, from various physical causes, much more unhealthy than the most civilized parts of Europe.242 This fact alone must have produced a considerable effect on the national character,243 and the more so, as it was aided by those other circumstances which I have pointed out, all tending in the same direction. To this may be added, that the great plagues by which Europe has at different periods been scourged, have, for the most part, proceeded from the East, which is their natural birthplace, and where they are most fatal. Indeed, of those cruel diseases now existing in Europe, scarcely one is indigenous; and the worst of them were imported from tropical countries in and after the first century of the Christian era.244

Summing up these facts, it may be stated, that in the civilizations exterior to Europe, all nature conspired to increase the authority of the imaginative faculties, and weaken the authority of the reasoning ones. With the materials now existing, it would be possible to follow this vast law to its remotest consequences, and show how in Europe it is opposed by another law diametrically opposite, and by virtue of which the tendency of natural phenomena is, on the whole, to limit the imagination, and embolden the understanding: thus inspiring Man with confidence in his own resources, and facilitating the increase of his knowledge, by encouraging that bold, inquisitive, and scientific spirit, which is constantly advancing, and on which all future progress must depend.

It is not to be supposed that I can trace in detail the way in which, owing to these peculiarities, the civilization of Europe has diverged from all others that preceded it. To do this, would require a learning and a reach of thought to which hardly any single man ought to pretend; since it is one thing to have a perception of a large and general truth, and it is another thing to follow out that truth in all its ramifications, and prove it by such evidence as will satisfy ordinary readers. Those, indeed, who are accustomed to speculations of this character, and are able to discern in the history of man something more than a mere relation of events, will at once understand that in these complicated subjects, the wider any generalization is, the greater will be the chance of apparent exceptions; and that when the theory covers a very large space, the exceptions may be innumerable, and yet the theory remain perfectly accurate. The two fundamental propositions which I hope to have demonstrated, are, 1st, That there are certain natural phenomena which act on the human mind by exciting the imagination; and 2dly, That those phenomena are much more numerous out of Europe than in it. If these two propositions are admitted, it inevitably follows, that in those countries where the imagination has received the stimulus, some specific effects must have been produced; unless, indeed, the effects have been neutralized by other causes. Whether or not there have been antagonistic causes, is immaterial to the truth of the theory, which is based on the two propositions just stated. In a scientific point of view, therefore, the generalization is complete; and it would perhaps be prudent to leave it as it now stands, rather than attempt to confirm it by further illustrations, since all particular facts are liable to be erroneously stated, and are sure to be contradicted by those who dislike the conclusions they corroborate. But in order to familiarize the reader with the principles I have put forward, it does seem advisable that a few instances should be given of their actual working: and I will, therefore, briefly notice the effects they have produced in the three great divisions of Literature, Religion, and Art. In each of these departments, I will endeavour to indicate how the leading features have been affected by the Aspects of Nature; and with a view of simplifying the inquiry, I will take the two most conspicuous instances on each side, and compare the manifestations of the intellect of Greece with those of the intellect of India: these being the two countries respecting which the materials are most ample, and in which the physical contrasts are most striking.

If, then, we look at the ancient literature of India, even during its best period, we shall find the most remarkable evidence of the uncontrolled ascendency of the imagination. In the first place, we have the striking fact that scarcely any attention has been paid to prose composition; all the best writers having devoted themselves to poetry, as being most congenial to the national habits of thought. Their works on grammar, on law, on history, on medicine, on mathematics, on geography, and on metaphysics, are nearly all poems, and are put together according to a regular system of versification.245 The consequence is, that while prose writing is utterly despised, the art of poetry has been cultivated so assiduously, that the Sanscrit can boast of metres more numerous and more complicated than have ever been possessed by any of the European languages.246

This peculiarity in the form of Indian literature is accompanied by a corresponding peculiarity in its spirit. For it is no exaggeration to say, that in that literature every thing is calculated to set the reason of man at open defiance. An imagination, luxuriant even to disease, runs riot on every occasion. This is particularly seen in those productions which are most eminently national, such as the Ramayana, the Mahabharat, and the Puranas in general. But we also find it even in their geographical and chronological systems, which of all others might be supposed least liable to imaginative flights. A few examples of the statements put forward in the most authoritative books, will supply the means of instituting a comparison with the totally opposite condition of the European intellect, and will give the reader some idea of the extent to which credulity can proceed, even among a civilized people.247

Of all the various ways in which the imagination has distorted truth, there is none that has worked so much harm as an exaggerated respect for past ages. This reverence for antiquity is repugnant to every maxim of reason, and is merely the indulgence of a poetic sentiment in favour of the remote and unknown. It is, therefore, natural that, in periods when the intellect was comparatively speaking inert, this sentiment should have been far stronger than it now is; and there can be little doubt that it will continue to grow weaker, and that in the same proportion the feeling of progress will gain ground; so that veneration for the past will be succeeded by hope for the future. But formerly the veneration was supreme, and innumerable traces of it may be found in the literature and popular creed of every country. It is this, for instance, which inspired the poets with their notion of a golden age, in which the world was filled with peace, in which evil passions were stilled, and crimes were unknown. It is this, again, which gave to theologians their idea of the primitive virtue and simplicity of man, and of his subsequent fall from that high estate. And it is this same principle which diffused a belief that in the olden times, men were not only more virtuous and happy, but also physically superior in the structure of their bodies; and that by this means they attained to a larger stature, and lived to a greater age, than is possible for us, their feeble and degenerate descendants.

Opinions of this kind, being adopted by the imagination in spite of the understanding, it follows that the strength of such opinions becomes, in any country, one of the standards by which we may estimate the predominance of the imaginative faculties. Applying this test to the literature of India, we shall find a striking confirmation of the conclusions already drawn. The marvellous feats of antiquity with which the Sanscrit books abound, are so long and so complicated, that it would occupy too much space to give even an outline of them; but there is one class of these singular fictions which is well worth attention, and admits of being briefly stated. I allude to the extraordinary age which man was supposed to have attained in former times. A belief in the longevity of the human race, at an early period of the world, was the natural product of those feelings which ascribed to the ancients an universal superiority over the moderns; and this we see exemplified in some of the Christian, and in many of the Hebrew writings. But the statements in these works are tame and insignificant when compared with what is preserved in the literature of India. On this, as on every subject, the imagination of the Hindus distanced all competition. Thus, among an immense number of similar facts, we find it recorded that in ancient times the duration of the life of common men was 80,000 years,248 and that holy men lived to be upwards of 100,000.249 Some died a little sooner, others a little later; but in the most flourishing period of antiquity, if we take all classes together, 100,000 years was the average.250 Of one king, whose name was Yudhishthir, it is casually mentioned that he reigned 27,000 years;251 while another, called Alarka, reigned 66,000.252 They were cut off in their prime, since there are several instances of the early poets living to be about half-a-million.253 But the most remarkable case is that of a very shining character in Indian history, who united in his single person the functions of a king and a saint. This eminent man lived in a pure and virtuous age, and his days were, indeed, long in the land; since, when he was made king, he was two million years old: he then reigned 6,300,000 years; having done which, he resigned his empire, and lingered on for 100,000 years more.254

The same boundless reverence for antiquity made the Hindus refer every thing important to the most distant periods; and they frequently assign a date which is absolutely bewildering.255 Their great collection of laws, called the Institutes of Menu, is certainly less than 3,000 years old; but the Indian chronologists, so far from being satisfied with this, ascribe to them an age that the sober European mind finds a difficulty even in conceiving. According to the best native authorities, these Institutes were revealed to man about two thousand million years before the present era.256

All this is but a part of that love of the remote, that straining after the infinite, and that indifference to the present, which characterizes every branch of the Indian intellect. Not only in literature, but also in religion and in art, this tendency is supreme. To subjugate the understanding, and exalt the imagination, is the universal principle. In the dogmas of their theology, in the character of their gods, and even in the forms of their temples, we see how the sublime and threatening aspects of the external world have filled the mind of the people with those images of the grand and the terrible, which they strive to reproduce in a visible form, and to which they owe the leading peculiarities of their national culture.

Our view of this vast process may be made clearer by comparing it with the opposite condition of Greece. In Greece, we see a country altogether the reverse of India. The works of nature, which in India are of startling magnitude, are in Greece far smaller, feebler, and in every way less threatening to man. In the great centre of Asiatic civilization, the energies of the human race are confined, and as it were intimidated, by the surrounding phenomena. Besides the dangers incidental to tropical climates, there are those noble mountains, which seem to touch the sky, and from whose sides are discharged mighty rivers, which no art can divert from their course, and which no bridge has ever been able to span. There, too, are impassable forests, whole countries lined with interminable jungle, and beyond them, again, dreary and boundless deserts; all teaching Man his own feebleness, and his inability to cope with natural forces. Without, and on either side, there are great seas, ravaged by tempests far more destructive than any known in Europe, and of such sudden violence, that it is impossible to guard against their effects. And, as if in those regions every thing combined to cramp the activity of Man, the whole line of coast, from the mouth of the Ganges to the extreme south of the peninsula, does not contain a single safe and capacious harbour, not one port that affords a refuge, which is perhaps more necessary there than in any other part of the world.257

But in Greece, the aspects of nature are so entirely different, that the very conditions of existence are changed. Greece, like India, forms a peninsula; but while in the Asiatic country every thing is great and terrible, in the European country every thing is small and feeble. The whole of Greece occupies a space somewhat less than the kingdom of Portugal,258 that is about a fortieth part of what is now called Hindustan.259 Situated in the most accessible part of a narrow sea, it had easy contact on the east with Asia Minor, on the west with Italy, on the south with Egypt. Dangers of all kinds were far less numerous than in the tropical civilizations. The climate was more healthy;260 earthquakes were less frequent; hurricanes were less disastrous; wild-beasts and noxious animals less abundant. In regard to the other great features, the same law prevails. The highest mountains in Greece are less than one-third of the Himalaya, so that nowhere do they reach the limit of perpetual snow.261 As to rivers, not only is there nothing approaching those imposing volumes which are poured down from the mountains of Asia, but nature is so singularly sluggish, that neither in Northern nor in Southern Greece do we find any thing beyond a few streams, which are easily forded, and which, indeed, in the summer season, are frequently dried up.262

These striking differences in the material phenomena of the two countries gave rise to corresponding differences in their mental associations. For as all ideas must arise partly from what are called spontaneous operations in the mind, and partly from what is suggested to the mind by the external world, it was natural that so great an alteration in one of the causes should produce an alteration in the effects. The tendency of the surrounding phenomena was in India to inspire fear; in Greece to give confidence. In India Man was intimidated; in Greece he was encouraged. In India obstacles of every sort were so numerous, so alarming, and apparently so inexplicable, that the difficulties of life could only be solved by constantly appealing to the direct agency of supernatural causes. Those causes being beyond the province of the understanding, the resources of the imagination were incessantly occupied in studying them; the imagination itself was overworked, its activity became dangerous, it encroached on the understanding, and the equilibrium of the whole was destroyed. In Greece opposite circumstances were followed by opposite results. In Greece Nature was less dangerous, less intrusive, and less mysterious than in India. In Greece, therefore, the human mind was less appalled, and less superstitious; natural causes began to be studied; physical science first became possible; and Man, gradually waking to a sense of his own power, sought to investigate events with a boldness not to be expected in those other countries, where the pressure of Nature troubled his independence, and suggested ideas with which knowledge is incompatible.