History of Civilization in England, Vol. 1 of 3

The divergence, and indeed the hostility, thus established between the practical and speculative classes, is the most important fact in the history of Scotland, and is partly cause and partly effect of the predominance of the deductive method. For this descending scheme being opposed to the ascending or inductive scheme, neglects those lower generalizations which are the only ones that both classes understand, and, therefore, the only ones where they sympathize with each other. The inductive method, as popularized by Bacon, gave great prominence to these lower or proximate truths; and this, though it has often made the intellectual classes in England too utilitarian, has at all events saved them from that state of isolation in which they would otherwise have remained. But in Scotland the isolation has been almost complete, because the deductive method has been almost universal. Full evidence of this will be collected in the third volume; but, that I may not leave the subject entirely without illustration, I will notice very briefly the principal instances that occurred during those three generations in which Scotch literature reached its highest excellence.

During this period, which comprises nearly a century, the tendency was so unmistakable as to form a striking phenomenon in the annals of the human mind. The first great symptom was a movement begun by Simson, professor at the University of Glasgow, and continued by Stewart, professor at the University of Edinburgh. These able men made strenuous efforts to revive the pure Greek geometry, and depreciate the algebraic or symbolical analysis.391 Hence there arose among them, and among their disciples, a love of the most refined methods of solution, and a contempt for those easier, but less elegant ones, which we owe to algebra.392 Here we clearly see the isolating and esoteric character of a scheme which despises what ordinary understandings can quickly master, and which had rather proceed from the ideal to the tangible, than mount from the tangible to the ideal. Just at the same time, the same spirit was displayed, in another branch of inquiry, by Hutcheson, who, though an Irishman by birth, was educated in the University of Glasgow, and was professor there. In his celebrated moral and æsthetic researches, he, in the place of inductive reasoning from palpable facts, substituted deductive reasoning from impalpable principles; ignoring the immediate and practical suggestions of the senses, and believing that by a hypothetical assumption of certain laws, he could descend upon the facts, instead of rising from the facts in order to learn the laws.393 His philosophy exercised immense influence among metaphysicians;394 and his method of working downwards, from the abstract to the concrete, was adopted by another and a still greater Scotchman, the illustrious Adam Smith. How Smith favoured the deductive form of investigation is apparent in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, likewise in his Essay on Language,395 and even in his fragment on the History of Astronomy, in which he, from general considerations, undertook to prove what the march of astronomical discovery must have been, instead of first ascertaining what it had been.396 The Wealth of Nations, again, is entirely deductive, since in it Smith generalizes the laws of wealth, not from the phenomena of wealth, nor from statistical statements, but from the phenomena of selfishness; thus making a deductive application of one set of mental principles to the whole set of economical facts.397 The illustrations with which his great book abounds are no part of the real argument: they are subsequent to the conception; and if they were all admitted, the work, though less interesting and perhaps less influential, would, in a scientific point of view, be equally valuable. To give another instance: the works of Hume, his metaphysical essays alone excepted, are all deductive; his profound economical inquiries are essentially a priori, and might have been written without any acquaintance with those details of trade and finance from which, according to the inductive scheme, they should have been generalized.398 Thus, too, in his Natural History of Religion, he endeavoured simply by reflection, and independently of evidence, to institute a purely speculative investigation into the origin of religious opinions.399 In the same way, in his History of England, instead of first collecting the evidence, and then drawing inferences from it, he began by assuming that the relations between the people and the government must have followed a certain order, and he either neglected or distorted the facts by which this supposition was contradicted.400 These different writers, though varying in their principles, and in the subjects they studied, were all agreed as to their method; that is to say, they were all agreed to investigate truth rather by descent than by ascent. The immense social importance of this peculiarity I shall examine in the third volume, where I shall endeavour to ascertain how it affected the national civilization, and caused some curious contrasts with the opposite, and more empirical, character of English literature. In the meantime, and merely to state what will be hereafter proved, I may add, that the deductive method was employed, not only by those eminent Scotchmen I have mentioned, but was carried into the speculative History of Civil Society by Ferguson; into the study of legislation by Mill; into the study of jurisprudence by Mackintosh; into geology by Hutton; into thermotics by Black and Leslie; into physiology by Hunter, by Alexander Walker, and by Charles Bell; into pathology by Cullen; into therapeutics by Brown and Currie.

This is an outline of the plan I purpose to follow in the present Introduction, and by means of which I hope to arrive at some results of permanent value. For by studying different principles in those countries where they have been most developed, the laws of the principles will be more easily unfolded than if we had studied them in countries where they are very obscure. And, inasmuch as, in England, civilization has followed a course more orderly, and less disturbed, than in any other country, it becomes the more necessary, in writing its history, to use some resources like those which I have suggested. What makes the history of England so eminently valuable is, that nowhere else has the national progress been so little interfered with, either for good or for evil. But the mere fact that our civilization has, by this means, been preserved in a more natural and healthy state, renders it incumbent on us to study the diseases to which it is liable, by observing those other countries where social disease is more rife. The security and the durability of civilization must depend on the regularity with which its elements are combined, and on the harmony with which they work. If any one element is too active, the whole composition will be in danger. Hence it is, that although the laws of the composition of the elements will be best ascertained wherever we can find the composition most complete, we must, nevertheless, search for the laws of each separate element wherever we can find the element itself most active. While, therefore, I have selected the history of England, as that in which the harmony of the different principles has been longest maintained, I have, precisely on that account, thought it advisable to study each principle separately in the country where it has been most powerful, and where, by its inordinate development, the equilibrium of the entire structure has been disturbed.

By adopting these precautions, we shall be able to remove many of the difficulties which still beset the study of history. Before, however, entering that wide field which now lies in our way, it will be well to clear up some preliminary points, which I have not yet noticed, and the discussion of which may obviate certain objections that might otherwise be raised. The subjects to which I allude, are Religion, Literature, and Government: three topics of vast importance, and which, in the opinion of many persons, are the prime movers of human affairs. That this opinion is altogether erroneous will be amply proved in the present work; but as the opinion is widely spread, and is very plausible, it is necessary that we should at once come to some understanding respecting it, and inquire into the real nature of that influence, which these three great powers do actually exercise over the progress of civilization.

Now, in the first place, it is evident that if a people were left entirely to themselves, their religion, their literature, and their government would be, not the causes of their civilization, but the effects of it. Out of a certain condition of society certain results naturally follow. Those results may, no doubt, be tampered with by some external agency; but if that is not done, it is impossible that a highly civilized people, accustomed to reason and to doubt, should ever embrace a religion of which the glaring absurdities set reason and doubt at defiance. There are many instances of nations changing their religion, but there is no instance of a progressive country voluntarily adopting a retrogressive religion; neither is there any example of a declining country ameliorating its religion. It is of course true, that a good religion is favourable to civilization, and a bad one unfavourable to it. Unless, however, there is some interference from without, no people will ever discover that their religion is bad until their reason tells them so; but if their reason is inactive, and their knowledge stationary, the discovery will never be made. A country that continues in its old ignorance will always remain in its old religion. Surely nothing can be plainer than this. A very ignorant people will, by virtue of their ignorance, incline towards a religion full of marvels; a religion which boasts of innumerable gods, and which ascribes every occurrence to the immediate authority of those gods. On the other hand, a people whose knowledge makes them better judges of evidence, and who are accustomed to that most difficult task, the practice of doubting, will require a religion less marvellous, less obtrusive; one that taxes their credulity less heavily. But will you, therefore, say, that the badness of the first religion causes the ignorance; and that the goodness of the second religion causes the knowledge? Will you say, that when one event precedes another, the one which comes first is the effect, and the one which follows afterwards is the cause? This is not the way in which men reason on the ordinary affairs of life; and it is difficult to see why they should reason thus respecting the history of past events.

The truth is, that the religious opinions which prevail in any period are among the symptoms by which that period is marked. When the opinions are deeply rooted, they do, no doubt, influence the conduct of men; but before they can be deeply rooted, some intellectual change must first have taken place. We may as well expect that the seed should quicken in the barren rock, as that a mild and philosophic religion should be established among ignorant and ferocious savages. Of this innumerable experiments have been made, and always with the same result. Men of excellent intentions, and full of a fervent though mistaken zeal, have been, and still are, attempting to propagate their own religion among the inhabitants of barbarous countries. By strenuous and unremitting activity, and frequently by promises, and even by actual gifts, they have, in many cases, persuaded savage communities to make a profession of the Christian religion. But whoever will compare the triumphant reports of the missionaries with the long chain of evidence supplied by competent travellers, will soon find that such profession is only nominal, and that these ignorant tribes have adopted, indeed, the ceremonies of the new religion, but have by no means adopted the religion itself. They receive the externals, but there they stop. They may baptize their children; they may take the sacrament; they may flock to the church. All this they may do, and yet be as far removed from the spirit of Christianity as when they bowed the knee before their former idols. The rites and forms of a religion lie on the surface; they are at once seen, they are quickly learned, easily copied by those who are unable to penetrate to that which lies beneath. It is this deeper and inward change which alone is durable; and this the savage can never experience while he is sunk in an ignorance that levels him with the brutes by which he is surrounded. Remove the ignorance, and then the religion may enter. This is the only course by which ultimate benefit can be effected. After a careful study of the history and condition of barbarous nations, I do most confidently assert, that there is no well attested case of any people being permanently converted to Christianity, except in those very few instances where missionaries, being men of knowledge, as well as men of piety, have familiarized the savage with habits of thought, and, by thus stimulating his intellect, have prepared him for the reception of those religious principles, which, without such stimulus, he could never have understood.401

It is in this way that, looking at things upon a large scale, the religion of mankind is the effect of their improvement, not the cause of it. But, looking at things upon a small scale, or taking what is called a practical view of some short and special period, circumstances will occasionally occur which disturb this general order, and apparently reverse the natural process. And this, as in all such cases, can only arise from the peculiarities of individual men; who, moved by the minor laws which regulate individual actions, are able, by their genius or their energy, to interfere with the operation of those greater laws which regulate large societies. Owing to circumstances still unknown, there appear, from time to time, great thinkers, who, devoting their lives to a single purpose, are able to anticipate the progress of mankind, and to produce a religion or a philosophy, by which important effects are eventually brought about. But, if we look into history, we shall clearly see that, although the origin of a new opinion may be thus due to a single man, the result which the new opinion produces will depend on the condition of the people among whom it is propagated. If either a religion or a philosophy is too much in advance of a nation, it can do no present service, but must bide its time, until the minds of men are ripe for its reception. Of this innumerable instances will occur to most readers. Every science and every creed has had its martyrs; men exposed to obloquy, or even to death, because they knew more than their contemporaries, and because society was not sufficiently advanced to receive the truths which they communicated. According to the ordinary course of affairs, a few generations pass away, and then there comes a period when these very truths are looked upon as commonplace facts; and a little later, there comes another period, in which they are declared to be necessary, and even the dullest intellects wonder how they could ever have been denied. This is what happens when the human mind is allowed to have fair play, and to exercise itself, with tolerable freedom, in the accumulation and diffusion of knowledge. If, however, by violent, and therefore by artificial, means, this same society is prevented from exercising its intellect, then the truths, however important they may be, can never be received. For why should certain truths be rejected in one age, and acknowledged in another? The truths remain the same; their ultimate recognition must, therefore, be due to a change in the society which now accepts what it had before despised. Indeed, history is full of evidence of the utter inefficiency even of the noblest principles, when they are promulgated among a very ignorant nation. Thus it was that the doctrine of One God, taught to the Hebrews of old, remained for many centuries altogether inoperative. The people to whom it was addressed had not yet emerged from barbarism; they were, therefore, unable to raise their minds to so elevated a conception. Like all other barbarians, they craved after a religion which would feed their credulity with incessant wonders; and which, instead of abstracting the Deity to a single essence, would multiply their gods until they covered every field, and swarmed in every forest. This is the idolatry which is the natural fruit of ignorance; and this it is to which the Hebrews were perpetually recurring. Notwithstanding the most severe and unremitting punishments, they, at every opportunity, abandoned that pure theism which their minds were too backward to receive, and relapsed into superstitions which they could more easily understand, – into the worship of the golden calf, and the adoration of the brazen serpent. Now, and in this age of the world, they have long ceased to do these things. And why? Not because their religious feelings are more easily aroused, or their religious fears more often excited. So far from this, they are dissevered from their old associations; they have lost for ever those scenes by which men might well have been moved. They are no longer influenced by those causes which inspired emotions, sometimes of terror, sometimes of gratitude. They no longer witness the pillar of cloud by day, or the pillar of fire by night; they no longer see the Law being given from Sinai, nor do they hear the thunder rolling from Horeb. In the presence of these great appeals, they remained idolaters in their hearts, and whenever an opportunity occurred, they became idolaters in their practice, and this they did because they were in that state of barbarism, of which idolatry is the natural product. To what possible circumstance can their subsequent change be ascribed, except to the simple fact, that the Hebrews, like all other people, as they advanced in civilization, began to abstract and refine their religion, and, despising the old worship of many gods, thus by slow degrees elevated their minds to that steady perception of One Great Cause, which, at an earlier period, it had been vainly attempted to impress upon them?

Thus intimate is the connexion between the opinions of a people and their knowledge; and thus necessary is it that, so far as nations are concerned, intellectual activity should precede religious improvement. If we require further illustrations of this important truth, we shall find them in the events which occurred in Europe soon after the promulgation of Christianity. The Romans were, with rare exceptions, an ignorant and barbarous race; ferocious, dissolute, and cruel. For such a people, Polytheism was the natural creed; and we read, accordingly, that they practised an idolatry which a few great thinkers, and only a few, ventured to despise. The Christian religion, falling among these men, found them unable to appreciate its sublime and admirable doctrines. And when, a little later, Europe was overrun by fresh immigrations, the invaders, who were even more barbarous than the Romans, brought with them those superstitions which were suited to their actual condition. It was upon the materials arising from these two sources that Christianity was now called to do her work. The result is most remarkable. For after the new religion seemed to have carried all before it, and had received the homage of the best part of Europe, it was soon found that nothing had been really effected. It was soon found that society was in that early stage in which superstition is inevitable; and in which men, if they do not have it in one form, will have it in another. It was in vain that Christianity taught a simple doctrine, and enjoined a simple worship. The minds of men were too backward for so great a step, and required more complicated forms, and a more complicated belief. What followed is well known to the students of ecclesiastical history. The superstition of Europe, instead of being diminished, was only turned into a fresh channel. The new religion was corrupted by the old follies. The adoration of idols was succeeded by the adoration of saints; the worship of the Virgin was substituted for the worship of Cybele;402 Pagan ceremonies were established in Christian churches; not only the mummeries of idolatry, but likewise its doctrines, were quickly added, and were incorporated and worked into the spirit of the new religion; until, after a lapse of a few generations, Christianity exhibited so grotesque and hideous a form, that its best features were lost, and the lineaments of its earlier loveliness altogether destroyed.403

After some centuries were passed, Christianity slowly emerged from these corruptions; many of which, however, even the most civilized countries have not yet been able to throw off.404 Indeed, it was found impossible to effect even the beginning of a reform, until the European intellect was, in some degree, roused from its lethargy. The knowledge of men, gradually advancing, made them indignant at superstitions which they had formerly admired. The way in which their indignation increased, until, in the sixteenth century, it broke out into that great event which is well called the Reformation, forms one of the most interesting subjects in modern history. But, for our present purpose, it is enough to keep in mind the memorable and important fact that, for centuries after Christianity was the established religion of Europe, it failed to bear its natural fruit, because its lot was cast among a people whose ignorance compelled them to be superstitious, and who, on account of their superstition, defaced a system which, in its original purity, they were unable to receive.405

Indeed, in every page of history, we meet with fresh evidence of the little effect religious doctrines can produce upon a people, unless preceded by intellectual culture. The influence exercised by Protestantism, as compared with Catholicism, affords an interesting example of this. The Catholic religion bears to the Protestant religion exactly the same relation that the Dark Ages bear to the sixteenth century. In the Dark Ages, men were credulous and ignorant; they therefore produced a religion which required great belief and little knowledge. In the sixteenth century, their credulity and ignorance, though still considerable, were rapidly diminishing, and it was found necessary to organize a religion suited to their altered circumstances: a religion more favourable to free inquiry; a religion less full of miracles, saints, legends, and idols; a religion of which the ceremonies were less frequent, and less burdensome; a religion which should discourage penance, fasting, confession, celibacy, and those other mortifications which had long been universal. All this was done by the establishment of Protestantism; a mode of worship which, being thus suited to the age, made, as is well known, speedy progress. If this great movement had been allowed to proceed without interruption, it would, in the course of a few generations, have overthrown the old superstition, and established in its place a simpler and less troublesome creed; the rapidity with which this was done, being, of course, proportioned to the intellectual activity of the different countries. But, unfortunately, the European governments, who are always meddling in matters with which they have no concern, thought it their duty to protect the religious interests of the people; and making common cause with the Catholic clergy, they, in many instances, forcibly stopped the heresy, and thus arrested the natural development of the age. This interference was, in nearly all cases, well intended, and is solely to be ascribed to the ignorance of rulers respecting the proper limits of their functions: but the evils caused by this ignorance it would be difficult to exaggerate. During almost a hundred and fifty years, Europe was afflicted by religious wars, religious massacres, and religious persecutions; not one of which would have arisen, if the great truth had been recognised, that the state has no concern with the opinions of men, and no right to interfere, even in the slightest degree, with the form of worship which they may choose to adopt. This principle was, however, formerly unknown, or at all events unheeded; and it was not until the middle of the seventeenth century that the great religious contests were brought to a final close, and the different countries settled down into their public creeds; which, in the essential points, have never since been permanently altered; no nation having, for more than two hundred years, made war upon another on account of its religion; and all the great Catholic countries having, during the same period, remained Catholic, all the great Protestant ones remained Protestant.