The Story of Mankind [183]
of millions of men. They were chanting a
hymn of progress, and four years of slaughter followed their
prayers for peace. ``Is it worth while,'' so they ask, ``to work
and slave for the benefit of creatures who have not yet passed
beyond the stage of the earliest cave men?''
There is but one answer.
That answer is ``Yes!''
The World War was a terrible calamity. But it did not
mean the end of things. On the contrary it brought about the
coming of a new day.
It is easy to write a history of Greece and Rome or the
Middle Ages. The actors who played their parts upon that
long-forgotten stage are all dead. We can criticize them with
a cool head. The audience that applauded their efforts has
dispersed. Our remarks cannot possibly hurt their feelings.
But it is very difficult to give a true account of contemporary
events. The problems that fill the minds of the people
with whom we pass through life, are our own problems, and
they hurt us too much or they please us too well to be described
with that fairness which is necessary when we are writing
history and not blowing the trumpet of propaganda. All
the same I shall endeavour to tell you why I agree with poor
Condorcet when he expressed his firm faith in a better future.
Often before have I warned you against the false impression
which is created by the use of our so-called historical
epochs which divide the story of man into four parts, the ancient
world, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and the Reformation,
and Modern Time. The last of these terms is the most
dangerous. The word ``modern'' implies that we, the people
of the twentieth century, are at the top of human achievement.
Fifty years ago the liberals of England who followed the leadership
of Gladstone felt that the problem of a truly representative
and democratic form of government had been solved forever
by the second great Reform Bill, which gave workmen
an equal share in the government with their employers. When
Disraeli and his conservative friends talked of a dangerous
``leap in the dark'' they answered ``No.'' They felt certain of
their cause and trusted that henceforth all classes of society
would co-operate to make the government of their common
country a success. Since then many things have happened,
and the few liberals who are still alive begin to understand
that they were mistaken.
There is no definite answer to any historical problem.
Every generation must fight the good fight anew or perish
as those sluggish animals of the prehistoric world have
perished.
If you once get hold of this great truth you will get a new
and much broader view of life. Then, go one step further
and try to imagine yourself in the position of your own great-
great-grandchildren who will take your place in the year
10,000. They too will learn history. But what will they
think of those short four thousand years during which we have
kept a written record of our actions and of our thoughts?
They will think of Napoleon as a contemporary of Tiglath
Pileser, the Assyrian conqueror. Perhaps they will confuse
him with Jenghiz Khan or Alexander the Macedonian. The
great war which has just come to an end will appear in the light
of that long commercial conflict which settled the supremacy
of the Mediterranean when Rome and Carthage fought during
one hundred and twenty-eight years for the mastery of the sea.
The Balkan troubles of the 19th century (the struggle for
freedom of Serbia and Greece and Bulgaria and Montenegro)
to them will seem a continuation of the disordered conditions
caused by the Great Migrations. They will look at pictures
of the Rheims cathedral which only yesterday was destroyed
by German guns as we look upon a photograph of the Acropolis
ruined two hundred and fifty years ago during a war
between the Turks and the Venetians. They will regard the
fear of death, which is still common among
hymn of progress, and four years of slaughter followed their
prayers for peace. ``Is it worth while,'' so they ask, ``to work
and slave for the benefit of creatures who have not yet passed
beyond the stage of the earliest cave men?''
There is but one answer.
That answer is ``Yes!''
The World War was a terrible calamity. But it did not
mean the end of things. On the contrary it brought about the
coming of a new day.
It is easy to write a history of Greece and Rome or the
Middle Ages. The actors who played their parts upon that
long-forgotten stage are all dead. We can criticize them with
a cool head. The audience that applauded their efforts has
dispersed. Our remarks cannot possibly hurt their feelings.
But it is very difficult to give a true account of contemporary
events. The problems that fill the minds of the people
with whom we pass through life, are our own problems, and
they hurt us too much or they please us too well to be described
with that fairness which is necessary when we are writing
history and not blowing the trumpet of propaganda. All
the same I shall endeavour to tell you why I agree with poor
Condorcet when he expressed his firm faith in a better future.
Often before have I warned you against the false impression
which is created by the use of our so-called historical
epochs which divide the story of man into four parts, the ancient
world, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and the Reformation,
and Modern Time. The last of these terms is the most
dangerous. The word ``modern'' implies that we, the people
of the twentieth century, are at the top of human achievement.
Fifty years ago the liberals of England who followed the leadership
of Gladstone felt that the problem of a truly representative
and democratic form of government had been solved forever
by the second great Reform Bill, which gave workmen
an equal share in the government with their employers. When
Disraeli and his conservative friends talked of a dangerous
``leap in the dark'' they answered ``No.'' They felt certain of
their cause and trusted that henceforth all classes of society
would co-operate to make the government of their common
country a success. Since then many things have happened,
and the few liberals who are still alive begin to understand
that they were mistaken.
There is no definite answer to any historical problem.
Every generation must fight the good fight anew or perish
as those sluggish animals of the prehistoric world have
perished.
If you once get hold of this great truth you will get a new
and much broader view of life. Then, go one step further
and try to imagine yourself in the position of your own great-
great-grandchildren who will take your place in the year
10,000. They too will learn history. But what will they
think of those short four thousand years during which we have
kept a written record of our actions and of our thoughts?
They will think of Napoleon as a contemporary of Tiglath
Pileser, the Assyrian conqueror. Perhaps they will confuse
him with Jenghiz Khan or Alexander the Macedonian. The
great war which has just come to an end will appear in the light
of that long commercial conflict which settled the supremacy
of the Mediterranean when Rome and Carthage fought during
one hundred and twenty-eight years for the mastery of the sea.
The Balkan troubles of the 19th century (the struggle for
freedom of Serbia and Greece and Bulgaria and Montenegro)
to them will seem a continuation of the disordered conditions
caused by the Great Migrations. They will look at pictures
of the Rheims cathedral which only yesterday was destroyed
by German guns as we look upon a photograph of the Acropolis
ruined two hundred and fifty years ago during a war
between the Turks and the Venetians. They will regard the
fear of death, which is still common among