But when it is attempted to transfer these centres of life to other regions, the attempt has uniformly failed.
And yet the Romans, admitting that they never encountered a tropical climate, seem to have colonized and thriven in countries in which the natives of Western Europe cannot now maintain their ground, cannot keep an army effective in the field for any length of time. The Roman legions and citizens occupied the country of Numidia without an effort; modern France, with an army larger than Rome ever had, can scarcely maintain its position in Algeria. The young population are cut off in their infancy, and it would seem that to maintain a Celtic race in Algeria will test the energies of an empire which it is true formed but a small province of imperial Rome. When we contrast late history with the diffusion of Rome’s armies and citizens over the then known world, we are forced to the conclusion, either that the Italian constitutions of those days were stronger than those of the present inhabitants of Europe, or that the form of civilization presented more safeguards for the protection of health and life.
Nothing like the disasters of Varna and the Crimea seems ever to have overtaken the Roman legions who guarded in the time of Trajan the mouths of the Danube and the coasts of the Euxine, or restrained and kept in check the barbarous Moors.
Amongst the arts practised by the ancients, but now lost, we must include, I think, the knowledge of that discipline and practical skill by which the Roman, Greek, and even Tartar generals, contrived to keep their armies in the field in health and efficiency, whether storming the castles of Jugurtha, or building walls of defence in that land where English and French troops can neither fight nor march.[62] Amongst the lost arts, still known it would seem to the Chinese, is that of rendering salubrious the site of vast cities and camps. If I am right in the principles I have endeavoured to establish throughout this Essay, this art must have been based on the practical knowledge that, generally speaking, the earth, as framed by nature, is not usually an unhealthy habitat for those races which grow up in her centres of created life, and it is only when man interferes, and interferes imperfectly, that the air and waters become pestilential to him. The secret lies, no doubt, in agriculture, that first of human arts—that art by which civilization exists. That human life is of as much value by the banks of the Meuse, the Scheldt, and the Rhine, as in Sussex or Surrey, is due to the industry of the inhabitants of Brabant and the islands of the Rhine. On man in a great measure depends the position which life is to hold in the scale of fate; he may raise it to its maximum or sink it to zero. Centuries, it is true, may elapse before human industry can render the banks of the Senegal, the Maranon, or the Zambeze, a fit abode for civilized European man, but if the European persist in transporting himself to these haunts, he must discover the means to do so in safety, or perish in the attempt. Nature did not make these countries for him, but she gave him reason, judgment, observation, and the power of generalization, on the right use of which faculties his safety must ever depend. The celebrated Jefferson apologizes in one his confidential dispatches to his government for noticing various political movements in countries seemingly remote from and devoid of all interest to a citizen of the United States of America, by remarking, that although such matters seem remote and foreign to the object of his duties, they may yet at no distant period swell into relations of sufficient magnitude to shake the world. As in the political, so in the moral world; whether the empire of the Sultans stand or fall, may be a matter of little import to an inhabitant of Western Europe, nor need it distress him that the finest countries in the world are nearly reduced to deserts under the administration of the odious Turcoman. But it may be useful to him to be on his guard as to the condition of countries through which the spirit of commerce now urges the Western nations. Many of these countries do not improve; to compare them with what they were in the days of Trajan were merely a mockery; the low lands of the delta of the Danube are simply foci of fever and pestilence, and are likely to continue so under their present government.
All history points to the East and to Africa as the seat and source of plague, and the entanglement of Eastern affairs presses more and more on the European nations; if we may trust the statistics of commerce, Western Europe at times draws a large portion of her subsistence from countries of which we know but little. On this I make no remark, my object being merely to show that, however distant these lands lie, their malarious condition has an influence over the European family of nations, an influence which daily increases socially, and which, though originating in the obscure and unknown East, has shown itself at times at Rome and Moscow, London and Paris, in characters compared to which all other evils appear insignificant.
All that lives or has lived is doomed to die, to waste away, and to disappear; as it perishes it is consumed by nature’s processes, in such a manner as to entail no danger to the living world, unless civilized man interferes. For civilized man she has made no provision, saving the bestowing on him a soil more or less fertile, a constitution more or less equal to toil, a reasoning power, which in things practical must not be measured by the loftiness of his conceptions and generalizations.
Whenever and wheresoever he congregates into masses, there “the earth, the air, and the waters,” receive modifications from him, which, when injurious, he alone can rectify. The most consolatory view which man can take of such a condition of things is unquestionably to believe them to a great extent remediable by his own labour and intelligence; for even should he fail, there remains to him the consolation that he has done his best.