We see the best example of this mode of progress by antagonism in the small States of Ancient Greece, where each little kingdom developed its peculiar form of art, of government, and of civilisation, which it transferred to all parts of Europe; and after two thousand years of degradation by Roman and Turkish conquest, its language still remains but little altered, while its ancient literature and art are still unsurpassed. In like manner Rome brought law, literature, and military discipline to an equally high level; and it too sank into a state of ruin and degradation, while its literature and its law continued to illuminate the civilised world during its long struggle towards freedom. Wherever conditions were favourable to progress in art or science, time was needed for its full growth and development; while perpetual
war necessitated organisation and training against conquest or destruction. Even the cruelties and massacres by despotic rulers excited at last the uprising of the oppressed, and so developed the nobler attributes of patriotism, courage, and love of freedom. In the very worst of times there was an undercurrent of peaceful labour, art, and learning, slowly moulding nations towards a higher state of civilisation.
The point of view now suggested will perhaps be rendered somewhat more intelligible if we apply it to the nineteenth century, of which I have written in such condemnatory terms. The preceding eighteenth century was undoubtedly a somewhat stationary epoch, of a rather commonplace character alike in literature, in art, in science, and in social life. Its vices also were low, its government bad, its system of punishments cruel, and its recognition of slavery degrading. It was a kind of "dark age" between the literary and national brilliance of the Elizabethan age and the wonderful scientific and industrial advance of the Victorian age.
But this latter period was also a period of a great uprising of the specially human virtues of justice, of pity, of the love of
freedom, and of the importance of education; and though the rapid increase of wealth through the utilisation of natural forces led to all the evils due to the unchecked growth of individual riches and power, yet these very evils in all their intensity and horror were perhaps necessary to excite in a sufficient number of minds the determination to get rid of them. Time was also required for the workers to learn their own power, and, very gradually, to learn how to use it. The rick-burning and machine-breaking of the early part of the century have been succeeded by combination and strikes; step by step political power has been gained by the masses; but only now, in the twentieth century, are they beginning to learn how to use their strength in an effective manner. There are, however, indications that the whole march of progress has been dangerously rapid, and it might have been safer if the great increases of knowledge and the vast accumulations of wealth had been spread over two centuries instead of one. In that case our higher nature might have been able to keep pace with the growing evils of superfluous wealth and increasing luxury, and it might have been possible to put a check upon
them before they had attained the full power for evil they now possess.
Nevertheless, the omens for the future are good. The great body of the more intelligent workers are determined to have Justice. They insist upon the abolition of monopolies of the forces of nature, and upon the gradual admission of all to equal opportunities for labour by free access to their native soil. Thus may be initiated the birth of a new era of peaceful reform and moral advancement.
Note.—As many of my readers may not understand the allusions in the second verse of Mr. Dell's poem (pp. [117-118]), I append the explanation:
"The Porch," the place where the Stoic philosophers taught—The Painted Porch in Athens.
"The Garden," scene of Plato's and Socrates' teaching.