The heroic deeds of Highlanders, both in these islands and elsewhere,
have been told in verse and prose, and not more often, nor more loudly,
than they deserve. But we must remember, now and then, that there have
been heroes likewise in the lowland and in the fen. Why, however, poets
have so seldom sung of them; why no historian, save Mr. Motley in his
“Rise of the Dutch Republic,” has condescended to tell the tale of their
doughty deeds, is a question not difficult to answer.
In the first place, they have been fewer in number. The lowlands of
the world, being the richest spots, have been generally the soonest
conquered, the soonest civilized, and therefore the soonest taken out
of the sphere of romance and wild adventure, into that of order and law,
hard work and common sense, as well as too often into the sphere of
slavery, cowardice, luxury, and ignoble greed. The lowland populations,
for the same reasons, have been generally the first to deteriorate,
though not on account of the vices of civilization. The vices of
incivilization are far worse, and far more destructive of human life;
and it is just because they are so, that rude tribes deteriorate
physically less than polished nations. In the savage struggle for life,
none but the strongest, healthiest, cunningest, have a chance of living,
prospering, and propagating their race. In the civilized state, on the
contrary, the weakliest and the silliest, protected by law, religion,
and humanity, have chance likewise, and transmit to their offspring
their own weakliness or silliness. In these islands, for instance,
at the time of the Norman Conquest, the average of man was doubtless
superior, both in body and mind, to the average of man now, simply
because the weaklings could not have lived at all; and the rich and
delicate beauty, in which the women of the Eastern Counties still
surpass all other races in these isles, was doubtless far more common in
proportion to the numbers of the population.
have been told in verse and prose, and not more often, nor more loudly,
than they deserve. But we must remember, now and then, that there have
been heroes likewise in the lowland and in the fen. Why, however, poets
have so seldom sung of them; why no historian, save Mr. Motley in his
“Rise of the Dutch Republic,” has condescended to tell the tale of their
doughty deeds, is a question not difficult to answer.
In the first place, they have been fewer in number. The lowlands of
the world, being the richest spots, have been generally the soonest
conquered, the soonest civilized, and therefore the soonest taken out
of the sphere of romance and wild adventure, into that of order and law,
hard work and common sense, as well as too often into the sphere of
slavery, cowardice, luxury, and ignoble greed. The lowland populations,
for the same reasons, have been generally the first to deteriorate,
though not on account of the vices of civilization. The vices of
incivilization are far worse, and far more destructive of human life;
and it is just because they are so, that rude tribes deteriorate
physically less than polished nations. In the savage struggle for life,
none but the strongest, healthiest, cunningest, have a chance of living,
prospering, and propagating their race. In the civilized state, on the
contrary, the weakliest and the silliest, protected by law, religion,
and humanity, have chance likewise, and transmit to their offspring
their own weakliness or silliness. In these islands, for instance,
at the time of the Norman Conquest, the average of man was doubtless
superior, both in body and mind, to the average of man now, simply
because the weaklings could not have lived at all; and the rich and
delicate beauty, in which the women of the Eastern Counties still
surpass all other races in these isles, was doubtless far more common in
proportion to the numbers of the population.
