ar, when there are fields
and granaries to protect, and slaves and artisans to keep at their
domestic labours, means fortifications, an army, and a general. And to
match the army in the field another must be maintained at home, composed
of judges, priests, builders, cooks, barbers, and doctors. Such is the
inception of what, in the literal sense of the word, may be called
civilisation.

[Sidenote: Three uses of civilisation.]

Civilisation secures three chief advantages: greater wealth, greater
safety, and greater variety of experience. Whether, in spite of this,
there is a real--that is, a moral--advance is a question impossible to
answer off-hand, because wealth, safety, and variety are not absolute
goods, and their value is great or small according to the further values
they may help to secure. This is obvious in the case of riches. But
safety also is only good when there is something to preserve better than
courage, and when the prolongation of life can serve to intensify its
excellence. An animal's existence is not improved when made safe by
imprisonment and domestication; it is only degraded and rendered passive
and melancholy. The human savage likewise craves a freedom and many a
danger inconsistent with civilisation, because independent of reason. He
does not yet identify his interests with any persistent and ideal
harmonies created by reflection. And when reflection is absent, length
of life is no benefit: a quick succession of generations, with a small
chance of reaching old age, is a beautiful thing in purely animal
economy, where vigour is the greatest joy, propagation the highest
function, and decrepitude the sorriest woe. The value of safety,
accordingly, hangs on the question whether life has become reflective
and rational. But the fact that a state arises does not in itself imply
rationality. It makes rationality possible, but leaves it potential.

[Sidenote: Its rationality contingent.]

Similar considerations apply to variety. To increase the number of
instincts and functions is probably to produce confusion and to augment
that secondary and reverberating kind of evil which consists in
expecting pain and regretting misfortune. On the other hand, a perfect
life could never be accused of monotony. All desirable variety lies
within the circle of perfection. Thus we do not tire of possessing two
legs nor wish, for the sake of variety, to be occasionally lunatics.
Accordingly, an increase in variety of