4. Cause in Nature.—We have thus far spoken only or principally of self-consciousness, but the same precisely is true of another essential attribute of personality, viz., free-will. Every one admits causative force or forces operating in Nature. Science has shown that all the different kinds of force are but different forms of one omnipresent energy. Now, looking abroad on Nature from the outside, this omnipresent energy seems to modern science as simply resident, inherent in matter itself, and therefore as operating unconsciously and by necessity. But the question occurs, “Whence did we get the idea of force, energy, causation?” I answer unhesitatingly: We get it not from without by observation of Nature, but from within through consciousness; not from the outside view, but from, the inside view of phenomena. We can not conceive of phenomena without force, of effects without cause, because we are intensely conscious of being ourselves through our wills an active cause of external phenomena. If we were merely passive observers, not active causers of changes in the external world, then these external phenomena would seem to us merely to shift and change and succeed each in a certain order. We might note the order and determine the laws of sequence, and thus form a science; but it would never enter into our minds to imagine any causal or dynamical nexus between them. In the mind of such passive observer, but not doer—thinker, but not worker—would be completely realized the only thorough-going and consistent materialistic philosophy, i. e., a philosophy in which, like Comte’s, cause and force have no place—are in fact banished as a superstition from science. But the clear consciousness of essential energy, of causative force within, the certainty that we ourselves, through our wills and by the conscious exertion of force do determine changes in the external world, compels us to attribute all changes to causative force of some kind, and naturally enough, until the interference of science, to a personal will like our own. Thus by a necessary law we project our internal states into external Nature.

But see now the steps of evolution of this idea. At first, i. e., in the uncultured races, and also in childhood, external forces take the form of a personal will like our own residing in each object, and controlling its phenomena as our wills control our bodily movements (fetichism). Then, as culture advances, it takes next the form of several personal wills controlling each the phenomena of a different department of Nature (polytheism). Finally, in the highest stage of culture, it takes the form of one personal will controlling the phenomena of the whole cosmos (monotheism). To the religious but unscientific mind in all these stages the personal will is anthropomorphic. But we have already seen (Chapter III) how anthropomorphism has been driven by science from one department after another, until now at last by evolution it is driven out of Nature entirely, and to those following this line of thought alone, the phenomena of Nature are relegated to forces inherent in matter, and operating by laws necessary and fatal; and not only so, but material forces are made to invade even the realm of consciousness, and reduce this also to material laws. Thus the savage ejects his own conscious personal will into every separate object of Nature; the modern materialist injects material forces into the realm of consciousness. But, as already seen, a rational philosophy admits these two antithetic views, and strives to combine and reconcile them. This reconciliation, as far as it is possible for us, is found in a personal will immanent in Nature, and determining directly all its phenomena.

Thus it is evident that the idea of a causal nexus between successive phenomena is a primary conception, and therefore ineradicable and certain. Even from the purest evolution point of view it must be true, for, if man’s mind grew out of the forces of Nature, this idea must represent a fact in Nature. Also, analysis shows that all causative force originates in will. Lastly, culture and reason, by a necessary law of expansion, carry us upward to the conception of one infinite sustaining and creative will. Science may sometimes obscure but can not destroy this idea. Evolution, which was supposed by some to have destroyed it for ever, has only temporarily obscured it in the minds of the unreflecting, by the supposed identity of evolution with materialism. From this temporary eclipse it now emerges with still greater clearness and far greater nobleness. For, observe: All the effects known to us in Nature are finite; therefore a personal will, which determines these separately by successive acts, as we do, must also be finite like ourselves. But a will, which by one eternal act ever-doing, never done, determines the evolution and the sustentation of an infinite cosmos, must itself be infinite. Thus only in the doctrine of universal evolution do we rise to a just conception of God as an infinite cause.

5. Design in Nature.—As the idea of cause and force is related to will, so precisely is the idea of design related to thought. We get this also, not from without, but from within. Adaptation of means to ends is in our experience the result of thought, and we can not conceive it to result otherwise. The effect of science can not be to destroy this primary conception—which, indeed, like all primary conceptions, is ineradicable, and already more certain than anything can be made by proof—but only to exalt and purify our conceptions of the designer. For, observe: In any case of adaptive structure, whether in the animal body or in planetary relations, the evidence of design is not in the materials, but in the use of the materials; not in the parts, but in the adjustment of the parts for a purpose. Design, purpose, adjustment, adaptation, are not material things, but relations or intellectual things, and therefore perceivable only by thought, and conceivable only as the result of thought. It is simply impossible to talk about such adaptive structures without using language which implies design. The very word “adaptive” implies it. It is impossible even to think of such structures without implicitly assuming intelligence as the cause. It makes no particle of difference how the material originated, or whether it ever originated at all; it matters not whether the adaptation was done at once out of hand, or whether by slow process of modification; it matters not whether the adaptive modification was brought about by a process of natural selection, or by pressure of a physical environment; whether without law or according to law. The removal of the result from man-like directness of separate action can not destroy the idea of design, but only modify our conception of the Designer. What science, and especially evolution, destroys, therefore, is not the idea of design, but only our low anthropomorphic notions of the mode of working of the Designer.

Precisely the same change takes place here under the influence of science as has taken place in all our notions concerning God. The uncultured savage sees a separate god in every object. As culture advances, his gods become fewer and nobler, until, in the most advanced states, man recognizes but one infinite God, the creator and sustainer of all. God is still in every phenomenon, but no longer as a separate God, but only as the separate manifestation of the One. Thus culture takes away our gods, but only to compel us to seek him in nobler forms until we reach the only true God. But, even after the conception of the one God is reached, how many seem to regard him as altogether such a one as ourselves; but science shows us that his ways are not like our ways, nor his ends as our ends. Thus science, more than all other kinds of culture, simplifies while it infinitely ennobles and purifies our conceptions of Deity.

Again, the same change takes place in our sense of mystery. I suppose most people imagine that it is the special mission of science to destroy all mystery. Many seem to think that superstition, or even religion, is inseparably connected with ignorance and mystery, and all must disappear together before the light of science. But not so. There is only a gradual progressive change—an evolution in the form of mystery as well as in the form of religion. To the savage everything is a separate mystery. The function of science is, indeed, to destroy these separate mysteries, by explaining them; but, in doing so, it only reduces them to fewer and grander mysteries, and these again to still fewer and grander, until, in an ideally perfect science, all separate and partial mysteries are swallowed up in the one all-embracing infinite mystery—the mystery of existence. There is still mystery in each object, but no longer a separate mystery—only a separate manifestation of the one overwhelming mystery.

Or, again, and finally: The same change occurs in our ideas of creation. At first every object is a separate creation—a manufacture. With advancing science these separate, creative acts become fewer and nobler, until now, at last, in evolution, all are embraced and swallowed up in one eternal act of creation—a never-ceasing procession of the divine energy. Every object is still a creation, but not a separate creation—only a separate manifestation of the one continuous creative act.

Now, precisely the same change must take place in our conception of design in Nature. To the uncultured there is a distinct and separate design in every separate work of Nature. But, as science advances, all these distinct, separate, petty, man-like designs are merged into fewer and grander designs, until, finally, in evolution at last, we reach the conception of the one infinite, all-embracing design, stretching across infinite space, and continuing unchanged through infinite time, which includes and predetermines and absorbs every possible separate design. There is still design in everything, but no longer a separate design—only a separate manifestation of the one infinite design.

Thus, then, our own self-consciousness and will and thought give rise, necessarily, to the conception of an infinite self-consciousness, will, and thought—i. e., God. The necessity to believe in self-conscious spirit behind bodily phenomena compels us to believe also in an infinite self-conscious spirit behind cosmic phenomena. Looking at the operations of this ever-active spirit, whether in the one case or the other, from the outside, it looks like unconscious energy inherent in matter itself, and therefore like necessity, or fate. But, looked at from the inside in the one case, the brain, we perceive only self-conscious, free activity of spirit. Therefore, we are compelled to acknowledge in the other case, the cosmos, also, the same source of all activity, the same cause of all phenomena. We are compelled to acknowledge an infinite immanent Deity behind phenomena, but manifested to us on the outside as an all-pervasive energy. But some portion of this all-pervasive energy again individuates itself more and more, and therefore acquires more and more a kind of independent self-activity which reaches its completeness in man as self-consciousness and free-will. We said, “a kind of independent self-activity.” How this comports with the absoluteness of God we can not understand, any more than we can understand how it comports with invariable law in Nature. We simply accept them both as primary truths, even though we can never hope to reconcile them completely, because we can not understand the exact nature of the relation of spirit to matter. We can not look at the outside and the inside at the same time. If we could understand the relation of psychical phenomena to brain-changes, then might we hope to understand far more perfectly than now the relation of God to Nature. But as in the one case, the brain, although we can not understand the nature of the relation, yet we are sure of the intimacy of the connection of the two series, psychical and physical, term for term; so in the other case, the cosmos, although we can not understand the exact nature, we are sure of the intimacy of the connection, term for term—every material phenomenon and event with a corresponding psychical phenomenon as its cause.

CHAPTER VII.
SOME LOGICAL CONSEQUENCES OF THE DOCTRINE OF THE DIVINE IMMANENCY.

The doctrine of the Divine immanency carries with it the solution of many vexed questions. In fact, in its light these questions simply pass out of view as no longer having any significance. Several of these questions have been alluded to in an indirect way in the previous chapter and in Chapter III. We take them up distinctly here, and show their relation to evolution.

Religious thought, like all else, is subject to a law of evolution, and therefore passes through regular stages. Of these stages, three are very distinct and even strongly contrasted. They correspond in a general way to the three stages of Comte, which he has misnamed the theological, the metaphysical, and the positive. We will illustrate by many examples.

I. Conception of God.

This, the most fundamental conception of all religion, has passed from a gross anthropomorphism to a true spiritual theism, and the change is largely due to science and especially to the theory of evolution. There are three main stages in the history of this change: (1.) The first is a low anthropomorphism. God is altogether such a one as ourselves, but larger and stronger. His action on Nature, like our own, is direct; his will is wholly man-like, capricious and without law. (2.) The second is still anthropomorphism, but of a nobler sort. God is not altogether like ourselves. He is man-like; yes, but also king-like. He is not present in Nature, but sits enthroned above Nature in solitary majesty. He acts on Nature, not directly but indirectly, through physical forces and natural laws. He is an absentee landlord governing his estate by means of appointed agents, which are the natural forces and laws established in the beginning. He interferes personally and by direct action only occasionally, to initiate something new or to rectify something going wrong. This idea culminated and found the clearest expression in the eighteenth century, and was the necessary result of the scientific ideas then prevalent, viz., ideas of pre-established stability of cosmic order and fixedness of organic types. God was the great artificer, the great architect, working, as it were, on foreign material and conditioned by its nature. He established all things as they are in the beginning, and they have continued so ever since.

This conception still lingers in the religious mind, and is in fact the prevailing one now. It is a great advance on the preceding, but, alas! it removes God beyond the reach of our love. He is the architect of worlds, the artificer of the eye, the sovereign ruler of the universe, but not our Father. We are his creatures, his subjects, but not his children.

(3.) The third and last stage in this development is true spiritual theism. God is immanent, resident in Nature. Nature is the house of many mansions in which he ever dwells. The forces of Nature are different forms of his energy acting directly at all times and in all places. The laws of Nature are the modes of operation of the omnipresent Divine energy, invariable because he is perfect. The objects of Nature are objectified, externalized—materialized states of Divine consciousness, or Divine thoughts objectified by the Divine will. In this view we return again to direct action, but in a nobler, a spiritual, Godlike form. He is again brought very near to every one of us and restored to our love, for in him we live and move and have our being. In him all things consist, by him all things exist. This view has been held by noble men in all times, especially by the early Greek fathers, but is now verified and well-nigh demonstrated by the theory of evolution. No other view is any longer tenable.

The idea of God is of course the most fundamental of all religious ideas, and a change in this carries with it many other changes. Some of these necessary outcomes, especially the nature, the origin, and the destiny of the human spirit, and its relation to the Divine spirit, I have already treated in previous chapters. But there are others which flow so directly and obviously that they may be presented in brief space.

II. Question of First and Second Causes.

Among the most obvious of these is the question of first and second causes. This distinction, I suppose, did not exist in early thought. As a popular view, it was mainly due to the physical science of the eighteenth century. It was a necessary corollary of the idea of God as the great architect sitting outside of Nature and acting on Nature as on foreign material. According to this view, God is the original and primary cause of all things; but he delegates his power to secondary forces, such as gravity, heat, electricity, etc., which are therefore the immediate causes of phenomena. I believe that most persons hold this view still. But it is now being displaced by the idea of God immanent or resident in Nature as already explained. This view is a complete identification of first and second causes. All causes are mere modes of the first cause. They seem to us secondary, necessary, and unconscious only because they act according to invariable law. But law itself is only the mode of operation of a perfect will. Thus we have the same three stages of evolution here also: (1.) First, all is first cause, direct, man-like, capricious, lawless. (2.) Then the first cause acts king-like, indirectly by many appointed agents subject to pre-enacted laws. These agents or secondary causes directly determine all natural phenomena. (3.) Lastly, come the complete combination and reconciliation of these two. All is by first cause and direct action, like the first. All is by invariable law like the second, the law being only the mode of operation of a perfect will.

III. Question of General and Special Providence.

So also providence, general and special, is only another phase of the same question and solved in the same way. At first all is special providence—the result of caprice or favoritism and without law. Then all or nearly all is general providence operating by invariable law; but from time to time the general law is broken through for special purposes when necessary. Is not this the prevailing view now? Lastly, these two must be combined and reconciled in a third. All is alike general and special: general—i. e., according to law; special—i. e., by direct action. There is no real distinction between the two. The distinction vanishes in the light of a higher view.

IV. The Natural and the Supernatural.

In precisely the same category falls the question of the natural and the supernatural. The same three stages are evident here also, and the same solution: 1. First all is supernatural and lawless, and Nature is viewed with stupid wonder and abject fear. 2. Then Nature is reduced to mechanical laws and made subject to man. Wonder and fear give place to indifference and even perhaps to contempt. We practically live without God in the world. It requires, now, miracles or a violent breaking through of law in order to startle us out of our stupidity and awaken in us a sense of the Divine presence. 3. But we must come lastly to a higher philosophy. We must recognize that all is natural and all is supernatural according as we view it, but none more than another. All is natural—i. e., according to law; but all is supernatural—i. e., above Nature, as we usually regard Nature, for all is permeated with the immediate Divine presence. Wonder in the contemplation of Nature returns, or rather exalted reverence and rational worship are given in place of open-mouthed wonder and superstitious fear. Once clearly conceive the idea of God permeating Nature and determining directly all its phenomena according to law, and the distinction between the natural and the supernatural disappears from view, and with it disappears also the necessity of miracles as we usually understand miracles. In fact, the word as we usually understand it has no longer any meaning.

I must stop a moment to explain, lest I be misunderstood; and to enforce, lest it be thought I speak lightly.

Miracle, in the sense of violation of law, is simply impossible, because law is the expression of the essential nature and perfection of God. It is as impossible for God to perform a miracle in this sense as it is for him to lie, and for the same reason, viz., that it is contrary to his essential nature. In what sense, then, is a miracle possible? I answer, only as an occurrence or a phenomenon according to a law higher than any we yet know. If we define Nature as phenomena governed by physical and chemical laws and forces, then life becomes supernatural and miraculous—because higher than Nature as we define it. If we reduce the phenomena of life to law and include these also in our definition of Nature but limit it there, then the free, self-determined phenomena of reason become supernatural because above our definition of Nature. There may well be still other and higher modes of Divine activity, the law of which we do not and may never understand. These are above our present definition of Nature, and therefore to us supernatural or miraculous. But, even if miracles in the ordinary sense were possible, is it not evident that the ordinary processes of Nature are far more wonderful, more truly Godlike, than any such miracle?

V. Question of Design in Nature.

So, again, the question of design or purpose or mind in Nature is similarly solved. It has been said, it is continually now being said, that evolution has destroyed forever the teleological view of Nature—i. e., the idea of design in Nature. Yes, if we mean the man-like, cabinet-making, watch-making design of Paley and older writers—a separate petty design for each separate object. It has indeed destroyed this, but only to replace it by a far nobler conception—a truly Godlike design, a design embracing all space and running through all time, including and absorbing all possible separate designs and predetermining them by a universal law of evolution.

Or the same question may be put in another way as “Mind vs. Mechanics in Nature.” In the evolution of thought on this subject at first all was mind, but lawless, capricious, like our own. Then one department after another of Nature was reduced to mechanical, physical, necessary law, until all have been or will be or conceivably may be thus reduced, and mind seems driven out of Nature entirely. The friends of religion in despair cry out for at least some small corner left for mind. Thus I find in recent numbers of an English scientific periodical, “Nature,” a discussion concerning mind as one of the factors of evolution.48 Is it not amusing, if it were not so sad?—God the Divine mind as one of the factors of evolution! The true solution is very simple. All is mind or none; so also all is mechanics or none. It is all mind through mechanics. It is all mechanics from the outside; it is all mind from the inside. To science all is mechanics; to theology all is mind. It is the duty of philosophy to reconcile these two opposites by the higher view that mechanics is but the mode of operation of the Divine mind. There is only one form of evolution, viz., human progress, in which mind—but the human, not the Divine mind—is one of the factors of evolution. But to think and speak thus of God in relation to Nature is to place him on the human plane. It is gross anthropomorphism.49

VI. Question of the Mode of Creation.

I might multiply examples almost without limit, of questions the solution of which depends on this one of the relation of God to Nature. I give one more—Creation.

The creation of the universe at once—in the beginning—out of nothing—and then rest ever since. This old anthropomorphic idea is now replaced by that of continuous creation—unhasting, unresting, by an eternal process of evolution. For if the universal law of gravitation is the Divine mode of sustentation of the universe, the no less universal law of evolution is the Divine process of creation.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE RELATION OF EVOLUTION TO THE IDEA OF THE CHRIST.

As organic evolution reached its goal and completion in man, so human evolution must reach its goal and completion in the ideal man—i. e., the Christ. According to this view, the Christ is the ideal man, and therefore—(mark the necessary implication)—and therefore the Divine man. We are all as men (as contradistinguished from brutes)—we are all, I say, sons of God; the Christ is the well-beloved Son. We are all in the image of God; he is the express and perfect image. We are all partakers in various degrees of the Divine nature; in him the Divine nature is completely realized. It is not necessary that the ideal man—the Christ—should be perfect in knowledge or in power; on the contrary, he must grow in wisdom and in stature, like other men; but he must be perfect in character. Character is essential spirit. All else, even knowledge, is only environment for its culture. In the dazzling light of modern science we are apt to forget this. Character is the attitude of the human spirit toward the Divine Spirit. If I should add anything to this definition, I would say it is spiritual attitude and spiritual energy. In the Christ this attitude must be wholly right; the harmony—the union with the Divine—must be perfect. This perfect union gives, of necessity, also fullness of spiritual energy.

Now, I wish to show that, although the Christ as thus defined must be human—yes, even more intensely human than any one of us—yet by the law of evolution we ought to expect him to differ from us in an inconceivable degree, and especially in a superhuman way. This I do by a series of illustrations.

We have said that the Christ is the ideal and therefore the Divine man—that he is the goal and completion of humanity. But in evolution a goal is not only a completion of one stage, but also the beginning of another and higher stage—on a higher plane of life with new and higher capacities and powers unimaginable from any lower plane. Let me illustrate:

1. As man is the ideal—the goal and completion of animal evolution, and yet is he also a birth into a higher plane of life—the spiritual; so the Christ, the ideal man, may be only the goal and completion of human evolution, and yet is he also a birth into a new and higher plane—the Divine.

2. As the human spirit pre-existed in embryo in animals, slowly developing through all geological times, until it came to birth and immortality in man, so the Divine spirit is in embryo in man in various degrees of development, and comes to birth and completion of Divine life in the Christ.

3. As animals reached, finally, conscious relations with God in man, even so man reaches union with God in the Christ. As man, the ideal animal, is a union of the animal with the spiritual; so the Christ, the ideal of human evolution, is a union of the human and the Divine.

4. Finally: As with the appearance of man there were introduced new powers and properties unimaginable from the animal point of view, and therefore from that point of view seemingly supernatural—i. e., above their nature—so with the appearance of the Christ we ought to expect new powers and properties unimaginable from the human point of view, and therefore to us seemingly supernatural—i. e., above our nature.

The Christ as defined above—i. e., as the ideal man—is undoubtedly a true object of rational worship. There are two and only two fundamental moral principles, viz., love to God and love to man. Both of these must be embodied in a rational worship. The one must be embodied in the worship of an Infinite Spirit—God; the other in the worship of the ideal man—the Christ.

But some one will object that, admitting all this, it is impossible that the goal, the ideal, should appear until the end of the course of evolution. To him I answer: This is indeed true of animal evolution, but not of human evolution. We have already seen (see p. 88 et seq.) that there is an essential difference in this regard between these two kinds of evolution. In addition to all the factors of organic evolution, in human progress there is a new and higher factor added, which immediately takes precedence of all others. This factor is the conscious voluntary co-operation of the human spirit in the work of its own evolution. The method of this new factor consists essentially in the formation, and especially in the voluntary pursuit, of ideals. In organic evolution species are transformed by the environment. In human evolution character is transformed by its own ideal. Organic evolution is by necessary law—human evolution is by voluntary effort, i. e., by free law. Organic evolution is pushed onward and upward from behind and below. Human evolution is drawn upward and forward from above and in front by the attractive force of ideals. Thus the ideal of organic evolution can not appear until the end; while the attractive ideals of human evolution must come—whether only in the imagination or realized in the flesh—but must come somehow in the course. The most powerfully attractive ideal ever presented to the human mind, and, therefore, the most potent agent in the evolution of human character, is the Christ. This ideal must come—whether in the imagination or in the flesh I say not, but—must come somehow in the course and not at the end. At the end the whole human race, drawn upward by this ideal, must reach the fullness of the stature of the Christ.

But it will be again objected that all ideals are relative and temporary; that we are in fact drawn onward and upward by many successive ideals, one beyond another, in the course. Ideals are but mile-stones which we put successively behind us while we press on to another; they are successive rounds of an infinite ladder which we put successively beneath us while we rise higher. This one also we shall eventually put behind us and pass on.

To this I have two answers: Admitted that in many ways such is the course of progress; but who has been able to reach this ideal and conceive a higher? When this one is reached and completely realized in our personal character, it will be time enough to propose another.

Again, it is true that in many ways we have advanced and are still advancing by the use of partial ideals; but this use of partial and relative ideals is itself in only a temporary stage of evolution. At a certain stage we catch glimpses of the absolute moral ideal. Then our gaze becomes fixed, and we are thenceforward drawn upward forever. The human race has already reached a point when the absolute ideal of character is attractive. This Divine ideal can never again be lost to humanity.

CHAPTER IX.
THE RELATION OF EVOLUTION TO THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.

1. External Physical Evil in the Animal Kingdom.—As already seen in previous chapters, the necessary condition of evolution of the organic kingdom is a struggle for life—a conflict on every side, with a seemingly inimical environment and a survival of only the strongest, the swiftest, or the most cunning—in a word, the fittest. Now, suppose the course of organic evolution finished in the introduction of man, and from this vantage-ground we look back over the course and consider its result. Shall we call that evil which was the necessary condition of the progressive elevation which culminated so gloriously? Evil doubtless it seemed to the individual, struggling animal, but is this worthy to be weighed in comparison with the evolution of the whole organic kingdom until it culminated in man? Is it not rather a good in disguise? I suppose human arrogance may be willing enough to admit it in this case, where animals only are sufferers.

2. Physical Evil in Relation to Man.—But organic evolution, completed in man, was immediately transferred to a higher plane, and continued as social evolution; material evolution is transformed into psychical evolution; unconscious evolution, according to necessary law, to conscious voluntary progress toward a recognized goal, and according to a freer law. But in this transformation the fundamental conditions of evolution do not change. Man also is surrounded on every side with what at first seems to him an evil environment, against which he must ever struggle or perish. Heat and cold, tempest and flood, volcanoes and earthquakes, savage beasts and still more savage men. What is the remedy—the only conceivable remedy? Knowledge of the laws of Nature, and thereby acquisition of power over Nature. But increasing knowledge and power are equivalent to progressive elevation in the scale of psychical being. This conflict with what seems an evil environment is, therefore, the necessary condition of such elevation. It is not too much to say that, without this condition, except for this necessity for struggle, man could never have emerged out of animality into humanity, or, having thus emerged, would never have risen above the lowest possible stage. Now suppose, again, this ideal to have been attained—suppose knowledge of physical laws and power over physical forces to be complete—suppose physical nature completely subdued, put beneath our feet, and subject to our will, and, from the high intellectual position thus attained, we look back over the whole ground and consider the result. Shall that be called evil which was obviously the necessary condition for attaining our then elevated position? Evil it doubtless seemed to the individuals who fell, and still seems to us who now suffer, by the way in the conflict; but is physical discomfort or even physical death of the individual to be weighed in comparison with the psychical elevation of the individual, and especially of the race? Evidently, then, physical evil even in the case of man is only seeming evil, but real good.

3. Organic Evil—Disease.—But there is a more dreadful form of evil than that which results from external physical nature—an evil far more subtle and difficult to understand, and therefore to conquer. I mean internal organic evil—disease in its diversified forms and with its attendant weakness and suffering, inscrutable often in its causes, insidious in its approaches, contagious, infectious, spreading from house to house, carrying suffering and death in its course, and leaving sorrow and desolation behind. Is there any remedy which can transmute this evil into good? There is. It is again knowledge—knowledge of the laws, and power over the forces, of organic nature. Is it not evident that complete knowledge of the laws of health and the causes of disease would put this evil also under our feet? Is it not evident that a perfect knowledge of the laws of health, and a perfect living according to these laws, would so entirely subdue this evil that men would no longer die except by natural decay or by accident? Is it not evident, also, that the race will not attain this knowledge unless it be forced upon us by the necessity of avoiding the dread evil of disease?

Now suppose, again, this ideal attained, suppose this dread evil subdued by complete knowledge, and again from our elevated intellectual position we look back over the ground. Shall we call that evil which was the necessary condition of our intellectual elevation? Evil, doubtless, it seems to us individuals who have suffered and are still suffering through our ignorance; but is such individual suffering or even individual death to be weighed against the psychical elevation of the individual and evolution of the race? Ought not the individual to be willing to suffer thus much vicariously for the race? Is not this seeming evil also a real good?

May we not, then, confidently generalize? May we not say that all physical evil is good in its general effect—that every law of Nature is beneficent in its general operation, and, if sometimes evil in its specific operation, is so only through our ignorance? Partly by survival of the fittest, and partly by intelligence, man, like other animals, brings himself in accord with the laws of Nature, and thus appropriates the good and avoids the evil, and Nature becomes beneficent only. But, also unlike any other animal, man by rational knowledge makes the laws of Nature his servants, and uses them for his own purposes, thus increasing his power and elevating the plane of his life.

4. Moral Evil.—But there is still another form of evil, the most dreadful of all. This one may be called the evil, in some sense, the only evil. It is that of which all other forms are but the shadows cast backward and downward along the course of evolution and on lower stages of existence. This consummation of all evil is sin—moral disease—more dreadfully contagious and deadly than any organic disease. What shall we say now? Is there any rational explanation of this evil? Is there any possible-reason or excuse for an all-wise, all-powerful Ruler afflicting man alone of all His creatures with this greatest of all evils? In all other cases, the individual and the race sacrifice themselves for a time physically for the sake of final spiritual elevation; but this is spiritual debasement. In all other cases, there is a sacrifice in the course in order to attain the goal, but this is a missing of the goal itself. Is there any view which mitigates this evil, any philosophic alchemy which can transmute this evil into good? Age after age the human mind has prostrated itself in helpless paralysis before this problem. Most thinkers have been content to say, “Thou hast ordered it so. Thou art good. It must be right.” But many, and among them some of the best minds, have said, “Either God is not all-good, or else not all-wise, or else not all-powerful, or else there is no God at all.” Does evolution shed any light on this dread problem? I believe it does.

We have said that all other evils are but shadows of this one, cast backward and downward on earlier stages of evolution and lower forms of existence. But from the evolution point of view these earlier and lower forms of evil are rather to be regarded as foreshadowings of the reality to come. They are but earlier and lower stages of the evolution of the same thing—embryonic conditions of the now full-grown evil. If so, then the same law must apply here also, though, as we shall see, with a difference. Here, also, the individual as well as the race finds himself surrounded by what seems an evil environment, against which he must struggle. The spirit of man is inclosed and conditioned by a lower environment, which he must subdue or perish. Here, then, is again a deadly conflict: “a law in the members warring against the law of the spirit, and bringing it into captivity”; a law of selfism warring against the law of love, and bringing it into subjection; solicitations to debasement on the one hand, and solicitations to wrong others on the other. How shall it be overcome? What is the remedy? Again I answer, Knowledge of and conformity to the laws of the moral world. But, as in other cases, so in this: this knowledge of and conformity to law, which is the true goal of humanity, will not be attained unless it is forced upon us by necessity and in self-defense—i. e., by evil.

Now suppose, once more, this knowledge and conformity be complete, and the ideal of humanity be attained, and from this final and highest position we look back over the whole ground. Shall that be called evil which from the very nature of a moral being and the laws of evolution was obviously the necessary condition of attaining the goal? Shall we not from this final position call it a good in disguise? Evil, doubtless, it seems to us who suffer and stumble and mayhap fall by the way; but shall the mishap of the individual be weighed as an equivalent against the evolution of the race and the attainment of its goal?

Ah! there is the rub. It is all well enough to talk of sacrificing the physical individual to the race, but not so the spiritual. If we believe in the immortality of the human spirit, if we do indeed stand related to God in the manner explained in Chapter IV, then moral evil in the individual has an entirely peculiar and an eternal significance—then the individual human spirit has an infinite worth and can not be sacrificed to the race; for the evolution of the race itself is only in order to the perfecting of individual human souls. What shall we say now? I answer: The sacrifice is not necessary. There is in the realm of morals alone a way of escape—a saving element which redeems the individual without violating the law. Let me explain.

It will, I think, be admitted by all that innocence and virtue are two very different things. Innocence is a pre-established, virtue a self-established, harmony of spiritual activities. The course of human development, whether individual or racial, is from innocence through more or less discord and conflict to virtue. And virtue completed, regarded as a condition, is holiness, as an activity, is spiritual freedom. Not happiness nor innocence but virtue is the goal of humanity. Happiness will surely come in the train of virtue, but if we seek primarily happiness we miss both. Two things must be borne steadily in mind: virtue is the goal of humanity; virtue can not be given, it must be self-acquired.

Now we have already seen that in all evil the remedy, which not only cures it but transmutes it into good, is knowledge of law and conformity of conduct thereto—a true science and a successful art—in a word, knowledge of the laws of God and obedience to these laws. In the physical world ignorance of these laws is necessarily fatal, but not so in the moral world. Ignorance here is not necessarily fatal though dangerous. By the very nature of a moral being, the essential thing is not knowledge but character or virtue—the will to know and the effort to obey. In the physical realm, knowledge is the goal; in the moral realm, knowledge is only in order to virtue. Therefore, in the case of the individual struggling with moral evil within and without, the victory is always in his power. If he fails, it is his own fault. His utmost effort in this field must be successful, because the result is not external, but internal and in the realm of moral freedom. The spirit of man is self-acting and in some sense, though not absolutely, self-existing, and can not be ruined except by its own act. In the moral world, where the goal is not knowledge but character, attainment must be in proportion to honest endeavor in the right spirit.

Evil, then, has its roots in the necessary law of evolution. It is a necessary condition of all progress, and pre-eminently so of moral progress. But some will ask, “Why could not man have been made a perfectly pure, innocent, happy being, unplagued by evil and incapable of sin?” I answer: The thing is impossible even to omnipotence, because it is a contradiction in terms. Such a being would also be incapable of virtue, would not be a moral being at all, would not in fact be man. We can not even conceive of a moral being without freedom to choose. We can not even conceive of virtue without successful conflict with solicitations to debasement. But these solicitations are so strong and so often overcome us, that we are prone to regard the solicitations themselves as essential evil instead of our weak surrender to them.

All evolution, all progress, is from lower to higher plane. From a philosophic point of view, things are not good and evil, but only higher and lower. All things are good in their true places, each under each, and all must work together for the good of the ideal man. Each lower forms the basis and underlying condition of the higher; each higher must subordinate the lower to its own higher uses, or else it fails of its true end. The physical world forms the basis and condition of the organic, yet the organism rises to a higher plane only by ceaseless conflict with and adaptation to the physical environment, which therefore seems in some sense evil. The organic world in its turn underlies and conditions and nourishes the rational moral world. As the senses are the necessary feeders of the intellect, so the appetites are the necessary feeders of the moral nature. Yes, even the lowest sensual appetites are the necessary basis and nourishers of our highest moral sentiments. And yet the struggle for mastery of the higher spiritual with the lower animal is often so severe that the latter seems to many as essential evil to be extirpated, instead of a useful servant to be controlled. This view is asceticism. Now the whole view of evil usually held is a kind of asceticism, and therefore, like asceticism, must be only a transition phase of human thought. All that we call evil both in the material and the spiritual world is good, so long as we hold it in subjection as servants to the spirit, and only becomes evil when we succumb. All evil consists in the dominance of the lower over the higher; all good in the rational use of the lower by the higher. Asceticism may, indeed, be the best philosophy for some. If we can not subdue the lower nature, we must try to extirpate it, and thus at any cost set free the higher from humiliating bondage. If we can not practice the higher virtue of temperance in all things, we must even try the lower virtue of total abstinence in some things. If our right eye offends, we must not hesitate to pluck it out; but let us not imagine that one eye is better than two—let us clearly understand that thereby our spiritual nature is sadly maimed, and therefore that the highest virtue, which is spiritual beauty and strength, can not thus be attained. True virtue consists, not in the extirpation of the lower, but in its subjection to the higher. The stronger the lower is, the better, if only it be held in subjection. For the higher is nourished and strengthened by its connection with the more robust lower, and the lower is purified, refined, and glorified by its connection with the diviner higher, and by this mutual action the whole plane of being is elevated. It is only by action and reaction of all parts of our complex nature that true virtue is attained.