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This volume contains the October 1901 Publisher's Catalogue, however
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THE CHURCHMAN'S LIBRARY
EDITED BY J. H. BURN, B.D.
EVOLUTION
+------------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| THE CHURCHMAN'S LIBRARY |
| |
| EDITED BY |
| JOHN HENRY BURN, B.D. |
| _Examining Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Aberdeen._ |
| |
| THE BEGINNINGS OF ENGLISH CHRISTIANITY. By W. E. COLLINS, |
| M.A., Professor of Ecclesiastical History, King's |
| College, London. Crown 8vo, _3s. 6d._ [_Ready._ |
| |
| THE CHURCH AND THE SACRAMENTS. By E. T. GREEN, M.A., |
| Professor of Hebrew and Theology at St. David's College, |
| Lampeter. |
| |
| THE CHURCHMAN'S PRIMER. By G. HARFORD-BATTERSBY, M.A. |
| |
| THE CHURCHMAN'S DAY BOOK. By J. H. BURN, B.D. |
| |
| THE ANGLICAN CHURCH IN THE COLONIES AND MISSION FIELD. By |
| ALLAN B. WEBB, D.D., Assistant Bishop to the Bishop of |
| Brechin. |
| |
| HISTORY OF THE PAPACY. By J. P. WHITNEY, M.A. |
| |
| OUR CONTROVERSY WITH ROME. By J. M. DANSON, D.D. |
| |
| THE WORKMANSHIP OF THE PRAYER BOOK. By JOHN DOWDEN, D.D., |
| Bishop of Edinburgh. Crown 8vo, _3s. 6d._ [_Ready._ |
| |
| A POPULAR INTRODUCTION TO THE OLD TESTAMENT. By ANGUS M. |
| MACKAY, B.A. |
| |
| A POPULAR INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW TESTAMENT. By J. H. |
| SHEPHERD, M.A. |
| |
| THE HEBREW PROPHET. By L. W. BATTEN, Ph.D. |
| |
| AN INTRODUCTION TO TEXTUAL CRITICISM. By A. M. KNIGHT, |
| M.A., Fellow and Dean of Gonville and Caius College, |
| Camb. |
| |
| SOME OLD TESTAMENT PROBLEMS. By JOHN P. PETERS, D.D., |
| D.Sc. |
| |
| SOME NEW TESTAMENT PROBLEMS. By ARTHUR WRIGHT, M.A., |
| Fellow and Tutor of Queens' College, Cambridge. Crown |
| 8vo, _6s._ [_Ready._ |
| |
| BIBLE REVISION. By J. J. S. PEROWNE, D.D., Bishop of |
| Worcester. |
| |
| DEVOTIONAL ANALYSIS OF THE PAULINE EPISTLES. By JOHN GOTT, |
| D.D., Bishop of Truro. |
| |
| PREACHING. By FREDERIC RELTON, A.K.C. |
| |
| ENGLISH HYMNS AND HYMN TUNES. By H. C. SHUTTLEWORTH, M.A., |
| Professor of Pastoral and Liturgical Theology, King's |
| College, London. |
| |
| THE WITNESS OF ARCHÆOLOGY. By C. J. BALL, M.A., Chaplain |
| of Lincoln's Inn. |
| |
| ENGLISH ECCLESIOLOGY. By J. N. COMPER. |
| |
| CONFIRMATION. By H. T. KINGDON, D.D., Bishop of |
| Fredericton. |
| |
| INSPIRATION. By Canon BENHAM, D.D. |
| |
| MIRACLES. By THOMAS B. STRONG, B.D., Student of Christ |
| Church, Oxford. |
| |
| PROVIDENCE AND PRAYER. By V. H. STANTON, D.D., Ely |
| Professor of Divinity, Cambridge. |
| |
| EVOLUTION. By FRANK B. JEVONS, M.A., D.Litt., Principal of |
| Bishop Hatfield's Hall, Durham. Crown 8vo, _3s. 6d._ |
| |
| THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN HERE AND HEREAFTER. By Canon |
| WINTERBOTHAM, M.A., B.Sc., LL.B. Cr. 8vo, _3s. 6d._ |
| [_Ready._ |
| |
| THE GREAT WORLD RELIGIONS FROM A CHRISTIAN STANDPOINT. By |
| H. E. J. BEVAN, M.A., Gresham Professor of Divinity. |
| |
| COMPARATIVE RELIGION. By J. A. MACCULLOCK. |
| |
| ENGLISH ECCLESIASTICAL LAW. By W. DIGBY THURNAM. |
| |
+------------------------------------------------------------------+
EVOLUTION
BY
FRANK B. JEVONS, M.A., D.LITT.
PRINCIPAL OF BISHOP HATFIELD'S HALL, DURHAM
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
LONDON
1900
PREFACE
The object of this volume is to raise the question: if we accept the
Theory of Evolution as true in science, how should it modify the thought
and action of a man who wishes to do his best in this world? The
question is necessary because we find that different and inconsistent
conclusions on the point have been reached by men speaking in the name
of science and speaking with authority. These differences are due not to
anything in science, but to certain extra-scientific assumptions. To
test the worth of such assumptions is the work of philosophy; and this
volume is accordingly an essay in philosophy. Science is but organised
common sense. Science and Religion both claim to deal with realities.
The realism of common sense, therefore, the form of philosophy to which
both seem to point, is that which is set forth here.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. OPTIMISM 1
II. ILLUSION 14
III. PESSIMISM 24
IV. IDEALISM 38
V. THE REAL 60
VI. EVOLUTION AS THE REDISTRIBUTION OF MATTER AND MOTION 72
VII. NECESSITY 100
VIII. INSUFFICIENT EVIDENCE 138
IX. CONSEQUENCES 152
X. THE CHESS-BOARD 163
XI. THE COMMON FAITH OF MANKIND 184
XII. PROGRESS 203
XIII. EVOLUTION AS PURPOSE 238
XIV. CONCLUSION 273
APPENDIX. ON BISHOP BERKELEY'S IDEALISM 289
INDEX 297
EVOLUTION
I.
OPTIMISM
Innumerable writers at the end of the nineteenth century have reviewed
the changes which in the last fifty years have come over the civilised
world. The record indeed is admitted on all hands to be marvellous.
Steam, electricity, machinery, and all the practical inventions of
applied science have added enormously to the material wealth, comfort,
and luxury of mankind. Intellectually, the bounds of pure science have
been vastly enlarged; and the blessings of education have been extended
to the poorest members of the community. Philanthropic and religious
activity manifests itself in a thousand different organisations. We are
never tired of repeating, that changes which in the first half of the
century would have been pronounced impossible and incredible, at the end
of the century are accomplished facts.
But amongst all these changes one is almost universally overlooked, and
that the most characteristic, the most remarkable, and the most
important: the face of civilisation has come to be illumined by hope.
Great as is the progress of the last fifty years, we count it as nothing
compared with that which is in store for us. To the discoveries of
science it is felt that no bounds can be set; what a day may bring forth
in the way of the extension of man's control over the forces of Nature,
what secrets of Nature the chemist in his laboratory may light upon at
any moment, no man can surmise, but everyone is confident that things
will be discovered as marvellous to us now as the telegraph and
telephone to our predecessors of the pre-scientific age. In the
treatment of political and social questions the same deep-seated
conviction prevails that progress can and will be made: the conditions
and causes of poverty can be ascertained by patient study, and when
ascertained can be dealt with. The laws of physical health and
cleanliness have not refused to reveal themselves, nor are moral health
and cleanliness without their laws. In fine, if the best energy of the
age is everywhere devoted to the increase of knowledge, the advancement
of morality, and the diffusion of comfort, it is because everywhere
there is hope. In the social as in the individual organism hope raises
the tide of life, increases vitality, and stimulates the system. Hence
this general discharge throughout the nervous system of society,
manifesting itself in the vigour and energy with which all schemes for
improvement are taken up and carried out. That discoveries will be made
and progress effected is as certain as that gold is to be found in a
goldfield; the only practical question is, By whom? Who is to be the
lucky man?
To us who have witnessed the advance which has given rise to this
universal hope, the hope itself seems so reasonable and so justifiable
that we are apt to overlook the fact that it is without parallel in the
history of mankind. Never, of course, has any generation of men imagined
its own lot perfect; all have had their ideals, and all have believed
their ideals to be true. But whereas we place the realisation of our
ideals in the future, all previous generations have placed it in the
past: the Golden Age till now has always been regarded as the
starting-point of man's history, not its goal. All races have looked
back with pride upon a heroic past; all mythologies tell of the better
and brighter lot that was in the beginning man's; all poets sing of the
brave days of old; all fairy tales begin with "once upon a time." The
historians of Greece and Rome discovered no progress in the history of
their countries, but only degeneration from the patriotism and
simplicity of earlier times, or at best a series of changes making its
round like the circle of the year's seasons. The philosophers of Greece
are mainly occupied, when they deal with sociological questions, with
the causes of corruption and decay of constitutions; and, if they frame
ideal constitutions, they intend them to be final; they do not imagine
them to have any possibility of growth. In modern times the same
tendency has been equally manifest. Political revolutions have always
aimed, not at introducing a new, but at restoring an old state of
things: the actors in the French Revolution even dressed and posed as
ancient Greeks and Romans. In philosophy, civilisation, as being
artificial, has been regarded as a degeneration from a "natural" state
of man which was at once primitive and perfect.
In the individual, optimism may be dismissed as a mere mood, or as a
tendency to cheerfulness not based on any rational estimate either of
the future or of the past. But when a whole generation of men, when,
indeed, the whole civilised world, looks to the future, not with
careless levity, but with the calm assurance of confidence in the
progress that is and is to be, we cannot dismiss its optimism offhand.
Astonishing as it is, that the world as it grows older should grow more
hopeful, there are good reasons for the fact.
The child's estimates of distance, magnitude, and importance differ from
those of the adult. The estimates, however, persist in memory, and we
have all discovered, on revisiting familiar scenes of childhood, how
exaggerated our childish estimates were when compared with the actual
facts. It is this exaggeration of memory, this illusion of the mind's
eye, that psychologically is the foundation of the tendency to idealise
the past. To us as children the exploits of our elders were marvellous
in our eyes; and they remain as marvels in the memory, as marvels,
however, which, as all marvels do, belong to the past. The past becomes
the wonderland in which were performed the great deeds, not only of our
fathers' time, but of the old times before them. The past becomes the
poet's treasury, from which he produces things new and old--the
abiding-place of all things good and great and beautiful which are not,
but ought to be, and therefore once were.
To measure progress, as indeed to measure any movement and determine its
rate and direction, some fixed points are necessary. As long, therefore,
as there is no contemporaneous record of events, fixed in writing, there
is no possibility of checking the _laudator temporis acti_ and of
reducing the unconscious exaggerations of his memory to their due
proportions. But even if there were, in the lowest stages of culture the
rate of progress is too slow to be perceptible at the time. In the
beginning man is at the mercy of his environment: it is only when he has
learnt to modify it to his needs that progress begins to move. And by
the time that man has passed from savagery to barbarism, and has
emerged from barbarism to civilisation, the conviction that the present
and the actual are things of naught as compared with the ideal past, is
too intimately inwrought with his religion, his mythology, his
philosophy, and the accepted history of his race and its heroic origin
to allow him to see facts as they are, or to divine the true trend of
human affairs. Further, there is a very practical reason for his looking
with suspicion and not with confidence on social changes. It is only as
the result of a long course of slow evolution that society has attained
to a condition of fairly stable equilibrium. In the beginning society
may be compared to a man hanging on for bare life, with a precarious
foothold, to the face of a sheer cliff: when the least movement may
prove fatal, all movement is dreaded. Thus the characteristic of all
early societies is that they are impeded by "the cake of custom" and
rigid with the immobility of conservatism.
To those who hold that experience mechanically impresses itself upon the
mind and so automatically expresses itself as truth, it must appear
somewhat strange that mankind should have advanced for thousands of
years without knowing that they had progressed; and still more strange
that it was not as an induction from experience, but on _a priori_
grounds that they arrived at the conclusion. Yet so it was. The mere
contemplation of the rise and fall of empires no more suggested the
presence and persistence of a constant tendency to progress than the
mountainous wave which threatens to engulf the ship suggests that the
sea-level is a scientific truth. But when Darwin established his theory
that man was descended from the brute, all was clear: it became certain
_a priori_ that the long history and "pre-history" of man must have been
one of progress and advance. When the descent of man was established,
his ascent came to be studied, and human evolution was seen to be
synonymous with progress. Savages were seen to be the nearest existing
representatives of primitive man, and there was an end to the idea that
the primitive state was perfection. The comparative method, once applied
to the study of mankind, was able to set side by side examples of
savagery, barbarism, and civilisation, which illustrated every step in
the process of the evolution of society, and showed that, though the
forms of society may fluctuate as do the waves of the sea, society
itself is steady in its advance and progressive in its evolution. This
conclusion, which at first was a deduction drawn from the animal descent
of man, has now the independent support of an enormous amount of
evidence. The existence of a Stone Age, palæolithic and neolithic, of a
Bronze Age and an Iron Age, and the succession of those ages in the
order named, are established facts of science. That the culture of nomad
peoples is lower than that of pastoral tribes; that pastoral tribes
advance in culture when they become agricultural; that agriculture,
implying settled habits and fixed homes, leads to the foundation of
cities and the formation of civic life; that the city-states of the
ancient world give way to the nation-states of modern times: are all
accepted facts, bridging the apparent chasm between civilisation and
savagery, and demonstrating the action of the law of continuity in the
evolution of society.
But, it will be observed, all these facts and arguments taken together
only prove what has been--not what will be. They show that from a level
little higher than the brute man has attained to what he is; but is this
enough to guarantee his continuous rise? In other words, have we reached
the real source of that universal hope which, as we have said, is
characteristic of this stage of man's evolution? The bark of man's
destiny hitherto has been wafted by a favouring and a steady gale, and
it is natural enough for the unreflecting to take it for granted that
the wind will always set from the same happy quarter. But the question
will obtrude itself whether we are justified in the presumption.
If man shaped his own course, we might at least say that there was no
reason why he should not continue to steer in the same direction as
hitherto. But the most remarkable lesson that sociology has to teach us
is that the course which he has followed so continuously has not been
of his own steering. As we have already seen, man until this present
generation has uniformly kept his eyes fixed on the quarter from which,
not to which, he has imagined himself to be travelling, and, like a
reluctant emigrant, has lamented the increasing distance between him and
the happy shore from which he sailed. Or, to change the metaphor,
society is an organism. Like all organisms, it starts as a relatively
structureless mass; then, in accordance with the principle of the
division of labour, different functions come to be performed by
different parts; thus special organs are developed for the performance
of special functions; division of labour further implies co-operation of
the various organs and the development of the necessary means of
communication and connection. All this is necessary for that evolution
of society which we call progress; and of all these changes in the
structure of society but few were ever intentionally planned by man. Mr.
Herbert Spencer has familiarised this generation with the idea that the
foreseen consequences of any intended change are insignificant as
compared with the consequences unforeseen and unintended. Hence the
general rule that the structural developments on which the evolution of
society depends are but rarely the result of the coercive and conscious
changes effected by government: in practically all cases they are the
unintended consequences of the spontaneous actions of individuals
aiming at something else and unconsciously promoting the evolution of
society. So, too, the animal organism is made up of living units, each
of which unconsciously performs the part necessary to be played by it,
if the organism is to live; and each unit, unconsciously again, even
modifies the part it plays, in order to promote the changes which
constitute the evolution and the progress of the organism.
We must therefore dismiss the idea that the progress of mankind and the
evolution of society have been planned by man or are due to his design;
and we must recognise the presence in human affairs of some unseen,
impelling power which is continually guiding them to good issues and
shaping them to ends not even rough-hewn by men. This power, it is
evident, must be one not limited in its action to the social organism,
but manifesting itself in animal organisms also, since there also it
produces similar results. That power, we need hardly say, is to be
sought in "the struggle for existence": wherever organisms are in excess
of the means for supporting them, competition for food, for life, must
ensue; and in this case the battle is to the strong, the race to the
fleet. But of course strength is a relative term: what in some
circumstances is a source of strength, in others may be a cause of
weakness; and, generally, the very qualities which in some cases are of
the highest value may in others be useless to their possessor. It is
therefore the creature which possesses the particular kind of
superiority required by the circumstances in which it finds itself,
which is the creature that is likely to fare best, and is most likely to
survive in the struggle for existence. But, further, the circumstances
tend to produce the very superiority which they require: they ruthlessly
reject and condemn to destruction every organism which fails to satisfy
their requirements, thus leaving the field in possession of those
organisms which have the required superiority. The next generation,
therefore, is bred not from chance parents, but from parents which have
been selected, by natural causes and the force of circumstances, as
carefully as by the breeder who wishes to produce a prize animal. Every
successive generation thus must be superior to that which preceded it.
Advance is the very breath of every organism's being, the condition
without which existence is impossible. To the talents which it has,
every being must add other talents, or be cast out into the darkness of
non-existence; whereas to the good and faithful servant who exercises
all the powers entrusted to him even wider rule is given. Neither this
world nor the next is for the idle or for the stupid. The intelligence
must be alert to detect the slightest element of possible superiority,
and the will resolute to work it to the utmost of its worth. Man must be
wise in his generation; and the wise man makes friends even with the
mammon of unrighteousness, and that quickly.
If, then, it is by the perpetual and strenuous exercise of all its
powers that an organism achieves the degree of superiority which is its
contribution to the universal work of progress, it follows that "the
performance of every function is, in a sense, a moral obligation," and
that "the moral man is one whose functions are all discharged in degrees
duly adjusted to the conditions of existence." Here, as elsewhere, the
individual, to exist, must comply with the conditions of existence; and
progress consists in more perfect compliance with the conditions. There
is, however, a difference between the highly evolved organism, man, and
the less complex organisms; between animal and human evolution; between
biological and moral progress. In the case of the lower and simpler
organisms, the creature is prompted simply and safely by its emotions to
the performance of those functions on which its existence and the
evolution of its species depend. But the evolution of man has been so
rapid in its later stages, the social environment which he has himself
created is so different from the circumstances in which he originally
found himself, that his adjustment to his environment has become, so to
speak, much looser, and consequently it is now no longer the case that
actions in themselves pleasant are also necessarily beneficial in their
consequences to the individual and to society. Moral progress,
therefore, will manifest itself in the readjustment of man to his
altered conditions. The consequence of that adjustment, when complete,
will be that actions which are right--that is, are beneficial to the
individual and to society--will always be pleasurable, not only in their
consequences, but also immediately and in themselves. To this ideal,
when all men will delight always in the thing that is right, and when
all have attained to a height of morality now reached only by the few,
man is being slowly but surely urged by the force which is the motive
power of all evolution, the struggle for existence, regulated by the law
which directs all progress, that of the survival of the fittest.
Here, then, we have the reason of the hope that is characteristic of our
generation; here the foundation of the calm confidence with which we
count on the continuance of progress as a thing assured us. It is not
merely that progress has been made in the past, that the gale hitherto
has steadily blown us on a favourable course. We have learnt that it
must of necessity always blow from the same quarter. Man's course is not
dependent on man's fitful will: the wind and waves obey not him, but the
Power which directs all evolution, and "our strength in ages past" is
shown by science to be "our hope in years to come."
II.
ILLUSION
It seems, then, according to the optimistic view set forth in the
previous chapter, that Evolution is necessarily Progress, and progress
is movement in the line of our moral aspirations produced _ad
infinitum_. The changes that are and always have been taking place are
and always have been changes for the better; the forms of existence
which incessantly succeed one another necessarily develop from lower to
higher, from good to better. And this conclusion is not a matter of
religious faith, but of scientific necessity. The only forces and causes
that it presupposes are those which we see and feel at work every day
around us. For the reconstruction of the past history of the earth's
surface, geology only requires to assume the operation during infinite
past time of those agencies which at this moment may be seen to be
slowly changing the face of the earth. The cooling of the earth's
surface follows the same laws, and can be calculated with the same
certainty as the cooling of a red-hot poker. The law of gravitation,
which determines the movements of the heavenly bodies, is equally
exemplified in the fall of an apple to the ground. In fine, the universe
consists of bodies of matter in motion; the movements which occur within
the range of human observation are sufficient to enable us from them to
calculate the paths which they follow when they pass beyond our ken, and
the correctness of our calculations is demonstrated when they reappear
at the time and place predicted. The chemist recovers on one side of his
equation every atom which the other side requires him to account for.
The stars in their courses confirm the calculations of the astronomer.
Matter is in perpetual course of redistribution, and the same
everlasting laws which determine the forms into which it is incessantly
being redistributed necessarily determine that those forms shall
perpetually improve.
This optimistic view of evolution has met with general welcome, but on
very different grounds in different cases. Believers in Divine
Providence have eagerly greeted it as a startling and irresistible
demonstration that their belief in a Providence over-ruling all things
for good was true. No suspicion here was possible that the argument had
been sophisticated by those with whom the wish was father to the
thought. By science the testimony of science could hardly be impeached;
and here was science on independent reasonings of its own, starting from
purely materialistic ground, compelled by the force of its own
arguments to bear witness to the truth which religion had so long
proclaimed on the strength of faith alone. To this generation a sign had
indeed been given.
On the other hand, the optimistic interpretation of evolution was
welcomed with equal ardour by those for whom it removed the last
difficulty they had in believing that there was no God. Hitherto the
deeply rooted desire to believe that, in spite of all appearances to the
contrary, good must triumph ultimately, and right-doing never be
confounded, had seemed to necessitate belief in a righteous God. But now
the necessity for any such assumption was done away with: the perpetual
triumph of the good was a necessary aspect or expression of the
mechanical action of particles of matter upon one another, as much as
the law of gravitation itself, and based on exactly the same kind of
evidence. From this it followed that religious belief was but a passing
phase in the process of evolution, useful enough as long as the real
evidence for our faith in the good was unknown, but destined to dwindle
to a mere rudiment and survival as fast as men become capable of seeing
the truth of the matter, and of realising that religion is superfluous
because it can offer nothing that is not independently assured by
science. At the same time and in the same way the hope of future
blessedness is brought down from the unsubstantial clouds of an
imaginary heaven to the solid ground of a materialistic science, which
never travels beyond the evidence of the senses.
Since, then, minds, which differ otherwise so much, are agreed that the
optimistic interpretation of evolution is the true one, it seems not
unreasonable to ask each how far they are prepared to push their
optimism. We will ask the one side whether the reason why they believe
in the goodness of God really is that, as a matter of fact, they see
that good is incessantly triumphant around them, and triumphant as a
matter of absolute necessity. Surely whether we consider what we daily
see of life, or whether we consider the struggle with evil in our own
souls, it is a mockery to say that good invariably triumphs here and
now; and there must be illusion in the argument that would prove that it
does. Could an argument that is based on the assumption that matter and
motion are the only realities issue in anything but illusion when
extended to spiritual experience?
To the other side we may put the question somewhat differently. It is
agreed that all the many changes which are incessantly taking place in
the universe, and which, added together, constitute what is called the
cosmic process, are incessantly and inevitably working for good, and
themselves are always rising from good to better. But what of the Force,
or Power, or Cause, or Reality which underlies them and of which they
are the manifestation? May we infer that because they are good, it is
good? That if the fruits are good, the tree must be good also? To this
the reply will be that it is the manifestations which we know; they
alone are known to us; they alone can be known to us. That which
underlies them is not manifest; and that which is not manifested to us
obviously cannot be known to us: it is the Unknowable. Obviously,
therefore, it is impossible for us to say whether it is good or not. To
affirm and to deny that it is good would both equally be to profess
knowledge of the unknowable. Religion may profess--and, indeed, all
religions have professed--to possess this inconceivable and impossible
knowledge. But religion is not science.
On this view, then, there are limits to the optimism of evolution: to
apply the term "good" to that which manifests itself as the cosmic
process in evolution is mere illusion. But this raises a further
question: If it is unmeaning to call the Unknowable Reality good, what
precisely is the meaning and value of the term "good" when applied to
those forms in which the Unknowable manifests itself to us?
To begin with, it is clear that if everything has been evolved, then our
moral aspirations also are the products of evolution. It is they,
indeed, that distinguish man from the brute; but even of them the law of
continuity holds good: we can see not only how in man the virtues have
been developed by civilisation, but we can trace the germs of
conscience in that civilised animal the dog, as we can certainly see
maternal affection, devotion, and self-sacrifice in the fiercest of
undomesticated animals. In other words, the struggle for existence is
waged better in co-operation than by individual effort; co-operation
implies the subordination of individual impulse to the interests of the
species or society; and such subordination, taking different forms in
different stages of social development, is what we call virtue.
In the next place, the theory of evolution is built upon the ancient
truth that nothing abideth long in one stay. Matter and motion are in
perpetual course of redistribution, entering into countless
combinations, and assuming innumerable forms, which succeed each other
like the waves of the sea, and like them are no sooner formed than they
are gone. It follows, then, on this showing, that our moral aspirations
are as transitory as other products of evolution. Indeed, as we look
back over the pages of history we can see them always changing before
our eyes--what is approved by savages is disapproved later; the virtues
of the military stage of social development give way to those fostered,
by the industrial organisation of society. In a word, our moral
aspirations, being the outcome of evolution, have neither the permanence
of matter and motion which are everlasting and indestructible, nor the
reality which is the attribute of the Unknowable alone.
If any confirmation of this conclusion were required, it would be found
in the fact that only a living, conscious being can entertain moral
aspirations, or desire the good, or hunger and thirst after
righteousness. And life and consciousness are but transitory phases of
evolution. The earth's crust, the geologic record, testifies to the
former existence of fauna now extinct. The science of heat makes it
certain that the earth must cease to be habitable for any form of life;
and with the extinction of consciousness, good and the desire for good,
right and the striving after right, will be no more: matter and motion,
brute matter and blind forces, knowing nothing of good or evil, will
resume their ancient, desolate domain.
If, pursuing the same train of thought, we ask what meaning the
optimistic evolutionist puts upon the word "good," we shall see that,
according to him, the distinction between good and bad is one that
applies, and can only apply, to certain moments in the process of
evolution, but not to the process as a whole, just as we have already
seen that according to the optimistic evolutionist the distinction does
not apply to the Unknowable Reality of which the process of evolution is
a manifestation. The law of life is laid down to be the struggle for
existence, with the consequent survival of the fittest. In the
struggle, that is good which is struggled for, viz. existence; and that
conduct, in man or brute, is good which conduces to success in the
struggle and enables the organism to maintain its existence. This can
only be done by the adaptation of the organism to its environment, of
the constitution to the conditions. It follows, therefore, that "good"
is a purely relative term: it is only applicable with reference to
organisms, and even in their case only to success and whatever
contributes to success in the struggle for existence. But to the cosmos
before the struggle for life begins, and after life and its struggles
have relapsed into the insentience of unconscious matter, the term
cannot be applied. Matter and motion, which exist before and after
life's appearance, are everlasting and indestructible. Their existence
is assured, and implies no struggle. They are eternal, organic life
compared with them is momentary. The portion, then, of the cosmic
process which can be spoken of as good is infinitesimal compared with
the whole. Save for the brief moment during which organic life exists,
it is as illusory to speak of the cosmic process as good as it is to
apply the term to the Unknowable.
But if so much of our optimistic interpretation of evolution has proved
to be an illusion which consists in the simple fallacy of using the word
"good" in connections in which it has no meaning, can we hope to rescue
the very small fragment that remains? Perhaps we may argue, that since
that is good which conduces to human existence, the whole of the cosmic
process up to now, having paved the way and prepared the earth for man,
must be good. Thus at one stroke we seem to regain half at least of the
territory we have lost. But it is only seeming, once more illusion, for
the cosmic process which has prepared the earth for man's existence has
also prepared it for his destruction: his good, his existence, and his
destruction are equally indifferent to it. This conclusion is confirmed
by the reflection that to regard the cosmic process as giving any
consideration to man would be to ascribe purpose, consciousness, a
knowledge of good and evil, and a preference for good, to the Unknowable
of which the cosmic process is the continuous manifestation.
It is therefore mere illusion to imagine that evolution necessarily
tends to good: it is absolutely indifferent to it. And as we must judge
of the parts by the whole, we must conclude that human evolution follows
the same laws as evolution in general. The steps in human evolution,
like those in evolution at large, are not progress, are not changes
working to a good end, but merely changes. Evolution is not progress,
but mere change, as far as good and evil are concerned, a mere marking
of time, or at most a series of movements in which advance and retreat
cancel each other in the long-run.
At the same time, the evolution theory enables us to see plainly a cause
at work which would inevitably produce in human minds the illusion that
existence is good. Just as any species of animals which found a pleasure
in actions ultimately entailing the destruction of the species would be
condemned to extinction, so too only those varieties of the genus _homo_
could survive in whom the conviction of the goodness and desirability of
existence was strong enough to call forth the activities on which
existence was dependent.
The optimistic interpretation of evolution is based on the "struggle for
life" theory that "existence" sums up the good for which man struggles;
and we have sought to show that the optimism which is based on this
assumption must result in the conclusion that progress is an illusion.
Some readers, however, may hold that mere existence is not the only good
that man is capable of struggling for.
III.
PESSIMISM
"The prospect of attaining untroubled happiness, or of a state which
can, even remotely, deserve the title of perfection, appears to me to be
as misleading an illusion as ever was dangled before the eyes of poor
humanity. And there have been many of them."[1]
The theory which sees in evolution nothing but the redistribution of
matter and motion leads to an optimistic view of things which on
examination proves to be a misleading illusion. From illusion to
pessimism is but a step.
The facts on which the theory of organic evolution is based are two. The
first is that no two individuals of any species are born exactly alike;
and that of two different individuals one must be superior to the other,
_i.e._ better fitted to survive under the conditions then and there
prevailing. The next is that parents transmit their qualities to
offspring; and the superiority of superior parents is thus transmitted
and accumulated from generation to generation. Organic evolution,
therefore, consists in more and more perfect adaptation of the organism
to the environment. And this adaptation is effected by the physical
destruction of those creatures which are weakly and not adapted to cope
with the environment.
According to the theory that evolution is progress, the progress or
evolution of humanity obeys the same laws, is impelled by the same
forces, and follows the same line as the evolution of organisms in
general; and consists accordingly in increasing adaptation to the
environment. Imperfect adaptation manifests itself whenever a man's
impulses or desires move him to perform acts which are immediately or
eventually prejudicial to his own or to society's existence. Adaptation
will be perfect when all acts which are necessary for the existence of
the individual and of the society are pleasant in themselves--when not
only going to the dentist's will be a duty, but the extraction will be a
pleasure desired for its own sake.
Though Mr. Huxley maintained that it was a misleading illusion to lead
people to expect any such state of untroubled happiness, he was far from
denying that progress has been made in the past by man, or from
despairing of further progress in the future. But progress does not,
according to him, consist in adaptation to environment; it is not
effected by means of the struggle for existence; it neither obeys the
same laws, nor is impelled by the same forces, nor follows the same
lines as organic evolution in general. Nor does it consist in the
substitution of personal pleasure for a sense of duty as the motive of
action: on the contrary, it consists in a fuller and fuller recognition
of the claims of others.
The idea that evolution means progress, and by its very nature
necessarily results in perfection, owes much of its popularity to the
fallacious interpretation given to the phrase "survival of the fittest."
In any scientific use of the phrase, "fittest" simply means "fittest to
survive." But in popular usage it is supposed to mean "ideally or
ethically best." But the fittest to survive are not necessarily the
ideally best: they are, scientifically speaking, simply those best
adapted to the circumstances and conditions under which they live. And
the circumstances and conditions, the environment, may or may not be
favourable to the survival of the ethically or æsthetically best: they
may be favourable to the growth of weeds and to the destruction of
beautiful flowers, in which case the cosmic process will wipe out the
beautiful flowers, and the movement of evolution will be æsthetically
retrogressive, not progressive.
Adaptation to environment, therefore, is no indication or test of
progress, or of what is good or right or true or beautiful. Everything
that exists is shown, by the mere fact of its existence, to be adapted
to its environment. If, therefore, such adaptation is evidence that the
thing is ideally satisfactory, it will follow that whatever is, is
right. At the same time, our conception of right and good will be
emptied of all meaning: a "right" or "good" thing will simply mean a
thing which exists. The epithets will simply predicate existence, not a
quality; and consequently we shall have to call the successful villain
and the prosperous traitor good, and their methods right. They have
adapted themselves to their conditions, and have flourished in
consequence.
Adaptation to environment could only mean progress provided that the
environment was uniformly such as to favour the survival of those alone
who were ideally fit to survive. But it is not: instances are not
uncommon in which organisms, having attained to a certain degree of
complexity and heterogeneity of structure, subsequently, as a
consequence of adapting themselves to their environment, lose it and
revert to an earlier stage of development, relatively simple,
homogeneous, and structureless. Such reversion or regressive
metamorphosis is as much a part of the organism's evolution as its
previous progressive metamorphosis; and progress and regress both are
equally the result of adaptation to environment. Further, though
reversion and regress may now be only occasional, it is certain that as
the earth cools down they must become universal: the altered conditions
of temperature, etc., will allow only the lower forms of life to
survive, and will eventually extinguish even them.
As regards organic evolution in general, then, the struggle for
existence and the action of the environment do not necessarily tend to
result in progress. As regards the evolution of man in particular, Mr.
Huxley went further and maintained that they were absolutely inimical to
human progress, which has been effected, not because, but in spite of
them, and is the result not of obeying the cosmic process, but of
defying it.
The qualities which brought success in the struggle for existence to man
as an animal were rapacity, greed, selfishness, and an absolute and
cruel indifference to the wants and sufferings of others. On the
gratification, at all cost to others, of his animal desires, his animal
existence depended: it was the "ape and tiger" within him that made him
victor in the struggle for existence; it was the environment that
imposed this as the condition of success.
The qualities which make man a human being are tenderness, pity, mercy,
compassion, self-sacrifice, and love. It is in their growth--the
"ethical process"--that human progress consists, and not in the
ruthlessness by which the cosmic process effects the evolution of other
organisms. These qualities--human and humane--do not make for success
in the struggle for existence. They are not adapted to the environment
provided by Nature. Their owners were not the fittest to survive, and
consequently paid the penalty--physical destruction--as far as the
cosmic process could exact it. If the struggle for existence and the
action of the environment have not succeeded in keeping man down to the
level of the brute, it is because man has deliberately set himself to
oppose the cosmic process and the blind forces, knowing nothing of right
and wrong, pity or love, by which it effects the evolution of the brute.
The struggle for existence is fatal to the development of the qualities
which are peculiarly characteristic of humanity, and man accordingly has
suspended the struggle for existence. In place of warring with his
fellow-man, he has begun to co-operate with him. He has learnt to some
extent to postpone the gratification of his own wants to the
satisfaction of those of others. He no longer destroys the weakly, the
sick, the helpless, the useless, or even the criminal; and, if the
environment threaten their destruction, he sets to work to alter the
environment. Man no longer seeks to conquer Nature by obeying her: he
studies her forces in order to command them to his will. Adaptation to
environment is the implement by which she shapes human evolution to ends
that are not his ends; he wrests the weapon from her hands, and by
adaptation of the environment undoes her work, fosters the growth of
those qualities which tend towards his ideal, and does away with the
conditions which harbour ignorance and error, selfishness and sin.
Human progress, then, consists in perpetual approximation to the ideals
of charity, love, and self-sacrifice. Life is exhibited as a struggle
against evil, against the ape and tiger within us which we inherit from
our ancestor--the brute. The evil is real, the struggle is hard but
worthy, and not the less worthy because it is not directed to our
personal happiness and gratification. "The practice of self-restraint
and renunciation is not happiness, though it may be something much
better."[2]
Thus far this criticism of life, though stern, is not pessimistic. On
the contrary, in it man seems to have recovered the freedom of action
and the power of independent judgment which, as the mere product of the
cosmic process, he could not enjoy according to the optimistic theory.
If life is a struggle, at any rate man can fight the good fight, if he
will; and he can judge for himself which is the higher, the adaptation
to environment which puts man on a level with the ape and tiger, or the
adaptation of environment which, for the sake of his ideals, sets him in
conflict with the cosmic process.
It is when we proceed to conjecture the issue of the struggle, as thus
stated, that pessimism begins to invade us. However valiantly man may
fight, whatever temporary victories he may gain here or there, his
defeat in the end is inevitable: the same cosmic forces which, working
through him, have won him his trifling victories have preordained his
ultimate destruction. As far as it is possible for science to forecast
the future, it is certain that in the end man will fall a victim to his
environment, and join the other extinct fauna of the earth. With him the
ethical process ceases; with him perish the hopes, the aspirations, and
the ideals for which he strove as being of greater worth than aught that
evolution, the redistribution of matter and motion, could offer or
produce.
If this were all, the picture would be sufficiently gloomy: man alone in
the universe, surrounded by forces which act without regard to good or
evil, without sympathy or heed for right or wrong, indeed, with the
effect of impartially extinguishing both in the end. But it is not all.
As the conditions grow more and more unfavourable to man's existence
upon earth, as the margin of the means of subsistence contracts, and the
presence of universal want increases, the ape and tiger in man will
begin to assert themselves once more. In the face of starvation, the
instinct of self-preservation will become imperious. Once more, as in
the earliest days, man will live by rapacity, cruelty, and selfishness
alone. Before man yields possession of the earth to the brutes, he will
himself revert to brutishness. The puny barriers behind which man has
for a moment sheltered himself from the action of the cosmic process,
and nursed the feeble flame of those aspirations after higher things
which distinguish him from the brute, must inevitably be swept away by
the restless and relentless tide of insentient matter, perpetually
redistributed by aimless motion, which constitutes the cosmic process.