AT that time it was pretended by the believers in God that the plan, or
the scheme of nature, was not cruel; that the lower was sacrificed
for the benefit of the higher; that while life lived upon life, while
animals lived upon each other, and while man was the king or sovereign
of all, still the higher lived upon the lower. Consequently, a lower
life was sacrificed that a higher life might exist. This reasoning
satisfied many. Yet there were thousands that could not see why the
lower should be sacrificed, or why all joy should be born of pain. But,
since the construction of the microscope, since man has been allowed
to look toward the infinitely small, as well as toward the infinitely
great, he finds that our fathers were mistaken when they laid down the
proposition that only the lower life was sacrificed for the sake of the
higher.
Now we find that the lives of all visible animals are liable to be, and
in countless cases are, destroyed by a far lower life; that man himself
is destroyed by the microbes, the bacilli, the infinitesimal. We find
that for the sake of preserving the yellow fever germs millions and
millions have died, and that whole nations have been decimated for the
sake of the little beast that gives us the cholera. We have also found
that there are animals, call them what you please, that live on the
substance of the human heart, others that prefer the lungs, others again
so delicate in their palate that they insist on devouring the optic
nerve, and when they have destroyed the sight of one eye have sense
enough to bore through the cartilage of the nose to attack the other.
Thus we find the other side of this proposition. At first sight the
lower seemed to be sacrificed for the sake of the higher, but on closer
inspection the highest are sacrificed for the sake of the lowest.
Voltaire was, for a long time, a believer in the optimism of Pope--"All
partial evil, universal good." This is a very fine philosophy for the
fortunate. It suits the rich. It is flattering to kings and priests. It
sounds well. It is a fine stone to throw at a beggar. It enables you to
bear with great fortitude the misfortunes of others.
It is not the philosophy for those who suffer--for industry clothed in
rags, for patriotism in prison, for honesty in want, or for virtuous
outcasts. It is a philosophy of a class, of a few, and of the few who
are fortunate; and, when misfortune overtakes them, this philosophy
fades and withers.
In 1755 came the earthquake at Lisbon. This frightful disaster became an
immense interrogation. The optimist was compelled to ask, "What was my
God doing? Why did the Universal Father crush to shapelessness thousands
of his poor children, even at the moment when they were upon their knees
returning thanks to him?"
What could be done with this horror? If earthquake there must be, why
did it not occur in some uninhabited desert, on some wide waste of
sea? This frightful fact changed the theology of Voltaire. He became
convinced that this is not the best possible of all worlds. He became
convinced that evil is evil here, now, and forever.
The Theist was silent. The earthquake denied the existence of God.