IX

_Origin of Moral Ideas and Sentiments_

Now, here at last, in encountering the ethical process at work, have we

detected a breach of continuity? Has the moral sentiment been flung in

from outside, or is it a natural result of the cosmic process we have

been sketching? Clearly it is the latter. There has been no breach of

continuity. When the prolongation of infancy produced the clan, there

naturally arose reciprocal necessities of behaviour among the members of

the clan, its mothers and children, its hunters and warriors. If such

reciprocal necessities were to be disregarded the clan would dissolve,

and dissolution would be general destruction. For, bear in mind, the

clan, when once evolved, becomes the unit whose preservation is

henceforth the permanent necessity. It is infancy that has made it so.

A miscellaneous horde, with brief infancies for its younger members, may

survive a very extensive slaughter; but in a clan, where the proportion

of helpless children is much greater, and a considerable division of

labour between nurses and warriors has become established, the case is

different. An amount or degree of calamity sufficient to break up its

organization will usually mean total ruin. Hence, when Nature's travail

has at length brought forth the clan, its requirements forthwith become

paramount, and each member's conduct from babyhood must conform to them.

Natural selection henceforth invests her chief capital in the enterprise

of preserving the clan. In that primitive social unit lie all the

potentiality and promise of Human Society through untold future ages. So

for age after age those clans in which the conduct of the individuals is

best subordinated to the general welfare are sure to prevail over clans

in which the subordination is less perfect. As the maternal instinct

had been cultivated for thousands of generations before clanship came

into existence, so for many succeeding ages of turbulence the patriotic

instinct, which prompts to the defence of home, was cultivated under

penalty of death. Clans defended by weakly loyal or cowardly warriors

were sure to perish. Unflinching bravery and devoted patriotism were

virtues necessary to the survival of the community, and were thus

preserved until at the dawn of historic times, in the most grandly

militant of clan societies, we find the word _virtus_ connoting just

these qualities, and no sooner does the fateful gulf yawn open in the

forum than a Curtius joyfully leaps into it, that the commonwealth may

be preserved from harm.

Now the moment a man's voluntary actions are determined by conscious or

unconscious reference to a standard outside of himself and his selfish

motives, he has entered the world of ethics, he has begun to live in a

moral atmosphere. Egoism has ceased to be all in all, and altruism--it

is an ugly-sounding word, but seems to be the only one

available--altruism has begun to assert its claim to sovereignty. In the

earlier and purely animal stages of existence it was right enough for

each individual to pursue pleasure and avoid pain; it did not endanger

the welfare of the species, but on the contrary it favoured that

welfare; in its origin avoidance of pain was the surest safeguard for

the perpetuation of life, and with due qualifications that is still the

case. But as soon as sociality became established, and Nature's supreme

end became the maintenance of the clan organization, the standard for

the individual's conduct became shifted, permanently and forever

shifted. Limits were interposed at which pleasure must be resigned and

pain endured, even certain death encountered, for the sake of the clan;

perhaps the individual did not always understand it in that way, but at

all events it was for the sake of some rule recognized in the clan,

some rule which, as his mother and all his kin had from his earliest

childhood inculcated upon him, _ought_ to be obeyed. This conception of

ought, of obligation, of duty, of debt to something outside of self,

resulted from the shifting of the standard of conduct outside of the

individual's self. Once thus externalized, objectivized, the ethical

standard demanded homage from the individual. It furnished the rule for

a higher life than one dictated by mere selfishness. Speaking after the

manner of naturalists, I here use the phrase "higher life" advisedly. It

was the kind of life that was conducive to the preservation and further

development of the highest form of animate existence that had been

attained. It appears to me that we begin to find for ethics the most

tremendous kind of sanction in the nature of the cosmic process.

A word of caution may be needed. It is not for a moment to be supposed

that when primitive men began crudely shaping their conduct with

reference to a standard outside of self, they did so as the result of

meditation, or with any realizing sense of what they were doing. That

has never been the method of evolution. Its results steal upon the world

noiselessly and unobserved, and only after they have long been with us

does reason employ itself upon them. The wolf does not eat the lamb

because he regards a flesh diet as necessary to his health and activity,

but because he is hungry, and, like Mr. Harold Skimpole, he likes lamb.

It was no intellectual perception of needs and consequences that

lengthened the maternal instinct with primeval mothers as the period of

infancy lengthened. Nor was it any such intellectual perception that

began to enthrone "I ought" in the place of "I wish." If in the world's

recurrent crises Nature had waited to be served by the flickering lamp

of reason, the story would not have been what it is. Her method has

been, with the advent of a new situation, to modify the existing group

of instincts; and this work she will not let be slighted; in her train

follows the lictor with the symbols of death, and there is neither pity

nor relenting. In the primeval warfare between clans, those in which the

instincts were not so modified as to shift the standard of conduct

outside of the individual's self must inevitably have succumbed and

perished under the pressure of those in which the instincts had begun to

experience such modification. The moral law grew up in the world not

because anybody asked for it, but because it was needed for the world's

work. If it is not a product of the cosmic process, it would be hard to

find anything that could be so called.

[Illustration]

X

_The Cosmic Process exists purely for the Sake of Moral Ends_

I have not undertaken to make my outline sketch of the genesis of

Humanity approach to completeness, but only to present enough salient

points to make a closely connected argument in showing how morality is

evolved in the cosmic process and sanctioned by it. In a more complete

sketch it would be necessary to say something about the genesis of

Religion. One of the most interesting, and in my opinion one of the most

profoundly significant, facts in the whole process of evolution is the

first appearance of religious sentiment at very nearly the same stage at

which the moral law began to grow up. To the differential attributes of

Humanity already considered there needs to be added the possession of

religious sentiment and religious ideas. We may safely say that this is

the most important of all the distinctions between Man and other

animals; for to say so is simply to epitomize the whole of human

experience as recorded in history, art, and literature. Along with the

rise from gregariousness to incipient sociality, along with the first

stammerings of articulate speech, along with the dawning discrimination

between right and wrong, came the earliest feeble groping toward a world

beyond that which greets the senses, the first dim recognition of the

Spiritual Power that is revealed in and through the visible and palpable

realm of nature. And universally since that time the notion of Ethics

has been inseparably associated with the notion of Religion, and the

sanction for Ethics has been held to be closely related with the world

beyond phenomena. There are philosophers who maintain that with the

further progress of enlightenment this close relation will cease to be

asserted, that Ethics will be divorced from Religion, and that the

groping of the Human Soul after its God will be condemned as a mere

survival from the errors of primitive savagery, a vain and idle reaching

out toward a world of mere phantoms. I mention this opinion merely to

express unqualified and total dissent from it. I believe it can be shown

that one of the strongest implications of the doctrine of evolution is

the Everlasting Reality of Religion.

But we have not time at present for entering upon so vast a subject. Let

this reference suffice to show that it has not been passed over or

forgotten in my theory of the genesis of Humanity. In an account of the

evolution of the religious sentiment, its first appearance as coeval, or

nearly so, with the beginnings of the ethical process would assume great

importance. We have here been concerned purely with the ethical process

itself, which we have found to be--as Huxley truly says in his

footnote--part and parcel of the general process of evolution. Our

historical survey of the genesis of Humanity seems to show very forcibly

that a society of Human Souls living in conformity to a perfect Moral

Law is the end toward which, ever since the time when our solar system

was a patch of nebulous vapour, the cosmic process has been aiming.

After our cooling planet had become the seat of organic life, the

process of natural selection went on for long ages seemingly, but not

really at random; for our retrospect shows that its ultimate tendency

was towards singling out one creature and exalting his intelligence.

Now we have seen that this increase of intelligence itself, by entailing

upon Man the helplessness of infancy, led directly to the production of

those social conditions that called the ethical process into play and

set it actively to work. Thus we may see the absurdity of trying to

separate the moral nature of Man from the rest of his nature, and to

assign for it a separate and independent history. The essential

solidarity in the cosmic process will admit of no such fanciful

detachment of one part from another. All parts are involved one in

another. Again, the ethical process is not only part and parcel of the

cosmic process, but it is its crown and consummation. Toward the

spiritual perfection of Humanity the stupendous momentum of the cosmic

process has all along been tending. That spiritual perfection is the

true goal of evolution, the divine end that was involved in the

beginning. When Huxley asks us to believe that "the cosmic process has

no sort of relation to moral ends," I feel like replying with the

question, "Does not the cosmic process exist purely for the sake of

moral ends?" Subtract from the universe its ethical meaning, and nothing

remains but an unreal phantom, the figment of false metaphysics.

We have now arrived at a position from which a glimmer of light is

thrown upon some of the dark problems connected with the moral

government of the world. We can begin to see why misery and wrongdoing

are permitted to exist, and why the creative energy advances by such

slow and tortuous methods toward the fulfilment of its divine purpose.

In order to understand these things, we must ask, What is the ultimate

goal of the ethical process? According to the utilitarian philosophy

that goal is the completion of human happiness. But this interpretation

soon refutes itself. A world of completed happiness might well be a

world of quiescence, of stagnation, of automatism, of blankness; the

dynamics of evolution would have no place in it. But suppose we say that

the ultimate goal of the ethical process is the perfecting of human

character? This form of statement contains far more than the other.

Consummation of happiness is a natural outcome of the perfecting of

character, but that perfecting can be achieved only through struggle,

through discipline, through resistance. It is for him that _overcometh_

that the crown of life is reserved. The consummate product of a world

of evolution is the character that _creates_ happiness, that is replete

with dynamic possibilities of fresh life and activity in directions

forever new. Such a character is the reflected image of God, and in it

are contained the promise and potency of life everlasting.

No such character could be produced by any act of special creation in a

garden of Eden. It must be the consummate efflorescence of long ages of

evolution, and a world of evolution is necessarily characterized by slow

processes, many of which to a looker-on seem like tentative experiments,

with an enormous sacrifice of ephemeral forms of life. Thus while the

Earth Spirit goes on, unhasting, yet unresting, weaving in the loom of

Time the visible garment of God, we begin to see that even what look

like failures and blemishes have been from the outset involved in the

accomplishment of the all-wise and all-holy purpose, the perfecting of

the spiritual Man in the likeness of his Heavenly Father.

These points will receive further indirect illustration as we complete

our outline sketch of the cosmic process in the past. It is self-evident

that in the production of an ethical character, altruistic feelings and

impulses must co÷perate. Let us look, then, for some of the beginnings

of altruism in the course of the evolution of life.

[Illustration]

Through Nature to God · 第 52 / 84 题