Chapter III: Spiritual or Moral Development (1)

In examining this subject, we first inquire (Sect. _α_) whether
there is any connection between physical and moral or religious
development; then (_β_), what indications of moral development may
be derived from history. Finally (_γ_), a correlation of the results
of these inquiries, with the nature of the religious development in
the individual, is attempted. Of course in so stupendous an inquiry
but a few leading points can be presented here.

If it be true that the period of human existence on the earth has
seen a gradually increasing predominance of higher motives over
lower ones among the mass of mankind, and if any parts of our
metaphysical being have been derived by inheritance from preëxistent
beings, we are incited to the inquiry whether any of the moral
qualities are included among the latter; and whether there be any
resemblance between moral and intellectual development.

Thus, if there have been a physical derivation from a preëxistent
genus, and an embryonic condition of those physical characters which
distinguish Homo—if there has been also an embryonic or infantile
stage in intellectual qualities—we are led to inquire whether the
development of the individual in moral nature will furnish us with a
standard of estimation of the successive conditions or present
relations of the human species in this aspect also.

_a. Relations of Physical and Moral Nature._

Although men are much alike in the deeper qualities of their nature,
there is a range of variation which is best understood by a
consideration of the extremes of such variation, as seen in men of
different latitudes, and women and children.

(_a._) _In Children._ Youth is distinguished by a peculiarity, which
no doubt depends upon an immature condition of the nervous center
concerned, which might be called _nervous impressibility_. It is
exhibited in a greater tendency to tearfulness, in timidity, less
mental endurance, a greater facility in acquiring knowledge, and
more ready susceptibility to the influence of sights, sounds and
sensations. In both sexes the emotional nature predominates over the
intelligence and judgment. In those years the _character_ is said to
be in embryo, and theologians in using the phrase, “reaching years
of religious understanding,” mean that in early years the religious
_capacities_ undergo development coincidentally with those of the
body.

(_b._) _In Women._ If we examine the metaphysical characteristics of
women, we observe two classes of traits—namely, those which are also
found in men, and those which are absent or but weakly developed in
men. Those of the first class are very similar in essential nature
to those which men exhibit at an early stage of development. This
may be in some way related to the fact that physical maturity occurs
earlier in women.

The gentler sex is characterized by a greater impressibility, often
seen in the influence exercised by a stronger character, as well as
by music, color or spectacle generally; warmth of emotion,
submission to its influence rather than that of logic; timidity and
irregularity of action in the outer world. All these qualities
belong to the male sex, as a general rule, at some period of life,
though different individuals lose them at very various periods.
Ruggedness and sternness may rarely be developed in infancy, yet at
some still prior time they certainly do not exist in any.

Probably most men can recollect some early period of their lives
when the emotional nature predominated—a time when emotion at the
sight of suffering was more easily stirred than in maturer years. I
do not now allude to the benevolence inspired, kept alive or
developed by the influence of the Christian religion on the heart,
but rather to that which belongs to the natural man. Perhaps all men
can recall a period of youth when they were hero-worshipers—when
they felt the need of a stronger arm, and loved to look up to the
powerful friend who could sympathize with and aid them. This is the
“woman stage” of character: in a large number of cases it is early
passed; in some it lasts longer; while in a very few men it persists
through life. Severe discipline and labor are unfavorable to its
persistence. Luxury preserves its bad qualities without its good,
while Christianity preserves its good elements without its bad.

It is not designed to say that woman in her emotional nature does
not differ from the undeveloped man. On the contrary, though she
does not differ in kind, she differs greatly in degree, for her
qualities grow with her growth, and exceed in _power_ many fold
those exhibited by her companion at the original point of departure.
Hence, since it might be said that man is the undeveloped woman, a
word of explanation will be useful. Embryonic types abound in the
fields of nature, but they are not therefore immature in the usual
sense. Maintaining the lower essential quality, they yet exhibit the
usual results of growth in individual characters; that is, increase
of strength, powers of support and protection, size and beauty. In
order to maintain that the masculine character coincides with that
of the undeveloped woman, it would be necessary to show that the
latter during her infancy possesses the male characters
predominating—that is, unimpressibility, judgment, physical courage,
and the like.

If we look at the second class of female characters—namely, those
which are imperfectly developed or absent in men, and in respect to
which man may be called undeveloped woman—we note three prominent
points: facility in language, tact or finesse, and the love of
children. The first two appear to me to be altogether developed
results of “impressibility,” already considered as an indication of
immaturity. Imagination is also a quality of impressibility, and,
associated with finesse, is apt to degenerate into duplicity and
untruthfulness.

The third quality is different. It generally appears at a very early
period of life. Who does not know how soon the little girl selects
the doll, and the boy the toy-horse or machine? Here man truly never
gets beyond undeveloped woman. Nevertheless, “impressibility” seems
to have a great deal to do with this quality also.

Thus the metaphysical relation of the sexes would appear to be one
of _inexact parallelism_, as defined in Sect. I. That the physical
relation is a remote one of the same kind, several characters seem
to point out. The case of the vocal organs will suffice. Their
structure is identical in both sexes in early youth, and both
produce nearly similar sounds. They remain in this condition in the
woman, while they undergo a metamorphosis and change both in
structure and vocal power in the man. In the same way, in many of
the lower creation, the females possess a majority of embryonic
features, though not invariably. A common example is to be found in
the plumage of birds, where the females and young males are often
undistinguishable.[48] But there are few points in the physical
structure of man also in which the male condition is the immature
one. In regard to structure, the point at which the relation between
the sexes is that of _exact parallelism_, or where the mature
condition of the one sex accords with the undeveloped condition of
the other, is when reproduction is no longer accomplished by budding
or gemmation, but requires distinct organs. Metaphysically, this
relation is to be found where distinct individuality of the sexes
first appears; that is, where we pass from the hermaphrodite to the
bisexual condition.

Footnote 48:

Meehan states that the upper limbs and strong laterals in coniferæ
and other trees produce female flowers and cones, and the lower
and more interior branches the male flowers. What he points out is
in harmony with the position here maintained—namely, that the
female characters include more of those which are embryonic in the
males, than the male characters include of those which are
embryonic in the female: the female flowers are the product of the
younger and more growing portions of the tree—that is, those last
produced (the upper limbs and new branches)—while the male flowers
are produced by the older or more mature portions—that is, lower
limbs or more axial regions.

Meehan’s observations coincide with those of Thury and others on
the origin of sexes in animals and plants, which it appears to
admit of a similar explanation.

But let us put the whole interpretation on this partial
undevelopment of woman.

The types or conditions of organic life which have been the most
prominent in the world’s history—the Ganoids of the first, the
Dinosaurs of the second, and the Mammoths of the third period—have
generally died with their day. The line of succession has not been
from them. The law of anatomy and paleontology is, that we must seek
the point of departure of the type which is to predominate in the
future, at lower stages on the line, in less decided forms, or in
what, in scientific parlance, are called generalized types. In the
same way, though the adults of the tailless apes are in a physical
sense more highly developed than their young, yet the latter far
more closely resemble the human species in their large facial angle
and shortened jaws.

How much significance, then, is added to the law uttered by
Christ!—“Except ye become as little children, ye cannot enter the
kingdom of heaven.” Submission of will, loving trust, confiding
faith—these belong to the child: how strange they appear to the
executing, commanding, reasoning man! Are they so strange to the
woman? We all know the answer. Woman is nearer to the point of
departure of that development which outlives time and peoples
heaven; and if man would find it, he must retrace his steps, regain
something he lost in youth, and join to the powers and energies of
his character the submission, love and faith which the new birth
alone can give.

Thus the summing up of the metaphysical qualities of woman would be
thus expressed: In the emotional world, man’s superior; in the moral
world, his equal; in the laboring world, his inferior.

There are, however, vast differences in women in respect to the
number of masculine traits they may have assumed before being
determined into their own special development. Woman also, under the
influence of necessity, in later years of life, may add more or less
to those qualities in her which are fully developed in the man.

The relation of these facts to the principles stated as the two
opposing laws of development is, it appears to me, to be explained
thus: First, that woman’s most inherent peculiarities are _not_ the
result of the external circumstances with which she has been placed
in contact, as the _conflict theory_ would indicate. Such
circumstances are said to be her involuntary subserviency to the
physically more powerful man, and the effect of a compulsory mode of
life in preventing her from attaining a position of equality in the
activities of the world. Second, that they _are_ the result of the
different distributions of qualities as already indicated by the
_harmonic theory_ of development; that is, of the unequal possession
of features which belong to different periods in the developmental
succession of the highest. And here it might be further shown that
this relation involves no disadvantage to either sex, but that the
principle of compensation holds in moral organization and in social
order, as elsewhere. There is then another beautiful harmony which
will ever remain, let the development of each sex be extended as far
as it may.

(_c._) _In Men._ If we look at the male sex, we shall find various
exceptional approximations to the female in mental constitution.
Further, there can be little doubt that in the Indo-European race
maturity in some respects appears earlier in tropical than in
northern regions; and though subject to many exceptions, this is
sufficiently general to be looked upon as a rule. Accordingly, we
find in that race—at least in the warmer regions of Europe and
America—a larger proportion of certain qualities which are more
universal in women; as greater activity of the emotional nature when
compared with the judgment; an impressibility of the nervous center,
which, _cæteris paribus_, appreciates quickly the harmonies of
sound, form and color; answers most quickly to the friendly greeting
or the hostile menace; is more careless of consequences in the
material expression of generosity or hatred, and more indifferent to
truth under the influence of personal relations. The movements of
the body and expressions of the countenance answer to the
temperament. More of grace and elegance in the bearing mark the
Greek, the Italian and the Creole, than the German, the Englishman
or the Green Mountain man. More of vivacity and fire, for better or
for worse, are displayed in the countenance.

Perhaps the more northern type left all that behind in its youth.
The rugged, angular character which appreciates force better than
harmony, the strong intellect which delights in forethought and
calculation, the less impressibility, reaching stolidity in the
uneducated, are its well-known traits. If in such a character
generosity is less prompt, and there is but little chivalry, there
is persistency and unwavering fidelity, not readily interrupted by
the lightning of passion or the dark surmises of an active
imagination.

All these peculiarities appear to result, _first_, from different
degrees of quickness and depth in appreciating impressions from
without; and, _second_, from differing degrees of attention to the
intelligent judgment in consequent action. (I leave conscience out,
as not belonging to the category of inherited qualities.)

The first is the basis of an emotional nature, and the predominance
of the second is the usual indication of maturity. That the first is
largely dependent on an impressible condition of the nervous system
can be asserted by those who reduce their nervous centers to a
sensitive condition by a rapid consumption of the nutritive
materials necessary to the production of thought-force, and perhaps
of brain-tissue itself, induced by close and prolonged mental labor.
The condition of over-work, though but an imitation of immaturity,
without its joy-giving nutrition, is nevertheless very instructive.
The sensitiveness, both physically, emotionally and morally, is
often remarkable, and a weakening of the understanding is often
coincident with it.

It is necessary here to introduce a caution, that the meaning of the
words high and low be not misunderstood. Great impressibility is an
essential constituent of many of the highest forms of genius, and
the combination of this quality with strong reflective intelligence,
constitutes the most complete and efficient type of mind—therefore
the highest in the common sense. It is not, however, the highest—or
extremest—in an evolutional sense, it is not masculine, but
hermaphrodite; in other words, its _kinetic_ force exceeds its
_bathmic_.[49] It is therefore certain that a partial diminution of
bathmic vigor is an advantage to some kinds of intellect.

Footnote 49:

_Bathmic force_ is analogous to the _potential_ force of chemists,
but is no doubt entirely different in its nature. It is converted
into active energy or _kinetic_ force only during the years of
growth: it is in large amount in _acceleration_, in small amount
in _retardation_.

The above observations have been confined to the Indo-European race.
It may be objected to the theory that savagery means immaturity in
the senses above described, as dependent largely on
“impressibility,” while savages in general display the least
“impressibility,” as that word is generally understood. This cannot
be asserted of the Africans, who, so far as we know them, possess
this peculiarity in a high degree. Moreover, it must be remembered
that the state of indifference which precedes that of impressibility
in the individual may characterize many savages; while their varied
peculiarities may be largely accounted for by recollecting that many
combinations of different species of emotions and kinds of
intelligence go to make up the complete result in each case.

(_d._) _Conclusions._ Three types of religion may be selected from
the developmental conditions of man: first, an absence of
sensibility (early infancy); second, an emotional stage more
productive of faith than of works; thirdly, an intellectual type,
more favorable to works than to faith. Though in regard to
responsibility these states may be equal, there is absolutely no
gain to laboring humanity from the first type, and a serious loss in
actual results from the second, taken alone, as compared with the
third.

These, then, are the _physical vehicles of religion_—the “_earthen
vessels_” of Paul—which give character and tone to the deeper
spiritual life, as the color of the transparent vessel is
communicated to the light which radiates from within.

But if evolution has taken place, there is evidently a provision for
the progress from the lower to the higher states, either in the
education of circumstances (“conflict,”) or in the power of an
interior spiritual influence “harmony,”) or both.

_β. Evidence Derived from History._

We trace the development of Morality in—First, the family or social
order; second, the civil order, or government.

Whatever may have been the extent of moral ignorance before the
Deluge, it does not appear that the earth was yet prepared for the
permanent habitation of the human race. All nations preserve
traditions of the drowning of the early peoples by floods, such as
have occurred frequently during geologic time. At the close of each
period of dry land, a period of submergence has set in, and the
depression of the level of the earth, and consequent overflow by the
sea, has caused the death and subsequent preservation of the remains
of the fauna and flora living upon it, while the elevation of the
same has produced that interruption in the process of deposit in the
same region which marks the intervals between geologic periods.
Change in these respects do not occur to any very material extent at
the present time in the regions inhabited by the most highly
developed portions of the human race; and as the last which occurred
seems to have been expressly designed for the preparation of the
earth’s surface for the occupation of organized human society, it
may be doubted whether many such changes are to be looked for in the
future. The last great flooding was that which stratified the drift
materials of the north, and carried the finer portions far over the
south, determining the minor topography of the surface and supplying
it with soils.

The existence of floods which drowned many races of men may be
considered as established. The men destroyed by the one recorded by
Moses are described by him as exceedingly wicked, so that “the earth
was filled with violence.” In his eyes the Flood was designed for
their extermination.

That their condition was evil must be fully believed if they were
condemned by the executive of the Jewish law. This law, it will be
remembered, permitted polygamy, slavery, revenge, aggressive war.
The Jews were expected to rob their neighbors the Egyptians of
jewels, and they were allowed “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a
tooth.” They were expected to butcher other nations, with their
women and children, their flocks and their herds. If we look at the
lives of men recorded in the Old Testament as examples of
distinguished excellence, we find that their standard, however
superior to that of the people around them, would ill accord with
the morality of the present day. They were all polygamists,
slaveholders and warriors. Abraham treated Hagar and Ishmael with
inhumanity. Jacob, with his mother’s aid, deceived Isaac, and
received thereby a blessing which extended to the whole Jewish
nation. David, a man whom Paul tells us the Lord found to be after
his own heart, slew the messenger who brought tidings of the death
of Saul, and committed other acts which would stain the reputation
of a Christian beyond redemption. It is scarcely necessary to turn
to other nations if this be true of the chosen men of a chosen
people. History indeed presents us with no people prior to, or
contemporary with, the Jews who were not morally their inferiors.

If we turn to more modern periods, an examination of the morality of
Greece and Rome reveals a curious intermixture of lower and higher
moral conditions. While each of these nations produced excellent
moralists, the influence of their teachings was not sufficient to
elevate the masses above what would now be regarded as a very low
standard. The popularity of those scenes of cruelty, the
gladiatorial shows and the combats with wild beasts, sufficiently
attests this. The Roman virtue of patriotism, while productive of
many noble deeds, is in itself far from being a disinterested one,
but partakes rather of the nature of partisanship and selfishness.
If the Greeks were superior to the Romans in humanity, they were
apparently their inferiors in the social virtues, and were much
below the standard of Christian nations in both respects.

Ancient history points to a state of chronic war, in which the
social relations were in confusion, and the development of the
useful arts was almost impossible. Savage races, which continue to
this day in a similar moral condition, are, we may easily believe,
most unhappy. They are generally divided into tribes, which are
mutually hostile, or friendly only with the view of injuring some
other tribe. Might is their law, and robbery, rapine and murder
express their mutual relations. This is the history of the lowest
grade of barbarism, and the history of primeval man so far as it has
come down to us in sacred and profane records. Man as a species
first appears in history as a sinful being. Then a race maintaining
a contest with the prevailing corruption and exhibiting a higher
moral ideal is presented to us in Jewish history. Finally, early
Christian society exhibits a greatly superior condition of things.
In it polygamy scarcely existed, and slavery and war were condemned.
But progress did not end here, for our Lord said, “I have yet many
things to say unto you, _but ye cannot bear them now_. Howbeit, when
He, the spirit of truth, is come, He will guide you into all truth.”

The progress revealed to us by history is truly great, and if a
similar difference existed between the first of the human species
and the first of whose condition we have information, we can
conceive how low the origin must have been. History begins with a
considerable progress in civilization, and from this we must infer a
long preceding period of human existence, such as a gradual
evolution would require.

γ. Rationale of Moral Development.

I. _Of the Species._ Let us now look at the moral condition of the
infant man of the present time. We know his small accountability,
his trust, his innocence. We know that he is free from the law that
when he “would do good, evil is present with him,” for good and evil
are alike unknown. We know that until growth has progressed to a
certain degree he fully deserves the praise pronounced by Our
Saviour, that “of such is the kingdom of heaven.” Growth, however,
generally sees a change. We know that the buddings of evil appear
but too soon: the lapse of a few months sees exhibitions of anger,
disobedience, malice, falsehood, and their attendants—the fruit of a
corruption within not manifested before.

In early youth it may be said that moral susceptibility is often in
inverse ratio to physical vigor. But with growth the more physically
vigorous are often sooner taught the lessons of life, for their
energy brings them into earlier conflict with the antagonisms and
contradictions of the world. Here is a beautiful example of the
benevolent principle of compensation.

1. _Innocence and the Fall._ If physical evolution be a reality, we
have reason to believe that the infantile stage of human morals, as
well as of human intellect, was much prolonged in the history of our
first parents. This constitutes the period of human purity, when we
are told by Moses that the first pair dwelt in Eden. But the growth
to maturity saw the development of all the qualities inherited from
the irresponsible denizen of the forest. Man inherits from his
predecessors in the creation the buddings of reason: he inherits
passions, propensities and appetites. His corruption is that of his
animal progenitors, and his sin is the low and bestial instinct of
the brute creation. Thus only is the origin of sin made clear—a
problem which the pride of man would have explained in any other way
had it been possible.

But how startling the exhibition of evil by this new being as
compared with the scenes of the countless ages already past! Then
the right of the strongest was God’s law, and rapine and destruction
were the history of life. But into man had been “breathed the breath
of life,” and he had “become a living soul.” The law of right, the
Divine Spirit, was planted within him, and the laws of the beast
were in antagonism to that law. The natural development of his
inherited qualities necessarily brought him into collision with that
higher standard planted within him, and that war was commenced which
shall never cease “till He hath put all things under His feet.” The
first act of man’s disobedience constituted the Fall, and with it
would come the first _intellectual_ “knowledge of good and of
evil”—an apprehension up to that time derived exclusively from the
divinity within, or conscience.[50]

Footnote 50:

In our present translation of Genesis, the Fall is ascribed to the
influence of Satan assuming the form of the serpent, and this
animal was cursed in consequence, and compelled to assume a prone
position. This rendering may well be revised, since serpents,
prone like others, existed in both America and Europe during the
Eocene epoch, five times as great a period before Adam as has
elapsed since his day. Clark states, with great probability, that
“serpent” should be translated monkey or ape—a conclusion, it will
be observed, exactly coinciding with our inductions on the basis
of evolution. The instigation to evil by an ape merely states
inheritance in another form. His curse, then, refers to the
retention of the horizontal position by all other quadrumana, as
we find it at the present day.

2. _Free Agency._ Heretofore development had been that of physical
types, but the Lord had rested on the seventh day, for man closed
the line of the physical creation. Now a new development was to
begin—the development of mind, of morality and of grace.

On the previous days of Creation all had progressed in accordance
with inevitable law apart from its objects. Now two lines of
development were at the disposal of this being, between which his
_free will_ was to choose. Did he choose the courses dictated by the
spirit of the brute, he was to be subject to the old law of the
brute creation—the right of the strongest and spiritual death. Did
he choose the guidance of the Divine Guest in his heart, he became
subject to the laws which are to guide—I. the human species to an
ultimate perfection, so far as consistent with this world; and II.
the individual man to a higher life, where a new existence awaits
him as a spiritual being, freed from the laws of terrestrial matter.

The charge brought against the theory of development, that it
implies a necessary progress of man to all perfection without his
coöperation—or _necessitarianism_, as it is called—is unfounded.

The free will of man remains the source alike of his progress and
his relapse. But the choice once made, the laws of spiritual
development are apparently as inevitable as those of matter. Thus
men whose religious capacities are increased by attention to the
Divine Monitor within are in the advance of progress—progress
coinciding with that which in material things is called the
_harmonic_. On the other hand, those whose motives are of the lower
origin fall under the working of the law of _conflict_.

The lesson derivable from the preceding considerations would seem to
be “necessitarian” as respects the whole human race, considered by
itself; and I believe it is to be truly so interpreted. That is, the
Creator of all things has set agencies at work which will slowly
develop a perfect humanity out of His lower creation, and nothing
can thwart the process or alter the result. “My word shall not
return unto Me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please,
and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.” This is our
great encouragement, our noblest hope—second only to that which
looks to a blessed inheritance in another world. It is this thought
that should inspire the farmer, who as he toils wonders, “Why all
this labor? The Good Father could have made me like the lilies, who,
though they toil not, neither spin, are yet clothed in glory; and
why should I, a nobler being, be subject to the dust and the sweat
of labor?” This thought should enlighten every artisan of the
thousands that people the factories and guide their whirling
machinery in our modern cities. Every revolution of a wheel is
moving the car of progress, and the timed stroke of the crank and
the rhythmic throw of the shuttle are but the music the spheres have
sung since time began. A new significance then appears in the prayer
of David: “Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and
establish Thou the work of our hands upon us: the work of our hands,
O Lord, establish Thou it.” But beware of the catastrophe, for “He
will sit as a refiner:” “the wheat shall be gathered into barns, but
the chaff shall be burned with unquenchable fire.” If this be true,
let us look for—

3. _The Extinction of Evil._ How is necessitarianism to be
reconciled with free will? It appears to me, thus: When a being
whose safety depends on the perfection of a system of laws abandons
the system by which he lives, he becomes subject to that lower grade
of laws which govern lower intelligences. Man, falling from the laws
of right, comes under the dominion of the laws of brute force; as
said our Saviour: “Salt is good, but if the salt have lost his
savor, it is thenceforth good for nothing but to be cast forth and
trodden under foot of men.”

Evil, being unsatisfying to the human heart, is in its nature ever
progressive, whether in the individual or the nation; and in
estimating the practical results to man of the actions prompted by
the lower portion of our nature, it is only necessary to carry out
to its full development each of those animal qualities which may in
certain states of society be restrained by the social system. In
human history those qualities have repeatedly had this development,
and the battle of progress is fought to decide whether they shall
overthrow the system that restrains them, or be overthrown by it.

Entire obedience to the lower instincts of our nature ensures
destruction to the weaker, and generally to the stronger also. A
most marked case of this kind is seen where the developed vices of
civilization are introduced among a savage people—as, for example,
the North American Indians. These seem in consequence to be
hastening to extinction.

But a system or a circuit of existence has been allotted to the
civil associations of the animal species man, independently of his
moral development. It may be briefly stated thus: Races begin as
poor offshoots or emigrants from a parent stock. The law of labor
develops their powers, and increases their wealth and numbers. These
will be diminished by their various vices; but on the whole, in
proportion as the intellectual and economical elements prevail,
wealth will increase; that is, they accumulate power. When this has
been accomplished, and before activity has slackened its speed, the
nation has reached the culminating point, and then it enters upon
the period of decline. The restraints imposed by economy and active
occupation being removed, the beastly traits find in accumulated
power only increased means of gratification, and industry and
prosperity sink together. Power is squandered, little is
accumulated, and the nation goes down to its extinction amid scenes
of internal strife and vice. Its cycle is soon fulfilled, and other
nations, fresh from scenes of labor, assault it, absorb its
fragments, and it dies. This has been the world’s history, and it
remains to be seen whether the virtues of the nations now existing
will be sufficient to save them from a like fate.

Thus the history of the animal man in nations is wonderfully like
that of the type or families of the animal and vegetable kingdoms
during geologic ages. They rise, they increase and reach a period of
multiplication and power. The force allotted to them becoming
exhausted, they diminish and sink and die.

II. _Of the Individual._ In discussing physical development, we are
as yet compelled to restrict ourselves to the evidence of its
existence and some laws observed in the operation of its causative
force. What that force is, or what are its primary laws, we know
not.

So in the progress of moral development we endeavor to prove its
existence and the mode of its operation, but why that mode should
exist, rather than some other mode, we cannot explain.

The moral progress of the species depends, of course, on the moral
progress of the individuals embraced in it. Religion is the sum of
those influences which determine the motives of men’s actions into
harmony with the Divine perfection and the Divine will. Obedience to
these influences constitutes the practice of religion, while the
statement of the growth and operation of these influences
constitutes the theory of religion, or doctrine.

The Divine Spirit planted in man shows him that which is in harmony
with the Divine Mind, and it remains for his free will to conform to
it or reject it. This harmony is man’s highest ideal of happiness,
and in seeking it, as well as in desiring to flee from dissonance or
pain, he but obeys the disposition common to all conscious beings.
If, however, he attempts to conform to it, he will find the law of
evil present, and frequently obtaining the mastery. If now he be in
any degree observing, he will find that the laws of morality and
right are the only ones by which human society exists in a condition
superior to that of the lower animals, and in which the capacities
of man for happiness can approach a state of satisfaction. He may be
then said to be “awakened” to the importance of religion. If he
carry on the struggle to attain to the high goal presented to his
spiritual vision, he will be deeply grieved and humbled at his
failures: then he is said to be “convicted.” Under these
circumstances the necessity of a deliverance becomes clear, and is
willingly accepted in the only way in which it has pleased the
Author of all to present it, which has been epitomized by Paul as
“the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit through
Jesus Christ.” Thus a life of advanced and ever-advancing moral
excellence becomes possible, and the man makes nearer approaches to
the “image of God.”

Thus is opened a new era in spiritual development, which we are led
to believe leads to an ultimate condition in which the nature
inherited from our origin is entirely overcome, and an existence of
moral perfection entered on. Thus in the book of Mark the simile
occurs: “First the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in
the ear;” and Solomon says that the development of righteousness
“shines more and more unto the perfect day.”

δ. Summary.

If it be true that general development in morality proceeds in spite
of the original predominance of evil in the world, through the
self-destructive nature of the latter, it is only necessary to
examine the reasons why the excellence of the good may have been
subject also to progress, and how the remainder of the race may have
been influenced thereby.

The development of morality is then probably to be understood in the
following sense: Since the Divine Spirit, as the prime force in
moral progress, cannot in itself be supposed to have been in any way
under the influence of natural laws, its capacities were no doubt as
eternal and unerring in the first man as in the last. But the facts
and probabilities discussed above point to development of _religious
sensibility_, or capacity to appreciate moral good, or to receive
impressions from the source of good.

The evidence of this is supposed to be seen in—_First_, improvement
in man’s views of his duty to his neighbor; and _Second_, the
substitution of spiritual for symbolic religions: in other words,
improvement in the capacity for receiving spiritual impressions.

What the primary cause of this supposed development of religious
sensibility may have been, is a question we reverently leave
untouched. That it is intimately connected in some way with, and in
part dependent on, the evolution of the intelligence, appears very
probable: for this evolution is seen—_First_, in a better
understanding of the consequences of action, and of good and of evil
in many things; and _Second_, in the production of means for the
spread of the special instrumentalities of good. The following may
be enumerated as such instrumentalities:

1. Furnishing literary means of record and distribution of the
truths of religion, morality and science.

2. Creating and increasing modes of transportation of teachers and
literary means of disseminating truth.

3. Facilitating the migration and the spread of nations holding the
highest position in the scale of morality.

4. The increase of wealth, which multiplies the extent of the
preceding means.

And now, let no man attempt to set bounds to this development. Let
no man say even that morality accomplished is all that is required
of mankind, since that is not necessarily the evidence of a
spiritual development. If a man possess the capacity for progress
beyond the condition in which he finds himself, in refusing to enter
upon it he declines to conform to the Divine law. And “from those to
whom little is given, little is required, but from those to whom
much is given, much shall be required.”

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_SCIENTIFIC ADDRESSES._

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TYNDALL’S ADDRESSES.

I.

_On the Methods and Tendencies of Physical Investigation._

The celebrated Fichte, in his lectures on the “Vocation of the
Scholar,” insisted on a culture for the scholar which should not be
one-sided, but all-sided. His intellectual nature was to expand
spherically, and not in a single direction. In one direction,
however, Fichte required that the scholar should apply himself
directly to nature, become a creator of knowledge, and thus repay,
by original labors of his own, the immense debt he owed to the
labors of others. It was these which enabled him to supplement the
knowledge derived from his own researches, so as to render his
culture rounded, and not one-sided.

Fichte’s idea is to some extent illustrated by the constitution and
the labors of the British Association. We have here a body of men
engaged in the pursuit of natural knowledge, but variously engaged.
While sympathizing with each of its departments, and supplementing
his culture by knowledge drawn from all of them, each student
amongst us selects one subject for the exercise of his own original
faculty—one line along which he may carry the light of his private
intelligence a little way into the darkness by which all knowledge
is surrounded. Thus, the geologist faces the rocks; the biologist
fronts the conditions and phenomena of life; the astronomer, stellar
masses and motions; the mathematician the properties of space and
number; the chemist pursues his atoms, while the physical
investigator has his own large field in optical, thermal,
electrical, acoustical, and other phenomena. The British
Association, then, faces nature on all sides, and pushes knowledge
centrifugally outwards, while, through circumstance or natural bent,
each of its working members takes up a certain line of research in
which he aspires to be an original producer, being content in all
other directions to accept instruction from his fellow-men. The sum
of our labors constitutes what Fichte might call the sphere of
natural knowledge. In the meetings of the Association it is found
necessary to resolve this sphere into its component parts, which
take concrete form under the respective letters of our sections.

This section (A) is called the Mathematical and Physical section.
Mathematics and Physics have been long accustomed to coalesce, and
hence this grouping. For while mathematics, as a product of the
human mind, is self-sustaining and nobly self-rewarding,—while the
pure mathematician may never trouble his mind with considerations
regarding the phenomena of the material universe, still the form of
reasoning which he employs, the power which the organization of that
reasoning confers, the applicability of his abstract conceptions to
actual phenomena, render his science one of the most potent
instruments in the solution of natural problems. Indeed, without
mathematics, expressed or implied, our knowledge of physical science
would be friable in the extreme.

Side by side with the mathematical method, we have the method of
experiment. Here, from a starting-point furnished by his own
researches or those of others, the investigator proceeds by
combining intuition and verification. He ponders the knowledge he
possesses and tries to push it further, he guesses and checks his
guess, he conjectures and confirms or explodes his conjecture. These
guesses and conjectures are by no means leaps in the dark; for
knowledge once gained casts a faint light beyond its own immediate
boundaries. There is no discovery so limited as not to illuminate
something beyond itself. The force of intellectual penetration into
this penumbral region which surrounds actual knowledge is not
dependent upon method, but is proportional to the genius of the
investigator. There is, however, no genius so gifted as not to need
control and verification. The profoundest minds know best that
nature’s ways are not at all times their ways, and that the
brightest flashes in the world of thought are incomplete until they
have been proved to have their counterparts in the world of fact.
The vocation of the true experimentalist is the incessant correction
and realization of his insight; his experiments finally constituting
a body, of which his purified intuitions are, as it were, the soul.

Partly through mathematical, and partly through experimental
research, physical science has of late years assumed a momentous
position in the world. Both in a material and in an intellectual
point of view it has produced, and it is destined to produce,
immense changes, vast social ameliorations, and vast alterations in
the popular conception of the origin, rule, and governance of
things. Miracles are wrought by science in the physical world, while
philosophy is forsaking its ancient metaphysical channels, and
pursuing those opened or indicated by scientific research. This must
become more and more the case as philosophic writers become more
deeply imbued with the methods of science, better acquainted with
the facts which scientific men have won, and with the great theories
which they have elaborated.

If you look at the face of a watch, you see the hour and
minute-hands, and possibly also a second-hand, moving over the
graduated dial. Why do these hands move, and why are their relative
motions such as they are observed to be? These questions cannot be
answered without opening the watch, mastering its various parts, and
ascertaining their relationship to each other. When this is done, we
find that the observed motion of the hands follows of necessity from
the inner mechanism of the watch when acted upon by the force
invested in the spring.

This motion of the hands may be called a phenomenon of art, but the
case is similar with the phenomena of Nature. These also have their
inner mechanism, and their store of force to set that mechanism
going. The ultimate problem of physical science is to reveal this
mechanism, to discern this store, and to show that from the combined
action of both, the phenomena of which they constitute the basis
must of necessity flow.

I thought that an attempt to give you even a brief and sketchy
illustration of the manner in which scientific thinkers regard this
problem would not be uninteresting to you on the present occasion;
more especially as it will give me occasion to say a word or two on
the tendencies and limits of modern science, to point out the region
which men of science claim as their own, and where it is mere waste
of time to oppose their advance, and also to define, if possible,
the bourne between this and that other region to which the
questionings and yearnings of the scientific intellect are directed
in vain.

But here your tolerance will be needed. It was the American Emerson,
I think, who said that it is hardly possible to state any truth
strongly without apparent injury to some other truth. Under the
circumstances, the proper course appears to be to state both truths
strongly, and allow each its fair share, in the formation of the
resultant conviction. For truth is often of a dual character, taking
the form of a magnet with two poles; and many of the differences
which agitate the thinking part of mankind are to be traced to the
exclusiveness with which different parties affirm one half of the
duality in forgetfulness of the other half. But this waiting for the
statement of the two sides of a question implies patience. It
implies a resolution to suppress indignation if the statement of the
one half should clash with our convictions, and not to suffer
ourselves to be unduly elated if the half-statement should chime in
with our views. It implies a determination to wait calmly for the
statement of the whole before we pronounce judgment either in the
form of acquiescence or dissent.

This premised, let us enter upon our task. There have been writers
who affirmed that the pyramids of Egypt were the productions of
nature; and in his early youth Alexander Von Humboldt wrote an essay
with the express object of refuting this notion. We now regard the
pyramids as the work of men’s hands, aided probably by machinery of
which no record remains. We picture to ourselves the swarming
workers toiling at those vast erections, lifting the inert stones,
and, guided by the volition, the skill, and possibly at times by the
whip of the architect, placing the stones in their proper positions.
The blocks in this case were moved by a power external to
themselves, and the final form of the pyramid expressed the thought
of its human builder.

Let us pass from this illustration of building power to another of a
different kind. When a solution of common salt is slowly evaporated,
the water which holds the salt in solution disappears, but the salt
itself remains behind. At a certain stage of concentration, the salt
can no longer retain the liquid form; its particles, or molecules,
as they are called, begin to deposit themselves as minute solids, so
minute, indeed, as to defy all microscopic power. As evaporation
continues solidification goes on, and we finally obtain, through the
clustering together of innumerable molecules, a finite mass of salt
of a definite form. What is this form? It sometimes seems a mimicry
of the architecture of Egypt. We have little pyramids built by the
salt, terrace above terrace from base to apex, forming thus a series
of steps resembling those up which the Egyptian traveler is dragged
by his guides. The human mind is as little disposed to look at these
pyramidal salt-crystals without further question as to look at the
pyramids of Egypt without inquiring whence they came. How, then, are
those salt pyramids built up?

Guided by analogy, you may suppose that, swarming among the
constituent molecules of the salt, there is an invisible population,
guided and coerced by some invisible master, and placing the atomic
blocks in their positions. This, however, is not the scientific
idea, nor do I think your good sense will accept it as a likely one.
The scientific idea is that the molecules act upon each other
without the intervention of slave labor; that they attract each
other and repel each other at certain definite points, and in
certain definite directions; and that the pyramidal form is the
result of this play of attraction and repulsion. While, then, the
blocks of Egypt were laid down by a power external to themselves,
these molecular blocks of salt are self-posited, being fixed in
their places by the forces with which they act upon each other.

I take common salt as an illustration, because it is so familiar to
us all; but almost any other substance would answer my purpose
equally well. In fact, throughout inorganic nature, we have this
formative power, as Fichte would call it—this structural energy
ready to come into play, and build the ultimate particles of matter
into definite shapes. It is present everywhere. The ice of our
winters and of our polar regions is its hand-work, and so equally
are the quartz, feldspar, and mica of our rocks. Our chalk-beds are
for the most part composed of minute shells, which are also the
product of structural energy; but behind the shell, as a whole, lies
the result of another and more subtle formative act. These shells
are built up of little crystals of calc-spar, and to form these the
structural force had to deal with the intangible molecules of
carbonate of lime. This tendency on the part of matter to organize
itself, to grow into shape, to assume definite forms in obedience to
the definite action of force, is, as I have said, all-pervading. It
is in the ground on which you tread, in the water you drink, in the
air you breathe. Incipient life, in fact, manifests itself
throughout the whole of what we call inorganic nature.

The forms of minerals resulting from this play of forces are
various, and exhibit different degrees of complexity. Men of science
avail themselves of all possible means of exploring this molecular
architecture. For this purpose they employ in turn as agents of
exploration, light, heat, magnetism, electricity, and sound.
Polarized light is especially useful and powerful here. A beam of
such light, when sent in among the molecules of a crystal, is acted
on by them, and from this action we infer with more or less of
clearness the manner in which the molecules are arranged. The
difference, for example, between the inner structure of a plate of
rock-salt and a plate of crystalized sugar or sugar-candy is thus
strikingly revealed. These differences may be made to display
themselves in phenomena of color of great splendor, the play of
molecular force being so regulated as to remove certain of the
colored constituents of white light, and to leave others with
increased intensity behind.

And now let us pass from what we are accustomed to regard as a dead
mineral to a living grain of corn. When it is examined by polarized
light, chromatic phenomena similar to those noticed in crystals are
observed. And why? Because the architecture of the grain resembles
in some degree the architecture of the crystal. In the corn the
molecules are also set in definite positions, from which they act
upon the light. But what has built together the molecules of the
corn? I have already said, regarding crystalline architecture, that
you may, if you please, consider the atoms and molecules to be
placed in position by a power external to themselves. The same
hypothesis is open to you now. But, if in the case of crystals you
have rejected this notion of an external architect, I think you are
bound to reject it now, and to conclude that the molecules of the
corn are self-posited by the forces with which they act upon each
other. It would be poor philosophy to invoke an external agent in
the one case and to reject it in the other.

Instead of cutting our grain into thin slices and subjecting it to
the action of polarized light, let us place it in the earth and
subject it to a certain degree of warmth. In other words, let the
molecules, both of the corn and of the surrounding earth, be kept in
a state of agitation; for warmth, as most of you know, is, in the
eye of science, tremulous molecular motion. Under these
circumstances, the grain and the substances which surround it
interact, and a molecular architecture is the result of this
interaction. A bud is formed; this bud reaches the surface, where it
is exposed to the sun’s rays, which are also to be regarded as a
kind of vibratory motion. And as the common motion of heat with
which the grain and the substances surrounding it were first
endowed, enable the grain and these substances to coalesce, so the
specific motion of the sun’s rays now enables the green bud to feed
upon the carbonic acid and the aqueous vapor of the air,
appropriating those constituents of both for which the blade has an
elective attraction, and permitting the other constituent to resume
its place in the air. Thus forces are active at the root, forces are
active in the blade, the matter of the earth and the matter of the
atmosphere are drawn towards the plant, and the plant augments in
size. We have in succession, the bud, the stalk, the ear, the full
corn in the ear. For the forces here at play act in a cycle, which
is completed by the production of grains similar to that with which
the process began.