Evolution, we repeat, has brought us materialistic monism, in whose barren soil nor faith, nor idealism, nor morality, nor poesy, nor art, nor any of the finer things of life can thrive. To its dystelic and atomistic view, Nature has ceased to be the vicar of God, and material things are no longer sacramental symbols of eternal verities. It denies all design in Nature, and dismembers all beauty into meaningless fragments. It is so deeply engrossed in the contemplation of parts, that it has forgotten that there is any such thing as a whole. The rose and the bird-of-paradise are not ineffable messages from God to man; they are but accidental aggregates of colloidal molecules fortuitously assembled in the perpetual, yet aimless, flux of evolving matter.
From the standpoint of the moral and sociological consequences, however, the gravest count against evolution is the seeming support which this theory has given to the monistic conception of an animalistic man. Darwin’s doctrine on the bestial origin of man brought no other gain to natural science than the addition of one more unverified and unverifiable hypothesis to its already extensive stock of unfounded speculations. It did, however, work irreparable harm to millions of unlearned and credulous persons, whose childlike confidence the unscrupulous expounders of this doctrine have not hesitated to abuse. The exaggerations and misrepresentations of the latter met with an all too ready credence on the part of those who were not competent to discriminate between theory and fact. The sequel has been a wholesale abandonment of religious and moral convictions, which has ruined the lives and blighted the happiness of countless victims.
Has it been worth while, we may well ask of the propounders of this theory, to sacrifice so much in exchange for so little? The solid gain to natural science has been negligible, but the consequences of the blow unfairly dealt to morals and religion are incalculable and beyond the possibility of repair. “Morals and Religion,” says Newman, “are not represented to the intelligence of the world by intimations and notices strong and obvious such as those which are the foundation of physical science.... Instead of being obtruded on our notice, so that we cannot possibly overlook them, they are the dictates either of Conscience or of Faith. They are faint shadows and tracings, certain indeed, but delicate, fragile, and almost evanescent, which the mind recognizes at one time, not at another, discerns when it is calm, loses when it is in agitation. The reflection of sky and mountains in the lake is proof that sky and mountains are around it, but the twilight or the mist or the sudden thunderstorm hurries away the beautiful image, which leaves behind it no memorial of what it was.... How easily can we be talked out of our clearest views of duty; how does this or that moral precept crumble into nothing when we rudely handle it! How does the fear of sin pass off from us, as quickly as the glow of modesty dies away from the countenance! and then we say ‘It is all superstition.’ However, after a time, we look around, and then to our surprise we see, as before, the same law of duty, the same moral precepts, the same protest against sin, appearing over against us, in their old places, as if they had never been brushed away, like the Divine handwriting upon the wall at the banquet.” (“Idea of a University,” pp. 513-515.)
Had evolutionary enthusiasts adhered more strictly to the facts, had they proceeded in the spirit of scientific caution, had they shown, in fact, even so much as a common regard for the simple truth, the “progress of science” would not have been achieved at the expense of morals and religion. As it is, this so-called progress has left behind a wake of destruction in the shape of undermined convictions, blasted lives, crimes, misery, despair, and suicide. It has, in short, contributed largely to the present sinister and undeserved triumph of Materialism, Agnosticism, and Pessimism, which John Talbot Smith has so fittingly characterized as the three D’s of dirt, doubt, and despair. A little less sensationalism, a little more conscientiousness, a little more of that admirable quality, scientific caution, and the concord of faith and reason would have become a truism instead of a problem. But such regrets are vain. The evil effects are here to stay, and nothing can undo the past.
If man is but a higher kind of brute, if he has no unique, immortal principle within him, if his free will is an illusion, if his conduct is the necessary resultant of chemical reactions occurring in his protoplasm, if he is nothing more than an automaton of flesh, a mere decaying organism which is the sport of all the blind physical forces and stimuli playing upon it, if he has no prospect of a future life of retribution, if he is unaccountable to any higher authority, Divine or human, then morality ceases to have a meaning, right and wrong lose their significance, virtue and vice are all the same. The constancy of the martyr and the patriotism of the fallen soldier become unintelligible folly, while a heartless and infamous sensualism preying vulturelike upon the carrion of human misery and corruption is to be reckoned the highest expression of wisdom and efficiency. The grandest ideals that have inspired enthusiasm and devotion in human breasts are but idle dreams and worthless delusions. From a world which accepts this degraded view of human nature all heroism and chivalry must vanish utterly; for it will recognize no loftier incentives to action than pleasure and love of self.
Such doctrines, too, are essentially antisocial. They destroy the very foundation of altruism. To seek immortality in the effects of one’s unselfish deeds becomes ridiculous. For what assurance can we have that the fruits of our sacrifice will be acceptable to a progressive posterity, or what difference will our self-denial make, when the whole human species shall have become extinct on the desolate surface of a dying world? Without an adequate motivation for altruism, however, the existence of society becomes impossible, since self-interest is not a feasible substitute. To urge the observance of social laws on the ground that they protect person, life, and property, will hardly appeal to men who have no possessions to be protected nor a comfortable life to be prolonged. Yet the major portion of mankind are in this category. For such the laws can mean nothing more than artificial corruptions, of the natural and primitive order of things introduced for the special benefit of the rich and powerful.
Under circumstances of this sort, no plea avails to silence the heralds of revolt. If there is no future life for the righting of present injustices, then naught remains but to terminate the prosperity of the wicked here and now. If there is no heaven for man beyond the grave, then it behooves everyone to get all the enjoyment he can out of the present life. It is high time, therefore, that this earthly heaven of mankind should cease to be monopolized by a few coupon-holding capitalists and become, instead, the property of the expropriated proletariat. Anarchy and Socialism are the consequences which the logic of the situation inexorably portends. The starving swine must hurl their bloated brethren from the trough that the latter have heretofore reserved for themselves. The sequel, of course, can be none other than the complete disintegration of civilization and its ultimate disappearance in a hideous vortex of carnage, rapine, and barbarity.
Nor is this prognosis based on pure conjecture. In proportion as these pernicious doctrines have gained ground, modern society has become infected with the virus of animalism, egoism, and perfidy; expediency has been substituted for honor; and purity has been replaced by prophylaxis. One could not, of course, expect to see a universal and thoroughgoing application of these principles in the concrete. The materialistic view of human nature is horribly unnatural, and, in practice, would be quite unbearable. Natural human goodness and even the mere instinct of self-preservation militate against a reduction to the concrete of this inhuman conception, and these tend, in real life, to mitigate the evil effects of its acceptance. Nevertheless, the actual consequences resulting from the spread of evolutionary principles are so conspicuous and appalling as to leave no doubt whatever of the deadly nature of this philosophy.
Marxian Socialism has been called “scientific” for no other reason than that it is based upon materialistic evolution, and this scientific socialism has brought upon modern Russia a reign of terror, which eclipses that of France in the bloodiest days of the Revolution. Eleanor Marx, it will be remembered, after falling a victim to her father’s teachings regarding “free love,” committed suicide. The same confession of failure has been made by two recent editors of the socialist Appeal to Reason (J. W. Wayland and J. O. Welday), both of whom committed suicide. These are but a few of the many instances that might be cited to show that the life philosophy inculcated by materialistic evolution is so intolerably unnatural and revolting that neither society nor the individual can survive within the lethal shadow of its baleful influence.
But may not the extreme materialism and pessimism of this view be peculiar to the sordid and joyless outlook of the social malcontent? Does not evolutionary thought conduce to something finer and more hopeful in the case of the progressive and optimistic liberal? Vain hope! We cannot console ourselves with any delusions on this score. Liberalism proclaims the emancipation of humanity from all authority, and the rejection of a future life of retribution is the indispensable premise of the doctrine that makes man a law unto himself. Hence, wherever Liberalism controls the tongues of educators, the human soul becomes a myth, religion a superstition, and immortality an anodyne for mental weaklings. Strong-minded truth-seekers are advised to abandon these irrational beliefs, and to adopt the “New Religion,” which dispenses once for all with God and the hereafter. “The new religion,” says Charles Eliot, ex-President of Harvard, “will not attempt to reconcile people to present ills by the promise of future compensation. I believe that the advent of just freedom has been delayed for centuries by such promises. Prevention will be the watchword of the new religion, and a skillful surgeon will be one of its ministers. It cannot supply consolation as offered by old religions, but it will reduce the need of consolation.” (“The New Religion.”)