For the new, if it is to strike deep root and be permanent, must grow out of the old, without too violent a transition. Some violence there will always be, even in the kindliest birth; but the less the better, and a leap greater than the one from Judaism to Christianity is not desirable, even if it were possible. As a free-thinker, therefore, but also as one who wishes to take a practical view of the manner in which things will, and ought to go, I neither expect to see the religions of the world come once for all to an end with the belief in Christianity—which to me is tantamount to saying with Rome—nor am I at all sure that such a consummation is more desirable than likely to come about. The ultimate fight will, I believe, be between Rome and Pantheism; and the sooner the two contending parties can be ranged into their opposite camps by the extinction of all intermediate creeds, the sooner will an issue of some sort be arrived at. This will not happen in our time, but we should work towards it.

When it arrives, what is to happen? Is Pantheism to absorb Rome, and, if so, what sort of a religious formula is to be the result? or is Rome so to modify her dogmas that the Pantheist can join her without doing too much violence to his convictions? We who are outside the Church's pale are in the habit of thinking that she will make little if any advances in our direction. The dream of a Pantheistic Rome seems so wild as hardly to be entertained seriously; nevertheless I am much mistaken if I do not detect at least one sign as though more were within the bounds of possibility than even the most sanguine of us could have hoped for a few years back. We do not expect the Church to go our whole length; it is the business of some to act as pioneers, but this is the last function a Church should assume. A Church should be as the fly-wheel of a steam-engine, which conserves, regulates and distributes energy, but does not originate it. In all cases it is more moral and safer to be a little behind the age than a little in front of it; a Church, therefore, ought to cling to an old-established belief, even though her leaders know it to be unfounded, so long as any considerable number of her members would be shocked at its abandonment. The question is whether there are any signs as though the Church of Rome thought the time had come when she might properly move a step forward, and I rejoice to think, as I have said above, that at any rate one such sign—and a very important one—has come under my notice.

In his Encyclical of August 4, 1879, the Pope desires the Bishops and Clergy to restore the golden wisdom of St. Thomas Aquinas, and to spread it far and wide. "Vos omnes," he writes, "Venerabiles Fratres, quam enixe hortamur ut ad Catholicæ fidei tutelam et decus, ad societatis bonum, ad scientiarum omnium incrementum auream Sancti Thomæ sapientiam restituatis, et quam latissime propagetis." He proceeds then with the following remarkable passage: "We say the wisdom of St. Thomas. For whatever has been worked out with too much subtleness by the doctors of the schools, or handed down inconsiderately, whatever is not consistent with the teachings of a later age, or finally, is in any way not probable, We in no wise intend to propose for acceptance in these days."[386]

It would be almost possible to suppose that these words had been written inadvertently, so the Pope practically repeats them thus: "We willingly and gratefully declare that whatsoever can be excepted with advantage, is to be excepted, no matter by whom it has been invented."[387]

The passage just quoted is so pregnant that a few words of comment may be very well excused. In the first place, I cannot but admire the latitude which the Pope not only tolerates, but enjoins: he defines nothing, but declares point blank that if we find anything in St. Thomas Aquinas "not consistent with the assured teachings of a later age, or finally in any way not probable"—(what is not involved here?)—we are "in no wise to suppose" that it is being proposed for our acceptance. But it is a small step from allowing latitude in accepting or rejecting the parts of St. Thomas Aquinas which conflict with the assured result of later discoveries to allowing a similar latitude in respect, we will say, of St. Jude; and if of St. Jude, then of St. James the Less; and if of St. James the Less, then surely ere very long of St. James the Greater and St. John and St. Paul; nor will the matter stop there. How marvellously closely are the two extremes of doctrine approaching to one another! We, on the one hand, who begin with tabulæ rasæ having made a clean sweep of every shred of doctrine, lay hold of the first thing we can grasp with any firmness, and work back from it. We grope our way to evolution; through this to purposive evolution; through this to the omnipresence of mind and design throughout the universe; what is this but God? So that we can say with absolute freedom from équivoque that we are what we are through the will of God. The theologian, on the other hand, starts with God, and finds himself driven through this to evolution, as surely as we found ourselves driven through evolution to the omnipresence of God.

Let us look a little more closely at the ground which the Church of Rome and the Evolutionist hold in common. St. Paul speaks of there being "one body and one spirit," and of one God as being "above all, and through all, and in you all."[388] Again, he tells us that we are members of God's body, "of his flesh and of his bones;"[389] in another place he writes that God has reconciled us to himself, "in the body of his flesh,"[390] and in yet another of the Spirit of God "dwelling in us."[391] St. Paul indeed is continually using language which implies the closest physical as well as spiritual union between God and those at any rate of mankind who were Christians. Then he speaks of our "being builded together for an habitation of God through the spirit,"[392] and of our being "filled with the fulness of God."[393] He calls Christian men's bodies "temples of the Holy Spirit,"[394] in fact it is not too much to say that he regarded Christian men's limbs as the actual living organs of God himself, for the expressions quoted above—and many others could be given—come to no less than this. It follows that since any man could unite himself to "the flesh and bones" of God by becoming a Christian, Paul had a perception of the unity at any rate of human life; and what Paul admitted I am persuaded the Church of Rome will not deny.

Granted that Paul's notion of the unity of all mankind in one spirit animating, or potentially animating the whole was mystical, I submit that the main difference between him and the Evolutionist is that the first uses certain expressions more or less prophetically, and without perhaps a full perception of their import; while the second uses the same expressions literally, and with the ordinary signification attached to the words that compose them. It is not so much that we do not hold what Paul held, but that we hold it with the greater definiteness and comprehension which modern discovery has rendered possible. We not only accept his words, but we extend them, and not only accept them as articles of faith to be taken on the word of others, but as so profoundly entering into our views of the world around us that that world loses the greater part of its significance if we may not take such sayings as that "we are God's flesh and his bones" as meaning neither more nor less than what appears upon the face of them. We believe that what we call our life is part of the universal life of the Deity—which is literally and truly made manifest to us in flesh that can be seen and handled—ever changing, but the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.

So much for the closeness with which we have come together on matters of fact, and now for the rapprochement between us in respect of how much conformity is required for the sake of avoiding schism. We find ourselves driven through considerations of great obviousness and simplicity to the conclusion that a man both may and should keep no small part of his opinions to himself, if they are too widely different from those of other people for the sake of union and the strength gained by concerted action; and we also find the Pope declaring of one of the brightest saints and luminaries of the Church that we need not follow him when it is plainly impossible for us to do so. Is it so very much to hope that ere many years are over the approximation will become closer still?

I have sometimes imagined that the doctrine of Papal Infallibility may be the beginning of a way out of the difficulty, and that its promoters were so eager for it, rather for the facilities it afforded for the repealing of old dogmas than for the imposition of new ones. The Pope cannot, even now, under any circumstances, declare a dogma of the Church to be obsolete or untrue, but I should imagine he can, in council, ex cathedra, modify the interpretation to be put upon any dogma, if he should find the interpretation commonly received to be prejudicial to the good of the Church: and if so, the manner in which Rome can put herself more in harmony with the spirit of recent discoveries, without putting herself in an illogical position, is not likely to escape eyes so keen as those of the Catholic hierarchy. No sensible man will hesitate to admit that many an interpretation which was natural to and suitable for one age is unnatural to and unsuitable for another; as circumstances are always changing, so men's moods and the meanings they attach to words, and the state of their knowledge changes; and hence, also, the interpretation of the dogmas in which their conclusions are summarized. There is nothing to be ashamed of or that needs explaining away in this; nothing can remain changeless under changed conditions; and that institution is most likely to be permanent which contains provision for such changes as time may prove to be expedient, with the least disturbance. I can see nothing, therefore, illogical or that needs concealment in the fact of an infallible Pope putting a widely different interpretation upon a dogma now, to what a no less infallible Pope put upon the same dogma fifteen hundred, or even fifteen years ago; it is only right, reasonable, and natural that this should be so. The Church of England may have made no provision for the virtual pruning off of dogmas that have become rudimentary, but the Encyclical from which I have just quoted leads me to think that the Church of Rome has found one, and, in her own cautious way, is proceeding to make use of it. If so, she may possibly in the end get rid of Protestantism by putting herself more in harmony with the spirit of the age than Protestantism can do. In this case, the spiritual reunion of Christendom under Rome ceases to be impossible, or even, I should think improbable. I heartily wish that my conjecture concerning future possibilities is not unfounded.

Scientists have been right in preaching evolution, but they have preached it in such a way as to make it almost as much of a stumbling-block as of an assistance. For though the fact that animals and plants are descended from a common stock is accepted by the greater and more reasonable part of mankind, these same people feel that the evidence in favour of design in the universe is no less strong than that in favour of evolution, and our scientists, for the most part, uphold a theory of evolution of which the cardinal doctrine is that design and evolution have nothing to do with one another; the jar they raise, therefore, is as bad as the jar they have allayed.