About 1850 A. D., there began to be felt among scientific men a possibility that perhaps all of the natural phenomena of which we have knowledge are so inter-related that all of our observations are but different views of a few fundamental primary laws. These so-called laws or statements of facts in their natural order of sequence were always, and under all conditions, operative in natural affairs, had been quite thoroughly understood since Humboldt’s time. But it remained for Herbert Spencer in England, and Ernest Haeckel in Germany, to correlate the vast quantity of facts gained from experiment and observation along the various lines of scientific research. Particularly has the latter been a most potent factor in formulating the new and necessarily predominating theology of the future—a system of belief which is in accordance with everything which the individual knows, and which is always ready to accept a new fact upon demonstration, although its reception may revolutionize even its fundamental concepts. This doctrine, which has been most aptly termed “monism,” stands squarely upon its basis of “empirical investigation of facts, and the rational study of their efficient causes.” In place of worshiping the trinities of the old superstitions, it holds for reverence the “good, the true, and the beautiful” wherever found, and in antithesis to the sacredness of Sabbath and the church, it holds that for the contemplation of the objects of its trinity, “all seasons to be summer and all climates June.” While denying the existence of a God outside of Nature, the freedom of the human will and the possibility of an immortality for the individual human soul, as usually understood, it does insist upon the sequence of effect upon cause, and shows that here, in this earthly existence, we are forced to be virtuous if we would be happy, and that although we are not completely masters of our fates, yet it fundamentally lies with us, in the vast majority of cases, to so conduct our lives that either misery or happiness will result therefrom.
Monistic ethics differ from those of any religious system, from the fact that the good of all is selected and digested into a code which looks toward the “greatest good to the greatest number.” In doing this, individual effort is lauded and not proscribed, and altruism and egotism are developed with equal emphasis. The pleasures of this life are not forfeited to gain delectation in another, nor is the “illitative sense” considered a safe guide for conduct. Woman is not looked upon as fundamentally “unclean,” nor is she denied any right or any privilege which man enjoys. The righteousness of intersexual love and association is maintained, when in operation within a proper constraint, and the family is not only the social and political unit, but the religious as well. Love is held to be more potent than hate, and justice more beneficial than charity. There is no such thing as either the forgiveness or remission of sins—the responsibility of our actions is ours, and ours alone, and can be assumed by no other. The result is the same whether our acts come through ignorance or intention—it is for the individual to know before doing.
In the foregoing, a very brief outline of the progress which humanity has made in historic times in religion and ethics has been attempted, and, if an interest has been aroused in this subject, its purpose will have been fulfilled. No matter what creed we hold, we cannot afford to be bigoted, as simple investigation will show that in many ways we are but little in advance of our progenitors of seven thousand years ago. Only in the matter that we have a scientific basis to work upon, and a vast accumulation of observed facts, have we any reason for pride. And this has been gained, at almost all times, against every obstacle which the church, as established at the moment, could bring into potency.
[CHAPTER VII]
Love
Without doubt, the greatest source of happiness, as known to human beings, is love. Scott voiced the sentiment of all rational and normal persons when he said:
“Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below and saints above,
For love is Heaven, and Heaven is love.”
It is owing to the fact that we cannot enjoy anything to the fullest extent alone, since our nature is so constituted that we must have company in our pleasures, that friends are indispensable. Cicero realized this over two thousand years ago when he said that, “The fruit of talent, and worth, and every excellence, is gathered most fully when it is bestowed upon every one most nearly connected with us.” Appreciating this, nature has given us the love and friendship of parents in our childhood; of the companions of our youth as we grow older; of our life-partner at a later period, and last, the love of our children and grandchildren, so that, by an interest in their lives, we may become ourselves rejuvenated. In this, as in everything else of a physical or mental character, we start at the bottom, and, by a crescendo movement, reach the acme of the condition which with age diminishes, but in this instance the quality does not deteriorate. Our likelihood of forming acquaintances and friends in later years is very much less than in youth, and, certainly, with our habits and idiosyncrasies established, as they are after middle age, the possibility of forming intimate friendships is very much decreased. In childhood and youth, we are more imaginative and less practical, and, consequently, our inclinations in the line of friendships will be more natural and less influenced by considerations alien to friendship itself. Nothing can be more true than the axiom of Cicero, “Friendship does not follow upon advantage, but advantage upon friendship.” Clearly demonstrated as this is, but few people seem to realize it. For the fundamental truth at the bottom of this matter is, as he further states, “the basis of that steadfastness and constancy which we seek in friendship is sincerity. For nothing is enduring which is insincere.”
Of all virtues, sincerity is the greatest, yet, broadly speaking, how extremely rare! There is almost no trouble and pains which people will not take to make the world think that they are something other than they really are, when but a fraction of the cost might make them what they are trying to seem to be. The reciprocal relation of friendship demands sincerity, just in proportion as it becomes intimate, and this applies to all friendships, of whatsoever character.
The love of children is perhaps the greatest of all affections in the aggregate, because experience has not taught them to doubt and impugn the motives of others, since everything to them is just what it superficially appears to be. Our most violent heartaches come through dissimulation toward others, and nothing tends to make so callous and blunt our finer sensibilities as this. But just in proportion as we are sincere, must we be careful as to who arouses an interest of more than passing moment within us, as after affection is once started and nurtured into luxuriance, it is not within our power to control it. While love, when reciprocated, can afford an ecstasy and happiness, otherwise unknown, it can, also, when not returned by the object of our affection, become the most potent cause of superlative pain and anguish. The expression of this truth by the greatest of all English poets, would, in itself, make his name forever immortal had he never written another line, and constitutes not only the soundest philosophy, but the most sublime of all sentiments evolved from the human mind: