Produced by David Widger





NATURAL MAN

By Arthur B. Moss

PRICE ONE PENNY.

LONDON:

THE PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,

28 Stonecutter Street.

1884.




NATURAL MAN

Concerning the when and how of the origin of man nothing positive
is known. Genesis states that "god made man," but as the greatest
intellects of modern times doubt the existence of deity, a ready
acceptance of the Mosaic account of the creation of the haman species
can only take place among those who are not well qualified to weigh
evidence, balance probabilities, and appraise the evidence of rival
theories.

The researches of men of science lead us to the belief that the
authors of the first and second chapters of Genesis were mistaken. They
formulated a theory and imagined it to be a fact.

Darwin, Haeckel, Huxley, and other eminent scientists, dispute
altogether the theory that man was created perfect, and in their works
have proved to demonstration that the beings called men have evolved
from lower organisms; that they have the same anatomical structure as
the Catarrhini apes; that there is a distinct blood-relationship between
them, and that they have both had a common parentage.

To establish the truth of the evolution theory, it is enough to look
fairly at the facts of nature; to observe man under various aspects;
to consider him in barbaric times, or in countries where he is not yet
civilised; to see him in a nude condition, with nothing to cover him but
a mass of hair which nature provides; to watch him in his struggle for
life with his enemies, the destructive lower animals and his fellow men,
and to find in the course of years that a higher form of man has evolved
out of this barbaric creature.

The evolution theory accounts for the facts as they are observed in
life--facts which upon any other theory are quite inexplicable. And it
must not be supposed that because the theory does not give a complete
explanation to all the phenomena that it therefore is not reliable.
Haeckel says ("Pedigree of Man," p. 36): "If we can only prove the
general truth of the Darwinian theory, our idea of the origin of man
from lower vertebrata follows of necessity, and we are not obliged to
give a special proof as to this latter view if the general proposition
is well established." That the general proposition is well established is
now admitted by the most enlightened of the opponents of Darwinism. What
is called the "evolution theory" is generally acknowledged to be removed
from the region of hypothesis to that of fact.

But it is not my purpose further to pursue the subject of man's origin,
which, while it is confessedly a most interesting question, is one upon
which no man who is not a skilled scientist can write or speak with
authority. I can only deal with probabilities. Nobody, so far as we
know, was present to witness the first man spring into existence.
Indeed, we do not know that there was a first man! And if there was a
first, it does not follow that he was conscious of being made, or when
he was completed that he had the pleasure of seeing his maker, who told
him how it was done. Or, on the other hand, if he were evolved from
some lower creature it does not follow that he was conscious of the
evolution. But at least we can be sure that history speaks with no
uncertain sound concerning man's progress in the world and the means by
which it was achieved. As a civilised creature man is not many centuries
old. Even now we find many savage races existing on the earth, and in
type so low in the scale are they that they more nearly resemble the
brute beasts, both in intellect and in physique, than the higher forms
of men. Now if we would study the progress of the human race to any
advantage, we must study it apart from all prejudice, and not allow
religious or superstitious notions concerning the superiority of one
class of people to warp our minds and prevent us from understanding the
important part played by savage peoples in the battle of life. For it
must always be remembered that man's history is one of fearful warfare,
not only between men and men, but between man and the lower animals.

It is no flight of the imagination to say that there exist the clearest
proofs that man many ages ago lived in "holes in the earth," and went
in constant fear of animals who sought him as their prey. Sometimes
he would have to scramble up trees to elude the vigilance of these
sagacious beasts; sometimes the tree would form no place of safety, and
he would have to run for dear life or become a living sacrifice to these
savage beings.

In the course of time man learnt how to keep himself warm, while the
beasts of the field perished from cold or parched with thirst and
famished with hunger, sunk and died; he learnt how to huddle himself
up close to a fire in his mud-hut, out of all danger from the enemy. In
addition to this he learnt how to speak, to communicate his thoughts to
his fellows. These were great steps in advance. Man was still in a nude
condition. But now he began to form a theory as to the cause of the
phænomena of the universe. He began to establish the reign of the gods.
All his gods, naturally enough, at first were fetishes. Those animals
which he considered superior to himself he elected as special objects of
worship. As soon as he found that these were not superior, but inferior,
to himself, he began to make gods after his own image.

Out of small tribes in course of ages grew great nations. Men could now
manufacture weapons of destruction with which they could procure food
and destroy their enemies; thus little by little were built up the
nations of the earth. All advance, all progress towards civilisation
made by primitive man was made by opposing with all his strength and
skill the destructive forces of nature, and by strenuous attempts at
improving upon human nature itself. Was man then inherently depraved and
prone to evil continually? Not so. The germs of evil and good were alike
sown in his nature; and if either of these was developed by favorable
circumstances an evil or a good result followed of necessity. That
man was not depraved by nature is seen by the fact that in the general
evolution of things, instead of growing worse he has continued to
improve--from the low, brutal and immoral creature of the past, to the
purer, loftier, nobler being--the highest that can be found to-day.

In his natural state, it is true, man was a wicked being. He had no
intuitive knowledge of right and wrong. He had to perform an act, and he
was never sure until he felt the results whether it was good or bad. In
his natural state he was dirty, untruthful, unjust. No god came to tell
him that "cleanliness was next to godliness;" nor admonish him to be
truthful and just in all his dealings. He was left alone to use his own
unaided intelligence as best he might.

To test the truth of these assertions one has only to turn to savage
races existing to-day. It will be found on investigation that not only
are they unclean in their habits and destitute of any idea of justice,
but for the most part they are unblushing liars and ingenious thieves.

All the characteristics in human nature that are called virtues are
purely of artificial growth, and result from man's cultivation of his
better self; or, in other words, from his improvement upon nature's
spontaneous course of action.

In support of this view I may here quote J. S. Mill, who says ("Essay on
Nature," p. 48): "Children and the lower classes of most countries seem
to be actually fond of dirt: the vast majority of the human race are
indifferent to it: whole nations of otherwise civilised and cultivated
human beings tolerate it in some of its worst forms, and only a very
small minority are consistently offended by it. Indeed, the universal
law of the subject appears to be that uncleanliness offends only those
to whom it is unfamiliar, so that those who have lived in so artificial
a state as to be unused to it in any form, are the sole persons whom
it disgusts in all forms. Of all virtues this is the most evidently not
instinctive, but a triumph over instinct. Assuredly neither cleanliness
nor the love of cleanliness is natural to man, but only the capacity of
acquiring a love of cleanliness." On page 57 the same writer declares
that "Savages are always liars. They have not the faintest notion of
truth as a virtue."

Having then all these bad qualities of nature, how is it that man has
been able to put them into subjection and advance along the road to
civilisation even at the pace that we have seen? Such advance has been
wholly dependent upon the energy and skill with which he has opposed the
destructive forces of nature, using one law to counteract another, and
upon the determination with which he has striven to improve upon human
nature itself.

For centuries man groped about in the dark. Nature was deaf to his
appeals and blind to his sufferings, and her daily performances
frightened and bewildered him. And yet he did his best to ascertain the
causes of the phænomena of the universe. But his best guesses were wide
of the mark. Outside of nature he sought for explanation. He thought he
had scaled nature's heights and fathomed her debts when he had merely
gazed a few miles into the vast expanse of space above; and when
the most learned among them declared that god was the author of the
universe, a great theological enterprise commenced. Every nation started
a god on its own account, and if one proved to be insufficient, a few
more were easily drafted in, with a devil to keep them company.

These gods and devils, which were material or spiritual, according
as occasion required, were hereafter put forward as explanations of
nature's workings. And the people believed in them. How could they
do otherwise? Their credulity was perfectly natural. They could not
investigate; all their faculties were untrained. Even the most learned
among them were superlatively ignorant; incapable by virtue of an
untrained mind of accurately perceiving, recording, remembering, or
judging of nature's manifold manifestations.

And so the theologian had a good time of it. He believed thoroughly in
his own pretensions; believed that he possessed the key which opened the
door of all mysteries; that he was a god-appointed teacher of men; and
in all the countries of the world he was looked upon as second only in
importance to the gods themselves.

But all this time the people were anxious to know not only what sort of
deity it was they worshipped, but what kind of action would be likely
to win his favor. They were told that god was a jealous being, and that
their first duty was obedience to his will. They believed it.

When, therefore, they were instructed to slaughter their neighbors who
worshipped a different deity, they went to the task with all the ardor
of their nature, imagining in their ignorance that the more brutally
they executed the deity's will, the more pleasantly would he smile upon
them. The Jews killed the Midianites, the Amalakites, the Baalites, and
all other peoples they were capable of mastering who despised their god.
Later, the Mahommedans with equal mercilessness followed the example
of their Jewish brethren. Later still, the Christians persecuted and
murdered many who stubbornly refused to acknowledge that Jesus was the
Christ; and each nation could not only refer the deed back to the priest
from whom the wicked instructions came, but the priest in his turn
could point to the passage in his sacred book distinctly commanding or
sanctioning such barbarities. The Bible contained instructions for the
Jews not only to kill unbelieving people of other nations, but minute
details were given as to how believers of their own kith and kin should
be put to death (Leviticus xxiv., 16).

The Koran was equally explicit in its directions to murder the infidels
(chapter on the "Cow," p. 23); and the New Testament, which the
Christians accepted as a guide, not only bade the believer have "no
fellowship with unbelievers," but into whatever city they went, and the
people were indisposed to give heed to their preachings, they were to
"shake off the dust of their feet," and god would make it warmer for
such people in the next world than for ordinary sinners. Nay more: the
Christian could point to the strong declaration of Jesus: "But those
mine enemies who would not that I should reign over them, bring hither
and slay before me" (Luke xix., 27).

The people were told that angels existed. They believed it.

They were told that witches were displeasing to the sight of God; that
he had given instructions that they were not to be "suffered" to live.
They believed it; and did their best to remove the witches from the face
of the earth.

They were told that their God liked nothing so much as roast lamb. They
believed it. And when they couldn't spare a lamb, they thought it would
be pleasant at least for their deity to smell the flavor of it.

They were told that God was the father of all men; that he was just and
good; but that he liked some nations better than others; and considered
some men fit only to be the slaves of others. They believed it.

They were told that God made man. They believed it.

They were told that he made all other animals for man's pleasure and
assistance. They believed it.

They were told that he made the sun and the stars to give light to the
earth. They believed it.

They were told that he made the earth. They believed it. That it was
flat, and they were flats enough to believe that also.

But they were not told who made God; what intelligent mind designed him
before he was made; who made the intelligent mind that designed the God
that made the world out of nothing. These matters were allowed to remain
impenetrable mysteries.

In course of time morality improved. The would-be murderer found that
there were men in the nation who could defend themselves against all
assaults of the enemy; and that the only way to be secure from attack
was to promise not to be the aggressive party.

And the thief found that if he stole others would steal from him; that
only by being honest could he hope to have his own property protected.

Though very early in the progress of man laws had been made against
murder and theft, it was not until men saw that their own life and
property were at stake, and that unless they were peaceful and honest
themselves they ran a risk of losing all they had, that anything
approaching harmony existed among the people of the nations that were on
the high road to civilisation.

Among savage races, murder, theft and other crimes are almost as rife
as ever; and it is only when barbarous races come in contact with
races higher up the scale of life that their morality manifests rapid
improvement.

Scepticism is the sign of a healthy mind. Doubt and unbelief invariably
arise as the result of earnest inquiry and vigorous thought. Except
among the philosophical Greeks and cultured Romans, doubts concerning
the truth of theology were not openly expressed, even by the few, until
many centuries after the Christian era began.

Of course, among the early Christians there were many who doubted; some
who denied the divinity of Jesus; many who questioned the truth of the
resurrection; among the Brahmins and Buddhists, many who were sceptical
on dogmatic points of their faith. But it was not until the middle of
the sixteenth century that we find men questioning the pretensions of
theologians, and exposing with admirable fearlessness and candor the
errors of theology.

Martin Luther early in the sixteenth century boldly questioned the
dogmas of the Romish Church. He was ably supported by Philip Melancthon,
but these reformers, although fighting bravely for the right of
Freethought, were fearful lest others in the exercise of this freedom
should go further than they did. Bruno, Telesio, Campanella and Vanini
are among the first mentioned in history who courageously declared their
disbelief in the prevailing theology.

Bruno was a Pantheist. He denied that God was a person, and declared
that he was an essence. He affirmed that matter was indestructible;
that nature produced "all phænomena as the fruit of her own womb."
He believed in the plurality of worlds, and denied the teachings of
Aristotle. Telesio and Campanella held much the same belief.

Vanini was an Atheist. For their heresies Telesio and Oampanella were
imprisoned; Bruno and Vanini both died at the stake. No doubt there were
many others who entertained doubts similar to those expressed by these
noble philosophers; but when they found that their scepticism would be
burnt out of them if they expressed it, they doubtlessly came to the
conclusion that they had better keep it to themselves until men were
more prepared for the reception of it. And probably the time would never
have come had it not been for the heroism of a Bruno, the defiance of
a Vanini, and the persistent teaching of other less known Freethought
worthies.

Galileo the astronomer must also be numbered among the sceptics. He
denied that the earth was the centre of the universe, and in opposition
to such teaching declared that it moved round the sun. For making known
this now well-established fact the great astronomer was imprisoned,
and a short interval allowed for him to recant or die the death of an
infidel. He was an old man, and life was sweet. He elected to live.
He had sown the seeds of doubt concerning the Church's teaching of
astronomy--he left it to blossom in its own good time.

In Europe periodical efforts had been made to improve the social and
domestic life of the people. Feudalism having developed to its highest
point, decayed, and upon its ruins were established strong monarchies,
which vied with each other in voluptuousness and wickedness. But if the
nation showed any signs of going forward in the march of progress, there
was always one chain at least to drag them hopelessly back again.
This was the Romish Church with, its slavish theology and horrible
corruption.

"For centuries the popes at intervals had embroiled Italy. Sometimes
several popes ruled at once, and sometimes the Catholic Church had no
pope at all. To unite and maintain, the temporal and spiritual power
in their own persons was ever the ruling passion of the Catholic
potentates; and for this they have spilt rivers of human blood.
Under their absolute power the Church and its vices has grown up for
centuries. Rooted into the heart of society the people had learnt to
revere the ancient institution. Their imaginations were captivated by
its showy services; its priesthood had the keeping of their consciences;
was their only means of access to heaven; gave consolation in sickness;
married, buried, and sent them to paradise. Its superstitions and
centuries of cruelty had as yet only increased its power. Europe was
filled with its images of saints and martyrs, real or counterfeit, and
the people were instructed to fall down and worship them. Dead saints
were made the medium of access to the deity; the services of religion
were muttered in dead languages; priests were decked in dazzling
garments; wax candles burnt in the churches at noonday; vessels of
gold and silver stood on the altars; preaching had become rare, and had
degenerated into frivolous talking; monks who lived a life of ease or
idleness, and often of vice, were scattered in multitudes throughout
every nation of Christendom; and in order to prevent inquiry and crush
opposition, the Inquisition was established and the fire of persecution
lit. Pope Alexander VI., a man of unusual depravity, burnt Savonarola
for preaching reform in the Church. In short, a frightful spiritual
despotism, such as Europe had never seen before, held the human mind in
abject bondage" (Dr. Bollock's "History of Modern Europe," p. 23).

After the Reformation the disputes between Christians, regarding
the doctrines of the Protestant as well as the Catholic Church, were
numerous and exceedingly bitter. But the masses of the people having to
work hard for a small pittance and little leisure, took comparatively
small notice of these theological disputes, and applied themselves
with commendable zeal to more useful labor than watching the wretched
encounters of fanatical religionists.

The printing-press having now got into working order, began to disturb
the peace of mind of the clergy and others in authority. Every shot from
the armory of intelligence shook to their foundation the dogmas of the
Church. The people continued to work. Scientific men, too, continued
their labors quietly.

Columbus discovered America, and frightened credulous believers in the
flatness of the earth out of all the wits they ever had.

Descartes in France, Spinoza in Holland, formulated a philosophy that
knocked the anthropomorphic deity of the Christians quite off his
pedestal; it was done, however, in such a learned manner that the common
people heard scarcely anything about it.

These continued the useful labors of the world. They tilled the soil;
they bred cattle; they erected magnificent houses for the rich and small
hovels for the poor; they made gaudy raiment wherewith to bedeck the
persons of kings and priests, and plain dresses as a covering for the
common people. Periodically, their progress was thwarted by being
called upon to fight religious wars for the priests, and wars for the
glorification or vanity of kings. Running rapidly over the pages of
history one important fact stands prominently out. It is this, that
as soon as the nations were at peace, for however short a while, the
sceptics appeared again, and with the growing intelligence of the
people, spoke in language of unmistakeable plainness about religion.

Thomas Paine directed his powerful intellect against the upas tree;
Voltaire's wit went like a javelin to its core; while Mirabaud and
D'Holbach tore off the mask and left theology's errors exposed in all
their glaring hideousness. And now the dawn of a new era for Freethought
began to appear.

The clergy maligned great sceptics, but scepticism increased
notwithstanding. Heretical works were condemned and the authors
imprisoned; but the seeds of doubt having been widely sown, nothing
short of the wholesale destruction of persons suspected of entertaining
these doubts was likely to prove effectual in the extirpation of them.

From this point rapid progress towards the higher civilisation was made
in all countries in Europe where the people were bold enough to
free themselves from the dogmatism of the priests, read the works
of scientific men, take advantage of every new discovery, interest
themselves in the political and social movements of the country. In
short, man advanced in proportion as he devoted himself to the work of
the world, and left the next world and all opinions in regard to it to
take care of themselves.

So far we have seen the progress of man has been won by a vigorous
struggling against the harmful forces of nature. In truth, nature has
been a very useful servant to those who understand her, but a harsh and
brutal master to those who were ignorant of her ways. She is not, nor
ever has been, worthy of worship. She destroys every being that lives
once, and sometimes by the most painful process it is possible to
conceive. How many thousands she has starved with hunger, frozen with
cold, poisoned, drowned, or swept away by earthquakes or other frightful
calamities, mankind will never know. All we can know is that thousands
have been thus sacrificed, and that in proportion as man used one force
of nature to counteract the effect of another he has advanced.

When the sceptical man had a chance of life, his advance towards
civilisation was rapid. The sceptical mind investigated; new discoveries
were made; the printing press increased in usefulness and power; new
forms of industry were started, and a higher happiness made possible for
the masses of the people. The art of agriculture steadily improved;
and the shipping of merchandise from one nation to another was greatly
facilitated by improved skill in navigation.

Great, however, as were the strides towards civilisation in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, they were all eclipsed in the
early part of the nineteenth century by the utilisation of steam-power,
electricity, and other great natural forces, which had the effect of
greatly increasing the wealth-producing power of those nations that
adopted them. Nor was this all; for immediately following, machinery,
which saved an enormous amount of labor, was introduced. Food and
clothing became cheaper. The people multiplied rapidly, and with this
increase of population grew a proportionate demand for food and labor.

In a short time the struggle for existence was manifestly keener than it
had ever been before; the rich became richer and richer, while among the
poor the tendency was to get poorer and more poor. Uncomplainingly the
people devoted themselves to the labor of each day. Theology they set
aside for six days of the week, and concerned themselves about the gods
on Sunday. Though they did not often say so, the majority of men thought
it was far better for them to be diligent workmen, performing all
the secular duties of daily life--building houses, making clothes,
machinery, writing books; acting the part of good husbands, fathers, or
citizens--than to have the most orthodox belief it was possible for a
being to entertain. And this sentiment grew stronger and stronger, and
proved of immense importance to mankind.

For hundreds of years theologians had talked about the importance of
saving men's souls; and those who possessed the smallest seemed to make
the most fuss about them. But now the aspect of things was changed. Men
began to talk about looking after their bodies; and some ventured to
suggest that if they had souls in their bodies it would, perhaps, be no
disadvantage to them if their bodies were well fed, well clothed, and
their whole being well trained.

Necessity forced all but a small minority into the labor market. And
after years of labor the earth was converted from a howling wilderness
into a home fit for habitation. Here let me distinctly affirm that all
that is admirable in civilised life--the comfort of home, the pleasure
of education, the fascination of the drama, the beauty of painting or
sculpture, the usefulness of scientific acquirements--owe their value to
the secular labor of mankind.

Theology deserves no credit in respect to these things. Theology did not
help man to supersede the sailing vessel by the steamship, the old coach
by the railroad, the reaping machine by the scythe (vice versa, DW), nor
the fastest locomotion by the telegraph wires. The theologian did not
discover the telephone, nor did he learn how to light--with a brilliancy
previously unknown to man--our streets and great public buildings by
means of electricity.

One Stephenson is worth a thousand theologians; one Edison of more
value to the world than all the gods that men's imagination have ever
pictured.

But see what additional wonders the secular laborer has accomplished. He
has removed forests of trees and converted them into houses, the hides
of cattle he turned into boots and shoes, the wool of sheep he has
transformed into robes of beauty and utility. He has bedecked our
walls with paintings, put books upon our shelves, and with sweet music
gladdened our hearts. To accomplish all this he has had to rely solely
upon his reason. Yet theologians call this splendid attribute _carnal
reason,_ and declare that it is no safe guide to man. It has been man's
only guide; and when he has trusted it he has been more often in the
right than otherwise. Even his errors have assisted hint in future
labors. Faith he has had, but it has always been secular faith.
Experience has been his guide, science a lamp unto his feet. Even when
he has walked down the wrong path he has done so with his eyes open.

Theological faith is sightless. It allures you to the brink of a
precipice and precipitates you to the earth beneath. It is a ship
without a rudder; the tempestuous waves toss it about recklessly, the
wind drives it savagely against the rocks, and to-day this ship called
"Theological Faith" is a dreary wreck.

But reason grows stronger and clearer as the ages roll on. Man has
discovered that he can trust it; that he can use it; that he can assist
himself and others by the employment of it. In other words, he can do
his own thinking, reason out his own principles, act his own life. He
can be a man. And it is better for an individual to be a bad original
than a good copy of somebody else. Man is civilised to-day. He has
fought a good fight, he has conquered a foe; but better than all, he has
converted an enemy into a friend.

What is man's future policy? Is there not still plenty of labor for
him to perform? Is there not an ocean of enigmas yet to be fathomed, a
gold-mine of knowledge yet to be explored? Is there not poverty to be
remedied, pain to be alleviated, ignorance to be removed? The reformer
has yet something to inspire his fervid soul; the philanthropist plenty
to touch his generous heart. Why even now the wealthy rogue struts
pompously upon the stage of life in grand attire, and fares sumptuously
every day; while honest poverty in rags lies hungry and fainting at his
door. Even now the rich own all the land, and many poor have not where
to lay their head. Even now all men are not equal in the sight of
the law; and one man gets pensioned for work for which another is
incarcerated in gaol. Even now our sisters are outraged and turned
adrift upon the world to be the playthings of vicious men for evermore.
Even now our workhouses are filled with men and women who are able to
work for an honest living--if they could get it--but cannot because
labor is cheap, and there are too many waiting to perform it. Even now
our gaols are filled with society-made criminals, that education and
better circumstances might have rescued from a life of misery and crime.
Even now youth is stunted and starved, and men and women pine away,
racked with some terrible disease which thoughtless and careless parents
have transmitted to them.

Reformers abate not your enthusiasm, but work bravely on. Through the
world diffuse the glorious light of knowledge, let men learn that all
crime is a mistake, that effects always follow causes, and that a good
effect never follows from a bad cause in a nation that is governed on
the principles of truth and justice.

Remove poverty by sound advice to the poor and by strenuous efforts to
improve men's surroundings. Stay the drunkard in his downward course,
and assist unceasingly all social and political progress. Popularity you
may never attain; even praise for your unselfish labor may be denied you
while you live. But good work must leave its influence in the world;
and your children's children will assuredly profit by it. For as Carlyle
truly says: "Beautiful it is to see and understand that no worth, or
known or unknown, can die even on this earth. The work an unknown
good man has done is like a hidden vein of water flowing underground,
secretly making the ground green. It flows and flows; it joins itself
with other veins and veinlets, and one day it will start forth as a
visible perennial well."