Archbishop Whately thought that primitive man could never have raised himself to a higher condition without external aid—­some “elementary instruction to enable his faculties to begin their work.”  He must have had a boost.  Well, the boost was forthcoming, but it was not from without, but from within, through this principle of development, this upward striving that was innate from the first in certain forms of life and of which Whately had no conception.  It was the conception of his time that creation was like a watch made and wound up by some power external to itself.

The physical evolution of man, as I have said, is no doubt complete.  He will never have wings, or more legs, or longer arms, or a bigger brain.  The wings and the extra legs and the keener sense he has left behind him.  His development henceforth must be in the mental and spiritual.  He is bound to have more and more dominion over Nature, and see more and more clearly his own relation to her.  He will in time completely subdue and possess the earth.  Yes, and probably exhaust her?  But he will see in time that he is squandering his inheritance and will mend his ways.  He will conserve in the future as he has wasted in the past.  He will learn to conserve his own health.  He will banish disease; he will stamp out all the plagues and scourges, through his scientific knowledge; he will double or treble the length of life.  Man has undoubtedly passed through and finished certain phases of his emotional and mental development.  He will never again be the religious enthusiast and fanatic he has been in the past; he has not worshiped his last, but he has worshiped his best.  He will build no more cathedrals; he will burn no more martyrs at the stake.  His religion as such is on the wane.  But his humanitarianism is a rising tide.  He is becoming less and less a savage, revolts more and more at the sight of blood and suffering.  The highly religious ages were ages of blood and persecution.  Man’s tenderness for man has vastly increased.  The sense of the sacredness of human life has increased as his faith in his gods has declined.  He has grown more human as he has grown less superstitious.  Science has atrophied his faith, but it has softened his heart.  His fear of Nature has given place to love.  Man never loved as he does now.  He has withdrawn his gaze from heaven and fixed it upon the earth.  As his interest in other worlds has diminished, his interest in this has increased.  As the angels have departed, the children have come in.

When the nations, too, cease to be savage and selfish, and become altruistic, then the new birth of humanity will actually have occurred.  As an artist and a creator of beautiful forms, man has also had his day; he loved the beautiful, the artistic, or the ornamental long before he loved the true and the just.  He was proud before he was kind; he was chivalrous before he was decent; he was tattooed before he was washed; he was painted before he was clothed; he built temples before he built a home; he sacrificed to his gods before he helped his neighbor; he was heroic before he was self-denying; he was devout before he was charitable.  We are losing the savage virtues and vanities and growing in the grace of all the humanities, and this process will doubtless go on, with many interruptions and setbacks of course, till the kingdom of love is at last fairly established upon the earth.