Partial letter from Horace Sumner Lyman on evolution, art, wealth, and sacrifice related to faith

I do not wish to separate myself from the evangelical men, any more than I wish to [be?] supposed [to?] hold opinions that I do not. I am not ashamed of or afraid of expressing my opinions.

When I call myself an evolutionist, I [?], I do not mean that I believe there is some force in matter apart from God, which develops men. I simply mean that God brings to bear upon matter and through it a force that in its workings develops animals and vegetables and men. “The power and potency” is God’s will. I see nothing inconsistent in man’s mind to say that this divine energy manifests itself in the way of light, heat, and other forms of motion, vitality, and even thought, so that [Tyndall?] may be right in [?] vitality as a form of motion, and [Spencer?] in speaking of intelligence as a [?] between an organism and [?] sequences. Of course when the rime comes in development of animals that man is to be made, and he is given self-consciousness and free-will, he becomes himself an origin and creative force, so that his thought and feeling are [?] for their direction, though not for their direct existence, on his will. By thus putting God in the beginning and forever [immanent?] in the realm of matter, we give an indescribable majesty to nature. Matter becomes the great medium and God’s, so that every leaf and stone and cloud is the voice of God to us. This is the way [?] does it. So does Gray the botanist. I do not pretend to be much of a scientist, of course, but I notice that nearly all the scientists of repute are evolutionists, Christians as well as skeptics. So are a good many ministers. Neither by evolution do I mean that the universe in going is blindly without a plan. I cannot conceive of evolution unless it proceeds according to a plan. The idea of development involves the idea of purpose. This plan is God’s plan, of course. [Beecher?] was here last Thursday, I heard him. There is a hoary majesty about the man that I was not looking for. It was like looking at Mt. Hood from [Laurel?] hill. His long white hair sets his great head and [powerful?] features in relief. He impressed me greatly, as a man of masterly mind. There is a force and energy in him that belongs only to the greatest minds. Imagination and judgment make originality, and originality is the power of actually to the stores of human thought and activities. That is creative. There is a certain strength and sadness in his looks that one would not expect in so brilliant a man. But, as I have said somewhere in my published works, [brilliancy?] is never so bright as when seen against a background of great seriousness, or even melancholy. His lecture was on the moral [uses?] of Culture and Beauty. He began deliberately and in a low voice. His short thick figure—he has an immense chest—and his motionless arms called my attention from what he was saying, at first. I noticed that his fingers twitched somewhat nervously, and one could feel the effort of his mind as he gradually got control of the audience. When that was done—a great mental effort by the way—his voice became more commanding, his figure became [?], and his ideas flowed [?]. He said nothing which I had not heard in his sermons or lectures—in fact his philosophy is very simple, and may be told in a few moments. The [?] of it. He began by saying that we might think it strange that he should urge anyone to become rich, to have luxury, to surround himself with beauty, [since?] all were mad to be rich already, many were reveling luxuries, and the prejudice against art had vanished. Here he [?] to explain why there had been a prejudice against art. The reformers began with a new [principle?], the value of the individual man, getting it from Paul where he says Who art thou that [judgest?] another man’s servant? To his own master he standeth or falleth…so then every man should give an account of himself to God. Paul got this idea from Jesus Christ, who said that inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these, ye have done it to me. Each man was valuable because God loved him. The old measure of a man’s value was by what he was worth to society. But as [half?] of mankind or [with?] nothing to society, the people of art, literature, science, luxury, being delayed by them eating food they never produced, by their laziness, vice, and sickness, the old order of society, the Roman, Medieval, and even parts of modern European, had enslaved, despised, ground under the heel, the lower classes, how all ancient art was built upon and saturated with the vileness of this heathen idea of man’s worth, it was the veneer of [corruption?]. The gilding of a lie. Therefore the reformers, in cracking the lie, invaded ancient art in the [?]. He said that the puritans had been blamed for smashing statues, but he should have done the same thing if he had been there then, though he [wished?] they had not, and if they had been [?] to see as far ahead as we can see backwards, they probably would not have done it. Then [turning?] somewhat [?]. The New Testament contained the germ of all true art, because it develops the feeling that must find explanation in art. The Old Testament, while it strictly forbade the making of images and like [?], by forbidding this developed a pure and sweet and holy and artistic interpretation of nature, such as no other author ever came near. Greek art, sculpture, painting, poetry, was [?]carnal, and brought the gods to the lusts of men. Hebrew art, poetry [?] only one, was all spiritual, lifting men to the purity of God.

Wealth, by relieving the mind of the clamour of the appetites, gives room for art; art gives room for divinity; the whole object of life is to develop manhood, and our [motive?] in doing so, is that we come from God—the supreme Father, in whose hands we are safe, not because we are good, but because He is kind and merciful. He spoke of his own little “fiddling effort” to arrive at this ideal, which he never yet had reached, nor hoped to until he found himself in finding God.

From this imperfect sketch you see how [?] a [?] of thought he [?] [employed?]. He did not feel very religious having had a slight attack of apoplexy at Chicago not long ago, while he was speaking there. So he [probably?] did not try to exert himself to his utmost. Yet, as every listening mind in the audience testified, he had the most perfect attention. There was some absurd [?] here resulting in refusing to him the use of the First Church. There are some [?] here, too narrow, too enabled, to know a great man. Measuring his greatness by his littleness, and not finding, they [lodge?], they straightaway blame him for the lack of agreement. It seems utter idiocy for reasonable men to carp at Beecher: I cannot understand why the leading men here show such a [?] spirit.

I was out a good deal last week. Tuesday evening I went to the union [?] of the ladies societies, where some exercises of slight [?] value were performed. The singing was good.

Wednesday, a lot of Theologues were invited to Mr. [Harwood’s?], to a party. We had a pleasant time. There is sort of a musical prodigy here, McPherson, a colored boy. He regaled us with some [dazzling?] music on the piano. We had cake and chocolate, and several notable professors were there, et al Thursday Beecher.

Friday Mr. E.B. Perry, a professor in the conservatory, gave a recital. Thanks to a conservatory student I got a ticket. He made sound pictures. A boat ride, in which the distant [plunk?] of oars, the [smash?] of waves under the boat, and the ripple of [?] ?????

Abruptly he spoke of what wealth was for. He gave first his definition of a [poor?] man—one who has to spend all his energies in feeding and clothing his body, whether his means be $100, or $1,000,000 a year. Paul distinguishes between the carnal man and the spiritual man, the former being the [?] of the latter. If a man can, even doing his best, no more than provide for his carnal nature, he is poverty-stricken. The [?] of him is starving. The value of wealth is to make it easier and less an exhaustive process to provide for the carnal man. If a man can substitute steam, or water-power, or [?], for his own muscular exertion, to put food on his table, clothes on his back, and to transport him from place to place, he becomes not only just as strong as the horses, the water, the wind and steam and electricity he [?], but he saves weeks and years of time, and a vast quantity of vital force, to be applied in feeding the wants of his spiritual nature. Wealth therefore is not to pamper the carnal appetites but to reduce them to a minimum; as far as possible, to eliminate them from out thought. This spare time and energy that we get by making the world of matter our servant, we are to spend in cultivating art, which is the power of expressing feeling from soul to soul, and in cultivating the spiritual feelings themselves, love, trust, hope. He stopped somewhere along here to say how rich all might be. Though they were unable to own and make pictures and statues and poems, God had made the world a great art gallery. Carnal man look upon the earth as the feeding ground for their mouths: wheat, apples, hay, coal, iron, all but so much to satisfy appetite and lust. The earth does feed the body to be sure. But the spiritual man sees the beauty of the tree, the river, the sky, the ocean, and knows that it is the expression of God’s feelings to him. He said this power he had to see the divine in the world, which he owed first to his mother, and next to [?], was the chief [?] of his soul.

Then returning to the thought that men are worth something because God loves them, each one, however degraded, representing the infinitude of God’s compassion, he spoke of art as a means of cultivating the imagination, and leading up to faith whereby we know the father. Along here he spoke of the [?] of suffering and of self-sacrifice as the means of gaining admittance to the higher and deeper meaning of life, so that we are not to shrink from suffering as we become [deprived?], [?] is art a kind of higher [?], in which the [?]-[?] soul may ???
build up its church there, be liked by the residents, and by the summer visitors, and really be able to put out [?] in the popular mind some vital truths too much now neglected, I should have all the opportunity the most ambitious could wish to fill important places. It is a fact that if a man is a light people who need light will know where he is. If I try to get [?] a big place at first, before I have so much backing, I shall have to use up all my energies in doing the [?] from Sunday to Sunday, and have no time to be elaborating any new lines of study. My [sem. studies?], have, of course given me some stock but, so far as detailed scientific knowledge is concerned I have but a slim stock, and have made but small additions in the [?] these years. I feel convinced that the [?] why it gets the ear of the people of the N. W. is by means of their interest in [?], so I think it imperative that that I should make some arrangement for making my learning in that regard before I try to do the main big work of my life. To begin at White Salmon, to gradually improve myself, to [?] reputation as a sound [?] thinker, to thus open he pulpits of almost all the churches in the N. W. to myself, and to have a wide [?] of influence, this is ambitious enough for any one. [?] all the [?] that comes from [?] for such success among men, added to the motive that every leader must have, to do as much good as he can, to do his best even in a small place, if all this is not enough to rouse my ambition, the driving bustling [cares] of a city church never would. You have shown me very clearly what the danger would be in a small place, to settle down and not exert myself. But if I do not have the [?] energy to exert myself with the [plan?] above sketched in view, I certainly do not have enough to try to conduct a large church. I must depend upon myself for force if I am to succeed either in a large or small place. I think the habit of relying upon others for steam is the most demoralizing of anything. I could let myself become queer and odd and silent and lazy at W. S. but if I had that in me to allow this, I should probably do the same at Albany, and [?] out of my place. It is more of a motive to do my best in order to be the chief even in a little place, than to do my best so as to be fourth or fifth in a big place. I can succeed best where all admire me, than where I am in a position in which I seem to be striving after admiration. I am self-conscious in the latter case; not in the first.

I say all this as if I were expecting to be able to go to Portland, if I wanted it. I think more than likely I could not get a better place than W. S. if I should try. I am inexperienced and have various things against me. But even if I could go to Albany, I think that my [?] way to succeed would be to pursue the plan I speak of.

I honestly think that a great deal of good could be done by [?], but I think the W. S. plan preferable.

I guess you think I have fallen into a more morbid state of mind than I have. I am not [especially?][shattered?], and these plans are not. The result of despairing feelings, under the stress of [?] I have tried to invent a [respectable?] method of crawling off to die. It would be very natural of you to think so and I cannot express how much I value your sympathy which seeks to prop me up on the weak side. It may be that I am wrong in thinking that I could do the best beginning somewhat little, but I don’t believe it.

[?], a-[?],

Good bye,

H.S. Ly.