Source: The Story of My Life, by Clarence Darrow, from a facsimile of the 1932
edition published by Charles Scribner's Sons, New York/London, as produced in 1988 by The Legal Classics Library,
Division of Gryphon Editions, Inc., Birmingham, Alabama.
Life cannot be reconciled with the idea that back of the universe is a Supreme Being, all merciful and kind, and that he
takes any account of the human beings and other forms of life that exist upon the earth. Whichever way man may look
upon the earth, he is oppressed with the suffering incident to life. It would almost seem as though the earth had been created
with malignity and hatred. If we look at what we are pleased to call the lower animals, we behold a universal carnage.
We speak of the seemingly peaceful woods, but we need only look beneath the surface to be horrified by the misery
of that underworld. Hidden in the grass and watching for its prey is the crawling snake which swiftly darts upon the toad or mouse
and gradually swallows it alive; the hapless animal is crushed by the jaws and covered with slime, to be slowly digested
in furnishing a meal. The snake knows nothing about sin or pain inflicted upon another; he automatically grabs insects and mice and
frogs to preserve his life. The spider carefully weaves his web to catch the unwary fly, winds him into the fatal net
until paralyzed and helpless, then drinks his blood and leaves him an empty shell. The hawk swoops down and snatches a chicken
and carries it to its nest to feed its young. The wolf pounces on the lamb and tears it to shreds. The cat watches at the hole
of the mouse until the mouse cautiously comes out, then with seeming fiendish glee he plays with it until tired of the game, then
crushes it to death in his jaws. The beasts of the jungle roam by day and night to find their prey; the lion is endowed with
strength of limb and fang to destroy and devour almost any animal that it can surprise or overtake. There is no place in the woods
or air or sea where all life is not a carnage of death in terror and agony. Each animal is a hunter, and in turn is hunted, by
day and night. No landscape is beautiful or day so balmy but the cry of suffering and sacrifice rends the air. When night settles
down over the earth the slaughter is not abated. Some creatures are best at night, and the outcry of the dying and terrified
is always on the wind. Almost all animals meet death by violence and through the most agonizing pain. With the whole animal
creation there is nothing like a peaceful death. Nowhere in nature is there the slightest evidence of kindness, of consideration,
or a feeling for the suffering and the weak, except in the narrow circle of brief family life.
Man furnishes no exception to the rule. He seems to add the treachery and deceit that the other animals in the main do not
practice, to all the other cruelties that move his life. ...
...
Nowhere in the universe is there evidence of charity, of kindness, of mercy toward beasts or amongst them, and still less consideration
amongst men. Man is only a part of nature, and his conduct is not substantially different from that of all animal life. But for man
himself there is little joy. Every child that is born upon the earth arrives through the agony of the mother. From childhood on,
the life is full of pain and disappointment and sorrow. From beginning to end it is the prey of disease and misery; not a child is born that
is not subject to disease. Parents, family, friends, and acquaintances, one after another die, and leave us bereft. The noble and the
ignoble life meets the same fate. Nature knows nothing about right and wrong, good and evil, pleasure and pain; she simply acts.
She creates a beautiful woman, and places a cancer on her cheek. She may create an idealist, and kill him with a germ. She creates a fine
mind, and then burdens it with a deformed body. And she will create a fine body, apparently for no use whatsoever. She may
destroy the most wonderful life when its work has just commenced. She may scatter tubercular germs broadcast throughout the
world. She seemingly works with no method, plan or purpose. She knows no mercy nor goodness. Nothing is so cruel and abandoned
as Nature. To call her tender or charitable is a travesty upon words and a stultification of intellect. No one can suggest
these obvious facts without being told that he is not competent to judge Nature and the God behind Nature. If we must not judge
God as evil, then we cannot judge God as good. In all the other affairs of life, man never hesitates to classify and judge, but when
it comes to passing on life, and the responsibility of life, he is told that it must be good, although the opinion beggars reason
and intelligence and is a denial of both.
Emotionally, I shall no doubt act as others do to the last moment of my existence. With my last breath I shall probably try to draw
another, but, intellectually, I am satisfied that life is a serious burden, which no thinking, humane person would wantonly inflict on some
one else. The strange part of the professional optimist's creed lies in his assertion that if there is no future life then this experience
is a martyrdom and a hideous sham.
Pages 392 - 395.
See a good source on Darrow.
END
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