v^^^ N ;■; V . 
 
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CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
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Cornell University 
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 the Cornell University Library. 
 
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PANTHEISM 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 ■yv^-^- 
 
LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARK 
 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET 
 
GENERAL SKETCH 
 
 HISTORY OF PANTHEISM 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 From the EARLIEST TIMES to the AGE OF SPINOZA 
 
 C. E. PLUMPTRE 
 
 ' And what if all of animated nature 
 Be but organic harps diversely framed 
 That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweep 
 Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze 
 At once the soul of each and God of all ? '—Coleridge 
 
 LONDON 
 TRUBNER AND CO., LUDGATE HJLL 
 
 [A II rights reserved) 
 
 V 
 

 CORNELt^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^Tyl^ 
 
NOTICE 
 
 The firstf^BLme of the following work appeared 
 anonymq^^^fcn the early part of 1878; the 
 second, t(SHis the close of 1879; both under 
 circumstances which render their present Re-issue 
 with the Author s name, by fcie firm of Messrs. 
 Trubner & Co., almost equivljfent to a first publi- 
 cation. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introductory Chapter i 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST, 
 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. The Vedas 29 
 
 IT Brahminism . . 53 
 
 in. Digression on Various Hindu Philosophies with 
 
 ESPECIAL Reference to the Schism of Buddha 84 
 
 IV. The Vedanta Philosophy . . .... 102 
 
 V. The Bhagavad-Gita ... ... no 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND 
 
 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 I. The Ionian- School 125 
 
 II. Pythagoras . ...... 161 
 
 III. The Eleatics 186 
 
 IV. The Neo-Platonists ...... 220 
 
Vm CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK THE THIRD, 
 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. Digression on the Paganisation of Christianity, 
 
 AND Consequent Decay of Pantheism . . . 259 
 
 II. Digression continued— Kv%y. of Scholasticism . . 285 
 
 III. Servetus . . . 313 
 
 IV. Giordano Bruno 348 
 
 V. LuciLio Vanini . , . 367 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
For I have learned 
 To look on Nature ; not as in the hour 
 Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes 
 The still sad music of humanity, 
 Nor harsh, nor grating, though of ample power 
 To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 
 A Presence that disturbs rae with the joy 
 Ctf elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
 Of something far more deeply interfused, 
 Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
 And the round ocean, and the living air, 
 And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
 A motion and a spirit, that impels 
 All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
 And rolls through all things. — Wordsworth 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER, 
 
 It is possible there may be some objections raised as to 
 the title of this work. It may be said, and with some jus- 
 tice, that under the general name of Pantheism I have 
 classed together religions widely differing from each other, 
 in each of which religions there would be found but an 
 occasional disciple admitting of there being any similarity 
 between his religion and the religion of Pantheism. It 
 may be said I have erred in representing the first crude 
 speculations of Thales and Anaximenes as crude commence- 
 ments of Pantheism ; that they would have been more fitly 
 entitled the first beginnings of philosophy. And still 
 further, it- may be objected that the word Pantheism, or 
 abstract worship of Nature, must surely be a misnomer for 
 religions which are pervaded with personifications of gods 
 and incarnations of deities, as are the majority of the 
 Oriental religions. 
 
 That these objections may very fairly be made I admit. 
 Yet it must be remembered that the license to treat a sub- 
 ject in whatsoever way he may choose is the privilege of 
 every author ; and that it is seldom it falls to the lot of 
 any subject to be treated in one and the same manner by 
 a variety of writers. In all religions and philosophies there 
 are, so to speak, two sects, one of which is less rigid than 
 the other. The Pharisees have their school of Hillel and 
 their school of Shammai. The Christians have their 
 Catholics and Protestants ; the Catholics their Jesuits 
 and Jansenists; and the Protestants their orthodox and 
 
4 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER, 
 
 dissent. And so with the subject of this work. I have 
 ventured to treat of two schools of thought, closely allied 
 one with the other, under the one name of Pantheism. 
 
 The first school is that which believes God and Nature 
 to be one and the same thing ; which thinks He is at once 
 the Maker and the Material ; which, in the words of the 
 Vedas, pictures him to be at the same time both the Potter 
 and the Clay. This is Pantheism proper. It is Pantheism 
 in its truest and most comprehensive form, and against 
 which no objection to my treatment of the name can be 
 raised. 
 
 The other school of which I shall treat is not Pantheism 
 proper. Yet I think it may be justly called a phase of 
 Pantheism. It is that school which refuses to give an 
 opinion upon the nature of God, whether He be Creator 
 alone or whether He be Creator and Creation in one. But 
 it so far resembles Pantheism proper in that it believes a 
 true knowledge of Nature to be in reality a true knowledge 
 of God. If, on the one hand, God be both Creator and 
 Creation ; if, that is to say, the various phases of nature be 
 but various phenomena having for their noumenon God, 
 then an intimate acquaintance with the various beauties 
 and marvels of Nature implies an intimate acquaintance 
 with the various perfections of God. If, on the other hand, 
 God be Creator alone and Nature but His handiwork, the 
 school still believes the only way of attaining a knowledge 
 and adoration of God is by a reverent investigation of His 
 works. 
 
 Pantheism as depicted by both these schools has ever 
 refused even in its crudest forms to make idols of wood 
 and of stone, still less idols of books and traditions. It 
 believes the only revelation God has made of himself is 
 through His works ; and if man would attain a knowledge 
 of God, he can only attain it through a knowledge of those 
 Avorks. 
 
 This is Pantheism, and the subject of this work is a 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 5 
 
 history of the various phases through which Pantheism has 
 passed. 
 
 We perceive, then, that the distinguishing mark of Pan- 
 theism is that even in its crudest forms it never personifies 
 its God or the objects of nature. The early Greek philo- 
 sophers were crude enough in believing that air, water, or 
 fire were the first principles ; yet it was an immense step 
 gained that they should depersonify those elements instead 
 of worshipping them under the names of Zeus, Poseidon and 
 Hades. 
 
 If it be objected that I have called religions Pantheistic 
 which are overlain with idolatries, incarnations, and legends, 
 the answer is, those idolatries, incarnations, and legends 
 have been an abuse and an aftergrowth, and are not of the 
 same nature as the religion in its first and purest form. 
 We do not judge of the use by the abuse ; and in like 
 manner we must not refuse to call a religion Pantheistic, 
 because in long course of years it became paganised, 
 occupying itself with worship of symbols, inventions of 
 trinities, angels, and marvels^ and became essentially and 
 wholly anti-Pantheistic. 
 
 In writing a history af Monotheism we should naturally 
 and rightly count the Jews amongst those who are Mono- 
 theists. Yet there were times when the Jews could fall 
 down and worship the golden calf; when they became 
 idolaters ; when they ceased to be Monotheists. And so 
 with Vedaism and other religions I have classed as Pan- 
 theistic. The ritual and ceremonies of these religions are 
 strongly pervaded with idol worship, with trinities, with 
 polytheism. Yet I believe I am right in judging that these 
 religions were in their first and purest form essentially 
 Pantheistic- But Pantheism is strictly a religion for the 
 few, not for the many. The great mass of the people are 
 as little capable of Pantheism as they are of Monotheism. 
 They are not capable of lofty abstractions, but must have 
 recourse to forms and ceremonies, to images and pictures. 
 
6 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 They feel that if they did not have some form they would 
 lose all spirit. They would become unthinking, indifferent, 
 gradually brutal, sinking into utter godlessness. Anything 
 better than that ! Any religion, however paganised, is 
 better than want of all religion. A man must have fallen 
 into the deepest abyss, into the lowest depth of degradation, 
 if he have lost all concern as to whence he has come, 
 whither he is going ; if he do not feel that of all things 
 important for him to know the most important is that 
 which teaches him his ' vital relations to this mysterious 
 universe,' what is his highest duty ; what acts he is to 
 perform, what to leave unperformed. The most pregnant 
 fact to discover in a man or in a nation is to discover in 
 what way he feels himself to be spiritually related to the 
 unseen world. If he find that without some form, some 
 ceremony, he incurs the risk of gradually losing all spirit, 
 all connection with what is beyond and above himself, then 
 let him indulge in some form and some ceremony ; and let 
 the ruler or statesman believe it his highest duty to provide 
 a form as simple and free from idol worship as may be. 
 Yet I believe that for such as are capable of lofty abstrac- 
 tions and of spiritualised ideals, the worship of Nature is a 
 higher and holier worship than is that of books and of 
 images. If in the lower minds a practice of form is needful 
 for the preservation of the spirit, in the higher minds their 
 spiritual relation to what is most holy and sublime runs the 
 risk of degradation, almost of blasphemy and parody, by 
 genuflexions, stated hours of prayer, and praises by rote. 
 
 The whole history of intellectual development is the 
 history of one founder after another arising, teaching a 
 pure and lofty religion, received by a few earnest disciples ; 
 handed down to the succeeding generation with the addi- 
 tion of a few rites and a few ceremonies ; handed down to 
 the next generation with the addition of more rites and of 
 more ceremonies ; handed down to the subsequent genera- 
 tions with the inventions of miracles and wonders, till it 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 7 
 
 becomes gradually so paganised, so debased, that the better 
 minds rise against it in utter indignation, believing the 
 religion itself must be foul that could tolerate such practices, 
 forgetful that the brightest nugget is oftenest most immersed 
 in clay. The religion dies away, its founder is forgotten 
 or becomes a byeword among men. Another teacher 
 arises ; another religion is founded, equally pure and 
 sublime as the former, to sink gradually through perversion 
 and paganisation into the same forgetfulness or into the 
 same condemnation. The teacher and the ceremonial die 
 away. Yet Pantheism, like Monotheism, never dies. It 
 appears incongruously, in different quarters of the globe, 
 in widely intervening centuries, in the minds and hearts of 
 men totally differing one from the other. 
 
 Pantheism has one inestimable advantage over all other 
 religions, however sublime they may be : it is never in 
 antagonism to science. As much as science enlarges its 
 boundaries, so much exactly does Pantheism increase in 
 loftiness. What a vast step, what an immense interval 
 between the conceptions of the first Pantheist and the 
 conceptions of a Newton ! In the former case men believed 
 this small globe of ours to be a wide-spread plain, chiefest 
 in the universe, the moon and stars bright candles to give 
 man light by night ; the sun a more brilliant candle to 
 lighten him by day ; these stars, these planets, this sun, 
 this earth, all raiments and garments of the invisible God ! 
 A beautiful thought truly, and in its nature essentially 
 religious. Yet how much more beautiful, how infinitely 
 more religious, when the thought enlarged, expanded, and 
 gradually grew into a knowledge that this so-wonderful 
 earth was but a small planet whirling with other planets of 
 various size round one central sun ; that the moon was a 
 satellite whirling round our planet, and that many of these 
 other planets had several moons whirling in attendance 
 upon them ! Surely man's conceptions of his God must 
 be more adoring, more reverent than before he knew of 
 
8 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 these things. Whether God be creator of all these, or 
 whether they are the visible shadows of which God be the 
 reality, it matters little. Science is the book which teaches 
 him about his God. Now that man's knowledge of nature 
 has increased, his reverence for God must be in the same 
 ratio increased. Yet this knowledge of the solar system 
 was but infinitesimal to the knowledge that was presently 
 to be his. He was soon to learn that this sun, with its 
 attendant planets, was but one amongst an incalculable 
 number of suns ; that each of the fixed stars was a sun, 
 with probably an attendant number of planets ; that the 
 faint, indistinct, cloud-like appearance we term nebula is 
 in reality a cluster of these wonderful suns ; that many 
 nebula are constantly being discovered, as there are many 
 stars. Yet all that has been already discovered is as 
 nothing to what we have yet to discover, until our brains 
 whirl and our hearts faint at the immensity of the universe, 
 and we say with him of old, 'Such knowledge is too 
 wonderful and excellent for me, I cannot attain unto it' 
 
 ' This green, flowery, rock-built earth,' says Carlyle, 
 ' the trees, the mountains, rivers, many-sounding seas ; — 
 that great deep sea of azure that swims overhead, the winds 
 sweeping through it ; the black cloud fashioning itself 
 together, now pouring out fire, now hail and rain ; what is 
 it } Ay, what 1 At bottom we do not yet know ; we can 
 never know at all. It is not by our superior insight that 
 we escape the difficulty ; it is by our superior levity, our 
 inattention, our want of insight. It is by not thinking 
 that we cease to wonder at it Hardened round us, 
 encasing wholly every notion we form, is a wrappage of 
 traditions, hearsays, mere words. We call that fire of the 
 black thunder-cloud "electricity," and lecture learnedly 
 about it, and grind the like out of glass and silk ; but what 
 is it .'* What made it } Whence comes it ? Whither goes 
 it .-* Science has done much for us ; but it is a poor science 
 that would hide from us the great deep sacred infinitude 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 9 
 
 of Nescience, whither ,we can never penetrate, on which 
 all science swims as a mere superficial film. This world, 
 after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle, wonder- 
 ful, inscrutable, magical, and more, to whosoever will think 
 of it. 
 
 * The great mystery of Time were then no other ; the 
 illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time ; rolling, 
 rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean tide, 
 on which we and all the universe swim like exhalations ; 
 like apparitions which are^ and then are not : this is for- 
 ever very literally a miracle ; a thing to strike us dumb,^ 
 for we have no word to speak about it. This universe, 
 ah me ! — what could the wild man know of it ; what can 
 we yet know .'* That it is a Force and thousandfold 
 complexity of forces ; a force which is not we. That is all ; 
 it is not we, it is altogether different from tts. Force, force, 
 everywhere force ; we ourselves a mysterious force in the 
 centre of that. " There is not a leaf rotting in the highway 
 but has force in it : how else could it rot } " Nay^ surely 
 to the atheistic thinker, if such a one were possible, it must 
 be a miracle too, this huge illimitable whirlwind of force 
 which envelops us here ; never resting whirlwind, high as 
 immensity, old as eternity. What is it .'* God's creation, 
 the religious people answer ; it is the Almighty God's I 
 Atheistic science babbles poorly of it, with scientific 
 nomenclatures, experiments and what not, as if it were a 
 poor dead thing to be bottled up in Leyden jars, and sold 
 over counters ; but the natural sense of man, in all times, 
 if he will honestly apply his sense, proclaims it to be a 
 living thing, — ah, an unspeakable god-like thing, towards 
 which the best attitude for us, after never so much science, 
 is awe, devout prostration and humility of soul ; worship, 
 if not in words, then in silence.' 
 
 Carlyle is not the only living great writer from whose 
 works we could quote passages pervaded with Pantheism. 
 
 It is sometimes said that there are few men who pass 
 
TO INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 through life without having been conscious of some 
 moments of Pessimism creeping over them. There are 
 few men also, I beHevCj at all events of those who are most 
 thoughtful, who have not occasionally had their moments 
 of Pantheism : when they have felt that of all religions the 
 religion of Pantheism is the most noble and the most 
 elevated. 
 
 On a summer's evening, when soft white fleecy clouds 
 are gradually becoming tinged with the rays of the setting 
 sun, when a portion of the firmament seems decked with a 
 halo of roseate and golden glory, which lessening and 
 lessening as the sun goes down gradually fades away ; the 
 pale young moon, hitherto rendered almost imperceptible 
 by the greater glory of the sun, now seems to take courage 
 and shows herself in her calm silvery beauty. Her image 
 is reflected inthe clear lake beneath our feet. Her move- 
 ments appear slow ; so slow, indeed, that we fail to perceive 
 them. Yet little more than an hour we have watched her, 
 when she too sinks and goes from our sight as the sun had 
 gone before her. The evening star appears. Night comes 
 on. One star after another of varied size and brightness 
 gradually appears until the firmament seems gemmed with 
 myriads of exquisite orbs. Some of these, too, are reflected 
 in the lake beneath us. So clear is the lake, so wonder- 
 fully real the reflection, that we are almost tempted to ask 
 ourselves which is the original, which is the image. What 
 matters it ? Do we not know that neither the original nor 
 the image have the faintest resemblance to the reality? 
 What is there in yon tiny point of light that resembles 
 Jupiter — in bulk more than fourteen hundred times larger 
 than our earth ? What in that other point of light to tell 
 us of Saturn and his rings ? Or, to take a broader flight, 
 what is there in that faint indistinct haze, nicknamed by 
 us the Milky Way, to tell us of the glorious suns, and 
 almost incalculable number of suns, of which our own sun 
 is in all probability but a weak and insignificant member ? 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. I I 
 
 Nay, this very earth upon which we are standing, this 
 huge flat immovable plain, what is it in reahty ? A round 
 globe — whirling with such rapidity, the astronomers tell us, 
 that it travels at the rate of nineteen miles in one second 
 of time. Ah me ! During the hours we have been watching 
 the heavens in rapt meditation this earth has been so 
 busily travelling and travelling that it would require an 
 adept in arithmetic to tell us how far she has gone. To 
 travel nineteen miles in one second of time, and yet for us 
 to be unconscious of it ! As far as our sensations go, it 
 would have been all one if she had not budged one inch. 
 What does it all mean ? we ask ourselves half-sadly. Why 
 should everything appear to us so utterly unlike the reality ? 
 Nay, is there a reality after all ? We look again up to 
 that vast firmament, with its innumerable stars, and nebulae, 
 and planets. We remember what a small portion of that 
 great expanse we can perceive from where we are standing. 
 We try to picture to ourselves somewhat of what astronomy 
 teaches — how from this star the light we see left its habi- 
 tation three and a half years since, how from that star 
 ten years since, how from another a hundred and twenty 
 years ago ; how, according to Mr. Hind, there are some 
 stars so far-distant from our earth that it must take 
 hundreds and in some cases even thousands of years 
 before their light can reach us. A feeling of awe, of 
 bewilderment, almost of reverent worship is creeping over 
 us. T/ie stars are teaching us. They have neither speech 
 nor language, yet their voices are heard amongst them. 
 Sublime voices ! teaching us that beneath all these pheno- 
 mena there is a noumenon, beneath all these appearances 
 there is a reality. And the name of that Reality is God. 
 
 The summer's night is very short, and in the absorption 
 of our thought we have forgotten how the time has sped. 
 We are only reminded of it by that faint streak of light 
 arising in the east. The sun is gradually returning. The 
 stars are slowly fading. Morning breaks, arousing the 
 
I 2 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 birds to sing their matitutinal hymn of praise. We look 
 back to the last six or eight hours and think of the won- 
 derful changes through which the firmament has passed : 
 the glory of the setting sun ; the pale young moon and 
 evening star in quiet possession of the heavens ; the dark 
 sky gemmed and studded with myriads of exquisite orbs ; 
 the gradual return of day and peaceful deep-blue ocean 
 form the firmament presents. Do all these varied changes 
 represent the unchangeable God ? Yes ; in our moments 
 of Pantheism we feel they are all visible shadows of the 
 invisible God. 
 
 Is man alone, then, to be debarred from the pervading 
 presence of God ? What can there be god-like in him ? 
 The works of nature are so wonderful and solemn and 
 sublime that it is easy for us to believe they are emanations 
 from the great God of all. We can comprehend without 
 difficulty that God and the works of nature may be one 
 and the same thing. But what is there god-like in this 
 weak impotent creature called Man ? At the mercy of the 
 winds and tides and weather, the prey of famines and 
 plagues and disasters, with his senses so feeble and impo- 
 tent, so inferior in acuteness and accuracy to the majority 
 of other animals lower than himself, that in his moments of 
 Pessimism he is wont to think they were only given him to 
 deceive him, to teach him how and what things are no^, 
 instead of how and what they a7^e. The sun, indeed, may 
 be a fit emblem of God. But turn from the sun to man, 
 and think how little there is of God in him. Poor finite 
 man ! to whose weak sense this so-wonderful sun appears 
 a small round globe, little more than a foot in diameter. 
 He cannot even look at it for long, for the brilliancy of its 
 rays bring tears to his weakly eyes and obscure their 
 vision. 
 
 Well, yes ! Man indeed is incapable of a protracted 
 gaze at the sun. Yet has he contrived to measure its 
 exact distance from the earth, and has discovered it to be 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. I 3 
 
 more than ninety-three millions of miles away from it. He 
 has weighed the sun, and has found it to contain more 
 than four hundred millions of millions of cubic miles. He 
 has investigated it, and has discovered the exact metals 
 it consumes. He can foretell every eclipse that will take 
 place, whether of sun or moon ; the return of each comet , 
 the transit of each planet. All this he has done, and much 
 more. He has searched out the wonders of the heavens 
 and the earth and the ocean. He bows down in awe 
 before them all. And yet he owns, half in abasement at 
 his own temerity, that more wonderful, more inscrutable 
 than them all is the mind of man. 
 
 Ah, yes ! The works of nature are miraculous and 
 magical ; but most miraculous and most magical is that 
 strangely wonderful, immaterial, invisible thing called 
 mind. Look, too, at man in his moments of heroism. 
 Regard him and wonder at his valour and courage, his 
 rectitude and endurance. Is there not something truly 
 god-like about him, then } Have we not all, each and 
 every one of us, felt that there is a divinity within us giving 
 us thoughts and impelling us to deeds so great that we 
 feel we are not the authors of them ourselves ? Are we not 
 at times conscious that we are rays emanating from the 
 Creator, to be re-absorbed in Him hereafter } 
 
 ' The doctrine of emanation,' says Dr. Draper,* ' has a 
 double interpretation. It sets forth the universe, either as 
 a part of the substance of God, or as an insubstantial 
 something proceeding from Him : the former a conception 
 more tangible and readily grasped by the mind ; the latter 
 of unapproachable sublimity, when we recall the countless 
 beautiful and majestic forms which nature on all sides 
 presents. This^visible wo rld is only the shadownf Q p^ 
 In the furtlier" consideration of this doctrine of the issue 
 forthcoming, or emanation of the universe, an illustration 
 
 ^ 'Intellectual Development of Europe,' by Draper, vol. i. p. 226, 
 
14 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 may not be without value. Out of the air which may be 
 pure and tranquil the watery vapour often comes forth in 
 a visible form, a misty fleece, perhaps no larger than the 
 hand of a man at first, but a great cloud in the end. The 
 external appearance the forthcoming form presents is 
 determined by the incidents of the times ; it may have a 
 pure whiteness or a threatening blackness ; its edges may 
 be fringed with gold. In the bosom of such a cloud the 
 lightning may be pent up, from it the thunder may be 
 heard ; but even if it should not offer these manifestations 
 of power, if its disappearance should be as tranquil as its 
 formation, it has not existed in vain. No cloud ever yet 
 formed on the sky without leaving an imperishable im- 
 pression on the earth, for while it yet existed there was 
 not a plant whose growth was not delayed, whose substance 
 was not lessened. And of such a cloud the production of 
 which we have watched how often has it happened to us 
 to witness its melting away into the untroubled air ? From 
 the untroubled air it came, and to the pure untroubled air 
 it will return. Now, such a cloud is made up of countless 
 myriads of microscopic drops, each maintaining itself 
 separate from the others and each, small though it may be, 
 having an individuality of its own. The grand aggregate 
 may vary its colour and shape ; it may be the scene of 
 unceasing and rapid interior movements of many kinds, 
 yet it presents its aspect unchanged, or changes tranquilly 
 and silently, still glowing in the light that falls on it, still 
 casting its shadow on the ground. It is an emblem of the 
 universe according to the ancient doctrine, showing us how 
 the visible may issue from the invisible and return again 
 thereto ; that a drop too small for the unassisted eye to 
 see may be the representative of a world. The spontaneous 
 emergence and disappearance of a cloud is the emblem of 
 a transitory universe issuing forth and disappearing again, 
 to be succeeded by other universes, other like creations in 
 the long lapse of time. 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. I 5 
 
 ' From the material quality assigned to the soul by the 
 early Ionian schools, as that it was air, fire, or the like, 
 there was a gradual passage to the opinion of its im- 
 materiality. To this precision was given by the assertion 
 that it not only had an affinity with, but even is a part of 
 God. Whatever were the views entertained of the nature 
 and attributes of the Supreme Being, they directly in- 
 fluenced the conclusions arrived at respecting the nature of 
 the soul. Greek philosophy in its highest state of develop- 
 ment regarded the soul as something more than the sum 
 of the moments of thinking. It held it to be a portion of 
 the Deity himself This doctrine is the necessary corollary 
 of Pantheism. It contemplated a past eternity, a future 
 immortality. Viewing the soul as merely a spectator and 
 stranger in this world, they regarded it as occupying itself 
 rather in contemplation than in action, asserting that in its 
 origin it is an immediate emanation from the Divinity — 
 not a modification nor a transformation of the Supreme, 
 but a portion of Him. It is like a spark separated from 
 the flame : it migrates from body to body, sometimes 
 found in the higher, then in the lower, and again in the 
 higher tribes of life, occupying first one, then another, as 
 circumstances demand. And, as a drop of water pursues 
 a devious career in the cloud, in the rain, in the river, in 
 a part of a plant or part of an animal, but soon or later 
 inevitably finds its way back to the sea from which it 
 came, so the soul, however various its fortunes may have 
 been, sinks back at last into the Divinity from which it 
 emanated. 
 
 ' Both Greeks and Hindoos turned their attention to 
 the delusive phenomena of the world. Among the latter 
 many figuratively supposed that what we call visible nature 
 is a mere illusion befalling the soul, because of its temporary 
 separation from God. In the Buddhist philosophy the 
 world is thus held to be a creature of the imagination. 
 But among some in those ancient, as among others in more 
 
I 6 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 modern times, it was looked upon as having a more sub- 
 stantial condition, and the soul as a passive mirror in which 
 things reflected themselves, or perhaps it might to some 
 extent be the partial creator of its own forms. However 
 that may be, its final destiny is a perfect repose after its 
 absorption in the Supreme. On this topic of ancient 
 philosophy an illustration may not be without use. As a 
 bubble floats upon the sea, and, by reason of its form, 
 reflects whatever objects may be present, whether the 
 clouds in the sky or the stationary and moving things on 
 the shore, nay, even to a certain extent depicts the sea 
 itself on which it floats, and from which it arose, offering 
 these various forms not only in shapes resembling the 
 truth in the proper order of light and shade, the proper 
 perspective, the proper colours, but, in addition thereto, 
 tincturing them all with a play of hues arising from itself, 
 so it is with the soul. From a boundless and unfathomable 
 sea the bubble arose. It does not in any respect differ in 
 nature from its source. From water it came and mere 
 water it ever is. It gathers its qualities, so far as external 
 things are concerned, only from its form and from the 
 environment in which it is placed. As the circumstances 
 to which it is exposed vary, it floats here and there, 
 merging into other bubbles it meets, and emerging from 
 the collected foam again. In such migrations it is now 
 larger, now smaller ; at one moment passing into new 
 shapes, at another lost in a coalescence with those around 
 it. But whatever these its migrations, these its vicissitudes, 
 there awaits it an inevitable destiny, an absorption, a 
 re-incorporation with the ocean. In that final moment 
 what is it that is lost ? What is it that has come to an 
 end ? Not the essential substance, for water it was before 
 it was developed, water it was during its existence, and 
 water it still remains, ready to be re-expanded.' 
 
 The above passages from Dr. Draper will assist the 
 reader greatly in comprehending in what the ancient 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. I 7 
 
 doctrines of Pantheism and Emanation principally con- 
 sist. 
 
 If, then, the doctrine of Pantheism be not only so 
 elevating but so intelligible, the question naturally arises 
 why it has so few acknowledged disciples. For although, 
 as we shall presently show, the majority of Oriental reli- 
 gions and Greek philosophies are pervaded with Pantheism, 
 the pervading is, so to speak, an unconscious one. Reli- 
 gious men, for the most part, do not speak of themselves 
 as disciples of Pantheism in the same way that they de- 
 nominate themselves disciples of Brahminism or Judaism, 
 of Catholicism or Protestantism. In most of these religions 
 will be found passages which have a Pantheistic tendency. 
 But we have to seek for them ; they seldom make them- 
 selves disclosed to us unless we are on the look-out for 
 them. And it is more than probable that writers of 
 passages which are certainly Pantheistic in their tendency 
 would yet disclaim all sympathy with Pantheism as a 
 religion. Why should this be so .<* The more superficial 
 answer has already been given. Pantheism is too abstract 
 and severe a religion for the majority of men. It does not 
 satisfy their craving for personality, and leaves ungratified 
 their love of images and marvels, of ritual and ceremonial. 
 
 But there is another objection alleged against Pantheism, 
 graver and deeper In importance than the former — an ob- 
 jection which has as much weight with earnest men, or in- 
 deed more weight, than it has with those who are shallow 
 and unthinking. It is that the doctrine of Pantheism gives 
 no explanation of the Mystery of Evil, either in its origin 
 or its existence. Nay, to some extent the undoubted fact 
 of the existence of sin and misery would seem to prove a 
 startling contradiction of the truth of Pantheism. For how 
 can evil be pervaded by God ? If we have, as I believe we 
 have, the innate consciousness within us of the existence 
 of a God, we also have the innate consciousness of the 
 perfection of that God. A God who is not all-perfect, 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
I 8 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 omnipresent, and omniscient would seem almost like a 
 contradiction in terms. 
 
 God, then, must be good. Yet evil is an undoubted, 
 undeniable fact. We have seen how reasonable it is to 
 suppose that man is pervaded by God in his moments of 
 heroism and nobility. We have shown how comprehensible 
 and rational is the doctrine that would embody God and 
 the wonderful works of Nature as one and the same thing. 
 It is easy enough for us to believe a Christ and St. Paul, 
 a Newton and Spinoza, a Shakspere and Milton were in- 
 spired by the pervading spirit of God. But, alas ! there 
 is another side of the picture. Go to the byeways and 
 alleys of a great city. Look at that dissipated wretch 
 reeling from the gin-palace, with his drunken look of 
 sottish imbecility. He attempts vainly to find his way 
 homeward, but his eyes are blurred and his gait unsteady. 
 He endeavours with some remains of former courtesy to 
 ask some passer-by to guide his steps. But his voice re- 
 fuses to utter the words, and he sinks down in lassitude to 
 sleep off the effects of his drunken bout on the nearest 
 resting-place. Ah ! he is not utterly vile. He has known 
 better days. Drink does not make him brutal ; it only 
 makes him imbecile and degraded and unhappy. Poor 
 fool ! thy life is not an enviable one. It may be equally 
 divided into three port'ons : hours spent in drunkenness, 
 in sleep, and in remorse ! Drink has been a curse and ruin 
 to thee ! Was God, then, in that drink ? 
 
 But now from that same gin-palace issues a man so 
 foul and loathsome, so brutal and violent, that, compared 
 to him, the former drunkard seems quiet and refined and 
 human. For he owed his ruin solely to drink ; but with 
 this last, if there had been no such thing as drink in the 
 world, he would still have been cruel and ferocious, lawless 
 and wicked. Drink makes his vices still more vicious ; but 
 they would have been vicious enough without its aid. He 
 requires no additional stimulant to render him a plague 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 1 9 
 
 and a scourge, a thing to be shuddered at by all who come 
 near him. Look at him now, A hungry lean-featured 
 woman is near him asking for money to buy herself bread. 
 It is his wife — his wife whom he has left without necessary 
 food in order to procure himself drink. Does he heed her 
 pitiful complaints } .Yes, they enrage him. Ah ! he has 
 lifted the stick. Blow after blow falls upon her thin 
 shoulders. He is not stayed by her entreaties, by her 
 assurances that she will never more make clamour for her 
 bread. He goes on in his ruthless cruelty, till she can no 
 longer control her cries, and a crowd is collected. He is 
 taken away, to be locked up for the night, or to undergo 
 some trivial imprisonment, as the case may be. Either way 
 he will come out as ferocious as he went in. Does God 
 pervade a man like this ? 
 
 Or if it be said that such examples are not fair ones, 
 that these men have been debauched and ruined by drink, 
 and are no more responsible for their actions than lunatics ; 
 that drink is not an evil, in itself it is not only harmless, 
 but beneficial ; that ignorant men, seeing that a little of 
 this beneficial spirit was of so much value to them, went on 
 gradually increasing the quantity till they became maddened 
 and violent ; at all events utterly unable to free themselves 
 from its influence — if all this be alleged against our ex- 
 amples, let us take others where drunkenness has not the 
 slightest part in the promotion of evil ; where it is not the 
 physical strength which is so perverted, but the mental. 
 
 Let us turn to some of the larger prisons and see there 
 the swindler and forgerer, the poisoner and thief It is 
 neither drink nor ignorance that has made these men sin. 
 We have but to look at their brows to discover that they 
 are endowed with their full portion of sense. Do such men 
 form a small proportion of society ? Alas ! no. The cle- 
 verest and most successful sinners are those that are not 
 found out. The clever impostor who has deluded this 
 foolish woman of her money ; the swindler who has de- 
 
20 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 camped with the savings of that unhappy widow, will they 
 ever be discovered ? No. The women know they have 
 lost their money ; but there is not sufficient proof to bring 
 it home to any one individual. The swindlers have played 
 their game too well for that. Or, again, with the secret 
 crime of poisoning : how many apparently unaccountable 
 deaths might be traced to this one cause ; only that the 
 doer of the deed has done his work so well that there was 
 not even a suspicion of poison, still less of himself as 
 poisoner ? Or, again, of secret sins even more foul and 
 loathsome, sins which could scarcely be written in a decent 
 book, that rarely come to our ears, but when they do 
 come utterly startle us with the magnitude of their abomi- 
 nation. 
 
 Ah ! let us leave the subject. It is the knowledge of 
 such crimes that makes pessimists of men. Let us commune 
 instead with Nature, and enable our thoughts to become 
 holy and pure and calm once more. We will leave the 
 cities, with their feverish bustle and din and vice, and betake 
 ourselves to some quiet spot by the sea. The cool fresh 
 salt odour of the sea seems wafted to us even before we 
 are in sight of the sea itself. 
 
 As we walk down to the shore pessimism seems to be 
 gradually lifting itself off from us. We feel strangely re- 
 lieved ; not so much from the change of atmosphere, for 
 the day is hot and the air everywhere oppressive, as from 
 the exquisite sense of quietude and repose. There seems 
 no possibility of sin or misery here. Our only companions 
 on the shore are some young children playing with sand 
 and pebbles on the beach. A wonderful silence pervades 
 everything. There is scarcely a ripple on the sea ; and the 
 heavy solemn clouds in the far distance are all portents of 
 a coming storm. We turn to the children and tell them a 
 storm is brewing ; that it would be wiser for them to return 
 home. The little ones play on, too much absorbed in their 
 innocent game to heed advice. Ah ! the storm is coming 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 2 1 
 
 nearer. The far-distant, low, deep thunder had not power 
 to disturb the children. But now comes a sudden crash 
 which terrifies them, and they wildly rush to us for pro- 
 tection. But it is too late. One of them while in the act 
 of running has been struck with a vivid flash of lightning 
 and lies unconscious. We take her in our arms, and, fol- 
 lowing the direction of the other children, carry her to her 
 home. Will she recover } Yes, after a few hours con- 
 sciousness returns, but only for us to learn that she is 
 blinded for ever. She has saved her life, but has lost her 
 sight. Henceforth that fair young life, a moment since so 
 full of happiness and promise, must be spent in darkness 
 and gloom, all the more oppressive for having been pre- 
 viously acquainted with the blessing of vision. 
 
 We leave the house in utter sadness. Why should it 
 have happened thus ? we ask ourselves. Was God in that 
 lightning? Ah me ! pessimism is following us even here. 
 We know not what to think. In trying to flee from one 
 form of misery we have only come upon another. And in 
 our bitterness we are ready to cry out, * There is no God. 
 The whole world is given up to sin and misery and death. 
 The innocent sufler with the guilty, and righteousness is 
 not* 
 
 I suppose we have all known moments like these ; when 
 calamities fall thick upon us ; when the righteous perish 
 and no man layeth it to heart ; when the wicked prosper 
 and the guiltless are punished ; when we are impelled in 
 spite of ourselves to exclaim, * Can there be justice with 
 God .•* ' When we join issue with the questionings of Job 
 and remember that ' One dieth in his full strength, being 
 wholly at ease and quiet. His breasts are full of milk and 
 his bones are moistened with marrow. And another dieth 
 in the bitterness of his soul, and never eateth with pleasure. 
 They shall lie down alike in the dust, and the worms 
 shall cover them.' ^ Unlooked-for troubles surround us ; 
 
 ' Job xxi. 23-26. 
 
2 2 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 undeserved penalties overpower us, and we again cry out 
 with him of Uz, * When I looked for good then evil came 
 unto me, and when I waited for light there came darkness.' ^ 
 At such times have we not all of us felt a sad, dreary pes- 
 simism creeping over us, from which we endeavour to free 
 ourselves in vain ? 
 
 Well, I believe it is this feeling of pessimism, this con- 
 sciousness of so much sin and misery, this mystery of the 
 existence of evil, that prevents the majority of men from 
 becoming Pantheists, as it equally prevents them from be- 
 coming Monotheists. For, disguise it as they will, the 
 majority of men are not Monotheists. They seek for an 
 explanation of this strange mystery of evil, and as a solu- 
 tion call in the aid of a second god, an inferior and a bad 
 god. He is generally supposed to be created by that 
 other God, but is sufficiently independent of Him to be 
 perpetually thwarting his plans by his own evil doings. 
 Does such an explanation give any rational explanation of 
 evil ? It appears to me that all theological explanations 
 of the difficulty take away from the purity of Pantheism 
 and of Monotheism without (save with the exception, per- 
 haps, of the Persian dualism) in the least solving that 
 difficulty. As well believe with the Pantheists that God 
 pervades everything, whether good or evil ; or with the 
 Monotheists that God is the creator of everything, whether 
 good or evil, as with the majority of Christians who believe 
 that God certainly is not the creator of evil, but is only the 
 creator and preserver pf the author of evil. The explana- 
 tion is no explanation. It is utterly illogical, and leaves 
 the difficulty just where it was before. It appears to me 
 that the supposition of devils and evil spirits takes away 
 both from the purity of Monotheism and Pantheism, and 
 at the same time leaves the mystery of evil as dark a 
 mystery as ever. 
 
 Pantheism is generally found in greater purity in phi- 
 
 ' Job XXX. 26. 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 23 
 
 losophy than in religion, chiefly for the reason we have 
 already given. Religion must have an explanation of the 
 mystery of evil ; and if she cannot find a satisfactory solu- 
 tion she will content herself with an unsatisfactory one. 
 Philosophy, on the other hand, suffers no make-beliefs. 
 She acknowledges that evil is still a mystery to her, pro- 
 bably an unfathomable mystery ; but yet in some humble 
 undefined way she believes that all things will work to- 
 gether for good. She owns with one of her greatest poets : 
 
 All nature is but art unknown to thee ; 
 
 All chance, direction which thou canst not see ; 
 
 All discord, harmony not understood ; 
 
 All partial evil, universal good. 
 
 Although it is only in rare moments of optimism that 
 she is able to agree with the last two lines of that noble 
 passage : — 
 
 And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, 
 One thing is clear, whatever -is, is right. 
 
 Unfortunately she sees many things that are not right, that 
 can by no possible means be called right. Why such 
 things should be allowed she does not know, and therefore 
 will not pretend to say. She only feels that the greater 
 sum of human miseries comes from human ignorance ; 
 that it is as true now as it was of old, ' My people perish for 
 lack of knowledge ' ; and she teaches each man that his 
 highest duty is to gain knowledge for himself, so as to be 
 able to impart it to those about him. 
 
 And as we proceed to obey that mandate we find that 
 almost every misery can be traced to some transgression, 
 either conscious or unconscious, of the laws of nature ; that 
 almost all our sins come from some undue predominance 
 of one of two qualities which are nevertheless both es- 
 sential to our wellbeing ; but both of which require strict 
 regulation, for 
 
 Two principles in human nature reign : 
 Self-love to urge and reason to restrain. 
 
24 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call ; 
 Each works its end to move or govern all, 
 And to iht'ir pi'oper operation still 
 Ascribe all good : to their ;;;;proper ill. 
 
 And although of course It is not pretended that this ex- 
 planation wholly solves the mystery of evil, it is at least a 
 more satisfactory solution than the hypothesis of an evil 
 spirit created by God, and yet perpetually thwarting the 
 wishes and designs of God, as well as a more reverent 
 solution ; for it takes away from the purity neither of 
 Monotheism or of Pantheism. For it must be remembered 
 that though Monotheism is not always Pantheism, Pan- 
 theism is always the strictest Monotheism. In ancient and 
 somewhat metaphysical language it believes that the One 
 is the All and that the All is the One. In much more 
 modern language it teaches that 
 
 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 Whose body Nature is and God the soul. 
 
 Enough, however, has been said upon this subject ; perhaps, 
 indeed, overmuch. For our business as historian is not so 
 much to enter into the question of the merits or demerits 
 of Pantheism as it is to relate the various stages through 
 which Pantheism has passed in the proper order of their 
 occurrence. 
 
 Pantheism, then, in the generally accepted meaning of 
 the word, is the name given to that system of speculation 
 which in its spiritual form identifies the universe with God, 
 Its antiquity is undoubtedly great, for it is prevalent in the 
 oldest known civilisation of the world. The Hindu Pan- 
 theism is taught especially by the Vedas, which are religious 
 books ; by the Vedanta, which is a philosophy ; and by 
 the Bhagavadgita, which is a poem partly religious, partly 
 philosophic. Hindu Pantheism is purely spiritual in its 
 character ; matter and (finite) mind are both absorbed in 
 the fathomless abyss of illimitable and absolute being. 
 Greek Pantheism, though it doubtless originated in the 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTKR. 25 
 
 same way as that of India, is at once more varied and 
 more ratiocinative in its method of exposition. The most 
 decided and most spiritual representatives of this philosophy- 
 were the Eleatics, and the so-called * Alexandrian ' Neo- 
 Platonists, in whom we see clearly for the first time the 
 influence of the East upon Greek thought. The doctrines 
 of Emanation, of Ecstasy, expounded by Plotinus and 
 Proclus, no less than the fantastic Daemonism of lam- 
 blichus, point to Persia and India as their birthplace, and 
 in fact differ from the mystic teaching of the Vedanta only 
 by being divested of the peculiar mythological allusions in 
 which the philosophy is sometimes dressed up. 
 
 During the middle ages speculation was for the most 
 part held in with tight reins by the Church, and we con- 
 sequently hear little or nothing of Pantheism. Almost the 
 only philosopher who seems to have given any attention to 
 the subject was John Scotus Erigena, who was probably 
 led to it by his study of the Alexandrians ; but his specu- 
 lations do not seem to have been thought by him incom- 
 patible with the Christian faith. He is regarded as the 
 link between ancient and modern Pantheism. And we 
 find in him now a reflection of the East and of Greece, 
 and now a foreshadowing of the doctrines of Schelling and 
 Hegel. 
 
 The more modern Pantheism is chiefly represented by 
 Giordano Bruno and Benedict or Baruch Spinoza. Yet 
 Newton also deserves mention. He is so completely 
 known by his marvellous scientific discoveries that we are 
 apt to pass by him as a philosopher. Yet we must not 
 finish this introductory chapter of Pantheistic history 
 without quoting the following passage from the General 
 Scholium at the end of the third book of his Prmcipia : 
 'The Supreme God exists necessariiy, and by the same 
 necessity he exists always d.nd everywhere. Whence also 
 he is all-similar — all eye, all ear, all brain, all arm, all power 
 to perceive, to understand, and to act, but in a manner not 
 
26 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 at all human, not at all corporeal, in a manner utterly- 
 unknown to us. As a blind man has no idea of colours, so 
 have we no idea of the manner by which the all-wise God 
 perceives and understands all things. He is utterly void 
 of all body and bodily figure, and can therefore neither be 
 seen, nor touched, nor heard, nor ought to be worshipped 
 under the representation of any corporeal thing. We have 
 ideas of his attributes, but what the real substance of 
 anything is we know not' ^ 
 
 Such a passage appearing in any work of an accredited 
 believer in revelation, such as Newton, may perhaps create 
 some slight surprise. Yet it must be remembered that 
 many portions of the New Testament, as well as the ma- 
 jority of the more spiritual Psalms of David, are pervaded 
 with Pantheistic ideas, and Pantheistic interpretations both 
 of God and Nature. 
 
 ' Quoted by Draper in the ' Intellectual Development of Europe/ p. 121. 
 
BOOK THE FIRST 
 
 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM 
 
All-knowing ! — all unknown ! —and yet well-known ! 
 
 Near though remote ! and, though unfathomed, felt 
 
 And, though invisible, for ever seen I 
 
 And seen in all ! the great and the minute: 
 
 Each globe above, with its gigantic race, 
 
 Each flower, each leaf, with its small people swarmed 
 
 (Those puny vouchers of Omnipotence), 
 
 To the first thought that asks, * From whence ? ' declare 
 
 Their common source. Thou fountain, running o'er 
 
 In rivers of communicated joy ! 
 
 Who gav'st us speech for far, far humbler themes ! 
 
 Say, by what name shall I presume to call 
 
 Him I see burning in these countless suns, 
 
 As Moses in the bush? Illustrious Mind ! 
 
 The whole creation less, far less, to thee, 
 
 Than that to the creation's ample round. 
 
 How shall I name thee? — How my labouring soul 
 
 Heaves underneath the thought, too big for birth ! — YoUNG. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VEDAS. 
 
 It is in the oldest known literature of the world that we 
 first be-come acquainted with Pantheistic religion and 
 Pantheistic philosophy. It is in the Vedas that we find 
 for the first time not merely traces or indications of 
 Pantheism, but Pantheism itself in its full grov/th and 
 maturity. 
 
 The Vedas, or sacred books of the Brahmans, date so 
 far back in the annals of antiquity that it is not easy for 
 us to gain even a proximate knowledge of their real age. 
 The best authorities, however, seem to agree in thinking 
 the earliest Veda could not have been written much less 
 than four thousand years ago. ' Veda * means originally 
 knowing or knowledge, and this name is given by the 
 Brahmans not alone to one work, but to the whole body 
 of their most ancient sacred literature. The only real 
 Veda, however, is the Rig- Veda, but in general the name 
 is tHiderstood to comprise four collections of hymns which 
 are respectively known by the names of Rig- Veda, Yagur- 
 Veda, Sama-Veda, and Atharva-Veda. But according to 
 M. Max MuUer these three last Vedas are chiefly comprised 
 of extracts taken from the Rig- Veda, together with charms, 
 incantations, and sacrificial formulas ; but in reality they 
 deserve the name of Veda as little as the Talmud deserves 
 the name of Bible. We shall, therefore, confine ourselves 
 principally to the Rig-Veda. 
 
 This Rig-Veda is a collection of ten works^ and contains 
 
30 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 altogether 1,028 hymns. Orthodox Indian theologians 
 
 believe that each of these hymns was in some way the 
 
 work of the Deity ; not a single line is supposed by them 
 
 to be the work of human authors. Yet there is nothing in 
 
 the hymns themselves to warrant this belief. In many a 
 
 hymn the author says plainly that he or his friends made 
 
 it as a carpenter makes a chariot : that he made it to please 
 
 the gods. And again, another utters for the first time that 
 
 famous hymn the Gayatri, which now for nearly four 
 
 thousand 3'ears has been the daily prayer of every Brahman, 
 
 and is still repeated every morning by millions of pious 
 
 worshippers, ' Let us meditate on the adorable light of the 
 
 divine Creator : may he rouse our minds.' There is nothing 
 
 whatever in the Vedas themselves to show that they aspired 
 
 to be inspirations revealed from God himself. Such a 
 
 pretension is entirely the produce of a later age. In no 
 
 country has the theory of revelation been so minutely 
 
 elaborated as in India. But the theory is wholly the work 
 
 of an after-growth, so to speak, when the purity of the real 
 
 Veda was obscured by the sacerdotalism and ceremonial of 
 
 the Brahmanic priesthood. The views entertained of 
 
 revelation by the orthodox theologians of India are far 
 
 more minute and elaborate than those of the most extreme 
 
 advocates of verbal inspiration in Europe. The human 
 
 element called ' paurusheyatva ' in Sanscrit is driven out 
 
 of every corner or hiding-place ; and as the Veda is held to 
 
 have existed in the mind of the Deity before the beginning 
 
 of time, every allusion to historical events, of which there 
 
 are not a few, is explained away with a zeal and ingenuity 
 
 worthy of a better cause. The name for revelation in 
 
 Sanskrit is ' Sruti,' which means hearing, and this title 
 
 distinguishes the Vedic hymns, and at a later age the 
 
 Brahmanas also, from all other works which, however sacred 
 
 and authoritative to the Hindu mind, are admitted to have 
 
 been composed by human authors. The Laws of Manu, 
 
 for instance, according to the Brahmanic theology, are not 
 
THE, VEDAS. 3 I 
 
 Sruti, but only Smriti, which means recollection or tradition. 
 And if these laws or any other work of authority can be 
 proved in any point to be at variance with a single passage 
 of the Veda, their authority Is at once overruled. 
 
 The majority of religious nations have distinctions like 
 these. An obvious illustration in point is the distinction 
 we ourselves draw between the Bible and Apocr}^pha. But, 
 as we said before, there is nothing in the Vedas themselves 
 to show in any way that they purport to be written by a 
 divine author. The poets of the Vedas seem conscious, it 
 is true, of a divine influence ; in some passages they even 
 speak of their hymns as * god-given.' But the inspiration 
 they feel is only the inspiration we all feel when we aie 
 engaged in heartfelt prayer, or filled with praise and 
 thanksgiving for blessings given or bestowed. Nay, in 
 reading some of these beautiful Rig- Veda hymns, the first 
 literary product of nearly the earliest known civilisation of 
 the entire world, we are strongly reminded at times of the 
 more spiritual Psalms of David. It is natural, perhaps, we 
 should feel some deep interest in the religion of the Veda. 
 For although our religion owes its derivation to a Semitic 
 and not an Aryan origin, we ourselves originated from the. 
 Aryan stock. 
 
 According to Max Muller the writers of the Vedas 
 were the true ancestors of our race. We are by nature 
 Aryan, Indo-European, not Semitic ; our spiritual kith 
 and kin are to be found in India, Persia, Greece, Italy, 
 Germany ; not in Mesopotamia, Egypt, or Palestine. 
 Without a knowledge of the Veda we should not be able 
 to understand the reforms of Zoroaster, nor the teaching of 
 Buddha ; we should not know what was behind them, or 
 what forces impelled Zoroaster and Buddha to the founding 
 of new religions ; how much they received, how much they 
 destroyed, how much they created. The oldest, most 
 primitive, most simple form of Aryan faith finds its 
 expression in the Vedas. The Zend-Avesta, or sacred 
 
32 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 writings of the Parsees, represents in its language as well 
 as in its thoughts a branching off from that more primitive 
 stem ; a more or less conscious opposition to the worship 
 of the gods of nature as adored in the Veda, and a striving 
 after a more spiritual supreme moral deity, such as Zoroaster 
 proclaimed under the names of Ahura-Magda or Ormuzd. 
 Buddhism, lastly, marks a decided schism, a decided antago- 
 nism against the established religion of the Brahmans, a 
 denial of the Vedic gods, and a proclamation of new philo- 
 sophical and social doctrines. 
 
 We shall never be able to study and comprehend the 
 other religions of the Aryan race, if we do not first 
 thoroughly acquaint ourselves with the religion of the 
 Vedas. Indeed, it is doubtful whether the superior morality 
 of the religion of Zoroaster or the grand intellectual ability 
 displayed in the religion of Buddhism, are either of them 
 so deserving of what we commonly understand as religious 
 or communing with God, as is the religion of the Veda. 
 Zoroaster may set forth a higher moral ideal, Buddha may 
 display a higher intellectual ability, but the Hindu is per- 
 vaded by a sense of religious absorption utterly unknown 
 to these others. 
 
 The religion of the Vedas, be it remembered, knows of 
 no idols. The worship of idols in India is a secondary 
 formation, a later degradation of the more primitive worship 
 of ideal gods. We must also remember that the religion 
 of the Vedas is not polytheism in the ordinary sense of 
 the word. It is true that deities are invoked by different 
 names, such as Agni, fire ; Surya, sun ; Ushas, dawn, etc. ; 
 but whenever one of these individual gods is invoked it is 
 not conceived as limited by the powers of others, or as 
 superior or inferior in rank. Each god is to the mind of 
 the supplicant as good as all gods. He is felt at the time 
 as a real divinity, as supreme and absolute, without a sus- 
 picion of those limitations which to our mind a plurality 
 of gods must entail on every single god. This surely is 
 
THE VEDAS. 33 
 
 not what is understood generally by Polytheism. Still 
 less is it what the majority of people would denominate 
 Monotheism. It is the consciousness that all the deities 
 are but one and the same God, displaying Himself under 
 different forms ; that divinities and men and the entire 
 works of nature are but transient phenomena of which the 
 pervading principle, the one Reality, is God. 
 
 Max Miiller has called this feeling Kathenotheism. I 
 shall venture to give it the more generally comprehensible 
 term of Pantheism. It is that feeling which believes God 
 to be at the same time both the One and the All, the 
 Potter and the Clay, the Maker and the Material. It 
 depicts God as pervading the whole of nature, as dwelling 
 in the souls and tongues of men, as disclosing Himself 
 under the forms of various deities. One poet, for instance, 
 says, *They call him Indra, Mitra, Varuna, Agni ; then he 
 is the beautiful-winged heavenly Garutmat : that which is 
 One the wise call it in different manners ; they call it Agni, 
 Yama, Matarasvan.' And again, ' Wise poets make the 
 beautiful winged, though he is One, manifold by words.' 
 
 It would have been our wish to have traced the Hindu 
 religion from the first beginnings of its earliest infancy up 
 to its prime age of maturity ; from the crude period of 
 sorcery and fetichism up to the time when the religion 
 was pervaded with abstract Pantheistic ideas and abstract 
 Pantheistic interpretations ; and again, to have followed it 
 in its decline and old age, when the purity of the Vedas 
 became indoctrinated and adulterated with the Laws of 
 Manu ; when the spiritual form became obscured by the 
 ceremonial ; when the worship of God and Nature became 
 lost in the worship of priestcraft and superstition. We 
 should have desired to have thus traced it from its infancy 
 to its old age. But unfortunately wc are not able to do so. 
 The great antiquity of the Hindu nation renders it almost 
 impossible for us to be able to trace the Hindu religion 
 from its faintest and first beginnings. We know scarcely 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 anything of India prior to its stage of civilisation. All 
 nations seem compelled by a sort of natural law to pass 
 through a primary stage of fetichism and idolatry; there- 
 fore we may fairly conclude the Hindu nation formed no 
 exception to the rule ; but yet, though we may have strong 
 reasons for the formation ^of this hypothesis, we must 
 nevertheless recollect it is but an hypothesis. The earlier 
 stages of the comparative theology of India are now in- 
 accessible. At a time so remote as to be wholly pre- 
 historic the stage of sorcery must have been passed 
 through. 
 
 In the most ancient records remaining we find the 
 Hindu occupying himself with questions requiring a certain 
 amount of culture and intellect even so much as to conceive. 
 We find him, as Max Miiller says, ' left to himself to solve 
 the riddle of this world. We see him crawling on like a 
 creature of the earth, with all the desires and weaknesses 
 of his animal nature. Food, wealth, and power, a large 
 family, and a long life are the theme of his daily prayers. 
 But he begins to lift up his eyes. He stares at the tent of 
 heaven and asks who supports it .^ He opens his ears to 
 the wind and rain and asks them whence and whither ? 
 He is awakened from darkness and slumber by the light 
 of the sun, and him whom his eyes cannot behold, and 
 who seems to grant him the daily pittance of his existence, 
 he calls his life, his breath, his brilliant lord and protector. 
 He gives names to all the powers of nature ; and after he 
 has called the fire Agni, the sunlight Indra, the storms 
 Maruts, and the dawn Ushas, they all seem to grow naturally 
 into beings like himself, nay, greater than himself He 
 invokes them, he praises them, he worships them. But 
 still, with all these gods around him, beneath him, above 
 him, he yet seems ill at rest within himself. There, too, 
 in his own breast he has discovered a power that wants a 
 name ; a power nearer to him than all the gods of nature ; 
 a power that is never mute when he prays, never absent 
 
THE VEDAS. 35 
 
 when he fears or trembles. It seems to inspire his prayers 
 and yet to listen to them ; it seems to live in him and yet 
 to support him and all around him. 
 
 ' The only name he can find for this mysterious power is 
 Brahman, for Brahman meant originally force, will, wish, 
 and the propulsive power of creation. But this impersonal 
 Brahman, too, as soon as it is named, grows into something 
 strange and divine. It ends by being one of many gods, 
 one of the great triad worshipped to the present day. And 
 still the thought within him has no real name ; that power 
 which is nothing but itself, which supports the gods, the 
 heavens, and every living being floats before his mind, 
 conceived but not expressed. At last he calls it Atman ; 
 for atman, originally meaning breath or spirit, comes to 
 mean self and self alone ; self, whether divine or human ; 
 self, whether creating or suffering ; self, whether one or 
 all ; but always self, independent and free. " Who has 
 seen the first-born ? " says the poet, " when he who has no 
 bones (i.e. form) bore him that had bones ? Who went to 
 ask this from anyone that knew it ? " This idea of a 
 divine self once expressed, everything else must acknow- 
 ledge its supremacy. " Self is the lord of all things. Self 
 is the king of all things. As all the spokes of a wheel are 
 contained in the nave and the circumference, all things, are 
 contained in this self ; all selves are contained in this self ; 
 Brahman itself is but self." 
 
 ' This Atman also grew ; but it grew, as it were, without 
 attributes. The sun is called the Self of all that moves 
 and rests, and still more frequently self becomes a mere 
 pronoun. But Atman remained always free from myth 
 and worship, differing in this from the Brahman (neuter) 
 who has his temples in India even now, and is worshipped 
 as Brahman (masculine), together with Vishnu, and Siva, 
 and other popular gods. The idea of the Atman or Self, 
 like a pure crystal, was too transparent for poetry, and was 
 therefore handed over to philosophy, which afterwards 
 
36 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 polished and turned and watched it, as the medium through 
 which all is seen, and in which all is reflected and known.' * 
 Few nations have been so wholly devoted to contem- 
 plation and religious meditation as the Hindu. In reading 
 the history of other nations we find it to consist principally 
 in accounts of various kingdoms and dynasties, of wars and 
 battles, of victories and defeats. In a word, we become 
 acquainted with their actions. With the history of the 
 Hindu nation all this is reversed. We learn much of their 
 thoughts, very little indeed of their actions. Politics and 
 wars troubled them but very slightly. Why should they, 
 indeed ? Was not the duration of their life on earth a 
 mere drop in the illimitable ocean of eternity ? There 
 never was a nation believing so firmly in another world, 
 and so little concerned about this. As Max Miiller says, 
 * their condition on earth is to them a problem ; their real 
 and eternal life a simple fact.' They are absorbed in the 
 struggles of thought. Their past is the problem of creation, 
 their future the problem of existence. The only sphere in 
 which the Indian mind finds itself at liberty to act, to 
 create, and to worship is the sphere of religion and phi- 
 losophy ; and nowhere have religious and metaphysical 
 ideas taken root so deeply as in the mind of the Hindu 
 nation. The shape and form which these ideas have taken 
 among the different classes of society and at different 
 periods of civilisation naturally varies from gross super- 
 stition to the highest and most sublime spiritualism. But 
 taken as a whole, history supplies no second instance where 
 the inward life of the soul has so completely absorbed all 
 the other faculties of a people. 
 
 Nothing perhaps could give us a much clearer notion of 
 the antiquity of the Hindu nation than the fact of our 
 finding this capability of religious abstraction and devotion, 
 this absorption in the ravelling and unravelling of philo- 
 
 ' 'Chips from a German Workshop,' vol. i. pp. 69-70, 
 
THE VEDAS. 37 
 
 sophical and metaphysical problems, existing in a sacred 
 literature written nearly four thousand years ago. When 
 we think of the immense period of time required by a 
 nation just emerging from its first primitive stage of bar- 
 barism nearly akin to animalism before it can arrive at its 
 highest stage of maturity ; when, instead of savage bar- 
 barity and indulgence in animal lusts, we find the passions 
 restrained and kept under due control by the power of the 
 will ; when, instead of every endeavour of the mind being 
 concentrated on the gratification of bodily wants and 
 bodily desires, the soul becomes absorbed in the contem- 
 plation of' a future life ; when, instead of grovelling super- 
 stition and base fetichism, the intellect becomes capable 
 of abstract conceptions and spiritualised religious ideals ; 
 when, in short, we think of the immense periods of time 
 required by a nation before it can attain any degree of 
 civilisation, few things could give us a more explicit or 
 implicit notion of the antiquity of the Hindu nation than 
 a perusal of this Vedic literature. It may not be correct to 
 call the Hindu nation the oldest known civilisation of the 
 world, for I believe the antiquity of Egyptian civilisation is 
 even greater ; but in literary efforts the Hindu nation is 
 certainly the most ancient 
 
 The oldest known literature of the world is the Rig- 
 Veda. Yet in this same Veda, written nearly four thousand 
 years ago, may be found passages quite worthy of imitation 
 even now. Many of the hymns, it is true, are more or less 
 foolish ; some few perhaps superstitious. In every national 
 literature, at whatever stage of the world's history, there is 
 sure to be found a large proportion of chaff mixed up with 
 the wheat ; but there are also hymns of such rare beauty, 
 displaying so great a power of conception, and implying so 
 great a capability of abstraction, that we should find it 
 difficult even in the present day to exhibit any hymns 
 greatly superior to these. Thanks to the exertions of M. 
 Max Miiller, we are able to give one specimen of the Vedic 
 
38 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 poetry. It is the 129th hymn of the tenth book of the 
 Rig- Veda. It is a hymn which long ago attracted the 
 attention of the eminent scholar H. T. Colebrooke ; and 
 now M. Muller, aided, as he tells us, by the kind assistance 
 of a friend, has translated it, and thus rendered it available 
 for the perusal of that large class of English readers who, 
 less learned than himself, are ignorant of the Sanscrit 
 language ; and who, were it not for the industry of scholars, 
 would be in consequence forced to remain in ignorance of 
 the beauties of Sanscrit literature : — 
 
 Nor aught nor naught existed ; yon bright sky 
 
 Was not, nor heaven's broad woof outstretched above. 
 
 What covered all? what sheltered? what concealed? 
 
 Was it the water's fathomless abyss ? 
 
 There was not death —yet there was naught immortal ; 
 
 There was no confine betwixt day and night ; 
 
 The only One breathed breathless by itself. 
 
 Other than It then nothing since has been. 
 
 Darkness there was, and all at first was veiled 
 
 In gloom profound — an ocean without light — 
 
 The germ that still lay covered in the husk 
 
 Burst forth, one nature, from the fervent heat. 
 
 Then first came Love upon it, the new spring 
 
 Of mind — yea, poets in their hearts discerned, 
 
 Pondering, this bond between created things, 
 
 And uncreated. Comes this spark from earth 
 
 Piercing and all -pervading, or from heaven ? 
 
 Then seeds were sown, and mighty powers arose — 
 
 Nature below, and power and will above. 
 
 Who knows the secret ? Who proclaimed it here 
 
 A\hence, whence this manifold creation sprang ? 
 
 The Gods themselves came later into being. 
 
 ^^'ho knows from whence this great creation sprang ? 
 
 Pie from whom all this great creation came, 
 
 Whether His will created or was mute. 
 
 The Most High Seer that is in highest heaven. 
 
 He knows it— or perchance even He knows not.' 
 
 In Spite of the repeated and oft-recurring invocations of 
 various deities, few nations insist so strongly upon the 
 existence of only one God — one Universal Spirit pervading 
 
 ' 'Chips from a German Workshop,' vol. i. p. 79. 
 
THE VEDAS. 39 
 
 all things. ' There Is in truth but one deity, the Supreme 
 Spirit, the Soul of the universe, whose work Is the universe.' 
 Other deities may be addressed by various names ; but the 
 fact is never lost sight of that there is one Supreme Spirit 
 pervading the universe, pervading mankind, pervading even 
 the deities themselves. Thus one of the writers of the 
 Vedas says : ' The deities are only three, whose places are 
 the earth, the intermediate region, and heaven ; namely, 
 fire, air, and the sun. They are pronounced to be the 
 deities of the mysterious names respectively ; and (Prajdpati) 
 the lord of creatures, is the deity of them collectively. 
 The syllable Oni intends every deity. It belongs to (Para- 
 meshthi) him who dwells in the Supreme abode ; it ap- 
 pertains to (Brahma) the vast one ; to (Deva) God ; to 
 (Adhyitma) the superintending Soul. Other deities be- 
 longing to these several regions are portions of the three 
 Gods, for they are variously named and described, on 
 account of their different operations ; but in fact there is 
 only one deity, the Great Soul (Mahan Atma). He is 
 called the Sun, for he is the soul of all beings ; and that is 
 declared by the sage : 'The sun is the soul of what moves 
 and of that which is fixed.' Other deities are portions of 
 him, and that is expressly declared by the text. The wise 
 call it Indra, Mitra, Varuna, etc' 
 
 The entire universe is depicted in the Vedas as an 
 emanation from God and as a part of Him. Every created 
 thing is pervaded by His presence. In the Rig- Veda the 
 prevalent doctrine seems to be that God simply pervades 
 every created thing ; but in the Yajur-Veda the doctrine 
 seems to be implied that God actually assumes different 
 forms ; that every created thing is not merely pervaded by 
 God, but is actually a part of God. The history of the 
 creation as told severally in the Rig- Veda and Yajur-Veda 
 is so curious and interesting, besides setting forth very 
 clearly their pantheistic interpretations of God and the 
 universe, that we cannot do better than quote first the 
 
40 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 account given by the Rig- Veda and afterwards that given 
 by the Yajur-Veda. 
 
 That portion of the Rig-Veda which is devoted to the 
 history of the creation is called ' The Aiteraya Aranya.' ^ 
 
 Originally this universe was, indeed, SOUL only ; nothing 
 else whatever existed, active or inactive. HE thought, ' I 
 will create worlds.' Thus HE created these various worlds : 
 water, light, mortal beings, and the waters. That ' water ' 
 is the region above the heaven, which heaven upholds ; the 
 atmosphere comprises light ; the earth is mortal ; and the 
 regions below are the 'waters.' HE thought, 'These are 
 indeed worlds ; I will create guardians of worlds.' Thus 
 HE drew from the waters and framed an embodied being. 
 He viewed him ; and of that being so contemplated the 
 mouth opened as an egg ; from the mouth speech issued ; 
 from speech fire proceeded. The nostrils spread ; from 
 the nostrils breath passed ; from breath air was propagated. 
 The eyes opened ; from the eyes a glance sprang ; from 
 that glance the sun was produced. The ears dilated; from 
 the ears came hearkening, and from that the regions of 
 space. The skin expanded ; from the skin hair arose, 
 from that grew herbs and trees. The breast opened ; from 
 the breast mind issued, and from mind the moon. The 
 navel burst ; from the navel came deglutition, from that 
 death. The generative organ burst ; thence flowed pro- 
 ductive seed, whence waters drew their origin. 
 
 These deities being thus framed fell into this vast 
 ocean, and to HIM they came with thirst and hunger, and 
 HIM they thus addressed : 'Give us a smaller size, wherein 
 abiding we may eat food.' He offered to them the form of 
 a cow. They said, ' That is not sufficient for us.' He ex- 
 hibited to them the form of a horse. They said, * Neither 
 
 ^ In this account of the creation I have, both in the account given by the 
 Kig-Veda as well as that by Yajur-Veda, made use of the translation 
 given by the eminent scholar H. T. Colebrooke, which I have quoted almost 
 verbatim. 
 
THE VEDAS. 41 
 
 is that sufficient for us.' He showed them the human 
 form ; they exclaimed, 'Well done ! ah ! wonderful ! ' 
 Therefore man alone is pronounced to be well formed. 
 He bade them occupy their respective places. Fire, 
 becoming speech, entered the mouth. Air, becoming 
 breath, proceeded to the nostrils. The sun, becoming sight, 
 penetrated the eyes. Space became hearing, and occupied 
 the ears. Herbs and trees became hair, and filled the 
 skin. The moon, becoming mind, entered the breast. 
 Death, becoming deglutition, penetrated the navel ; and 
 water became productive seed, and occupied the generative 
 organ. 
 
 Hunger and thirst addressed Him, saying, ' Assign us 
 to our places.' He replied, ' You I distribute among these 
 deities, and I make you participant with them,' Therefore 
 is it that, to whatever deity an oblation is offered, hunger 
 and thirst participate with him. He reflected, ' These are 
 worlds, and regents of worlds ; for them I will frame food.' 
 He viewed the waters ; from waters so contemplated form 
 issued ; and food is form which was so produced. 
 
 Being thus framed, it turned away and sought to flee. 
 The primeval man endeavoured to seize it by speech, but 
 could not attain it by his voice : had he by voice taken it, 
 hunger would be satisfied by naming food. He attempted 
 to catch it by his breath, but could not inhale it by 
 breathing : had he by inhaling taken it, hunger would be 
 satisfied by smelling food. He sought to snatch it by a 
 glance, but could not surprise it by a look ; had he seized 
 it by the sight, hunger would be satisfied by seeing food. 
 He endeavoured to seize it by his skin, but could not 
 restrain it by his touch : had he seized it by contact, hunger 
 would be satisfied by touching food. He wished to reach 
 it by the mind, but could not attain it by thinking : had 
 he caught it by thought, hunger would be satisfied by 
 meditating on food. He wanted to seize it by the generative 
 organ, but could not so hold it : had he thus seized it, 
 
42 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 hunger would be satisfied by emission. Lastly, he en- 
 deavoured to catch it by deglutition, and thus he did 
 swallow it ; that air which is so drawn in seizes food, and 
 that very air is the bond of life. 
 
 HE, the Universal Soul, reflected, ' How can this body 
 exist without me ? HE considered by which extremity he 
 should penetrate. HE thought, ' If without me speech 
 discourse, breath inhale, and sight view ; if hearing hear, 
 skin feel, and mind meditate ; if deglutition swallow, and 
 the organ of generation perform its functions, then who 
 am I ? ' 
 
 Parting the suture (5"/;//^;/) He penetrated by this route. 
 That opening is called the suture ( Vidriti\ and is the road 
 to beatitude {Ndndana). 
 
 Of that soul the places of recreation are three, and the 
 modes of sleep as many. The right eye is a place of 
 recreation. The throat is a situation of enjoyment. The 
 heart is a region of delight. 
 
 Thus born, as the animating spirit, he discriminated the 
 elements, remai'king, ' What else but Him can I affirm to 
 exist } ' And he contemplated this thinking Person, the 
 Vast Expanse, the Brdhma or Great One, and exclaimed : 
 IT have I seen, therefore is HE named IT-SEEING 
 (IDAM-DRA).' It-Seeing is indeed his name : and Him, 
 being It-Seeing, they call by a remote appellation, Indra ; 
 for the gods generally delight in the concealment of their 
 name. The gods delight in privacy. 
 
 This living principle is first in man a fetus or productive 
 seed, which is the essence drawn from all the members of 
 the body. Thus the man nourishes himself within himself. 
 But when he emits it into woman he procreates that fetus ; 
 and such is its first birth. 
 
 It becomes identified with the woman ; and being such 
 as is her own body, it does not destroy her. She cherishes 
 his own self thus received within her ; and as nurturing 
 him, she ought to be cherished by him. The woman 
 
THE VEDAS. 43 
 
 nourishes that fetus, but he previously cherished the child, 
 and further does so after its birth. Since he supports the 
 child before and after birth, he cherishes himself, and that 
 for the perpetual succession of persons ; for thus are these 
 persons perpetuated. Such is his second birth. 
 
 This second self becomes his representative for holy 
 acts of religion ; and that other self, having fulfilled its 
 obligations and completed its period of life, deceases. 
 Departing hence, he is born again in some other shape ; 
 and such is his third birth. 
 
 This was declared by the holy sage : 'Within the womb 
 I have recognised all the successive births of these deities, 
 A hundred bodies like iron chains hold me down ; yet like 
 a falcon I swiftly rise.' Thus spake Vamadeva reposing in 
 the womb ; and possessing this intuitive knowledge, he 
 rose after bursting that corporeal confinement, and, as- 
 cending to the blissful region of heaven, he attained every 
 wish and became immortal. He became immortal. 
 
 What is this soul that we may worship him ? Which 
 is the soul ? Is it that by which a man sees ? Is it that 
 by which he hears, by which he smells odours, by which he 
 utters speech, by which he discriminates a pleasant or 
 unpleasant taste ? Is it the heart or understanding ? Is 
 it the mind or will ? Is it sensation, or power, or discnmi- 
 nation, or perception ? Is it attention, or application, or 
 memory .'' Is it animal action, or wish, or desire ? 
 
 All these are only various names of apprehension ; but 
 the soul consisting in the faculty of apprehension is Brahma ; 
 he is Indra. He is Prajapati, the lord of creatures ; these 
 gods are He, and so are the five primary elements, earth, 
 air, the ethereal fluid, water, and light. These and the 
 same joined with minute objects and other seeds of existence, 
 and again other beings produced from eggs, or born in 
 wombs, or originating in hot moisture, or springing from 
 plants, whether horses or kine, or men, or elephants, what- 
 ever lives and walks and flies, or whatever is immovable, 
 
44 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 as herbs and trees, all Is the eye of intelligence. On 
 intellect everything is founded : the world is the eye of 
 intellect, and intellect is its foundation. Intelligence^ is 
 Brahma, the Great One. 
 
 By this intuitively intelligent soul that sage ascended 
 from the present world to the blissful region of heaven ; 
 and obtaining all his wishes, became immortal. He became 
 immortal. 
 
 ' May my speech be founded on understanding, and my 
 mind be attentive to my utterance. Be thou manifested to 
 me, O self-manifested intellect ! For my sake, O speech 
 and mind, approach this Veda. May what I have heard be 
 unforgotten, day and night may I behold this which I have 
 studied. Let me think the reality: let me speak the truth. 
 May it preserve me ; may it preserve the teacher : me may 
 it preserve : may it preserve the teacher,' 
 
 Such is the history of the creation as given in the 
 Aiteraya Aranya. 
 
 It may assist the reader in his better comprehension of 
 it if he is reminded that Brahma has been used here in the 
 masculine gender, and denotes, according to commentators, 
 the intelligent spirit whose birth was in the mundane ^gg. 
 Indra is the chief of the gods or subordinate deities, mean- 
 ing the elements and planets. Prajapati is the first em- 
 bodied spirit, called Viraj, and described in the preceding 
 part of the extract ; the gods are fire, air, water, etc. ; but 
 the pervading principle of Indra, Brahma, Prajapati, deities 
 and men, is the Great Soul of all : that which has been 
 previously described as Atman, or Self. 
 
 The account given of the creation in the Yajur-Veda 
 seems to me to be very inferior to that given in the Rig- 
 Veda. In reading it we feel more amusement than real 
 interest. The extract Mr. Colebrooke has given, however, 
 is very short ; and as it tends, moreover, to show us very 
 clearly how completely the Hindus identified God with 
 the Universe, how entirely they believed each created 
 
THE VEDAS. 45 
 
 thing, animate or inanimate, proceeded from God, it may 
 not be out of place to insert the short account of the 
 creation here. 
 
 Looking round, the primeval being saw nothing but 
 himself; and he first said, *I am 1/ Therefore his name 
 was * I ' ; and thence even now, when called, a man first 
 answers, ' It is I,' and then declares any other name which 
 appertains to him. 
 
 Since he, being anterior to all that seeks supremacy, 
 did by fire consume all obstacles to his own supremacy, 
 therefore does the man who knows this truth overcome 
 him who seeks to be before him. 
 
 He felt dread ; and therefore man fears when alone. 
 But he reflected, ' Since nothing exists besides myself, why 
 should I fear .■* ' Thus his terror departed from him j for 
 what should he dread, since fear must be of another .'* 
 
 He felt not delight ; and therefore man delights not 
 alone. He wished the existence of another, and instantly 
 he became such as is man and woman in mutual embrace. 
 He caused this his own self to fall in twain, and thus 
 became a husband and wife. Therefore was this body so 
 separated, as it were an imperfect moiety of himself This 
 blank is, therefore, completed by woman. He approached 
 her, and thence were human beings produced. 
 
 She reflected doubtingly, ' How can he, having produced 
 me from himself, incestuously approach me } I will now 
 assume a disguise.' She became a cow, and the other 
 became a bull, and approached her ; and the issue were 
 kine. She was changed into a mare and he into a stallion ; 
 one was turned into a female ass and the other into a male 
 one : thus did he again approach her, and the one-hoofed 
 kind was the offspring. She became a female goat and he 
 a male one ; she was an ewe and he a ram : thus he ap- 
 proached her, and goats and sheep were the progeny. In 
 this manner did he create every existing pair whatsoever, 
 even to the ants and minutest insects. 
 
46 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 Such is the short account given of the creation in the 
 Yajur-Veda. Every created thing is here depicted as pro- 
 ceeding from the primeval being, who must not be mistaken 
 for Atman, He is Prajapati, or Viraj, and is created and 
 pervaded by Atman, but is not Atman itself. 
 
 This account of the creation is manifestly inferior to the 
 preceding. Indeed, upon considering it carefully I am not 
 sure that it does not take away from the purity of the 
 general conception of God, for it seems to raise this 
 primeval being to the dignity of Creator ; it seems almost 
 to imply that the primeval being was the creation of 
 Atman, but that the whole of life was an emanation from 
 Prajapati. 
 
 As far as my reading of the Vedas has gone, it appears 
 to me that the three later Vedas are greatly inferior in 
 conception to the Rig-Veda, and we will, therefore, in the 
 remaining portion of this chapter confine ourselves for the 
 most part to the Rig- Veda. In the portion of the Yajur- 
 Veda, however, called the Black Yajur-Veda there is an 
 extract given by Mr. Colebrooke quite worthy of the Rig- 
 Veda itself, and displaying the same power of spiritual 
 conception that the majority of the Rig- Veda Jiymns 
 display : — 
 
 ' Bhrigu, the offspring of Varuna, approached his father, 
 saying, ^'Venerable father ! make known to me Brihma." ^ 
 Varuna propounded these : namely, food or body, truth or 
 life, sight, hearing, mind, or thought, and speech, and thus 
 proceeded : " That whence all beings are produced, that by 
 which they live when born, that towards which they tend, 
 and that into which they pass do thou seek, for that is 
 Brahma." 
 
 ' He meditated in devout contemplation ; and having 
 thought profoundly, he recognised food or body to be 
 
 * T imagine that throughout the whole of this anecdote ' Brahma ' is used 
 in the neuter, and in reality signifies Atman, or the Universal Soul. 
 
THE VEDAS. 47 
 
 Brahma, for all beings are indeed produced from food ; 
 when born they live by food, towards food they tend, they 
 pass into food. This he comprehended ; but yet unsatisfied, 
 he again approached his father Varuna, saying, ''Venerable 
 father ! make known to me Brahma." Varuna replied, 
 " Seek the knowledge of Brahma by devout meditation : 
 Brahma is profound contemplation." 
 
 ' Having deeply meditated, he discovered breath or life 
 to be Brahma ; for all beings are Indeed produced from 
 breath ; when born they live by breath, towards breath 
 they tend, they pass into breath. This he understood, 
 but he again approached his father Varuna, saying, '* Vene- 
 rable father ! make known to me Brahma." Varuna re- 
 plied, " Seek him by profound meditation : Brahma is 
 that" 
 
 * He meditated in deep contemplation, and discovered 
 Intellect to be Brahma, for all these beings are indeed 
 produced from intellect ; when born they live by intellect ; 
 towards intellect they tend ; and they pass into intellect. 
 This he understood ; but again he came to his father 
 Varuna, saying, '* Venerable father ! make known to me 
 Brahma." Varuna replied, " Inquire by devout contem- 
 plation : profound meditation is Brahma." 
 
 ' He thought deeply ; and having thus meditated with 
 devout contemplation, he knew Ananda or Felicity to be 
 Brahma, for all these beings are indeed produced from 
 pleasure ; when born they live by joy ; they tend towards 
 happiness ; they pass into felicity, 
 
 ' Such is the science which was attained by Bhrigu, 
 taught by Varuna and founded on the supreme Ethereal 
 Spirit. He who knows this rests on the same support, is 
 endowed with abundant food, and becomes a blazing fire, 
 which consumes food ; great is he by progeny, by cattle, 
 and by holy perfections, and great by propitious celebrity.' ^ 
 
 * Colebrooke's * Miscellaneous Essays,' vol. i. pp. 69-70. 
 
48 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 That habit, common in more or less degree with all the 
 Vedas, of occasionally using the word Brahma in the neuter 
 sense, or as implying Atman, or Universal Soul of all things, 
 and again of using it in the masculine sense, and implying 
 thereby one of the deities, is not a little confusing. In the 
 above extract, however, I think there can be no doubt that 
 Brahma is used in the neuter and signifies the Universal 
 Soul, the first principle of all things. 
 
 In the following benediction or salutation, taken from 
 the same Black Yajur-Veda, Brahma is evidently used in 
 the neuter, and signifies the pervading Spirit of all creation ; 
 
 * May Mitra, who presides over the day ; Varuna, who 
 governs the night ; Aryam, the regent of sun and of sight ; 
 Indra, who gives strength ; Vrihaspati, who rules the speech 
 and understanding ; and Vishnu, whose step is vast, grant us 
 ease. I bow to Brihma. Salutation unto thee, O Air! 
 Even thou art Brahma present to our apprehension. Thee 
 I will call " present Brahma." Thee I will name "the right 
 one," thee I will pronounce "the true one." May that 
 universal Brahma preserve me ; may that preserve the 
 teacher ; propitious be it' 
 
 There is another name occurring in the Rig-Veda theo- 
 logy of nearly as abstract a signification as Atman : Aditi, 
 the Infinite. The only superiority Atman has over Aditi 
 is that Atman is never personified, always remaining free 
 from myths, whereas Aditi receives a number of forms and 
 symbolical meanings. 
 
 'Aditi/ says Max Muller,^ in his translation of the Rig- 
 Veda, * Aditi, an ancient god or goddess, is in reality the 
 earliest name invented to express the Infinite, not the In- 
 finite as the result of a long process of abstract reasoning, 
 but the visible Infinite, visible by the naked eye, the end- 
 less expanse beyond the earth, beyond the clouds, beyond 
 the sky. That was called A-diti, the unbound, the un- 
 
 ' ' Rig- Veda Sanhita, p. 230. 
 
THE VEDAS. 49 
 
 bounded ; one might almost say, but for fear of misunder-" 
 standings, the Absolute, for it is derived from diti, bond, 
 and the negative particle, and meant, therefore, originally 
 what is free from bonds of any kind, whether of space or 
 time — free from physical weakness, free from moral guilt. . . . 
 The idea of the Infinite was most powerfully impressed 
 on the awakening mind by the East. It is impossible to 
 enter fully into all the thoughts and feelings that passed 
 through the minds of the early poets when they formed 
 names for that far, far East from whence even the early 
 dawn, the sun, the day, their own life, seemed to spring. 
 A new life flashed up every morning before their eyes, and 
 the fresh breezes of the dawn reached them like greetings 
 from the distant lands beyond the mountains, beyond the 
 clouds, beyond the dawn, beyond " the immortal sea which 
 brought us hither." The dawn seemed to them to open 
 golden gates for the sun to pass in triumph, and while those 
 gates were open their eyes and their mind strove in their 
 childish way to pierce beyond the limits of this finite 
 world. That silent aspect awakened in the human mind 
 the conception of the Infinite, the Immortal, the Divine. 
 Aditi is the name for that far-distant East, but Aditi is 
 more than the dawn : Aditi is beyond the dawn, and in 
 one place the dawn is called ** the face of Aditi." Thus we 
 read : — 
 
 * " Mitra and Varuna, you mount your chariot which is 
 golden, when the dawn bursts forth, and has iron poles at 
 the setting of the sun : from thence you see Aditi and 
 Diti, what is yonder and what is here." ' 
 
 It is not difficult to understand why this word * Aditi ' 
 should have become so quickly symbolised, and endowed 
 with so many different meanings. We have but to recall 
 the number of natural objects that to the naked eye would 
 come under the denomination of the ' visibly infinite.' The 
 sky, the air, the earth, all seem to stretch so far that the 
 eye is unable to discover any termination. Aditi originally 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 and in her cosmic character, meaning the beyond, the un- 
 bounded realm beyond earth, sky, and heaven, meaning 
 something quite distinct from the sky or the ocean, gradu- 
 ally comes to be identified with each and all of them. Thus 
 we read : — • 
 
 * Aditi is the heaven, Aditi the sky, Aditi the mother, 
 the father, the son. All the gods are Aditi, the five clans, 
 the past is Aditi, Aditi is the future.* 
 
 Soon, however, the same mental process which led on 
 later speculators from the earth to the elephant, and from 
 the elephant to the tortoise, led the Vedic poets to some- 
 thing beyond Aditi the Infinite. There was something 
 beyond that Infinite which for a time they had grasped by 
 the name of Aditi, and, whether intentionally or by a mere 
 accident of language, they called * dakshi,' literally power 
 or the powerful. Thus we read : ' Daksha was born of 
 Aditi, and Aditi was born of Ddksha.* In this there is the 
 same mental perplexity exhibited as there is in the account 
 given of the creation in the Aiteraya Aranya : * The skin 
 expanded, from the skin hair arose, from that grew herbs 
 and trees ; the breast opened, from the breast mind issued, 
 and from mind the moon.* Immediately afterwards read- 
 ing : ' Herbs and trees became hair and filled the skin ; the 
 moon becoming mind entered the breast,' etc. In their en- 
 deavour to grasp the first cause of all things they become 
 mystical, perhaps a little inconsistent and incomprehensible, 
 unless it be that they wish to imply that the entire universe 
 consists in a perpetual absorption and re-absorption ; as one 
 object being an emanation from another object, only to be 
 quickly re-absorbed in it. At last even Dakshi does not 
 sufficiently interpret the fulness of their conception. There 
 is something even beyond Ddksha : Not-being and Being 
 are in the highest heaven, in the birthplace of Ddksha, in 
 the lap of Aditi. 
 
 Gradually Aditi comes to represent a moral phase. 
 This, too, is not difficult to comprehend. Sin in the Veda 
 
THE VEDAS. 5 I 
 
 is frequently conceived as a bond or a chain from which 
 the repentant sinner wishes to be freed. Aditi-tva, Aditi- 
 hood, means freedom from bonds, from anything that 
 hinders the proper performance of a religious act. Aditi- 
 tva, meaning freedom from sin, gradually comes to mean 
 Aditi perfect goodness or holiness. Seven of the gods are 
 conceived of as the sons of Aditi, and are called the 
 Adityas. Thus in the performance of a sacrifice they 
 make use of the following invocation : ' May we obtain the 
 new favour of the Adityas, their best protection ; may the 
 quick Maruts (the storm gods) listen and place this sacrifice 
 in guiltlessness and Aditi-hood.' The ideas of Being and 
 Not-being are familiar to the Hindus from a very early 
 period of their intellectual growth ; in fact, from these 
 ideas of Being and Not-being gradually arose a sort of 
 theogony. One of their poets speaks thus : — 
 
 1. 'Let us now with praise proclaim the births of the 
 gods, that a man may see them in a future age, whenever 
 these hymns are sung.' 
 
 2. * Brahmanaspati (the lord of prayer) blew them to- 
 gether like a smith with his bellows ; in a former age of the 
 gods Being was born from Not-being.' 
 
 3. ' In the first age of the gods Being was born from 
 Not-being ; after it were born the Regions ; from them 
 Uttanapada.' 
 
 4. ' From Uttanapada the Earth was born, the Regions 
 were born from the Earth. Daksha was born of Aditi, 
 and Aditi from Daksha.' 
 
 Soon Aditi grows to be an adjective, and in this form is 
 applied to various of the deities. Thus we read : ' Agni, the 
 Aditi, the freest among all the gods ; he is the guest among 
 all men.' 
 
 Another word of Pantheistic signification is Vdck 
 the literal interpretation of which is Speech, its full 
 meaning being, however, the active power which proceeds 
 from Brahma. Near the close of the tenth chapter of the 
 
52 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 Rig- Veda is a hymn supposed to be spoken by Vach in 
 praise of herself as the supreme universal soul : — 
 
 ' I range with the Rudras, with the Vasus, with the 
 Adityas, and with the Vi^wedevas, I uphold both the 
 sun and the ocean, the firmament, fire, and both the Aswins. 
 I support the moon-destroyer of foes. I grant wealth to 
 the honest votary who performs sacrifices, offers oblations, 
 and satisfies the deities. Me, who am the queen, the 
 conferrer of wealth, the possessor of knowledge, and first 
 of such as merit worship, the gods render, universally, 
 present everywhere, and pervader of all beings. He who 
 eats food through me, as he who sees, who breathes, or who 
 hears through me, yet knows me not, is lost ; hear, then, 
 the faith that I pronounce. Even I declare this self, who 
 is worshipped by gods and men ; I make strong whom I 
 choose ; I make him Brahmay holy and wise. I pervade 
 heaven and earth, and my origin is in the midst of the 
 ocean ; and therefore do I pervade all beings, and touch 
 this heaven with my form. Originating all beings, I pass 
 like the breeze. I am above this heaven, beyond this 
 earth ; and what is the great one that am I.' 
 
 Thus we perceive throughout the Rig- Veda that though 
 to the superficial reader there is an apparent invocation to 
 various deities, in reality it is one and the same deity which 
 is invoked under different names ; that deity being for the 
 most part not an isolated anthropomorphic person, but a 
 subtle pervading Presence disclosing itself under different 
 forms, now of the storms, now of fire, the air or sun or 
 ocean, then again of Intelligence, but principally and 
 chiefly as the Unbounded, the Infinite, Self, or the Uni- 
 versal Soul of all things. 
 
53 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BRAHMANISM. 
 
 Though we have, owing to the great antiquity of the 
 Hindu nation, been unable to trace the progress of the 
 Hindu religion from its age of earliest infancy up to its 
 age of ripeness and maturity, we are yet able to trace it 
 from its age of maturity to its gradual decline and old age. 
 
 From the extracts we have given in the previous 
 chapter of the Vedas it has been fully shown how spiritual, 
 and, at times, how even sublime was the ancient Hindu 
 conception of the God as portrayed, for instance, in the 
 Rig- Veda. But in this chapter we have to relate how that 
 conception became lowered, and how the religion became 
 gradually paganised and perverted. 
 
 We shall devote this chapter principally to a relation 
 of the various forms and ceremonies inculcated by the 
 Brahmanic priesthood. We shall detail how the spiritual 
 form of the Vedas became slowly obliterated by the 
 ceremonial ; how the purity of the religion became gra- 
 dually contaminated and rendered foul by the unlimited 
 trust placed in the priest ; how the conscience became 
 stifled by the belief in the efficacy of oblations and sacrifices 
 as an expiation and atonement for sins ; and how the 
 singular purity and intelligence of the Hindu conception 
 of a God became degraded and rendered ridiculous by the 
 increasing trivialities and extravagances of the ritual, and 
 by the attention bestowed upon the minutest details of 
 form and ceremony. 
 
54 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 It is true that here and there in scattered passages we 
 find a faint foreshadowing of these superstitious practices 
 in the Rig- Veda, but the instances are few and far between, 
 A much larger proportion are to be found in the three 
 later Vedas ; and a still greater number, perhaps, take 
 their rise from the Institutes of Manu. 
 
 Like the Vedas, the Institutes of Manu betray a very- 
 gradual origin. As far as we can tell an interval of some 
 1,500 or 2,000 years must have elapsed between the com- 
 position of the first Veda and the culminating period of 
 religious Hindu degradation. The schism of Buddha 
 arose about the fifth or sixth century before Christ ; and 
 the origin of that schism may be almost entirely traced to 
 the intellectual antagonism experienced by the more phi- 
 losophical minds against the mummeries and absurdities 
 of the then existing state of Hindu religion. To the same 
 cause also may be traced the heresy of Zoroaster. Hu- 
 manly speaking, if there had been no contamination, no 
 degradation of the purity of the doctrines taught in the 
 Rig- Veda, the two great religions of Zoroaster and Buddha 
 would never have come into existence, any more than 
 Protestantism would have come into existence if Christi- 
 anity had not previously been perverted by the paganising 
 influence of mediaeval Catholicism. The religion of Zoro- 
 aster arose as a moral protest against the growing and 
 increasing immorality of the Brahmanic priesthood, the 
 purer minds resenting the doctrine which could teach that 
 sins may be atoned and expiated by offerings and oblations. 
 The religion of Buddha arose as an intellectual protest 
 against the degrading and enervating superstitions that 
 were gradually threatening to take the place of all that 
 was most holy and sublime in the ancient Hindu religion. 
 
 It must not, of course, be imagined that the degrada- 
 tion was entire and complete. Occasionally in the laws of 
 Manu we may come across passages quite worthy of the 
 Rig-Veda. In many parts we are struck by the wonderful 
 
BRAHMANISM. 55 
 
 abstraction and conception of the Pantheistic purity of 
 their ideas. Yet the very loftiness of some of their ex- 
 pressions renders us all the more astonished at the utter 
 absurdity of the actions that accompany such expressions. 
 We can only imagine that the author of the language was 
 not the same as the inventor of the trivial and at times 
 even ludicrous genuflexions that were a parody and satire 
 upon the sublimity of the language itself, but must have 
 lived in an earlier and purer age. 
 
 We must proceed, however, without further digression 
 to the consideration of the forms and ceremonies practised 
 by the Hindus. But before doing this I wish to state how 
 much of the information contained in this chapter has been 
 gained from the late Mr. Colebrooke's very interesting 
 essays on 'The Religious Ceremonies of the Hindus.' 
 Occasionally I have quoted from him quite verbatim, but 
 for the most part I have so condensed what he has written 
 (compressing, indeed, his three or four essays into this one 
 chapter), taking a few incidents from one page and a few 
 incidents from another, that it is almost impossible to give 
 the usual footnote references. I must, therefore, content 
 myself with acknowledging in general terms my obligation 
 to him, without citing those obligations more particularly. 
 
 The Institutes of Manu prescribe regulations for the 
 duty of every man, in whatever station of life, from the 
 moment of birth to the moment of death, from the hour 
 he rises in the morning to the hour he sinks to rest at night. 
 A Brahmana rising from sleep is enjoined, under the penalty 
 of losing the benefit of all rites performed by him, to rub his 
 teeth with a proper withe or twig of a particular kind of 
 figtree, pronouncing to himself this prayer : * Attend, lord 
 of the forest ; Soma, king of herbs and plants, has ap- 
 proached thee : mayest thou and he cleanse my mouth 
 with glory and good auspices, that I may eat abundant 
 food.' But if a proper withe cannot be found, or on certain 
 days when the use of it is forbidden (as is the case on the 
 
56 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 first, sixth, and ninth days of each lunar fortnight) he must 
 rinse his mouth twelve times with water. Having thrown 
 carefully away the twig which has been used, he should 
 proceed to bathe in a river or other water. The duty of 
 bathing in the morning and in the noon, if the man be a 
 householder, and in the evening also, if he belong to a 
 religious order, is considered of the greatest importance. 
 The regular bath consists of ablutions followed by worship 
 and by the inaudible recitation of the Gayatrf. Imme- 
 diately after the ablution he should sip water without 
 swallowing it, silently praying or uttering inaudibly the 
 mysterious names of the seven worlds. Thrice plunging 
 into water, he must repeat the expiatory text which recites 
 the creation ; and having thus completed his ablution, he 
 puts on his mantle after washing it, and proceeds to worship 
 the rising sun. 
 
 This ceremony is begun by his tying the lock of hair 
 on the crown of his head, while he recites the Gayatrf, 
 holding much kusa grass in his left and three blades of 
 the same grass in his right hand. Thrice he has to sip 
 water with the same text preceded by the mysterious 
 naming of worlds, and each time rub his hands as if washing 
 them ; finally he has to touch with his wet hand his feet, 
 head, breast, nose, and navel, and again sip water three 
 times. If he happen to sneeze or spit he must not im- 
 mediately sip water, but first touch his right ear, in com- 
 pliance with the maxim, ' After sneezing, spitting, blowing 
 his nose, sleeping, putting on apparel, dropping tears, a 
 man should not immediately sip water, but first touch his 
 right ear.' ' Fire, water, the Vedas, the sun, moon, and 
 air,' says Parasara, * all reside in the right ears of Brdh- 
 manas, Gangd is in their right ears, sacrificial fire in their 
 nostrils ; at the moment when both are touched impurity 
 vanishes.' The sipping of water is a necessary introduction 
 of all rites ; without it all acts of religion are vain. Having, 
 therefore, sipped water and recited the prayer, * May the 
 
BRAHMANISM. 57 
 
 waters preserve me,' the priest closes his eyes and meditates 
 in silence, figuring to himself that * Brahma/ with four faces 
 and a red complexion, resides in his navel ; Vishnu, with 
 four arms and a black complexion, in his heart ; and Siva, 
 with five faces and a white complexion, in his forehead. 
 The priest afterwards meditates the holiest of texts with 
 three suppressions of breath. Closing the left nostril with 
 the two longest fingers of his right hand, he draws his 
 breath through the right nostril, and then closing that 
 nostril with his thumb, he holds his breath while he medi- 
 tates the text. A suppression of breath is held to imply 
 the following meditation : ' Om ! Earth ! Sky ! Heaven ! 
 Middle Region ! Place of Births ! Mansion of the Blest ! 
 Abode of Truth ! We meditate on the adorable light of 
 the resplendent generator which governs our intellects ; 
 which is water, lustre, savour, immortal faculty of thought, 
 Brahma, earth, sky, and heaven.' 
 
 A Brahmana beginning and ending a lecture of the 
 Veda or the recital of any holy strain must, by the express 
 injunction of Manu, always pronounce to himself the 
 syllable Om. ' For unless the syllable Om precede his 
 learning will slip away from him, and unless it follow 
 nothing will be long retained.' And again Manu says : * All 
 rites ordained in the Veda, oblations to fare, and solemn 
 sacrifices pass away ; but that which passeth not away is 
 declared to be the syllable Om, thence called akshara, 
 since it is a symbol of God, the lord of created beings.' 
 
 In the midst of all this folly their reasons for the 
 worship of the sun manifest nearly as much purity of 
 conception as is manifested in some of the most spiritual 
 Rig- Veda hymns. There is a concluding prayer to teach 
 the various manifestations of that light, which is the sun 
 himself. ' The sun,' says one of their writers, ' is Brahma ; 
 there is none greater than he, nor has been, nor will be ; 
 therefore he is celebrated as the supreme soul in all the 
 Vedas.' That greatest of lights which exists in the sun 
 
58 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 exists also as the principle of life in the hearts of all beings. 
 It shines externally in the sky, internally in the heart ; it 
 is found in fire and flame. This principle of life, which is 
 acknowledged by the virtuous as existing in the heart and 
 in the sky, shines externally in the ethereal region, mani- 
 fested in the form of the sun. It is also made apparent in 
 the form of lustre of gems, stones, and metals ; and in the 
 taste of trees, plants, and herbs. That is, the irradiating 
 being who is a form of Brahma is manifested in all moving 
 beings by their locomotion ; and in some fixed substances 
 by their lustre ; and in others, such as plants and herbs, by 
 their savour. Everything which moves or which is fixed is 
 pervaded by that light, which in all moving things exists 
 as the supreme soul, and as the immortal thinking faculty 
 of beings which have the power of motion. ' God is the 
 imperishable being residing in the sacred abode : the 
 thinking soul is light alone : it shines with unborrowed 
 splendour.' This thinking soul called the immortal prin- 
 ciple is a manifestation of that irradiating power who is the 
 supreme soul. 
 
 This universe, consisting of three worlds, was produced 
 from water. ' He first with a thought,' says Manu, * created 
 the waters, and placed in them a productive seed.' Water, 
 which is the element whence the three worlds proceeded, 
 is that light which is the efj[icient cause of creation, duration, 
 and destruction, manifested with these powers, in the form 
 of Brahma, Vishnu, and Rudra ; to denote this ' earth, 
 sky and heaven ' are subjoined as epithets of light. In 
 one of the writings Krishna is made to say, ' The sun is the 
 god of perception, the eye of the universe, the cause of day ; 
 there is none greater than he among the immortal powers. 
 From him this universe proceeded, and in him it will reach 
 annihilation : he is time measured by instants.' 
 
 It is evident from the extracts we have given that the 
 Hindus when worshipping the sun did not worship the 
 round globe we denominate by that name, but the light, 
 
BRAIIMANISM. 59 
 
 which enlightens all mankind — the irradiating Principle of 
 the Universe. 
 
 After a great many more preliminary ceremonies the 
 Brahmdna proceeds to worship the sun, which he does by 
 standing on one foot, and resting the other against his 
 ankle or heel, looking towards the east, and holding his 
 hands open before him in a hollow form. In this posture 
 he pronounces to himself the following prayers : ist. ' The 
 rays of light announce the splendid fiery sun, beautifully 
 rising to illumine the universe.' 2nd. ' He rises, wonderful, 
 the eye of the sun, of water, and of fire, collective power of 
 gods ; he fills heaven, earth, sky with his luminous net ; he 
 is the soul of all which is fixed and locomotive.* 3rd. 
 ' That eye, supremely beneficial, rises pure from the east ; 
 may we see him a hundred years, may we live a hundred 
 years, may we hear a hundred years.' 4th. ' May we, 
 preserved by divine power, contemplating heaven above 
 the region of darkness, approach the deity, most splendid 
 of luminaries.' The following -prayer may be also sub- 
 joined : ' Thou art self-existent, thou art the most excellent 
 ray ; thou givest effulgence : grant it unto me.' After 
 presenting an oblation to the sun in the mode forthwith 
 to be explained, the Gdyatri must be next invoked in these 
 words. : * Thou art light, thou art seed, thou art immortal 
 life; thou art called effulgent: beloved by the gods, defamed 
 by none, thou art the holiest sacrifice.' The text has then 
 to be repeated in prescribed forms, and is afterwards invoked 
 thus : ' Divine Text, who dost grant our best wishes, whose 
 name is Trysyllable, whose import is the power of the 
 Supreme Being ; come, thou mother of the Vedas, who 
 didst spring from Brahma, be constant here.' The Gdyatri 
 is then pronounced inaudibly with the triliteral mono- 
 syllable and the names of the three lower worlds a hundred 
 or a thousand times, as often as may be practicable, 
 counting the repetitions on a rosary of gems set in gold or 
 of wild grains. The oblation above mentioned, and which 
 
6o ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 is called argkuy consists of tilaj flowers, barley, water, and 
 red sandus-wood, in a clean copper vessel, made in the 
 shape of a boat ; this the priest places on his head, and 
 thus presents it with the following text : ' He who travels 
 the appointed path (viz., the sun) is present in that pure 
 orb of fire, and in the ethereal region ; he is the sacrifice 
 at religious rites, and he sits in the sacred close, never 
 remaining a single day in the same spot ; yet present in 
 every house, in the heart of every human being, in the 
 most holy mansion, in the subtile ether ; produced in water, 
 in earth, in the abode of truth, and in the stony mountains, 
 he is that which is both minute and vast' This text is 
 explained as signifying that the sun is a manifestation of 
 the Supreme Being, present everywhere, produced every- 
 where, pervading every place and thing. The oblation is 
 concluded by worshipping the sun with the subjoined text : 
 ' His rays, the efificient causes of knowledge, irradiating 
 worlds, appear like sacrificial fires.' 
 
 There are a quantity of minute regulations set down 
 regarding the conduct of a Hindu all through the day: how 
 often he is to wash, what sort of food he may eat, with 
 whom he may eat, with whom he may not eat (among 
 whom is his own wife), the posture in which when eating he 
 should sit, the quarter towards which he ought to look, and 
 the precautions he ought to take to insulate himself as it 
 were during his meal lest he be contaminated by the touch 
 of some undetected sinner who may be present. But these 
 minute details are so trivial and so uninteresting that, for 
 fear of wearying the reader, as well as for the sake of space, 
 we will leave them and proceed to describe the marriage 
 ceremonies. 
 
 The marriage ceremony opens with the solemn recep- 
 tion of the bridegroom by the father of the bride. Having 
 previously performed the obsequies of ancestors, as is usual 
 upon any access of good fortune, the father of the bride sits 
 down to await the bridegroom's arrival in an apartment at 
 
BRAHMANISM. 6 1 
 
 the time chosen for it and prepared according to the rules 
 of astrology. The jewels and other presents intended for 
 him are placed then ; a cow is tied on the northern side of 
 the apartment, and a stool or cushion and other furniture 
 for the reception of the guest are arranged in order. On 
 his approach the bride's father rises to welcome him and 
 recites the following prayer while the bridegroom stands 
 before him : ' May she who supplies oblations for religious 
 worship, who constantly follows her calf, and who was the 
 milch cow when Yama was the votary, abound with milk 
 and fulfil our wishes year after year.* This prayer is 
 seemingly intended for the consecration of the cow, which 
 is let loose in a subsequent stage of the ceremony, instead 
 of slaying her, as appears to have been anciently the custom. 
 This consecration of a cow is always considered as a sort 
 of compliment to be paid to any guest whom the host 
 wishes to honour with more than an ordinary reception. 
 After the prayer above mentioned has been finished, the 
 bridegroom sits down on a stool or cushion which is pre- 
 sented to him. He first recites a text of the Yajur-Veda : 
 
 * I step on this for the sake of food and other benefits, on 
 this variously splendid footstool.' The bride's father then 
 presents to him a cushion made of twenty leaves of kusa 
 grass, holding it up with both hands, exclaiming, * The 
 cushion ! the cushion ! the cushion ! ' The bridegroom 
 replies, ' I accept the cushion,' and, taking it, places it on 
 the ground under his feet while he recites the following 
 prayer : ' May those plants over which Soma presides, and 
 which are variously dispersed on the earth, incessantly grant 
 me happiness while this cushion is placed under my feet/ 
 The bride's father then offers a vessel of water, thrice ex- 
 claiming, ' Water for ablutions ! ' The bridegroom declares 
 his acceptance of it and looks into the vessel, saying, 
 
 * Generous water ! I view thee ; return in the form of ferti- 
 lising rain from him from whom thou dost proceed.' The 
 bridegroom then takes up water in the palms of both hands 
 
62 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 joined together and throws it on his left foot, saying, ' I 
 wash my left foot and fix prosperity in this realm.* He 
 also throws water on the other foot, saying, ' I wash my 
 right foot and introduce prosperity into this realm.' And 
 he then throws water on both feet, saying, ' I wash first one 
 and then the other, and lastly both feet, that the realm may 
 thrive and intrepidity be gained.* A vessel of water is then 
 offered by the bride's father, who thrice exclaims, * Take 
 water to be sipped.* The bridegroom accepts it, saying, 
 ' Thou art glorious ; grant me glory.' The bride's father 
 next fills a vessel with honey, curds, and clarified butter ; 
 he covers it with another vessel and presents it to the 
 bridegroom, who accepts it, places it on the ground, and 
 looks into it, saying, ' Thou art glorious ; may I become so.* 
 He tastes the food three times, saying very nearly the same 
 words, and then silently eats until he be satisfied. After 
 this he sips water and touches his mouth and other parts of 
 his body with his hand, saying, ' May there be speech in my 
 mouth, breath in my nostrils, sight in my eyeballs, hearing 
 in my ears, strength in my arms, firmness in my thighs ; may 
 my limbs and members remain unhurt together with my 
 soul' Presents suitable to the rank of the parties are then 
 given to the guest. The hospitable rites are concluded by 
 letting loose the cow at the intercession of the guest. 
 
 While the bridegroom is being welcomed with these 
 ceremonies, or more properly before his arrival, the bride 
 bathes during the recital of the following texts. Three 
 vessels of water are severally poured on her head, with three 
 different prayers. 1st. ' Love ! I know thy name. Thou 
 art an intoxicating beverage. Bring the bridegroom happily. 
 For thee was framed the inebriating draught. Fire ! thy 
 best origin is here. Through devotion wert thou created. 
 May this oblation be efficacious.* 2nd. ' Damsel ! I anoint 
 this thy generative organ with honey, because it is the 
 second mouth of the Creator ; by that thou subduest all 
 males, though unsubdued ; by that thou art lively and dost 
 
BRAHMANISM. 63 
 
 hold dominion. May this oblation be efficacious/ 3rd. 
 ' May the primeval ruling sages, who framed the female 
 organ, as a fire that consumeth flesh, and thereby framed 
 a procreating juice, grant the prolific power that proceeds 
 from the three-horned bull and from the sun. May this 
 oblation be efficacious.* 
 
 The bride is then brought to the bridegroom ; her hand 
 is placed in his, both having been previously rubbed with 
 some auspicious drug. A matron must bind both hands 
 with kusa grass amidst the sound of cheerful music. The 
 bride's father, bidding the attendant priests begin their 
 acclamations, such as * Happy day ! auspicious be it ! pros- 
 perity attend ! ' etc., takes a vessel of water containing tila 
 and kusa grass and pours it on the hands of the bride and 
 bridegroom, after uttering the words, * Om, tat sat I ' (' God, 
 the existent ') ; and after repeating at full length the names 
 of the bride, of the bridegroom, and of himself he solemnly 
 declares, ' I give unto thee this damsel adorned with jewels 
 and protected by the Lord of creatures.' The bridegroom 
 replies, * Well be it ! * The bride's father afterwards gives 
 him a piece of gold, * as a fee for the purpose of completing 
 the solemn donation made by me.' The bridegroom again 
 recites, ' Well be it ! ' and the following text : * Who gave 
 her } To whom did he give her } Love or free consent 
 gave her. Love was the giver. Love was the taker. 
 Love ! may this be thine ! With love may I enjoy her ! ' 
 
 Being thus affianced, the bride and bridegroom then 
 walk forth, while he thus addresses her : ' May the regents 
 of space, may air, the sun, and fire dispel that anxiety 
 which thou feelest in thy mind and turn thy heart to me.' 
 He proceeds thus while they look at each other : ' Be gentle 
 in thy aspect, and loyal to thy husband ; be fortunate in 
 cattle, amiable in thy mind, and beautiful in thy person ; 
 be mother of valiant sons ; be fond of delights ; be cheerful, 
 and bring prosperity to our bipeds and quadrupeds. First 
 in a former birth Soma received thee ; the sun next ob- 
 
64 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 » 
 tained thee ; in successive transmigrations the regent of fire 
 was thy third husband : thy fourth is a human being. Soma 
 gave her to the sun ; the sun gave her to the regent of fire ; 
 fire gave her to me ; with her he has given me wealth and 
 male offspring. May she, a most auspicious cause of 
 prosperity, never desert me/ etc. The bridegroom then 
 presents the bride with a waist cloth and mantle ; and the 
 skirts of her mantle and his are tied together by the father 
 of the bride, who pronounces while doing so these words : 
 ' Ye must be inseparably united in matters of duty, wealth, 
 and love.' Then the following ceremonies take place : — 
 
 The bridegroom goes to the principal apartment of the 
 house, prepares a sacrificial fire in the usual mode, and 
 hallows the implements of sacrifice. A friend of the bride- 
 groom walks round the fire, bearing a jar of water, and 
 stops on the south side of it ; another does the same, and 
 places himself on the right hand of the first. The bride- 
 groom then casts four double handfuls of rice into a flat 
 basket ; near it he places a stone and muller, after formally 
 touching them, and then, entering the house, he causes the 
 bride to be clothed with a new waistcloth and scarf, while 
 he recites the subjoined prayers : ' May those generous 
 women who spun and wound the thread, and who wove the 
 warp and weft of this cloth, generously clothe thee to old 
 age, long-lived woman ! Put on this raiment' * Clothe her, 
 invest her with apparel, prolong her life to a great age. 
 Mayest thou live a hundred years. As long as thou livest, 
 amiable woman, preserve beauty and wealth.' Afterwards 
 the following prayer is recited : ' May the assembled gods 
 unite our hearts ; may the waters unite them. May air unite 
 us. May the Creator unite us. May the God of love unite 
 us,' The bridegroom then passes from the bride's left side 
 to her right and makes her join her hands in a hollow form. 
 The rice which had been put in a basket is then taken up, 
 and the stone is placed before the bride, who treads upon 
 it with the point of her right foot, while the bridegroom 
 recites this prayer: 'Ascend this stone ; be firm like this 
 
BRAHMANISM. 65 
 
 stone ; distress my foe, and be not subservient to my 
 enemies.' The bridegroom then pours a ladleful of clari- 
 fied butter on her hands ; another person gives her the rice, 
 and two other ladlefuls of butter are poured over it. She 
 then separates her hands, and lets the rice fall over the fire, 
 while the following text is recited : ' This woman, casting 
 the rice into the fire, says, " May my lord be long-lived, 
 may we live a hundred years, and may all my business 
 prosper ; may this oblation be efficacious." ' Afterwards the 
 bridegroom walks round the fire preceded by the bride and 
 reciting this text : ' The girl goes from her parents' abode 
 to her husband's, having strictly observed abstinence for 
 three days from factitious salt,' etc. The bride again steps 
 on the stone and makes another oblation of rice while the 
 subjoined prayer is recited: 'The damsel has worshipped 
 the generous sun and the regent of fire. Damsel, by means 
 of thee we repress foes like a stream of water. May the 
 generous sun and regent of fire liberate her and me from 
 this family ; be this oblation efficacious.' The bridegroom 
 then pours rice out of the basket into the fire, after pouring 
 one or two ladlefuls of butter on the edge of the basket. 
 With this off'ering he simply says, ' May this oblation to 
 fire be efficacious.' 
 
 The reader would be wearied if we were to devote much 
 more time to the immense number of prayers and oblations 
 that follow. We therefore pass on to the next ceremony 
 of any real importance. This consists of the bride stepping 
 seven steps. It is the most material of all the nuptial rites, 
 for the marriage is complete and irrevocable so soon as she 
 has taken the seventh step, and not sooner. She is con- 
 ducted by the bridegroom and directed by him to step 
 successively into seven circles while the following texts are 
 uttered : i. 'May Vishnu cause thee to take one step for 
 the sake of obtaining food.' 2. 'May Vishnu cause thee 
 to take one step for the sake of obtaining strength.' 3. 
 ' Three steps for the sake of solemn acts of religion.' 4. 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 ' Four steps for the sake of obtaining happiness.' 5. ' Five 
 steps for the sake of cattle.' 6. ' Six steps for the sake of 
 increase of wealth.* 7. ' Seven steps for the sake of obtain- 
 ing priests to perform sacrifices.' The bridegroom then 
 addresses the bride : ' Having completed seven steps, be my 
 companion. May I become thy associate ; may none in- 
 terrupt thy association with me ; may such as are disposed 
 to promote our happiness confirm thy association with me.' 
 The bridegroom then addresses the spectators : ' This 
 woman is auspicious ; approach and view her ; and having 
 conferred auspicious fortune on her, depart to your res- 
 pective abodes.' 
 
 Then the bridegroom's friend, who stood near the fire 
 bearing a jar of water, advances to the spot where the 
 seventh step was completed and pours water on the bride- 
 groom's head and afterwards on the bride's, while this text 
 is recited : ' May water and all the gods cleanse our hearts ; 
 may air do so ; may the Creator do so ; may the divine 
 instructress unite our hearts.' Matrons then pour water 
 mixed with leaves upon the bride and bridegroom, and the 
 bridegroom again makes oblations with the names of the 
 worlds by way of closing the ceremony. 
 
 During the three subsequent days the newly-married 
 couple must abstain from factitious salt, must live chastely 
 and austerely, and must sleep on the ground. On the 
 following day — that is, on the fourth day exclusively — the 
 bridegroom conducts the bride to his own house on a 
 carriage or other suitable conveyance. Alighting from the 
 carriage, the bridegroom leads the bride into the house, 
 chanting a hymn. Matrons welcome the bride, and make 
 her sit down on a bull's hide. Then the bridegroom recites 
 this prayer : * May kine produce her numerous young ; may 
 horses and human beings do so ; and may the Deity sit 
 here, by whose favour sacrifices are accomplished with gifts 
 a thousandfold.' 
 
 The women then place a young child in the bride's lap ; 
 
BRAHMANISM. 6/ 
 
 they put roots of lotos or else fruit of different kinds in his 
 hand. The bridegroom takes up the child, and then pre- 
 pares a sacrificial fire in the usual manner, and makes 
 eight oblations, with the following prayers, preceded and 
 followed with the usual oblations, to three worlds : i. ' May 
 there be cheerfulness here.' 2. ' May thine own kindred be 
 kind here.' 3. * May there be pleasure' here with me.' 4. 
 'Sport thou here.' 5. 'May there be kindness here with 
 me.' 6. ' May thine own kindred be benevolent towards 
 me.' 7. * May there be here delight towards me.' 8. 'Be 
 thou joyous towards me.' The bride then salutes her 
 father-in-law and the other relatives of her husband. 
 
 Afterwards the bridegroom prepares another sacrificial 
 fire, and sits down with the bride on his right hand. The 
 remainder of each ladleful is thrown into a jar of water, 
 which is afterwards poured on the bride's head. Twenty 
 oblations are then made and this prayer : ' Fire, expiator 
 of evil ! thou dost atone evils for the gods themselves. I, a 
 priest, approach thee desirous of soliciting thee to remove 
 any sinful taint in the beauty of this woman.' Similar ad- 
 jurations are made to the air, moon and sun, and the 
 ceremony is then considered as finally concluded. 
 
 From a description of the marriage ceremonies we pass 
 to the description of the funeral rites. 
 
 A dying man, when no hopes of his surviving remain, 
 should be laid upon a bed of kida grass, either in the house 
 or out of it, if he be a Sudra, but in the open air, if he 
 belong to another tribe. When he is at the point of death 
 donations of cattle^ land, gold, silver, or other things, ac- 
 cording to his ability, should be made by him ; or if he be 
 too weak by another person in his name. His head should 
 be sprinkled with water from the Ganges and smeared with 
 clay brought from the same river. A Mlagrdma ' stone 
 
 * The ' ^alagramas ' are black stones found in a part of the Gandaki river 
 within the limits of Nepal. They are mostly round, and are commonly per- 
 forated in one or more places by worms, or, as the Hindus believe, by Vishnu 
 
 F 2 
 
68 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 ought to be placed near the dying man ; holy strains from 
 the Veda or from sacred p6ems should be repeated aloud 
 in his ears, and leaves of holy basil must be scattered over 
 his head. 
 
 When he expires the corpse must be washed, perfumed, 
 and decked with wreaths of flowers ; a piece of tutanag, 
 another of gold, a gem of any sort, and a piece of coral 
 should be put into the mouth of the corpse, and pieces of 
 gold in both nostrils, both eyes, and both ears, A cloth 
 perfumed with fragrant oil must be thrown over the corpse, 
 which the nearest relation of the deceased must then carry 
 with modest deportment to some holy spot in the forest or 
 near water. The corpse must be preceded by fire and by 
 food carried in an unbaked earthen vessel. After washing 
 the corpse, clothing it in clean apparel, and rubbing it with 
 perfumes the relations of the deceased place the corpse 
 with its head towards the north on the funeral pile, which 
 is previously decorated with strung and unstrung flowers, 
 the funeral pile having, of course, been previously most 
 solemnly consecrated. A cloth must then be thrown over 
 the corpse, and a relation of the deceased, taking up a 
 lighted brand, must say, * May the gods with flaming mouths 
 burn this corpse ! ' He then walks thrice round the pile 
 with his right hand towards it, and shifts the sacrificial 
 cord to his right shoulder. Then, looking towards the south 
 and dropping his left knee to the ground, he applies the 
 fire to the pile near the head of the corpse, saying, * Namo ! 
 Namah ! ' while the attending priests recite a prayer. 
 
 in the shape of a reptile. According to the number of perforations and of 
 spiral curves in each the stone is supposed to contain Vishnu in various 
 characters. For example, such a stone perforated in one place only, with 
 four spiral curves in the perforation, and with marks resembling a cow's feet 
 and a long wreath of flowers, contains Lakshmi-Narayana. In like manner 
 stones are found in the Narmada which are considered types of Siva, and are 
 called Banling. The ^alagrama is found upon trial not to be calcareous ; it 
 strikes fire with steel, and scarcely at all effervesces with acids. (Note in 
 Colebrooke's 'Miscellaneous Essays/ vol. i. p. 173.) 
 
BRAHMANISM. 69 
 
 The fire must be so managed that some bones may remain 
 for the subsequent ceremony of gathering the ashes. While 
 the pile is burning the relations of the deceased take up 
 seven pieces of wood a span long and cut them severally 
 with an axe over the firebrands and then throw the pieces 
 over their shoulders upon the fire, saying, ' Salutation to 
 thee, who dost consume flesh ! ' 
 
 After the body of the deceased has been burnt in the 
 mode above-mentioned all who have touched or followed 
 the corpse must walk round the pile, keeping their left hands 
 towards it, and taking care not to look at the fire. They 
 then walk in procession according to seniority to a river or 
 other running water, and after washing and again putting 
 on their apparel they advance into the stream. They then 
 ask the deceased's brother-in-law or some other person able 
 to give the proper answer, ' Shall we present water ? ' If 
 the deceased were a hundred years old the answer must be 
 simply ' Do so ' ; but if he were not so aged the reply is, 
 ' Do so, but do not repeat the oblation.' Upon this they 
 all shift the sacerdotal string to the right shoulder, and 
 looking towards the south, and being clad in a single gar- 
 ment, without a mantle, they stir the water with the ring- 
 finger of the left hand, saying, ' Waters, purify us.' With 
 the same fingtr of the right hand they throw up some 
 water towards the south, and after plunging once under the 
 surface of the river they rub themselves with their hands. 
 An oblation of water must be next presented from the 
 joined palms of the hands, naming the deceased and the 
 family from whom he sprang, and saying, ' May this oblation 
 reach thee.* If it be intended to show particular honour to 
 the deceased, three offerings of water may be thus made. 
 After finishing the usual libations of water to satisfy the 
 manes of the deceased they quit the river, and shift their 
 wet clothes for other apparel ; they then sip water without 
 swallowing it, and, sitting down on the soft turf, alleviate 
 their sorrow by the recital of the following or other suitable 
 
yo ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 moral sentences, refraining at the same time from tears and 
 lamentations : — 
 
 1. 'Foolish is he who seeks permanence in the human 
 state, unsolid like the stem of the plantain tree, transient 
 like the foam of the sea.' 
 
 2. 'When a body, formed of five elements to receive 
 the reward of deeds done in its own former person, re- 
 verts to its five original principles what room is there for 
 regret ? ' 
 
 3. ' The earth is perishable ; the gods themselves pass 
 away : how should not that bubble, mortal man, meet des- 
 truction ? ' 
 
 4. ' All that is low must finally perish ; all that is ele- 
 vated must ultimately fall ; all compound bodies must end 
 in dissolution, and life is concluded with death.' 
 
 5. ' Unwillingly do the manes of the deceased taste the 
 tears and rheum shed by their kinsmen ; then do not wail, 
 but diligently perform the obsequies of the dead.' 
 
 At night, if the corpse were burnt by day, or in the day- 
 time, if the ceremony were not completed until night, or in 
 case of exigency whenever the priest approves, the nearest 
 relation of the deceased takes up water in a new earthen 
 jar and returns to the town, preceded by a person bearing 
 a staff, and attended by the rest walking in procession, and 
 led by the youngest. Going to the door of his own house 
 or to a place of worship, or to some spot near water, he 
 prepares the ground for the oblation of a funeral cake by 
 raising a small altar of earth and marking lines on it, as 
 practised for other oblations. Then, taking a brush of kiiia 
 grass in his right hand, he washes therewith the ground, 
 over which kuda grass is spread, saying, * Such a one (naming 
 the deceased and the family from whom he sprang), may 
 this oblation be acceptable to thee.' Next, making a ball 
 of three handfuls of boiled rice mixed with tila^ fruits of 
 different sorts, honey, milk, butter, and similar things, such 
 as sugar, roots, pot-herbs, etc., he presents it on the spot 
 
BRAHMANISM. 7 1 
 
 he had purified, naming the deceased and saying, ' May this 
 first funeral cake, which shall restore thy head, be accept- 
 able to thee.' Again purifying the spot in the same manner 
 as before, and with the same words addressed to the de- 
 ceased, he silently puts fragrant flowers, resin, a lighted 
 lamp, and other similar things on the funeral cake and 
 presents a woollen yarn, naming the deceased and saying, 
 * May this apparel made of woollen yarn be acceptable to 
 thee.' 
 
 In the evening of the same day water and milk must 
 be suspended in earthen vessels before the door in honour 
 of the deceased, with this address to him : * Such a one 
 deceased, bathe here ; drink this ' ; and the same ceremony 
 may be repeated every evening until the period of mourning 
 expire. During ten days funeral cakes, together with 
 libations of water and tila, must be offered, as on the first 
 day ; augmenting, however, the number each time, so that 
 ten cakes be offered on the tenth day ; and with this 
 further difference, that the address varies each time. On 
 the second day the prayer is : ' May this second cake, which 
 shall restore thy eyes, ears, and nose, be acceptable to thee ' ; 
 on the third day, ' May this third cake, which shall restore 
 thy throat, arms, and breast, be acceptable to thee ' ; on the 
 fourth, ' Thy navel and organs of excretion ' ; on the fifth. 
 ' thy knees, legs, and feet ' ; on the sixth, * all thy vitals ' ; 
 on the seventh, ' all thy veins ' ; on the eighth, ' thy teeth, 
 nails, and hair ' ; on the ninth, ' thy manly strength ' ; and 
 on the tenth, ' May this tenth cake, which shall fully satisfy 
 the hunger and thirst of thy renewed body, be acceptable to 
 thee.' During this period a pebble wrapped up in a fragment 
 of the deceased's shroud is worn by the heir suspended on 
 his neck. To that pebble, as a type of the deceased, the 
 funeral cakes are offered. The same vessel in which the first 
 oblation was made must be used throughout the period of 
 mourning ; this vessel, therefore, is also carried about by the 
 heir in the fragment of the shroud. Should either the vessel 
 
72 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM, 
 
 or the pebble be lost by any accident the offering's must be 
 recommenced. 
 
 On the last day of rgourning the nearest kinsman of 
 the deceased gathers his ashes, after offering an oblation 
 singly for him prepared in the following manner : — 
 
 In the first place, the kinsman smears with cowdung 
 the spot where the oblation is to be presented, and after 
 washing his hands and feet, sipping water, and taking up 
 kii^a grass in his hand, he sits down on a cushion pointed 
 towards the south. He then places near him a bundle of 
 kit^a grass, the tip of which must also point towards the 
 south. He next places near him a bundle of ktda grass 
 consecrated by pronouncing the word Nainahy or else prepares 
 a fire for oblations ; then lighting a lamp with clarified 
 butter and arranging the food and other things intended 
 to be offered, he must sprinkle himself with water, medi- 
 tating on Vishnu, surnamed the Lotos-eyed, revolving in his 
 mind this verse : ' Whether pure or defiled, or wherever he 
 may have gone, he who remembers the being whose eyes 
 are like the lotos shall be pure externally and internally.' 
 Shifting the sacerdotal cord on his right shoulder, he takes 
 up a brush of ku^a grass and presents water, together with 
 tila and blossoms, naming the deceased and the family 
 from whom he sprang, and saying, * May this water for 
 ablutions be acceptable to thee.* He then makes the 
 solemn declaration : ' This day I will offer on a bundle of 
 ku^a grass an oblation for a single person with unboiled 
 food, together with clarified butter and water, preparatory 
 to the gathering of the bones of such a one deceased.' He 
 then presents a cushion of kuia grass, naming the deceased, 
 and saying, ' May this be acceptable to thee.' 
 
 He should afterwards feed the Brdhmanas whom he 
 has assembled, either silently distributing food among 
 them or adding a respectful invitation to them to eat. 
 When he has given them water to rinse their mouths he 
 may consider the deceased as fed through their intervention. 
 
BRAHMANISM. 73 
 
 They then recite the Gdyatri, and afterwards the following 
 sentences : — 
 
 1. ' The embodied spirit, which hath a thousand heads, 
 a thousand eyes, a thousand feet, stands in the human 
 breast, while he totally pervades the earth.' 
 
 2. ^ That being is this universe, and all that has been 
 or will be ; he is that which grows by nourishment, and he 
 is the distributor of immortality.' 
 
 3. ' Such is his greatness, and therefore is he the most 
 excellent embodied spirit ; the elements of the universe 
 are one portion of him, and three portions of him are 
 immortality in heaven.' 
 
 4. ' That threefold being rose above this world, and 
 the single portion of him remained in this universe, which 
 consists of what does and of what does not taste the 
 reward of good and bad actions : again he pervaded the 
 universe.' 
 
 5. 'From him sprang Viraj, from whom the first man 
 was produced ; and he, being successively reproduced, 
 peopled the earth.' 
 
 6. ' From that single portion, surnamed the Universal 
 Sacrifice, was the holy oblation of butter and curds pro- 
 duced ; and this did frame all cattle, wild and domestic, 
 which are governed by instinct' 
 
 7. ' From that universal sacrifice were produced the 
 strains of the Rich and Sdman ; from him the sacred 
 metres sprang ; from him did the Yajus proceed.' 
 
 8. ' From him were produced horses and all beasts that 
 have two rows of teeth ; from him sprang cows ; from him 
 proceeded goats and sheep,' 
 
 9. ' Him the gods and demigods and holy sages con- 
 secrated as a victim on sacred grass, and thus performed a 
 solemn act of religion.' 
 
 10. ' Into how many portions did they divide this being 
 whom they immolated ? What did his mouth become .^ 
 What are his arms, his thighs, and his feet now called .? ' 
 
74 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 11. ' His mouth became a priest, his arm was made a 
 
 soldier, his thigh was transformed into a husbandman ; 
 from his feet sprang the servile man.' 
 
 12. *The moon was produced from his mmd, the sun 
 sprang from his eye, air and breath proceeded from his 
 ear, and fire rose from his mouth.' 
 
 13. * The subtile element was produced from his navel, 
 the sky from his head, the earth from his feet, and space 
 from his ear : thus did he frame worlds.' 
 
 14. * In that solemn sacrifice which the gods performed 
 with him as a victim spring was the butter, summer the 
 fuel, and sultry weather the oblation.' 
 
 15. * Seven were the moats surrounding the altar, thrice 
 seven were the logs of holy fuel, at that sacrifice which the 
 gods performed, binding this being as the victim.' 
 
 16. 'By that sacrifice the gods worshipped this victim. 
 Such were primeval duties, and thus did they attain heaven, 
 where former gods and mighty demigods abide.' 
 
 After numerous other oblations and prayers, the son or 
 nearest relation of the defunct, accompanied by his kinsmen, 
 and clothed in clean apparel, repairs to the cemetery for 
 the purpose of gathering the ashes of the deceased, carrying 
 eight vessels filled with various flowers, roots, and similar 
 things. He advances to the northern gate, or extremity of 
 the funeral pile, sits down there, and presents two vessels 
 as an oblation to spirits, with this prayer : ' May the 
 adorable and eternal gods, who are present in this ceme- 
 tery, accept from us this eightfold imperishable oblation ; 
 may they convey the deceased to pleasing and eternal 
 abodes, and grant to us life, health, and peace. This eight- 
 fold oblation is offered to Siva and other deities. Salu- 
 tation unto them.' Then walking round the spot, with his 
 right side towards it, he successively places two other 
 vessels, containing eight different things, at each of the 
 three other gates which surround the funeral pile, and 
 presents these oblations with the same formality as before. 
 
BRAHMANISM. 75 
 
 He then shifts the sacerdotal string to his right shoulder, 
 turns his face towards the south, and silently sprinkles the 
 bones and ashes with cow's milk ; he then first draws out 
 from the ashes the bones of the head, and afterwards the 
 other bones successively, sprinkles them with perfumed 
 liquids and with clarified butter made from cow's milk, 
 and puts them into a casket made of leaves, which he 
 places in a new earthen vessel, covers it with a lid, and ties 
 it up with thread. Choosing some clean spot, where en- 
 croachments of the river are not to be apprehended, he 
 digs a very deep hole, and spreads ku^a grass at the bottom 
 of it, and over the grass a piece of yellow cloth ; he places 
 thereon the earthen vessel containing the bones of the 
 deceased, covers it with a lump of mud, together with 
 thorns, moss, and mud, and plants a tree in the excavation 
 or erects a standard. He and the rest of the kinsmen then 
 bathe in their clothes. At a subsequent time the son or 
 other near relation fills up the excavation and tends the 
 ground ; he throws the ashes of the funeral pile into the 
 water, cleans the spot with cowdung and water, presents 
 oblations to Siva and other deities in the manner before 
 mentioned, dismisses those deities, and casts the oblation 
 into water. Again at a subsequent time the son or other 
 near relation carries the bones which were so buried to the 
 river Ganges ; he bathes there, rubs the vessel with the fine 
 productions of kine, puts gold, honey, and clarified butter 
 on the vessel, looks towards the south, and advances into 
 the river with these words : ' Be there salutation unto 
 justice.' He then throws the vessel into the waters of the 
 Ganges, saying, ' May he (the deceased) be pleased with 
 me.' Again bathing, he stands upright and contemplates 
 the sun. He then sips water and pays the priests their 
 fees. 
 
 So long as mourning lasts after gathering the ashes, 
 the near relations of the deceased continue to offer water 
 with the same formalities and prayers as above-mentioned, 
 
76 OMENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 and to refrain from factitious salt, butter, etc. On the last 
 day of mourning the nearest relation puts on neat apparel 
 and causes his house and furniture to be cleaned ; he then 
 goes out of town, and after offering the tenth funeral cake 
 in the manner before described He makes ten libations of 
 water from the palms of his hands, causes the hair of his 
 head and of his body to be shaved and his nails to be cut, 
 and gives the barbers the clothes which were worn at the 
 funeral of the deceased, and adds some other remuneration. 
 He then anoints his head and limbs down to his feet with 
 oil of sesamum, rubs all his limbs with meal of sesamum, 
 and his head with ground pods of white mustard. He 
 bathes, sips water, touches and blesses various auspicious 
 things, such as stones, clarified butter, white mustard, a 
 cow, curds, honey, coral, and gold. He also touches a 
 bambu staff. He now returns purified to his home, and 
 thus completes the first obsequies of the deceased. 
 
 On the very day the period of mourning is considered 
 finally completed a second series of obsequies commences, 
 with the description of which, however, we will not trouble 
 the reader. Enough has been said to show how very 
 trifling and minute are the details of the Brahmanic ritual. 
 It is said that formal obsequies are paid to ancestors no 
 less than ninety-six times every year. As is well known, 
 the rites of hospitality are very sacred in the eyes of the 
 Hindu, and anyone who claims his hospitality receives it. 
 A householder has to allot out of the food prepared for his 
 own repast one portion to the gods, a second to progenitors, 
 a third to all beings, and a fourth to his guests. He and 
 his family may then, and not till then, consume the re- 
 maining portion of the food. The householder is also 
 enjoined to give daily alms, but no particular time is 
 prescribed for the distribution of .them : he is simply 
 directed to give food to religious mendicants whenever 
 they come to his door, but especially if they come at the 
 time when food is ready for his own meal. On the au- 
 
BRAHMANISM. "]"] 
 
 thority of the Pttrdiias it is also a common practice to feed 
 a cow before he breaks his own fast. Indeed, as we said at 
 the beginning of this chapter, a Hindu has enforced rules 
 and minute regulations prescribed for him from the moment 
 of his birth to the hour of his death, from his rising in the 
 morning to his retiring at night. He has no free will, and 
 is utterly under the dominion of the priest. Even from 
 this necessarily condensed account of the ceremonies and 
 religious rites we have given it is not difficult to understand 
 how the higher minds rose in utter indignation against 
 such slavery, how they denounced the sacerdotalism, and 
 were determined to free themselves from it ; how they 
 rebelled against the imbecility of the ritual, and endeavoured 
 to find some other religion more satisfying to their in- 
 tellects, more intelligible to their consciences. 
 
 Before concluding this chapter we must slightly touch 
 upon one more rite, a rite that was to the Hindu of very 
 grave and awful importance — the duties of a faithful Hindu 
 widow. 
 
 This ceremony is better known among Europeans than 
 any of the other Hindu ceremonies, and it is chiefly owing 
 to the horror caused in the European mind by it that the 
 rite is now nearly or indeed, we believe we may say, wholly 
 obsolete. 
 
 Yet upon reading the short account given of it by Mr. 
 Colebrooke we confess that if the rite is very repugnant 
 it also appears to us very touching. It seems, too, to be 
 less hemmed in by the multitudinous details and fantastic 
 absurdities of ritual. On the whole there appears to be 
 very little of superstition in this ceremony, unless, indeed, 
 we count a belief in immortality a superstition. 
 
 In order to comprehend any of the Hindu rites, but 
 especially this one, we must remember that with the Hindus 
 a belief in a future life was not merely a vague hope or a 
 tremulous yearning. It was with them a complete cer- 
 tainty, a full conviction. As we said in the last chapter, 
 
78 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 * existence in this world was to them a problem, in the 
 next a simple fact' Granting them this fact — arguing, that 
 is to say, from their own premiss — it is not difficult to un- 
 derstand how the command of the wife's immolation arose. 
 For the most part all laws invented by man are but arti- 
 ficial laws engendered or engrafted, in the first place, upon 
 some natural law. Most probably the rite we are now 
 considering was no exception to the rule. Most probably 
 it arose as the natural craving, the dying wish of some 
 attached husband who could not endure the idea of sepa- 
 ration from his wife, who knew that that wife would obey 
 the command as gladly as he had issued it. Horribly 
 painful as that death might be, we cannot doubt that she 
 would. Judge by our own women. What wife, in order to 
 escape an enforced separation from her husband, either by 
 the fact of his death or his expatriation, would not joyfully 
 undergo less than an hour's torture if she were told it 
 would prove a certain means to her rejoining that husband ? 
 What maiden would not do the same for her betrothed ? 
 Then, in addition to this, if the wife were told that by this 
 self-immolation she would be making atonement for any 
 sins her husband might have committed, that she would 
 be insuring him a perfectly happy future, we can understand 
 how the inducement would be heightened tenfold. It is 
 difficult, perhaps, for us to comprehend the entire confidence 
 and certainty the Hindus felt in another world. The 
 most orthodox amongst us fall far short of their complete 
 confidence in it. As we have shown in our account of the 
 funeral rites, the Hindu believed the friend or relation 
 whom he mourned could hear him speak, could eat food, 
 was in all respects as much alive as we believe the friend 
 whom we may have living in America or India to be alive. 
 No wonder, then, that the faithful widow would immolate 
 herself on her husband's corpse ; it was but a painful quick 
 passage to meeting him in eternity, meeting him in perfect 
 happiness, meeting him never more to be separated and 
 
BRAHMANISM. 79 
 
 parted. If our wives believed the same would they not be 
 equally eager to endure the same ? 
 
 We must remember, too, that the self-immolation is not 
 compulsory ; that is to say, it is held to be the sacred duty 
 of a widow to burn herself with her husband's corpse ; but 
 she has the alternative of always living an austere life, 
 which consists principally in acts of piety and mortification. 
 She is never to eat more than one meal a day, not to sleep 
 on a bed, to be always chaste, and constantly to use the 
 name of God in prayer. 
 
 This enforced austerity is, perhaps, the most unjust and 
 superstitious thing about the whole matter. If a woman 
 really love her husband and wish to rejoin him it cannot 
 be a very hard duty to undergo a few minutes' agony for 
 the sake of enabling her to meet him, never again to be 
 separated. It is a very different matter in the case of a 
 wife who has not had a happy married life, who does not 
 feel any pang when her husband dies, but, on the contrary, 
 feels it her supremest happiness and content to be away 
 from him, no longer to have to submit to his cruelties and 
 tyrannies. It must be a very hard thing in such a case for 
 a woman to be forced to lead a life of perpetual austerity 
 and disgrace. There is another very cruel practice con- 
 nected with this rite, but which is completely the growth 
 of a later age, viz., the practice of compelling a nervous, 
 frightened woman, who is trying to make up her mind to 
 perform the duty of a faithful widow, into the flames, 
 whether she will or not. It is laid down by these later 
 writers that if a woman who goes to the funeral pile, in- 
 tending to immolate herself on her husband's corpse, be- 
 comes suddenly terrified at the sight of the flames and 
 wishes to recede, and at last absolutely refuses to proceed 
 further, then and in such case her relations are required to 
 pay no heed to her agonised entreaties, but are forcibly to 
 compel her to complete the sacrifice. 
 
 Such a scene must, of course, be indescribably painful ; 
 
8o ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 and it is utterly in the face of the earlier traditions which 
 provide that ^ if the woman, regretting life, recede from the 
 pile she is defiled, but may be purified by observing the 
 fast called Prajapatya.' This fast consists in abstaining 
 for twelve days : the first three a spare meal must be taken 
 once in each day ; the next three, one in each night ; the 
 succeeding three days nothing must be eaten but what is 
 given unsolicited ; and the last three days are to be observed 
 as a rigid fast. 
 
 All this, of course, is very cruel and very superstitious ; 
 but still, taking this rite as a whole^ there seem to be fewer 
 superstitions connected with it than with the majority of 
 other Hindu rites. The burning of a Hindu widow is as 
 much enjoined in the Rig- Veda as in later traditions, for it 
 expressly declares * the loyal wife who burns herself shall 
 not be deemed a suicide.' A woman who is pregnant or 
 even one whose pregnancy is doubtful may not ascend her 
 husband's funeral pile, for she owes a duty to her children 
 as well as to her husband. If she be left at the time of his 
 decease with a young infant she may not ascend her 
 husband's funeral pile unless she have provided some one 
 whom she can faithfully trust to nourish and take care of 
 the infant. 
 
 The ceremonies connected with this duty are as 
 follows : — 
 
 Having first bathed, the widow, dressed in two clean 
 garments and holding some kusa grass, sips water from the 
 palm of her hand. She looks towards the east and north, 
 while the Brahmana utters the mystic word 07n ; she then 
 declares : ' I, that I may enjoy with my husband the felicity of 
 heaven and sanctify my paternal and maternal progenitors 
 and the ancestry of my husband's father, that expiation 
 may be made for my husband's offences, whether he has 
 killed a Brahmana or broken the ties of gratitude, or 
 murdered his friend, thus I ascend my husband's burning 
 pile. I call on you, ye guardians of the eight regions of 
 
BRAHMANISM. 8 1 
 
 the world : Sun and Moon, Air, Fire, Ether, Earth, and 
 Water ! Yama! Day, Night, and Twilight ! And thou, 
 Conscience, bear witness I follow my husband's corpse on 
 the funeral pile.' She then walks three times round the 
 pile, while the Brahmanas utter this benediction : ' Om ! 
 Let this faithful wife, pure and beautiful, commit herself 
 to the fire with her husband's corpse.' 
 
 Then, being adorned with jewels, decked with mimium 
 and other ornaments, having made adoration to the Devatas, 
 she reflects as she walks round the pile, * This life to me is 
 nought ; my lord and master to me was all.' She bestows 
 jewels on the Brahmanas, comforts her relations ; then 
 calling the sun and elements to witness, she proceeds into 
 the flames. There embracing the corpse, she abandons 
 herself to the fire, exclaiming, * Satya ! Satya ! Satya ! ' 
 
 We must bring this chapter to a close, almost fearing 
 that we may have already wearied the reader with dwelling 
 at such length on the trivialities and details of Brahmanic 
 ritual ; but in writing a history of Pantheism, as in writing 
 any other history, it is as needful to represent it in its stage 
 of obscurity and perversion as much as in its stage of glory 
 and freshness. If Vedaism had not thus degenerated into 
 Brahmanism not only would the religions of Buddha and 
 Zoroaster most probably have not come into existence, but 
 even the Vedanta, or Philosophy of. the Hindus, would most 
 probably never have been written. For the Vedanta philo- 
 sophy, as we shall hereafter show, may be called a sort of 
 philosophical apology and explanation of the Vedas, an 
 attempt to save them from the fast-increasing encroach- 
 ments and depredations of religious schisms and atheistic 
 sects and philosophies, all of which schisms and philosophies 
 were the natural consequents upon the revulsion and con- 
 tempt caused by the degrading superstitions of Brahmanism. 
 
 It must not, of course, be thought that the whole of 
 Brahmanism consisted of these fantastic details of ritual. 
 There are many passages in the Institutes of Manu quite 
 VOL. T. G 
 
82 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 worthy of the Rig- Veda itself, and displaying the doc- 
 trines of Pantheism and Emanation with singular purity; 
 but, as we said at the beginning of this chapter, the sublimest 
 thoughts are so often obscured and accompanied by the 
 most ludicrous ceremonies, that one is apt to overlook the 
 nugget through the thickness of its clay. 
 
 It will be only just, perhaps, or at all events not out of 
 place, to conclude a chapter that has been principally de- 
 voted to displaying the worst phases of Brahmanism with a 
 quotation from the Institutes of Manu quite worthy of the 
 Rig- Veda itself ; a quotation too that will fully show that 
 even in the most .degraded stage of their mental progress, 
 the Hindus never wholly lost the pure pantheistic faith that 
 was the basis of all their religions : — 
 
 ' This universe existed only in the first divine idea, yet 
 unexpanded, as if involved in darkness, imperceptible, un- 
 definable, undiscoverable by reason, and undiscovered by 
 revelation, as if it were wholly immersed in sleep. Then 
 the sole self-existing power, himself undiscerned, but making 
 this world discernible, with five elements and other principles 
 of nature, appeared with undiminished glory expanding his 
 idea, or dispelling the gloom. He whom the mind alone 
 can perceive, whose essence eludes the external organs, 
 who has no visible parts, who exists from eternity, even He, 
 the soul of all beings, whom no being can comprehend, 
 shone forth in person. He, having willed to produce 
 various beings from his own divine substance, first with a 
 thought created the waters. The waters are so called 
 (nara) because they were the production of Nara, or the 
 Spirit of God ; and since they were his first aya7zdy or place 
 of motion, he thence is named Narayana, or Moving on the 
 Waters. From that which is the first cause, not the object 
 of sense existing everywhere m substance, not existing to 
 our perception, without beginning or end, was produced the 
 divine Male. He framed the heaven above, the earth be- 
 neath, and in the midst placed the subtle ether, the lij^ht 
 
BRAHMANISM. 83 
 
 regions, and the permanent receptacle of waters. He 
 framed all creatures. He gave being to time and the 
 divisions of time ; to the stars also and planets he gave 
 being. For the sake of distinguishing actions he made a 
 total difference between right and wrong. He whose 
 powers are incomprehensible, having created this universe, 
 was again absorbed in the Spirit, changing the time of 
 energy for the time of repose.' * 
 
 ' Quoted by Draper in 'The Intellectual Development of Europe,' vol. i. 
 pp. 224, 225. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DIGRESSION ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES, WITH 
 ESPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE SCPIISM OF BUDDHA. 
 
 The extreme mysticism and sacerdotalism of the Brah- 
 manic priesthood gave rise to the two great religious schisms 
 of Zoroaster and Buddha; upon the latter of which in the 
 course of this chapter we shall somewhat fully touch. In 
 addition to these two great religious systems there arose 
 many philosophical schools, some of which were orthodox 
 and chiefly confined to the exposition of the Vedas ; but 
 the majority were heretical. 
 
 In the present treatise, however, it is the consideration 
 of the Vedanta philosophy which chiefly concerns us, on 
 account of its Pantheistic doctrines. Yet, as it was written 
 chiefly in refutation of the atheistical and heretical systems 
 of philosophy, it may be as well before we proceed to the 
 Vedanta to give a slight account of these several systems, 
 devoting the most space to the schism of Buddha, partly on 
 account of its own great intrinsic interest, and also because 
 it was the system more particularly singled out for contest 
 by the Vedantins. 
 
 The first school or system of which we shall treat is that 
 of the Sankhya philosophy, which is divided into two sects ; 
 one of which was more or less atheistical in its tenets, 
 and was founded by Kapila, an ancient Hindu sage, whose 
 life and character have been so obscured by the" marvels of 
 mythology that it is wiser not to commit oneself to many 
 details concerning him. The other sect of the Sankhya 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 85 
 
 philosophy is theistical in its doctrines, and was founded by 
 a personage even more mythological than Kapila, named 
 Patanjali. Patanjali's philosophy is generally called the 
 Yoga or Yoga-sdstra (of which the nearest interpretation we 
 have in our language is the word mystic), whereas Kapila's 
 philosophy more often goes by the name of the Sankhya. 
 There is also a third school of the Sankhya philosophy 
 which resembles in many features the doctrines both of 
 Kapila and Patanjali ; or, indeed, may be called a cross 
 between them, its only distinguishing mark being that it 
 considers nature an illusion. This third division goes by 
 the name of Paiirdnika-sd7ikJiya. 
 
 The acknowledged design of all the Sankhyas is to 
 teach the means whereby eternal beatitude may be attained 
 after death. In this wise the Vedanta and many other 
 Hindu philosophies resemble the Sankhya. * Future pain,' 
 says Patanjali, * is to be prevented. A clear knowledge of 
 discriminate truth is the way of its prevention.' According 
 to Kapila temporal means, such as oblations, sacrifice, &c., 
 are insufficient. It is true knowledge alone that is capable 
 of securing entire and permanent deliverance from evil. 
 The Sankhya, in common with many Indian as well as 
 Greek philosophies, is much engaged with the consideration 
 of three principles or qualities, the first and highest of 
 which, according to the Sankhya doctrine, is goodness 
 {sattwa). It alleviates, enlightens, and is attended with 
 pleasure and happiness. In fire it is prevalent ; wherefore 
 flame ascends and sparks fly upward. In man when it 
 abounds it is the cause of virtue. 
 
 The second and intermediate is foulness or passion 
 {rajas or tdjas). It is active, urgent, and variable, attended 
 with evil and misery, and is the cause of vice in human 
 beings. In air it predominates ; wherefore wind moves 
 transversely. 
 
 The third and lowest is darkness {tanias). It is heavy 
 and obstructive, attended with sorrow, dullness and illu- 
 
86 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 sion. In living beings it is the cause of stolidity. In earth 
 and water it predominates ; wherefore they fall or tend down- 
 wards. These three qualities are considered to be not mere 
 accidents of nature, but are of its essence and enter into its 
 composition. 
 
 According to the Yoga doctrine the promptest mode of 
 attaining beatitude through absorbed contemplation is de- 
 votion to God, muttering his mystical name, Oni, and 
 meditating at the same time on its signification. * God, 
 I^wara, the supreme ruler,* according to Patanjali, * is a 
 soul or spirit distinct from other souls, unaffected by the 
 ills with which they are beset, unconcerned with good or 
 bad deeds and their consequences, and with fancies and 
 passing thoughts. In him is the utmost omniscience. He 
 is the instructor of the earliest beings that have a beginning, 
 and is himself infinite, unlimited by time.' 
 
 Kapila, on the other hand, according to Colebrooke, 
 denies an I^wara, ruler of the world by volition, alleging 
 that there is no proof of God's existence, unperceived by 
 the senses, not inferred from reasoning, nor yet revealed. 
 He acknowledges, indeed, a being issuing from Nature, 
 who is intelligence absolute, source of all individual intelli- 
 gences, and origin of other existences successively evolved 
 and developed. He expressly affirms 'that the truth of 
 such an I^wara is demonstrated.' Yet that being is finite, 
 having a beginning and an end. An infinite being, creator 
 and guide of the universe by volition, Kapila positively 
 disavows. ' Detached from nature, unaffected therefore by 
 consciousness and the rest of Nature's trammels, he could 
 have no inducement to creation ; fettered by Nature, he 
 would not be capable of creation.' 
 
 We perceive, therefore, that in the most important es- 
 sentials Kapila's philosophy differs greatly from that of 
 Patanjali. 
 
 We must turn now to the atomical school of Kandda, 
 and to the dialectical school of Gotama. They are respec- 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 8"/ 
 
 lively called Vaiseihika and Nydya, The first is occupied 
 with physics ; the second with the metaphysics of logic. 
 According to Colebrooke they may be taken generally as 
 parts of one system, supplying each other's deficiencies. 
 Both doctrines are more or less in accordance with the 
 Vedas. 
 
 The order observed, both by Kanada and Gotama, in 
 delivering the precepts of their doctrine is that which had 
 been intimated in a passage of the Vedas as requisite steps 
 of instruction and study, viz. enunciation, definition, and 
 investigation. Enunciation is the mention of a thing by 
 its name. Definition sets forth a peculiar property consti- 
 tuting the essential nature of the thing. Investigation con- 
 sists in disquisition upon the pertinence and sufificiency of 
 the definition., 
 
 In a logical arrangement the 'predicaments' or objects 
 of proof are six, as they are enumerated by Kanada, viz., 
 substance, quality, action, community, particularity, and 
 aggregation or relation. To which a seventh is added b}' 
 other authors, privation or negation. The Bauddhas or 
 followers of Buddha are said to identify the predicaments 
 with knowledge, and according to the Pantheistic interpre- 
 tation of the Vedanta the predicaments are identified with 
 the universal being Brahma, in whom all exists. 
 
 According to Gotama the first and most important 
 thing to be proved is soul. It is the site of knowledge or 
 sentiment, distinct from the senses. It is infinite. It ex- 
 periences the fruit of its deeds, pain or pleasure. It is 
 eternal, because it is infinite, for whatever is infinite is also 
 eternal. 
 
 The second among matters to be proved in Gotama*s 
 enumeration is body. It is the site of effort, of organs of 
 sensation, and of the sentiment of pain or pleasure. It is 
 an ultimate compound ; the seat of soul's enjoyment. It 
 is a whole composed of parts, a framed substance, assoc 
 ated with which soul experiences fruition. 
 
88 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 Mind is the instrument which effects the apprehension 
 of pain, pleasure, or interior sensations. It is not infinite, 
 but it is minutely small, as an atom. Were it infinite it 
 might be united with everything at once, and all sensations 
 might be contemporaneous. It is eternal, and is distinct 
 from soul as well as body, with which it is merely con- 
 joined. 
 
 Material substances are by Kanada considered to be 
 primarily atoms ; and secondarily aggregates. He main- 
 tains the eternity of atoms ; and their existence and aggre- 
 gation are explained as follows : — ^ 
 
 'The mote which is seen in a sunbeam is the smallest 
 perceptible quantity. Being a substance and an effect, it 
 must be composed of what is less than itself; and this 
 likewise is a substance and an effect, for the component 
 part of a substance that has magnitude must be an effect. 
 This again must be composed of what is smaller, and that 
 smaller thing is an atom. It is simple and uncomposed, else 
 the series would be endless ; and were it pursued indefi- 
 nitely there would be no difference of magnitude between 
 a mustard-seed and a mountain, a gnat and an elephant, 
 each alike containing an infinity of particles. The ulti- 
 mate atom, then, is simple. 
 
 * The first compound consists of two atoms, for one does 
 not enter into composition, and there is no proof that more 
 than two must, for inchoation, be united. The next con- 
 sists of three double atoms, for if only two were conjoined 
 magnitude would hardly ensue, since it must be produced 
 either by size or number of particles ; it cannot be their size, 
 and therefore it must be their number. Nor is there any 
 reason for assuming the union of four double atoms, since 
 three suffice to originate magnitude. The atom, then, 
 is reckoned to be the sixth part of a mote visible in a 
 sunbeam. 
 
 ' Colebrooke's 'Essays/ vol. i. pp. 298, 299. 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 89 
 
 ' Two earthly atoms, concurring by an unseen peculiar 
 virtue, the creative will of God, or time or other competent 
 cause, constitute a double atom of earth ; and by concourse 
 of three binary atoms a tertiary atom is produced ; and by 
 concourse of triple atoms a quaternary atom ; and so on to 
 a gross, grosser, or grossest mass of earth. Thus great earth 
 is produced, and in like manner great water from aqueous 
 atoms, great light from luminous, and great air from aerial. 
 The qualities that belong to the effect are those which 
 appertained to the integrant part, or primary particle, 
 as its material cause ; and conversely, the qualities which 
 belong to the cause are found hi the effect. 
 
 * The dissolution of substances proceeds inversely. In 
 the integrant parts of an aggregate substance resulting 
 from composition, as in the potsherds of an earthen jar, 
 action is induced by pressure attended with velocity, or by 
 simple pressure. Disjunction ensues, whereby the union, 
 which was the cause of inchoation of members, is annulled, 
 and the integral substance, consisting of those members, is 
 resolved into its parts, and is destroyed, for it ceases to 
 subsist as a whole.* 
 
 The two sects considered most heretical by orthodox 
 Hindus are those of Jina and Buddha. There are many 
 sects, such as the Sankhyas and Vaiseshikas, which in 
 reality are almost equally heretical, but which have a cer- 
 tain semblance of orthodoxy, inasmuch as • they do not 
 venture to openly disclaim the authority of the Veda. 
 But the Jainas and the Bauddhas utterly disavow the 
 faintest credence in the Veda, and are therefore considered 
 to be beyond the pale of the Hindu Church in its most 
 comprehensive range. Neither of the sects believe in a 
 Creator or Moral Providence, but assign for the cause of 
 the world atoms, thus following in a measure the doctrine 
 of Kanada, although there is considerable divergence 
 of opinion as to how these atoms act and react one upon 
 
90 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 another. We shall omit giving a detailed account of the 
 philosophy of the Jainas and proceed at once to the con- 
 sideration of that of the Bauddhas. 
 
 The life of Buddha is not without interest. We shall 
 therefore endeavour to give as clear and concise an account 
 of it as we can, bearing in mind, however, that as the 
 earliest traditions we have at present discovered concerning 
 Buddha were not written till nearly 300 years after his 
 death, our account must be only taken for what it is worth. 
 
 It is, of course, scarcely necessary for us to inform our 
 readers that the name of the founder of Buddhism was not 
 Buddha. For the sake of the few, however, who may be 
 in ignorance of the fact, we may just mention that the 
 name Buddha is merely a distinctive appellation such as 
 we may often find occurring in our own history in the 
 words * The Conqueror/ ' Coeur de Lion,' &c. Buddha, or 
 more properly ' The Buddha,' is a Sanskrit word signifying 
 * The Enlightened,' and was not assumed by Buddha until 
 after he had attained maturity. 
 
 Arddha Chiddi, the founder of Buddhism, was born at 
 Kapilavastu, the capital of a kingdom of the same name, 
 situated at the foot of the mountains of Nepaul, north of 
 the present Oude. It is uncertain whether he flourished in 
 the fifth or sixth century before Christ. M. Barthdlemy 
 St Hilaire places the date of his death at 543 B. C. ; M, Max 
 Miiller places it at 477 B. c. His father, the King of Kapi- 
 lavastu, was of the family of the Sdkyas, and belonged to 
 the clan of the Gautamas. His mother was Mayidevi, a very 
 beautiful woman and the daughter of King Suprabuddha. 
 Arddha Chiddi took the name of Sakya from his 
 family, and that of Gautama from his clan. His mother 
 died seven d^ys after his birth, and he was confided to the 
 care of her sister. The child grew up a beautiful and ac- 
 complished boy, and soon learnt to know more than his 
 teachers themselves. He cared not for games or sports, 
 but loved to wander to some lonely forest and indulge in 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 9 1 
 
 meditation. One day he remained away so long that his 
 father was afraid he was lost and went to search for him, 
 and found him in this same forest deeply meditating. Then 
 the father and his ministers had a weighty consultation, 
 and they came to the conclusion that the best way to 
 prevent the boy from becoming an utter dreamer would be 
 to marry him to some beautiful fascinating maiden. When 
 the subject of marriage was broached to the young heir 
 he demanded seven days for reflection. Convinced at last 
 that not even marriage could disturb the tranquillity of his 
 mind, he allowed the ministers to look out for a princess. 
 Their choice fell on the beautiful Gopa, the daughter of 
 Dandapani. The marriage proved to be a very happy one. 
 But still the young prince remained absorbed in meditation 
 on the problems of life and death. ' Nothing is stable on 
 earth,' he used to say, * nothing is real. Life is like the 
 spark produced by the friction of wood. It is lighted and 
 is extinguished — we know not whence it came or whither 
 it goes. There must be some supreme intelligence where 
 we could find rest. If I attained it I could bring light to 
 man ; if I were free myself I could deliver the world.' 
 Already melancholy and thoughtful, given up to dreaminess 
 and love of solitude, there happened to him three events 
 not uncommon in the life of any man, but which to him 
 in his present mood of metaphysical abstraction proved of 
 the utmost importance in deciding his career. We quote 
 the description of these occurrences from M. Barthdiemy 
 St. Hilaire:— 1 
 
 ' One day when the prince with a large retinue drove 
 through the eastern gate of the city, on the way to one of 
 his parks, he met on the road an old man, broken and 
 decrepit. One could see the veins and muscles over the 
 whole of his body ; his teeth chattered ; he was covered 
 with wrinkles, bald, and hardly able to utter hollow and 
 
 ' Quoted by Max Miiller in 'The Chips of a German Workshop,' vol. i. 
 
 pp. 210-212. 
 
92 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 immelodious sounds. He was bent on his stick, and all his 
 limbs and joints trembled. "Who is that man ?" said the 
 prince to the coachman. '^ He is small and weak, his 
 muscles stick to his skin, his flesh and blood are dried up, 
 his head is white, his teeth chatter, his body is wasted 
 away ; leaning on his stick, he is hardly able to walk, 
 stumbling at every step. Is there something peculiar in his 
 family, or is this the common lot of all created beings ^ " 
 
 ' " Sir," replied the coachman, " that man is sinking under 
 old age ; his senses have become obtuse, suffering has 
 destroyed his strength, and he is despised by his relations. 
 He is without support and useless, and people have 
 abandoned him, like a dead tree in a forest. But this is 
 not peculiar to his family. In every creature youth is 
 defeated by old age. Your father, your mother, all your 
 relations, all your friends will come to the same state ; this 
 is the appointed end of all creatures." 
 
 * "Alas ! " replied the prince, " are creatures so ignorant, 
 so weak and foolish, as to be proud of the youth by which 
 they are intoxicated, not seeing the old age which awaits 
 them } As for me I go away. Coachman, turn my chariot 
 quickly. What have I, the future prey of old age — what 
 have I to do with pleasure .-* " And the young prince re- 
 turned to the city without going to his park. 
 
 * Another time the prince drove through the southern 
 gate to his pleasure-garden, when he perceived on the road 
 a man suffering from illness, parched with fever, his body 
 wasted, covered with mud, without a friend, without a home, 
 hardly able to breathe, and frightened at the sight of 
 himself and the approach of death. Having questioned 
 his coachman, and received from him the answer he ex- 
 pected, the young prince said, " Alas ! health is but the 
 sport of a dream, and the fear of suffering must take this 
 frightful form. Where is the wise man who, after having 
 seen what he is, could any longer think of joy and pleasure .•*" 
 The prince turned his chariot and returned to the city. 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 93 
 
 ' A third time he drove to his pleasure-garden through 
 the western gate, when he saw a dead body on the road, 
 lying on a bier and covered with a cloth. The friends 
 stood about crying, sobbing, tearing their hair, covering 
 their heads with dust, striking their breasts, and uttering 
 wild cries. The prince, again calling his coachman to 
 witness this painful scene, exclaimed, " Oh ! woe to youth, 
 which must be destroyed by old age ! Woe to health, 
 which must be destroyed by so many diseases ! Woe to 
 this life, where a man remains so short a time ! If there 
 were no old age, no disease, no death ; if these could be 
 made captive for ever ! " Then, betraying for the first time 
 his intentions, the young prince said, '' Let us turn back j I 
 must think how to accomplish deliverance." 
 
 *A last meeting put an end to his hesitation. He 
 drove through the northern gate on the way to his pleasure- 
 gardens, when he saw a mendicant, who appeared outwardly 
 calm, subdued, looking downwards, wearing with an air of 
 dignity his religious vestment, and carrying an alms-bowl. 
 
 * " Who is this man r* asked the prince. 
 
 ' '* Sir," replied the coachman, *' this man is one of those 
 who are called Bhikshus, or mendicants. He has renounced 
 all pleasures, all desires, and leads a life of austerity. He 
 tries to conquer himself He has become a devotee. 
 Without passion, without envy, he walks about asking for 
 alms." 
 
 ' " This is good and well said," replied the prince. " The 
 life of a devotee has always been praised by the wise. It 
 will be my refuge, and the refuge of other creatures ; it 
 will lead us to a real life, to happiness and immortality." 
 
 ' With these words the young prince turned his chariot 
 and returned to the city.' 
 
 He was then about twenty-nine years of age, and he 
 forthwith made up his mind to retire from the world. For 
 the name by which his parents had called him he substi- 
 tuted that of Gautama or Gotama — according to some. 
 
94 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 simply because it was the name of his father's clan ; but 
 according to others because the signification of the name 
 is * He who kills the senses/ Subsequently Gotama called 
 himself ' Chakia Mouni/ or the Penitent of Chakia, or 
 Sakya. After having declared to his father and his wife 
 his intention of retiring from the world, Gotama left his 
 palace one night when all the guards that were to have 
 watched him were asleep. ^ After travelling the whole night 
 he gave his horse and his ornaments to his groom and sent 
 him back to Kapilavastu. It is said there is a monument 
 still to be seen on the spot where the coachman turned 
 his back. 
 
 Gotama proceeded on his way, and first went to Vaisali, 
 and became the pupil of a famous Brahman who had 
 already gathered round him three hundred pupils. But 
 Gotama quickly learnt all that could be taught him here. 
 He went away disappointed. He had not gained the 
 knowledge he desired. He put himself under another 
 teacher, but with the same result. He had not found that 
 which he required. At last he was determined to see 
 whether he could not learn more by studying by himself in 
 quietness than by placing himself under masters. Accom- 
 panied by five of his fellow-students, he retired into solitude 
 near a village named Uruvilva. He remained there six 
 years, living a life of the most severe asceticism. Yet he 
 was forced to admit that even now he had not gained the 
 knowledge he desired. On the contrary, he was convinced 
 that asceticism, instead of giving him the peace of mind he 
 had hoped, was only a stumbling-block in the way of truth. 
 He discontinued his fastings and penances. He discon- 
 tinued his exercises and ascetic practices, and was in 
 consequence deserted by his five disciples as an apostate. 
 Left to himself and his own devices, he spent whole days 
 in meditation and deep thought. He had tried master after 
 master, teacher after teacher ; he had tried solitude and 
 asceticism, but nothing seemed to procure for him the only 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 95 
 
 knowledge he cared to gain : how to teach him to accomplish 
 the deliverance of man ; how to free himself from fear of 
 death and diseasfe and old age ; how to teach others to free 
 themselves from that fear also. Left to himself, he began 
 now slowly and by degrees to elaborate that system of 
 philosophy and religion which was destined to number 
 more souls among its adherents than any single sybtem of 
 thought had numbered before or would number hereafter. 
 After long meditations and ecstatic visions that were pro- 
 bably the natural consequence of so much thought and 
 study, he believed that he had at last really arrived at the 
 knowledge which discloses the cause and thereby destroys 
 the fear of all the changes inherent in life. It was now for 
 the first time he assumed the name of ' The Buddha,' or 
 ' The Enlightened.' Amongst his earliest disciples were his 
 wife and his aunt, but before the year had ended he had 
 already gained disciples to the number of twelve hundred. 
 He died at the advanced age of eighty years, and his 
 corpse was burnt eight days subsequently. 
 
 Buddha seems to have spent his life in oral teaching, 
 like Socrates, and has left no written documents behind 
 him. It is for that reason there is so much difficulty in 
 understanding ^his doctrines. And, indeed, it must be 
 remembered throughout the remaining part of this chapter 
 that when we are nominally relating the tenets of Buddha 
 we are in reality only relating the tenets of the sect of 
 Buddha. And it requires but a very cursory acquaintance 
 with history to teach us how very materially and how very 
 frequently the doctrines of the sect differ from the doctrines 
 of the founder. 
 
 Some centuries after the death of Buddha a vast body 
 of writings was compiled which now forms the Buddhist 
 canon, called the Three Tripitakas, or Baskets j the first 
 of which comprised the Sutras, or discourses of Buddha ; 
 the second consisted of the Vinaya, or discipline ; and the 
 third treated of Akhidharnia, or metaphysics. These are 
 said to have been arranged by three celebrated Councils 
 
96 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 The first was held immediately after Buddha's death ; but 
 as to the dates of the other two tradition varies. That of 
 the Northern Buddhists, current in Nepaul, Tibet, and China, 
 declares that these canonical works were written in Sanskrit, 
 and fixes the second Council as held no years after the 
 first, in the reign of A^oka, King of Pataliputra, and the 
 third as held more than 400 years after the death of 
 Buddha. The tradition of the Southern Buddists, current 
 in Ceylon, Burmah, and Siam, maintains that the original 
 language was Pali, and fixes the second Council as held 100 
 years after Buddha's death, in the reign of Kala^oka, and 
 the third 235 years after Buddha, under the Great Asoka. 
 There are thus two separate accounts of the Buddhist 
 canonical works : one in Sanskrit, and the other in Pali. 
 Scholars, however, seem tolerably agreed in thinking the 
 Pali account is the older and more correct ; and hence the 
 importance of the study of Pali for the investigation of 
 primitive Buddhism. 
 
 Either from diversity of instruction delivered by 
 Buddha to his disciples at different times, or, more 
 probably, from different constructions of the same text 
 more or less literal, and varying with the degree of sagacity 
 of the disciple, there have arisen no less than four sects 
 among the followers of the founder of Buddhism. As 
 well for the sake of space, and also because by so doing we 
 are more likely to be keeping to the real doctrines of 
 Buddha himself, we shall only touch upon such tenets as 
 the four sects held in common. 
 
 The foundations of the creed of Buddhism have been 
 summed up in the very ancient formula, probably invented 
 by its founder, called the Four Great Truths. These are : — 
 1st. That misery always accompanies existence. 2nd. That 
 all modes of existence (of men or animals, in earth or 
 heaven) proceed from passion or desire. 3rd. That there 
 is no escape from existence except by destruction of desire. 
 4th. That this may be accomplished by following the four- 
 fold way to Nirvana. 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 97 
 
 Of these four stages, called ' The Paths,' the first is an 
 awakening of the heart, which consists in fully realising 
 that the pleasures of the world do not constitute real 
 happiness ; that sorrow is the lot of every man ; that 
 misery is inseparable from existence. 
 
 When the awakened believer has gone still further and 
 freed himself from all impure desires and revengeful 
 feelings he has reached the second stage. 
 
 The third stage is accomplished when he has com- 
 pletely got rid of doubt, heresy, desire, vexation, and 
 unkindness. 
 
 When he has freed himself from every selfish desire, 
 whether of sense or of worldly ambition ; when he is com- 
 pletely pervaded with an universal charity, then and not 
 till then has he attained the fourth stage. 
 
 The absorbing aim of every Buddhist is the attainment 
 of Nirvana, or practical extinction. This can only be 
 accomplished by a long process of rigorous self-watchful- 
 ness, abstinence, study, and self-denial. It cannot be 
 obtained by a mere process of mortification in this world. 
 It requires long ages and series of transmigrations through 
 many worlds. But at last the supreme desideratum, 
 Nonenity, is accomplished ; the labours of the weaned 
 soul are finally completed, and it becomes at length as 
 though it had never been. 
 
 The morahty of Buddhism is sublime, the philoso- 
 phical opinions frequently very grand ; yet one cannot 
 help wondering why (if misery be the invariable accompani- 
 ment of existence, and nonentity the sole be-all and end-all 
 of existence), among the many commandments and pro- 
 hibitions of its founder, an injunction of celibacy and a 
 prohibition of procreation are not found. Nirvana would 
 then be attained without the misery and wretchedness 
 consequent on the prosecution of such attainment. 
 Surely it were the height of barbarity and cruelty to 
 procreate a race whose only sensation will be that of 
 
 VOL. I, H 
 
98 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 unremitting longing and endeavour to free themselves 
 from the burden of existence with which they have been 
 endowed ! 
 
 The Buddhists were as nearly atheists as it is possible 
 for any philosophical or religious sect to be. It is probable 
 they may not have denied in toto the existence of a God ; 
 but their idea of God was that of a supreme force, and 
 not of a supreme intelligence. And their philosophical 
 opinions led them to conclude that there was no necessity 
 for presupposing the existence of a particular Providence 
 or moral guide.^ 
 
 ' Froni- seed comes a germ ; from this a branch ; then 
 a culm or stem, whence a leafy gem ; out of which a bud, 
 from which a blossom ; and thence finally fruit. Where 
 one is the other ensues. Yet the seed is not conscious of 
 producing the germ ; nor is this aware of coming from 
 seed ; and hence is inferred production without a thinking 
 cause and without a ruling Providence. 
 
 'Again, earth furnishes solidity to the seed and 
 coherence to the germ ; water moistens the grain ; fire 
 warms and matures it ; air or wind supplies impulse to 
 vegetation, ether expands the seed, and season transmutes 
 it. By concurrence of all these seed vegetates and a 
 sprout grows. Yet earth and the rest of these concurrent 
 occasions are unconscious ; and so are the seed, germ, and 
 the rest of the effects. 
 
 ' Likewise in the moral world, where ignorance or error 
 is, there is passion : where error is not neither is passion 
 there. But they are unconscious of mutual relation.' ^ 
 
 According to the late Professor Childers the Buddhists 
 believe in twelve nidanas^ or causes of existence. These 
 are : Error, from whence springs Karma ; from Karma 
 
 ^ It is to be lamented that Lange, in his otherwise admirable ' History of 
 Materialism,' did not trace the origin and commencement of that ductiine 
 through its primary Oriental source. 
 
 ^ Colebrooke's ' Essays,' vol. i. pp. 419, 420. 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. 99 
 
 springs Consciousness ; froni Consciousness springs the 
 Organised Being ; from the Organised Being spring the 
 six organs of sense ; from the six organs of sense springs 
 Contact ; from Contact springs Sensation ; from Sensation 
 springs Desire ; from Desire springs Attachment ; from 
 Attachment springs Continued Existence ; from Continued 
 Existence springs Birth ; from Birth spring Decay and 
 Death, Sorrow, Lamentation, physical and mental Suffer- 
 ing, and Despair.^ 
 
 Ignorance or error is the mistake of supposing that to be 
 durable which is but momentary. Thence comes passion, 
 comprising desire, aversion, delusion, &c. Besides these 
 matters, which have a real existence but momentary du- 
 ration, the Bauddhas distinguish, under the category of 
 unreal, false, or non-existent, three topics : first, wilful and 
 observable destruction of an existing thing, as the breaking 
 of a jar by a stroke of a mallet ; second, unobserved nullity 
 or annihilation ; and, third, vacancy or space unencompassed 
 and unshielded, or the imaginary ethereal element. 
 
 The whole of this doctrine is formally refuted by the 
 Vedantins. The entire aggregate, referred to two sources, 
 external and internal, cannot be, nor the world's course 
 dependent thereon, for the members of it are insensible ; 
 and its very existence is made to depend on the flash 
 of thought ; yet no other thinking permanent being is 
 acknowledged, accumulating that aggregate, directing it, 
 or enjoying ; nor is there an inducement to activity 
 without a purpose and merely momentary. ' Nor is the 
 alleged concatenation of events admissible, for there is 
 no reason for it. Their existence depends on that of the 
 aggregate of which they are alleged to be severally 
 causes.' ' Nor is self or soul momentary — memory and 
 recollection prove it — and there is no doubt or error 
 therein ; for the individual is conscious that he is the 
 same who to-day remembers what he yesterday saw.' 
 
 ^ Colebrooke's * Essays,' vol. i. p. 453. 
 
 H 2 
 
lOO ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 In the published accounts of the religious opinions of 
 the Bauddhas and Jainas, derived principally from oral 
 information, doubts have been expressed as to the sense 
 attached by them to the terms which they use to signify 
 the happy state at which the perfect saints arrive. It 
 has been questioned whether annihilation, or what other 
 condition short of such absolute extinction, is meant to 
 be described. Both the sects, like most others of Indian 
 origin, propose for the grand object to which man should 
 aspire the attainment of a final happy state, from which 
 there is no return. 
 
 All agree in assigning to its attainment the same 
 term, mukti or moksha, with some shades of difference 
 in the interpretation of the word : as emancipation, 
 deliverance from evil, liberation from worldly bonds, 
 relief from further transmigration, &c. Many other 
 terms are in use, as synonymous with it — and so em- 
 ployed by all or nearly all sects — to express a state of 
 final release from the world : such as amrita^ immortality ; 
 apavarga^ conclusion, &c. But the term which the 
 Bauddhas as well as Jainas more particularly affect, but 
 which, however, is also used by the other sects, is nir- 
 vdnay profound calm. In its ordinary acceptation, as an 
 adjective, it signifies extinct, as a fire which is gone out ; 
 set, as a luminary which has gone down ; defunct, as a 
 saint who has passed away. Its etymology is from vciy 
 to blow as wind, with the preposition nir used in a 
 negative sense : it means calm and unruffled. A happy 
 state of imperturbable apathy is the ultimate' bliss to which 
 the Indian aspires: in this the Jaina as well as the 
 Bauddha concurs with the orthodox Veddntin. 
 
 Great difference of opinion has long existed among 
 European scholars as to the real nature of Nirvana ; but 
 Mr. Childers has cleared up most of the difficulties in 
 his article on Nibbdnavi in his Pali Dictionary : * Nirvana 
 is applied to two different things : first, that annihila- 
 
ON VARIOUS HINDU PHILOSOPHIES. TOl 
 
 tion of being which is the goal of Buddhism ; and, 
 secondly, the state of blissful sanctification called ara- 
 hatta or arhatshipy which terminates in annihilation.' 
 Thus annihilation (as already indicated by the etymology) 
 is the only ultimate meaning ; all existence is absolutely 
 an evil to the Buddhist, and consequently its absolute 
 extinction is the only summum honum. But although this 
 may have been the true teaching of Buddhism from the 
 first it does not follow that it was universally accepted 
 and understood, especially as the doctrine spread beyond 
 the limits of India and Ceylon. 
 
 Goldstiicker well distinguishes the Brahmanical MoksJia 
 from the Buddhist Nirvana : * The Brahmanic Hindus 
 hope that their soul will ultimately become united with the 
 universal Spirit, which, in the language of the Upanishads, 
 is the neuter Brahma ; and in that of the sects, the 
 supreme Deity, who takes the place of this philosophical 
 and impersonal god. And however indefinite this god 
 Brahma may be, it is nevertheless to the mind of the 
 Brahmanic Hindu an entity. The final salvation of a 
 Buddhist is entire non-entity. The various expressions for 
 eternal bliss in the Brahmanic creed, like moksha^ nmktiy 
 etc., all signify either "liberation from this earthly career" 
 or the ** absolute good : " they, therefore, imply a condition 
 of hope. The absolute end of a Buddhist is without hope ; 
 it is Nirvana, or extinction.' 
 
I02 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE VEDXntA philosophy. 
 
 The portion of Hindu philosophy most completely Pan- 
 theistic in its doctrines is that which goes by the name of 
 the Vedanta, the literal interpretation of which is * Conclu- 
 sion of the Veda/ It is chiefly occupied with ' an inquiry 
 concerning God, the omnipotent Creator of the world and 
 omniscient Author of revelation.' But in addition to this 
 it devotes a good deal of space to the refutation of the 
 doctrines of the various atheistical and materialistic sects. 
 
 The manner in which the Vedantins describe the nature 
 of God and the soul is as follows : — ■ 
 
 ' This omnipotent, omniscient Cause of the Universe is 
 essentially happy. He is the brilliant golden person seen 
 within the solar orb and human eye. He is the ethereal 
 element from which all things proceed and to which all 
 return. He is the breath in which all beings merge, into 
 which they all rise. He is the light which shines in heaven 
 and in all places high and low, everywhere throughout the 
 world, and within the human person. He is the breath 
 and intelligent self, immortal, undecaying and happy, with 
 which Indra, in a dialogue with Pratardana, identifies 
 himself.' 
 
 'This universe is indeed Brahma, for it springs from 
 him, merges in him, breathes in him ; therefore serene 
 — worship him. Ether and air are by Brahma created. 
 But he himself has no origin, no procreator nor maker, for 
 he is eternal, without beginning and without end. So, Are 
 
THE VEDXnTA philosophy. 103 
 
 and water and earth proceed mediately from him, being 
 evolved successively, the one from the other, as fire from 
 air, and this from ether. It is by his will, not by their own 
 act, that they are so evolved ; and conversely they merge 
 one into the other, in the reversed order, and are re- 
 absorbed at the general dissolution of worlds previous to 
 renovation of all things. 
 
 ' Intellect, mind, and organs of sense and action, being 
 composed of the primary elements, are evolved and re- 
 absorbed in no different order or succession, but in that of 
 the elements of which they consist. The same course, 
 evolution and re-absorption, or material birth and death, 
 cannot be affirmed of the soul. Birth and death are pre- 
 dicated of an individual, referring merely to his association 
 with the body, which is matter fixed and movable. The 
 soul is a portion of the supreme Ruler, as a spark is of fire. 
 The relation is not as that of master and servant, or ruler 
 and ruled, but as that of whole and part.' 
 
 'The soul is subject to transmigration. It passes from 
 one state to another, invested with a subtile frame consist- 
 ing of elementary particles, the seed or rudiment of a 
 grosser body. Departing from that which it occupied, it 
 ascends to the moon, where, clothed with an aqueous form, 
 it experiences the recompense of its works, and whence 
 it returns to occupy a new body with resulting influence of 
 its former deeds. But evil-doers suffer for their misdeeds 
 in the seven appointed regions of retribution. The re- 
 turning soul quits its watery frame in the lunar orb and 
 passes successively and rapidly through ether, air, vapour, 
 mist, and cloud and rain, and thus finds its way into a 
 vegetating plant ; and thence through the medium of 
 nourishment into an animal embryo. Of a dying person 
 the speech, followed by the ten exterior faculties (not the 
 corporeal organs themselves), is absorbed into the mind, for 
 the action of the outer organ ceases before the mind's. 
 This, in like manner, retires into the breath, attended 
 
I04 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 likewise by all the other vital functions, for they are life's 
 companions ; and the same retreat of the mind is observ- 
 able, also, in profound sleep and in a swoon. Breath, 
 attended likewise by all other vital faculties, is withdrawn 
 into the living soul which governs the corporeal organs, as 
 the attendants of a king assemble around him when he is 
 setting out upon a journey, for all vital functions gather 
 about the soul at the last moment when it is expiring. 
 The living soul, attended with all its faculties, retires within 
 a rudiment of the body, composed of light with the rest of 
 the five elements, in a subtile state. " Breath " is therefore 
 said to withdraw into "light" ; not meaning that element 
 or fire exclusively, nor intending direct transition, for a 
 traveller has gone from one city to another, though he 
 passed through an intermediate town. 
 
 ' This retirement from the body is common to ordinary, 
 uninformed people as to the devout, contemplative wor- 
 shipper, until they proceed further on their respective 
 paths ; and immortality (without immediate unity with the 
 supreme Brahma) is the fruit of pious meditation, though 
 impediments may not be wholly consumed and removed. 
 
 ' In that condition the soul of the contemplative 
 worshipper remains united to a subtile elementary frame, 
 conjoined with the vital faculties, until the dissolution of 
 worlds, when it merges in the supreme Deity. That 
 elementary frame is minute in its dimensions as subtile in 
 its texture, and is accordingly imperceptible to bystanders 
 when departing from the body j nor is it oppressed by 
 cremation or other treatment which the body undergoes. 
 It is by its warmth sensible so long as it abides with that 
 coarser frame, which becomes cold in death when it has 
 departed, and was warm during life while it remained. 
 
 ' But he who has attained the true knowledge of God 
 does not pass through the same stages of retreat, proceed- 
 ing directly to reunion with the supreme being, with which 
 he is identified, as a river, at its confluence with the sea. 
 
THE VEDXnTA philosophy. IO5 
 
 merges therein altogether. His vital faculties and the 
 elements of which his body consists, all the sixteen 
 component parts which constitute the human frame, are 
 absorbed absolutely and completely : both name and form 
 cease ; and he becomes immortal, without parts or 
 members. 
 
 * The supreme being is neither coarse nor subtile, 
 neither long nor short, neither audible nor tangible ; 
 amorphous, invariable. This luminous immortal being 
 who is in the earth is the same with the luminous immor- 
 tal embodied spirit, which informs the corporeal self, and is 
 the same with the supreme soul. He is to be apprehended 
 by mind alone ; there is not here any multiplicity. Whoso- 
 ever views him as manifold dies death after death. He 
 is amorphous, for so he is expressly declared to be ; but 
 seemingly assuming form, as sunshine or moonlight, im- 
 pinging on an object, appears straight or crooked. The 
 luminous sun, though single, yet reflected in the water 
 becomes various ; and so does the unborn divine soul by 
 disguise in divers modes. 
 
 * He is imperceptible ; yet during devout meditation is 
 as it were apprehended by perception and reverence 
 through revelation and authentic recollections, 
 
 *Like the sun and other luminaries, seemingly multi- 
 plied by reflection, though really single, and like ether 
 or space apparently subdivided in vessels containing it 
 within limits, the supreme light is without difference or 
 distinction of particulars, for he is repeatedly declared so 
 to be. Therefore is one who knows the truth identified 
 with the infinite being, for so revelation indicates. But 
 since both are afifirmed, the relation is that of a coiled 
 serpent fancied to be a hoop, or as that of light and the 
 luminary from which it proceeds, for both are luminous. 
 
 ' There is none other but He, notwithstanding the 
 apparent import of divers texts, which seem to imply 
 differences, various relations, and aliquot parts. He is 
 
I06 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 ubiquitary and eternal, for he is pronounced to be greater 
 than ethereal space which is infinite.' 
 
 The doctrine of atoms, which the Jaina& have in com- 
 mon with the Bauddhas and the VaUeshikas (followers of 
 Kandda), is controverted by the Veddntins, The train of 
 reasoning is to the following effect : * Inherent qualities of 
 the cause,' the Vaiieshikas and the rest agree, * %\y^ origin 
 to the like qualities in the effect, as white yarn makes 
 white cloth : were a thinking being the world's cause it 
 would be endued with thought.' The answer is, that 
 according to Kanada himself substances great and long 
 result from atoms minute and short : like qualities, then, 
 are not always found in the cause and the effect. 
 
 ' The whole world, with its mountains, seas, &c., consists 
 of substances composed of parts disposed to union, as 
 cloth is wove of a multitude of threads. The utmost sub- 
 division of compound substances, pursued to the last de- 
 gree, arrives at the atom, which is eternal, being simple ; 
 and such atoms, which are the elements, earth, water, fire, 
 and air, become the world's causes, according to Kanada : 
 for there can be no effect without a cause. When they 
 are actually and universally separated dissolution of the 
 world has taken place. At its renovation atoms concur 
 by an unseen virtue, which occasions action; and they 
 form double atoms, and so on, to constitute air ; then fire, 
 next water, and afterwards earth ; subsequently' body, 
 with its organs ; and ultimately this whole world. The 
 concurrence of atoms arises from action (whether of one 
 or both), which must have a cause : that cause, alleged to 
 be an unseen virtue, cannot be insensible, for an insensible 
 cause cannot incite action ; nor can it be design, for a 
 being capable of design is not yet existent, coming 
 later in the progress of creation. Either way, then, no 
 action can be ; consequently no union or disunion of 
 atoms ; and these, therefore, are not the cause of the 
 world's formation or disolution. Eternal atoms and tran- 
 
THE VEDXnTA philosophy. 107 
 
 sitory double atoms differ utterly ; and union of discord- 
 ant principles cannot take place. If aggregation be as- 
 sumed as a reason of their union, still the aggregate and 
 its integrants are utterly different ; and an intimate relation 
 is further to be sought, as a reason for the aggregation. 
 Even this assumption therefore fails. 
 
 'Atoms must be essentially active or inactive: were 
 they essentially active, creation would be perpetual ; if 
 essentially inactive, dissolution would be constant. 
 
 ' Eternity of causeless atoms is incompatible with pro- 
 perties ascribed to them ; colour, taste, smell, and tactility : 
 for things possessing such qualities are seen to be coarse 
 and transient. Earth, endued with those four properties, is 
 gross ; water, possessing them, is less so ; fire, having two, 
 is still less ; and air, with one, is fine. Whether the same 
 be admitted or denied with atoms, the argument is either 
 way confuted : earthy particles, coarser than aerial, would 
 not be minute in the utmost degree ; or atoms possess- 
 ing but a single property would not be like their effects, 
 possessing several. 
 
 'The doctrine of atoms, therefore, is to be utterly 
 rejected, having been by no venerable persons received, as 
 the Sankhya doctrine of matter, a plastic principle, has 
 been, in fact, by Manu and other sages.' ' 
 
 To confute a branch of the sect of Buddha, the 
 Veddntins argue that 'the untruth or non-existence of 
 external objects is an untenable position, for there is per- 
 ception or apprehension of them — for instance, a stock, a 
 wall, a jar, a cloth — and that which is actually apprehended 
 cannot be unexistent. Nor does the existence of objects 
 cease when the apprehension does so. Nor is it like a 
 dream, a juggle, or an illusion ; for the condition of 
 dreaming and waking is quite different. When awake a 
 person is aware of the illusory nature of the dream which 
 he recollects, 
 
 ^ Colebrooke's 'Miscellaneous Essays,' pp. 411-413. 
 
I08 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 ' Nor have thoughts or fancies an independent existence, 
 for they are founded on external and sensible objects, the 
 which, if unapprehended, imply that thoughts must be so 
 too. These are momentary ; and the same objections 
 apply to a world consisting of momentary thoughts, as to 
 one of instantaneous objects. 
 
 * The whole doctrine, when tried and sifted, crumbles 
 like a well sunk In loose sand. The opinions advanced in 
 it are contradictory and incompatible : they are severally 
 untenable and incongruous. By teaching them to his dis- 
 ciples Buddha has manifested either his own absurdity and 
 incoherence, or his rooted enmity to mankind, whom he 
 sought to delude.' 
 
 To sum up as briefly as maybe the thoroughly Pantheistic 
 tenour of the Vedanta philosophy, we will give a short epi- 
 tome of Mr. Colebrooke's recapitulation of the doctrines of 
 that system : — The principal and essential tenets of the 
 Vedanta are, that God is the omniscient and omnipotent 
 cause of the universe. Creation is an act of His will. He is 
 both efficient and material cause of the world : Creator and 
 Nature, framer and frame, doer and deed. At the consum- 
 mation of things all are resolved into Him : as the spider 
 spins his thread from his own substance and gathers it in 
 again, as vegetables sprout from the soil and return to it, 
 earth to earth, and hair and nails grow from a living body 
 and continue with it. The supreme Being is one, sole- 
 existent, secondless, entire, without parts, sempiternal, 
 infinite, ineffable, invariable ruler of all, universal soul, 
 truth, wisdom, intelligence, happiness. Individual soiils, 
 emanating from the supreme One, are likened to innume- 
 rable sparks issuing from a blazing fire. From Him they 
 proceed, and to Him they return, being of the same essence. 
 The soul which governs the body together with its organs, 
 neither is born ; nor does it die. It is a portion of the 
 divine substance, and as such infinite, immortal, intelligent* 
 sentient, and true. 
 
THE VEDXnTA philosophy. 109 
 
 Subject to future transmigration, the soul visits other 
 worlds, to receive there the recompense of works, or to 
 suffer the penalty of misdeeds. Sinners fall to various 
 regions of punishment. The virtuous rise to the moon, 
 where they enjoy the fruit of their good actions, and whence 
 they return to this world to animate new bodies and act in 
 them, under Providence, conformably with theirpropensities 
 and predispositions, the trace of which remains. 
 
 But the wise, liberated from worldly trammels, ascend 
 yet higher, to the abode and court of Brahma ; or, if their 
 attainment of wisdom be complete, they at once pass into 
 a reunion with the Divine Essence. 
 
no ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BHAGAVAD-GITA.^ 
 
 Before we close this section, devoted to the consideration 
 of Oriental Pantheism, it is necessary for us to devote one 
 short chapter to a brief account of the Hindu philosophical 
 poem entitled *The Bhagavad-Gita,' in which the Oriental 
 doctrines of Emanation and Pantheism are very clearly 
 exhibited. 
 
 Both the authorship and date of this poem are very 
 obscure ; and I believe there is a divergence among critics 
 of over a thousand years as to when it was written ; not a 
 few authorities placing it as late as the sixth century after 
 Christ However that may be, there seems to be little 
 doubt that it was of considerably later origin than the 
 Rig-Veda ; and that in all probability it was written more 
 recently than any of the philosophical systems of which we 
 have as yet treated. 
 
 During this interval a new god has been apparently 
 born into the mythology of India. He is named Krishna, 
 or Kreeshna. ' And thou, Krishna, of the Yadava race, 
 having become the son of Aditi and being called Vishnu, 
 the younger brother of Indra, the all-pervading, becoming 
 a child, and vexer of thy foes, hast by thy energy traversed 
 the sky, the atmosphere, and the earth in three strides.' 
 
 ^ For the materials of the above chapter I have availed myself largely, 
 indeed almost verbally, of the abstract Mr. F. D. Maurice has made of the 
 Bhagavad-Gita, as published in the first volume of his * Moral and Meta- 
 physical Philosophy.' 
 
THE BHAGAVAD-GITA. I 1 1 
 
 Yet upon closer examination we find that Krishna 
 cannot properly be called a new god ; he is only a new 
 name, a more recent representation of the One God, the 
 Pervading Presence, the Atman or Self, of which we have 
 treated in a former chapter. He is described as ' the soul 
 of all ; the omniscient, the all, the all-knowing, the vastest 
 of the vast, the greatest of the great, the producer of all, 
 the God whom the Goddess Devaki bore to Vishnu/ Else- 
 where Krishna describes himself as being at the same time 
 both the priest and the victim, and adds : ^ ' Know that 
 Dharma (righteousness) is my beloved first-born mental 
 son, whose nature is to have compassion on all creatures. 
 In his character I exist among men, both present and past, 
 passing through many varieties of mundane existence. I 
 am Vishnu, Brahma, Indra, and the source as well as the 
 destruction of things, the creator and the annihilator of the 
 whole aggregate of existences. While all men live in un- 
 righteousness, I, the unfailing, build up the bulwark of 
 righteousness as the ages pass away.' And it is Kreeshna 
 who is the prominent figure in the Bhagavad-Gita. 
 
 The tenets of this poem are supposed to be not entirely 
 in accordance either with the Vedas or the Vedanta. The 
 fundamental tenet, as opposed to the Vedanta, is that faith 
 (bhakti) and not knowledge is the cause of liberation. 
 Bhakti in the highest sense is defined as an * affection fixed 
 on God, and its characteristics differ from those of earthly 
 affection in the object rather than in their nature. Know- 
 ledge and devout concentration are aids to faith, but they 
 are not faith itself, and to mistake knowledge to be the 
 pursuit of man is to confuse the means with the end. So 
 that the doctrines of the Bhagavad-Gita may be regarded 
 more in the light of an extension than of a contradiction 
 of the Vedanta. The highest form of faith is properly 
 directed to Krishna, who is considered as identical with 
 the Supreme Being, the impersonal Brahma, although he, 
 
 ' 'Mythology of the Aryan Nations,' by Rev. G. W. Cox, vol. ii. p. 131. 
 
112 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 in common with other gods of the Hindu mythology, mani- 
 fests himself at different times, under various forms. 
 
 The Bhagavad-Gita consists principally of a series of 
 lessons or lectures, in which Krishna instructs his hearer, 
 who is called Arjoon, in such duties as are necessary to 
 salvation. 
 
 The scene opens on a field of battle. The Kooroos and 
 the Pandoos, kindred tribes, are about to engage in a deadly 
 war. Arjoon is one of the heroes of the Pandoos ; he is 
 standing in a chariot drawn by white horses. Near him is 
 the divine Kreeshna, of whom at present we must only say 
 that he is the mysterious counsellor of the prince. What 
 his offices and nature are he himself will tell us by and 
 
 by. 
 
 Arjoon is looking on with dismay and horror upon a 
 battle in which there are uncles, cousins, sons, brothers, 
 and bosom friends on both sides. He thinks there can be 
 no happiness for him hereafter if he should be the mur- 
 derer of people of his own race. Such a crime is likely to 
 destroy the virtue of the whole family or tribe. Hell is 
 threatened by the Sankar both to those who fall and those 
 who survive. The chief sits down in the chariot between 
 the two armies and casts away his bow and arrows. The 
 divine adviser reproves him for his weakness. It is his 
 duty to fight. * Tell me what I shall do,' cries the young 
 man. * I am confounded between two duties. I am over- 
 come with the dread of sin. I see nothing to appease my 
 grief though I were to rule the earth or the hosts of 
 heaven.' 
 
 Then Kreeshna instructs him in the nature of the soul. 
 Arjoon may go to the fight, for the soul neither killeth nor 
 is killed. You cannot say of it, it hath been, it is about to 
 be, or is to be hereafter. It is a thing without birth ; it is 
 ancient, constant, and eternal. As a man throweth away 
 old garments and putteth on new, so the soul, having 
 quitted its old mortal frames, entereth into others which are 
 
THE BHAGAVAD-GITA. II3 
 
 new. The weapon divideth it not, the fire burneth it not, 
 the water corrupteth it not, the wind drieth it not away. 
 It is indivisible, inconsumable, incorruptible ; it is univer- 
 sal, permanent, immovable. The former state of being is 
 unknown ; the middle state is evident ; the future state is 
 not to be discovered. The duty of thy tribe is to fight ; a 
 soldier of the Kshatree tribe has no higher duty. 
 
 The belief of the soul's immortality ia thus connected 
 with the practice of life. But is not that dread which 
 Arjoon had of further consequences a reasonable one ? 
 Kreeshna intimates to him that it is not. The people who 
 held out that kind of notion of reward and punishment 
 looked for transient enjoyment in heaven, not for eternal 
 absorption. The Veds, which seem to encourage it, are 
 adapted to men in a threefold condition.. Turn to spiritual 
 things, be firm in the higher path, and you will be free 
 from care and trouble about the future, as about the pre- 
 sent. Consider the deed and not the event ; let not the 
 motive for action be the hope of reward. Yet let not thy 
 life be spent in inaction. Perform thy duty ; abandon all 
 thought of the consequences ; seek an asylum in wisdom 
 alone. Men who are endued with true wisdom are un-. 
 mindful of good or evil in this world. They who have 
 abandoned all thought of the fruit which is produced from 
 their actions are freed from the chains of birth and go to 
 the regions of eternal happiness. 
 
 Arjoon wishes to know something more of the Moonee, 
 or thoroughly wise man. Kreeshna answers, ' The wisdom 
 of that man is established, who, like the tortoise, can draw 
 in all his members and restrain them from their wonted 
 purposes. The tumultuous senses hurry away by force the 
 heart even of him who striveth to restrain them. The 
 inspired man, trusting in me, may quell them and be 
 happy. Such a one walketh in the night, when all things 
 go to rest ; he sleepeth in the day, the time when all things 
 wake. A man trusting in the Supreme goeth not astray ; 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 ORIENTAL PANTPIEISM. 
 
 at the hour of death he shall mix with the incorporeal 
 nature of Brahm.' 
 
 The subject of the relation of thought to action still 
 engages Arjoon's mind, and gives occasion for another lec- 
 ture from Kreeshna. In the course of it Arjoon asks how- 
 man is led to commit offences ; it seems as if, contrary to 
 his wishes, he was compelled by some secret force. ' It is 
 the enemy, lust or passion,' replies the teacher, * insatiable 
 and full of sin, by which this world is covered, as the flame 
 by the smoke, as the sword by rust, or as the foetus by its 
 membrane. This inveterate foe, in the shape of desire, 
 raging like fire and hard to be appeased, obscures the 
 understanding of the wise man. This destroyer of wisdom 
 and knowledge must be subdued. It is possible, for though 
 the organs are great the mind is greater ; the resolution is 
 greater than the mind, and there is one greater than that. 
 When thou hast resolved what is superior to the resolution, 
 and fixed thyself by thyself, then determine to abandon 
 inclination or desire, thy great enemy.' 
 
 There is a deep mystery in the last sentence. Who is 
 this that is superior to the resolution in man ? All the 
 discipline seems to depend on this question. Kreeshna 
 says that he taught it to one and another in former days ; 
 that it was handed down to the Rajarshees, and lost. 
 ' But how is this/ asks Arjoon, * when thou, Kreeshna, hast 
 come later into life than some of those to whom thou hast 
 imparted this secret .-*' ' Both I and thou,' answers Kreeshna, 
 * have passed many births ; mine are known to me, but thou 
 knowest not of thine. Although I am not in my nature 
 subject to birth or decay, yet, as I have command over my 
 own nature, I am made evident by my power. When there 
 is a decline of virtue in the world I make myself manifest; 
 I appear from age to age for the preservation of the just, 
 the destruction of the wicked, and the re-establishment of 
 virtue.' Two kinds of worship are pointed out : those who 
 acknowledge Kreeshna do not when they quit their mortal 
 
THE BHAGAVAD-GITA. I I 5 
 
 frames enter into another, but into him. On the other 
 hand, there are those who seek success for their works in 
 this life ; they worship the Devatas (demons or angels). 
 The true Kreeshna worshipper seeks rest in action and 
 action in rest ; he performs all duties ; yet he, as it were^ 
 does nothing ; he seeks no reward — he is pleased with what- 
 ever he may by chance obtain ; he is freed from the bonds 
 of action — the same in prosperity and adversity. God is 
 attained by him who maketh God alone the object of his 
 works. There are various modes of worship, all purifying ; 
 but the worship of spiritual wisdom is far better than the 
 worshipping with offerings of things. In wisdom is to be 
 found every work. Seek this wisdom with prostrations, 
 with questions, and with attention ; then thou wilt not again 
 fall into folly, thou wilt behold all nature in me. Although 
 thou wert the greatest of offenders, thou shalt be able to 
 cross the gulf of sin with the barque of wisdom. There is 
 not anything to be compared in this world with wisdom 
 and purity. He who is perfected by practice in due time 
 findeth it in his own soul. He who has faith finds wisdom. 
 The ignorant and the man whose spirit is full of doubt is 
 lost. Those (continues the teacher) whose understandings 
 are in the Deity, whose souls are in him, whose asylum is 
 in him, are by wisdom purified from their offences, and go 
 whence they shall never return. The learned behold him 
 alike in the reverent Brahmin perfected in knowledge, in 
 the ox, in the elephant, in the dog, and in him who eateth 
 of the flesh of dogs. Those whose minds are fixed on thia 
 equality gain eternity even in this world. 
 
 The next lecture on the subject of the exercises of the 
 soul works out the same idea in a number of forms. To, 
 the Yogi, or devout man, it is said gold, iron, and stones are 
 the same ; he is the same with those who love him and 
 those who hate, in the company of saints or sinners. ' He 
 delighteth in his own soul ; he is in God and free from sin ;. 
 he believes in unity and worships me present in all things, 
 
Il6 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 and dwelleth in me altog'ether, even on this earth.' In the 
 course of this conversation Arjoon asks, ' Whither, O 
 Kreeshna, doth the man go after death who, although he 
 be endued with faith, hath not obtained perfection in his 
 devotion ; because his unsubdued mind wandered from the 
 discipline, doth he come to nothing ?"* Kreeshna answers, 
 ' No man who hath done good goeth unto an evil place. A 
 man whose devotions have been broken off by death, having 
 enjoyed for many years the reward of his virtues in the 
 region above, is at length born into some holy family ; he 
 is endued with the same degree of application that he held 
 in his former body, and he begins again to labour for 
 perfection.* 
 
 But, after all, who is Kreeshna ? The question has 
 already been awakened in Arjoon's mind ; he has arrived 
 at the stage of discipline when it may be answered. ' I,' 
 says the teacher, * am the creation and the dissolution of the 
 whole universe. There is not anything greater than I ; all 
 things hang on me, even as precious gems upon a string ; I 
 am moisture in the water, light in the sun and moon, invo- 
 cation in the Veds, sound in the firmament, sweet-smelling 
 savour in the earth, glory in the source of light. I am life 
 in all things, and zeal in the zealous, I am the eternal seed 
 of nature. I am the understanding of the wise, the glory 
 of the proud, the strength of the strong ; free from lust and 
 anger. There is a supernatural influence which bewilders 
 the wretched, the foolish, and the low-minded, and hinders 
 them from coming to me. I am not in these, though they 
 proceed from me. Many seek me, but the wise man is 
 constantly engaged in my service ; I esteem the wise man 
 as myself, for his spirit dependeth on me alone. Those 
 who worship the Devatas go to them ; those who worship 
 me alone, go to me. The ignorant, who are unacquainted 
 with my supreme nature, which is superior to all things, 
 believe me, who am invisible, to exist in the visible forms 
 in which they see me. I know all the things that have 
 
THE BHAGAVAD-GITA. II7 
 
 been, that are, that shall be ; but there is not one amongst 
 them that knoweth me. Those who trust in me know 
 Brahm, the supreme and incorruptible; they know the 
 emanations from which natural things are generated ; they 
 know the destroying nature. In this body I am the teacher 
 of worship. He who thinks constantly of me will find me. 
 He who finds me returns not again to mortal birth. The 
 universe exists, dissolves, is reproduced ; there is an incor- 
 ruptible abode which is my mansion. The supreme Being 
 is obtained by him who worshippeth no other gods ; in him 
 is included all nature. By him all things are spread abroad. 
 I (continues Kreeshna) am the sacrifice ; I am the worship, 
 I am the spices, I am the fire, I am the victim, I am the 
 father and mother of this world ; I am the road of the good, 
 the comforter, the creator, the witness, the asylum, the 
 friend. They who serve other gods with a firm belief, in 
 doing so involuntarily worship me. I am the same to all 
 mankind. They who serve me in adoration are in me. If 
 one whose ways are ever so evil serve me alone, he becometh 
 of a virtuous spirit, and obtaineth eternal happiness. Even 
 women and the tribes of Visya and Soodra shall go to the 
 supreme journey if they take sanctuary with me; how much 
 more my holy servants the Brahmins and Rajarshees ! 
 Consider this world as a finite and joyless place, and 
 serve me.' 
 
 Arjoon begins to regard his teacher with wonder and 
 adoration. He is taught that reason, knowledge, clear 
 judgment, patience, truth,, humility, meekness, birth, death, 
 fear, courage, zeal, renown, and infamy all come from him. 
 He is the soul which standeth in the bodies of all beings ; 
 he is the chief of all warriors, floods, animals ; the Hima- 
 laya among mountains, the Ganges among rivers, the science 
 in sciences, the spring among seasons, gaming amongst 
 frauds, the rod and policy among rulers. ' Amongst the 
 secret I am silent, amongst the wise I am wisdom.* 
 
 All these are the forms of Kreeshna. Arjoon aspires 
 
1X8 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM. 
 
 to see his never-failing spirit. A mysterious revelation is 
 granted. The pupil is overwhelmed with rapture and 
 terror. He sees all creation proceeding from Kreeshna — 
 swallowed up in him. With this vision is mingled one of 
 the army by which he is surrounded. As troops of insects 
 with increasing speed seek their own destruction in the 
 flaming fire ; as the rapid streams of flowing rivers roll on 
 to meet the ocean's bed, so these heroes of the human 
 race are rushing on towards the flaming mouth of the 
 Divine Being. The whole world is filled with his grandeur. 
 Kreeshna is the destroyer as well as the creator! Not one 
 of these warriors save Arjoon is to live. They are already 
 destroyed by the divine power. Let him put forth his hand 
 and be the immediate agent of their death. On to the 
 battle ! 
 
 But Arjoon*s terror increases. He bows down before 
 him whom he had called Kreeshna and friend. ' I was 
 ignorant/ he says, * of thy greatness ; I was blinded by my 
 affection and presumption ; I have trifled with thee ; I crave 
 thy forgiveness. Thou art the Father of all things, animate 
 and inanimate ; the sage instructor of the whole, worthy to 
 be adored. Bear with me as a father with his son, a friend 
 with a friend, a lover with his beloved. I am pleased to 
 behold things never before seen, but my mind is in awful 
 fear.* He is bidden not to be disturbed, nor to let his 
 faculties be confounded. The god assumes his benignant 
 human shape. Arjoon is at peace. 
 
 After this wonderful discovery of himself, and some dis- 
 course upon the method in which he is to be served in his 
 visible and invisible nature, Kreeshna proceeds to answer 
 some of his pupil's more difficult questions. First, what is 
 Kshetra, or body ? It consists of the five elements (earth, 
 air, fire, water, and ether) consciousness, understanding 
 spirit, the eleven organs, the power of the five senses, love 
 and hatred, pleasure and pain, sensibility and firmness. 
 Secondly, what is wisdom ? It is freedom from self- 
 
THE BHAGAVAD-GTTA. II9 
 
 esteem, hypocrisy, and injustice ; patience, rectitude, respect 
 for masters and teachers ; exemption from attachment to 
 children, wife, and home ; evenness of temper upon the 
 arrival of every event, whether longed for or not ; freedom 
 from pride, worship paid to Kreeshna alone, love of soli- 
 tude, constant study of the superior Spirit. Thirdly, what 
 is Gnea, or the object of wisdom ? It is that which hath 
 no beginning and is supreme, which can neither be called 
 being or not being ; it is all hands and feet ; it is ail faces, 
 heads, and eyes ; it is all ear ; it sitteth in the midst of the 
 world ; without organs, it is the reflected light of every 
 faculty of the organs ; connected with nothing, it containeth 
 all things ; without quality it partaketh of every quality. 
 It is the inside and outside, the movable and immovable 
 of all nature. It standeth at a distance, yet it is present ; 
 it is undivided, yet in all things it standeth divided. It is 
 the ruler of all things ; it is the light in light, and it is 
 declared to be free from darkness. 
 
 There are two other principles which Kreeshna declares 
 to be without beginning : Prakreetee and Pooroost. The 
 former would seem to be the mere instrument or agent in 
 man ; the other the directing power in him. All things, 
 animate and inanimate, are declared to be produced from 
 the union of Kshetra and Kshetra-gna. ' I,' says Kreeshna, 
 ' am the Kshetra-gna in every mortal frame — the living 
 power which directs it.* 
 
 From Prakreetee, or Nature, three Goon or qualities 
 proceed : the truth quality, the passionate quality, the dark 
 quality. The Satwa-goon, or truth quality, leads to wis- 
 dom ; the Raja-goon, or passionate quality, to ambition 
 and covetousness ; the Tama-goon, or dark quality, to 
 madness, distraction, and ignorance. Those who are ruled 
 by the first mount on high ; the second stay in the 
 middle ; the last sink below. But the soul must arise 
 above all these qualities into a Being who- is superior to 
 them before he can drink of the water of immortality. 
 
I20 ORIENTAI. PANTHEISM. 
 
 How this ascent is to be obtained -how a man is to rise 
 above the particular Pooroosh, or soul, into the Pooroshot- 
 tama, or supreme soul^ is the next subject of Kreeshna's 
 teaching, of which we need not speak, as it has been anti- 
 cipated in several of the previous lectures. 
 
 An important subject remains to be discussed. The be- 
 lief of the three different qualities evidently presumes the 
 existence of a different destiny for the different creatures 
 which are endued with them. This principle is now dis- 
 tinctly affirmed. 'The Divine destiny is for absorption into 
 the Divine nature ; the evil destiny confines the soul to 
 mortal birth. Those who are born under the influence of 
 the evil destiny know not what it is to proceed in virtue or 
 recede in vice. They say the world is without beginning 
 and without end, — without an Eeswar, or divine light ; 
 that all things are conceived by the junction of the sexes. 
 These men say the gratification of their sensual appetites 
 is the supreme good ; they say, *' This to-day hath been 
 acquired by me, and this I shall have also. I am powerful, 
 I am happy, I am rich ; I am endued with precedence 
 among men. Where is there another like me ? I will 
 make presents at the feast and be merry." Such men are 
 self-conceited, stubborn, and ever in pursuit of wealth and 
 pride. They worship nominally and hypocritically. They 
 place their trust in pride and power ; they hate me in 
 themselves and in others ; wherefore I cast them down 
 into the wombs of evil spirits and unclean beasts. They 
 go from birth to birth ; at length, not finding me, they go 
 into the most infernal regions. There are three ways to 
 these : lust, anger, and avarice. Avoiding these gates of 
 sin, thou wilt go the journey of the Most High.' 
 
 Distinction of qualities leads to a distinction in the 
 kinds of faith or worship. All worship ; but the nature and 
 object of the worship are determined by their different 
 qualities. The worship which is guided by divine pre- 
 cepts, without the desire of reward, and with an attentive 
 
THE BHAGAVAD-GITA. T2I 
 
 mind, is of the Satwa-goon. That which is performed 
 irregularly, without regard to the precepts of the law, with- 
 out the distribution of bread, without the usual invocations, 
 without gifts to the Brahmin at the conclusion, and without 
 faith, is of the Raja-goon. That which is performed with 
 a view to the fruit and with hypocrisy is of the Tama-goon. 
 Whatever is performed without faith — whether it be sacri- 
 fices, deeds of charity, or mortification of the flesh — is 
 called Asat, and is not for this world nor that which is 
 above. These same qualities exhibit themselves in works. 
 He who has the Satwa-goon forsakes the fruit of action, 
 but not action itself. He who has the Raja-goon forsakes 
 the work because it is painful ; he who has the Tama-goon 
 neglects action through folly and distraction of mind. So 
 of wisdom : the wisdom of the Satwa-goon sees one infi- 
 nite principle in nature ; the wisdom of the Raja-goon sees 
 manifold principles prevailing in nature ; the wisdom of 
 the Tama-goon sees only self-interest in all things. So of 
 pleasure : the pleasure which a man enjoys from his labour, 
 and wherein he finds the end of his pains, that which is in 
 the beginning is as poison, and in the end is as the water 
 of life, is of the Satwa-goon : this arises from the consent 
 of the understanding. The pleasure which arises from the 
 mere meeting of the organs with their objects, which in the 
 beginning is as sweet as the water of life, and in the end is 
 a poison, is of the Raja-goon. The pleasure, which in the 
 beginning and end tends to stupify the soul, is of the Tama- 
 goon. There is not anything, Kreeshna declares, in heaven 
 or earth which is free from these three qualities. 
 
 Upon these qualities depend the respective duties of 
 the four tribes of Brahmin, Kshatree, Visya, and Soodra. 
 The natural duties of the Brahmin are peace, self-restraint, 
 zeal, purity, patience, rectitude, learning, theology. The 
 natural duties of the Kshatru are bravery, glory, rectitude 
 not to fly from the field, generosity, princely conduct. The 
 natural duty of the Visya is to cultivate the lands, tend the 
 
122 ORIENTAL PANTHEISM, 
 
 cattle, and buy and sell. The natural duty of the Soodra is 
 servitude. A man who is contented with his own particular 
 lot and duty obtaineth perfection, for he offers his own 
 works to that Being from whom the principles of all beings 
 proceed. The duty of a man's own calling is far preferable 
 to the duty of another, let it be ever so well pursued. A 
 man's own calling, with all its faults, ought not to be for- 
 saken. ' With thy heart place all thy works in me ; by so 
 doing thou shalt surmount every difficulty. But if through 
 pride thou wilt not listen to my words, thou wilt undoubt- 
 edly be lost. From a confidence in thyself thou mayest 
 think thou wilt not fight. This is a fallacious determi- 
 nation, for the principles of thy nature will impel thee ; 
 thou wilt do that through necessity which thou seekest 
 through ignorance to avoid.' 
 
 This conclusion, though perfectly in accordance with 
 the commencement of the story, and giving it a unity, may 
 seem inconsistent with what has been said of the special 
 glory of the Brahmin. But Kreeshna adds, ' Eeswar re- 
 sideth in the bosom of every mortal being, revolving with 
 his supernatural power the universal wheel of time. Take 
 sanctuary with him upon all occasions, oh ! offspring of 
 Bahrat ; by his divine pleasure thou shalt obtain supreme 
 happiness and an eternal abode.' 
 
BOOK THE SECOND 
 
 GREEK PANTHEISM 
 
They felt 
 A Spiritual Presence, oft-times misconceived, 
 But still a high dependence, a divine 
 Bounty and government, that filled their hearts 
 With joy and gratitude, and fear and love ; 
 And from their fervent lips drew hymns of praise 
 That through the desert rang. Though favoured less, 
 Far less than these, yet such in their degree 
 Were those bewildered pagans of old time. — Wordsworth. 
 
 They taught that narrow views betray to misery : 
 That wise it is to comprehend the whole : 
 That God and Nature our attention claim ; 
 That Nature is the glass reflecting God, 
 As by the sea reflected is the sun 
 Too glorious to be gazed on in his sphere : 
 That mind immortal loves immortal aims; 
 That boundless mind affects a boundless space. 
 That vast surveys and the sublime of things 
 The soul assimilate, and mate her great : 
 That, therefore, heaven her glories, as a fund 
 Of inspiration, thus spreads out to man. 
 Such are their doctrines ; such the night inspired. 
 
 And what more true? 
 
 I meet the Deity in every view, 
 
 And tremble at my nakedness before Him. — YouNG. 
 
^25 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 
 
 From our earliest childhood we have generally been 
 taught to regard the Hebrews as those to whom we owe 
 all our knowledge of theology and religion ; in a great 
 measure even our knowledge of God Himself. We have 
 been taught to regard the Greeks as those from whom 
 we have gained all our acquaintance with the arts and 
 sciences, philosophy, and to a certain extent all that is 
 commonly comprised within the word Wisdom. And in 
 like manner it is upon the Romans we have been told 
 to look as upon those from whom we have gained all 
 our notions of discipline and law. As regards our rela- 
 tions to the H ebrews and Romans, the definition is 
 fairly correct. Not so with the Greeks. There is, indeed, 
 a certain superficial accuracy about the statement. We 
 do, of course, owe a good deal of our knowledge and 
 learning to the Greeks. But where the definition is 
 erroneous is this : it leads us to imply from it that the 
 Greeks were the first people who cultivated the love of 
 learning for its own sake ; that they gained their know- 
 ledge from no other nations, but were the authors of it 
 themselves. It might almost lead us to imply they were 
 the first people who had ever attained any degree of 
 civilisation. 
 
 The slightest acquaintance with Egyptian or Hindoo 
 history is sufficient to make us detect such an obvious 
 fallacy, and lead us readily to discredit the assertion. The 
 
126 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 civilisation of Egypt goes so far back in the world's history 
 that it is almost impossible to say when it began. It is 
 
 almost generally acknowledged now that Moses gained 
 the greater portion of his knowledge from his connection 
 with the Egyptians ; and in that case even our first ideas 
 of religion may be traced to an Egyptian source. 
 
 It is only of late years we have been able to gain any 
 real knowledge of Egypt, through our ignorance of its 
 sacred symbolical writing or hieroglyphs ; and even now 
 our knowledge of those characters is all but infinitesimal. 
 Yet all seem agreed that at the dawn of European civili- 
 sation Egypt was no longer in the zenith of her greatness. 
 At the first historical appearance of the country of the 
 Nile she is hoary and venerable with age. We have some 
 knowledge of what she was in her old age ; but of what 
 she was in the full glory and prime of her maturity remains 
 still for the labours of scholars to discover. Yet even the 
 little we do know fills us with utter amazement at the won- 
 derful degree of knowledge and art to which the Egyptians 
 had attained. The Great Pyramid was built more than 
 three thousand years before the birth of Christ, yet still is 
 it in existence. And so accurately was it planned and con- 
 structed, that at this day the variation of the compass may 
 actually be determined by the position of its sides. At 
 the time of Abraham, when he and his countrymen were 
 still living and moving about in tents and waggons, the 
 Egyptians were living in cities. At that time also they 
 had already cultivated agriculture and parcelled out their 
 valley into farms. They had invented records, and wrote 
 their kings* names and actions on the massive temples 
 which they had raised. They had built the obelisk at 
 Heliopolis, the temple at Karnak ; most probably, too, the 
 wonderful Sphinx was at this time carved. The decimal 
 and duodecimal systems of arithmetic were in use ; the 
 arts necessary in hydraulic engineering, massive architec- 
 ture, and the ascertainment of the boundaries of land had 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 2/ 
 
 reached no small degree of perfection. The columns 
 which upheld their temples are the models from which the 
 Greeks afterwards copied. Their statues, though not 
 always considered graceful, are grand and simple, free 
 from false ornament, and often colossal. Their wealth was 
 proverbial with the neighbouring nations ; and the remain- 
 ing monuments of their magnificence prove that at this 
 time Egypt was a highly civilised country, to which its 
 neighbours looked up with wonder. 
 
 At the time of Abraham it was divided into several 
 little kingdoms, whose boundaries cannot now be exactly 
 known. In the valley to the south of Silsilis was the 
 kingdom of Elephantine. Next was the kingdom of 
 Thebes, which, perhaps, included all the valley to the east 
 of the river. On the west of the river was the kingdom of 
 Abydos. There was also the kingdom of Memphis, em- 
 bracing the western half of the Delta, which in the reign 
 of Suphis had been strong enough to conquer Thebes ; so 
 that henceforth the kingdoms of Memphis and Thebes 
 became united. We have, of course, no means of reckon- 
 ing the ages during which civilisation was slowly making 
 these steps of improvement ; and it is only by the com- 
 parison of Egypt with other nations that we can attain 
 even a proximate knowledge of her great antiquity. The 
 Jewish nation was weak and struggling before the reign of 
 David. The history of Greece begins with the Trojan 
 War. But before the time of David, and before the Trojan 
 War, the power and glory of Thebes had already passed 
 away. Well might the Egyptian priests say to the earliest 
 Greek philosophers : ' You Greeks are mere children, talka- 
 tive and vain ; you know nothing at all of the past* 
 
 Yet few things, perhaps, can acquaint us so certainly 
 with the superiority the East had over the West in the 
 antiquity of her civilisation as a comparison between their 
 religions. From the fact of it being now obsolete it is not 
 easy to acquaint ourselves exactly with the religion of 
 
3 28 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 ^SyP^- That idol-worship and consultation of oracles 
 was conceded to the populace there is little doubt. But 
 there is also little doubt that the popular religion was not 
 believed in by the more educated and intelligent of the 
 Egyptians. As far as we can discover, the religion of the 
 higher classes in Egypt consisted of an abstract and highly 
 refined Pantheism. But our knowledge of their religion is 
 necessarily slight. They have left no books ; so that all 
 we can know of it has to be gained from pyramids, 
 tombs, and statues, already deciphered or yet to be 
 deciphered. 
 
 In Hindostan we come again into the world of books. 
 We find ourselves among a literary people, literary by pro- 
 fession. We know far more of what the Hindoo has 
 thought than of what he has done. And, indeed, consider- 
 ing them generally, the Hindoos may be regarded as a 
 religious, contemplative, and philosophical race, far more 
 than an active, warlike, or historical race. In former 
 chapters we have already described the principal Hindoo 
 religions : the Vedas ; Buddhism ; we have given an abstract 
 of the Bhagavad-gita. No thoughtful person can acquaint 
 himself with these religions without feeling they must have 
 been the product of a rarely cultured and refined race. 
 Turn from the highly abstract philosophy of Buddhism or 
 from the pure morality of the Bhagavad-gita to the Greek 
 fables and mythology, and, in point both of intellect and 
 morality, the contrast would not be more startling if we 
 were to turn from the best and highest phases of Christianity 
 to the lowest and most base forms of Fetichism, from 
 which the African races are now but barely emerging. 
 
 Men are always prone to create their gods in the images 
 of themselves ; and if we would acquaint ourselves with 
 the qualities by which a nation is principally characterised, 
 we cannot do better than seek them in the qualities which 
 characterise that nation's god. Not so much for the natural 
 and somewhat obvious reason that a devotee will always 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. I 29 
 
 endeavour to imitate the highest qualities of his god, in 
 order to gain his approbation and become as much Hke 
 him as it is possible for a mere mortal to resemble his 
 divinity. This is, of course, one reason. But a stronger 
 reason lies in the fact, that a race must have previously 
 prized those qualities, or it would not have endowed its 
 god with them. Having once endowed him with them, the 
 qualities of the god and the disciple act and re-act one upon 
 the other. For, however perfect the disciple may be in his 
 possession of certain qualities, he can never reach such a 
 degree of perfection in them but that it is quite possible 
 for him to believe his god possesses them in a still higher 
 degree of perfection. Consciously or unconsciously, a 
 nation always endows Its god with the qualities it prizes 
 most in itself^ In India, pure and refined intelligence 
 
 ' In the above passage I have stated, in general terms, my belief that the 
 qualities of every nation may be known by the qualities with which that nation 
 endows its god. I believe this is true, and will always be found to be the 
 case. It is right, however, for me to say how far and in what measure I 
 believe this statement will be found to be correct. It is only true when the 
 nation has never seen the being it worships, and is, therefore, forced to endow 
 him with the qualities it prizes most in itself. It is not true in cases where the 
 being worshipped has actually lived upon the earth, and, consequently, possessed 
 real virtue and qualities of his own. It is not true, for instance, in the case 
 of Christ. He stands out a solitary isolated character of such rare beauty 
 among His contemporaries, that they did not prize Him and did not under- 
 stand Him ; and, therefore, it would have been impossible for them to have 
 endowed Him with such qualities as He actually possessed. The majority 
 hated Him and killed Him ; and even His disciples (with the exception, per- 
 haps, of those who were in daily communion with Him) understood Him but 
 little. As the centuries passed away, and the living Christ faded from remem- 
 brance, men understood Him less and less ; gradually they grew to completely 
 wmmderstand him. Nothing can strike the impartial student of history more 
 curiously than the fact of a God and the disciples of that God being so singu- 
 larly unlike each other as they were in the Middle Ages. Both the character 
 and doctrine of Christ were eminently those of peace, and love, and practical 
 good works. Yet for centuries the disciples of Christ believed they were 
 doing Him greatest honour and service by asceticism, religious wars, and 
 atrocious persecutions. The reason of this strange diversity and contrast is 
 to be found most probably in the fact that that portion of Europe which was 
 in possession of Christianity was not sufficiently advanced in civilisation to be 
 able to profit by the sublime teaching of Christ. His character and doctrines 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 constitutes the god. In Persia Ormuzd, the good god, is 
 symbolised by light and goodness always warring with 
 Ahriman, or darkness and evil. In Greece we have a 
 multitude of divinities, endowed for the most part with 
 great physical beauty, but whose principal mental cha- 
 racteristic seems to consist of a sort of low Cunning. 
 
 We are all, of course, familiar with stories told of the 
 adulteries and lusts, the rapes and murders supposed to 
 have been committed by the gods and goddesses of Greek 
 mythology. But if we examine carefully the myths and 
 legends we shall find that the keynote of all the actions 
 consists in a sort of craftiness. The gods of Greece do 
 not merely try to cheat and ' take in ' unhappy mortals, 
 but they are continually represented as endeavouring to 
 overreach each other. 
 
 I am not ignorant of the fact that many authorities 
 and scholars believe there is a much deeper and graver 
 meaning symbolised by all these legends than at first 
 appears. They believe them to be the figments, the 
 raiments or garments, so to speak, with which a poetical 
 
 being so well known, it was useless for them to attempt to endow Him with 
 qualities more pleasing to themselves. As it was, they did their best to 
 pervert all passages capable of perversion. If Christ had not actually lived 
 in the sight of men ; if His sayings and doings had not been sacredly preserved ; 
 if it had been possible to endow Him with imaginary qualifications, the Chris- 
 tian God of the Middle Ages would have been, both in point of morality and 
 intellect, very little above the Fetish of the Africans. 
 
 As it was, however, these so-called Christians managed to meet the anthro- 
 pomorphic savagery of the times. They could not completely pervert the cha- 
 racter of Christ, because the real character, in all its truth and beauty, was pre- 
 served in the historical records. They, therefore, changed Christ into the Media- 
 tor between God and man, and were thus enabled to endow that God with all the 
 malicious devilry they delighted themselves to practise. The eternal hell, 
 with its torments and flames ; the condemnation — condemnation, be it remem- 
 bered, foreseen and preordained, — of innocent beings, such as unbaptized 
 infants, or of persons who had died in ignorance of Christ, and who, in 
 consequence, by no possible means could have believed in him ; all this is 
 fitly represented in the conduct of the believers in such a God. The racking 
 and tortures, starvation and imprisonments, all bear witness to the fact that if 
 a nation is bloodthirsty and brutal, the God of that nation will be represented 
 as bloodthirsty and brutal also. 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. I3I 
 
 people would naturally clothe its highest thoughts. It may 
 be so. Yet it seems to me that if the Greeks did share 
 any of the higher thoughts in common with other nations, 
 they shared it in such a way that it would be hardly 
 incorrect to say it was the outside shell alone that fell to 
 their lot. They had never possessed the kernel ; nay, they 
 had never so much as seen the kernel, and knew not what 
 it was like. They may have had certain words in common 
 with other nations, but failed to discern the true meaning 
 and representation of such words. Take, for instance, the 
 word Light. That word, which with the Buddhists and 
 Brahmans signified a pure intelligence by which our intel- 
 lects should be cleared and enlightened — that word, which 
 in Persia meant an intense utter goodness, brightening and 
 invigorating our hearts, lightening us on the way of life, 
 helping us to avoid the path of darkness or evil — that 
 word, which in our own religion is used as emblematical of 
 a high moral example — that same word Light was also 
 employed by the Greeks ; but no longer employed in the 
 abstract symbolical meaning of Eastern religions. With 
 them light did not mean pure intelligence or moral worth ; 
 it merely meant a radiant, sensuous brightness. At first it 
 was represented by the sun. But it was quickly personified 
 into a beautiful bright being, with a quiver and a bow, and 
 a lyre, at the sound of which cities spring up, and men are 
 brought into harmony and peace. This radiant being is 
 named Apollo. He appears to be the central figure in 
 Greek mythology, round which the others have disposed 
 themselves. He is the son of Zeus, the Lord of All, who, 
 in his turn, is represented as dwelling on a high Thessalian 
 hill, issuing his thunders and sending out decrees amidst 
 a council of his chiefs. 
 
 But it is not my intention to enter into the details of 
 Grecian mythology. It is a subject with which every 
 schoolboy is acquainted, and well-nigh every schoolgirl. 
 And indeed it has often .been to me a matter of surprise 
 
 K 2 
 
i3 2 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 that a knowledge of heathen mythology should be deemed 
 in ordinary education a matter of such importance. An 
 average schoolboy, who would be ashamed of avowing any 
 ignorance of the Greek legends, would not shrink from 
 owning he knows nothing of Buddhism beyond its name ; 
 and he must be more than ordinarily well educated if he 
 have heard even so much as the name of the Vedas. Why 
 should this be so ? Surely we ought to know more of 
 India than we do of Greece. Our connection with it ; the 
 fact that such a large proportion of its inhabitants are 
 British subjects ; even more, our knowledge that it is to 
 that country so many men of the upper middle classes 
 turn in search of a livelihood : all these practical reasons 
 should make us think it worth our while to acquaint the 
 growing boy with some knowledge of the country that will 
 probably be of so much importance to him. But there 
 are other reasons, graver and higher in their aim, although 
 perhaps not of so much practical importance. The Hindoo 
 lived in a world of thought. No race shows more clearly 
 than does the Hindoo that eating and drinking, marrying 
 and giving in marriage, do not form the be-all and end-all of 
 existence. The one aim and wish of the Hindoo in this 
 life is for divine intercourse with Brahm, or God ; his 
 highest ideal of a future life lies in the belief that he will 
 be re-absorbed into the god from whom he has been only 
 temporarily separated. Surely the high intelligence of 
 Buddhism, or the pure morality of the Bhagavad-gita, would 
 impress and educate the young mind more than the wild 
 tales of the heathen mythology taught him in such a way 
 that the higher meaning (if there be a higher meaning) is 
 wholly lost to him ; he only feels that the tales and legends 
 of the Greeks are quite as improbable and not nearly so 
 interesting as the fairy tales of his childhood ; and as he 
 grows older he finds that legends, which he at one time 
 merely thought to be trashy, are in reality not only trashy, 
 but immoral and indecent. 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 33 
 
 Upon the whole, then, we must admit that, just as the 
 religion of India indicates a highly refined and cultured 
 state, so in like manner does the mythology of Greece 
 indicate a state utterly barbarous and savage ; a state so 
 completely wanting in the ordinary feelings of morality 
 that men were not ashamed to impute to their gods crimes 
 of such utter abomination that the description of them 
 would hardly be permitted in a modern book. In the ear- 
 lier mythology there is little beyond an account of the 
 doings of the various gods and goddesses ; doings that 
 were either unmentionably vile, or else were so puerile that 
 one wonders how even the early Greeks could have invented 
 such trivialities. It was not until a considerably later pe- 
 riod, that allegorical phantasms, such as Death, and Sleep, 
 and Dreams, were introduced ; and most probably such 
 alterations and improvements owe their origin to the fact 
 of the Greeks having come in contact with nations older 
 and more advanced in the arts of civilisation than them- 
 selves. 
 
 Of course, it is needless to say, it is not in a religion 
 like this that we can look for any traces of Pantheism. In 
 an age when men peopled all parts of the universe with their 
 numerous divinities, all warring against and seeking to 
 overreach one another, it would have been impossible for 
 them to have attained any abstract ideas. It would have 
 been impossible for them to have imagined, even in the 
 faintest degree, that the whole world, and the sky, and the 
 ocean, were all and each pervaded by one and the same 
 Spirit, whose outward manifestation took the form of the 
 entire universe. It would have been almost as difficult for 
 them to have imagined this, as it would have been difficult 
 for them to have imagined that the phenomena of the 
 rising and setting of the sun, the phenomena of growth and 
 decay, of thunder and lightning, nay, the phenomena of 
 the whole universe, were all of them results of one and the 
 same force, manifesting itself in diffisrent modes ; that they 
 
134 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 all owed their origin to invariable law, and had nothing 
 to do with the wills of capricious beings dwelling within 
 them or outside of them. 
 
 Whence, then, came it that Greece in a few short years, 
 not numbering many hundreds, should have sprung from 
 this childish state of ignorance into a state in which she 
 could rankj both commercially and philosophically, as one 
 of the leading powers, or indeed it would be more just to 
 say the leading power of the entire world ? I believe this 
 sudden increase of knowledge, and consequent increase of 
 power, almost entirely owes its origin to one momentous 
 event — the opening of the Egyptian ports in the year B.C. 
 670. Before this period the inhabitants of Egypt had been 
 shut out from all Mediterranean or European contact by a 
 rigorous exclusion exceeding that until lately practised in 
 China and Japan. Nothing, indeed, is much more curious 
 than the complete and forced state of ignorance in which 
 we are compelled to remain about Upper Egypt^ owing to 
 this early rigorous exclusion. We cannot fix the date, 
 scarcely, indeed, the proximate date, when Thebes ceased to 
 be the capital of Egypt. We do not even know the reason 
 why it ceased so to be. We can only suppose that its fall 
 and want of records were occasioned and accompanied by 
 civil war. During the past centuries of Theban greatness, 
 the country was little known 'either to the Jews or the 
 Greeks, the two people in whose writings we should natu- 
 rally seek for information. In the Hebrew Scriptures 
 Upper Egypt is hardly mentioned ; and by the Greeks it 
 was only spoken of with ignorant wonder. In the ' Iliad * 
 Thebes is called the richest city in the world. To the 
 European the Valley of the Nile was a region of mysteries 
 and marvels. But to Homer, in particular, it was wholly in 
 the world of fable, far beyond the reach of knowledge. It 
 was called the birthplace of some of the Greek divinities ; 
 and it was with the righteous Ethiopians, or people of the 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 35 
 
 Thebaid, that Jupiter and his family were believed to 
 be spending their twelve days' holiday when the Greeks 
 fighting before the walls of Troy thought their prayers were 
 unheard. In the ' Odyssey ' we are told that Neptune 
 visited the same country and dined with these Ethiopians, 
 whilst the other gods were absent in Jupiter's palace on 
 Mount Olympus ; but nothing is mentioned to show that 
 the poet knew anything of the places he was writing about. 
 Hesiod also, when speaking of Memnon, King of Ethiopia 
 (by whom he probably meant Miamun Rameses IL), calls 
 him the son of the goddess Aurora. Everything in Egypt 
 was seen by the Greeks enlarged through the mists of dis- 
 tance, and coloured by the poetic fancy of ignorance. The 
 theogony of Homer is extended by Hesiod in many essen- 
 tial points. There are new fictions and new personages ; 
 but the fables of the one author are nearly as absurd as the 
 fables of the other. 
 
 All invention of further fables, however, was virtually 
 put an end to when the ports of Egypt were thrown open 
 by the order of Psammetichus, B.C. 670. The ancient 
 system of isolation which had been for so many thousand 
 years the policy of Egypt was now overthrown. It is 
 scarcely possible to exaggerate the influence of this event 
 upon the progress of Europe. How was it possible that 
 all the marvels of the Mediterranean and Black Seas, the 
 sorcerers, enchanters, giants, and monsters of the deep, 
 should survive, when those seas were daily crossed in all 
 directions ? What was a pious historian like Herodotus to 
 think when he found that, at the very period when he had 
 supposed a superhuman state of things in his native coun- 
 try, the ordinary passage of affairs was taking place on the 
 banks of the Nile ? To the opening of the Egyptian ports, 
 then, may be attributed two important events, directly in- 
 fluencing the civilisation of Greece, indirectly influencing 
 the civilisation well-nigh of the whole world. The first of 
 
136 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 these events was the gradual disbelief in the old mytho- 
 logy ; the second was the commencement of Greek philo- 
 sophy consequent on that gradual disbelief. 
 
 It is true that the Greek religion survived for many a 
 long year after the opening of the Egyptian ports ; but it 
 is none the less true that it was at that period it received 
 its death-blow. The blow may require a long period of 
 time in working out its results ; but death, the result, will 
 come at last, and will have for its origin no other cause than 
 that same blow given so many years before. Men will not 
 discard in a day the religion that has lasted them for years. 
 As history has shown us again and again (never, perhaps, 
 more strongly than in this nineteenth century in which we 
 are living), men will not drop a treasured -religion without 
 reluctance, without having tried their utmost to shield it 
 from the merciless hands of time and progress. At first 
 they try to reconcile their religion with the growing know- 
 ledge of the day ; they endeavour to make a compromise 
 between their science and their religion. Of the legends and 
 fables some will be allegorised, some will be modified, some 
 repudiated. Gradually the more educated quietly and 
 somewhat sadly drop all belief in them, yet still fondly 
 hope that the lower classes will continue to hold to them. 
 A Socrates receives the popular faith in all silence. A 
 Plato regards it as a breach of public and patriotic duty to 
 disbelieve the faith of his country. It is in vain, however. 
 Plaister and bind up the wound as we may, it is a deadly 
 wound and is still there. The effects may be delayed by 
 our tender care, but come they must, sooner or later. The 
 death-blow has been given, and the death itself will surely 
 follow. The death-blow, then, as we have said, of Grecian 
 mythology, and of Grecian ignorance, was dealt when the 
 Egyptians opened wide their ports, when they threw down 
 their ancient system of isolation, when they allowed stran- 
 gers to benefit by all their stored-up knowledge, the accu- 
 mulation of thousands of years. The ports were thrown 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 37 
 
 open in 670 B.C. Thirty years after that critical event was 
 born Thales, the first of those four philosophers who are 
 considered by most historians to constitute the Ionian 
 School. It was a favourite practice in old digests of phi- 
 losophy to speak of Thales as referring all things to water ; 
 Anaximander, to earth ; Anaximenes, to air; Heraclitus, to 
 fire. Thus the so-called four elements were amicably ap- 
 portioned among four Ionic teachers. In more learned 
 and more modern treatises, the natural philosophers of 
 Greece are divided into the dynamical and mechanical, 
 Thales being assigned to the former class, his immediate 
 successor, Anaximander, to the second ; whence it is con- 
 cluded they could not have stood to each other in the 
 relation of master and disciple. And indeed it would not 
 be correct to describe either of these four philosophers as 
 disciples one of the other, inasmuch as they were all radi- 
 cally opposed in their opinions of what they considered to 
 be the first principle in Nature. Still they were so far 
 alike In that they did each of them endeavour to find a 
 first principle. These four may claim the honour of having 
 been the first Greeks who set themselves to investigate and 
 study the order of Nature. And although to us, who are 
 living in an enlightened century like the present, their 
 speculations, of course, appear wonderfully crude, we must 
 not refuse to render them all honour and gratitude ; for their 
 crude speculations may be considered the germs out of 
 which all modern science and philosophy have sprung. Yet 
 even in our gratitude to them we must not forget that after 
 all these men would have never been what they were if 
 the Egyptians had not opened their ports, and thus afforded 
 a possibility of intercourse between the two nations. 
 
 Thales was born in or about the year 639 B.C. He 
 was a citizen of Miletus, and a Phoenician by descent. 
 There were very opposite reports current respecting him. 
 Some said that he bought up the oil-presses just before 
 the olive season, that he might show how easily a wise man 
 
138 GREEK PANTIIEISM. 
 
 could make himself rich ; others told of his falling into a 
 pit while he was looking at the stars, and of his being 
 mocked by an old woman for knowing that which was over 
 his head so much better than that which lay at his feet. 
 He is said to have predicted the solar eclipse which termi- 
 nated a battle between the Medes and Lydians, but it has 
 been suggestively remarked it is not stated that he pre- 
 dicted the day on which it should occur. Many anecdotes 
 such as these are told of him, which may or may not be 
 true. But the one fact about him upon which all seem 
 agreed, and for which he is principally known, is that he 
 believed and set forth that the origin of all things, the first 
 principle of the universe, existed in Water. 
 
 If we try to transport ourselves in fancy into the age 
 when Thales lived, if we try to bring before ourselves the 
 general characteristics of his country and of his associations, 
 we shall not find much difficulty in sympathising with, and 
 comprehending, these his first crude attempts at philosophy. 
 
 Thirty years had elapsed between the period of the first 
 opening of the Egyptian ports and the period of the birth 
 of Thales. More than one generation must have passed 
 away by the time Thales had attained the maturity of his 
 intellect In these fifty or sixty years we can imagine how 
 much must have happened ; how old prejudices were being 
 slowly conquered, how new knowledge was being slowly 
 gained. We can imagine with what displeasure the anec- 
 dotes of the nature of Egyptian knowledge (all of which 
 knowledge tended to throw discredit upon the myths and 
 legends of the Greek religion) were received by the old, 
 with what reluctant consent they were acknowledged by 
 the middle-aged, and with what avidity they were accepted 
 by the young. We can picture to ourselves Thales, in the 
 dawn of his manhood, surrounded and encompassed by that 
 saddest of all Nature's sad phenomena : the slow decay and 
 gradual death of an old religion. We can imagine him 
 asking himself those questions which for centuries were to 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 39 
 
 perplex everyone who was not utterly frivolous or utterly 
 bigoted : ' Whence am I ? Who am I ? Where am I ? * We 
 can imagine how impatiently he would turn away from 
 those who would try and stifle his questionings with stories 
 of the gods and goddesses of Greek mythology. How 
 should he know whether those stories were true or untrue ? 
 Most probably they were utterly false, the inventions of 
 trivial and prurient men. But, granting them to be true, 
 they did not tell him what he wanted to know. What was 
 there in the stories of Kronos, or Uranus, or Apollo to tell 
 him who and what he himself was ? He wanted to know 
 what was the First Principle and Origin of all things. Grant 
 the existence of the gods and goddesses. They too re- 
 quired an origin, an explanation. They had their births 
 and marriages, their joys and woes, their crimes and virtues. 
 Whence came they ? If they had a real existence, their 
 existence too required a great First Cause. The existence 
 of the gods was as much a mystery as was the existence of 
 man. We can imagine Thales, half in eagerness, half in 
 sadness, setting forward on his journey to Egypt, half- 
 fearing, half-hoping that his inquiries would be satisfied ; 
 that the faith of his fathers would be for ever banished 
 from his mind. We can picture to ourselves his admiration) 
 and wonder at the marvellous degree of civilisation to 
 which Egypt had attained : the Pyramids, the Sphinx, the 
 colossal statues. But however much these artificial won- 
 ders of Egyptian greatness might kindle his astonishment 
 and awe, there was a natural wonder greater far than these ; 
 before which, indeed, all artificial monuments sank in utter 
 insignificance. The one, albeit it gave him almost un- 
 bounded ideas of Egyptian intellect, was yet within the 
 bounds of ordinary comprehension — held out, indeed, some 
 chance and hopes of imitation ; but the other could by no 
 possible means be imitated ; it altogether passed the limits of 
 human comprehension. This wonder which struck Thales 
 with so much awe, which was the origin of all his future 
 
I40 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 philosophy, was the sight of the river Nile and its pe- 
 riodical inundations. 
 
 The general characteristics of the wonderful Nile Valley 
 are so generally known, that it is hardly necessary to dwell 
 much at length on them. From the rocky outposts of 
 Nubia to the rich level of the Delta the river preserves 
 much the same breadth of half a mile to three-quarters, 
 except where its course is interrupted by islands or con- 
 tracted by rocks. On either hand is a green stripe of 
 verdure, of which the average breadth is about seven miles, 
 extending to the limit of the waters. On each side it is 
 bounded by a range of mountains j and beyond is the 
 wonderful desert. Where the Nile breaks through the gate 
 at Essouan it is observed that its waters begin to rise about 
 the end of the month of May, and in eight or nine weeks 
 the inundation is at its height. This flood in the river is 
 due to the great rains which have fallen in the mountainous 
 regions amongst which the Nile takes its rise, and which 
 have been precipitated from the trade-winds that blow 
 (except where disturbed by the monsoons) over the vast ex- 
 panse of the tropical Indian Ocean. Thus dried, the east 
 wind pursues its solemn course over the solitudes of Central 
 Africa, a cloudless and rainless wind, its track marked by 
 desolation and deserts. At first the river becomes red 
 and then green, because the flood of its great Abyssinian 
 branch arrives first ; but soon after that of the White Nile 
 makes its appearance, and from the overflowing banks, not 
 only water, but a rich fertilising mud is discharged. The 
 river attains its greatest height about the middle of Sep- 
 tember. Its waters are retained as the inundation subsides, 
 in numerous canals, for the highest rise of the Nile ever 
 known would not be sufficient for purposes of irrigation if 
 the waters were not then artificially retained. When the 
 entire surface of the river has attained its maximum very 
 singular is the appearance of the whole country. No 
 stranger visiting this country at this period, and for the first 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 14I 
 
 time, could fail to be struck by the extraordinary appear- 
 ance it presents. On the high raised bank he would stand 
 as it were between two seas, beholding, on the one side, the 
 swollen turbid flood hurrying down rapidly in its irresistible 
 might, and on the other, the inundated expanse extending 
 to the desert boundary of the valley. The isolated villages 
 in their groves are scattered about like floating islands, the 
 palm-trees half-buried, and, except in a few places, the 
 gyse or dyke affords the sole circuitous communication 
 from one place to another. 
 
 We can imagine how powerfully affected a seeker after 
 knowledge, such as Thales, would be at the first sight of this 
 strange mysterious river, with its wonderful inundations. 
 The Egyptians themselves, accustomed as they were to the 
 sight, could seldom bring themselves to regard it with other 
 than a religious awe. By the lower classes, indeed, it 
 actually became deified, and naturally so, for was it not to 
 this same river that the country owed its fertility } Man, 
 indeed, might dig and sow and toil, but he would reap 
 nothing unless the beneficent river would pour forth its 
 abundant waters. Nay, it was not merely physical 
 necessities it so bounteously provided. It would seem that 
 the greater portion of Egyptian knowledge could be traced 
 to the impression this river created on the minds of the first 
 observers. At an early period the Egyptians had observed 
 that the rising of the Nile coincided with the rising of 
 Sirius, the Dog Star. They erroneously, but very naturally, 
 attributed the rising of the waters to the influence exerted 
 on them by Sirius. It was erroneous, owing to the enor- 
 mous distance that existed between the Dog Star and our 
 earth ; but how natural it was may be gathered from the 
 fact that we always attribute, and with justice, the tides of 
 the sea to the movements and position of the sun and moon. 
 In the particular case of the rising of Sirius taking place 
 exactly at the time of the rising of the Nile men mistook 
 that to be a cause which was in reality only a coincidence. 
 
142 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 But the very error into which they had fallen made them 
 cultivate that science which of all sciences is the most sub- 
 lime : the science of astronomy. Between the Nile-idolatry 
 of the lower classes, and the pure Pantheism of the highest, 
 existed a middle class, so to speak — those who worshipped 
 the stars. It was not the Nile to whom men owed their 
 gratitude. She did not rise of herself It was Sirius, who 
 forced her to rise, to whom men should pay their grateful 
 thanks and adoration. This was the origin of astrology 
 and star-worship. Indeed, there are some authorities who 
 think that neither Pantheism nor rude idolatry could num- 
 ber nearly so many devotees as star-worship. Yet it would 
 be hardly too much to say that the Egyptian idolatry, star- 
 worship, even Pantheism itself, all primarily owed their 
 origin to this same wonderful Nile. Numerous legends, 
 half-idolatrous, half-poetical, testified to the overpowering 
 interest with which the Egyptians regarded their river. Isis, 
 the celebrated deity of the Egyptians, presided over the 
 inundations. The word ' Isis,' according to some signified 
 * ancient,' and on that account the inscriptions of the 
 statues of the goddess were often in these words : ' I am 
 all that has been, that shall be, and none among mortals 
 has hitherto taken off my veil.' Some said that Isis was 
 supposed to be the moon, and Osiris the sun, and that the 
 yearly and regular inundation of the Nile proceeded from 
 the abundant tears which Isis shed for the loss of Osiris, 
 who had been basely murdered by Typhon, the evil deity 
 of the Egyptians, and who is generally represented under 
 the form of a crocodile. Whether these legends were really 
 believed in by the Egyptians, or whether they were only 
 poetical expressions of rare beauty sung in the honour of 
 one of Nature's chiefest wonders, for our purposes it matters 
 little. In whatever way we regard the legends, it becomes 
 equally apparent that the wonders and glory of the Nile 
 pervaded the thought and language of every Egyptian. 
 We can imagine Thales comparing the Greek idolatry 
 
THK IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 43 
 
 with the idolatry of the lower classes in Egypt. He does 
 not seem to have come in contact with those who were 
 star-worshippers, and he does not seem to have heard of the 
 impression current among the more educated, that the rising 
 of the Nile was in reality due to the influence exerted by 
 the Dog Star. He may have compared the Egyptian per- 
 sonifications of natural objects with the personifications by 
 the Greeks. He may have thought them all equally trivial, 
 and all equally in the land of fable. But one thing was 
 true beyond all doubt — the river Nile did actually exist ; 
 did actually overflow ; it was no invention, no mere dream 
 and imagination due to the heated fancy of some one who 
 had never visited the country. He had been there himself; 
 had seen the flood with his own eyes ; had conversed with 
 Egyptians who had told him how regular was the periodi- 
 cal recurrence of the phenomenon, and how the glory and 
 beauty of the country were entirely owing to this phenome- 
 non. If the periodical recurrence were to fail even for once 
 the glory of Egypt would depart. The arable land would be 
 dried up ; plants and vegetation, animals and men would 
 cease to live. We can imagine Thales returning to his 
 native country filled with this newly-acquired knowledge. 
 
 Yet could he say that he had gained any information as to 
 the First Principle and Cause of all things ? What was the 
 river Nile to him now that he was back in his own native 
 country ? It might, indeed, be the first principle and cause of 
 Egypty but what had it to do with Greece ? After all, was 
 not Greece nearly as well off as Egypt .'* Egypt, it is true, 
 had a swelling, overflowing river, but it had little rain ; the 
 floods of Egypt were fully compensated, at all events nearly 
 compensated, by the abundant rains of Greece. The only 
 advantage Egypt had over Greece in this wise was that 
 the floods were regular, and the rains seemed irregular. So 
 that in a measure the Egyptians appeared to be capable 
 of a power of prognostication unknown to the Greeks. If 
 the milometer which measures the height of the flood indi- 
 
144 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 cated eight cubits the Egyptians knew the crops would be 
 scanty ; but If it reached fourteen cubits there would be an 
 abundant harvest. In the spring of the year it could be 
 known how the fields would be in the autumn. Thus far, 
 indeed, the Egyptians had an advantage over the Greeks ; 
 but the advantage was merely material — it might teach them 
 prudence and the art of husbanding their goods, when they 
 knew that the arrival of a bad season was inevitable. But 
 that was all. In other countries the rains performed the 
 same duty as the floods performed in Egypt. Vegetation 
 would cease to exist in Egypt if the Nile refused to over- 
 flow ; vegetation would equally cease to exist in Greece if 
 the rains refused to descend. Where was the sense of the 
 Egyptians worshipping their river, of rejoicing in it, of 
 paying it such unfeigned admiration } He, too, Thales, 
 had been lost in astonishment and awe when he had first 
 witnessed it ; but now that he had returned to his native 
 country, we can imagine him thinking to himself that his 
 enthusiasm had been somewhat misplaced. After all, what 
 was it that the Nile so plenteously poured forth upon Its 
 valley ? Only water ; and did not the valleys of Greece 
 receive nearly as much water from the rain that descended 
 from the heavens ? In both cases water was required, and 
 water came. That was all. 
 
 Yes, that was all. But was It not this same phenomenon 
 that might prove the solution of all Thales' doubts ? Was 
 there not at least something startling that In both countries 
 water was required ; in both countries water came .-* That if 
 it did not come in one way it came in another .? Did he not 
 know that if rain ceased to fall in Greece he would die as 
 quickly as the Egyptian would die If the Nile ceased to over- 
 flow ? Did he not feel that, like as his death would be certain 
 if the rain fell not, so if there had never been rain he could not 
 have been born ? The Egyptians, then, were wrong in thinking 
 it was the Nile alone to be worshipped. It was not theriver,but 
 thewater — not alonein the river, but everywhere — thatshould 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 45 
 
 be worshipped. Where could he look and not find 
 water ? He looked up to the heavens, and he found that it 
 was thence the rains descended. He looked down upon 
 the earth, and he saw huge rivers, and seas, and oceans. 
 There were also the night and morning dews. He looked 
 into himself, and saw that directly and indirectly man de- 
 pended upon water. Whence came the fevers that oppress 
 and torture men ? Came they not because the moisture 
 was dried up ; and thus a burning, feverish desire for water 
 was created .'* If that desire were not gratified, man would 
 quickly die. Here at last, then, Thales had found the 
 solution of his doubts. Man was not the first principle, for 
 he depended upon the previous existence of water. The 
 gods and goddesses were not the first principles ; for grant 
 the fact of their reality, they required water as much as 
 mere mortals ; nay, they were supposed to dwell among 
 the skies ; and was it not from the skies that the rain came 
 down } Yes, in heaven and earth, look where he would, he 
 found that everything owed its existence to water. Without 
 water all things would cease to live. Without water not 
 anything could have commenced to be. Water, then, he 
 decided, was the first principle of all things. 
 
 About thirty years after the birth of Thales, viz., in or 
 about the year 610 B.C., was born Anaximander, who is 
 reputed by the ancients to have attributed the first principle 
 of all things to the earth. He was a geographer and an 
 inventor of geographical instruments. The earth, therefore, 
 considered as the complex of sea and land, occupied na- 
 turally much of his thoughts. His philosophy, however, 
 does not seem very well known ; and it is only because he 
 belonged to the Ionian school that he has any claim on our 
 attention. He had very probably listened to Thales, and 
 had heard him teach. He must have sympathised with 
 him in many of his thoughts. He must have longed with 
 him to know the beginning of all things. Yet the solution 
 that had satisfied Thales could not satisfy him. How could 
 
 VOL. L L 
 
14^ GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 water be the first principle, when the earth was previously 
 required upon which the rain could fall ? At the bottom 
 of the deepest ocean there was always to be found land. 
 Surely, then, the earth, and not water, should be called the 
 first principle of all things. 
 
 Such are somewhat of the reasons upon which I con- 
 ceive Anaximander built his system of philosophy. Yet 
 there are those who consider he did not, after all, mean to 
 trace the origin of all things to the mere earth. The 
 ' Infinite ' was his watchword. An aggregate of phenomena 
 seemed to him a worthier subject of contemplation than a 
 vital power. A formula so comprehensive seemed to ex- 
 haust all possibilities. Nothing could lie beyond the 
 unbounded. Yet it is possible that the name expressed 
 thoughts too deep for utterance ; that he really bowed 
 before that which he could not measure and comprehend, 
 while he seemed ambitious of summing it up in a few 
 syllables. 
 
 From Anaximander we turn to Anaximenes, who 
 ranks as the third philosopher of the Ionian school. His 
 philosophy seems of greater interest, besides possessing the 
 merit of being much easier of comprehension, than does 
 the philosophy of his immediate predecessor. Anaximenes 
 of Miletus was born about a century after the birth of 
 Thales. He, too, made it his object in life to search for a 
 first principle of all things. He was not satisfied with the 
 solution of Thales ; neither was he satisfied with that of 
 Anaximander. Water, he argued, is not infinite ; it is con- 
 fined to different places. Some things there are that 
 could not be preserved if water were to reach them. We 
 ourselves, if we were to be immersed in water would quickly 
 die. Of the two hypotheses, the hypothesis of Anaximan- 
 der was the more reasonable ; man can live upon the earth, 
 he cannot live in water. Yet, after all, the earth could not 
 be the first principle of all things. The earth compared 
 with the whole universe was a very limited place. There 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. I47 
 
 was the sky ; the sun, the moon, there were the stars. The 
 earth could not be the origin and cause of any of these. 
 What, then, is there in common between the earth and sky, 
 sun, moon, or stars ? Is it not air ? The very earth itself 
 floats upon the air like a broad leaf. Who can discern the 
 boundary of the atmosphere > Does it not reach to the 
 very stars ? Nay, is not the human soul itself merely com- 
 posed of air ? The whole of life consists in inhaling and 
 exhaling it. As soon as we cease to breathe we cease to 
 exist. Such is a short summary of the leading features 
 in the philosophy of Anaximenes. Many authorities, 
 however, thought that he too meant much more than at 
 first appears. It has been thought that he intended to set 
 forth the identity of the air with God. That just as 
 air should be considered the soul or life-giving principle 
 of man, so in like manner ought the infinite air to be 
 identified with God ; and we ought, therefore, to infer that not 
 only man but the gods and goddesses have sprung from it. 
 According to Plutarch, Anaximenes held that the air rules 
 over all things, as the soul, being air, rules over and in man. 
 According to Cicero, Anaximenes maintained, not that air 
 was the material out of which God made the world, but that 
 the air was God. Mr. Mill thinks that Anaximenes made 
 choice of air as the universal agent, on the ground that it is 
 perpetually in motion, without any apparent cause external 
 to itself; so that he conceived it as exercising spontaneous 
 force, and as the principle of life and activity in all things, 
 men and gods inclusive.^ 
 
 The doctrines of Anaximenes received a very important 
 development in the hands of Diogenes of Apollonia, who 
 asserted that all things originate from one essence, which, 
 undergoing continual changes, becoming different at differ- 
 ent times, turns back again to the same state. He taught 
 that the entire world was a living being transforming and 
 evolving itself spontaneously. He believed that the soul 
 
 ^ 'vSystem of Logic,' vol. i, p. 422, 
 L 2 
 
148 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 of man, and likewise the soul of the world, consisted entirely 
 of air. He not only believed that air was eternal and 
 perishable, but he believed it must be endowed with 
 consciousness. * It knows much, for without reason it 
 would be impossible for all to be arranged so duly and 
 proportionately as that all should maintain its fitting 
 measure winter and summer, night and day, sunshine and 
 rain. That which has knowledge is that which men call 
 air ; it is that which regulates and governs all, and hence 
 it is the use of air to pervade all, and to dispose all, and to 
 be in all, for there is nothing that has not part in it' If by 
 the air Diogenes meant God, it is obvious that his teaching 
 was verging towards Pantheism ; that in this Ionian school 
 was planted that seed of Pantheism which was so soon to 
 spring up into that tree of Pantheistic philosophy, for 
 which afterwards the Greeks were so distinguished. 
 
 The fourth among the Ionian philosophers was Hera- 
 clitus, the Ephesian,who maintained that the first principle 
 is fire. He flourished about 503 B.C. He was a man with 
 a marked individual character, full of deep and pregnant 
 thoughts. He has been sometimes called the crying 
 philosopher. He looked with sorrow upon all the disorders 
 of the world, both in physical nature, still more in man. 
 His constitution was melancholy ; in his views he almost 
 amounted at times to what we should call pessimism in 
 these days. He would not be a magistrate at Ephesus. 
 ' What was the good of making laws for evil men ? ' he 
 said ; ' he would rather play with the children before the 
 temple at Artemis.' The vaunting of the Greeks, their 
 sense of superiority to the rest of the world, seems to have 
 inspired him with pity and mourning. ' Your knowledge 
 of many things does not give you reason or wisdom,' he 
 said to them, at times when his vainglorious countrymen 
 were indulging in their usual habit of boasting. He 
 strongly opposed Polytheism and the idolatrous practices 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 49 
 
 of the age. The enthymeme of his system was, 'AH is 
 convertible into fire and fire into all* But by the term 
 * fire' he most probably meant what we should call heat. 
 He expressly tells us he does not mean flame, but some- 
 thing that is dry and warm. He considers the soul of man 
 a portion of fire migrated from heaven. He accounted for 
 the imbecility of the drunkard by his having a moist soul, 
 and drew the inference that a warm or dry soul is always 
 the best. It is not always very easy to understand his 
 philosophy. Indeed, he has been given the title of* the 
 obscure,' because it was at times so difficult to understand 
 his full meaning. Some, however, of his axioms are worth 
 remembering, and are full of the deep melancholy earnest- 
 ness that was his special characteristic. * All is ordered 
 by reason and intelligence, though all is subject to Fate.' 
 ' Man's mind can produce no certain knowledge from its 
 own interior resources alone.' * Pride and insolence should 
 be stifled more quickly than a fire.' ' All is, and is not ; for 
 though it does in truth come into being, yet it forthwith 
 ceases to be.* *No one has ever been twice on the same 
 stream, for different waters are constantly flowing down. 
 It dissipates its waters and gathers them again ; it ap- 
 proaches and recedes, overflows and fails.' And to teach 
 us how we ourselves are constantly changing, he says, * On 
 the same stream we embark, and embark not ; we are, and 
 we are not' He insists strongly upon the transitory nature 
 of all phenomena. Fire he believed to be the vital quick- 
 ening power of the universe — the universal life by participa- 
 tion in which all particular things have their being, apart 
 from which they are unsubstantial, unreal. All things 
 are efficient and forcible only in their harmony, only in 
 their subjection to some central principle of life. Take 
 that away, and the things we behold are only phantoms ; 
 the phenomena of the universe exhibit only an endless 
 flux. The coal without the fire is a man trying to exist 
 
1 50 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 in himself; the coal ignited, receiving communication 
 from another nature, there is a man's soul enkindled 
 by communication with a higher, diviner reason. He 
 regarded the organs of sense as being the channels through 
 which the outer life of the world, and therewith truth, 
 enters into the mind ; and he believed that in sleep, when 
 the organs of sense are closed, we are shut out from all 
 communion with the surrounding universal spirit In his 
 view everything is animated and insouled, but in different 
 degrees, organic objects being most completely or per- 
 fectly so. 
 
 Such, as far as I can understand it, is the philosophy 
 of Heraclitus, full of earnestness and melancholy and 
 high thoughts. Yet I confess I do not quite see in what 
 or whence he draws his conclusion that fire is the first 
 principle of all things. His philosophy appears to me 
 less reasonable than does that of Thales or Anaximenes. 
 Mr. Maurice, however, who seldom fails to understand 
 earnest metaphysical inquirers, seems to think that there 
 was far more in the philosophy of Heraclitus than would 
 be apparent to a superficial reader. ' The fire that was in 
 his heart and brain,' says Mr. Maurice, * and of which all 
 the world around had presented to him the image, no 
 doubt emitted much smoke which confused and stifled — 
 not, perhaps, to his displeasure — the careless gazers and 
 passers-by. But there was something within him which 
 neither his tears nor his smoke could at all adequately 
 represent. The sense of a harmony existing beneath 
 a perpetual conflict of powers, and making that very 
 conflict the means of their preservation, pervaded his 
 being, gave the tone to all his thoughts, and realised itself 
 to him in all the inner forms and outward images of 
 nature.' And again Mr. Maurice says : ' When, therefore, 
 we are told that Heraclitus said the object of man's life is 
 to know the name of Jupiter, we may be sure that Jupiter 
 did not mean to him either air or fire ; that it did mean 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. I51 
 
 a reality which he could not comprehend, which he desired 
 should comprehend him.' ^ 
 
 Such is a brief account of the four philosophers who 
 are generally supposed to constitute the Ionian school ; but 
 before we draw this chapter to a close it is necessary to speak 
 of one or two other philosophers, who, although they cannot 
 properly be called disciples of the Ionian school, were yet 
 so greatly influenced by that school — either directly or 
 indirectly, either following in the same wake, or drawing 
 off in direct antagonism from it — that it is fitting we 
 should touch slightly upon them at the end of a chapter 
 which has been devoted principally to the study of the 
 Ionian philosophy. 
 
 We depart a little from chronological order for the sake 
 of bringing Democritus of Abdera into immediate juxta- 
 position with Heraclitus of Ephesus, For just as Hera- 
 clitus has been called the crying philosopher, in like 
 manner has Democritus been called the laughing philo- 
 sopher. The old story which opposes the smiles of the 
 one to the tears of the other is not without its significance, 
 either as to the characters of the men, or of their philoso- 
 phies. In everything Democritus and Heraclitus stood 
 out in radical opposition one to the other. Heraclitus was 
 mournful, stern, ascetic. He hated the Greek democracy. 
 He would rather live upon herbs upon the mountains than 
 among those who had banished their best citizens. Yet he 
 was no haughty aristocrat or despiser of the people. He 
 is said to have received the civilities of the great king with 
 even more indifference than those of his countrymen. He 
 was altogether a melancholy, brooding man, despising fame, 
 loving solitude ; possibly also of a weakly, delicate con- 
 stitution. In all these particulars Democritus was wholly 
 unlike Heraclitus. 
 
 Democritus of Abdera was born about 460 B.C. His 
 early life was passed in extreme affluence. No money 
 
 ' Maurice's 'Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy,' vol. i. p. 97. 
 
152 GREEK PANTHEISM, 
 
 was spared in his education. It is said that his father was 
 rich enough to be able to entertain the Persian king, 
 Xerxes, who was so gratified thereby that he left several 
 Magi and Chaldeans to complete the education of the 
 youth. From such an intercourse he naturally gained an 
 insight and knowledge of the great wisdom of the East. 
 He was determined to devote himself for some time to 
 travel ; and on his father's death he divided with his 
 brothers the estate, took as his portion the share consisting 
 in money, leaving to them the lands, that he might be 
 better able to gratify his wish for travelling. He passed 
 into Egypt, Ethiopia, Persia, and India, gathering infor- 
 mation, of course, from all these places. His physical 
 knowledge was so great that he has obtained the partial 
 admiration of Aristotle and the entire admiration of 
 Bacon ; and he has met with singular approval also from 
 the physicists of our own day. He thought the origin of 
 all things could be traced to self-existing atoms. He does 
 not seem to have burdened himself with any of the specu- 
 lations that tormented Heraclitus. He does not seem to 
 have longed to penetrate into the Why and Wherefore 
 of phenomena. It was wiser, he thought, to occupy himself 
 with the How : that might, as with him it certainly did, 
 lead to some practical result. The Why and Wherefore 
 were beyond the province of man ; why should he burden 
 himself with so futile an endeavour ? 
 
 Now, it is obvious that in a philosophy like this there 
 cannot be found even the faintest indication of Pantheism. 
 The doctrines of the Ionian philosophy might be called in- 
 differently Materialistic or Pantheistic, according to the 
 medium through which they are viewed. But it would be 
 mere dishonest straining for our own purposes if we were to 
 pretend there was anything of Pantheism in these self- 
 existing atoms.i It might be unjust to call Democritus an 
 atheist. Atheism is a charge which should never be made 
 
 ' If it be thought strange that I consider the ' atoms of Democritus ' more 
 materialistic in their intent than the 'water, air, fire, and earth of the four 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 153 
 
 against any man who does not openly confess himself to be 
 an atheist. But at the same time his opinions seem certainly 
 Materialistic, and it is often difficult to draw the exact line 
 which divides Materialism from Atheism. Most probably 
 Democritus did not know himself what his religious opinions 
 were. Very likely he did not care to know. Let dreamers 
 devote themselves to theory and speculation : he would 
 occupy himself with practice and observation. There is a 
 pregnant remark made, I believe, by Schlegel : ' Every 
 man is born a Platonist or an Aristotelian.' Plato and 
 Aristotle were not born in these days. Yet the characters 
 of Heraclitus and Democritus testify, I think, to the truth 
 of the remark. Heraclitus was strongly subjective in his 
 tendencies, Democritus strongly objective. It is only on 
 account of the juxtaposition between Democritus and 
 Heraclitus that we have touched upon Democritus at all. 
 However great and worthy of admiration he might be, it 
 is obvious that, in a treatise purporting to be devoted to 
 the consideration of Pantheism, the philosophy of Demo- 
 critus can have very little claim upon our attention. 
 
 We pass from him to the study of a philosopher who 
 concerns us much more nearly. 
 
 lonians,' I cannot explain my reasons more clearly than hy quoting the fol- 
 lowing passage from Lange : — 
 
 * MateriaHsm only becomes a complete system when matter is conceived as 
 ■purely material — that is, when its constituent particles are not a sort oithinki?ig 
 matter^ but physical bodies, which are moYed in obedience to merely physical 
 principles, and, being in themselves without sensations, produce sensation and 
 thought by particular forms of their combinations. And thorough going 
 Materialism seems almost necessarily to be Atomism, since it is scarcely possible 
 to explain whatever happens out of matter clearly, and without any mixture of 
 supersensuous qualities and forces, unless we resolve matter into small atoms 
 and empty space for them to move in. The distinction, in fact, between the 
 soul-atoms and the warm air of Diogenes of Apollonia, despite all their 
 superficial similarity, is of quite fundamental importance. The latter is an 
 absolute reason-stuff {Vernunftstoff) ; it is capable in itself of sensation, and 
 its movementSj such as they are, are due to its rationality. Demokritos's 
 soul-atoms move, like all other atoms, according to purely mechanical prin- 
 ciples, and produce the phenomenon of thinking beings only by a special 
 combination mechanically brought about.' {See Thomas's translation of 
 Lange's ' PI i story of Mat-erialism,' vol. i. p. 4.) 
 
154 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 Anaxagoras of Clazomenae was born B.C. 500.^ He 
 belongs, by birth and early education, to the Ionic school. 
 He was born in considerable affluence ; but he devoted all 
 his means to the interests of philosophy, and in his old 
 age was encompassed with poverty and want. He was 
 taught at Athens ; to the influence which surrounded him 
 there, the direction of his mind and the peculiarity of his 
 doctrines may, as some think, be clearly traced. Anaxa- 
 goras himself would probably have been loth to confess 
 the obligation. Few men were more utterly wanting in the 
 ordinary feelings of patriotism than he was. ' You care 
 nothing for your country,' said some one to him reproach- 
 fully. * Very much indeed do I care for it,' was the reply. 
 ' My country is there,' pointing to the stars. He was 
 absorbed in his love and study of nature. He hated party 
 squabbles, club fellowships, the companions of an hour. 
 He hated the bustle of Athens. He was the friend and 
 master of Pericles, Euripides, and Socrates. Like several 
 of his predecessors, he had visited Egypt. Among his 
 disciples were some of the most eminent men of those 
 times. But the Athenian populace could not understand 
 him. They disliked him. They accused him of atheism 
 and of impiety to the gods. In addition to this accusation, 
 there was brought against him another ; one that must 
 not only have alarmed him, but caused him supreme 
 astonishment. He was accused of Medism, of a disposi- 
 tion to betray Athens into the hands of the detested 
 Persians. Anaxagoras was so absorbed in his own studies, 
 paid so little attention to things political, that in all proba- 
 bility even the fact of such an empire existing as the 
 Persian had wholly escaped him, or only remained with 
 
 ' It is righl to state that by some few authorities the age of Anaxagoras 
 has been placed many years earlier, making him contemporary, indeed, with 
 Anaximenes. I have consulted so many authorities concerning the ages of 
 these early philosophers, scarcely one of which agrees with another, that it is 
 very difficult to know which is most worthy of selection. 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 55 
 
 him as connected with some geographical observations. 
 It is very possible that his devotion to the stars may have 
 furnished those who wished to wound Pericles through the 
 side of his teacher with a plausible plea for representing 
 him as having Magian tastes and Magian propensities. He 
 was thrown into prison, condemned to death, and barely 
 escaped with his life through the influence of Pericles. He 
 fled to Lampsacus, where he ended his days in exile — exile 
 that to him was probably less painful than it would have 
 been to the majority of men. His whole soul was absorbed 
 in the study of the stars. And the stars could be seen at 
 Lampsacus as well as at Athens. 
 
 The philosophy of Anaxagoras is of more interest to 
 us than is that of any of the Greek philosophers we have 
 as yet examined. Anaxagoras, too, like the four lonians, 
 sought for a first principle of all things. He was acquainted 
 with the speculations of Thales and Anaximander, with those 
 of Anaximenes and Heraclitus. But he was not satisfied 
 with either of these four speculations. It was impossible, 
 indeed, that they should satisfy him. It was not that he 
 was bigoted or prejudiced against either of them. It was 
 quite possible that water might be the first visible principle 
 of all things. It was equally possible that air or fire might 
 be. But neither air, nor fire, nor water, could of themselves 
 act as they did. Look, for instance, at the wonderful 
 order with which water fell. Regard the regular ebb and 
 flow of the tides. Think how wonderfully the seas, lakes, 
 rivers, and streams kept to their appointed places. Con- 
 sider with what wisdom the rains descended. If there 
 were much less rain, vegetation would be parched, and life 
 would cease to exist. If there were much more, vegetation 
 would become diseased and rotten ; and life would equally 
 cease to exist. Mere unintelligent fluid, like water, could 
 surely never arrange itself with such wonderful order. 
 There must be some intelligence at work, something more 
 than mere matter. Judge by ourselves. What is it that 
 
155 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 makes the difference between the idiot and the ordinary 
 man ? An idiot has eyes, and hands, and feet, as have the 
 ordinary run of men. Yet cannot he discriminate ; he is 
 scarcely able to dress himself, or even to walk. What is 
 the cause of his being thus unable to perform the most 
 ordinary acts of life ? His animal body is strong and 
 vigorous. He has limbs and organs in common with the 
 rest of mankind. Why, then, should he not act as the rest 
 of mankind can act ? Is it not because he is so utterly 
 wanting in intelligence ? Where is the good or utility of 
 hand or foot, of eye or ear, unless there be a directing 
 intelligence within the head to guide them ? The very 
 fact of being provided with various organs and various 
 limbs presupposes the fact of our being provided with 
 sufficient intelligence to teach us their use. In the same 
 way, then, is it impossible that any mere senseless mat- 
 ter should be capable of itself to act in a way that cer- 
 tainly shows intelligence ? The water keeps within due 
 bounds ; the earth does not leap up into the sky. The air, 
 it is true, is everywhere. Yet the air, in pervading every 
 place, is obeying a law as much as the earth or water are 
 obeying a law in confining themselves to particular places. 
 Ah, yes ! there was surely an intelligence at work ; an 
 intelligence which was guiding them. Chaos reigned ; all 
 things were at first of a heap, till Nous came in and 
 set them in order. Intelligence was the reigning principle 
 in Nature. It was equally the reigning principle in man. 
 It is by our intelligence alone, by that power of reason 
 with which we are endowed, that we are enabled to become 
 acquainted with truth of any description. The senses are 
 altogether untrustworthy, and can teach us nothing. 
 Anaxagoras illustrated the truth of this by putting a drop 
 of coloured liquid into a quantity of clear water, the eye 
 being unable to recognise any change. The untrust- 
 worthiness of the senses seems to have taken a great hold 
 on him. It affected him at times with a sort of melan- 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 57 
 
 choly despair. It forced him to confess that 'all things 
 are to each man as they appear to him. Nothing can 
 be known ; nothing can be certain ; sense is limited ; 
 intellect is weak ; life is short.' He was a striking example 
 of the fact, that it is the wisest men who are always the 
 most saddened and oppressed with the consciousness of 
 their own ignorance. For the age in which he lived, 
 Anaxagoras was singularly well informed. He maintained 
 that the moon has mountains and valleys like our earth ; 
 that there have been grand epochs in the history of our 
 globe, in which it has been successively modified by fire 
 and water. He believed that the hills of Lampsacus would 
 one day be under the sea, should time not too soon fail. 
 
 Such is a brief account of the philosophy of Anaxa- 
 goras. It may strike some with surprise that a philosophy 
 such as this should have made his countrymen accuse him 
 of Atheism, more especially as no charge of the kind had 
 been brought against either of the four Ionian philosophers. 
 It may be, perhaps, that a resentment against a philosophy 
 which was fast destroying all belief in the gods had been 
 long smouldering in the minds of the Athenian populace, 
 but was only now for the first time kindled into fire. It 
 may be that the smothered anger of more than a century 
 was at last breaking out ; and that the offences of the four 
 predecessors of Anaxagoras became merged with his own ; 
 that he was to suffer for the offences of them all. Anyhow, 
 the antagonism between learning and Polytheism was every 
 day becoming more distinct. Philosophers, on their part, 
 were in consequence becoming afraid to prosecute their 
 studies openly. And, as we shall show in the next chapter, 
 the natural result was, that they were obliged to commence 
 a system of secrecy and concealment, in order to save 
 themselves from torture and imprisonment, very possibly 
 even from death itself 
 
 In the century or two that have elapsed between the 
 events recorded at the commencement of this chapter and 
 
158 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 those with which we have concluded, how great has been 
 the progress, how rapid the growth, of reason and philo- 
 sophy ! Between the trivial, ignorant idolatry of the Greek 
 Polytheism and the conceptions of Anaxagoras, how wide 
 was the interval ! From the minds of men who could 
 people every natural object with a different divinity, who 
 could endow their gods with their own personalities, with 
 the practice of their own sins and obscenities, to the mind 
 of one who could recognise one all-pervading Intelligence 
 ruling alike over things and men, what an immense stride 
 to take in little more than one short century ! No wonder 
 that the countrymen of Anaxagoras could not understand 
 him. No wonder that they should impute to him the crime 
 of Atheism. In the minds of the vulgar, Pantheism has 
 ever been confused with Atheism : yet in reality they are 
 as widely apart as black and white, or north and south ; as 
 evil and good, or religion and irreligion. Atheism depicts 
 the universe as self-existing, as utterly wdthout a God. 
 Pantheism believes the universe to be pervaded with God. 
 Atheism declares a God exists not anywhere, and in no 
 place ; Pantheism believes that He exists everywhere, and 
 in all places. 
 
 It is true that Anaxagoras did not set forth in plain 
 terms that he believed this Intelligence to be identical with 
 God As he has not done so, we have perhaps no right to 
 call him a Pantheist. Yet if his views were not absolutely 
 Pantheistic, they so strongly resembled Pantheism that it 
 is somewhat difficult to draw the line of distinction that 
 separates the two. The outcome of his philosophy may 
 not have been an absolute Pantheism ; yet the difference 
 that was wanting to make it so was of so slight a descrip- 
 tion as scarcely to be within the range of ordinary obser- 
 vation. The philosophy of Anaxagoras may be said to 
 constitute one of those subtle lines of demarcation where 
 Theism is merging into Pantheism. A Theist may turn to 
 the philosophy of Anaxagoras and discover that his philo- 
 
THE IONIAN SCHOOL. 1 59 
 
 sophy was the first Greek philosophy that showed any 
 traces of Theism. A Pantheist may turn to his philosophy, 
 and believe with equal honesty that here for the first time 
 may be found any distinct traces of Pantheism. 
 
 We must draw this somewhat lengthy chapter to its 
 close. In the philosophy of the Ionian school and its 
 immediate successors there are two things to be principally 
 noted. The four Ionian philosophers were the first Greeks 
 who sought for the origin and principle of all things in 
 nature ; they were the first who believed that more was to 
 be learned from the book of nature than from mere indolent 
 acquiescence in the legends and myths of Greek religion. 
 In so far as they severally believed water, earth, air, or fire 
 to be the first principle — taking, that is to say, their philo- 
 sophies in their apparent and perhaps superficial meaning — 
 they were Materialists ; their philosophy must be certainly 
 called Materialistic, as much as the philosophy of Demo - 
 critus would be termed Materialistic. If, as some have 
 tried to think, there was a hidden and deeper meaning 
 underneath their words ; if (as was more obviously the case 
 with the philosophy of the three later lonians than with 
 the philosophy of Thales) air, and fire, and earth were 
 mere words or names used allegorically for some deep 
 inner consciousness they could not explain, and scarcely 
 even comprehend, then I think we must say their philo- 
 sophy was the first faint indication of a high and abstract 
 Pantheism. The four lonians, then, must be called Ma- 
 terialists or Pantheists, according to the medium through 
 which we view them. 
 
 Anaxagoras, on the contrary, can by no possible means 
 be called a Materialist, whatever be the medium through 
 which we view him. The whole aim of his philosophy was 
 to declare that mere unintelligent matter cannot of itself 
 act with the wisdom and forethought shown in every action 
 and movement of air, or fire, or water. There must be an 
 overruling Power to set chaos in order. He did not name 
 
l6o GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 this Power ' God.' Perhaps he was afraid of doing so for 
 fear of rousing his enemies still more against him. He 
 called it Nous, or Intelligence. By whatever name he called 
 it, one thing, I think, is clear. If by this* Nous ' he meant 
 an overruling Providence sitting apart, commanding and 
 ordering the elements to obey him, then his philosophy 
 must surely be called Theistic. If, on the contrary, he 
 believed this Intelligence to be a subtle pervading power, 
 dwelling within every portion of creation, inhabiting man 
 as much as inhabiting what is generally understood by 
 Nature, then I think the philosophy of Anaxagoras must 
 certainly be called Pantheistic. Just as the philosophy of 
 the four lonians would be indifferently called Materialistic 
 or Pantheistic, according to the medium through which it 
 is viewed, so would the philosophy of Anaxagoras be 
 called indifferently Theistic or Pantheistic, according to the 
 medium through which we view it. 
 
i6i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 From Anaxagoras, the least political of philosophers, we 
 turn to Pythagoras, the most political. 
 
 The life and character of Pythagoras are so hidden in 
 obscurity, and overlain with legends and tales of marvels, 
 that it is somewhat difficult to gain any trustworthy 
 acquaintance with either himself or his philosophy. 
 
 Some say he was the contemporary of Solon and 
 Thales, others assigned him to the age of Tarquinius 
 Superbus and Polycrates. The majority of modern his- 
 torians, however, seem to think that Pythagoras was pro- 
 bably born at Samos, and was a contemporary or nearly 
 a contemporary of Anaxagoras, flourishing, in all proba- 
 bility, shortly before that philosopher. 
 
 In point of ability we should, perhaps, decide that the 
 philosophy of Pythagoras comes between that of the Ionian 
 School and Anaxagoras. But there is one strong reason 
 for making us believe Pythagoras was the successor, and 
 not the predecessor, of Anaxagoras. Both Pythagoras and 
 his disciples prosecuted their philosophical studies in se- 
 crecy ; they founded a secret society, a sort of brother- 
 hood or order. And the most probable reason for such 
 secrecy is to be found in the alarm felt by philosophers at 
 the anger and dislike gradually being evinced by the popu- 
 lace at their teaching, culminating, as we have seen, in the 
 actual exile and threatened death of Anaxagoras. If we 
 suppose that Pythagoras lived after the persecution of 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
1 62 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 Anaxagoras we have some clue to the reason and cause of 
 the secrecy of the Pythagorean brotherhood ; but it becomes 
 much more inexpHcable if we suppose Pythagoras was the 
 contemporary of Solon and Thales. There seems, then, to 
 be no reason why this system of secrecy should have been 
 carried on, when as yet philosophy had been free from 
 persecution ; receiving, indeed, for the most part a fair share 
 of honour and praise. 
 
 It is this same system of secrecy that makes it so 
 difficult for us to ascertain with certainty in what the real 
 doctrines and teaching of Pythagoras consisted. Like 
 Thales he had left nothing behind him in writing ; and the 
 mere fact of the secrecy and exclusiveness of his teaching 
 would in itself be sufficient to account for the numerous 
 myths and legends that sprang up after his death. What 
 is secret and unknown is generally regarded with more or 
 less of awe ; besides which, it is always easy to invent 
 fables, and always difficult to contradict them, when the 
 subject of the fable was accustomed to teach in privacy, 
 and had been long since dead. It can never be known, 
 except through his disciples, what Pythagoras did or did 
 not teach ; and if those disciples chose to invent sayings 
 and doings utterly apart from the real truth, it is almost 
 impossible for us to disprove their statement. The proof 
 of a negative is of proverbial difficulty. 
 
 Pythagoras, as far as we can glean from the various 
 statements given of him, followed the lonians in seeking 
 for a first principle of all things. The conclusion he arrived 
 at, however, was very different from theirs. In his mind 
 neither the water or air, neither the earth or fire proved 
 any satisfactory solution of the difficulty, What, then, was 
 the first principle of all things ? The answer he gave was, 
 * Numbers' Numbers lay at the root of all being. Num- 
 bers can never lie. Resolve a thing into its particles, and 
 each particle is yet one. 
 
 It is said that Pythagoras was the first to call himself 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 1 63 
 
 by the title of ' philosopher.' When asked in what secret 
 lay his art, he replied that he had none — he was but a 
 lover and seeker after wisdom. Wisdom was the only 
 source of happiness ; wisdom was the only goal worthy of 
 a man's ambition. Wisdom was that which he was seeking 
 to attain. It seemed strange to him to find so few caring 
 or endeavouring to seek it He was a believer in metemp- 
 sychosis, and thought that all mankind had come down 
 from heaven to dwell upon this earth for but a very short 
 period. How strange, then, that the only thing that had 
 anything of heaven in it, the only thing capable of remind- 
 ing men of their former condition — how strange it was that 
 this heavenly quality called Wisdom should be so forsaken 
 of mankind ! 
 
 ' All comes from One,' said Pythagoras. * God embraces 
 all, and actuates all, yet is but One. Take away every 
 mode or condition, and there remains still the One Being 
 which cannot be made either more or less than One.' 
 
 To the number ' Ten ' extraordinary importance was 
 imputed, since it contains in itself, or arises from the 
 addition of 1,2,3,4 — that is, of even and odd numbers 
 together ; hence it received the name of the grand tetractys, 
 because it so contained the first four numbers. The Pytha- 
 goreans likewise attached much importance to the triad, 
 since it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. To unity, 
 or one, they gave the designation of the * even-odd,' 
 asserting that it contained the property both of the even 
 and the odd, as is plain from the fact that if ' one ' be 
 added to an even number it becomes odd, but if added to 
 an odd number it becomes even. They even linked their 
 arithmetical views to morality through the observation that 
 numbers never lie. They held that the number one not 
 only contained the most perfect but also the most imper- 
 fect ; hence it followed that the most perfect, most beautiful, 
 most wise are not at the beginning, but that they are in 
 process of time evolved. They arranged the primary ele- 
 
164 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 ments of nature in a table of ten contraries, of which the 
 odd and even are one, and light and darkness another. 
 
 All this, of course, sounds very fantastic ; and it is at 
 first sight somewhat difficult to understand whence arose 
 the extreme admiration with which the disciples of Pytha- 
 goras were accustomed to regard their master. A little 
 consideration, however, upon the characteristics of the age 
 in which Pythagoras lived will materially assist us in com- 
 prehending the admiration, we might almost say the 
 adoration, with which he was regarded by his disciples. 
 
 In the last chapter we dwelt at some length upon the 
 change and alteration effected in Greek religion and Greek 
 philosophy by the intercourse between Egypt and Greece ; 
 we showed how the more educated were in consequence 
 gradually losing all faith in the ancient religion, and how 
 the outcome of this gradual disbelief was the first crude 
 commencement of philosophy. Men were fast reaching that 
 despairing stage of unbelief when they feel that they have 
 no positive criterion of truth ; when they long to believe, 
 but from the multiplicity of creeds and philosophies know 
 not in what or in whom to believe. There is no state for 
 a thoughtful mind to be in more utterly wretched than 
 this. 
 
 If Thales had been the only philosopher he would 
 have been worshipped most probably as eagerly as Pytha- 
 goras was worshipped ; but almost as soon as his philosophy 
 was accepted and thoroughly mastered, Anaximander 
 arose with a new philosophy, and proved to them how 
 wholly incorrect was the philosophy of Thales. In like 
 manner arose Anaximenes with a new theory to supersede 
 that of Anaximander; and Anaximenes in his turn was 
 shortly to be superseded by Heraclitus. In this war of 
 philosophies and creeds what was to be believed, what was 
 to be disbelieved ? Only those who have gone through it 
 know the real misery experienced by such as are longing 
 to believe, yet can find no certain creed worthy of belief ; 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 1 65 
 
 who yearn for the discovery of some criterion of truth, 
 yet the more earnestly they seek for such criterion, the 
 more helplessly and deeper do they seem to be plunged 
 into the mire of terrible uncertainty. Shakspere has 
 said, ' If to do were as easy as to know what were good to 
 do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages 
 princes' palaces/ Yet the more thoughtful of us will 
 readily admit that it is not always advisable to change a 
 chapel into a church, and it would be difficult to see how 
 the world could go on if every poor man's cottage were 
 turned into a prince's palace. The difficulty with the more 
 thoughtful of us is not the difficulty of making up our 
 minds to perform actions we know to be right ; the far 
 greater difficulty is to discern what really is the right : 
 what we should believe, what we should disbelieve ; what 
 acts we should perform, what leave unperformed. This is 
 the state many of us are in at the present day. This is 
 the state into which many of the contemporaries of Pytha- 
 goras had been thrown. 
 
 In such a state as this men are apt to incur false 
 accusations and unjust charges. Atheism and irreligion 
 are imputed to them ; and amongst those most open to 
 such charges are very often the holiest and most conscien- 
 tious of mankind. It is a mistake to think religious doubts 
 and difficulties argue a want of religion. The really irre- 
 ligious are those who care too little about religion to 
 investigate it or see whether it be true or false. We never 
 care to perplex ourselves with subjects and questions about 
 which we feel the most utter indifference. It is a mistake 
 to think men are less religious now than they were two or 
 three centuries ago. If they only knew what religion to 
 accept they would give their lives in defence of that religion 
 as eagerly as did the martyrs of the sixteenth and seven- 
 teenth centuries. It is not the want of religious feehno- 
 that makes men appear callous and indifferent ; it is the 
 want of any adequate object upon which to expend their 
 
i66 
 
 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 religious feeling. It is the utter bewilderment that besets 
 them when they try to examine the principles of every 
 belief; the conflict that seems to be on the increase be- 
 tween religion and science ; the perplexity arising from the 
 antagonistic tenets held by sects even acknowledging the 
 same founder — these are the religious difficulties which 
 drive men into the terrible state of uncertainty. And the 
 multiplicity of philosophical systems are nearly as perplex- 
 ing. There is the same bewilderment in trying to compare 
 deductive philosophy with inductive, and materialistic 
 philosophy with metaphysical. But philosophy is more 
 generous than religion, and refuses to condemn with viru- 
 lence those who are intellectually unable to follow or agree 
 with her. 
 
 Whether, however, the uncertainty be religious or 
 philosophical, such of us as have gone through it will 
 readily understand and sympathise with the intellectual, per- 
 haps, indeed, even the moral despair that comes over men 
 or nations when they feel that they have lost all knowledge of 
 a criterion of truth ; when they are compelled to own with 
 Anaxagoras : ' Nothing can be known ; nothing can be 
 certain ; everything is to each man as it appears to him.* 
 
 This is the state into which many of the nineteenth 
 century philosophers have fallen ; this, as we said before, is 
 the state into which many of the contemporaries of Pytha- 
 goras had fallen. 
 
 There was Thales declaring that the first principle of 
 all things was water ; there was Anaximander declaring 
 the first principle to be the earth ; there was Anaximenes 
 declaring it to be the air ; there was Diogenes of Apollonia 
 agreeing, and at the same time extending the views held by 
 Anaximenes, Then came Heraclitus with his principle of 
 fire ; then, last of all and most reasonable of all, came 
 Anaxagoras with his tenet of Intelligence or Nous : a far 
 more satisfactory solution, as the very indignation aroused 
 by it witnessed, than the hypothesis of either of the four 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 167 
 
 Ionian philosophers. Then, in addition to all these philo- 
 sophical systems, there was the populace crying out that all 
 philosophy was wrong ; that men should occupy themselves 
 with the gods and goddesses, should content themselves 
 with the oracles sent down from heaven, and not attempt 
 to meddle with subjects which were utterly beyond the 
 comprehension of man, and which, in addition, were fast 
 threatening to overthrow all belief and all religion. 
 
 Then at last arose Pythagoras with his system, couching 
 his discovery in phraseology that was at once half-flattering, 
 half-mystic : ' Not unto all shall all be known.' We can 
 imagine with what eagerness the countrymen of Pythagoras 
 listened to him as he divulged his discovery. We must 
 also imagine with what words Pythagoras couched that 
 discovery, for there are only a few disconnected sentences 
 here and there that have come down to us. 
 
 * It is not fire, O Athenians, that is the first principle 
 of all things ; neither is it the air, nor the earth, nor 
 water. The very easiness with which one Ionian philo- 
 sopher demolishes the system of another proves the inade- 
 quacy of each. Neither is it the Nous of Anaxagoras that 
 wholly suffices to solve the difficulty. Intelligence may 
 predominate ; it does not reign supreme. For days and 
 weeks and months, possibly sometimes for years, the waters 
 keep intelligently within their appointed places ; the tides 
 ebb and flow with order and regularity. The seasons suc- 
 ceed each other in proper arrangement. Rain and sunshine 
 come in due proportion, giving rise to the abundant harvest 
 which is to make glad the heart of man. All this argues 
 an Intelligence. Thus far the philosophy of Anaxagoras is 
 its own best pleader. 
 
 * But in the lives of most men there comes a time when 
 Intelligence seems suddenly at bay, when the forces of 
 Nature appear to rebel against their mistress, throw ofl" her 
 sway, and ruthlessly scatter the fruits of her beneficent 
 guidance to the winds. Now is the time when desolating 
 
1 68 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 whirlwinds arise, destroying impartially man and beast, 
 trees^ and plants, houses and everything that come within 
 their reach. Now is the time when the beautiful bright 
 sea seems to swell to a gigantic size, when the azure rip- 
 pling wavelets appear changed into huge black monsters, 
 raging with ungovernable fury against each other and against 
 themselves, combining and at the same time outvying each 
 other in their endeavour to destroy everything on sea and 
 nearly everything on land. Yea, even the rains and sun- 
 shine appear in league with the tempestuous storms and 
 hurricanes. Rains either descend in such torrents that 
 villages, already inundated by the seas, appear like floating 
 islands, and the sun hides his face, refusing to enliven the 
 gloom and darkness with one ray of warmth and light ; 
 or, even worse, the sun shines out with cruel intensity, 
 assisting the whirlwinds in their work of destruction, and 
 the rains refuse to descend ; and the earth becomes burnt, 
 and dried, and parched, gasping for water, and no water 
 comes. Nothing that is desirable appears ; everything 
 undesirable arrives. 
 
 'Where is poor little Intelligence now.'' Utterly routed 
 and put to shame, paralysed and unable so much as to 
 move in her own defence. The air and waters are not 
 alone in treating her irreverently. The earth likewise 
 fights against her yoke, and upheaves and yawns and 
 opens, swallowing and destroying the smiling pasture 
 lands, or cities and the civilisation of centuries, with as 
 much indifference as it destroys the bleak moor or barren 
 forest. 
 
 ' With all this before our eyes have we any right to 
 say that Intelligence even predominates ? For days and 
 months and even years the powers of nature and the will 
 of man seem equally subject to her control ; but what 
 advantage is that, when in less than a month the elements, 
 and in a lesser degree the united will of mankind, can 
 destroy the works of wisdom and labours of civilisation it 
 
PYTHAGORAS. l6g 
 
 has taken Intelligence twenty years to direct and complete ? 
 It would almost seem that the elements allowed Intelr 
 ligence to prosecute her sway with a sort of contemptuous 
 acquiescence, knowing with what easiness they could over- 
 throw it. 
 
 ' Nay, but, O Athenians, what right have we to pro- 
 nounce or to decide upon what is intelligence or what 
 is not ? What know w^e ? Anaxagoras may have erred, 
 most probably he did err, in pronouncing Intelligence to be 
 the first root and principle of all things. But there was 
 one discovery he made that is undoubtedly true, that is 
 not capable of reasonable contradiction. That discovery 
 he couched in these words : " Nothing can be known, no- 
 thing can be certain ; sense is limited ; things are to each 
 man according as they seem to him ; intellect is weak, and 
 life is short." 
 
 ' Is this, then, to be the fruit and sum of all philosophy ? 
 Is this to be the be-all and end-all of our cravings and 
 yearnings after knowledge ? Are we to strive and seek 
 and endeavour merely to be taught at last the dreary 
 lesson of our utter inability to attain anything for which 
 we have been seeking and striving ? 
 
 * Ah me ! my countrymen, if such be the end and goal 
 of all philosophy, let us neglect the study of it ; let us leave 
 it to die a natural death or sink in inanition. Better to eat 
 and drink and indulge in bestial lusts than to waste the 
 whole of life in striving to attain knowledge when the only 
 knowledge possible for us to attain is the knowledge that 
 we can never gain any. If such be the only fruit of our 
 study let us enjoy the hour while we may. We resemble 
 the brutes in the manner of our birth ; let us resemble them 
 also in the manner of their life and of their death. Let us 
 eat and drink and enjoy ourselves. Why should we waste 
 our youth and prime in seeking to attain knowledge when 
 every such seeker who has reached the period of old age 
 pronounces the attainment of any knowledge to be utterly 
 
170 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 beyond our reach ? If such be the end of all philosophy, 
 let us away with it ; let us join the populace in decrying 
 it. It is but a blind leader of the blind, or even worse, a 
 wilful deceiver and treacherous teacher, tempting us to 
 spend the best years of our life in trying to grasp what 
 is without form, enticing us to erect a mere phantom and 
 shadow of our imagination into a substance of tangible 
 reality. Let us away with it, and crush it, and forcibly 
 prevent it from tempting other victims to its worship. 
 
 ' But, praised be the One Being and Primal Cause of 
 all things, such is not the be-all and end-all of philosophy. 
 Anaxagoras was right in telling us our senses deceive us. 
 They do deceive. The slightest observation tells us we 
 can only know things as they appear to us, and it is 
 seldom the same object presents the same appearance 
 to two persons. Fresh philosophies, new theories, are 
 being constantly mooted only to be superseded as soon as 
 they are mastered. . And yet there is a criterion of truth, 
 which did not discover itself to Anaxagoras, but which, if 
 once perceived, is found to be utterly incontrovertible. 
 This criterion consists of Numbers. No test can be more 
 trustworthy, more certain, more utterly beyond the reach 
 of argument than this. You may argue Thales out of his 
 principle of water ; you may argue Anaximenes out of his 
 principle of air ; you may even show Anaxagoras how 
 untenable is his principle of intelligence. But you will 
 never be able to make me clearly believe, any m.ore than I 
 have the power to make any of you clearly believe, that two 
 and two m.ake anything less or more than four! 
 
 In some such words spake Pythagoras, and was lis- 
 tened to with an eagerness and avidity which we shall not 
 be able to comprehend unless we recall the utter state of 
 bewilderment and confusion so many of his listeners 
 were then in ; the uncertainty that was besetting them, 
 and the craving for some criterion of truth that was 
 
PYTHAGORAS. I 7 1' 
 
 making itself felt, however slight and inadequate that cri- 
 terion may be. 
 
 ' You will never be able to prove by argument that two 
 and two can be either less or more than four.' ' You will 
 never be able to show that two sides of a triangle taken 
 together are not greater than the third.' Not very lofty 
 criterions of truth perhaps these ; yet by the starving man 
 the hardest and driest crust is greedily welcomed ; and to 
 him who has been wearied and disappointed with false phi- 
 losophies, false religions, false systems, an ounce of truth 
 more than overbalances a pound of falsehood. 
 
 The age in which Pythagoras lived had greatly to do with 
 the secret of his success. In a time of dreary scepticism 
 he had hit upon a criterion of truth that was absolutely 
 infallible ; a criterion that should be acknowledged equally 
 infallible by those living two thousand years afterwards 
 as by those living in his own time ; perhaps, indeed, even 
 more infallible. The greater portion of any of our scientific 
 discoveries, and the entire portion of our astronomical dis- 
 coveries, may be said to have for their basis the complete 
 reliance we place upon the infallibility of numbers. By 
 such means we predict the return of comets and the transit 
 of planets ; and if our predictions prove untrue we know at 
 once that the inaccuracy lies in our mode of reckoning, and 
 not in the numbers themselves. For mimbers cannot lie. 
 They must be true ; and the first man who ever propounded 
 their absolute infallibility is generally supposed to be 
 Pythagoras. 
 
 ' Living (says Mr. Grote) at a time when the stock of 
 experience was scanty, the license of hypothesis unbounded, 
 and the process of deduction without rule or verifying test, 
 he was thus fortunate enough to strike into that track of 
 geometry and arithmetic in which, from data of experience 
 few, simple, and obvious, an immense field of deduction 
 and verifiable investigation may be travelled over.' 
 
172 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 No wonder, then, that Pythagoras was regarded by his- 
 disciples with a sort of religious awe ; no wonder that after 
 his death he was endowed by the excitable Greeks with the 
 qualities of a god. They were but exaggerating and trans- 
 ferring the infallibility of his discovery into infallibility of 
 himself; and truly they might have worshipped a worse 
 man. Even by his enemies, even by those who denounce 
 him as a quack, and thaumaturgist, and impostor, he is 
 acknowledged to have lived a singularly pure and blame- 
 less life, to have been warm and true in his friendships, and 
 strongly endowed with religious feelings. 
 
 Whether his system of secrecy were caused by a fear of 
 persecution, or whether he really believed that doctrines, 
 the knowledge of which would prove beneficial to the few, 
 might be injurious to the many, we have no certain means 
 of judging. But at all events there seems to be no doubt 
 that a secret society was formed, and that into this society 
 no one was admitted unless he had previously passed 
 through a severe process of initiation. For five years the 
 novice was condemned to silence ; various humiliations had 
 to be borne and hardships endured. By such means Pytha- 
 goras was enabled to discern who were, or who were not, 
 worthy to be his disciples. Those who entered upon the 
 novitiate from mere feelings of curiosity or a love of noto- 
 riety soon returned back to their old haunts. None but 
 those who were enthusiastic, and earnestly sincere in their 
 application for admission into the brotherhood, would be 
 capable of enduring a five years' period of silence, humili- 
 ation, and hardship. Mere love of notoriety or curiosity 
 would afford no adequate motive for entering upon such a 
 task. So that in reality this process of initiation was a 
 system enabling Pythagoras to separate the chaff from the 
 wheat, teaching him what to weed out and root up, what 
 to water and nourish and uphold. 
 
 From what we can gather he seems to have appeared 
 at first in the character of a teacher of youth ; and, as was 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 1 73 
 
 not uncommon in those times, quickly rose from the teacher 
 to the legislator. He lent himself to the consolidation ot 
 aristocracies, and was equally inimical to democracy and 
 tyranny. But he was wholly devoid of personal and selfish 
 ambition. If he wished to gain power at all he desired it 
 for the sake of his society, and not for himself The Pytha- 
 gorean Brotherhood has been compared with a good deal ot 
 justice to the mighty Order founded by Loyola in times 
 comparatively recent,^ Religion made the basis of the fra- 
 ternity, but religion connected with human ends of advance- 
 ment and power. His disciples were selected for the most 
 part from the noblest families, and were professedly reared 
 to know themselves, that so they might be fitted to com- 
 mand the world. 
 
 In his personal character Pythagoras appears to have 
 been singularly pure. He differed from his countiymen in 
 his estimation of women ; the majority of Greeks for the 
 most part in those licentious times regarding woman only 
 as a toy and plaything, even the more thoughtful of them 
 regarding her as chiefly useful for breeding purposes, and 
 totally incapable of taking any part in the councils and 
 graver studies of men. But Pythagoras lectured and im- 
 parted knowledge to women with as much eagerness and 
 earnestness as he did to men. His wife was herself a phi- 
 losopher. It is said that his wife and daughter used always 
 to walk at the head of his religious processions, and that 
 among the most prominent ornaments of his" school were 
 fifteen of the softer sex. 
 
 That Pythagoras was somewhat of a mystic must be 
 admitted. It was almost inevitable that he should be so. 
 With his belief in numbers and his strong disbehef in the 
 trustworthiness of the senses, he could scarcely have pre- 
 vented his language from becoming figurative, and to the 
 vulgar mind somewhat incomprehensible. It is said that 
 he believed that numbers lay at the root of all being, or 
 
 ' Bulwer Lytton, 
 
174 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 rather that they were the cause of all phenomenal being. 
 It is said that he believed the very existence of the world 
 to be an illusion, and therefore could not have any origin 
 in time^ but only seemingly so to human thought. Nu- 
 merical existence he proclaimed to be the only invariable 
 existence. Therefore the Infinite, or existence in itself, 
 must be One. One is the absolute Number ; it exists in 
 and by itself. All modes of existence are but finite aspects 
 of the Infinite ; and in the same way numbers are but nu- 
 merical relations of the One. The number * Two ' is but 
 the relation of One to One. In the original One all num- 
 bers are contained, and therefore the elements of the whole 
 world. It is said that he believed everything, the whole 
 phenomena of the universe, to be but copies of Numbers. 
 In fact, just as the four lonians are said to have severally 
 proclaimed water, air, fire, and earth to be the first principle 
 or beginning of all things, so is Pythagoras stated to have 
 proclaimed the number One to be the beginning of all 
 things. 
 
 But after all we must be careful not to confuse the 
 opinions of Pythagoras with the opinions of his disciples, 
 or with the opinions of the later Pythagorean brotherhood. 
 A philosoph}', or indeed a cause or system of any descrip- 
 tion, is apt to suffer as much from the exaggerations of 
 ardent and zealous partisans as from the contempt of dis- 
 believers or abuse of enemies. And the system of Pytha- 
 goras was m5re than usually open to such abuse, partly, as 
 we have said, through the fact of his leaving no writings 
 behind him, partly because he really does not seem to have 
 cared to explain himself in language that would be com- 
 prehensible by the uninitiated. He seems to have always 
 spoken in a language more or less figurative, and his dis- 
 ciples were in consequence apt to confuse the figure and 
 the reality one with the other. Numbers soon ceased to be 
 symbols with them, and were exaggerated into things. It 
 is even said that after the death of Pythagoras so entirely 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 175 
 
 did numbers become regarded as things that they actually 
 became deified and worshipped. But we must not charge 
 him with the offences of his disciples ; as justly might we 
 charge him with being an impostor and aspirer to divinity 
 because some of his more enthusiastic admirers declared 
 him to be either the son of Hermes or else of Apollo. 
 
 After all, the chief matter to be noted concerning him, 
 in a treatise purporting to be devoted to the history of 
 Pantheism, is that the philosophy of Pythagoras is evidently 
 a development of the philosophy of the lonians, and is 
 also a foreshadowing of the Eleatic philosophy, of which 
 we shall treat in the next chapter. 
 
 It is interesting and advantageous for us to be able thus 
 to trace the history of Greek Pantheism from its faintest 
 germs and first indications, more especially as we were 
 prevented from thus tracing the history of Oriental Pan- 
 theism, owing to the great antiquity of the Hindoo nation. 
 
 We have no right, perhaps, to call the philosophy of 
 Pythagoras Pantheistic any more than we have any right to 
 call the philosophy of the lonians Pantheistic ; yet they 
 were both of them legitimate forerunners of the Eleatics, 
 who were acknowledged to be purely and entirely Panthe- 
 istic in the manner of their doctrines. 
 
 The lonians were the first to discard a belief in a num- 
 ber of divinities and first principles, all warring with and 
 against one another ; they were the first to see that there 
 could be but One First Principle of all things, and they 
 sought for that in water, air, fire, or earth as the case 
 might be. The philosophy of Pythagoras, however, was 
 an immense development upon that of the lonians. Pytha- 
 goras did not merely beHeve that there must be One First 
 Principle of all things, but he believed that this One must 
 contain in itself and comprehend all things. Such a doc- 
 trine is surely verging on Pantheism. If he had endowed 
 this One with the name of God it would have certainly 
 
176 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 been actual Pantheism. The majority of competent au- 
 thorities (among whom is notably Mr. Lewes ^) seem, how- 
 ever, against the notion that Pythagoras was a theist of any 
 description, either monotheist or pantheist ; and as unfortu- 
 nately we have little or nothing recorded of Pythagoras 
 first-hand, we are consequently forced to be content with 
 second-hand knowledge concerning him ; and in cases where 
 second-hand knowledge is thus obligatory, it is, for the most 
 part, wisest to consult and accept such authorities as have 
 proved themselves reliable in other matters. Otherwise, 
 were it not for the weighty authorities against me, I should 
 be inclined to side with those who consider Pythagoras did 
 really teach the doctrine of a Soul of the World ; that he 
 intended in reality, by his First Principle of the One, some- 
 thing far deeper, far more inexpressible, than the mere 
 number One taken by itself However that may be, 
 whether by his doctrine of the One Pythagoras meant God 
 Himself or only the mere number One, one thing is to be 
 remarked : that whereas the lonians were contented with 
 finding a First Principle, Pythagoras went further, and after 
 having discovered and decided upon what should be con- 
 sidered the First Principle, he believed this First Principle 
 must contain and comprehend within itself the whole 
 phenomena of the entire universe. 
 
 Before leaving this part of our subject we will append 
 Mr. Lewes' translation of Aristotle's comments upon the 
 philosophy of Pythagoras and his disciples, premising, how- 
 ever, that by many Aristotle is deemed to have consciously 
 or unconsciously misrepresented the doctrines of this phi- 
 losopher : — 
 
 ' In the age of these philosophers (the Eleats and 
 Atomists), and even before them, lived those called Pytha- 
 goreans, who at first applied themselves to mathematics, a 
 science they improved ; and, having been trained exclusively 
 
 ^ Lewes' ' Histoiy of Philosophy,' vol. i, p. 34. 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 177 
 
 in it, they fancied that the principles of mathematics were 
 the principles of all things. 
 
 * Since Numbers are by nature pfior to all things, in 
 Numbers they thought they perceived greater analogies 
 with that which exists, and that which is produced, than 
 in fire, earth, or water. So that a certain combination of 
 Numbers was justice, and a certain other combination of 
 Numbers was reason and intelligence, and a certain other 
 combination of Numbers was opportunity, and so of the 
 rest. 
 
 * Moreover in Numbers they saw the combinations of 
 harmony. Since, therefore, all things seemed formed simi- 
 larly to Numbers, and Numbers being by nature anterior 
 to things, they concluded that the elements of Numbers are 
 the elements of things, and that the whole heaven is a 
 harmony and a Number. Having indicated the great 
 analogies between Numbers and the phenomena of heaven 
 and its parts, and with the phenomena of the whole world, 
 they formed a system, and if any gap was apparent in the 
 system, they used every effort to restore the connection. 
 Thus, since ten appeared to them a perfect number, poten- 
 tially containing all numbers, they declared that the moving 
 celestial bodies were ten in number, but because only nine 
 were visible they imagined a tenth, the Antickthofie. 
 
 ' We have treated of all these things more in detail 
 elsewhere. But the reason why we recur to them is this, 
 that we may learn from these philosophers also what they 
 lay down as their first principles, and by what process they 
 hit upon the causes aforesaid. 
 
 ' They maintained that Number was the beginning 
 (principle, apxn) of things, the cause of their material 
 existence, and of their modifications and different states. 
 The elements of Number are odd and even. The odd is 
 finite, the even infinite. Unity, the one, partakes of both 
 these, and is both odd and even. All number is derived 
 from the one. The heavens, as we said before, are com- 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 posed of Numbers. Other Pythagoreans say there are ten 
 Principia — those called co-ordinates : — 
 
 The finite and the infinite. 
 The odd and the even. 
 The one and the many. 
 The right and the left. 
 The male and the female. 
 The quiescent and the moving. 
 The right line and the curved. 
 Light and darkness. 
 Good and evil. 
 The square and the oblong. 
 
 'All the Pythagoreans considered the elements as 
 material, for the elements are in all things and constitute 
 the world. 
 
 *The finite, the infinite, and the one they maintained 
 to be not separate existences, such as are fire, water, &c,, 
 but the abstract infinite and the abstract one are res- 
 pectively the substance of the things of which they are 
 predicated, and hence, too, Number is the substance of all 
 things. They began by attending only to the form and 
 began to define it, but on this subject they were very im- 
 perfect. They define superficially, and that which suited 
 their definition they declared to be the essence of the 
 thing defined, as if one should maintain that the double and 
 the number two are the same thing, because the double 
 is first found in the two. But two and the double are not 
 equal (in essence), or if so, then one would be many, a 
 consequence which follows from their (the Pythagorean) 
 doctrine 
 
 'The Pythagoreans employ the Principia and Elements 
 more strangely than even the physiologists, the cause of 
 which is that they do not take them from sensible things. 
 However, all their researches are physical, all their systems 
 are physical. They explain the productions of heaven, and 
 observe that which takes place in its various parts and its 
 revolutions, and thus they employ their Principles and 
 Causes, as if they agreed with the physiologists that what- 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 1 79 
 
 ever is is matcrialy and is that which contains what we call 
 heaven. 
 
 ' But their Causes and Principles we should pronounce 
 sufficient to raise them up to the conception of intelligible 
 things, of things above sense, and would accord with 
 such a conception much better than with that of physical 
 things.' * 
 
 According to Bishop Thirlwall the leading thought of 
 Pythagoras appears to have been ' that the state and the 
 individual ought, each in its way, to reflect the image of 
 that order and harmony by which he believed the uni- 
 verse to be sustained and regulated ; and he only expressed 
 the religious side of this thought, when he said, that the 
 highest end of human existence was to follow or resemble 
 the Deity. But he was aware that this sublime idea can 
 never be fully embodied in this sublunary world, and that 
 a wise man will be content with slowly approaching the 
 unattainable mark, and in working upon others will adapt 
 his exertions to the circumstances in which he is placed, 
 and to the imperfection of those whom he has to deal with. 
 He had before him the example of Lycurgus, and, still 
 nearer, those of Zaleucus and Charondas, who had legis- 
 lated, not many generations earlier, the one for Locri and 
 the other for Catana, on principles so agreeable to his own, 
 that in the traditions of later times they were numbered 
 among his disciples. This, however, was probably some- 
 thing more than the state of affairs which he found at 
 Croton would have permitted him to undertake, and yet 
 less than he might hope to accomplish by different means. 
 He did not frame a constitution or code of laws, nor does 
 he appear ever to have assumed any public office. He 
 instituted a society — an order we might now call it — of 
 which he became the general. It was composed of young 
 men, carefully selected from the noblest families, not only 
 of Croton but of other Italiot cities ; their number amounted, 
 
 ' ' History of Philosophy, pp. 36-3S. 
 
IL>0 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 or was confined, to three hundred ; and If he expected by 
 their co-operation to exercise a sway, firmer and more 
 lasting than that of a lawgiver or a magistrate, first over 
 Croton, and in the end over all the Italian colonies, his 
 project, though new and bold, ought not to be pronounced 
 visionary or extravagant. 
 
 ' According to our view of this celebrated society, 
 it is not surprising that it should have presented such a 
 variety of aspects, as to mislead those who fixed their at- 
 tention on any one of them, and withdrew it from the rest. 
 It was at once a philosophical school, a religious brother- 
 hood, and a political association ; and all these characters 
 appear to have been inseparably united in the founder's 
 mind. It must be considered as a proof of upright inten- 
 tions in Pythagoras, which ought to rescue him from all 
 suspicion of selfish motives, that he chose for his coadjutors 
 persons whom he deemed capable of grasping the highest 
 truths which he could communicate, and was not only will- 
 ing to teach them all he knew, but regarded the utmost 
 cultivation of their intellectual faculties as a necessary pre- 
 paration for the work to which he destined them. His 
 lessons were certainly not confined to particular branches 
 of mathematical or physical science, but were clearly meant 
 to throw the fullest light on the greatest questions which 
 can occupy the human mind. Those who were to govern 
 others were first to contemplate the world, and to compre- 
 hend the place which they filled in it. The Pythagorean 
 philosophy may indeed appear singularly foreign to the 
 business of a statesman ; but we know that some of the 
 greatest, both in ancient and modern times, have been nou- 
 rished in such speculations, and the effects of the exercise 
 are not to be measured by the importance of the scientific 
 results. 
 
 ' It is certain that religion was intimately connected 
 with the institutions of Pythagoras, and it may not be too 
 much to say that it was the centre in which they rested, or 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 15X 
 
 the corner-stone of the whole fabric, and the main bond of 
 union among his followers. But it is by no means clear, 
 either what kind of religion it was, or in what manner it 
 acted. And its importance may have been the cause of 
 this obscurity; for it is highly probable that the secrecy in 
 which the proceedings of the fraternity were enveloped, 
 related not to its philosophical doctrines, nor even to its 
 political designs, but to its religious observances. In what 
 relation, however, this mystic religion stood to that of the 
 public temples is very doubtful. Pythagoras is said to have 
 inveighed, as bitterly as Zenophanes, against Homer and 
 Hesiod for degrading their divine personages, but he pro- 
 fessed the highest reverence for the objects of the popular 
 superstition. It is true that he reduced the gods to so 
 many Numbers ; but this was a theological nicety, and did 
 not concern the multitude which saw him bow at their 
 altars. There is no reason to think that these mysteries 
 conveyed any doctrines inconsistent with the common 
 opinions. It is most probable that the chief object of the 
 mysteries was to inculcate the dogma of the immortality 
 and migrations of the soul, whicli might be easily applied 
 to the purpose of strengthening a generous enthusiasm. 
 But there can be no doubt that religion was made to hal- 
 low all the relations into which the associates entered, that 
 it cemented their mutual attachment, and exalted their 
 veneration for their master. It is also important to observe 
 that the mysteries appear to have been open, though not 
 perhaps in their last stage, to persons who were not mem- 
 bers of the political society. Thus, women seem to have 
 been admitted to them ; and hence we find a long list of 
 female Pythagoreans. It is easy to imagine how much the 
 influence of the institution must have been enlarged by 
 
 such an accession 
 
 ' The ambition of Pythagoras was assuredly, as we 
 have already remarked, truly lofty and noble. He aimed 
 at establishing a dominion which' he believed to be that 
 
152 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 of wisdom and virtue, a rational supremacy of minds 
 enlightened by philosophy and purified by religion, and 
 characters fitted to maintain an ascendant over others 
 by habits of self-command. Yet the failure of his under- 
 taking, which however must not be considered as a total 
 one, seems to have been owing not altogether to the vio- 
 lence and malignity of the passions he had to contend 
 with, but in part also to the weakness and rudeness of the 
 instruments which he employed. He found or thought 
 himself compelled to become a party in a contest, where 
 the right certainly did not lie all on one side. We are in- 
 formed that at first he obtained unbounded influence over 
 all classes at Croton, and efi"ected a general reformation in 
 the habits of the people, and that in other Italian cities he 
 gained such a footing as enabled him either to counteract 
 revolutionary movements, or to restore aristocratical go- 
 vernment where it had given way to tyranny or democracy. 
 The senate of Croton is said to have pressed him to guide 
 it with his counsels, which may signify that he was invited 
 to accept the office of a chief magistrate, or even a dicta- 
 torial authority. But he seems always to have remained in 
 a private station, and the conjecture that his three hundred 
 formed a legal assembly, which was raised above the senate, 
 is the more improbable because they are said to have in- 
 cluded several citizens of other States. Yet they had gained 
 a predominance both at Croton and elsewhere, which had 
 perhaps excited both the hostility of the party whose inte- 
 rests they opposed, and the jealousy of that which they 
 espoused, long before the event which was the immediate 
 occasion of their ruin. We do not venture to decide what 
 foundation there may have been for the charge which was 
 brought against them, of attempting to abolish the popular 
 assembly, which seems from the first to have been very 
 narrowly limited in its powers. But the charge would not 
 be refuted by any professions of attachment to the ancient 
 constitution, which they may have made when innovations 
 
PYTHAGORAS. I53 
 
 were proposed on the side of democracy, even if it related 
 to the period preceding their final breach with the com- 
 monalty. It would seem, however, that they fell chiefly 
 through an overweening confidence in their own strength. 
 
 ' The civil dissensions of Sybaris had at length come to 
 a head, and broke out in a general insurrection against the 
 oligarchs, who probably drew the supplies of their pro- 
 verbial luxury from encroachment, either violent or frau- 
 dulent, on the popular rights. The insurgents, headed by a 
 leader named Telys, who was most likely a member of the 
 ruling class, and had some private animosity to gratify, did 
 not observe the modesty of the Roman plebeians. They 
 not only compelled their lords, to the number of five hun- 
 dred, to quit the city, but, when the exiles had taken 
 refuge at Croton, sent an insolent message to demand 
 that they should be surrendered. Pythagoras is said to 
 have exerted his influence with the senate and people 
 of Croton to induce them to reject this imperious requi- 
 sition, and on this occasion he must have had the good 
 feelings of all parties on his side. It would indeed be 
 a strong indication of the progress of discontent at home, 
 if on such a point he had any opposition to encounter. The 
 summons, however, was resisted, and Croton accepted the 
 challenge which accompanied it, and armed for war. Sy- 
 baris is said to have sent three hundred thousand men, 
 perhaps her whole serviceable population, into the field. 
 The forces of Croton amounted to no more than a third of 
 this number ; but they were commanded by Milo, a disciple 
 of Pythagoras, who seems to have united the abilities of a 
 general with the bodily strength for which he was cele- 
 bra;ted above all his contemporaries. They were also ani- 
 mated by the presence of Callias, a seer sprung from the 
 gifted lineage of lamus, who came over to them from 
 Sybaris with tidings that their enemies were threatened by 
 adverse omens ; and there was a tradition that they were 
 exasperated by the cruel fate of thirty of their citizens who 
 
184 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 had been sent on an embassy to Sybaris, and were barba- 
 rously murdered there. The two hosts met on the banks 
 of the Trionto, and victory declared itself for Croton. It 
 was probably after the battle that a reaction, which if it had 
 happened sooner must have put a stop to hostilities, took 
 place at Sybaris, in which Telys and his principal partisans 
 were massacred at the altars. But this sally of revenge or 
 despair came too late to save the unfortunate city from its 
 doom. The conquerors advanced with irresistible force, 
 and resolved to sweep Sybaris away from the face of the 
 earth. She was emptied of her remaining inhabitants, 
 sacked and razed to the ground, and a river (the Crathis) 
 was turned through the ruins to obliterate all traces of her 
 departed greatness. 
 
 'The senate of Croton, and the Pythagorean asso- 
 ciates, seem to have been elated with this victory, and to 
 have fancied it was the triumph of their cause, and that 
 they alone were to reap its fruits. When the question 
 arose as to the distribution of the spoil, and of the conquered 
 land, they insisted on retaining the whole in the name of the 
 State, and refused to concede any share to those who had 
 earned it all by their toil and blood. It may have been 
 now that they thought they saw a favourable opportunity 
 of silencing all opposition by suppressing the popular as- 
 sembly. But if this was the case they probably miscalcu- 
 lated the effects of the public success, which may have raised 
 the spirits of their domestic adversaries as high as their 
 own. The commonalty was not awed, but only irritated by 
 the attempt. Its fury was directed against the society, 
 chiefly it is said by Cylon, a noble and wealthy man, who 
 is believed to have been rejected by Pythagoras, when he 
 sought to be admitted among his followers. A tumult took 
 place in which the populace set fire to Milo's house, where 
 the Pythagoreans were assembled. Many perished, and 
 the rest only found safety in exile. It is not clear whether 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 1 85 
 
 Pythagoras himself was at Croton during this commotion ; 
 but the general belief seems to have been that he died not 
 long after at Metapontum.' ^ 
 
 * Thirlwall's * History of Greece,' vol. ii. pp. 147-155. 
 
1 86 
 
 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ELEATICS. 
 
 We have now reached the consideration of the Eleatic 
 school of philosophy, which derives its name from Elea, a 
 Greek colonial city of Italy, its chief authors being Zeno- 
 phanes, Parmenides, and Zeno. 
 
 With Zenophanes, the founder of the Eleatic school of 
 thought, philosophy appears to be passing into a new phase ; 
 although that phase had been gradually led up to by the 
 philosophies of the lonians and Pythagoras, who indeed may 
 be called its legitimate forerunners and precursors, the 
 Eleatic philosophy being almost a natural consequence of 
 the previous philosophies. 
 
 The title of ' school ' belongs more properly to the 
 Eleatics than to the lonians, inasmuch as the doctrines of 
 Zenophanes were really developed and carried out by his 
 disciples Parmenides and Zeno ; whereas the lonians, as we 
 have seen, taught their several doctrines quite independently 
 one of the other ; and, if we except, perhaps, Anaximenes 
 and Diogenes of Apollonia, no one of the Ionian philoso- 
 phers could properly be called the disciple of the other. 
 
 Up to the time of Zenophanes, philosophical studies had 
 been prosecuted in a more or less spirit of dogmatism. 
 Each of the four lonians, no less than Pythagoras, believed 
 they had severally discovered the first principle of nature ; 
 and for the most part preached and set forth their doctrines 
 as if they beUeved them to be irrevocable and final, although 
 it is true that now and a^ain there seems to be a faint fore- 
 
THE ELEATICS. I 8/ 
 
 shadowing of the scepticism that was to follow ; a painful,, 
 dreary uncertainty in their belief in their own discoveries. 
 But the uncertainty is only faintly and occasionally implied ; 
 whereas their dogmatic assurance of water, air, fire, earth, 
 or Numbers being severally the first principle of all things 
 is more than implied ; it is very clearly shown ; and they 
 each of them spent their lives in spreading and setting foith 
 their particular doctrines and tenets. Zenophanes was not 
 less earnest (indeed he was far more earnest) than the 
 lonians in seeking to make his philosophy known ; but 
 there is an absolute absence of dogmatism, almost indeed 
 a pronounced scepticism, running through the whole of his 
 teaching, that we fail to find in any of the lonians ; the only 
 philosophy we have as yet examined at all resembling him 
 on this wise being the philosophy of Anaxagoras, The 
 philosophy of the Eleatics differs also from that of the 
 lonians in being far less equivocal. We do not know what 
 religious opinions the lonians held. They seem in more or 
 less degree to have believed in one Being, the sum and 
 essence of all things. But they never named this Being 
 ' God.* They couched the religious portion of their philoso- 
 phy in such vague phraseology that, as we said in a previous 
 chapter, it is not difficult for a materialist, a pantheist, or 
 theist to discover his particular views reflected in these 
 several philosophies. 
 
 But with the school of philosophy of which Zenophanes 
 is the founder we are no longer left in perplexity as to 
 what it did or did not believe, what it did or did not in- 
 tend to teach, Zenophanes, too, was happier than the 
 men of the Ionic school, inasmuch as he was a poet as 
 well as a philosopher, and the fragments of his poems that 
 have come down to us throw some little light upon his life, 
 besides rendering us capable of learning somewhat of his 
 own thoughts as depicted by himself. 
 
 There is nothing equivocal in his religious views. We 
 cannot doubt that he was an earnest and consistent Theist, 
 
AOO GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 but we equally cannot doubt that he was an earnest and 
 consistent Pantheist, for with him pantheism and mono- 
 theism are synonymous and convertible terms. He de- 
 nounced the conception of a plurality of gods as an incon- 
 ceivable error. He proclaimed God as an all-powerful 
 Being, existing from eternity, and without any likeness 
 to man. He seems to have been overwhelmed with even 
 a more than ordinary degree of painful uncertainty in en- 
 deavouring to fully comprehend this Being. But of one 
 thing he could at least be certain : God was an all-powerful 
 Being, and in the nature of things there could not be more 
 than one all-powerful, or one all-perfect ; for if there were 
 even S9 many as two, those attributes could not apply to 
 one of them, much less then if there were many. In the 
 same way, since there cannot be two Eternals or two Omni- 
 presents, the Universe must necessarily be identical with 
 God. He taught that God and nature were thus identical, 
 and that God, being nature, was therefore the sum of all 
 being. He believed God to be without parts and through- 
 out alike ; for if He had parts, some would be ruled by 
 others, which would be unintelligible, for the very idea of God 
 presupposes his perfect and entire completeness. In his 
 opinion there could be but one existence, and all conditions 
 were but modes of that existence. The one Being was 
 neither infinite nor finite. Not infinite, because non-being 
 alone, as having neither beginning, middle, nor end is un- 
 limited (infinite). Not finite, because one thing can only 
 be limited by another, and God is one, not many. In like 
 manner did logic teach him that God was neither moved 
 nor unmoved. Not moved, because one thing can only be 
 moved by another, and God is one, not many; not unmoved, 
 because non-being alone is unmoved, inasmuch as it neither 
 goes to another, nor does another come to it. In a figu- 
 rative way he conceived and represented God to be a 
 sphere encompassing man and the whole of nature. As 
 Aristotle says of him : * Casting his eyes upwards at the 
 
THE ELEATICS. I 89 
 
 Immensity of heaven, he declared that the One is God.' 
 All nature vvas one Being. The universe Itself was iden- 
 tical with God, and, being identical, was one eternal 
 unchangeable Whole, knowing neither death nor decay nor 
 motion. The apparent phenomena of death and decay, or 
 of change of any description, being mere impressions made 
 upon the mind of the subject, and seldom appearing to two 
 minds in the same light. 
 
 All this will probably be deemed metaphysical and 
 bewildering, but we must remember it is nevertheless per- 
 fectly true. We only know of things subjectively ; what 
 they are objectively we know not, most probably we never 
 shall knpw. An object appears smaller and smaller the 
 further we are removed from it. If movement be very 
 rapid, we are unable to distinguish it ; if it be very slow, we 
 are equally unable to distinguish it. A disordered state 
 of the brain, or of the stomach, will give rise to apparent 
 noises in the ears, or spots before the eyes, which have 
 no objective reality. And indeed the only thing we may 
 affirm with any certainty about the senses is that no object 
 has ever yet been represented by them to us in its true 
 reality. 
 
 This scepticism of Zenophanes, and his disbelief in the 
 trustworthiness of the senses was afterwards greatly deve- 
 loped and extended by Pyrrho. Zenophanes, even when 
 most bewildered and despairing amidst the multiplicity 
 and confusion of metaphysical subtleties, never doubted 
 that there was a reality amongst and beneath all the 
 illusions and delusions of phenomena, a reality capable 
 of being discovered and comprehended. He was only 
 afraid that it had not fallen to his lot to be able to find or 
 comprehend the reality. But he believed he must be 
 patient, and endeavour with all his might to conquer the 
 deceptions of the senses ; he might then be able to gain at 
 least an occasional glimpse of real truth amidst so much 
 error. The stronghold of Pyrrho was much more impr- 
 
I go GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 nable and logical, although, to my mind, utterly, drearily 
 paralysing to all the higher and better efforts of man. He 
 believed there was no criterion of truth. It was mere 
 waste of time to seek for any. We can only know pheno- 
 mena and appearances. And what are phenomena ? 
 What are appearances ? Their very name distinguishes 
 them from noumena and realities. What is the utility of 
 even attempting to comprehend things as they are, when 
 these self-same things appear to us differently at different 
 times; and again appear differently to different individuals. 
 Why does an orange appear to us yellow, round, fragrant, 
 soft, and sweet, and if thrown to the floor make a different 
 sound from an apple or a nut .'* Because we have five 
 senses, each of which reveals to us a different quality in the 
 object. If we had another sense the object would have 
 another quality ; if we had one less sense the object would 
 have one less quality. If you say that reason must 
 teach us to distinguish between true and false, you are 
 assuming that reason never errs, whereas you have no 
 proof of it being ever correct Customs that are considered 
 reasonable by one nation are considered unreasonable by 
 another. Deeds and actions deemed criminal in one coun- 
 try are considered praiseworthy in another. There is no 
 criterion of truth. Seek not then for it. The problems 
 of life are insoluble. Live up to the general precepts of 
 your country, and guide yourself as much as possible by 
 the general precepts of common sense. Seek not to learn 
 the real good, the real truth, the real wisdom, for when 
 you think or believe you have found either, there is no 
 absolute criterion to prove to you that you have done so 
 in reality. 
 
 Such is the logical outcome of that scepticism of which 
 Zenophanes is generally believed to be the first founder. 
 Yet Zenophanes himself was no sceptic. He only knew 
 that no one before him had discovered truth ; he felt at 
 times that he himself had succeeded very little better in 
 
THE ELEATICS. IQI 
 
 the attempt than his predecessors. But he never for a 
 moment doubted that there was a truth, that there was 
 a reality. A truth and reality that it was his duty, in so 
 far as he knew it, to devote his life to preaching and declar- 
 ing to poor and rich, learned and unlearned, alike. In this 
 he differed from Pythagoras. He made no selection of 
 a chosen few, he made no secret of his philosophy. If 
 there were such a thing as truth, and if he had succeeded 
 ever so faintly in comprehending 'it, it was surely his duty 
 to acquaint everyone alike and impartially with such know- 
 ledge as he himself had managed to attain. And he did 
 devote the whole of his life to this occupation. From city 
 to city, from place to place, he went about preaching, trying 
 to wean the people from a belief in polj^theism, denouncing 
 Homer because in his poems he had depicted the gods in 
 the likeness of men, and had endowed them with human 
 frailties and human errors : — 
 
 Such things of the gods are related by Homer and Hesiod 
 As would be ^hame and abiding disgrace to any of mankind ; 
 Promises broken, and thefts, and the one deceiving the other. 
 
 He Spent his life in trying to wean his countrymen from 
 the grossness of their anthropomorphism. Through all 
 his doubts and difficulties he never wavered for one moment 
 in his belief in pantheistic monotheism. 
 
 One God, of all beings divine and human the greatest ; 
 Neither in body alike unto mortals, neither in spirit. 
 
 He showed them how unreasonable it was for men to 
 create their gods in the images of themselves, for different 
 men depicted them in different ways, and it was impossible 
 that all should be right. The Ethiopians represented their 
 gods with flat noses and black complexions, while the 
 Thracians gave them blue eyes and ruddy complexions. 
 If the very beasts could attain to a conception of God 
 they would also depict him like unto themselves. 
 
 But men foolishly think that gods are born like as men are, 
 
 And have, too, a dress like their own, and their voice and their figure. 
 
192 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 But if oxen and lions had hands like ours, and fingers, 
 
 Then would horses like unto horses, and oxen to oxen, 
 
 Paint and fashion their gods' forms, and give to them bodies 
 
 Of like shape to their own, as they themselves, too, are fashioned.' 
 
 With a sort of passionate earnestness he tried to wean 
 his hearers from their debasing conceptions of God. He 
 tried to show them that God is utterly unlike to man, un- 
 like to any object in nature ; and yet man and nature were 
 comprehended in God, Divers portions make up one 
 whole, although those portions may be utterly dissimilar 
 one from the other. (What can be more apparently dis- 
 similar than bones and blood and flesh ? yet they all three 
 serve to make up the one being, man.) So is every object, 
 past, present, and future comprehended in the nature of 
 God and contained in him. There was no need for the 
 hypothesis of two eternal principles : God and matter. 
 For God was matter ; and yet he was also mind, — in a 
 word he was the One and the All. 
 
 That Zenophanes became at times confusing and per- 
 plexing in his attempts at defining his pantheistic tenets 
 must be admitted. Every finite mind is apt to wander in 
 perplexity when attempting to define what is infinite and 
 consequently indefinable. No one was more conscious of 
 this than Zenophanes himself. 
 
 C^h, that mine were the deep mind, prudent, and looking to both sides ! 
 
 Long, alas ! have I strayed on the road of error beguiled, 
 
 And am now, hoary of years, yet exposed to doubt and distraction 
 
 Manifold, all-perplexing, for whithersoever I turn me 
 
 I ani lost in the One and the All. 
 
 The age in which Zenophanes lived has long been con- 
 sidered doubtful. Some think he was a contemporary of 
 Pythagoras ; Mr. Lewes, however, seems to think he pro- 
 bably was born somewhere about 620-616 B.C., and lived 
 nearly a hundred years. In this case he would have been 
 
 ^ In these fragments of Zenophanes' poems, as well as in the fragments of 
 the poems of Parmenides I have made use of Mr. Lewes's translations, as 
 given in his ' History of Pliilosophy.' 
 
THE ELEATICS. 1 93 
 
 considerably the predecessor both of Anaxagoras and Pytha- 
 goras, and on account of his superior age must have begun 
 his system of philosophy some years before either of those 
 two philosophers. There is an anecdote told of Zeno- 
 phanes that somewhat confirms, however, the chronology 
 that would make him contemporary with Pythagoras. 
 Some man was one day about to lift his stick against his 
 dog who had offended him, when either Pythagoras, or one 
 of his disciples, rushed up to the man, and implored him to 
 desist, as in the cries of the dog he recognised the voice of 
 an old friend. Zenophanes, who was supposed to be pass- 
 ing at that moment, is represented as mocking at, and 
 deriding, the philosophy which could teach so unreasonable 
 and foolish a belief as the doctrine of metempsychosis. 
 
 The deep earnestness characteristic of Zenophanes pre- 
 vented him from having any selfish personal fears about 
 angering the populace by his denunciation of polytheism. 
 He formed no secret society as did Pythagoras. He felt 
 that truth was for all men, and that to all men it was con- 
 sequently his duty to preach. And although he was 
 banished from Kolophon, his native place, he was never 
 persecuted in the same way that was Anaxagoras. He 
 wandered from place to place preaching until he came to 
 Elea, where he finally settled. He gained little pecuniary 
 benefit from his vocation, but he could dispense with riches. 
 If he could have been only certain that he had found the 
 truth he would have been contented. His soul was too much 
 absorbed in the contemplation of grand spiritual ideas for 
 him to care about luxuries, dainty living, or servants and 
 rich houses. But there is something ineffably sad in the 
 thought of this old man, after spending the whole of his 
 long life, and all his substance, in the prosecution of philo- 
 sophy, declaring, at the age of a hundred years, that error 
 was so spread over all things that he could not tell whether, 
 after all his labours, he had really gained any true know- 
 ledge or had not. 
 
 VOL. I. O 
 
194 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 We now turn to the second of the Eleatics — Parme- 
 nides. 
 
 Parmenides was born at Elea somewhere about 536 B.C. 
 He belonged to a noble, wealthy family, and, according to 
 some authorities, spent the earlier portion of his young 
 manhood in practices of dissipation and vice. But with a 
 peculiarly powerful intellect, and with the additional advan- 
 tage of having occasionally listened to poetical sermons or 
 lectures delivered by the aged Zenophanes, it was only 
 natural that habits of dissipation and frivolous pleasures 
 would quickly pall on him, and that by the time he had 
 passed the period of extreme youth, he would become 
 satiated and disgusted with the occupations of a dissipated 
 voluptuary. He forsook his gay companions and his for- 
 mer haunts of vice, and devoted himself partly to the study 
 of politics, partly to the study of philosophy. The fruits 
 of his political study were shown in a code of laws which 
 he drew up, and which were considered so profound and 
 salutary that the citizens at first yearly renewed their oath 
 to abide by the laws of Parmenides. It is, however, the 
 philosophical studies of Parmenides, and not the political, 
 with which we are principally concerned. 
 
 With some, the philosophy of Parmenides is considered 
 to be merely a development and extension of the philo- 
 sophy of Zenophanes, but that it may lay claim to be 
 something more than that, we think we shall be able to 
 clearly show. 
 
 We have seen how despairingly Zenophanes turned away 
 from the investigation of physical nature. In this despair 
 he was undoubtedly followed by Parmenides, who, con- 
 sidering the phenomena of material things to be entirely 
 delusive, set out with the determination to abandon all 
 research after the investigation of visible nature. The 
 lonians had clearly shown how little could be done in that 
 way. He would devote himself to a study far more profit- 
 able, nay, the only study worthy of a man's highest efforts, 
 
THE ELEATICS. 195 
 
 the investigation of Being and of God. Like Zenophanes, 
 he expressed his thoughts in verse ; but as a poet he is con- 
 sidered not to equal his predecessor, although in point of 
 ability, his philosophy is generally supposed to rank higher. 
 
 The first characteristic to be noted in the philosophy of 
 Parmenides is the decided distinction he draws between 
 truth and opinion. In the philosophy of Zenophanes we 
 have seen some faint traces of this peculiarity. But in 
 Parmenides those traces have grown to clear actual outlines. 
 Zenophanes' belief in a truth was more a matter of feeling 
 than knowledge. Yi^ felt there must be a truth, a reality, 
 somewhere, but where to seek it he knew not. Experience 
 had not taught him. His intense earnestness, his deep 
 religious feeling, prevented him from wholly attaining 
 absolute scepticism. But his philosophy at times shows 
 strong indications that, in spite of himself, absolute scepti- 
 cism was threatening to enfold him. 
 
 With Parmenides there was not this uncertainty. Some 
 knowledge, it was true, was undoubtedly uncertain : to 
 such he gave the name of opinion. But there was also a 
 species of truth that was felt by everyone to be equally 
 true, that could not properly come under the denomina- 
 tion, or within the province, of opinion, inasmuch as 
 opinion was powerless to alter or modify it. These truths 
 were necessary truths, and thus in a measure this doctrine 
 of Parmenides formed a sort of anticipation of the doctrine 
 of innate ideas. The reason of this diversity between the 
 philosophy of Zenophanes and that of Parmenides may be 
 traced, we think, to the different influences to which they 
 were exposed. 
 
 Whether we believe that Zenophanes was contemporary 
 with Pythagoras, or whether we believe he lived several 
 years before, it appears in both cases equally evident that 
 he was little acquainted with the more important doctrines 
 of Pythagoras. It would have been quite possible for him 
 to have been a contemporary, and yet for him never to 
 
igS GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 have listened to the teachings of that philosopher, through 
 the fact of the strict system of secrecy preserved by the 
 Pythagorean brotherhood ; or it may be that Zenophanes, 
 with his contempt and dislike to the doctrine of metem- 
 psychosis, refused to become a learner or disciple of one 
 who could set forth such a doctrine. However that may 
 be, we may be tolerably sure that the silence of Zeno- 
 phanes concerning the more important doctrines of Pytha- 
 goras proves his ignorance of them. Take, for instance; 
 the Pythagorean demonstration of the truth of Numbers. 
 Such a demonstration would most probably have been 
 seized by a seeker after truth like Zenophanes with eager 
 avidity. But even in the case of it not satisfying him, he 
 would then have done his best to disprove it. It was 
 certainly at least worthy of refutation. Such a doctrine 
 was surely too important to be passed by with silent con- 
 tempt. We may, therefore, safely assume that Zenophanes, 
 even if he were a contemporary of Pythagoras, knew little or 
 nothing of the more important doctrines of the Pythagorean 
 philosophy. 
 
 But with Parmenides we are not so certain. On the 
 contrary, there seems a strong probability that he was not 
 only acquainted with the philosophy of Pythagoras, but 
 had partly accepted it. In the first place, he was born 
 some fifty or sixty years later than Zenophanes, so that, 
 chronologically speaking (as far as it is possible for us to 
 judge from the mass of confusion surrounding us, arising 
 from such conflicting statements of chronology), it is far 
 more probable that Parmenides was a contemporary, or 
 nearly so, of Pythagoras than that Zenophanes was. In the 
 second place, there is a fairly reliable tradition assigning 
 Diochoetes, a Pythagorean, as the teacher of Parmenides, in 
 addition to the aged Zenophanes. And, thirdly, the philo- 
 sophy of Parmenides in itself forms a sort of intrinsic 
 evidence that that philosopher was acquainted with the 
 doctrines of Pythagoras, inasmuch as his philosophy may 
 
THE ELEATICS. \ 9J 
 
 be called a sort of combination of the highest and best 
 portions of the philosophy of Zenophanes with the highest 
 and best portions of the philosophy of Pythagoras. 
 
 The knowledge of physics was regarded both by Zeno- 
 phanes and Parmenides as delusive and vain. This im- 
 possibility of physical knowledge had, as we have seen, 
 filled Zenophanes with a sort of despair threatening to end 
 in absolute scepticism. Parmenides was saved from this 
 despair and scepticism by remembering that Numbers are 
 self-evident and reliable. His sense taught him that there 
 were many things, arising from the multiplicity of his 
 sensuous impressions. His reason, on the other hand, 
 taught him that there was nought existing but the One, 
 which he did not, with Zenophanes, call God, he called it 
 Being. His work on ' Nature ' was, therefore, divided into 
 two parts : in the first is expounded absolute truth, as 
 reason proclaims it ; in the second, human opinion, which 
 is but a mere seeming or appearance. He maintained that 
 thought was delusion because dependent upon organisation. 
 
 Such as to each man is the nature of his many-jointed limbs. 
 Such also is the intelligence of each man ; for it is 
 The nature of limbs (organisation) which thinketh in men 
 Both in one and all ; the highest degree of organisation gives the highest degree 
 of thought. 
 
 All thought, therefore, derived from sense is but a 
 seeming, but thought derived from reason is absolutely 
 true. The thought that was derived from sense would 
 naturally differ as the opinions of men differ. As sen- 
 sations alter according to the senses of various persons, 
 and, indeed, with the same persons differ at different 
 times, so it is not difficult to demonstrate that one opinion 
 is not more trustworthy than another, but that all are 
 equally false, whereas the dictates of reason, such, for 
 instance, as the science of Number, are most entirely 
 trustworthy, and can by no possible means be proved false. 
 
 Concerning the science of Being, Parmenides did not 
 
igS GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 differ much from his predecessors Zenophanes and Pytha- 
 goras. He argued that there was but one Being, and 
 since nothing can come out of nothing, non-Being could 
 not be. If, therefore, Being existed, it must embrace all 
 existence. Therefore Being, or the One, and existence, 
 must be identical the one with the other, and were, indeed, 
 one and the same thing. 
 
 We have seen how Parmenides distinguished between 
 thought derived from the senses and thought derived 
 from reason. Elsewhere he seems to think this higher 
 thought identical with existence itself, and that lower, 
 human thought or sensation were merely transitory modes 
 of existence : 
 
 Thought is the same thing as the cause of thought : 
 
 For without the thing in which it is announced 
 
 You cannot 6nd the thought ; for there is nothing, nor shall be, 
 
 Except the existing. 
 
 We turn now to Zeno, the third of the Eleatics. Zeno 
 the Eleatic, who must not be confounded with Zeno the 
 Stoic, was born at Elea about 500 B.C., and was the pupil, 
 or, as some think, the adopted son of Parmenides. He 
 was fortunate in thus having from his earliest youth so 
 distinguished and able a master. He was also fortunate 
 in possessing personal qualities of such a kind that even 
 without the advantage of this master, he would have been 
 sure from his own merits to have won the approbation of 
 all qualified to judge. He was endowed with a subtle, 
 acute, intellect, and with such rare beauty and unselfish- 
 ness of character, that he was almost an enigma to his 
 countrymen. Naturally of a somewhat nervous and 
 highly-strung organisation, susceptible to praise, and very 
 sensitive to blame, he never allowed this quality to degene- 
 rate into weakness, or to interfere with him in the prose- 
 cution of what he believed to be his duty. When asked 
 on one occasion why the blame of his countrymen should 
 have such power of wounding him, he replied, * If the 
 
THE ELEATICS. 1 99 
 
 blame of my fellow citizens did not cause me pain their 
 approbation would not cause me pleasure.' But although 
 he craved for the approval of those whom he revered, and 
 shrunk from their blame, he was utterly devoid of all 
 worldly ambition. He devoted his life to the service of his 
 fellow men, but declined to take the slightest reward or 
 benefit in return. His love for his country amounted 
 almost to a passion, and the tragical death he suffered 
 is generally supposed to be traceable to his enthusiastic 
 patriotism. He lived at a period when a love of freedom 
 was very pronounced ; when Greece was everywhere en- 
 deavouring to free herself from the Persian yoke. Zeno, 
 patriotic by nature, became quickly infected with this 
 general fever and struggle for liberty. Although he occa- 
 sionally visited Athens, he never cared for it as he cared 
 for his native place. What was his grief, then, on his 
 return from one of these rare visits to Athens, to find 
 that Elea had fallen into the hands of the tyrant Nearchus I 
 His first thought was to endeavour to set his country free. 
 He conspired against the tyrant, failed in his project, and 
 was captured. When Nearchus interrogated him as to his 
 accomplices, he replied by naming everyone of the cour- 
 tiers. Having thus terrified his accusers, he turned to the 
 spectators and said, ' If you can consent to be slaves from 
 fear of what you now see me suffer, I can only wonder at 
 your cowardice.' This speech so roused the people that 
 they fell upon Nearchus and slew him. Zeno's death itself 
 seems to have been tragical, although we cannot tell for 
 certain in what manner it took place. Some say he was 
 pounded to death in a huge mortar ; but the accounts 
 given are too varied to be at all reliable. 
 
 Zeno was not a poet like his two predecessors. He 
 wrote in prose, and chiefly occupied himself in spreading, 
 and making generally known, the philosophy of his revered 
 master and teacher Parmenides. He brought into use 
 the method of refuting error by the rednctio ad absurdum, 
 
200 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 and was the inventor of that species of logic called Dia- 
 lectics. 
 
 As Mr. Lewes says of liim : ' Instead of teaching dog- 
 matically, he began to teach dialectically. Instead of resting 
 in the domain of pure science, and expounding the ideas of 
 reason, he descended upon the ground occupied by his 
 adversaries ; — the ground of daily experience and sense- 
 knowledge — and turning their ridicule upon themselves, 
 forced them to admit that it was more easy to conceive the 
 Many as a produce of the One, than to conceive the One 
 on the assumption of the existing Many.' 
 
 Indeed (to quote the words of Plato), just as it had been 
 the object of Parmenides to establish the existence of the 
 ' One,* so, in like manner, was it the object of Zeno to estab- 
 lish the non-existence of the ' Many.' 
 
 Agreeably to such principles he started with the assump- 
 tion that only one thing really exists, and that all others 
 are merely modifications or appearances of that one thing. 
 In like manner he denied the existence of motion, although 
 of course he readily admitted the appearance of motion. 
 This dogma against the possibility of motion he maintained 
 by four arguments, two of which we will give. The first 
 we quote from Mr. G. H. Lewes' ' History of Philosophy/ 
 vol. i. p. 62 : 
 
 ' Motion Is impossible, because before that which is in 
 motion can reach the end, it must reach the middle point ; 
 but this middle point then becomes the end, and the same 
 objection applies to it, — since to reach it, the object in 
 motion must traverse a middle point, and so on ad mfi- 
 nitunty seeing that matter is infinitely divisible. Thus, if a 
 stone be cast four paces, before it can reach the fourth it 
 must reach the second ; the second then becomes the end, 
 and the first pace the middle : but, before the object can 
 reach the first pace it must reach the half of the first pace, 
 and before the half it must reach the half of that half; and 
 so on ad infinitum^ 
 
THE ELEATICS. 20I 
 
 The second argument used by Zeno is the famous 
 Achilles puzzle. We give the statement and refutation as 
 we find it in Mill's ' System of Logic/ and also quoted by 
 Mr. Lewes, in his ' History of Philosophy.' 'The argument 
 is, let Achilles run ten times as fast as a tortoise, yet if the 
 tortoise has the start, Achilles will never overtake him r for 
 suppose them to be at first separated by an interval of a 
 thousand feet, when Achilles has run these thousand feet 
 the tortoise will have run a hundred, and when Achilles has 
 run those hundred the tortoise will have got on ten, and so 
 on for ever ; therefore Achilles may run for ever without 
 overtaking the tortoise. 
 
 * Now the " for ever " in the conclusion means for any 
 length of time that can be supposed ; but in the premisses 
 " for ever " does not mean any length of time — it means any 
 ntunber of subdivisions of time. It means that we may 
 divide a thousand feet by ten, and that quotient again by 
 ten, and so on as often as we please ; that there never need 
 be an end to the subdivisions of the distance, nor, conse- 
 quently to those of the time in which it is performed. But 
 an unlimited number of subdivisions may be made of that 
 which is itself limited. The argument proves no other in- 
 finity of duration than may be embraced within five minutes. 
 As long as the ^v^ minutes are not expired, what remains 
 of them may be divided by ten, and again by ten, as often 
 as we like, which is perfectly compatible with there being 
 only five minutes altogether. It proves, in short, that to 
 pass through this finite space requires a time which is in^ 
 finitely divisible, but not an infinite time ; the confounding 
 of which distinction Hobbes had already seen to be the 
 gist of the fallacy.' 
 
 Zeno was but carrying out the principles of Parmenides 
 in denying the actual existence of motion. There is no 
 need, however, to remind the reader that scientifically they 
 were both wrong. A person of the most ordinary education 
 need not be told in these days that the existence of motion 
 
202 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 has little or nothing to do with the appearance it presents 
 to our senses. That so far from motion not existing except 
 as a subjective affection of our senses, we know most 
 certainly that there are many kinds of motion our senses 
 utterly fail to perceive. They utterly fail to perceive all 
 movement that is very rapid, as they equally fail to per- 
 ceive all movement that is very slow. Nay, when we re- 
 member that the phenomenon of light and the phenomenon 
 of sound are entirely caused by vibrations, that is to say, a 
 certain kind of motion ; when we think of the wonderful 
 energies imprisoned within the microscopic hair of a plant,* 
 which we commonly regard as a passive organism ; when 
 we remember that in every drop of our blood there exists 
 an innumerable multitude of little, circular, discoidal, bodies 
 or corpuscles, exhibiting a marvellous activity, and changing 
 with the greatest rapidity ; when indeed, we devote our 
 time to the slightest study of molecular physics, or the 
 slightest study of chemistry, or of optics, or acoustics, we 
 are tempted to exclaim that so far from holding that motion 
 does not exist apart from our senses, we may almost main- 
 tain the exact converse, and pronounce that, though to our 
 senses there is an appearance of rest, rest in itself and con- 
 sidered absolutely does not exist. 
 
 But although scientifically these ancient philosophers 
 have been proved to be wrong, it is quite open to question 
 whether they were so philosophically. Nay, it is even open 
 to question whether the discoveries and improvements 
 effected by modern science do not actually throw some light 
 and verification upon these early philosophical speculations. 
 Take for instance the doctrine most prominent both in 
 the Pythagorean and Eleatic systems of philosophy — the 
 doctrine that the All or the Many are contained in and 
 come from the One. I cannot but think that the modern 
 theory of the Correlation of Forces tends greatly to verify 
 
 ' For information on this interesting subject see * The Physical Basis of 
 Life ' in Lay Sermons, Reviews, and Addresses, by T. H. Huxley. 
 
THE ELEATICS. 203 
 
 this ancient hypothesis ; and at the risk perhaps of a 
 digression, I shall venture upon entering at some length 
 into the explanation of this theory, partly because I believe 
 it to be one of the most pregnant and suggestive discoveries 
 of modern times, but chiefly because I believe that in a 
 chapter devoted to the philosophy of the Eleatics such a 
 digression (if it be one) is by no means out of place, for 
 we may be sure that could the Eleatics have foreseen this 
 discovery they would have eagerly welcomed it as a proof 
 of the correctness of their own theory. 
 
 ' The various affections of matter (says Mr. Grove, 
 writing some fifteen or twenty years ago) * which constitute 
 the main objects of experimental physics, such as heat, 
 light, electricity, magnetism, chemical affinity, and motion, 
 are all correlative, or have a reciprocal dependence, so that 
 neither taken abstractedly can be said to be the essential 
 cause of the others, but that either may be convertible into, 
 or produce, any of the others ; thus heat may mediately or 
 immediately produce electricity, electricity may produce 
 heat, and so on of the rest, each merging itself as the force 
 it produces becomes developed : and that the same must 
 hold good of other forces, it being an irresistible inference 
 from observed phenomena that a force cannot originate 
 otherwise than by devolution from some pre-existing force 
 
 or forces Whether the regarding electricity, light, 
 
 magnetism, &c. as simply motions of ordinary matter be or 
 be not admissible, certain it is that all past theories have 
 resolved, and existing theories do resolve, the actions of 
 these forces into motion. Whether it be that on account 
 of our familiarity with motion, we refer other affections as 
 to a language which is most easily construed and capable 
 of explaining them ; whether it be that it is in reality the 
 only mode in which our minds, as contradistinguished 
 from our senses, are able to conceive material agencies, 
 certain it is, that since the period at which the mystic 
 
 ' 'The Correlation of Physical Forces,' 3rd edition. 
 
204 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 notions of spiritual or preternatural powers were applied to 
 account for physical phenomena, all hypotheses framed to 
 explain them have resolved them into motion. Take for 
 instance the various theories of light : one of these sup- 
 poses light to be a highly rare matter, emitted from, i.e. put 
 in 77iotion by, luminous bodies ; a second supposes that the 
 matter is not emitted from luminous bodies, but that it is 
 put into a state of vibration or undulation, i.e. motion^ by 
 them ; and thirdly, light may be regarded as an undulation 
 or motion of matter, propagated by undulations of air, 
 glass, &c. In all these hypotheses we have but two con- 
 ceptions — matter and motion.' 
 
 Now this theory of the identity of motion with every 
 other force, Mr. Justice Grove, writing some fifteen or 
 twenty years ago, was of necessity obliged to put forward 
 more or less hypothetically. But in the ninth edition of 
 Mr. Mill's * System of Logic ' (vol. i. p. 402) there is a very 
 clear and succinct explanation of the whole theory (or fact 
 as it may now be called) up to a much later time. 
 
 * Since the first publication of the present treatise (says 
 Mr. Mill), the sciences of physical nature have made a 
 great advance in generalisation through the doctrine known 
 as the Conservation or Persistence of Force. This imposing 
 edifice of theory, the building and laying out of which has 
 for some time been the principal occupation of the most 
 systematic minds among physical enquirers, consists of two 
 stages : one of ascertained fact, the other containing a large 
 element of hypothesis. 
 
 * To begin with the first. It is proved by numerous 
 facts both natural and of artificial production, that agencies 
 which had been regarded as distinct and independent 
 sources of force — heat, electricity, chemical action, nervous 
 and muscular action, momentum of moving bodies — are 
 interchangeable, in definite and fixed quantities, with one 
 another; what is new in the theory is a more accurate esti- 
 mation of what this production consists in. What happens 
 
THE ELEATICS. 205 
 
 is that the whole or part of the one kind of phenomena 
 disappears, and is replaced by phenomena of one of the 
 other descriptions, and that there is an equivalence in quan- 
 tity between the phenomena that have disappeared and 
 those which have been produced, insomuch that if the 
 process be reversed the very same quantity which had dis- 
 appeared will reappear without increase or diminution. 
 Thus, the amount of heat which will raise the temperature 
 of a pound of water one degree of the thermometer will, if 
 expended, say in the expansion of steam, lift a weight of 
 772 pounds one foot, or a weight of one pound 772 feet : 
 and the same exact quantity of heat can, by certain means, 
 be recovered, through the expenditure of exactly that 
 amount of mechanical motion. 
 
 *The establishment of this comprehensive law has led 
 to a change in the language in which the scientific world 
 had been accustomed to speak of what are called the Forces 
 of nature. Before this correlation between phenomena 
 most unlike one another had been ascertained, their un- 
 likeness had caused them to be referred to so many distinct 
 forces. Now that they are known to be convertible into 
 one another without loss, they are spoken of as all of them 
 results of one and the same force, manifesting itself in 
 different modes. This force (it is said) can only produce a 
 limited and definite quantity of effect, but always does pro- 
 duce that definite quantity, and produces it, according to 
 circumstances, in one or another of the forms, or divides it 
 among several, but so as (according to a scale of numerical 
 equivalents established by experiment), always to make up 
 the same sum ; and no one of the manifestations can be 
 produced save by the disappearance of the equivalent 
 quantity of another which in its turn, in appropriate cir- 
 cumstances, will reappear undiminished. This mutual 
 interchangeabihty of the forces of nature, according to fixed 
 numerical equivalents, is the part of the new doctrine 
 which rests on irrefragable fact. 
 
206 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 *To make the statement true, however, it is necessary to 
 add, that an indefinite, and perhaps immense, interval of 
 time may elapse between the disappearance of the force in 
 one form and its reappearance in another. A stone thrown 
 up into the air with a given force and falling back imme- 
 diately will, by the time it reaches the earth, recover the ex- 
 act amount of mechanical momentum which was expended 
 in throwing it up, deduction being made of a small portion 
 of motion which has been communicated to the air. But if 
 the stone has lodged on a height, it may not fall back for 
 years or perhaps ages, and until it does the force expended 
 in raising it is temporarily lost, being represented only by 
 what, in the language of the new theory, is called potential 
 energy. The coal imbedded in the earth is considered by 
 the theory as a vast reservoir of force, which has remained 
 dormant for many geological periods, and will so remain 
 until, by being burnt, it gives out the stored-up force in the 
 form of heat. Yet it is not supposed that this force is a 
 material thing which can be confined by bounds, as used to 
 be thought of latent heat when that important phenomenon 
 was first discovered. What is meant is that when the coal 
 does at last, by combustion, generate a quantity of heat 
 (transformable like all other heat into mechanical momen- 
 tum and the other forms of force) this extrication of heat 
 is the reappearance of a force derived from the sun's rays, 
 expended myriads of ages ago in the vegetation of the 
 organic substances which were the material of the coal. 
 
 ' Let us now pass to the higher stage of the theory of 
 Conservation of Force, the part which is no longer a gene- 
 ralisation of proved fact but a combination of fact and 
 hypothesis. Stated in few words it is as follows : — That 
 the Conservation of Force is really the Conservation of 
 Motion, that in the various interchanges between the forms 
 of force, it is always motion that is transformed into motion. 
 To establish this it is necessary to assume motions which 
 are hypothetical. The supposition is that there are motions 
 
THE ELEATICS. 207 
 
 which manifest themselves to our senses only as heat, 
 electricity, &c., being molecular motions, oscillations, in- 
 visible to us, among the minute particles of bodies, and 
 that these molecular motions are transmutable into molar 
 motions (motions of masses), and molar motions into 
 molecular. Now there is a real basis of fact for this sup- 
 position : we have positive evidence of the existence of 
 molecular motion in these manifestations of force. In the 
 case of chemical action, for instance, the particles separate 
 and form new combinations, often with a great visible dis- 
 turbance of the mass. In the case of heat the evidence is 
 equally conclusive, since heat expands bodies (that is, causes 
 their particles to move fro7n one another), and if of suffi- 
 cient amount, changes their mode of aggregation from solid 
 to liquid or from liquid to gaseous. Again, the mechanical 
 actions which produce heat — friction and the collision of 
 bodies— must from the nature of the case produce a shock, 
 that is, an internal motion of particles, which indeed, we 
 find, is often so violent as to break them permanently 
 asunder. Such facts are thought to warrant the inference 
 that it is not, as was supposed, heat that causes the motion 
 of particles, but the motion of particles that causes heat, 
 the original cause of both being the previous motion 
 (whether molar or molecular — collision of bodies or com- 
 bustion of fuel) which formed the heating agency. This 
 inference already contains hypothesis : but at least the 
 supposed cause, the intestine motions of molecules, is a 
 vera catisa. But in order to reduce the Conservation of 
 Force to Conservation of Motion, it was necessary to attri- 
 bute to motion the heat propagated, through apparently 
 empty space, from the sun. This required the supposition 
 (already made for the explanation of the laws of light) of 
 a subtle ether pervading space, which, though impalpable 
 to us, must have the property which constitutes matter, 
 that of resistance, since waves are propagated through it 
 by an impulse from a given point. The ether must be 
 
208 
 
 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 supposed (a theory not required by the theory of light) to 
 penetrate into the minute interstices of all bodies. The 
 vibratory motion supposed to be taking place in the heated 
 mass of the sun is considered as imparted from that mass 
 to the particles of the surrounding ether, and through them 
 to the particles of the same ether in the interstices of 
 terrestrial bodies, and this, too, with a sufficient mechanical 
 force to throw the particles of those bodies into a state of 
 similar vibration, producing the expansion of their mass 
 and the sensation of heat in sentient creatures. All this is 
 hypothesis, though, of its legitimacy as hypothesis, I do not 
 mean to express any doubt. It would seem to follow from 
 this theory that force may and should be defined matter 
 in motion. This definition, however, will not stand, for, as 
 as has already been seen, the matter need not be in actual 
 motion. It is not necessary to suppose that the motion 
 afterwards manifested is actually taking place among the 
 molecules of the coal during its sojourn in the earth, 
 (although accredited authorities have supposed that mole- 
 cular motion, equivalent in amount to that which will be 
 manifested in the combustion of the coal, is actually taking 
 place during the whole of the long interval, if not in the 
 coal, yet in the oxygen which will then combine with it), 
 certainly not in the stone which is at rest on the eminence 
 to which it has been raised. The true definition of Force 
 must be not motion but Potentiality of Motion ; and 
 what the doctrine, if established, amounts to, is not that 
 there is at all times the same quantity of actual motion 
 in the universe, but that ^ the possibilities of motion are 
 limited to a definite quantity, which cannot be added to, 
 but which cannot be exhausted, and that all actual motion 
 which takes place in Nature is a draft upon this limited 
 stock. It needs not all of it have ever existed as actual 
 motion. There is a vast amount of potential motion in the 
 universe in the form of gravitation which it would be a 
 great abuse of hypothesis to suppose to have been stored 
 
THE ELEATTCS. 209 
 
 up by the expenditure of an equal amount of actual motion 
 in some former state of the universe. Nor does the motion 
 produced by gravity take place, as far as we know, at the 
 expense of any other motion, whether molar or molecular. 
 
 How then shall we have to 
 
 express these facts if the theory be finally substantiated 
 that all Force is reducible to a previous Motion ? We shall 
 have to say that one of the conditions of every phenomenon 
 is an antecedent motion. But it will have to be explained 
 that this need not be actual motion. The coal which 
 supplies the force exerted in combustion is not shewn to 
 have been exerting that force in the form of molecular 
 motion in the pit; it was not even exerting pressure. The 
 stone on the eminence is exerting a pressure, but only 
 equivalent to its weight, not to the additional momentum 
 it would acquire by falling. The antecedent, therefore, is 
 not a force in action ; and we can still only call it a property 
 of the objects by which they would exert a force on the 
 occurrence of a fresh collocation. The collocation, there- 
 fore, still includes the force. The force said to be stored up 
 is simply a particular property which the object has acquired. 
 The cause we are in search of is a collocation of objects 
 possessing that particular property. When, indeed, we 
 inquire further into the cause from which they derive that 
 property, the new conception introduced by the Conserva- 
 tion theory comes in : the property is itself an effect, and 
 its cause, according to the theory, is a former motion of 
 exactly equivalent amount, which has been impressed on 
 the particles of the body, perhaps at some very distant 
 period. But the case is simply one of those we have already 
 considered, in which the efficacy of a cause consists in its 
 investing an object with a property. The force said to be 
 laid up, and merely potential, is no more a really existing 
 thing than any other properties of objects are really exist- 
 ing things. The expression is a mere artifice of language, 
 convenient for describing the phenomena : it is unnecessary 
 VOL. I. P 
 
2IO GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 to suppose that anything has been in continuous existence 
 except an abstract potentiality. A force suspended in its 
 operation, neither manifesting itself by motion nor by pres- 
 sure, is not an existing fact, but a name for our conviction 
 that in appropriate circumstances a fact would take place. 
 We know that a pound weight, were it to fall from the 
 earth into the san, M^ould acquire in falling a momentum 
 equal to millions of pounds, but we do not credit the pound 
 weight with more of actually existing force than is equal 
 to the pressure it is now exerting on the earth, and that is 
 exactly a pound. We might as well say that a force of 
 millions of pounds exists in a pound, as that the force 
 which will manifest itself when the coal is burnt is a real 
 thing existing in the coal. What is iixed in the coal is 
 only a certain property ; it has become fit to be the ante- 
 cedent of an effect called combustion, which partly consists 
 in giving out under certain conditions a given definite quan- 
 tity of heat. 
 
 * We thus see that no new general conception of Causa- 
 tion is introduced by the Conservation theory. The inde- 
 structibility of , Force no more interferes with the theory 
 of Causation than the indestructibility of Matter, meaning 
 by Matter the element of resistance in the sensible world. 
 It only enables us to understand better than before the 
 nature and the laws of some of the sequences. 
 
 * This better understanding, however, enables us, with 
 Mr. Bain, to admit as one of the tests for distinguishing 
 Causation from mere concomitance, the expenditure or 
 transfer of energy. If the effect, or any part of the effect, 
 to be accounted for, consists in putting matter in motion, 
 then any of the objects present which has lost motion has 
 contributed to the effect ; and this is the true meaning of 
 the proposition, that the cause is that one of the ante- 
 cedents which exerts active force.' 
 
 We find, then, from the above, that by this new theory of 
 the correlation of Forces, agencies which had been regarded 
 
THE ELEATICS. 21 I 
 
 as distinct and Independent sources of Force, such as heat, 
 electricity, chemical action, etc., are interchangeable in defi- 
 nite and fixed quantities with one another. But we also 
 find that heat, electricity, etc., are but niolecular motions 
 or oscillations, invisible to us among the minute particles of 
 bodies, and that these molecular motions are transmutable 
 into molar motions (motions of masses), and molar motions 
 into molecular. That is to say, in the various interchanges 
 which take place between the forms of Force, it is always 
 Motion that is transformed into Motion; or, in other words, 
 the conservation of Force is in reality the conservation 
 of Motion. 
 
 Every force, then, is but a different mode or condition of 
 the one force Motion. We have at last arrived at some 
 thing like a first principle. It is not air, or fire, or earth, 
 or water, that is the first principle of all things, but Motion 
 it is that is the first principle. All forces proceed from it, 
 or else are different modes of it. The whole phenomena 
 of the entire universe, either directly or indirectly, owe 
 their origin to it ; for heat, Hght, etc., are but forms of 
 Motion, and, as far as we are capable of knowing, not a 
 single plant, or vegetable, or animal, could have existed, or 
 will exist, wholly destitute of light, heat, and other modes 
 of Motion. The Eleatics, then, were right in saying, Ail 
 comes from One. All does come from One, and the out- 
 ward manifestation that One presents is Motion. 
 
 Yet we must not forget that Motion, after all, is not an 
 entity or substance ; on the contrary, we must carefully 
 remember that it is but a mode or condition. What, 
 then, is the cause of that mode or condition ? We know 
 not. The most acute minds among us seem to be coming 
 to the somewhat dreary conclusion, that we never shall or 
 can know. If we could discover the cause of this Motion 
 we should in all probability be discovering the Efficient 
 Cause of the entire Universe ; for, as we said before, the 
 whole phenomena of the Universe resolve themselves into 
 
212 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 Motion — Motion either actual or else potential, but always 
 Motion. Yet, since we cannot conceive any mode or con- 
 dition such as Motion acting independently of some sub- 
 stratum or Cause, we are forced to admit at least the 
 hypothesis of Cause, even though in the same breath we pro- 
 nounce that Cause to be unknown or even unknowable. Nay, 
 does not the word ' Unknowable ' itself imply a real veri- 
 table something not capable of being known } What, then, 
 shall we denominate this mysterious Cause of which the 
 scarcely less mysterious Motion is the outward manifesta- 
 tion 1 Shall we, with Zenophanes, call it God ; or, with 
 Parmenides, Being ; or, with Pythagoras, The One ; or, 
 with Anaxagoras, Intelligence j or shall we, with modern 
 philosophy, call it the Unknown or Unknowable ? What 
 matters it .■* In reality we are all meaning identically the 
 same ; and our different names are but differences in name 
 only for precisely one and the same thing, i.e, the Efficient 
 Cause of the entire Universe. 
 
 But pantheism would go further than this, and would 
 not content herself with so vague a phraseology. She, too, 
 would gladly welcome this new theory of the Correlation 
 of Forces as a proof of the correctness of her own theory. 
 But in her phraseology, God would not merely be conceived 
 to be as the Cause of Motion, but in addition to the Cause, 
 He would be represented as being likewise the Pervader of 
 Motion ; that is to say, being both Cause and Pervader, He 
 would be necessarily identical with Motion. And, indeed, 
 I know not how or in what we could more worthily con- 
 ceive the First Cause than thus identifying Him with 
 Motion. From the tiniest drop of our blood, with its mul- 
 tiplicity of corpuscles ever varying and changing ; or from 
 the condition of unceasing activity, in which the proto- 
 plasmic layer of the hair of a nettle-plant is seen to be in 
 when viewed with a sufficiently high magnifying power, 
 up to the perpetual motion of the earth, and moon, and 
 planets ; or again, up to the huge suns and mighty systems 
 
THE ELEATICS. 2 I 3 
 
 of suns, Motion is the pervading influence, Motion is the 
 predominating power. We cannot conceive when this Mo- 
 tion commenced to be ; we equally cannot conceive when 
 it shall cease to exist It varies in degree as in form ; but 
 Motion it always is. Motion it will always be. It may 
 travel in the form of Light at the inconceivable rapidity of 
 195,000 miles in one second of time, or it may disclose 
 itself so slowly, as in the growth of an animal or child, 
 that it is difficult to distinguish any change that is percep- 
 tible from week to week, or even from month to month. 
 It may take the form of the most exquisite colours or 
 melodious sounds. It may disclose itself in burning, 
 scorching heat, or in radiant, frigid, crystals of ice. And if 
 this be not enough, if physical phenomena be deemed a 
 too unworthy manifestation of God, what shall we say of 
 the Mind ? Surely Motion discloses itself here with as 
 much wondrous power as in any physical phenomena. In 
 a second of time we can transport our thoughts to scenes 
 that occurred in the days of our childhood and youth. 
 Long forgotten events, faintly remembered faces, looks, 
 and words, suddenly return to us in less than a moment of 
 time. Why or wherefore they come we know not. We 
 only know that they pass before us like a flash of light, 
 as rapidly and as suddenly. Or (and who has not done 
 this in extreme youth ?) we may propel ourselves in fancy 
 into the period of our prime or middle age, and build 
 our airy castles of love and ambition : in a moment of 
 time leap over twenty years, and never be struck with 
 wonder that our thoughts are thus capable of this rapid 
 movement. Why should we be surprised indeed ? Motion 
 is the fundamental influence and pervading principle of 
 all our thoughts ; and the difficulty and surprise to us 
 would be, not the fact of the rapid movement of our 
 thoughts, but if by any chance we should be able to keep 
 them without movement. This with us would be con- 
 sidered a much greater difficulty or, rather, impossibilit)^ 
 
214 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 For by no force of will that we can exert, are we able to 
 keep our thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time 
 without travelling and rapidly moving. By this same all- 
 pervading Motion they are impelled to constantly be mov- 
 ing and changing as much as the stone is impelled to fall 
 to the ground, the steel to move to the magnet, the blood 
 to circulate in our veins, or the earth to rotate upon her 
 axis. 
 
 If, then, by the light of modern science the outcome of 
 pantheistic philosophy be thus the identification of God 
 with Motion, such a conception, at all events, is not an 
 irreverent one. No other conception would so completely 
 depict Him as the pervading Principle of the entire Uni- 
 verse — no other conception would more thoroughly repre- 
 sent Him as that mysterious Power which dwells within 
 us, around us, and without us ; upon whom we are com- 
 pletely dependent, yet who is utterly independent of us. 
 Any way, it is a more reverent and exalted conception- of 
 Him than the usual anthropomorphic conception, in which 
 He is depicted as a man with hands and feet and arms, and 
 even some of the passions, like as we have, only somewhat 
 more powerful and exalted. 
 
 However, we must bring this somewhat lengthy digres- 
 sion to a close. Whether the reader accept the Pantheistic 
 hypothesis or not, enough has been said to show that 
 modern science strikingly confirms the doctrine most pro- 
 minent in the philosophy of the Eleatics, the doctrine that 
 sets forth the principle that the All is derived from the 
 One. And that this One is Motion is now almost beyond 
 doubt, however we may differ as to what Motion itself is. 
 
 Before we bring this chapter to a close we must slightly 
 touch upon the doctrines of two philosophers, who, though 
 not generally considered to belong entirely to the Eleatic 
 school, were yet very considerably influenced by it. These 
 two philosophers are Empedocles of Agrigentum, and 
 Euclid of Megara. 
 
THE ELEATICS. 2 I 5 
 
 There is nearly as much uncertainty about the life and 
 history of Empedocles as about that of Pythagoras. Some 
 say he was taught by Pythagoras and Anaxagoras ; others, 
 by Zenophanes and Parmenides. But since the most 
 reliable date of his birth appears to be about 444 B.C., it is 
 most improbable that he was taught by either one of these 
 philosophers, as he must have been at least sixty years 
 younger than the latest of them. If he aspired to be or do 
 half as much as fable has assigned him, he must have been 
 a quack and an impostor. It is said that he proclaimed 
 himself to be a god whom men and women were reverently 
 to adore ; that he was able to command the winds and the 
 rain, and that after a sacred festival he was drawn up to 
 heaven in a splendour of celestial effulgence. Another and 
 more popular account of his death is, that he threw himself 
 headlong into the crater of Mount ^tna, in order that 
 (since his death would then be unknown) he might be 
 taken by the common people for a god. Most probably, 
 however, these are merely the exaggerations of fable, and 
 that Empedocles was too true and too earnest a man to 
 wish to be taken for other than he was. The few writings 
 belonging to him that have come down to us seem cer- 
 tainly at variance with any pretence of omniscience on his 
 part. He seems almost to equal Zenophanes in his despair- 
 ing lamentations at the difhculty of attaining any real 
 knowledge. Listen to this for instance : — 
 
 Swift-fated and conscious, how brief is life's pleasureless portion ! 
 
 Like the wind-driven smoke, they are carried backwards and forwards, 
 
 Each trusting to nought save what his experience vouches ; 
 
 On all sides distracted, yet wishing to find out the whole truth, 
 
 In vain ; neither by eye nor ear perceptible to man, 
 
 Nor to be grasped by mind ; and thou, when thus thou hast wandered. 
 
 Wilt find that no further reaches the knowledge of mortals. ' 
 
 These are strangely sad lines to. fall from a man who 
 is supposed to have considered himself as a god ; more 
 
 ' In these fragments of the writings of Empedocles, I have again made 
 use of Mr, Lewes's translatiun as given in his ' Hibtory of Philosoph)/ 
 
2l6 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 especially as there was nothing in his worldly condition to 
 render him mournful, or liable to feelings of pessimism. 
 He was born of a wealthy and noble family, and all the 
 advantages that education and travel could bestow were 
 given to him. It is just possible that when travelling he 
 may have learnt some of those arts of magic for which the 
 East has been so long and so justly famed, and thus 
 afforded some slight foundation for the legends and myths 
 that were afterwards so diligently circulated. It is said 
 that he spent most of his wealth in a very singular manner, 
 namely, in bestowing dowries on very poor girls, and 
 marrying them to young men of rank and fortune. 
 
 Empedocles resembled Anaxagoras and the Eleatics 
 in rej ecting the trustworthiness of the senses, and he 
 resembled Zenophanes in particular in his attacks on 
 anthropomorphism. God, he says, is utterly unlike to man 
 in any particular: 
 
 He is, wholly and perfectly, mind ineffable, holy, 
 
 With rapid and swift -glancing thought pervading the whole world. 
 
 He resembled Pythagoras in his doctrine of metempsy- 
 chosis and consequent abstinence from animal food. He 
 thought that nothing was imperishable ; that there was no 
 beginning and no end; only a mingling and a separation 
 of that which was mingled. They are fools, he exclaims. 
 
 Who think aught can begin to be which formerly was not, 
 
 Or, that aught which is, can perish and utterly decay. 
 
 Another truth I now unfold ; no natural birth 
 
 Is there of mortal things, nor deaths destruction final; 
 
 Nothing is there but a mingling, and then a separation of the mingled, 
 
 Which are called a birth and death by ignorant mortals. 
 
 The four primary Elements he believed to be Earth, 
 Air, Fire, and Water: out of these all other things proceed, 
 all things are but various combinations of these four, and 
 Love is the combiner. But there is also a separator. To 
 this Empedocles gave the name of Hate. We perceive, 
 
THE ELEATICS. 2 17 
 
 therefore, that Empedocles differed from the Eleatics in 
 their principal doctrine. He did not believe that all came 
 from One ; he did not believe that One was the cause of 
 the many. He had recourse to two principles. The For- 
 mative Principle was Love ; the Destructive, Hate, Yet 
 he did not believe these principles to be equal in power. 
 He seems to have regarded Hate something in the way 
 that ordinary Christians regard the Devil : as decidedly 
 inferior to God, though acting independently of Him. His 
 conception of God was that of Love, the One, ' a sphere 
 in the bosom of harmony fixed, in calm rest, gladly 
 rejoicing.' 
 
 Now, although at iirst sight it may appear that the doc- 
 trine of Empedocles was somewhat inferior to that of the 
 Eleatics, inasmuch as a belief in the One seems a higher 
 conception of God than a belief in the Two, still there is 
 thus much to be said for the doctrine of Empedocles, that 
 undoubtedly in the universe there do appear to be two prin- 
 ciples warring against each other, and consequently forcing 
 one on at times to a belief in dualism. So Empedocles called 
 that perfect state of existence, spiritual and supramundane, 
 where Love was the supreme ruler, Harmony ; the im- 
 perfect state of worldly existence, where Hate was the 
 prevailing power, he called Discord. He maintained that 
 Like could only be known by Like. Through earth we 
 learn the earth, through fire we learn fire, through strife 
 we learn strife, and through love we learn to comprehend 
 love; and, consequently, that a recognition of the Divine 
 is a proof that the Divine exists. 
 
 Such is a very brief account of the doctrine of Em- 
 pedocles. We must now turn to the philosophy of Euc?id 
 of Megara. Euclid, who must not be confounded with 
 Euclid the great mathematician, was born at Megara some- 
 where about 450-440 B.C. He was far more entirely 
 Eleatic in his doctrines than was Empedocles. Indeed, 
 we may say, with a very fair amount of assurance, that 
 
2l8 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 had he Hved at the same period with Zenophanes, Par- 
 menides, and Zeno, he would not have differed from them 
 more than each one of those philosophers differed from the 
 other. The sole and only difference between the philo- 
 sophy of the Eleatics and the philosophy of Euclid of 
 Megara was a difference entirely owing to the fact that the 
 three Eleatics lived prior to the age of Socrates, and 
 Euclid lived subsequent to that age. 
 
 Before the time of Socrates philosophers were occupied 
 either (as in the case of the lonians) with the investigation 
 of the physical universe; or else (as in the case of the 
 Eleatics) with the investigation of Being. With Socrates 
 philosophy passed into a new phase, so to speak. Moral 
 investigation was of more importance to him than either 
 mental or physical investigation. It was of httle im- 
 portance to him to learn why or wherefore the world came 
 into existence ; it was not even of very much importance 
 for him to know of the nature of God or Being ; or even if 
 it were of importance, past experience had shown how 
 utterly futile were all such attempts at knowledge which 
 was beyond the attainment of man. Why or wherefore 
 the world was created was indeed a problem ; but that 
 somehow or other the world was created, and that he 
 himself was in this world, was a fact. Being, then, in this 
 world, was not the most important discovery for him to 
 make, the discovery of how to comport himself while 
 existing in this same world .'* Should not the principal 
 endeavour of his life be to learn how to attain the good, 
 how to shun the evil.^ We perceive, then, that with 
 Socrates the investigation of the physical universe or of 
 Being was supplemented by the study of Ethics. 
 
 Now Socrates was born 469 B.C. Consequently he was 
 about twenty years older than Euclid of Megara. Euclid 
 was one of his most ardent disciples, and his delight in 
 listening to him was so great that he frequently risked his 
 life for the sake of so doing. After the death of Socrates 
 
THE ELEATICS. 219 
 
 many of his disciples left Athens and followed Euclid to 
 Megara. 
 
 The philosophy of Euclid is very obviously a com- 
 bination of the philosophy of the Eleatics and the philo- 
 sophy of Socrates. A great portion of his youth had been 
 devoted to the study of the writings of Pannenides and 
 Zeno ; and, as we said before, he was a most ardent 
 admirer of Socrates, coming the distance of twenty miles 
 at night, disguised as a woman, in order to have the privi- 
 lege of listening to him ; and the teachings of these two 
 different systems are very clearly represented in the philo- 
 sophy of Euclid. 
 
 Euclid agreed with the Eleatics in thinking that there 
 was only One Being that really existed ; phenomena had 
 merely a transitory existence ; but that everything was 
 contained in this One Being. But what was this One 
 Being .'' (Here the Socratic element comes in.) This One 
 Being, capable of being known by reason alone, was The 
 Good, He might receive different names at different 
 periods. He might at times be fitly called Wisdom ; at 
 other times Reason ; at other God. But The Good was 
 His real name. He was the One Existence. Every other 
 created thing, such, for instance, as Evil, came under the 
 denomination of phenomena, and consequently had only a 
 transitory and not an actual existence. 
 
 Such is a brief account of the philosophy of Euclid of 
 Megara. He was the last of those philosophers who can 
 in any manner be considered as belonging to the Eleatic 
 school of philosophy ; and, indeed, an interval of some 
 four hundred years occurs before pantheism of any de- 
 scription reappears and discloses itself amidst the multi- 
 plicity of Greek philosophies and systems. 
 
;20 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 
 
 It may appear strange to some that in a work like this, 
 where we have not scrupled to represent such men as 
 Pythagoras and the lonians as having in more or less de- 
 gree influenced and opened the way up to pantheistic phi- 
 losophy (although, of course, they themselves cannot be 
 called wholly pantheistic in their tenets), that we should 
 not reckon Plato amongst the number of those whom we 
 might at all events denominate imperfect pantheists. Plato 
 with his three principles of God, Matter, and Ideas ; Plato 
 with his doctrines of Reminiscence and of innate ideas ; 
 Plato with his strong belief in the immortality of the soul ; 
 Plato with his doctrine of the One Universal Existence, of 
 which all other objects were but transitory phenomena : 
 surely such a teacher should, to say the least, of it, be con- 
 sidered as pantheistic in his tenets as a Thales or an Anaxi- 
 mander. Yet we have two reasons which we think maybe 
 considered sufficient justification for our not thus treating 
 of him. The first is that he never repudiated the popular 
 belief in polytheism, but, on the contrary, tacitly im- 
 plied his entire acceptance of it ; in which case, if he really 
 believed in a plurality of gods, by no possible means could 
 he have been a pantheist ; for, as we have often remarked, 
 pantheism is always the strictest monotheism. Secondly, 
 and chiefly, it is almost as difficult for us to decide upon what 
 were the real opinions of Plato, either religious or philoso- 
 phical, as it would be for us to decide upon what were the 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 221 
 
 philosophical or religious opinions of Shakspere. Plato 
 almost entirely wrote in dialogues, but we have no reason 
 to infer that his own opinions were such as he put into the 
 mouths of his several dramatis per soiice \ even if we did so 
 infer we should not know which of those opinions to choose, 
 for he is almost as catholic in his views as Shakspere himself. 
 And we might nearly as well maintain, for instance, that 
 Shakspere was strongly opposed to the marriage between 
 a woman and her deceased husband's brother, because he 
 has made an injured Hamlet designate such a marriage as 
 incestuous, as maintain that Plato was portraying his own 
 opinions through the speeches of any of the dramatis per- 
 soncB of the dialogues. If there were any one of these 
 dramatis pei'sonm more likely than another for Plato to 
 select as his mouthpiece, it would surely be his revered 
 master and teacher Socrates. Yet what do we find ? In 
 the Protagoras, Plato represents Socrates as maintaining 
 that the Good is identical with the Pleasurable, and the 
 Evihidentical with the Painful ; and in the Gorgias he is 
 represented as maintaining exactly the reverse. At one 
 time we find Plato displaying a sort of theological rancour 
 against those who ventured to question the authenticity of 
 the Greek fables and legends. At another time we find 
 him exhibiting as great a purity of pantheistic conception 
 as the Eleatics themselves ; we find him declaring that God, 
 or the Good, was the supreme Idea, the Cause of all things 
 celestial and terrestrial, the One Being who comprised 
 within Himself all other beings. It is hopeless, therefore, 
 to seek to gain any real knowledge of the true opinions of 
 Plato ; and we have, consequently, thought it wiser not to 
 borrow so doubtful an aid in illustration of the general 
 tenets of pantheism., 
 
 But although we have refused to designate the teaching 
 of Plato as pantheistic, that teaching, nevertheless, gave 
 rise to a system of philosophy calling itself by his name, 
 though arising nearly four hundred years after his death. 
 
222 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 which was wholly and entirely pantheistic in its principles. 
 That system called itself by the name of the Neo-Pla- 
 tonic Philosophy ; and its disciples were pantheists, not 
 in the doubtful sense of Anaximenes or Pythagoras, but 
 wholly and completely pantheists as much as were the 
 Eleatics themselves. The pantheism of the Neo-Platonists, 
 it is true, differed from that of the Eleatics, but it differed 
 in kind, not in degree. The pantheism of the Eleatics 
 was a philosophy ; the pantheism of the Neo-Platonists was 
 a Theology ; and in order to be able to trace the reason 
 why Theology had thus taken the place of Philosophy, it 
 is necessary to give a slight sketch of the gradual changes 
 through which Philosophy had passed during these four 
 hundred years. 
 
 We must recollect that Anaxagoras, as well as the 
 Eleatics, had come to the conclusion that the Senses were 
 deceptive and unreliable, and gave us no criterion of Truth ; 
 and that consequently Reason was to take the place of 
 Sense as a guide in life. But for the investigation of the 
 physical universe, or of Being, even Reason seemed scarcely 
 adequate or sufficient ; and a kind of dreary, painful un- 
 certainty was the result. After the Eleatics arose Socrates, 
 who, perceiving the uselessness and futility of all enquiry 
 into the Why or Wherefore of phenomena, was determined 
 to devote himself instead to the study and investigation of 
 Conduct. With Socrates, therefore. Philosophy was pass- 
 ing into an ethical phase. After Socrates came Plato, 
 whose chief doctrine (as far as we can glean from such a 
 conflicting and contradictory confusion of doctrines) was 
 that all knowledge was Reminiscence, a revival of pre- 
 existing Ideas. Then followed Aristotle, utterly opposed 
 to the Subjective Method of Plato. He taught that com- 
 plete knowledge could only be gained by complete expe- 
 rience ; and it is Reason alone that is capable of teaching 
 us how to profit by the lessons of Experience. He did not 
 disdain Reminiscence ; but by Reminiscence he meant a 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 2 23 
 
 past experience, whereas Plato by the same word meant a 
 remembrance, a recollection or recalling of things that had 
 happened in a supposed previous state of existence. Thus 
 with Aristotle, Moral Philosophy was again changing into 
 Mental Philosophy ; and the study of Logic was taking the 
 place of the study of Ethics. After Aristotle arose Pyrrho, 
 the founder of the sceptical school of philosophy. In the 
 last chapter we slightly touched upon the logical and im- 
 pregnable character of his philosophy. His principal occu- 
 pation consisted in the exposure of the futility of all the 
 philosophical systems alike. He showed how the lonians 
 had been succeeded by Pythagoras, Pythagoras in his turn 
 by the Eleatics, and that the Eleatics, after demolishing or 
 rejecting the systems preceding their own, were forced to ac- 
 knowledge with Anaxagoras that ' nothing could be known ; 
 nothing was certain ; everything is as it appears, and as it 
 is seldom things appear in the same light to two different 
 persons, it follows that all sense knowledge must be utterly 
 untrustworthy.' Pyrrho then showed how completely the 
 Ideal theory of Plato had been refuted by Aristotle, who 
 had exposed it by showing that it had only a Subjective 
 and not an Objective reality. Pyrrho therefore declared 
 all attempts at philosophy to be equally futile ; that as a 
 criterion of Truth even Reason itself had proved very little 
 superior to Sense. Now, although Pyrrho, who was a good, 
 honourable man, and held in universal esteem, was un- 
 doubtedly unconscious of where his systefti was leading, it 
 is obvious that, by his exposure of the futility of Reason as 
 a guide in life, he was in reality destroying the moral system 
 of Socrates quite as much as he was destroying the philo- 
 sophical systems of Aristotle, Plato, or the lonians and 
 Eleatics. Not that he intended to do so ; on the contrary, 
 he insisted most strongly on the cultivation of moral prin- 
 ciples ; but it is obvious that his philosophy, if logically 
 carried out, would destroy all faith in moral investigation 
 quite as much as it would destroy all faith in physical or 
 
2 24 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 philosophical investigation. For where would bathe utility 
 of striving to seek the Good and shun the Evil, if there be 
 no criterion of Truth to enlighten us as to what really is 
 the Good, what really is the Evil ? Pyrrho, then, may well 
 be called the founder of the Sceptical philosophy. Con- 
 sciously or unconsciously there was not a single system he 
 had not destroyed. 
 
 How, then, or in what, was the future life of man to be 
 spent ? Should he fold his hands in silent despair, and 
 wait till death released him from so profitless and inane a 
 thing as life ; or should he content himself with being a 
 mere animal and leading the life of one ? But man is more 
 than an animal ; or rather when he ceases to be more, he 
 will become less than one. He will never be able to live a 
 life completely and entirely that of an animal. Being pos- 
 sessed and endowed with thoughts, he must of necessity 
 employ them ; if therefore he ceases to be a man, he will 
 quickly become a devil, and employ those thoughts in 
 imaginations of wickedness utterly beyond the capability 
 of any animal. How, then, should he spend his life ? Were 
 there no ways but these two — the listless idleness of despair 
 and indifference, or the wild excesses of utter demorali- 
 sation ? Yes, there was one system yet to be tried. 
 Amongst all the philosophical systems that had been built 
 up only to fall helplessly to pieces at the first rough blow of 
 an outsider, there was yet one that had not been tried ; one 
 that was at least worth the experiment of erecting and 
 waiting to see if its foundations were more sure than those 
 of its predecessors. The groundwork of that system was 
 the cultivation and study of Happiness, and the name of its 
 founder was Epicurus. 
 
 Though the objective quality Goodness or the Good 
 were a phantasm (or if a reality, a reality past the dis- 
 covery of man), yet there could surely be no delusion about 
 the subjective sensation of Happiness. Men might indeed 
 differ as to the objects and pursuits most capable of giving 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 225 
 
 rise to the sensation of Happiness ; but nobody could deny- 
 that the sensation, while it lasted, was a true, veritable 
 feeling : a feeling of such intense enjoyment, that the inves- 
 tigation and pursuit of it were well worthy of being man's 
 highest aim and chiefest study. In this new system of phi- 
 losophy, then, Happiness was to be the chief study of man ; 
 Happiness was to be ' his being's end and aim.* 
 
 Such was the teaching of Epicurus. Yet it must be 
 remembered that Epicurus was no sensualist. His aim 
 was not for temporary, transitory, happiness, but for com- 
 plete and entire happiness : as complete, that is to say, 
 as it is possible for man to attain in this world. What, 
 then, were those pleasures most likely to give the greatest 
 amount of happiness .-* Not inebriety ; not licentiousness. 
 The temporary pleasure of such practices was more than 
 nullified by the weariness and disgust that quickly followed. 
 No, the only real happiness is to be found in such pleasures 
 as never satiate, and the names of those pleasures are Virtue 
 and Knowledge. Yet even these pursuits must not be 
 carried beyond a certain limit, or they will promptly cease 
 to be pleasures. Virtue must not be carried to the point 
 of asceticism ; Knowledge must not be carried to the point 
 of brainweariness. We find, then, that though the aim 
 and goal of the Epicurean philosophy consisted of Happi- 
 ness, the philosophy itself — the means, that is to say, 
 necessary for the attainment of the end — was in reality a 
 strict Temperance. The inscription placed at the entrance 
 of the Garden well represented the tenets of the Epicurean 
 brotherhood : ' The hospitable keeper of this mansion, 
 where you will find pleasure the highest good, will present 
 you liberally with barley-cakes, and water fresh from the 
 spring. The gardens will not provoke your appetite by 
 artificial dainties, but satisfy it with natural supplies. Will 
 you not be well entertained .-* ' 
 
 But although Epicurus himself was no voluptuary or 
 sensualist, yet in thus setting forth the doctrine that 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
2 26 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 happiness and pleasure constituted the highest good, it must 
 be admitted that he was playing with dangerously-edged 
 tools ; he was standing on the brink of a precipice where 
 the slightest swerve would cause complete downfall and 
 social ruin. Disciples seldom follow the precepts of their 
 master to the letter; and the faintest, smallest exaggera- 
 tion of the philosophy of Epicurus would lead to utter 
 perversion, if not to actual demoralisation ; for there was no 
 saying what frightful iniquities and gross barbarities might 
 or might not be perpetrated under the plea of the personal 
 pleasure bestowed thereby on the perpetrator. Tempe- 
 rance, indeed, might be considered the highest good by the 
 calm student of philosophy, or the simple lover of nature, 
 but would be utterly, wearily burdensome to those of fiery 
 and impetuous dispositions. Such disciples might agree, 
 indeed, with the aim and end of their master's philosophy, 
 but would by no means agree in the means requisite for 
 the attainment of such end. If Pleasure were to be their 
 highest aim, and Temperance never provided them with 
 pleasure, but, on the contrary, filled them with an in- 
 describable sensation of weariness, where was the utility of 
 trying to be temperate ? It is impossible not to come to 
 the conclusion that some such perversion of the doctrines 
 of Epicurus must in this way have arisen, partly because the 
 very name 'Epicurean' came soon to be used as a synonym 
 for effeminacy and luxury, but chiefly on account of the 
 extreme disapproval, almost amounting to rancour and 
 virulence, with which it was received by that body of philo- 
 sophers calling themselves Stoics. 
 
 Now the philosophy of the Stoics (taking its rise from 
 Zeno) was wise and grave, and worthy of our greatest 
 admiration. It made the cultivation of virtue its highest 
 aim, thus in a measure imitating the Socratists ; but at least 
 three-fifths of the Stoical idea of virtue might be said to be 
 constituted of Courage and Manhood, taking that latter word 
 in its highest and bravest sense. Yet the Stoics were too 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 227 
 
 wise and earnest a sect to have any causeless animosities, 
 and if the followers of Epicurus had really carried out their 
 master's golden rule of Temperance, we can scarcely 
 imagine why the Stoics should thus have despised and 
 loathed the Epicurean philosophy. On the contrary, they 
 would most probably have approved of this philosophy as 
 wise and temperate, and likely to pave the way for the 
 better reception of their own ; for although the Stoics 
 scorned the pleasures of the senses, they never carried that 
 scorn to an unwise or exaggerated degree, as did the 
 Cynics. The Stoics were not the Cynics, and must not be 
 confounded with them. They were an offshoot of the 
 Cynical philosophy, it is true, but they were an offshoot 
 which managed to absorb all the good qualities of the 
 parent tree without any of the bad ; making up, indeed, 
 by wise culture and care, for the impure and noxious 
 soil in which it had first received birth. 
 
 The Cynics were a sect which sprang up shortly after 
 the time of Socrates. It is said, indeed, that Antisthenes, 
 the founder of the sect, was a pupil of Socrates, whom he 
 greatly admired. It is, however, Diogenes of Sinope who 
 is generally considered to be the representative of Cynicism. 
 To live a life of virtue was, in obedience to the Socratic 
 philosophy, the sole aim of the Cynics, but virtue with 
 them meant much more than a renunciation of luxury and 
 physical indulgence (which was the Stoical idea of virtue) ; 
 it meant an utter dislike and contempt for the body. The 
 more dirty and noxious the attire, the more unwholesome 
 and unpalatable the food, the more virtuous and worthy of 
 his ideal was a Cynic supposed to be.^ Decency of every 
 kind was outraged ; it is even said that those acts of daily 
 life always performed in private, save by madmen or utter 
 savages, were scrupulously and studiously performed in 
 public, under the plea that everything not in itself vicious 
 
 ' According to Diog. L., a favourite maxim of the Cynics was : 'Pleasure 
 is pernicious : I would rather be mad than glad.' 
 
 Q2 
 
2 28 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 was fitted for public gaze. In many points there was a 
 strong resemblance between the practice of the Cynics and 
 the Asceticism of the Middle-Age Christians. There was 
 the same filth, and dirt, and exposure, and love of self- 
 torment, amounting with the Christians to absolute flagel- 
 lations of themselves and their fellow-creatures. With the 
 Christians the motive seems to have been the extra- 
 ordinary notion that only in such a way could they please 
 the Creator, and thus render their attainment of heaven 
 secure ; and with the Cynics the motive seems to have 
 been, either the somewhat heroic one that Virtue was its 
 own reward and sufficient in itself, or else the more pro- 
 bable one of rendering themselves obnoxious to everyone 
 about them. Either way, anyone who might be apt to 
 confuse the Stoical philosophy with the Cynical has but 
 to compare the life of Diogenes the Cynic with that of 
 Zeno the Stoic to see the immense superiority the one has 
 over the other. 
 
 Yet in the midst of all these philosophies and systems, 
 in the Socratic or Platonic, in the Cynic, or Stoic, or 
 Epicurean, through each and all of them alike was to be 
 seen the cold, logical finger of Pyrrhonism pointing in 
 quiet satire to the multiplicity of different opinions, and 
 asking whether any one of them could be proved to be 
 really more tenable than another. Several hundred years 
 had now been spent in the pursuit and study of philosophy, 
 yet men were still warring against each other, and bewilder- 
 ing themselves. For what purpose } Before the time of 
 Plato there had been the lonians and Pythagoras, the 
 Eleatics and Sophists ; since the time of Plato there were 
 the Cynics and Stoics and Epicureans ; and yet even 
 now men were in as much uncertainty and as divergent in 
 opinion as when the study of philosophy was in its earliest 
 infancy. They had not taken warning by the failures of 
 their predecessors, and consequently generations of the 
 best intellects had been spent in labours that were utterly 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 229 
 
 useless, utterly unprofitable. There never yet had arisen 
 a system so completely logical and incontrovertible as to 
 force itself to be accepted by all alike ; yet even assuming 
 the possibility of such a system arising, the fact of it 
 appearing incontrovertible to men would not argue its 
 incontrovertibility in reality, because men were utterly 
 without a criterion of Truth ; and even their Reason was 
 very little more reliable than their Sense. 
 
 And truly the warnings and prohibitions of Pyrrhonism 
 seemed unanswerable. What though the Cynics and Stoics 
 agreed with Socrates in preaching that the cultivation of 
 Virtue was to be man's highest aim and chiefest study ? 
 If they could not agree in the definition of what they meant 
 by Virtue, the agreement was but one of name only. 
 From their own point of view, the doctrines of Pythagoras 
 and of Epicurus seem the two least open to question. Yet 
 man craves for some higher certitude, some nobler answer, 
 than either of these systems are capable. of yielding. It is 
 pleasant indeed to know that two and two make four, or 
 that two sides of a triangle taken together are greater than 
 the third. It is pleasant to know that there is at least 
 one real fundamental truth apparently incontrovertible, at 
 all events, one upon which all men are agreed. Yet the 
 knowledge of the certainty of the truth of numbers was 
 not the knowledge for which the most earnest minds were 
 seeking. The knowledge that two and two make four 
 will not satisfy the nobler aspirations of the soul of man. 
 
 It was the same with the doctrines of Epicurus. From 
 their own point of view those doctrines were quite unanswer- 
 able. We cannot doubt that the subjective sensation of 
 Happiness is, while it lasts, a real, veritable sensation of 
 intense enjoyment. Yet Epicureanism will prove scarcely 
 more satisfactory to the earnest enquirer after truth than 
 did the philosophy of Pythagoras. Epicureanism is emi- 
 nently a philosophy for the few, not for the many ; and 
 those few must be in all respects of the character and 
 
230 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 stamp of Epicurus himself. It will utterly fail to satisfy 
 the yearnings of those who are of a higher stamp ; and 
 it will, as we have seen, quickly become perverted by those 
 of a lower. The philosophy of Epicurus seems to us pecu- 
 liarly adapted to such as are of quiet, tranquil disposi- 
 tions, refined intelligence, and somewhat predisposed to 
 egoism and the gratification of personal pleasure. We 
 can imagine the philosopher, seated in his tasteful garden, 
 surrounded by admiring friends, discoursing tranquilly 
 upon the attainment of Happiness, and warning his dis- 
 ciples from the pursuit of more abstruse questions of philo- 
 sophy. But meanwhile there were earnest, burning hearts 
 seeking and striving for something far higher than the 
 attainment of mere personal pleasure, to whom such attain- 
 ment, even if possible (which to sympathetic, unselfish dis- 
 positions is very seldom), would fail to satisfy those cravings 
 and yearnings which alone had impelled them to turn to 
 philosophy for aid. 
 
 ' This bright, beautiful Earth, with its variety of exqui- 
 site flowers and trees, with its invariable succession of 
 seasons, and of night and day, with its infinitude of twink- 
 ling lights placed in the firmament high up above our 
 heads ; this bright, glorious Sun, giver of Warmth and 
 Light, rising and setting with such wonderful regularity 
 and order ; this pale, placid Moon, appearing so strangely 
 at regular intervals — what are they ? Whence do they 
 come ? 
 
 ' This strange, sad phenomenon of animal life, with its 
 wonderful capability of suffering and misery, with its multi- 
 plicity of ills and aches, with its consciousness (as in the case 
 of man) that the higher the organisation the more capable 
 it is of suffering, with the knowledge that not a single 
 human being is born into the world without causing pain, 
 and, in some cases, hours of intensest agony to the being 
 w ho gives it birth ; this strange phenomenon of physical 
 Birth — what a mystery it is, almost as strange as life itself ! 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 23! 
 
 Yet the mysteries of both Life and Birth seem to sink into 
 insignificance compared with the awe that is felt at Death. 
 Whence comes death ? Wherefore was Hfe created ? 
 
 ' This wonderful restless mind of man, with its noble 
 aspirations and yearnings after Good, with its marvellous 
 capacity for knowledge and discovery, with its powers of 
 endurance and heroism, and, alas ! also, with its capacities 
 of baseness and treachery ; this poor human heart, with 
 its capability of suffering, exceeding in intensity any 
 amount of physical pain, with its bereavements and woes, 
 its temptations and sins — what do they all mean ? Whence 
 comes misery? Wherefore has sin existence?' 
 
 Such were some of the questions that were perplexing 
 the hearts of earnest men in the century immediately pre- 
 ceding the commencement of the Christian Era. They 
 yearned for an answer, but no answer came. Only a sad, 
 dreary Scepticism prevailed. Not the scepticism, be it 
 remembered, of atheism or infidelity ; — the Pyrrhonic scep- 
 ticism was the scepticism of uncertainty. It was the anti- 
 thesis, the exact converse of dogmatism. Dogmatism was 
 in the habit of asserting that this happened, or that that 
 took place. Pyrrhonism asserted nothing, knew nothing ; 
 it rejected dogmatic atheism as much as dogmatic poly- 
 theism. The wider scepticism was left for the disciples of 
 the New Academy, a philosophy of somewhat later growth 
 than that of Pyrrho, and which was much more dogmatic in 
 the manner of its scepticism than was the Pyrrhonic philo- 
 sophy. In these days the Academicians of our period pro- 
 nounce the nature of God and of Being to be utterly 
 Unknowable ; the Pyrrhonists, on the contrary, content 
 themselves with pronouncing them to be Unknown. To 
 pronounce anything to be Unknowable would be con- 
 sidered by them as dogmatic as to pronounce it Knowable. 
 All they would admit is that at present the Nature of God 
 and of Being are not known. By some, indeed, it is said 
 that the Pyrrhonists carried their uncertainty even to a 
 
232 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 greater extent than this. ' They knew nothing ; no, not 
 even that they knew nothing. They asserted nothing ; no, 
 not even that they asserted nothing/ 
 
 Be that as it may, it was but too plain that the outcome 
 of all the centuries spent in the study of philosophy was 
 either a painful, dreary uncertainty, or else an absolute de- 
 nial of the possibility of any knowledge. The predominant 
 feeling of the age was Scepticism — scepticism either dog- 
 matic or undogmatic, but always scepticism ; if not in one 
 form, then in another. 
 
 Yet man will have an answer to his enquiries ; he re- 
 fuses to remain long in the state of sullen or despairing 
 acquiescence in his own ignorance. If he cannot gain an 
 answer that is satisfactory from one teacher, he will turn 
 for assistance to another ; if one system has proved in- 
 adequate for the solution of his difficulties, he will seek 
 the aid of some other he hopes will prove more adequate. 
 This was what the Neo-Platonists did. This was in reality 
 the origin and cause of Philosophy being superseded by 
 Theology. For five centuries and upwards men had been 
 zealous subjects, and earnest, humble students of Philo- 
 sophy ; and what had she given in return ? Absolutely 
 nothing. They had gone to her with all their multiplicity 
 of doubts and difficulties, and what had she done for them.-* 
 She had not only told them that she herself could give 
 them no answer, but she had pertinaciously pronounced 
 their doubts to be insoluble, their difficulties to be incap- 
 able of any answer. Very well, then ; men would no longer 
 submit to the sway of so unsatisfactory a teacher ; they 
 had tried her long enough. Henceforth they would leave 
 her and devote themselves to the service of a new mistress. 
 Philosophy should be discarded ; Theology should take her 
 place ; Reason should be dethroned ; Faith should reign 
 in her stead. Such was the origin of the transmutation of 
 Pantheistic Philosophy into Pantheistic Theology. For 
 fifteen hundred years we shall hear little or nothing of 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 233 
 
 Philosophy, she will be almost entirely obscured and 
 superseded by Theology. For fifteen hundred years the 
 best intellects will be devoted to the service of Faith ; 
 and if Reason ventures so much as even to lift up her 
 voice in her own defence she will be threatened or tortured 
 into silence. Not that Faith became guilty of such intole- 
 rance in the time of the Neo-Platonists. She was yet in 
 her infancy then, and had not the strength or the power to 
 assert her real character, even if she had the will. And 
 most probably she had not the will. Neo-Platonism was 
 only the first germ and faintest indication of the theology 
 that was to shortly follow ; it was more, indeed, a species of 
 religious philosophy than an actual theology, and was no 
 haughty, intolerant despiser of other men's opinions, but 
 was willing to take its place as a system amongst the mul- 
 tiplicity of systems that were then surrounding it. The 
 only sect, the only body of doctrines it treated with 
 unmerited contempt, and a most unphilosophical hatred, 
 was that of the Christian which was then just struggling 
 into existence. 
 
 The Neo-Platonists partly resembled the Eleatics, 
 partly followed what were generally supposed to be the 
 leading features in the Platonic philosophy ; and there was 
 also intermingled with the other doctrines a strong element 
 of the Stoical philosophy, almost amounting, indeed, to 
 the Cynical. The Neo-Platonists had an utter contempt 
 and dislike for the body, with its wants and infirmities. It 
 is said that Plotinus, one of the most distinguished of the 
 Neo-Platonists, blushed whenever he remembered he was 
 possessed of a body. This contempt for the body was 
 most probably the cause of the rancour and animosity 
 evinced by the Neo-Platonists against the teaching of the 
 early Christians, with whom the occupations of feeding the 
 hungry, clothing the naked, and tending the sick, were 
 insisted on as positive and essential duties. 
 
 The Neo-Plfitonists followed the Eleatics in concen- 
 
234 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 trating all their energies upon the investigation of God and 
 of Being. As we have said before, the scepticism of the age 
 was a scepticism of uncertainty, not a pronounced atheism. 
 There had hardly been a philosophical system mooted 
 which did not evince either an implied or actual belief in 
 the existence of God. Scepticism did not attempt to deny 
 the existence of this God. All it did was to deny the 
 possibility of the human mind ever attaining any know- 
 ledge of Him. The Neo-Platonists, then, taking the exist- 
 ence of God as a certainty, assuming it as an incontro- 
 vertible fact, followed the Eleatics in seeking for some 
 knowledge of Him. The Eleatics, they believed, owed 
 their failure to the incapable method they pursued. They 
 had tried the method of poor human Reason ; whereas 
 the knowledge of God was in reality the gift of God, and 
 could be only obtained through Faith. The point of diver- 
 gence, therefore, between the Eleatics and the Neo-Platonists 
 was in the method they pursued. The Eleatics sought to 
 comprehend the nature of God through the power of their 
 Reason, and were forced to own that for the most part 
 they had failed. The Neo-Platonists sought to comprehend 
 Him through Faith, and believed their endeavour was suc- 
 cessful. For the form this Faith took was that of Ecstacy ; 
 and the science of Physiology was as yet too much in its 
 infancy for them to know that Ecstacy was a state very 
 easily contracted when the body is half diseased from 
 neglect and want of proper food. Yet, though disease and 
 a state of semi-starvation might be the physical cause of 
 the Neo-Platonists imagining themselves to be favoured 
 with ecstatical visions and miraculous appearances, it will 
 not entirely account for the strangely prominent place 
 Mysticism was to take in all philosophy alike, whether 
 Christian or heathen, for the next three hundred years. 
 We have seen whence it arose that Faith usurped the 
 place formerly occupied by Reason. We have now to see 
 wherefore this Faith assumed so very mystical and oriental 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 235 
 
 a character. To do this we must make a slight digression 
 upon the political changes Greece had undergone in the 
 last few centuries. 
 
 Some three or four hundred years before the birth of 
 Christ, the Greeks had settled in Lower Egypt in such 
 numbers that, as soon as Alexander's army had occupied 
 Memphis, they found themselves constituting the ruling 
 class, and Egypt became in a moment a Greek kingdom. 
 The Egyptians were henceforth to be treated as inferiors, 
 and forbidden to carry arms. But still the wise policy of 
 Alexander was widely different from the insensate fury 
 displayed by the Persian king, Cambyses, on his invasion of 
 Egypt, some two hundred years before that of the Greeks 
 of which we are now speaking. Alexander assured the 
 Egyptians that he came to re-establish their ancient mon- 
 archy : he went in state to the temple, and sacrificed to 
 the sacred bull. From Memphis he floated down the Nile 
 to the Canopic mouth, sailed round the lake Mareotis, and, 
 landing at Racotis, laid the foundation of the new Greek 
 capital, calling it after himself by the name of Alexandria. 
 On the death of Alexander, his lieutenant, Ptolemy, made 
 himself king of Egypt, and was the first of a race of mon- 
 archs who governed for three hundred years, and made it a 
 second time the chief kingdom in the world, till it sank 
 under its own luxuries and vices combined with the rising 
 power of Rome. It is almost impossible to do justice to 
 the glory and magnificence of Alexandria as it existed 
 under the Ptolemies. It almost seemed as if the wisdom 
 of Greece and Egypt became united in these Alexandrians. 
 Never before, and very seldom since, could any museum 
 boast of such a galaxy of learned names as in the Alexan- 
 drian Museum founded by the Ptolemies, It was here 
 that Theocritus, Callimachus, Lycophron, and Apollonius 
 Rhodius wrote their poems ; Euclid composed his Ele- 
 ments of Geometry ; Archimedes laid the foundation of 
 Hydrostatics; Apollonius of Perga invented Conic Sections; 
 
236 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 Hipparchus made a catalogue of the Stars ; Erastothenes 
 measured the size of the Earth. A large public library 
 was also founded. Demetrius Phalareus was instructed 
 to collect all the writings in the world, and so successful 
 were the efforts of himself and his successors that, it is said, 
 700,000 volumes were procured. Every sort of religion 
 was tolerated, and men of all creeds and of all countries 
 flocked there. But still it was natural that the native 
 religion of the people should have the most predominance, 
 more especially as the Greeks were naturally inclined to 
 scepticism, whereas the Egyptians were naturally inclined 
 to devotion. The religion of the Egyptian lower classes 
 was a gross and obscene Polytheism ; that of the higher, 
 a pure and refined Pantheism. In the midst of so much 
 learning and culture it was natural the grosser forms of 
 religion should die out, and be superseded by the higher 
 and better forms. Yet, as the majority of men cannot live 
 in a region of pure abstraction, but must have recourse 
 to some outward forms and ceremonies, some representation 
 of this pantheistic religion must be sought for. The Egyp- 
 tian animal worship had become too gross for any sym- 
 bolism. The representation, therefore, that was chosen 
 was the restoration of the worship of the god Serapis. 
 Inscribed upon his image were the words setting forth the 
 Pantheistic doctrine ' All is God.* But accompanied with 
 this Pantheism was a large intermixture of Mysticism, 
 perhaps necessarily so. Was not the whole world a Mys- 
 tery ? How could All be One, and One be All ? It was 
 felt to be inexplicable. Yet it was felt to be at the same 
 time true. For many thousand years the Egyptians had 
 believed in a Trinity. In different parts of Egypt different 
 triads were worshipped. If God could display himself in 
 All, why not in Three > At Philae the triad worshipped 
 consisted of Osiris, Isis, and^ their son Horus ; at Thebes 
 the Trinity consisted of Amun, Maut, and Khonso. But 
 the ICgyptians were not the only inhabitants of Alexandria 
 
TlIK NKO-PLATONISTS. 237 
 
 who were Trinitarians. As we have said before, men of all 
 creeds and from all parts of the civihsed world frequented 
 the new Greek capital. Amongst these were many Brah- 
 mans, and it will be remembered how completely all forms 
 of Hindoo religion were pervaded with the oriental and 
 somewhat mystical conception of a Trinity. In the Vedas, 
 Agni, Indra, and Surya constitute the triad : in the later 
 Hindoo religion, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva form the Trinity, 
 So that we may fairly conclude that more than half of the 
 inhabitants of Alexandria at that period were Trinitarians 
 of some description or other. It was natural that such a 
 doctrine should have possessed a profound interest for 
 such Greeks as were admirers and disciples of the philo- 
 sophy of Plato, who, with his three principles of God, 
 Matter, and Ideas, may be said himself to have been in 
 some measure a Trinitarian. So that, what with their 
 master's ideas and the Trinitarian atmosphere in which they 
 were living, it was no wonder if the majority of the Neo- 
 Platonists rapidly absorbed the doctrine of a Trinity, and 
 that, in consequence, their philosophy was somewhat per- 
 vaded with Mysticism. The three principal Neo-Platonists 
 were Plotinus, Porphyry, and Proclus. But there were 
 others who, though of inferior interest, are yet of sufficient 
 importance to merit some slight notice here. 
 
 In addition to the Greeks and Hindoos, there was a 
 large Jewish population inhabiting Alexandria at this 
 period. A Jewish temple had been erected by permission, 
 and the Jewish Scriptures translated into Greek. And it 
 was a Jew, Philo by name, who by some authorities is 
 considered to rank as the founder of the Neo-Platonic 
 philosophy, although by others that place is assigned to 
 Ammonius Saccas, who lived nearly two hundred years 
 after the time of Philo. Whether, however, Philo be the- 
 founder of Neo-Platonism or not, he certainly may be con- 
 sidered as one of those who in no small degree opened the 
 way up to that philosophy; and is, moreover, sufficiently 
 
238 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 Pantheistic in his tenets to deserve some slight mention in 
 a treatise of this description. 
 
 Philo, the Alexandrian Jew, lived in the time of the 
 Emperor Caligula, to whom he was sent upon an embassy 
 for the purpose of reporting the state of his countrymen 
 in Egypt. But with the exception of the details of the 
 embassy which were related by himself, there are very few 
 particulars of his life that have descended to us. He seems 
 to have been a strict Monotheist, a sincere and earnest 
 believer in the truth of the Hebrew Scriptures, but, at the 
 same time, wholly free from the narrowness and exclusive- 
 ness natural to such a belief. Living and mixing in daily 
 contact, as he did, with the Egyptians, Greeks, and Hin- 
 doos, it was natural, perhaps, he should ask himself whether 
 of all religions the Hebrew should be in reality the only 
 true religion ; whether every other but this were wholly 
 and entirely false ; whether only one small portion of the 
 world — the Jewish — were to be saved, and every other to 
 perish everlastingly. And the answer he returned to such 
 enquiries was of such a description as to lead him to 
 acknowledge a profound reverence for the religions of the 
 Egyptian and Hindoo, and an equally profound reverence 
 for the wisdom of the Greek. He believed that each and 
 all of them were inspired with a divine Word or Logos 
 which was leading them up to Itself : teaching them to 
 shun the Evil and seek the Good. Philo's occupation did 
 not consist in seeking to investigate the universe, and only 
 in a secondary degree did it even consist in investigating 
 knowledge or learning of any description. He was not 
 a philosopher ; he was a theosopher. Or, it may be, 
 theosophy with him included philosophy. His soul was 
 wholly absorbed in the contemplation of God. He beheld 
 Him in all the works of Nature, but even more clearly in 
 the mind of man. According to Draper, he taught * that 
 the world is the chief angel, or first son of God ; he com- 
 bines all the powers of God into one Force, the Logos or 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 239 
 
 holy Word ; the highest powers being creative wisdom and 
 governing mercy. From this are emitted all the mundane 
 forces ; and since God cannot do evil, the existence of evil 
 in the world must be imputed to these emanating forces. 
 It is very clear, therefore, that though Philo declined 
 oriental Pantheism, he laid his foundation on the oriental 
 theory of emanation.*^ 
 
 A philosopher somewhat resembling Philo in his prin- 
 ciples, though living nearly two centuries afterwards, was 
 Numenius the Pythagorean. There is the same sort of 
 large-hearted tolerance and admiration of the thoughts and 
 religions of alien nations — a tolerance that amounted at 
 times to a kind of eclecticism. He did not believe that 
 different nations had different gods. There was but One 
 God displaying himself equally through the wisdom of a 
 philosopher or the religion and devotion of a theosopher ; 
 through the higher thoughts of the Hindoo as much as in 
 the higher actions of the Greek. ' What is Plato,' he says, 
 ' but Moses talking Attic* He believes that there is * One 
 Being who is fixed and eternal, ever the same in Itself and 
 in the same ; hath never perished, or increased, or de- 
 creased ; is susceptible of no accidents, or movement, or 
 locality.' He believed, however, that this One God was 
 constituted of three portions or principles : the first of 
 which was Reason ; the second the principle of becoming ; 
 and the third was God, who was formed of the other two 
 portions. To quote his own words as given in Mr. 
 Maurice's account of him :^ ' The primary or highest God, 
 being in himself, is altogether simple, conversing altogether 
 with himself, nowise to be divided. But the God who is 
 second and third is one. Moving about, however, in matter 
 which is dual, he unites it, and yet is divided by it : seeing 
 that it is fluxional, and hath a certain appetitive character. 
 Therefore, not being in direct communication with the 
 
 * 'Intellectual Development of Europe,' vol, i. p. 210. 
 
 * * Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy,' vol. i. p. 303. 
 
240 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 purely noetic — for so he would be wholly occupied with 
 himself — by looking upon matter, he becomes occupied 
 with that, and, as it were, unobservant, of himself. And 
 he touches and deals with that which is sensible, and draws 
 it up into his own proper character, stretching himself out 
 to (or with a view to stretch himself out so as to take up) 
 the material.' He afterwards goes on to distinguish 
 between the primary God and the Demiurgus or Creator. 
 * The first must be looked upon as the father of the second, 
 for of Him, the primary Being, it would be impious to 
 predicate any activity. The primary God must be free from 
 all works, and a king. But the Demiurgus must exercise 
 government going through the heavens. Through him 
 comes this our condition ; through him Reason, being sent 
 down in transit or efflux to hold communion with all that 
 are prepared for it. God, then, looking down and turning 
 Himself to each of us, it comes to pass that our bodies live 
 and are nourished, receiving strength from the outer rays 
 that come from Him. But when God turns us to the con- 
 templation of Himself, it comes to pass that these things 
 are worn out and consumed, but that the Reason lives, 
 being made partaker of a blessed life.' 
 
 The doctrines of Numenius led in a great degree up to 
 the doctrines of Ammonius Saccas, who by some is con- 
 sidered to be the founder of the Neo-Platonic philosophy. 
 Ammonius Saccas is chiefly known through his disciple 
 Plotinus. Of himself we know but little. He left no writings 
 behind him ; he invariably taught in secret, and always 
 extracted a vow from those who listened to his lectures 
 that the nature of his doctrine should not be divulged. 
 
 While Ammonius was lecturing in Alexandria there 
 came to it a young man in the twenty-seventh year of his 
 age, who was possessed of an earnest desire and craving 
 for wisdom. He had been from school to school, and from 
 doctor to doctor, but with no success. He confided his 
 disappointment to some friend, who advised him to try 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 24 1 
 
 and see if the lectures of Ammonius would prove more 
 satisfactory than had those of the former teachers. The 
 young man gladly followed this advice, and at the very 
 first lecture he attended, he exclaimed, ' This is the man 
 for whom I was seeking ! ' 
 
 The name of this young student was Plotinus. He was 
 an Egyptian, born about A.D. 204. He remained a pupil 
 of Ammonius for eleven years, at the end of which period 
 he entered the army of the Emperor Gordianus, which was 
 then on its way to Persia, in order that he might be able to 
 acquaint himself with the science of the Magians. After 
 the Emperor had been slain in Mesopotamia, Plotinus 
 escaped with some difficulty to Antioch, and in his fortieth 
 year (during the reign of the Emperor Philip) went to 
 Rome, where he set up a philosophical school. He did not 
 begin to write till he was fifty years old, and his style is, 
 in consequence, somewhat heavy and incomprehensible, 
 thereby making a doctrine that was in itself sufficiently 
 mystical and obscure appear very confusing indeed. The 
 great desire of his soul was for union with God ; and to 
 become united to God it was, he thought, essential to be 
 like God ; and it is only by virtues that the human nature 
 can be assimilated with the Divine. But yet he could not 
 help asking himself whether a divine being like God could 
 be possessed of human virtues. How could God be coura- 
 geous, for instance, when there was nothing to fear > How 
 could He be unselfish when there was nothing to desire ? 
 Plotinus was a firm believer in the Oriental idea of a Trinity, 
 the first principle of which was, according to his view, the 
 One, or the Prime Essence ; the second was the Reason * 
 and the third was the Soul. Reason, he believed, issues 
 from the One, and the Soul issues from Reason. And in 
 this way he was led to conceive that though virtues might 
 not be possessed by God, yet they might nevertheless issue 
 from Him ; in the same way, for instance, as it is not ab- 
 solutely necessary to suppose that a substance from which 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 heat has issued is of itself conscious of the sensation of 
 heat. Plotinus thinks this illustration may suggest another 
 inference, viz., that the heat is innate in that which com- 
 municates the heat ; derivative in that which receives it. 
 And in like manner there ought to be, if not virtue itself, 
 something higher than virtue in Him from whom man pro- 
 ceeds. So that though there may be no need of what we 
 call virtue in God, the possession of virtue may nevertheless 
 be that which shall lead to the union of the human nature 
 with that which is divine. Few men felt more deeply than 
 did Plotinus the exceeding sinfulness of sin. He loathed 
 it ; he was oppressed by it, he longed to escape from it 
 He could not tell whence it came. Was it positive, or was 
 it only a failure and eclipse of good ? Did it belong to 
 matter, or did it pertain to the soul ? For a long time he 
 seems to be in perplexity. In spite of his dislike and con- 
 tempt for the body he cannot quite agree with the Gnostics 
 in believing matter to be entirely the origin of evil. He 
 cannot deem this world evil, since it is the work of God. 
 * The men,' he says, ' who complain of the nature of the 
 world know not what they are doing and whither their 
 boldness is carrying them. This is because they know not 
 the arrangement of the different portions of the order of the 
 world, its first, and second, and third degrees, down to the 
 lowest of all, and that it does not become us to find fault 
 with those things that are worse than the first, but meekly 
 to conform ourselves to the universal nature, pressing on 
 still towards the best, and casting aside those empty terrors, 
 such as some are possessed with, when they contemplate 
 the great circles of the world which in truth are procuring 
 all blessings to them.' Nothing, then, is of itself evil. All 
 things are evil only so far as they fall out of their proper 
 order and place. Plotinus, however, did not spend his life 
 very consistently with his doctrine. It is quite true, indeed, 
 that man is possessed of a soul ; and if he permit his soul 
 and intellectual life to be subordinated to his ph}^sical life 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 243 
 
 he is in reality falling out of his proper order ; he is ceasing 
 to be a man and is degenerating into an animal. Yet, if 
 he has a soul, he has also a body ; and to wholly neglect 
 this body is as much falling out of the divine order as to 
 wholly neglect the soul. There is little doubt that Plotinus, 
 in his anxiety to escape from matter, and become as God, 
 neglected his body to such an extent that his mind became 
 utterly diseased ; and if he had lived in these days he would 
 scarcely have been considered sane. It is said by some 
 that he believed he had been united to God six times in 
 sixty years. But according to others Plotinus only claimed 
 to have been united to the perfect and absolute One two 
 or three times. The other occasions it was only some 
 daemon or inferior god he was enabled to contemplate. He 
 carried idealism to its extremest point. ' Sensuous life/ 
 he said, 'is a mere stage-play; all the misery in it is merely 
 imaginary ; all grief a mere cheat of the players. The soul 
 is not in the game ; it looks on, while nothing more than 
 the external phantom weeps and laments.' He believed 
 that the great aim and goal of existence was to draw the 
 soul from the contemplation of external things, and, sepa- 
 rating it from individual consciousness, pass into a state 
 of ecstacy, which is the only state in which it is pos- 
 sible for man to become really united to God, who is the 
 one and absolutely perfect Being. When entreated to give 
 his permission to have a portrait taken of himself he re- 
 plied, * Is it not humiliating enough to have to carry about 
 a shadow with me, without having a shadow made of that 
 shadow.^* He was attacked with a pestilence which pre- 
 vailed in Italy, and lost the use of his hands and feet as 
 well as of his voice ; but he persisted in rejecting all reme- 
 dies, all alleviations — his sufferings thereby being terribly 
 aggravated. A few moments before his death he said, ' I 
 am striving to bring the divine thing which is in us to the 
 divine which is in the universe.' 
 
 When Plotinus was nearly sixty years of age Porphyry 
 R 2 
 
244 GREEK PANTHEISM, 
 
 became his disciple ; it was to Porphyry that Plotinus 
 committed the arrangement of his books ; and almost all 
 our knowledge of Plotinus comes through Porphyry, who 
 considers himself far inferior to his master. He declares 
 that nothing could more distinctly prove the superiority his 
 master had over himself than the fact that he, Porphyry, 
 had been only united to God once in eighty-six years; 
 whereas his master Plotinus had been united six times in 
 sixty years. Indeed, it is evident that Porphyry regarded 
 his master as endowed with altogether supernatural powers. 
 He tells us that a man of the name of Olympius, an Alex- 
 andrian by birth, was for a short time a disciple of Ammo- 
 nius Saccas, and, aspiring himself to the first dignity in 
 philosophy, affected to become a despiser of Plotinus. But 
 when Olympius strove to crush him with magical arts he 
 found his experiments turned upon himself. For the soul of 
 Plotinus had such power that his limbs became contracted; 
 and whatever magical tortures he might devise for Plotinus 
 became so instantly experienced by himself, that he could 
 not doubt that Plotinus was possessed of supernatural 
 and magical powers to no common degree. Porphyry 
 seems to start from the assumption that there are a multi- 
 tude of gods and daemons ; and he devotes a good deal of 
 time and space to the distinction existing between these 
 gods ; why some are benevolent and others malevolent, 
 whether they are with or without passions. He draws a 
 distinction between gods, daemons, and souls. Was it true, 
 as it then was becoming the custom to believe, that the 
 gods were possessed of ethereal bodies, daemons of aerial, 
 and souls of terrestrial ? How can the appearance of a god, 
 a daemon, and a soul be distinguished the one from the 
 other } For the very highest gods are presented to us in 
 images or sensible forms. These questions he believes to 
 be of the utmost importance, inasmuch as the knowledge of 
 the gods is the highest of all blessings, and ignorance of 
 them the greatest of all curses. In a letter to an Egyptian 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 245 
 
 who was named Anebon, Porphyry asks to be informed 
 of the mysteries of the Egyptian religion — whether the 
 Egyptians consider the First Cause Nous, or something 
 above it ; whether it is above or united with any other or 
 others ; whether it is corporeal or incorporeal ; whether it 
 is the same with Demiurgus or before him. Next he desires 
 to hear about the daemon who belongs to each man, whe- 
 ther he is an efflux, or a life, or a power. Are there different 
 daemons, one presiding over our health, another over beauty, 
 and so forth ? The person who answered these questions 
 of Porphyry was not Anebon, but the teacher of Anebon, 
 one who calls himself Abammon ; who, it has been stated, 
 was in reality lamblichus, who ultimately became the head 
 and representative of that division of the Neo-Platonists 
 which made Theurgy an essential part of philosophy. The 
 whole question of Porphyry respecting the ethereal, aerial, 
 and terrestrial gods is thrown aside with indignation and 
 contempt ; all such corporeal divisions and limitations being 
 utterly inconsistent with the divine nature. All things 
 are full of the gods. The Divinity illuminates heaven and 
 earth, holy cities and places, divine shrines, just as the sun 
 illuminates all the corners of the entire universe. 
 
 lamblichus fully admits the assertion of Porphyry that 
 knowledge of the gods is the highest of all blessings and 
 ignorance of them the greatest curse ; but in order to have 
 a right knowledge of God there must be a communion 
 with Him : souls have a twofold relation-— one to the Di- 
 vinity, one to the body. Those who obtain the divine 
 life may touch fire and not be burnt ; may be struck with 
 axes and knives on their backs and arms, and not perceive 
 it ; they may trample on fire or walk through water. This 
 divine enthusiasm must not be called ecstacy, for it not 
 merely carries the mind away, it translates it to something 
 altogether higher. The true enthusiasm does not come 
 from soul or body ; it is wholly divine. The man who has 
 it is simply possessed by the gods. Abammon next enters 
 
246 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 somewhat at large upon the subject of sacrifice. Different 
 kinds of sacrifices correspond to the different kinds of the 
 gods, to the character and state of the worshipper, to the 
 threefold division of human life — into the purely intellec- 
 tua], the physical, and that which is compounded of both. 
 Seeing that there is this proportion and relation, there 
 must be a theurgic science to ascertain the number and 
 orders of the gods, and the sacrifice which is appropriate to 
 each. The greatest damage may accrue to man from 
 leaving any one of the superior beings unheeded, or not 
 heeded in his own proper method. Then comes out what 
 Mr. Maurice has very rightly called ' the very essence of the 
 whole Neo-Platonic philosophy.' Might not the sacrifices 
 be better if they were directed to the One, and if in Him 
 all the various substances and powers were worshipped 
 together .•' Undoubtedly it would be much better if this 
 could be done. But such a possibility comes very late and 
 only to a very few. A man may be grateful if it happens 
 to him at the end of his life. Entering in reply to Por- 
 phyry's question respecting the notion of a primary cause, 
 Abammon declares that there is one God, before all the 
 substances and principalities of the world, earlier than the 
 first god and being, remaining unmoved in the singleness of 
 his own unity. For neither is the intellectual interwoven 
 with him nor anything else. He is his own archetype — his 
 own Father — begotten from himself — the Good. He is the 
 fountain of all things, the root of all intelligible forms. He 
 is the beginning and God of gods ; a monad out of the one, 
 the first substance, and the beginning of substance. lam- 
 blichus concludes his treatise by declaring how high and 
 pure are the motives of the Theurgist. The Theurgist 
 finds man fallen from the vision of God. He knows that 
 man can only be blessed by recovering that vision : his 
 whole business is, therefore, to lead him up by gradual steps 
 till he connects his spirit, freed from all matter, with the 
 eternal word. The perfect good is God himself ; and the 
 good of man is unity with God. 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 247 
 
 We have necessarily given but a very scanty outline of 
 this celebrated treatise. If the present work were a com- 
 plete History of Pantheism, instead of only a rapid sketch, 
 we might fill many pages with the questions and answers 
 which were discussed between Porphyry and Abammon. As 
 it is, however, space forbids us devoting more time to this 
 subject. 
 
 Enough has been said already to show that though the 
 Neo-Platonists were as Pantheistic in their ideas as the 
 Eleatics, yet Pantheistic theology had taken the place 
 of Pantheistic philosophy, and that consequently the Neo- 
 Platonic Pantheism was so overlaid with mysticism, thau- 
 maturgy, and obscurity that it becomes at times very 
 bewildering and incomprehensible. 
 
 There is one more Neo-Platonist of whom we have as 
 yet made little or no mention. By many he is considered 
 to be the most capable and able of the whole body, and to 
 whom the remaining portion of this chapter will, therefore, 
 be devoted. 
 
 Proclus was born at Constantinople, A.D. 412, just one 
 year before the death of the unfortunate Hypatia ; and 
 being terrified at her tragical fate, he was determined to 
 prosecute a system of secrecy, in compliance with which 
 measure he adopted the moral maxim of ' Live concealed.' 
 In spite of all his caution, however, the Christians succeeded 
 in expelling him from Athens. With Proclus, indeed, 
 ancient philosophy may be said to be slowly breathing its 
 last, until within a very few short years after his death it 
 finally expired. The Christians were rapidly becoming so 
 powerful and so political a sect that every system of doc- 
 trine which clashed with their own they were enabled 
 forcibly to crush out, and, in consequence, no doctrine con- 
 sidered to be at divergence with the teaching of the Church 
 was allowed so much as to be mooted. 
 
 Proclus was intensely devoted to Plato, regarding his 
 works, indeed, almost with the same devotion with which 
 the works of the Early Fathers were regarded by the 
 
248 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 majority of Christians. He boldly declared that the pre- 
 servation of the sacred Platonical oracles, and the handing 
 of them down from age to age, was in itself a demonstration 
 of the existence of Providence, even were every other 
 demonstration of that fact wanting. 
 
 There are three treatises by Proclus, the original of 
 which is lost, but the substance of them is preserved in a 
 Latin translation by a Corinthian archbishop ; and almost 
 within our own time the philosophy has been rendered 
 tolerably well known through the high eulogium bestowed 
 upon it by M. Victor Cousin. 
 
 In common with the majority of the Neo-Platonists, 
 Proclus believed in a Trinity. * There are three substances/ 
 he says, ' in the noetic and hidden gods. The first is de- 
 noted by Goodness, the second by Wisdom, the third by 
 the Beautiful. Corresponding to these noetic principles 
 there subsist three monads, dwelling together when con- 
 templated as the principle or cause of noetic things in one 
 form or kind, but first of all shining forth in the unspeak- 
 able order of the gods as Faith, Truth, Love. Faith, that 
 establisheth all things and settleth it in the Good ; Truth, 
 that unfolds all the knowledge that is in any beings ; Love, 
 that converteth all things and draweth them into the 
 nature of the Good ; and this Triad proceedeth forth to all 
 the orders of gods, and causeth the unity so to shine forth 
 as to come within the scope of Intelligence ; but in each 
 order it has a different manifestation, uniting its own 
 power with the idiosyncrasies of the gods. For all things, 
 says the oracle, in these three are governed and are ; and 
 for that reason the gods command the Theurgists by these 
 three to unite themselves to the God.' 
 
 The connection of Proclus with Pantheism may, we 
 think, be seen through his speculations upon the absorption 
 and re-absorption of the soul into the Divine essence ; yet 
 it is right to remark that in the opinion of many (notably 
 Mr. Maurice) Proclus was not a Pantheist in the ordinary 
 
THK NEO-PLATONISTS. 249 
 
 sense of the word. ' It is the great redeeming point in 
 Proclus/ says Mr. Maurice/ *that while he looks upon the 
 search for absolute unity as the search of the philosopher, 
 he does not willingly reduce this unity into a dead abstrac- 
 tion — that he tries to identify it with a living Being. The 
 effort is unspeakably difficult to him, for the Creator of the 
 universe — and he fully admits a Creator of the universe — 
 must, he thinks, be secondary and inferior to the one pure, 
 unutterable essence. To mix Him with his works or even 
 with any working is a kind of impiety. Hence .... 
 the primitive and eternal Nous soars above all the efficient 
 and energising gods j a vision of supreme goodness rises 
 above even that ; a transcendent unity is still perceivable 
 through this Goodness. Through tiers of beings does the 
 poor overwhelmed seeker ascend towards this distant efful- 
 gence ; or is it an opaque substance from which all effulgence 
 has departed > And the while he feels as if this myste- 
 rious unity could not be far from him, as if it were implied 
 in all he speaks or does, as if it were pre-supposed in the 
 multitude of things which his eye beholds, still more in 
 every act of his mind when he thinks of those things. He 
 feels also as if the Absolute and Eternal One must in a 
 direct and mysterious way be acting upon him, and as if 
 there must be some nearer passage to it than through those 
 orders of beings who, howsoever his intellect may arrange 
 and compose them, introduce plurality into his thoughts, 
 and disturb his efforts to dwell in a region that is above 
 it' 
 
 M. Cousin seems to think Proclus absorbed into his 
 system all the best parts of every philosophical system, thus 
 making him out to be a sort of Eclectic. He believes that, 
 nothing great was thought out by lamblichus, Porphyry, 
 or Plotinus, either in ethics, metaphysics, or in physics, 
 which is not found expressed more clearly and methodically 
 in Proclus. M. Cousin does not merely put Proclus at the 
 
 * 'Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy,* vol. i. p. 387. 
 
250 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 head of the Neo-Platonists, but he thinks he was superior 
 to Aristotle and Plato, Pythagoras and Zeno. He believes 
 he should be considered as the one interpreter of the whole 
 philosophy of the Greeks. 
 
 This is very high praise, and, as we venture to think, 
 very exaggerated praise. It is possible that of the Neo- 
 Platonic system Proclus may be reckoned the ablest and 
 best expounder ; but to reckpn him above Aristotle, Plato, 
 and the Stoics is surely unjust, and in our opinion each and 
 every one of the Eleatics is superior to any of the Neo- 
 Platonists. 
 
 Like Plotinus, Proclus occupied himself deeply with the 
 consideration and investigation of the nature of evil. 
 Does evil exist, or does it not.? If it does exist, does 
 it inhabit things intellectual, or things material .'* ' Of all 
 things,' he says, ' it would seem to be the most difficult to 
 know the nature of Evil in itself, seeing that all knowledge 
 is the knowledge of species or form. But Evil is without 
 form, and, so to speak, privation. Perhaps, however, we 
 may arrive at some satisfaction on this point, too, by con- 
 templating Good in itself, and the nature of things which 
 are good. For as the primary Good is beyond and above 
 all things, so Evil in itself is that which is divested of all 
 good. In so far as it is evil it is the defect and privation of 
 this. In what wise Good subsists, and what degrees it has, 
 has been set forth elsewhere. But Evil as Evil is that 
 which is separated from the fountain of Good, separated in 
 so far as it is objectless and vague from the primary object ; 
 in so far as it is weakness, from the power which dwells in 
 that object ; in so far as it is want of harmony, falsehood, 
 or baseness, from beauty and truth, and that by which 
 things are united ; in so far as it is restless and unstable, 
 from the abiding and eternal unity ; in so far as it is pri- 
 vation and unvitality, from the first Monad and the life 
 which is in it ; in so far as it tends to corrupt, and divide, 
 and make imperfect, the things with which it hath to do. 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 25 I 
 
 from the goodness which is bringing the universe to per- 
 fection. For the corruptive draws from that which is to 
 that which is not ; the divisive destroys the continuity and 
 union of being ; the imperfect takes from each thing the 
 perfection and order which belongs to its own nature.' 
 
 This description of the nature of evil appears to us to 
 be singularly clear and accurate. It does not, of course, 
 give any satisfactory explanation of the origin of evil, 
 which, after all, is the explanation most desired. It only 
 describes the nature of evil, and leaves the origin entirely 
 untouched. It informs us that evil in itself consists 
 of negation and privation of good. Why and wherefore 
 such negation and privation should exist it does not 
 determine. 
 
 Throughout this sketch we have always represented 
 Pantheism to be the strictest Monotheism, and it may, 
 therefore, be objected that in calling the Neo-Platonists 
 Pantheists, we have been somewhat inconsistent with our 
 own doctrine, when nearly every one of the Neo-Platonists 
 speaks of * the gods.' When Porphyry and Plotinus speak 
 of the whole world as being full of the gods, when lam- 
 blichus lays down certain rules for propitiating the gods, 
 what kind of sacrifice should be paid to each particular 
 god, &c., 'Surely,' objectors may exclaim, 'this is not Mono- 
 theism, but Polytheism as pronounced as the Polytheism 
 of Greek mythology.* 
 
 The objection is natural and plausible. Yet upon con- 
 sideration it will be found that, though the majority of the 
 Neo-Platonists believed in a plurality of gods, they did not 
 in the least resemble the Greek mythologists. If they 
 resembled any system at all they resembled that as set 
 forth by the Vedas ; but even this -resemblance is not a 
 very accurate one. The Early Greeks were Polytheists in 
 the most comprehensive sense of the word. They believed 
 in a plurality of gods, each of which was perfectly inde- 
 pendent of the others ; all or, at all events, the majority of 
 
252 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 them, warring against each other, deceiving each other, 
 and each of them capable of doing actions of which the 
 others had no cognisance. No such Polytheism is to be 
 found either in the Vedas or in the philosophy of the 
 Neo-Platonists. In the Vedas a multitude of gods are 
 invoked, it is true, but they are but different names for 
 one and the same God. No one god is independent of the 
 other ; no deception is supposed to take place between any 
 of them. Even in the later and more debased forms of 
 Brahmanism, the same belief in the One for the most 
 part prevails. Brahma, Siva, Vishnu, take the place of 
 Indra, Agni, and Surya. But it is felt they are but dif- 
 ferent names for the One, who manifests himself in a 
 variety of forms, this One being called indifferently Aditi 
 or Daksha. 
 
 Now, with the Neo-Platonists there is not any kind of 
 representation of one God under different names, but a 
 very clear and explicit acknowledgment of a belief in a 
 variety of gods. Plotinus at one time believes himself 
 to have been united to the superior god, at other times 
 to inferior gods ; and it is quite natural, therefore, that 
 to the ordinary observer Neo-Platonlsm should seem a 
 species of Polytheistic philosophy. Yet, if it be remem- 
 bered what Pantheism really and truly is, we think we 
 shall be exonerated from any unfairness in having de- 
 scribed the Neo-Platonists as being as Pantheistic in their 
 tenets as the Eleatics. For Pantheism is that doctrine 
 which identifies God with the entire universe, which beholds 
 Him in the movement of the tiniest insect or in the lustre 
 of the brilliant gem ; in the mind of a Socrates or in the 
 brain of a Newton. In the philosophy of the Neo-Pla- 
 tonists there was a large and unfortunate intermixture of 
 mysticism ; a strange, wild belief in miracles and ecsta- 
 tical visions ; and the aid of thaumaturgy and theurgy 
 were widely employed. But though we may justly deplore 
 this adulteration and degeneration, it in nowise detracts 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 253 
 
 from the Pantheism inherent in the philosophy. In that 
 system there was but one God — absolute, incomprehen- 
 sible, though comprehending all within Himself. The 
 other gods were daemons, inferior spirits. Once assuming 
 the existence of these daemons, it was not more difficult 
 to imagine God disclosing Himself through the form of 
 these daemons than it was through the intellect of a 
 Socrates. Socrates (or rather, in the opinion of the Neo- 
 Platonists, it might be more appropriate to say Plato) had 
 a larger proportion of the Divinity than an ordinary man, 
 an animal, or plant. Why might not the daemons in their 
 turn be possessed of a larger portion of the Divinity than 
 even a Socrates or Plato ? The Neo-Platonists devoted 
 the greater portion of their thoughts and time to seeking 
 for an acquaintance and communion with God, and they 
 believed they had attained the desired consummation when 
 they fell into a trance or state of ecstacy ; this ecstacy or 
 enthusiastic frenzy being in their opinion a sign that they 
 were possessed with God. If this enthusiasm could be 
 carried to a rare and extreme point, then the Neo-Pla- 
 tonists believed themselves to be more than merely pos- 
 sessed with God. They believed themselves to be united 
 to God, to be absorbed into His essence ; in a word, to be 
 God. The only way they could gain any real communion 
 with God was to become God. 
 
 That such a doctrine is wild and mystical, and argues 
 a great falling off from the philosophical investigation of 
 the Eleatics, we readily admit ; but still we shall be doing 
 them an injustice if we represent the Neo-Platonists as 
 being in any sort or degree believers in Polytheism, They 
 were the strictest Monotheists. They did not even believe 
 in dualism, as do the majority of sects calling themselves 
 Monotheists ; evil with them was no positive creation of 
 a malignant fiend seeking to thwart the good intentions 
 of the Creator. It was but a negation, a privation of that 
 which was good. Men were happy and virtuous when God 
 
254 GREEK PANTHEISM. 
 
 gazed upon them ; if He withdrew that gaze they became 
 vicious and miserable. The more they were possessed 
 with God the happier and better they became. Nature 
 was arranged in a scale of degrees. The lower the or- 
 ganism, the less was it possessed with God ; the higher the 
 organism, the greater was the possession. Even with the 
 dsemons there was the same order and scale of degrees. 
 Some daemons were possessed with God in a less degree 
 than others were ; and those who were possessed but of a 
 comparatively small portion of Him became the inferior 
 gods or daemons, while those who were endowed with a 
 larger proportion became the superior gods or daemons ; 
 and such as were quite perfect and cleansed from all sin 
 became united with the God ; separated from matter, losing 
 all personality and individuality, they became absorbed in 
 the divine essence, they became parts and portions of the 
 Universal Soul of the entire universe. 
 
 Such is a brief sketch of the Neo-Platonic philosophy. 
 With Proclus we bid farewell to any study or investigation 
 of philosophy for wellnigh eleven hundred years. Men 
 will be no longer seekers for wisdom ; they will scarcely 
 even be seekers for God. They will believe that both God 
 and Wisdom had been miraculously revealed to them, and 
 that in that revelation was included all science, all philo- 
 sophy, all learning. They will believe that any attempt at 
 investigation either of philosophy or science would be a 
 terrible act of impiety, punishable with torture and death 
 in this world, eternal torments in the next. The few 
 great intellects that manage to struggle into existence 
 through all this chaos of dogmatic ignorance will be forced 
 to confine their dialectical subtlety to one dreary and unpro- 
 ductive occupation — that of trying to extract different in- 
 terpretations from one and the same relation ; and, for the 
 most part, regarding all those who ventured to differ from 
 their particular interpretation with a virulence and rancour 
 amounting at times to actual deeds of murder and outrage. 
 
THE NEO-PLATONISTS. 255 
 
 Reason has been dethroned, and Faith has usurped her 
 place. Most unfortunate has been this dethronement ; most 
 unhappy will be the fruits of this usurpation. If Reason 
 had been an unsatisfactory sovereign, at least she was an 
 honest one ; tolerant, moreover, and merciful. The diffi- 
 culty of coming to any right conclusion herself had made 
 her lenient to the errors and confusions of others. Faith, 
 on the contrary, having authority for its basis, felt no 
 confusion, was conscious of no errors. A system of rigid 
 dogmatism was in consequence instituted, and a religion, 
 in its nature and very essence purer and more tender, and, 
 at the same time, more lofty and sublime, than any that 
 had before or since appeared, became degraded into a 
 system of priestcraft, superstition, and heartless, blood- 
 thirsty bigotry. 
 
BOOK THE THIRD 
 
 MODERN PANTHEISM 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
The All-embracing, All-sustaining One, 
 Say, doth He not embrace, sustain, include 
 Thee ? me ? Himself? Bends not the sky above ? 
 And earth, on which we are, is it not firm ? 
 And over us, with constant kindly smile, 
 
 The sleepless stars keep everlasting watch 
 
 And does not All — that is, 
 
 Seen and unseen, mysterious All — 
 
 Around thee and within, 
 
 Untiring agency, 
 
 Press on thy heart and mind ? 
 
 Fill thy whole heart with it — and when thou art 
 
 Lost in the consciousness of happiness — 
 
 Then call it what thou wilt, 
 
 Happiness ! heart ! Love ! God ! 
 
 I have no name for it ! 
 
 Anster^s translation of Goetk^s ^ Faust. ^ 
 
 If God be outside the physical universe, those extended ideas of its vast- 
 ness which modern science opens to us remove Him further and further from 
 us ; yet if He be embodied in it, every such extension enlarges our notion of 
 His being. — Dr. Carpentei^s ^ Mental Physiology ^^ p. 708. 
 
259 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DIGRESSION ON THE PAGANISATION OF CHRISTIANITY, 
 AND CONSEQUENT DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 
 
 The last book was, in its earlier portion, devoted to 
 giving a somewhat detailed account of the manner in which 
 the Greeks had set themselves to seriously study and in- 
 vestigate the order of physical phenomena in general ; and 
 to the consideration of the means by which they endea- 
 voured to ascertain and discover the First Principle and 
 Cause of all things. It next proceeded to show how, fail- 
 ing in this attempt, these early philosophers subsequently 
 occupied themselves with the consideration of subjects 
 ethical and philosophical ; how, in order to assist them in 
 their ethical and philosophical studies, they called in the 
 aid of Reason ; and how, after all their strivings and endea- 
 vours, they were compelled to admit that Reason had 
 proved scarcely a more satisfactory teacher than Sense had 
 done. They were forced to the conclusion that though six 
 hundred years had been spent in the prosecution and in- 
 vestigation of truth, truth itself had managed to elude 
 their grasp, and was as far away from them as ever. 
 
 In the earlier part of the present book we shall have to 
 consider of the manner in which the Europeans occupied 
 themselves with the inquiry into the nature of God and of 
 Being. We shall have to show that the sole criterion of 
 truth they employed was one of authority ; which authority 
 was first that of the Holy Scriptures, but which was after- 
 wards almost entirely superseded by that of the different 
 
26o MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Councils. We shall have to relate how completely the 
 teachmg of Christ became paganised and perverted ; and 
 how inr consequence there was a general decay of philosophy 
 of any description, and little or nothing of Pantheistic doc- 
 trine. What little there was of Pantheism partook of the 
 nature of theology, and had nothing to do with philosophy ; 
 but even of Pantheistic theology there was but a very small 
 amount. How, indeed, could the Middle Age Christians 
 be Pantheists, when they were Polytheists i* — Polytheists, 
 not in the vague, superficial, merely outward form of Neo- 
 Platonism or the Vedas, but Polytheists in the fullest and 
 most comprehensive sense of the word ; Polytheists as 
 much as the believers in the early Greek mythology were 
 Polytheists. Nay, more so. For the Christians were much 
 more earnest and sincere in the manner of their belief than 
 were the Greeks. 
 
 We doubt whether the Greeks even cared enough for 
 their religion to suffer or die for it. We think it quite open 
 to question whether they were not more than half-conscious 
 that their gods and goddesses were little more than poetical 
 embodiments of their own fancy ; whether even in their 
 moments of greatest devotion they did not regard them 
 with less than the reverence a subject pays his sovereign, 
 less than the affection a patriot feels for his country. They 
 were willing at times to persecute those who ventured to 
 speak against their gods and goddesses, it is true. Yet these 
 persecutions were of very unfrequent occurrence. Con- 
 sidering how many and diverse were the number of philo- 
 sophical systems that were mooted, it is somewhat worthy 
 of remark how few were the philosophers who received any 
 persecution seriously worth the mention. The early Greeks 
 were tolerant because for the most part they were indif- 
 ferent. 
 
 The Christians, on the other hand, were intolerant ; 
 but they were most earnest, most sincere. With them there 
 was no such thing as half-belief. They died, and were 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 26 1 
 
 tortured, and siiffered imprisonment most willingly for their 
 religion.^ They sacrificed husband and wife, parents and 
 children, or even their greatest benefactor, for the sake of 
 their religion ; often for the sake of the most incompre- 
 hensible and (to the minds of us who are living in the 
 present day) utterly contemptible tenets of that religion. 
 
 The early Greeks may be compared to light-hearted 
 children playing with balls made by themselves out of 
 soap-bubbles ; enchanted with the radiant colours and per- 
 fect proportion of the form, yet not caring very much if 
 they fell to pieces — they could so easily blow fresh ones, 
 which if possible should be even more perfect in form, 
 more radiant in colour, than any of the preceding. Or, 
 again, the believer in Greek mythology may be likened 
 to a sunny, bright-haired little girl playing with a beauti- 
 ful doll ; nursing it, dressing it with pride and care, 
 even in a measure loving it, yet all the time more than 
 half-conscious that it was but a toy and not capable of 
 sensation. A new game, a treat, the promise of a story or 
 sugarplum will quickly make her forget it, leave it out in 
 the cold, or neglect it for days. She would not thus treat 
 a baby-brother, or sister ; not even a pet canary or kitten 
 would she treat in such manner. 
 
 * In fairness it must be admitted that if the Christians were cruelly perse- 
 cuted, and bore their suflferings most nobly (which is undoubtedly the case), 
 yet they themselves were by no means behindhand in returning such perse- 
 cutions with double interest whensoever they had the power. Nay, they were 
 not even content with punishing their adversaries in this world ; they gloated 
 over the idea of their sufferings in the next. 'How shall I admire, how laugh, 
 how gloat, how exult,' exclaims the stem TertuUian, 'when I behold so many 
 proud monarchs, so many fancied gods, groaning in the lowest abyss of dark- 
 ness ; so many magistrates who persecuted the name of the Lord liquefying in 
 fiercer fires than they ever kindled against the Christians ; so many sage 
 philosophers blushing in red-hot flames with their deluded scholars ; so many 
 celebrated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but of Christ ; 
 so many tragedians, so many dancers !' &c., &c. 
 
 Few illustrations could depict more strongly the strange manner in which 
 the teaching of the sect will deviate from the teaching of its founder, than a 
 comparison between the above quotation from TertuUian and the Sermon on 
 the Mount by the Divine Author of Christianity. 
 
262 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 But the believer in Christian polytheism may be likened 
 to a hideous, haggard idiot woman nursing a bundle of 
 filthy rags or dried sticks, pressing it to her withered breast, 
 firmly believing it to be her child; loving it, caressing 
 it, even depriving herself of her tattered cloak or shawl, 
 in order to provide it with warmth. 
 
 We confess it has always appeared to us that those who 
 sneer at the eccentricities and insanities of Mediaeval Chris- 
 tianity must be not only very superficial but very callous. 
 That period is too sad and wretched a period to be met 
 with by mere scoffs and scorn. For ourselves we confess 
 that after we have been perusing any accounts of the 
 Christian Middle Ages, we feel nearly the same intense 
 compassion we imagine we should feel if we were to be 
 taken through the wards of a lunatic or idiot asylum : a 
 deep, great pity for the sufferers themselves, and a sad 
 wonder why such sufferings should be permitted. 
 
 In this chapter we shall have to dilate somewhat largely 
 upon the depth of miserable degradation into which Chris- 
 tianity fell. We trust that by so doing we shall not un- 
 wittingly wound the consciences, or grate upon the feelings 
 of any who may have taken the trouble to have gone thus 
 far through our sketch. But it must be remembered that 
 it is the Latin, paganised form of Christianity we are con- 
 demning, and not the doctrine and teaching of Christ. For 
 such doctrine, as well as for the character of Christ, we 
 have nothing but intense reverent admiration, and earnest, 
 humble desire of imitation. For the most part, it is only in 
 the shallow, superficial philosophy of an eighteenth century 
 that there was found to be a voice presuming to question 
 the beauty and virtue of the character of Christ. In the 
 present century those in a much more advanced state of 
 unbelief than ourselves have never seemed for a moment to 
 question the purity of the character, the beauty of the teach- 
 ing. Thus, Renan describes his feehngs concerning Christ: 
 ' Before such a demigod as this we, in our feebleness, may 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 263 
 
 well fall down and worship.' So the author of ' Super- 
 natural Religion ' believes that, 'whatever may be the un- 
 looked-for phenomena of the future, Jesus will not be 
 surpassed.' So even Strauss confesses that in the character 
 of Christ ' were found a charity, a sweetness, and an all- 
 embracing love which have been as the germ out of which 
 all that we now call humanity has been developed.' If 
 such is the verdict of those who have principally occupied 
 themselves in writing against Christianity, and who are 
 self-acknowledged opponents of that faith, how much less 
 likely is it that one like ourself, born and bred in the Chris- 
 tian faith, and the majority of whose relations for many 
 generations have been clergymen of the Established Church 
 of England — how much less likely is it, we say, that such a 
 one should shake off all childish influences and hereditary 
 characteristics to such a degree as to scorn and condemn 
 that which every influence, whether inherited or educa- 
 tional, is prompting to grave and reverent admiration ? It 
 is not the teaching of Christ we are condemning, it is the 
 paganised perversion of that teaching. 
 
 In the introductory chapter of this sketch we stated our 
 belief that nearly the whole intellectual development of the 
 world consisted in the rise and acceptation of some great 
 religion, or system of philosophy, which was afterwards to 
 undergo a process of paganisation or perversion. Of course, 
 even in this process there would be saved some grains of 
 wheat among the chaff, else there had been no such thing 
 as progress or development in the whole world. But still, 
 broadly speaking and in general terms, we may state that 
 there had never been a grand religious or philosophical 
 system mooted which did not display a wonderful capability 
 of paganisation and perversion. Nay, we may even go 
 further, and declare our belief that the purer and sublimer 
 the religion or philosophy, the greater in all probability 
 would be the depths of the degradation into which it 
 would fall. 
 
264 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 The doctrine embodied in the Vedas was a very pure 
 and sublime religion ; and we have seen how quickly it 
 became perverted under the influences of Brahmanism. 
 But the doctrine of Christ was far purer and far more 
 sublime than was the doctrine of the Vedas. And the de- 
 gradation of Latinised Christianity was (shall we say in 
 consequence ?) far greater, far deeper than the degradation 
 of the Vedas effected by Brahmanism. There was nearly 
 the same amount of sacerdotalism displayed in both forms 
 of religious perversion. But Brahmanism was never guilty 
 of the fearful cruelties and tortures perpetrated by the 
 Christian Church. Foolish as were many of the Brah- 
 manical ceremonies, they certainly never exceeded, even 
 if they attained, such a pitch of insanity, or such an extent 
 of intellectual frenzy as displayed by those of the Christian 
 Church. It is all very well to plead as an excuse that 
 commentators or ill-natured critics were apt to mistake the 
 letter for the spirit, and to interpret what was in reality only 
 intended for symbolism in its most literal form. It is all 
 very well to plead as an excuse, for instance, that the 
 Roman Catholic idols, images, pictures, were but symbols, 
 and only intended to be understood allegorically. With 
 the minority it might be so. But if history ^ be even in 
 the- faintest degree reliable we cannot doubt that with the 
 majority these so-called ' symbols ' were real veritable idols, 
 demanding worship, and exacting homage and reverence. 
 There were idols of winking Virgins ; there were bleeding 
 Virgins ; there were Virgins who could weep. There were 
 evil spirits and demons without number ; and a supposed 
 piece of the Saviour's Cross was employed as a fetich to 
 exorcise demons or to prevent the assaults of evil spirits. 
 
 And yet, as we said before, we cannot sneer at or ridi- 
 cule these absurdities. The perpetrators were too sincere, 
 
 * The prevalence of idol-worship, during the period when the power of 
 Latinised Christianity was at its height, is powerfully described by Gibbon in 
 the 49th chapter of his ' Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.' 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 265 
 
 the times were too sad and earnest to be dismissed with a 
 sarcasm. It appears to us these times have never been 
 fairly treated. By Protestants they have been shown up 
 in all their vilest and most exaggerated colours ; by free- 
 thinkers they have for the most part been either sneered or 
 scoffed at, or else passed over with silent contempt. From 
 us they elicit a profound compassion, an intense wonder 
 at the strange contradictions of which human nature is ca- 
 pable. Take, for instance, the wonderful story of St. Simon 
 Stylites (if it be a true one). We scarcely know which 
 most evokes our astonishment : the marvellous heroism 
 and powers of patient endurance displayed during thirty 
 years of self-imposed torture, or the extraordinary intel- 
 lectual and moral delusion into which the man must have 
 fallen before he could really have persuaded himself that 
 by such self-imposed miseries he was either serving his 
 fellow-creatures or honouring his God. Had such a one 
 lived in these days he would have gained no admiring 
 disciples ; he would instead have been placed under treat- 
 ment for religious mania ; and would very possibly by 
 kind, judicious measures have been cured of his frenzy, and 
 his natural characteristics of extreme conscientiousness and 
 courage turned into some more beneficial channel, some 
 more profitable direction. Any way he would have been 
 prevented from outraging common sense, and unconsciously 
 blaspheming his Creator, by exhibiting his devotion in such 
 useless, futile self-tortures. 
 
 But in his day even the hypothesis of a physical cure 
 for religious enthusiasm or mania would have been deemed 
 rank heresy and atheism. How, indeed, was it possible for 
 the studies of physiology or psychology to be prosecuted 
 when a drop of consecrated water or a piece of wood that 
 had been blessed were considered to be infallible remedies 
 for nearly every disease under the sun ? How could the 
 principles of surgery or medicine be studied when each re- 
 gion of the body was supposed to be under some spiritual 
 
266 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 charge ; when the first joint of the right thumb was sup- 
 posed to be under the care of God the Father, the second 
 under that of the blessed Virgin, and so on of other parts ? 
 How was it Hkely that any physical or mundane alleviations 
 should be sought for any of the numerous ills to which flesh 
 is heir, when it was peremptorily commanded that if a man 
 have sore eyes he must invoke St. Clara ; if he have an 
 inflammation elsewhere he must turn to St. Anthony ; if 
 he have an ague he must pray for the assistance of St. 
 Pernel ? ^ How, indeed, could physical alleviations of any 
 sort or kind be procured, when prayer was considered to be 
 the only justifiable means of arriving at and procuring such 
 alleviation ; when every attempt at self-improvement or 
 self-help were considered to be signs of the want of a 
 proper faith and trust in the mercy and power of God .'' 
 
 When we recall the terrible evils which resulted from 
 this ignorance, when we remember the persecutions, tor- 
 tures, and cruel deaths which were solely the produce of 
 fanaticism and bigotry, we think it becomes a question 
 whether, during the first fifteen hundred years after the 
 birth of Christ, the evils occasioned by Christianity did not 
 greatly outweigh the good. In our opinion we think the 
 evils were greatly in excess of the good.^ We say it with 
 
 ^ 'Intellectual Development of Europe,' vol. ii. p. 122. 
 
 2 ' It is a melancholy truth ' (says Gibbon, in his ' Decline and Fall of the 
 Roman Empire/) 'that the Christians, in the course of their intestine dissen- 
 sions, have inflicted far greater severities on each other than they had expe- 
 rienced from the zeal of infidels. During the ages of ignorance which followed 
 the subversion of the Roman Empire in the West the bishops of the Imperial 
 city extended their dominion over the laity as well as clergy of the Latin 
 Church. The fabric of superstition which they had erected, and which might 
 long have defied the feeble efforts of reason, was at length assaulted by a crowd 
 of daring fanatics, who from the twelfth to the sixteenth century assumed the 
 popular character of reformers. The Church of Rome defended by violence the 
 Empire which she had acquired by fraud ; a system of peace and benevolence 
 was soon disgraced by proscriptions, wars, massacres, and the institutions of 
 the Holy Office, And as the reformers were animated by a love of civil as well 
 as of religious freedom, the Catholic princes connected their own interest with 
 that of the clergy, and enforced by fire and the sword the terrors of spiritual 
 censures. In the Netherlands alone more than one hundred thousand of the 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 267 
 
 diffidence and hesitation, but we have very attentively read, 
 and gravely weighed, the various accounts of the Middle 
 Ages, written by men of different creeds and different opin- 
 ions, and we have been forced to the conclusion that the 
 evils effected by paganised Christianity were almost incal- 
 culable. We are not now alluding to the somewhat super- 
 ficial and oft-repeated charges of the great immoralities 
 practised by the majority of the Popes. That the Popes 
 were for the most part fearfully, grossly immoral seems to 
 be almost beyond doubt. But Christianity did not teach 
 them to be immoral ; she was not the cause of their immo- 
 ralities, and should not therefore be considered responsible 
 for them. It is true that the supposed infallibility and 
 halo of sanctity cast around the Popes may very possibly 
 have encouraged and have afforded a scope for their im- 
 moral practices. But still Christianity, even the worst 
 form of paganised Christianity, did not teach them to be 
 immoral ; at the very outside and worst it only afforded 
 them an opportunity for indulging in the vicious practices 
 that were natural and innate in them. The papal sovereigns 
 were immoral, not because they were popes, but because 
 they happened to be singularly wicked, repulsive men ; 
 they would have been equally immoral had they been 
 kings or emperors instead of popes. They were immoral 
 Christians, it is but too true, but they were not immoral 
 because they were Christians. They would have been 
 equally immoral had they been Jews, or Mahometans, or 
 Brahmans. The immorality of the Popes may be termed 
 an accident of Christianity, but it was not a consequent. 
 
 But the ignorance (the evils of which we believe to 
 have been so incalculable) was no accident. Unhappily it 
 
 subjects of Charles V. are said to have suffered by the hand of the executioner ; 
 and this extraordinary number is attested by Grotius, a man of genius and 
 learning, who preserved his moderation amidst the fury of contending sects, 
 and who composed the annals of his own age and country at a time when 
 the invention of printing had facilitated the means of intelligence and increased 
 the danger of detection.' 
 
268 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 was a palpable consequent. It had nothing to do with the 
 individual characters of different men ; it had solely to do 
 with the teaching and the doctrine of the Church. We see 
 it displayed with as much distinctness and clearness in the 
 preaching of men, of whose ability and earnestness we. 
 cannot for a moment doubt, as in the mere jargon or in- 
 sincerity of the bigot or impostor. Thus, Eusebius says : 
 'It is not through ignorance of the things admired by 
 philosophers, but through contempt of such useless labour, 
 that we think so little of these matters, turning our souls 
 to the exercise of better things.' Thus, Gregory the Great 
 insisted on the maxim of * Ignorance is the mother of de- 
 votion.* Thus, even St. Augustine (obviously one of the 
 most learned and high-minded of the Fathers) asserted : 
 ' It is impossible there should be inhabitants on the opposite 
 side of the earth, since no such race is recorded by Scrip- 
 ture among the descendants of Adam.* For the first four 
 or five centuries the authority of the Holy Scriptures was 
 considered entirely infallible ; at which period, or indeed 
 even before, it had been discovered that there were certain 
 passages occurring in the sacred writings which contradicted 
 one another, and from time to time, in consequence of these 
 discrepancies. Councils were evoked and apparent reconcili- 
 ations were effected. The first CEcumenical Council took 
 place in 325 A.D. ; the eighth in 870. In these five centuries 
 what little intellect there was was entirely expended in 
 trying to reconcile Scriptural discrepancies, or in endeavour- 
 ing to determine what place in the Trinity should be 
 occupied by the Saviour. For about a thousand years the 
 authority of the Councils was considered very nearly as 
 sacred as that of the Holy Scriptures themselves. 
 
 What was the state of the progress of the world during 
 these twelve or fifteen hundred years } Absolutely ni/. 
 Not a single discovery was effected by any one of the 
 Christians in astronomy, geography, geology, physics, 
 chemistry, or medicine. All learning was denounced as 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 269 
 
 magic. Every mairuscript that could be seized was burnt. 
 The mystery of things above reason was pronounced to 
 be the very cause why they should be accepted by faith. 
 The few men who possessed any of the writings of the 
 great Alexandrians destroyed them in terror, in case they 
 should contain passages that would surely bring destruction 
 upon themselves and their families. The unfortunate Hy- 
 patia was basely murdered, partly, no doubt, because she 
 was an opponent of Christianity, but chiefly, because she 
 occupied herself with explaining the principles of geometry, 
 and imbued her disciples with a love of learning in general. 
 Gregory the Great expelled from Rome all mathematical 
 studies, and burned the Palatine Library, founded by 
 Augustus Csesar. He forbade the study of the classics, and 
 hated even the relics of classical genius. He boasted that 
 his own works were written without regard to the rules of 
 grammar, and even censured a priest for venturing to teach 
 such a subject. While the Jews and Mahometans were 
 prosecuting the studies of medicine and surgery, the 
 Christians looked upon the physician as little better than 
 an atheist, and sought to cure themselves instead by resort- 
 ing to shrines and relics. Later on, when certain diseases 
 were found to be apparently incurable, it was believed that 
 the sufferer had been bewitched. Incantations and charms 
 were evoked in order to break the spell. The supposed 
 witch was diligently sought for, and if discovered was made 
 to undergo the trial by water : if she sinks she is innocent, 
 if she swims she is guilty. Nay, so complete and sincere 
 was the belief in witchcraft, that unhappy women would of 
 themselves come forward, and confess that they were in 
 league with the devil. Every heretic who confessed him- 
 self to be a heretic was burnt ; every man under suspicion 
 who refused to acknowledge himself a heretic, was racked 
 and tortured into confession. 
 
 What was the cause of such unheard-of barbarities and 
 insanities } Not cruelty or wickedness, but ignorance. 
 
270 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 That some few of the Papist priests were impostors, and 
 wished to extract money for their supposed miraculous 
 cures, we admit ; but these were in the minority. Where 
 there was one man willing to practise conscious imposition 
 there were fifty prepared to be taken in by such imposi- 
 tion. Even in the barbarous practices of the Inquisition, 
 although there was unhappily a large number of remorse- 
 less men willing to torture and murder for political 
 interests and selfish ends, there was a still larger number 
 who acted in such a way from purest motives of faith 
 (which at that period would more properly be denomi- 
 nated ignorance). Unhappy Christians would denounce 
 father, mother or brethren, thinking thereby they were but 
 performing their duty to the priest who had so commanded 
 them. They would fast, scourge themselves, torture them- 
 selves, deprive themselves of food and raiment without 
 a complaint, if the priest had so commanded, only too 
 proud and happy to think they should be deemed worthy of 
 such renunciation. Or if, in spite of themselves, the voice 
 of reason would make itself heard, it was peremptorily 
 silenced, and believed to be the temptation of some devil. 
 
 Do the evils of this lamentable ignorance stop even 
 here ? We think not. We believe that even to this day 
 we are feeling the effects of them. Through the influences 
 of such ignorance the civilisation of Europe is but two or 
 three centuries old. It might have been eighteen or nine- 
 teen centuries. We cannot say the times were not ripe for 
 it. Descartes, Galileo, Harvey had to begin where the 
 Alexandrian writers left off. There was over a thousand 
 years of dead stagnation. As Dr. Draper well expresses it : 
 ' Scarcely were the Asclepions closed, the schools of philo- 
 sophy prohibited, the libraries dispersed or destroyed, 
 learning branded as magic or punished as treason, phi- 
 losophers driven into exile, and as a class exterminated, 
 when it became apparent that a void had been created 
 which it was incumbent on the victors to fill. Among the 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 27 1 
 
 great prelates who was there to stand in the place of those 
 men whose achievements had glorified the human race ? 
 Who was to succeed to Archimedes, Hipparchus, Euclid, 
 Herophilus, Eratosthenes ? Who to Plato and Aristotle ? 
 The quackeries of miracle-cure, shrine-cure, relic-cure were 
 destined to eclipse the genius of Hippocrates, and nearly 
 two thousand years to intervene between Archimedes and 
 Newton, nearly seventeen hundred between Hipparchus 
 and Kepler. A dismal interval of almost twenty centuries 
 parts Hero, whose first steam-engine revolved in the Se- 
 rapion, from James Watt, who has revolutionised the 
 industry of the world. What a fearful blank ! Yet not a 
 blank, for it had its products — hundreds of patristic folios 
 filled with obsolete speculations, oppressing the shelves 
 of antique libraries, enveloped in dust and awaiting the 
 worm.' ^ 
 
 Said we not well that in Christian countries civilisation 
 had remained at a dead-lock for fifteen centuries ? Said 
 we not well that the sole cause and origin of this dead- 
 lock was the Christian denunciation of learning and wor- 
 ship of ignorance ? Said we not well that even to this day 
 we are still feeling the effects of it ; for whereas our civili- 
 sation is but three centuries old, it might have been nearly 
 nineteen ? And yet in these three centuries how much has 
 been accomplished, how much has been encompassed ! Let 
 Professor Huxley speak for us : — 
 
 * If the noble first President of the Royal Society could 
 revisit the upper air and once more gladden his eyes with 
 the sight of the familiar mace, he would find himself in the 
 midst of a material civilisation more different from that of 
 his day, than that of the seventeenth, was from the first 
 century. And if Lord Brouncker's native sagacity had not 
 deserted his ghost, he would need no long reflection to 
 discern that all these great ships, these railways, these tele- 
 graphs, these factories, these printing presses, without which 
 
 ' 'Intellectual Development of Europe,' vol. i. p. 3S7. 
 
272 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 the whole fabric of modern English society would collapse 
 into a mass of stagnant and starving pauperism — that all 
 these pillars of our State are but the ripples and the bub- 
 bles upon the surface of that great spiritual stream, the 
 springs of which, only, he and his fellows were privileged to 
 see, and seeing, to recognise as that which it behoved them 
 above all things to keep pure and undefiled. 
 
 ' It may not be too great a flight of imagination to con- 
 ceive our noble revenant not forgetful of the great troubles 
 of his own day, and anxious to know how often London 
 had been burnt down since his time, and how often the 
 plague had carried off its thousands. He would have to 
 learn that, although London contains tenfold the inflam- 
 mable matter that it did in 1666 ; though not content with 
 filling our rooms with woodwork and light draperies, we 
 must needs lead inflammable and explosive gases into every 
 corner of our streets and houses, we never allow even a 
 street to burn down. And if he asked how this had come 
 about we should have to explain that the improvement of 
 natural knowledge has furnished us with dozens of machines 
 for throwing water upon fires, any one of which would have 
 furnished the ingenious Mr. Hooke, the first Curator and 
 experimenter of the Royal Society, with ample materials for 
 discourse before half a dozen meetings of that body ; and 
 that, to say truth, except for the progress of natural know- 
 ledge, we should not have been able to make even the tools 
 by which these machines are constructed. And, further, it 
 would be necessary to add, that although severe fires some- 
 times occur and inflict great damage, the loss Is very 
 generally compensated by societies, the operations of which 
 have been rendered only possible by the progress of natural 
 knowledge in the direction of mathematics, and the accu- 
 mulation of wealth In virtue of other natural knowledge. 
 
 ' But the plague .•* My Lord Brouncker's observation 
 would not, I fear, lead him to think that Englishmen of 
 the nineteenth century are purer in life or more fervent in 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 273 
 
 religious faith than the generation which could produce a 
 Boyle, an Evelyn and a Milton. He might find the mud 
 of society at the bottom, instead of at the top, but I fear the 
 sum-total would be as deserving of swift judgment as at the 
 time of the Restoration. And it would be our duty to 
 explain once more, and this time not without shame, that 
 we have no reason to believe that it is the improvement of 
 our faith, nor that of our morals, which keeps the plague 
 from our city, but again that it is the improvement of our 
 natural knowledge. 
 
 ' We have learnt that pestilences will only take up 
 their abode among those who have prepared unswept and 
 ungarnished residences for them. Their cities must have 
 narrow, unwatered streets, foul with accumulated garbage. 
 Their houses must be ill-drained, ill-lighted, ill-ventilated. 
 Their subjects must be ill-washed, ill-fed, ill-clothed. The 
 London of 1665 was such a city. The cities of the East, 
 where plague has an enduring dwelling, are such cities. 
 We, in later times, have learned somewhat of Nature, and 
 partly obey her. Because of this partial improvement of 
 our natural knowledge and of that fractional obedience, we 
 have no plague ; because that knowledge is still very im- 
 perfect, and that obedience yet incomplete, typhus is our 
 companion and cholera our visitor. But it is not pre- 
 sumptuous to express the belief that when our knowledge 
 is more complete, and our obedience the expression of our 
 knowledge, London will count her centuries of freedom 
 from typhus and cholera, as she now counts and gratefully 
 reckons her two hundred years of ignorance of that plague 
 which swooped upon her thrice in the first half of the 
 seventeenth century, .. . , . 
 
 ' Granting for a moment, then, the truth of that which 
 the depredators of natural knowledge are so fond of urg- 
 ing, that its improvement can only add to the resources 
 of our material civilisation ; admitting it to be possible that 
 the founders of the Royal Society themselves looked for no 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
2 74 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Other reward than this, I cannot confess that I was guilty 
 of exaggeration when I hinted, that to him who had the gift 
 of distinguishing between prominent events and important 
 events, the origin of a combined effort on the part of man- 
 kind to improve natural knowledge might have loomed 
 larger than the plague, and have outshone the glare of the 
 Fire, as a something fraught with a wealth of beneficence to 
 mankind, in comparison with which the damage done by 
 those ghastly evils would shrink into insignificance. 
 
 * It is very certain that for every victim slain by the 
 plague, hundreds of mankind exist and find a fair share of 
 happiness in the world by the aid of the spinning-jenny. 
 And the great fire, at its worst, could not have burned the 
 supply of coal, the daily working of which in the bowels of 
 the earth, made possible by the steam-pump, gives rise to 
 an amount of wealth to which the millions lost in Old Lon- 
 don are but as an old song. 
 
 'But spinning-jenny and steam-pump are, after all, but 
 toys, possessing an accidental value; and natural knowledge 
 creates multitudes of more subtle contrivances, the praises 
 of which do not happen to be sung because they are not 
 directly convertible into instruments for creating wealth. 
 .... According to [some men] the improvement of 
 natural knowledge has been, and always must be, synony- 
 mous with no more than the improvement of the material 
 resources and the increase of the gratifications of men. . . . 
 * If such were true, I, for one, should not greatly care 
 to toil in the service of natural knowledge. I think I 
 would just as soon be quietly chipping my own flint axe, 
 after the manner of my forefathers a few thousand years 
 back, as be troubled with the endless malady of thought 
 which now infests us all, for such reward. But I venture to 
 say that such views are contrary alike to reason and to fact. 
 Those who discourse in such fashion seem to me to be so 
 intent upon trying to see what is above Nature, or what is 
 behind her, that they are blind to what stares them in the 
 face in her. 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 275 
 
 'I should not venture to speak thus strongly if my 
 justification were not to be found in the simplest and most 
 obvious facts — if it needed more than an appeal to the most 
 notorious truths to justify my assertion, that the improve- 
 ment of natural knowledge, whatever direction it has taken, 
 and however low the aims of those who may have com- 
 menced it, has not only conferred practical benefits on men, 
 but in so doing has effected a revolution in their concep- 
 tions of the universe and of themselves, and has profoundly 
 altered their modes of thinking and their views of right and 
 wrong. I say that natural knowledge, seeking to satisfy 
 natural wants, has found the ideas which can alone still 
 spiritual cravings, I say that natural knowledge, in desir- 
 ing to ascertain the laws of comfort, has been driven to 
 discover those of conduct, and to lay the foundation of a 
 new morality 
 
 'For example, what could seem wiser, from a mere 
 material point of view, more innocent, from a theo- 
 logical one, to an ancient people than that they should 
 learn the exact succession of the seasons, as warnings for 
 their husbandmen ; or the position of the stars, as guides 
 to their rude navigators ? But what has grown out of this 
 search for natural knowledge of so merely useful a cha- 
 racter ? You all know the reply. Astronomy — which of 
 all sciences has filled men's minds with general ideas of a 
 character most foreign to their daily experience, and has, 
 more than any other, rendered it impossible for them to 
 accept the beliefs of their fathers. Astronomy — which tells 
 them that this so vast and seemingly solid earth is but 
 an atom among atoms, whirling, no man knows whither, 
 through illimitable space; which demonstrates that what 
 we call the peaceful heaven above us, is but that space, 
 filled by an infinitely subtle matter whose particles are 
 seething and surging, like the wave of an angry sea ; which 
 opens up to us infinite regions where nothing is known, or 
 even seems to have been known, but matter and force, 
 
 T 2 
 
276 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 operating according to rigid rules ; which leads us to con- 
 template phenomena the very nature of which demonstrates 
 that they must have had a beginning, and that they must 
 have an end, but the very nature of which also proves that 
 the beginning was, to our conceptions of time, infinitely 
 remote, and that the end is as immeasurably distant 
 
 ' And if the astronomer has set before us the infinite 
 magnitude of space and the practical eternity of the 
 duration of the universe ; if the physical and chemical 
 philosophers have demonstrated the infinite minuteness of 
 its constituent parts, and the practical eternity of matter and 
 of force ; and if both alike have proclaimed the universality 
 of a definite and predicable order and succession of events, 
 the workers in biology have not only accepted all these, 
 but have added more startling theses of their own. For, 
 as the astronomers discover in the earth no centre of the 
 universe, but an eccentric speck, so the naturalists find 
 man to be no centre of the living world, but one amidst 
 endless modifications of life; and as the astronomer ob- 
 serves the mark of practically endless time set upon the 
 arrangements of the solar system, so the student of life finds 
 the records of ancient forms of existence peopling the 
 world for ages, which^ in relation to human experience, are 
 infinite. . . , • 
 
 ' Such are a few of the new conceptions implanted 
 in our minds by the improvement of natural knowledge. 
 Men have acquired the ideas of the practically infinite 
 extent of the universe and of its practical eternity; they 
 are familiar with the conception that our earth is but an 
 infinitesimal fragment of that part of the universe which 
 can be seen; and that, nevertheless, its duration is, as 
 compared with our standard of time, infinite. They have 
 further acquired the idea that man is but one of innu- 
 merable forms- of life now existing in the globe, and that 
 the present existences are but the last of an immeasurable 
 series of predecessors. Moreover, every step they have 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 277 
 
 made in natural knowledge has tended to extend and 
 rivet in their minds the conception of a definite order of 
 the universe — which is embodied in what are called, by an 
 unhappy metaphor, the laws of Nature — and to narrow the 
 range and loosen the force of men's belief in spontaneity, 
 or in changes other than such as arise out of that definite 
 order itself. . . . 
 
 'No one can deny that these ideas exist, and have been 
 the inevitable outgrowth of the improvement of natural 
 knowledge. And if so, it cannot be doubted that they are 
 changing the form of men's most cherished and most 
 important convictions.' * 
 
 All these wonderful changes and improvements, then, 
 both physical and mental, have been effected in little more 
 than two short centuries ! We maybe grateful indeed that 
 our lot has been cast in such a century as the present. Yet 
 even our gratitude will not prevent the thought from for- 
 cibly obtruding itself: how much better off, how much 
 happier might we have been, had the miseries of the whole 
 fifteen hundred years of Catholic organisation never oc- 
 curred ! Instead of two centuries of civilisation we might 
 then have reaped the products of eighteen. For although, 
 as Professor Huxley remarked, we have managed through 
 the improvement of our natural knowledge totally to 
 banish the plague from our shores, we are still unhappily 
 too frequently visited with typhus and cholera ; though 
 our knowledge of Nature's laws is considerably less im- 
 perfect than it was, it is still so very far from being 
 perfect that we are daily surrounded with calamities and 
 miseries which are wholly the result of ignorance and want 
 of forethought. 
 
 Nay, what is crime itself but ignorance in its worst and 
 basest form ? Professor Huxley has told us that to our 
 shame the only qualities in which the nineteenth century 
 
 ' 'On the advisableness of improving natural knowledge,' from *Lay 
 Sermons, Addresses, and Reviews,' by T. H. Huxley, 
 
278 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 does not show a wonderful and marked improvement upon 
 the sixteenth, are in those of morality and virtue. What is 
 the reason of this ? I believe it may be almost entirely traced 
 to the fact that those three sciences, which have the most to 
 do with the human race, are yet in a more backward state 
 than any of the others. Physiology and Biology are still in 
 their youth ; Political Economy in its childhood ; Sociology 
 (that science, which of all others, promises to be the most 
 beneficial to humanity) is in its merest infancy. It has taken 
 nearly three centuries of English civilisation to produce a 
 Herbert Spencer. Had it not been for the Catholic stag- 
 nation, Herbert Spencer might still have taken three cen- 
 turies for development, and his philosophy yet have been 
 nearly fifteen hundred years old. It is no Utopian dream 
 to try and imagine in what blessed state we might now be 
 in, if we could blot out the evils of that long period of 
 utter stagnation and wasted opportunities. We have but 
 to multiply all the wonderful improvements of the last 
 three centuries by six, and we might get some definite idea 
 of our freedom from misery and sickness. So many dis- 
 eases have shown themselves capable of cure, for every 
 poison there seems to be an antidote, that it is but reason- 
 able to suppose that such diseases, as still bafHe us, arise 
 from our ignorance of the true remedies, and not because 
 the diseases themselves are irremediable. Where is the 
 cure for consumption, for cancer, for hydrophobia ? Not 
 yet found — not likely to be yet found ; and yet we may be 
 tolerably sure that had European civilisation steadily pro- 
 gressed from the time of the Alexandrian savans up to the 
 present period, we should not now be tortured and racked 
 by those horrible diseases. It is no fault of the doctrine of 
 Christ that this dead-lock calamity has happened. That 
 teaching is as valuable in these days as it was in his own. 
 'Thou shaltlove thy neighbour as thyself ' is a maxim good 
 for all ages. * All things whatsoever ye would have men do 
 unto you, even so do ye unto them,' is a command as valu- 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 279 
 
 able in these days as ever it was in the days of Christ 
 But where Christ gives the true and simple injunctions of 
 love and charity, science steps in and shows us that before 
 we can be loving or be charitable we must know in what 
 true love and charity consist. Science does not contra- 
 dict the teaching of Christ ; it only assists us greatly in 
 the means of following it out 
 
 The doctrine of Christ, then, is not responsible for these 
 many hundred years of misery, persecution, ignorance, and 
 bigotry. The Catholic organisation is solely responsible 
 for it ; and yet, as we have said, we do not look upon the 
 Church as the conscious imposition so many free-thinkers 
 have supposed her to be. Her one great error — an error 
 she shares in common with other churches — was setting up 
 one standard of authority to be upheld for all time as ab- 
 solutely infallible. The miseries consequent upon an error 
 like this are almost incalculable ; whether that authority be 
 a human authority, as in the person of the Pope, or a 
 literary authority, as (I say it with all reverence) that of 
 the sacred writings, it equally tends to retard, if not abso- 
 lutely to stamp out, the progress of the human race. 
 Galileo was tortured, Bruno burnt, for propounding doc- 
 trines which by virtue of their own truth have gradually 
 forced their way to an acceptance which is now universal 
 and unhesitating. Their persecutions did not arise from 
 any immorality supposed to be in their doctrines, but solely 
 and entirely because their theories did not find any verifi- 
 cation in the Bible. That stagnant time was a sad, di'eary 
 period ; yet, though we may regret it, let us not condemn 
 it. If its sins are being visited on the fourth or fifth, per- 
 haps even to the fortieth or fiftieth generations, they were 
 still more bitterly visited on the period itself. Well has it 
 been called the Dark Age, for verily it was seldom bright- 
 ened with even a glimmering of light. 
 
 As we have said, during all these centuries we shall 
 meet with very little of Pantheism in any form. Such spe- 
 
28o MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 dilations as were timidly ventured to be put forward about 
 the nature of God consisted principally in defining the 
 exact position occupied by each person in the Trinity. 
 But even such speculations as these met with an unfortu- 
 nate share of persecution. As Arius says, ' I am persecuted 
 because I have suggested that in the nature of things the 
 Father must have had a longer beginning in time than the 
 Son!* 
 
 Truly if Reason had resented her overthrow by Faith 
 she was bitterly avenged. Truly she might declare, with a 
 sort of sad triumph : * You have thrown off my yoke, you 
 were dissatisfied with my teaching, because I told you that 
 not only could I myself not solve your inquiries about Cause 
 and Essence, but that those inquiries were incapable of 
 being solved by any answer. You disbelieved my warn- 
 ings, and what has been the consequence ? I at least made 
 you humble and meek, tolerant towards the faults and 
 errors of others, knowing how easily misled you have been 
 yourselves. In every other of your yearnings after know- 
 ledge I would have assisted you to the utmost, and if I 
 could have been of no service to you I would have candidly 
 told you so. For at least I am no deceiver. I never pre- 
 tend to do that of which I know I am incapable. But you 
 have thrown me off, and you have thereby retarded your 
 hopes of knowledge by fully a thousand years. Tolerance 
 and mercy you have displaced by bigotry and cruelty, 
 honest doubt by pretended infallibility. You have set up a 
 standard for yourself, and by that self-same standard you 
 will be crushed out of civilisation, almost out of humanity, 
 unless I, your discarded sovereign, Reason, take pity on 
 you, bury my resentment for ever in the past, and, coming 
 to your assistance, prevent you for ever being crushed 
 out by that same standard of authority self-raised by 
 yourselves.* 
 
 With the exception of the Neo-Platonists, the first 
 eight centuries were almost entirely devoid of Pantheistic 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 28 1 
 
 doctrine. We should have said entirely devoid, had it not 
 been for certain passages in the . writings of one of the 
 greatest of the Fathers, St. Augustine, which passages will 
 occupy us during the remainder of the chapter. St. Au- 
 gustine, whose life is one of exceeding interest (quite apart 
 from the purposes of this book), passed through many 
 stages in the course of his eventful life, beginning from the 
 stage of immorality and debauchery to the next stage of 
 remorse and repentance — to another of yearning for some 
 knowledge of good and of the nature of God and of being ; 
 to a fourth, which may be called his Pantheistic stage, of 
 believing that God and Nature were almost identical ; to a 
 fifth, of being a Christian, in the purest and highest sense of 
 that word ; to a sixth, that of being a bishop, with possibly 
 some few of the faults of pride and bigotry, almost inevi- 
 table to a great ecclesiastic living in that age. But still, 
 taking the life and character of St. Augustine in their full 
 completeness, we must pronounce the life to have been one 
 of singular interest, the character to have been of great 
 fervour and earnestness. 
 
 Having passed through a course of debauchery and sin, 
 he was possibly more alive to the real vileness of sin than 
 one who has led a purer and better life. He loathed it, 
 shrunk even from the remembrance of it. Yet he longed 
 to know whence it came. The difficulty of this origin of 
 evil was that difficulty which prevented him for some time 
 from accepting the Christian faith, as it prevented him also 
 from ever becoming wholly and entirely Pantheistic in his 
 doctrine. 
 
 The difficulty he found in reconciling the Christian faith 
 with the existence of evil may be seen from the following 
 extract from his Confessions : — 
 
 'Because a piety, such as it was, constrained me to 
 believe that the good God never created any evil nature, I 
 conceived two masses, contrary to one another, both un- 
 bounded, but the evil narrower, the good more expansive. 
 
252 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 And from this pestilent beginning the other sacrilegious 
 conceits followed on me. For when my mind endeavoured 
 to recur to the Catholic faith, I was driven back, since that 
 was not the Catholic faith which I thought so. And I 
 seemed to myself more reverential, if I believed of Thee, my 
 God, as unbounded, at least on other sides, although on that 
 side where the mass of evil was opposed to Thee, I was con- 
 strained to confess Thee bounded, than if on all sides I 
 should imagine Thee to be bounded by the form of a human 
 body. And it seemed to me better to believe Thee to have 
 created no evil than to believe the nature of evil came from 
 Thee. Yea, and our Saviour Himself, Thy Only Begotten, 
 I believed to have been reached forth as it were for our 
 salvation, out of the mass of Thy most lucid substance, so 
 as to believe nothing of Him but what I could imagine in 
 my vanity. His nature, then, being such, I thought, could 
 not be born of the Virgin Mary without being mingled with 
 the flesh ; and how that which I had so figured to myself 
 could be mingled, and not defiled, I saw not' 
 
 His Pantheistical stage is very well shown in the 
 seventh book of the Confessions : — 
 
 ' I, a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of Thee, 
 the sovereign, only, true God ; and I did in my inmost soul 
 believe that Thou wert incorruptible, and uninjurable, and 
 unchangeable ; because, though not knowing whence or how, 
 yet I saw plainly and was sure, that that which may be cor- 
 rupted, must be inferior to that which cannot ; what could 
 not be injured I preferred unhesitatingly to what could re- 
 ceive injury ; the unchangeable to things subject to change. 
 My heart passionately cried out against all my phantoms, 
 and with this one blow I sought to beat away from the eye 
 of my mind all that unclean troop which buzzed around it. 
 And lo, being scarce put off, in the twinkling of an eye they 
 gathered again thick about me, flew against my face and 
 beclouded it, so that though not under the form of the 
 human body, yet was I constrained to conceive of Thee as 
 
TEMPORARY DECAY OF PANTHEISM. 283 
 
 being in space, whether infused into the world or diffused 
 infinitely without it. Because whatsoever I conceived, de* 
 prived of this space, seemed to me nothing, yea, altogether 
 nothing, not even a void, as if a body were taken out of its 
 place, and the place should remain empty of any body at 
 all, of earth and water, air and heaven, yet it would remain 
 a void place, as it were a spacious nothing, 
 
 * I then, being thus gross-hearted, not clear even to 
 myself, whatsoever w^as not extended over certain spaces, 
 nor diffused, nor condensed, nor swelled out, or did not or 
 could not receive some of these dimensions, I thought to 
 be all together nothing. For over such forms as my eyes 
 are wont to range, did my heart then range ; nor yet did I 
 see that this same notion of the mind, whereby I formed 
 those very images, was not of this sort, and yet it could not 
 have formed them had not itself been some great thing. 
 So also did T endeavour to conceive of Thee, Life of my 
 lifey as vast, tkrougk infinite spaces, on every side penetra- 
 ting the whole mass of the universe, and beyond it every 
 way, through immeasurable boundless spaces ; so that the 
 earth shoidd have Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things 
 have Thee and they be bounded in Thee, and Thou boun- 
 ded nowhere. For that as the body of this air which is 
 above the earth, hindereth not the light of the sun front 
 passing through it, penetrating ity not by bursting or by 
 cutting, but by filling it wholly, so I thought the body, jiot of 
 heaven, air, and sea only, but of the earth too, pervious to 
 Thee; so that in all its parts, the greatest as the smallest, it 
 should admit Thy presentee, by a secret inspiratio7i, within 
 and tvithout, directing all things which Thou hast created^ 
 
 We do not know any better description of Pantheism 
 or any finer conception of the omnipresence of God than 
 that contained in these few lines above which we have 
 marked in italics. In our day such a description would be 
 very fine, in his day it was singularly so. The only thing 
 at all resembling it in any of the writings of his contempo- 
 
284 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 raries was in those of the Neo-Platonists. Yet none of the 
 Neo-Platonists ever attained the same purity of conception 
 as evinced in these lines of St. Augustine. Nevertheless, 
 this conception did not wholly satisfy St. Augustine himself. 
 He thought that by such means every object would only be 
 filled with God in degree, and according to size, the sparrow 
 having a smaller proportion than the elephant, which would 
 be unfairness. 
 
 Moreover, the question of Evil still absorbed him, and 
 he could not understand how evil could be pervaded with 
 God (which, indeed, is the strongest argument that can be 
 brought against Pantheism). 
 
 ' But again I said. Who made me .'' Did not my God, 
 who is not only good, but goodness itself .■* Whence, then, 
 came I to will evil and nil! good, so that I am thus justly 
 punished .-' Who set this in me, and ingrafted into me this 
 plant of bitterness, seeing that I was most wholly formed 
 by my most sweet God ? If the devil were the author, 
 whence is that same devil .-* And if he also by his own 
 perverse will, of a good angel became a devil, whence, again, 
 came in him that evil will whereby he became a devil, see- 
 ing the whole nafure of angels was made by that most 
 good Creator } * ^ 
 
 These are pregnant, heart-stirring questions ; questions 
 which we imagine must have arisen in every thoughtful 
 mind. It is no part of our treatise to pursue the history of 
 St. Augustine further. He found an answer to all his 
 inquiries, a solution of all his difficulties, in the bosom of 
 the Catholic Church. Whether such a solution can be 
 really there found ; whether, indeed, a true solution of this 
 mystery of Evil will ever be found in any church or any 
 system of philosophy, is a question upon which we will 
 refrain from giving an opinion. 
 
 ^ These extracts have been selected from numerous extracts of the Con- 
 fessions given by Mr. Maurice in his 'Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy,' 
 vi'ho in his turn has taken them, as he tells us, from the translation in the 
 Oxford Library of the Fathers. 
 
285 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DIGRESSION CONTINUED. — RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 
 
 It was from the East that the West had received her first 
 crude notions of science and philosophy. It was to be 
 through the influence of the East that she was indirectly 
 to receive her first faint ideas of self-deliverance from the 
 Dark Ages of misery and degradation. 
 
 In the spring of the year 569 A.D. was born at Mecca, 
 a man who by some has been branded with the names of 
 impostor and blasphemer, who by others has been honoured 
 with the name of Apostle and Prophet of God. The name 
 of this man was Mahomet. 
 
 There are many miraculous stories told about his birth, 
 and during the period of his infancy, with which, however, 
 we need not occupy ourselves. Divested of their fabulous 
 adjuncts they merely tend to show that Mahomet was 
 possessed of an intelligence far beyond his years. And as 
 he grew to boyhood the spirit of inquiry was quickened 
 within him by intercourse with pilgrims from all parts of 
 Arabia. His uncle, Abu Taleb, too (besides his sacerdotal 
 character as guardian of the Caaba), was one of the most 
 enterprising merchants of the tribe of Koreish, and had 
 much to do with those caravans which thronged the gates 
 of Mecca and filled its streets with pleasing tumult. The 
 arrival and departure of these caravans were exciting events 
 to a youth like Mahomet, and carried his imagination to 
 foreign parts. He could not repress the ardent curiosity 
 thus aroused ; and once, when his uncle was about to mount 
 
286 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 his camel, and depart with the caravan for Syria, he clung 
 to him, and entreated to be permitted to accompany him. 
 ' For who, oh, my uncle,' said he, • will take care of me 
 when thou art away ? ' 
 
 The appeal was not lost upon his kind-hearted uncle, 
 who remembered, also, that the youth was nearly of an age 
 to enter upon the active scenes of Arab life, and of a capa- 
 city to render essential service in the duties of the caravan ; 
 he readily, therefore, granted his prayer and took him with 
 him on his journey to Syria. 
 
 The route lay through regions fertile in fables and tradi- 
 tions, which it is the delight of the Arabs to recount in the 
 evening halts of the caravan. The vast solitudes of the 
 desert, in which that wandering people pass so much of 
 their lives, are prone to engender superstitious fancies ; they 
 have accordingly peopled them with good and evil genii, 
 and clothed them with tales of enchantment commingled 
 with wonderful events which happened in days of old. In 
 these evening halts of the caravan, the youthful mind of 
 Mahomet doubtless imbibed many of those superstitions of 
 the desert which afterwards dwelt in his memory and power- 
 fully influenced his imagination. We especially note two 
 traditions, which he most probably heard at this time, and 
 which were afterwards recorded by him in the Koran. One 
 related to the mountainous district of Hedjar. Here, as the 
 caravan wound its way through silent and deserted valleys, 
 caves were pointed out in the sides of the mountains once 
 inhabited by the children of Thamud, one of the ' lost 
 tribes ' of Arabia, and this was the tradition concerning 
 them : — They were a proud and gigantic race, existing before 
 the time of the patriarch Abraham. Having fallen into 
 blind idolatry, God sent a prophet of the name of Saleh to 
 restore them to the right way. They refused, however, to 
 listen to him, unless he should prove the divinity of his 
 mission by causing a camel, great with young, to issue from 
 the entrails of a mountain. Saleh accordingly prayed, and 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 287 
 
 lo ! a rock opened, and a female camel came forth, which 
 soon produced a foal. Some of the Thamudites were con- 
 vinced by the miracle, and were converted by the prophet 
 from their idolatry ; the greater part, however, remained in 
 unbelief Saleh left the camel among them as a sign, 
 warning them that a judgment from heaven would fall on 
 them should they do her any harm. For a time the camel 
 was suffered to feed quietly in their pastures, going forth in 
 the morning and returning in the evening. It is true that 
 when she bowed her head to drink from a brook or well, 
 she never raised it until she had drained the last drop of 
 water ; but then in return she yielded enough milk to supply 
 the whole tribe. As, however, she frightened the other 
 camels from the pasture, she became an object of offence to 
 the Thamudites, who hamstrung and slew her. Upon this 
 there was a fearful cry from heaven, and great claps of 
 thunder, and in the morning all the offenders were found 
 lying on their faces, dead. Thus the whole race was swept 
 from the earth, and their country was laid for ever after 
 under the ban of heaven. 
 
 This story made a powerful impression on the mind of 
 Mahomet, inasmuch that, in after-years, he refused to let 
 his people encamp in the neighbourhood, but hurried them 
 away from it as an accursed region. 
 
 Another tradition, gathered on this journey, related to 
 the city of Eyla, situated near the Red Rea. This place, 
 he was told, had been inhabited in old times by a tribe of 
 Jews, who lapsed into idolatry and profaned the Sabbath, 
 by fishing on that sacred day ; whereupon the old men 
 were transformed into swine and the young men into 
 monkeys. 
 
 We have noted these two traditions especially because 
 they are both cited by Mahomet as instances of divine 
 judgment on the crime of idolatry, and evince the bias his 
 youthful mind was already taking on that important subject. 
 
 After skirting the ancient domains of the Moabites and 
 
288 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Ammonites, the caravan arrived at Bosra, or Bostra, be- 
 yond Syria. In Scripture days it had been a city of the 
 Levites, but now was inhabited by Nestorian Christians. 
 It was a great mart, annually visited by the caravans ; and 
 here our wayfarers came to a halt, and encamped near a 
 convent of Nestorian monks. 
 
 By this fraternity Mahomet and his uncle were enter- 
 tained with great hospitality. One of the monks on con- 
 versing with Mahomet was surprised at the precocity of his 
 intellect, and interested by his eager desire for information, 
 which appears to have had reference principally to matters 
 of religion. They had frequent conversations together on 
 such subjects, in the course of which the efforts of the monk 
 were in all probability mainly directed against that idolatry 
 in which the youthful Mahomet had been educated ; for 
 the Nestorian Christians were strenuous in condemning, not 
 merely the worship of images, but even the casual exhibi- 
 tion of them ; indeed, so far did they carry their scruples 
 on this point that even the Cross, that general emblem of 
 Christianity, was in a great degree included in this pro- 
 hibition. 
 
 Many have ascribed that knowledge of the principles 
 and traditions of the Christian faith displayed by Mahomet 
 in after-life to those early conversations with this monk ; it 
 is probable, however, that he had further intercourse with 
 the latter in the course of subsequent visits which he made 
 to Syria. 
 
 Mahomet returned to Mecca, his imagination teeming 
 with the wild tales and traditions picked up in the desert, 
 and his mind deeply impressed with the doctrines imparted 
 to him in the Nestorian convent. He seems ever after-- 
 wards to have entertained a mysterious reverence for Syria, 
 probably from the religious impressions he had received 
 there. It was the land whither Abraham the patriarch had 
 repaired from Chaldea, taking with him the primitive wor- 
 ship of the one true Godi 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 289 
 
 I have taken the above sketch of the early life of Ma- 
 homet from Mr. Washington Irving's ' History of the Life 
 of Mahomet.' He has not given many references as to the 
 authorities he has consulted ; but the anecdotes and legends 
 all seem to corroborate what appears to have been un- 
 doubtedly the strong characteristic of Mahomet, namely, an 
 intense hatred and abomination of idols and idolatry. His 
 theology was simple. He found his nation sunk in idolatry 
 and fetish-worship, and he declared to them his whole teach- 
 ing lay in the simple dogma, ' There is but one God.' To 
 this declaration he afterwards added, * And Mohammed is 
 his prophet.' For a long time he showed no enmity to the 
 Christians; nay, if all Christians had been as the Nesto- 
 rian monks, it is, we think, probable that Mahomet himself 
 might have embraced Christianity j for he always seemed 
 to regard the character of Christ with reverence and admi- 
 ration. But his mission being, as he conceived it, the de- 
 nunciation and destruction of idolatry, his preconceived 
 liking for Christianity met with a sudden revulsion when 
 he came to be really acquainted with the polytheistic prac- 
 tices of the Christians. In the first place, he could not 
 understand the metaphysical ideas contained in the Trinity, 
 of which he was unable to conceive any other notion than 
 that of three distinct Gods, Then there was the worship 
 of the Virgin Mary, and adoration of numerous relics, all 
 of which made him regard the Christians as being very little 
 less idolatrous than were his own countrymen, before he 
 had converted them from their heathen practices. The 
 Koran is full of such rebukes : ' Verily, Christ Jesus, the 
 son of Mary, is the Apostle of God.' ' Believe, therefore, 
 in God and his Apostles, and say not that there are three 
 Gods ; it will be better for you. God is but one God.' He 
 disdained all metaphysical speculations upon the nature of 
 God, or the origin of the universe. He saw no especial 
 virtue in virginity, carrying his notions of the reasonableness 
 of marriage to a degree somewhat incompatible with what 
 VOL. I, U 
 
290 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 in this country, and in these days, we should consider the 
 most ordinary dictates of morality. This seems to us, how- 
 ever, the only weak point in his whole system. Sensuality, 
 unfortunately, formed a large part in the Mohammedan 
 doctrine. The permission of a plurality of wives in this 
 world, the reward of a gratification of sensuality in the 
 next, are doctrines unhappily but too prominent in the 
 Mohammedan system. The purity of Christ's doctrine stands 
 out, on this wise, in striking relief to the licentiousness of the 
 doctrine of Mahomet. But in charity, almsgiving, kind- 
 ness, the doctrines of Christ and Mahomet so much re- 
 sembled each other, that it is not impossible Mahomet may 
 have purposely imitated the teaching of Christ, and en- 
 grafted it upon his own system. The Koran is far more 
 occupied with the denunciation of polytheism than are the 
 four gospels ; which is not difficult to understand when we 
 remember that Christ chiefly preached to the Jews, who 
 were a monotheistic people ; but that Mahomet preached 
 to his polytheistic countrymen, or else to the almost equally 
 polytheistic Christians. He never seems to have regarded 
 the Jews with any dislike ; nor did he treat them with 
 the contempt he bestowed upon the believers of all other 
 alien religions, which may be probably accounted for by 
 remembering that the Jews were almost the only people in 
 the world who were strict monotheists. 
 
 Mahomet declared war shortly before his death against 
 the Roman Empire, and at the head of 30,000 men ad- 
 vanced towards Damascus. But his purpose was frustrated 
 by ill-health. After his death, however, the spread and 
 success of Mohammedanism were almost marvellous. It 
 might have been merely due to the influence of the sword. 
 It might have been that men were getting tired of the ab- 
 surd distinctions and quarrels of sects calling themselves 
 Arian, Trinitarian, Monothelites, Monophisites, Mariola- 
 trists, and were glad to accept a doctrine so easy of com- 
 prehension as that contained in the war-cry of the assailants : 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 29 1 
 
 ' There is but one God.* Whatever were the cause, the 
 result was indisputable. From its most glorious seats 
 Christianity was victoriously expelled by the Mahometans. 
 From Palestine, the scene of its most sacred recollections ; 
 from Asia Minor, that of its first churches ; from Egypt, 
 whence issued the great doctrine of Trinitarian orthodoxy ; 
 from Carthage, who imposed her belief on Europe.^ 
 
 Although, in the first flush of conquest, the Arabs had 
 shown nearly as much fanaticism as had been displayed by the 
 Christians ; for they had laid hold of all the ancient vehicles 
 of learning, even to burning, as some declared, the Alex- 
 andrian Library, still, from their subsequent conduct, it is 
 evident the motive for such unhappy destruction was not 
 worship of ignorance, but the mere lust of robbery and de- 
 vastation that seems almost inseparable from great battles. 
 But as soon as the first flush of victory was passed they 
 devoted themselves to the attainment of knowledge, and 
 became distinguished patrons of learning. Mahomet's son- 
 in-law AH was almost enthusiastic in his ardour for study. 
 ' Eminence in science is the highest of honours,' he says ; 
 and again he declares, ' He dies not who gives life to 
 learning.' * The greatest ornament of a man is erudition/ 
 
 Although, as we have said, the Nestorians and Jews did 
 not become actual believers in Mahomet, they yet regarded 
 each other with tolerable feelings of amity. The Jews had 
 long produced distinguished physicians ; and the Maho- 
 metans and Nestorians were now determined to coalesce 
 with them in their study of surgery and medicine, trusting 
 that by thus imitating -their example they might succeed 
 in producing as fortunate a result. While the Christians 
 were denunciating all human learning as vanity, the Ma- 
 hometans were zealous in their prosecution of it ; while the 
 Christians were speculating upon the particular place in the 
 Trinity which should be assigned to each of the Three 
 
 * See page 232 of first volume of * Intellectual Development of Europe, ' 
 by Dr. Draper. 
 
 U 2 
 
292 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Persons, the Jews and Mahometans were ardently pursuing 
 the studies of physiology and medicine, acquainting them- 
 selves with the laws of health, and the prevention and cure 
 of disease. 
 
 The first Christian writer after the time of Augus- 
 tine who has any claim upon our attention is Johannes 
 Scotus Erigena, the metaphysician of the ninth century — 
 in the opinion of Mr. Maurice one of the acutest metaphy- 
 sicians of any century. By some he has been considered 
 the founder of the Scholastic Philosophy. It is said that 
 in the year 825 A.D. he made a pilgrimage to the birth- 
 place of Plato and Aristotle, and that this pilgrimage led 
 him to indulge in the hope of uniting philosophy once 
 more with religion, in the manner proposed by the eccle- 
 siastics who were studying in Spain. 
 
 About the period of his birth the Christian world had 
 (in addition to the compHcating questions concerning the 
 Trinity) been agitating itself with the doctrines of trans- 
 substantiation and predestination ; but, though Erigena 
 seems to have controverted the former doctrine, for the 
 most part his pantheistic, metaphysical, and somewhat over- 
 refined doctrines do not seem to have been considered by 
 him incompatible with the ordinary teaching of the Church. 
 His views had a decided resemblance to those of the Neo- 
 Platonists. Like them he had a strong leaning to the 
 mystical notions of a Trinity (quite apart, or rather, in his 
 case, in addition to the ordinary Christian orthodox con- 
 ception of it). Erigena's notion of a Trinity was that of a 
 threefold motion or rotation of man about the Divine 
 Centre. The first or inmost circle is that described by the 
 Nous, which he renders Intellectus, Animus, or Mens. This 
 recognises God as the Principle of its attraction, the source 
 of its light, but enters into no thought or conception re- 
 specting Him, confessing Him as the Absolute and Incom- 
 prehensible. The second is that of the Reason or Virtue, 
 which acknowledges God as the primary cause of the things 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM, 293 
 
 which are, and which takes account of those primordial 
 causes or ideas which are implied in His creatures and in 
 all His operations. The third motion is that of the senses, 
 which takes notice of all distinct operations and enters into 
 them.^ Thus, in the opinion of Erigena, neither the intel- 
 lect, nor senses, nor characteristics of man can be looked 
 upon as independent from their centre. From God they 
 have been derived ; about Him they revolve ; into Him 
 they will return. A doctrine like this is evidently verging 
 on the Oriental conceptions of emanation and absorption. 
 The Divine Nature, in his opinion, is the cause of all things, 
 * seeing that from that cause the whole circle of things 
 which, after it, are created from it, diffuses itself into genera 
 and species, and numbers and differences, and whatever 
 other distinctions there are in Nature, with a certain won- 
 derful and divine multiplication. But seeing that to that 
 same cause all things which proceed from it, when they 
 shall come to their end, will return, therefore it is called the 
 end of all thing's, and is said neither to create or be created ; 
 for after all things have returned into it, nothing further 
 will proceed from it by generation in place and time, in 
 l.inds and forms, since all will be quiet in it, and will remain 
 an unchanged and undivided one.' 
 
 ' God, therefore, in Himself is Love,' he says, * in Him- 
 self is Vision, in Himself is Motion, and nevertheless He is 
 neither Motion, nor Vision, nor Love, but more than Love, 
 more than Motion, more than Vision. And He is in Him- 
 self Loving, Seeing, Moving ; yet He is not in Himself 
 Loving, Seeing, Moving, because He is more than Loving, 
 Seeing, Moving. Further, He is in Himself to be Loved, to 
 be Seen, to be Moved ; and yet He is not in Himself to be 
 Seen, or Moved, or Loved, because He is more than that.' 
 
 To our idea we confess the worthy Erigena is somewhat 
 
 ' In the above account of the doctrine of Erigena I have for the most part 
 availed myself of the translation as given in Mr. Maurice's ' Moral and Meta- 
 physical Philosophy.' 
 
294 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 perplexing in his endeavours at exactitude. But still the 
 great virtue in Erigena, the one point in him that more than 
 atones for his obscurities and confusion, is that he was the 
 first for many centuries to see that though Reason was not 
 very trustworthy, she was yet far more trustworthy than 
 Authority. The chief work of Johannes is called ' On the 
 Division of Nature.' It is supposed to be a dialogue 
 between a master and disciple ; and in the first book of 
 this treatise, his ideas upon the importance of Reason as a 
 guide in life are very clearly explained. 
 
 ' Thou art not ignorant,' says the master, ' that I think 
 that which is first in Nature is of greater dignity than that 
 which is first in Time.* 
 
 Disciple, ' This is known almost to all.* 
 
 Master. ' We have learnt further that Reason is first in 
 Nature, but Authority in time. For, although Nature was 
 created together with Time, Authority did not begin to 
 exist from the beginning of Time and Nature. But Reason 
 has arisen together with Nature and Time from the be- 
 ginning of things.' 
 
 Disciple. * Reason itself teaches this. For Authority, no 
 doubt, hath proceeded from true Reason, but Reason not 
 by any means from Authority. And all Authority, which 
 is not approved by true Reason, turns out to be weak. 
 But true Reason, seeing that it stands out firm and im- 
 mutable, protected by its own virtues, needs not to be 
 strengthened by any confirmations of Authority. True 
 Authority, indeed, as it seems to me, is nothing else but 
 Truth united by the powers of Reason, and transmitted in 
 letters by the holy Fathers for the benefit of posterity. 
 Perhaps, however, you do not agree with me.* 
 
 Master. ' Entirely. Therefore, in the subject which is 
 now before us, let us resort, first to Reason, and then to 
 Authority.' 
 
 Such a passage as this, in a time when Authority was 
 everything, and every prompting or assertion of Reason 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 295 
 
 was regarded as a temptation from the Devil requiring 
 instant and stern suppression, appears, indeed, like a bright 
 solitary oasis amongst dreary tracks of waste and wilderness. 
 Meanwhile we must retrace our steps a little, and re- 
 member that early in the eighth century the Arabs had 
 conquered Spain, and thus lifted at least one portion of 
 Europe out of the slough of ignorance and barbarity. For 
 scarcely had the Arabs settled in Spain than they com- 
 menced a complete process of civilisation and improvement, 
 devoting themselves to the culture of mind as well as of 
 body. While the unhappy Christians were religiously bent 
 upon torturing the body, and allowing it to become ab- 
 solutely diseased from want of ablutions and clean linen, 
 the Spanish Arabs were, from equally religious and earnest 
 motives, cleanly upon principle ; and instead of torturing 
 the body, devoted themselves to the endeavour to heal 
 and alleviate such diseases as could not be prevented. 
 To every mosque was attached a public school, in which 
 the children of the poor were instructed how to read and 
 write, and informed of the chief principles inculcated in 
 the Koran. In Cordova, Granada, and other cities there 
 Were universities frequently under the superintendence of 
 the Jews ; the Mohammedan maxim being that the real 
 learning of a man is of more importance to the public in 
 general than the particular religious opinions he may hold.* 
 Every science, as well as every history and system of 
 philosophy, was diligently studied, although the science of 
 
 * 'Be not Ignorant, ' says AbuIpliaraglus,'one of the Arabian scholars, *that 
 those are the elect of God, those are His best and most useful servants, whose 
 lives are devoted to the improvement of their rational faculties. The mean 
 ambition of the Chinese may glory in the industry of their hands; that of the 
 Turks in the indulgence of their brutal appetites. Yet these dexterous artists 
 must view, with hopeless emulation, the hexagons and pyramids of the cells of 
 a beehive : those fortitudinous heroes are awed by the superior fierceness of 
 the lions and tigers ; and in their amorous enjoyments they are much inferior 
 to the vigour of the grossest and most sordid quadrupeds. The teachers of 
 wisdom are the true luminaries and legislators of a world, which, without their 
 aid, would again sink in ignorance and barbarism*' 
 
296 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 medicine seems to have been assigned the most prominent 
 place in the Arab system of learning. 
 
 Turn from the tenth century as it was in Mohammedan 
 Spain, to the tenth century as it was in Christian Italy, 
 and we should be hardly guilty of an exaggeration if we were 
 to describe it as the difference between Elysium and Pan- 
 demonium. For of all the centuries of vice and ignorance 
 that had gone before, there was not one which equalled the 
 tenth century in horrible crimes of almost unimaginable 
 barbarity. As we have said before, Christianity, not even 
 paganised Christianity, must be considered wholly re- 
 sponsible for all the vices and abominations of the then 
 Christian world. Indirectly, indeed, she may be considered 
 partially responsible, for she had persistingly inculcated a 
 prohibition of knowledge and learning ; and when the 
 mind is suffocated with ignorance it takes but little time 
 for it to be altogether extinguished with vice, and lose 
 itself completely in the mastery of animal desires and animal 
 propensities. It was an age of utter degradation. Nobles, 
 kings, and popes were sunk in vices that could scarcely be 
 written. Vile as were the nobles and princes, they were 
 yet exceeded in vileness by the practices of the Popes, who, 
 indeed, for many generations had been gradually becoming 
 more and more debased in their habits of debauchery and 
 tyranny. John the Twelfth had cut off the nose and tongue 
 of John the Cardinal. Boniface had strangled John the 
 Thirteenth. Even the populace, bigoted as it was, was 
 beginning to wonder whether really and truly the per- 
 petrators of such wickedness could be the vicars of God, 
 the successors of St. Peter. 
 
 The characteristics of the tenth century have been well 
 described by Mr. Maurice, and the marked condemnation 
 of them will come, perhaps, with more telling force from his 
 pen than from that of a free-thinker ; for, as he tells us 
 himself in his preface, he writes as a theologian and from a 
 theological point of view. Therefore we may not unfairly 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 297 
 
 conclude, that if it were possible for one possessing so large 
 and tolerant a nature as he possessed to be biassed at all, 
 that bias would surely be towards the theological side, and 
 we should not find him, without some very clear cause, con- 
 trasting favourably the condition of Mahometan Spain 
 with that of Christian Italy. Yet these are his words : — 
 
 * The tenth century is dark from its broad and manifest 
 abominations, from the utter absence of principle among 
 nobles and Churchmen, from the want of any thinking that 
 can be called earnest by its admirers, or mystical and un- 
 practical by its despisers ; from all those indications which 
 most betray the worldly character and purposes of the men 
 who, under one mask or another, were playing their differ- 
 ent parts. 
 
 ' If England presented itself as a kind of intellectual 
 centre in the eighth century, France in the ninth, we may 
 hesitate to what country we should assign that position in 
 the tenth. Italy is, unquestionably, the scene of the most 
 exciting political intrigues of the time ; the capital of 
 Western Christendom is the place in which its blackest 
 enormities are gathered up and from which they diffuse 
 themselves abroad. Italy is the battlefield whereon all the 
 selfish interests of families who claim lands and people for 
 their hereditary possession are engaged. The Popedom 
 becomes the prize for the counts, dukes, harlots who, by 
 one foul means or another, are enabled to make good their 
 supremacy. But the crimes of Italy call forth an avenger. 
 The tenth century brings the German Empire to light. In 
 Germany is the centre of a much more vigorous and, on the 
 whole, healthy power. The princes and ecclesiastics of 
 Italy are obliged to bow before it, because some of the 
 morality of the North is found in it and gives it dominion. 
 The world had reason to rejoice when the descendants of 
 Arminius claimed to be the successors of the Caesars, and 
 to establish or unseat the spiritual fathers at their pleasure. 
 Considering the circumstances of the tenth century, this 
 
298 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 was a divine boon to the nations. Yet it showed that all 
 but naked despotism was the only possible resource for that 
 wicked time ; that the idea of moral and spiritual power 
 was almost extinct. To call either Italy or Germany, there- 
 fore, an intellectual centre of Europe at this time is an 
 abuse of terms. Possibly we shall be more right if we con- 
 cede that name to Spain. Humiliating as that confession 
 may be, the sense of a power that was not merely physical 
 or merely artificial, upheld by the strength of the arm, or 
 created by man's ingenuity, dwelt with the Saracen. The 
 study of the laws of nature, of laws which men could not 
 regulate, but must confess, was pursued more successfully 
 and diligently at Cordova than in any city of Christendom. 
 Thither Christian scholars must resort, if they were not 
 ready to confess that God revealed the secrets of His uni- 
 verse exclusively to the Mussulman, and that those who 
 believed in the Incarnation of His Son were to know 
 nothing but the arts of the basest politicans, or the lies by 
 which the basest Churchmen saved them from detection.' ^ 
 
 The only glimmering of intellectual light that existed 
 in Christian Europe during the Middle Ages, was derived 
 almost entirely from the influence of Scholasticism ; and 
 Scholasticism, in its turn, owed almost all its better features 
 to the industry and culture of the Arabians. 
 
 Scholasticism has fared somewhat badly at the hands 
 of modern critics. Not very unnaturally so, perhaps. The 
 trivial disputes, the merely verbal distinctions, the mystic- 
 ism and obscurity that for the most part characterise the 
 writings of the Schoolmen, are apt to confuse and bewilder 
 everyone who is not gifted with a peculiar aptitude and 
 liking for metaphysical subtleties and verbal distinctions. 
 The age in which we live is, for the most part, of too practi- 
 cal a character to take delight in studies that are essentially 
 unpractical, and lead to No Man's Land. And in an age 
 of doubt and perpetual inquiry and questioning, like the 
 
 • 'Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy,' vol. i, pp. 502-503, 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 299 
 
 present, it is somewhat difficult to understand, much less to 
 sympathise with, the blind admiration and servile imitation 
 evinced for Aristotle by the Schoolmen. 
 
 Yet we must remember that even a devotion to meta- 
 physical subtleties and verbal distinctions is a worthier 
 occupation than deeds of bloodshed, lust, and rapine, and 
 delight in ignorance and want of culture. And although 
 we may justly lament that the reverence for Aristotle was 
 carried to so extreme a point, yet a great philosopher like 
 the Stagyrite was at least a worthier object of reverence 
 than the prohibitions or commands of the various Councils, 
 decreed, for the most part, by cardinals and popes notorious 
 for their ignorance and evil-living. The transition period 
 from Reason to Faith may be represented, we think, by 
 Neo-Platonism ; and, in like manner, the transition period, 
 from Faith to Reason may be fitly represented by Scholas- 
 ticism in the first place, and in the second place by the 
 Reformation. 
 
 We will proceed now to give a very short summary of 
 the principal characteristics of Scholasticism. 
 
 The great dispute of the Schoolmen was the dispute 
 between Nominalism and Realism ; and Roscellinus, whose 
 name has descended to us as the advocate and martyr of 
 Nominalism, is considered by some to be the founder of the 
 Scholastic philosophy ; although there are many, perhaps, 
 indeed, a majority of authorities, who assign that place to 
 Johannes Erigena. It was the old struggle revived between 
 names and things. The Realists thought that the general 
 types of things had a real existence, the Nominalists that 
 they were a mere mental abstraction expressed by a word. 
 But even this dispute, frivolous as it appears, frightened 
 and greatly angered the Church, for this controversy con- 
 cerning names and things was chiefly pointed (as in that 
 day nearly all controversies were pointed) in the direction 
 of questions concerning the Trinity. Roscellinus, in his 
 anxiety to show that universals were but mere names, and, 
 
300 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 apart from individuals, had no objective existence, was im- 
 pelled by logical necessity to go further and touch upon 
 subjects that were sure to be deemed rank heresy by the 
 Church. He declared that the doctrine which could set 
 forth that there were three persons in the Trinity was in- 
 compatible with the unity of real existence. He argued 
 that the three persons must either be quite distinct, and one 
 only in name, or else that the three persons must form but 
 One God, in which case God exists alone without distinction 
 of persons. By such an argument he alarmed and angered 
 the Church, and he was peremptorily commanded to appear 
 before the Council and publicly abjure his errors. He 
 obeyed this command, and by so doing escaped conse- 
 quences that would otherwise in all probability have 
 terminated fatally. 
 
 Yet, if Nominalism had fallen under the persecution of 
 the Church, Realism offended her scarcely less. For if 
 Nominalism had declared that universals possessed no ob- 
 jective existence, Realism almost insinuated that God was 
 the noumenon of every phenomenon, the reality or basis 
 which lay at the root of every objective existence ; that He 
 was not only the cause and origin, but contained within 
 Himself all phenomenal being ; and thus there was a ten- 
 dency to identify all substances in one substance. But the 
 outcome of such an argument necessarily led to Pantheism, 
 and Pantheism was regarded by the Church with little less 
 horror than absolute Atheism. 
 
 But though the Church (through the fact of her posses- 
 sion of legal power) came out the apparent victor amidst 
 these disputes, those disputes had nevertheless intrinsically 
 and implicitly weakened her power. Coupled with the 
 horror and indignation felt by the populace at the crimes of 
 the Popes, there .were not a few of the more thoughtful 
 Christians who were gradually, very secretly, and perhaps 
 almost unconsciously, losing all faith in the infallibility of 
 the Church. Many among these left their native place, lest 
 
RTSE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 3OI 
 
 in some unguarded moment they might betray their secret 
 opinions, and thus bring upon themselves the rancour and 
 virulence of the Church ; and took up their abode in Anda- 
 lusia, or Cordova, or some other city rejoicing in the merciful 
 and tolerant sway of the Mahometans. 
 
 These self-exiled Christians attended the Mahometan 
 schools, took part in the Mahometan studies and recreations ; 
 and it is even said that, though they retained their own 
 rites and religious ceremonies, they nevertheless frequently 
 intermarried with Mahometan families. 
 
 It was not only for persecuted Christians that Arabian 
 Spain formed a haven of refuge. The Jews were a race 
 that had been pitilessly and remorselessly tortured for ages 
 by the Catholic Church. With this unhappy people it was 
 frequently not even of any avail to keep silence and refrain 
 from giving vent to heretical opinions. The mere fact of 
 being a Jew — sometimes, indeed, even the fact of being of 
 Jewish descent or of being possessed of Jewish connexions — 
 formed a convenient pretext with the Church for gratifying 
 her love of oppression, or was twisted into a plausible ex- 
 cuse for extorting Jewish money and lands. Such Jews, 
 therefore, as were capable of leaving the country of their 
 oppressors, naturally did so, and for the most part selected 
 Arabia or Spain as the land of their adoption. The Jews 
 were a monotheistic, industrious, and, for the most part, 
 peace-loving people ; fond of making money, but also very 
 ardent in their pursuit of knowledge and learning. They 
 amalgamated well with the studious Mahometans; and when, 
 in addition, they were joined by the sprinkling of thought- 
 ful, questioning, self-exiled Christians, Arabian Spain and 
 Spanish Arabia must have displayed a galaxy of refined, 
 cultured, and tolerant men unequalled by any part of the 
 then known world. 
 
 Amongst the many great Arabian and Jewish names 
 we might mention, we will merely select those few that 
 more nearly concern us in a treatise of this description, 
 
302 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Alkendi and Al-Farabi are the two first Arabian names 
 that meet us of any note. They flourished about the ninth 
 and tenth centuries ; but the chief interest they possess for 
 us, lies in the fact that Alkendi was selected by the Caliph 
 as the man he thought most capable of rendering a trust- 
 worthy and readable translation of Aristotle. Al-Farabi 
 also devoted a good deal of time and labour to the study 
 of Aristotle ; and in addition, unlike the majority of 
 Arabian philosophers, paid considerable attention to the 
 philosophy of Plato. They both of them also took 
 much interest in the science of medicine. But as phy- 
 sicians they were completely eclipsed by Avicenna, whose 
 talents were of so high an order, and whose precocity was 
 so great, that at the age of seventeen it is said he was ap- 
 pointed medical adviser to the Emir Nou'h-ben Mansour, 
 whom he cured of a serious malady. 
 
 But the Arabian philosopher who has the most interest 
 for us in the present treatise is Abubacer, who wrote a 
 philosophical romance, which, as it indicates very clearly 
 the tendency, partly Pantheistic, partly Neo-Platonic, phi- 
 losophical thought was again taking, we will quote as we 
 find it given, or rather epitomised, in Mr, Lewes' 'History of 
 Philosophy.' 
 
 The romance is entitled ' Philosophus Auto-didactus,* 
 and the object of it appears to be an attempt on the part 
 of Abubacer to trace the development of an intelligence 
 unbiassed by society and its traditions and prejudices : — 
 
 ' His hero, Hai", is born on a desert island situated 
 beneath the equator. In lieu of human parents his gene- 
 ration takes place through certain physical conditions ; 
 which did not appear so preposterous in the eyes of Abu- 
 bacer*s contemporaries and successors as in the eyes of 
 moderns ; spontaneous generation being an universally 
 accepted hypothesis in those days. Hai had a gazelle for 
 his wet-nurse. The different periods of his development 
 are marked by the successive advances which he makes in 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 3O3 
 
 the comprehension of things. From the simple knowledge 
 of sensible things, he gradually arrives at a conception of 
 the world and its physical laws. Later on he recognises 
 the unity which underlies variety. Things, though mul- 
 tiple in their accidents, are one in esssence. He thus 
 arrives at the knowledge of Matter and Forms. The first 
 Form is Species. All bodies are united by corporeity, 
 i,e, the corporeal Form. 
 
 * Contemplating Matter and Forms, he enters the spi- 
 ritual world. It is obvious that inferior objects are pro- 
 duced by something. There must, therefore, be a Producer 
 of Forms, since whatever is produced must have a producer. 
 Directing his attention to the heavens, Haf sees a variety 
 of celestial bodies, which cannot be infinite. The celestial 
 spheres are as one individual, and thus the whole universe 
 is an entirety. Is this entirety eternal .'* Hai is unable to 
 decide, but inclines to the belief that it is eternal. Be that 
 as it may, he recognises an agent which perpetuates the 
 existence of the world and sets it in motion. This agent 
 is neither a body ; nor a faculty of a body, it is the Form 
 of the universe. All beings are the work of this Supreme 
 Being ; and our minds contemplating the beauty of the 
 work necessarily ascend to its Creator, his goodness and 
 perfection. All forms are in him and issue from him, so 
 that there is in truth no other existence. 
 
 ' Hal now looks inwards. He finds that his intellect is 
 absolutely incorporeal, since it perceives things divested of 
 all quality — and this neither the senses nor the imagination 
 are capable of doing. Therein lies the real essence of man, 
 that which is neither born nor dies. The intellect is troubled 
 by matter, and endeavours to disengage itself by giving 
 to the body only such care as is indispensable to existence. 
 Its beatitude and its pain are in a direct ratio to its union 
 with God or its distance from Him. By ecstacy man unites 
 himself with God. Then the universe appears to him only 
 God, whose light is shed over all, but manifests itself in 
 
304 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 greater splendour in the purest beings. Multiplicity exists 
 only for the senses. It disappears before the intellect 
 which has disengaged itself from matter.' ^ 
 
 This romance acquired great popularity at the time it 
 was written — a popularity, indeed, which has never been 
 entirely outgrown, for at various times it has been trans- 
 lated severally into the Latin, English, Dutch, and German 
 languages. The reader who has gone through the earlier 
 part of this sketch will readily perceive a decided similarity 
 between the conceptions of Neo-Platonism and those of 
 Abubacer. 
 
 But the Arabian philosopher who even more nearly 
 resembles the Neo-Platonists is Algazzali, the ' Light of 
 Islam,' the * Pillar of the Mosque,' as he has been frequently 
 called. 
 
 In the following account of this eminent philosopher 
 we again quote from Mr. Lewes' valuable history : — 
 
 ' Algazzali was born in the city of Tous, A.D. 1058. His 
 father was a dealer in cotton thread {gazzal)y from whence 
 he drew his name. Losing his father in early life, he was 
 confided to the care of a Soufi. The nearest approach to 
 what is meant by a Soufi is what we mean by mystic. The 
 influence of this Soufi was great. No sooner had the youth 
 finished his studies, than he was appointed professor of 
 theology at Bagdad, where his eloquence achieved such 
 splendid success that all the Imans became his eager par- 
 tisans. So great was the admiration he inspired, that the 
 Mussulmans sometimes said, 'If all Islam were destroyed 
 it would be but a slight loss, provided AlgazzaH's work on 
 the " Revivication of the Sciences of Religion " were pre- 
 served.' This ^vork, probably owing to its originality, was 
 never translated into Latin during the Middle Ages, and 
 remained a closed book to all but Arabian scholars until 
 M. Schmolders published his version. It bears so remark- 
 able a resemblance to the Discours s?ir la MMode of Des- 
 
 ' ' History of Philosophy/ by G. 11. Lewes, \o\, ii. pp. 47, 48. 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 305 
 
 cartes, that had any translation of it existed in the days of 
 Descartes everyone would have cried out against its pla- 
 giarism. Like Descartes, he begins with describing how 
 he had in vain interrogated every sect for an answer to 
 the mysterious problems which " disturbed him with a 
 sense of things unknown ; '' and how he finally resolved to 
 discard all authority, and detach himself from the opinions 
 which had been instilled into him during the unsus- 
 pecting years of childhood. " I said to myself," he pro- 
 ceeds, " my aim is simply to know the truth of things, 
 consequently it is indispensable for me to ascertain what is 
 hioivledge. Now, it was evident for me that certain know- 
 ledge must be that which explains the object to be known 
 in such a manner that no doubt can remain, so that in 
 future all error and conjecture respecting it must be im- 
 possible. Not only would the understanding then need no 
 efforts to be convinced of certitude, but security against 
 error is in such close connection with knowledge, that 
 even were an apparent proof of its falsehood to be brought 
 forward it would cause no doubt, because no suspicion of 
 error would be possible. Thus, when I have acknowledged 
 ten to be more than three, if anyone were to say, * On the 
 contrary, three is more than ten ; and to prove the truth of 
 my assertion I will change this rod into a serpent ; ' and if 
 he ivere to change it, my conviction of his error would re- 
 main unshaken. His manceuvre would only produce in 
 me admiration for his ability. I should not doubt my own 
 knowledge. 
 
 * " Then was I convinced that knowledge which I did 
 not possess in this manner, and respecting which I had not 
 this certainty, could inspire me with neither confidence nor 
 assurance ; and no knowledge without assurance deserves 
 the name of knowledge. 
 
 * " Having examined the state of my own knowledge, I 
 found it could be divested of all that could be said to have 
 these qualities, unless perceptions of the senses and irre- 
 VOL. I. X 
 
306 MODERN PANTHEISM, 
 
 fragable principles were to be considered such. I then 
 said to myself, ' Now, having fallen into this despair, the 
 only hope remaining of acquiring incontestable convictions 
 is by the perception of the senses, and by necessary truths.' 
 Their evidence seemed to me indubitable. I began, how- 
 ever, to examine the objects of sensation and speculation, 
 to see if they could possibly admit of doubt. Then doubts 
 crowded upon me in such numbers that my incertitude be- 
 came complete. Whence results the confidence I have in 
 sensible things } The strongest of all our senses is sight ; 
 and yet, looking at a shadow and perceiving it to be fixed 
 and immovable, we judge it to be deprived of movement ; 
 nevertheless, experience teaches us that, when we return to 
 the same place an hour after, the shadow is displaced, for 
 it does not vanish suddenly, but gradually, little by little, 
 so as never to be at rest. If we look at the stars they 
 seem as small as money-pieces, but mathematical proofs 
 convince us they are larger than the earth. These and 
 other things are judged by the senses, but rejected by 
 reason as false. I abandoned the senses, therefore, having 
 seen all my confidence in their truth shaken. 
 
 * " Perhaps," said I, " there is no assurance but in the 
 notions of reason ; that is to say, first principles, e.g, ten is 
 more than three ; the same thing cannot have been created 
 and yet have existed from all eternity ; to exist and not to 
 exist at the same time is impossible." 
 
 ' " Upon this the senses replied : ' What assurance have 
 you that your confidence in Reason is not of the same nature 
 as your confidence in us } When you relied on us Reason 
 stepped in and gave us the lie ; had not Reason been there 
 you would have continued to rely on us. Well, may there 
 not exist some other judge superior to Reason, who, if he 
 appeared, would refute the judgments of Reason in the same 
 way that Reason refuted us ? The non-appearance of such 
 a judge is no proof of his non-existence.' " 
 
 'These sceptical arguments Algazzali borrowed from 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 307 
 
 the Grecian sceptics, and having borrowed them, he Hkewise 
 borrowed from the Grecian mystics, of the Alexandrian 
 School, the means of escape from scepticism. He looked 
 upon life as a dream. " I strove in vain to answer the ob- 
 jections. And my difficulties increased when I came to re- 
 flect upon sleep. I said to myself, ' During sleep you give 
 to visions a reality and consistence, and you have no sus- 
 picion of their untruth. On awakening you are made aware 
 they were nothing but visions. What assurance have you 
 that all you feel and know when awake does actually exist ^ 
 It is all true as respects your condition at that moment ; 
 but it is nevertheless possible that another condition should 
 present itself which should be to your awakened state that 
 which your awakened state is now to your sleep; so that in 
 respect to this higher condition your waking is but sleep.'" 
 If such a higher condition be granted, Algazzali asks whe- 
 ther we can ever attain to participation in it. He suspects 
 that the ecstacy described by the Soufis must be the very 
 condition. But he finds himself philosophically unable to 
 escape the consequences of scepticism ; the sceptical ar- 
 guments could only be refuted by demonstrations. But 
 demonstrations themselves must be founded on first prin- 
 ciples ; if t/ie;y are uncertain no demonstration can be certain. 
 
 * " I was thus forced to return to the admission of intel- 
 lectual notions as the basis of all certitude. TMs, how- 
 ever^ was not by systematic reasoning and acctmiulation of 
 proof, btit by a flash of light which God sent into my soul. 
 For whoever imagines that truth can only he rendered evi- 
 dent hy proof s places narrow limits to the wide compassion 
 of the Creator." 
 
 'Thus we see Algazzali eluding scepticism just as the 
 Alexandrians eluded it — taking refuge in faith. He then 
 cast his eyes on the various sects of the faithful, whom he 
 ranged under four classes :— 
 
 ' First, the Dogmatists : those who ground their doctrine 
 wholly upon reason. 
 
 X 2 
 
308 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 * Second, the Bastinis, or AUegorists : those who receive 
 their doctrine from an Imam and beheve themselves sole 
 possessors of truth. 
 
 ' Third, the philosophers : those who call themselves 
 masters of logic and demonstration. 
 
 * Fourth, the Soufis : those who claim an iimnediate in- 
 tuition^ by which they perceive the real manifestations of 
 truth, as ordinary men perceive material phenomena. 
 
 * These schools he resolved thoroughly to question. In 
 the writings of the Dogmatists he acknowledged that their 
 aim was realised — but their aim was not his aim. " Their 
 aim," he says, "■ is the preservation of the faith from the 
 alterations produced by heretics." But his object was phi- 
 losophical, not theological ; so he turned from the Dogma- 
 tists to the Philosophers, studying their works with intense 
 ardour, convinced that he could not refute them till he had 
 thoroughly understood them. He did refute them entirely 
 to his satisfaction ; and, having done so, turned to the 
 Soufis, in whose writings he found a doctrine which re- 
 quired the union of action with speculation, in which virtue 
 was a guide to knowledge. The aim of the Soufis was to 
 free the mind from earthly considerations, to purify it from 
 all passions, to leave it only God as an object of medi- 
 tation. The highest truths were not to be reached by 
 study, but by trmisport — by a transformation of the soul 
 during ecstacy. There is the same difference between this 
 higher order of truth and ordinary science, as between being 
 healthy and knowing the definition of health. To reach 
 this state it was necessary first to purify the soul from all 
 earthly desires, to extirpate from it all attachment to the 
 world, and humbly direct the thoughts to our eternal home. 
 
 ' *' Reflecting on my situation, I found myself bound to 
 this world by a thousand ties, temptations assailing me on 
 all sides. I then examined my actions. The best were 
 those relating to instruction and education ; and even then 
 I saw myself given up to unimportant sciences, all useless 
 
RISE OK SCHOLASTICISM. 309 
 
 in another world. Reflecting on the aim of my teaching, I 
 found it was not pure in the sight of the Lord. I saw that 
 all my efforts were directed towards the acquisition of 
 glory to myself." 
 
 ' Thus did philosophy lead him to a speculative asce- 
 ticism, which calamity was shortly afterwards to transform 
 into practical asceticism. One day, as he was about to 
 lecture to a throng of admiring auditors, his tongue refused 
 utterance : he was dumb. This seemed to him a visitation 
 of God, a rebuke to his vanity, which deeply affected him. 
 He lost his appetite ; he was fast sinking ; physicians 
 declared his recovery hopeless, unless he could shake off 
 the sadness which depressed him. He sought refuge in 
 the contemplation of the Deity. 
 
 '"Having distributed my wealth, I left Bagdad and 
 retired into Syria, where I remained two years in solitary 
 struggle with my soul, combating my passions and exer- 
 cising myself in the purification of my heart and in prepa- 
 ration for the other world." 
 
 ' He visited Jerusalem, and made a pilgrimage to Mecca, 
 but at length returned to Bagdad, urged thereto by ''private 
 affairs " and the requests of his children, as he says, but 
 more probably urged thereto by his sense of failure, for he 
 confesses not to have reached the ecstatic stdugc. Occasional 
 glimpses were all that he could attain, isolated moments 
 of exaltation passing quickly away. 
 
 ' " Nevertheless I did not despair of finally attaining this 
 state. Every time that any accident turned me from it, I 
 endeavoured quickly to re-enter it. In this condition I 
 remained ten years. In my solitude there were revelations 
 made to me which it is impossible for me to describe, or 
 even indicate. Enough if, for the reader's profit, I declare 
 that the conviction was forced upon me that the Soufis 
 indubitably walked in the true paths of salvation. Their 
 way of life is the most beautiful, and their morals the purest 
 that can be conceived. 
 
3IO modi:rn pantheism. 
 
 '"The first condition of Soufi purification is, that the 
 novice purge his heart of all that is not God. Prayers are 
 the means. The object is absorption of the Deity. 
 
 * "From the very first, Soufis have such astonishing revela- 
 tions that they are enabled, while walking, to see visions of 
 angels and the souls of the prophets ; they hear their voices 
 and receive their favours. Afterwards a transport exalts 
 them beyond the mere perception of forms to a degree 
 which exceeds all expression, and concerning which we 
 cannot speak without employing language that would 
 sound blasphemous. In fact, some have gone so far as to 
 imagine themselves to be amalgamated with God; others 
 identified with Him ; and others to be associated with Him. 
 All these are sinful."' 
 
 ' Algazzali refuses to enter more minutely into this 
 subject ; he contents himself with the assertion that whoso 
 knows not ecstacy knows prophetism only by name. And 
 what is Prophetism ? The fourth stage in intellectual de- 
 velopment. The first or infantile stage is that of pure 
 Sensation ; the second which begins at seven, is that of 
 Understanding ; the third is Reason, by means of which 
 the intellect perceives the necessary, the possible, the 
 absolute, and all those higher objects which transcend the 
 understanding. After this comes the fourth stage, when 
 another eye is opened by which man perceives all things 
 hidden from others — perceives all that will be — per- 
 ceives things that escape the perceptions of Reason, as 
 the objects of Reason escape the Understanding, and as 
 the objects of the Understanding escape the sensitive 
 faculty. This is Prophetism. Algazzali undertakes to prove 
 the existence of this faculty: — 
 
 ' " Doubts respecting Prophetism must refer either to its 
 possibility or its reality. To prove its possibility it is only 
 necessary to prove that it belongs to the category of objects 
 which cannot be regarded as the products of intelligence : 
 such, for example, as Astronomy or Medicine. For whoso 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 3 1 1 
 
 studies these sciences is aware that they cannot be 
 comprehended except by Divine inspiration — with the as- 
 sistance of God, and not by experience. Since there are 
 astronomical indications which appear only once in a 
 thousand years, how could they be known by experience ? 
 From this argument it is evident that it is very possible to 
 perceive things which the intellect cannot conceive. And 
 this is precisely one of the properties of Prophetism, which 
 has a myriad other properties ; but these are only per- 
 ceptible during Ecstacy, by those who lead the life of the 
 Soufis."'! 
 
 But the Arabian philosopher who indirectly exercised 
 the widest influence over European thought was Averroes, 
 one of the ablest men, among many able, that Arabia had 
 produced. He was a voluminous commentator upon Aris- 
 totle, and had devoted much time to the study of Astro- 
 nomy. It is said he was the first who discovered spots 
 on the Sun. But his scientific knowledge had led him 
 to the rejection of all revelation alike, whether Christian or 
 Mahometan. 
 
 The knowledge of the writings of Averroes, and indeed, 
 of Mahometan literature in general, among Europeans, may 
 be considered as chiefly due to the efforts of one Gerbert, 
 a French ecclesiastic, born at Auvergne. He had, whilst 
 a boy, attracted the attention of the Count of Barcelona, 
 who took him to Spain, where he became a proficient in 
 the mathematics, astronomy, and physics of the Mahome- 
 tan schools. He resided at Cordova, the birthplace of 
 Averroes, and when he returned to Christendom, he could 
 not help comparing the ignorance and vice he found there 
 with the enlightenment and learning of the Mahometans. 
 He declared bitterly that there was no one in Rome who 
 knew enough of letters to qualify him for a doorkeeper. He 
 openly and fearlessly alluded to the abominable practices 
 
 * ' History of Philosophy,' vol. ii. pp. 49-55. 
 
312 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 of the popes, and asked whether it were possible any- 
 longer for the priests of God — men distinguished for their 
 holy lives — to submit to 'monsters full of all infamy, void 
 of all knowledge, human and divine.' . After comparing the 
 iniquity of Rome with the purity of Cordova, he declared 
 it to be a lamentable, but by no means an incomprehensible, 
 fact, that Rome had ' already lost the allegiance of the 
 East ; Alexandria, Antioch, Africa, and Asia had separated 
 themselves from her ; Constantinople had broken loose 
 from her ; the interior of Spain knew nothing of the Pope.* 
 
 Gerbert was one of the first ecclesiastics who ever pre- 
 sumed to question the infallibility of the Pope. Less than 
 a century afterwards he was followed in this presumption 
 by one even more daring than himself, the famous Abelard. 
 The behaviour of these two questioners may be regarded as 
 the first indication and earliest germ from which was shortly 
 to issue the Protest of Wickliffe, which grew gradually into 
 maturity under the name of the Reformation. 
 
 Gerbert himself was raised to the dignity of the Papal 
 chair under the title of Sylvester the Second. His death is 
 supposed to have been occasioned by the administration of 
 poison through the jealousy and malice of one of his nume- 
 rous enemies. His sway, while papal sovereign, was so 
 wise and beneficial that the growing irritation against the 
 conduct of the former popes was temporarily assuaged or 
 forgotten ; but after his death it again began to make itself 
 felt. 
 
 A low plebeian monk of Cluny, Hildebrand by name, 
 was raised to the Papal chair under the title of Gregory the 
 Seventh. The arrogant assumption of this pope was so 
 great that it might almost be termed a species of madness. 
 He wantonly and remorselessly insulted the kings of France, 
 Hungary, Poland, and Spain ; yet, though his conduct was 
 bitterly resented by those princes, the times were not suffi- 
 ciently ripe for them to dare to contend against his extra- 
 
RISE OF SCHOLASTICISM. 313 
 
 vagant claims. Moreover the Crusading movement was at 
 its height ; and the Crusades were a source of such all- 
 absorbing interest that little else was thought of, much less 
 done. 
 
 It v^^as not till the voice of Abelard made itself heard 
 that men became conscious of the resentment and indigna- 
 tion that had been so long smouldering within their breasts. 
 Now for the first time they began in earnest to search out 
 and investigate the condition of the Church, which, though 
 its claims were higher than ever, was in even a more de- 
 plorable state than in the time of Gerbert. There was 
 actually a schism in the Chair of St. Peter itself Two 
 popes each professed to be the lineal successors of the 
 Apostle. Alexander the Third and Victor the Fourth were 
 supported by different factions ; and for eighteen years, 
 from 1 159 to 1177, there was presented the unedifying 
 spectacle of two contending heads of Christendom inter- 
 changing threats and curses, and denouncing each other as 
 Antichrist. 
 
 The condition of the clergy was scarcely less open to 
 reproach. With very few exceptions the members alike of 
 the higher and lower ranks of the clergy were sunk in sen- 
 suality and vice of every description. The only use they 
 made of their holy office was to employ it as a cloak and 
 cover for their unmentionable sins. Things were coming 
 to such a pass that it became difficult for the laity any 
 longer to hold their peace. Murmurings and protests were 
 beginning to be openly uttered. The Church saw her 
 danger. She could not shut her eyes to the fact that in- 
 trinsically her power was weakened, if not absolutely de- 
 parted. But she was not daunted. If her intrinsic glory 
 had forsaken her, she would seek extrinsic aid. If her in- 
 fallibility were no longer believed in, she would not stoop 
 to argue the recusants into re-belief, but would torture and 
 burn them into silence and submission. 
 
314 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Thus was commenced a diabolical system of barbarity 
 and cruelty, accompanied with rigid surveillance and es- 
 pionage, which was soon to be organised into the infernal 
 institution of unhappy fame calling itself by the name of 
 The Inquisition. 
 
315 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SERVETUS. 
 
 The paganisatlon and degradation of Christianity ef- 
 fected by the Catholic Church, a brief account of which 
 has been related in the last two chapters, gave rise at last 
 to open rebellion and revolt. In the thirteenth century 
 we are met with the Albigensian revolt, in the fourteenth 
 with that of Wickliffe and the Lollards. But the Church, 
 with the paramount power and absolute authority that still 
 belonged to her, was able to quench these schisms almost 
 as soon as they began to make themselves heard ; and John 
 Huss, one of the principal Lollard leaders, was unscrupu- 
 lously burnt to death as an example and warning to all 
 future heretics. 
 
 But though the fire had apparently been thus victo- 
 riously extinguished, the ashes were still smouldering ; and 
 it required but a very little matter to set it alight again — 
 a draught of air accidental!}" let in, or a pair of bellows 
 deliberately applied, as the case might be, would very 
 quickly rekindle it into flames. And in the sixteenth cen- 
 tuiy the Reformation breaks in upon us in its full strength 
 and youthful ardour, under the leadership of Martin Luther 
 and John Calvin. 
 
 When Luther first lifted up his voice against the 
 iniquity of purchasing indulgences for sin, it is probable 
 that he himself was little conscious of the enormous dimen- 
 sions his protest was so shortly to assume. The success of 
 any cause, whether religious or political, may be likened 
 
3i5 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 to the successful raising of a tree or plant — it is not enough 
 that the seed be pure and good and abundantly scattered 
 abroad, but it also requires the soil to be properly adapted 
 and carefully prepared. The secret of Luther*s success 
 lay in the fact that he was eminently the outgrowth 
 of the period in which he lived ; he was the man of his 
 time, the product of his age. Gifted though he un- 
 doubtedly was, in no other century, we imagine, would 
 the seed of his doctrine have borne such abundant fruit as 
 in the earlier half of the sixteenth. Doubt and discontent 
 were in the very air, and Luther was but the spokesman 
 able to put thcrhalf-uttered thoughts of others into eloquent 
 language. 
 
 We have such deep admiration for the Reformation ; 
 we believe it has performed so important a part in the 
 history of European civilisation ; we are so conscious of 
 it being the germ out of which reason and experimental 
 science grew, to the displacement of ignorance and servile 
 submission to authority, that it is painful to us to be 
 obliged to devote a chapter to the exposure of the greatest 
 blot upon it that has as yet happened, and to give a de- 
 tailed account of cruelty and bigotry as great as was ever 
 displayed under the blackest phase of Catholic Christianity. 
 Yet, as in a treatise of this description the story of Michael 
 Servetus, part mystic, part pantheist, certainly deserves 
 some little notice, we must put our scruples on one side, 
 and proceed to the relation of the history of the man who 
 was cruelly done to death by the vindictiveness and bigotry 
 of the early Reformer, John Calvin.^ 
 
 ^ 'I am more deeply scandalised,' says Gibbon, 'at the single execution of 
 Servetus, than at the hecatombs which have blazed at the auto-de-fes of 
 Spain and Portugal. Tlic zeal of Calvin seems to have been envenomed by 
 personal malice and perhaps envy. He accused his adversary before their com- 
 mon enemies, the judges of Vienne, and betrayed, for his destruction, the sacred 
 trust of a private correspondence. The deed of cruelty was not varnished by 
 the pretence of danger to the Church or State. In his passage through Geneva, 
 Servetus was a harmless stranger who neither preached nor made proselytes. 
 
SERVETUS. 317 
 
 Both the date and place of the birth of Servetus are 
 somewhat uncertain. According to some authorities he 
 was born at Tudela, in the kingdom of Navarre ; accord- 
 ing to others he was born at Villaneuva, in the kingdom of 
 Arragon. The most probable date of his birth lies some^- 
 where between the years 1508 and 1512. Of his parents 
 we know scarcely anything save that they seem to have 
 come of gentle blood, and that his mother's maiden name 
 was Rev^s, an alias that was not unfrequently assumed in 
 after-life by her son. In all probability the profession of 
 his father was that of a notary. 
 
 Servetus seems to have been originally destined by his 
 parents for the Church, and, in accordance with this view, 
 was placed for his education in one of the convents at or 
 near his native town. At twelve or fourteen years of age 
 he appears to have entered the University of Saragossa, 
 which at that time took rank as the most eminent univer- 
 sity in Spain. At Saragossa he remained some four or 
 five years studying with industry, and distinguishing him- 
 self by his proficiency in classics, philosophy, and as much 
 of science as was then capable of being learnt. Religious 
 doubts most probably assailed him early, for before he 
 had left college we find that he has renounced all intention 
 of the Church as a means of livelihood, and intends to de- 
 vote himself instead to the hereditary profession of his 
 family, namely, that of law. His father does not seem to 
 have combated this intentional change of profession in his 
 son, but sent him to Toulouse, in which school Servetus 
 was duly entered as student of law, and where he re- 
 mained about three years. Ultimately he became neither 
 lawyer nor priest, but physician. 
 
 The natural bent of his mind, however, was certainly 
 
 A Catholic inquisitor yields the same obedience which he requires, but Calvin 
 violated the golden rule of doing as he would be done by ; a rule which is to 
 be found in a moral treatise of Isocrates, four hundred years before the pub- 
 lication of the Gospel.' 
 
3l8 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 theological, and Indeed we think that throughout the whole 
 of his life his character displays itself as that of an earnest, 
 pious, but decidedly sonaewhat mystical zealot. When at 
 Toulouse he made acquaintance for the first time with the 
 Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. He admired 
 them greatly, and subsequently, in his first work, describes 
 the Bible as a ' book come down from heaven.' At Tou- 
 louse also he became acquainted with the writings of 
 various of the Reformers, but finds himself not entirely at 
 one with the opinions of any of these. ' For my own part,' 
 he says, ' I neither agree nor disagree in every particular 
 with either Catholic or Reformer. Both of them seem to 
 me to have something of truth and something of error in 
 their views ; and whilst each sees the other's shortcomings, 
 neither sees his own. God, in His goodness, gives us all to 
 understand our errors and inclines us to put them away. 
 It would be easy indeed to judge dispassionately of every- 
 thing, were we but suffered without molestation by the 
 churches freely to speak our minds ; the older exponents of 
 doctrine, in obedience to the recommendation of St. Paul, 
 giving place to younger men, and these in their turn making 
 way for teachers of the day who had aught to impart that 
 had been revealed to them. But our doctors now contend 
 for nothing but power. The Lord confound all tyrants of 
 the Church ! Amen.' ^ Yet, in spite of this impartial, dis- 
 passionate mode of balancing the faults and virtues of 
 Catholicism and Protestantism one against another, there 
 are times when it is plain that Servetus has conceived a 
 most bitter repugnance against the Papacy, for we find him 
 indulging in vituperations against it that he never permits 
 himself to employ against Protestantism. At one time he 
 apostrophises the Papacy thus : ' O bcstiay bestiarum, merc- 
 trix sceleratissima' — * O beast, most beastly, most wicked 
 of harlots.' 
 
 * See Dr. "Willis's recent interesting work on * Servetus and Calvin,' 
 page 25. 
 
SERVETUS. 319 
 
 In 1 531 was published the first book that threw much 
 suspicion on Servetus^Seven Books on Mistaken Con- 
 ceptions of the Trinity, or (as the Latin title ran) ' Dc 
 Trinitatis ErroribiiSy Lihri Septan. Per Michaelem Serveto 
 alias Reves. Ab Aragonia^ HispauMut, 1531/ 
 
 In common with many before and since himself, Serve- 
 tus was unable to comprehend the ordinary orthodox con- 
 ceptions of the Trinity. He could not understand how the 
 Son could be co-eternal with the Father. He agreed with 
 Arius in concluding that in the very nature of things the 
 Father must have a longer origin in time than the Son. 
 He stated his belief that Christ should be called the Son 
 of the Eternal God, and not the Eternal Son of God. 
 And, still further, he asserted his conviction that the exist- 
 ence of three distinct persons or entities in the unity of 
 the Godhead is an impossibility, and consequently a fun- 
 damental religious error. 
 
 This work seems to have given greater offence to the 
 Protestants than the Catholics. Bucer, one of the leading 
 Reformers of Strasburg, denounced Servetus from the pul- 
 pit, declaring that the writer of such a book deserved to be 
 disembowelled and torn in pieces ! CEcolampadius, another 
 Reformer, declared solemnly that until Servetus would 
 acknowledge the co-eternity of the Father with the Son 
 he, for his part, would refuse to believe that he could be 
 in any requisite sense of the word a Christian at all. And 
 indeed every one of the Reformers were anxious to dis- 
 claim all connection with any of the opinions and writings 
 of Servetus.' 
 
 ^ 'After a fair discussion,' says Gibbon, 'we are rather surprised by the 
 timidity than scandalised by the freedom of our first Reformers. With the Jews 
 they adopted the beUef and defence of all the Hebrew Scriptures, from the 
 Garden of Eden to visions of the prophet Daniel ; and they were bound, like 
 the Catholics, to justify against the Jews the abolition of a Divine law. In the 
 great mysteries of the Trinity and Incarnation the Reformers were severely 
 orthodox : they freely adopted the theology of the four or the first six Councils ; 
 and with the Athanasian Creed they pronounced the eternal damnation of 
 all who did not believe the Catholic faith. Transubstantiation — the invisible 
 
320 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 In common with the majority of deep thinkers (many 
 greater than himself), the religious opinions of Servetus 
 were strongly coloured with pantheism. ' God/ he says, 
 ' is eternal, one and indivisible, and in Himself inscrutable, 
 
 change of the bread and wine uito the body and blood of Christ— is a tenet that 
 may defy the power of argument and pleasantry ; but instead of consulting the 
 evidence of their senses, of their sight, their feeling, and their taste, the first 
 Protestants were entangled in their own scruples, and awed by the words of 
 Jesus in the institution of the Sacrament. Luther maintained a corporeal 
 and Calvin a real presence of Christ in the Eucharist; and the opinion of 
 Zwinglius, that it is no more than a spiritual communion, a simple memorial, 
 has slowly prevailed in the Reformed Churches. But the loss of the one 
 mystery was amply compensated by the stupendous doctrines of original sin, 
 redemption, faith, grace, and predestination, which had been strained from 
 the Epistles of St. Paul. These subtle questions had been most assuredly 
 prepared by the Fathers and the Schoolmen; but the final improvement and 
 popular use maybe attributed to the first Reformers, who enforced them as the 
 absolute and essential terms of salvation. Hitherto the weight of super- 
 natural belief inclines against the Protestants, and many a sober Christian 
 would rather admit that a wafer is God than that God is a cruel and capricious 
 
 tyrant. 
 
 * Yet the services of Luther and his rivals are solid and nnportant, and 
 the philosopher must own his obligations to these fearless enthusiasts. By 
 their hands the lofty fabric of superstition, from the abuse of indulgences to 
 the intercession of the Virgin, has been levelled with the ground. Myriads 
 of both sexes of the monastic profession were restored to the liberty and 
 labours of social life. A hierarchy of saints and angels, of imperfect and 
 subordinate deities, were stripped of their temporal power, and reduced to the 
 enjoyment of celestial happiness; their images and relics were banished from 
 the Church ; and the credulity of the people was no longer nourished with the 
 daily repetition of miracles and visions. The imitation of paganism was sup- 
 plied by a pure and spiritual worship of prayer and thanksgiving, the most 
 worthy of man, the least unworthy of the Deity. The chain of authority was 
 broken which restrains the bigot from thinking as he pleases, and the slave 
 from speaking as he thinks ; the Popes, Fathers, and Councils were no longer 
 the supreme and infallible judges of the world ; and each Christian was taught 
 to acknowledge no law but the Scriptures, no interpreter but his own con- 
 science This freedom, however, was the consequence rather than the design 
 of the Reformation. The patriot Reformers were ambitious of succeeding the 
 tyrants whom they dethroned. They imposed with equal rigour their creeds 
 and confessions; they asserted the right of the magistrate to punish heretics 
 with death. The pious or personal animosity of Calvin proscribed m Ser- 
 vetus, the guilt of his own rebellion, and the flames of Smithfield, in which he 
 was afterwards consumed, had been kindled for the Anabaptists by the zeal 
 of Cranmer. The nature of the tiger was the same, but he was gradually 
 deprived of his teeth and fangs,' 
 
SERVETUS. 3 2 I 
 
 but making His being known in and through creation, so 
 that not only is every Hving but every Hfeless thing an 
 aspect of the Deity. Before creation was God was ; but 
 neither was He Light, nor Word, nor Spirit, but some in- 
 effable thing else, these, Light, Word, Spirit, being mere 
 dispensations, modes, or expressions of pre-existing Deity. 
 God has no proper nature, for this would imply a beginning ; 
 and before and after are words that have no significance 
 when they are referred to God. Though God knew what to 
 man would be a future, His own prescience was without re- 
 spect to time, and involved no such necessity as is implied 
 in choice. God can be defined by nothing that pertains to 
 body ; He created the world out of himself, of His substance, 
 and, as essence, He actuates all things. The Spirit of God 
 is the universal agent ; it is in the air we breathe, and is the 
 very breath of life ; it moves the heavenly bodies, sends out 
 the winds from their quarters, takes up and stores the water 
 in the clouds, and pours it out as rain to fertilise the earth. 
 God is distinct from the universe of things, and when we 
 speak of the Word, the Son, and the Holy Spirit we but 
 speak of the presence and power of God projected into 
 creation, animating and actuating all that therein is, man 
 more especially than aught else. The Holy Spirit is the 
 motion of God in the soul of man ; out of man there can- 
 not properly be said to be any Holy Spirit.' 
 
 Such passages as above quoted of course display very 
 strongly how greatly imbued were the opinions of Servetus 
 with the spirit of Pantheism. Yet he did not throw off 
 his allegiance to Christianity. In some mystical sort of 
 way (satisfactory to himself, but, we should imagine, to few 
 others) he tried to reconcile his new opinions with the 
 doctrines of Christianity. In the doctrine of the Incarna- 
 tion, for instance, he seems quite willing to accept as a 
 truth the virginity of the Mother of our Lord. Yet it 
 puzzles him to think how such a miracle could have hap- 
 pened. After due consideration he brings himself to the 
 VOL. I. V 
 
322 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 conclusion that the Holy Ghost, or more properly a divine 
 afflatus or essence proceeding from God, must have acted 
 upon the Virgin as a sort of generative dew. In some mys- 
 tical sort of way, too, he has his own belief in a Trinity, 
 but it is perfectly distinct from the generally received 
 doctrine on that subject. He declares that the ordinary 
 orthodox conception of the Christian Trinity has been a 
 great obstacle to the progress of the religion of Christ, for 
 which reason he will even shrink from employing the term 
 more often than is obligatory upon him in discussing the 
 subject. The word * Trinity,' he goes on to state, is not 
 once to be found in the Scripture ; it is utterly against the 
 monotheistic teaching of the Hebrews ; and the only part 
 it has played has been that of increasing and perpetuating 
 philosophical error. 
 
 This book caused Servetus to be regarded with so much 
 suspicion that he deemed it wise to quit Switzerland ; and 
 we next find him dwelling at Paris under the name of 
 Villeneuve. It was during the early part of his residence 
 there — namely, about 1533— that he first made the ac- 
 quaintance of the man who was subsequently to prove 
 his bitterest enemy — John Calvin. 
 
 Most probably it was Servetus himself who sought the 
 acquaintance of the Reformer, imagining there might be 
 some communion of thought between them, and that with 
 mutual benefit and pleasure they would be able to discuss 
 the subjects of religion and metaphysics one with the other. 
 If such were his hopes Servetus was to shortly discover 
 how gravely he had erred in his judgment of Calvin. That 
 Reformer was not endowed with the temper to bear 
 opposition calmly ; and anything hke quiet, impartial dis- 
 cussion was with him almost an impossibility. Calvin 
 never seems to have cared much for the society of Servetus ;' 
 and when, subsequently, he discovered that his disputant 
 of the name of Villeneuve was in reality none other than 
 the author of the 'Trinitatis Erroribus/ Calvin was the 
 
SERVETUS. 323 
 
 first to betray the whereabouts of Servetus to his perse- 
 cutors. 
 
 His religious opinions, however, were not the only cause 
 of offence in Servetus. He was a believer in astrology. 
 With his dreamy, mystical character the study of astrology 
 naturally seemed very attractive to him. Accordingly he 
 commenced a series of lectures upon this subject, and was 
 in the course of preparing a pamphlet upon it, when the 
 Medical Faculty of Paris interposed and prohibited the 
 publication as unlawful. Servetus, nothing abashed, quietly 
 finished his pamphlet, put it into the hands of the printer, 
 with an injunction to proceed with it in all speed, and re- 
 marking at the same time that the quicker it was finished 
 the higher would be his payment. The doctors, excessively 
 wroth at this behaviour in Servetus, had him summoned 
 before the Inquisitor of the King, as an enemy of the 
 Church and preacher of strange doctrines. He obeyed the 
 summons readily, feeling assured that he would be able to 
 answer the charges brought against him satisfactorily ; and 
 in this assurance he was not disappointed. He was his own 
 defender, and most probably now for the first time reaped 
 some substantial benefit from the legal education he had 
 received as a youth, for he defended himself so ably that 
 the Inquisitor was forced to confess his conviction of the 
 innocence of the accused, and Servetus accordingly left the 
 court in triumph. His persecutors, determined he should 
 not escape so easily, moved for the institution of a new 
 trial, which was this time to take place before the Tribunal 
 of Parliament, then acting, as it would appear, as a court 
 of justice. The Rector of the University of Paris and the 
 Dean of the Faculty of Physic seem to have been the pro- 
 secutors in this new trial ; but Servetus does not appear to 
 have been his own defender on this occasion, whether of 
 his own preference or because he was not allowed to be 
 we are not in a position to state. At all events this trial 
 was not for him such a successful one as the last, and he 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 certainly comes out from the ordeal less victoriously than 
 on the former occasion. He was peremptorily ordered to 
 call in his pamphlet and to deposit the copies with the 
 proper officers of the court. He was strictly prohibited to 
 appear in public as a professor or practitioner of astrology, 
 and he was commanded to scrupulously render for the 
 future all honour and reverence to the Faculty of Physic 
 in its individual and collective capacity. Finally, he was 
 dismissed with the warning that, should he refuse to comply 
 with these injunctions, he will be deprived of all the privi- 
 leges he then enjoyed as a graduate of the University of 
 Paris. 
 
 Disgusted with the treatment that had been awarded 
 him in Paris, Servetus left that city ; and we next find him 
 practising as a medical man at Charlieu, a town some few 
 miles distant from Lyons. At this town he attained his 
 thirtieth year, upon which occasion he was baptised ; for 
 amongst the peculiar religious opinions of Servetus was a 
 strong disapproval of infant baptism, and a belief that that 
 ceremony should not take place before the completion of 
 the thirtieth year, ' Christ,' he says ' as an infant was cir- 
 cumcised, but not baptised ; and this is a great mystery ; 
 in his thirtieth year, however, he received baptism ; thereby 
 setting us the example, and teaching us that before this 
 age no one is a fit recipient of the rite that gives the king- 
 dom of heaven to man.' 
 
 Upon this question of baptism Servetus even ventured 
 to address Calvin, whom he knew to be about the same 
 age as himself: *It were fit and proper in you, would you 
 shew true faith in Christ, to submit yourself to baptism, 
 and so receive the gift of the Holy Spirit promised through 
 this means.* 
 
 About this time a regular correspondence seems to 
 have been commenced between Servetus and Calvin ; and 
 it is evident, from the letters that passed between them, 
 that Calvin, who had been accustomed to be treated as a 
 
SERVETUS. 325 
 
 sort of little god, and who, in addition, was in the habit 
 of regarding himself with no small feelings of complacency, 
 received, with sensations of haughty displeasure, the moni- 
 torial tone that Servetus was occasionally unwise enough 
 to assume to him. Not a few of the letters of Servetus 
 commenced with the words : ' ScBpius te mojiui. I have 
 repeatedly admonished you.' And it is not improbabl : 
 that, coupled with the really honest dislike Calvin enter- 
 tained for the opinions of Servetus, personal resentment at 
 being treated with so little reverence may, almost uncon- 
 sciously to himself, have contributed not a little to the 
 cruel treatment of Servetus by that Reformer. 
 
 No inconsiderable number of the letters from Servetus 
 to Calvin are remarkable for the Pantheistic passages they 
 contain : — 
 
 ' God is only known through manifestation or commu- 
 nication in one shape or another. In creation God opened 
 the gates of His Treasury of Eternity.' ' Containing the 
 Essence of the Universe in Himself, God is everywhere, 
 and in everything, and in such wise that He shows Him- 
 self to us as fire, as a flower, as a stone.' Existence, in a 
 word, of every kind is in and of God, and in itself is always 
 good ; it is act or direction that at any time is bad. But 
 evil, as well as good, he thinks is also comprised in the 
 Essence of God, This is indicated, he thinks, by the He- 
 brew word ihei ; and he illustrates his position by the text, 
 ' I form light, and create darkness.' All accidents, further, 
 are in God : whatever befals is not apart from God. 
 Without beginning and without end God is always be- 
 coming — Semper est Deus infieri} 
 
 In another letter Calvin's views on the inefficacy of 
 works, in contradistinction to the saving power of faith, are 
 controverted by Servetus in language that is certainly more 
 forcible than polite : — 
 
 * All that men do,* runs his epistle to Calvin,^ ' you say 
 
 1 'Servetus and Calvin,' by R. Willis, M.D., p. 174. 2 /^/^^ p_ j^^^ 
 
326 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 is done in sin, and is mixed with dregs that stink before 
 God, and merit nothing but eternal death. But therein 
 you blaspheme. Stripping us of all possible goodness, you 
 do violence to the teaching of Christ and his Apostles, who 
 ascribe perfection or the power of being perfect to us : '* Be 
 ye therefore perfect, even as your Father in heaven is 
 perfect" (Matt. v. 48). You scout this celestial perfection, 
 because you have never tested perfection of the kind your- 
 self. In the works of the saintly, I say, there is nothing of 
 the corruption you feign. The works of the Spirit shine 
 before God and before men, and in themselves are good 
 and proper. Thou reprobate and blasphemer, who ca- 
 lumniatest the works of the Spirit. Tu improbus et bias- 
 phemits qui opera Spiritus calumniaris I ' 
 
 In 1546 Servetus sent Calvin a manuscript copy of his 
 new work entitled ' Christianismi Restitutio,* returning at 
 the same time one of Calvin's own works which had been 
 lent him by the author, with some criticisms upon it marked 
 on the margin in language that appears to have been more 
 honest than complimentary. 
 
 The contents of the ' Christianismi Restitutio,* coupled 
 with the not altogether uncalled-for indignation at the 
 manner in which his own work had been handled, roused 
 the soul of Calvin to almost ungovernable fury. And it is 
 now, most probably for the first time, that the temptation 
 to rid himself of his hated opponent by an unjust death 
 appears to have assailed him. He resisted the temptation 
 at first. He would rather not visit Servetus ; he hopes 
 that Servetus may never again appear before him, lest, in a 
 moment of fury, the sight of him should madden him into 
 doing an action of which he would afterwards repent. 
 
 There is a letter still extant, written at this time by 
 Calvin to a friend of his, in which he says : — 
 
 ' Servetus wrote to me lately, and beside his letter sent 
 me a great volume full of his ravings, telling me with au- 
 dacious arrogance that I should there find things stupen- 
 
SERVETUS. 327 
 
 dous and unheard of till now. He offers to come hither if I 
 approve ; but I will not pledge my faith to him ; for did 
 he come, if I have any authority here, I should never suffer 
 him to go away alive.' 
 
 Calvin refused to return to Servetus the manuscript 
 copy of the ' Christianismi Restitutio,' whether out of a mere 
 spiteful wish to annoy the Spaniard, or, as is more probably 
 the case, that he believed the retention of it would be of 
 service to him in bringing the opinions of his enemy into 
 question, we are not able to say. But Servetus had been 
 wise enough not to entrust the care of his manuscript to 
 the honesty of the Reformer without having previously 
 made a copy of it for himself. And this copy he now de- 
 termined to have printed and sent abroad to the world. 
 Here he had to encounter some difficulty, for the opinions 
 it contained were so unorthodox that the publishers were 
 frightened to undertake it, lest their own orthodoxy should 
 be called into question. At last, by dint of bribing with a 
 gratuity of one hundred crowns, in addition to taking the 
 whole expense of the publication on himself, and by sacredly 
 promising that he would do his best to prevent the name 
 of the publisher from being disclosed to the world, Ser- 
 vetus was fortunate to find a man of the name of Arnoullet 
 who would undertake his work ; and in a brief space of 
 time a thousand copies were duly printed and given to 
 the world. The intention of the work is described in the 
 introduction. 
 
 * The task we have set ourselves here,' runs the preface, 
 ' is truly sublime, for it is no less than to make God known 
 in His substantial manifestations by the Word, and His 
 divine communication by the Spirit, both comprised in 
 Christj through whom alone do we learn how the divine- 
 ness of the Word and the Spirit may be apprehended in 
 man. Hidden from human sight in former times, God is 
 now both manifested and communicated to the world : 
 manifestations taking place by the Word, communication 
 
328 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 by the Spirit, to the end that we may see Him face to face 
 as it were in Creation, and feel Him intuitively but lucidly 
 declared in ourselves. It is high time that the door leading 
 to knowledge of this kind were opened, for otherwise no 
 one can know God truly, read the Scriptures aright, or be 
 a Christian.* 
 
 Towards the conclusion of the Introduction Servetus 
 gives earnest utterance to a fervent prayer, in which he 
 beseeches Christ to allow his book to be the means of 
 restoring Christianity to its original purity and truth : — 
 
 * Oh, Christ Jesus, Son of God, Thou who wast given to 
 
 us from heaven. Thou who in Thyself makest Deity visibly 
 
 manifest, I, Thy servant, now proclaim Thee, that so great 
 
 a mauifestation may be known to all. Grant, then, to Thy 
 
 petitioner Thy good Spirit and Thy effectual Speech ; 
 
 guide Thou his mind and his pen, that he may worthily 
 
 declare the glory of Thy Divinity, and give pious utterance 
 
 to the faith concerning Thee. The cause 'indeed is Thine, 
 
 for by a certain divine impulse it is that I am led to speak 
 
 of Thy Glory from the Father. In former days did I begin 
 
 to treat of this, and again do I enter upon it, for now am 
 
 I to be made known to the pious ; now truly are the days 
 
 complete, as appears from the certainty of the thing itself, 
 
 and the visible signs of the times. The Light Thou hast 
 
 said is not to be hidden, so woe to me do I not evangelise. 
 
 ' It rests with thee, then, oh, Reader (concludes the 
 
 preface), that thou show thyself well disposed towards 
 
 Christ, even to the end, and that thou hear our subject 
 
 discussed at length in words of truth without disguise.' 
 
 The doctrines of the * Christianismi Restitutio ' are little 
 more than a development of those propounded in the 
 ' Trinitatis Erroribus.' In combating the orthodox con- 
 ception of the Trinity, Servetus displays even more earnest- 
 ness in his latter work than in his former. ' If there were 
 in eternity two incorporeal beings alike and equal, then 
 
SERVETUS. 329 
 
 were these Twins rather than a Father and Son ; and were 
 a third Entity added, like and equal to the other two, then 
 were a threefold Geryon produced.' 
 
 The doctrine of the perdition of unbaptised infants is 
 also forcibly combated : — 
 
 ' The little children, whom Christ blessed, were not 
 baptised. How should the most clement and merciful 
 Lord condemn those who had never sinned ? Did He ever 
 say to the little ones unbaptised : Go ye accursed into 
 everlasting fire ? How should He curse those whom' He 
 blessed ? They seem to attempt to befool me who say that 
 the salvation of an unconscious infant depends on my will 
 to baptise it or to leave it unbaptised. P^dobaptism is a 
 detestable abomination, an extinction of the Holy Spirit 
 in the soul of man, a dissolution of the Church of Christ, 
 a confusion of the whole Christian faith, an innovation 
 whereby Christ is set aside and His kingdom trodden un- 
 der foot. Woe to you, ye baptisers of infancy, for ye close 
 the kingdom of heaven against mankind — the kingdom of 
 heaven into which ye neither enter yourselves nor suffer 
 others to enter. Woe ! woe ! ' 
 
 Against the doctrine of Transubstantiation, too, Ser- 
 vetus expresses himself in no measured terms : — 
 
 ' I rather wonder,' says he, ' whether Satan was the cir 
 cumcisor of common sense from the brains of those who 
 of bread make not-bread^ and in the stead produce a ven- 
 dible zvhiteness ; for these puny sacrificators, for a mouthful 
 of whiteness given without wine, make us count out our 
 money. To such degradation of mind are these men 
 brought, that they call that the true body of Christ, which, 
 in the whiteness they imagine, rats and dogs might devour. 
 Never was there any such blindness as this among the 
 Jews — blindness the more notable as the Papists say they 
 are infallible. But as circumcision of the foreskin makes 
 the Jew, and circumcision of the heart the Christian, so 
 
-330 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 does circumcision of the scalp the sham Jew, the papal 
 sacrificial priest and slave of Anti-Christ' ^ 
 
 In this book also Servetus continues to display his 
 Pantheistic opinions. ' It is God/ he says, * who gives its 
 Esse or essential being to every existing thing, to inanimate 
 creation, to living creatures in general, and to man in 
 especial. As the essence of God is the Word, in so far as 
 manifestation is made in the world, so, and in so far as 
 communication is made, it is Spirit ; manifestation and 
 communication, however, being ever co-ordinate and con- 
 joined. It is Spirit that is archetype, eternally present in 
 God, from whom it proceeds.' 
 
 We must not forget to mention that it is in this book 
 that Servetus (when illustrating or explaining some of his 
 metaphysical positions) shows a knowledge of Anatomy that, 
 for the age in which he lived, was strikingly correct. By some 
 authorities it is even opined that Harvey was anticipated by 
 Servetus in his discovery of the circulation of the blood.^ 
 
 The ' Restoration of Christianity ' concludes with the 
 following prayer : — 
 
 ' Almighty Father ! Father of all mercy, free us miser- 
 able men from the darkness of death, for the sake of Thy 
 Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Oh, Jesus Christ, Thou Son 
 of God, who died for us, help us, lest we perish ! We, Thy 
 suppliants, pray to Thee as Thou hast taught us, saying. 
 Hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come ; and do Thou, 
 Lord, come ! Thy bride the Church, praying in the Apoca- 
 lypse, says Come ! The spirits of Thy children praying 
 here say Come ! Let all who hear this pray and cry aloud, 
 and with John exclaim, Come ! Thou, who hast said, '' I 
 come quickly," wilt surely come, and with Thy coming put 
 an end to Anti-Christ. So be it. Amen ! ' 
 
 ' 'Servetus and Calvin,' by R. Willis, M.D., p. 221. 
 
 ^ This, however, has been somewhat called into question by Dr. Willis 
 (see page 210}. Dr. Draper, on the other hand, seems to consider that Ser- 
 vetus was certainly the pioneer, if not actually the anticipator, of Harvey. 
 (See 'Intellectual Development of Europe,' vol. ii. p. 2S5.) 
 
SERVETUS. 331 
 
 From the above extracts from his works it will be seen 
 that Servetus was an earnest, pious mystic, inoffensive in 
 himself, yet causing offence by the very unguarded lan- 
 guage into which he so frequently allowed himself to be 
 betrayed. 
 
 All this time Calvin's anger against Servetus had not 
 been growing cooler, and when he discovered that the 
 Spaniard had actually dared to publish * the great volume 
 full of his ravings ' he was determined no longer to keep 
 silence, but to betray Servetus into the hands of the eccle- 
 siastical authorities. A heretic himself, it was difficult 
 for him to accuse a fellow-heretic of anything that would 
 be thought worthy of punishment by the Papacy. He 
 therefore had recourse to artifice : — Living at this time in 
 Geneva was a friend of Calvin's, a certain William Trie, a 
 native of Lyons^ and a convert from the Romish to the 
 Reformed faith. Trie, in his turn, had a relation living at 
 Lyons, a rigid Catholic, Arneys by name, who did not cease 
 from reproaching his relative with his apostacy, and exhort- 
 ing him to return to the faith of his fathers. Calvin, there- 
 fore, bethought himself that if this rigid Catholic relative 
 of his friend's once got wind of the published doctrines of 
 Servetus, the Spaniard would have but a very short time to 
 remain in this world, for he would be quickly sent to the 
 stake as an apostate from the Catholic faith. He therefore 
 either wrote himself to Arneys, assuming the name of Trie, 
 or else Trie wrote the letter at Calvin's dictation. Either 
 way, the letter was sent at the instigation of, if not actually 
 peaned by, Calvin, and, unfortunately for Servetus, proved 
 as successful as Calvin, in his bitterest moments, could have 
 desired. 
 
 ' A certain heretic is countenanced among you,' runs 
 part of the letter, ' who ought to be burned alive, wherever 
 he might be found. And when I say a heretic I refer to a 
 man who deserves to be as summarily condemned by the 
 Papists as he is by us. For, though differing in many 
 
332 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 things, we agree in believing that in the sole essence of 
 God there are three persons, and that His Son, who is His 
 Eternal Wisdom, was engendered by the Father before all 
 time, and has had imparted to him His Eternal Virtue, 
 which is the Holy Spirit. But when a man appears who 
 calls the Trinity we all believe in a Cerberus and Monster 
 of Hell ; who disgorges all the villanies it is possible to 
 imagine against everything Scripture teaches of the eternal 
 generation of the Son of God, and mocks besides, open- 
 mouthed, at all that the ancient doctors of the Church 
 have said — I ask you in what regard you would have such 
 a man ? I must speak freely : Is it not a shame that such 
 persons are not put to death — and that in no simple and 
 easy way — but cruelly burned alive ? Nevertheless there is 
 one among you who calls Jesus Christ an idol ; who would de- 
 stroy the foundations of thefaith; who condemns the baptism 
 of little children, and calls that rite a diabolical invention. 
 He is a Spanish-Portuguese, Michael Servetus by name, 
 though he now calls himself Villeneuve, and practises as a 
 physician. He lived for some time at Lyons, and now 
 resides at Vienne, where one of the books containing his 
 heresies was printed. That you may not think I speak 
 by mere hearsay, I send you the first few leaves as a 
 sample, for your assurance. You say that our books, 
 which contain nothing but the purity and simplicity of 
 Holy Scripture, infect the world, yet you brew poisons 
 among you which go to destroy the Scriptures and all you 
 hold as Christianity. I need not, I imagine, go into par- 
 ticulars ; I only pray you to put it somewhat seriously to 
 your conscience, and conclude for yourself, to the end that, 
 when you appear before the Great Judge you may not be 
 condemned. — (Signed) Guillaume Trie. Geneva, 26th July, 
 
 IS53-' 
 
 Dr. Willis seems to think that there can be no doubt 
 that it was Calvin, and not Trie, who was the author of 
 this epistle ; and this view is certainly borne out by the 
 
SERVETUS. 333 
 
 subsequent conduct of Calvin with reference to the prose- 
 cution of Servetus. 
 
 Arneys, upon reception of the letter signed from 
 Guillaume Trie, immediately communicated with the clergy 
 of Lyons, who in their turn informed Ory, a trained In- 
 quisitor from Rome, of the writings and whereabouts of 
 Servetus. By some means or other, too, the name and 
 dwelling of the publisher Arnoullet transpired ; and the 
 consequence was that (a solemn Council having been con- 
 vened) the Cardinal Archbishop of Lyons and the Arch- 
 bishop of Vienne, with the concurrence of the whole 
 assembly, gave orders for the arrest of Michel Villeneuve, 
 physician, and Balthasar Arnoullet, bookseller, to answer 
 for their faith on certain charges and informations to be 
 laid against them. 
 
 No hero, no willing martyr, was our poor Servetus. He 
 was only a pious, earnest mystic, with enough of human 
 nature in him to render him very genuinely averse to suf- 
 fering death by the stake. When he was brought before 
 the court a certain bewilderment, if not an absolute terror, 
 seems to have come upon him, and forced him into subter- 
 fuges which were unworthy of him, but which nevertheless 
 were more creditable to his heart than to his understanding. 
 For the subterfuges to which he had recourse were so lame, 
 the excuses he employed were so palpably false, that it was 
 obvious the simple, guileless Spaniard had neither the 
 genius nor the experience requisite for the successful fabri- 
 cation of clever falsehood. When shown some of the 
 letters he had written some ten years before to Calvin — let- 
 ters which had been penned in the strictest confidence, but 
 now dishonourably betrayed by the Reformer to the Council 
 and authorities— he could only stammer forth that he had 
 not written them. When it was proved to him to be beyond 
 the possibility of denial that the handwriting was his, he 
 then declared he no longer held the same opinions, that he 
 
334 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 would retract whatever was not in accordance with the 
 tenets of the Church. When asked if he were not Servetus, 
 the author of the heretical book on Trinitarian error, writ- 
 ten some twenty years before, he declared he was not ; 
 when it was proved to him that the signature of Servetus 
 and Villeneuve were in one and the same hand, he almost 
 sobbed out that he was then but personating Servetus, 
 whom he believed to be a Spaniard, but of whose dwelling 
 and connections he was perfectly ignorant. 
 
 So ended the first day of the trial. Little hope did 
 there seem for Servetus ! His subterfuges, his dissimula- 
 tions were so palpably false, so easily to be seen through, 
 that he might as well have held his tongue. Even his 
 friends — and he had many among the judges and authori- 
 ties — perceived that it would be impossible to acquit him 
 upon so very unsatisfactory a mode of defence. 
 
 Yet there were two things that were in the favour of 
 Servetus. The first consisted of the numerous friends, high 
 up in authority, that the Spaniard possessed ; the second, 
 the disHke and strong disapprobation with which the con- 
 duct of Calvin was viewed by all the more honourable 
 members among the Council and authorities. If the friends 
 of Servetus wished his release for his own sake, no less did 
 the enemies of Calvin desire it for the sake of mortifying 
 and checkmating the desires of that Reformer. A plot 
 was therefore arranged by means of which Servetus should 
 be enabled to effect his escape ; and that this plot was 
 sanctioned by the majority of those in authority is shown 
 by the fact that the gaoler was not dismissed, scarcely 
 even censured, for his apparent carelessness, and that Ar- 
 noullet, the publisher, was set at liberty without further 
 investigation. 
 
 Servetus, on his escape from prison, wandered about 
 from place to place for three or four months, and then took 
 refuge in Geneva, at which place (being a Protestant city) 
 he thought he should be tolerably free from all danger of 
 
SERVETus. 335 
 
 the Inquisition. He was aware, nevertheless, that that city 
 was strongly under the influence of Calvin, and therefore 
 deemed it wiser to assume some incognito and live as 
 quietly and unostentatiously as possible. For this reason, 
 also, he entered Geneva on foot, considering that by such a 
 mode of entrance he would be less likely to attract atten- 
 tion than he would have been had he entered it on 
 horseback. 
 
 Meanwhile, Calvin had placed spies in all the places he 
 thought most likely to be visited by Servetus. And one 
 Sunday evening, when the simple Spaniard incautiously 
 went to a church, he was recognised there by one of these 
 spies, who immediately communicated the intelligence to 
 Calvin. In spite of the sacredness of the day the Re- 
 former, on the reception of the welcome news, instantly 
 denounced his victim to one of the Syndics, and demanded 
 his immediate arrest. The accredited officer, armed with a 
 warrant, sought and found Servetus, seated quietly and un- 
 suspectingly in one of the rooms at the inn where he dwelt. 
 The unfortunate Spaniard was briefly informed by the 
 official that he was to consider himself a prisoner, and 
 before he had time to recover from his surprise, he found 
 himself led away, and thrown into the common gaol of the 
 town. 
 
 On the occasion of this new trial Servetus did not allow 
 himself to be betrayed into his former dissimulations and 
 subterfuges. Whether it were that he deemed it likely 
 that his punishment would be less severe in a Protestant than 
 in a Catholic country, or whether his conscience would not 
 allow him to yield a second time to the temptation of false- 
 hood and equivocation, certain it is that to the majority of 
 the charges brought against him Servetus answered openly 
 and honestly. He equivocated somewhat when questioned 
 as to the name of his publisher. Yet, as he had sacredly 
 promised Arnoullet he would do his best to prevent his 
 name from transpiring to the world, he naturally felt 
 
33^ MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 himself bound in honour to do his utmost in the redemption 
 of his promise. But on all the other counts it is evident 
 Servetus was more honest, less bewildered and terrified, than 
 on the occasion of his trial at Vienne. When interrogated 
 as to his name and condition he answered at once that, 
 though he had been living for some years under the name 
 of Villeneuve, yet his real name was Michael Servetus ; that 
 he was a Spaniard by birth and a physician by profession. 
 When questioned as to the authorship of the heretical book 
 on the Trinity, he named himself as its author, maintaining 
 that in writing this book he was thereby proving himself to 
 be a follower of Christianity as it was in its earlier and 
 purer days ; for, prior to the Council of Nicsea, no Doctor of 
 the Church had ever made use of the word Trinity. When 
 asked if he had ever written to, or spoken of, Calvin in very 
 disrespectful terms he acknowledged that he had done so, 
 but added that Calvin had addressed him in similar lan- 
 guage, and that it was no unusual, certainly no criminal 
 action, for men in the heat of argument to be betrayed into 
 violent and unguarded expressions. He and Calvin both 
 agreed in accepting the Holy Scriptures as an ultimate test 
 of authority (he continued) : why not allow them to dispute 
 and argue their differences in public } And then the court 
 would be able to decide whether the opinions of himself or 
 of Calvin most nearly approximated to the doctrines of 
 Holy Writ. 
 
 To this request the court would not accede, for which 
 refusal the most far-sighted of Servetus' own friends were 
 grateful, knowing full well that the misty, at times even 
 incomprehensible, style of the Spaniard would stand but a 
 very poor chance compared with the clear, caustic, acute 
 method of the Reformer. 
 
 When questioned as to the Pantheism inherent in his 
 doctrines Servetus acknowledged the justice of the charge, 
 declaring that in his belief 'all things, all creatures, are 
 portions of the substance of God.' Calvin was in the court 
 
SERVETUS. 337 
 
 at the time of this reply, and we have his own statement as 
 to how he answered him : ' Annoyed as I was by so pal- 
 pable an absurdity, I answered, " What ! poor man, did one 
 stamp on this floor with his foot, and say he trod on God, 
 would you not be horrified at having subjected the majesty 
 of God to such unworthy usage?" He on this replied, " I 
 have not a doubt but that this bench, this table, and all you 
 can point to around us is of the substance of God." When 
 it was then objected to him that, on such shewing, the Devil 
 must be of God substantially, he, smiling, impudently said, 
 " Do you doubt it ? For my part," continued he, " I hold it 
 as a general proposition that all things whatsoever are part 
 and parcel of God, and that Nature at large is His sub- 
 stantial manifestation."' 
 
 Many more interrogations of a like character were put 
 to Servetus, but he answered them all clearly and fully ; at 
 the same time firmly maintaining in his own defence that 
 he had written nothing that was contrary to the spirit of 
 Christ, or to the letter of Holy Writ. He acknowledged 
 that his doctrines were opposed to the dogmas of the Ca- 
 tholic Church, but they wei'e not opposed to the teaching 
 of Christianity, and (he could not help declaring with some 
 bitterness) he believed that had it not been for the vindic- 
 tiveness of his enemy, Calvin, he would never have been 
 taken prisoner in a city holding the tenets that were then 
 held by the City of Geneva. 
 
 Urged on by Calvin, yet scarcely knowing what to lay 
 hold of in the doctrines of Servetus, the Council of Geneva 
 at last determined to write to the Popish authorities of 
 Vienne, demanding information as to the grounds on which 
 Michael Servetus of Villanova had been imprisoned and 
 prosecuted, and how he had managed to escape from con- 
 finement. After three days' delay the Catholic Church at 
 Vienne sent back her haughty answer : — She could not 
 stoop to give information to Protestant heretics about a 
 prisoner of her own. She merely forwarded duplicates of 
 
 VOL. I. Z 
 
33^ MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 the warrant of arrest and sentence of death passed upon 
 the said Villeneuve, demanding the delivery of that indi- 
 vidual into her own hands, in order that the sentence passed 
 upon him might be carried into effect, engaging that it 
 should be of such a sort as to make any search for further 
 charges against him unnecessary. 
 
 When Servetus heard that there was a chance of being 
 sent back to Vienne some of his former terror seems to 
 have returned to him ; he fell on his knees, entreating to 
 be judged by the Council then sitting in presence, and beg- 
 ging in the most piteous terms not to be sent to Vienne, 
 where he knew the faggots and stake were in readiness for 
 his arrival. The Council of Geneva, who (to its honour be 
 it said), whenever they could rise superior to the influence 
 of Calvin, were anxious to spare their consciences the crime 
 of bloodshed, granted this request, and refused to deliver 
 Servetus into the hands of the Catholic authorities, deciding 
 that before they took any final steps they would consult 
 the Councils and Churches of the four Protestant Cantons 
 as to what should be done with their prisoner. 
 
 A certain delay, of course, was necessary, in order that 
 the Church of Geneva should be able to carry out her 
 designs ; yet we think that the many weary weeks that 
 were wasted before the Council would come to any definite 
 conclusion showed a delay that was not only needless but 
 almost unpardonable, and proved that the authorities were 
 either reckless or thoughtless of the misery they were en- 
 tailing upon a man of gentle birth, and accustomed to the 
 amenities of life, by confining him in the common gaol of 
 the town. 
 
 On September 15, 1553, the unfortunate Servetus writes 
 the following letter : — 
 
 ' My most honoured Lords, — I humbly entreat of you 
 to put an end to these great delays, or to exonerate me 
 of the criminal charge. You must see that Calvin is at his 
 wits' end, and knows not what more to say, but for his 
 
SERVETUS. 339 
 
 pleasure would have me rot here in prison. The lice eat 
 me up alive ; my breeches are in rags, and I have no 
 change — no doublet, and but a single shirt, in tatters.* 
 On October lo he writes again : — 
 
 'Most noble Lords, — It is now about three weeks since 
 I petitioned for an audience, and still have no reply. I 
 entreat you for the love of Jesus Christ not to refuse me 
 that you would grant to a Turk, when I ask for justice at 
 your hands. As to what you may have commanded to be 
 done for me in the way of cleanliness, I have to inform you 
 that nothing has been done, and that I am in a more filthy 
 plight than ever. It is very cruel that I am neither allowed 
 to speak, nor to have my most pressing wants supplied ; 
 for the love of God, Sirs, in pity or in duty, give orders 
 in my behalf. 
 
 ' From your prison of Geneva. 
 
 'Michael Servetus.' 
 
 All this time Calvin had not been idle. Perceiving, 
 with distrust, the lull in the legal proceedings ; fearful lest 
 the combined authority of the Protestant Churches might 
 haply take a lenient view of the Spaniard's offences, he 
 was determined to gain the ear of the various Councils 
 by viHfying Servetus to each of the principal pastors in 
 authority. 
 
 To the pastor of Basle he wrote : — 
 
 * The name of Servetus, who, twenty years ago, infected 
 the Christian world with his vile and pestilent doctrines, is 
 not, I presume, unknown to you. Even if you have not 
 read his book, it is scarcely possible that you should not 
 have heard something of the kind of opinions he holds. 
 He it is of whom Bucer, of blessed memory, that faithful 
 minister of Christ, a man otherwise of gentle nature, 
 declared that "he deserved to be disembowelled and torn in 
 pieces." As in days gone by, so of late he has not ceased 
 from spreading abroad his poison ; for he has just had a 
 
340 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 larger volume secretly printed at Vienne, crammed full of 
 the same errors. The printing of the book having been 
 divulged, however, he was thrown into prison there. Escap- 
 ing from prison — by what means I know not — he wandered 
 about in Italy for some four months ; but driven hither 
 at length by his evil destiny, one of the Syndics, at my 
 instigation, had him arrested. Nor do I deny that I have 
 been led by my office to do all in my power to restrain this 
 more than obstinate and indomitable individual, so that 
 the contagion should continue no longer. We see with 
 what licence impiety stalks abroad, scattering ever new 
 errors ; and we have also to note the indifference of those 
 whom God has armed with the sword to vindicate the 
 glory of His name. If the Papists approve themselves so 
 zealous and so much in earnest for their superstitions that 
 they cruelly persecute and shed the blood of innocent 
 persons, is it not disgraceful in Christian magistrates to 
 shew so little heart in defending the assured Truth .'* But 
 where there is the power of prevention there are surely 
 limits to the moderation that suffers blasphemy to be 
 vented with impunity.' 
 
 To the pastor of Neuchatel Calvin wrote : — ' I say 
 nothing of the effrontery of the man ; but such was his 
 madness that (in the course of the interrogatory) he did 
 not hesitate to say the Devil was in the Deity ! I hope the 
 sentence will be capital at least.' To another pastor he 
 wrote : ' The Council will send you ere long the opinions 
 of Servetus in order to have your advice. It is in spite of 
 us that you have this trouble forced on you ; but the folks 
 here have come to such a pass of folly and fury, that they 
 are suspicious of all we say. Did I declare that there was 
 daylight at noon, I believe they would question it' From 
 the above letter it is evident that Calvin was somewhat 
 sore, and that his pride was hurt whenever it was brought 
 to his remembrance that the Council of Geneva should 
 have thought it necessary to consult the opinion of the 
 
SERVETUS. 341 
 
 other Reformed Churches, instead of being content with the 
 authority of himself. 
 
 Meanwhile Servetus had been employing the long, 
 dreary time of waiting with making an abstract of his 
 opinions, which abstract he was unwise enough to compile 
 in the form of a letter to Calvin. We will quote the letter, 
 partly, because the earlier portion of it is a complete and, 
 for him, fairly lucid statement of his Pantheistic opinions ; 
 secondly, because the latter portion is a very fair specimen 
 of the heavy, obscure style it was so frequently his habit 
 to adopt : — 
 
 ' To John Calvin, health ! It is for your good that I tell 
 you you are ignorant of the principles of things. Would 
 you now be better informed, I say the great principle is 
 this : all action takes place by contact. Neither Christ nor God 
 Himself acts upon anything which He does not touch. God 
 would not in truth be God were there anything that escaped 
 His contact. All the qualities of which you dream are 
 imaginations only, slaves of the field as it were. But there 
 is no virtue of God, no grace of God, nor anything of the 
 sort in God which is not God Himself ; neither does God 
 put qualities into aught in which He Himself is not. All 
 is from Him, by Him, and in Him. When the Holy Spirit 
 acts in us, therefore it is God that is in us — that is in contact 
 with us, that actuates us. 
 
 ' In the course of our discussion I detect you in another 
 error. To maintain the force of the old law you quote 
 Christ's words when he asks, ''What says the law.^" and 
 answers himself by saying, " Keep the Commandments." 
 But here you have to think of the law not yet accomplished, 
 not yet abrogated ; to think further, that Christ, when He 
 willed to interpose in human things, willed to abide by the 
 law ; and that he to whom He spoke was living under the 
 law. Christ, therefore, properly referred at this time to 
 the law as a master. But afterwards, all things being ac- 
 complished, the newer ages were emancipated from the 
 
342 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 older. For the same reason it was that He ordered another 
 to shew himself to the priest and make an offering. Shall 
 we, therefore, do the like ? He also ordered a lamb and 
 unleavened bread to be prepared for the Passover. Shall 
 we too make ready in this fashion ? Why do you go on 
 Judaising in these days with your unleavened bread .•* 
 Ponder these things well, I beseech you, and carefully read 
 over again my twenty-third letter. Farewell.' ^ 
 
 It is probable that about this time some of the Spaniard's 
 numerous friends found occasion to inform and warn him 
 of the manner in which Calvin was secretly vilifying him 
 to the various Protestant authorities ; for the soul of Ser- 
 vetus seems all of a sudden to be filled with an indigna- 
 tion against the Reformer that was almost ungovernable, 
 and forced him on to writing a letter which, practically, 
 might be considered tantamount to the signing of his own 
 death-warrant. It was nothing less than addressing a letter 
 to the Syndics and Council of Geneva, accusing the man 
 by whom he was himself accused, and demanding that the 
 Reformer should be tried for calumny and false witness, 
 and put into prison until a full investigation of his conduct 
 had been made. Nothing but the most overpowering in- 
 dignation could have deluded Servetus into imagining that 
 a helpless, confined prisoner like himself, could have any 
 weight in bringing to justice a man who, in the City of 
 Geneva, where they both were, was regarded with feelings 
 of little less awe and respect than was felt by the Catholic 
 towards the Pope. Indeed, throughout the whole of this 
 Genevese trial indignation appears to have been the pre- 
 dominant feeling in the breast of Servetus. In the trial at 
 Vienne he was terrified, bewildered, but not so indignant. 
 He knew that he had written against the Papacy ; he was 
 conscious that he had ridiculed the doctrine of the Transub- 
 
 ' From Mosheim's JVeue Nachrichten, Beilagen^ S. I02, copied from the 
 archives of the Church of Zurich, and quoted by Dr. WiUis in his ' Servetus 
 and Calvin,* pp. 423, 424. 
 
SERVETUS. 343 
 
 stantiation, and therefore felt that, from the Catholic point 
 of view, it was only natural that he should be taken to task 
 for these offences. But in this Protestant City of Geneva, 
 where the authority of the Holy Scriptures was employed 
 as the ultimate test, and where, moreover, the individual 
 interpretation of these Scriptures was conceded as a right 
 to private judgment, Servetus could not help feeling that in 
 a city holding tenets such as these, his imprisonment was 
 a gross act of injustice, that it was not dictated by any 
 motives of piety, or in the supposed defence of true religion, 
 but solely by the vindictiveness of the man whom he was 
 now beginning to regard with feelings of almost equal 
 hatred as he himself was regarded by that Reformer — his 
 enemy John Calvin. 
 
 It is needless to say that this accusation of his accuser 
 by Servetus was passed over by the authorities with silent 
 contempt If it had any effect at all, it was only to make 
 the doom of the Spaniard more dreadful and more speedy 
 than it would otherwise have been. Yet it scarcely needed 
 any fresh offence on the part of Servetus to render his 
 punishment certain. Calvin had played his game too well 
 for that. The various pastors, having received and duly 
 weighed the letter sent to each of them by Calvin, came to 
 the resolution of finding Servetus guilty of all the charges 
 brought against him ; and this decision, though not quite 
 unanimous, was nevertheless assented to by the larger 
 proportion of the principal authorities throughout the four 
 Protestant Cantons. The resolution was couched in the 
 following terms : — 
 
 ' Having a summary of the process against the prisoner, 
 Michael Servetus, and the reports of the parties consulted 
 before us, it is hereby resolved, and, in consideration of his 
 great errors and blasphemies, decreed, that he be taken to 
 Champel, and there burned alive; that this sentence be 
 carried into effect on the morrow, and that his books be 
 burned with him.* 
 
344 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 The sentence took the unfortunate Servetus entirely by 
 surprise. Throughout the whole of this Genevese trial he 
 never seems to have imagined that his punishment would 
 have amounted to one of death. Banishment from the 
 Republic of Geneva was the very worst he ever appre- 
 hended. And when he was informed that the Protestant 
 authorities had decided to visit him with precisely the same 
 punishment he had so much dreaded from the Catholic 
 authorities of Vienne he seemed almost beside himself with 
 anguish. He groaned and sighed, sobbing out in his native 
 language, ^ Misericordia, misericordia T 
 
 At eleven o'clock in the forenoon of October 27, 1553, 
 various officials entered the gaol of their prisoner, and 
 desired him to accompany them, and hear his sentence 
 solemnly pronounced by the councillors and justices of 
 Geneva. He rose silently and sadly in obedience to their 
 behests, but listened with greater calmness than was ex- 
 pected, while the long list of his offences was read over 
 to him. When it was concluded the final sentence was 
 solemnly pronounced ; — ■ 
 
 ' In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, we 
 now pronounce our final sentence, and condemn thee, 
 Michael Servetus, to be bound and taken to Champel, and 
 there, being fastened to a stake, to be burned alive, along 
 with thy books, printed as well as written by thy hand, 
 until thy body be reduced to ashes. So shall thy days end, 
 and thou be made an example to others who would do as 
 thou hast done. And we command you, our Lieutenant, to 
 see this our sentence carried forthwith into execution.' 
 
 The staff, according to the custom, was then broken over 
 the prisoner, and for a few moments profound and gloomy 
 silence prevailed. 
 
 Then the unfortunate Servetus lifted up his voice, entreat- 
 ing his judges to permit his death to be one of a less painful 
 character than that by burning. ' He feared,' he said, * that 
 through excess of suffering he might prove faithless to him- 
 
SERVETUS. 345 
 
 self, and belie the convictions of his life. If he had erred, 
 it was in ignorance ; he was so constituted, mentally and 
 morally, as to desire the glory of God, and had always 
 striven to abide by the Scriptures/ 
 
 It was in vain, however! His judges would not listen 
 to his appeal couched in such piteous terms. Although, in 
 justice to that Reformer, it must be admitted that, just at the 
 last, Calvin did try and get the sentence of burning com- 
 muted to one of beheadal. But it was too late for him to wish 
 to be merciful now, He had deliberately set light to a fire, 
 had kindled it and rekindled it, had fanned it into flames 
 whenever there seemed to be a chance of it dying out ; and 
 he had now to discover, as so many have discovered before 
 and since himself, that it is not so easy to extinguish a 
 great fire as it is to set it alight. 
 
 As the unfortunate Spaniard proceeded to the place of 
 execution various of the officials surrounding him pressed 
 him — some out of worthy, others out of unworthy motives 
 — to relent and confess his sins. But he kept firm to the 
 end, merely replying, ' I have done no wrong ; I have per- 
 formed no action deserving death ; nevertheless I pray God 
 to forgive my enemies and persecutors.' When he came in 
 sight of the fatal pile he broke out into the most piteous 
 ejaculations, calling on the name of God, and then pros- 
 trated himself on the ground absorbed in earnest prayer. 
 Then the executioner seized upon him ; he was bound to 
 the stake with an iron chain ; his two books — the one in 
 manuscript sent in confidence to Calvin seven years before, 
 and a copy of the one lately printed in Vienne — were then 
 fastened to his waist, and his head was derisively decorated 
 with a chaplet of straw bestrewed with brimstone. 
 
 'The deadly torch,' says Dr. Willis,^ 'was then applied 
 to the faggots and flashed in his face ; and the brimstone 
 catching and the flames rising, wrung from the victim such 
 
 ' ' Seivetus and Calvin,' p. 487. 
 
"4^ MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 a cry of anguish as struck terror into the surrounding crowd. 
 After this he was bravely silent ; but the wood being pur- 
 posely green, although the people aided the executioner in 
 heaping the faggots upon him, a long half-hour elapsed 
 before he ceased to shew signs of life and suffering. Im- 
 mediately before giving up the ghost, with a last expiring 
 effort, he cried aloud, " Jesus, Thou Son of the eternal God, 
 have compassion upon me." All was then hushed, save the 
 hissing and crackling of the green wood ; and by and by 
 there remained no more of what had been Michael Servetus 
 but a charred and blackened trunk and a handful of ashes.' 
 
 The account that Dr. Draper gives of the Spaniard's 
 death is even more painful : — * 
 
 ' For two hours was he roasted in the flames of a slow 
 fire, begging for the love of God that they would put on 
 more wood, or do something to end his torture.' 
 
 So ends a page in the history of Protestantism, demon- 
 strating a spirit equally cruel, equally bigoted, and, from 
 its own point of view, far more unjust than is exhibited 
 in any similar page from Catholic history. Nevertheless, 
 Protestantism may still be said to have this advantage over 
 Catholicism : — The death of Servetus was an accident of 
 the faith, so to speak, an isolated example, arising from 
 the vindictiveness of an individual, not from the dogmas of 
 the religion. And that individual was subsequently re- 
 garded with so much suspicion and dislike that he had to 
 lower his haughty bearing, and plead in his own defence for 
 the wicked deed of which he had been guilty, before those 
 by whom he had been previously regarded as a sort of 
 Pope or spiritual sovereign. The auto-da-fh of the Inquisi- 
 tion, on the other hand, were no accident, they were a 
 habit, a system, for which its disciples never stooped, 
 or indeed thought necessary, to apologise. 
 
 The doctrines of Servetus expired almost with himself. 
 
 ' 'Intellectual Development of Europe,' vol. ii. p. 226. 
 
SERVETUS. 347 
 
 His style was too misty and incomprehensible to have 
 many followers. In the words of Mosheim : — ^ 
 
 'Servetus' projected restoration of the Church, of 
 which he hoped to be himself the author, died with him. 
 For, notwithstanding public fame ascribes to him many 
 disciples, and not a few divines of our age pretend to have 
 great apprehension from the sec^ of Servetus^ yet it may be 
 justly doubted whether he left behind him one genuine dis- 
 ciple. Those who are called *'Servetians/' or followers of the 
 doctrine of Servetus, by various writers, differ widely from 
 Servetus in many respects ; and, in particular, they enter- 
 tain very different opinions from his respecting the doctrine 
 of the Divine Trinity. Valentin Gentilis of Naples, whom 
 the Government of Berne put to death in 1556, did not 
 hold the opinions of Servetus, as many writers affirm ; 
 neither did Gribaldus Tellius and others who are some- 
 times numbered among the followers of Servetus, and it is 
 not at all probable that any one of these regarded Servetus 
 as his master. Peter Gonesius, who is said to have intro- 
 duced the errors of Servetus into Poland, although he may 
 have taught some things akin to them, yet explained the 
 most sacred mystery of the Trinity in a very different 
 manner from Servetus.' 
 
 ' Mosheim's 'Ecclesiastical History,' vol. iii. pp. 589-590. 
 
348 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 It is a noteworthy, perhaps^ indeed, a suggestive fact, that 
 that science which is apparently the most religious, and 
 which is certainly the most ennobling — namely, the science 
 of Astronomy — was yet the earliest of all the sciences to 
 render the minds of thoughtful men prone to founder upon 
 the rock of infidelity. Not that the teaching of astronomy 
 is in reality more opposed to the teaching of the Church 
 than is that of geology or biology, but simply because it 
 was the first in order of time to arrive at any degree of 
 perfection or exactitude. It came into existence, almost 
 indeed into maturity, at an earnest, pregnant stage of the 
 world's history, when revealed religion was something more 
 than a mere half-belief and makeshift, but was felt to be a 
 solemn, all-important fact, firmly believed to be God-given, 
 therefore incapable of doubt. Men had not learnt the art 
 of content with inconsistencies ; they were as yet incapable 
 of quiet acquiescence in self-contradictory statements ; and 
 they would have been unable to comprehend the mental 
 standpoint of the distinguished physicist of whom it is 
 related : ' When he went into his laboratory he shut the door 
 of his oratory ; when he went into his oratory he shut the 
 door of his laboratory.' The Bible was believed to be the 
 Word of God ; therefore, as the Word of God, void of all 
 error. In such a work interpolations or errors of any des- 
 cription must be impossibilities. If it had been sufficiently 
 important for God to reveal, surely it were equally important 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 349 
 
 for Him to protect and preserve. If, then, new sciences, 
 fresh discoveries, contradicted the statements of the Bible, 
 there could be but one of two conclusions : either the 
 sciences must be erroneous and the discoveries false, or else 
 the Bible was not revealed by God. It was impossible to 
 believe that any revelation — coming straight and direct 
 from God— could be capable of errors creeping into it. 
 
 We find, then, Religion and Science in a state of utter 
 antagonism. It was war to the knife. There were to be 
 no half-measures ; and Religion, relying upon her numerical 
 superiority, was determined to forcibly eject Science from 
 the field. Nay, if possible, she would prevent her from 
 ever venturing even to enter upon it. 
 
 The first rock of contention was more geographical 
 than astronomical, and concerned the shape and size of the 
 earth. Is the earth a fiat surface, bordered on every side 
 by the waters of the sea, and roofed on high by the heavens 
 as a sort of ceiling ; or is it a round globe, as its shadow 
 thrown during the eclipse of the moon would seem to lead 
 us to infer } For many centuries there had been here and 
 there isolated stragglers in the world of science who held 
 the latter theory. But their number was so insignificant, 
 and their opinions were put forward so timidly and hypo- 
 thetically, that the Church was scarcely, if at all, alarmed. 
 
 It was not till the year 1 5 20 that Magellan, feeling 
 theoretically assured of the globular form of the earth, was 
 determined to be no longer content with mere Speculation 
 and hypothesis, but decided to put his owm theory to the 
 proof by sailing round the earth. He resolved to effect an 
 entire circumnavigation ; and if the fruit of his expedition 
 proved as great as its promise, the globular form of the 
 earth need no longer be put forward timidly and hypo- 
 thetically, but would rank and take its place amongst the 
 catalogue of ascertained and verifiable facts. There is no 
 need for us to dwell long upon the wonderful voyage of 
 Magellan. We have all of us read of it ; we are all familiar 
 
350 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 with it. We have all heard of his troubles and difficulties, 
 and the heroic patience with which he endured them. We 
 have all been told of the means by which he endeavoured 
 to support his sometimes failing courage ; how he reminded 
 himself of the reasonableness of his own theory ; how he 
 encouraged himself with remembering that 'though the 
 Church had evermore from Holy Writ affirmed that the 
 earth should be a widespread plain bordered by the waters, 
 yet I comforted myself when I considered that in the eclipses 
 of the moon the shadow cast of the earth is round ; and 
 as is the shadow such is the substance.^ We all know that 
 though not fortunate enough to complete his circumnavi- 
 gation himself (being, as is supposed, basely murdered in a 
 mutiny of his men), yet his intention was fully carried out 
 by his first lieutenant, Sebastian d'Elcano, who was rewarded 
 with honours such as kings alone can give. The globular 
 form of the earth was thus ascertained, and placed in the 
 region of indisputable fact. The Church could not gainsay 
 it. All she could do was to bear her humiliation in silence, 
 and be more cautious for the future. Her mistake had 
 been in ever allowing the expedition to set forth. She 
 should have compassed sea and land rather than have 
 permitted a proceeding so fatal to her authority. Hence- 
 forth she would be more prudent. There was yet time for 
 her to profit by that most pregnant, yet most difficult, of all 
 lessons to learn — * Prevention is better than cure.' 
 
 But now Science, encouraged by her recent success, 
 began to gird herself for a new problem, far more import- 
 ant, and, consequently, far more dangerous to the authority 
 of the Church, than this last. What was the position of 
 the earth in relation to the universe ? Was she a solitary 
 isolated world, with the sun, and moon, and stars created 
 for her service in order to provide her with light and beauty, 
 or was she but a small globe, whirling with other globes, 
 some larger, some smaller than herself, round one central 
 sun — in the position altogether of obedient or rather help- 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 351 
 
 less slaves, submissive to the sway of a despotic sovereign ? 
 From the time of Archimedes there had been at various 
 and long intervals some few thinkers, more learned than 
 their fellows, who believed in the rotation of the earth, and 
 consequent subordination to the sun ; but now the time 
 was come for such an opinion to be removed from the cate- 
 gory of mere speculation and theory, and placed in the 
 much more exalted rank of ascertained and verifiable fact. 
 
 Copernicus, a Prussian, after long and ardent study, had 
 come to the conclusion that the earth had a daily rotation 
 on her axis, and an annual motion round the sun. He kept 
 his work unpublished for thirty-three years, most probably 
 for fear of angering the Church. At last, at the request of 
 a Cardinal of the name of Schomberg, he consented to pub- 
 lish it. It is said that the old man received his first copy 
 of it a few days before he died. Thus was he fortunate 
 in that a natural and easy death removed him from the 
 world before Superstition had had time to lay her cruel 
 hand upon him. Six years after his death was born Gior- 
 dano Bruno, a brief sketch of whom is the subject of this 
 chapter. 
 
 Giordano Bruno first saw the light in the year 1550. 
 He was born a few miles from Naples, at a place called 
 Nola, midway between Vesuvius and the Mediterranean. 
 He was of handsome gallant appearance, ardent, intrepid, 
 somewhat given to the pleasures of the sense, uncertain in 
 mood, endowed with a sort of restlessness and love of 
 change, if not with an inclination to absolute freak. By no 
 means, we should say, a very deep thinker ; more a dia- 
 lectician than a logician ; at times reminding us of Abelard 
 in his rhetorical ability, his restlessness and love of display, 
 possibly also in his admiration for fair ladies ; although, I 
 believe, we are not justified in assuming that this admiration 
 was anything more than a species of innocent gallantry ; 
 there is no reason for believing it ever attained to positive 
 sensuality, as in the case of Abelard. He was very brave, 
 
352 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 generous, and had an intense loathing of anything under- 
 hand or dishonest. In his youth he had adopted the garb 
 of the Dominican monk ; but religious doubts — more es- 
 pecially upon the doctrine of the Transubstantiation — 
 assailed him, and he retained the office but for a very brief 
 period. 
 
 Intrinsically and extrinsically, as we have said, the 
 power of the. Church was weakened. The movement of 
 the Reformation was at its height. Christians were 
 divided against themselves. The doctrine of the infalli- 
 bility of the Pope was the war-cry of dissension ; and the 
 Christians who believed the dogma, and the Christians who 
 disbelieved the dogma, were seen fighting against each 
 other with a vindictiveness and hatred as great, if not 
 greater, than they had ever evinced against the heathen. 
 Added to this, there were a large number of men who were 
 absolute, though unacknowledged, disbelievers in any form 
 of revealed religion whatsoever. Such as believed in the 
 globular form of the earth, still more, those who accepted 
 Copernicus' theory of the movement and relative insigni- 
 ficance of the earth, were forced by logical necessity to 
 deny, under the first belief, the infallibility of the Church, 
 and under the second, not only the infallibility of the 
 Church but, in addition, the verbal inspiration of the Scrip- 
 tures. The globular form of the earth was absolutely 
 against the teaching of the Church, and the movement, and 
 relative insignificance of the earth were absolutely against 
 the teaching of the Bible. As we remarked at the begin- 
 ning of this chapter, men had not learnt the art of 
 reconciling discrepancies and contradictory statements in 
 the Bible by plausible pretexts of interpolations and mis- 
 translations. It was not thought likely, or indeed possible, 
 that God should have allowed errors to creep into a book 
 which had been of sufficient importance for Him to have 
 revealed. Such, therefore, as believed in the revelations 
 of science disbelieved in the revelation of the Bible ; and. 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 353 
 
 ccBteris paribus, such as believed in the revelation of the 
 Bible, and yet further such as, in addition, believed in the 
 infallibility of the Pope, repudiated in totOy and utterly 
 loathed the revelations of science. Yet there were few, if 
 any, who openly acknowledged any distrust of the authen- 
 ticity of Scripture, Sceptics, for the most part, were too 
 frightened and too timid. Added to which, there was a 
 certain want of depth and earnestness in the sceptical in- 
 tellects at this period of the world's history which we fail 
 to find at any other time, save perhaps in some few thinkers 
 of the eighteenth century. There is nothing so degrading, 
 so self-lowering as conscious imposition ; yet such was the 
 state in which a large majority of the best intellects then 
 were. It was not that they stifled and silenced their 
 consciences by refusing to examine unorthodox opinions, 
 or by trying to ' believe that they believed,* as is so 
 frequently the case in the present day. They simply dis- 
 believed ill totOy but for fear of the Church either kept their 
 opinions to themselves, or else openly avowed a reverence 
 they did not feel, at times not even shrinking from aiding 
 and abetting in punishing men for professing opinions 
 which in their own hearts they could not help feeling they 
 themselves held to be true. Science, indeed, just in the 
 time of Bi"uno was almost as much retarded by those who 
 believed in her as by those who were opposed to her. The 
 entire earnestness and depth of this latter half of the six- 
 teenth century appeared to be monopolised by the unhappy 
 Catholics and Protestants, whose chief expenditure of that 
 earnestness seemed to be in fighting one against another. 
 Whatever the faults, the bigotiy and cruelty of these might 
 have been, they were at least most earnest, most sincere. 
 They died for their sincerity ; they renounced wealth and 
 lands, friends and children, honour and reputation for the 
 doctrines they prized so much ; and in such wise were an 
 example to the disciples of Science, who, it must be con- 
 fessed, were less conspicuous in courage and earnestness in 
 
 VOL. I. A A 
 
354 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 this latter half of the sixteenth century than they were 
 either in its earlier half, or in the whole of the seventeenth. 
 Bruno says wherever he went he found scepticism under 
 the mask of religion ; comprehension and secret acceptance 
 of scientific truths under assumed disbelief and pretended 
 repudiation. The dishonesty lashed him into fury. He 
 was not so much a lover of science, he was not so much an 
 antagonist of revealed religion, as he was an intense hater 
 and utter despiser of falsehood and deceit. And, we 
 imagine, it is probable that it was this strong reactionary 
 feeling he experienced against the religionists which was 
 the primary cause and origin of his becoming the apostle 
 and subsequent martyr of science. We can scarcely con- 
 ceive of him as a Zenophanes or St. Augustine. It is 
 difficult to picture him meditating in absorbed abstraction 
 upon the mysteries of existence, or trying to probe the 
 difficulties presented by the intermixture of good and evil. 
 He was more a man of action than a man of thought ; and 
 although it is true he was a student of science, he belonged 
 to the militant more than to the thoughtful or passive side 
 of it. 
 
 The only science at that time worthy even of being 
 called a science was the science of astronomy, and to 
 astronomy therefore Bruno devoted himself. He studied 
 the theory of Copernicus, and to a poetic temperament 
 such as the Italian's, where a love of grace and beauty 
 was a pervading sentiment, that theory recommended itself 
 with a sort of fascination, on account of its consistency and 
 harmony. It is possible, too, that, with his generous impe- 
 tuous disposition, the very fact of it having as yet gained so 
 few disciples or supporters may have made him resolved to 
 cherish it all the more ardently. Besides which, Bruno had 
 not only a contempt but a positive dislike to the Aris- 
 totelian method, and was by no means displeased with the 
 conviction that his acceptance of the Copernican theory 
 would set him at war with the whole body of Peripatetics 
 in all the academies of Europe. 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 355 
 
 In addition to Copernicus, Bruno studied Lucretius, and 
 revived the notion of an infinity of worlds. He began to 
 suspect that each of the fixed stars was a sun with planets 
 whirling in probable attendance, as our earth does round 
 her sun. But he went even further than this — he might 
 almost be called a crude pioneer of the Evolution theory, 
 for he believed that the processes of nature were not by 
 sudden creative leaps, but by a very gradual growth and 
 unfolding. In the words of Professor Tyndall : ^ ' Struck 
 with the problem of the generation and maintenance of 
 organisms, and duly pondering it, Bruno came to the con- 
 clusion that Nature in her productions does not imitate the 
 technic of man. Her process is one of unravelling and 
 unfolding. The infinity of forms under which matter ap- 
 pears were not imposed upon it by an external artificer ; 
 by its own intrinsic force and virtue it brings these forms 
 forth. Matter is not the mere naked, empty capacity which 
 philosophers have pictured her to be, but the universal 
 mother who brings forth all things as the fruit of her own 
 womb.* 
 
 Yet it was the science of astronomy which chiefly en- 
 grossed Bruno, and at the basis of his astronomical beliefs 
 lay his religious conviction. For Bruno was at heart a 
 complete and entire Pantheist, and in accepting the theory 
 of Copernicus, he was not merely satisfying his love of 
 harmony and order, he was increasing and strengthening 
 the depth of his religious emotions. * These magnificent 
 stars and shining bodies,' he exclaims, 'which are so many 
 inhabited worlds, and grand living creatures, and excellent 
 divinities, could not be what they are— could not have any 
 permanent relation to each other — if there were not some 
 cause or principle which they set forth in their operations, 
 and the infinite excellence and majesty of which they with 
 innumerable voices proclaim.' And elsewhere he speaks 
 even more clearly. 'God,' he says, 'is the Infinite AH ; 
 
 * Belfast Address,' p. 19. 
 
 1 M 
 
356 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 the prime and universal substance of Himself excludes all 
 delimitation, and is not to be sought beyond the universe 
 and the infinity of things, but within this and these ; and 
 this unity is the end and aim of all philosophy. Why 
 think of any twofold substance, one corporeal, another 
 spiritual, when in sum these have but one essence and but 
 one root ? For corporeal substance, which manifests or 
 presents to us that which it involves, must be held a thing 
 divine, parent of natural things : if you think aright, you 
 will find a Divine Essence in all things.' 
 
 The works of Bruno are the Cena delle Ceneri, or 
 Evening Conversations on Ash Wednesday, which is an 
 apology for the Copernican astronomy ; the Spaccio delta 
 Bestia Trionfanti, or Expulsion of the Triumphant Beast, 
 which is a satirical, but somewhat heavy, allegory in the 
 style of the period. His best works are generally supposed 
 to be those which are metaphysical, such as the Delia 
 Causa Prncipio ed Uno (On the One Sole Cause of Things) ; 
 and the Del Infinito Universo e Mondi (On the Infinity of 
 the Universe and of Worlds). 
 
 As soon as he had arrived at manhood Bruno set him- 
 self to visit the principal cities of Europe, especially those 
 of Geneva, Paris, and London. It was the society of the 
 latter place that delighted him most, and he spent a con- 
 siderable portion of his time there. The intellect of the 
 English Queen, the grace and beauty of her ladies, the 
 high breeding and courtesy of a Greville or a Sydney, all 
 made him regard England with admiration and affection ; 
 and in La Cena delle Ceneri he dwells with evident pleasure 
 upon the grarification his visit afforded him. It is only the 
 flower of English aristocracy, however, which meets with 
 his approval; he denounces, almost with bitterness, the 
 manners both of the upper and lower middle classes. 
 He declares he knows not which ought to be condemned 
 the most—the beer-drinking propensities of the under- 
 graduates, or the hopeless pedantry of their seniors. And 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 357 
 
 he owns himself obliged to confess that, during all his 
 numerous travels, he never met with either country gentle- 
 men, yeomen, tradesmen, innkeepers, or boatmen so com- 
 pletely ill-bred and savage as those in England. 
 
 The two works La Cena delle Ceneri and Delia Causa 
 Principio ed Uno were composed in this country ; and as 
 they tend to show very clearly the Pantheistic opinions of 
 Bruno we will proceed to give a short abstract of the two 
 books. 
 
 The first consists of five dialogues between Smitho, an 
 Englishman ; Teofilo, a philosopher ; Prudentio, a pedant ; 
 and Frulla, a saucy personage, whose chief employment 
 consists in making jests that are more or less unseemly. 
 But it is the book Delia Causa Principio ed Uno which 
 more nearly concerns us. The former is concerned princi- 
 pally with two subjects — a lively description of anecdotes 
 connected with London life, and an investigation into the 
 Copernican theory, which Bruno cannot help feeling is 
 strangely divergent from the Mosaic account ; but is some- 
 what comforted in finding that the philosophy of Coper- 
 nicus is much favoured in many passages of the Book of 
 Job, which he describes as *one of the most singular that 
 can be read, full of all good theology, physics and moraUty, 
 abounding in most wise discourses, united by Moses as a 
 sacrament to the books of his Law.' 
 
 The Principio ed Uno is a sort of continuation of, or at all 
 events, has a certain connection with, the Cena Delle Ceneri. 
 The scene is still laid in England, and Teofilo again forms 
 one of the dramatis personce ; the others being a country- 
 man of ours, one Dixon, or, as he is called in Italian, 
 Alessandro Discono ; a pedant of the.name of Polyhymnio ; 
 and GervasiOy who is apparently at the conference because 
 he has nothing better to do. The dialogue is in reality 
 almost entirely confined to Dixon and Teofilo — Dixon 
 being the enquirer ; Teofilo (who is most probably Bruno 
 himself) being the teacher. 
 
35^ MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 ' What is the Efficient Cause ? ' asks Dixon. 
 ' I affirm,' answers Teofilo, * the physical universal effi- 
 cient to be the Universal Intellect, which is the primary 
 and principal faculty of the Soul of the World ; that Soul 
 being, on the other hand, the universal form of this Intel- 
 lect.' *This is that One which fills the great whole, which 
 illuminates the universe, which directs Nature to produce 
 its species in the way which is most suitable. So that it 
 has the same relation to the production of natural things as 
 our intellect has to the corresponding production of rational 
 species. That which the Magians, Plato, Empedocles, and 
 Plotinus called respectively the Impregnator, the Fabri- 
 cator of the World, the Distinguisher, the Father or Proge- 
 nitor, ought in reality to be called the Internal Artificer, 
 seeing it forms the matter and the figure from within : 
 from within the seed or the root it gives forth or unfolds 
 the stem ; from within the stem it forces out the boughs ; 
 from within the boughs it forces out the branches ; from 
 within these it pushes out the buds ; from within it forms, 
 shapes, and interlaces, as with nerves, the leaves, the 
 flowers, the fruits ; and from within, at appointed times, 
 it recalls its moisture from the leaves and fruits to the 
 branches, from the branches to the boughs, from the boughs 
 to the stem, from the stem to the root. And there is a like 
 method in the production of animals.' Then Dixon en- 
 quires, ' Surely you mean that it is only the entire uni- 
 verse taken as a whole that is animated } You cannot 
 mean that every isolated thing — all the numberless forms 
 whatsoever are found in nature — you cannot mean that all 
 and every one of these have a vital principle ? ' 
 
 Teofilo admits that he cannot stop short of this con- 
 clusion. He holds that everything has within it an ani- 
 mating spirit. 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaims Polyhymnio. ' You think my slip- 
 pers, my boots, my spurs, my ring, and my cloak are 
 animated ? ' 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 359 
 
 ' Why not ? * asks Gervasio. * When you wear that 
 cloak is there not an animal within that cloak ? Do not 
 your boots contain living feet ? * 
 
 The pedant is greatly offended by this vulgar solution 
 of a philosophical problem ; and, turning to Teofilo, de- 
 mands a more learned reason for the doctrine he has set 
 forth. 
 
 * I admit,' answers Teofilo, ' that the table as table is 
 not animated, nor the garment as garment, nor the skin 
 as skin ; yet as natural and composite things they have in 
 them matter and form. Be the thing, then, as little as it 
 may, it has in it a portion of spiritual substance, which, if 
 it finds the fitting subject, may develop itself into a plant, 
 into an animal — may acquire the members of any kind of 
 body which in its totality is called animated ; seeing that 
 spirit is found in all things, and there is not the smallest 
 corpuscle which does not contain within it that which ani- 
 mates it* 
 
 * You would make me think,' replies Dixon, ' the 
 opinions of Anaxagoras probable, who held that every- 
 thing is in each thing, seeing that spirit, or life, or univer- 
 sal form being in the whole mass of things, from a whole 
 a whole may be produced.' 
 
 * That doctrine,' answers Teofilo, ' I look upon not as 
 probable, but as true. And if so, not only is life found in 
 all things, but the soul is that which is the substantial form 
 of all things ; it presides over the matter, it holds its lord- 
 ship in those things that are compounded ; it effectuates 
 the composition and consistency of their parts. This I 
 understand to be the one in all things which, however, 
 according to the diversity of the dispositions of matter, and 
 according to the faculty of the material principle, active 
 and passive, produces diverse configurations, and works out 
 diverse faculties ; one while showing the effect of life with- 
 out sense, one while the effect of life and sense without 
 intellect ; one while how it may have all the faculties kept 
 
360 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 down and repressed either by the imbeciHty or by some other 
 condition of the matter. Whatever changes, then, of time 
 or place anything may undergo, it cannot cease to be ; the 
 spiritual substance being not less in it than the material. 
 The exterior forms alone are altered and annulled, because 
 they are not things, but only appertain to things ; they are 
 not substances, but merely the accidents and circumstances 
 of substances. The Sophists say that that is truly man 
 which is the result of composition ; that that is truly soul 
 which is either the perfection and act of a living body or the 
 result of a certain symmetry of complexion and members. 
 Wherefore it is no marvel if they regard with such terror 
 death and dissolution, seeing therein the overthrow of their 
 being. Against which folly Nature cries with a loud voice, 
 affirming that neither bodies nor souls ought to fear 
 death, seeing that matter and form are both most con- 
 stant principles.' 
 
 We must indulge ourselves in one more quotation from 
 this work. It is from the fifth dialogue, and depicts in 
 clear and striking language the Pantheistic opinions of 
 Bruno : — 
 
 ' The universe, then, is one, infinite, immovable. One, I 
 say, is the absolute possibility, one the act, one the form or 
 soul, one the matter or body, one the being, &c. Within 
 the one infinite and immovable, which is substance, which 
 is being, is found multitude and is found number. Yet all 
 the modes and multiformity of being, whereby we are en- 
 abled to distinguish thing from thing, does not cause the 
 being itself to be more than one. For if we reflect earnestly 
 with the natural philosophers, leaving the logicians to their 
 own fancies, we shall find that whatever causes differences 
 or number is mere accident, mere figure, mere combination. 
 Every production, of whatever sort it be, is an alteration, 
 the substance ever remaining the same, for that is only 
 one — one being, divine, immortal. Pythagoras was able to 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 36 1 
 
 understand that, instead of fearing death, he need only 
 contemplate a change. All philosophers, commonly called 
 physical, have perceived the same truth when they say that 
 in respect of substance there is neither generation nor cor- 
 ruption, unless under these names we mean to signify 
 alteration. Solomon understood this when he said that 
 there was no new thing under the sun, but that which has 
 been already. Understand, then, that all things are in the 
 universe, and the universe in all things ; we in that, that in 
 us ; and *so all meet in one perfect unity. See, then, how 
 vain a thing it is to torment the spirit with anxieties ; see 
 how impossible it is that there should be anything about us 
 of which we ought to be fearful. For this unity is alone 
 and stable, and ever remaineth. This One is eternal. Every 
 appearance, every other thing is vanity, is as it were 
 nothing ; yea, all that is nothing which is outside of this 
 One. Those philosophers have found again their mistress 
 Sophia, or Wisdom, who have found this Unity. Verily and 
 indeed wisdom, truth, and unity is the same.' 
 
 After leaving England Bruno went to Germany ; in 
 1586 we find him at Wittenberg, the home of Luther. He 
 was received here with the greatest cordiality ; most pro- 
 bably on account of the admiration he was known to feel 
 for that Reformer, whose memory, notwithstanding that he 
 had been dead now some forty or fifty years, was still held 
 in sacred and affectionate estimation by the good Witten- 
 bergers. Bruno expressed, of course, no particular sympa- 
 thy with the religious opinions of the Lutherans. The sole 
 cause of his admiration of Luther lay in the honesty and 
 courage he felt that the Reformer possessed in common 
 with himself, and the dislike they mutually and equally 
 evinced against the teaching of the Schoolmen. Bruno 
 remained at Wittenberg some little time ; and on leaving 
 it declared in a public address his gratitude for the manner 
 in which he had been received, concluding with an open 
 
362 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 expression of his admiration for Luther, whose teaching, 
 he beheved, was now bearing fruit in the free and coura- 
 geous spirit of the Wittenbergers. 
 
 An expression of admiration for Luther, deh'vered so 
 pubHcly and ostentatiously, was a dangerous experiment in 
 those bigoted times, and may be considered the beginning 
 of those offences for which Bruno was afterwards so bitterly 
 to be punished. 
 
 From Wittenberg he proceeded to Helmstadt, where 
 he experienced the treatment that seemed generally to 
 fall to his share ; that is to say, he was received with the 
 greatest cordiality by the princes, and a few of the principal 
 members of the aristocracy j but was hated by the priests 
 and doctors of the University. He was offered the tutor- 
 ship of the son of the Duke of Brunswick Wolfenbuttel, 
 upon the acceptance of which he was excommunicated by 
 the chief of the clergy there ; and afterwards, when his 
 pupil reigned in his father's stead, Bruno added to the 
 offences he had already committed by pronouncing an 
 eulogy upon the virtues of the elder Duke. 
 
 As a supporter of the Copernican doctrine, and still more 
 as an upholder of some very unorthodox religious opinions, 
 Bruno was gradually becoming a known character through- 
 out Europe. And just at the time when murmurings and 
 questionings, which had hitherto been more or less insigni- 
 ficant, were growing into something of a more threatening 
 and suspicious character, he had the imprudence to revisit 
 Italy. He went first to the university town of Padua, but 
 found his society there so exceedingly unwelcome to the in- 
 habitants that he deemed it more prudent to considerably 
 abbreviate his visit. He next directed his steps to Venice, 
 trusting that he might be tolerably free from danger in a 
 city which had more than once afforded protection to 
 philosophers under suspicion of heresy. His confidence 
 was doomed to disappointment, however. He found, to 
 his dismay, that there was a prison existing there, which the 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 363 
 
 Venetians granted for the special service of the Inquisition, 
 though the Council of Ten still retained its own dominion 
 over the prisoners. And into this prison Bruno was thrown 
 in the September of 1592. 
 
 The Grand Inquisitor of Rome was informed of 
 Bruno's arrest, and solemnly demanded that the Venetian 
 authorities should surrender him up to him, to be treated as 
 the Inquisition should deem fit. The following reasons 
 were assigned as qualifying him to be dealt with by the 
 Inquisition and no other body : * The prisoner is a con- 
 firmed heretic j he has openly praised the Queen of 
 England and other heretic princes. He has taught the 
 Copernican theory of the movement of the earth ; he has 
 written various treatises, in which he undermines religion 
 and faith, though he seeks to disguise his doctrines in philo- 
 sophical language. He is an apostate from the Dominican 
 Order, of which he was formerly a member.' 
 
 For some reason or other, not yet known or compre- 
 hended, the Ten refused at first to accede to the demand of 
 the Inquisition. Had they so acceded, we may well sup- 
 pose they would almost have earned the gratitude and 
 thanks of Bruno, for at least, in that case, his sufferings 
 would have been but of very transient duration. As it was, 
 he was imprisoned, kept under the closest confinement for 
 over six years, deprived of books, paper, and pen. To any- 
 one imprisonment so rigorous must have been bitterly 
 difficult of endurance ; to the restless, eager, impetuous 
 mind of the Italian it must have been positive torture. 
 Habituated as he had been to a life of vicissitudes — at one 
 moment lapped in the luxury of a court, honoured, almost 
 adored by the admiring appreciation of the fair ; at another 
 in hot, eager, not altogether unsolicited disputation with the 
 schoolmen and doctors, the change to a life of dreary, 
 monotonous sameness must have been of tenfold greater 
 punishment than to one who had been accustomed to a 
 duller and more unexciting life. At last the demands of 
 
364 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Rome were acceded to, and Bruno was removed to the pre- 
 cincts of the Inquisition. Yet even then his miseries were 
 very far from completion. Two years more he was detained 
 a prisoner at Rome. 
 
 At length the long, slow years of imprisonment are 
 over, and he is told that the day has been fixed for his 
 trial. He knows full well that this trial will be but a mock 
 one ; that his death had been already predetermined. But 
 he fears neither death nor pain. He is glad to think his 
 period of imprisonment is so quickly to be terminated ; yet, 
 as he leaves his prison for the court of examination, it is 
 palpable to every beholder that, bitterly as he had felt his 
 confinement, it had had no power to lower his courage, or 
 daunt the intrepidity, almost, indeed, the haughtiness of 
 his bearing. 
 
 On February 9, 1600, he enters the court with firm 
 step, his head thrown back, his carriage erect. He 
 listens with calm disdain as his offences are recounted. 
 He had collected all the observations that had been made 
 respecting the new star in Cassiopeia in the year 1572 ; he 
 had taught that space is infinite ; that it is filled with opaque 
 and self-luminous worlds; and (worst offence of all !) he had 
 declared his belief in the strong probability of these worlds 
 being inhabited. 
 
 He is found guilty, and commanded to fall on his knees 
 while his sentence of degradation and excommunication 
 is being delivered. He is told that eight days will be 
 allowed him for repentance and confession ; but if at the 
 end of that time he is still unrepentant he will be delivered 
 over to the secular authorities to be punished ' as mercifully 
 as possible, and without the shedding of his blood,' the 
 atrocious formula for burning a man alive. When the 
 abominable sentence was passed he merely replied, ' Per- 
 haps it is with greater fear that ye pass this sentence upon 
 me than I receive it.* 
 
 The eight days pass away ; but, resolute to the end, no 
 
GIORDANO BRUNO. 365 
 
 fear of death, no dread of pain is capable of forcing him 
 to a profession of belief that is not his. On the 17th of 
 February his time is up, and he is led to his place of exe- 
 cution. One who believed the sentence to be just, and who 
 watched the execution of it with satisfaction, owns that 
 Bruno did not quail. A crucifix was held before him, but 
 he refused to look upon it. He uttered not a groan. Not a 
 murmur proceeded from his lips. He died as he had lived ; 
 and it is impossible to determine whether the bold activity 
 of his life, or the calm fortitude of his death, displays the 
 greater courage or heroism. As the flames shut him out 
 from view his tormentors sarcastically observed that he had 
 gone to the imaginary worlds he had so wickedly feigned. 
 
 'No one,' says Dr. Draper,^ *can recall without senti- 
 ments of pity the sufferings of those countless martyrs 
 who, first by one party and then by another, have been 
 brought for their religious opinions to the stake. But each 
 of these had in his supreme moment a powerful and un- 
 failing support. The passage from this life to the next, 
 though through a hard trial, was the passage from a tran- 
 sient trouble to eternal happiness^an escape from the 
 cruelty of earth to the charity of heaven. On his way 
 through the dark valley the martyr believed that there was 
 an invisible hand that would lead him, a friend that would 
 guide him all the more gently and firmly because of the 
 terrors of the flames. For Bruno there was no such sup- 
 port. The philosophical opinions for the sake of which he 
 surrendered his life could give him no consolation. He 
 must fight the last fight alone. Is there not something 
 very grand in the attitude of this solitary man, something 
 which human nature cannot help admiring, as he stands in 
 the gloomy hall before his inexorable judges ? No accusers, 
 no witness, no advocate is present, but the Familiars of the 
 Holy Office, clad in black, are stealthily moving about. 
 The tormentors and the rack are in the vaults below. He 
 
 ' ' Conflict between Religion and Science,' by J. W. Draper, p. 180. 
 
366 MODERN PANTHEISMe 
 
 is simply told that he has brought upon himself strong 
 suspicions of heresy, since he has said that there are other 
 worlds than ours. He is asked if he will recant and abjure 
 his error. He cannot and will not deny what he knows to 
 be true ; and perhaps — for he had often done so before- — he 
 tells his judges that they, too, in their own hearts are of 
 the same belief What a contrast between this scene of 
 manly honour, of unshaken firmness, of inflexible adherence 
 to the truth, and that other scene, which took place more 
 than fifteen centuries previously by the fireside in the hall 
 of Caiaphas, the high-priest, when the cock crew and '* the 
 Lord turned and looked upon Peter" ! And yet it is upon 
 Peter that the Church has grounded her right to act as she 
 did to Bruno. 
 
 ' But perhaps the day approaches when posterity will 
 offer an expiation for this great ecclesiastical crime, and a 
 statue of Bruno be unveiled under the dome of St. Peter*s, 
 at Rome.' 
 
3^7 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 VANINI. 
 
 LuciLio Vanini was born at Taurasano, a market-town 
 in the kingdom of Naples. According to some authorities 
 the date of his birth was the year 1585 ; according to 
 others 1579- ^is father's name was John Baptista 
 Vanini, steward to Don Francis de Castro, Duke oi 
 Taurasano, Viceroy of Naples, and afterwards Ambassador 
 of Spain to the Court of Rome. Baptista appears to have 
 been a man of rugged, dogged resolution, and by no means 
 wanting in intellectual ability. His son relates an anecdote 
 of him that was thoroughly characteristic. He says that 
 his father, being near his end, and his physicians having 
 acquainted him with the fact, he sprang out of bed, pro- 
 nouncing these words of the Emperor Vespasian : ' It does 
 not behove me to die otherwise than standing.' Lucilio's 
 mother was called Beatrix Lopes de Noguera, and came of 
 a Spanish family of distinction. Lucilio was a great lover 
 of learning from his infancy, and applied himself with eager 
 avidity to the acquisition of all kinds of knowledge. As 
 he grew up to youth his father sent him to Rome for the 
 completion of his education, where he studied principally 
 philosophy and divinity. His tutor was a certain Carme- 
 lite friar called Barthelemi Argotti, a man famous for his 
 great and varied learning, Lucilio was greatly attached to 
 him, and considered himself singularly fortunate in the 
 possession of such a man for his tutor. He frequently 
 mentions him in his works and describes, with affectionate 
 
368 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 remembrance, his sedate behaviour, his calm wisdom, and 
 calls him ' a phcenix of the preachers of his time.' With 
 nearly equal praise does he mention another Carmelite 
 called John Bacon, * an ornament to the Averroists, for- 
 merly my preceptor, and from whom I have learnt to swear 
 by none but Averroes.' 
 
 From Rome he returned to Naples, where he continued 
 his philosophical studies. He delighted much in natural 
 philosophy, and applied himself also for a considerable 
 space of time to the study of medicine. In addition to 
 this he devoted himself with ardour to the science of 
 astronomy. Yet none of these pursuits occupied so much 
 of his time as did divinity. As soon as his education was 
 completed he became a priest, and speedily attracted con- 
 siderable attention by his gift of preaching. He became 
 subsequently a student of the law, and on the title page of 
 his ' Dialogues ' he describes himself as Doctor in utroque 
 jure. From Naples he went to Padua, where the purity of 
 the air, the softness of the climate, and especially the com- 
 panionship of men of letters, detained him for some years. 
 He had little or no private fortune, and often found it a 
 hard struggle to continue his beloved, but pecuniarily un- 
 profitable, studies. But * all is warm,* he says, ' to those 
 that love ; have I not sustained at Padua the greatest frost 
 in winter with a poor and thin dress, animated only with a 
 desire of learning ? * 
 
 At last his labours were rewarded with the conscious- 
 ness that he was really in the possession of sufficient learn- 
 ing to enable him to go through all Europe, to visit the 
 universities, and assist at the conferences of the learned. 
 
 His favourite authors were Aristotle, Averroes, Cardan, 
 and Pomponatius. 
 
 As to Aristotle his feeling for him attained to positive 
 admiration. He calls him the God of Philosophy, the 
 Dictator of human wisdom, and the Sovereign Pontiff of 
 the sages. 
 
VANINI. 369 
 
 The system of Averroes, which is in great measure 
 founded upon that of Aristotle, was so much to his Hking 
 that he took care to recommend it to his disciples. * When 
 the business was/ says he, ' to initiate him into the mysteries 
 of philosophy, I took great care that he swore to no one's 
 name ; I contented myself with putting into his hands 
 Averroes's books, which he read with such greediness, and 
 by which he profited so much, that he soon took upon him 
 to confute the impertinences of the scholastics, who talk 
 superficially upon matters/ 
 
 Pomponatius was a famous Averroist living about fifty 
 years before Vanini. He left behind him at Padua many 
 followers and several writings. Vanini always speaks of 
 him as his 'divine master,' and bestows great encomiums 
 upon his works. The book where he treats upon enchant- 
 ments, and which was looked upon as a dangerous one, 
 seemed to him a golden treatise — Liber Aureus, Another, 
 upon Destiny, charmed him ; and a third, about Causes and 
 Effects, gained also his highest admiration. According to 
 the statement of some authorities, Vanini believed that the 
 soul of Averroes had transmigrated into the body of Pom- 
 ponatius. If Vanini ever did make so exaggerated a state- 
 ment, it is probable he was only speaking metaphorically. 
 
 Cardan was also one of those authors whom Vanini had 
 studied much ; but the praise he bestowed upon him was 
 not quite the unadulterated eulogium he awarded the other 
 three. He praises him, but also finds fault with him in 
 several places. Cardan firmly believed in the truth of 
 astrology, and had written a book almost amusing from 
 its crude originality, entitled 'Jesus Christ's Horoscope.* 
 Now, although Vanini could not shake himself completely 
 free from all belief in astrology (as in that stage of the 
 world's history it was very difficult for any student of 
 astronomy to do) he nevertheless considered Cardan carried 
 his credence in it to a foolish and superstitious extent. 
 
 In those days, it need scarcely be remarked, it was a 
 VOL. I. B B 
 
370 MODKRN PANTHEISM. 
 
 dangerous thing for men to venture to think for them- 
 selves ; still more dangerous was it for them to openly 
 express those thoughts. The few who did venture so to 
 do generally did so under the cover of a mask or blind, so 
 to speak. They would preface their opinions with am- 
 biguous turns and phrases, such as : ' Were I not a Christian 
 I should teach so and so/ ' Did not the doctrines of our 
 holy Church prohibit me, I should be inclined to accept such 
 and such tenets of philosophy/ &c. Descartes, living about 
 this time, submits all his writings to the judgment of the 
 Church ; Vanini does likewise. Nor need it be thought 
 that such acts necessarily display any spirit of peculiar 
 cowardice or timidity. Had authors not been thus cautious 
 their writings would never have become known at all. 
 They would have been seized and burnt before there had 
 been time for them to become disseminated and generally 
 recognised ; so that for the sake of their works, if not for 
 themselves, it was necessary for philosophers to exercise 
 caution. Nevertheless, this same caution renders it some- 
 what difficult for us to penetrate the ambiguity of many of 
 these sixteenth and seventeenth century philosophers, and 
 forces us to be somewhat diffident as to whether we have 
 thoroughly mastered the spirit of their writings. 
 
 Amongst the number of these somewhat ambiguous 
 writers must be counted Pomponatius and Cardan ; yet, 
 as they had considerable influence upon the writings of 
 Vanini, it is necessary we should do our- best to understand 
 them. They had both written upon the Immortality of the 
 Soul, apparently seeking to establish the doctrine ; but in 
 reality, we venture to think, opposing it. Pomponatius 
 was the first to write upon this subject, prefacing his article 
 by cautiously declaring his object in thus writing was to 
 show that ' since it was impossible to prove the immor- 
 tality of the soul by natural and philosophical reasons, the 
 surest way was to have recourse to revelation/ In spite of 
 this somewhat flimsy disguise, both Cardan and Pomponatius 
 brought upon themselves a good deal of suspicion and evil 
 
VANINI. 371 
 
 notoriety by certain passages in their several writings. 
 The disaffected passage in Cardan was as follows : — 
 
 *Let us now see whether the belief in immortality 
 makes men more virtuous or happy. As for my part, I do 
 not perceive it contributes anything towards it. We see in 
 Cicero and Diogenes Laertius that the Epicureans were 
 more upright and honest, and had more true goodness 
 towards men, than the Stoics or Platonics. The reason is, 
 if I mistake not, that men grow good or bad by custom. But 
 nobody trusts them who make no profession of an unshaken 
 uprighteousness, and therefore they are obliged to observe 
 more their honour than others, and to prove themselves 
 such to the public, for fear men should think their practices 
 are according to their sentiments. Hence it is that few 
 men now-a-days equal the faith of usurers, which other- 
 wise lead a very bad life. Let it be observed also that the 
 sect of Pharisees, who believed in the resurrection and 
 immortality of the soul, never ceased prosecuting Jesus 
 Christ ; and that the Sadducees, another sect, which rejected 
 both these articles, attacked Him but very seldom, once or 
 twice at most, and in such a manner that it caused Him 
 no great uneasiness. Again, if you compare the lives of 
 Pliny and Seneca — their lives, I say, and not their words — 
 you will find that Pliny, with his belief of the mortality of 
 the soul, surpasses Seneca in his moral behaviour as much 
 as he (Seneca) surpasses Pliny in his discourse upon religion 
 and virtue. The Epicureans cultivated honesty ; they enter- 
 tained very officiously the children of their pupils, and 
 maintained at their charges the families of their deceased 
 friends. They were looked upon everywhere as honest 
 men, although they did not regard much the worship of 
 the gods, and denied their existence very strongly. It 
 happens also from that flattering opinion of another life 
 that the wicked have room to exert their passions ; the 
 good suffer many things contrary to the welfare of society ; 
 and the laws sustain a considerable shock, inasmuch as 
 
 2 6 B 
 
37^ MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Upon consideration of religion they are softened to such a 
 degree that often the very foundations of the pubHc good 
 and the ease of mankind lies at stake. Neither does it 
 seem to me that this belief of immortality makes men more 
 courageous. For Brutus was no more so than Cassius ; 
 and, if we will say the truth, the actions of Brutus were 
 rather more cruel than those of Cassius. For the last 
 treated the Rhodians, although great enemies of the 
 righteous cause, in a more favourable manner than Brutus 
 had done the cities where he commanded, and which 
 were in alliance with him. And, lastly, what shall we 
 say ? Is it not Brutus, the same Brutus the Stoic, who 
 delivered the Republic into Anthony's hands, because he 
 had saved it to no purpose, although according to law, 
 after Cassius had rescued it by his good conduct .'* ' 
 
 The passage in the essay of Pomponatius, nearly as 
 open to condemnation as the one we have just quoted 
 from Cardan, runs as follows : — 
 
 ' I am very well persuaded that the doctrine of the mor- 
 tality of the spirits doth not persuade men to be wicked, 
 and that since they naturally love felicity and hate misery ; 
 to make them honest, it suffices to show them that the 
 happiness of life consists in the practice of virtue, and 
 misery in the practice of vice. Indeed, those who inculcate 
 the mortality of the soul open a way to the most perfect 
 virtue, which hath not in view any recompense or chastise- 
 ment. Those men are brutal to whom the immortality of 
 the soul must be proposed as a bribe. It is probable there 
 have been authors who have taught that doctrine without 
 believing it themselves, using it as a stratagem to restrain 
 the sensual inclinations of brutal minds. It is not generally 
 true that they are debauched people who establish the mor- 
 tality of the soul ; neither is it true they are all wise men 
 who believe the immortality. For it is evident that abund- 
 ance of ill livers have faith, but are led away by their pas- 
 sions ; and, on the contrary, we know for certain that a 
 
VANINI. 373 
 
 great number of wise and just men held the mortality of 
 the soul. Plato tells us, in the first book of his *' Republic,'* 
 that the poet Simonides, an excellent and divine man in 
 all respects, was of that number. Homer, according to 
 Aristotle's observation in his " Treatise upon the Soul," 
 made no distinction betwixt sense and understanding ; and 
 who is ignorant of Homer's merit ? Hippocrates and Galen, 
 persons whose probity was in no ways inferior to their 
 knowledge, were of the same opinion. Alexander, Aphro- 
 diseus, the great Alfarabus, Abubacer, Avempacius, and, 
 among the rest, Plinius and Seneca, and many others, are 
 not far from this sentiment' 
 
 In the earlier portion of his 'Amphitheatre,' Vanini 
 speaks of these two authors as follows : — 
 
 * Pomponatius and Cardan were men full of knowledge 
 and learning. They were so little distant from my senti- 
 ments that each of them has given us a Treatise on the 
 Immortality of the Soul. I own ingenuously I do not 
 know as yet their sentiments upon that head, and the man- 
 ner in which they have expressed themselves, for those two 
 books have not yet come to my hands, nor have they ap- 
 peared at the fairs of Frankfort, or in the shops of our 
 Lutheran and Calvinlst booksellers. After all, I do not 
 know if they have not done as Agrippa, who has composed 
 so many books about the evocation and conjuration of de- 
 mons, although that arch- knave believed nothing of it, 
 after the example of all those necromancers who impose 
 on the vulgar.' The above quotation is from the ' Amphit, 
 Dissert. 28.' In the twenty-seventh dissertation he says : 
 * As to me, whose name is Christian and surname Catho- 
 lic, if I had not learnt it from the Church, who is the in- 
 fallible mistress of truth, I should hardly believe the soul 
 to be immortal. I do not blush to say it ; on the contrary, 
 I glory in it, for I fulfil St. Paul's precept, in captivating my 
 understanding in obeisance to faith, which is stronger in me 
 because it is built upon that principle : God has said it.' 
 
374 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 It appears evident, therefore, that though Vanini had not 
 himself seen the writings of Pomponatius and Cardan upon 
 immortality, he was nevertheless aware that they had writ- 
 ten upon that subject, and that, in some second or third 
 hand manner, he had become acquainted with the general 
 tenets of their writings. 
 
 There appears to be little doubt that at the beginning 
 of his career Vanini was an earnest and conscientious Ca- 
 tholic. His scientific knowledge and general information 
 had led him, it is true, to perceive that faith and reason were 
 at times glaringly opposed to each other ; yet, in common 
 with many of his day, he believed there was some intrinsic 
 merit in accepting statements as true which were utterly 
 beyond the possibility of any verification. Indeed, in all 
 ages is it not a somewhat notable fact that belief without 
 any grounds for belief has been held by the devout to be 
 an act of peculiar merit.'* In 1614 Vanini came to Eng- 
 land, and when visiting London made acquaintance with 
 one Moravi, chaplain to the Envoy of Venice. By his 
 assiduity to the Catholic faith he drew upon him, as he 
 tells us, the persecution of the Protestants. He was put 
 into prison, where he remained forty-nine days, well pre- 
 pared to receive the crown of martyrdom, which he wished 
 for, he says^ with all the ardour imaginable. It was not 
 to be, however. He was released at the end of his forty- 
 nine days' incarceration. The crown of martyrdom was to 
 be reserved for some future occasion. He was destined, 
 not to be the martyr of Catholicism, but of Pantheism — 
 Pantheism, which in the mouths of his accusers was never 
 designated otherwise than as rank blasphemy and atheism. 
 As soon as he was liberated from prison he crossed the 
 sea and proceeded to Genoa, where he laid himself out for 
 the reception of scholars of all degrees. But unhappily for 
 him his desires in this wise were frustrated by his ardent 
 admiration for Averroes. With all his scholars he insisted 
 upon making Averroes his text-book. Yet, as we pointed out 
 
VANINI. 375 
 
 in a previous chapter, Averroes had been led, by his scientific 
 knowledge, to the rejection of all revelation whatsoever. He 
 regarded the Christian religion as false, through the pre- 
 tended mystery of the Eucharist ; the Jewish he called 
 childish, through its many rites and ceremonies ; and the 
 Mahometans he styled hoggish, because of the carnal en- 
 joyment it permitted and authorised. It was no wonder, 
 therefore, that Vanini, with his unquestioning admiration 
 for Averroes, should have been regarded as a dangerous 
 and unsafe preceptor for Christian youth. He was forced, 
 in consequence, to depart from Genoa, and retreated into 
 France, where he took orders upon him in Guienne, al- 
 though it is not known in what convent. Whatever were 
 its name, however, there seems to be little doubt that from 
 this convent he was disgracefully expelled upon the accu- 
 sation of an act of immorality too vile to be mentioned. It 
 was a wholly unsupported accusation,^ having its origin 
 solely in the statement of the Friar, and we may, therefore, 
 be justified, we think, in regarding the whole statement as a 
 groundless, libellous fiction, invented by a vindictive priest, 
 through dislike and anger at the now rapidly increasing 
 heterodox opinions of Vanini. Yet he still remained, cer- 
 tainly in name, and most probably at heart, a believer in 
 Cathohc Christianity. He wrote a book against the Pro- 
 testants entitled * An Apology for the Council of Trent ; ' 
 and all his works, whether religious or philosophical, he 
 submitted, as we have said, to the authority of the Holy 
 Church. 
 
 The only works of his that have come down to us are 
 
 * 'The detestable Vanini,' says Mr. Bayle, 'who was burned in the year 
 l6i2y at Thoulouse, for atheism, had always been pretty regular in his morals; 
 and whosoever would have undertaken to attack him on any other point but 
 his doctrine would have run a great risk of being accused of calumny.' 
 {Bayle must have erred in placing the death of Vanini as early as 1612. The 
 most probable date is l6i8 or 1619. It certainly could not have been as early 
 as Bayle thinks, as the dates on the ' Dialogues ' and ' Amphitheatre ' are later 
 than that.) 
 
37^ MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 his 'Amphitheatre* and ' Dialogues/ of which we will now 
 give a brief description. 
 
 The * Amphitheatre's ' title is, Amphitheatrum (sternce 
 providentzcs Divino-Magicuvi, Christiaito-PhysicumyAstrolo- 
 gicO'Catholicuin, adversus veteres Philosopkos, Atheos^ ^pi- 
 cureos, PeripapeticoSy StoicoSy &c. It was printed at Lyons, 
 1615, and dedicated to the Count of Castro, protector of his 
 family and his benefactor. It was approved by four Doc- 
 tors who acknowledge to have found in it nothing against 
 the Catholic faith. He describes the design of his work 
 in the preface : — 
 
 'I propose,' he says, 'in this work, to unfold and to 
 make plain all the mysteries of Providence ; but do not 
 expect I should take them from the declamations used by 
 Cicero, nor from those dreams, or rather plausible ravings, 
 of the divine philosopher ; and yet much less from the ab- 
 surd impertinences of our scholastics ; but I shall draw 
 them from the source of the most hidden philosophy, as 
 being best able to quench the thirst of curious minds.' 
 
 The ' Amphitheatre ' was as cautiously and nearly as 
 ambiguously worded as the writings of Cardan and Pompo- 
 natius. In it Vanini enters somewhat largely into the 
 question of eternal punishments. He declares they cannot 
 be proved from natural reason. And when Scripture is 
 alleged as a proof he replies, 'A holy answer, which yet 
 gives atheists no great uneasiness, they having no more 
 faith in that holy book than I in ^sop's Fables, in old 
 women's tales, or the superstitions of the Alcoran.' His 
 description of the existence and nature of God is very 
 fine :■ — ^ 
 
 ' You ask me, what is God ; but if I knew it I should 
 be God ; for no one knows what God is but God Himself 
 We may nevertheless know Him in some measure by His 
 works, almost in the same measure as we know the light of 
 the sun through a cloud which eclipses it. Behold now how 
 
 ^ 'Amphit.,' p. 10. 
 
VANINI. 377 
 
 our hand makes bold to describe that first of all beings, 
 although perhaps very vainly. God is to Himself His 
 beginning and His end, though He has neither beginning 
 nor end. He has no need either of one or the other, and 
 yet he is the Author of both. He subsists continually, 
 without any time ; equally, not susceptible of what is past 
 or to come. He reigns everywhere, without any place; 
 immovable, without any situation ; swift, without motion ; 
 all, without all things ; within everything, without being 
 enclosed; without everything, without being excluded. In 
 everything, He governs all ; without everything. He has 
 created. He is good without quality ; great without quan- 
 tity ; universal, without parts ; unchangeable, though He 
 changes all ; His will is His power, and the exerting His 
 power doth not differ from His will ; simple, in Him 
 nothing is in power, but everything in the act ; He is in 
 Himself pure ; the first, the middlemost, the last act. In 
 short, He is all, above all, beyond all, before all, and after 
 all, and yet He remains all' 
 
 * The world,' says Vanini in another place, ' is perhaps 
 an animal, of which we are all members. These modifi- 
 cations are essential to it.' 'The knowledge of God is the 
 Cause of all things ; for that God should know anything 
 without Himself, except He had resolved so to do, is a thing 
 which contradicts itself ; as the Cause, He knows also the 
 effects, and consequently produces them.* 
 
 It is obvious from the above quotations that, notwith- 
 standing his Christian professions, Vanini was in his belief 
 closely approximating to the doctrine of Pantheism ; yet 
 there is no reason on this wise to imagine him to have been 
 guilty of any conscious dishonesty. John Scotus Erigena was 
 a most conscientious. Christian ; yet, as we have shown in a 
 former chapter, he was at the same time a most devout 
 Pantheist. The Christian religion and philosophy form no 
 exception to the majority of other religions and philoso- 
 phies in that they are constantly pervaded with Pantheistic 
 
378 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 ideas and Pantheistic interpretations. Has not their most 
 earnest exponent declared to us that it is in God *we 
 live and move and have our being ' ? 
 
 It was about this time that Vanini renounced the name 
 of Lucilio for that of Julius Caesar — for what reason it is not 
 quite apparent. His enemies assert it was out of vain- 
 glory, being under the impression that he was as great a 
 conqueror in the realms of philosophy as Ccesar was in 
 military tactics and generalship.^ 
 
 In the year 1616 was published his strange 'Dialogues/ 
 the title of which ran as follows : — Julii Ccssaris Vanini 
 Neapolitani Tkeologi, philosophi juris utriusqzce Doctoris, de 
 admirandis Natures Reginm De(Bq ; mortalitiin A rcanis, 
 L ihri quatuor. L utetice apud A drianum Perier. A nno 1 6 1 6. 
 Suh privilegio Regis. On the other side of the titlepage 
 was written the following approbation : ' We, the under- 
 written Doctors of Divinity of Paris, certify to have read 
 these Dialogues of Julius Csesar Vanini, a famous philoso- 
 pher, and we have found nothing repugnant to the Catho- 
 lic, Apostolic, and Roman religion in them ; but, on the 
 contrary, think them well worth being printed. The 20th 
 May, 1616, Signed, F. Edmond Corradin, Guardian of the 
 Convent of Minimes, at Paris. F. Claude de Petit, Doctor 
 Regent.' 
 
 The 'Dialogues' are dedicated to the Marshal of Bas- 
 sompierre, and the dedication is an amusing illustration of 
 the flowery, complimentary style much in vogue on the 
 Continent at that day, and only in a lesser degree even at 
 the present period : — 
 
 * What shall I say,* writes Vanini to Bassompierre 'm. this 
 dedication, * of the charms of your Beauty ? It is by that 
 
 ' It is far more likely that Vanini changed his name from motives of 
 prudence than from those of vain-glory. During his short life of thirty-three 
 years we find him going under three or four different names. At one time in 
 Gascony he called himself Pompeio; in Holland he was known as Julius 
 Csesar ; in Paris, Jolio Csesare Vanino ; at Lyons he added to this the name of 
 Taurasano ; and at Toulouse he was known as Sieur Lucilio. 
 
VANINL 379 
 
 means you have deserved the tenderness of an infinite 
 number of ladies, more charming than the Helens of old. 
 It is also that same beauty which triumphs over the con- 
 ceitedness of atheists, and imposes on them silence, and sup- 
 presses their impiety. For when they but contemplate the 
 majesty and stateliness of your visage they must readily 
 own, that even among mankind there are found some 
 traces of Divinity.* Towards the conclusion of the dedica- 
 tion he becomes even more highflown in his expressions. 
 ' If I were,' he says, * a disciple of Plato, I should kiss and 
 adore you as the Soul of the World.' 
 
 The whole work is divided into four parts, consisting in 
 all of sixty dialogues. The first part contains fourteen of 
 these, and is principally concerned with the consideration 
 of the constitution of the sun, the stars, comets ; also of fire, 
 thunder, and lightning ; the rainbow, rain, snow, and air. 
 
 The second part is composed of thirteen dialogues, and 
 treats chiefly of the nature of the earth and of water. 
 
 The third part contains twenty-three dialogues, in 
 which Vanini discourses upon the different passions of 
 man, and discusses in general the generation of all animals. 
 
 The fourth consists only of ten dialogues, and is almost 
 entirely devoted to the consideration of the various reli- 
 gions that have arisen in the world. 
 
 In these dialogues the Pantheistic traits of Vanini 
 come out more strongly than in his 'Amphitheatre.' He is 
 pervaded with the consciousness of the Oneness of God, 
 and cannot understand whence arose the hypothesis of 
 good and bad angels, and of secondary causes. On this 
 wise he even combats the authority of his much-revered 
 Pomponatius, who, in common with many of his day, held 
 that the heavens were moved by the intervention of certain 
 intelligences. ' If God/ argued Vanini, controverting this 
 doctrine, ' if God is the Cause of all things, and if He is 
 omnipotent, where is, I beseech you, the necessities of 
 your intelligences ? If His omnipotence is much more 
 
380 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 than sufficient to have created the heavens, and adorned 
 them with admirable ingeniiity, without the interposition 
 of any creature, why will you have it He cannot move 
 them without their assistance ? ' 
 
 Further on Vanini defines Nature as a faculty of God. 
 ' In what religion,' says Alexander (the dialogues are sup- 
 posed to take place between Vanini and one other, who 
 is designated as Alexander), 'in what religion have the 
 ancient philosophers adored God ? ' 'In the Religion of 
 Nature only,' replied Vanini, * which Nature is itself that 
 God, since it alone is the origin of the motion impressed 
 in the souls of all men. All other religions, according to 
 those ancient sages, were but illusions ; not forged by any 
 good or evil genius (for they never believed in the existence 
 of any such beings), but by princes and magistrates, in 
 order to curb their people ; and fomented by ambitious and 
 covetous priests, which, instead of true and real miracles, 
 to confirm its veracity, made use of certain Scriptures, the 
 originals of which are nowhere to be found ; and of which 
 the rewards and punishments regard but another life, 
 fearing that the imposture would be too early discovered, 
 should it be pretended they occur in this/ 
 
 His speculations concerning the origin of life are very 
 interesting, and the arguments he advances for and against 
 his own theories are somewhat curious through the un- 
 doubted resemblance they bear to the arguments one hears 
 so frequently brought against the Evolution Theory in our 
 own day. 
 
 'According to Diodorus Siculus,' says Vanini, 'the first 
 man was brought forth out of the slime of the earth.' ' But 
 if so,' observed Alexander, * how doth it happen that in 
 live hundred thousand years, since which the world hath 
 formed itself (according to that atheist), how is it, I say, that 
 there hath not been one brought forth in that manner .•* ' 
 
 ' Nevertheless,' replied Vanini, ' he is not the only one 
 who hath taken that story for truth. Witness the opinion 
 
VANINI. 381 
 
 of Cardanus : he believes that as the smaller animals, mice 
 and fishes, are produced by putrefaction, it is very probable 
 that the greater animals, and even all in general, are derived 
 from them also/ 
 
 * A handsome method of reasoning,' replied Alexander. 
 * A mouse may be brought forth out of putrefaction ; there- 
 fore a man may also. Are there not still sufficient heaps of 
 filth and slime? Why, then, is there not sometimes a horse, 
 sometimes an ox produced from it .'' ' 
 
 * That's right,' replied Vanini ; 'but Diodorus Siculus 
 relates that there is a certain part of the Nile, where It 
 overflows, leaving behind it, as it were, a bed of mud, from 
 which, when heated by the sun, there are produced animals 
 of a monstrous size.' 
 
 ' That's well,' replied Alexander ; ' but as for me I never 
 could believe such a lie.' 
 
 ' Others have dreamed,' remarked Vanini, ' that the first 
 man had taken his origin from mud, putrefied by the cor- 
 ruption of certain monkeys, swine, and frogs ; and thence, 
 they say, proceeds the great resemblance there is betwixt 
 our flesh and propensities with those of these creatures. 
 Other atheists more mild have thought that none but the 
 Ethiopians are produced from a race of monkeys, because 
 the same degree of heat is found in both.' 
 
 * Truly,' replied Alexander, * I wonder that those people 
 can dispute the excellency of man above other creatures, 
 when they behold the uprightness of his structure.' 
 
 'Well,' answered Vanini, 'atheists cry out to us con- 
 tinually that the first men went upon all-fours, as other 
 beasts, and that it is by education only they have changed 
 this custom, which nevertheless, in their old age, returns 
 again.' 
 
 ' I should be glad to see the experiment,' retorted 
 Alexander, ' if a child just born, and brought up in a forest, 
 should walk upon all-foui's. But let us abandon these 
 deliriums to atheists, and hold to the rules prescribed by 
 
382 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 our faith. As for me I own flatly I believe that man was 
 made to master and to govern brutes.' 
 
 ' How ! ' replied Vanini. ' Dare you say that man can 
 master a basilisk .-*' 
 
 ' Yes/ said Alexander, * and sometimes kills him.' 
 
 'And does not the basilisk equally sometimes kill the 
 man ? ' replied Vanini. ' And where is that man that ever 
 framed a republic for the government of basilisks, bees, 
 swallows, or eagles ? Truly, though man sometimes catch 
 them, he is oftener himself caught by them. The crocodile 
 knoweth well how to prey on those who drink along the 
 Nile, securing them in the winding of his tail ; and the 
 polypus spares not the divers.' 
 
 To this Alexander judiciously answers that * our na- 
 tures are no more the same since the Fall ; ' and sighs in 
 reflecting on the felicity of our first parents. 
 
 * Groan not,' said Vanini, with a shade of irony in his 
 manner. ' Man since the Fall masters the sheep, and could, 
 before the Fall, even the serpent.' Then, after a pause, he 
 proceeded : ' This I will say : Oh, happy crime, that has 
 procured us so great a Redeemer, for now we not only are 
 masters of all creatures, but we have even the angels for our 
 instructors. But let us leave this, I pray you, to the ancient 
 sages of the Sorbonne ; let us rather exert ourselves in 
 philosophical matters.' 
 
 In another place Vanini discusses somewhat at length 
 the existence of daemons and oracles, and is greatly inclined 
 to ridicule Socrates for his belief in them. 
 
 ' There is no reason/ he says, ' to convince us that 
 there are either good or evil geniuses, either beyond or 
 this side of the moon ; it is mere human fancy that hath 
 invented them.' 
 
 * But,' answered Alexander, ' there are magicians and 
 necromancers that bewitch people.' 
 
 * // credere k di cortesia^ said Vanini ; * to believe that is 
 only out of good manners. But that they perform anything 
 
VANINI. 383 
 
 by the mediation of devils I cannot think, since I believe 
 the existence of devils but by the persuasions of religion. 
 But I had rather ascribe those effects to natural causes.* 
 
 * How comes it, then/ inquired Alexander, ' that the 
 Egyptian magicians wrought so many prodigies before 
 Pharaoh ? ' 
 
 * Those philosophers/ replied Vanini, * who deny the 
 existence of daemons despise the Hebrew annals/ 
 
 It may be objected that it was sheer dishonesty or 
 cowardice for an author of such passages as we have 
 selected to profess himself to be any longer a disciple of 
 the Catholic Church. Yet it must be remembered that 
 throughout these dialogues Vanini is only putting forth his 
 views hypothetically ; and, through the mouth of an ima- 
 ginary opponent, states fairly and clearly all the objections 
 that can be brought against them. In the gap that lies 
 between dogmatic Belief and dogmatic Disbelief there is a 
 transition stage, an interval which may be defined as Doubt 
 or Unbelief. In this stage there is a hesitation, a feeling of 
 uncertainty as to whether the voice of Reason should be 
 hushed or encouraged. During such a period of doubt the 
 most natural course for an earnest, unprejudiced seeker after 
 truth to pursue is to take a slip of paper and write on it, 
 stating fairly and impartially all the arguments for and 
 against his views that occur to him, and in great measure 
 to be guided in his future conduct by the proportion of 
 arguments falling to one side more than to the other. In 
 Vanini's case the effect of such a proceeding was un- 
 doubtedly the increase of his doubts upon him, and not the 
 abatement. By degrees he drops his sophistical tone and 
 becomes more open. A new but very pregnant idea had 
 occurred to him : Was not the God of the Holy Scrip- 
 tures a weak invention, an altogether inferior Being to his 
 God, to that which he was beginning to believe was the 
 only real God : the God of Nature, the Soul of the entire 
 universe ? This idea took root and grew till it almost over- 
 
384 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 powered him, and forced him on to the conviction that for 
 the honour of the God whom he worshipped he must give 
 utterance to his thoughts, this time without diffidence or 
 ambiguity, and with no uncertain sound. 
 
 ' If the Holy Scriptures are true,' he therefore says, 
 * we are forced to the conclusion that the power of the Devil 
 is greater than that of God Himself It was against the 
 will of God that Adam and Eve fell, and lost all mankind ; 
 and even when the Son of God came into the world to 
 atone for that evil the Devil animated the mind of his con- 
 demners, and Christ declares that that was his time and the 
 Power of Darkness, and so ends His life by a most infa- 
 mous death. One may likewise say, that according to 
 those Scriptures the will of the Devil is more effectual than 
 that of God. God wills that all men should be saved ; 
 nevertheless there are few that accomplish it. The Devil 
 wills that all men should be damned ; there are an innu- 
 merable many. Amongst the multitude of the inhabitants 
 of the earth the Roman Catholics alone can be saved. If 
 from these you subtract hidden heretics and Jews, atheists 
 and blasphemers, Simonists, Adulterers, and Sodomites, all 
 of which shall not inherit the kingdom of Heaven, scarce 
 can you then find one in a million. In like manner, under 
 the law of Moses, all the universe was under the power of 
 the Devil — the Hebrews only excepted, that adored the 
 true God, which were inhabitants of a small tract, not ex- 
 ceeding the extent of the island of Great Britain ; yet even 
 these also often forsook His worship ; nay, when they most 
 rigidly adhered to it, they were yet tormented by the 
 power of this same all-powerful Devil.' 
 
 The conclusion of the dialogues is chiefly taken up with 
 a somewhat melancholy description of the uncertainty of 
 human life, and the transitoriness of fame and earthly 
 glory. Alexander endeavours to comfort him with a re- 
 minder of the exceptional reputation he had already 
 attained at his still early age. ' What have I done more 
 
VANINI. 385 
 
 than others ? ' replied Vanlni. ' Yet, after all, what matters 
 it ? If my soul shall perish with my body, as the atheists 
 think, what pleasure can arise to it from fame ? Perhaps 
 with the fine names of Glory and Reputation it may be 
 carried with less trouble to the grave. If, on the contrary, 
 as we hope and willingly believe, my soul shall not 
 perish, but will fly to some upper region, it will enjoy 
 there such ravishing and agreeable pleasures, that it will 
 esteem as nothing the splendid and illustrious pomp and 
 glory of the world. If it descend to the flames of Purgatory, 
 those prayers, Dies Ir(Ey dies ilia, so pleasing to weak 
 women, will be much more w^elcome to it than the most 
 florid rhetoric of Tully or the most subtile arguments of 
 Aristotle ; or if (which God forbid) it should be delivered 
 to the flames of the dark Tartarus, no comfort, no deliver- 
 ance or pleasure can ever happen.* 
 
 Alexander seems convinced by these arguments of 
 the futility of all earthly fame. ' Would to God,* he ex- 
 claims, 'that these thoughts had been inculcated in me 
 from my earliest infancy ; would that from my youth I had 
 set out with these principles.' 
 
 * Think not on past evils,* answers Vanini, 'take no 
 heed of future ones, and shun those present* 
 
 Opinions such as those divulged in the Dialogues would 
 be condemned by the faithful even in our own day. We can 
 scarcely wonder, then, that in an intolerant age, such as 
 the commencement of the seventeenth century, they should 
 have been regarded with horror and aversion. Vanini was 
 denounced and cast into prison upon suspicion of heresy. 
 Yet upon investigation nothing could be brought home to 
 him. Had not the whole of his works been submitted to 
 the authority of the Sorbonne, and were not the ' Amphi- 
 theatre' and 'Dialogues' books marked with the special 
 approval of that body ? One of two conclusions must 
 be selected, therefore : either Vanini's writings must be 
 pronounced harmless, or the judgment of the sacred 
 VOL. I. C C 
 
386 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Sorbonne must be impugned. The latter was an opinion 
 no one dared to avow ; yet, if the former were true, Vanini 
 must be set at liberty — a consummation most at variance 
 with the desires of his accusers. Something must be done. 
 At the nick of time that uncertain, haphazard strumpet 
 Fortune arose and proffered her assistance. She arrived 
 this time in the person of one Franconi, a man of wealth 
 and of a certain social standing. He stood forward as 
 Vanini's accuser, pledging his word as a man of honour 
 that the writings of Vanini were innocent compared with 
 his conversation. ' Behold, I Franconi, I myself do here- 
 with depose and testify, that in my presence, and within 
 my hearing, Vanini hath spoken blasphemy, hath denied 
 the existence of God, and openly derided the mysteries 
 of our Holy Church.' That was enough. What mattered 
 it that the accuser and accused stood in the ratio of but 
 one to one ? Why should it be taken into consideration 
 that it was but one man's word pitted against that of 
 another ^ Was not Franconi a man of acknowledged merit, 
 universally respected.; and was not Vanini an impecunious 
 travelling tutor, much under suspicion of heresy .'' It was 
 enough, and more than enough. Henceforth liberty for 
 Vanini was a chimera, a thing not to be dreamt of On the 
 contrary, his conduct was such as to demand investigation ; 
 a trial must be prepared, a Senate must be convoked, 
 and while it is pending incarceration must be rendered ten- 
 fold more unbearable, imprisonment tenfold more severe. 
 
 The trial is prepared at last ; the Court is sitting in 
 solemn conclave. The accuser is already in his place, 
 awaiting gloomily the appearance of the accused. At 
 length he enters : a young man — for he is still young, having 
 barely attained his thirty-fourth year — of benignant aspect 
 and kindly, thoughtful appearance. He makes his way to 
 the place of accusation and bows respectfully to those 
 assembled. He is offered a seat, which he accepts grate- 
 fully ; for imprisonment, added to the arduous life of a 
 student, had weakened a constitution never naturally very 
 
VANINI, 387 
 
 strong. Then the question is solemnly asked him : What 
 were his ideas concerning the existence of a God? He 
 answers earnestly but calmly : ' Nature evidently demon- 
 strates to me the Being of a God ; nay, more^ with our 
 Holy Church I adore a God in Three Persons.' There 
 is a grave silence. How could any accusation be brought 
 home to a hypocrite such as this ? After a short space the 
 silence is broken by Vanini himself. His words had been 
 true words, yet he knew he had been somewhat ambiguous 
 in his selection of them ; he felt that with his hearers those 
 words must have a narrower, possibly even an altogether 
 different interpretation than with himself. With very 
 tender consciences a slight and trifling matter is enough to 
 wound and produce self-reproach. In the case of Vanini 
 a straw lying on the ground sufficed to fill him with 
 remorse at the slight dissimulation he had practised, and 
 forced him on to a more full disclosure of his religious 
 opinions. He glanced again at the straw, then stooped and 
 picked it up. Raising himself, he stood very upright, so as 
 to be seen by all ; then, stretching forth his hand with the 
 straw in it, he spake to his accusers as follows : — 
 
 * This straw obliges me to confess there is a God. This 
 grain, being cast into the earth, appears at first to be 
 destroyed, and whitens ; then it becomes green and shoots 
 forth out of the earth, insensibly growing. The dew assists 
 its springing up, and rain gives it yet a greater strength. 
 It is furnished with ears, of which the points keep off the 
 birds. The stalk rises and is covered with leaves ; it be- 
 comes yellow and rises higher. A little later it withers 
 until it dies. It is thrashed ; and the straw being separated 
 from the corn, this latter serves for the nourishment of men, 
 and the former is given to animals created for man's use/ 
 
 Vanini laid down the straw, saying as he did so, * From 
 the fact of the existence of this straw I conclude it must 
 have had an Author, and if God be the Author of the straw 
 so likewise do I infer He must be the Author of all things.' 
 
 c c 2 
 
388 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 Then some one present — most probably Franconi, seeking 
 to entrap him into some unsafe answer — suggested : * Why 
 should the existence of this straw lead you to infer that its 
 Author must be God ? Is not Nature in herself sufficient to 
 account for the production of all natural objects ? ' 
 
 Vanini again picked up the straw, and answered: 'If 
 Nature hath produced this grain, who hath produced that 
 grain which preceded this ? If that be also produced by 
 Nature, let us consider its foregoer, and thus go to the very 
 first, which must necessarily have been created, since th^re 
 can be imagined no other cause for its production/ 
 
 Few other questions were asked him. His accusers had 
 been unable to entrap him into any self-condemnatory 
 answer. But it mattered little. The trial was but a mere- 
 superficial appearance of justice, a solemn farce and parody 
 of investigation. His death had been predetermined. And 
 though, as yielding them a plausible pretext, his accusers 
 would have gladly welcomed any self-condemnatory answer 
 into which Vanini might have been betrayed, without such 
 pretext they would yet work their will. He was pronounced 
 guilty, therefore, and sentenced to death by burning, in 
 these words : ' Lucilio or Julius Caesar Vanini, after long and 
 patient investigation, the Senate hath found thee guilty 
 of heresy, and blasphemy, and atheism. This, therefore, is 
 the just sentence which it passeth upon thee. In thy shirt, 
 with a torch in thy hand, shalt thou make honorary atone- 
 ment for thy sins ; after which thou shalt be drawn upon a 
 hurdle to the place of execution, where, thy tongue being 
 cut out, thou shalt be burned alive.^ During the pronun- 
 ciation of his sentence, Vanini stood quietly and gravely 
 awaiting its termination. When it was finished he bent his 
 head and murmured calmly, half to himself, ' I die as a 
 philosopher.' 
 
 Almost as soon as pronounced the sentence was carried 
 into execution. When he arrived at the wood-pile he was 
 commanded to put out his tongue in order to have it cut 
 
VANINI. 389 
 
 out. He refused — most probably he wished to address the 
 spectators assembled to see him die. Indeed, he had begun 
 his speech by declaring to them, as he had before declared 
 to the Senate, ' I die cheerfully as becomes a philosopher.' 
 He was again commanded to put out his tongue ; and upon 
 a second refusal the executioner took a pair of pincers 
 and forcibly drew it out from the roots. In spite of all his 
 self-restraint he could not refrain from uttering a low groan. 
 Then the wood was set on fire, and in a brief period all 
 that remained of Lucilio Vanini were dust and ashes. 
 
 The works of Vanini are most rare and difficult of 
 accession ; and any account of his life, even a second or 
 third hand account, is most difficult to discover. As far as 
 I am aware, not one of our principal modern historians 
 of philosophy devotes much space to him. Mr. Hallam 
 dismisses him with a few words, so does Mr. Buckle. Mr. 
 Maurice, Mr. Lewes, Dr. Draper scarcely mention him. 
 I have therefore been at some pains to gather materials for 
 this chapter, feeling that In so doing I may be supplying a 
 sort of want. It is, of course, apparent, from the manner in 
 which I have written of him, that the opinion I have formed 
 of Vanini is by no means a low one. His writings, even when 
 I do not altogether agree with him, appear to me to be 
 very able ; and his character, on the whole, seems con- 
 scientious and earnest. I am not sure I do not consider 
 him morally superior to Giordano Bruno. Though not his 
 equal in courage, he appears from what I can learn to have 
 been more thoughtful and grave, less frivolous and fond of 
 display than this last. Yet it is right to admit that such 
 was not the general character assigned to him by his con- 
 temporaries, as may be seen from the translations of some 
 extracts I have in my possession, which I herewith append. 
 One is written by Gramond, First President of the Parlia- 
 ment of Thoulouse in the time of Vanini. The other is an 
 extract from the French ' Mercury.' For myself, I confess 
 
390 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 I am influenced very little in my opinion of Vanini by 
 anything contained in either of these writings ; they are 
 so palpably pervaded with a spirit of malicious vindictive- 
 ness. In many parts they are not only openly at variance 
 with Vanini's published works, but, in addition, they so 
 flatly contradict each other, that I confess I am disposed 
 to give but little weight to them. Yet, as they possess the 
 undoubtedly great advantage of having been written by 
 men who were niore or less in the position of eyewitnesses, 
 I have thought it right to append both the extracts, in order 
 that the reader may see another and an adversary's opinion 
 of Vanini's character, and judge for himself accordingly. 
 
 ' At this time/ says Gramond, * and by order of Par- 
 liament, was condemned to die, at Thoulouse, Lucilio 
 Vanini, who was esteemed an arch-heretic by several, but 
 whom I always looked upon as an atheist ; for I think a 
 man that denies the existence of God deserves the latter 
 rather than the former title. This wretched fellow pre- 
 tended to be a physician, but in reality he was no other than 
 a deceiver of youth, who generally are imprudent and 
 inconsiderate. He laughed at whatever was sacred or 
 religious. He abominated the incarnation of Christ, and 
 denied the Being of God, esteeming all things to be made 
 by chance. He adored Nature as a fruitful mother and 
 first cause of all beings, which was his greatest error, 
 whence all the others were derived, and which he had the 
 boldness stubbornly to teach in a place so holy as Thou- 
 louse. He presently had a great number of followers, 
 amongst those that first came from the universities, and 
 who, being in their youthful years, were more susceptible 
 of new opinions. Having been born in. Italy, he began 
 his studies at Rome, and applied himself with success to 
 those particular branches, philosophy and divinity ; but 
 falling into impiety and a despising of holy things, he 
 blemished his religious character by an infamous book 
 entitled " Of the Secrets of Nature," in which he had the 
 
VANINI. 391 
 
 impudence to assert that Nature was the Goddess of the 
 Universe. Having retired into France on account of a 
 crime of which he had been accused in Italy, he came at 
 last to Thoulouse. There is not a town in France where the 
 laws are framed with greater severity against heresy than 
 in this Thoulouse ; and although the Edict of Nantes hath 
 granted to the Calvinists an open liberty of trade between 
 them and us, nevertheless those sectaries have not dared to 
 trust themselves in this place, which is the reason that it 
 is the only town in all France free from this pestilential 
 heresy. No person is admitted a citizen whose faith is the 
 least suspected by the Holy See. Vanini hid himself for 
 some time, until vain-glory induced him to treat some 
 mysteries of the Holy Catholic Church problematically, 
 and afterwards he derided them openly. The young men 
 were at first struck with great admiration, being weak 
 enough generally to esteem those things which have but 
 few approvers. They valued whatever he said. They 
 imitated and followed him. Being accused of corrupting 
 the youth, he was cast into prison. He behaved at first as 
 a Catholic, and feigned to be orthodox, which put back the 
 punishment he deserved. He was even very near being 
 set at liberty on account of the ambiguity of the proofs 
 brought against him, when Franconi, a man of fortune 
 and great merit, as this one circumstance sufficiently testi- 
 fies, deposed that Vanini had often denied in his presence 
 the existence of God, and scoffed at the mysteries of the 
 Christian religion. They brought together the accused and 
 the accuser, and this latter maintained what he had advanced. 
 Vanini was brought before the Senate, and being seated on 
 the stool, was asked what were his thoughts concerning the 
 existence of God ? He answered that, with the Church, he 
 adored a God in Three Persons, and that Nature evidently 
 demonstrated the Being of a Deity. And having perceived 
 by chance a straw on the ground, he took it up, and 
 stretching forth his hand with it he declared to his judges 
 
392 MODERN PANTHEISM. 
 
 that the straw obliged him to confess the existence of a 
 God. He very amply proved afterwards that Nature was 
 incapable of creating anything, whence he concluded that 
 God was the Creator and Author of all beings. But all 
 this he said through vanity or fear, rather than an inward 
 conviction. Notwithstanding, as the proofs against him 
 were convincing, he was by arrest of Parliament con- 
 demned to die, after they had passed a whole six months 
 in preparing things for a hearing. I saw him in the dung- 
 cart, when he was carried to execution, making sport of a 
 friar, who was allowed him, in order to comfort and reclaim 
 him from his obstinacy. Such a momentary assistance 
 is of little use to a desperate man. It would be better to 
 allow such criminals, condemned to die, a sufficient interval, 
 to the end that they might have time to know themselves 
 and repent, after having thrown forth all their rage and 
 indignation. In France they at once declare sentence of 
 death to a criminal ; and amidst the horror which the 
 dread of execution causes they carry him to it. In Spain, 
 and all the rest of Europe, their method is much pre- 
 ferable. They allow criminals time sufficient to appease 
 the horrors of death and expiate their crimes by penitence 
 and confession. Vanini, wild and obstinate, refused the 
 consolation of the friar accompanying him, and insulted 
 even our Saviour in these words : " He sweated with weak- 
 ness and fear in going to suffisr death, but I die un- 
 daunted." This villain had no reason to say he died fear- 
 less. I beheld him entirely dejected, and making a very 
 ill use of that philosophy he so much boasted of Being 
 ready to be executed, he had a most horrible and wild 
 aspect ; his mind uneasy, and testifying in all his words 
 great anxiety, although he cried out from time to time he 
 died a philosopher ; but that he departed rather like a 
 brute cannot be denied. Before they set fire to the wood- 
 pile he was ordered to put his tongue out to be cut off, 
 which he refused to do ; nor could the hangman take hold 
 
VANINI. 393 
 
 of it but with pincers, in order to perform the execution. 
 There was never heard a more dreadful screech than he 
 then gave : you would have taken it for the bellowing of 
 an ox ; the rest of his body was consumed by fire and his 
 ashes thrown into the air. Such was the end of Lucilio 
 Vanini. That beastly scream he gave before his death is a 
 proof of his small share of constancy. I saw him in prison ; 
 I saw him at the gallows, and likewise knew him before 
 his being arrested. Given up to his passions, he wallowed 
 in voluptuousness ; in prison he was a Catholic ; he went 
 to execution destitute of philosophy, and at last ended his 
 life raving mad. When living he searched very much into 
 the secrets of Nature, and rather professed physic than 
 divinity, though he loved the title of Divine. When they 
 seized his goods there was found a great toad alive, shut 
 up in a large crystal bottle full of water : upon which he 
 was accused of witchcraft ; but he answered that that 
 animal being consumed by fire was a sure antidote against 
 all mortal and pestilential diseases. He often went to the 
 Sacraments during his imprisonment, and cunningly dis- 
 sembled his inward sentiments ; but when he found there 
 was no hope of escape he disclosed them, and died as he 
 had lived.' ^ 
 
 Such is the description Gramond gives of the life and 
 death of Vanini. The extract from the * Mercury ' (which 
 is but a short one and written with comparative mode- 
 ration) runs as follows : — 
 
 ' In the month of November of the last year was taken 
 prisoner, in the town of Thoulouse, an Italian, a philoso- 
 pher, very learned, who went about in families, teaching 
 children that were desirous to understand philosophy 
 perfectly. He maintained and taught that our bodies 
 are without souls ; and that being dead, our being is 
 
 * This account of Vanini's death by Gramond is said to be quoted by 
 Brucker in his * History of Philosophy ; ' but with this history I am un- 
 acquainted. 
 
 VOL. I. D D 
 
394 Modern pantheism. 
 
 destroyed like unto brutes ; that the Blessed Virgin (Oh, 
 execrable blasphemy ! ) had had a carnal knowledge like 
 as other women ; and other words yet more scandalous, 
 altogether unworthy to be related or wrote. By his elo- 
 quence he subtilly instilled his pernicious opinions into the 
 minds of his private audience, insomuch that they began 
 to give ear to that false doctrine. But it coming to the 
 knowledge of the Parliament, they published a decree 
 against this new minister ; and he being apprehended and 
 questioned, maintained his instructions were truths. Upon 
 which he was condemned, and his sentence declared, im- 
 porting that he should make an honorary amend in his 
 shirt, a torch in his hand, and drawn upon a hurdle to the 
 place of execution, where, his tongue being cut out, he 
 should be burnt alive ; all which was effected in the begin- 
 ning of February, in the place called La Place du Salin. 
 He died as freely and with as much constancy and patience 
 as ever man died. For, coming out of the prison, he joy- 
 fully and briskly uttered these words in Italian : " Let us 
 go and die cheerfully as a philosopher." But moreover, to 
 show his undauntedness in dying, and the despair of his 
 soul, when he was told to call out to God for mercy, he 
 spake these words in the presenceof a thousand spectators: 
 " There is neither God nor Devil ; for were there a God I 
 would entreat Him to consume the Parliament with His 
 thunder, as being altogether unjust and wicked ; and were 
 there a Devil, I would also pray to him to swallow it up in 
 some subterraneous place. But since there is neither the 
 one nor the other, I cannot do it.'" 
 
 So run the two extracts written by men who were 
 Vanini's own contemporaries, and who ought, therefore, 
 to have been in a position to make their accounts trust- 
 worthy. They are so obviously contradictory, however, 
 one with the other, as well as with the published works of 
 Vanini, that I do not think it necessary to offer any criti- 
 cism upon them. 
 
VANINI. 395 
 
 Of Vanini we now take our leave and at the same time 
 bring to its conclusion the first volume of this sketch. The 
 next volume will be opened with an account of the life and 
 philosophy of the great representative of Modern Pan- 
 theism ; Baruch or Benedict Spinoza. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON ; PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
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