Bygone Beliefs, Wisdom Ancient
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BYGONE BELIEFS:
BEING A SERIES OF EXCURSIONS IN THE BYWAYS OF THOUGHT
BY HERBERT STANLEY REDGROVE
B.Sc. (Lond.) F.C.S.
LONDON
WILLIAM RIDER & SON, LTD
8 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. 4
1920
CONTENTS
PREFACE
List of Illustrations [not included]
1. Some Characteristics of Mediaeval Thought
2. Pythagoras and His Philosophy
3. Medicine and Magic
4. Superstitions Concerning Birds
5. The Powder of Sympathy: A Curious Medical Superstition
6. The Belief in Talismans
7. Ceremonial Magic in Theory and Practice
8. Architectural Symbolism
9. The Quest of the Philosopher's Stone
10. The Phallic Element in Alchemical Doctrine
11. Roger Bacon: An Appreciation
12. The Cambridge Platonists
PREFACE
THESE Excursions in the Byways of Thought were undertaken at different times and on different occasions;
consequently, the reader may be able to detect in them inequalities of treatment. He may feel that I have lingered too
long in some byways and hurried too rapidly through others, taking, as it were, but a general view of the road in the
latter case, whilst examining everything that could be seen in the former with, perhaps, undue care. As a matter of
fact, however, all these excursions have been undertaken with one and the same object in view, that, namely, of
understanding aright and appreciating at their true worth some of the more curious byways along which human
thought has travelled. It is easy for the superficial thinker to dismiss much of the thought of the past (and, indeed, of
the present) as mere superstition, not worth the trouble of investigaton: but it is not scientific. There is a reason for
every belief, even the most fantastic, and it should be our object to discover this reason. How far, if at all, the reason
in any case justifies us in holding a similar belief is, of course, another question. Some of the beliefs I have dealt
with I have treated at greater length than others, because it seems to me that the truths of which they are the images--
vague and distorted in many cases though they be--are truths which we have either forgotten nowadays, or are in
danger of forgetting. We moderns may, indeed, learn something from the thought of the past, even in its most
fantastic aspects. In one excursion at least, namely, the essay on "The Cambridge Platonists," I have ventured to deal
with a higher phase--perhaps I should say the highest phase--of the thought of a bygone age, to which the modern
world may be completely debtor.
"Some Characteristics of Mediaeval Thought," and the two essays on Alchemy, have appeared in The Journal of the
Alchemical Society. In others I have utilised material I have contributed to The Occult Review, to the editor of
which journal my thanks are due for permission so to do. I have also to express my gratitude to the Rev. A.H.
Collins, and others to be referred to in due course, for permission here to reproduce illustrations of which they are
copyright holders. I have further to offer my hearty thanks to Mr. B.R. Rowbottom and my wife for valuable
assistance in reading the proofs.
H.S.R.
Bletchley, Bucks,
December 1919.
1
SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF MEDIAEVAL THOUGHT
IN the earliest days of his upward evolution man was satisfied with a very crude explanation of natural phenomena--
that to which the name "animism" has been given. In this stage of mental development all the various forces of
Nature are personified: the rushing torrent, the devastating fire, the wind rustling the forest leaves--in the mind of
the animistic savage all these are personalities, spirits, like himself, but animated by motives more or less
antagonistic to him.
I suppose that no possible exception could be taken to the statement that modern science renders animism
impossible. But let us inquire in exactly what sense this is true. It is not true that science robs natural phenomena of
their spiritual significance. The mistake is often made of supposing that science explains, or endeavours to explain,
phenomena. But that is the business of philosophy. The task science attempts is the simpler one of the correlation of
natural phenomena, and in this effort leaves the ultimate problems of metaphysics untouched. A universe, however,
whose phenomena are not only capable of some degree of correlation, but present the extraordinary degree of
harmony and unity which science makes manifest in Nature, cannot be, as in animism, the product of a vast number
of incoordinated and antagonistic wills, but must either be the product of one Will, or not the product of will at all.
The latter alternative means that the Cosmos is inexplicable, which not only man's growing experience, but the fact
that man and the universe form essentially a unity, forbid us to believe. The term "anthropomorphic" is too easily
applied to philosophical systems, as if it constituted a criticism of their validity. For if it be true, as all must admit,
that the unknown can only be explained in terms of the known, then the universe must either be explained in terms
of man--i.e. in terms of will or desire--or remain incomprehensible. That is to say, a philosophy must either be
anthropomorphic, or no philosophy at all.
Thus a metaphysical scrutiny of the results of modern science leads us to a belief in God. But man felt the need of
unity, and crude animism, though a step in the right direction, failed to satisfy his thought, long before the days of
modern science. The spirits of animism, however, were not discarded, but were modified, co-ordinated, and worked
into a system as servants of the Most High. Polytheism may mark a stage in this process; or, perhaps, it was a result
of mental degeneracy.
What I may term systematised as distinguished from crude animism persisted throughout the Middle Ages. The
work of systematisation had already been accomplished, to a large extent, by the Neo-Platonists and whoever were
responsible for the Kabala. It is true that these main sources of magical or animistic philosophy remained hidden
during the greater part of the Middle Ages; but at about their close the youthful and enthusiastic CORNELIUS
AGRIPPA (1486-1535) [1] slaked his thirst thereat and produced his own attempt at the systematisation of magical
belief in the famous Three Books of Occult Philosophy. But the waters of magical philosophy reached the mediaeval
mind through various devious channels, traditional on the one hand and literary on the other. And of the latter, the
works of pseudo-DIONYSIUS, [2] whose immense influence upon mediaeval thought has sometimes been
neglected, must certainly be noted.
The most obvious example of a mediaeval animistic belief is that in "elementals" --the spirits which personify the
primordial forces of Nature, and are symbolised by the four elements, immanent in which they were supposed to
exist, and through which they were held to manifest their powers. And astrology, it must be remembered, is
essentially a systematised
[1]The story of his life has been admirably told by
HENRY MORLEY (2 VOLS., 1856).
[2] These writings were first heard of in the early
part of the sixth century, and were probably the
work of a Syrian monk of that date, who fathered
them on to Dionysius the Areo-pagite as a pious
fraud. See Dean INGE'S Christian Mysticism (1899),
PP. 104-122, and VAUGHAN'S Hours with the
Mystics (7th ed., 1895), vil. i. pp. 111-124. The
books have been translated into English by the Rev.
JOHN PARKER (2 VOLS., 1897-1899), who
believes in the genuineness of their alleged authorship.
animism. The stars, to the ancients, were not material bodies like the earth, but spiritual beings. PLATO (427-347
B.C.) speaks of them as "gods". Mediaeval thought did not regard them in quite this way. But for those who
believed in astrology, and few, I think, did not, the stars were still symbols of spiritual forces operative on man.
Evidences of the wide extent of astrological belief in those days are abundant, many instances of which we shall
doubtless encounter in our excursions.
It has been said that the theological and philosophical atmosphere of the Middle Ages was "scholastic," not mystical.
No doubt "mysticism," as a mode of life aiming at the realisation of the presence of God, is as distinct from
scholasticism as empiricism is from rationalism, or "tough-minded" philosophy (to use JAMES' happy phrase) is
from "tender-minded". But no philosophy can be absolutely and purely deductive. It must start from certain
empirically determined facts. A man might be an extreme empiricist in religion (i.e. a mystic), and yet might attempt
to deduce all other forms of knowledge from the results of his religious experiences, never caring to gather
experience in any other realm. Hence the breach between mysticism and scholasticism is not really so wide as may
appear at first sight. Indeed, scholasticism officially recognised three branches of theology, of which the mystical
was one. I think that mysticism and scholasticism both had a profound influence on the mediaeval mind, sometimes
acting as opposing forces, sometimes operating harmoniously with one another. As Professor WINDEL-BAND puts
it: "We no longer onesidedly characterise the philosophy of the middle ages as scholasticism, but rather place
mysticism beside it as of equal rank, and even as being the more fruitful and promising movement." [1]
Alchemy, with its four Aristotelian or scholastic elements and its three mystical principles--sulphur, mercury, salt,--
must be cited as the outstanding product of the combined influence of mysticism and scholasticism: of mysticism,
which postulated the unity of the Cosmos, and hence taught that evervthing natural is the expressive image and type
of some supernatural reality; of scholasticism, which taught men to rely upon deduction and to restrict
expermentation to the smallest possible limits.
The mind naturally proceeds from the known, or from what is supposed to be known, to the unknown. Indeed, as I
have already indicated, it must so proceed if truth is to be gained. Now what did the men of the Middle Ages regard
as filling into the category of the known? Why, surely, the truths of revealed religion, whether accepted upon
authority or upon the evidence of their own experience. The realm of spiritual and moral reality: there, they felt, they
were on firm ground. Nature was a realm unknown; but they had analogy to guide, or, rather, misguide them.
Nevertheless if, as we know, it misguided, this was not, I think, because the mystical doctrine of the correspondence
between the spiritual and the natural is unsound, but because these ancient seekers into Nature's secrets knew so
little, and so frequently misapplied what they did know. So alchemical
[1] Professor WILHELM WINDELBAND, Ph.D.:
"Present-Day Mysticism," The Quest, vol. iv. (1913),
p. 205.
philosophy arose and became systematised, with its wonderful endeavour to perfect the base metals by the
Philosopher's Stone--the concentrated Essence of Nature,--as man's soul is perfected through the life-giving power
Of JESUS CHRIST.
I want, in conclusion to these brief introductory remarks, to say a few words concerning phallicism in connection
with my topic. For some "tender-minded " [1] and, to my thought, obscure, reason the subject is tabooed. Even the
British Museum does not include works on phallicism in its catalogue, and special permission has to be obtained to
consult them. Yet the subject is of vast importance as concerns the origin and development of religion and
philosophy, and the extent of phallic worship may be gathered from the widespread occurrence of obelisks and
similar objects amongst ancient relics. Our own maypole dances may be instanced as one survival of the ancient
worship of the male generative principle.
What could be more easy to understand than that, when man first questioned as to the creation of the earth, he
should suppose it to have been generated by some process analogous to that which he saw held in the case of man?
How else could he account for its origin, if knowledge must proceed from the known to the unknown? No one
questions at all that the worship of the human generative organs as symbols of the dual generative principle of
Nature degenerated into orgies of the most frightful character, but the view of Nature which thus degenerated
[1] I here use the term with the extended meaning
Mr. H.G. Wells has given to it. See The New
Machiavelli.
is not, I think, an altogether unsound one, and very interesting remnants of it are to be found in mediaeval
philosophy.
These remnants are very marked in alchemy. The metals, as I have suggested, are there regarded as types of man;
hence they are produced from seed, through the combination of male and female principles--mercury and sulphur,
which on the spiritual plane are intelligence and love. The same is true of that Stone which is perfect Man. As
BERNARD Of TREVISAN (1406-1490) wrote in the fifteenth century: "This Stone then is compounded of a Body
and Spirit, or of a volatile and fixed Substance, and that is therefore done, because nothing in the World can be
generated and brought to light without these two Substances, to wit, a Male and Female: From whence it appeareth,
that although these two Substances are not of one and the same species, yet one Stone doth thence arise, and
although they appear and are said to be two Substances, yet in truth it is but one, to wit, Argent-vive."[1] No doubt
this sounds fantastic; but with all their seeming intellectual follies these old thinkers were no fools. The fact of sex is
the most fundamental fact of the universe, and is a spiritual and physical as well as a physiological fact. I shall deal
with the subject as concerns the speculations of the alchemists in some detail in a later excursion.
[1] Bernard, Earl of Trevisan: A Treatise of the
Philosopher's Stone, 1683. (See Collectanea
Chymica: A Collection of Ten Several Treatises
in Chemistry, 1684, p. 91.)
2.
PYTHAGORAS AND HIS PHILOSOPHY
IT is a matter for enduring regret that so little is known to us concerning PYTHAGORAS. What little we do know
serves but to enhance for us the interest of the man and his philosophy, to make him, in many ways, the most
attractive of Greek thinkers; and, basing our estimate on the extent of his influence on the thought of succeeding
ages, we recognise in him one of the world's master-minds.
PYTHAGORAS was born about 582 B.C. at Samos, one of the Grecian isles. In his youth he came in contact with
THALES--the Father of Geometry, as he is well called,--and though he did not become a member of THALES'
school, his contact with the latter no doubt helped to turn his mind towards the study of geometry. This interest
found the right ground for its development in Egypt, which he visited when still young. Egypt is generally regarded
as the birthplace of geometry, the subject having, it is supposed, been forced on the minds of the Egyptians by the
necessity of fixing the boundaries of lands against the annual overflowing of the Nile. But the Egyptians were what
is called an essentially practical people, and their geometrical knowledge did not extend beyond a few empirical
rules useful for fixing these boundaries and in constructing their temples. Striking evidence of this fact is supplied
by the AHMES papyrus, compiled some little time before 1700 B.C. from an older work dating from about 3400
B.C.,[1] a papyrus which almost certainly represents the highest mathematical knowledge reached by the Egyptians
of that day. Geometry is treated very superficially and as of subsidiary interest to arithmetic; there is no ordered
series of reasoned geometrical propositions given--nothing, indeed, beyond isolated rules, and of these some are
wanting in accuracy.
One geometrical fact known to the Egyptians was that if a triangle be constructed having its sides 3, 4, and 5 units
long respectively, then the angle opposite the longest side is exactly a right angle; and the Egyptian builders used
this rule for constructing walls perpendicular to each other, employing a cord graduated in the required manner. The
Greek mind was not, however, satisfied with the bald statement of mere facts--it cared little for practical
applications, but sought above all for the underlying reason of everything. Nowadays we are beginning to realise
that the results achieved by this type of mind, the general laws of Nature's behaviour formulated by its endeavours,
are frequently of immense practical importance--of far more importance than the mere rules-of-thumb beyond which
so-called
[1] See August Eisenlohr: Ein mathematisches Handbuch
der alten Aegypter (1877); J. Gow: A Short History of
Greek Mathematics (1884); and V.E. Johnson: Egyptian
Science from the Monuments and Ancient Books (1891).
practical minds never advance. The classic example of the utility of seemingly useless knowledge is afforded by Sir
WILLIAM HAMILTON'S discovery, or, rather, invention of Quarternions, but no better example of the utilitarian
triumph of the theoretical over the so-called practical mind can be adduced than that afforded by PYTHAGORAS.
Given this rule for constructing a right angle, about whose reason the Egyptian who used it never bothered himself,
and the mind of PYTHAGORAS, searching for its full significance, made that gigantic geometrical discovery which
is to this day known as the Theorem of PYTHAGORAS--the law that in every right-angled triangle the square on
the side opposite the right angle is equal in area to the sum of the squares on the other two sides. The importance of
this discovery can hardly be overestimated. It is of fundamental importance in most branches of geometry, and the
basis of the whole of trigonometry--the special branch of geometry that deals with the practical mensuration of
triangles. EUCLID devoted the whole of the first book of his Elements of Geometry to establishing the truth of this
theorem; how PYTHAGORAS demonstrated it we unfortunately do not know.
After absorbing what knowledge was to be gained in Egypt, PYTHAGORAS journeyed to Babylon, where he
probably came into contact with even greater traditions and more potent influences and sources of knowledge than
in Egypt, for there is reason for believing that the ancient Chaldeans were the builders of the Pyramids and in many
ways the intellectual superiors of the Egyptians.
At last, after having travelled still further East, probably as far as India, PYTHAGORAS returned to his birthplace to
teach the men of his native land the knowledge he had gained. But CROESUS was tyrant over Samos, and so
oppressive was his rule that none had leisure in which to learn. Not a student came to PYTHAGORAS, until, in
despair, so the story runs, he offered to pay an artisan if he would but learn geometry. The man accepted, and later,
when PYTHAGORAS pretended inability any longer to continue the payments, he offered, so fascinating did he
find the subject, to pay his teacher instead if the lessons might only be continued. PYTHAGORAS no doubt was
much gratified at this; and the motto he adopted for his great Brotherhood, of which we shall make the acquaintance
in a moment, was in all likelihood based on this event. It ran, "Honour a figure and a step before a figure and a
tribolus"; or, as a freer translation renders it: --
"A figure and a step onward
Not a figure and a florin."
"At all events, as Mr FRANKLAND remarks, "the motto is a lasting witness to a very singular devotion to
knowledge for its own sake."[1]
[1]W.B. Frankland, M.A.: The Story of Euclid
(1902), p.33.
But PYTHAGORAS needed a greater audience than one man, however enthusiastic a pupil he might be, and he left
Samos for Southern Italy, the rich inhabitants of whose cities had both the leisure and inclination to study. Delphi,
far-famed for its Oracles, was visited en route, and PYTHAGORAS, after a sojourn at Tarentum, settled at Croton,
where he gathered about him a great band of pupils, mainly young people of the aristocratic class. By consent of the
Senate of Croton, he formed out of these a great philosophical brotherhood, whose members lived apart from the
ordinary people, forming, as it were, a separate community. They were bound to PYTHAGORAS by the closest ties
of admiration and reverence, and, for years after his death, discoveries made by Pythagoreans were invariably
attributed to the Master, a fact which makes it very difficult exactly to gauge the extent of PYTHAGORAS' own
knowledge and achievements. The regime of the Brotherhood, or Pythagorean Order, was a strict one, entailing
"high thinking and low living" at all times. A restricted diet, the exact nature of which is in dispute, was observed by
all members, and long periods of silence, as conducive to deep thinking, were imposed on novices. Women were
admitted to the Order, and PYTHAGORAS' asceticism did not prohibit romance, for we read that one of his fair
pupils won her way to his heart, and, declaring her affection for him, found it reciprocated and became his wife.
SCHURE writes: "By his marriage with Theano, Pythagoras affixed the seal of realization to his work. The union
and fusion of the two lives was complete. One day when the master's wife was asked what length of time elapsed
before a woman could become pure after intercourse with a man, she replied: 'If it is with her husband, she is pure
all the time; if with another man, she is never pure.'" "Many women," adds the writer, "would smilingly remark that
to give such a reply one must be the wife of Pythagoras, and love him as Theano did. And they would be in the right,
for it is not marriage that sanctifies love, it is love which justifies marriage."[1]
PYTHAGORAS was not merely a mathematician. he was first and foremost a philosopher, whose philosophy found
in number the basis of all things, because number, for him, alone possessed stability of relationship. As I have
remarked on a former occasion, "The theory that the Cosmos has its origin and explanation in Number . . . is one for
which it is not difficult to account if we take into consideration the nature of the times in which it was formulated.
The Greek of the period, looking upon Nature, beheld no picture of harmony, uniformity and fundamental unity. The
outer world appeared to him rather as a discordant chaos, the mere sport and plaything of the gods. The theory of the
uniformity of Nature -- that Nature is ever like to herself -- the very essence of the modern scientific spirit, had yet
to be born of years of unwearied labour and unceasing delving into Nature's innermost secrets. Only in Mathematics
-- in the properties of geometrical figures, and of numbers -- was the reign of law, the principle of harmony,
perceivable. Even at this present day when the marvellous has become com-
[1]Edouard Schure: Pythagoras and the Delphic
Mysteries, trans. by. F. Rothwell, B.A. (1906),
pp. 164 and 165.
monplace, that property of right-angled triangles . . . already discussed . . . comes to the mind as a remarkable and
notable fact: it must have seemed a stupendous marvel to its discoverer, to whom, it appears, the regular alternation
of the odd and even numbers, a fact so obvious to us that we are inclined to attach no importance to it, seemed,
itself, to be something wonderful. Here in Geometry and Arithmetic, here was order and harmony unsurpassed and
unsurpassable. What wonder then that Pythagoras concluded that the solution of the mighty riddle of the Universe
was contained in the mysteries of Geometry? What wonder that he read mystic meanings into the laws of
Arithmetic, and believed Number to be the explanation and origin of all that is?"[1]
No doubt the Pythagorean theory suffers from a defect similar to that of the Kabalistic doctrine, which, starting from
the fact that all words are composed of letters, representing the primary sounds of language, maintained that all the
things represented by these words were created by God by means of the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet.
But at the same time the Pythagorean theory certainly embodies a considerable element of truth. Modern science
demonstrates nothing more clearly than the importance of numerical relationships. Indeed, "the history of science
shows us the gradual transformation of crude facts of experience into increasingly exact generalisations by the
application to them of mathematics. The enormous advances that have been made in recent years in physics and
chemistry are very largely due to mathematical methods of
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BYGONE BELIEFS:
BEING A SERIES OF EXCURSIONS IN THE BYWAYS OF THOUGHT
BY HERBERT STANLEY REDGROVE
B.Sc. (Lond.) F.C.S.
LONDON
WILLIAM RIDER & SON, LTD
8 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. 4
1920
CONTENTS
PREFACE
List of Illustrations [not included]
1. Some Characteristics of Mediaeval Thought
2. Pythagoras and His Philosophy
3. Medicine and Magic
4. Superstitions Concerning Birds
5. The Powder of Sympathy: A Curious Medical Superstition
6. The Belief in Talismans
7. Ceremonial Magic in Theory and Practice
8. Architectural Symbolism
9. The Quest of the Philosopher's Stone
10. The Phallic Element in Alchemical Doctrine
11. Roger Bacon: An Appreciation
12. The Cambridge Platonists
PREFACE
THESE Excursions in the Byways of Thought were undertaken at different times and on different occasions;
consequently, the reader may be able to detect in them inequalities of treatment. He may feel that I have lingered too
long in some byways and hurried too rapidly through others, taking, as it were, but a general view of the road in the
latter case, whilst examining everything that could be seen in the former with, perhaps, undue care. As a matter of
fact, however, all these excursions have been undertaken with one and the same object in view, that, namely, of
understanding aright and appreciating at their true worth some of the more curious byways along which human
thought has travelled. It is easy for the superficial thinker to dismiss much of the thought of the past (and, indeed, of
the present) as mere superstition, not worth the trouble of investigaton: but it is not scientific. There is a reason for
every belief, even the most fantastic, and it should be our object to discover this reason. How far, if at all, the reason
in any case justifies us in holding a similar belief is, of course, another question. Some of the beliefs I have dealt
with I have treated at greater length than others, because it seems to me that the truths of which they are the images--
vague and distorted in many cases though they be--are truths which we have either forgotten nowadays, or are in
danger of forgetting. We moderns may, indeed, learn something from the thought of the past, even in its most
fantastic aspects. In one excursion at least, namely, the essay on "The Cambridge Platonists," I have ventured to deal
with a higher phase--perhaps I should say the highest phase--of the thought of a bygone age, to which the modern
world may be completely debtor.
"Some Characteristics of Mediaeval Thought," and the two essays on Alchemy, have appeared in The Journal of the
Alchemical Society. In others I have utilised material I have contributed to The Occult Review, to the editor of
which journal my thanks are due for permission so to do. I have also to express my gratitude to the Rev. A.H.
Collins, and others to be referred to in due course, for permission here to reproduce illustrations of which they are
copyright holders. I have further to offer my hearty thanks to Mr. B.R. Rowbottom and my wife for valuable
assistance in reading the proofs.
H.S.R.
Bletchley, Bucks,
December 1919.
1
SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF MEDIAEVAL THOUGHT
IN the earliest days of his upward evolution man was satisfied with a very crude explanation of natural phenomena--
that to which the name "animism" has been given. In this stage of mental development all the various forces of
Nature are personified: the rushing torrent, the devastating fire, the wind rustling the forest leaves--in the mind of
the animistic savage all these are personalities, spirits, like himself, but animated by motives more or less
antagonistic to him.
I suppose that no possible exception could be taken to the statement that modern science renders animism
impossible. But let us inquire in exactly what sense this is true. It is not true that science robs natural phenomena of
their spiritual significance. The mistake is often made of supposing that science explains, or endeavours to explain,
phenomena. But that is the business of philosophy. The task science attempts is the simpler one of the correlation of
natural phenomena, and in this effort leaves the ultimate problems of metaphysics untouched. A universe, however,
whose phenomena are not only capable of some degree of correlation, but present the extraordinary degree of
harmony and unity which science makes manifest in Nature, cannot be, as in animism, the product of a vast number
of incoordinated and antagonistic wills, but must either be the product of one Will, or not the product of will at all.
The latter alternative means that the Cosmos is inexplicable, which not only man's growing experience, but the fact
that man and the universe form essentially a unity, forbid us to believe. The term "anthropomorphic" is too easily
applied to philosophical systems, as if it constituted a criticism of their validity. For if it be true, as all must admit,
that the unknown can only be explained in terms of the known, then the universe must either be explained in terms
of man--i.e. in terms of will or desire--or remain incomprehensible. That is to say, a philosophy must either be
anthropomorphic, or no philosophy at all.
Thus a metaphysical scrutiny of the results of modern science leads us to a belief in God. But man felt the need of
unity, and crude animism, though a step in the right direction, failed to satisfy his thought, long before the days of
modern science. The spirits of animism, however, were not discarded, but were modified, co-ordinated, and worked
into a system as servants of the Most High. Polytheism may mark a stage in this process; or, perhaps, it was a result
of mental degeneracy.
What I may term systematised as distinguished from crude animism persisted throughout the Middle Ages. The
work of systematisation had already been accomplished, to a large extent, by the Neo-Platonists and whoever were
responsible for the Kabala. It is true that these main sources of magical or animistic philosophy remained hidden
during the greater part of the Middle Ages; but at about their close the youthful and enthusiastic CORNELIUS
AGRIPPA (1486-1535) [1] slaked his thirst thereat and produced his own attempt at the systematisation of magical
belief in the famous Three Books of Occult Philosophy. But the waters of magical philosophy reached the mediaeval
mind through various devious channels, traditional on the one hand and literary on the other. And of the latter, the
works of pseudo-DIONYSIUS, [2] whose immense influence upon mediaeval thought has sometimes been
neglected, must certainly be noted.
The most obvious example of a mediaeval animistic belief is that in "elementals" --the spirits which personify the
primordial forces of Nature, and are symbolised by the four elements, immanent in which they were supposed to
exist, and through which they were held to manifest their powers. And astrology, it must be remembered, is
essentially a systematised
[1]The story of his life has been admirably told by
HENRY MORLEY (2 VOLS., 1856).
[2] These writings were first heard of in the early
part of the sixth century, and were probably the
work of a Syrian monk of that date, who fathered
them on to Dionysius the Areo-pagite as a pious
fraud. See Dean INGE'S Christian Mysticism (1899),
PP. 104-122, and VAUGHAN'S Hours with the
Mystics (7th ed., 1895), vil. i. pp. 111-124. The
books have been translated into English by the Rev.
JOHN PARKER (2 VOLS., 1897-1899), who
believes in the genuineness of their alleged authorship.
animism. The stars, to the ancients, were not material bodies like the earth, but spiritual beings. PLATO (427-347
B.C.) speaks of them as "gods". Mediaeval thought did not regard them in quite this way. But for those who
believed in astrology, and few, I think, did not, the stars were still symbols of spiritual forces operative on man.
Evidences of the wide extent of astrological belief in those days are abundant, many instances of which we shall
doubtless encounter in our excursions.
It has been said that the theological and philosophical atmosphere of the Middle Ages was "scholastic," not mystical.
No doubt "mysticism," as a mode of life aiming at the realisation of the presence of God, is as distinct from
scholasticism as empiricism is from rationalism, or "tough-minded" philosophy (to use JAMES' happy phrase) is
from "tender-minded". But no philosophy can be absolutely and purely deductive. It must start from certain
empirically determined facts. A man might be an extreme empiricist in religion (i.e. a mystic), and yet might attempt
to deduce all other forms of knowledge from the results of his religious experiences, never caring to gather
experience in any other realm. Hence the breach between mysticism and scholasticism is not really so wide as may
appear at first sight. Indeed, scholasticism officially recognised three branches of theology, of which the mystical
was one. I think that mysticism and scholasticism both had a profound influence on the mediaeval mind, sometimes
acting as opposing forces, sometimes operating harmoniously with one another. As Professor WINDEL-BAND puts
it: "We no longer onesidedly characterise the philosophy of the middle ages as scholasticism, but rather place
mysticism beside it as of equal rank, and even as being the more fruitful and promising movement." [1]
Alchemy, with its four Aristotelian or scholastic elements and its three mystical principles--sulphur, mercury, salt,--
must be cited as the outstanding product of the combined influence of mysticism and scholasticism: of mysticism,
which postulated the unity of the Cosmos, and hence taught that evervthing natural is the expressive image and type
of some supernatural reality; of scholasticism, which taught men to rely upon deduction and to restrict
expermentation to the smallest possible limits.
The mind naturally proceeds from the known, or from what is supposed to be known, to the unknown. Indeed, as I
have already indicated, it must so proceed if truth is to be gained. Now what did the men of the Middle Ages regard
as filling into the category of the known? Why, surely, the truths of revealed religion, whether accepted upon
authority or upon the evidence of their own experience. The realm of spiritual and moral reality: there, they felt, they
were on firm ground. Nature was a realm unknown; but they had analogy to guide, or, rather, misguide them.
Nevertheless if, as we know, it misguided, this was not, I think, because the mystical doctrine of the correspondence
between the spiritual and the natural is unsound, but because these ancient seekers into Nature's secrets knew so
little, and so frequently misapplied what they did know. So alchemical
[1] Professor WILHELM WINDELBAND, Ph.D.:
"Present-Day Mysticism," The Quest, vol. iv. (1913),
p. 205.
philosophy arose and became systematised, with its wonderful endeavour to perfect the base metals by the
Philosopher's Stone--the concentrated Essence of Nature,--as man's soul is perfected through the life-giving power
Of JESUS CHRIST.
I want, in conclusion to these brief introductory remarks, to say a few words concerning phallicism in connection
with my topic. For some "tender-minded " [1] and, to my thought, obscure, reason the subject is tabooed. Even the
British Museum does not include works on phallicism in its catalogue, and special permission has to be obtained to
consult them. Yet the subject is of vast importance as concerns the origin and development of religion and
philosophy, and the extent of phallic worship may be gathered from the widespread occurrence of obelisks and
similar objects amongst ancient relics. Our own maypole dances may be instanced as one survival of the ancient
worship of the male generative principle.
What could be more easy to understand than that, when man first questioned as to the creation of the earth, he
should suppose it to have been generated by some process analogous to that which he saw held in the case of man?
How else could he account for its origin, if knowledge must proceed from the known to the unknown? No one
questions at all that the worship of the human generative organs as symbols of the dual generative principle of
Nature degenerated into orgies of the most frightful character, but the view of Nature which thus degenerated
[1] I here use the term with the extended meaning
Mr. H.G. Wells has given to it. See The New
Machiavelli.
is not, I think, an altogether unsound one, and very interesting remnants of it are to be found in mediaeval
philosophy.
These remnants are very marked in alchemy. The metals, as I have suggested, are there regarded as types of man;
hence they are produced from seed, through the combination of male and female principles--mercury and sulphur,
which on the spiritual plane are intelligence and love. The same is true of that Stone which is perfect Man. As
BERNARD Of TREVISAN (1406-1490) wrote in the fifteenth century: "This Stone then is compounded of a Body
and Spirit, or of a volatile and fixed Substance, and that is therefore done, because nothing in the World can be
generated and brought to light without these two Substances, to wit, a Male and Female: From whence it appeareth,
that although these two Substances are not of one and the same species, yet one Stone doth thence arise, and
although they appear and are said to be two Substances, yet in truth it is but one, to wit, Argent-vive."[1] No doubt
this sounds fantastic; but with all their seeming intellectual follies these old thinkers were no fools. The fact of sex is
the most fundamental fact of the universe, and is a spiritual and physical as well as a physiological fact. I shall deal
with the subject as concerns the speculations of the alchemists in some detail in a later excursion.
[1] Bernard, Earl of Trevisan: A Treatise of the
Philosopher's Stone, 1683. (See Collectanea
Chymica: A Collection of Ten Several Treatises
in Chemistry, 1684, p. 91.)
2.
PYTHAGORAS AND HIS PHILOSOPHY
IT is a matter for enduring regret that so little is known to us concerning PYTHAGORAS. What little we do know
serves but to enhance for us the interest of the man and his philosophy, to make him, in many ways, the most
attractive of Greek thinkers; and, basing our estimate on the extent of his influence on the thought of succeeding
ages, we recognise in him one of the world's master-minds.
PYTHAGORAS was born about 582 B.C. at Samos, one of the Grecian isles. In his youth he came in contact with
THALES--the Father of Geometry, as he is well called,--and though he did not become a member of THALES'
school, his contact with the latter no doubt helped to turn his mind towards the study of geometry. This interest
found the right ground for its development in Egypt, which he visited when still young. Egypt is generally regarded
as the birthplace of geometry, the subject having, it is supposed, been forced on the minds of the Egyptians by the
necessity of fixing the boundaries of lands against the annual overflowing of the Nile. But the Egyptians were what
is called an essentially practical people, and their geometrical knowledge did not extend beyond a few empirical
rules useful for fixing these boundaries and in constructing their temples. Striking evidence of this fact is supplied
by the AHMES papyrus, compiled some little time before 1700 B.C. from an older work dating from about 3400
B.C.,[1] a papyrus which almost certainly represents the highest mathematical knowledge reached by the Egyptians
of that day. Geometry is treated very superficially and as of subsidiary interest to arithmetic; there is no ordered
series of reasoned geometrical propositions given--nothing, indeed, beyond isolated rules, and of these some are
wanting in accuracy.
One geometrical fact known to the Egyptians was that if a triangle be constructed having its sides 3, 4, and 5 units
long respectively, then the angle opposite the longest side is exactly a right angle; and the Egyptian builders used
this rule for constructing walls perpendicular to each other, employing a cord graduated in the required manner. The
Greek mind was not, however, satisfied with the bald statement of mere facts--it cared little for practical
applications, but sought above all for the underlying reason of everything. Nowadays we are beginning to realise
that the results achieved by this type of mind, the general laws of Nature's behaviour formulated by its endeavours,
are frequently of immense practical importance--of far more importance than the mere rules-of-thumb beyond which
so-called
[1] See August Eisenlohr: Ein mathematisches Handbuch
der alten Aegypter (1877); J. Gow: A Short History of
Greek Mathematics (1884); and V.E. Johnson: Egyptian
Science from the Monuments and Ancient Books (1891).
practical minds never advance. The classic example of the utility of seemingly useless knowledge is afforded by Sir
WILLIAM HAMILTON'S discovery, or, rather, invention of Quarternions, but no better example of the utilitarian
triumph of the theoretical over the so-called practical mind can be adduced than that afforded by PYTHAGORAS.
Given this rule for constructing a right angle, about whose reason the Egyptian who used it never bothered himself,
and the mind of PYTHAGORAS, searching for its full significance, made that gigantic geometrical discovery which
is to this day known as the Theorem of PYTHAGORAS--the law that in every right-angled triangle the square on
the side opposite the right angle is equal in area to the sum of the squares on the other two sides. The importance of
this discovery can hardly be overestimated. It is of fundamental importance in most branches of geometry, and the
basis of the whole of trigonometry--the special branch of geometry that deals with the practical mensuration of
triangles. EUCLID devoted the whole of the first book of his Elements of Geometry to establishing the truth of this
theorem; how PYTHAGORAS demonstrated it we unfortunately do not know.
After absorbing what knowledge was to be gained in Egypt, PYTHAGORAS journeyed to Babylon, where he
probably came into contact with even greater traditions and more potent influences and sources of knowledge than
in Egypt, for there is reason for believing that the ancient Chaldeans were the builders of the Pyramids and in many
ways the intellectual superiors of the Egyptians.
At last, after having travelled still further East, probably as far as India, PYTHAGORAS returned to his birthplace to
teach the men of his native land the knowledge he had gained. But CROESUS was tyrant over Samos, and so
oppressive was his rule that none had leisure in which to learn. Not a student came to PYTHAGORAS, until, in
despair, so the story runs, he offered to pay an artisan if he would but learn geometry. The man accepted, and later,
when PYTHAGORAS pretended inability any longer to continue the payments, he offered, so fascinating did he
find the subject, to pay his teacher instead if the lessons might only be continued. PYTHAGORAS no doubt was
much gratified at this; and the motto he adopted for his great Brotherhood, of which we shall make the acquaintance
in a moment, was in all likelihood based on this event. It ran, "Honour a figure and a step before a figure and a
tribolus"; or, as a freer translation renders it: --
"A figure and a step onward
Not a figure and a florin."
"At all events, as Mr FRANKLAND remarks, "the motto is a lasting witness to a very singular devotion to
knowledge for its own sake."[1]
[1]W.B. Frankland, M.A.: The Story of Euclid
(1902), p.33.
But PYTHAGORAS needed a greater audience than one man, however enthusiastic a pupil he might be, and he left
Samos for Southern Italy, the rich inhabitants of whose cities had both the leisure and inclination to study. Delphi,
far-famed for its Oracles, was visited en route, and PYTHAGORAS, after a sojourn at Tarentum, settled at Croton,
where he gathered about him a great band of pupils, mainly young people of the aristocratic class. By consent of the
Senate of Croton, he formed out of these a great philosophical brotherhood, whose members lived apart from the
ordinary people, forming, as it were, a separate community. They were bound to PYTHAGORAS by the closest ties
of admiration and reverence, and, for years after his death, discoveries made by Pythagoreans were invariably
attributed to the Master, a fact which makes it very difficult exactly to gauge the extent of PYTHAGORAS' own
knowledge and achievements. The regime of the Brotherhood, or Pythagorean Order, was a strict one, entailing
"high thinking and low living" at all times. A restricted diet, the exact nature of which is in dispute, was observed by
all members, and long periods of silence, as conducive to deep thinking, were imposed on novices. Women were
admitted to the Order, and PYTHAGORAS' asceticism did not prohibit romance, for we read that one of his fair
pupils won her way to his heart, and, declaring her affection for him, found it reciprocated and became his wife.
SCHURE writes: "By his marriage with Theano, Pythagoras affixed the seal of realization to his work. The union
and fusion of the two lives was complete. One day when the master's wife was asked what length of time elapsed
before a woman could become pure after intercourse with a man, she replied: 'If it is with her husband, she is pure
all the time; if with another man, she is never pure.'" "Many women," adds the writer, "would smilingly remark that
to give such a reply one must be the wife of Pythagoras, and love him as Theano did. And they would be in the right,
for it is not marriage that sanctifies love, it is love which justifies marriage."[1]
PYTHAGORAS was not merely a mathematician. he was first and foremost a philosopher, whose philosophy found
in number the basis of all things, because number, for him, alone possessed stability of relationship. As I have
remarked on a former occasion, "The theory that the Cosmos has its origin and explanation in Number . . . is one for
which it is not difficult to account if we take into consideration the nature of the times in which it was formulated.
The Greek of the period, looking upon Nature, beheld no picture of harmony, uniformity and fundamental unity. The
outer world appeared to him rather as a discordant chaos, the mere sport and plaything of the gods. The theory of the
uniformity of Nature -- that Nature is ever like to herself -- the very essence of the modern scientific spirit, had yet
to be born of years of unwearied labour and unceasing delving into Nature's innermost secrets. Only in Mathematics
-- in the properties of geometrical figures, and of numbers -- was the reign of law, the principle of harmony,
perceivable. Even at this present day when the marvellous has become com-
[1]Edouard Schure: Pythagoras and the Delphic
Mysteries, trans. by. F. Rothwell, B.A. (1906),
pp. 164 and 165.
monplace, that property of right-angled triangles . . . already discussed . . . comes to the mind as a remarkable and
notable fact: it must have seemed a stupendous marvel to its discoverer, to whom, it appears, the regular alternation
of the odd and even numbers, a fact so obvious to us that we are inclined to attach no importance to it, seemed,
itself, to be something wonderful. Here in Geometry and Arithmetic, here was order and harmony unsurpassed and
unsurpassable. What wonder then that Pythagoras concluded that the solution of the mighty riddle of the Universe
was contained in the mysteries of Geometry? What wonder that he read mystic meanings into the laws of
Arithmetic, and believed Number to be the explanation and origin of all that is?"[1]
No doubt the Pythagorean theory suffers from a defect similar to that of the Kabalistic doctrine, which, starting from
the fact that all words are composed of letters, representing the primary sounds of language, maintained that all the
things represented by these words were created by God by means of the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet.
But at the same time the Pythagorean theory certainly embodies a considerable element of truth. Modern science
demonstrates nothing more clearly than the importance of numerical relationships. Indeed, "the history of science
shows us the gradual transformation of crude facts of experience into increasingly exact generalisations by the
application to them of mathematics. The enormous advances that have been made in recent years in physics and
chemistry are very largely due to mathematical methods of
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