History of the Intellectual Development of Europe, Volume I (of 2)

By Author	[ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z \| Other Symbols ]
By Title	[ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z \| Other Symbols ]
By Language

Download this book: [ ASCII | HTML | PDF ]

Look for this book on Amazon

We have new books nearly every day.
If you would like a news letter once a week or once a month fill out this form and we will give you a summary of the books for that week or month by email.

Title: History of the Intellectual Development of Europe, Volume I (of 2) - Revised Edition
Author: Draper, John William, 1811-1882
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.

*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "History of the Intellectual Development of Europe, Volume I (of 2) - Revised Edition" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

DEVELOPMENT OF EUROPE, VOLUME I (OF 2)***

HISTORY OF THE INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF EUROPE.

JOHN WILLIAM DRAPER, M.D., LL.D.,

Professor of Chemistry in the University of New York, Author of a
"Treatise on Human Physiology," "Civil Policy of America,"
"History of the American Civil War," &c.

REVISED EDITION, IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

[Illustration]

New York:
Harper & Brothers, Publishers,
Franklin Square.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by
Harper & Brothers,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

PREFACE.

At the meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of
Science, held at Oxford in 1860, I read an abstract of the physiological
argument contained in this work respecting the mental progress of
Europe, reserving the historical evidence for subsequent publication.

This work contains that evidence. It is intended as the completion of my
treatise on Human Physiology, in which man was considered as an
individual. In this he is considered in his social relation.

But the reader will also find, I think, that it is a history of the
progress of ideas and opinions from a point of view heretofore almost
entirely neglected. There are two methods of dealing with philosophical
questions--the literary and the scientific. Many things which in a
purely literary treatment of the subject remain in the background,
spontaneously assume a more striking position when their scientific
relations are considered. It is the latter method that I have used.

Social advancement is as completely under the control of natural law as
is bodily growth. The life of an individual is a miniature of the life
of a nation. These propositions it is the special object of this book to
demonstrate.

No one, I believe, has hitherto undertaken the labour of arranging the
evidence offered by the intellectual history of Europe in accordance
with physiological principles, so as to illustrate the orderly progress
of civilization, or collected the facts furnished by other branches of
science with a view of enabling us to recognize clearly the conditions
under which that progress takes place. This philosophical deficiency I
have endeavoured in the following pages to supply.

Seen thus through the medium of physiology, history presents a new
aspect to us. We gain a more just and thorough appreciation of the
thoughts and motives of men in successive ages of the world.

In the Preface to the second edition of my Physiology, published in
1858, it was mentioned that this work was at that time written. The
changes that have been since made in it have been chiefly with a view of
condensing it. The discussion of several scientific questions, such as
that of the origin of species, which have recently attracted public
attention so strongly, has, however remained untouched, the principles
offered being the same as presented in the former work in 1856.

_New York, 1861._

PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION.

Many reprints of this work having been issued, and translations
published in various foreign languages, French, German, Russian, Polish,
Servian, &c., I have been induced to revise it carefully, and to make
additions wherever they seemed to be desirable. I therefore hope that it
will commend itself to the continued approval of the public.

_November, 1875._

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE GOVERNMENT OF NATURE BY LAW.

_The subject of this Work proposed.--Its difficulty._

_Gradual Acquisition of the Idea of Natural Government by
Law.--Eventually sustained by Astronomical, Meteorological,
and Physiological Discoveries.--Illustrations from Kepler's
Laws, the Trade-winds, Migrations of Birds, Balancing of
Vegetable and Animal Life, Variation of Species and their
Permanence._

_Individual Man is an Emblem of Communities, Nations, and
Universal Humanity.--They exhibit Epochs of Life like his,
and, like him, are under the Control of Physical Conditions,
and therefore of Law._

_Plan of this Work.--The Intellectual History of Greece.--Its
Five characteristic Ages.--European Intellectual History._

_Grandeur of the Doctrine that the World is governed by Law._
Page 1

CHAPTER II.

OF EUROPE: ITS TOPOGRAPHY AND ETHNOLOGY.

ITS PRIMITIVE MODES OF THOUGHT, AND THEIR PROGRESSIVE VARIATIONS,
MANIFESTED IN THE GREEK AGE OF CREDULITY.

_Description of Europe: its Topography, Meteorology, and
secular Geological Movements.--Their Effect on its
Inhabitants._

_Its Ethnology determined through its Vocabularies._

_Comparative Theology of Greece; the Stage of Sorcery, the
Anthropocentric Stage.--Becomes connected with false Geography
and Astronomy.--Heaven, the Earth, the Under World.--Origin,
continuous Variation and Progress of Greek Theology.--It
introduces Ionic Philosophy._

_Decline of Greek Theology, occasioned by the Advance of
Geography and Philosophical Criticism.--Secession of Poets,
Philosophers, Historians.--Abortive public Attempts to sustain
it.--Duration of its Decline.--Its Fall._ 23

CHAPTER III.

DIGRESSION ON HINDU THEOLOGY AND EGYPTIAN CIVILIZATION.

_Comparative Theology of India; its Phase of Sorcery; its
Anthropocentric Phase._

VEDAISM _the Contemplation of Matter, or Adoration of Nature,
set forth in the Vedas and Institutes of Menu.--The Universe
is God.--Transmutation of the World.--Doctrine of
Emanation.--Transmigration.--Absorption.--Penitential
Services.--Happiness in Absolute Quietude._

BUDDHISM _the Contemplation of Force.--The supreme impersonal
Power.--Nature of the World--of Man.--The Passage of every
thing to Nonentity.--Development of Buddhism into a vast
monastic System marked by intense Selfishness.--Its practical
Godlessness._

EGYPT _a mysterious Country to the old Europeans.--Its
History, great public Works, and foreign Relations.--Antiquity
of its Civilization and Art.--Its Philosophy, hieroglyphic
Literature, and peculiar Agriculture._

_Rise of Civilization in rainless Countries.--Geography,
Geology, and Topography of Egypt.--The Inundations of the Nile
lead to Astronomy._

_Comparative Theology of Egypt.--Animal Worship, Star
Worship.--Impersonation of Divine Attributes.--Pantheism.--The
Trinities of Egypt.--Incarnation.--Redemption.--Future
Judgment.--Trial of the Dead.--Rituals and Ceremonies._ 56

CHAPTER IV.

GREEK AGE OF INQUIRY.

RISE AND DECLINE OF PHYSICAL SPECULATION.

IONIAN PHILOSOPHY, _commencing from Egyptian Ideas, identifies
in Water, or Air, or Fire, the First Principle.--Emerging from
the Stage of Sorcery, it founds Psychology, Biology,
Cosmogony, Astronomy, and ends in doubting whether there is
any Criterion of Truth._

ITALIAN PHILOSOPHY _depends on Numbers and Harmonies.--It
reproduces the Egyptian and Hindu Doctrine of Transmigration._

ELEATIC PHILOSOPHY _presents a great Advance, indicating a
rapid Approach to Oriental Ideas.--It assumes a Pantheistic
Aspect._

RISE OF PHILOSOPHY IN EUROPEAN GREECE.--_Relations and
Influence of the Mediterranean Commercial and Colonial
System.--Athens attains to commercial Supremacy.--Her vast
Progress in Intelligence and Art.--Her Demoralization.--She
becomes the Intellectual Centre of the Mediterranean._

_Commencement of the Athenian higher Analysis.--It is
conducted by_ THE SOPHISTS, _who reject Philosophy, Religion,
and even Morality, and end in Atheism._

_Political Dangers of the higher Analysis.--Illustration from
the Middle Ages._ 94

CHAPTER V.

THE GREEK AGE OF FAITH.

RISE AND DECLINE OF ETHICAL PHILOSOPHY.

SOCRATES _rejects Physical and Mathematical Speculations, and
asserts the Importance of Virtue and Morality, thereby
inaugurating an Age of Faith.--His Life and Death.--The
schools originating from his Movement teach the Pursuit of
Pleasure and Gratification of Self._

PLATO _founds the Academy.--His three primal Principles.--The
Existence of a personal God.--Nature of the World and the
Soul.--The ideal Theory, Generals or
Types.--Reminiscence.--Transmigration.--Plato's political
Institutions.--His Republic.--His Proofs of the Immortality of
the Soul.--Criticism on his Doctrines._

RISE OF THE SCEPTICS, _who conduct the higher Analysis of
Ethical Philosophy.--Pyrrho demonstrates the Uncertainty of
Knowledge.--Inevitable Passage into tranquil Indifference,
Quietude, and Irreligion, as recommended by
Epicurus.--Decomposition of the Socratic and Platonic Systems
in the later Academies.--Their Errors and Duplicities.--End of
the Greek Age of Faith._ 143

CHAPTER VI.

THE GREEK AGE OF REASON.

RISE OF SCIENCE.

THE MACEDONIAN CAMPAIGN.--_Disastrous in its political Effects
to Greece, but ushering in the Age of Reason._

ARISTOTLE _founds the Inductive Philosophy.--His Method the
Inverse of that of Plato.--Its great power.--In his own hands
it fails for want of Knowledge, but is carried out by the
Alexandrians._

ZENO.--_His Philosophical Aim is the Cultivation of Virtue and
Knowledge.--He is in the Ethical Branch the Counterpart of
Aristotle in the Physical._

FOUNDATION OF THE MUSEUM OF ALEXANDRIA.--_The great Libraries,
Observatories, Botanical Gardens, Menageries, Dissecting
Houses.--Its Effect on the rapid Development of exact
Knowledge.--Influence of Euclid, Archimedes, Eratosthenes,
Apollonius, Ptolemy, Hipparchus, on Geometry, Natural
Philosophy, Astronomy, Chronology, Geography._

_Decline of the Greek Age of Reason._ 171

CHAPTER VII.

THE GREEK AGE OF INTELLECTUAL DECREPITUDE.

THE DEATH OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY.

_Decline of Greek Philosophy: it becomes Retrospective, and in
Philo the Jew and Apollonius of Tyana leans on Inspiration,
Mysticism, Miracles._

NEO-PLATONISM _founded by Ammonius Saccas, followed by
Plotinus, Porphyry, Iamblicus, Proclus.--The Alexandrian
Trinity.--Ecstasy.--Alliance with Magic, Necromancy._

_The Emperor Justinian closes the philosophical Schools._

_Summary of Greek Philosophy.--Its four Problems: 1. Origin of
the World; 2. Nature of the Soul; 3. Existence of God; 4.
Criterion of Truth.--Solution of these Problems in the Age of
Inquiry--in that of Faith--in that of Reason--in that of
Decrepitude._

_Determination of the Law of Variation of Greek Opinion.--The
Development of National Intellect is the same as that of
Individual._

_Determination of the final Conclusions of Greek Philosophy as
to God, the World, the Soul, the Criterion of
Truth.--Illustrations and Criticisms on each of these Points._
207

CHAPTER VIII.

DIGRESSION ON THE HISTORY AND PHILOSOPHICAL INFLUENCES OF ROME.

PREPARATION FOR RESUMING THE EXAMINATION OF THE INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS
OF EUROPE.

_Religious Ideas of the primitive Europeans.--The Form of
their Variations is determined by the Influence of
Rome.--Necessity of Roman History in these Investigations._

_Rise and Development of Roman Power, its successive Phases,
territorial Acquisitions.--Becomes Supreme in the
Mediterranean.--Consequent Demoralization of
Italy.--Irresistible Concentration of Power.--Development of
Imperialism.--Eventual Extinction of the true Roman Race._

_Effect on the intellectual, religious, and social Condition
of the Mediterranean Countries.--Produces homogeneous
Thought.--Imperialism prepares the Way for
Monotheism.--Momentous Transition of the Roman World in its
religious Ideas._

_Opinions of the Roman Philosophers.--Coalescence of the new
and old Ideas.--Seizure of Power by the Illiterate, and
consequent Debasement of Christianity in Rome._ 239

CHAPTER IX.

THE EUROPEAN AGE OF INQUIRY.

THE PROGRESSIVE VARIATION OF OPINIONS CLOSED BY THE INSTITUTION OF
COUNCILS AND THE CONCENTRATION OF POWER IN A PONTIFF. RISE, EARLY
VARIATIONS, CONFLICTS, AND FINAL ESTABLISHMENT OF CHRISTIANITY.

_Rise of Christianity.--Distinguished from ecclesiastical
Organization.--It is demanded by the deplorable Condition of
the Empire.--Its brief Conflict with Paganism.--Character of
its first Organization.--Variations of Thought and Rise of
Sects: their essential Difference in the East and West.--The
three primitive Forms of Christianity: the Judaic Form, its
End--the Gnostic Form, its End--the African Form, continues._

_Spread of Christianity from Syria.--Its Antagonism to
Imperialism; their Conflicts.--Position of Affairs under
Diocletian.--The Policy of Constantine.--He avails himself of
the Christian Party, and through it attains supreme
Power.--His personal Relations to it._

_The Trinitarian Controversy.--Story of Arius.--The Council of
Nicea._

_The Progress of the Bishop of Rome to Supremacy.--The Roman
Church; its primitive subordinate Position.--Causes of its
increasing Wealth, Influence, and Corruptions.--Stages of its
Advancement through the Pelagian, Nestorian, and Eutychian
Disputes.--Rivalry of the Bishops of Constantinople,
Alexandria, and Rome._

_Necessity of a Pontiff in the West and ecclesiastical
Councils in the East.--Nature of those Councils and of
pontifical Power._

_The Period closes at the Capture and Sack of Rome by
Alaric.--Defence of that Event by St. Augustine.--Criticism on
his Writings._

_Character of the Progress of Thought through this
Period.--Destiny of the three great Bishops._ 266

CHAPTER X.

THE EUROPEAN AGE OF FAITH.

AGE OF FAITH IN THE EAST.

_Consolidation of the Byzantine System, or the Union of Church
and State.--The consequent Paganization of Religion and
Persecution of Philosophy._

_Political Necessity for the enforcement of Patristicism, or
Science of the Fathers.--Its peculiar Doctrines._

_Obliteration of the Vestiges of Greek Knowledge by
Patristicism.--The Libraries and Serapion of
Alexandria.--Destruction of the latter by Theodosius.--Death
of Hypatia.--Extinction of Learning in the East by Cyril, his
Associates and Successors._ 308

CHAPTER XI.

PREMATURE END OF THE AGE OF FAITH IN THE EAST.

THE THREE ATTACKS, VANDAL, PERSIAN, ARAB.

THE VANDAL ATTACK _leads to the Loss of Africa.--Recovery of
that Province by Justinian after great Calamities._

THE PERSIAN ATTACK _leads to the Loss of Syria and Fall of
Jerusalem.--The true Cross carried away as a Trophy.--Moral
Impression of these Attacks._

THE ARAB ATTACK.--_Birth, Mission, and Doctrines of
Mohammed.--Rapid Spread of his Faith in Asia and Africa.--Fall
of Jerusalem.--Dreadful Losses of Christianity to
Mohammedanism.--The Arabs become a learned Nation._

_Review of the Koran.--Reflexions on the Loss of Asia and
Africa by Christendom._ 326

CHAPTER XII.

THE AGE OF FAITH IN THE WEST.

_The Age of Faith in the West is marked by Paganism.--The
Arabian military Attacks produce the Isolation and permit the
Independence of the Bishop of Rome._

GREGORY THE GREAT _organizes the Ideas of his Age,
materializes Faith, allies it to Art, rejects Science, and
creates the Italian Form of Religion._

_An Alliance of the Papacy with France diffuses that
Form.--Political History of the Agreement and Conspiracy of
the Frankish Kings and the Pope.--The resulting Consolidation
of the new Dynasty in France, and Diffusion of Roman
Ideas.--Conversion of Europe._

_The Value of the Italian Form of Religion determined from the
papal Biography._ 349

CHAPTER XIII.

DIGRESSION ON THE PASSAGE OF THE ARABIANS TO THEIR AGE OF REASON.

INFLUENCE OF MEDICAL IDEAS THROUGH THE NESTORIANS AND JEWS.

_The intellectual Development of the Arabians is guided by the
Nestorians and the Jews, and is in the Medical Direction.--The
Basis of this Alliance is theological._

_Antagonism of the Byzantine System to Scientific
Medicine.--Suppression of the Asclepions.--Their Replacement
by Miracle-cure.--The resulting Superstition and Ignorance._

_Affiliation of the Arabians with the Nestorians and Jews._

_1st. The Nestorians, their Persecutions, and the Diffusion of
their Sectarian Ideas.--They inherit the old Greek Medicine._

_Sub-digression on Greek Medicine.--The
Asclepions.--Philosophical Importance of Hippocrates, who
separates Medicine from Religion.--The School of Cnidos.--Its
Suppression by Constantine._

_Sub-digression on Egyptian Medicine.--It is founded on
Anatomy and Physiology.--Dissections and Vivisections.--The
Great Alexandrian Physicians._

_2nd. The Jewish Physicians.--Their Emancipation from
Superstition.--They found Colleges and promote Science and
Letters._

_The contemporary Tendency to Magic, Necromancy, the Black
Art.--The Philosopher's Stone, Elixir of Life, etc._

_The Arabs originate scientific Chemistry.--Discover the
strong Acids, Phosphorus, etc.--Their geological Ideas.--Apply
Chemistry to the Practice of Medicine.--Approach of the
Conflict between the Saracenic material and the European
supernatural System._ 383

CHAPTER XIV.

THE AGE OF FAITH IN THE WEST--(_Continued_).

IMAGE-WORSHIP AND THE MONKS.

_Origin of_ IMAGE-WORSHIP.--_Inutility of Images discovered in
Asia and Africa during the Saracen Wars.--Rise of Iconoclasm._

_The Emperors prohibit Image-worship.--The Monks, aided by
court Females, sustain it.--Victory of the latter._

_Image-worship in the West sustained by the Popes.--Quarrel
between the Emperor and the Pope.--The Pope, aided by the
Monks, revolts and allies himself with the Franks._

THE MONKS.--_History of the Rise and Development of
Monasticism.--Hermits and Coenobites.--Spread of Monasticism
from Egypt over Europe.--Monk Miracles and
Legends.--Humanization of the monastic Establishments.--They
materialize Religion, and impress their Ideas on Europe._ 413

THE INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF EUROPE.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE GOVERNMENT OF NATURE BY LAW.

_The subject of this Work proposed.--Its difficulty._

_Individual Man is an Emblem of Communities, Nations, and
Universal Humanity.--They exhibit Epochs of Life like his,
and, like him are under the Control of Physical Conditions,
and therefore of Law._

_Plan of this Work.--The Intellectual History of Greece.--Its
Five characteristic Ages.--European Intellectual History._

_Grandeur of the Doctrine that the World is governed by Law._

[Sidenote: The subject proposed.]

I intend, in this work, to consider in what manner the advancement of
Europe in civilization has taken place, to ascertain how far its
progress has been fortuitous, and how far determined by primordial law.

Does the procession of nations in time, like the erratic phantasm of a
dream, go forward without reason or order? or, is there a predetermined,
a solemn march, in which all must join, ever moving, ever resistlessly
advancing, encountering and enduring an inevitable succession of events?

[Sidenote: Its difficulty and grandeur.]

In a philosophical examination of the intellectual and political history
of nations, an answer to these questions is to be found. But how
difficult it is to master the mass of facts necessary to be collected,
to handle so great an accumulation, to place it in the clearest point of
view; how difficult it is to select correctly the representative men,
to produce them in the proper scenes, and to conduct successfully so
grand and complicated a drama as that of European life! Though in one
sense the subject offers itself as a scientific problem, and in that
manner alone I have to deal with it; in another it swells into a noble
epic--the life of humanity, its warfare and repose, its object and its
end.

Man is the archetype of society. Individual development is the model of
social progress.

Some have asserted that human affairs are altogether determined by the
voluntary action of men, some that the Providence of God directs us in
every step, some that all events are fixed by Destiny. It is for us to
ascertain how far each of these affirmations is true.

[Sidenote: Individual life of a mixed kind.]

The life of individual man is of a mixed nature. In part he submits to
the free-will impulses of himself and others, in part he is under the
inexorable dominion of law. He insensibly changes his estimate of the
relative power of each of these influences as he passes through
successive stages. In the confidence of youth he imagines that very much
is under his control, in the disappointment of old age very little. As
time wears on, and the delusions of early imagination vanish away, he
learns to correct his sanguine views, and prescribes a narrower boundary
for the things he expects to obtain. The realities of life undeceive him
at last, and there steals over the evening of his days an unwelcome
conviction of the vanity of human hopes. The things he has secured are
not the things he expected. He sees that a Supreme Power has been using
him for unknown ends, that he was brought into the world without his own
knowledge, and is departing from it against his own will.

[Sidenote: It foreshadows social life.]

Whoever has made the physical and intellectual history of individual man
his study, will be prepared to admit in what a surprising manner it
foreshadows social history. The equilibrium and movement of humanity are
altogether physiological phenomena. Yet not without hesitation may such
an opinion be frankly avowed, since it is offensive to the pride, and to
many of the prejudices and interests of our age. An author who has been
disposed to devote many years to the labour of illustrating this topic,
has need of the earnest support of all who prize the truth; and,
considering the extent and profundity of his subject, his work, at the
best, must be very imperfect, requiring all the forbearance, and even
the generosity of criticism.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: First opinions of savage life.]

In the intellectual infancy of a savage state, Man transfers to Nature
his conceptions of himself, and, considering that every thing he does is
determined by his own pleasure, regards all passing events as depending
on the arbitrary volition of a superior but invisible power. He gives to
the world a constitution like his own. His tendency is necessarily to
superstition. Whatever is strange, or powerful, or vast, impresses his
imagination with dread. Such objects are only the outward manifestations
of an indwelling spirit, and therefore worthy of his veneration.

After Reason, aided by Experience, has led him forth from these
delusions as respects surrounding things, he still clings to his
original ideas as respects objects far removed. In the distance and
irresistible motions of the stars he finds arguments for the
supernatural, and gives to each of those shining bodies an abiding and
controlling genius. The mental phase through which he is passing permits
him to believe in the exercise of planetary influences on himself.

[Sidenote: Fetichism displaced by star-worship.]

But as reason led him forth from fetichism, so in due time it again
leads him forth from star-worship. Perhaps not without regret does he
abandon the mythological forms he has created; for, long after he has
ascertained that the planets are nothing more than shining points,
without any perceptible influence on him, he still venerates the genii
once supposed to vivify them, perhaps even he exalts them into immortal
gods.

[Sidenote: The idea of government by law.]

Philosophically speaking, he is exchanging by ascending degrees his
primitive doctrine of arbitrary volition for the doctrine of law. As the
fall of a stone, the flowing of a river, the movement of a shadow, the
rustling of a leaf, have been traced to physical causes, to like causes
at last are traced the revolutions of the stars. In events and scenes
continually increasing in greatness and grandeur, he is detecting the
dominion of law. The goblins, and genii, and gods who successively
extorted his fear and veneration, who determined events by their fitful
passions or whims, are at last displaced by the noble conception of one
Almighty Being, who rules the universe according to reason, and
therefore according to law.

[Sidenote: Its application to the solar system.]

In this manner the doctrine of government by law is extended, until at
last it embraces all natural events. It was thus that, hardly two
centuries ago, that doctrine gathered immense force from the discovery
of Newton that Kepler's laws, under which the movements of the planetary
bodies are executed, issue as a mathematical necessity from a very
simple material condition, and that the complicated motions of the solar
system cannot be other than they are. Few of those who read in the
beautiful geometry of the 'Principia' the demonstration of this fact,
saw the imposing philosophical consequences which must inevitably follow
this scientific discovery. And now the investigation of the aspect of
the skies in past ages, and all predictions of its future, rest
essentially upon the principle that no arbitrary volition ever
intervenes, the gigantic mechanism moving impassively in accordance with
a mathematical law.

[Sidenote: And to terrestrial events.]

And so upon the earth, the more perfectly we understand the causes of
present events, the more plainly are they seen to be the consequences of
physical conditions, and therefore the results of law. To allude to one
example out of many that might be considered, the winds, how
proverbially inconstant, who can tell whence they come or whither they
go! If any thing bears the fitful character of arbitrary volition,
surely it is these. But we deceive ourselves in imagining that
atmospheric events are fortuitous. Where shall a line be drawn between
that eternal trade-wind, which, originating in well-understood physical
causes, sweeps, like the breath of Destiny, slowly, and solemnly, and
everlastingly over the Pacific Ocean, and the variable gusts into which
it degenerates in more northerly and southerly regions--gusts which seem
to come without any cause, and to pass away without leaving any trace?
In what latitude is it that the domain of the physical ends, and that of
the supernatural begins?

All mundane events are the results of the operation of law. Every
movement in the skies or upon the earth proclaims to us that the
universe is under government.

But if we admit that this is the case, from the mote that floats in the
sunbeam to multiple stars revolving round each other, are we willing to
carry our principles to their consequences, and recognise a like
operation of law among living as among lifeless things, in the organic
as well as the inorganic world? What testimony does physiology offer on
this point?

[Sidenote: And to the organic world.]

Physiology, in its progress, has passed through the same phases as
physics. Living beings have been considered as beyond the power of
external influences, and, conspicuously among them, Man has been
affirmed to be independent of the forces that rule the world in which he
lives. Besides that immaterial principle, the soul, which distinguishes
him from all his animated companions, and makes him a moral and
responsible being, he has been feigned, like them, to possess another
immaterial principle, the vital agent, which, in a way of its own,
carries forward all the various operations in his economy.

[Sidenote: Especially to man.]

But when it was discovered that the heart of man is constructed upon the
recognised rules of hydraulics, and with its great tubes is furnished
with common mechanical contrivances, valves; when it was discovered that
the eye has been arranged on the most refined principles of optics, its
cornea, and humours, and lens properly converging the rays to form an
image--its iris, like the diaphragm of a telescope or microscope,
shutting out stray light, and also regulating the quantity admitted;
when it was discovered that the ear is furnished with the means of
dealing with the three characteristics of sound--its tympanum for
intensity, its cochlea for pitch, its semicircular canals for quality;
when it was seen that the air brought into the great air-passages by the
descent of the diaphragm, calling into play atmospheric pressure, is
conveyed upon physical principles into the ultimate cells of the lungs,
and thence into the blood, producing chemical changes throughout the
system, disengaging heat, and permitting all the functions of organic
life to go on; when these facts and very many others of a like kind were
brought into prominence by modern physiology, it obviously became
necessary to admit that animated beings do not constitute the exception
once supposed, and that organic operations are the result of physical
agencies.

If thus, in the recesses of the individual economy, these natural agents
bear sway, must they not operate in the social economy too?

[Sidenote: In social as well as individual life.]

Has the great shadeless desert nothing to do with the habits of the
nomade tribes who pitch their tents upon it--the fertile plain no
connection with flocks and pastoral life--the mountain fastnesses with
the courage that has so often defended them--the sea with habits of
adventure? Indeed, do not all our expectations of the stability of
social institutions rest upon our belief in the stability of surrounding
physical conditions? From the time of Bodin, who nearly three hundred
years ago published his work 'De Republica,' these principles have been
well recognized: that the laws of Nature cannot be subordinated to the
will of Man, and that government must be adapted to climate. It was
these things which led him to the conclusion that force is best resorted
to for northern nations, reason for the middle, and superstition for the
southern.

[Sidenote: Effects of the seasons on animals and plants.]

In the month of March the sun crosses the equator, dispensing his rays
more abundantly over our northern hemisphere. Following in his train, a
wave of verdure expands towards the pole. The luxuriance is in
proportion to the local brilliancy. The animal world is also affected.
Pressed forward, or solicited onward by the warmth, the birds of passage
commence their annual migration, keeping pace with the developing
vegetation beneath. As summer declines, this orderly advance of light
and life is followed by an orderly retreat, and in its turn the southern
hemisphere presents the same glorious phenomenon. Once every year the
life of the earth pulsates; now there is an abounding vitality, now a
desolation. But what is the cause of all this? It is only mechanical.
The earth's axis of rotation is inclined to the plane of her orbit of
revolution round the sun.

Let that wonderful phenomenon and its explanation be a lesson to us; let
it profoundly impress us with the importance of physical agents and
physical laws. They intervene in the life and death of man personally
and socially. External events become interwoven in our constitution;
their periodicities create periodicities in us. Day and night are
incorporated in our waking and sleeping; summer and winter compel us to
exhibit cycles in our life.

[Sidenote: Individual existence depends on physical conditions.]

They who have paid attention to the subject have long ago ascertained
that the possibility of human existence on the earth depends on
conditions altogether of a material kind. Since it is only within a
narrow range of temperature that life can be maintained, it is needful
that our planet should be at a definite mean distance from the source of
light and heat, the sun; and that the form of her orbit should be so
little eccentric as to approach closely to a circle. If her mass were
larger or less than it is, the weight of all living and lifeless things
on her surface would no longer be the same; but absolute weight is one
of the primary elements of organic construction. A change in the time of
her diurnal rotation, as affecting the length of the day and night, must
at once be followed by a corresponding modification of the periodicities
of the nervous system of animals; a change in her orbitual translation
round the sun, as determining the duration of the year, would, in like
manner, give rise to a marked effect. If the year were shorter, we
should live faster and die sooner.

[Sidenote: Animal and vegetable life interbalanced by material
conditions.]

In the present economy of our globe, natural agents are relied upon as
the means of regulation and of government. Through heat, the
distribution and arrangement of the vegetable tribes are accomplished;
through their mutual relations with the atmospheric air, plants and
animals are interbalanced, and neither permitted to obtain a
superiority. Considering the magnitude of this condition, and its
necessity to general life, it might seem worthy of incessant Divine
intervention, yet it is in fact accomplished automatically.

[Sidenote: And also appearances and extinctions determined.]

Of past organic history the same remark may be made. The condensation of
carbon from the air, and its inclusion in the strata, constitute the
chief epoch in the organic life of the earth, giving a possibility for
the appearance of the hot-blooded and more intellectual animal tribes.
That great event was occasioned by the influence of the rays of the sun.
And as such influences have thus been connected with the appearance of
organisms, so likewise have they been concerned in the removal. Of the
myriads of species which have become extinct, doubtless every one has
passed away through the advent of material conditions incompatible with
its continuance. Even now, a fall of half-a-dozen degrees in the mean
temperature of any latitude would occasion the vanishing of the forms of
warmer climates, and the advent of those of the colder. An obscuration
of the rays of the sun for a few years would compel a redistribution of
plants and animals all over the earth; many would totally disappear, and
everywhere new comers would be seen.

[Sidenote: Permanence of organisms due to immobility of external
conditions.]

The permanence of organic forms is altogether dependent on the
invariability of the material conditions under which they live. Any
variation therein, no matter how insignificant it might be, would be
forthwith followed by a corresponding variation in the form. The present
invariability of the world of organization is the direct consequence of
the physical equilibrium, and so it will continue as long as the mean
temperature, the annual supply of light, the composition of the air, the
distribution of water, oceanic and atmospheric currents, and other such
agencies remain unaltered; but if any one of these, or of a hundred
other incidents that might be mentioned, should suffer modification, in
an instant the fanciful doctrine of the immutability of species would be
brought to its true value. The organic world appears to be in repose,
because natural influences have reached an equilibrium. A marble may
remain for ever motionless upon a level table; but let the surface be a
little inclined, and the marble will quickly run off. What should we say
of him, who, contemplating it in its state of rest, asserted that it was
impossible for it ever to move?

[Sidenote: Orderly sequence of conditions is followed by orderly organic
changes.]

They who can see no difference between the race-horse and the Shetland
pony, the bantam and the Shanghai fowl, the greyhound and the poodle
dog, who altogether deny that impressions can be made on species, and
see in the long succession of extinct forms, the ancient existence of
which they must acknowledge, the evidences of a continuous and creative
intervention, forget that mundane effects observe definite sequences,
event following event in the necessity of the case, and thus
constituting a chain, each link of which hangs on a preceding, and holds
a succeeding one. Physical influences thus following one another, and
bearing to each other the inter-relation of cause and effect, stand in
their totality to the whole organic world as causes, it representing the
effect, and the order of succession existing among them is perpetuated
or embodied in it. Thus, in those ancient times to which we have
referred, the sunlight acting on the leaves of plants disturbed the
chemical constitution of the atmosphere, gave rise to the accumulation
of a more energetic element therein, diminished the mechanical pressure,
and changed the rate of evaporation from the sea, a series of events
following one another so necessarily that we foresee their order, and,
in their turn, making an impression on the vegetable and animal economy.
The natural influences, thus varying in an orderly way, controlled
botanical events, and made them change correspondingly. The orderly
procedure of the one must be imitated in the orderly procedure of the
other. And the same holds good in the animal kingdom; the recognized
variation in the material conditions is copied in the organic effects,
in vigour of motion, energy of life, intellectual power.

When, therefore, we notice such orderly successions, we must not at once
assign them to a direct intervention, the issue of wise predeterminations
of a voluntary agent; we must first satisfy ourselves how far they are
dependent on mundane or material conditions, occurring in a definite and
necessary series, ever bearing in mind the important principle that an
orderly sequence of inorganic events necessarily involves an orderly and
corresponding progression of organic life.

[Sidenote: Universal control of physical agents over organisms.]

To this doctrine of the control of physical agencies over organic forms
I acknowledge no exception, not even in the case of man. The varied
aspects he presents in different countries are the necessary
consequences of those influences.

[Sidenote: The case of man.]

He who advocates the doctrine of the unity of the human race is plainly
forced to the admission of the absolute control of such agents over the
organization of man, since the originally-created type has been brought
to exhibit very different aspects in different parts of the world,
apparently in accordance with the climate and other purely material
circumstances. To those circumstances it is scarcely necessary to add
manner of life, for that itself arises from them. The doctrine of unity
demands as its essential postulate an admission of the paramount control
of physical agents over the human aspect and organization, else how
could it be that, proceeding from the same stock, all shades of
complexion in the skin, and variety in the form of the skull, should
have arisen? Experience assures us that these are changes assumed only
by slow degrees, and not with abruptness; they come as a cumulative
effect. They plainly enforce the doctrine that national type is not to
be regarded as a definite or final thing, a seeming immobility in this
particular being due to the attainment of a correspondence with the
conditions to which the type is exposed. Let those conditions be
changed, and it begins forthwith to change too. I repeat it, therefore,
that he who receives the doctrine of the unity of the human race, must
also accept, in view of the present state of humanity on various parts
of the surface of our planet, its necessary postulate, the complete
control of physical agents, whether natural, or arising artificially
from the arts of civilization and the secular progress of nations toward
a correspondence with the conditions to which they are exposed.

To the same conclusion also must he be brought who advocates the origin
of different races from different centres. It comes to the same thing,
whichever of those doctrines we adopt. Each brings us to the admission
of the transitory nature of typical forms, to their transmutations and
extinctions.

[Sidenote: Human variations.]

Variations in the aspect of men are best seen when an examination is
made of nations arranged in a northerly and southerly direction; the
result is such as would ensue to an emigrant passing slowly along a
meridional track; but the case would be quite different if the movement
were along a parallel of latitude. In this latter direction the
variations of climate are far less marked, and depend much more on
geographical than on astronomical causes. In emigrations of this kind
there is never that rapid change of aspect, complexion, and intellectual
power which must occur in the other. Thus, though the mean temperature
of Europe increases from Poland to France, chiefly through the influence
of the great Atlantic current transferring heat from the Gulf of Mexico
and tropical ocean, that rise is far less than would be encountered on
passing through the same distance to the south. By the arts of
civilization man can much more easily avoid the difficulties arising
from variations along a parallel of latitude than those upon a meridian,
for the simple reason that in that case those variations are less.

[Sidenote: Their political result.]

But it is not only complexion, development of the brain, and, therefore,
intellectual power, which are thus affected. With difference of climate
there must be differences of manners and customs, that is, differences
in the modes of civilization. These are facts which deserve our most
serious attention, since such differences are inevitably connected with
political results. If homogeneousness be an element of strength, an
empire that lies east and west must be more powerful than one that lies
north and south. I cannot but think that this was no inconsiderable
cause of the greatness and permanence of Rome and that it lightened the
task of the emperors, often hard enough, in government. There is a
natural tendency to homogeneousness in the east and west direction, a
tendency to diversity and antagonism in the north and south, and hence
it is that government under the latter circumstances will always demand
the highest grade of statesmanship.

[Sidenote: Nature of transitional forms.]

The transitional forms which an animal type is capable of producing on a
passage north and south are much more numerous than those it can produce
on a passage east and west. These, though they are truly transitional as
respects the type from which they have proceeded, are permanent as
regards the locality in which they occur, being, in fact, the
incarnation of its physical influences. As long, therefore, as those
influences remain without change the form that has been produced will
last without any alteration. For such a permanent form in the case of
man we may adopt the designation of an ethnical element.

[Sidenote: Conditions of change in an ethnical element.]

An ethnical element is therefore necessarily of a dependent nature; its
durability arises from its perfect correspondence with its environment.
Whatever can affect that correspondence will touch its life.

[Sidenote: Progress of nations like that of individuals.]

Such considerations carry us from individual man to groups of men or
nations. There is a progress for races of men as well marked as the
progress of one man. There are thoughts and actions appertaining to
specific periods in the one case as in the other. Without difficulty we
affirm of a given act that it appertains to a given period. We recognize
the noisy sports of boyhood, the business application of maturity, the
feeble garrulity of old age. We express our surprise when we witness
actions unsuitable to the epoch of life. As it is in this respect in the
individual, so it is in the nation. The march of individual existence
shadows forth the march of race-existence, being, indeed, its
representative on a little scale.

[Sidenote: Communities, like families, exhibit members in different
stages of advance.]

Groups of men, or nations, are disturbed by the same accidents, or
complete the same cycle as the individual. Some scarcely pass beyond
infancy, some are destroyed on a sudden, some die of mere old age. In
this confusion of events, it might seem altogether hopeless to
disentangle the law which is guiding them all, and demonstrate it
clearly. Of such groups, each may exhibit, at the same moment, an
advance to a different stage, just as we see in the same family the
young, the middle-aged, the old. It is thus that Europe shows in its
different parts societies in very different states--here the restless
civilization of France and England, there the contentment and
inferiority of Lapland. This commingling might seem to render it
difficult to ascertain the true movement of the whole continent, and
still more so for distant and successive periods of time. In each
nation, moreover, the contemporaneously different classes, the educated
and illiterate, the idle and industrious, the rich and poor, the
intelligent and superstitious, represent different contemporaneous
stages of advancement. One may have made a great progress, another
scarcely have advanced at all. How shall we ascertain the real state of
the case? Which of these classes shall we regard as the truest and most
perfect type?

Though difficult, this ascertainment is not impossible. The problem is
to be dealt with in the same manner that we should estimate a family in
which there are persons of every condition from infancy to old age. Each
member of it tends to pursue a definite course, though some, cut off in
an untimely manner, may not complete it. One may be enfeebled by
accident, another by disease; but each, if his past and present
circumstances be fully considered, will illustrate the nature of the
general movement that all are making. To demonstrate that movement most
satisfactorily, certain members of such a family suit our purpose better
than others, because they more closely represent its type, or have
advanced farthest in their career.

[Sidenote: The intellectual class the true representative of a
community.]

So in a family of many nations, some are more mature, some less
advanced, some die in early life, some are worn out by extreme old age;
all show special peculiarities. There are distinctions among kinsmen,
whether we consider them intellectually or corporeally. Every one,
nevertheless, illustrates in his own degree the march that all are
making, but some do it more, some less completely. The leading, the
intellectual class, is hence always the true representative of a state.
It has passed step by step through the lower stages, and has made the
greatest advance.

[Sidenote: Interstitial change and death the condition of individual
life.]

In an individual, life is maintained only by the production and
destruction of organic particles, no portion of the system being in a
state of immobility, but each displaying incessant change. Death is,
therefore, necessarily the condition of life, and the more energetic the
function of a part--or, if we compare different animals with one
another--the more active the mode of existence, correspondingly, the
greater the waste and the more numerous the deaths of the interstitial
constituents.

[Sidenote: Particles in the individual answer to persons in the state.]

To the death of particles in the individual answers the death of persons
in the nation, of which they are the integral constituents. In both
cases, in a period of time quite inconsiderable, a total change is
accomplished without the entire system, which is the sum of these
separate parts, losing its identity. Each particle or each person comes
into existence, discharges an appropriate duty, and then passes away,
perhaps unnoticed. The production, continuance, and death of an organic
molecule in the person answers to the production, continuance, and death
of a person in the nation. Nutrition and decay in one case are
equivalent to well-being and transformation in the other.

[Sidenote: Epochs in national the same as in individual life.]

In the same manner that the individual is liable to changes through the
action of external agencies, and offers no resistance thereto, nor any
indication of the possession of a physiological inertia, but submits at
once to any impression, so likewise it is with aggregates of men
constituting nations. A national type pursues its way physically and
intellectually through changes and developments answering to those of
the individual, and being represented by Infancy, Childhood, Youth,
Manhood, Old Age, and Death respectively.

[Sidenote: Disturbance through emigration.]

But this orderly process may be disturbed exteriorly or interiorly. If
from its original seats a whole nation were transposed to some new
abode, in which the climate, the seasons, the aspect of nature were
altogether different, it would appear spontaneously in all its parts to
commence a movement to come into harmony with the new conditions--a
movement of a secular nature, and implying the consumption of many
generations for its accomplishment. During such a period of
transmutation there would, of course, be an increased waste of life, a
risk, indeed, of total disappearance or national death; but the change
once completed, the requisite correspondence once attained, things would
go forward again in an orderly manner on the basis of the new
modification that had been assumed. When the change to be accomplished
is very profound, involving extensive anatomical alterations not merely
in the appearance of the skin, but even in the structure of the skull,
long periods of time are undoubtedly required, and many generations of
individuals are consumed.

[Sidenote: And through blood admixture.]

Or, by interior disturbance, particularly by blood admixture, with more
rapidity may a national type be affected, the result plainly depending
on the extent to which admixture has taken place. This is a disturbance
capable of mathematical computation. If the blood admixture be only of
limited amount, and transient in its application, its effect will
sensibly disappear in no very great period of time, though never,
perhaps, in absolute reality. This accords with the observation of
philosophical historians, who agree in the conclusion that a small tribe
intermingling with a larger one will only disturb it in a temporary
manner, and, after the course of a few years, the effect will cease to
be perceptible. Nevertheless, the influence must really continue much
longer than is outwardly apparent; and the result is the same as when,
in a liquid, a drop of some other kind is placed, and additional
quantities of the first liquid then successively added. Though it might
have been possible at first to detect the adulteration without trouble,
it becomes every moment less and less possible to do so, and before long
it cannot be done at all. But the drop is as much present at last as it
was at first: it is merely masked; its properties overpowered.

Considering in this manner the contamination of a numerous nation, a
trifling amount of foreign blood admixture would appear to be indelible,
and the disturbance, at any moment, capable of computation by the
ascertained degree of dilution that has taken place. But it must not be
forgotten that there is another agency at work, energetically tending to
bring about homogeneity: it is the influence of external physical
conditions. The intrusive adulterating element possesses in itself no
physiological inertia, but as quickly as may be is brought into
correspondence with the new circumstances to which it is exposed, herein
running in the same course as the element with which it had mingled had
itself antecedently gone over.

National homogeneity is thus obviously secured by the operation of two
distinct agencies: the first, gradual but inevitable dilution; the
second, motion to come into harmony with the external natural state. The
two conspire in their effects.

[Sidenote: Secular variations of nations.]

[Sidenote: Their institutions must correspondingly change.]

We must therefore no longer regard nations or groups of men as offering
a permanent picture. Human affairs must be looked upon as in continuous
movement, not wandering in an arbitrary manner here and there, but
proceeding in a perfectly definite course. Whatever may be the present
state, it is altogether transient. All systems of civil life are
therefore necessarily ephemeral. Time brings new external conditions;
the manner of thought is modified; with thought, action. Institutions of
all kinds must hence participate in this fleeting nature, and, though
they may have allied themselves to political power, and gathered
therefrom the means of coercion, their permanency is but little improved
thereby; for, sooner or later, the population on whom they have been
imposed, following the external variations, spontaneously outgrows them,
and their ruin, though it may have been delayed, is none the less
certain. For the permanency of any such system it is essentially
necessary that it should include within its own organization a law of
change, and not of change only, but change in the right direction--the
direction in which the society interested is about to pass. It is in an
oversight of this last essential condition that we find an explanation
of the failure of so many such institutions. Too commonly do we believe
that the affairs of men are determined by a spontaneous action or free
will; we keep that overpowering influence which really controls them in
the background. In individual life we also accept a like deception,
living in the belief that every thing we do is determined by the
volition of ourselves or of those around us; nor is it until the close
of our days that we discern how great is the illusion, and that we have
been swimming--playing and struggling--in a stream which, in spite of
all our voluntary motions, has silently and resistlessly borne us to a
predetermined shore.

In the foregoing pages I have been tracing analogies between the life of
individuals and that of nations. There is yet one point more.

[Sidenote: The death of nations.]

Nations, like individuals, die. Their birth presents an ethnical
element; their death, which is the most solemn event that we can
contemplate, may arise from interior or from external causes. Empires
are only sand-hills in the hour-glass of Time; they crumble
spontaneously away by the process of their own growth.

A nation, like a man, hides from itself the contemplation of its final
day. It occupies itself with expedients for prolonging its present
state. It frames laws and constitutions under the delusion that they
will last, forgetting that the condition of life is change. Very able
modern statesmen consider it to be the grand object of their art to keep
things as they are, or rather as they were. But the human race is not at
rest; and bands with which, for a moment, it may be restrained, break
all the more violently the longer they hold. No man can stop the march
of destiny.

[Sidenote: There is nothing absolute in time.]

Time, to the nation as to the individual, is nothing absolute; its
duration depends on the rate of thought and feeling. For the same reason
that to the child the year is actually longer than to the adult, the
life of a nation may be said to be no longer than the life of a person,
considering the manner in which its affairs are moving. There is a
variable velocity of existence, though the lapses of time may be
equable.

[Sidenote: Nations are only transitional forms.]

The origin, existence, and death of nations depend thus on physical
influences, which are themselves the result of immutable laws. Nations
are only transitional forms of humanity. They must undergo obliteration
as do the transitional forms offered by the animal series. There is no
more an immortality for them than there is an immobility for an embryo
in any one of the manifold forms passed through in its progress of
development.

[Sidenote: Their course is ever advancing, never retrograde.]

[Sidenote: Variable rapidity of national life.]

The life of a nation thus flows in a regular sequence, determined by
invariable law, and hence, in estimating different nations, we must not
be deceived by the casual aspect they present. The philosophical
comparison is made by considering their entire manner of career or cycle
of progress, and not their momentary or transitory state. Though they
may encounter disaster, their absolute course can never be retrograde;
it is always onward, even if tending to dissolution. It is as with the
individual, who is equally advancing in infancy, in maturity, in old
age. Pascal was more than justified in his assertion that "the entire
succession of men, through the whole course of ages, must be regarded as
one man, always living and incessantly learning." In both cases, the
manner of advance, though it may sometimes be unexpected, can never be
abrupt. At each stage events and ideas emerge which not only necessarily
owe their origin to preceding events and ideas, but extend far into the
future and influence it. As these are crowded together, or occur more
widely apart, national life, like individual, shows a variable rapidity,
depending upon the intensity of thought and action. But, no matter how
great that energy may be, or with what rapidity modifications may take
place--since events are emerging as consequences of preceding events,
and ideas from preceding ideas--in the midst of the most violent
intellectual oscillations, a discerning observer will never fail to
detect that there exists a law of continuous variation of human
opinions.

[Sidenote: Plan of this work.]

[Sidenote: Selection among European communities.]

In the examination of the progress of Europe on which we now enter, it
is, of course, to intellectual phenomena that we must, for the most
part, refer; material aggrandisement and political power offering us
less important though still valuable indications, and serving our
purpose rather in a corroborative way. There are five intellectual
manifestations to which we may resort--philosophy, science, literature,
religion, government. Our obvious course is, first, to study the
progress of that member of the European family, the eldest in point of
advancement, and to endeavour to ascertain the characteristics of its
mental unfolding. We may reasonably expect that the younger members of
the family, more or less distinctly, will offer us illustrations of the
same mode of advancement that we shall thus find for Greece; and that
the whole continent, which is the sum of these different parts, will, in
its secular progress, comport itself in like manner.

[Sidenote: Our investigation limited to the intellectual, and commencing
with Greece.]

[Sidenote: From thence we pass to the examination of all Europe.]

Of the early condition of Europe, since we have to consider it in its
prehistoric times, our information must necessarily be imperfect.
Perhaps, however, we may be disposed to accept that imperfection as a
sufficient token of its true nature. Since history can offer us no aid,
our guiding lights must be comparative theology and comparative
philology. Proceeding from those times, we shall, in detail, examine the
intellectual or philosophical movement first exhibited in Greece,
endeavouring to ascertain its character at successive epochs, and
thereby to judge of its complete nature. Fortunately for our purpose,
the information is here sufficient, both in amount and distinctness. It
then remains to show that the mental movement of the whole continent is
essentially of the same kind, though, as must necessarily be the case,
it is spread over far longer periods of time. Our conclusions will
constantly be found to gather incidental support and distinctness from
illustrations presented by the aged populations of Asia, and the
aborigines of Africa and America.

[Sidenote: The five ages of European life.]

The intellectual progress of Europe being of a nature answering to that
observed in the case of Greece, and this, in its turn, being like that
of an individual, we may conveniently separate it into arbitrary
periods, sufficiently distinct from one another, though imperceptibly
merging into each other. To these successive periods I shall give the
titles of--1, the Age of Credulity; 2, the Age of Inquiry; 3, the Age of
Faith; 4, the Age of Reason; 5, the Age of Decrepitude; and shall use
these designations in the division of my subject in its several
chapters.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: The world is ruled by law.]

From the possibility of thus regarding the progress of a continent in
definite and successive stages, answering respectively to the periods of
individual life--infancy, childhood, youth, maturity, old age--we may
gather an instructive lesson. It is the same that we have learned from
inquiries respecting the origin, maintenance, distribution, and
extinction of animals and plants, their balancing against each other;
from the variations of aspect and form of an individual man as
determined by climate; from his social state, whether in repose or
motion; from the secular variations of his opinions, and the gradual
dominion of reason over society: this lesson is, that the government of
the world is accomplished by immutable law.

Such a conception commends itself to the intellect of man by its
majestic grandeur. It makes him discern the eternal in the vanishing of
present events and through the shadows of time. From the life, the
pleasures, the sufferings of humanity, it points to the impassive; from
our wishes, wants, and woes, to the inexorable. Leaving the individual
beneath the eye of Providence, it shows society under the finger of law.
And the laws of Nature never vary; in their application they never
hesitate nor are wanting.

[Sidenote: And yet there is free-will for man.]

But in thus ascending to primordial laws, and asserting their
immutability, universality, and paramount control in the government of
this world, there is nothing inconsistent with the free action of man.
The appearance of things depends altogether on the point of view we
occupy. He who is immersed in the turmoil of a crowded city sees nothing
but the acts of men, and, if he formed his opinion from his experience
alone, must conclude that the course of events altogether depends on the
uncertainties of human volition. But he who ascends to a sufficient
elevation loses sight of the passing conflicts, and no longer hears the
contentions. He discovers that the importance of individual action is
diminishing, as the panorama beneath him is extending. And if he could
attain to the truly philosophical, the general point of view,
disengaging himself front all terrestrial influences and entanglements,
rising high enough to see the whole globe at a glance, his acutest
vision would fail to discover the slightest indication of man, his
free-will, or his works. In her resistless, onward sweep, in the
clock-like precision of her daily and nightly revolution, in the
well-known pictured forms of her continents and seas, now no longer dark
and doubtful, but shedding forth a planetary light, well might he ask
what had become of all the aspirations and anxieties, the pleasures and
agony of life. As the voluntary vanished from his sight, and the
irresistible remained, and each moment became more and more distinct,
well might he incline to disbelieve his own experience, and to question
whether the seat of so much undying glory could be the place of so much
human uncertainty, whether beneath the vastness, energy, and immutable
course of a moving world, there lay concealed the feebleness and
imbecility of man. Yet it is none the less true that these contradictory
conditions co-exist--Free-will and Fate, Uncertainty and Destiny, It is
only the point of view that has changed, but on that how much has
depended! A little nearer we gather the successive ascertainments of
human inquiry, a little further off we realize the panoramic vision of
the Deity. A Hindu philosopher has truly remarked, that he who stands by
the banks of a flowing stream sees, in their order, the various parts as
they successively glide by, but he who is placed on an exalted station
views, at a glance, the whole as a motionless silvery thread among the
fields. To the one there is the accumulating experience and knowledge of
man in time, to the other there is the instantaneous the unsuccessive
knowledge of God.

[Sidenote: Changeability of forms and unchangeability of law.]

Is there an object presented to us which does not bear the mark of
ephemeral duration? As respects the tribes of life, they are scarcely
worth a moment's thought, for the term of the great majority of them is
so brief that we may say they are born and die before our eyes. If we
examine them, not as individuals, but as races, the same conclusion
holds good, only the scale is enlarged from a few days to a few
centuries. If from living we turn to lifeless nature, we encounter again
the evidence of brief continuance. The sea is unceasingly remoulding its
shores; hard as they are, the mountains are constantly yielding to frost
and to rain; here an extensive tract of country is elevated, there
depressed. We fail to find any thing that is not undergoing change.

Then forms are in their nature transitory, law is everlasting. If from
visible forms we turn to directing law how vast is the difference. We
pass from the finite, the momentary, the incidental, the conditioned--to
the illimitable, the eternal, the necessary, the unshackled.

[Sidenote: The object of this book is to assert the control of law in
human affairs.]

It is of law that I am to speak in this book. In a world composed of
vanishing forms I am to vindicate the imperishability, the majesty of
law, and to show how man proceeds, in his social march, in obedience to
it. I am to lead my reader, perhaps in a reluctant path, from the
outward phantasmagorial illusions which surround us, and so
ostentatiously obtrude themselves on our attention, to something that
lies in silence and strength behind. I am to draw his thoughts from the
tangible to the invisible, from the limited to the universal, from the
changeable to the invariable, from the transitory to the eternal; from
the expedients and volitions so largely amusing the life of man, to the
predestined and resistless issuing from the fiat of God.

Chapter II.

OF EUROPE: ITS TOPOGRAPHY AND ETHNOLOGY.

ITS PRIMITIVE MODES OF THOUGHT, AND THEIR PROGRESSIVE VARIATIONS,
MANIFESTED IN THE GREEK AGE OF CREDULITY.

_Description of Europe: its Topography, Meteorology, and
secular Geological Movements.--Their Effect on its
Inhabitants._

_Its Ethnology determined through its Vocabularies._

Europe is geographically a peninsula, and historically a dependency of
Asia.

[Sidenote: Description of Europe.]

[Sidenote: The great path-zone.]

It is constructed on the western third of a vast mountain axis, which
reaches in a broken and irregular course from the Sea of Japan to the
Bay of Biscay. On the flanks of this range, peninsular slopes are
directed toward the south, and extensive plateaus to the north. The
culminating point in Europe is Mont Blanc, 16,000 feet above the level
of the sea. The axis of elevation is not the axis of figure; the incline
to the south is much shorter and steeper than that to the north. The
boundless plains of Asia are prolonged through Germany and Holland. An
army may pass from the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean, a distance of more
than six thousand miles, without encountering any elevation of more than
a few hundred feet. The descent from Asia into Europe is indicated in a
general manner by the mean elevation of the two continents above the
level of the sea; that for Asia being 1132 feet, that for Europe 671.
Through the avenue thus open to them, the Oriental hordes have again and
again precipitated themselves on the West. With an abundance of springs
and head-waters, but without any stream capable of offering a serious
obstacle, this tract has a temperature well suited to military
movements. It coincides generally with the annual isothermal line of
50°, skirting the northern boundary beyond which the vine ceases to
grow, and the limiting region beyond which the wild boar does not pass.

[Sidenote: Exterior and interior accessibility.]

Constructed thus, Europe is not only easily accessible from Asia, a fact
of no little moment in its ancient history, but it is also singularly
accessible interiorly, or from one of its parts to another. Still more,
its sea-line is so broken, it has so many intrusive gulfs and bays,
that, its surface considered, its maritime coast is greater than that of
any other continent. In this respect it contrasts strikingly with
Africa. Europe has one mile of coast-line for every 156 square miles of
surface, Africa has only one for every 623. This extensive maritime
contact adds, of course, greatly to its interior as well as exterior
accessibility.

[Sidenote: Distribution of heat in Europe.]

The mean annual temperature of the European countries on the southern
slope of the mountain axis is from 60° to 70° F., but of those to the
north the heat gradually declines, until, at the extreme limit on the
shores of Zembla, the ground is perpetually frozen. As on other parts of
the globe, the climate does not correspond to the latitude, but is
disturbed by several causes, among which may be distinguished the great
Atlantic current--the Gulf Stream coming from America--and the Sahara
Desert. The latter gives to the south of Europe an unduly high heat, and
the former to Ireland, England, and the entire west a genial
temperature. Together they press into higher latitudes the annual
isothermal lines. If in Europe there are no deserts, there are none of
those impenetrable forests seen in tropical countries. From the westerly
shores of Portugal, France, and Ireland, the humidity diminishes as we
pass to the east, and, indeed, if we advance into Asia, it disappears in
the desert of Gobi. There are no vast homogeneous areas as in Asia, and
therefore there is no widespread uniformity in the races of men.

[Sidenote: And the quantity of rain.]

But not only is the temperature of the European continent elevated by
the Gulf Stream and the south-west wind, its luxuriance of vegetation
depends on them; for luxuriance of vegetation is determined, among other
things, by the supply of rain. A profusion of water gives to South
America its amazing forests; a want inflicts on Australia its shadeless
trees, with their shrunken and pointed leaves. With the diminished
moisture the green gardens of France are replaced in Gobi by ligneous
plants covered with a gray down. Physical circumstances control the
vegetable as well as the animal world.

The westerly regions of Europe, through the influence of the south-west
wind, the Gulf Stream, and their mountain ranges, are supplied with
abundant rains, and have a favourable mean annual temperature; but as we
pass to the eastern confines the number of rainy days diminishes, the
absolute annual quantity of rain and snow is less, and the mean annual
temperature is lower. On the Atlantic face of the mountains of Norway it
is perpetually raining: the annual depth of water is there 82 inches;
but on the opposite side of those mountains is only 21 inches. For
similar reasons, Ireland is moist and green, and in Cornwall the laurel
and camellia will bear a winter exposure.

There are six maximum points of rain--Norway, Scotland, South-western
Ireland and England, Portugal, North-eastern Spain, Lombardy. They
respectively correspond to mountains. In general, the amount of rain
diminishes from the equator toward the poles; but it is greatly
controlled by the disturbing influence of elevated ridges, which in many
instances far more than compensate for the effects of latitude. The Alps
exercise an influence over the meteorology of all Europe.

[Sidenote: The number of rainy days;]

Not only do mountains thus determine the absolute quantity of rain, they
also affect the number of rainy days in a year. The occurrence of a
rainy season depends on the amount of moisture existing in the air; and
hence its frequency is greater at the Atlantic sea-board than in the
interior, where the wind arrives in a drier state, much of its moisture
having been precipitated by the mountains forcing it to a great
elevation. Thus, on the eastern coast of Ireland it rains 208 days in a
year; in England, about 150; at Kazan, 90; and in Siberia only 60 days.

[Sidenote: and of snowy days.]

When the atmospheric temperature is sufficiently low, the condensed
water descends under the form of snow. In general, the annual depth of
snow and the number of snowy days increase toward the north. In Rome the
snowy days are 1-1/2; in Venice, 5-1/2; in Paris, 12; in St.
Petersburgh, 171. Whatever causes interfere with the distribution of
heat must influence the precipitation of snow; among such are the Gulf
Stream and local altitude. Hence, on the coast of Portugal, snow is of
infrequent occurrence; in Lisbon it never snowed from 1806 to 1811.

Such facts teach us how many meteorological contrasts Europe presents,
how many climates it contains. Necessarily it is full of modified men.

[Sidenote: Vibrations of the isothermal lines.]

If we examine the maps of monthly isothermals, we observe how strikingly
those lines change, becoming convex to the north as summer approaches,
and concave as winter. They by no means observe a parallelism to the
mean, but change their flexures, assuming new sinuosities. In their
absolute transfer they move with a variable velocity, and through spaces
far from insignificant. The line of 50° F., which in January passes
through Lisbon and the south of the Morea, in July has travelled to the
north shore of Lapland, and incloses the White Sea. As in some grand
musical instrument, the strings of which vibrate, the isothermal lines
of Europe and Asia beat to and fro, but it takes a year for them to
accomplish one pulsation.

[Sidenote: Europe is full of meteorological contrasts, and therefore of
modified men.]

All over the world physical circumstances control the human race. They
make the Australian a savage; incapacitate the negro, who can never
invent an alphabet or an arithmetic, and whose theology never passes
beyond the stage of sorcery. They cause the Tartars to delight in a
diet of milk, and the American Indian to abominate it. They make the
dwarfish races of Europe instinctive miners and metallurgists. An
artificial control over temperature by dwellings, warm for the winter
and cool for the summer; variations of clothing to suit the season of
the year, and especially the management of fire, have enabled man to
maintain himself in all climates. The invention of artificial light has
extended the available term of his life; by giving the night to his use,
it has, by the social intercourse it encourages, polished his manners
and refined his tastes, perhaps as much as any thing else has aided in
his intellectual progress. Indeed, these are among the primary
conditions that have occasioned his civilization. Variety of natural
conditions gives rise to different national types, artificial inventions
occasion renewed modifications. Where there are many climates there will
be many forms of men. Herein, as we shall in due season discover, lies
the explanation of the energy of European life, and the development of
its civilization.

Would any one deny the influence of rainy days on our industrial habits
and on our mental condition even in a civilized state? With how much
more force, then, must such meteorological incidents have acted on the
ill-protected, ill-clad, and ill-housed barbarian! Would any one deny
the increasing difficulty with which life is maintained as we pass from
the southern peninsulas to the more rigorous climates of the north?
There is a relationship between the mean annual heat of a locality and
the instincts of its inhabitants for food. The Sicilian is satisfied
with a light farinaceous repast and a few fruits; the Norwegian requires
a strong diet of flesh; to the Laplander it is none the less acceptable
if grease of the bear, or train oil, or the blubber of whales be added.
Meteorology to no little extent influences the morals; the instinctive
propensity to drunkenness is a function of the latitude. Food, houses,
clothing, bear a certain relation to the isothermal lines.

[Sidenote: But, through artificial inventions, it tends to
homogeneousness in modern times.]

For similar reasons, the inhabitants of Europe each year tend to more
complete homogeneity. Climate and meteorological differences are more
and more perfectly equalized by artificial inventions; nor is it alone
a similarity of habits, a similarity of physiological constitution also
ensues. The effect of such inventions is to equalize the influences to
which men are exposed; they are brought more closely to the mean typical
standard, and--especially is it to be remembered--with this closer
approach to each other in conformation, comes a closer approach in
feelings and habits, and even in the manner of thinking.

[Sidenote: The Mediterranean peninsulas.]

On the southern slope of the mountain axis project the historic
peninsulas, Greece, Italy, Spain. To the former we trace unmistakably
the commencement of European civilization. The first Greeks
patriotically affirmed that their own climate was the best suited for
man; beyond the mountains to the north there reigned a Cimmerian
darkness, an everlasting winter. It was the realm of Boreas, the
shivering tyrant. In the early ages man recognized cold as his mortal
enemy. Physical inventions have enabled him to overcome it, and now he
maintains a more difficult and doubtful struggle with heat.

[Sidenote: The Mediterranean Sea.]

Beyond these peninsulas, and bounding the continent on the south, is the
Mediterranean, nearly two thousand miles in length, isolating Europe
from Africa socially, but uniting them commercially. The Black Sea and
that of Azof are dependencies of it. It has, conjointly with them, a
shore-line of 13,000 miles, and exposes a surface of nearly a million
and a quarter of square miles. It is subdivided into two basins, the
eastern and western, the former being of high interest historically,
since it is the scene of the dawn of European intelligence; the western
is bounded by the Italian peninsula, Sicily, and the African promontory
of Cape Bon on one side, and at the other has as its portal the Straits
of Gibraltar. The temperature is ten or twelve degrees higher than the
Atlantic, and, since much of the water is removed by evaporation, it is
necessarily more saline than that ocean. Its colour is green where
shallow, blue where deep.

[Sidenote: Secular geological movement of Europe and Asia, and its
social consequences.]

For countless centuries Asia has experienced a slow upward movement, not
only affecting her own topography, but likewise that of her European
dependency. There was a time when the great sandy desert of Gobi was
the bed of a sea which communicated through the Caspian with the Baltic,
as may be proved not only by existing geographical facts, but also from
geological considerations. It is only necessary, for this purpose, to
inspect the imperfect maps that have been published of the Silurian and
even tertiary periods. The vertical displacement of Europe, during and
since the latter period, has indisputably been more than 2000 feet in
many places. The effects of such movements on the flora and fauna of a
region must, in the course of time, be very important, for an elevation
of 350 feet is equal to one degree of cold in the mean annual
temperature, or to sixty miles on the surface northward. Nor has this
slow disturbance ended. Again and again, in historic times, have its
results operated fearfully on Europe, by forcibly precipitating the
Asiatic nomades along the great path-zone; again and again, through such
changes of level, have they been rendered waterless, and thus driven
into a forced emigration. Some of their rivers, as the Oxus and
Jaxartes, have, within the records of history, been dry for several
years. To these topographical changes, rather than to political
influences, we must impute many of the most celebrated tribal invasions.
It has been the custom to refer these events to an excessive
overpopulation periodically occurring in Central Asia, or to the
ambition of warlike chieftains. Doubtless those regions are well adapted
to human life, and hence liable to overpopulation, considering the
pursuits man there follows, and doubtless there have been occasions on
which those nations have been put in motion by their princes; but the
modern historian cannot too carefully bear in mind the laws which
regulate the production of men, and also the body of evidence which
proves that the crust of the earth is not motionless, but rising in one
place and sinking in another. The grand invasions of Europe by Asiatic
hordes have been much more violent and abrupt than would answer to a
steady pressure resulting from overpopulation, and too extensive for
mere warlike incitement; they answer more completely to the experience
of some irresistible necessity arising from an insuperable physical
cause, which could drive in hopeless despair from their homes the young
and the old, the vigorous and feeble, with their cattle, and waggons,
and flocks. Such a cause is the shifting of the soil and disturbance of
the courses of water. The tribes compelled to migrate were forced along
the path-zone, their track being, therefore, on a parallel of latitude,
and not on a meridian; and hence, for the reasons set forth in the
preceding chapter, their movements and journey of easier accomplishment.

[Sidenote: Rate and extent of these movements.]

These geological changes then enter as an element in human history, not
only for Asia, of which the great inland sea has dwindled away to the
Caspian, and lost its connection with the Baltic, but for Europe also.
The traditions of ancient deluges, which are the primitive facts of
Greek history, refer to such movements, perhaps the opening of the
Thracian Bosphorus was one of them. In much later times we are
perpetually meeting with incidents depending on geological disturbances;
the caravan trade of Asia Minor was destroyed by changes of level and
the accumulation of sands blown from the encroaching deserts; the Cimbri
were impelled into Italy by the invasion of the sea on their
possessions. There is not a shore in Europe which does not give similar
evidence; the mouths of the Rhine, as they were in the Roman times, are
obliterated; the eastern coast of England has been cut away for miles.
In the Mediterranean the shore-line is altogether changed; towns, once
on the coast, are far away inland; others have sunk beneath the sea.
Islands, like Rhodes, have risen from the bottom. The North Adriatic,
once a deep gulf, has now become shallow; there are leaning towers and
inclining temples that have sunk with the settling of the earth. On the
opposite extremity of Europe, the Scandinavian peninsula furnishes an
instance of slow secular motion, the northern part rising gradually
above the sea at the rate of about four feet in a century. This
elevation is observed through a space of many hundred miles, increasing
toward the north. The southern extremity, on the contrary, experiences a
slow depression.

These slow movements are nothing more than a continuation of what has
been going on for numberless ages. Since the tertiary period two-thirds
of Europe have been lifted above the sea. The Norway coast has been
elevated 600 feet, the Alps have been upheaved 2000 or 3000, the
Apennines 1000 to 2000 feet. The country between Mont Blanc and Vienna
has been thus elevated since the adjacent seas were peopled with
existing animals. Since the Neolithic age, the British Islands have
undergone a great change of level, and, indeed, have been separated from
the continent through the sinking of England and the rising of Scotland.

[Sidenote: Early inhabitants of Europe.]

At the earliest period Europe presents us with a double population. An
Indo-Germanic column had entered it from the east, and had separated
into two portions the occupants it had encountered, driving one to the
north, the other to the south-west. These primitive tribes betray,
physiologically, a Mongolian origin; and there are indications of
considerable weight that they themselves had been, in ancient times,
intruders, who, issuing from their seats in Asia, had invaded and
dislocated the proper autochthons of Europe. In the Pleistocene age
there existed in Central Europe a rude race of hunters and fishers,
closely allied to the Esquimaux. Man was contemporary with the cave
bear, the cave lion, the amphibious hippopotamus, the mammoth. Caves
that have been examined in France or elsewhere have furnished for the
stone age, axes, knives, lance and arrow points, scrapers, hammers. The
change from what has been termed the chipped, to the polished stone
period, was very gradual. It coincides with the domestication of the
dog, an epoch in hunting life. The appearance of arrow heads indicates
the invention of the bow, and the rise of man from a defensive to an
offensive mode of life. The introduction of barbed arrows shows how
inventive talent was displaying itself; bone and horn tips, that the
huntsman was including smaller animals, and perhaps birds, in his chase;
bone whistles, his companionship with other huntsmen, or with his dog.
The scraping knives of flint, indicate the use of skin for clothing, and
rude bodkins and needles, its manufacture. Shells perforated for
bracelets and necklaces, prove how soon a taste for personal adornment
was acquired, the implements necessary for the preparation of pigments
suggest the painting of the body, and perhaps, tattooing; and batons of
rank bear witness to the beginning of a social organization.

We have thus as our starting-point a barbarian population, believers in
sorcery, and, in some places, undoubtedly cannibals, maintaining, in the
central and northern parts of Europe, their existence with difficulty by
reason of the severity of the climate. In the southern, more congenial
conditions permitted a form of civilization to commence, of which the
rude Cyclopean structures here and there met with, such as the ruins of
Orchomenos, the lion gate of Mycenæ, the tunnel of Lake Copais, are
perhaps the vestiges.

[Sidenote: Their social condition.]

At what period this intrusive Indo-Germanic column made its attack
cannot be ascertained. The national vocabularies of Europe, to which we
must resort for evidence, might lead us to infer that the condition of
civilization of the conquering people was not very advanced. They were
acquainted with the use of domestic animals, farming implements, carts,
and yokes; they were also possessed of boats, the rudder, oars, but were
unacquainted with the movement of vessels by sails. These conclusions
seem to be established by the facts that words equivalent to boat,
rudder, oar, are common to the languages of the offshoots of the stock,
though located very widely asunder; but those for mast and sails are of
special invention, and differ in adjacent nations.

[Sidenote: Their civil state deduced from their vocabularies.]

In nearly all the Indo-Germanic tongues, the family names, father,
mother, brother, sister, daughter, are the same respectively. A similar
equivalence may be observed in a great many familiar objects, house,
door, town, path. It has been remarked, that while this holds good for
terms of a peaceful nature, many of those connected with warfare and the
chase are different in different languages. Such facts appear to prove
that the Asiatic invaders followed a nomadic and pastoral life. Many of
the terms connected with such an avocation are widely diffused. This is
the case with ploughing, grinding, weaving, cooking, baking, sewing,
spinning; with such objects as corn, flesh, meat, vestment; with wild
animals common to Europe and Asia, as the bear and the wolf. So, too, of
words connected with social organization, despot, rex, queen. The
numerals from 1 to 100 coincide in Sanscrit, Greek, Latin, Lithuanian,
Gothic; but this is not the case with 1000, a fact which has led
comparative philologists to the conclusion that, though at the time of
the emigration a sufficient intellectual advance had been made to invent
the decimal system, perhaps from counting upon the fingers, yet that it
was very far from perfection. To the inhabitants of Central Asia the sea
was altogether unknown; hence the branches of the emigrating column, as
they diverged north and south, gave it different names. But, though
unacquainted with the sea, they were familiar with salt, as is proved by
the recurrence of its name. Nor is it in the vocabularies alone that
these resemblances are remarked; the same is to be said of the grammar.
M. Max Müller shows that in Sanscrit, Zend, Lithuanian, Doric, Slavonic,
Latin, Gothic, the forms of the auxiliary verb _to be_ are all varieties
of one common type, and that "the coincidences between the language of
the Veda and the dialect spoken at the present day by the Lithuanian
recruits at Berlin are greater by far than between French and Italian,
and that the essential forms of grammar had been fully framed and
established before the first separation of the Aryan family took place."

But it should not be overlooked that such interesting deductions founded
on language, its vocabularies and grammar, must not be pressed too
closely. The state of civilization of the Indo-Germanic column, as thus
ascertained, must needs have been inferior to that of the centre from
which it issued forth. Such we observe to be the case in all migratory
movements. It is not the more intellectual or civilized portions of a
community which voluntarily participate therein, but those in whom the
physical and animal character predominates. There may be a very rough
offshoot from a very polished stock. Of course, the movement we are here
considering must have taken place at a period chronologically remote,
yet not so remote as might seem to be indicated by the state of
civilization of the invaders, used as an indication of the state of
civilization of the country from which they had come. In Asia, social
advancement, as far back as we can discover, has ever been very slow;
but, at the first moment that we encounter the Hindu race historically
or philologically, it is dealing with philosophical and theological
questions of the highest order, and settling, to its own satisfaction,
problems requiring a cultivated intellect even so much as to propose.
All this implies that in its social advancement there must have already
been consumed a very long period of time.

[Sidenote: Commingling of blood and of ideas.]

But what chiefly interests us is the relation which must have been
necessarily maintained between the intrusive people and those whom they
thus displaced, the commingling of the ideas of the one with those of
the other, arising from their commingling of blood. It is because of
this that we find coexisting in the pre-Hellenic times the sorcery of
the Celt and the polytheism of the Hindu. There can be no doubt that
many of the philosophical lineaments displayed by the early European
mythology are not due to indigenous thought, but were derived from an
Asiatic source.

[Sidenote: Climate-modification of Asiatic intruders.]

Moreover, at the earliest historic times, notwithstanding the
disturbance which must have lasted long after the successful and perhaps
slow advance of the Asiatic column, things had come to a state of
equilibrium or repose, not alone socially, but also physiologically. It
takes a long time for the conqueror and conquered to settle together,
without farther disturbance or question, into their relative positions;
it takes a long time for the recollection of conflicts to die away. But
far longer does it take for a race of invaders to come into unison with
the climate of the countries they have seized, the system of man
accommodating itself only through successive generations, and therefore
very slowly, to new physical conditions. It takes long before the skin
assumes its determinate hue, and the skull its destined form. A period
amply sufficient for all such changes to be accomplished in Europe had
transpired at the very dawn of history, and strands of population in
conformity with meteorological and geographical influences, though of
such origin as has been described, were already distributed upon it. A
condition of ethnical equilibrium had been reached. Along each
isothermal or climatic band were its correspondingly modified men,
spending their lives in avocations dictated by their environment. These
strands of population were destined to be dislocated, and some of them
to become extinct, by inventing or originating among themselves new and
unsuitable artificial physical conditions.

[Sidenote: First gleams of civilization]

Already Europe was preparing a repetition of those events of which Asia
from time immemorial has been the scene. Already among the nations
bordering on the Mediterranean, inhabitants of a pleasant climate, in
which life could be easily maintained--where the isothermal of January
is 41° F., and of July 73-1/2° F.--civilization was commencing. There
was an improving agriculture, an increasing commerce, and, the necessary
consequence thereof, germs of art, the accumulation of wealth. The
southern peninsulas were offering to the warlike chieftains of middle
Europe a tempting prize.

[Sidenote: and first religious opinions.]

Under such influences Europe may be considered as emerging from the
barbarian state. It had lost all recollection of its ancient relations
with India, which have only been disclosed to us by a study of the
vocabularies and grammar of its diverse tongues. Upon its indigenous
sorcery an Oriental star-worship had been ingrafted, the legends of
which had lost their significance. What had at first been feigned of the
heavenly bodies had now assumed an air of personality, and had become
attributed to heroes and gods.

The negro under the equinoctial line, the dwarfish Laplander beyond the
Arctic Circle--man everywhere, in his barbarous state, is a believer in
sorcery, witchcraft, enchantments; he is fascinated by the
incomprehensible. Any unexpected sound or sudden motion he refers to
invisible beings. Sleep and dreams, in which one-third of his life is
spent, assure him that there is a spiritual world. He multiplies these
unrealities; he gives to every grotto a genius; to every tree, spring,
river, mountain, a divinity.

[Sidenote: Localization of the invisible.]

Comparative theology, which depends on the law of continuous variation
of human thought, and is indeed one of its expressions, universally
proves that the moment man adopts the idea of an existence of invisible
beings, he recognizes the necessity of places for their residence, all
nations assigning them habitations beyond the boundaries of the earth. A
local heaven and a local hell are found in every mythology. In Greece,
as to heaven, there was a universal agreement that it was situated above
the blue sky; but as to hell, much difference of opinion prevailed.
There were many who thought that it was a deep abyss in the interior of
the earth, to which certain passages, such as the Acherusian cave in
Bithynia, led. But those who with Anaximenes considered the earth to be
like a broad leaf floating in the air, and who accepted the doctrine
that hell was divided into a Tartarus, or region of night on the left,
and an Elysium, or region of dawn on the right, and that it was equally
distant from all parts of the upper surface, were nearer to the original
conception, which doubtless placed it on the under or shadowy side of
the earth. The portals of descent were thus in the west, where the sun
and stars set, though here and there were passages leading through the
ground to the other side, such as those by which Hercules and Ulysses
had gone. The place of ascent was in the east, and the morning twilight
a reflection from the Elysian Fields.

[Sidenote: The anthropocentric stage of thought.]

The picture of Nature thus interpreted has for its centre the earth; for
its most prominent object, man. Whatever there is has been made for his
pleasure, or to minister to his use. To this belief that every thing is
of a subordinate value compared with himself, he clings with tenacity
even in his most advanced mental state.

Not without surprise do we trace the progress of the human mind. The
barbarian, as a believer in sorcery, lives in incessant dread. All
Nature seems to be at enmity with him and conspiring for his hurt. Out
of the darkness he cannot tell what alarming spectre may emerge; he may,
with reason, fear that injury is concealed in every stone, and hidden
behind every leaf. How wide is the interval from this terror-stricken
condition to that state in which man persuades himself of the human
destiny of the universe! Yet, wonderful to be said, he passes that
interval at a single step.

In the infancy of the human race, geographical and astronomical ideas
are the same all over the world, for they are the interpretation of
things according to outward appearances, the accepting of phenomena as
they are presented, without any of the corrections that reason may
offer. This universality and homogeneity is nothing more than a
manifestation of the uniform mode of action of human organization.

[Sidenote: From homogeneous ideas the comparative sciences emerge.]

But such homogeneous conclusions, such similar pictures, are strictly
peculiar to the infancy of humanity. The reasoning faculty at length
inevitably makes itself felt, and diversities of interpretation ensue.
Comparative geography, comparative astronomy, comparative theology thus
arise, homogeneous at first, but soon exhibiting variations.

[Sidenote: Introduction of personified forms.]

To that tendency for personification which marks the early life of man
are due many of the mythologic conceptions. It was thus that the Hours,
the Dawn, and Night with her black mantle bespangled with stars,
received their forms. Many of the most beautiful legends were thus of a
personified astronomical origin; many were derived from terrestrial or
familiar phenomena. The clouds were thus made to be animated things; a
moving spirit was given to the storm, the dew, the wind. The sun setting
in the glowing clouds of the west became Hercules in the fiery pile; the
morning dawn extinguished by the rising sun was embodied in the story of
Orpheus and Eurydice. These legends still survive in India.

[Sidenote: The gradual and affiliated advance of Greek theological
ideas.]

[Sidenote: The composite nature of the resulting mythology.]

But it must not be supposed that all Greek mythology can be thus
explained. It is enough for us to examine the circumstances under which,
for many ages, the European communities had been placed, to understand
that they had forgotten much that their ancestors had brought from Asia.
Much that was new had also spontaneously arisen. The well-known
variations of their theogony are not merely similar legends of different
localities, they are more frequently the successive improvements of one
place. The general theme upon which they are based requires the
admission of a primitive chaotic disturbance of incomprehensible
gigantic powers, brought into subjection by Divine agency, that agency
dividing and regulating the empire it had thus acquired in a harmonious
way. To this general conception was added a multitude of adventitious
ornaments, some of which were of a rude astronomical, some of a moral,
some, doubtless, of a historical kind. The primitive chaotic conflicts
appear under the form of the war of the Titans; their end is the
confinement of those giants in Tartarus; whose compulsory subjection is
the commencement of order: thus Atlas, the son of Iapetos, is made to
sustain the vault of heaven in its western verge. The regulation of
empire is shadowed forth in the subdivision of the universe between Zeus
and his brothers, he taking the heavens, Poseidon the sea, and Hades the
under world, all having the earth as their common theatre of action. The
moral is prefigured by such myths as those of Prometheus and Epimetheus,
the fore-thinker and the after-thinker; the historical in the deluge of
Deucalion, the sieges of Thebes and of Troy. A harmony with human nature
is established through the birth and marriage of the gods, and likewise
by their sufferings, passions, and labours. The supernatural is
gratified by Centaurs, Gorgons, Harpies, and Cyclops.

It would be in vain to attempt the reduction of such a patchwork system
to any single principle, astronomical or moral, as some have tried to
do--a system originating from no single point as to country or to time.
The gradual growth of many ages, its diversities are due to many local
circumstances. Like the romances of a later period, it will not bear an
application of the ordinary rules of life. It recommended itself to a
people who found pleasure in accepting without any question statements
no matter how marvellous, impostures no matter how preposterous. Gods,
heroes, monsters, and men might figure together without any outrage to
probability when there was no astronomy, no geography, no rule of
evidence, no standard of belief. But the downfall of such a system was
inevitable as soon as men began to deal with facts; as soon as history
commenced to record, and philosophy to discuss. Yet not without
reluctance was the faith of so many centuries given up. The extinction
of a religion is not the abrupt movement of a day, it is a secular
process of many well-marked stages--the rise of doubt among the candid;
the disapprobation of the conservative; the defence of ideas fast
becoming obsolete by the well-meaning, who hope that allegory and new
interpretations may give renewed probability to what is almost
incredible. But dissent ends in denial at last.

[Sidenote: Primitive astronomy and geography.]

[Sidenote: The under world and its spectres.]

Before we enter upon the history of that intellectual movement which
thus occasioned the ruin of the ancient system, we must bring to
ourselves the ideas of the Greek of the eighth century before Christ,
who thought that the blue sky is the floor of heaven, the habitation of
the Olympian gods; that the earth, man's proper abode, is flat and
circularly extended like a plate beneath the starry canopy. On its rim
is the circumfluous ocean, the source of the rivers, which all flow to
the Mediterranean, appropriately in after ages so called, since it is in
the midst, in the centre of the expanse of the land. "The sea-girt disk
of the earth supports the vault of heaven." Impelled by a celestial
energy, the sun and stars, issuing forth from the east, ascend with
difficulty the crystalline dome, but down its descent they more readily
hasten to their setting. No one can tell what they encounter in the land
of shadows beneath, nor what are the dangers of the way. In the morning
the dawn mysteriously appears in the east, and swiftly spreads over the
confines of the horizon; in the evening the twilight fades gradually
away. Besides the celestial bodies, the clouds are continually moving
over the sky, for ever changing their colours and their shape. No one
can tell whence the wind comes or whither it goes; perhaps it is the
breath of that invisible divinity who launches the lightning, or of him
who rests his bow against the cloud. Not without delight men
contemplated the emerald plane, the sapphire dome, the border of silvery
water, ever tranquil and ever flowing. Then, in the interior of the
solid earth, or perhaps on the other side of its plane--under world, as
it was well termed--is the realm of Hades or Pluto, the region of
Night. From the midst of his dominion, that divinity, crowned with a
diadem of ebony, and seated on a throne framed out of massive darkness,
looks into the infinite abyss beyond, invisible himself to mortal eyes,
but made known by the nocturnal thunder which is his weapon. The under
world is also the realm to which spirits retire after death. At its
portals, beneath the setting sun, is stationed a numerous tribe of
spectres--Care, Sorrow, Disease, Age, Want, Fear, Famine, War, Toil,
Death and her half-brother Sleep--Death, to whom it is useless for man
to offer either prayers or sacrifice. In that land of forgetfulness and
shadows there is the unnavigable lake Avernus, Acheron, Styx, the
groaning Cocytus, and Phlegethon, with its waves of fire. There are all
kinds of monsters and forms of fearful import: Cerberus, with his triple
head; Charon, freighting his boat with the shades of the dead; the
Fates, in their garments of ermine bordered with purple; the avenging
Erinnys; Rhadamanthus, before whom every Asiatic must render his
account; Æacus, before whom every European; and Minos, the dread arbiter
of the judgment-seat. There, too, are to be seen those great criminals
whose history is a warning to us: the giants, with dragons' feet
extended in the burning gulf for many a mile; Phlegyas, in perpetual
terror of the stone suspended over him, which never falls; Ixion chained
to his wheel; the daughters of Danaus still vainly trying to fill their
sieve; Tantalus, immersed in water to his chin, yet tormented with
unquenchable thirst; Sisyphus despairingly labouring at his
ever-descending stone. Warned by such examples, we may learn not to
contemn the gods. Beyond these sad scenes, extending far to the right,
are the plains of pleasure, the Elysian Fields; and Lethe, the river of
oblivion, of which whoever tastes, though he should ascend to the
eastern boundary of the earth, and return again to life and day, forgets
whatever he has seen.

[Sidenote: The Argonautic voyage.]

If the interior or the under side of the earth is thus occupied by
phantoms and half-animated shades of the dead, its upper surface,
inhabited by man, has also its wonders. In its centre is the
Mediterranean Sea, as we have said, round which are placed all the known
countries, each full of its own mysteries and marvels. Of these how
many we might recount if we followed the wanderings of Odysseus, or the
voyage of Jason and his heroic comrades in the ship _Argo_, when they
went to seize the golden fleece of the speaking ram. We might tell of
the Harpies, flying women-birds of obscene form; of the blind prophet;
of the Symplegades, self-shutting rocks, between which, as if by
miracle, the Argonauts passed, the cliffs almost entrapping the stern of
their vessel, but destined by fate from that portentous moment never to
close again; of the country of the Amazons, and of Prometheus groaning
on the rock to which he was nailed, of the avenging eagle for ever
hovering and for ever devouring; of the land of Æêtes, and of the bulls
with brazen feet and flaming breath, and how Jason yoked and made them
plough, of the enchantress Medea, and the unguent she concocted from
herbs that grew where the blood of Prometheus had dripped; of the field
sown with dragons' teeth, and the mail-clad men that leaped out of the
furrows; of the magical stone that divided them into two parties, and
impelled them to fight each other; of the scaly dragon that guarded the
golden fleece, and how he was lulled with a charmed potion, and the
treasure carried away; of the River Phasis, through whose windings the
_Argo_ sailed into the circumfluous sea, of the circumnavigation round
that tranquil stream to the sources of the Nile; of the Argonauts
carrying their sentient, self-speaking ship on their shoulders through
the sweltering Libyan deserts, of the island of Circe, the enchantress;
of the rock, with its grateful haven, which in the height of a tempest
rose out of the sea to receive them; of the arrow shot by Apollo from
his golden bow; of the brazen man, the work of Hephæstos, who stood on
the shore of Crete, and hurled at them as they passed vast fragments of
stone; of their combat with him and their safe return to Iolcos; and of
the translation of the ship _Argo_ by the goddess Athene to heaven.

[Sidenote: Union of the geographical and the marvellous.]

Such were some of the incidents of that celebrated voyage, the story of
which enchanted all Greece before the Odyssey was written. I have not
space to tell of the wonders that served to decorate the geography of
those times. On the north there was the delicious country of the
Hyperboreans, beyond the reach of winter; in the west the garden of the
Hesperides, in which grew apples of gold; in the east the groves and
dancing-ground of the sun; in the south the country of the blameless
Ethiopians, whither the gods were wont to resort. In the Mediterranean
itself the Sirens beguiled the passers-by with their songs near where
Naples now stands; adjoining were Scylla and Charybdis; in Sicily were
the one-eyed Cyclops and cannibal Læstrygons. In the island of Erytheia
the three-headed giant Geryon tended his oxen with a double-headed dog.
I need not speak of the lotus-eaters, whose food made one forget his
native country; of the floating island of Æolus; of the happy fields in
which the horses of the sun were grazing; of bulls and dogs of immortal
breed; of hydras, gorgons, and chimeras; of the flying man Dædalus, and
the brazen chamber in which Danae was kept. There was no river, no
grotto that had not its genius; no island, no promontory without its
legend.

[Sidenote: Earliest Greek theological ideas indicate a savage state.]

It is impossible to recall these antique myths without being satisfied
that they are, for the most part, truly indigenous, truly of European
growth. The seed may have been brought, as comparative philologists
assert, from Asia, but it had luxuriantly germinated and developed under
the sky of Europe. Of the legends, many are far from answering to their
reputed Oriental source; their barbarism and indelicacy represent the
state of Europe. The outrage of Kronos on his father Uranos speaks of
the savagism of the times; the story of Dionysos tells of man-stealing
and piracy; the rapes of Europa and Helen, of the abduction of women.
The dinner at which Itys was served up assures us that cannibalism was
practised; the threat of Laomedon that he would sell Poseidon and Apollo
for slaves shows how compulsory labour might be obtained. The polygamy
of many heroes often appears in its worst form under the practice of
sister-marriage, a crime indulged in from the King of Olympus downward.
Upon the whole, then, we must admit that Greek mythology indicates a
barbarian social state, man-stealing, piracy, human sacrifice,
polygamy, cannibalism, and crimes of revenge that are unmentionable. A
personal interpretation, such as man in his infancy resorts to, is
embodied in circumstances suitable to a savage time. It was not until a
later period that allegorical phantasms, such as Death, and Sleep, and
Dreams were introduced, and still later when the whole system was
affected by Lydian, Phrygian, Assyrian, and Egyptian ideas.

[Sidenote: Their gradual improvement in the historic times.]

[Sidenote: The inevitable tendency is to the Ionic philosophy.]

Not only thus from their intrinsic nature, but also from their recorded
gradual development, are we warranted in imputing to the greater part of
the myths an indigenous origin. The theogony of Homer is extended by
Hesiod in many essential points. He prefixes the dynasty of Uranos, and
differs in minor conceptions, as in the character of the Cyclops. The
Orphic theogony is again another advance, having new fictions and new
personages, as in the case of Zagreus, the horned child of Jupiter by
his own daughter Persephone. Indeed, there is hardly one of the great
and venerable gods of Olympus whose character does not change with his
age, and, seen from this point of view, the origin of the Ionic
philosophy becomes a necessary step in the advance. That philosophy, as
we shall soon find, was due not only to the expansion of the Greek
intellect and the necessary improvement of Greek morals; an extraneous
cause, the sudden opening of the Egyptian ports, 670 B.C., accelerated
it. European religion became more mysterious and more solemn. European
philosophy learned the error of its chronology, and the necessity of
applying a more strict and correct standard of evidence for ancient
events.

It was an ominous circumstance that the Ionian Greeks, who first began
to philosophize, commenced their labours by depersonifying the elements,
and treating not of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, but of Air, Water, Fire.
The destruction of theological conceptions led irresistibly to the
destruction of religious practices. To divinities whose existence he
denied, the philosopher ceased to pray. Of what use were sacrificial
offerings and entreaties directed to phantasms of the imagination? but
advantages might accrue from the physical study of the impersonal
elements.

[Sidenote: Inevitable destruction of Greek religious ideas]

Greek religion contained within itself the principles of its own
destruction. It is for the sake of thoroughly appreciating this that I
have been led into a detail of what some of my readers may be disposed
to regard as idle and useless myths. Two circumstances of inevitable
occurrence insured the eventual overthrow of the whole system; they were
geographical discovery and the rise of philosophical criticism. Our
attention is riveted by the fact that, two thousand years later, the
same thing again occurred on a greater scale.

[Sidenote: by geographical discovery.]

As to the geographical discovery, 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? How was it possible that the notion of
a flat earth, bounded by the horizon and bordered by the circumfluous
ocean, could maintain itself when colonies were being founded in Gaul,
and the Phoenicians were bringing tin from beyond the Pillars of
Hercules? Moreover, it so happened that many of the most astounding
prodigies were affirmed to be in the track which circumstances had now
made the chief pathway of commerce. Not only was there a certainty of
the destruction of mythical geography as thus presented on the plane of
the earth looking upward to day; there was also an imminent risk, as
many pious persons foresaw and dreaded, that what had been asserted as
respects the interior, or the other face looking downward into night,
would be involved in the ruin too. Well, therefore, might they make the
struggle they did for the support of the ancient doctrine, taking the
only course possible to them, of converting what had been affirmed to be
actual events into allegories, under which, they said, the wisdom of
ancient times had concealed many sacred and mysterious things. But it is
apparent that a system forced to this necessity is fast hastening to its
end.

[Sidenote: Fictitious marvels replaced by grand actualities.]

Nor was it maritime discovery only that thus removed fabulous prodigies
and gave rise to new ideas. In due course of time the Macedonian
expedition opened a new world to the Greeks and presented them with real
wonders; climates in marvellous diversity, vast deserts, mountains
covered with eternal snow, salt seas far from the ocean, colossal
animals, and men of every shade of colour and every form of religion.
The numerous Greek colonies founded all over Asia gave rise to an
incessant locomotion, and caused these natural objects to make a
profound and permanent impression on the Hellenic mind. If through the
Bactrian empire European ideas were transmitted to the far East, through
that and other similar channels Asiatic ideas found their way to Europe.

[Sidenote: Development of Mediterranean commerce.]

At the dawn of trustworthy history, the Phoenicians were masters of
the Mediterranean Sea. Europe was altogether barbarous. On the very
verge of Asiatic civilization the Thracians scalped their enemies and
tattooed themselves; at the other end of the continent the Britons
daubed their bodies with ochre and woad. Contemporaneous Egyptian
sculptures show the Europeans dressed in skins like savages. It was the
instinct of the Phoenicians everywhere to establish themselves on
islands and coasts, and thus, for a long time, they maintained a
maritime supremacy. By degrees a spirit of adventure was engendered
among the Greeks. In 1250 B.C. they sailed round the Euxine, giving rise
to the myth of the Argonautic voyage, and creating a profitable traffic
in gold, dried fish, and corn. They had also become infamous for their
freebooting practices. From every coast they stole men, women, and
children, thereby maintaining a considerable slave-trade, the relic of
which endures to our time in the traffic for Circassian women. Minos,
King of Crete, tried to suppress these piracies. His attempts to obtain
the dominion of the Mediterranean were imitated in succession by the
Lydians, Thracians, Rhodians, the latter being the inventors of the
first maritime code, subsequently incorporated into Roman law. The
manner in which these and the inhabitants of other towns and islands
supplanted one another shows on what trifling circumstances the dominion
of the eastern basin depended. Meantime Tyrian seamen stealthily sailed
beyond the Pillars of Hercules, visiting the Canaries and Azores, and
bringing tin from the British Islands. They used every precaution to
keep their secret to themselves. The adventurous Greeks followed those
mysterious navigators step by step; but in the time of Homer they were
so restricted to the eastern basin that Italy may be said to have been
to them an unknown land. The Phocæans first explored the western basin;
one of their colonies built Marseilles. At length Coleus of Samos passed
through the frowning gateway of Hercules into the circumfluous sea, the
Atlantic Ocean. No little interest attaches to the first colonial
cities; they dotted the shores from Sinope to Saguntum, and were at once
trading depôts and foci of wealth. In the earliest times the merchant
was his own captain, and sold his commodities by auction at the place to
which he came. The primitive and profitable commerce of the
Mediterranean was peculiar--it was for slaves, mineral products, and
articles of manufacture; for, running coincident with parallels of
latitude, its agricultural products were not very varied, and the wants
of its populations the same. But tin was brought from the Cassiterides,
amber from the Baltic, and dyed goods and worked metals from Syria.
Wherever these trades centred, the germs of taste and intelligence were
developed; thus the Etruscans, in whose hands was the amber trade across
Germany, have left many relics of their love of art. Though a
mysterious, they were hardly a gloomy race, as a great modern author has
supposed, if we may judge from their beautiful remains.

[Sidenote: Effect of philosophical criticism.]

Added to the effect of geographical discovery was the development of
philosophical criticism. It is observed that soon after the first
Olympiad the Greek intellect very rapidly expanded. Whenever man reaches
a certain point in his mental progress, he will not be satisfied with
less than an application of existing rules to ancient events. Experience
has taught him that the course of the world to-day is the same as it was
yesterday; he unhesitatingly believes that this will also hold good for
to-morrow. He will not bear to contemplate any break in the mechanism of
history; he will not be satisfied with a mere uninquiring faith, but
insists upon having the same voucher for an old fact that he requires
for one that is new. Before the face of History Mythology cannot stand.

[Sidenote: Secession of literary men from the public faith.]

The operation of this principle is seen in all directions throughout
Greek literature after the date that has been mentioned, and this the
more strikingly as the time is later. The national intellect became more
and more ashamed of the fables it had believed in its infancy. Of the
legends, some are allegorized, some are modified, some are repudiated.
The great tragedians accept the myths in the aggregate, but decline them
in particulars; some of the poets transform or allegorize them; some use
them ornamentally, as graceful decorations. It is evident that between
the educated and the vulgar classes a divergence is taking place, that
the best men of the times see the necessity of either totally abandoning
these cherished fictions to the lower orders, or of gradually replacing
them with something more suitable. Such a frittering away of sacred
things was, however, very far from meeting with public approbation in
Athens itself, although so many people in that city had reached that
state of mental development in which it was impossible for them to
continue to accept the national faith. They tried to force themselves to
believe that there must be something true in that which had been
believed by so many great and pious men of old, which had approved
itself by lasting so many centuries, and of which it was by the common
people asserted that absolute demonstration could be given. But it was
in vain; intellect had outgrown faith. They had come into that condition
to which all men are liable--aware of the fallacy of their opinions, yet
angry that another should remind them thereof. When the social state no
longer permitted them to take the life of a philosophical offender, they
found means to put upon him such an invisible pressure as to present him
the choice of orthodoxy or beggary. Thus they disapproved of Euripides
permitting his characters to indulge in any sceptical reflections, and
discountenanced the impiety so obvious in the 'Prometheus Bound' of
Æschylus. It was by appealing to this sentiment that Aristophanes added
no little to the excitement against Socrates. They who are doubting
themselves are often loudest in public denunciations of a similar state
in others.

[Sidenote: Secession of the philosophers.]

If thus the poets, submitting to common sense, had so rapidly fallen
away from the national belief, the philosophers pursued the same course.
It soon became the universal impression that there was an intrinsic
opposition between philosophy and religion, and herein public opinion
was not mistaken; the fact that polytheism furnished a religious
explanation for every natural event made it essentially antagonistic to
science. It was the uncontrollable advance of knowledge that overthrew
Greek religion. Socrates himself never hesitated to denounce physics for
that tendency; and the Athenians extended his principles to his own
pursuits, their strong common sense telling them that the philosophical
cultivation of ethics must be equally bad. He was not loyal to science,
but sought to support his own views by exciting a theological odium
against his competitors--a crime that educated men ought never to
forgive. In the tragedy that ensued the Athenians only paid him in his
own coin. The immoralities imputed to the gods were doubtless strongly
calculated to draw the attention of reflecting men, but the essential
nature of the pursuit in which the Ionian and Italian schools were
engaged bore directly on the doctrine of a providential government of
the world. It not only turned into a fiction the time-honoured dogma of
the omnipresence of the Olympian divinities--it even struck at their
very existence, by leaving them nothing to do. For those
personifications it introduced impersonal nature or the elements.
Instead of uniting scientific interpretations to ancient traditions, it
modified and moulded the old traditions to suit the apparent
requirements of science. We shall subsequently see what was the
necessary issue of this--the Divinity became excluded from the world he
had made, the supernatural merged in natural agency; Zeus was superseded
by the air, Poseidon by the water; and while some of the philosophers
received in silence the popular legends, as was the case with Socrates,
or, like Plato, regarded it as a patriotic duty to accept the public
faith, others, like Xenophanes, denounced the whole as an ancient
blunder, converted by time into a national imposture.

[Sidenote: Antagonism of science and polytheism.]

As I shall have occasion to speak of Greek philosophy in a detailed
manner, it is unnecessary to enter into other particulars here. For the
present purpose it is enough to understand that it was radically opposed
to the national faith in all countries and at all times, from its origin
with Thales down to the latest critic of the Alexandrian school.

[Sidenote: Secession of historians.]

As it was with philosophers, so it was with historians; the rise of true
history brought the same result as the rise of true philosophy. In this
instance there was added a special circumstance which gave to the
movement no little force. Whatever might be the feigned facts of the
Grecian foretime, they were altogether outdone in antiquity and wonder
by the actual history of Egypt. What was a pious man like Herodotus to
think when he found that, at the very period he had supposed a
superhuman state of things in his native country, the ordinary passage
of affairs was taking place on the banks of the Nile? And so indeed it
had been for untold ages. To every one engaged in recording recent
events, it must have been obvious that a chronology applied where the
actors are superhuman is altogether without basis, and that it is a
delusion to transfer the motives and thoughts of men to those who are
not men. Under such circumstances there is a strong inducement to
decline traditions altogether; for no philosophical mind will ever be
satisfied with different tests for the present and the past, but will
insist that actions and their sequences were the same in the foretime as
now.

[Sidenote: Universal disbelief of the learned.]

Thus for many ages stood affairs. One after another, historians,
philosophers, critics, poets, had given up the national faith, and lived
under a pressure perpetually laid upon them by the public, adopting
generally, as their most convenient course, an outward compliance with
the religious requirements of the state. Herodotus cannot reconcile the
inconsistencies of the Trojan War with his knowledge of human actions;
Thucydides does not dare to express his disbelief of it; Eratosthenes
sees contradictions between the voyage of Odysseus and the truths of
geography; Anaxagoras is condemned to death for impiety, and only
through the exertions of the chief of the state is his sentence
mercifully commuted to banishment. Plato, seeing things from a very
general point of view, thinks it expedient, upon the whole, to prohibit
the cultivation of the higher branches of physics. Euripides tries to
free himself from the imputation of heresy as best he may. Æschylus is
condemned to be stoned to death for blasphemy, and is only saved by his
brother Aminias raising his mutilated arm--he had lost his hand in the
battle of Salamis. Socrates stands his trial, and has to drink hemlock.
Even great statesmen like Pericles had become entangled in the obnoxious
opinions. No one has anything to say in explanation of the marvellous
disappearance of demigods and heroes, why miracles are ended, or why
human actions alone are now to be seen in the world. An ignorant public
demands the instant punishment of every suspected man. In their
estimation, to distrust the traditions of the past is to be guilty of
treason to the present.

[Sidenote: Attempts at a reformation.]

But all this confusion and dissent did not arise without an attempt
among well-meaning men at a reformation. Some, and they were, perhaps,
the most advanced intellectually, wished that the priests should abstain
from working any more miracles; that relics should be as little used as
was consistent with the psychical demands of the vulgar, and should be
gradually abandoned; that philosophy should no longer be outraged with
the blasphemous anthropomorphisms of the Olympian deities. Some, less
advanced, were disposed to reconcile all difficulties by regarding the
myths as allegorical; some wished to transform them so as to bring them
into harmony with the existing social state; some would give them
altogether new interpretations. With one, though the fact of a Trojan
War is not to be denied, it was only the eidolon of Helen whom Paris
carried away; with another expressions, perhaps once intended to
represent actual events, are dwindled into mere forms of speech.
Unwilling to reject the attributes of the Olympian divinities, their
human passions and actions, another asserts that they must once have all
existed as men. While one denounces the impudent atheists who find
fault with the myths of the Iliad, ignorant of its allegorical meaning,
another resolves all its heroes into the elements; and still another,
hoping to reconcile to the improved moral sense of the times the
indecencies and wickednesses of the gods, imputes them all to demons; an
idea which found much favour at first, but became singularly fatal to
polytheism in the end.

[Sidenote: Inveterate superstition of the vulgar.]

[Sidenote: Their jealous intolerance of doubts.]

In apparent inconsistency with this declining state of belief in the
higher classes, the multitude, without concern, indulged in the most
surprising superstitions. With them it was an age of relics, of weeping
statues, and winking pictures. The tools with which the Trojan horse was
made might still be seen at Metapontum, the sceptre of Pelops was still
preserved at Chæroneia, the spear of Achilles at Phaselis, the sword of
Memnon at Nicomedia; the Tegeates could still show the hide of the
Calydonian boar, very many cities boasted their possession of the true
palladium from Troy. There were statues of Athene that could brandish
spears, paintings that could blush, images that could sweat, and
numberless shrines and sanctuaries at which miracle-cures were
performed. Into the hole through which the deluge of Deucalion receded
the Athenians still poured a customary sacrifice of honey and meal. He
would have been an adventurous man who risked any observation as to its
inadequate size. And though the sky had been proved to be only space and
stars, and not the firm floor of Olympus, he who had occasion to refer
to the flight of the gods from mountain tops into heaven would find it
to his advantage to make no astronomical remark. No adverse allusions to
the poems of Homer, Arctinus, or Lesches were tolerated; he who
perpetrated the blasphemy of depersonifying the sun went in peril of
death. It was not permitted that natural phenomena should be substituted
for Zeus and Poseidon; whoever was suspected of believing that Helios
and Selene were not gods, would do well to purge himself to public
satisfaction. The people vindicated their superstition in spite of all
geographical and physical difficulties, and, far from concerning
themselves with the contradictions which had exerted such an influence
on the thinking classes, practically asserted the needlessness of any
historical evidence.

[Sidenote: Slowness of the decline and fall of Polytheism.]

[Sidenote: The secondary causes of its downfall.]

It is altogether erroneous to suppose that polytheism maintained its ground
as a living force until the period of Constantine and Julian. Its downfall
commenced at the time of the opening of the Egyptian ports. Nearly a
thousand years were required for its consummation. The change first
occurred among the higher classes, and made its way slowly through the
middle ranks of society. For many centuries the two agencies--geographical
discovery, arising from increasing commerce and the Macedonian expedition,
and philosophical criticism--silently continued their incessant work, and
yet it does not appear that they could ever produce a change in the lowest
and most numerous division of the social grade. In process of time, a third
influence was added to the preceding two, enabling them to address
themselves even to the humblest rank of life; this influence was the rise
of the Roman power. It produced a wonderful activity all over the
Mediterranean Sea and throughout the adjoining countries. It insured
perpetual movements in all directions. Where there had been only a single
traveller there were now a thousand legionaries, merchants, government
officials, with their long retinues of dependents and slaves. Where
formerly it was only the historian or philosopher in his retirement who
compared or contrasted the laws and creeds, habits and customs of different
nations incorrectly reported, now the same things were vividly brought
under the personal observation of multitudes. The crowd of gods and
goddesses congregated in Rome served only to bring one another into
disrepute and ridicule.

[Sidenote: The alarm of good and religious men.]

[Sidenote: Plato's remedy for the evil.]

Long, therefore, previous to the triumph of Christianity, paganism must
be considered as having been irretrievably ruined. Doubtless it was the
dreadful social prospect before them--the apparent impossibility of
preventing the whole world from falling into a totally godless state,
that not only reconciled so many great men to give their support to the
ancient system, but even to look without disapprobation on that
physical violence to which the uneducated multitude, incapable of
judging, were so often willing to resort. They never anticipated that
any new system could be introduced which should take the place of the
old, worn-out one; they had no idea that relief in this respect was so
close at hand; unless, perhaps, it might have been Plato, who,
profoundly recognizing that, though it is a hard and tedious process to
change radically the ideas of common men, yet that it is easy to
persuade them to accept new names if they are permitted to retain old
things, proposed that a regenerated system should be introduced, with
ideas and forms suited to the existing social state, prophetically
asserting that the world would very soon become accustomed to it, and
give to it an implicit adhesion.

[Sidenote: The Greek movement has been repeated on a greater scale by
all Europe.]

In this description of the origin and decline of Greek religion I have
endeavoured to bring its essential features into strong relief. Its fall
was not sudden, as many have supposed, neither was it accomplished by
extraneous violence. There was a slow, and, it must be emphatically
added, a spontaneous decline. But, if the affairs of men pass in
recurring cycles--if the course of events with one individual has a
resemblance to the course of events with another--if there be analogies
in the progress of nations, and circumstances reappear after due periods
of time, the succession of events thus displayed before us in the
intellectual history of Greece may perhaps be recognised again in
grander proportions on the theatre of all Europe. If there is for the
human mind a predetermined order of development, may we not reasonably
expect that the phenomena we have thus been noticing on a small scale in
a single nation will reappear on the great scale in a continent; that
the philosophical study of this history of the past will not only serve
as an interpretation of many circumstances in the history of Europe in
the Dark and Middle Ages, but will also be a guide to us in pointing out
future events as respects all mankind? For, though it is true that the
Greek intellectual movement was anticipated, as respects its completion,
by being enveloped and swallowed up in the slower but more gigantic
movements of the southern European mind, just as a little expanding
circle upon the sea may be obliterated and borne away by more imposing
and impetuous waves, so even the movement of a continent may be lost in
the movement of a world. It was criticism and physical discovery, and
intellectual activity, arising from political concentration, that so
profoundly affected the modes of Grecian thought, and criticism and
discovery have within the last four hundred years done the same in all
Europe. To one who forms his expectations of the future from the history
of the past--who recalls the effect produced by the establishment of the
Roman empire, in permitting free personal intercommunication among all
the Mediterranean nations, and thereby not only destroying the ancient
forms of thought which for centuries had resisted all other means of
attack, but also replacing them by a homogeneous idea--it must be
apparent that the wonderfully increased facilities for locomotion, the
inventions of our own age, are the ominous precursors of a vast
philosophical revolution.

[Sidenote: The organization of hypocrisy.]

Between that period during which a nation has been governed by its
imagination and that in which it submits to reason, there is a
melancholy interval. The constitution of man is such that, for a long
time after he has discovered the incorrectness of the ideas prevailing
around him, he shrinks from openly emancipating himself from their
dominion, and, constrained by the force of circumstances, he becomes a
hypocrite, publicly applauding what his private judgment condemns. Where
a nation is making this passage, so universal do these practices become
that it may be truly said hypocrisy is organized. It is possible that
whole communities might be found living in this deplorable state. Such,
I conceive, must have been the case in many parts of the Roman empire
just before the introduction of Christianity. Even after ideas have
given way in public opinion, their political power may outlive their
intellectual vigour, and produce the disgraceful effect we here
consider.

It is not to be concealed, however, that, to some extent, this evil is
incident to the position of things. Indeed, it would be unfortunate if
national hypocrisy could not find a better excuse for itself than in
that of the individual. In civilized life, society is ever under the
imperious necessity of moving onward in legal forms, nor can such forms
be avoided without the most serious disasters ensuing. To absolve
communities too abruptly from the restraints of ancient ideas is not to
give them liberty, but to throw them into political vagabondism, and
hence it is that great statesmen will authorize and even compel
observances the essential significance of which has disappeared, and the
intellectual basis of which has been undermined. Truth reaches her full
action by degrees, and not at once; she first operates upon the reason,
the influence being purely intellectual and individual; she then extends
her sphere, exerting a moral control, particularly through public
opinion; at last she gathers for herself physical and political force.
It is in the time consumed in this gradual passage that organized
hypocrisy prevails. To bring nations to surrender themselves to new
ideas is not the affair of a day.

CHAPTER III.

DIGRESSION ON HINDU THEOLOGY AND EGYPTIAN CIVILIZATION.

_Comparative Theology of India; its Phase of Sorcery; its
Anthropocentric Phase._

_Rise of Civilization in rainless Countries.--Geography,
Geology, and Topography of Egypt--The Inundations of the Nile
lead to Astronomy._

_Comparative Theology of Egypt.--Animal Worship, Star
Worship.--Impersonation of Divine Attributes--Pantheism.--The
Trinities of Egypt.--Incarnation.--Redemption.--Future
Judgment.--Trial of the Dead.--Rituals and Ceremonies._

At this stage of our examination of European intellectual development,
it will be proper to consider briefly two foreign influences--Indian and
Egyptian--which affected it.

[Sidenote: Of Hindu philosophy.]

From the relations existing between the Hindu and European families, as
described in the preceding chapter, a comparison of their intellectual
progress presents no little interest. The movement of the elder branch
indicates the path through which the younger is travelling, and the goal
to which it tends. In the advanced condition under which we live we
notice Oriental ideas perpetually emerging in a fragmentary way from the
obscurities of modern metaphysics--they are the indications of an
intellectual phase through which the Indo-European mind must pass. And
when we consider the ready manner in which these ideas have been adopted
throughout China and the entire East, we may, perhaps, extend our
conclusion from the Indo-European family to the entire human race. From
this we may also infer how unphilosophical and vain is the expectation
of those who would attempt to restore the aged populations of Asia to
our state. Their intellectual condition has passed onward, never more to
return. It remains for them only to advance as far as they may in their
own line and to die, leaving their place to others of a different
constitution and of a renovated blood. In life there is no going back;
the morose old man can never resume the genial confidence of maturity;
the youth can never return to the idle and useless occupations, the
frivolous amusements of boyhood; even the boy is parted by a long step
from the innocent credulity of the nursery.

[Sidenote: The phase of sorcery, and anthropocentric phase.]

The earlier stages of the comparative theology of India are now
inaccessible. At a time so remote as to be altogether prehistoric the
phase of sorcery had been passed through. In the most ancient records
remaining the Hindu mind is dealing with anthropocentric conceptions,
not, however, so much of the physical as of the moral kind. Man had come
to the conclusion that his chief concern is with himself. "Thou wast
alone at the time of thy birth, thou wilt be alone in the moment of
death; alone thou must answer at the bar of the inexorable Judge."

[Sidenote: Comparative theology advances in two directions--Matter,
Force.]

[Sidenote: Vedaism contemplates matter, Buddhism force.]

From this point there are two well-marked steps of advance. The first
reaches the consideration of material nature; the second, which is very
grandly and severely philosophical, contemplates the universe under the
conceptions of space and force alone. The former is exemplified in the
Vedas and Institutes of Menu, the latter in Buddhism. In neither of
these stages do the ideas lie idle as mere abstractions; they introduce
a moral plan, and display a constructive power not equalled even by the
Italian papal system. They take charge not only of the individual, but
regulate society, and show their influence in accomplishing political
organizations, commanding our attention from their prodigious extent,
and venerable for their antiquity.

I shall, therefore, briefly refer, first, to the older, Vedaism, and
then to its successor, Buddhism.

[Sidenote: Vedaism is the adoration of Nature.]

Among a people possessing many varieties of climate, and familiar with
some of the grandest aspects of Nature--mountains the highest upon
earth, noble rivers, a vegetation incomparably luxuriant, periodical
rains, tempestuous monsoons, it is not surprising that there should have
been an admiration for the material, and a tendency to the worship of
Nature. These spectacles leave an indelible impression on the thoughts
of man, and, the more cultivated the mind, the more profoundly are they
appreciated.

[Sidenote: The Vedas and their doctrines.]

[Sidenote: The Veda doctrine of God,]

[Sidenote: and of the world.]

The Vedas, which are the Hindu Scriptures, and of which there are four,
the Rig, Yagust, Saman and Atharvan, are asserted to have been revealed
by Brahma. The fourth is, however, rejected by some authorities and
bears internal evidence of a later composition, at a time when
hierarchical power had become greatly consolidated. These works are
written in an obsolete Sanscrit, the parent of the more recent idiom.
They constitute the basis of an extensive literature, Upavedas, Angas,
&c., of connected works and commentaries. For the most part they consist
of hymns suitable for public and private occasions, prayers, precepts,
legends, and dogmas. The Rig, which is the oldest, is composed chiefly
of hymns, the other three of liturgical formulas. They are of different
periods and of various authorship, internal evidence seeming to indicate
that if the later were composed by priests, the earlier were the
production of military chieftains. They answer to a state of society
advanced from the nomad to the municipal condition. They are based upon
an acknowledgment of a universal Spirit pervading all things. Of this
God they therefore necessarily acknowledge the unity: "There is in truth
but one Deity, the Supreme Spirit, the Lord of the universe, whose work
is the universe." "The God above all gods, who created the earth, the
heavens, the waters." The world, thus considered as an emanation of God,
is therefore a part of him; it is kept in a visible state by his energy,
and would instantly disappear if that energy were for a moment
withdrawn. Even as it is, it is undergoing unceasing transformations,
every thing being in a transitory condition. The moment a given phase is
reached, it is departed from, or ceases. In these perpetual movements
the present can scarcely be said to have any existence, for as the Past
is ending the Future has begun.

[Sidenote: Its transformation.]

In such a never-ceasing career all material things are urged, their
forms continually changing, and returning as it were, through revolving
cycles to similar states. For this reason it is that we may regard our
earth, and the various celestial bodies, as having had a moment of
birth, as having a time of continuance, in which they are passing onward
to an inevitable destruction, and that after the lapse of countless ages
similar progresses will be made, and similar series of events will occur
again and again.

[Sidenote: It is the visi-semblance of God.]

But in this doctrine of universal transformation there is something more
than appears at first. The theology of India is underlaid with
Pantheism. "God is One because he is All." The Vedas, in speaking of the
relation of nature to God, make use of the expression that he is the
Material as well as the Cause of the universe, "the Clay as well as the
Potter." They convey the idea that while there is a pervading spirit
existing everywhere of the same nature as the soul of man, though
differing from it infinitely in degree, visible nature is essentially
and inseparably connected therewith; that as in man the body is
perpetually undergoing changes, perpetually decaying and being renewed,
or, as in the case of the whole human species, nations come into
existence and pass away, yet still there continues to exist what may be
termed the universal human mind, so for ever associated and for ever
connected are the material and the spiritual. And under this aspect we
must contemplate the Supreme Being, not merely as a presiding intellect,
but as illustrated by the parallel case of man, whose mental principle
shows no tokens except through its connexion with the body; so matter,
or nature, or the visible universe, is to be looked upon as the
corporeal manifestation of God.

[Sidenote: The nature of mundane changes.]

Secular changes taking place invisible objects, especially those of an
astronomical kind, thus stand as the gigantic counterparts both as to
space and time of the microscopic changes which we recognize as
occurring in the body of man. However, in adopting these views of the
relations of material nature and spirit, we must continually bear in
mind that matter "has no essence independent of mental perception; that
existence and perceptibility are convertible terms; that external
appearances and sensations are illusory, and would vanish into nothing
if the divine energy which alone sustains them were suspended but for a
moment."

[Sidenote: Of the soul of man.]

[Sidenote: Its final absorption in God.]

[Sidenote: Of purifying penances,]

[Sidenote: and transmigration of souls.]

As to the relation between the Supreme Being and man, the soul is a
portion or particle of that all-pervading principle, the Universal
Intellect or Soul of the World, detached for a while from its primitive
source, and placed in connexion with the bodily frame, but destined by
an inevitable necessity sooner or later to be restored and rejoined--as
inevitably as rivers run back to be lost in the ocean from which they
arose. "That Spirit," says Varuna to his son, "from which all created
beings proceed, in which, having proceeded, they live, toward which they
tend, and in which they are at last absorbed, that Spirit study to know:
it is the Great One." Since a multitude of moral considerations assure
us of the existence of evil in the world, and since it is not possible
for so holy a thing as the spirit of man to be exposed thereto without
undergoing contamination, it comes to pass that an unfitness may be
contracted for its rejoining the infinitely pure essence from which it
was derived, and hence arises the necessity of its undergoing a course
of purification. And as the life of man is often too short to afford the
needful opportunity, and, indeed, its events, in many instances, tend
rather to increase than to diminish the stain, the season of
purification is prolonged by perpetuating a connexion of the sinful
spirit with other forms, and permitting its transmigration to other
bodies, in which, by the penance it undergoes, and the trials to which
it is exposed, its iniquity may be washed away, and satisfactory
preparation be made for its absorption in the ocean of infinite purity.
Considering thus the relation in which all animated nature stands to us,
being a mechanism for purification, this doctrine of the transmigration
of the soul leads necessarily to other doctrines of a moral kind, more
particularly to a profound respect for life under every form, human,
animal, or insect.

[Sidenote: The religious use of animal life.]

The forms of animal life, therefore, furnish a grand penitential
mechanism for man. Such, on these principles, is their teleological
explanation. In European philosophy there is no equivalent or
counterpart of this view. With us animal life is purposeless. Hereafter
we shall find that in Egypt, though the doctrine of transmigration must
of course have tended to similar suggestions, it became disturbed in its
practical application by the base fetich notions of the indigenous
African population. Hence the doctrine was cherished by the learned for
philosophical reasons, and by the multitude for the harmony of its
results with their idolatries.

[Sidenote: Of proper modes of devotion.]

From such theological dogmas a religious system obviously springs having
for its object to hasten the purification of the soul, that it may the
more quickly enter on absolute happiness, which is only to be found in
absolute rest. The methods of shortening its wanderings and bringing it
to repose are the exercises of a pious life, penance, and prayer, and
more especially a profound contemplation of the existence and attributes
of the Supreme Being. In this profound contemplation many holy men have
passed their lives.

[Sidenote: Minor Vedic doctrine.]

Such is a brief statement of Vedic theology, as exhibited in the
connected doctrines of the Nature of God, Universal Animation,
Transmutation of the World, Emanation of the Soul, Manifestation of
Visible Things, Transmigration, Absorption, the uses of Penitential
Services, and Contemplation for the attainment of Absolute Happiness in
Absolute Rest. The Vedas also recognize a series of creatures superior
to man, the gods of the elements and stars; they likewise personify the
attributes of the Deity. The three Vedic divinities, Agni, Indra, and
Surya, are not to be looked upon as existing independently, for all
spirits are comprehended in the Universal Soul. The later Hindu trinity,
Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, is not recognized by them. They do not
authorize the worship of deified men, nor of images, nor of any visible
forms. They admit the adoration of subordinate spirits, as those of the
planets, or of the demigods who inhabit the air, the waters, the woods;
these demigods are liable to death. They inculcate universal
charity--charity even to an enemy: "The tree doth not withdraw its shade
from the woodcutter." Prayers are to be made thrice a day, morning,
noon, evening; fasting is ordained, and ablution before meals; the
sacrificial offerings consist of flowers, fruits, money. Considered as a
whole their religious tendency is selfish: it puts in prominence the
baser motives, and seeks the gratification of the animal appetites, as
food, pleasure, good fortune. They suggest no proselyting spirit, but
rather adopt the principle that all religions must be equally acceptable
to God, since, if it were otherwise, he would have instituted a single
one, and, considering his omnipotence, none other could have possibly
prevailed. They contain no authorization of the division of castes,
which probably had arisen in the necessities of antecedent conquests,
but which have imposed a perpetual obstacle to any social progress,
keeping each class of society in an immovable state, and concentrating
knowledge and power in a hierarchy. Neither in them, nor, it is
affirmed, in the whole Indian literature, is there a single passage
indicating a love of liberty. The Asiatics cannot understand what value
there is in it. They have balanced Freedom against Security; they have
deliberately preferred the latter, and left the former for Europe to
sigh for. Liberty is alone appreciated in a life of action; but the life
of Asia is essentially passive, its desire is for tranquillity. Some
have affirmed that this imbecility is due to the fact that that
continent has no true temperate zone, and that thus, for ages, the weak
nations have been in contact with the strong, and therefore the hopeless
aspirations for personal freedom have become extinct. But nations that
are cut off from the sea, or that have accepted the dogma that to
travel upon it is unholy, can never comprehend liberty. From the general
tenor of the Vedas, it would appear that the condition of women was not
so much restrained as it became in later times, and that monogamy was
the ordinary state. From the great extent of these works, their various
dates and authorship, it is not easy to deduce from them consistent
principles, and their parts being without any connexion, complete copies
are very scarce. They have undergone mutilation and restoration, so that
great discordances have arisen.

[Sidenote: The Institutes of Menu.]

In the Institutes of Menu, a code of civil and religious law, written
about the ninth century before Christ, though, like the Vedas, betraying
a gradual origin, the doctrine of the Divine unity becomes more
distinctly mixed up with Pantheistic ideas. They present a description
of creation, of the nature of God, and contain prescribed rules for the
duty of man in every station of life from the moment of birth to death.
Their imperious regulations in all these minute details are a sufficient
proof of the great development and paramount power to which the
priesthood had now attained, but their morality is discreditable. They
indicate a high civilization and demoralization, deal with crimes and a
policy such as are incident to an advanced social condition. Their
arbitrary and all-reaching spirit reminds one of the papal system; their
recommendations to sovereigns, their authorization of immoralities,
recall the state of Italian society as reflected in the works of
Machiavelli. They hold learning in the most signal esteem, but concede
to the prejudices of the illiterate in a worship of the gods with
burnt-offerings of clarified butter and libations of the juices of
plants. As respects the constitution of man, they make a distinction
between the soul and the vital principle, asserting that it is the
latter only which expiates sin by transmigration. They divide society
into four castes--the priests, the military, the industrial, the
servile. They make a Brahmin the chief of all created things, and order
that his life shall be divided into four parts, one to be spent in
abstinence, one in marriage, one as an anchorite, and one in profound
meditation; he may then "quit the body as a bird leaves the branch of a
tree." They vest the government of society in an absolute monarch,
having seven councillors, who direct the internal administration by a
chain of officials, the revenue being derived from a share of
agricultural products, taxes on commerce, imposts on shopkeepers, and a
service of one day in the month from labourers.

[Sidenote: Both the Vedas and Institutes are pantheistic.]

In their essential principles the Institutes therefore follow the Vedas,
though, as must be the case in every system intended for men in the
various stages of intellectual progress from the least advanced to the
highest, they show a leaning toward popular delusions. Both are
pantheistic, for both regard the universe as the manifestation of the
Creator; both accept the doctrine of Emanation, teaching that the
universe lasts only for a definite period of time, and then, the Divine
energy being withdrawn, absorption of everything, even of the created
gods, takes place, and thus, in great cycles of prodigious duration,
many such successive emanations and absorptions of universe occur.

[Sidenote: Disappearance of the philosophical classes, and consequent
prominence of anthropocentric ideas.]

The changes that have taken place among the orthodox in India since the
period of the Institutes are in consequence of the diminution or
disappearance of the highly philosophical classes, and the comparative
predominance of the vulgar. They are stated by Mr. Elphinstone as a
gradual oblivion of monotheism, the neglect of the worship of some gods
and the introduction of others, the worship of deified mortals. The
doctrine of human deification is carried to such an extent that Indra
and other mythological gods are said to tremble lest they should be
supplanted by men. This introduction of polytheism and use of images has
probably been connected with the fact that there have been no temples to
the Invisible God, and the uneducated mind feels the necessity of some
recognizable form. In this manner the Trinitarian conception of Brahma,
Vishnu, and Siva, with fourteen other chief gods, has been introduced.
Vishnu and Siva are never mentioned in the Institutes, but they now
engross the public devotions; besides these there are angels, genii,
penates, and lares, like the Roman. Brahma has only one temple in all
India, and has never been much worshipped. Chrishna is the great
favourite of the women. The doctrine of incarnation has also become
prevalent; the incarnations of Vishnu are innumerable. The opinion has
also been spread that faith in a particular god is better than
contemplation, ceremonial, or good works. A new ritual, instead of the
Vedas, has come into use, these scriptures being the eighteen Puranas,
composed between the eighth and sixteenth centuries. They contain
theogonies, accounts of the creation, philosophical speculations,
fragmentary history, and may be brought to support any sectarian view,
having never been intended as one general body, but they are received as
incontrovertible authority. In former times great efficacy was attached
to sacrifice and religious austerities, but the objects once
accomplished in that way are now compassed by mere faith. In the
Baghavat Gita, the text-book of the modern school, the sole essential
for salvation is dependence on some particular teacher, which makes up
for everything else. The efficacy which is thus ascribed to faith, and
the facility with which sin may be expiated by penance, have led to
great mental debility and superstition. Force has been added to the
doctrine of a material paradise of trees, flowers, banquets, hymns; and
to a hell, a dismal place of flames, thirst, torment, and horrid
spectres.

[Sidenote: The philosophical schools.]

If such has been the gradual degradation of religion, through the
suppression or disappearance of the most highly cultivated minds, the
tendency of philosophy is not less strikingly marked. It is said that
even in ancient times not fewer than six distinct philosophical schools
may be recognized: 1, the prior Mimansa; 2, the later Mimansa, or
Vedanta, founded by Vyasa about 1400 B.C. having a Vedanta literature of
prodigious extent; 3, the Logical school, bearing a close resemblance to
that of Aristotle, even in its details; 4, the Atomic school of Canade;
5, the Atheistical school of Capila; 6, the Theistical school of
Patanjali.

[Sidenote: The rise of Buddhism.]

This great theological system, enforced by a tyrannical hierarchy, did
not maintain itself without a conflict. Buddhism arose as its
antagonist. By an inevitable necessity, Vedaism must pass onward to
Buddhism. The prophetic foresight of the great founder of this system
was justified by its prodigious, its unparalleled and enduring
success--a success that rested on the assertion of the dogma of the
absolute equality of all men, and this in a country that for ages had
been oppressed by castes. If the Buddhist admits the existence of God,
it is not as a Creator, for matter is equally eternal; and since it
possesses a property of inherent organization, even if the universe
should perish, this quality would quickly restore it, and carry it on to
new regenerations and new decays without any external agency. It also is
endued with intelligence and consciousness. The Buddhists agree with the
Brahmins in the doctrine of Quietism, in the care of animal life, in
transmigration. They deny the Vedas and Puranas, have no castes, and,
agreeably to their cardinal principle, draw their priests from all
classes like the European monks. They live in monasteries, dress in
yellow, go barefoot, their heads and beards being shaved; they have
constant services in their chapels, chanting, incense, and candles;
erect monuments and temples over the relics of holy men. They place an
especial merit in celibacy; renounce all the pleasures of sense; eat in
one hall; receive alms. To do these things is incident to a certain
phase of human progress.

[Sidenote: Life of Arddha Chiddi.]

Buddhism arose about the tenth century before Christ, its founder being
Arddha Chiddi, a native of Capila, near Nepaul. Of his epoch there are,
however, many statements. The Avars, Siamese, and Cingalese fix it B.C.
600; the Cashmerians, B.C. 1332; the Chinese, Mongols, and Japanese,
B.C. 1000. The Sanscrit words occurring in Buddhism attest its Hindu
origin, Buddha itself being the Sanscrit for intelligence. After the
system had spread widely in India, it was carried by missionaries into
Ceylon, Tartary, Thibet, China, Japan, Burmah, and is now professed by a
greater portion of the human race than any other religion. Until quite
recently, the history of Arddha Chiddi and the system he taught have,
notwithstanding their singular interest, been very imperfectly known in
Europe. He was born in affluence and of a royal family. In his
twenty-ninth year he retired from the world, the pleasures of which he
had tasted, and of which he had become weary. The spectacle of a
gangrened corpse first arrested his thoughts. Leaving his numerous
wives, he became a religious mendicant. It is said that he walked about
in a shroud, taken from the body of a female slave. Profoundly impressed
with the vanity of all human affairs, he devoted himself to
philosophical meditation, by severe self-denial emancipating himself
from all worldly hopes and cares. When a man has brought himself to this
pass he is able to accomplish great things. For the name by which his
parents had called him he substituted that of Gotama, or "he who kills
the senses," and subsequently Chakia Mouni, or the Penitent of Chakia.
Under the shade of a tree Gotama was born; under the shade of a tree he
overcame the love of the world and the fear of death; under the shade of
a tree he preached his first sermon in the shroud; under the shade of a
tree he died. In four months after he commenced his ministry he had five
disciples; at the close of the year they had increased to twelve
hundred. In the twenty-nine centuries that have passed since that time,
they have given rise to sects counting millions of souls, outnumbering
the followers of all other religious teachers. The system still seems to
retain much of its pristine vigour; yet religions are perishable. There
is no country, except India, which has the same religion now that it had
at the birth of Christ.

[Sidenote: The organization of Buddhism.]

Gotama died at the advanced age of eighty years; his corpse was burnt
eight days subsequently. But several years before this event his system
must be considered as thoroughly established. It shows how little
depends upon the nature of a doctrine, and how much upon effective
organization, that Buddhism, the principles of which are far above the
reach of popular thought, should have been propagated with so much
rapidity, for it made its converts by preaching, and not, like
Mohammedanism, by the sword. Shortly after Gotama's death, a council of
five hundred ecclesiastics assembled for the purpose of settling the
religion. A century later a second council met to regulate the monastic
institution; and in B.C. 241, a third council, for the expulsion of
fire-worshippers. Under the auspices of King Asoka, whose character
presents singular points of resemblance to that of the Roman emperor who
summoned the Council of Nicea, for he, too, was the murderer of his own
family, and has been handed down to posterity, because of the success of
the policy of his party, as a great, a virtuous, and a pious
sovereign--under his auspices missionaries were sent out in all
directions, and monasteries richly endowed were everywhere established.
The singular efficacy of monastic institutions was rediscovered in
Europe many centuries subsequently.

[Sidenote: Contest between the Brahmans and Buddhists.]

In proclaiming the equality of all men in this life, the Buddhists, as
we have seen, came into direct collision with the orthodox creed of
India, long carried out into practice in the institution of castes--a
collision that was embittered by the abhorrence the Buddhists displayed
for any distinction between the clergy and laity. To be a Brahmin a man
must be born one, but a Buddhist priest might voluntarily come from any
rank--from the very dregs of society. In the former system marriage was
absolutely essential to the ecclesiastical caste; in the latter it was
not, for the priestly ranks could be recruited without it. And hence
there followed a most important advantage, that celibacy and chastity
might be extolled as the greatest of all the virtues. The experience of
Europe, as well as of Asia, has shown how powerful is the control
obtained by the hierarchy in that way. In India there was, therefore, no
other course for the orthodox than to meet the danger with bloody
persecutions, and in the end, the Buddhists, expelled from their native
seats, were scattered throughout Eastern Asia. Persecution is the mother
of proselytes.

[Sidenote: Buddhism is founded on the conception of Power or Force.]

[Sidenote: It does not recognize a personal God,]

The fundamental principle of Buddhism is that there is a supreme power,
but no Supreme Being. From this it might be inferred that they who adopt
such a creed cannot be pantheists, but must be atheists. It is a
rejection of the idea of Being, an acknowledgment of that of Force. If
it admits the existence of God, it declines him as a Creator. It asserts
an impelling power in the universe, a self-existent and plastic
principle, but not a self-existent, an eternal, a personal God. It
rejects inquiry into first causes as being unphilosophical, and
considers that phenomena alone can be dealt with by our finite minds.
Not without an air of intellectual majesty, it tolerates the Asiatic
time-consecrated idea of a trinity, pointing out one not of a corporeal,
but of an impersonal kind. Its trinity is the Past, the Present, the
Future. For the sake of aiding our thoughts, it images the Past with his
hands folded, since he has attained to rest, but the others with their
right hands extended in token of activity. Since he has no God, the
Buddhist cannot expect absorption; the pantheistic Brahmin looks forward
to the return of his soul to the Supreme Being as a drop of rain returns
to the sea. The Buddhist has no religion, but only a ceremonial. How can
there be a religion where there is no God?

[Sidenote: nor a providential government,]

[Sidenote: but refers all events to resistless law.]

[Sidenote: Doubts the actual existence of the visible world.]

In all this it is plain that the impersonal and immaterial predominates,
and that Gotama is contemplating the existence of pure Force without any
association of Substance. He necessarily denies the immediate
interposition of any such agency as Providence, maintaining that the
system of nature, once arising, must proceed irresistibly according to
the laws which brought it into being, and that from this point of view
the universe is merely a gigantic engine. To the Brahman priesthood such
ideas were particularly obnoxious; they were hostile to any
philosophical system founded on the principle that the world is governed
by law, for they suspected that its tendency would be to leave them
without any mediatory functions, and therefore without any claims on the
faithful. Equally does Gotama deny the existence of chance, saying that
that which we call chance is nothing but the effect of an unknown,
unavoidable cause. As to the external world, we cannot tell how far it
is a phantasm, how far a reality, for our senses possess no trustworthy
criterion of truth. They convey to the mind representations of what we
consider to be external things, by which it is furnished with materials
for its various operations; but, unless it acts in conjunction with the
senses, the operation is lost, as in that absence which takes place in
deep contemplation. It is owing to our inability to determine what share
these internal and external conditions take in producing a result that
the absolute or actual state of nature is incomprehensible by us.
Nevertheless, conceding to our mental infirmity the idea of a real
existence of visible nature, we may consider it as offering a succession
of impermanent forms, and as exhibiting an orderly series of
transmutations, innumerable universes in periods of inconceivable time
emerging one after another, and creations and extinctions of systems of
worlds taking place according to a primordial law.

[Sidenote: Of the nature of man.]

[Sidenote: Of transmigration and penance,]

[Sidenote: and the passage to nonentity.]

Such are his doctrines of a Supreme Force, and of the origin and
progress of the visible world. With like ability Gotama deals with his
inquiry into the nature of man. With Oriental imagery he bids us
consider what becomes of a grain of salt thrown into the sea; but, lest
we should be deceived herein, he tells us that there is no such thing as
individuality or personality--that the Ego is altogether a nonentity. In
these profound considerations he brings to bear his conception of force,
in the light thereof asserting that all sentient beings are homogeneous.
If we fail to follow him in these exalted thoughts, bound down to
material ideas by the infirmities of the human constitution, and inquire
of him how the spirit of man, which obviously displays so much energy,
can be conceived of as being without form, without a past, without a
future, he demands of us what has become of the flame of a lamp when it
is blown out, or to tell him in what obscure condition it lay before it
was kindled. Was it a nonentity? Has it been annihilated? By the aid of
such imagery he tries to depict the nature of existence, and to convey a
vivid idea of the metamorphoses it undergoes. Outward things are to him
phantasms; the impressions they make on the mind are phantasms too. In
this sense he receives the doctrine of transmigration, conceiving of it
very much as we conceive of the accumulation of heat successively in
different things. In one sense it may be the same heat which occupies
such objects one after another, but in another, since heat is force and
not matter, there can be no such individuality. Viewed, however, in the
less profound way, he is not unwilling to adopt the doctrine of the
transmigration of the soul through various forms, admitting that there
may accumulate upon it the effect of all those influences, whether of
merit or demerit, of good or of evil, to which it has been exposed. The
vital flame is handed down from one generation to another, it is
communicated from one animated form to another. He thinks it may carry
with it in these movements the modifications which may have been
impressed on it, and require opportunity for shaking them off and
regaining its original state. At this point the doctrine of Gotama is
assuming the aspect of a moral system, and is beginning to suggest means
of deliverance from the accumulated evil and consequent demerit to which
the spirit has been exposed. He will not, however, recognize any
vicarious action. Each one must work out for himself his own salvation,
remembering that death is not necessarily a deliverance from worldly
ills, it may be only a passage to new miseries. But yet, as the light of
the taper must come at last to an end, so there is at length, though it
may be after many transmigrations, an end of life. That end he calls
Nirwana, a word that has been for nearly three thousand years of solemn
import to countless millions of men;--Nirwana, the end of successive
existences, that state which has no relation to matter, or space, or
time, to which the departing flame of the extinguished taper has gone.
It is the supreme end, Nonentity. The attaining of this is the object to
which we ought to aspire, and for that purpose we should seek to destroy
within ourselves all cleaving to existence, weaning ourselves from every
earthly object, from every earthly pursuit. We should resort to monastic
life, to penance, to self-denial, self-mortification, and so gradually
learn to sink into perfect quietude or apathy, in imitation of that
state to which we must come at last, and to which, by such preparation,
we may all the more rapidly approach. The pantheistic Brahman expects
absorption in God; the Buddhist, having no God, expects extinction.

[Sidenote: Philosophical estimate of Buddhism.]

India has thus given to the world two distinct philosophical systems:
Vedaism, which takes as its resting-point the existence of matter, and
Buddhism, of which the resting-point is force. The philosophical ability
displayed in the latter is very great; indeed it may be doubted whether
Europe has produced its metaphysical equivalent. And yet, if I have
correctly presented its principles, it will probably appear that its
primary conception is not altogether consistently carried out in the
development of the details. Great as was the intellectual ability of its
author--so great as to extort our profoundest, though it may be
reluctant admiration--there are nevertheless moments in which it appears
that his movement is becoming wavering and unsteady--that he is failing
to handle his ponderous weapon with self-balanced power. This is
particularly the case in that point at which he is passing from the
consideration of pure force to the unavoidable consideration of visible
nature, the actual existence of which he seems to be obliged to deny.
But then I am not sure that I have caught with precision his exact train
of thought, or have represented his intention with critical correctness.
Considering the extraordinary power he elsewhere displays, it is more
probable that I have failed to follow his meaning, than that he has
been, on the points in question, incompetent to deal with his task.

The works of Gotama, under the title of "Verbal Instructions," are
published by the Chinese government in four languages--Thibetan, Mongol,
Mantchou, Chinese--from the imperial press at Pekin, in eight hundred
large volumes. They are presented to the Lama monasteries--a magnificent
gift.

[Sidenote: Displacement of its higher ideas by base ones.]

[Sidenote: Its anthropocentric phase remains, its philosophical
declining.]

In speaking of Vedaism, I have mentioned the manner in which its more
elevated conceptions were gradually displaced by those of a base grade
coming into prominence; and here it may be useful in like manner to
speak of the corresponding debasement of Buddhism. Its practical working
was the introduction of an immense monastic system, offering many points
of resemblance to the subsequent one of Europe. Since its object was
altogether of a personal kind, the attainment of individual happiness,
it was not possible that it should do otherwise than engender extreme
selfishness. It impressed on each man to secure his own salvation, no
matter what became of all others. Of what concern to him were parents,
wife, children, friends, country, so long as he attained Nirwana!

[Sidenote: Its legends and miracles.]

Long before Buddhism had been expelled from India by the victorious
Brahmins, it had been overlaid with popular ornaments. It had its
fables, legends, miracles. Its humble devotees implicitly believed that
Mahamia, the mother of Gotama, an immaculate virgin, conceived him
through a divine influence, and that thus he was of the nature of God
and man conjoined; that he stood upon his feet and spoke at the moment
of his birth; that at five months of age he sat unsupported in the air;
that at the moment of his conversion he was attacked by a legion of
demons, and that in his penance-fasting he reduced himself to the
allowance of one pepper-pod a day; that he had been incarnate many times
before, and that on his ascension through the air to heaven he left his
footprint on a mountain in Ceylon; that there is a paradise of gems, and
flowers, and feasts, and music for the good, and a hell of sulphur, and
flames, and torment for the wicked; that it is lawful to resort to the
worship of images, but that those are in error who deify men, or pay
respect to relics; that there are spirits, and goblins, and other
superhuman forms; that there is a queen of heaven; that the reading of
the Scriptures is in itself an actual merit, whether its precepts are
followed or not; that prayer may be offered by saying a formula by rote,
or even by turning the handle of a mill from which invocations written
on paper issue forth; that the revealer of Buddhism is to be regarded as
the religious head of the world.

The reader cannot fail to remark the resemblance of these ideas to some
of those of the Roman Church. When a knowledge of the Oriental forms of
religion was first brought into Europe, and their real origin was not
understood, it was supposed that this coincidence had arisen through the
labours of Nestorian, or other ancient missionaries from the West, and
hopes were entertained that the conversion of Eastern Asia would be
promoted thereby. But this expectation was disappointed, and that which
many good men regarded as a preparation for Christianity proved to be a
stumbling-block in its way. It is not improbable that the
pseudo-Christianity of the Chinese revolters, of which so much has
recently been said, is of the same nature, and will end with the same
result.

[Sidenote: The great diffusion of Buddhism.]

[Sidenote: Its practical godlessness.]

Decorated with these extraneous but popular recommendations, Buddhism
has been embraced by two-fifths of the human race. It has a prodigious
literature, great temples, many monuments. Its monasteries are scattered
from the north of Tartary almost to the equinoctial line. In these an
education is imparted not unlike that of the European monasteries of the
Middle Ages. It has been estimated that in Tartary one-third of the
population are Lamas. There are single convents containing more than two
thousand individuals; the wealth of the country voluntarily pours into
them. Elementary education is more widely diffused than in Europe: it is
rare to meet with a person who cannot read. Among the priests there are
many who are devout, and, as might be expected, many who are impostors.
It is a melancholy fact that, in China, Buddhism has led the entire
population not only into indifferentism, but into absolute godlessness.
They have come to regard religion as merely a fashion, to be followed
according to one's own taste; that as professed by the state it is a
civil institution necessary for the holding of office, and demanded by
society, but not to be regarded as of the smallest philosophical
importance; that a man is entitled to indulge his views on these matters
just as he is entitled to indulge his taste in the colour and fashion of
his garments; that he has no more right, however, to live without some
religious profession than he has a right to go naked. The Chinese cannot
comprehend how there should be animosities arising on matters of such
doubtful nature and trivial concern. The formula under which they live
is: "Religions are many; reason is one; we are brothers." They smile at
the credulity of the good-natured Tartars, who believe in the wonders of
miracle-workers, for they have miracle-workers who can perform the most
supernatural cures, who can lick red-hot iron, who can cut open their
bowels, and, by passing their hand over the wound, make themselves whole
again--who can raise the dead. In China, these miracles, with all their
authentications, have descended to the conjurer, and are performed for
the amusement of children. The common expressions of that country betray
the materialism and indifferentism of the people, and their consequent
immorality. "The prisons," they say, "are locked night and day, but they
are always full; the temples are always open, and yet there is nobody in
them." Of the dead they say, with an exquisite refinement of euphemism,
"He has saluted the world." The Lazarist Huc, on whose authority many of
these statements are made, testifies that they die, indeed, with
incomparable tranquillity, just as animals die; and adds, with a bitter,
and yet profoundly true sarcasm, they are what many in Europe are
wanting to be.

* * * * *

From the theology of India I turn, in the next place, to the
civilization of Egypt.

[Sidenote: Egypt a mysterious country to Europe.]

[Sidenote: Its reported wonders.]

The ancient system of isolation which for many thousand years had been
the policy of Egypt was overthrown by Psammetichus about B.C. 670. Up to
that time the inhabitants of that country had been shut out from all
Mediterranean or European contact by a rigorous exclusion exceeding that
until recently practised in China and Japan. As from the inmates of the
happy valley, in Rasselas, no tidings escaped to the outer world, so, to
the European, the valley of the Nile was a region of mysteries and
marvels. At intervals of centuries, individuals, like Cecrops and
Danaus, had fled to other countries, and had attached the gratitude of
posterity to their memories for the religion, laws, or other
institutions of civilization they had conferred. The traditions
connected with them served only to magnify those uncertain legends met
with all over Asia Minor, Greece, Italy, Sicily, of the prodigies and
miracles that adventurous pirates reported they had actually seen in
their stealthy visits to the enchanted valley--great pyramids covering
acres of land, their tops rising to the heavens, yet each pyramid
nothing more than the tombstone of a king; colossi sitting on granite
thrones, the images of Pharaohs who lived in the morning of the world,
still silently looking upon the land which thousands of years before
they had ruled; of these, some obedient to the sun, sainted his approach
when touched by his morning rays; obelisks of prodigious height, carved
by superhuman skill from a single block of stone, and raised by
superhuman power erect on their everlasting pedestals, their faces
covered with mysterious hieroglyphs, a language unknown to the vulgar,
telling by whom and for what they had been constructed; temples, the
massive leaning and lowering walls of which were supported by countless
ranges of statues; avenues of sphinxes, through the shadows of which,
grim and silent, the portals of fanes might be approached; catacombs
containing the mortal remains of countless generations, each corpse
awaiting, in mysterious embalmment, a future life; labyrinths of many
hundred chambers and vaults, into which whoso entered without a clue
never again escaped, but in the sameness and solitude of those endless
windings found his sepulchre. It is impossible for us to appreciate the
sentiment of religious awe with which the Mediterranean people looked
upon the enchanted, the hoary, the civilized monarchy on the banks of
the Nile. As Bunsen says, "Egypt was to the Greeks a sphinx with an
intellectual human countenance."

[Sidenote: Its history: the old empire; the Hycksos; the new empire.]

[Sidenote: Opening of the Egyptian ports.]

Her solitude, however, had not been altogether unbroken. After a
duration of 1076 years, and the reign of thirty-eight kings, illustrated
by the production of the most stupendous works ever accomplished by the
hand of man, some of which, as the Pyramids, remain to our times, the
old empire, which had arisen from the union of the upper and lower
countries, had been overthrown by the Hycksos, or shepherd kings, a race
of Asiatic invaders. These, in their turn, had held dominion for more
than five centuries, when an insurrection put an end to their power, and
gave birth to the new empire, some of the monarchs of which, for their
great achievements, are still remembered. In the middle period of this
new empire those events in early Hebrew history took place--the visit
of Abram and the elevation of Joseph--which are related with such
simplicity in the Holy Scriptures. With varied prosperity, the new
empire continued until the time of Psammetichus, who, in a civil war,
having attained supreme power by the aid of Greek mercenaries, overthrew
the time-honoured policy of all the old dynasties, and occasioned the
first grand impulse in the intellectual life of Europe by opening the
ports of Egypt, and making that country accessible to the blue-eyed and
red-haired barbarians of the North.

[Sidenote: This compels Egypt to become a maritime state,]

[Sidenote: and brings on collisions with the Babylonians.]

[Sidenote: Opening of the Suez Canal.]

[Sidenote: Circumnavigation of Africa.]

[Sidenote: History of the Great Canal.]

It is scarcely possible to exaggerate the influence of this event upon
the progress of Europe. An immense extension of Greek commerce by the
demand for the products of the Euxine as well as of the Mediterranean
was the smallest part of the advantage. As to Egypt herself, it entailed
a complete change in her policy, domestic and foreign. In the former
respect, the employment of the mercenaries was the cause of the entire
emigration of the warrior caste, and in the latter it brought things to
such a condition, that, if Egypt would continue to exist, she must
become a maritime state. Her geographical position for the purposes of
commerce was excellent; with the Red Sea on the east and the
Mediterranean on the north, she was the natural entrepôt between Asia
and Europe, as was shown by the prosperity of Alexandria in later ages.
But there was a serious difficulty in the way of her becoming a naval
power; no timber suitable for ship-building grew in the country--indeed,
scarcely enough was to be found to satisfy the demands for the
construction of houses and coffins for the dead. The early Egyptians,
like the Hindus, had a religious dread of the sea, but their
exclusiveness was, perhaps, not a little dependent on their want of
material for ship-building. Egypt was therefore compelled to enter on a
career of foreign conquest, and at all hazards possess herself of the
timber-growing districts of Syria. It was this urgent necessity which
led to her collisions with the Mesopotamian kings, and drew in its train
of consequence the sieges, sacks, and captivities of Jerusalem, the
metropolis of a little state lying directly between the contending
powers, and alternately disturbed by each. Of the necessity of this
course of policy in the opinion of the Egyptian kings, we can have no
better proof than the fact that Psammetichus himself continued the siege
of Azotus for twenty-nine years; that his son Necho reopened the canal
between the Nile at Bubastes and the Red Sea at Suez--it was wide enough
for two ships to pass--and on being resisted therein by the priests, who
feared that it might weaken the country strategically, attempted the
circumnavigation of Africa, and actually accomplished it. In those times
such expeditions were not undertaken as mere matters of curiosity.
Though this monarch also despatched investigators to ascertain the
sources of the Nile, and determine the causes of its rise, it was
doubtless in the hope of making such knowledge of use in a material or
economical point of view, and therefore it may be supposed that the
circumnavigation of Africa was undertaken upon the anticipated or
experienced failure of the advantages expected to arise from the
reopening of the canal; for the great fleets which Necho and his father
had built could not be advantageously handled unless they could be
transferred as circumstances required, either by the circumnavigation or
by the canal, from one sea to the other. The time occupied in passing
round the continent, which appears to have been three years, rendered
the former method of little practical use. But the failure experienced,
so far from detracting from the estimation in which we must hold those
kings who could thus display such a breadth of conception and vigour of
execution, must even enhance it. They resumed the policy of the
conqueror Rameses II., who had many centuries before possessed the
timber-growing countries, and whose engineers originally cut the canal
from the Nile to the Red Sea, though the work cost 120,000 lives and
countless treasuries of money. The canal of Rameses, which, in the
course of so many centuries, has become filled up with sand, was thus
cleaned out, as it was again in the reign of the Ptolemies, and again
under the khalifs, and galleys passed from sea to sea. The Persians,
under Darius Hystaspes, also either repaired it, or, as some say,
attempted a new work of the kind; but their engineering must have been
very defective, for they were obliged to abandon their enterprise after
carrying it as far as the bitter lakes, finding that salt water would be
introduced into the Delta. The Suez mouth of the canal of Rameses was
protected by a system of hydraulic works, to meet difficulties arising
from the variable levels of the water. It was reserved for the French
engineer Lesseps in the nineteenth century to cut the direct canal from
the Mediterranean to the Red Sea, an exploit which the Pharaohs and
Ptolemies had considered to be impossible.

[Sidenote: Attempts of the Asiatics on the south Mediterranean shore.]

[Sidenote: Egypt overthrown by Cambyses.]

The Egyptian policy continued by Pharaoh Hophra, who succeeded in the
capture of Sidon, brought on hostilities with the Babylonian kings, who
were now thoroughly awakened to what was going on in Egypt--a collision
which occasioned the expulsion of the Egyptians from Syria, and the
seizure of the lower country by Nebuchadnezzar, who also took vengeance
on King Zedekiah for the assistance Jerusalem had rendered to the
Africans in their projects: that city was razed to the ground, the eyes
of the king put out, and the people carried captive to Babylon, B.C.
568. It is a striking exemplification of the manner in which national
policy will endure through changes of dynasties, that after the
overthrow of Babylon by the Medes, and the transference of power to the
Persians, the policy of controlling the Mediterranean was never for an
instant lost sight of. Attempts were continually made, by operating
alternately on the southern and northern shores, to push westward. The
subsequent history of Rome shows what would have been the consequences
of an uncontrolled possession of the Mediterranean by a great maritime
power. On the occasion of a revolt of Egypt, the Persian King Cambyses
so utterly crushed and desolated it, that from that day to this, though
twenty-four centuries have intervened, it has never been able to recover
its independence. The Persian advance on the south shore toward Carthage
failed because of the indisposition of the Phoenicians to assist in
any operations against that city. We must particularly remark that the
ravaging of Egypt by Cambyses was contemporaneous with the cultivation
of philosophy in the southern Italian towns--somewhat more than five
hundred years before Christ.

[Sidenote: The Fall of Tyre.]

Among the incidents occurring during the struggles between the Egyptian
and Babylonian kings there is one deserving to be brought into
conspicuous prominence, from the importance of its consequences in
European history. It was the taking of Tyre by Nebuchadnezzar. So long
as that city dominated in the Mediterranean, it was altogether
impossible for Greek maritime power to be developed. The strength of
Tyre is demonstrated by her resistance to the whole Babylonian power for
thirteen years, "until every head was bald and every shoulder peeled."
The place was, in the end, utterly destroyed. It was made as bare as the
top of a rock on which the fisherman spreads his nets. The blow thus
struck at the heart of Tyrian commerce could not but be felt at the
utmost extremities. "The isles of the sea were troubled at her
departure." It was during this time that Greece fairly emerged as a
Mediterranean naval power. Nor did the inhabitants of New Tyre ever
recover the ancient position. Their misfortunes had given them a rival.
A re-establishment in an island on the coast was not a restoration of
their supremacy. Carrying out what Greece instinctively felt to be her
national policy, one of the first acts of Alexander's Asiatic campaign,
two hundred and fifty years subsequently, was the siege of the new city,
and, after almost superhuman exertions, its capture, by building a mole
from the mainland. He literally levelled the place to the ground; a
countless multitude was massacred, two thousand persons were crucified,
and Tyrian influence disappeared for ever.

[Sidenote: Foreign epochs in Greek history.]

In early Greek history there are, therefore, two leading foreign events:
1st, the opening of the Egyptian ports, B.C. 670; 2nd, the downfall of
Old Tyre, 573. The effect of the first was chiefly intellectual; that of
the second was to permit the commencement of commercial prosperity and
give life to Athens.

[Sidenote: Antiquity of civilization and art in Egypt.]

At the dawn of European civilization, Egypt was, therefore, in process
of decadence, gradually becoming less and less able to resist its own
interior causes of destruction, or the attempts of its Asiatic rivals,
who eventually brought it to ruin. At the first historical appearance of
the country of the Nile it is hoary and venerable with age. The
beautiful Scripture pictures of the journey of Abram and Sarai, in the
famine, the going down of Joseph, the exodus of the Israelites, all
point to a long-settled system, a tranquil and prosperous state. Do we
ask any proof of the condition of art to which the Egyptians had
attained at the time of their earliest monuments? The masonry of the
Great Pyramid, built thirty-four hundred years before Christ, has never
yet been surpassed. So accurately was that wonder of the world planned
and constructed, that at this day the variation of the compass may
actually be determined by the position of its sides; yet, when Jacob
went into Egypt, that pyramid had been built as many centuries as have
intervened from the birth of Christ to the present day. If we turn from
the monuments to their inscriptions, there are renewed evidences of
antiquity. The hieroglyphic writing had passed through all its stages of
formation; its principles had become ascertained and settled long before
we gain the first glimpse of it; the decimal and duodecimal systems of
arithmetic were in use; the arts necessary in hydraulic engineering,
massive architecture, and the ascertainment of the boundaries of land,
had reached no insignificant degree of perfection. Indeed, there would
be but very little exaggeration in affirming that we are practically as
near the early Egyptian ages as was Herodotus himself. Well might the
Egyptian priests say to the earliest Greek philosophers, "You Greeks are
mere children, talkative and vain; you know nothing at all of the past."

[Sidenote: Prehistoric life of Egypt.]

Traces of the prehistoric, premonumental life of Egypt are still
preserved in the relics of its language, and the well-known principles
of its religion. Of the former, many of the words are referable to
Indo-Germanic roots, an indication that the country at an early period
must have been conquered from its indigenous African possessors by
intrusive expeditions from Asia; and this is supported by the remarkable
principles of Egyptian religion. The races of Central Asia had at a
very early time attained to the psychical stage of monotheism. Africa is
only now emerging from the basest fetichism; the negro priest is still a
sorcerer and rain-maker. The Egyptian religion, as is well known,
provided for the vulgar a suitable worship of complex idolatry, but for
those emancipated from superstition it offered true and even noble
conceptions. The coexistence of these apparent incompatibilities in the
same faith seems incapable of any other explanation than that of an
amalgamation of two distinct systems, just as occurred again many ages
subsequently under Ptolemy Soter.

[Sidenote: Influence of Egypt on the knowledge and art of Europe.]

As a critical attention is being bestowed by modern scholars upon
Egyptian remains, we learn more truly what is the place in history of
that venerable country. It is their boast that the day is not distant
when there will be no more difficulty in translating a page of
hieroglyphics than in translating one of Latin or Greek. Even now, what
a light has been thrown on all branches of ancient literature, science,
art, mythology, domestic life, by researches which it may be said
commenced only yesterday! From Egypt, it now appears, were derived the
prototypes of the Greek architectural orders, and even their ornaments
and conventional designs; thence came the models of the Greek and
Etruscan vases; thence came many of the ante-Homeric legends--the
accusation of the dead, the trial before the judges of hell; the reward
and punishment of every man, from the Pharaoh who had descended from his
throne to the slave who had escaped from his chain; the dog Cerberus,
the Stygian stream, the Lake of Oblivion, the piece of money, Charon and
his boat, the fields of Aahlu or Elysium, and the islands of the
blessed; thence came the first ritual for the dead, litanies to the sun,
and painted or illuminated missals; thence came the dogma of a queen of
heaven. What other country can offer such noble and enduring edifices to
the gods; temples with avenues of sphinxes; massive pylons adorned with
obelisks in front, which even imperial Rome and modern Paris have not
thought it beneath them to appropriate; porticoes and halls of columns,
on which were carved the portraits of kings and effigies of the gods?
On the walls of the tombs still remain Pthah, the creator, and Neph, the
divine spirit, sitting at the potters wheel, turning clay to form men;
and Athor, who receives the setting sun into her arms; and Osiris, the
judge of the dead. The granite statues have outlived the gods!

[Sidenote: The hieroglyphics.]

Moreover, the hieroglyphics furnish intrinsic evidence that among this
people arose the earliest attempts at the perpetuation and imparting of
ideas by writing. Though doubtless it was in the beginning a mere
picture-writing, like that of the Mexicans, it had already, at the first
moment we meet with it, undergone a twofold development--ideographic and
phonetic; the one expressing ideas, the other sounds. Under the
Macedonian kings the hieroglyphics had become restricted to religious
uses, showing conclusively that the old priesthood had never recovered
the terrible blows struck against it by Cambyses and Ochus. From that
time forth they were less and less known. It is said that one of the
Roman emperors was obliged to offer a reward for the translation of an
obelisk. To the early Christian the hieroglyphic inscription was an
abomination, as full of the relics of idolatry, and indicating an
inspiration of the devil. He defaced the monuments wherever he could
make them yield; and in many cases has preserved them for us by
plastering them over to hide them from his sight.

In those enigmatical characters an extensive literature once existed, of
which the celebrated books of Hermes were perhaps a corruption or a
relic; a literature embracing compositions on music, astronomy,
cosmogony, geography, medicine, anatomy, chemistry, magic, and many
other subjects that have amused the curiosity of man. Yet of those
characters the most singular misconceptions have been entertained almost
to our own times. Thus, in 1802, Palin thought that the papyri were the
Psalms of David done into Chinese, Lenoir that they were Hebrew
documents; it was even asserted that the inscriptions in the temple of
Denderah were the 100th Psalm, a pleasant ecclesiastical conceit,
reminding one who has seen in Egyptian museums old articles of brass and
glass, of the stories delivered down from hand to hand, that brass was
first made at the burning of Corinth, and glass first discovered by
shipwrecked mariners, who propped their kettle, while it boiled, on
pieces of nitre.

[Sidenote: Antiquity of the Egyptian monarchy.]

[Sidenote: Causes of the rise of civilization.]

Thousands of years have passed since the foundation of the first
Egyptian dynasty. The Pyramids have seen the old empire, the Hycksos
monarchs, the New Empire, the Persian, the Macedonian, the Roman, the
Mohammedan. They have stood while the heavens themselves have changed.
They were already "five hundred years old when the Southern Cross
disappeared from the horizon of the countries of the Baltic." The
pole-star itself is a newcomer to them. Humboldt, referring to these
incidents, remarks that "the past seems to be visibly nearer to us when
we thus connect its measurement with great and memorable events." No
country has had such a varied history as this birthplace of European
civilization. Through the darkness of fifty centuries we may not be able
to discern the motives of men, but through periods very much longer we
can demonstrate the conditions of Nature. If nations, in one sense,
depend on the former, in a higher sense they depend on the latter. It
was not without reason that the Egyptians took the lead in Mediterranean
civilization. The geographical structure of their country surpasses even
its hoary monuments in teaching us the conditions under which that
people were placed. Nature is a surer guide than the traces of man,
whose works are necessarily transitory. The aspect of Egypt has changed
again and again; its structure, since man has inhabited it, never. The
fields have disappeared, but the land remains.

Why was it that civilization thus rose on the banks of the Nile, and not
upon those of the Danube or Mississippi? Civilization depends on climate
and agriculture. In Egypt the harvests may ordinarily be foretold and
controlled. Of few other parts of the world can the same be said. In
most countries the cultivation of the soil is uncertain. From seed-time
to harvest, the meteorological variations are so numerous and great,
that no skill can predict the amount of yearly produce. Without any
premonition, the crops may be cut off by long-continued droughts, or
destroyed by too much rain. Nor is it sufficient that a requisite amount
of water should fall; to produce the proper effect, it must fall at
particular periods. The labour of the farmer is at the mercy of the
winds and clouds.

With difficulty, therefore, could a civilized state originate under such
circumstances. So long as life is a scene of uncertainty, the hope of
yesterday blighted by the realities of to day, man is the maker of
expedients, but not of laws. In his solicitude as to his approaching
lot, he has neither time nor desire to raise his eyes to the heavens to
watch and record their phenomena; no leisure to look upon himself, and
consider what and where he is. In the imperious demand for a present
support, he dares not venture on speculative attempts at ameliorating
his state; he is doomed to be a helpless, isolated, spell-bound savage,
or, if not isolated, the companion of other savages as care-worn as
himself. Under such circumstances, however, if once the preliminary
conditions and momentum of civilization be imparted to him, the very
things which have hitherto tended to depress him produce an opposite
effect. Instead of remaining in sameness and apathy, the vicissitudes to
which he is now exposed urge him onward; and thus it is that, though the
civilization of Europe depended for its commencement on the sameness and
stability of an African climate, the conquests of Nature which mark its
more advanced stage have been made in the trying life of the temperate
zone.

[Sidenote: Agriculture in a rainless country.]

There is a country in which man is not the sport of the seasons, in
which he need have no anxieties for his future well-being--a country in
which the sunshines and heats vary very little from year to year. In the
Thebaid heavy rain is said to be a prodigy. But, at the time when the
Dog-star rises with the sun, the river begins to swell; a tranquil
inundation by degrees covering the land, at once watering and enriching
it. If the Nilometer which measures the height of the flood indicates
eight cubits, the crops will be scanty; but if it reaches fourteen
cubits, there will be a plentiful harvest. In the spring of the year it
may be known how the fields will be in the autumn. Agriculture is
certain in Egypt, and there man first became civilized. The date-tree,
moreover, furnishes to Africa a food almost without expense. The climate
renders it necessary to use, for the most part, vegetable diet, and but
little clothing is required.

[Sidenote: Rainless countries of the West.]

The American counterpart of Egypt in this physical condition is Peru,
the coast of which is also a rainless district. Peru is the Egypt of
civilization of the Western continent. There is also a rainless strand
on the Pacific coast of Mexico. It is an incident full of meaning in the
history of human progress, that, in regions far apart, civilization thus
commenced in rainless countries.

In Upper Egypt, the cradle of civilization, the influence of atmospheric
water is altogether obliterated, for, in an agricultural point of view,
the country is rainless. Variable meteorological conditions are there
eliminated.

[Sidenote: Inundations of the Nile.]

[Sidenote: Gradual rise of the whole country.]

Where the Nile breaks through the mountain 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 countries among 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 expanse of the tropical Indian
Ocean. Thus dried, the east wind pursues its solemn course over the
solitudes of Central Africa, a cloudless and a 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, the Blue
Nile, arrives first; but, soon after, that of the White Nile makes its
appearance, and from the overflowing banks not only water, but a rich
and fertilizing mud, is discharged. It is owing to the solid material
thus brought down that the river in countless ages has raised its own
bed, and has embanked itself with shelving deposits that descend on
either side toward the desert. For this reason it is that the inundation
is seen on the edge of the desert first, and, as the flood rises, the
whole country up to the river itself is laid under water. By the middle
of September the supply begins to fail and the waters abate; by the end
of October the stream has returned to its usual limits. The fields are
left covered with a fertile deposit, the maximum quantity of which is
about six inches thick in a hundred years. It is thought that the bed of
the river rises four feet in a thousand years, and the fertilized land
in its width continually encroaches on the desert. Since the reign of
Amenophis III. it has increased by one-third. He lived B.C. 1430. There
have accumulated round the pedestal of his Colossus seven feet of mud.

[Sidenote: Geological age of Egypt.]

In the recent examinations made by the orders of the Viceroy of Egypt,
close by the fallen statue of Rameses II., at Memphis, who reigned,
according to Lepsius, from B.C. 1394 to B.C. 1328, a shaft was sunk to
more than 24 feet. The water which then infiltrated compelled a resort
to boring, which was continued until 41 feet 4-1/2 inches were reached.
The whole consisted of Nile deposits, alternate layers of loam and sand
of the same composition throughout. From the greatest depth a fragment
of pottery was obtained. Ninety-five of these borings were made in
various places, but on no occasion was solid rock reached. The organic
remains were all recent; not a trace of an extinct fossil occurred, but
an abundance of the residues of burnt bricks and pottery. In their
examination from Essouan to Cairo, the French estimated the mud deposit
to be five inches for each century. From an examination of the results
at Heliopolis, Mr. Horner makes it 3·18 inches. The Colossus of Rameses
II. is surrounded by a sediment nine feet four inches deep, fairly
estimated. Its date of erection was about 3215 years ago, which gives
3-1/2 inches per century. But beneath it similar layers continue to the
depth of 30 feet, which, at the same rate, would give 13,500 years, to
A.D. 1854, at which time the examination was made. Every precaution
seems to have been taken to obtain accurate results.

[Sidenote: Its geography and topography.]

The extent of surface affected by the inundations of the Nile is, in a
geographical point of view, altogether insignificant; yet, such as it
was, it constituted Egypt. Commencing at the Cataract of Essouan, at
the sacred island of Philæ, on which to this day here and there the
solitary palm-tree looks down, it reached to the Mediterranean Sea, from
24° 3´ N. to 31° 37´ N. The river runs in a valley, bounded on one side
by the eastern and on the other by the Libyan chain of mountains, and of
which the average breadth is about seven miles, the arable land,
however, not averaging more than five and a half. At the widest place it
is ten and three-quarters, at the narrowest two. The entire surface of
irrigated and fertile land in the Delta is 4500 square miles; the arable
land of Egypt, 2255 square miles; and in the Fyoom, 340 square miles, an
insignificant surface, yet it supported seven millions of people.

Here agriculture was so precise that it might almost be pronounced a
mathematical art. The disturbances arising from atmospheric conditions
were eliminated, and the variations, as connected with the supply of
river-water, ascertained in advance. The priests proclaimed how the
flood stood on the Nilometer, and the husbandman made corresponding
preparations for a scanty or an abundant harvest.

In such a state of things, it was an obvious step to improve upon the
natural conditions by artificial means; dykes, and canals, and
flood-gates, with other hydraulic apparatus, would, even in the
beginning of society, unavoidably be suggested, that in one locality the
water might be detained longer; in another, shut off when there was
danger of excess; in another, more abundantly introduced.

[Sidenote: Control of agriculture by the government.]

There followed, as a consequence of this condition of things, the
establishment of a strong government, having a direct control over the
agriculture of the state by undertaking and supporting these artificial
improvements, and sustaining itself by a tax cheerfully paid, and
regulated in amount by the quantity of water supplied from the river to
each estate. Such, indeed, was the fundamental political system of the
country. The first king of the old empire undertook to turn the river
into a new channel he made for it, a task which might seem to demand
very able engineering, and actually accomplished it. It is more than
five thousand years since Menes lived. There must have preceded his
times many centuries, during which knowledge and skill had been
increasing, before such a work could even have been contemplated.

[Sidenote: Topographical changes occasioned by the Nile.]

I shall not indulge in any imaginary description of the manner in which,
under such favourable circumstances, the powers of the human mind were
developed and civilization arose. In inaccessible security, the
inhabitants of this valley were protected on the west by a burning sandy
desert, on the east by the Red Sea. Nor shall I say anything more of
those remote geological times when the newly-made river first flowed
over a rocky and barren desert on its way to the Mediterranean Sea; nor
how, in the course of ages, it had by degrees laid down a fertile
stratum, embanking itself in the rich soil it had borne from the
tropical mountains. Yet it is none the less true that such was the slow
construction of Egypt as a habitable country; such were the gradual
steps by which it was fitted to become the seat of man. The pulse of its
life-giving artery makes but one beat in a year; what, then, are a few
hundreds of centuries in such a process?

[Sidenote: The inundations lead to the study of astronomy.]

The Egyptians had, at an early period, observed that the rising of the
Nile coincided with the heliacal rising of Sirius, the Dog-star, and
hence they very plausibly referred it to celestial agencies. Men are
ever prone to mistake coincidences for causes; and thus it came to pass
that the appearance of that star on the horizon at the rising of the sun
was not only viewed as the signal, but as the cause of the inundations.
Its coming to the desired position might, therefore, be well expected,
and it was soon observed that this took place with regularity at periods
of about 360 days. This was the first determination of the length of the
year. It is worthy of remark, as showing how astronomy and religious
rites were in the beginning connected, that the priests of the
mysterious temple of Philæ placed before the tomb of Osiris every
morning 360 vases of milk, each one commemorating one day, thus showing
that the origin of that rite was in those remote ages when it was
thought that the year was 360 days long. It was doubtless such
circumstances that led the Egyptians to the cultivation of historical
habits. In this they differed from the Hindus, who kept no records.

[Sidenote: The philosophy of star-worship.]

The Dog-star Sirius is the most splendid star in the heavens; to the
Egyptian the inundation was the most important event upon earth.
Mistaking a coincidence for a cause, he was led to the belief that when
that brilliant star emerged in the morning from the rays of the sun, and
began to assert its own inherent power, the sympathetic river, moved
thereby, commenced to rise. A false inference like this soon dilated
into a general doctrine; for if one star could in this way manifest a
direct control over the course of terrestrial affairs, why should not
another--indeed, why should not all? Moreover, it could not have escaped
notice that the daily tides of the Red Sea are connected with the
movements and position of the sun and moon, following those luminaries
in the time of their occurrence, and being determined by their
respective position as to amount at spring and at neap. But the
necessary result of such a view is no other than the admission of the
astrological influence of the heavenly bodies; first, as respects
inanimate nature, and then as respects the fortune and fate of men. It
is not until the vast distance of the starry bodies is suspected that
man begins to feel the necessity of a mediator between him and them, and
star-worship passes to its second phase.

To what part of the world could the Egyptian travel without seeing in
the skies the same constellations? Far from the banks of the Nile, in
the western deserts, in Syria, in Arabia, the stars are the same. They
are omnipresent; for we may lose sight of the things of the earth, but
not of those of the heavens. The air of fate-like precision with which
their appointed movements are accomplished, their solemn silence, their
incomprehensible distances, might satisfy an observer that they are far
removed from the influences of all human power, though, perhaps, they
may be invoked by human prayer.

[Sidenote: Principles of Egyptian theology.]

Thus star-worship found for itself a plausible justification. The
Egyptian system, at its highest development, combined the adoration of
the heavenly bodies--the sun, the moon, Venus, &c., with the deified
attributes of God. The great and venerable divinities, as Osiris, Pthah,
Amun, were impersonations of such attributes, just as we speak of the
Creator, the Almighty. It was held that not only has God never appeared
upon earth in the human form, but that such is altogether an
impossibility, since he is the animating principle of the entire
universe, visible nature being only a manifestation of him.

[Sidenote: God. Trinities and their persons.]

These impersonated attributes were arranged in various trinities, in
each of which the third member is a procession from the other two, the
doctrine and even expressions in this respect being full of interest to
one who studies the gradual development of comparative theology in
Europe. Thus from Amun by Maut proceeds Khonso, from Osiris by Isis
proceeds Horus, from Neph by Saté proceeds Anouké. While, therefore, it
was considered unlawful to represent God except by his attributes, these
trinities and their persons offered abundant means of idolatrous worship
for the vulgar. It was admitted that there had been terrestrial
manifestations of these divine attributes for the salvation of men. Thus
Osiris was incarnate in the flesh: he fell a sacrifice to the evil
principle, and, after his death and resurrection, became the appointed
judge of the dead. In his capacity of President of the West, or of the
region of the setting stars, he dwells in the under world, which is
traversed by the sun at night.

[Sidenote: Incarnations; fall of man; redemption.]

[Sidenote: The future judgment.]

The Egyptian priests affirmed that nothing is ever annihilated; to die
is therefore only to assume a new form. Herodotus says that they were
the first to discover that the soul is immortal, their conception of it
being that it is an emanation from or a particle of the universal soul,
which in a less degree animates all animals and plants, and even
inorganic things. Their dogma that there had been divine incarnations
obliged them to assert that there had been a fall of man, this seeming
to be necessary to obtain a logical argument in justification of
prodigies so great. For the relief of the guilty soul, they prescribed
in this life fasts and penances, and in the future a transmigration
through animals for purification. At death, the merits of the soul were
ascertained by a formal trial before Osiris in the shadowy region of
Amenti--the under world--in presence of the four genii of that realm,
and of forty-two assessors. To this judgment the shade was conducted by
Horus, who carried him past Cerberus, a hippopotamus, the gaunt guardian
of the gate. He stood by in silence while Anubis weighed his heart in
the scales of justice. If his good works preponderated, he was dismissed
to the fields of Aahlu--the Elysian Fields; if his evil, he was
condemned to transmigration.

[Sidenote: The trial of the dead.]

[Sidenote: Origin of the Greek Hades.]

But that this doctrine of a judgment in another world might not decline
into an idle legend, it was enforced by a preparatory trial in this--a
trial of fearful and living import. From the sovereign to the meanest
subject, every man underwent a sepulchral inquisition. As soon as any
one died, his body was sent to the embalmers, who kept it forty days,
and for thirty-two in addition the family mourned, the mummy, in its
coffin, was placed erect in an inner chamber of the house. Notice was
then sent to the forty-two assessors of the district; and on an
appointed day, the corpse was carried to the sacred lake, of which every
nome, and, indeed, every large town, had one toward the west. Arrived on
its shore, the trial commenced; any person might bring charges against
the deceased, or speak in his behalf; but woe to the false accuser. The
assessors then passed sentence according to the evidence before them: if
they found an evil life, sepulture was denied, and, in the midst of
social disgrace, the friends bore back the mummy to their home, to be
redeemed by their own good works in future years; or, if too poor to
give it a place of refuge, it was buried on the margin of the lake, the
culprit ghost waiting and wandering for a hundred years. On these
Stygian shores the bones of some are still dug up in our day: they have
remained unsepulchred for more than thirty times their predestined
century. Even to wicked kings a burial had thus been denied. But, if the
verdict of the assessors was favourable, a coin was paid to the boatman
Charon for ferriage; a cake was provided for the hippopotamus Cerberus;
they rowed across the lake in the baris, or death-boat, the priest
announcing to Osiris and the unearthly assessors the good deeds of the
deceased. Arriving on the opposite shore, the procession walked in
solemn silence, and the mummy was then deposited in its final
resting-place--the catacombs.

[Sidenote: Ceremonies, creeds, oracles, prophecy.]

From this it may be gathered that the Egyptian religion did not remain a
mere speculative subject, but was enforced on the people by the most
solemn ceremonies. Moreover, in the great temples, grand processional
services were celebrated, the precursors of some that still endure.
There were sacrifices of meat-offerings, libations, incense. The
national double creed, adapted in one branch to the vulgar, in the other
to the learned, necessarily implied mysteries; some of these were
avowedly transported to Greece. The machinery of oracles was resorted
to. The Greek oracles were of Egyptian origin. So profound was the
respect paid to their commands that even the sovereigns were obliged to
obey them. It was thus that a warning from the oracle of Amun caused
Necho to stop the construction of his canal. For the determination of
future events, omens were studied, entrails inspected, and nativities
were cast.

CHAPTER IV.

GREEK AGE OF INQUIRY.

RISE AND DECLINE OF PHYSICAL SPECULATION.

ITALIAN PHILOSOPHY _depends on Numbers and Harmonies.--It
reproduces the Egyptian and Hindu Doctrine of Transmigration._

ELEATIC PHILOSOPHY _presents a great Advance, indicating a
rapid Approach to Oriental Ideas.--It assumes a Pantheistic
Aspect._

_Commencement of the Athenian higher Analysis.--It is
conducted by_ THE SOPHISTS, _who reject Philosophy, Religion,
and even Morality, and end in Atheism._

_Political Dangers of the higher Analysis.--Illustration from
the Middle Ages._

[Sidenote: Origin of Greek philosophy.]

In Chapter II. I have described the origin and decline of Greek
Mythology; in this, I am to relate the first European attempt at
philosophizing. The Ionian systems spring directly out of the
contemporary religious opinions, and appear as a phase in Greek
comparative theology.

[Sidenote: Its imperfections.]

Contrasted with the psychical condition of India, we cannot but be
struck with the feebleness of these first European efforts. They
correspond to that period in which the mind has shaken off its ideas of
sorcery, but has not advanced beyond geocentral and anthropocentral
conceptions. As is uniformly observed, as soon as man has collected
what he considers to be trustworthy data, he forthwith applies them to a
cosmogony, and develops pseudo-scientific systems. It is not until a
later period that he awakens to the suspicion that we have no absolute
knowledge of truth.

The reader, who might, perhaps, be repelled by the apparent
worthlessness of the succession of Greek opinions now to be described,
will find them assume an interest, if considered in the aggregate, or
viewed as a series of steps or stages of European approach to
conclusions long before arrived at in Egypt and India. Far in advance of
anything that Greece can offer, the intellectual history of India
furnishes systems at once consistent and imposing--systems not remaining
useless speculations, but becoming inwoven in social life.

[Sidenote: Commences in Asia Minor.]

Greek philosophy is considered as having originated with Thales, who,
though of Phoenician descent, was born at Miletus, a Greek colony in
Asia Minor, about B.C. 640. At that time, as related in the last
chapter, the Egyptian ports had been opened to foreigners by
Psammetichus. In the civil war which that monarch had been waging with
his colleagues, he owed his success to Ionian and other Greek
mercenaries whom he had employed; but, though proving victor in the
contest, his political position was such as to compel him to depart from
the maxims followed in his country for so many thousand years, and to
permit foreigners to have access to it. Hitherto the Europeans had been
only known to the Egyptians as pirates and cannibals.

[Sidenote: Doctrine of Thales]

[Sidenote: is derived from Egypt.]

[Sidenote: Importance of water in Egypt.]

From the doctrine of Thales, it may be inferred that, though he had
visited Egypt, he had never been in communication with its sources of
learning, but had merely mingled among the vulgar, from whom he had
gathered the popular notion that the first principle is water. The state
of things in Egypt suggests that this primitive dogma of European
philosophy was a popular notion in that country. With but little care on
the part of men the fertilizing Nile-water yielded those abundant crops
which made Egypt the granary of the Old World. It might therefore be
said, both philosophically and facetiously, that the first principle of
all things is water. The harvests depended on it, and, through them,
animals and man. The government of the country was supported by it, for
the financial system was founded on a tax paid by the proprietors of the
land for the use of the public sluices and aqueducts. There was not a
peasant to whom it was not apparent that water is the first principle of
all things, even of taxation; and, since it was not only necessary to
survey lands to ascertain the surface that had been irrigated, but to
redetermine their boundaries after the subsidence of the flood, even the
scribes and surveyors might concede that geometry itself was indebted
for its origin to water.

[Sidenote: Thales asserts that water is the first principle.]

If, therefore, in any part of the Old World, this doctrine had both a
vulgar and a philosophical significance, that country was Egypt. We may
picture to ourselves the inquisitive but ill-instructed Thales carried
in some pirate-ship or trading-bark to the mysterious Nile, respecting
which Ionia was full of legends and myths. He saw the aqueducts, canals,
flood-gates, the great Lake Moeris, dug by the hand of man as many
ages before his day as have elapsed from his day to ours; he saw on all
sides the adoration paid to the river, for it had actually become
deified; he learned from the vulgar, with whom alone he came in contact,
their universal belief that all things arise from water--from the vulgar
alone, for, had he ever been taught by the priests, we should have found
traces in his system of the doctrines of emanation, transmigration, and
absorption, which were imported into Greece in later times. We may
interpret the story of Thales on the principles which would apply in the
case of some intelligent Indian who should find his way to the outposts
of a civilized country. Imperfectly acquainted with the language, and
coming in contact with the lower class alone, he might learn their
vulgar philosophy, and carry back the fancied treasure to his home.

As to the profound meaning which some have been disposed to extract from
the dogma of Thales, we shall, perhaps, be warranted in rejecting it
altogether. It has been affirmed that he attempted to concentrate all
supernatural powers in one; to reduce all possible agents to unity; in
short, out of polytheism to bring forth monotheism; to determine the
invariable in the variable; and to ascertain the beginning of things:
that he observed how infinite is the sea; how necessary moisture is to
growth; nay, even how essential it was to the well-being of himself;
"that without moisture his own body would not have been what it was, but
a dry husk falling to pieces." Nor can we adopt the opinion that the
intention of Thales was to establish a coincidence between philosophy
and the popular theology as delivered by Hesiod, who affirms that
Oceanus is one of the parent-gods of Nature. The imputation of
irreligion made against him shows at what an early period the antagonism
of polytheism and scientific inquiry was recognized. But it is possible
to believe that all things are formed out of one primordial substance,
without denying the existence of a creative power. Or, to use the Indian
illustration, the clay may not be the potter.

[Sidenote: Other doctrines of Thales.]

Thales is said to have predicted the solar eclipse which terminated a
battle between the Medes and Lydians, but it has been suggestively
remarked that it is not stated that he predicted the day on which it
should occur. He had an idea that warmth originates from or is nourished
by humidity, and that even the sun and stars derived their aliment out
of the sea at the time of their rising and setting. Indeed, he regarded
them as living beings; obtaining an argument from the phenomena of amber
and the magnet, supposed by him to possess a living soul, because they
have a moving force. Moreover, he taught that the whole world is an
insouled thing, and that it is full of dæmons. Thales had, therefore,
not completely passed out of the stage of sorcery.

His system obtained importance not only from its own plausibility, but
because it was introduced under favourable auspices and at a favourable
time. It came into Asia Minor as a portion of the wisdom of Egypt, and
therefore with a prestige sufficient to assure for it an attentive
reception. But this would have been of little avail had not the mental
culture of Ionia been advanced to a degree suitable for offering to it
conditions of development. Under such circumstances the Egyptian dogma
formed the starting-point for a special method of philosophizing.

[Sidenote: They constitute the starting-point of Ionian philosophy.]

The manner in which that development took place illustrates the vigour
of the Grecian mind. In Egypt a doctrine might exist for thousands of
years, protected by its mere antiquity from controversy or even
examination, and hence sink with the lapse of time into an ineffectual
and lifeless state; but the same doctrine brought into a young community
full of activity would quickly be made productive and yield new results.
As seeds taken from the coffins of mummies, wherein they have been shut
up for thousands of years, when placed under circumstances favourable
for development in a rich soil, and supplied with moisture, have
forthwith, even in our own times, germinated, borne flowers, and matured
new seeds, so the rude philosophy of Thales passed through a like
development. Its tendency is shown in the attempt it at once made to
describe the universe, even before the parts thereof had been
determined.

[Sidenote: Anaximenes asserts that air is the first principle.]

[Sidenote: It is also the soul.]

[Sidenote: The air is God.]

But it is not alone the water or ocean that seems to be infinite, and
capable of furnishing a supply for the origin of all other things. The
air, also, appears to reach as far as the stars. On it, as Anaximenes of
Miletus remarks, "the very earth itself floats like a broad leaf."
Accordingly, this Ionian, stimulated doubtless by the hope of sharing in
or succeeding to the celebrity that Thales had enjoyed for a century,
proposed to substitute for water, as the primitive source of things,
atmospheric air. And, in truth, there seem to be reasons for bestowing
upon it such a pre-eminence. To those who have not looked closely into
the matter, it would appear that water itself is generated from it, as
when clouds are formed, and from them rain-drops, and springs, and
fountains, and rivers, and even the sea. He also attributes infinity to
it, a dogma scarcely requiring any exercise of the imagination, but
being rather the expression of an ostensible fact; for who, when he
looks upward, can discern the boundary of the atmosphere. Anaximenes
also held that even the human soul itself is nothing but air, since life
consists in inhaling and exhaling it, and ceases as soon as that
process stops. He taught also that warmth and cold arise from mere
rarefaction and condensation, and gave as a proof the fact that when we
breathe with the lips drawn together the air is cold, but it becomes
warm when we breathe through the widely-opened mouth. Hence he concluded
that, with a sufficient rarefaction, air might turn into fire, and that
this probably was the origin of the sun and stars, blazing comets, and
other meteors; but if by chance it should undergo condensation, it would
turn into wind and clouds, or, if that operation should be still more
increased, into water, snow, hail, and, at last, even into earth itself.
And since it is seen from the results of breathing that the air is a
life-giving principle to man, nay, even is actually his soul, it would
appear to be a just inference that the infinite air is God and that the
gods and goddesses have sprung from it.

Such was the philosophy of Anaximenes. It was the beginning of that
stimulation of activity by rival schools which played so distinguished a
part in the Greek intellectual movement. Its superiority over the
doctrine of Thales evidently consists in this, that it not only assigns
a primitive substance, but even undertakes to show by observation and
experiment how others arise from it, and transformations occur. As to
the discovery of the obliquity of the ecliptic by the aid of a gnomon
attributed to Anaximenes, it was merely a boast of his vainglorious
countrymen, and altogether beyond the scientific grasp of one who had no
more exact idea of the nature of the earth than that it was "like a
broad leaf floating in the air."

[Sidenote: Diogenes asserts that air is the soul of the world.]

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 different times, turns back again to the same state. He
regarded the entire world as a living being, spontaneously evolving and
transforming itself, and agreed with Anaximenes that the soul of man is
nothing but air, as is also the soul of the world. From this it follows
that the air must be eternal, imperishable, and 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, the
rain, the wind, and fair weather; and whatever object we consider will
be found to have been ordered in the best and most beautiful manner
possible." "But that which has knowledge is that which men call air; it
is it that 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."

[Sidenote: Difficulty of rising above fetichism.]

[Sidenote: Astronomy and chemistry have passed beyond the fetich stage.]

The early cultivator of philosophy emerges with difficulty from
fetichism. The harmony observed among the parts of the world is easily
explained on the hypothesis of a spiritual principle residing in things,
and arranging them by its intelligent volition. It is not at once that
he rises to the conception that all this beauty and harmony are due to
the operation of law. We are so prone to judge of the process of
external things from the modes of our own personal experience, our acts
being determined by the exercise of our wills, that it is with
difficulty we disentangle ourselves from such notions in the explanation
of natural phenomena. Fetichism may be observed in the infancy of many
of the natural sciences. Thus the electrical power of amber was imputed
to a soul residing in that substance, a similar explanation being also
given of the control of the magnet over iron. The movements of the
planetary bodies, Mercury, Venus, Mars, were attributed to an
intelligent principle residing in each, guiding and controlling the
motions, and ordering all things for the best. It was an epoch in the
history of the human mind when astronomy set an example to all other
sciences of shaking off its fetichism, and showing that the intricate
movements of the heavenly bodies are all capable not only of being
explained, but even foretold, if once was admitted the existence of a
simple, yet universal, invariable, and eternal law.

Not without difficulty do men perceive that there is nothing
inconsistent between invariable law and endlessly varying phenomena, and
that it is a more noble view of the government of this world to impute
its order to a penetrating primitive wisdom, which could foresee
consequences throughout a future eternity, and provide for them in the
original plan at the outset, than to invoke the perpetual intervention
of an ever-acting spiritual agency for the purpose of warding off
misfortunes that might happen, and setting things to rights. Chemistry
furnishes us with a striking example--an example very opportune in the
case we are considering--of the doctrine of Diogenes of Apollonia, that
the air is actually a spiritual being; for, on the discovery of several
of the gases by the earlier experimenters, they were not only regarded
as of a spiritual nature, but actually received the name under which
they pass to this day, gheist or gas, from a belief that they were
ghosts. If a labourer descended into a well and was suffocated, as if
struck dead by some invisible hand; if a lamp lowered down burnt for a
few moments with a lurid flame, and was then extinguished; if, in a coal
mine, when the unwary workman exposed a light, on a sudden the place was
filled with flashing flames and thundering explosions, tearing down the
rocks and destroying every living thing in the way, often, too, without
leaving on the dead any marks of violence; what better explanation could
be given of such catastrophes than to impute them to some supernatural
agent? Nor was there any want, in those times, of well-authenticated
stories of unearthly faces and forms seen in such solitudes.

[Sidenote: Origin of psychology.]

The modification made by Diogenes in the theory of Anaximenes, by
converting it from a physical into a psychological system, is important,
as marking the beginning of the special philosophy of Greece. The
investigation of the intellectual development of the universe led the
Greeks to the study of the intellect itself. In his special doctrine,
Diogenes imputed the changeability of the air to its mobility; a
property in which he thought it excelled all other substances, because
it is among the rarest or thinnest of the elements. It is, however, said
by some, who are disposed to transcendentalize his doctrine, that he did
not mean the common atmospheric air, but something more attenuated and
warm; and since, in its purest state, it constitutes the most perfect
intellect, inferior degrees of reason must be owing to an increase of
its density and moisture. Upon such a principle, the whole earth is
animated by the breath of life; the souls of brutes, which differ from
one another so much in intelligence, are only air in its various
conditions of moisture and warmth. He explained the production of the
world through condensation of the earth from air by cold, the warmth
rising upward and forming the sun; in the stars he thought he recognized
the respiratory organs of the world. From the preponderance of moist air
in the constitution of brutes, he inferred that they are like the
insane, incapable of thought, for thickness of the air impedes
respiration, and therefore quick apprehension. From the fact that plants
have no cavities wherein to receive the air, and are altogether
unintelligent, he was led to the principle that the thinking power of
man arises from the flowing of that substance throughout the body in the
blood. He also explained the superior intelligence of men from their
breathing a purer air than the beasts, which carry their nostrils near
the ground. In these crude and puerile speculations we have the
beginning of mental philosophy.

[Sidenote: Modern discoveries as to the relations of the air.]

[Sidenote: Inter-dependence of animals and plants.]

[Sidenote: Agency of the sun.]

I cannot dismiss the system of the Apollonian without setting in
contrast with it the discoveries of modern science respecting the
relations of the air. Toward the world of life it stands in a position
of wonderful interest. Decomposed into its constituents by the skill of
chemistry, it is no longer looked upon as a homogeneous body; its
ingredients have not only been separated, but the functions they
discharge have been ascertained. From one of these, carbonic acid, all
the various forms of plants arise; that substance being decomposed by
the rays of the sun, and furnishing to vegetables carbon, their chief
solid ingredient. All those beautifully diversified organic productions,
from the mosses of the icy regions to the palms characteristic of the
landscapes of the tropics--all those we cast away as worthless weeds,
and those for the obtaining of which we expend the sweat of our
brow--all, without any exception, are obtained from the atmosphere by
the influence of the sun. And since without plants the life of animals
could not be maintained, they constitute the means by which the aërial
material, vivified, as it may be said, by the rays of the sun, is
conveyed even into the composition of man himself. As food, they serve
to repair the waste of the body necessarily occasioned in the acts of
moving and thinking. For a time, therefore, these ingredients, once a
part of the structure of plants, enter as essential constituents in the
structure of animals. Yet it is only in a momentary way, for the
essential condition of animal activity is that there shall be unceasing
interstitial death; not a finger can be lifted without the waste of
muscular material; not a thought arise without the destruction of
cerebral substance. From the animal system the products of decay are
forthwith removed, often by mechanisms of the most exquisite
construction; but their uses are not ended, for sooner or later they
find their way back again into the air, and again serve for the
origination of plants. It is needless to trace these changes in all
their details; the same order or cycle of progress holds good for the
water, the ammonia; they pass from the inorganic to the living state,
and back to the inorganic again; now the same particle is found in the
air next aiding in the composition of a plant, then in the body of an
animal, and back in the air once more. In this perpetual revolution
material particles run, the dominating influence determining and
controlling their movement being in that great centre of our system, the
sun. From him, in the summer days, plants receive, and, as it were,
store up that warmth which, at a subsequent time, is to reappear in the
glow of health of man, or to be rekindled in the blush of shame, or to
consume in the burning fever. Nor is there any limit of time. The heat
we derive from the combustion of stubble came from the sun as it were
only yesterday; but that with which we moderate the rigour of winter
when we burn anthracite or bituminous coal was also derived from the
same source in the ultra-tropical climate of the secondary times,
perhaps a thousand centuries ago.

In such perpetually recurring cycles are the movements of material
things accomplished, and all takes place under the dominion of
invariable law. The air is the source whence all organisms have come; it
is the receptacle to which they all return. Its parts are awakened into
life, not by the influence of any terrestrial agency or principle
concealed in itself, as Diogenes supposed, but by a star which is ninety
millions of miles distant, the source, direct or indirect, of every
terrestrial movement, and the dispenser of light and life.

[Sidenote: Heraclitus asserts that fire is the first principle.]

[Sidenote: The fictitious permanence of successive forms.]

To Thales and Diogenes, whose primordial elements were water and air
respectively, we must add Heraclitus of Ephesus, who maintained that the
first principle is fire. He illustrated the tendency which Greek
philosophy had already assumed of opposition to Polytheism and the
idolatrous practices of the age. It is said that in his work, ethical,
political, physical, and theological subjects were so confused, and so
great was the difficulty of understanding his meaning, that he obtained
the surname of "the Obscure." In this respect he has had among modern
metaphysicians many successors. He founds his system, however, upon the
simple axiom that "all is convertible into fire, and fire into all."
Perhaps by the term fire he understood what is at present meant by heat,
for he expressly says that he does not mean flame, but something merely
dry and warm. He considered that this principle is in a state of
perpetual activity, forming and absorbing every individual thing. He
says, "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 approaches and recedes, overflows
and fails." And to teach us that we ourselves are changing and have
changed, he says, "On the same stream we embark and embark not, we are
and we are not." By such illustrations he implies that life is only an
unceasing motion, and we cannot fail to remark that the Greek turn of
thought is fast following that of the Hindu.

But Heraclitus totally fails to free himself from local conceptions. He
speaks of the motion of the primordial principle in the upward and
downward directions, in the higher and lower regions. He says that the
chief accumulation thereof is above, and the chief deficiency below: and
hence he regards the soul of a man as a portion of fire migrated from
heaven. He carries his ideas of the transitory nature of all phenomena
to their last consequences, and illustrates the noble doctrine that all
which appears to us to be permanent is only a regulated and
self-renewing concurrence of similar and opposite motions by such
extravagances as that the sun is daily destroyed and renewed.

[Sidenote: Physical and physiological doctrines of Heraclitus.]

In the midst of many wild physical statements many true axioms are
delivered. "All is ordered by reason and intelligence, though all is
subject to Fate." Already he perceived what the metaphysicians of our
own times are illustrating, that "man's mind can produce no certain
knowledge from its own interior resources alone." 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 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 every thing is
animated and insouled, but to different degrees, organic objects being
most completely or perfectly so. His astronomy may be anticipated from
what has been said respecting the sun, which he moreover regarded as
being scarcely more than a foot in diameter, and, like all other
celestial objects, a mere meteor. His moral system was altogether based
upon the physical, the fundamental dogma being the excellence of fire.
Thus 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 the wisest
and best; with justifiable patriotism asserting that the noblest souls
must belong to a climate that is dry, intending thereby to indicate that
Greece is man's fittest and truest country. There can be no doubt that
in Heraclitus there is a strong tendency to the doctrine of a soul of
the world. If the divinity is undistinguishable from heat, whither can
we go to escape its influences? And in the restless activity and
incessant changes it produces in every thing within our reach, do we not
recognize the tokens of the illimitable and unshackled?

[Sidenote: The puerility of Ionian philosophy.]

I have lingered on the chief features of the early Greek philosophy as
exhibited in the physical school of Ionia. They serve to impress upon
us its intrinsic imperfection. It is a mixture of the physical,
metaphysical, and mystical which, upon the whole, has no other value
than this, that it shows how feeble were the beginnings of our
knowledge--that we commenced with the importation of a few vulgar errors
from Egypt. In presence of the utilitarian philosophy of that country
and the theology of India, how vain and even childish are these germs of
science in Greece! Yet this very imperfection is not without its use,
since it warns us of the inferior position in which we stand as respects
the time of our civilization when compared with those ancient states,
and teaches us to reject the assertion which so many European scholars
have wearied themselves in establishing, that Greece led the way to all
human knowledge of any value. Above all, it impresses upon us more
appropriate, because more humble views of our present attainments and
position, and gives us to understand that other races of men not only
preceded us in intellectual culture, but have equalled, and perhaps
surpassed every thing that we have yet done in mental philosophy.

[Sidenote: Anaximander's doctrine of the Infinite.]

[Sidenote: Origin of cosmogony.]

[Sidenote: Origin of biology.]

Of the other founders of Ionic sects it may be observed that, though
they gave to their doctrines different forms, the method of reasoning
was essentially the same in them all. Of this a better illustration
could not be given than in the philosophy of Anaximander of Miletus, who
was contemporary with Thales. He started with the postulate that things
arose by separation from a universal mixture of all: his primordial
principle was therefore chaos, though he veiled it in the metaphysically
obscure designation "The Infinite." The want of precision in this
respect gave rise to much difference of opinion as to his tenets. To his
chaos he imputed an internal energy, by which its parts spontaneously
separated from each other; to those parts he imputed absolute
unchangeability. He taught that the earth is of a cylindrical form, its
base being one-third of its altitude; it is retained in the centre of
the world by the air in an equality of distance from all the boundaries
of the universe; that the fixed stars and planets revolved round it,
each being fastened to a crystalline ring; and beyond them, in like
manner, the moon, and, still farther off, the sun. He conceived of an
opposition between the central and circumferential regions, the former
being naturally cold, and the latter hot; indeed, in his opinion, the
settling of the cold parts to the centre, and the ascending of the hot,
gave origin, respectively, to the formation of the earth and shining
celestial bodies, the latter first existing as a complete shell or
sphere, which, undergoing destruction, broke up into stars. Already we
perceive the tendency of Greek philosophy to shape itself into systems
of cosmogony, founded upon the disturbance of the chaotic matter by heat
and cold. Nay, more, Anaximander explained the origin of living
creatures on like principles, for the sun's heat, acting upon the primal
miry earth, produced filmy bladders or bubbles, and these, becoming
surrounded with a prickly rind, at length burst open, and, as from an
egg, animals came forth. At first they were ill-formed and imperfect,
but subsequently elaborated and developed. As to man, so far from being
produced in his perfect shape, he was ejected as a fish, and under that
form continued in the muddy water until he was capable of supporting
himself on dry land. Besides "the Infinite" being thus the cause of
generation, it was also the cause of destruction: "things must all
return whence they came, according to destiny, for they must all, in
order of time, undergo due penalties and expiations of wrong-doing."
This expression obviously contains a moral consideration, and is an
exemplification of the commencing feeble interconnection between
physical and moral philosophy.

As to the more solid discoveries attributed to this philosopher, we may
dispose of them in the same manner that we have dealt with the like
facts in the biographies of his predecessors--they are idle inventions
of his vainglorious countrymen. That he was the first to make maps is
scarcely consistent with the well-known fact that the Egyptians had
cultivated geometry for that express purpose thirty centuries before he
was born. As to his inventing sun-dials, the shadow had gone back on
that of Ahaz a long time before. In reality, the sun-dial was a very
ancient Oriental invention. And as to his being the first to make an
exact calculation of the size and distance of the heavenly bodies, it
need only be remarked that those who have so greatly extolled his
labours must have overlooked how incompatible such discoveries are with
a system which assumes that the earth is cylindrical in shape, and kept
in the midst of the heavens by the atmosphere; that the sun is farther
off than the fixed stars; and that each of the heavenly bodies is made
to revolve by means of a crystalline wheel.

The philosopher whose views we have next to consider is Anaxagoras of
Clazomene, the friend and master of Pericles, Euripides, and Socrates.
Like several of his predecessors, he had visited Egypt. Among his
disciples were numbered some of the most eminent men of those times.

[Sidenote: Anaxagoras teaches the unchangeability of the universe.]

[Sidenote: The primal intellect.]

[Sidenote: Cosmogony of Anaxagoras.]

The fundamental principle of his philosophy was the recognition of the
unchangeability of the universe as a whole, the variety of forms that we
see being produced by new arrangements of its constituent parts. Such a
doctrine includes, of course, the idea of the eternity of matter.
Anaxagoras says, "Wrongly do the Greeks suppose that aught begins or
ceases to be, for nothing comes into being or is destroyed, but all is
an aggregation or secretion of pre-existent things, so that all becoming
might more correctly be called becoming-mixed, and all corruption
becoming-separate." In such a statement we cannot fail to remark that
the Greek is fast passing into the track of the Egyptian and the Hindu.
In some respects his views recall those of the chaos of Anaximander, as
when he says, "Together were all things infinite in number and
smallness; nothing was distinguishable. Before they were sorted, while
all was together, there was no quality noticeable." To the first moving
force which arranged the parts of things out of the chaos, he gave the
designation of "the Intellect," rejecting Fate as an empty name, and
imputing all things to Reason. He made no distinction between the Soul
and Intellect. His tenets evidently include a dualism indicated by the
moving force and the moved mass, an opposition between the corporeal and
mental. This indicated that for philosophy there are two separate
routes, the physical and intellectual. While Reason is thus the prime
mover in his philosophy, he likewise employed many subordinate agents in
the government of things--for instance, air, water, and fire, being
evidently unable to explain the state of nature in a satisfactory way by
the operation of the Intellect alone. We recognize in the details of his
system ideas derived from former ones, such as the settling of the cold
and dense below, and the rising of the warm and light above. In the
beginning the action of Intellect was only partial; that which was
primarily moved was only imperfectly sorted, and contained in itself the
capability of many separations. From this point his system became a
cosmogony, showing how the elements and fogs, stones, stars, and the
sea, were produced. These explanations, as mighty be anticipated, have
no exactness. Among his primary elements are many incongruous things,
such as cold, colour, fire, gold, lead, corn, marrow, blood, &c. This
doctrine implied that in compound things there was not a formation, but
an arrangement. It required, therefore, many elements instead of a
single one. Flesh is made of fleshy particles, bones of bony, gold of
golden, lead of leaden, wood of wooden, &c. These analogous constituents
are homoeomeriæ. Of an infinite number of kinds, they composed the
infinite all, which is a mixture of them. From such conditions
Anaxagoras proves that all the parts of an animal body pre-exist in the
food, and are merely collected therefrom. As to the phenomena of life,
he explains it on his doctrine of dualism between mind and matter; he
teaches that sleep is produced by the reaction of the latter on the
former. Even plants he regards as only rooted animals, motionless, but
having sensations and desires; he imputes the superiority of man to the
mere fact of his having hands. He explains our mental perceptions upon
the hypothesis that we have naturally within us the contraries of all
the qualities of external things; and that, when we consider an object,
we become aware of the preponderance of those qualities in our mind
which are deficient in it. Hence all sensation is attended with pain.
His doctrine of the production of animals was founded on the action of
the sunlight on the miry earth. The earth he places in the centre of
the world, whither it was carried by a whirlwind, the pole being
originally in the zenith; but, when animals issued from the mud, its
position was changed by the Intellect, so that there might be suitable
climates. In some particulars his crude guesses present amusing
anticipations of subsequent discoveries. Thus he maintained that the
moon has mountains, and valleys like the earth; that there have been
grand epochs in the history of our globe, in which it has been
successively modified by fire and water; that the hills of Lampsacus
would one day be under the sea, if time did not too soon fail.

[Sidenote: Doubts whether we have any criterion of truth.]

As to the nature of human knowledge, Anaxagoras, asserted that by the
Intellect alone do we become acquainted with the truth, the senses being
altogether untrustworthy. He illustrated this by putting a drop of
coloured liquid into a quantity of clear water, the eye being unable to
recognize any change. Upon such principles also he asserted that snow is
not white, but black, since it is composed of water, of which the colour
is black; and hence he drew such conclusions as that "things are to each
man according as they seem to him." It was doubtless the recognition of
the unreliability of the senses that extorted from him the well-known
complaint: "Nothing can be known; nothing can be learned; nothing can be
certain; sense is limited; intellect is weak; life is short."

[Sidenote: Anaxagoras is persecuted.]

The biography of Anaxagoras is not without interest. Born in affluence,
he devoted all his means to philosophy, and in his old age encountered
poverty and want. He was accused by the superstitious Athenian populace
of Atheism and impiety to the gods, since he asserted that the sun and
moon consist of earth and stone, and that the so-called divine miracles
of the times were nothing more than common natural effects. For these
reasons, and also because of the Magianism of his doctrine--for he
taught the antagonism of mind and matter, a dogma of the detested
Persians--he was thrown into prison, condemned to death, and barely
escaped through the influence of Pericles. He fled to Lampsacus, where
he ended his days in exile. His vainglorious countrymen, however,
conferred honour upon his memory in their customary exaggerated way,
boasting that he was the first to explain the phases of the moon, the
nature of solar and lunar eclipses, that he had the power of foretelling
future events, and had even predicted the fall of a meteoric stone.

From the biography of Anaxagoras, as well as of several of his
contemporaries and successors, we may learn that a popular opposition
was springing up against philosophy, not limited to a mere social
protest, but carried out into political injustice. The antagonism
between learning and Polytheism was becoming every day more distinct. Of
the philosophers, some were obliged to flee into exile, some suffered
death. The natural result of such a state of things was to force them to
practise concealment and mystification, as is strikingly shown in the
history of the Pythagoreans.

[Sidenote: Pythagoras, biography of.]

Of Pythagoras, the founder of this sect, but little is known with
certainty; even the date of his birth is contested, probably he was born
at Samos about B.C. 540. If we were not expressly told so, we should
recognize from his doctrines that he had been in Egypt and India. Some
eminent scholars, who desire on all occasions to magnify the learning of
ancient Europe, depreciate as far as they can the universal testimony of
antiquity that such was the origin of the knowledge of Pythagoras,
asserting that the constitution of the Egyptian priesthood rendered it
impossible for a foreigner to become initiated. They forget that the
ancient system of that country had been totally destroyed in the great
revolution which took place more than a century before those times. If
it were not explicitly stated by the ancients that Pythagoras lived for
twenty-two years in Egypt, there is sufficient internal evidence in his
story to prove that he had been there a long time. As a connoisseur can
detect the hand of a master by the style of a picture, so one who has
devoted attention to the old systems of thought sees, at a glance, the
Egyptian in the philosophy of Pythagoras.

He passed into Italy during the reign of Tarquin the Proud, and settled
at Crotona, a Greek colonial city on the Bay of Tarentum. At first he
established a school, but, favoured by local dissensions, he gradually
organized from the youths who availed themselves of his instructions a
secret political society. Already it had passed into a maxim among the
learned Greeks that it is not advantageous to communicate knowledge too
freely to the people--a bitter experience in persecutions seemed to
demonstrate that the maxim was founded on truth. The step from a secret
philosophical society to a political conspiracy is but short. Pythagoras
appears to have taken it. The disciples who were admitted to his
scientific secrets after a period of probation and process of
examination constituted a ready instrument of intrigue against the
state, the issue of which, after a time, appeared in the supplanting of
the ancient senate and the exaltation of Pythagoras and his club to the
administration of government. The actions of men in all times are
determined by similar principles; and as it would be now with such a
conspiracy, so it was then; for, though the Pythagorean influence spread
from Crotona to other Italian towns, an overwhelming reaction soon set
in, the innovators were driven into exile, their institutions destroyed,
and their founder fell a victim to his enemies.

The organization attempted by the Pythagoreans is an exception to the
general policy of the Greeks. The philosophical schools had been merely
points of reunion for those entertaining similar opinions; but in the
state they can hardly be regarded as having had any political existence.

[Sidenote: His miracles.]

It is difficult, when the political or religious feelings of men have
been engaged, to ascertain the truth of events in which they have been
concerned; deception, and falsehood, seem to be licensed. In the midst
of the troubles befalling Italy as the consequence of these Pythagorean
machinations, it is impossible to ascertain facts with certainty. One
party exalts Pythagoras to a superhuman state; it pictures him majestic
and impassive, clothed in robes of white, with a golden coronet around
his brows, listening to the music of the spheres, or seeking relaxation
in the more humble hymns of Homer, Hesiod, and Thales; lost in the
contemplation of Nature, or rapt in ecstasy in his meditations on God;
manifesting his descent from Apollo or Hermes by the working of
miracles, predicting future events, conversing with genii in the
solitude of a dark cavern, and even surpassing the wonder of speaking
simultaneously in different tongues, since it was established, by the
most indisputable testimony, that he had accomplished the prodigy of
being present with and addressing the people in several different places
at the same time. It seems not to have occurred to his disciples that
such preposterous assertions cannot be sustained by any evidence
whatsoever; and that the stronger and clearer such evidence is, instead
of supporting the fact for which it is brought forward, it the more
serves to shake our confidence in the truth of man, or impresses on us
the conclusion that he is easily lead to the adoption of falsehood, and
is readily deceived by imposture.

[Sidenote: His character.]

By his opponents he was denounced as a quack, or, at the best, a
visionary mystic, who had deluded the young with the mummeries of a
free-masonry; had turned the weak-minded into shallow enthusiasts and
grim ascetics; and as having conspired against a state which had given
him an honourable refuge, and brought disorder and bloodshed upon it.
Between such contradictory statements, it is difficult to determine how
much we should impute to the philosopher and how much to the trickster.
In this uncertainty, the Pythagoreans reap the fruit of one of their
favourite maxims, "Not unto all should all be made known." Perhaps at
the bottom of these political movements lay the hope of establishing a
central point of union for the numerous Greek colonies of Italy, which,
though they were rich and highly civilized, were, by reason of their
isolation and antagonism, essentially weak. Could they have been united
in a powerful federation by the aid of some political or religious bond,
they might have exerted a singular influence on the rising fortunes of
Rome, and thereby on humanity.

[Sidenote: Pythagoras asserts that number is the first principle.]

The fundamental dogma of the Pythagoreans was that "number is the
essence or first principle of things." This led them at once to the
study of the mysteries of figures and of arithmetical relations, and
plunged them into the wildest fantasies when it took the absurd form
that numbers are actually things.

The approval of the doctrines of Pythagoras so generally expressed was
doubtless very much due to the fact that they supplied an intellectual
void. Those who had been in the foremost ranks of philosophy had come to
the conclusion that, as regard external things, and even ourselves, we
have no criterion of truth; but in the properties of numbers and their
relations, such a criterion does exist.

[Sidenote: Pythagorean philosophy.]

It would scarcely repay the reader to pursue this system in its details;
a very superficial representation of it is all that is necessary for our
purpose. It recognizes two species of numbers, the odd and even; and
since one, or unity, must be at once both odd and even, it must be the
very essence of number, and the ground of all other numbers; hence the
meaning of the Pythagorean expression, "All comes from one;" which also
took form in the mystical allusion, "God embraces all and actuates all,
and is but 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 contains the first four numbers.
Some, however, assert that that designation was imposed on the number
thirty-six. To the triad the Pythagoreans likewise attached much
significance, 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 odd, as is plain from the
fact that if one be added to an even number it becomes odd, but if to an
odd number it becomes even. They arranged the primary elements of nature
in a table of ten contraries, of which the odd and even are one, and
light and darkness another. They said that "the nature and energy of
number may be traced not only in divine and dæmonish things, but in
human works and words everywhere, and in all works of art and in music."
They even linked their arithmetical views to morality, through the
observation that numbers never lie; that they are hostile to falsehood;
and that, therefore, truth belongs to their family: their fanciful
speculations led them to infer that in the limitless or infinite,
falsehood and envy must reign. From similar reasoning, they concluded
that the number one contained not only the perfect, but also the
imperfect; hence it follows that the most good, most beautiful, and most
true are not at the beginning, but that they are in the process of time
evolved. They held that whatever we know must have had a beginning, a
middle, and an end, of which the beginning and end are the boundaries or
limits; but the middle is unlimited, and, as a consequence, may be
subdivided _ad infinitum_. They therefore resolved corporeal existence
into points, as is set forth in their maxim that "all is composed of
points or spacial units, which, taken together, constitute a number."
Such being their ideas of the limiting which constitutes the extreme,
they understood by the unlimited the intermediate space or interval. By
the aid of these intervals they obtained a conception of space; for,
since the units, or monads, as they were also called, are merely
geometrical points, no number of them could produce a line, but by the
union of monads and intervals conjointly a line can arise, and also a
surface, and also a solid. As to the interval thus existing between
monads, some considered it as being mere aërial breath, but the orthodox
regarded it as a vacuum; hence we perceive the meaning of their absurd
affirmation that all things are produced by a vacuum. As it is not to be
overlooked that the monads are merely mathematical points, and have no
dimensions or size, substances actually contain no matter, and are
nothing more than forms.

[Sidenote: Pythagorean cosmogony.]

[Sidenote: Modern Pythagorisms in chemistry.]

The Pythagoreans applied these principles to account for the origin of
the world, saying that, since its very existence is an illusion, it
could not have any origin in time, but only seemingly so to human
thought. As to time itself, they regarded it as "existing only by the
distinction of a series of different moments, which, however, are again
restored to unity by the limiting moments." The diversity of relations
we find in the world they supposed to be occasioned by the bond of
harmony. "Since the principles of things are neither similar nor
congenerous, it is impossible for them to be brought into order except
by the intervention of harmony, whatever may have been the manner in
which it took place. Like and homogeneous things, indeed, would not
have required harmony; but, as to the dissimilar and unsymmetrical, such
must necessarily be held together by harmony if they are to be contained
in a world of order." In this manner they confused together the ideas of
number and harmony, regarding the world not only as a combination of
contraries, but as an orderly and harmonical combination thereof. To
particular numbers they therefore imputed great significance, asserting
that "there are seven chords or harmonies, seven pleiads, seven vowels,
and that certain parts of the bodies of animals change in the course of
seven years." They carried to an extreme the numerical doctrine,
assigning certain numbers as the representatives of a bird, a horse, a
man. This doctrine may be illustrated by facts familiar to chemists,
who, in like manner, attach significant numbers to the names of things.
Taking hydrogen as unity, 6 belongs to carbon, 8 to oxygen, 16 to
sulphur. Carrying those principles out, there is no substance,
elementary or compound, inorganic or organic, to which an expressive
number does not belong. Nay, even an archetypal form, as of man or any
other such composite structure, may thus possess a typical number, the
sum of the numbers of its constituent parts. It signifies nothing what
interpretation we give to these numbers, whether we regarded them as
atomic weights, or, declining the idea of atoms, consider them as the
representatives of force. As in the ancient philosophical doctrine, so
in modern science, the number is invariably connected with the name of a
thing, of whatever description the thing may be.

[Sidenote: Pythagorean physics and psychology.]

The grand standard of harmonical relation among the Pythagoreans was the
musical octave. Physical qualities, such as colour and tone, were
supposed to appertain to the surface of bodies. Of the elements they
enumerated five--earth, air, fire, water, and ether, connecting
therewith the fact that man has five organs of sense. Of the planets
they numbered five, which, together with the sun, moon, and earth, are
placed apart at distances determined by a musical law, and in their
movements through space give rise to a sound, the harmony of the
spheres, unnoticed by us because we habitually hear it. They place the
sun in the centre of the system, round which, with the other planets,
the earth revolves. At this point the geocentric doctrine is being
abandoned and the heliocentric takes its place. As the circle is the
most perfect of forms, the movements of the planets are circular. They
maintained that the moon is inhabited, and like the earth, but the
people there are taller than men, in the proportion as the moon's
periodic rotation is greater than that of the earth. They explained the
Milky Way as having been occasioned by the fall of a star, or as having
been formerly the path of the sun. They asserted that the world is
eternal, but the earth is transitory and liable to change, the universe
being in the shape of a sphere. They held that the soul of man is merely
an efflux of the universal soul, and that it comes into the body from
without. From dreams and the events of sickness they inferred the
existence of good and evil dæmons. They supposed that souls can exist
without the body, leading a kind of dream-life, and identified the motes
in the sunbeam with them. Their heroes and dæmons were souls not yet
become embodied, or who had ceased to be so. The doctrine of
transmigration which they had adopted was in harmony with such views,
and, if it does not imply the absolute immortality of the soul, at least
asserts its existence after the death of the body, for the disembodied
spirit becomes incarnate again as soon as it finds a tenement which fits
it. To their life after death the Pythagoreans added a doctrine of
retributive rewards and punishments, and, in this respect, what has been
said of animals forming a penitential mechanism in the theology of India
and Egypt, holds good for the Pythagoreans too.

Of their system of politics nothing can now with certainty be affirmed
beyond the fact that its prime element was an aristocracy; of their rule
of private life, but little beyond its including a recommendation of
moderation in all things, the cultivation of friendship, the observance
of faith, and the practice of self-denial, promoted by ascetic
exercises. It was a maxim with them that a right education is not only
of importance to the individual, but also to the interests of the state.
Pythagoras himself, as is well known, paid much attention to the
determination of extension and gravity, the ratios of musical tones,
astronomy, and medicine. He directed his disciples, in their orgies or
secret worship, to practise gymnastics, dancing, music. In
correspondence with his principle of imparting to men only such
knowledge as they were fitted to receive, he communicated to those who
were less perfectly prepared exoteric doctrines, reserving the esoteric
for the privileged few who had passed five years in silence, had endured
humiliation, and been purged by self-denial and sacrifice.

[Sidenote: The Eleatic philosophy.]

We have now reached the consideration of the Eleatic philosophy. It
differs from the preceding in its neglect of material things, and its
devotion to the supra-sensible. It derives its name from Elea, a Greek
colonial city of Italy, its chief authors being Xenophanes, Parmenides,
and Zeno.

[Sidenote: Xenophanes represents a great philosophical advance.]

Xenophanes was a native of Ionia, from which having been exiled, he
appears to have settled at last in Elea, after leading for many years
the life of a wandering rhapsodist. He gave his doctrines a poetical
form for the purpose of more easily diffusing them. To the multitude he
became conspicuous from his opposition to Homer, Hesiod, and other
popular poets, whom he denounced for promoting the base polytheism of
the times, and degrading the idea of the divine by the immoralities they
attributed to the gods. He proclaimed God as an all-powerful Being,
existing from eternity, and without any likeness to man. A strict
monotheist, he denounced the plurality of gods as an inconceivable
error, asserting that of the all-powerful and all-perfect there could
not, in the nature of things, be more than one; for, if there were only
so many as two, those attributes could not apply to one of them, much
less, then, if there were many. This one principle or power was to him
the same as the universe, the substance of which, having existed from
all eternity, must necessarily be identical with God; for, since it is
impossible that there should be two Omnipresents, so also it is
impossible that there should be two Eternals. It therefore may be said
that there is a tincture of Orientalism in his ideas, since it would
scarcely be possible to offer a more succinct and luminous exposition of
the pantheism of India.

[Sidenote: He approaches the Indian ideas.]

The reader who has been wearied with the frivolities of the Ionian
philosophy, and lost in the mysticisms of Pythagoras, cannot fail to
recognize that here we have something of a very different kind. To an
Oriental dignity of conception is added an extraordinary clearness and
precision of reasoning.

[Sidenote: Theology of Xenophanes.]

To Xenophanes all revelation is a pure fiction; the discovery of the
invisible is to be made by the intellect of man alone. The vulgar belief
which imputes to the Deity the sentiments, passions, and crimes of man,
is blasphemous and accursed. He exposes the impiety of those who would
figure the Great Supreme under the form of a man, telling them that if
the ox or the lion could rise to a conception of the Deity, they might
as well embody him under their own shape; that the negro represents him
with a flat nose and black face; the Thracian with blue eyes and a ruddy
complexion. "There is but one God; he has no resemblance to the bodily
form of man, nor are his thoughts like ours." He taught that God is
without parts, and throughout alike; for, if he had parts, some would be
ruled by others, and others would rule, which is impossible, for the
very notion of God implies his perfect and thorough sovereignty.
Throughout he must be Reason, and Intelligence, and Omnipotence, "ruling
the universe without trouble by Reason and Insight." He conceived that
the Supreme understands by a sensual perception, and not only thinks,
but sees and hears throughout. In a symbolical manner he represented God
as a sphere, like the heavens, which encompass man and all earthly
things.

[Sidenote: His physical views.]

In his natural philosophy it is said that he adopted the four elements,
Earth, Air, Fire, Water; though by some it is asserted that, from
observing fossil fish, on the tops of mountains, he was led to the
belief that the earth itself arose from water; and generally, that the
phenomena of nature originate in combinations of the primary elements.
From such views he inferred that all things are necessarily transitory,
and that men, and even the earth itself, must pass away. As to the
latter, he regarded it as a flat surface, the inferior region of which
extends indefinitely downward, and so gives a solid foundation. His
physical views he, however, held with a doubt almost bordering on
scepticism: "No mortal man ever did, or ever shall know God and the
universe thoroughly; for, since error is so spread over all things, it
is impossible for us to be certain even when we utter the true and the
perfect." It seemed to him hopeless that man could ever ascertain the
truth, since he has no other aid than truthless appearances.

[Sidenote: Some of his thoughts reappear in Newton.]

I cannot dismiss this imperfect account of Xenophanes, who was,
undoubtedly, one of the greatest of the Greek philosophers, without an
allusion to his denunciation of Homer, and other poets of his country,
because they had aided in degrading the idea of the Divinity; and also
to his faith in human nature, his rejection of the principle of
concealing truth from the multitude, and his self-devotion in diffusing
it among all at a risk of liberty and life. He wandered from country to
country, withstanding polytheism to its face, and imparting wisdom in
rhapsodies and hymns, the form, above all others, calculated most
quickly in those times to spread knowledge abroad. To those who are
disposed to depreciate his philosophical conclusions, it may be remarked
that in some of their most striking features they have been reproduced
in modern times, and I would offer to them a quotation from the General
Scholium at the end of the third book of the Principia of Newton: "The
Supreme God exists necessarily, and by the same necessity he exists
_always_ and _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 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 heard, nor touched, 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."

[Sidenote: Parmenides on reason and opinion.]

[Sidenote: Philosophy becoming Pantheism.]

To the Eleatic system thus originating with Xenophanes is to be
attributed the dialectic phase henceforward so prominently exhibited by
Greek philosophy. It abandoned, for the most part, the pursuits which
had occupied the Ionians--the investigation of visible nature, the
phenomena of material things, and the laws presiding over them;
conceiving such to be merely deceptive, and attaching itself to what
seemed to be the only true knowledge--an investigation of Being and of
God. By the Eleats, since all change appeared to be an impossibility,
the phenomena of succession presented by the world were regarded as a
pure illusion, and they asserted that Time, and Motion, and Space are
phantasms of the imagination, or vain deceptions of the senses. They
therefore separated reason from opinion, attributing to the former
conceptions of absolute truth, and to the latter imperfections arising
from the fictions of sense. It was on this principle that Parmenides
divided his work on "Nature" into two books, the first on Reason, the
second on Opinion. Starting from the nature of Being, the uncreated and
unchangeable, he denied altogether the idea of succession in time, and
also the relations of space, and pronounced change and motion, of
whatever kind they may be, mere illusions of opinion. His pantheism
appears in the declaration that the All is thought and intelligence; and
this, indeed, constitutes the essential feature of his doctrine, for, by
thus placing thought and being in parallelism with each other, and
interconnecting them by the conception that it is for the sake of being
that thought exists, he showed that they must necessarily be conceived
of as one.

Such profound doctrines occupied the first book of the poem of
Parmenides; in the second he treated of opinion, which, as we have said,
is altogether dependent on the senses, and therefore untrustworthy, not,
however, that it must necessarily be absolutely false. It is scarcely
possible for us to reconstruct from the remains of his works the details
of his theory, or to show his approach to the Ionian doctrines by the
assumption of the existence in nature of two opposite species--ethereal
fire and heavy night; of an equal proportion of which all things
consist, fire being the true, and night the phenomenal. From such an
unsubstantial and delusive basis it would not repay us, even if we had
the means of accomplishing it, to give an exposition of his physical
system. In many respects it degenerated into a wild vagary; as, for
example, when he placed an overruling dæmon in the centre of the
phenomenal world. Nor need we be detained by his extravagant
reproduction of the old doctrine of the generation of animals from miry
clay, nor follow his explanation of the nature of man, who, since he is
composed of light and darkness, participates in both, and can never
ascertain absolute truth. By other routes, and upon far less fanciful
principles, modern philosophy has at last come to the same melancholy
conclusion.

[Sidenote: Doctrines of Parmenides carried out by Zeno;]

The doctrines of Parmenides were carried out by Zeno the Eleatic, who is
said to have been his adopted son. He brought into use the method of
refuting error by the _reductio ad absurdum_. His compositions were in
prose, and not in poetry, as were those of his predecessors. As it had
been the object of Parmenides to establish the existence of "the One,"
it was the object of Zeno to establish the non-existence of "the Many."
Agreeably to such principles, he started from the position that only one
thing really exists, and that all others are mere modifications or
appearances of it. He denied motion, but admitted the appearance of it;
regarding it as a name given to a series of conditions, each of which is
necessarily rest. This dogma against the possibility of motion he
maintained by four arguments; the second of them is the celebrated
Achilles puzzle. It is thus stated: "Suppose Achilles to run ten times
as fast as a tortoise, yet, if the tortoise has the start, Achilles can
never overtake him; for, if they are separated at first 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 these
hundred the tortoise will have got on ten, and so on for ever; therefore
Achilles may run for ever without overtaking the tortoise." Such were
his arguments against the existence of motion; his proof of the
existence of One, the indivisible and infinite, may thus be stated: "To
suppose that the one is divisible is to suppose it finite. If divisible,
it must be infinitely divisible. But suppose two things to exist, then
there must necessarily be an interval between those two--something
separating and limiting them. What is that something? It is some _other_
thing. But then if not the _same_ thing, _it also_ must be separated and
limited, and so on _ad infinitum_. Thus only one thing can exist as the
substratum for all manifold appearances." Zeno furnishes us with an
illustration of the fallibility of the indications of sense in his
argument against Protagoras. It may be here introduced as a specimen of
his method: "He asked if a grain of corn, or the ten thousandth part of
a grain, would, when it fell to the ground, make a noise. Being answered
in the negative, he further asked whether, then, would a measure of
corn. This being necessarily affirmed, he then demanded whether the
measure was not in some determinate ratio to the single grain; as this
could not be denied, he was able to conclude, either, then, the bushel
of corn makes no noise on falling, or else the very smallest portion of
a grain does the same."

[Sidenote: and by Melissus of Samos.]

To the names already given as belonging to the Eleatic school may be
added that of Melissus of Samos, who also founded his argument on the
nature of Being, deducing its unity, unchangeability, and
indivisibility. He denied, like the rest of his school, all change and
motion, regarding them as mere illusions of the senses. From the
indivisibility of being he inferred its incorporeality, and therefore
denied all bodily existence.

[Sidenote: Biography of Empedocles.]

The list of Eleatic philosophers is doubtfully closed by the name of
Empedocles of Agrigentum, who in legend almost rivals Pythagoras. In the
East he learned medicine and magic, the art of working miracles, of
producing rain and wind. He decked himself in priestly garments, a
golden girdle, and a crown, proclaiming himself to be a god. It is said
by some that he never died, but ascended to the skies in the midst of a
supernatural glory. By some it is related that he leaped into the crater
of Etna, that, the manner of his death being unknown, he might still
continue to pass for a god--an expectation disappointed by an eruption
which cast out one of his brazen sandals.

[Sidenote: He mingles mysticism with philosophy.]

Agreeably to the school to which he belonged, he relied on Reason and
distrusted the Senses. From his fragments it has been inferred that he
was sceptical of the guidance of the former as well as of the latter,
founding his distrust on the imperfection the soul has contracted, and
for which it has been condemned to existence in this world, and even to
transmigration from body to body. Adopting the Eleatic doctrine that
like can be only known by like, fire by fire, love by love, the
recognition of the divine by man is sufficient proof that the Divine
exists. His primary elements were four--Earth, Air, Fire, and Water; to
these he added two principles, Love and Hate. The four elements he
regarded as four gods, or divine eternal forces, since out of them all
things are made. Love he regards as the creative power, the destroyer or
modifier being Hate. It is obvious, therefore, that in him the strictly
philosophical system of Xenophanes had degenerated into a mixed and
mystical view, in which the physical, the metaphysical, and the moral
were confounded together; and that, as the necessary consequence of such
a state, the principles of knowledge were becoming unsettled, a
suspicion arising that all philosophical systems were untrustworthy, and
a general scepticism was already setting in.

To this result also, in no small degree, the labours of Democritus of
Abdera tended. He had had the advantages derived from wealth in the
procurement of knowledge, for 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 Chaldæans to complete the
education of the youth. On his father's death, Democritus, dividing with
his brothers the estate, took as his portion the share consisting of
money, leaving to them the lands, that he might be better able to devote
himself to travelling. He passed into Egypt, Ethiopia, Persia, and
India, gathering knowledge from all those sources.

[Sidenote: Democritus asserts the untrustworthiness of knowledge.]

According to Democritus, "Nothing is true, or, if so, is not certain to
us." Nevertheless, as, in his system sensation constitutes thought, and,
at the same time, is but a change in the sentient being, "sensations are
of necessity true;" from which somewhat obscure passage we may infer
that, in the view of Democritus, though sensation is true subjectively,
it is not true objectively. The sweet, the bitter, the hot, the cold,
are simply creations of the mind; but in the outer object to which we
append them, atoms and space alone exist, and our opinion of the
properties of such objects is founded upon images emitted by them
falling upon the senses. Confounding in this manner sensation with
thought, and making them identical, he, moreover, included Reflexion as
necessary for true knowledge, Sensation by itself being untrustworthy.
Thus, though Sensation may indicate to us that sweet, bitter, hot, cold,
occur in bodies, Reflexion teaches us that this is altogether an
illusion, and that, in reality, atoms and space alone exist.

[Sidenote: He introduces the atomic theory.]

[Sidenote: Destiny, Fate and resistless law.]

Devoting his attention, then, to the problem of perception--how the mind
becomes aware of the existence of external things--he resorted to the
hypothesis that they constantly throw off images of themselves, which
are assimilated by the air through which they have to pass, and enter
the soul by pores in its sensitive organs. Hence such images, being
merely of the superficial form, are necessarily imperfect and untrue,
and so, therefore, must be the knowledge yielded by them. Democritus
rejected the one element of the Eleatics, affirming that there must be
many; but he did not receive the four of Empedocles, nor his principles
of Love and Hate, nor the homoeomeriæ of Anaxagoras. He also denied
that the primary elements had any sensible qualities whatever. He
conceived of all things as being composed of invisible, intangible, and
indivisible particles or atoms, which, by reason of variation in their
configuration, combination, or position, give rise to the varieties of
forms: to the atom he imputed self-existence and eternal duration. His
doctrine, therefore, explains how it is that the many can arise from the
one, and in this particular he reconciled the apparent contradictions of
the Ionians and Eleatics. The theory of chemistry, as it now exists,
essentially includes his views. The general formative principle of
Nature he regarded as being Destiny or Fate; but there are indications
that by this he meant nothing more than irreversible law.

[Sidenote: Is led to atheism.]

A system thus based upon severe mathematical considerations, and taking
as its starting-point a vacuum and atoms--the former actionless and
passionless; which considers the production of new things as only new
aggregations, and the decay of the old as separations; which recognizes
in compound bodies specific arrangements of atoms to one another; which
can rise to the conception that even a single atom may constitute a
world--such a system may commend itself to our attention for its
results, but surely not to our approval, when we find it carrying us to
the conclusions that even mathematical cognition is a mere semblance;
that the soul is only a finely-constituted form fitted into the grosser
bodily frame; that even for reason itself there is an absolute
impossibility of all certainty; that scepticism is to be indulged in to
that degree that we may doubt whether, when a cone has been cut asunder,
its two surfaces are alike; that the final result of human inquiry is
the absolute demonstration that man is incapable of knowledge; that,
even if the truth be in his possession, he can never be certain of it;
that the world is an illusive phantasm, and that there is no God.

[Sidenote: Legends of Democritus.]

I need scarcely refer to the legendary stories related of Democritus, as
that he put out his eyes with a burning-glass that he might no longer be
deluded with their false indications, and more tranquilly exercise his
reason--a fiction bearing upon its face the contemptuous accusation of
his antagonists, but, by the stolidity of subsequent ages, received as
an actual fact instead of a sarcasm. As to his habit of so constantly
deriding the knowledge and follies of men that he universally acquired
the epithet of the laughing philosopher, we may receive the opinion of
the great physician Hippocrates, who being requested by the people of
Abdera to cure him of his madness, after long discoursing with him,
expressed himself penetrated with admiration, and even with the most
profound veneration for him, and rebuked those who had sent him with the
remark that they themselves were the more distempered of the two.

[Sidenote: Rise of philosophy in European Greece.]

[Sidenote: Commercial communities favourable to new ideas.]

Thus far European Greece had done but little in the cause of philosophy.
The chief schools were in Asia Minor, or among the Greek colonies of
Italy. But the time had now arrived when the mother country was to
enter upon a distinguished career, though, it must be confessed, from a
most unfavourable beginning. This was by no means the only occasion on
which the intellectual activity of the Greek colonies made itself felt
in the destinies of Europe. The mercantile character in a community has
ever been found conducive to mental activity and physical adventure; it
holds in light esteem prescriptive opinion, and puts things at the
actual value they at the time possess. If the Greek colonies thus
discharged the important function of introducing and disseminating
speculative philosophy, we shall find them again, five hundred years
later, occupied with a similar task on the advent of that period in
which philosophical speculation was about to be supplanted by religious
faith. For there can be no doubt that, humanly speaking, the cause of
the rapid propagation of Christianity, in its first ages, lay in the
extraordinary facilities existing among the commercial communities
scattered all around the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, from the ports
of the Levant to those of France and Spain. An incessant intercourse was
kept up among them during the five centuries before Christ; it became,
under Roman influence, more and more active, and of increasing political
importance. Such a state of things is in the highest degree conducive to
the propagation of thought, and, indeed, to its origination, through the
constant excitement it furnishes to intellectual activity. Commercial
communities, in this respect, present a striking contrast to
agricultural. By their aid speculative philosophy was rapidly
disseminated everywhere, as was subsequently Christianity. But the
agriculturists steadfastly adhered with marvellous stolidity to their
ancestral traditions and polytheistic absurdities, until the very
designation--paganism--under which their system passes was given as a
nickname derived from themselves.

[Sidenote: Philosophical influence of the Greek colonies.]

The intellectual condition of the Greek colonies of Italy and Sicily has
not attracted the attention of critics in the manner it deserves. For,
though its political result may appear to those whose attention is fixed
by mere material aggrandizement to have been totally eclipsed by the
subsequent power of the Roman republic, to one who looks at things in a
mere general way it may be a probable inquiry whether the philosophy
cultivated in those towns has not, in the course of ages, produced as
solid and lasting results as the military achievements of the Eternal
City. The relations of the Italian peninsula to the career of European
civilization are to be classified under three epochs, the first
corresponding to the philosophy generated in the southern Greek towns:
this would have attained the elevation long before reached in the
advanced systems of India had it not been prevented by the rapid
development of Roman power; the second presents the military influence
of republican and imperial Rome; to the third belongs the agency of
ecclesiastical Rome--for the production of the last we shall find
hereafter that the preceding two conspire. The Italian effect upon the
whole has therefore been philosophical, material, and mixed. We are
greatly in want of a history of the first, for which doubtless many
facts still remain to a painstaking and enlightened inquirer.

[Sidenote: Origin of the Greek colonial system.]

It was on account of her small territory and her numerous population
that Greece was obliged to colonize. To these motives must be added
internal dissensions, and particularly the consequences of unequal
marriages. So numerous did these colonies and their offshoots become,
that a great Greek influence pervaded all the Mediterranean shores and
many of the most important islands, attention more particularly being
paid to the latter, from their supposed strategical value; thus, in the
opinion of Alexander the Great, the command of the Mediterranean lay in
the possession of Cyprus. The Greek colonists were filibusters; they
seized by force the women wherever they settled, but their children were
taught to speak the paternal language, as has been the case in more
recent times with the descendants of the Spaniards in America. The
wealth of some of these Greek colonial towns is said to have been
incredible. Crotona was more than twelve miles in circumference; and
Sybaris, another of the Italiot cities, was so luxurious and dissipated
as even to give rise to a proverb. The prosperity of these places was
due to two causes: they were not only the centres of great agricultural
districts, but carried on also an active commerce in all directions, the
dense population of the mother country offering them a steady and
profitable market; they also maintained an active traffic with all the
Mediterranean cities; thus, if they furnished Athens with corn, they
also furnished Carthage with oil. In the Greek cities connected with
this colonial system, especially in Athens, the business of
ship-building and navigation was so extensively prosecuted as to give a
special character to public life. In other parts of Greece, as in
Sparta, it was altogether different. In that state the laws of Lycurgus
had abolished private property; all things were held in common; savage
life was reduced to a system, and therefore there was no object in
commerce. But in Athens, commerce was regarded as being so far from
dishonourable that some of the most illustrious men, whose names have
descended to us as philosophers, were occupied with mercantile pursuits.
Aristotle kept a druggist's shop in Athens, and Plato sold oil in Egypt.

[Sidenote: Carthaginian supremacy in the Mediterranean.]

It was the intention of Athens, had she succeeded in the conquest of
Sicily, to make an attempt upon Carthage, foreseeing therein the
dominion of the Mediterranean, as was actually realized subsequently by
Rome. The destruction of that city constituted the point of ascendancy
in the history of the Great Republic. Carthage stood upon a peninsula
forty-five miles round, with a neck only three miles across. Her
territory has been estimated as having a sea-line of not less than 1400
miles, and containing 300 towns; she had also possessions in Spain, in
Sicily, and other Mediterranean islands, acquired, not by conquest, but
by colonization. In the silver mines of Spain she employed not less than
forty thousand men. In these respects she was guided by the maxims of
her Phoenician ancestry, for the Tyrians had colonized for depôts, and
had forty stations of that kind in the Mediterranean. Indeed, Carthage
herself originated in that way, owing her development to the position
she held at the junction of the east and west basins. The Carthaginian
merchants did not carry for hire, but dealt in their commodities. This
implied an extensive system of depôts and bonding. They had anticipated
many of the devices of modern commerce. They effected insurances, made
loans on bottomry, and it has been supposed that their leathern money
may have been of the nature of our bank notes.

[Sidenote: Attempts of the Persians at dominion in the Mediterranean.]

[Sidenote: Contest between them and the Greeks.]

[Sidenote: The fifty years' war, and eventual supremacy of Athens.]

In the preceding chapter we have spoken of the attempts of the Asiatics
on Egypt and the south shore of the Mediterranean; we have now to turn
to their operations on the north shore, the consequences of which are of
the utmost interest in the history of philosophy. It appears that the
cities of Asia Minor, after their contest with the Lydian kings, had
fallen an easy prey to the Persian power. It remained, therefore, only
for that power to pass to the European continent. A pretext is easily
found where the policy is so clear. So far as the internal condition of
Greece was concerned, nothing could be more tempting to an invader.
There seemed to be no bond of union between the different towns, and,
indeed, the more prominent ones might be regarded as in a state of
chronic revolution. In Athens, since B.C. 622, the laws of Draco had
been supplanted by those of Solon; and again and again the government
had been seized by violence or gained through intrigue by one adventurer
after another. Under these circumstances the Persian king passed an army
into Europe. The military events of both this and the succeeding
invasion under Xerxes have been more than sufficiently illustrated by
the brilliant imagination of the lively Greeks. It was needless,
however, to devise such fictions as the million of men who crossed into
Europe, or the two hundred thousand who lay dead upon the field after
the battle of Platæa. If there were not such stubborn facts as the
capture and burning of Athens, the circumstance that these wars lasted
for fifty years would be sufficient to inform us that all the advantages
were not on one side. Wars do not last so long without bringing upon
both parties disasters as well as conferring glories; and had these been
as exterminating and overwhelming as classical authors have supposed,
our surprise may well be excited that the Persian annals have preserved
so little memory of them. Greece did not perceive that, if posterity
must take her accounts as true, it must give the palm of glory to
Persia, who could, with unfaltering perseverance, persist in attacks
illustrated by such unparalleled catastrophes. She did not perceive that
the annals of a nation may be more splendid from their exhibiting a
courage which could bear up for half a century against continual
disasters, and extract victory at last from defeat.

In pursuance of their policy, the Persians extended their dominion to
Cyrene and Barca on the south, as well as to Thrace and Macedonia on the
north. The Persian wars gave rise to that wonderful development in Greek
art which has so worthily excited the admiration of subsequent ages. The
assertion is quite true that after those wars the Greeks could form in
sculpture living men. On the part of the Persians, these military
undertakings were not of the base kind so common in antiquity; they were
the carrying out of a policy conceived with great ability, their object
being to obtain countries for tribute and not for devastation. The great
critic Niebuhr, by whose opinions I am guided in the views I express of
these events, admits that the Greek accounts, when examined, present
little that was possible. The Persian empire does not seem to have
suffered at all; and Plato, whose opinion must be considered as of very
great authority, says that, on the whole, the Persian wars reflect
extremely little honour on the Greeks. It was asserted that only
thirty-one towns, and most of them small ones, were faithful to Greece.
Treason to her seems for years in succession to have infected all her
ablest men. It was not Pausanias alone who wanted to be king under the
supremacy of Persia. Such a satrap would have borne about the same
relation to the great king as the modern pacha does to the grand
seignior. However, we must do justice to those able men. A king was what
Greece in reality required; had she secured one at this time strong
enough to hold her conflicting interests in check, she would have become
the mistress of the world. Her leading men saw this.

[Sidenote: The consequence is her vast intellectual progress.]

[Sidenote: Her progress in art.]

The elevating effect of the Persian wars was chiefly felt in Athens. It
was there that the grand development of pure art, literature, and
science took place. As to Sparta, she remained barbarous as she had ever
been; the Spartans continuing robbers and impostors, in their national
life exhibiting not a single feature that can be commended. Mechanical
art reached its perfection at Corinth; real art at Athens, finding a
multitude not only of true, but also of new expressions. Before Pericles
the only style of architecture was the Doric; his became at once the age
of perfect beauty. It also became the age of freedom in thinking and
departure from the national faith. In this respect the history of
Pericles and of Aspasia is very significant. His, also, was the great
age of oratory, but of oratory leading to delusion, the democratical
forms of Athens being altogether deceptive, power ever remaining in the
hands of a few leading men, who did everything. The true popular
sentiment, as was almost always the case under those ancient republican
institutions, could find for itself no means of expression. The great
men were only too prone to regard their fellow-citizens as a rabble,
mere things to be played off against one another, and to consider that
the objects of life are dominion and lust, that love, self-sacrifice,
and devotion are fictions; that oaths are only good for deception.

[Sidenote: The treaty with Persia.]

Though the standard of statesmanship, at the period of the Persian wars,
was very low, there can be no doubt that among the Greek leaders were
those who clearly understood the causes of the Asiatic attack; and
hence, with an instinct of self-preservation, defensive alliances were
continually maintained with Egypt. When their valour and endurance had
given to the Greeks a glorious issue to the war, the articles contained
in the final treaty manifest clearly the motives and understandings of
both parties. No Persian vessel was to appear between the Cyanean Rocks
and Chelidonian Islands; no Persian army to approach within three days'
journey of the Mediterranean Sea, B.C. 449.

[Sidenote: She becomes the centre of policy and philosophy.]

To Athens herself the war had given political supremacy. We need only
look at her condition fifty years after the battle of Platæa. She was
mistress of more than a thousand miles of the coast of Asia Minor; she
held as dependencies more than forty islands; she controlled the straits
between Europe and Asia; her fleets ranged the Mediterranean and the
Black Seas; she had monopolized the trade of all the adjoining
countries; her magazines were full of the most valuable objects of
commerce. From the ashes of the Persian fire she had risen up so
supremely beautiful that her temples, her statues, her works of art, in
their exquisite perfection, have since had no parallel in the world. Her
intellectual supremacy equalled her political. To her, as to a focal
point, the rays of light from every direction converged. The
philosophers of Italy and Asia Minor directed their steps to her as to
the acknowledged centre of mental activity. As to Egypt, an utter ruin
had befallen her since she was desolated by the Persian arms. Yet we
must not therefore infer that though, as conquerors, the Persians had
trodden out the most aged civilization on the globe, as sovereigns they
were haters of knowledge, or merciless as kings. We must not forget that
the Greeks of Asia Minor were satisfied with their rule, or, at all
events, preferred rather to remain their subjects than to contract any
permanent political connexions with the conquering Greeks of Europe.

In this condition of political glory, Athens became not only the
birthplace of new and beautiful productions of art, founded on a more
just appreciation of the true than had yet been attained to in any
previous age of the world (which, it may be added, have never been
surpassed, if, indeed, they have been equalled since), she also became
the receptacle for every philosophical opinion, new and old. Ionian,
Italian, Egyptian, Persian, all were brought to her, and contrasted and
compared together. Indeed, the philosophical celebrity of Greece is
altogether due to Athens. The rest of the country participated but
little in the cultivation of learning. It is a popular error that
Greece, in the aggregate, was a learned country.

[Sidenote: State of philosophy at this juncture.]

We have already seen how the researches of individual inquirers, passing
from point to point, had conducted them, in many instances, to a
suspicion of the futility of human knowledge; and looking at the
results reached by the successive philosophical schools, we cannot fail
to remark that there was a general tendency to scepticism. We have seen
how, from the material and tangible beginnings of the Ionians, the
Eleatics land us not only in a blank atheism, but in a disbelief of the
existence of the world. And though it may be said that these were only
the isolated results of special schools, it is not to be forgotten that
they were of schools the most advanced. The time had now arrived when
the name of a master was no more to usurp the place of reason, as had
been hitherto the case; when these last results of the different methods
of philosophizing were to be brought together, a criticism of a higher
order established, and conclusions of a higher order deduced.

[Sidenote: Commencement of the higher analysis.]

Thus it will ever be with all human investigation. The primitive
philosophical elements from which we start are examined, first by one
and then by another, each drawing his own special conclusions and
deductions, and each firmly believing in the truth of his inferences.
Each analyst has seen the whole subject from a particular point of view,
without concerning himself with the discordances, contradictions, and
incompatibilities obvious enough when his conclusions come to be
compared with those of other analysts as skilful as himself. In process
of time, it needs must be that a new school of examiners will arise,
who, taking the results at which their predecessors have arrived from an
examination of the primary elements, will institute a secondary
comparison; a comparison of results with results; a comparison of a
higher order, and more likely to lead to absolute truth.

[Sidenote: Illustration from subsequent Roman history.]

Perhaps I cannot better convey what I here mean by this secondary and
higher analysis of philosophical questions than by introducing, as an
illustration, what took place subsequently in Rome, through her policy
of universal religious toleration. The priests and followers of every
god and of every faith were permitted to pursue without molestation
their special forms of worship. Of these, it may be supposed that nearly
all were perfectly sincere in their adherence to their special
divinity, and, if the occasion had arisen, could have furnished
unanswerable arguments in behalf of his supremacy and of the truth of
his doctrines. Yet it is very clear that, by thus bringing these several
primary systems into contact, a comparison of a secondary and of a
higher order, and therefore far more likely to approach to absolute
truth, must needs be established among them. It is very well known that
the popular result of this secondary examination was the philosophical
rejection of polytheism.

[Sidenote: The Sophists.]

[Sidenote: They reject philosophy, and even morality.]

So, in Athens the result of the secondary examination of philosophical
systems and deductions was scepticism as regards them all, and the rise
of a new order of men--the Sophists--who not only rejected the validity
of all former philosophical methods, but carried their infidelity to a
degree plainly not warranted by the facts of the case, in this, that
they not only denied that human reason had thus far succeeded in
ascertaining anything, but even affirmed that it is incapable, from its
very nature, as dependent on human organization, or the condition under
which it acts, of determining the truth at all; nay, that even if the
truth is actually in its possession, since it has no criterion by which
to recognize it, it cannot so much as be certain that it is in such
possession of it. From these principles it follows that, since we have
no standard of the true, neither can we have any standard of the good,
and that our ideas of what is good and what is evil are altogether
produced by education or by convention. Or, to use the phrase adopted by
the Sophists, "it is might that makes right." Right and wrong are hence
seen to be mere fictions created by society, having no eternal or
absolute existence in nature. The will of a monarch, or of a majority in
a community, declares what the law shall be; the law defines what is
right and what is wrong; and these, therefore, instead of having an
actual existence, are mere illusions, owing their birth to the exercise
of force. It is might that has determined and defined what is right. And
hence it follows that it is needless for a man to trouble himself with
the monitions of conscience, or to be troubled thereby, for conscience,
instead of being anything real, is an imaginary fiction, or, at the
best, owes its origin to education, and is the creation of our social
state. Hence the wise will give himself no concern as to a meritorious
act or a crime, seeing that the one is intrinsically neither better nor
worse than the other; but he will give himself sedulous concern as
respects his outer or external relations--his position in society;
conforming his acts to that standard which it in its wisdom or folly,
but in the exercise of its might, has declared shall be regarded as
right. Or, if his occasions be such as to make it for his interest to
depart from the social rule, let him do it in secrecy; or, what is far
better, let him cultivate rhetoric, that noble art by which the wrong
may be made to appear the right; by which he who has committed a crime
may so mystify society as to delude it into the belief that he is worthy
of praise; and by which he may prove that his enemy, who has really
performed some meritorious deed, has been guilty of a crime. Animated by
such considerations, the Sophists passed from place to place, offering
to sell for a sum of money a knowledge of the rhetorical art, and
disposed of their services in the instruction of the youth of wealthy
and noble families.

What shall we say of such a system and of such a state of things? Simply
this: that it indicated a complete mental and social demoralization--mental
demoralization, for the principles of knowledge were sapped, and man
persuaded that his reason was no guide; social demoralization, for he was
taught that right and wrong, virtue and vice, conscience, and law, and God,
are imaginary fictions; that there is no harm in the commission of sin,
though there may be harm, as assuredly there is folly, in being detected
therein; that it is excellent for a man to sell his country to the Persian
king, provided that the sum of money he receives is large enough, and that
the transaction is so darkly conducted that the public, and particularly
his enemies, can never find it out. Let him never forget that patriotism is
the first delusion of a simpleton, and the last refuge of a knave.

[Sidenote: They reject the national religion.]

[Sidenote: Spread of their opinions among the highest classes.]

[Sidenote: They end in blank atheism.]

Such were the results of the first attempt to correct the partial
philosophies, by submitting them to the measure of a more universal one;
such the manner in which, instead of only losing their exclusiveness and
imperfections by their contact with one another, they were wrested from
their proper object, and made subservient to the purpose of deception.
Nor was it science alone that was affected; already might be discerned
the foreshadowings of that conviction which many centuries later
occasioned the final destruction of polytheism in Rome. Already, in
Athens, the voice of philosophers was heard, that among so many gods and
so many different worships it was impossible for a man to ascertain what
is true. Already, many even of the educated were overwhelmed with the
ominous suggestion that, if ever it had been the will of heaven to
reveal any form of faith to the world, such a revelation, considering
its origin, must necessarily have come with sufficient power to override
all opposition; that if there existed only as many as two forms of faith
synchronous and successful in the world, that fact would of itself
demonstrate that neither of them is true, and that there never had been
any revelation from an all-wise and omnipotent God. Nor was it merely
among the speculative men that these infidelities were cherished; the
leading politicians and statesmen had become deeply infected with them.
It was not Anaxagoras alone who was convicted of atheism; the same
charge was made against Pericles, the head of the republic--he who had
done so much for the glory of Athens--the man who, in practical life,
was, beyond all question, the first of his age. With difficulty he
succeeded, by the use of what influence remained to him, in saving the
life of the guilty philosopher his friend, but in the public estimation
he was universally viewed as a participator in his crime. If the
foundations of philosophy and those of religion were thus sapped, the
foundations of law experienced no better fate. The Sophists, who were
wandering all over the world, saw that each nation had its own ideas of
merit and demerit, and therefore its own system of law; that even in
different towns there were contrary conceptions of right and wrong, and
therefore opposing codes. It is evident that in such examinations they
applied the same principles which had guided them in their analysis of
philosophy and religion, and that the result could be no other than it
was, to bring them to the conclusion that there is nothing absolute in
justice or in law. To what an appalling condition society has arrived,
when it reaches the positive conclusion that there is no truth, no
religion, no justice, no virtue in the world; that the only object of
human exertion is unrestrained physical enjoyment; the only standard of
a man's position, wealth; that, since there is no possibility of truth,
whose eternal principles might serve for an uncontrovertible and common
guide, we should resort to deception and the arts of persuasion, that we
may dupe others for our purposes; that there is no sin in undermining
the social contract; no crime in blasphemy, or rather there is no
blasphemy at all, since there are no gods; that "man is the measure of
all things," as Protagoras teaches, and that "he is the criterion of
existence;" that "thought is only the relation of the thinking subject
to the object thought of, and that the thinking subject, the soul, is
nothing more than the sum of the different moments of thinking." It is
no wonder that that Sophist who was the author of such doctrines should
be condemned to death to satisfy the clamours of a populace who had not
advanced sufficiently into the depths of this secondary, this higher
philosophy, and that it was only by flight that he could save himself
from the punishment awaiting the opening sentiment of his book: "Of the
gods I cannot tell whether they are or not, for much hinders us from
knowing this--both the obscurity of the subject and the shortness of
life." It is no wonder that the social demoralization spread apace, when
men like Gorgias, the disciple of Empedocles, were to be found, who
laughed at virtue, made an open derision of morality, and proved, by
metaphysical demonstration, that nothing at all exists.

[Sidenote: Political dangers of the higher analysis.]

[Sidenote: Illustrations from the Middle Ages.]

[Sidenote: Danger of intellect outgrowing formulas of faith.]

[Sidenote: Absolute necessity of preparing communities for these
changes.]

From these statements respecting the crisis at which ancient philosophy
had arrived, we might be disposed to believe that the result was
unmitigated evil, for it scarcely deserves mention that the quibbles and
disputes of the Sophists occasioned an extraordinary improvement of the
Greek language, introducing precision into its terms, and a wonderful
dialectical skill into its use. For us there may be extracted from these
melancholy conclusions at least one instructive lesson--that it is not
during the process of decomposition of philosophies, and especially of
religions, that social changes occur, for such breakings-up commonly go
on in an isolated, and therefore innocuous way; but if by chance the
fragments and decomposed portions are brought together, and attempts are
made by fusion to incorporate them anew, or to extract from them, by a
secondary analysis, what truth they contain, a crisis is at once brought
on, and--such is the course of events--in the catastrophe that ensues
they are commonly all absolutely destroyed. It was doubtless their
foresight of such consequences that inspired the Italian statesmen of
the Middle Ages with a resolute purpose of crushing in the bud every
encroachment on ecclesiastical authority, and every attempt at
individual interpretation of religious doctrines. For it is not to be
supposed that men of clear intellect should be insensible to the obvious
unreasonableness of many of the dogmas that had been consecrated by
authority. But if once permission were accorded to human criticism and
human interpretation, what other issue could there be than that doctrine
upon doctrine, and sect upon sect should arise; that theological
principles should undergo a total decomposition, until two men could
scarcely be found whose views coincided; nay, even more than that, that
the same man should change his opinion with the changing incidents of
the different periods of his life. No matter what might be the plausible
guise of the beginning, and the ostensibly cogent arguments for its
necessity, once let the decomposition commence, and no human power could
arrest it until it had become thorough and complete. Considering the
prestige, the authority, and the mass of fact to be dealt with, it might
take many centuries for this process to be finished, but that that
result would at length be accomplished no enlightened man could doubt.
The experience of the ancient European world had shown that in the act
of such decompositions there is but little danger, since, for the time
being, each sect, and, indeed, each individual, has a guiding rule of
life. But as soon as the period of secondary analysis is reached a
crisis must inevitably ensue, in all probability involving not only
religion, but also the social contract. And though, by the exercise of
force on the part of the interests that are disturbed, aided by that
popular sentiment which is abhorrent of anarchy, the crisis might, for a
time, be put off, it could not be otherwise than that Europe should be
left in that deplorable state which must result when the intellect of a
people has outgrown its formulas of faith. A fearful condition to
contemplate, for such a dislocation must also affect political
relations, and necessarily implies revolt against existing law. Nations
plunged in the abyss of irreligion must necessarily be nations in
anarchy. For a time their tendency to explosion may be kept down by the
firm application of the hand of power; but this is simply an antagonism,
it is no cure. The social putrefaction proceeds, working its way
downward into classes that are lower and lower, until at length it
involves the institutions that are relied on for its arrest. Armies, the
machinery of compression, once infected, the end is at hand, but no
human foresight can predict what the event shall be, especially if the
contemporaneous ruling powers have either ignorantly or wilfully
neglected to prepare society for the inevitable trial it is about to
undergo. It is the most solemn of all the duties of governments, when
once they have become aware of such a momentous condition, to prepare
the nations for its fearful consequences. For this it may, perhaps, be
lawful for them to dissemble in a temporary manner, as it is sometimes
proper for a physician to dissemble with his patient; it may be lawful
for them even to resort to the use of force, but never should such
measures of doubtful correctness be adopted without others directed to a
preparation of the mass of society for the trials through which it is
about to pass. Such, doubtless, were the profound views of the great
Italian statesmen of the Middle Ages; such, doubtless, were the
arguments by which they justified to themselves resistance against the
beginning of the evil--a course for which Europe has too often and
unfairly condemned them.

[Sidenote: Summary of the preceding theories.]

It remains for us now to review the details presented in the foregoing
pages for the purpose of determining the successive phases of
development through which the Greek mind passed. It is not with the
truth or fallacy of these details that we have to do, but with their
order of occurrence. They are points enabling us to describe graphically
the curve of Grecian intellectual advance.

The starting point of Greek philosophy is physical and geocentral. The
earth is the grand object of the universe, and, as the necessary result,
erroneous ideas are entertained as to the relations and dimensions of
the sea and air. This philosophy was hardly a century old before it
began to cosmogonize, using the principles it considered itself sure of.
Long before it was able to get rid of local ideas, such as upward and
downward in space, it undertook to explain the origin of the world.

But, as advances were made, it was recognized that creation, in its
various parts, displays intention and design, the adaptation of means to
secure proposed ends. This suggested a reasoning and voluntary agency,
like that of man, in the government of the world; and from a continual
reference to human habits and acts, Greek philosophy passed through its
stage of anthropoid conceptions.

A little farther progress awakened suspicions that the mind of man can
obtain no certain knowledge; and the opinion at last prevailed that we
have no trustworthy criterion of truth. In the scepticism thus setting
in, the approach to Oriental ideas is each successive instant more and
more distinct.

[Sidenote: Approach to Oriental ideas.]

This period of doubt was the immediate forerunner of more correct
cosmical opinions. The heliocentric mechanism of the planetary system
was introduced, the earth deposed to a subordinate position. The
doctrines, both physical and intellectual, founded on geocentric ideas,
were necessarily endangered, and, since these had connected themselves
with the prevailing religious views, and were represented by important
material interests, the public began to practise persecution and the
philosophers hypocrisy. Pantheistic notions of the nature of the world
became more distinct, and, as their necessary consequence, the doctrines
of Emanation, Transmigration, and Absorption were entertained. From this
it is but a step to the suspicion that matter, motion, and time are
phantasms of the imagination--opinions embodied in the atomic theory,
which asserts that atoms and space alone exist; and which became more
refined when it recognized that atoms are only mathematical points; and
still more so when it considered them as mere centres of force. The
brink of Buddhism was here approached.

As must necessarily ever be the case where men are coexisting in
different psychical stages of advance, some having made a less, some a
greater intellectual progress, all these views which we have described
successively, were at last contemporaneously entertained. At this point
commenced the action of the Sophists, who, by setting the doctrines of
one school in opposition to those of another, and representing them all
as of equal value, occasioned the destruction of them all, and the
philosophy founded on physical speculation came to an end.

[Sidenote: Uniformity in the manner of intellectual progress.]

Of this phase of Greek intellectual life, if we compare the beginning
with the close, we cannot fail to observe how great is the improvement.
The thoughts dealt with at the later period are intrinsically of a
higher order than those at the outset. From the puerilities and errors
with which we have thus been occupied, we learn that there is a definite
mode of progress for the mind of man; from the history of later times we
shall find that it is ever in the same direction.

CHAPTER V.

THE GREEK AGE OF FAITH.

RISE AND DECLINE OF ETHICAL PHILOSOPHY.

[Sidenote: Greek philosophy on the basis of ethics.]

The Sophists had brought on an intellectual anarchy. It is not in the
nature of humanity to be contented with such a state. Thwarted in its
expectations from physics, the Greek mind turned its attention to
morals. In the progress of life, it is but a step from the age of
Inquiry to the age of Faith.

[Sidenote: Socrates: his mode of teaching.]

[Sidenote: The doctrines of Socrates.]

[Sidenote: Opposes mathematics and physics.]

Socrates, who led the way in this movement, was born B.C. 469. He
exercised an influence in some respects felt to our times. Having
experienced the unprofitable results arising from physical speculation,
he set in contrast there with the solid advantages to be enjoyed from
the cultivation of virtue and morality. His life was a perpetual combat
with the Sophists. His manner of instruction was by conversation, in
which, according to the uniform testimony of all who heard him, he
singularly excelled. He resorted to definitions, and therefrom drew
deductions, conveying his argument under the form of a dialogue. Unlike
his predecessors, who sought for truth in the investigation of outward
things, he turned his attention inward, asserting the supremacy of
virtue and its identity with knowledge, and the necessity of an
adherence to the strict principles of justice. Considering the depraved
condition to which the Sophists had reduced society, he insisted on a
change in the manner of education of youth, so as to bring it in
accordance with the principle that happiness is only to be found in the
pursuit of virtue and goodness. Thus, therefore, he completely
substituted the moral for the physical, and in this essentially consists
the philosophical revolution he effected. He had no school, properly
speaking, nor did he elaborate any special ethical system; to those who
inquired how they should know good from evil and right from wrong, he
recommended the decisions of the laws of their country. It does not
appear that he ever entered on any inquiry respecting the nature of God,
simply viewing his existence as a fact of which there was abundant and
incontrovertible proof. Though rejecting the crude religious ideas of
his nation, and totally opposed to anthropomorphism, he carefully
avoided the giving of public offence by improper allusions to the
prevailing superstition; nay, even as a good citizen, he set an example
of conforming to its requirements. In his judgment, the fault of the
Sophists consisted in this, that they had subverted useless speculation,
but had substituted for it no scientific evidence. Nevertheless, if man
did not know, he might believe, and demonstration might be profitably
supplanted by faith. He therefore insisted on the great doctrines of the
immortality of the soul and the government of the world by Providence;
but it is not to be denied that there are plain indications, in some of
his sentiments, of a conviction that the Supreme Being is the soul of
the world. He professed that his own chief wisdom consisted in the
knowledge of his own ignorance, and dissuaded his friends from the
cultivation of mathematics and physics, since he affirmed that the
former leads to vain conclusions, the latter to atheism. In his system
everything turns on the explanation of terms; but his processes of
reasoning are often imperfect, his conclusions, therefore, liable to be
incorrect. In this way, he maintained that no one would knowingly commit
a wrong act, because he that knew a thing to be good would do it; that
it is only involuntarily that the bad are bad; that he who knowingly
tells a lie is a better man than he who tells a lie in ignorance; and
that it is right to injure one's enemies.

[Sidenote: Superficiality of his views.]

From such a statement of the philosophy of Socrates, we cannot fail to
remark how superficial it must have been; it perpetually mistakes
differences of words for distinctions of things; it also possessed
little novelty. The enforcement of morality cannot be regarded as
anything new, since probably there has never been an age in which good
men were not to be found, who observed, as their rule of life, the
maxims taught by Socrates; and hence we may reasonably inquire what it
was that has spread over the name of this great man such an unfading
lustre, and why he stands out in such extraordinary prominence among the
benefactors of his race.

[Sidenote: Causes of the celebrity of Socrates.]

Socrates was happy in two things: happy in those who recorded his life,
and happy in the circumstances of his death. It is not given to every
great man to have Xenophon and Plato for his biographers; it is not
given to every one who has overpassed the limit of life, and, in the
natural course of events, has but a little longer to continue, to attain
the crown of martyrdom in behalf of virtue and morality. In an evil hour
for the glory of Athens, his countrymen put him to death. It was too
late when they awoke and saw that they could give no answer to the voice
of posterity, demanding why they had perpetrated this crime. With truth
Socrates said, at the close of his noble speech to the judges who had
condemned him, "It is now time that we depart--I to die, you to live;
but which has the better destiny is unknown to all except God." The
future has resolved that doubt. For Socrates there was reserved the
happier lot.

[Sidenote: The ostensible accusations against him.]

No little obscurity still remains as respects the true nature of this
dark transaction. The articles of accusation were three: he rejects the
gods of his country; he introduces new ones; he perverts the education
of youth. With truth might his friends say it was wonderful that he
should be accused of impiety, the whole tenor of whose life was
reverence for God--a recognition not only of the divine existence, but
of the divine superintendence. "It is only a madman," he would say, "who
imputes success in life to human prudence;" and as to the necessity of a
right education for the young, "It is only the wise who are fit to
govern men." We must conclude that the accusations were only ostensible
or fictitious, and that beneath them lay some reality which could
reconcile the Athenians to the perpetration of so great a crime.

Shall we find in his private life any explanation of this mystery?
Unfortunately, the details of it which have descended to us are few. To
the investigations of classical criticism we can scarcely look with any
hope, for classical criticism has hitherto been in a state of singular
innocence, so far as the actual affairs of life are concerned. It
regards Athenians and Romans not as men and women like ourselves, but as
the personages presented by fictitious literature, whose lives are
exceptions to the common laws of human nature; who live in the midst of
scenes of endless surprises and occurrences ever bordering on the
marvellous.

[Sidenote: The character of Socrates in Athens.]

[Sidenote: Xantippe his wife.]

[Sidenote: He is really the victim of political animosity.]

If we examine the case according to everyday principles, we cannot fail
to remark that the Socrates of our imagination is a very different man
from the Socrates of contemporaneous Athenians. To us he appears a
transcendent genius, to whom the great names of antiquity render their
profound homage; a martyr in behalf of principles, of which, if society
be devoid, life itself is scarcely of any worth, and for the defence of
which it is the highest glory that a man should be called upon to die.
To them Socrates was no more than an idle lounger in the public places
and corners of the streets; grotesque, and even repulsive in his person;
affecting in the oddities of his walking and in his appearance many of
the manners of the mountebank. Neglecting the pursuit of an honest
calling, for his trade seems to have been that of a stone-cutter, he
wasted his time in discoursing with such youths as his lecherous
countenance and satyr-like person could gather around him, leading them
astray from the gods of his country, the flimsy veil of his hypocrisy
being too transparent to conceal his infidelity. Nevertheless, he was a
very brave soldier, as those who served with him testify. It does not
appear that he was observant of those cares which by most men are
probably considered as paramount, giving himself but little concern for
the support of his children and wife. The good woman Xantippe is, to all
appearance, one of those characters who are unfairly judged of by the
world. Socrates married her because of her singular conversational
powers; and though he himself, according to universal testimony,
possessed extraordinary merits in that respect, he found to his cost,
when too late, so commanding were her excellencies, that he was
altogether her inferior. Among the amusing instances related of his
domestic difficulties were the consequences of his invitations to
persons to dine with him when there was nothing in the house wherewith
to entertain them, a proceeding severely trying to the temper of
Xantippe, whose cause would unquestionably be defended by the matrons of
any nation. It was nothing but the mortification of a high-spirited
woman at the acts of a man who was too shiftless to have any concern for
his domestic honour. He would not gratify her urgent entreaties by
accepting from those upon whom he lavished his time the money that was
so greatly needed at home. After his condemnation, she carried her
children with her to his prison, and was dismissed by him, as he told
his friends, from his apprehension of her deep distress. To the last we
see her bearing herself in a manner honourable to a woman and a wife.
There is surely something wrong in a man's life when the mother of his
children is protesting against his conduct, and her complaints are
countenanced by the community. In view of all the incidents of the
history of Socrates, we can come to no other conclusion than that the
Athenians regarded him as an unworthy, and perhaps troublesome member of
society. There can be no doubt that his trial and condemnation were
connected with political measures. He himself said that he should have
suffered death previously, in the affair of Leon of Salamis, had not the
government been broken up. His bias was toward aristocracy, not toward
democracy. In common with his party, he had been engaged in undertakings
that could not do otherwise than entail mortal animosities; and it is
not to be overlooked that his indictment was brought forward by Anytus,
who was conspicuous in restoring the old order of things. The mistake
made by the Athenians was in applying a punishment altogether beyond the
real offence, and in adding thereto the persecution of those who had
embraced the tenets of Socrates by driving them into exile. Not only
admiration for the memory of their master, but also a recollection of
their own wrongs, made these men eloquent eulogists. Had Socrates
appeared to the Athenians as he appears to us, it is not consistent with
human proceedings that they should have acted in so barbarous and
totally indefensible a manner.

[Sidenote: The Dæmon of Socrates.]

If by the Dæmon to whose suggestions Socrates is said to have listened
anything more was meant than conscience, we must infer that he laboured
under that mental malady to which those are liable who, either through
penury or designedly, submit to extreme abstinence, and, thereby
injuring the brain, fall into hallucination. Such cases are by no means
of infrequent occurrence. Mohammed was affected in that manner.

[Sidenote: The Megaric school. The wise should be insensible to pain.]

After the death of Socrates there arose several schools professing to be
founded upon his principles. The divergences they exhibited when
compared with one another prove how little there was of precision in
those principles. Among these imitators is numbered Euclid of Megara,
who had been in the habit of incurring considerable personal risk for
the sake of listening to the great teacher, it being a capital offence
for a native of Megara to be found in Athens. Upon their persecution,
Plato and other disciples of Socrates fled to Euclid, and were well
received by him. His system was a mixture of the Eleatic and Socratic,
the ethical preponderating in his doctrine. He maintained the existence
of one Being, the Good, having various aspects--Wisdom, God, Reason,
and showed an inclination to the tendency afterward fully developed by
the Cynical school in his dogma that the wise man should be insensible
to pain.

[Sidenote: The Cyrenaic school. Pleasure is the object of life.]

With the Megaric school is usually classified the Cyrenaic founded by
Aristippus. Like Socrates, he held in disdain physical speculations, and
directed his attention to the moral. In his opinion, happiness consists
in pleasure; and, indeed, he recognized in pleasure and pain the
criteria of external things. He denied that we can know anything with
certainty, our senses being so liable to deceive us; but, though we may
not perceive things truly, it is true that we perceive. With the
Cyrenaic school, pleasure was the great end and object of life.

[Sidenote: The Cynical school: a contempt for others and gratification
of self.]

[Sidenote: Antisthenes.]

To these may be added the Cynical school, founded by Antisthenes, whose
system is personal and ferocious: it is a battle of the mind against the
body; it is a pursuit of pleasure of a mental kind, corporeal enjoyment
being utterly unworthy of a man. Its nature is very well shown in the
character of its founder, who abandoned all the conveniences and
comforts of life, voluntarily encountering poverty and exposure to the
inclemency of the seasons. His garments were of the meanest kind, his
beard neglected, his person filthy, his diet bordering on starvation. To
the passers-by this ragged misanthrope indulged in contemptuous
language, and offended them by the indecency of his gestures. Abandoned
at last by every one except Diogenes of Sinope, he expired in extreme
wretchedness. It had been a favourite doctrine with him that friendship
and patriotism are altogether worthless; and in his last agony, Diogenes
asking him whether he needed a friend, "Will a friend release me from
this pain?" he inquired. Diogenes handed him a dagger, saying, "This
will." "I want to be free from pain, but not from life." Into such
degradation had philosophy, as represented by the Cynical school,
fallen, that it may be doubted whether it is right to include a man like
Antisthenes among those who derive their title from their love of
wisdom--a man who condemned the knowledge of reading and writing, who
depreciated the institution of marriage, and professed that he saw no
other advantage in philosophy than that it enabled him to keep company
with himself.

[Sidenote: Diogenes of Sinope.]

[Sidenote: His irreverence.]

The wretched doctrines of Cynicism were carried to their utmost
application by Diogenes of Sinope. In early life he had been accustomed
to luxury and ease; but his father, who was a wealthy banker, having
been convicted of debasing the coinage, Diogenes, who in some manner
shared in the disgrace, was in a very fit state of mind to embrace
doctrines implying a contempt for the goods of the world and for the
opinions of men. He may be considered as the prototype of the hermits of
a later period in his attempts at the subjugation of the natural
appetites by means of starvation. Looking upon the body as a mere clog
to the soul, he mortified it in every possible manner, feeding it on raw
meat and leaves, and making it dwell in a tub. He professed that the
nearer a man approaches to suicide the nearer he approaches to virtue.
He wore no other dress than a scanty cloak; a wallet, a stick, and a
drinking-cup completed his equipment: the cup he threw away as useless
on seeing a boy take water in the hollow of his hand. It was his delight
to offend every idea of social decency by performing all the acts of
life publicly, asserting that whatever is not improper in itself ought
to be done openly. It is said that his death, which occurred in his
ninetieth year, was in consequence of devouring a neat's foot raw. From
his carrying the Socratic notions to an extreme, he merits the
designation applied to him, "the mad Socrates." His contempt for the
opinions of others, and his religious disbelief, are illustrated by an
incident related of him, that, having in a moment of weakness made a
promise to some friends that he would offer a sacrifice to Diana, he
repaired the next day to her temple, and, taking a louse from his head,
cracked it upon her altar.

[Sidenote: Decline of morality.]

What a melancholy illustration of the tendency of the human mind do
these facts offer. What a quick, yet inevitable descent from the
morality of Socrates. Selfishness is enthroned; friendship and
patriotism are looked upon as the affairs of a fool; happy is the man
who stands in no need of a friend; still happier he who has not one. No
action is intrinsically bad; even robbery, adultery, sacrilege, are
only crimes by public agreement. The sage will take care how he indulges
in the weakness of gratitude or benevolence, or any other such sickly
sentiment. If he can find pleasure, let him enjoy it; if pain is
inflicted on him, let him bear it; but, above all, let him remember that
death is just as desirable as life.

If the physical speculations of Greece had ended in sophistry and
atheism, ethical investigations, it thus appears, had borne no better
fruit. Both systems, when carried to their consequences, had been found
to be not only useless to society, but actually prejudicial to its best
interests. As far as could be seen, in the times of which we are
speaking, the prospects for civilization were dark and discouraging; nor
did it appear possible that any successful attempts could be made to
extract from philosophy anything completely suitable to the wants of
man. Yet, in the midst of these discreditable delusions, one of the
friends and disciples of Socrates--indeed, it may be said, his chief
disciple, Plato, was laying the foundation of another system, which,
though it contained much that was false and more that was vain,
contained also some things vigorous enough to descend to our times.

[Sidenote: Birth of Plato.]

Plato was born about B.C. 426. Antiquity has often delighted to cast a
halo of mythical glory around its illustrious names. The immortal works
of this great philosopher seemed to entitle him to more than mortal
honours. A legend, into the authenticity of which we will abstain from
inquiring, asserted that his mother Perictione, a pure virgin, suffered
an immaculate conception through the influences of Apollo. The god
declared to Ariston, to whom she was about to be married, the parentage
of the child. The wisdom of this great writer may justify such a noble
descent, and, in some degree, excuse the credulity of his admiring and
affectionate disciples, who gave a ready ear to the impossible story.

[Sidenote: His education and teaching.]

To the knowledge acquired by Plato during the eight or ten years he had
spent with Socrates, he added all that could be obtained from the
philosophers of Egypt, Cyrene, Persia, and Tarentum. With every
advantage arising from wealth and an illustrious parentage, if even it
was only of an earthly kind, for he numbered Solon among his ancestors,
he availed himself of the teaching of the chief philosophers of the age,
and at length, returning to his native country, founded a school in the
grove of Hecademus. Thrice during his career as a teacher he visited
Sicily on each occasion returning to the retirement of his academy. He
attained the advanced age of eighty-three years. It has been given to
few men to exercise so profound an influence on the opinions of
posterity, and yet it is said that during his lifetime Plato had no
friends. He quarrelled with most of those who had been his
fellow-disciples of Socrates; and, as might be anticipated from the
venerable age to which he attained, and the uncertain foundation upon
which his doctrines reposed, his opinions were very often contradictory,
and his philosophy exhibited many variations. To his doctrines we must
now attend.

[Sidenote: The doctrines of Plato. The three primary principles.]

It was the belief of Plato that matter is coeternal with God, and that,
indeed, there are three primary principles--God, Matter, Ideas; all
animate and inanimate things being fashioned by God from matter, which,
being capable of receiving any impress, may be designated with propriety
the Mother of Forms. He held that intellect existed before such forms
were produced, but not antecedently to matter. To matter he imputed a
refractory or resisting quality, the origin of the disorders and
disturbances occurring in the world; he also regarded it us the cause of
evil, accounting thereby for the preponderance of evil, which must
exceed the good in proportion as matter exceeds ideas. It is not without
reason, therefore, that Plato has been accused of Magianism. These
doctrines are of an Oriental cast.

[Sidenote: He asserts the existence of a personal God.]

[Sidenote: Nature of the soul.]

The existence of God, an independent and personal maker of the world, he
inferred from proofs of intelligence and design presented by natural
objects. "All in the world is for the sake of the rest, and the places
of the single parts are so ordered as to subserve to the preservation
and excellency of the whole; hence all things are derived from the
operation of a Divine intellectual cause." From the marks of unity in
that design he deduced the unity of God, the Supreme Intelligence,
incorporeal, without beginning, end, or change. His god is the fashioner
and father of the universe, in contradistinction to impersonal Nature.
In one sense, he taught that the soul is immortal and imperishable; in
another, he denied that each individual soul either has had or will
continue to have an everlasting duration. From what has been said on a
former page, it will be understood that this psychological doctrine is
essentially Indian. His views of the ancient condition of and former
relations of the soul enabled Plato to introduce the celebrated doctrine
of Reminiscence, and to account for what have otherwise been termed
innate ideas. They are the recollections of things with which the soul
was once familiar.

[Sidenote: Plato's Ideal theory.]

[Sidenote: Exemplars or types.]

The reason of God contemplates and comprehends the exemplars or original
models of all natural forms, whatever they may be; for visible things
are only fleeting shadows, quickly passing away; ideas or exemplars are
everlasting. With so much power did he set forth this theory of ideas,
and, it must be added, with so much obscurity, that some have asserted
his belief in an extramundane space in which exist incorporeal beings,
the ideas or original exemplars of all organic and inorganic forms. An
illustration may remove some of the obscurity of these views. Thus all
men, though they may present different appearances when compared with
each other, are obviously fashioned upon the same model, to which they
all more or less perfectly conform. All trees of the same kind, though
they may differ from one another, are, in like manner, fashioned upon a
common model, to which they more or less perfectly conform. To such
models, exemplars, or types, Plato gave the designation of Ideas. Our
knowledge thereof is clearly not obtained from the senses, but from
reflection. Now Plato asserted that these ideas are not only conceptions
of the mind, but actually perceptions or entities having a real
existence; nay, more, that they are the only real existences. Objects
are thus only material embodiments of ideas, and in representation are
not exact; for correspondence between an object and its model is only so
far as circumstances will permit. Hence we can never determine all the
properties or functions of the idea from an examination of its imperfect
material representation, any more than we can discover the character or
qualities of a man from pictures of him, no matter how excellent those
pictures may be.

[Sidenote: Doctrine of Reminiscence.]

[Sidenote: Recollections during transmigration.]

The Ideal theory of Plato, therefore, teaches that, beyond this world of
delusive appearances, this world of material objects, there is another
world, invisible, eternal, and essentially true; that, though we cannot
trust our senses for the correctness of the indications they yield,
there are other impressions upon which we may fall back to aid us in
coming to the truth, the reminiscences or recollections still abiding in
the soul of the things it formerly knew, either in the realm of pure
ideas, or in the states of former life through which it has passed. For
Plato says that there are souls which, in periods of many thousand
years, have successively transmigrated through bodies of various kinds.
Of these various conditions they retain a recollection, more faintly or
vividly, as the case may be. Ideas seeming to be implanted in the human
mind, but certainly never communicated to us by the senses, are derived
from those former states. If this recollection of ancient events and
conditions were absolutely precise and correct, then man would have an
innate means for determining the truth. But such reminiscences being, in
their nature, imperfect and uncertain, we never can attain to absolute
truth. With Plato, the Beautiful is the perfect image of the true. Love
is the desire of the soul for Beauty, the attraction of like for like,
the longing of the divinity within us for the divinity beyond us; and
the Good, which is beauty, truth, justice, is God--God in his abstract
state.

[Sidenote: God is the sum of ideas.]

[Sidenote: The nature of the world and of the gods.]

[Sidenote: Triple constitution of the soul.]

[Sidenote: Transmigration and future rewards and punishments.]

[Sidenote: The physiology of Plato.]

From the Platonic system it therefore followed that science is
impossible to man, and possible only to God; that, however, recollecting
our origin, we ought not to despair, but elevate our intellectual aim as
high as we may; that all knowledge is not attributable to our present
senses; for, if that were the case, all men would be equally wise, their
senses being equal in acuteness; but a very large portion, and by far
the surest portion, is derived from reminiscence of our former states;
that each individual soul is an idea; and that, of ideas generally, the
lower are held together by the higher, and hence, finally by one which
is supreme; that God is the sum of ideas, and is therefore eternal and
unchangeable, the sensuous conditions of time and space having no
relation to him, and being inapplicable in any conception of his
attributes; that he is the measure of all things, and not man, as
Protagoras supposed; that the universe is a type of him; that matter
itself is an absolute negation, and is the same as space; that the forms
presented by our senses are unsubstantial shadows, and no reality; that,
so far from there being an infinity of worlds, there is but one, which,
as the work of God, is neither subject to age nor decay, and that it
consists of a body and a soul; in another respect it may be said to be
composed of fire and earth, which can only be made to cohere through the
intermedium of air and water, and hence the necessity of the existence
of the four elements; that of geometrical forms, the pyramid corresponds
to fire, the cube to earth, the octahedron to air, these forms being
produced from triangles connected by certain numerical ratios; that the
entire sum of vitality is divided by God into seven parts, answering to
the divisions of the musical octave, or to the seven planets; that the
world is an animal having within it a soul; for man is warm, and so is
the world; man is made of various elements, and so is the world; and, as
the body of man has a soul, so too must the world have one; that there
is a race of created, generated, and visible gods, who must be
distinguished from the eternal, their bodies being composed for the most
part of fire, their shape spherical; that the earth is the oldest and
first of the starry bodies, its place being in the centre of the
universe, or in the axis thereof, where it remains, balanced by its own
equilibrium; that perhaps it is an ensouled being and a generated god;
that the mortal races are three, answering to Earth, Air, and Water;
that the male man was the first made of mortals, and that from him the
female, and beasts, and birds, and fishes issued forth; that the
superiority of man depends upon his being a religious animal; that each
mortal consists of two portions, a soul and a body--their separation
constitutes death; that of the soul there are two primitive component
parts, a mortal and an immortal, the one being made by the created gods,
and the other by the Supreme; that, for the purpose of uniting these
parts together, it is necessary that there should be an intermedium, and
that this is the dæmonic portion or spirit; that our mental struggles
arise from this triple constitution of Appetite, Spirit, and Reason;
that Reason alone is immortal, and the others die; that the number of
souls in the universe is invariable or constant; that the sentiment of
pre-existence proves the soul to have existed before the body; that,
since the soul is the cause of motion, it can neither be produced nor
decay, else all motion must eventually cease; that, as to the condition
of departed souls, they hover as shades around the graves, pining for
restoration to their lifeless bodies, or migrating through various human
or brute shapes, but that an unembodied life in God is reserved for the
virtuous philosopher; that valour is nothing but knowledge, and virtue a
knowledge of good; that the soul, on entering the body, is irrational or
in a trance, and that the god, the star who formed its created part,
influences its career, and hence its fortunes may be predicted by
astrological computations; that there are future rewards and
punishments, a residence being appointed for the righteous in his
kindred star; for those whose lives have been less pure there is a
second birth under the form of a woman, and, if evil courses are still
persisted in, successive transmigrations through various brutes are in
reserve--the frivolous passing into birds, the unphilosophical into
beasts, the ignorant into fishes; that the world undergoes periodical
revolutions by fire and water, its destructions and reproductions
depending upon the coincidences of the stars. Of Plato's views of human
physiology I can offer no better statement than the following from
Ritter: "All in the human body is formed for the sake of the Reason,
after certain determinate ends. Accordingly, first of all, a seat must
be provided for the god-like portion of the soul, the head, viz., which
is round, and similar to the perfect shape of the whole, furnished with
the organs of cognition, slightly covered with flesh, which impedes the
senses. To the head is given the direction of the whole frame, hence its
position at the top; and, since the animal creation possesses all the
six irregular motions, and the head ought not to roll upon the ground,
the human form is long, with legs for walking and arms for serving the
body, and the anterior part is fashioned differently from the posterior.
Now, the reason being seated in the head, the spirit or irascible soul
has its seat in the breast, under the head, in order that it may be
within call and command of the Reason, but yet separated from the head
by the neck, that it might not mix with it. The concupiscible has
likewise its particular seat in the lower part of the trunk, the
abdomen, separated by the diaphragm from that of the irascible, since it
is destined, being separate from both, to be governed and held in order
both by the spirit and the Reason. For this end God has given it a
watch, the liver, which is dense, smooth, and shining, and, containing
in combination both bitter and sweet, is fitted to receive and reflect,
as a mirror, the images of thoughts. Whenever the Reason disapproves, it
checks inordinate desires by its bitterness, and, on the other hand,
when it approves, all is soothed into gentle repose by its sweetness;
moreover, in sleep, in sickness, or in inspiration it becomes prophetic,
so that even the vilest portion of the body is in a certain degree
participant of truth. In other respects the lower portion of the trunk
is fashioned with equal adaptation for the ends it has to serve. The
spleen is placed on the left side of the liver, in order to secrete and
carry off the impurities which the diseases of the body might produce
and accumulate. The intestines are coiled many times, in order that the
food may not pass too quickly through the body, and so occasion again an
immoderate desire for more; for such a constant appetite would render
the pursuit of philosophy impossible, and make man disobedient to the
commands of the divinity within him."

[Sidenote: His ethical ideas.]

The reader will gather from the preceding paragraph how much of wisdom
and of folly, of knowledge and of ignorance, the doctrines of Plato
present. I may be permitted to continue this analysis of his writings a
little farther, with the intention of exhibiting the manner in which he
carried his views into practice; for Plato asserted that, though the
supreme good is unattainable by our reason, we must try to resemble God
as far as it is possible for the changeable to copy the eternal;
remembering that pleasure is not the end of man, and, though the sensual
part of the soul dwells on eating and drinking, riches and pleasure, and
the spiritual on worldly honours and distinctions, the reason is devoted
to knowledge. Pleasure, therefore, cannot be attributed to the gods,
though knowledge may; pleasure, which is not a good in itself, but only
a means thereto. Each of the three parts of the soul has its own
appropriate virtue, that of reason being wisdom; that of the spirit,
courage; that of the appetite, temperance; and for the sake of
perfection, justice is added for the mutual regulation of the other
three.

[Sidenote: His proposed political institutions.]

[Sidenote: The Republic of Plato.]

In carrying his ethical conceptions into practice, Plato insists that
the state is everything, and that what is in opposition to it ought to
be destroyed. He denies the right of property; strikes at the very
existence of the family, pressing his doctrines to such an extreme as to
consider women as public property, to be used for the purposes of the
state; he teaches that education should be a governmental duty, and that
religion must be absolutely subjected to the politician; that children
do not belong to their parents, but to the state; that the aim of
government should not be the happiness of the individual, but that of
the whole; and that men are to be considered not as men, but as elements
of the state, a perfect subject differing from a slave only in this,
that he has the state for his master. He recommends the exposure of
deformed and sickly infants, and requires every citizen to be initiated
into every species of falsehood and fraud. Distinguishing between mere
social unions and true polities, and insisting that there should be an
analogy between the state and the soul as respects triple constitution,
he establishes a division of ruler, warriors, and labourers, preferring,
therefore, a monarchy reposing on aristocracy, particularly of talent.
Though he considers music essential to education, his opinion of the
fine arts is so low that he would admit into his state painters and
musicians only under severe restrictions, or not at all. It was for the
sake of having this chimerical republic realized in Sicily that he made
a journey to Dionysius; and it may be added that it was well for those
whom he hoped to have subjected to the experiment that his wild and
visionary scheme was never permitted to be carried into effect. In our
times extravagant social plans have been proposed, and some have been
attempted; but we have witnessed nothing so absurd as this vaunted
republic of Plato. It shows a surprising ignorance of the acts and wants
of man in his social condition.

Some of the more important doctrines of Plato are worthy of further
reflection. I shall therefore detain the reader a short time to offer a
few remarks upon them.

[Sidenote: Grandeur of Plato's conceptions of God]

It was a beautiful conception of this philosophy that ideas are
connected together by others of a higher order, and these, in their
turn, by others still higher, their generality and power increasing as
we ascend, until finally a culminating point is reached--a last, a
supreme, an all-ruling idea, which is God. Approaching in this elevated
manner to the doctrine of an Almighty Being, we are free from those
fallacies we are otherwise liable to fall into when we mingle notions
derived from time and space with the attributes of God; we also avoid
those obscurities necessarily encountered when we attempt the
consideration of the illimitable and eternal.

[Sidenote: and of the soul.]

[Sidenote: The sentiment of pre-existence.]

Plato's views of the immortality of the soul offer a striking contrast
to those of the popular philosophy and superstition of his time. They
recall, in many respects, the doctrines of India. In Greece, those who
held the most enlarged views entertained what might be termed a doctrine
of semi-immortality. They looked for a continuance of the soul in an
endless futurity, but gave themselves no concern about the eternity
which is past. But Plato considered the soul as having already eternally
existed, the present life being only a moment in our career; he looked
forward with an undoubting faith to the changes through which we must
hereafter pass. As sparks issue forth from a flame, so doubtless to his
imagination did the soul of man issue forth from the soul of the world.
Innate ideas and the sentiment of pre-existence indicate our past life.
By the latter is meant that on some occasion perhaps of trivial concern,
or perhaps in some momentous event, it suddenly occurs to us that we
have been in like circumstances, and surrounded by the things at that
instant present on some other occasion before; but the recollection,
though forcibly impressing us with surprise, is misty and confused. With
Plato shall we say it was in one of our prior states of existence, and
the long-forgotten transactions are now suddenly flashing upon us?

[Sidenote: But this arises from the anatomical construction of the
brain.]

But Plato did not know the double structure and the double action of the
brain of man; he did not remember that the mind may lose all recognition
of the lapse of time, and, with equal facility, compress into the
twinkling of an eye events so numerous that for their occurrence days
and even years would seem to be required; or, conversely, that it can
take a single, a simple idea, which one would suppose might be disposed
of in a moment, and dwell upon it, dilating or swelling it out, until
all the hours of a long night are consumed. Of the truth of these
singular effects we have not only such testimony as that offered by
those who have been restored from death by drowning, who describe the
flood of memory rushing upon them in the last moment of their mortal
agony, the long train of all the affairs in which they have borne a part
seen in an instant, as we see the landscape, with all its various
objects, by a flash of lightning at night, and that with appalling
distinctness, but also from our own experience in our dreams. It is
shown in my Physiology how the phenomena of the sentiment of
pre-existence may, upon these principles, be explained, each hemisphere
of the brain thinking for itself, and the mind deluded as respects the
lapse of time, mistaking these simultaneous actions for successive ones,
and referring one of the two impressions to an indistinct and misty
past. To Plato such facts as these afforded copious proofs of the prior
existence of the soul, and strong foundations for a faith in its future
life.

[Sidenote: The double immortality, past and future.]

Thus Plato's doctrine of the immortality of the soul implies a double
immortality; the past eternity, as well as that to come, falls within
its scope. In the national superstition of his time, the spiritual
principle seemed to arise without author or generator, finding its
chance residence in the tabernacle of the body, growing with its growth
and strengthening with its strength, acquiring for each period of life a
correspondence of form and of feature with its companion the body,
successively assuming the appearance of the infant, the youth, the
adult, the white-bearded patriarch. The shade who wandered in the
Stygian fields, or stood before the tribunal of Minos to receive his
doom, was thought to correspond in aspect with the aspect of the body at
death. It was thus that Ulysses recognized the forms of Patroclus and
Achilles, and other heroes of the ten years' siege; it was thus that the
peasant recognized the ghost of his enemy or friend. As a matter of
superstition, these notions had their use, but in a philosophical sense
it is impossible to conceive anything more defective.

[Sidenote: Relations of the past and future to man.]

Man differs from a lifeless body or a brute in this, that it is not with
the present moment alone that he has to deal. For the brute the past,
when gone, is clean gone for ever; and the future, before it approaches,
is as if it were never to be. Man, by his recollection, makes the past a
part of the present, and his foreknowledge adds the future thereto,
thereby uniting the three in one.

[Sidenote: Criticism on the Ideal theory.]

Some of the illustrations commonly given of Plato's Ideal theory may
also be instructively used for showing the manner in which his facts are
dealt with by the methods of modern science. Thus Plato would say that
there is contained in every acorn the ideal type of an oak, in
accordance with which as soon as suitable circumstances occur, the acorn
will develop itself into an oak, and into no other tree. In the act of
development of such a seed into its final growth there are, therefore,
two things demanding attention, the intrinsic character of the seed and
the external forces acting upon it. The Platonic doctrine draws such a
distinction emphatically; its essential purpose is to assert the
absolute existence and independence of that innate type and its
imperishability. Though it requires the agency of external circumstances
for its complete realization, its being is altogether irrespective of
them. There are, therefore, in such a case, two elements concerned--an
internal and an external. A like duality is perceived in many other
physiological instances, as in the relationship of mind and matter,
thought and sensation. It is the aim of the Platonic philosophy to
magnify the internal at the expense of the external in the case of man,
thereby asserting the absolute supremacy of intellect; this being the
particular in which man is distinguished from the brutes and lower
organisms, in whom the external relatively predominates. The development
of any such organism, be it plant or animal, is therefore nothing but a
manifestation of the Divine idea of Platonism. Many instances of natural
history offer striking illustrations, as when that which might have been
a branch is developed into a flower, the parts thereof showing a
disposition to arrange themselves by fives or by threes. The persistency
with which this occurs in organisms of the same species, is, in the
Platonic interpretation, a proof that, though individuals may perish,
the idea is immortal. How else, in this manner, could the like extricate
itself from the unlike; the one deliver itself from, and make itself
manifest among the many?

Such is an instance of Plato's views; but the very illustration, thus
serving to bring them so explicitly before us, may teach us another,
and, perhaps, a more correct doctrine. For, considering the duality
presented by such cases, the internal and external, the immortal hidden
type and the power acting upon it without, the character and the
circumstances, may we not pertinently inquire by what authority does
Plato diminish the influence of the latter and enhance the value of the
former? Why are facts to be burdened with such hypothetical creations,
when it is obvious that a much simpler explanation is sufficient? Let us
admit, as our best physiological views direct, that the starting-point
of every organism, low or high, vegetable or animal, or whatever else,
is a simple cell, the manner of development of which depends altogether
on the circumstances and influences to which it is exposed; that, so
long as those circumstances are the same the resulting form will be the
same, and that as soon as those circumstances differ the resulting form
differs too. The offspring is like its parent, not because it includes
an immortal typical form, but because it is exposed in development to
the same conditions as was its parent. Elsewhere I have endeavoured to
show that we must acknowledge this absolute dominion of physical agents
over organic forms as the fundamental principle in all the sciences of
organization; indeed, the main object of my work on Physiology was to
enforce this very doctrine. But such a doctrine is altogether
inconsistent with the Ideal theory of Platonism. It is no latent
imperishable type existing from eternity that is dominating in such
developments, but they take place as the issue of a resistless law,
variety being possible under variation of environment. Hence we may
perhaps excuse ourselves from that suprasensual world in which reside
typical forms, universals, ideas of created things, declining this
complex machinery of Platonism, and substituting for it a simple notion
of law. Nor shall we find, if from this starting-point we direct our
thoughts upward, as Plato did from subordinate ideas to the first idea,
anything incompatible with the noble conclusion to which he eventually
came, anything incompatible with the majesty of God, whose existence and
attributes may be asserted with more precision and distinctness from
considerations of the operation of immutable law than they can be from
the starting-point of fantastic, imaginary, ideal forms.

[Sidenote: Rise of the Sceptics.]

We have seen how the pre-Socratic philosophy ended in the Sophists; we
have now to see how the post-Socratic ended in the Sceptics. Again was
repeated the same result exhibited in former times, that the doctrines
of the different schools, even those supposed to be matters of absolute
demonstration, were not only essentially different, but in contradiction
to one another. Again, therefore, the opinion was resumed that the
intellect of man possesses no criterion of truth, being neither able to
distinguish among the contradictions of the impressions of the senses,
nor to judge of the correctness of philosophical deductions, nor even
to determine the intrinsic morality of acts. And, if there be no
criterion of truth, there can be no certain ground of science, and there
remains nothing for us but doubt. Such was the conclusion to which
Pyrrho, the founder of the Sceptics, came. He lived about B.C. 300. His
philosophical doctrine of the necessity of suspending or refusing our
assent from want of a criterion of judgment led by a natural transition
to the moral doctrine that virtue and happiness consist in perfect
quiescence or freedom from all mental perturbation. This doctrine, it is
said, he had learned in India from the Brahmans, whither he had been in
the expedition of Alexander. On his return to Europe he taught these
views in his school at Elis; but Greek philosophy, in its own order of
advancement, was verging on the discovery of these conclusions.

[Sidenote: Secondary analysis of ethical philosophy.]

The Sceptical school was thus founded on the assertion that man can
never ascertain the true among phenomena, and therefore can never know
whether things are in accordance or discordance with their appearances,
for the same object appears differently to us in different positions and
at different times. Doubtless it also appears differently to various
individuals. Among such appearances, how shall we select the true one,
and, if we make a selection, how shall we be absolutely certain that we
are right? Moreover, the properties we impute to things, such as colour,
smell, taste, hardness, and the like, are dependent upon our senses; but
we very well know that our senses are perpetually yielding to us
contradictory indications, and it is in vain that we expect Reason to
enable us to distinguish with correctness, or furnish us a criterion of
the truth. The Sceptical school thus made use of the weapon which the
Sophists had so destructively employed, directing it, however, chiefly
against ethics. But let us ascend a step higher. If we rely upon Reason,
how do we know that Reason itself is trustworthy? Do we not want some
criterion for it? And, even if such a criterion existed, must we not
have for it, in its turn, some higher criterion? The Sceptic thus
justified his assertion that to man there is no criterion of truth.

[Sidenote: The doctrines of Pyrrho.]

[Sidenote: No certainty in knowledge.]

In accordance with these principles, the Sceptics denied that we can
ever attain to a knowledge of existence from a knowledge of phenomena.
They carried their doubt to such an extreme as to assert that we can
never know the truth of anything that we have asserted, no, not even the
truth of this very assertion itself. "We assert nothing," said they;
"no, not even that we assert nothing." They declared that the system of
induction is at best only a system of probability, for an induction can
only be certain when every one and all of the individual things have
been examined and demonstrated to agree with the universal. If one
single exception among myriads of examples be discovered, the induction
is destroyed. But how shall we be sure, in any one case, that we have
examined all the individuals? therefore we must ever doubt. As to the
method of definitions, it is clear that it is altogether useless; for,
if we are ignorant of a thing, we cannot define it, and if we know a
thing, a definition adds nothing to our knowledge. In thus destroying
definitions and inductions they destroyed all philosophical method.

[Sidenote: The doctrines of Epicurus.]

[Sidenote: Tranquil indifference is best for man.]

But if there be this impossibility of attaining knowledge, what is the
use of man giving himself any trouble about the matter? Is it not best
to accept life as it comes, and enjoy pleasure while he may? And this is
what Epicurus, B.C. 342, had already advised men to do. Like Socrates,
he disparages science, and looks upon pleasure as the main object of
life and the criterion of virtue. Asserting that truth cannot be
determined by Reason alone, he gives up philosophy in despair, or
regards it as an inferior or ineffectual means of contributing to
happiness. In his view the proper division of philosophy is into Ethics,
Canonic, and Physics, the two latter being of very little importance
compared with the first. The wise man or sage must seek in an Oriental
quietism for the chief happiness of life, indulging himself in a
temperate manner as respects his present appetite, and adding thereto
the recollection of similar sensual pleasures that are past, and the
expectation of new ones reserved for the future. He must look on
philosophy as the art of enjoying life. He should give himself no
concern as to death or the power of the gods, who are only a delusion;
none as respects a future state, remembering that the soul, which is
nothing more than a congeries of atoms, is resolved into those
constituents at death. There can be no doubt that such doctrines were
very well suited to the times in which they were introduced; for so
great was the social and political disturbance, so great the uncertainty
of the tenure of property, that it might well be suggested what better
could a man do than enjoy his own while it was yet in his possession?
nor was the inducement to such a course lessened by extravagant
dissipations when courtesans and cooks, jesters and buffoons, splendid
attire and magnificent appointments had become essential to life.
Demetrius Poliorcetes, who understood the condition of things
thoroughly, says, "There was not, in my time, in Athens, one great or
noble mind." In such a social state, it is not at all surprising that
Epicurus had many followers, and that there were many who agreed with
him in thinking that happiness is best found in a tranquil indifference,
and in believing that there is nothing in reality good or bad; that it
is best to decide upon nothing, but to leave affairs to chance; that
there is, after all, little or no difference between life and death:
that a wise man will regard philosophy as an activity of ideas and
arguments which may tend to happiness; that its physical branch is of no
other use than to correct superstitious fancies as to death, and remove
the fear of meteors, prodigies, and other phenomena by explaining their
nature; that the views of Democritus and Aristotle may be made to some
extent available for the procurement of pleasure; and that we may learn
from the brutes, who pursue pleasure and avoid pain, what ought to be
our course. Upon the whole, it will be found that there is a connexion
between pleasure and virtue, especially if we enlarge our views and seek
for pleasure, not in the gratification of the present moment, but in the
aggregate offered by existence. The pleasures of the soul all originate
in the pleasures of the flesh; not only those of the time being, but
also those recollected in the past and anticipated in the future. The
sage will therefore provide for all these, and, remembering that pain is
in its nature transient, but pleasure is enduring, he will not hesitate
to encounter the former if he can be certain that it will procure him
the latter; he will dismiss from his mind all idle fears of the gods and
of destiny, for these are fictions beneficial only to women and the
vulgar; yet, since they are the objects of the national superstition, it
is needless to procure one's self disfavour by openly deriding them. It
will therefore be better for the sage to treat them with apparent
solemnity, or at least with outward respect, though he may laugh at the
imposition in his heart. As to the fear of death, he will be especially
careful to rid himself from it, remembering that death is only a
deliverer from the miseries of life.

[Sidenote: Imperfections of the Canonic of Epicurus,]

Under the title of Canonic Epicurus delivers his philosophical views;
they are, however, of a very superficial kind. He insists that our
sensuous impressions are the criterion of truth, and that even the
sensations of a lunatic and a dreamer are true. But, besides the
impressions of the moment, memory is also to be looked upon as a
criterion--memory, which is the basis of experience.

[Sidenote: and contradictions of his Physics.]

[Sidenote: His irreligion.]

In his Physics he adopts the Atomic theory of Democritus, though in many
respects it ill accords with his Ethics or Canonic; but so low is his
esteem of its value that he cares nothing for that. Though atoms and a
void are in their nature imperceptible to the senses, he acknowledges
their existence, asserting the occurrence of an infinite number of atoms
of different kinds in the infinite void, which, because of their weight,
precipitate themselves perpendicularly downward with an equable motion;
but some of them, through an unaccountable internal force, have deviated
from their perpendicular path, and, sticking together after their
collision, have given rise to the world. Not much better than these
vague puerilities are his notions about the size of the sun, the nature
of eclipses, and other astronomical phenomena; but he justifies his
contradictions and superficiality by asserting that it is altogether
useless for a man to know such things, and that the sage ought to give
himself no trouble about them. As to the soul, he says that it must be
of a material or corporeal nature, for this simple reason, that there is
nothing incorporeal but a vacuum; he inclines to the belief that it is
a rarefied body, easily movable, and somewhat of the nature of a vapour;
he divides it into four activities, corresponding to the four elements
entering into its constitution; and that, so far from being immortal, it
is decomposed into its integral atoms, dying when the body dies. With
the atomic doctrines of Democritus, Epicurus adopts the notions of that
philosopher respecting sensation, to the effect that eidola or images
are sloughed off from all external objects, and find access to the brain
through the eye. In his theology he admits, under the circumstances we
have mentioned, anthropomorphic gods, pretending to account for their
origin in the chance concourse of atoms, and suggesting that they
display their quietism and blessedness by giving themselves no concern
about man or his affairs. By such derisive promptings does Epicurus mock
at the religion of his country--its rituals, sacrifices, prayers, and
observances. He offers no better evidence of the existence of God than
that there is a general belief current among men in support of such a
notion; but, when brought to the point, he does not hesitate to utter
his disbelief in the national theology, and to declare that, in his
judgment, it is blind chance that rules the world.

[Sidenote: Epicureans of modern times.]

Such are the opinions to which the name of Epicurus has been attached;
but there were Epicureans ages before that philosopher was born, and
Epicureans there will be in all time to come. They abound in our own
days, ever characterized by the same features--an intense egoism in
their social relations, superficiality in their philosophical views, if
the term philosophical can be justly applied to intellects so narrow;
they manifest an accordance often loud and particular with the religion
of their country, while in their hearts and in their lives they are
utter infidels. These are they who constitute the most specious part of
modern society, and are often the self-proclaimed guardians of its
interests. They are to be found in every grade of life; in the senate,
in the army, in the professions, and especially in commercial pursuits,
which, unhappily, tend too frequently to the development of selfishness.
It is to them that society is indebted for more than half its
corruptions, all its hypocrisy, and more than half its sins. It is they
who infuse into it falsehood as respects the past, imposture as respects
the present, fraud as respects the future; who teach it by example that
the course of a man's life ought to be determined upon principles of
selfishness; that gratitude and affection are well enough if displayed
for effect, but that they should never be felt; that men are to be
looked upon not as men, but as things to be used; that knowledge and
integrity, patriotism and virtue, are the delusions of simpletons; and
that wealth is the only object which is really worthy of the homage of
man.

[Sidenote: The Middle Academy of Arcesilaus.]

[Sidenote: The New Academy of Carneades.]

[Sidenote: The duplicity of the later Academicians.]

[Sidenote: The fourth and fifth Academies.]

It now only remains in this chapter to speak of the later Platonism. The
Old Academy, of which Plato was the founder, limited its labours to the
illustration and defence of his doctrines. The Middle Academy,
originating with Arcesilaus, born B.C. 316, maintained a warfare with
the Stoics, developed the doctrine of the uncertainty of sensual
impressions and the nothingness of human knowledge. The New Academy was
founded by Carneades, born B.C. 213, and participated with the preceding
in many of its fundamental positions. On the one side Carneades leans to
scepticism, on the other he accepts probability as his guide. This
school so rapidly degenerated that at last it occupied itself with
rhetoric alone. The gradual increase of scepticism and indifference
throughout this period is obvious enough; thus Arcesilaus said that he
knew nothing, not even his own ignorance, and denied both intellectual
and sensuous knowledge. Carneades, obtaining his views from the old
philosophy, found therein arguments suitable for his purpose against
necessity, God, soothsaying; he did not admit that there is any such
thing as justice in the abstract, declaring that it is a purely
conventional thing; indeed, it was his rhetorical display, alternately
in praise of justice and against it, on the occasion of his visit to
Rome, that led Cato to have him expelled from the city. Though Plato had
been the representative of an age of faith, a secondary analysis of all
his works, implying an exposition of their contradictions, ended in
scepticism. If we may undertake to determine the precise aim of a
philosophy whose representatives stood in such an attitude of rhetorical
duplicity, it may be said to be the demonstration that there is no
criterion of truth in this world. Persuaded thus of the impossibility of
philosophy, Carneades was led to recommend his theory of the probable.
"That which has been most perfectly analyzed and examined, and found to
be devoid of improbability, is the most probable idea." The degeneration
of philosophy now became truly complete, the labours of so many great
men being degraded to rhetorical and artistic purposes. It was seen by
all that Plato had destroyed all trust in the indications of the senses,
and substituted for it the Ideal theory. Aristotle had destroyed that,
and there was nothing left to the world but scepticism. A fourth Academy
was founded by Philo of Larissa, a fifth by Antiochus of Ascalon. It was
reserved for this teacher to attach the Porch to the Academy, and to
merge the doctrines of Plato in those of the Stoics. Such a
heterogeneous mixture demonstrates the pass to which speculative
philosophy had come, and shows us clearly that her disciples had
abandoned her in despair.

[Sidenote: End of the Greek age of Faith.]

So ends the Greek age of Faith. How strikingly does its history recall
the corresponding period of individual life--the trusting spirit and the
disappointment of youth. We enter on it full of confidence in things and
men, never suspecting that the one may disappoint, the other deceive.
Our early experiences, if considered at all, afford only matter of
surprise that we could ever have been seriously occupied in such folly,
or actuated by motives now seeming so inadequate. It never occurs to us
that, in our present state, though the pursuits may have changed, they
are none the less vain, the objects none the less delusive.

The second age of Greek philosophy ended in sophism, the third in
scepticism. Speculative philosophy strikes at last upon a limit which it
can not overpass. This is its state even in our own times. It
reverberates against the wall that confines it without the least chance
of making its way through.

CHAPTER VI.

THE GREEK AGE OF REASON.

RISE OF SCIENCE.

THE MACEDONIAN CAMPAIGN.--_Disastrous in its political Effects
to Greece, but ushering in the Age of Reason._

ARISTOTLE _founds the Inductive Philosophy.--His Method the
Inverse of that of Plato.--Its great power.--In his own hands
it fails for want of Knowledge, but is carried out by the
Alexandrians._

ZENO.--_His Philosophical Aim is the Cultivation of Virtue and
Knowledge.--He is in the Ethical Branch the Counterpart of
Aristotle in the Physical._

_Decline of the Greek Age of Reason._

[Sidenote: The Greek invasion of Persia.]

The conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great is a most important event
in European history. That adventurer, carrying out the intentions of his
father Philip, commenced his attack with apparently very insignificant
means, having, it is said, at the most, only thirty-four thousand
infantry, four thousand cavalry, and seventy talents in money. The
result of his expedition was the ruin of the Persian empire, and also
the ruin of Greece. It was not without reason that his memory was cursed
in his native country. Her life-blood was drained away by his successes.
In view of the splendid fortunes to be made in Asia, Greece ceased to be
the place for an enterprising man. To such an extent did military
emigration go, that Greek recruits were settled all over the Persian
empire; their number was sufficient to injure irreparably the country
from which they had parted, but not sufficient to Hellenize the dense
and antique populations among whom they had settled.

[Sidenote: Its ruinous effect on Greece.]

[Sidenote: Injury to Athens from the founding of Alexandria.]

Not only was it thus by the drain of men that the Macedonian expedition
was so dreadfully disastrous to Greece, the political consequences
following those successful campaigns added to the baneful result.
Alexander could not have more effectually ruined Athens had he treated
her as he did Thebes, which he levelled with the ground, massacring six
thousand of her citizens, and selling thirty thousand for slaves. The
founding of Alexandria was the commercial end of Athens, the finishing
stroke to her old colonial system. It might have been well for her had
he stopped short in his projects with the downfall of Tyre, destroyed,
not from any vindictive reasons, as is sometimes said, but because he
discovered that that city was an essential part of the Persian system.
It was never his intention that Athens should derive advantage from the
annihilation of her Phoenician competitor; his object was effectually
carried out by the building and prosperity of Alexandria.

[Sidenote: Scientific tendency of the Macedonian campaigns.]

[Sidenote: Origin of the influence of Aristotle through Alexander.]

Though the military celebrity of this great soldier may be diminished by
the history of the last hundred years, which shows a uniform result of
victory when European armies are brought in contact with Asiatic, even
under the most extraordinary disadvantages, there cannot be denied to
him a profound sagacity and statesmanship excelled by no other
conqueror. Before he became intoxicated with success, and,
unfortunately, too frequently intoxicated with wine, there was much that
was noble in his character. He had been under the instruction of
Aristotle for several years, and, on setting out on his expedition, took
with him so many learned men as almost to justify the remark applied to
it, that it was as much a scientific as a military undertaking. Among
those who thus accompanied him was Callisthenes, a relative and pupil of
Aristotle, destined for an evil end. Perhaps the assertion that
Alexander furnished to his master 250,000_l._ and the services of
several thousand men, for the purpose of obtaining and examining the
specimens required in the composition of his work on the "History of
Animals" may be an exaggeration, but there can be no doubt that in these
transactions was the real beginning of that policy which soon led to the
institution of the Museum at Alexandria. The importance of this event,
though hitherto little understood, admits of no exaggeration, so far as
the intellectual progress of Europe is concerned. It gave to the works
of Aristotle their wonderful duration; it imparted to them not only a
Grecian celebrity, but led to their translation into Syriac by the
Nestorians in the fifth century, and from Syriac by the Arabs into their
tongue four hundred years later. They exercised a living influence over
Christians and Mohammedans indifferently, from Spain to Mesopotamia.

[Sidenote: Scientific training and undertakings of Alexander.]

[Sidenote: His unbridled passions and iniquities.]

If the letter quoted by Plutarch as having been written by Alexander to
Aristotle be authentic, it not only shows how thoroughly the pupil had
been indoctrinated into the wisdom of the master, but warns us how
liable we are to be led astray in the exposition we are presently to
give of the Aristotelian philosophy. There was then, as unfortunately
there has been too often since, a private as well as a public doctrine.
Alexander upbraids the philosopher for his indiscretion in revealing
things that it was understood should be concealed. Aristotle defends
himself by asserting that the desired concealment had not been broken.
By many other incidents of a trifling kind the attachment of the
conqueror to philosophy is indicated; thus Harpalus and Nearchus, the
companions of his youth, were the agents employed in some of his
scientific undertakings, the latter being engaged in sea explorations,
doubtless having in the main a political object, yet full of interest to
science. Had Alexander lived, Nearchus was to have repeated the
circumnavigation of Africa. Harpalus, while governor of Babylon, was
occupied in the attempt to exchange the vegetation of Europe and Asia;
he intertransplanted the productions of Persia and Greece, succeeding,
as is related, in his object of making all European plants that he
tried, except the ivy, grow in Mesopotamia. The journey to the Caspian
Sea, the expedition into the African deserts, indicate Alexander's
personal taste for natural knowledge; nor is it without significance
that, while on his death-bed, and, indeed, within a few days of his
decease, he found consolation and amusement in having Nearchus by his
side relating the story of his voyages. Nothing shows more strikingly
how correct was his military perception than the intention he avowed of
equipping a thousand ships for the conquest of Carthage, and thus
securing his supremacy in the Mediterranean. Notwithstanding all this,
there were many points of his character, and many events of his life,
worthy of the condemnation with which they have been visited; the
drunken burning of Persepolis, the prisoners he slaughtered in honour of
Hephæstion, the hanging of Callisthenes, were the results of
intemperance and unbridled passion. Even so steady a mind as his was
incapable of withstanding the influence of such enormous treasures as
those he seized at Susa; the plunder of the Persian empire; the
inconceivable luxury of Asiatic life; the uncontrolled power to which he
attained. But he was not so imbecile as to believe himself the
descendant of Jupiter Ammon; that was only an artifice he permitted for
the sake of influencing those around him. We must not forget that he
lived in an age when men looked for immaculate conceptions and celestial
descents. These Asiatic ideas had made their way into Europe. The
Athenians themselves were soon to be reconciled to the appointment of
divine honours to such as Antigonus and Demetrius, adoring them as
gods--saviour gods--and instituting sacrifices and priests for their
worship.

[Sidenote: The Greek age of Reason ushered in.]

[Sidenote: Its inability to accomplish the civilization of Europe.]

Great as were the political results of the Macedonian expedition, they
were equalled by the intellectual. The times were marked by the ushering
in of a new philosophy. Greece had gone through her age of Credulity,
her age of Inquiry, her age of Faith; she had entered on her age of
Reason, and, had freedom of action been permitted to her, she would have
given a decisive tone to the forthcoming civilization of Europe. As
will be seen in the following pages, that great destiny did not await
her. From her eccentric position at Alexandria she could not civilize
Europe. In her old age, the power of Europe, concentrated in the Roman
empire, overthrew her. There are very few histories of the past of more
interest to modern times, and none, unfortunately, more misunderstood,
than this Greek age of Reason manifested at Alexandria. It illustrates,
in the most signal manner, that affairs control men more than men
control affairs. The scientific associations of the Macedonian conqueror
directly arose from the contemporaneous state of Greek philosophy in the
act of reaching the close of its age of faith, and these influences
ripened under the Macedonian captain who became King of Egypt. As it
was, the learning of Alexandria, though diverted from its most
appropriate and desirable direction by the operation of the Byzantine
system, in the course of a few centuries acting forcibly upon it, was
not without an influence on the future thought of Europe. Even at this
day Europe will not bear to be fully told how great that influence has
been.

[Sidenote: The writings of Aristotle are its prelude.]

The age of Reason, to which Aristotle is about to introduce us, stands
in striking contrast to the preceding ages. It cannot escape the reader
that what was done by the men of science in Alexandria resembles what is
doing in our own times; their day was the foreshadowing of ours. And yet
a long and dreary period of almost twenty centuries parts us from them.
Politically, Aristotle, through his friendship with Alexander and the
perpetuation of the Macedonian influence in Ptolemy, was the connecting
link between the Greek age of Faith and that of Reason, as he was also
philosophically by the nature of his doctrines. He offers us an easy
passage from the speculative methods of Plato to the scientific methods
of Archimedes and Euclid. The copiousness of his doctrines, and the
obscurity of many of them, might, perhaps, discourage a superficial
student, unless he steadily bears in mind the singular authority they
maintained for so many ages, and the brilliant results in all the exact
parts of human knowledge to which they so quickly led. The history of
Aristotle and his philosophy is therefore our necessary introduction to
the grand, the immortal achievements of the Alexandrian school.

[Sidenote: Biography of Aristotle.]

Aristotle was born at Stagira, in Thrace, B.C. 384. His father was an
eminent author of those times on subjects of Natural History; by
profession he was a physician. Dying while his son was yet quite young,
he bequeathed to him not only very ample means, but also his own tastes.
Aristotle soon found his way to Athens, and entered the school of Plato,
with whom it is said he remained for nearly twenty years. During this
period he spent most of his patrimony, and in the end was obliged to
support himself by the trade of a druggist. At length differences arose
between them, for, as we shall soon find, the great pupil was by no
means a blind follower of the great master. In a fortunate moment,
Philip, the King of Macedon, appointed him preceptor to his son
Alexander, an incident of importance in the intellectual history of
Europe. It was to the friendship arising through this relation that
Aristotle owed the assistance he received from the conqueror during his
Asiatic expedition for the composition of "the Natural History," and
also gained that prestige which gave his name such singular authority
for more than fifteen centuries. He eventually founded a school in the
Lyceum at Athens, and, as it was his habit to deliver his lectures while
walking, his disciples received the name of Peripatetics, or walking
philosophers. These lectures were of two kinds, esoteric and exoteric,
the former being delivered to the more advanced pupils only. He wrote a
very large number of works, of which about one-fourth remain.

[Sidenote: He founds the inductive philosophy.]

The philosophical method of Aristotle is the inverse of that of Plato,
whose starting-point was universals, the very existence of which was a
matter of faith, and from these he descended to particulars or details.
Aristotle, on the contrary, rose from particulars to universals,
advancing to them by inductions; and his system, thus an inductive
philosophy, was in reality the true beginning of science.

[Sidenote: His method compared with that of Plato.]

Plato therefore trusts to the Imagination, Aristotle to Reason. The
contrast between them is best seen by the attitude in which they stand
as respects the Ideal theory. Plato regards universals, types, or
exemplars as having an actual existence; Aristotle declares that they
are mere abstractions of reasoning. For the fanciful reminiscences
derived from former experience in another life by Plato, Aristotle
substitutes the reminiscences of our actual experience in this. These
ideas of experience are furnished by the memory, which enables us not
only to recall individual facts and events witnessed by ourselves, but
also to collate them with one another, thereby discovering their
resemblances and their differences. Our induction becomes the more
certain as our facts are more numerous, our experience larger. "Art
commences when, from a great number of experiences, one general
conception is formed which will embrace all similar cases." "If we
properly observe celestial phenomena, we may demonstrate the laws which
regulate them." With Plato, philosophy arises from faith in the past;
with Aristotle, reason alone can constitute it from existing facts.
Plato is analytic, Aristotle synthetic. The philosophy of Plato arises
from the decomposition of a primitive idea into particulars, that of
Aristotle from the union of particulars into a general conception. The
former is essentially an idealist, the latter a materialist.

[Sidenote: The results of Platonism and Aristotelism.]

From this it will be seen that the method of Plato was capable of
producing more splendid, though they were necessarily more unsubstantial
results; that of Aristotle was more tardy in its operation, but much
more solid. It implied endless labour in the collection of facts, the
tedious resort to experiment and observation, the application of
demonstration. In its very nature it was such that it was impossible for
its author to carry by its aid the structure of science to completion.
The moment that Aristotle applies his own principles we find him
compelled to depart from them through want of a sufficient experience
and sufficient precision in his facts. The philosophy of Plato is a
gorgeous castle in the air, that of Aristotle is a solid structure,
laboriously, and, with many failures, founded on the solid rock.

[Sidenote: Aristotle's logic]

Under Logic, Aristotle treats of the methods of arriving at general
propositions, and of reasoning from them. His logic is at once the art
of thinking and the instrument of thought. The completeness of our
knowledge depends on the extent and completeness of our experience. His
manner of reasoning is by the syllogism, an argument consisting of three
propositions, such that the concluding one follows of necessity from the
two premises, and of which, indeed, the whole theory of demonstration is
only an example. Regarding logic as the instrument of thought, he
introduces into it, as a fundamental feature, the ten categories. These
predicaments are the genera to which everything may be reduced, and
denote the most general of the attributes which may be assigned to a
thing.

[Sidenote: and metaphysics.]

His metaphysics overrides all the branches of the physical sciences. It
undertakes an examination of the postulates on which each one of them is
founded, determining their truth or fallacy. Considering that all
science must find a support for its fundamental conditions in an
extensive induction from facts, he puts at the foundation of his system
the consideration of the individual; in relation to the world of sense,
he regards four causes as necessary for the production of a fact--the
material cause, the substantial cause, the efficient cause, the final
cause.

[Sidenote: Temporary failure of his system.]

[Sidenote: The Peripatetic philosophy.]

[Sidenote: Substance, Motion, Space, Time.]

[Sidenote: The world.]

[Sidenote: Organic beings.]

[Sidenote: Physiological conclusions.]

But as soon as we come to the Physics of Aristotle we see at once his
weakness. The knowledge of his age does not furnish him facts enough
whereon to build, and the consequence is that he is forced into
speculation. It will be sufficient for our purpose to allude to a few of
his statements, either in this or in his metaphysical branch, to show
how great is his uncertainty and confusion. Thus he asserts that matter
contains a triple form--simple substance, higher substance, which is
eternal, and absolute substance, or God himself; that the universe is
immutable and eternal, and, though in relation with the vicissitudes of
the world, it is unaffected thereby; that the primitive force which
gives rise to all the motions and changes we see is Nature; it also
gives rise to Rest; that the world is a living being, having a soul;
that, since every thing is for some particular end, the soul of man is
the end of his body; that Motion is the condition of all nature; that
the world has a definite boundary and a limited magnitude; that Space
is the immovable vessel in which whatever is may be moved; that Space,
as a whole, is without motion, though its parts may move; that it is not
to be conceived of as without contents; that it is impossible for a
vacuum to exist, and hence there is not beyond and surrounding the world
a void which contains the world; that there could be no such thing as
Time unless there is a soul, for time being the number of motion, number
is impossible except there be one who numbers; that, perpetual motion in
a finite right line being impossible, but in a curvilinear path
possible, the world, which is limited and ever in motion, must be of a
spherical form; that the earth is its central part, the heavens the
circumferential: hence the heaven is nearest to the prime cause of
motion; that the orderly, continuous, and unceasing movement of the
celestial bodies implies an unmoved mover, for the unchangeable alone
can give birth to uniform motion; that unmoved existence is God; that
the stars are passionless beings, having attained the end of existence,
and worthy above other things of human adoration; that the fixed stars
are in the outermost heaven, and the sun, moon, and planets beneath: the
former receive their motion from the prime moving cause, but the planets
are disturbed by the stars; that there are five elements--earth, air,
fire, water, and ether; that the earth is in the centre of the world,
since earthy matter settles uniformly round a central point; that fire
seeks the circumferential region, and intermediately water floats upon
the earth, and air upon water; that the elements are transmutable into
one another, and hence many intervening substances arise; that each
sphere is in interconnection with the others; the earth is agitated and
disturbed by the sea, the sea by the winds, which are movements of the
air, the air by the sun, moon, and planets. Each inferior sphere is
controlled by its outlying or superior one, and hence it follows that
the earth, which is thus disturbed by the conspiring or conflicting
action of all above it, is liable to the most irregularities; that,
since animals are nourished by the earth, it needs must enter into their
composition, but that water is required to hold the earthy matters
together; that every element must be looked upon as living, since it is
pervaded by the soul of the world; that there is an unbroken chain from
the simple element through the plant and animal up to man, the different
groups merging by insensible shades into one another: thus zoophytes
partake partly of the vegetable and partly of the animal, and serve as
an intermedium between them; that plants are inferior to animals in
this, that they do not possess a single principle of life or soul, but
many subordinate ones, as is shown by the circumstance that, when they
are cut to pieces, each piece is capable of perfect or independent
growth or life. Their inferiority is likewise betrayed by their
belonging especially to the earth to which they are rooted, each root
being a true mouth; and this again displays their lowly position, for
the place of the mouth is ever an indication of the grade of a creature:
thus in man, who is at the head of the scale, it is in the upper part of
the body; that in proportion to the heat of an animal is its grade
higher; thus those that are aquatic are cold, and therefore of very
little intelligence, and the same maybe said of plants; but of man,
whose warmth is very great, the soul is much more excellent; that the
possession of locomotion by an organism always implies the possession of
sensation; that the senses of taste and touch indicate the qualities of
things in contact with the organs of the animal, but that those of
smell, hearing, and sight extend the sphere of its existence, and
indicate to it what is at a distance: that the place of reception of the
various sensations is the soul, from which issue forth the motions; that
the blood, as the general element of nutrition, is essential to the
support of the body, though insensible itself: it is also essential to
the activity of the soul; that the brain is not the recipient of
sensations: that function belongs to the heart; all the animal
activities are united in the last; it contains the principle of life,
being the principle of motion: it is the first part to be formed and the
last to die; that the brain is a mere appendix to the heart, since it is
formed after the heart, is the coldest of the organs and is devoid of
blood; that the soul is the reunion of all the functions of the body: it
is an energy or active essence; being neither body nor magnitude, it
cannot have extension, for thought has no parts, nor can it be said to
move in space; it is as a sailor, who is motionless in a ship which is
moving; that, in the origin of the organism, the male furnishes the soul
and the female the body; that the body being liable to decay, and of a
transitory nature, it is necessary for its well-being that its
disintegration and nutrition should balance one another; that sensation
may be compared to the impression of a seal on wax, the wax receiving
form only, but no substance or matter; that imagination arises from
impressions thus made, which endure for a length of time, and that this
is the origin of memory; that man alone possesses recollection, but
animals share with him memory--memory being unintentional or
spontaneous, but recollection implying voluntary exertion or a search;
that recollection is necessary for acting with design. It is doubtful
whether Aristotle believed in the immortality of the soul, no decisive
passage to that effect occurring in such of his works as are extant.

[Sidenote: Causes of Aristotle's success and failure.]

Aristotle, with a correct and scientific method, tried to build up a
vast system when he was not in possession of the necessary data. Though
a very learned man, he had not sufficient knowledge; indeed, there was
not sufficient knowledge at that time in the world. For many of the
assertions I have quoted in the preceding paragraph there was no kind of
proof; many of them also, such as the settling of the heavy and the rise
of the light, imply very poor cosmic ideas. It is not until he deals
with those branches, such as comparative anatomy and natural history, of
which he had a personal and practical knowledge, that he begins to write
well. Of his physiological conclusions, some are singularly felicitous;
his views of the connected chain of organic forms, from the lowest to
the highest, are very grand. His metaphysical and physical
speculations--for in reality they are nothing but speculations--are of
no kind of value. His successful achievements, and also his failures,
conspicuously prove the excellence of his system. He expounded the true
principles of science, but failed to apply them merely for want of
materials. His ambition could not brook restraint. He would rather
attempt to construct the universe without the necessary means than not
construct it at all.

Aristotle failed when he abandoned his own principles, and the magnitude
of his failure proves how just his principles were; he succeeded when he
adhered to them. If anything were wanting to vindicate their correctness
and illustrate them, it is supplied by the glorious achievements of the
Alexandrian school, which acted in physical science as Aristotle had
acted in natural history, laying a basis solidly in observation and
experiment, and accomplishing a like durable and brilliant result.

[Sidenote: Biography of Zeno.]

From Aristotle it is necessary to turn to Zeno, for the Peripatetics and
Stoics stand in parallel lines. The social conditions existing in Greece
at the time of Epicurus may in some degree palliate his sentiments, but
virtue and honour will make themselves felt at last. Stoicism soon
appeared as the antagonist of Epicureanism, and Epicurus found in Zeno
of Citium a rival. The passage from Epicurus to Zeno is the passage from
sensual gratification to self-control.

The biography of Zeno may be dismissed in a few words. Born about B.C.
300, he spent the early part of his life in the vocation of his father,
who was a merchant, but, by a fortunate shipwreck, happily losing his
goods during a voyage he was making to Athens, he turned to philosophy
for consolation. Though he had heretofore been somewhat acquainted with
the doctrines of Socrates, he became a disciple of the Cynics,
subsequently studying in the Megaric school, and then making himself
acquainted with Platonism. After twenty years of preparation, he opened
a school in the stoa or porch in Athens, from which his doctrine and
disciples have received their name. He presided over his school for
fifty-eight years, numbering many eminent men among his disciples. When
nearly a hundred years old he chanced to fall and break his finger, and,
receiving this as an admonition that his time was accomplished, he
forthwith strangled himself. The Athenians erected to his memory a
statue of brass. His doctrines long survived him, and, in times when
there was no other consolation for man, offered a support in their hour
of trial, and an unwavering guide in the vicissitudes of life, not only
to many illustrious Greeks, but also to some of the great philosophers,
statesmen, generals, and emperors of Rome.

[Sidenote: Intention of Stoicism.]

It was the intention of Zeno to substitute for the visionary
speculations of Platonism a system directed to the daily practices of
life, and hence dealing chiefly with morals. To make men virtuous was
his aim. But this is essentially connected with knowledge, for Zeno was
persuaded that if we only know what is good we shall be certain to
practise it. He therefore rejected Plato's fancies of Ideas and
Reminiscences, leaning to the common-sense doctrines of Aristotle, to
whom he approached in many details. With him Sense furnishes the data of
knowledge, and Reason combines them: the soul being modified by external
things, and modifying them in return, he believed that the mind is at
first, as it were, a blank tablet, on which sensation writes marks, and
that the distinctness of sensuous impressions is the criterion of their
truth. The changes thus produced in the soul constitute ideas; but, with
a prophetic inspiration, he complained that man will never know the true
essence of things.

[Sidenote: The Physics of Zeno.]

In his Physics Zeno adopted the doctrine of Strato, that the world is a
living being. He believed that nothing incorporeal can produce an
effect, and hence that the soul is corporeal. Matter and its properties
he considered to be absolutely inseparable, a property being actually a
body. In the world there are two things, matter and God, who is the
Reason of the world. Essentially, however, God and matter are the same
thing, which assumes the aspect of matter from the passive point of
view, and God from the active; he is, moreover, the prime moving force,
Destiny, Necessity, a life-giving Soul, evolving things as the vital
force evolves a plant out of a seed; the visible world is thus to be
regarded as the material manifestation of God. The transitory objects
which it on all sides presents will be reabsorbed after a season of
time, and reunited in him. The Stoics pretended to indicate, even in a
more definite manner, the process by which the world has arisen, and
also its future destiny; for, regarding the Supreme as a vital heat,
they supposed that a portion of that fire, declining in energy, became
transmuted into matter, and hence the origin of the world; but that that
fire, hereafter resuming its activity, would cause a universal
conflagration, the end of things. During the present state everything
is in a condition of uncertain mutation, decays being followed by
reproductions, and reproductions by decays; and, as a cataract shows
from year to year an invariable form, though the water composing it is
perpetually changing, so the objects around us are nothing more than a
flux of matter offering a permanent form. Thus the visible world is only
a moment in the life of God, and after it has vanished away like a
scroll that is burned, a new period shall be ushered in, and a new
heaven and a new earth, exactly like the ancient ones, shall arise.
Since nothing can exist without its contrary, no injustice unless there
was justice, no cowardice unless there was courage, no lie unless there
was truth, no shadow unless there was light, so the existence of good
necessitates that of evil. The Stoics believed that the development of
the world is under the dominion of paramount law, supreme law, Destiny,
to which God himself is subject, and that hence he can only develop the
world in a predestined way, as the vital warmth evolves a seed into the
predestined form of a plant.

[Sidenote: Exoteric philosophy of the Stoics.]

The Stoics held it indecorous to offend needlessly the religious ideas
of the times, and, indeed, they admitted that there might be created
gods like those of Plato; but they disapproved of the adoration of
images and the use of temples, making amends for their offences in these
particulars by offering a semi-philosophical interpretation of the
legends, and demonstrating that the existence, and even phenomenal
display of the gods was in accordance with their principles. Perhaps to
this exoteric philosophy we must ascribe the manner in which they
expressed themselves as to final causes--expressions sometimes of
amusing quaintness--thus, that the peacock was formed for the sake of
his tail, and that a soul was given to the hog instead of salt, to
prevent his body from rotting; that the final cause of plants is to be
food for brutes, of brutes to be food for men, though they discreetly
checked their irony in its ascending career, and abstained from saying
that men are food for the gods, and the gods for all.

[Sidenote: Their opinions of the nature of the soul.]

The Stoics concluded that the soul is mere warm breath, and that it and
the body mutually interpervade one another. They thought that it might
subsist after death until the general conflagration, particularly if its
energy were great, as in the strong spirits of the virtuous and wise.
Its unity of action implies that it has a principle of identity, the I,
of which the physiological seat is the heart. Every appetite, lust, or
desire is an imperfect knowledge. Our nature and properties are forced
upon us by Fate, but it is our duty to despise all our propensities and
passions, and to live so that we may be free, intelligent, and virtuous.

[Sidenote: Their ethical rules of wisdom.]

This sentiment leads us to the great maxim of Stoical Ethics, "Live
according to Reason;" or, since the world is composed of matter and God,
who is the Reason of the world, "Live in harmony with Nature." As Reason
is supreme in Nature, it ought to be so in man. Our existence should be
intellectual, and all bodily pains and pleasures should be despised. A
harmony between the human will and universal Reason constitutes virtue.
The free-will of the sage should guide his actions in the same
irresistible manner in which universal Reason controls nature. Hence the
necessity of a cultivation of physics, without which we cannot
distinguish good from evil. The sage is directed to remember that
Nature, in her operations, aims at the universal, and never spares
individuals, but uses them as means for accomplishing her ends. It is
for him, therefore, to submit to his destiny, endeavouring continually
to establish the supremacy of Reason, and cultivating, as the things
necessary to virtue, knowledge, temperance, fortitude, justice. He is at
liberty to put patriotism at the value it is worth when he remembers
that he is a citizen of the world; he must train himself to receive in
tranquillity the shocks of Destiny, and to be above all passion and all
pain. He must never relent and never forgive. He must remember that
there are only two classes of men, the wise and the fools, as "sticks
can only either be straight or crooked, and very few sticks in this
world are absolutely straight."

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Rise of Greek science.]

[Sidenote: Political position of the Ptolemies.]

[Sidenote: They co-ordinate Egyptian idolatry and Greek scepticism.]

From the account I have given of Aristotle's philosophy, it may be seen
that he occupied a middle ground between the speculation of the old
philosophy and the strict science of the Alexandrian school. He is the
true connecting link, in the history of European intellectual progress,
between philosophy and science. Under his teaching, and the material
tendencies of the Macedonian campaigns, there arose a class of men in
Egypt who gave to the practical a development it had never before
attained; for that country, upon the breaking up of Alexander's
dominion, B.C. 323, falling into the possession of Ptolemy, that general
found himself at once the depositary of spiritual and temporal power. Of
the former, it is to be remembered that, though the conquest by Cambyses
had given it a severe shock, it still not only survived, but displayed
no inconsiderable tokens of strength. Indeed, it is well known that the
surrender of Egypt to Alexander was greatly accelerated by hatred to the
Persians, the Egyptians welcoming the Macedonians as their deliverers.
In this movement we perceive at once the authority of the old
priesthood. It is hard to tear up by the roots an ancient religion, the
ramifications of which have solidly insinuated themselves among a
populace. That of Egypt had already been the growth of more than three
thousand years. The question for the intrusive Greek sovereigns to solve
was how to co-ordinate this hoary system with the philosophical
scepticism that had issued as the result of Greek thought. With singular
sagacity, they saw that this might be accomplished by availing
themselves of Orientalism, the common point of contact of the two
systems; and that, by its formal introduction and development, it would
be possible not only to enable the philosophical king, to whom all the
pagan gods were alike equally fictitious and equally useful, to manifest
respect even to the ultra-heathenish practices of the Egyptian populace,
but, what was of far more moment, to establish an apparent concord
between the old sacerdotal Egyptian party--strong in its unparalleled
antiquity; strong in its reminiscences; strong in its recent
persecutions; strong in its Pharaonic relics, regarded by all men with a
superstitious or reverent awe--and the free-thinking and versatile
Greeks. The occasion was like some others in history, some even in our
own times; a small but energetic body of invaders was holding in
subjection an ancient and populous country.

[Sidenote: The Museum of Alexandria.]

[Sidenote: Establishment of the worship of Serapis.]

To give practical force to this project, a grand state institution was
founded at Alexandria. It became celebrated as the Museum. To it, as to
a centre, philosophers from all parts of the world converged. It is said
that at one time not less than fourteen thousand students were assembled
there. Alexandria, in confirmation of the prophetic foresight of the
great soldier who founded it, quickly became an immense metropolis,
abounding in mercantile and manufacturing activity. As is ever the case
with such cities, its higher classes were prodigal and dissipated, its
lower only to be held in restraint by armed force. Its public amusements
were such as might be expected--theatrical shows, music, horse-racing.
In the solitude of such a crowd, or in the noise of such dissipation,
anyone could find a retreat--atheists who had been banished from Athens,
devotees from the Ganges, monotheistic Jews, blasphemers from Asia
Minor. Indeed, it has been said that in this heterogeneous community
blasphemy was hardly looked upon as a crime; at the worst, it was no
more than an unfortunate, and, it might be, an innocent mistake. But,
since uneducated men need some solid support on which their thoughts may
rest, mere abstract doctrines not meeting their wants, it became
necessary to provide a corporeal representation for this eclectic
philosophical Pantheism, and hence the Ptolemies were obliged to
restore, or, as some say, to import the worship of the god Serapis.
Those who affirm that he was imported say that he was brought from
Sinope; modern Egyptian scholars, however, give a different account. As
setting forth the Pantheistic doctrine of which he was the emblem, his
image, subsequently to attain world-wide fame, was made of all kinds of
metals and stones. "All is God." But still the people, with that
instinct which other nations and ages have displayed, hankered after a
female divinity, and this led to the partial restoration of the worship
of Isis. It is interesting to remark how the humble classes never shake
off the reminiscences of early life, leaning rather to the maternal than
to the paternal attachment. Perhaps it is for that reason that they
expect a more favourable attention to their supplications from a female
divinity than a god. Accordingly, the devotees of Isis soon out-numbered
those of Serapis, though a magnificent temple had been built for him at
Rhacotis, in the quarter adjoining the Museum, and his worship was
celebrated with more than imperial splendour. In subsequent ages the
worship of Serapis diffused itself throughout the Roman empire, though
the authorities--consuls, senate, emperors--knowing well the idea it
foreshadowed, and the doctrine it was meant to imply, used their utmost
power to put it down.

[Sidenote: The Alexandrian libraries.]

[Sidenote: Botanical gardens; menageries; dissecting-houses;
observatories.]

[Sidenote: Life in the Museum.]

The Alexandrian Museum soon assumed the character of a University. In it
those great libraries were collected, the pride and boast of antiquity.
Demetrius Phalareus was instructed to collect all the writings in the
world. So powerfully were the exertions of himself and his successors
enforced by the government that two immense libraries were procured.
They contained 700,000 volumes. In this literary and scientific retreat,
supported in ease and even in luxury--luxury, for allusions to the
sumptuous dinners have descended to our times--the philosophers spent
their time in mental culture by study, or mutual improvement by debates.
The king himself conferred appointments to these positions; in later
times, the Roman emperors succeeded to the patronage, the government
thereby binding in golden chains intellect that might otherwise have
proved troublesome. At first, in honour of the ancient religion, the
presidency of the establishment was committed to an Egyptian priest; but
in the course of time that policy was abandoned. It must not, however,
be imagined that the duties of the inmates were limited to reading and
rhetorical display; a far more practical character was imparted to them.
A botanical garden, in connection with the Museum, offered an
opportunity to those who were interested in the study of the nature of
plants; a zoological menagerie afforded like facilities to those
interested in animals. Even these costly establishments were made to
minister to the luxury of the times: in the zoological garden pheasants
were raised for the royal table. Besides these elegant and fashionable
appointments, another, of a more forbidding and perhaps repulsive kind,
was added; an establishment which, in the light of our times, is
sufficient to confer immortal glory on those illustrious and high-minded
kings, and to put to shame the ignorance and superstition of many modern
nations: it was an anatomical school, suitably provided with means for
the dissection of the human body, this anatomical school being the basis
of a medical college for the education of physicians. For the
astronomers Ptolemy Euergetes placed in the Square Porch an equinoctial
and a solstitial armil, the graduated limbs of these instruments being
divided into degrees and sixths. There were in the observatory stone
quadrants, the precursors of our mural quadrants. On the floor a
meridian line was drawn for the adjustment of the instruments. There
were also astrolabes and dioptras. Thus, side by side, almost in the
king's palace, were noble provisions for the cultivation of exact
science and for the pursuit of light literature. Under the same roof
were gathered together geometers, astronomers, chemists, mechanicians,
engineers. There were also poets, who ministered to the literary wants
of the dissipated city--authors who could write verse, not only in
correct metre, but in all kinds of fantastic forms--trees, hearts, and
eggs. Here met together the literary dandy and the grim theologian. At
their repasts occasionally the king himself would preside, enlivening
the moment with the condescensions of royal relaxation. Thus, of
Philadelphus it is stated that he caused to be presented to the Stoic
Sphærus a dish of fruit made of wax, so beautifully coloured as to be
undistinguishable from the natural, and on the mortified philosopher
detecting too late the fraud that had been practised upon him, inquired
what he now thought of the maxim of his sect that "the sage is never
deceived by appearances." Of the same sovereign it is related that he
received the translators of the Septuagint Bible with the highest
honours, entertaining them at his table. Under the atmosphere of the
place their usual religious ceremonial was laid aside, save that the
king courteously requested one of the aged priests to offer an extempore
prayer. It is naively related that the Alexandrians present, ever quick
to discern rhetorical merit, testified their estimation of the
performance with loud applause. But not alone did literature and the
exact sciences thus find protection. As if no subjects with which the
human mind has occupied itself can be unworthy of investigation, in the
Museum were cultivated the more doubtful arts, magic and astrology.
Philadelphus, who, toward the close of his life, was haunted with an
intolerable dread of death, devoted himself with intense assiduity to
the discovery of the elixir of life and to alchemy. Such a comprehensive
organization for the development of human knowledge never existed in the
world before, and, considering the circumstances, never has since. To be
connected with it was the passport to the highest Alexandrian society
and to court favour.

[Sidenote: The Septuagint translators.]

To the Museum, and, it has been asserted, particularly to Ptolemy
Philadelphus, the Christian world is thus under obligation for the
ancient version of the Hebrew Scriptures--the Septuagint. Many idle
stories have been related respecting the circumstances under which that
version was made, as that the seventy-two translators by whom it was
executed were confined each in a separate cell, and, when their work was
finished, the seventy-two copies were found identically the same, word
for word, from this it was supposed that the inspiration of this
translation was established. If any proof of that kind were needed, it
would be much better found in the fact that whenever occasion arises in
the New Testament of quoting from the Old, it is usually done in the
words of the Septuagint. The story of the cells underwent successive
improvements among the early fathers, but is now rejected as a fiction;
and, indeed, it seems probable that the translation was not made under
the splendid circumstances commonly related, but merely by the
Alexandrian Jews for their own convenience. As the Septuagint grew into
credit among the Christians, it lost favour among the Jews, who made
repeated attempts in after years to supplant it by new versions, such as
those of Aquila, of Theodotion, of Symmachus, and others. From the first
the Syrian Jews had looked on it with disapproval; they even held the
time of its translation as a day of mourning, and with malicious grief
pointed out its errors, as, for instance, they affirmed that it made
Methusaleh live until after the Deluge. Ptolemy treated all those who
were concerned in providing books for the library with consideration,
remunerating his translators and transcribers in a princely manner.

[Sidenote: Lasting influence of the Museum, theological and scientific.]

But the modern world is not indebted to these Egyptian kings only in the
particular here referred to. The Museum made an impression upon the
intellectual career of Europe so powerful and enduring that we still
enjoy its results. That impression was twofold, theological and
physical. The dialectical spirit and literary culture diffused among the
Alexandrians prepared that people, beyond all others, for the reception
of Christianity. For thirty centuries the Egyptians had been familiar
with the conception of a triune God. There was hardly a city of any note
without its particular triad. Here it was Amun, Maut, and Khonso; there
Osiris, Isis, and Horus. The apostolic missionaries, when they reached
Alexandria, found a people ready to appreciate the profoundest
mysteries. But with these advantages came great evils. The Trinitarian
disputes, which subsequently deluged the world with blood, had their
starting-point and focus in Alexandria. In that city Arius and
Athanasius dwelt. There originated that desperate conflict which
compelled Constantine the Great to summon the Council of Nicea, to
settle, by a formulary or creed, the essentials of our faith.

But it was not alone as regards theology that Alexandria exerted a power
on subsequent ages; her influence was as strongly marked in the
impression it gave to science. Astronomical observatories, chemical
laboratories, libraries, dissecting-houses, were not in vain. There went
forth from them a spirit powerful enough to tincture all future times.
Nothing like the Alexandrian Museum was ever called into existence in
Greece or Rome, even in their palmiest days. It is the unique and noble
memorial of the dynasty of the Ptolemies, who have thereby laid the
whole human race under obligations, and vindicated their title to be
regarded as a most illustrious line of kings. The Museum was, in truth,
an attempt at the organization of human knowledge, both for its
development and its diffusion. It was conceived and executed in a
practical manner worthy of Alexander. And though, in the night through
which Europe has been passing--a night full of dreams and delusions--men
have not entertained a right estimate of the spirit in which that great
institution was founded, and the work it accomplished, its glories being
eclipsed by darker and more unworthy things, the time is approaching
when its action on the course of human events will be better understood,
and its influences on European civilization more clearly discerned.

[Sidenote: The Museum was the issue of the Macedonian campaigns.]

Thus, then, about the beginning of the third century before Christ, in
consequence of the Macedonian campaign, which had brought the Greeks
into contact with the ancient civilization of Asia, a great degree of
intellectual activity was manifested in Egypt. On the site of the
village of Rhacotis, once held as an Egyptian post to prevent the
ingress of strangers, the Macedonians erected that city which was to be
the entrepôt of the commerce of the East and West, and to transmit an
illustrious name to the latest generations. Her long career of
commercial prosperity, her commanding position as respects the material
interests of the world, justified the statesmanship of her founder, and
the intellectual glory which has gathered round her has given an
enduring lustre to his name.

There can be no doubt that the philosophical activity here alluded to
was the direct issue of the political and military event to which we
have referred it. The tastes and genius of Alexander were manifested by
his relations to Aristotle, whose studies in natural history he promoted
by the collection of a menagerie; and in astronomy, by transmitting to
him, through Callisthenes, the records of Babylonian observations
extending over 1903 years. His biography, as we have seen, shows a
personal interest in the cultivation of such studies. In this particular
other great soldiers have resembled him; and perhaps it may be inferred
that the practical habit of thought and accommodation of theory to the
actual purposes of life pre-eminently required by their profession,
leads them spontaneously to decline speculative uncertainties, and to be
satisfied only with things that are real and exact.

[Sidenote: The great men it produced.]

Under the inspiration of the system of Alexander, and guided by the
suggestions of certain great men who had caught the spirit of the times,
the Egyptian kings thus created, under their own immediate auspices, the
Museum. State policy, operating in the manner I have previously
described, furnished them with an additional theological reason for
founding this establishment. In the Macedonian campaign a vast amount of
engineering and mathematical talent had been necessarily stimulated into
existence, for great armies cannot be handled, great marches cannot be
made, nor great battles fought without that result. When the period of
energetic action was over, and to the military operations succeeded
comparative repose and temporary moments of peace, the talent thus
called forth found occupation in the way most congenial to it by
cultivating mathematical and physical studies. In Alexandria, itself a
monument of engineering and architectural skill, soon were to be found
men whose names were destined for futurity--Apollonius, Eratosthenes,
Manetho. Of these, one may be selected for the remark that, while
speculative philosophers were occupying themselves with discussions
respecting the criterion of truth, and, upon the whole, coming to the
conclusion that no such thing existed, and that, if the truth was
actually in the possession of man, he had no means of knowing it, Euclid
of Alexandria was writing an immortal work, destined to challenge
contradiction from the whole human race, and to make good its title as
the representative of absolute and undeniable truth--truth not to be
gainsaid in any nation or at any time. We still use the geometry of
Euclid in our schools.

[Sidenote: The writings of Euclid.]

It is said that Euclid opened a geometrical school in Alexandria about
B.C. 300. He occupied himself not only with mathematical, but also with
physical investigation. Besides many works of the former class supposed
to have been written by him, as on Fallacies, Conic Sections, Divisions,
Porisms, Data, there are imputed to him treatises on Harmonics, Optics,
and Catoptrics, the two latter subjects being discussed, agreeably to
the views of those times, on the hypothesis of rays issuing from the eye
to the object, instead of passing, as we consider them to do, from the
object to the eye. It is, however, on the excellencies of his Elements
of Geometry that the durable reputation of Euclid depends; and though
the hypercriticism of modern mathematicians has perhaps successfully
maintained such objections against them as that they might have been
more precise in their axioms, that they sometimes assume what might be
proved, that they are occasionally redundant, and their arrangement
sometimes imperfect, yet they still maintain their ground as a model of
extreme accuracy, of perspicuity, and as a standard of exact
demonstration. They were employed universally by the Greeks, and, in
subsequent ages, were translated and preserved by the Arabs.

[Sidenote: The writings and works of Archimedes.]

Great as is the fame of Euclid, it is eclipsed by that of Archimedes the
Syracusan, born B.C. 287, whose connection with Egyptian science is not
alone testified by tradition, but also by such facts as his acknowledged
friendship with Conon of Alexandria, and his invention of the screw
still bearing his name, intended for raising the waters of the Nile.
Among his mathematical works, the most interesting, perhaps, in his own
estimation, as we may judge from the incident that he directed the
diagram thereof to be engraved on his tombstone, was his demonstration
that the solid content of a sphere is two-thirds that of its
circumscribing cylinder. It was by this mark that Cicero, when Quæstor
of Sicily, discovered the tomb of Archimedes grown over with weeds. This
theorem was, however, only one of a large number of a like kind, which
he treated of in his two books on the sphere and cylinder in an equally
masterly manner, and with equal success. His position as a geometer is
perhaps better understood from the assertion made respecting him by a
modern mathematician, that he came as near to the discovery of the
Differential Calculus as can be done without the aid of algebraic
transformations. Among the special problems he treated of may be
mentioned the quadrature of the circle, his determination of the ratio
of the circumference to the diameter being between: 3·1428 and 3·1408,
the true value, as is now known, being 3·1416 nearly. He also wrote on
Conoids and Spheroids, and upon that spiral still passing under his
name, the genesis of which had been suggested to him by Conon. In his
work entitled "Psammites" he alludes to the astronomical system
subsequently established by Copernicus, whose name has been given to it.
He also mentions the attempts which had been made to measure the size of
the earth; the chief object of the work being, however, to prove not
only that the sands upon the sea-shore can be numbered, but even those
required to fill the entire space within the sphere of the fixed stars;
the result being, according to our system of arithmetic, a less number
than is expressed by unity followed by 63 ciphers. Such a book is the
sport of a geometrical giant wantonly amusing himself with his strength.
Among his mathematical investigations must not be omitted the quadrature
of the parabola. His fame depends, however, not so much on his
mathematical triumphs as upon his brilliant discoveries in physics and
his mechanical inventions. How he laid the foundation of Hydrostatics is
familiar to everyone, through the story of Hiero's crown. A certain
artisan having adulterated the gold given him by King Hiero to form a
crown, Archimedes discovered while he was accidentally stepping into a
bath, that the falsification might be detected, and thereby invented the
method for the determination of specific gravity. From these
investigations he was naturally led to the consideration of the
equilibrium of floating bodies; but his grand achievement in the
mechanical direction was his discovery of the true theory of the lever:
his surprising merit in these respects is demonstrated by the fact that
no advance was made in theoretical mechanics during the eighteen
centuries intervening between him and Leonardo da Vinci. Of minor
matters not fewer than forty mechanical inventions have been attributed
to him. Among these are the endless screw, the screw pump, a hydraulic
organ, and burning mirrors. His genius is well indicated by the saying
popularly attributed to him, "Give me whereon to stand, and I will move
the earth," and by the anecdotes told of his exertions against Marcellus
during the siege of Syracuse; his invention of catapults and other
engines for throwing projectiles, as darts and heavy stones, claws
which, reaching over the walls, lifted up into the air ships and their
crews, and then suddenly dropped them into the sea; burning mirrors, by
which, at a great distance, the Roman fleet was set on fire. It is
related that Marcellus, honouring his intellect, gave the strictest
orders that no harm should be done to him at the taking of the town, and
that he was killed, unfortunately, by an ignorant soldier--unfortunately,
for Europe was not able to produce his equal for nearly two thousand years.

[Sidenote: The writings and works of Eratosthenes.]

Eratosthenes was contemporary with Archimedes. He was born at Cyrene,
B.C. 276. The care of the library appears to have been committed to him
by Euergetes; but his attention was more specially directed to
mathematical, astronomical, geographical, and historical pursuits. The
work entitled "Catasterisms," doubtfully imputed to him, is a catalogue
of 475 of the principal stars; but it was probably intended for nothing
more than a manual. He also is said to have written a poem upon
terrestrial zones. Among his important geographical labours may be
mentioned his determination of the interval between the tropics. He
found it to be eleven eighty-thirds of the circumference. He also
attempted the measurement of the size of the earth by ascertaining the
distance between Alexandria and Syene, the difference of latitude
between which he had found to be one-fiftieth of the earth's
circumference. It was his object to free geography from the legends with
which the superstition of ages had adorned and oppressed it. In
effecting this he well deserves the tribute paid to him by Humboldt, the
modern who of all others could best appreciate his labours. He
considered the articulation and expansion of continents; the position of
mountain chains; the action of clouds; the geological submersion of
lands; the elevation of ancient sea-beds; the opening of the Dardanelles
and of the Straits of Gibraltar; the relations of the Euxine Sea; the
problem of the equal level of the circumfluous ocean; and the necessary
existence of a mountain chain running through Asia in the diaphragm of
Dicæarchus. What an advance is all this beyond the meditations of
Thales! Herein we see the practical tendencies of the Macedonian wars.
In his astronomical observations he had the advantage of using the
armils and other instruments in the Observatory. He ascertained that
the direction of terrestrial gravity is not constant, but that the
verticals converge. He composed a complete systematic description of the
earth in three books--physical, mathematical, historical--accompanied by
a map of all the parts then known. Of his skill as a geometer, his
solution of the problem of two mean proportionals, still extant, offers
ample evidence; and it is only of late years that the fragments
remaining of his Chronicles of the Theban Kings have been properly
appreciated. He hoped to free history as well as geography from the
myths that deform it, a task which the prejudices and interests of man
will never permit to be accomplished. Some amusing anecdotes of his
opinions in these respects have descended to us. He ventured to doubt
the historical truth of the Homeric legends. "I will believe in it when
I have been shown the currier who made the wind-bags which Ulysses on
his homeward voyage received from Æolus." It is said that, having
attained the age of eighty years, he became weary of life, and put an
end to himself by voluntary starvation.

[Sidenote: Chronology of Eratosthenes.]

I shall here pause to make a few remarks suggested by the chronological
and astronomical works of Eratosthenes. Our current chronology was the
offspring of erroneous theological considerations, the nature of which
required not only a short historical term for the various nations of
antiquity, but even for the existence of man upon the globe. This
necessity appears to have been chiefly experienced in the attempt to
exalt certain facts in the history of the Hebrews from their subordinate
position in human affairs, and, indeed, to give the whole of that
history an exaggerated value. This was done in a double way: by
elevating Hebrew history from its true grade, and depreciating or
falsifying that of other nations. Among those who have been guilty of
this literary offence, the name of the celebrated Eusebius, the Bishop
of Cæsarea in the time of Constantine, should be designated, since in
his chronography and synchronal tables he purposely "perverted
chronology for the sake of making synchronisms" (Bunsen). It is true, as
Niebuhr asserts, "He is a very dishonest writer." To a great extent,
the superseding of the Egyptian annals was brought about by his
influence. It was forgotten, however, that of all things chronology is
the least suited to be an object of inspiration; and that, though men
may be wholly indifferent to truth for its own sake, and consider it not
improper to wrest it unscrupulously to what they may suppose to be a
just purpose, yet that it will vindicate itself at last. It is
impossible to succeed completely in perverting the history of a nation
which has left numerous enduring records. Egypt offers us testimonials
reaching over five thousand years. As Bunsen remarks, from the known
portion of the curve of history we may determine the whole. The
Egyptians, old as they are, belong to the middle ages of mankind, for
there is a period antecedent to monumental history, or indeed, to
history of any kind, during which language and mythology are formed, for
these must exist prior to all political institutions, all art, all
science. Even at the first moment that we gain a glimpse of the state of
Egypt she had attained a high intellectual condition, as is proved by
the fact that her system of hieroglyphics was perfected before the
fourth dynasty. It continued unchanged until the time of Psammetichus. A
stationary condition of language and writing for thousands of years
necessarily implies a long and very remote period of active improvement
and advance. It was doubtless such a general consideration, rather than
a positive knowledge of the fact, which led the Greeks to assert that
the introduction of geometry into Egypt must be attributed to kings
before the times of Menes. Not alone do her artificial monuments attest
for that country an extreme antiquity; she is herself her own witness;
for, though the Nile raises its bed only four feet in a thousand years,
all the alluvial portion of Egypt has been deposited from the waters of
that river. A natural register thus re-enforces the written records, and
both together compose a body of evidence not to be gainsaid. Thus the
depth of muddy silt accumulated round the pedestals of monuments is an
irreproachable index of their age. In the eminent position he occupied,
Eusebius might succeed in perverting the received book-chronology; but
he had no power to make the endless trade-wind that sweeps over the
tropical Pacific blow a day more or a day less; none to change the
weight of water precipitated from it by the African mountains; none to
arrest the annual mass of mud brought down by the river. It is by
collating such different orders of evidence together--the natural and
the monumental, the latter gaining strength every year from the
cultivation of hieroglyphic studies--that we begin to discern the true
Egyptian chronology, and to put confidence in the fragments that remain
of Eratosthenes and Manetho.

[Sidenote: Astronomy of Eratosthenes.]

[Sidenote: Attempts of Aristarchus to find the distance of the sun.]

At the time of which we are speaking--the time of Eratosthenes--general
ideas had been attained to respecting the doctrine of the sphere, its
poles, axis, the equator, arctic and antarctic circles, equinoctial
points, solstices, colures, horizon, etc. No one competent to form an
opinion any longer entertained a doubt respecting the globular form of
the earth, the arguments adduced in support of that fact being such as
are still popularly resorted to--the different positions of the horizon
at different places, the changes in elevation of the pole, the phenomena
of eclipses, and the gradual disappearance of ships as they sail from
us. As to eclipses, once looked upon with superstitious awe, their true
causes had not only been assigned, but their periodicities so well
ascertained that predictions of their occurrence could be made. The
Babylonians had thus long known that after a cycle of 223 lunations the
eclipses of the moon return. The mechanism of the phases of that
satellite was clearly understood. Indeed, Aristarchus of Samos attempted
to ascertain the distance of the sun from the earth on the principle of
observing the moon when she is dichotomized, a method quite significant
of the knowledge of the time, though in practice untrustworthy;
Aristarchus thus finding that the sun's distance is eighteen times that
of the moon, whereas it is in reality 400. In like manner, in a general
way, pretty clear notions were entertained of the climatic distribution
of heat upon the earth, exaggerated, however, in this respect, that the
torrid zone was believed to be too hot for human life, and the frigid
too cold. Observations, as good as could be made by simple instruments,
had not only demonstrated in a general manner the progressions,
retrogradations and stations of the planets, but attempts had been made
to account for, or rather to represent them, by the aid of epicycles.

[Sidenote: Biography of the Ptolemies.]

It was thus in Alexandria, under the Ptolemies, that modern astronomy
arose. Ptolemy Soter, the founder of this line of kings, was not only a
patron of science, but likewise an author. He composed a history of the
campaigns of Alexander. Under him the collection of the library was
commenced, probably soon after the defeat of Antigonus at the battle of
Ipsus, B.C. 301. The museum is due to his son Ptolemy Philadelphus, who
not only patronized learning in his own dominions, but likewise
endeavoured to extend the boundaries of human knowledge in other
quarters. Thus he sent an expedition under his admiral Timosthenes as
far as Madagascar. Of the succeeding Ptolemies, Euergetes and Philopator
were both very able men, though the later was a bad one; he murdered his
father, and perpetrated many horrors in Alexandria. Epiphanes,
succeeding his father when only five years old, was placed by his
guardians under the protection of Rome, thus furnishing to the ambitious
republic a pretence for interfering in the affairs of Egypt. The same
policy was continued during the reign of his son Philometor, who, upon
the whole, was an able and good king. Even Physcon, who succeeded in
B.C. 146, and who is described as sensual, corpulent, and cruel--cruel,
for he cut off the head, hands, and feet of his son, and sent them to
Cleopatra his wife--could not resist the inspirations to which the
policy of his ancestors, continued for nearly two centuries, had given
birth, but was an effective promoter of literature and the arts, and
himself the author of an historical work. A like inclination was
displayed by his successors, Lathyrus and Auletes, the name of the
latter indicating his proficiency in music. The surnames under which all
these Ptolemies pass were nicknames, or titles of derision imposed upon
them by their giddy and satirical Alexandrian subjects. The political
state of Alexandria was significantly said to be a tyranny tempered by
ridicule. The dynasty ended in the person of the celebrated Cleopatra,
who, after the battle of Actium, caused herself, as is related in the
legends, to be bitten by an asp. She took poison that she might not fall
captive to Octavianus, and be led in his triumph through the streets of
Rome.

If we possessed a complete and unbiased history of these Greek kings, it
would doubtless uphold their title to be regarded as the most
illustrious of all ancient sovereigns. Even after their political power
had passed into the hands of the Romans--a nation who had no regard to
truth and to right--and philosophy, in its old age, had become
extinguished or eclipsed by the faith of the later Cæsars, enforced by
an unscrupulous use of their power, so strong was the vitality of the
intellectual germ they had fostered, that, though compelled to lie
dormant for centuries, it shot up vigorously on the first occasion that
favouring circumstances allowed.

[Sidenote: They patronize literature as well as science.]

This Egyptian dynasty extended its protection and patronage to
literature as well as to science. Thus Philadelphus did not consider it
beneath him to count among his personal friends the poet Callimachus,
who had written a treatise on birds, and honourably maintained himself
by keeping a school in Alexandria. The court of that sovereign was,
moreover, adorned by a constellation of seven poets, to which the gay
Alexandrians gave the nickname of the Pleiades. They are said to have
been Lycophron, Theocritus, Callimachus, Aratus, Apollonius Rhodius,
Nicander, and Homer the son of Macro. Among them may be distinguished
Lycophron, whose work, entitled Cassandra, still remains; and
Theocritus, whose exquisite bucolics prove how sweet a poet he was.

[Sidenote: The writings of Apollonius.]

To return to the scientific movement. The school of Euclid was worthily
represented in the time of Euergetes by Apollonius Pergæus, forty years
later than Archimedes. He excelled both in the mathematical and physical
department. His chief work was a treatise on Conic Sections. It is said
that he was the first to introduce the words ellipse and hyperbola. So
late as the eleventh century his complete works were extant in Arabic.
Modern geometers describe him as handling his subjects with less power
than his great predecessor Archimedes, but nevertheless displaying
extreme precision and beauty in his methods. His fifth book, on Maxima
and Minima, is to be regarded as one of the highest efforts of Greek
geometry. As an example of his physical inquiries may be mentioned his
invention of a clock.

[Sidenote: The writings of Hipparchus.]

[Sidenote: The theory of epicycles and eccentrics.]

Fifty years after Apollonius, B.C. 160-125, we meet with the great
astronomer Hipparchus. He does not appear to have made observations
himself in Alexandria, but he uses those of Aristyllus and Timochares of
that place. Indeed, his great discovery of the precession of the
equinoxes was essentially founded on the discussion of the Alexandrian
observations on Spica Virginis made by Timochares. In pure mathematics
he gave methods for solving all triangles plane and spherical: he also
constructed a table of chords. In astronomy, besides his capital
discovery of the precession of the equinoxes just mentioned, he also
determined the first inequality of the moon, the equation of the centre,
and all but anticipated Ptolemy in the discovery of the evection. To him
also must be attributed the establishment of the theory of epicycles and
eccentrics, a geometrical conception for the purpose of resolving the
apparent motions of the heavenly bodies, on the principle of circular
movement. In the case of the sun and moon, Hipparchus succeeded in the
application of that theory, and indicated that it might be adapted to
the planets. Though never intended as a representation of the actual
motions of the heavenly bodies, it maintained its ground until the era
of Kepler and Newton, when the heliocentric doctrine, and that of
elliptic motions, were incontestably established. Even Newton himself,
in the 37th proposition of the third book of the "Principia," availed
himself of its aid. Hipparchus also undertook to make a register of the
stars by the method of alineations--that is, by indicating those which
were in the same apparent straight line. The number of stars catalogued
by him was 1,080. If he thus depicted the aspect of the sky for his
times, he also endeavoured to do the same for the surface of the earth
by marking the position of towns and other places by lines of latitude
and longitude.

[Sidenote: The writings of Ptolemy.]

[Sidenote: His great work: the mechanical construction of the heavens.]

Subsequently to Hipparchus, we find the astronomers Geminus and
Cleomedes; their fame, however, is totally eclipsed by that of Ptolemy,
A.D. 138, the author of the great work "Syntaxis," or the mathematical
construction of the heavens--a work fully deserving the epithet which
has been bestowed upon it, "a noble exposition of the mathematical
theory of epicycles and eccentrics." It was translated by the Arabians
after the Mohammedan conquest of Egypt; and, under the title of
Almagest, was received by them as the highest authority on the mechanism
and phenomena of the universe. It maintained its ground in Europe in the
same eminent position for nearly fifteen hundred years, justifying the
encomium of Synesius on the institution which gave it birth, "the divine
school of Alexandria." The Almagest commences with the doctrine that the
earth is globular and fixed in space; it describes the construction of a
table of chords and instruments for observing the solstices, and deduces
the obliquity of the ecliptic. It finds terrestrial latitudes by the
gnomon; describes climates; shows how ordinary may be converted into
sidereal time; gives reasons for preferring the tropical to the sidereal
year; furnishes the solar theory on the principle of the sun's orbit
being a simple eccentric; explains the equation of time; advances to the
discussion of the motions of the moon; treats of the first inequality,
of her eclipses, and the motion of the node. It then gives Ptolemy's own
great discovery--that which has made his name immortal--the discovery of
the moon's evection or second inequality, reducing it to the epicyclic
theory. It attempts the determination of the distances of the sun and
moon from the earth, with, however, only partial success, since it makes
the sun's distance but one-twentieth of the real amount. It considers
the precession of the equinoxes, the discovery of Hipparchus, the full
period for which is twenty-five thousand years. It gives a catalogue of
1,022 stars; treats of the nature of the Milky Way; and discusses, in
the most masterly manner, the motions of the planets. This point
constitutes Ptolemy's second claim to scientific fame. His determination
of the planetary orbits was accomplished by comparing his own
observations with those of former astronomers, especially with those of
Timochares on Venus.

[Sidenote: His geography.]

To Ptolemy we are also indebted for a work on Geography used in European
schools as late as the fifteenth century. The known world to him was
from the Canary Islands eastward to China, and from the equator
northward to Caledonia. His maps, however, are very erroneous; for, in
the attempt to make them correspond to the spherical figure of the
earth, the longitudes are too much to the east; the Mediterranean Sea is
twenty degrees too long. Ptolemy's determinations are, therefore,
inferior in accuracy to those of his illustrious predecessor
Eratosthenes, who made the distance from the sacred promontory in Spain
to the eastern mouth of the Ganges to be seventy thousand stadia.
Ptolemy also wrote on Optics, the Planisphere, and Astrology. It is not
often given to an author to endure for so many ages; perhaps, indeed,
few deserve it. The mechanism of the heavens, from his point of view,
has however, been greatly misunderstood. Neither he nor Hipparchus ever
intended that theory as anything more than a geometrical fiction. It is
not to be regarded as a representation of the actual celestial motions.
And, as might be expected, for such is the destiny of all unreal
abstractions, the theory kept advancing in complexity as facts
accumulated, and was on the point of becoming altogether unmanageable,
when it was supplanted by the theory of universal gravitation, which has
ever exhibited the inalienable attribute of a true theory--affording an
explanation of every new fact as soon as it was discovered, without
requiring to be burdened with new provisions, and prophetically
foretelling phenomena which had not as yet been observed.

[Sidenote: The later Alexandrian geometers.]

[Sidenote: Decline of the Greek age of Reason.]

From the time of the Ptolemies the scientific spirit of the Alexandrian
school declined; for though such mathematicians as Theodosius, whose
work on Spherical Geometry was greatly valued by the Arab geometers; and
Pappus, whose mathematical collections, in eight books, still for the
most part remain; and Theon, doubly celebrated for his geometrical
attainments, and as being the father of the unfortunate Hypatia, A.D.
415, lived in the next three centuries, they were not men like their
great predecessors. That mental strength which gives birth to original
discovery had passed away. The commentator had succeeded to the
philosopher. No new development illustrated the physical sciences; they
were destined long to remain stationary. Mechanics could boast of no
trophy like the proposition of Archimedes on the equilibrium of the
lever; no new and exact ideas like those of the same great man on
statical and hydrostatical pressure; no novel and clear views like those
developed in his treatise on floating bodies; no mechanical invention
like the first of all steam-engines--that of Hero. Natural Philosophy
had come to a stop. Its great, and hitherto successfully cultivated
department, Astronomy, exhibited no farther advance. Men were content
with what had been done, and continued to amuse themselves with
reconciling the celestial phenomena to a combination of equable circular
motions. To what are we to attribute this pause? Something had occurred
to enervate the spirit of science. A gloom had settled on the Museum.

[Sidenote: Causes of that decline.]

There is no difficulty in giving an explanation of this unfortunate
condition. Greek intellectual life had passed the period of its
maturity, and was entering on old age. Moreover, the talent which might
have been devoted to the service of science was in part allured to
another pursuit, and in part repressed. Alexandria had sapped Athens,
and in her turn Alexandria was sapped by Rome. From metropolitan
pre-eminence she had sunk to be a mere provincial town. The great prizes
of life were not so likely to be met with in such a declining city as in
Italy or, subsequently, in Constantinople. Whatever affected these chief
centres of Roman activity, necessarily influenced her; but, such is the
fate of the conquered, she must await their decisions. In the very
institutions by which she had once been glorified, success could only be
attained by a conformity to the manner of thinking fashionable in the
imperial metropolis, and the best that could be done was to seek
distinction in the path so marked out. Yet even with all this restraint
Alexandria asserted her intellectual power, leaving an indelible impress
on the new theology of her conquerors. During three centuries the
intellectual atmosphere of the Roman empire had been changing. Men were
unable to resist the steadily increasing pressure. Tranquillity could
only be secured by passiveness. Things had come to such a state that the
thinking of men was to be done for them by others, or, if they thought
at all, it must be in accordance with a prescribed formula or rule.
Greek intellect was passing into decrepitude, and the moral condition of
the European world was in antagonism to scientific progress.

CHAPTER VII.

THE GREEK AGE OF INTELLECTUAL DECREPITUDE.

THE DEATH OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY.

_Decline of Greek Philosophy: it becomes Retrospective, and in
Philo the Jew and Apollonius of Tyana leans on Inspiration,
Mysticism, Miracles._

NEO-PLATONISM _founded by Ammonius Saccas, followed by
Plotinus, Porphyry, Iamblicus, Proclus.--The Alexandrian
Trinity.--Ecstasy.--Alliance with Magic, Necromancy._

_The Emperor Justinian closes the philosophical Schools._

_Determination of the Law of Variation of Greek Opinion.--The
Development of National Intellect is the same as that of
Individual._

_Determination of the final Conclusions of Greek Philosophy as
to God, the World, the Soul, the Criterion of
Truth.--Illustrations and Criticisms on each of these Points._

[Sidenote: Decline of Greek philosophy.]

In this chapter it is a melancholy picture that I have to present--the
old age and death of Greek philosophy. The strong man of Aristotelism
and Stoicism is sinking into the superannuated dotard; he is settling

"Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange, eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion--
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

He is full of admiration for the past and of contemptuous disgust at the
present; his thoughts are wandering to the things that occupied him in
his youth, and even in his infancy. Like those who are ready to die, he
delivers himself up to religious preparation, without any farther
concern whether the things on which he is depending are intrinsically
true or false.

In this, the closing scene, no more do we find the vivid faith of Plato,
the mature intellect of Aristotle, the manly self-control of Zeno. Greek
philosophy is ending in garrulity and mysticism. It is leaning for help
on the conjurer, juggler, and high-priest of Nature.

There are also new-comers obtruding themselves on the stage. The Roman
soldier is about to take the place of the Greek thinker, and assert his
claim to the effects of the intestate--to keep what suits him, and to
destroy what he pleases. The Romans, advancing towards their age of
Faith, are about to force their ideas on the European world.

Under the shadow of the Pyramids Greek philosophy was born; after many
wanderings for a thousand years round the shores of the Mediterranean,
it came back to its native place, and under the shadow of the Pyramids
it died.

[Sidenote: It becomes retrospective.]

[Sidenote: Has arrived at Oriental ideas.]

From the period of the New Academy the decline of Greek philosophy was
uninterrupted. Inventive genius no longer existed; its place was
occupied by the commentator. Instead of troubling themselves with
inquiries after absolute truth, philosophers sought support in the
opinions of the ancient times, and the real or imputed views of
Pythagoras, Plato, or Aristotle were received as a criterion. In this,
the old age of philosophy, men began to act as though there had never
been such things as original investigation and discovery among the human
race, and that whatever truth there was in the world was not the product
of thought, but the remains of an ancient and now all but forgotten
revelation from heaven--forgotten through the guilt and fall of man.
There is something very melancholy in this total cessation of inquiry.
The mental impetus, which one would have expected to continue for a
season by reason of the momentum that had been gathered in so many
ages, seems to have been all at once abruptly lost. So complete a pause
is surprising: the arrow still flies on after it has parted from the
bow; the potter's wheel runs round though all the vessels are finished.
In producing this sudden stoppage, the policy of the early Cæsars
greatly assisted. The principle of liberty of thought, which the very
existence of the divers philosophical schools necessarily implied, was
too liable to make itself manifest in aspirations for political liberty.
While through the emperors the schools of Greece, of Alexandria, and
Rome were depressed from that supremacy to which they might have
aspired, and those of the provinces, as Marseilles and Rhodes, were
relatively exalted, the former, in a silent and private way, were
commencing those rivalries, the forerunners of the great theological
struggles between them in after ages for political power. Christianity
in its dawn was attended by a general belief that in the East there had
been preserved a purer recollection of the ancient revelation, and that
hence from that quarter the light would presently shine forth. Under the
favouring influence of such an expectation, Orientalism, to which, as we
have seen, Grecian thought had spontaneously arrived, was greatly
re-enforced.

[Sidenote: Philo the Jew thinks he is inspired.]

[Sidenote: His mystical philosophy.]

In this final period of Greek philosophy, the first to whom we must turn
is Philo the Jew, who lived in the time of the Emperor Caligula. In
harmony with the ideas of his nation, he derives all philosophy and
useful knowledge from the Mosaic record, not hesitating to wrest
Scripture to his use by various allegorical interpretations, asserting
that man has fallen from his primitive wisdom and purity; that physical
inquiry is of very little avail, but that an innocent life and a burning
faith are what we must trust to. He persuaded himself that a certain
inspiration fell upon him while he was in the act of writing, somewhat
like that of the penmen of the Holy Scriptures. His readers may,
however, be disposed to believe that herein he was self-deceived,
judging both from the character of his composition and the nature of his
doctrine. As respects the former, he writes feebly, is vacillating in
his views, and, when watched in his treatment of a difficult point, is
seen to be wavering and unsteady. As respects the latter, among other
extraordinary things he teaches that the world is the chief angel or
first son of God; he combines all the powers of God into one force, the
Logos or 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.

[Sidenote: Apollonius of Tyana.]

[Sidenote: Is a miracle-worker and prophet.]

As aiding very greatly in the popular introduction of Orientalism,
Apollonius of Tyana must be mentioned. Under the auspices of the Empress
Julia Domna, in a biographical composition, Philostratus had the
audacity to institute a parallel between this man and our Saviour. He
was a miracle-worker, given to soothsaying and prophesying, led the life
of an ascetic, his raiment and food being of the poorest. He attempted a
reformation of religious rites and morals; denied the efficacy of
sacrifice, substituting for it a simple worship and a pure prayer,
scarce even needing words. He condemned the poets for propagating
immoral fables of the gods, since they had thereby brought impurity into
religion. He maintained the doctrine of transmigration.

[Sidenote: Plutarch leans to patronizing Orientalism.]

[Sidenote: Numenius inclines to a trinitarian philosophy.]

Plutarch, whose time reaches to the Emperor Hadrian, has exercised an
influence, through certain peculiarities of his style, which has
extended even to us. As a philosopher he is to be classed among the
Platonists, yet with a predominance of the prevailing Orientalism. His
mental peculiarities seem to have unfitted him for an acceptance of the
national faith, and his works commend themselves rather by the pleasant
manner in which he deals with the topic on which he treats than by a
deep philosophy. In some respects an analogy may be discerned between
his views and those of Philo, the Isis of the one corresponding to the
Word of the other. This disposition to Orientalism occurs still more
strongly in succeeding writers; for example, Lucius Apuleius the
Numidian, and Numenius: the latter embracing the opinion that had now
become almost universal--that all Greek philosophy was originally
brought from the East. In his doctrine a trinity is assumed, the first
person of which is reason; the second the principle of becoming, which
is a dual existence, and so gives rise to a third person, these three
persons constituting, however, only one God. Having indicated the
occurrence of this idea, it is not necessary for us to inquire more
particularly into its details. As philosophical conceptions, none of the
trinities of the Greeks will bear comparison with those of ancient
Egypt, Amun, Maut, and Khonso, Osiris, Isis, and Horus; nor with those
of India, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, the Creator, Preserver, and
Destroyer, or, the Past, the Present, and the Future of the Buddhists.

[Sidenote: Ammonius Saccas founds Neo-Platonism.]

The doctrines of Numenius led directly to those of Neo-Platonism, of
which, however, the origin is commonly imputed to Ammonius Saccas of
Alexandria, toward the close of the second century after Christ. The
views of this philosopher do not appear to have been committed to
writing. They are known to us through his disciples Longinus and
Plotinus chiefly. Neo-Platonism, assuming the aspect of a philosophical
religion, is distinguished for the conflict it maintained with the
rising power of Christianity. Alexandria was the scene of this contest.
The school which there arose lasted for about 300 years. Its history is
not only interesting to us from its antagonism to that new power which
soon was to conquer the Western world, but also because it was the
expiring effort of Grecian philosophy.

[Sidenote: Plotinus, a Mystic. Reunion with God.]

Plotinus, an Egyptian, was born about A.D. 204. He studied at
Alexandria, and is said to have spent eleven years under Ammonius
Saccas. He accompanied the expedition of the Emperor Gordian to Persia
and India, and, escaping from its disasters, opened a philosophical
school in Rome. In that city he was held in the highest esteem by the
Emperor Gallienus; the Empress Salonina intended to build a city, in
which Plotinus might inaugurate the celebrated Republic of Plato. The
plan was not, however, carried out. With the best intention for
promoting the happiness of man, Plotinus is to be charged with no little
obscurity and mysticism. Eunapius says truly that the heavenly elevation
of his mind and his perplexed style make him very tiresome and
unpleasant. His repulsiveness is, perhaps, in a measure due to his want
of skill in the art of composition, for he did not learn to write till
he was fifty years old. He professed a contempt for the advantages of
life and for its pursuits. He disparaged patriotism. An ascetic in his
habits, eating no flesh and but little bread, he held his body in utter
contempt, saying that it was only a phantom and a clog to his soul. He
refused to remember his birthday. As has frequently been the case with
those who have submitted to prolonged fasting and meditation, he
believed that he had been privileged to see God with his bodily eye, and
on six different occasions had been reunited to him. In such a mental
condition, it may well be supposed that his writings are mysterious,
inconsequent and diffuse. An air of Platonism mingled with many Oriental
ideas and ancient Egyptian recollections, pervades his works.

[Sidenote: The trinity of Plotinus.]

[Sidenote: Ecstasy; communion with the invisible.]

Like many of his predecessors, Plotinus recognized a difference between
the mental necessities of the educated and the vulgar, justifying
mythology on the ground that it was very useful to those who were not
yet emancipated from the sensible. Aristotle, in his Metaphysics,
referring to mythology and the gods in human form, had remarked, "Much
has been mythically added for the persuasion of the multitude, and also
on account of the laws and for other useful ends." But Plotinus also
held that the gods are not to be moved by prayer, and that both they and
the dæmons occasionally manifest themselves visibly; that incantations
may be lawfully practised, and are not repugnant to philosophy. In the
body he discerns a penitential mechanism for the soul. He believes that
the external world is a mere phantom--a dream--and the indications of
the senses altogether deceptive. The union with the divinity of which he
speaks he describes as an intoxication of the soul which, forgetting all
external things, becomes lost in the contemplation of "the One." The
doctrinal philosophy of Plotinus presents a trinity in accordance with
the Platonic idea. (1.) The One, or Prime essence. (2.) The Reason. (3.)
The Soul. Of the first he declares that it is impossible to speak fully,
and in what he says on this point there are many apparent
contradictions, as when he denies oneness to the one. His ideas of the
trinity are essentially based on the theory of emanation. He describes
how the second principle issues by emanation out of the first, and the
third out of the second. The mechanism of this process may be
illustrated by recalling how from the body of the sun issues forth
light, and from light emerges heat. In the procession of the third from
the second principle it is really Thought arising from Reason; but
Thought is the Soul. The mundane soul he considers as united to nothing;
but on these details he falls into much mysticism, and it is often
difficult to see clearly his precise meaning, as when he says that
Reason is surrounded by Eternity, but the Soul is surrounded by Time. He
carries Idealism to its last extreme, and, as has been said, looks upon
the visible world as a semblance only, deducing from his doctrine moral
reflections to be a comfort in the trials of life. Thus he says that
"sensuous life is a mere stage-play; all the misery in it is only
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." "Passive affections and misery light only on the
outward shadow of man." The great end of existence is to draw the soul
from external things and fasten it in contemplation on God. Such
considerations teach us a contempt for virtue as well as for vice: "Once
united with God, man leaves the virtues, as on entering the sanctuary he
leaves the images of the gods in the ante-temple behind." Hence we
should struggle to free ourselves from everything low and mean: to
cultivate truth, and devote life to intimate communion with God,
divesting ourselves of all personality, and passing into the condition
of ecstasy, in which the soul is loosened from its material prison,
separated from individual consciousness, and absorbed in the infinite
intelligence from which it emanated. "In ecstasy it contemplates real
existence; it identifies itself with that which it contemplates." Our
reminiscence passes into intuition. In all these views of Plotinus the
tincture of Orientalism predominates; the principles and practices are
altogether Indian. The Supreme Being of the system is the "unus qui est
omnia;" the intention of the theory of emanation is to find a
philosophical connexion between him and the soul of man; the process for
passing into ecstasy by sitting long in an invariable posture, by
looking steadfastly at the tip of the nose, or by observing for a long
time an unusual or definite manner of breathing, had been familiar to
the Eastern devotees, as they are now to the impostors of our own times;
the result is not celestial, but physiological. The pious Hindus were,
however, assured that, as water will not wet the lotus, so, though sin
may touch, it can never defile the soul after a full intuition of God.

[Sidenote: Porphyry--his writings destroyed;]

[Sidenote: resorts to magic and necromancy.]

The opinions of Plotinus were strengthened and diffused by his
celebrated pupil Porphyry, who was born at Tyre A.D. 233. After the
death of Plotinus he established a school in Rome, attaining great
celebrity in astronomy, music, geography, and other sciences. His
treatise against Christianity was answered by Eusebius, St. Jerome, and
others; the Emperor Theodosius the Great, however, silenced it more
effectually by causing all the copies to be burned. Porphyry asserts his
own unworthiness when compared with his master, saying that he had been
united to God but once in eighty-six years, whereas Plotinus had been so
united six times in sixty years. In him is to be seen all the mysticism,
and, it may be added, all the piety of Plotinus. He speaks of dæmons
shapeless, and therefore invisible; requiring food, and not immortal;
some of which rule the air, and may be propitiated or restrained by
magic: he admits also the use of necromancy. It is scarcely possible to
determine how much this inclination of the Neo-Platonists to the
unlawful art is to be regarded as a concession to the popular sentiment
of the times, for elsewhere Porphyry does not hesitate to condemn
soothsaying and divination, and to dwell upon the folly of invoking the
gods in making bargains, marriages, and such-like trifles. He
strenuously enjoins a holy life in view of the fact that man has fallen
both from his ancient purity and knowledge. He recommends a worship in
silence and pure thought, the public worship being of very secondary
importance. He also insists on an abstinence from animal food.

[Sidenote: Iamblicus a wonder-worker.]

The cultivation of magic and the necromantic art was fully carried out
in Iamblicus, a Coelo-Syrian, who died in the reign of Constantine the
Great. It is scarcely necessary to relate the miracles and prodigies he
performed, though they received full credence in those superstitious
times; how, by the intensity of his prayers, he raised himself
unsupported nine feet above the ground; how he could make rays of a
blinding effulgence play round his head; how, before the bodily eyes of
his pupils, he evoked two visible dæmonish imps. Nor is it necessary to
mention the opinions of Ædesius, Chrysanthus, or Maximus.

[Sidenote: Proclus unites emanation with mysticism.]

For a moment, however, we may turn to Proclus, who was born in
Constantinople A.D. 412. When Vitalian laid siege to Constantinople,
Proclus is said to have burned his ships with a polished brass mirror.
It is scarcely possible for us to determine how much truth there is in
this, since similar authority affirms that he could produce rain and
earthquakes. His theurgic propensities are therefore quite distinct.
Yet, notwithstanding these superhuman powers, together with special
favours displayed to him by Apollo, Athene, and other divinities, he
found it expedient to cultivate his rites in secret, in terror of
persecution by the Christians, whose attention he had drawn upon himself
by writing a work in opposition to them. Eventually they succeeded in
expelling him from Athens, thereby teaching him a new interpretation of
the moral maxim he had adopted, "Live concealed." It was the aim of
Proclus to construct a complete theology, which should include the
theory of emanation, and be duly embellished with mysticism. The Orphic
poems and Chaldæan oracles were the basis upon which he commenced; his
character may be understood from the dignity he assumed as "high priest
of the universe." He recommended to his disciples the study of
Aristotle for the sake of cultivating the reason, but enjoined that of
Plato, whose works he found to be full of sublime allegories suited to
his purpose. He asserted that to know one's own mind is to know the
whole universe, and that that knowledge is imparted to us by revelations
and illuminations of the gods.

[Sidenote: Justinian puts an end to philosophy.]

He speculates on the manner in which absorption is to take place;
whether the last form can pass at once into the primitive, or whether it
is needful for it to resume, in a returning succession, the intervening
states of its career. From such elevated ideas, considering the mystical
manner in which they were treated, there was no other prospect for
philosophy than to end as Neo-Platonism did under Damasius. The final
days were approaching. The Emperor Justinian prohibited the teaching of
philosophy, and closed its schools in Athens A.D. 529. Its last
representatives, Damasius, Simplicius, and Isidorus, went as exiles to
Persia, expecting to find a retreat under the protection of the great
king, who boasted that he was a philosopher and a Platonist.
Disappointed, they were fain to return to their native land; and it must
be recorded to the honour of Chosroes that, in his treaty of peace with
the Romans, he stipulated safety and toleration for these exiles, vainly
hoping that they might cultivate their philosophy and practise their
rites without molestation.

So ends Greek philosophy. She is abandoned, and preparation made for
crowning Faith in her stead. The inquiries of the Ionians, the reasoning
of the Eleatics, the labours of Plato, of Aristotle, have sunk into
mysticism and the art of the conjurer. As with the individual man, so
with philosophy in its old age: when all else had failed it threw itself
upon devotion, seeking consolation in the exercises of piety--a frame of
mind in which it was ready to die. The whole period from the New Academy
shows that the grand attempt, every year becoming more and more urgent,
was to find a system which should be in harmony with that feeling of
religious devotion into which the Roman empire had fallen--a feeling
continually gathering force. An air of piety, though of a most delusive
kind, had settled upon the whole pagan world.

[Sidenote: Summary of Greek philosophy.]

From the long history of Greek philosophy presented in the foregoing
pages, we turn, 1st, to an investigation of the manner of progress of
the Greek mind; and, 2nd, to the results to which it attained.

The period occupied by the events we have been considering extends over
almost twelve centuries. It commences with Thales, B.C. 636, and ends
A.D. 529.

[Sidenote: Age of Inquiry--its solutions.]

[Sidenote: First problem. Origin of the world.]

1st. Greek philosophy commenced on the foundation of physical
suggestions. Its first object was the determination of the origin and
manner of production of the world. The basis upon which it rested was in
its nature unsubstantial, for it included intrinsic errors due to
imperfect and erroneous observations. It diminished the world and
magnified man, accepting the apparent aspect of Nature as real, and
regarding the earth as a flat surface, on which the sky was sustained
like a dome. It limited the boundaries of the terrestrial plane to an
insignificant extent, and asserted that it was the special and exclusive
property of man. The stars and other heavenly bodies it looked upon as
mere meteors or manifestations of fire. With superficial simplicity, it
received the notions of absolute directions in space, up and down, above
and below. In a like spirit is adopted, from the most general
observation, the doctrine of four elements, those forms of substance
naturally presented to us in a predominating quantity--earth, water,
air, fire. From these slender beginnings it made its first attempt at a
cosmogony, or theory of the mode of creation, by giving to one of these
elements a predominance or superiority over the other three, and making
them issue from it. With one teacher the primordial element was water;
with another, air; with another, fire. Whether a genesis had thus taken
place, or whether all four elements were co-ordinate and equal, the
production of the world was of easy explanation; for, by calling in the
aid of ordinary observation, which assures us that mud will sink to the
bottom of water, that water will fall through air, that it is the
apparent nature of fire to ascend, and, combining these illusory facts
with the erroneous notion of up and down in space, the arrangement of
the visible world became clear--the earth down below, the water floating
upon it, the air above, and, still higher, the region of fire. Thus it
appears that the first inquiry made by European philosophy was, Whence
and in what manner came the world?

[Sidenote: Its irreligious solution thereof.]

The principles involved in the solution of this problem evidently led to
a very important inference, at this early period betraying what was
before long to become a serious point of dispute. It is natural for man
to see in things around him visible tokens of divinity, continual
providential dispensations. But in this, its very first act, Greek
philosophy had evidently excluded God from his own world. This settling
of the heavy, this ascending of the light, was altogether a purely
physical affair; the limitless sea, the blue air, and the unnumbered
shining stars, were set in their appropriate places, not at the pleasure
or by the hand of God, but by innate properties of their own. Popular
superstition was in some degree appeased by the localization of deities
in the likeness of men in a starry Olympus above the sky, a region
furnishing unsubstantial glories and a tranquil abode. And yet it is not
possible to exclude altogether the spiritual from this world. The soul,
ever active and ever thinking, asserts its kindred with the divine. What
is that soul? Such was the second question propounded by Greek
philosophy.

[Sidenote: Second problem. What is the soul?]

[Sidenote: Its material solution thereof.]

A like course of superficial observation was resorted to in the solution
of this inquiry. To breathe is to live; then the breath is the life. If
we cease to breathe we die. Man only becomes a living soul when the
breath of life enters his nostrils; he is a senseless and impassive form
when the last breath is expired. In this life-giving principle, the air,
must therefore exist all those noble qualities possessed by the soul. It
must be the source from which all intellect arises, the store to which
all intellect again returns. The philosophical school whose fundamental
principle was that the air is the primordial element thus brought back
the Deity into the world, though under a material form. Yet still it was
in antagonism to the national polytheism, unless from that one god, the
air, the many gods of Olympus arose.

[Sidenote: Third problem. What is God?]

But who is that one God? This is the third question put forth by Greek
philosophy. Its answer betrays that in this, its beginning, it is
tending to Pantheism.

In all these investigations the starting-point had been material
conceptions, depending on the impressions or information of the senses.
Whatever the conclusion arrived at, its correctness turned on the
correctness of that information. When we put a little wine into a
measure of water, the eye may no longer see it, but the wine is there.
When a rain-drop falls on the leaves of a distant forest, we cannot hear
it, but the murmur of many drops composing a shower is audible enough.
But what is that murmur except the sum of the sounds of all the
individual drops?

[Sidenote: Fourth problem. Has man a criterion of truth?]

And so it is plain our senses are prone to deceive us. Hence arises the
fourth great question of Greek philosophy: Have we any criterion of
truth?

[Sidenote: Importance of the views of Pythagoras.]

The moment a suspicion that we have not crosses the mind of man, he
realizes what may be truly termed intellectual despair. Is this world an
illusion, a phantasm of the imagination? If things material and
tangible, and therefore the most solid props of knowledge, are thus
abruptly destroyed, in what direction shall we turn? Within a single
century Greek philosophy had come to this pass, and it was not without
reason that intelligent men looked on Pythagoras almost as a divinity
upon earth when he pointed out to them a path of escape; when he bid
them reflect on what it was that had thus taught them the fallibility of
sense. For what is it but reason that has been thus warning us, and, in
the midst of delusions, has guided us to the truth--reason, which has
objects of her own, a world of her own? Though the visible and audible
may deceive, we may nevertheless find absolute truth in things
altogether separate from material nature, particularly in the relations
of numbers and properties of geometrical forms. There is no illusion in
this, that two added to two make four; or in this, that any two sides of
a triangle taken together are greater than the third. If, then, we are
living in a region of deceptions, we may rest assured that it is
surrounded by a world of truth.

[Sidenote: Influence of the Eleatic school and the Sophists.]

From the material basis speculative philosophy gradually disengaged
itself through the labours of the Eleatic school, the controversy as to
the primary element receding into insignificance, and being replaced by
investigations as to Time, Motion, Space, Thought, Being, God. The
general result of these inquiries brought into prominence the suspicion
of the untrustworthiness of the senses, the tendency of the whole period
being manifested in the hypothesis at last attained, that atoms and
space alone exist; and, since the former are mere centres of force,
matter is necessarily a phantasm. When, therefore, the Athenians
themselves commenced the cultivation of philosophy, it was with full
participation in the doubt and uncertainty thus overspreading the whole
subject. As Sophists, their action closed this speculative period, for,
by a comparison of all the partial sciences thus far known, they arrived
at the conclusion that there is no conscience, no good or evil, no
philosophy, no religion, no law, no criterion of truth.

[Sidenote: Age of faith--its solutions.]

[Sidenote: Its continuation by Plato, and its end by the Sceptics.]

But man cannot live without some guiding rule. If his speculations in
Nature will yield him nothing on which he may rely, he will seek some
other aid. If there be no criterion of truth for him in philosophy, he
will lean on implicit, unquestioning faith. If he cannot prove by
physical arguments the existence of God, he will, with Socrates, accept
that great fact as self evident and needing no demonstration. He will,
in like manner, take his stand upon the undeniable advantages of virtue
and good morals, defending the doctrine that pleasure should be the
object of life--pleasure of that pure kind which flows from a
cultivation of ennobling pursuits, or instinctive, as exhibited in the
life of brutes. But when he has thus cast aside demonstration as
needless for his purposes, and put his reliance in this manner on faith,
he has lost the restraining, the guiding principle that can set bounds
to his conduct. If he considers, with Socrates, who opens the third age
of Greek development--its age of faith--the existence of God as not
needing any proof, he may, in like manner, add thereto the existence of
matter and ideas. To faith there will be no difficulty in such
doctrines as those of Reminiscence, the double immortality of the soul,
the actual existence of universals; and, if such faith, unrestrained and
unrestricted, be directed to the regulation of personal life, there is
nothing to prevent a falling into excess and base egoism. For ethics, in
such an application, ends either in the attempt at the procurement of
extreme personal sanctity or the obtaining of individual pleasure--the
foundation of patriotism is sapped, the sentiment of friendship is
destroyed. So it was with the period of Grecian faith inaugurated by
Socrates, developed by Plato, and closed by the Sceptics. Antisthenes
and Diogenes of Sinope, in their outrages on society and their
self-mortifications, show to what end a period of faith, unrestrained by
reason, will come; and Epicurus demonstrated its tendency when guided by
self.

Thus closes the third period of Greek philosophical development.

[Sidenote: Age of Reason--its solutions.]

In introducing us to a fourth, Aristotle insists that, though we must
rely on reason, Reason itself must submit to be guided by Experience;
and Zeno, taking up the same thought, teaches us that we must appeal to
the decisions of common sense. He disposes of all doubt respecting the
criterion of truth by proclaiming that the distinctness of our sensuous
impressions is a sufficient guide. In all this, the essential condition
involved is altogether different from that of the speculative ages, and
also of the age of faith. Yet, though under the ostensible guidance of
reason, the human mind ever seeks to burst through such self-imposed
restraints, attempting to ascertain things for which it possesses no
suitable data. Even in the age of Aristotle, the age of Reason in
Greece, philosophy resumed such questions as those of the creation of
the world, the emanation of matter from God, the existence and nature of
evil, the immortality, or, alas! it might perhaps be more truly said,
judging from its conclusions, the death of the soul, and this even after
the Sceptics had, with increased force, denied that we have any
criterion of truth, and showed to their own satisfaction that man, at
the best, can do nothing but doubt; and, in view of his condition here
upon earth, since it has not been permitted him to know what is right
and what is wrong, what is true and what is false, his wisest course is
to give himself no concern about the matter, but tranquilly sink into a
state of complete indifference and quietism.

How uniformly do we see that through such variations of opinion
individual man approaches his end. For Greek philosophy, what other
prospect was there but decrepitude, with its contempt for the present,
its attachment to the past, its distrust of man, its reliance on the
mysterious--the unknown? And this imbecility how plainly we witness
before the scene finally is closed.

[Sidenote: Duration of these ages.]

If now we look back upon this career of the Grecian mind, we find that
after the legendary prehistoric period--the age of credulity--there came
in succession an age of speculative inquiry, an age of faith, an age of
reason, an age of decrepitude--the first, the age of credulity, was
closed by geographical discovery; the second by the criticism of the
Sophists; the third by the doubts of the Sceptics; the fourth, eminently
distinguished by the greatness of its results, gradually declined into
the fifth, an age of decrepitude, to which the hand of the Roman put an
end. In the mental progress of this people we therefore discern the
foreshadowing of a course like that of individual life, its epochs
answering to Infancy, Childhood Youth, Manhood, Old Age; and which, on a
still grander scale, as we shall hereafter find, has been repeated by
all Europe in its intellectual development.

[Sidenote: Boundaries of these ages.]

In a space of 1150 years, ending about A.D. 529, the Greek mind had
completed its philosophical career. The ages into which we have divided
that course pass by insensible gradations into each other. They overlap
and intermingle, like a gradation of colours, but the characteristics of
each are perfectly distinct.

[Sidenote: Determination of the law of variations of opinions.]

[Sidenote: Philosophical conclusions finally arrived at by the Greeks.]

2nd. Having thus determined the general law of the variation of
opinions, that it is the same in this nation as in an individual, I
shall next endeavour to disentangle the final results attained,
considering Greek philosophy as a whole. To return to the illustration,
to us more than an empty metaphor, though in individual life there is a
successive passage through infancy, childhood, youth, and manhood to
old age, a passage in which the characteristics of each period in their
turn disappear, yet, nevertheless, there are certain results in another
sense permanent, giving to the whole progress its proper individuality.
A critical eye may discern in the successive stages of Greek
philosophical development decisive and enduring results. These it is for
which we have been searching in this long and tedious discussion.

There are four grand topics in Greek philosophy: 1st, the existence and
attributes of God; 2nd, the origin and destiny of the world; 3rd, the
nature of the human soul; 4th, the possibility of a criterion of truth.
I shall now present what appear to me to be the results at which the
Greek mind arrived on each of these points.

[Sidenote: As to God--His unity.]

(1.) Of the existence and attributes of God. On this point the decision
of the Greek mind was the absolute rejection of all anthropomorphic
conceptions, even at the risk of encountering the pressure of the
national superstition. Of the all-powerful, all-perfect, and eternal
there can be but one, for such attributes are absolutely opposed to
anything like a participation, whether of a spiritual or material
nature; and hence the conclusion that the universe itself is God, and
that all animate and inanimate things belong to his essence. In him they
live, and move, and have their being. It is conceivable that God may
exist without the world, but it is inconceivable that the world should
exist without God. We must not, however, permit ourselves to be deluded
by the varied aspect of things; for, though the universe is thus God, we
know it not as it really is, but only as it appears. God has no
relations to space and time. They are only the fictions of our finite
imagination.

[Sidenote: But their solution is Pantheism.]

But this ultimate effort of the Greek mind is Pantheism. It is the same
result which the more aged branch of the Indo-European family had long
before reached. "There is no God independent of Nature; no other has
been revealed by tradition, perceived by the sense, or demonstrated by
argument."

Yet never will man be satisfied with such a conclusion. It offers him
none of that aspect of personality which his yearnings demand. This
infinite, and eternal, and universal is no intellect at all. It is
passionless, without motive, without design. It does not answer to those
lineaments of which he catches a glimpse when he considers the
attributes of his own soul. He shudderingly turns from Pantheism, this
final result of human philosophy, and, voluntarily retracing his steps,
subordinates his reason to his instinctive feelings; declines the
impersonal as having nothing in unison with him, and asserts a personal
God, the Maker of the universe and the Father of men.

[Sidenote: As to the world--a manifestation of God.]

(2.) Of the origin and destiny of the world. In an examination of the
results at which the Greek mind arrived on this topic, our labour is
rendered much lighter by the assistance we receive from the decision of
the preceding inquiry. The origin of all things is in God, of whom the
world is only a visible manifestation. It is evolved by and from him,
perhaps, as the Stoics delighted to say, as the plant is evolved by and
from the vital germ in the seed. It is an emanation of him. On this
point we may therefore accept as correct the general impression
entertained by philosophers, Greek, Alexandrian, and Roman after the
Christian era, that, at the bottom, the Greek and Oriental philosophies
were alike, not only as respects the questions they proposed for
solution, but also in the decisions they arrived at. As we have said,
this impression led to the belief that there must have been in the
remote past a revelation common to both, though subsequently obscured
and vitiated by the infirmities and wickedness of man. This doctrine of
emanation, reposing on the assertion that the world existed eternally in
God, that it came forth into visibility from him, and will be hereafter
absorbed into him, is one of the most striking features of Veda
theology. It is developed with singular ability by the Indian
philosophers as well as by the Greeks, and is illustrated by their
poets.

[Sidenote: This solution identical with the Oriental.]

The following extract from the Institutes of Menu will convey the
Oriental conclusion: "This universe existed only in the first divine
idea, yet unexpanded, as if involved in darkness; imperceptible,
undefinable, 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 (nárá)
because they were the production of _Nara_, or the spirit of God; and,
since they were his first _ayaná_ 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 in substance, not existing
to our perception, without beginning or end, was produced the divine
male. He framed the heaven above, the earth beneath, and in the midst
placed the subtle ether, the light 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 the planets. 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."

[Sidenote: Illustrations of the origins, duration, and absorption of the
world.]

From such extracts from the sacred writings of the Hindus we might turn
to their poets, and find the same conceptions of the emanation,
manifestation, and absorption of the world illustrated. "The Infinite
being is like the clear crystal, which receives into itself all the
colours and emits them again, yet its transparency or purity is not
thereby injured or impaired." "He is like the diamond, which absorbs the
light surrounding it, and glows in the dark from the emanation thereof."
In similes of a less noble nature they sought to convey their idea to
the illiterate "Thou hast seen the spider spin his web, thou hast seen
its excellent geometrical form, and how well adapted it is to its use;
thou hast seen the play of tinted colours making it shine like a
rainbow in the rays of the morning sun. From his bosom the little
artificer drew forth the wonderful thread, and into his bosom, when it
pleases him, he can withdraw it again. So Brahm made, and so will he
absorb the world." In common the Greek and Indian asserted that being
exists for the sake of thought, and hence they must be one; that the
universe is a thought in the mind of God, and is unaffected by the
vicissitudes of the worlds of which it is composed. In India this
doctrine of emanation had reached such apparent precision that some
asserted it was possible to demonstrate that the entire Brahm was not
transmuted into mundane phenomena, but only a fourth part; that there
occur successive emanations and absorptions, a periodicity in this
respect being observed; that, in these considerations, we ought to guard
ourselves from any deception arising from the visible appearance of
material things, for there is reason to believe that matter is nothing
more than forces filling space. Democritus raised us to the noble
thought that, small as it is, a single atom may constitute a world.

The doctrine of Emanation has thus a double interpretation. It sets
forth the universe either as a part of the substance of God, or as an
unsubstantial 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 world is
only the shadow of God.

In the further consideration of this doctrine of the issue forthcoming,
or emanation of the universe from God, and its return into or absorption
by him, an illustration 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 impression 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 has again returned.

Now such a cloud is made up of countless hosts 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.

[Sidenote: As to the soul--a part of the divinity.]

(3.) Of the nature of the soul. 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 immateriality.
To this, precision was given by the assertion that it had not only 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 influenced the conclusions arrived at respecting the nature of
the soul.

[Sidenote: Its immortality and final absorption.]

Greek philosophy, in its highest state of development, 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. It entered on such inquiries as whether the number of souls
in the universe is constant. As upon the foregoing point, so upon this:
there was a complete analogy between the decision arrived at in Grecian
and that in Indian philosophy. Thus the latter says, "I am myself an
irradiated manifestation of the supreme BRAHM." "Never was there a time
in which I was not, nor thou, nor these princes of the people, and never
shall I not be; henceforth we all are." 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;
"its relation is not that of a servant to his master, but of a part to
the whole." It is like a spark separated from a 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
body, as circumstances demand. And, as a drop of water pursues a devious
career in the cloud, in the rain, in the river, a part of a plant, or a
part of an animal, but sooner 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 Hindus 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 modern times, it was looked upon
as having a more substantial 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.

[Sidenote: Illustration of the nature of the soul.]

On this third 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.

Nor does the resemblance fail when we consider the general functions
discharged while the bubble maintained its form. In it were depicted in
their true shapes and relative magnitudes surrounding things. It hence
had a relation to Space. And, if it was in motion, it reflected in
succession the diverse objects as they passed by. Through such
successive representations it maintained a relation to Time. Moreover,
it imparted to the images it thus produced a coloration of its own, and
in all this was an emblem of the Soul. For Space and Time are the
outward conditions with which it is concerned, and it adds thereto
abstract ideas, the product of its own nature.

[Sidenote: Its continued existence--its Nirwana.]

But when the bubble bursts there is an end of all these relations. No
longer is there any reflection of external forms, no longer any motion,
no longer any innate qualities to add. In one respect the bubble is
annihilated, in another it still exists. It has returned to that
infinite expanse in comparison with which it is altogether insignificant
and imperceptible. Transitory, and yet eternal: transitory, since all
its relations of a special and individual kind have come to an end;
eternal in a double sense--the sense of Platonism--since it was
connected with a past of which there was no beginning, and continues in
a future to which there is no end.

[Sidenote: As to the criterion of truth--sense-delusions.]

(4.) Of the possibility of a criterion of truth. An absolute criterion
of truth must at once accredit itself, as well as other things. At a
very early period in philosophy the senses were detected as being
altogether untrustworthy. On numberless occasions, instead of
accrediting, they discredit themselves. A stick, having a spark of fire
at one end, gives rise to the appearance of a circle of light when it is
turned round quickly. The rainbow seems to be an actually existing arch
until the delusion is detected by our going to the place over which it
seems to rest. Nor is it alone as respects things for which there is an
exterior basis or foundation, such as the spark of fire in one of these
cases, and the drops of water in the other. Each of our organs of sense
can palm off delusions of the most purely fictitious kind. The eye may
present apparitions as distinct as the realities among which they place
themselves; the ear may annoy us with the continual repetition of a
murmuring sound, or parts of a musical strain, or articulate voices,
though we well know that it is all a delusion; and in like manner, in
their proper way, in times of health, and especially in those of
sickness, will the other senses of taste, and touch, and smell practise
upon us their deceptions.

This being the case, how shall we know that any information derived from
such unfaithful sources is true? Pythagoras rendered a great service in
telling us to remember that we have within ourselves a means of
detecting fallacy and demonstrating truth. What is it that assures us of
the unreality of the fiery circle, the rainbow, the spectre, the voices,
the crawling of insects upon the skin? Is it not reason? To reason may
we not then trust?

[Sidenote: Uncertainties in philosophizing.]

With such facts before us, what a crowd of inquiries at once presses
upon our attention--inquiries which even in modern times have occupied
the thoughts of the greatest metaphysicians. Shall we begin our studies
by examining sensations or by examining ideas? Shall we say with
Descartes that all clear ideas are true? Shall we inquire with Spinoza
whether we have any ideas independent of experience? With Hobbes, shall
we say that all our thoughts are begotten by and are the representatives
of objects exterior to us; that our conceptions arise in material
motions pressing on our organs, producing motion in them, and so
affecting the mind; that our sensations do not correspond with outward
qualities; that sound and noise belong to the bell and the air, and not
to the mind, and, like colour, are only agitations occasioned by the
object in the brain; that imagination is a conception gradually dying
away after the act of sense, and is nothing more than a decaying
sensation; that memory is the vestige of former impressions, enduring
for a time; that forgetfulness is the obliteration of such vestiges;
that the succession of thought is not indifferent, at random, or
voluntary, but that thought follows thought in a determinate and
predestined sequence; that whatever we imagine is finite, and hence we
cannot conceive of the infinite, nor think of anything not subject to
sense? Shall we say with Locke that there are two sources of our ideas,
sensation and reflection; that the mind cannot know things directly, but
only through ideas? Shall we suggest with Leibnitz that reflection is
nothing more than attention to what is passing in the mind, and that
between the mind and the body there is a sympathetic synchronism? With
Berkeley shall we assert that there is no other reason for inferring the
existence of matter itself than the necessity of having some synthesis
for its attributes; that the objects of knowledge are ideas and nothing
else; and that the mind is active in sensation? Shall we listen to the
demonstration of Hume, that, if matter be an unreal fiction, the mind
is not less so, since it is no more than a succession of impressions and
ideas; that our belief in causation is only the consequence of habit;
and that we have better proof that night is the cause of day, than of
thousands of other cases in which we persuade ourselves that we know the
right relation of cause and effect; that from habit alone we believe the
future will resemble the past? Shall we infer with Condillac that memory
is only transformed sensation, and comparison double attention; that
every idea for which we cannot find an exterior object is destitute of
significance; that our innate ideas come by development, and that
reasoning and running are learned together. With Kant shall we conclude
that there is but one source of knowledge, the union of the object and
the subject--but two elements thereof, space and time; and that they are
forms of sensibility, space being a form of internal sensibility, and
time both of internal and external, but neither of them having any
objective reality; and that the world is not known to us as it is, but
only as it appears?

[Sidenote: Remarks on the criterion.]

I admit the truth of the remark of Posidonius that a man might as well
be content to die as to cease philosophizing; for, if there are
contradictions in philosophy, there are quite as many in life. In the
light of this remark, I shall therefore not hesitate to offer a few
suggestions respecting the criterion of human knowledge, undiscouraged
by the fact that so many of the ablest men have turned their attention
to it. In this there might seem to be presumption, were it not that the
advance of the sciences, and especially of human physiology has brought
us to a more elevated point of view, and enabled us to see the state of
things much more distinctly than was possible for our predecessors.

[Sidenote: Defective information of the old philosophy.]

[Sidenote: Necessity of a more general conception as to man.]

[Sidenote: The whole cycle must be included,]

[Sidenote: and also his race connexions.]

I think that the inability of ancient philosophers to furnish a true
solution of this problem was altogether owing to the imperfect, and,
indeed, erroneous idea they had of the position of man. They gave too
much weight to his personal individuality. In the mature period of his
life they regarded him as isolated, independent, and complete in
himself. They forgot that this is only a momentary phase in his
existence, which, commencing from small beginnings, exhibits a
continuous expansion or progress. From a single cell, scarcely more than
a step above the inorganic state, not differing, as we may infer both
from the appearance it offers and the forms through which it runs in the
earlier stages of life, from the cell out of which any other animal or
plant, even the humblest, is derived, a passage is made through form
after form in a manner absolutely depending upon surrounding physical
conditions. The history is very long, and the forms are very numerous,
between the first appearance of the primitive trace and the hoary aspect
of seventy years. It is not correct to take one moment in this long
procession and make it a representative of the whole. It is not correct
to say, even if the body of the mature man undergoes unceasing changes
to an extent implying the reception, incorporation, and dismissal of
nearly a ton and a half of material in the course of a year, that in
this flux of matter there is not only a permanence of form, but, what is
of infinitely more importance, an unchangeableness in his intellectual
powers. It is not correct to say this; indeed, it is wholly untrue. The
intellectual principle passes forward in a career as clearly marked as
that in which the body runs. Even if we overlook the time antecedent to
birth, how complete is the imbecility of his early days! The light
shines upon his eyes, he sees not; sounds fall upon his ear, he hears
not. From these low beginnings we might describe the successive
re-enforcements through infancy, childhood, and youth to maturity. And
what is the result to which all this carries us? Is it not that, in the
philosophical contemplation of man, we are constrained to reject the
idea of personality, of individuality, and to adopt that of a cycle of
progress; to abandon all contemplation of his mere substantial form, and
consider his abstract relation? All organic forms, if compared together
and examined from one common point of view, are found to be constructed
upon an identical scheme. It is as in some mathematical expression
containing constants and variables; the actual result changes
accordingly as we assign successively different values to the variables,
yet in those different results, no matter how numerous they may be, the
original formula always exists. From such a universal conception of the
condition and career of man, we rise at once to the apprehension of his
relations to others like himself--that is to say, his relations as a
member of society. We perceive, in this light, that society must run a
course the counterpart of that we have traced for the individual, and
that the appearance of isolation presented by the individual is
altogether illusory. Each individual man drew his life from another, and
to another man he gives rise, losing, in point of fact, his aspect of
individuality when these his race connexions are considered. One epoch
in life is not all life. The mature individual cannot be disentangled
from the multitudinous forms through which he has passed; and,
considering the nature of his primitive conception and the issue of his
reproduction, man cannot be separated from his race.

By the aid of these views of the nature and relationship of man, we can
come to a decision respecting his possession of a criterion of truth. In
the earliest moments of his existence he can neither feel nor think, and
the universe is to him as though it did not exist. Considering the
progress of his sensational powers--his sight, hearing, touch,
etc.--these, as his cycle advances to its maximum, become, by nature or
by education, more and more perfect; but never, at the best, as the
ancient philosophers well knew, are they trustworthy. And so of his
intellectual powers. They, too, begin in feebleness and gradually
expand. The mind alone is no more to be relied on than the organs of
sense alone. If any doubt existed on this point, the study of the
phenomena of dreaming is sufficient to remove it, for dreaming manifests
to us how wavering and unsteady is the mind in its operations when it is
detached from the solid support of the organs of sense. How true is the
remark of Philo the Jew, that the mind is like the eye; for, though it
may see all other objects, it cannot see itself, and therefore cannot
judge of itself. And thus we may conclude that neither are the senses to
be trusted alone, nor is the mind to be trusted alone. In the conjoint
action of the two, by reason of the mutual checks established, a far
higher degree of certainty is attained to, yet even in this, the utmost
vouchsafed to the individual, there is not, as both Greeks and Indians
ascertained, an absolute sureness. It was the knowledge of this which
extorted from them so many melancholy complaints, which threw them into
an intellectual despair, and made them, by applying the sad
determination to which they had come to the course of their daily life,
sink down into indifference and infidelity.

But yet there is something more in reserve for man. Let him cast off the
clog of individuality, and remember that he has race connexions--connexions
which, in this matter of a criterion of truth, indefinitely increase his
chances of certainty. If he looks with contempt on the opinions of his
childhood, with little consideration on those of his youth, with distrust
on those of his manhood, what will he say about the opinions of his race?
Do not such considerations teach us that, through all these successive
conditions, the criterion of truth is ever advancing in precision and
power, and that its maximum is found in the unanimous opinion of the whole
human race?

[Sidenote: Though no absolute criterion exists, a practical one does.]

[Sidenote: The maximum of certainty in the human race.]

Upon these principles I believe that, though we have not philosophically
speaking, any absolute criterion of truth, we rise by degrees to higher
and higher certainties along an ascending scale which becomes more and
more exact. I think that metaphysical writers who have treated of this
point have been led into error from an imperfect conception of the true
position of man; they have limited their thoughts to a single epoch of
his course, and have not taken an enlarged and philosophical view. In
thus declining the Oriental doctrine that the individual is the centre
from which the universe should be regarded, and transferring our
stand-point to a more comprehensive and solid foundation, we imitate, in
metaphysics, the course of astronomy when it substituted the
heliocentric for the geocentric point of view, and the change promises
to be equally fertile in sure results. If it were worth while, we might
proceed to enforce this doctrine by an appeal to the experience of
ordinary life. How often, when we distrust our own judgment, do we seek
support in the advice of a friend. How strong is our persuasion that we
are in the right when public opinion is with us. For this even the
Church has not disdained to call together Councils, aiming thereby at a
surer means of arriving at the truth. The Council is more trustworthy
than an individual, whoever he may be. The probabilities increase with
the number of consenting intellects, and hence I come to the conclusion
that in the unanimous consent of the entire human race lies the human
criterion of truth--a criterion, in its turn, capable of increased
precision with the diffusion of enlightenment and knowledge. For this
reason, I do not look upon the prospects of humanity in so cheerless a
light as they did of old. On the contrary, ever thing seems full of
hope. Good auguries may be drawn for philosophy from the great
mechanical and material inventions which multiply the means of
intercommunication, and, it may be said, annihilate terrestrial
distances. In the intellectual collisions that must ensue, in the
melting down of opinions, in the examinations and analyses of nations,
truth will come forth. Whatever cannot stand that ordeal must submit to
its fate. Lies and imposture, no matter how powerfully sustained, must
prepare to depart. In that supreme tribunal man may place implicit
confidence. Even though, philosophically, it is far from absolute, it is
the highest criterion vouchsafed to him, and from its decision he has no
appeal.

In delivering thus emphatically my own views on this profound topic
perhaps I do wrong. It is becoming to speak with humility on that which
has been glorified by the great writers of Greece, of India, of
Alexandria, and, in later times, of Europe.

[Sidenote: Complete analogy between Greek and Indian process of
thought.]

In conclusion, I would remark that the view here presented of the
results of Greek philosophy is that which offers itself to me after a
long and careful study of the subject. It is, however, the affirmative,
not the negative result; for we must not forget that if, on the one
hand, the pantheistic doctrines of the Nature of God, Universal
Animation, the theory of Emanation, Transmutation, Absorption,
Transmigration, etc., were adopted, on the other there was by no means
an insignificant tendency to atheism and utter infidelity. Even of this
negative state a corresponding condition occurred in the Buddhism of
India, of which I have previously spoken; and, indeed, so complete is
the parallel between the course of mental evolution in Asia and Europe,
that it is difficult to designate a matter of minor detail in the
philosophy of the one which cannot be pointed out in that of the other.
It was not without reason, therefore, that the Alexandrian philosophers,
who were profoundly initiated in the detail of both systems, came to the
conclusion that such surprising coincidences could only be accounted for
upon the admission that there had been an ancient revelation, the
vestiges of which had descended to their time. In this, however, they
judged erroneously; the true explanation consisting in the fact that the
process of development of the intellect of man, and the final results to
which he arrives in examining similar problems, are in all countries the
same.

[Sidenote: Variation of practical application explained.]

It does not fall within my plan to trace the application of these
philosophical principles to practice in daily life, yet the subject is
of such boundless interest that perhaps the reader will excuse a single
paragraph. It may seem to superficial observation that, whatever might
be the doctrinal resemblances of these philosophies, their application
was very different. In a general way, it may be asserted that the same
doctrines which in India led to the inculcation of indifference and
quietism, led to Stoic activity in Greece and Italy. If the occasion
permitted, I could, nevertheless, demonstrate in this apparent
divergence an actual coincidence; for the mode of life of man is chiefly
determined by geographical conditions, his instinctive disposition to
activity increasing with the latitude in which he lives. Under the
equinoctial line he has no disposition for exertion, his physiological
relations with the climate making quietism most agreeable to him. The
philosophical formula which, in the hot plains of India, finds its issue
in a life of tranquillity and repose, will be interpreted in the more
bracing air of Europe by a life of activity. Thus, in later ages, the
monk of Africa, willingly persuading himself that any intervention to
improve Nature is a revolt against the providence of God, spent his
worthless life in weaving baskets and mats, or in solitary meditation in
the caves of the desert of Thebais; but the monk of Europe encountered
the labours of agriculture and social activity, and thereby aided, in no
insignificant manner, in the civilization of England, France, and
Germany. These things, duly considered, lead to the conclusion that
human life, in its diversities, is dependent upon and determined by
primary conditions in all countries and climates essentially the same.

CHAPTER VIII.

DIGRESSION ON THE HISTORY AND PHILOSOPHICAL INFLUENCES OF ROME.

PREPARATION FOR RESUMING THE EXAMINATION OF THE INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS OF
EUROPE.

_Religious Ideas of the primitive Europeans.--The Form of
their Variations is determined by the Influence of
Rome.--Necessity of Roman History in these Investigations._

_Opinions of the Roman Philosophers.--Coalescence of the new
and old Ideas.--Seizure of Power by the Illiterate, and
consequent Debasement of Christianity in Rome._

[Sidenote: Transition from Greece to Europe.]

From the exposition of the intellectual progress of Greece given in the
preceding pages, we now turn, agreeably to the plan laid down, to an
examination of that of all Europe. The movement in that single nation is
typical of the movement of the entire continent.

[Sidenote: European age of Inquiry.]

The first European intellectual age--that of Credulity--has already, in
part, been considered in Chapter II., more especially so far as Greece
is concerned. I propose now, after some necessary remarks in conclusion
of that topic, to enter on the description of the second European
age--that of Inquiry.

For these remarks, what has already been said of Greece prepares the
way. Mediterranean Europe was philosophically and socially in advance of
the central and northern countries. The wave of civilization passed from
the south to the north; in truth, it has hardly yet reached its extreme
limit. The adventurous emigrants who in remote times had come from Asia
left to the successive generations of their descendants a legacy of
hardship. In the struggle for life, all memory of an Oriental parentage
was lost; knowledge died away; religious ideas became debased; and the
diverse populations sank into the same intellectual condition that they
would have presented had they been proper autochthons of the soil.

[Sidenote: Religion of the old Europeans.]

The religion of the barbarian Europeans was in many respects like that
of the American Indians. They recognized a Great Spirit--omniscient,
omnipotent, omnipresent. In the earliest times they made no
representation of him under the human form, nor had they temples; but
they propitiated him by sacrifices, offering animals, as the horse, and
even men, upon rude altars. Though it was believed that this Great
Spirit might sometimes be heard in the sounds of the forests at night,
yet, for the most part, he was too far removed from human supplication,
and hence arose, from the mere sorcerous ideas of a terrified fancy, as
has been the case in so many other countries, star worship--the second
stage of comparative theology. The gloom and shade of dense forests, a
solitude that offers an air of sanctity, and seems a fitting resort for
mysterious spirits, suggested the establishment of sacred groves and
holy trees. Throughout Europe there was a confused idea that the soul
exists after the death of the body; as to its particular state there was
a diversity of belief. As among other people, also, the offices of
religion were not only directed to the present benefit of individuals,
but also to the discovery of future events by various processes of
divination and augury practised among the priests.

[Sidenote: Their priesthood,]

Although the priests had thus charge of the religious rites, they do not
seem to have been organized in such a manner as to be able to act with
unanimity or to pursue a steady system of policy. A class of female
religious officials--prophetesses--joined in the ceremonials. These
holy women, who were held in very great esteem, prepared the way for the
reception of Mariolatry. Instead of temples--rock-altars, cromlechs, and
other rustic structures were used among the Celtic nations by the
Druids, who were at the same time priests, magicians, and medicine-men.
Their religious doctrines, which recall in many particulars those of the
Rig-Veda, were perpetuated from generation to generation by the aid of
songs.

[Sidenote: and objects of adoration.]

[Sidenote: Influence of Roman Christianity upon them.]

The essential features of this system were its purely local form and its
want of a well-organized hierarchy. Even the Celts offer no exception,
though they had a subordination from the Arch-Druid downward. This was
the reason of the weakness of the old faith and eventually the cause of
its fall. When the German nations migrated to the south in their warlike
expeditions, they left behind them their consecrated groves and sacred
oaks, hallowed by immemorial ages. These objects the devotee could not
carry with him, and no equivalent substitute could be obtained for them.
In the civilized countries to which they came they met with a very
different state of things; a priesthood thoroughly organized and
modelled according to the ancient Roman political system; its objects of
reverence tied to no particular locality; its institutions capable of
universal action; its sacred writings easy of transportation anywhere;
its emblems moveable to all countries--the cross on the standards of its
armies, the crucifix on the bosom of its saints. In the midst of the
noble architecture of Italy and the splendid remains of those Romans who
had once given laws to the world, in the midst of a worship
distinguished by the magnificence of its ceremonial and the solemnity of
its mysteries, they found a people whose faith taught them to regard the
present life as offering only a transitory occupation, and not for a
moment to be weighed against the eternal existence hereafter--an
existence very different from that of the base transmigration of
Druidism or the Drunken Paradise of Woden, where the brave solace
themselves with mead from cups made of the skulls of their enemies
killed in their days upon earth.

[Sidenote: Importance of Roman history in this investigation.]

The European age of inquiry is therefore essentially connected with
Roman affairs. It is distinguished by the religious direction it took.
In place of the dogmas of rival philosophical schools, we have now to
deal with the tenets of conflicting sects. The whole history of those
unhappy times displays the organizing and practical spirit
characteristic of Rome. Greek democracy, tending to the decomposition of
things, led to the Sophists and Sceptics. Roman imperialism, ever
constructive, sought to bring unity out of discords, and draw the line
between orthodoxy and heresy by the authority of councils like that of
Nicea. Following the ideas of St. Augustine in his work, "The City of
God," I adopt, as the most convenient termination of this age, the sack
of Rome by Alaric. This makes it overlap the age of Faith, which had, as
its unmistakable beginning, the foundation of Constantinople.

Greek intellectual life displays all its phases completely, but not so
was it with that of the Romans, who came to an untimely end. They were
men of violence, who disappeared in consequence of their own conquests
and crimes. The consumption of them by war bore, however, an
insignificant proportion to that fatal diminution, that mortal
adulteration occasioned by their merging in the vast mass of humanity
with which they came in contact.

[Sidenote: Great difficulty of treating it.]

I approach the consideration of Roman affairs, which is thus the next
portion of my task, with no little diffidence. It is hard to rise to a
point of view sufficiently elevated and clear, where the extent of
dominion is so great geographically, and the reasons of policy are
obscured by the dimness and clouds of so many centuries. Living in a
social state the origin of which is in the events now to be examined,
our mental vision can hardly free itself from the illusions of
historical perspective, or bring things into their just proportions and
position. Of a thousand acts, all of surpassing interest and importance,
how shall we identify the master ones? How shall we discern with
correctness the true relation of the parts of this wonderful phenomenon
of empire, the vanishing events of which glide like dissolving views
into each other? Warned by the example of those who have permitted the
shadows of their own imagination to fall upon the scene, and have
mistaken them for a part of it, I shall endeavour to apply the test of
common sense to the facts of which it will be necessary to treat; and,
believing that man has ever been the same in his modes of thought and
motives of action, I shall judge of past occurrences in the same way as
of those of our own times.

[Sidenote: Triple form of Roman power.]

In its entire form the Roman power consists of two theocracies, with a
military domination intercalated. The first of these theocracies
corresponds to the fabulous period of the kings; the military domination
to the time of the republic and earlier Cæsars; the second theocracy to
that of the Christian emperors and the Popes.

[Sidenote: The first theocracy and legendary times.]

[Sidenote: Early Roman history.]

The first theocracy is so enveloped in legends and fictions that it is
impossible to give a satisfactory account of it. The biographies of the
kings offer such undeniable evidence of being mere romances, that, since
the time of Niebuhr, they have been received by historians in that
light. But during the reigns of the pagan emperors it was not safe in
Rome to insinuate publicly any disbelief in such honoured legends as
those of the wolf that suckled the foundlings; the ascent of Romulus
into heaven; the nymph Egeria; the duel of the Horatii and Curiatii; the
leaping of Curtius into the gulf on his horse; the cutting of a flint
with a razor by Tarquin; the Sibyl and her books. The modern historian
has, therefore, only very little reliable material. He may admit that
the Romans and Sabines coalesced; that they conquered the Albans and
Latins; that thousands of the latter were transplanted to Mount Aventine
and made plebeians; these movements being the origin of the castes which
long afflicted Rome, the vanquished people constituting a subordinate
class; that at first the chief occupation was agriculture, the nature of
which is not only to accustom men to the gradations of rank, such as the
proprietor of the land, the overseer, the labourer, but also to the
cultivation of religious sentiment, and even the cherishing of
superstition; that, besides the more honourable occupations in which the
rising state was engaged, she had, from the beginning, indulged in
aggressive war, and was therefore perpetually liable to reprisal--one of
her first acts was the founding of the town of Ostia, at the mouth of
the Tiber, on account of piracy; that, through some conspiracy in the
army, indicated in the legend of Lucretia, since armies have often been
known to do such things, the kings were expelled, and a military
domination fancifully called a republic, but consisting of a league of
some powerful families, arose.

Throughout the regal times, and far into the republican, the chief
domestic incidents turn on the strife of the upper caste or patricians
with the lower or plebeians, manifesting itself by the latter asserting
their right to a share in the lands conquered by their valour; by the
extortion of the Valerian law; by the admission of the Latins and
Hernicans to conditions of equality; by the transference of the election
of tribunes from the centuries to the tribes; by the repeal of the law
prohibiting the marriage of plebeians with patricians and by the
eventual concession to the former of the offices of consul, dictator,
censor, and prætor.

[Sidenote: The domestic necessity for foreign war.]

In these domestic disputes we see the origin of the Roman necessity for
war. The high caste is steadily diminishing in number, the low caste as
steadily increasing. In imperious pride, the patrician fills his private
jail with debtors and delinquents; he usurps the lands that have been
conquered. Insurrection is the inevitable consequence, foreign war the
only relief. As the circle of operations extends, both parties see their
interest in a cordial coalescence on equal terms, and jointly tyrannize
exteriorly.

[Sidenote: Gradual spread of Roman influence to the south.]

[Sidenote: Rome builds a navy,]

[Sidenote: and invades Africa.]

[Sidenote: Results of the first Punic War.]

[Sidenote: Results of the second Punic War.]

[Sidenote: Rome invades Greece,]

[Sidenote: and compels the cession of all the European provinces of
Antiochus.]

[Sidenote: Revolt of Perses.]

[Sidenote: Dreadful social effects on Rome.]

[Sidenote: Plunder of Greece and annexation of Spain.]

[Sidenote: Seizure of Asia Minor.]

[Sidenote: The Servile and Social wars.]

[Sidenote: Gradual convergence of power.]

[Sidenote: Cæsar the master of the world.]

The geographical dominion of Rome was extended at first with infinite
difficulty. Up to the time of the capture of the city by the Gauls a
doubtful existence was maintained in perpetual struggles with the
adjacent towns and chieftains. There is reason to believe that in the
very infancy of the republic, in the contest that ensued upon the
expulsion of the kings, the city was taken by Porsenna. The direction in
which her influence first spread was toward the south of the peninsula.
Tarentum, one of the southern states, brought over to its assistance
Pyrrhus the Epirot. He did little in the way of assisting his allies--he
only saw Rome from the Acropolis of Præneste; but from him the Romans
learned the art of fortifying camps, and caught the idea of invading
Sicily. Here the rising republic came in contact with the Carthaginians,
and in the conflict that ensued discovered the military value of Spain
and Gaul, from which the Carthaginians drew an immense supply of
mercenaries and munitions of war. The advance to greatness which Rome
now made was prodigious. She saw that everything turned on the
possession of the sea, and with admirable energy built a navy. In this
her expectations were more than realized. The assertion is quite true
that she spent more time in acquiring a little earth in Italy than was
necessary for subduing the world after she had once obtained possession
of the Mediterranean. From the experience of Agathocles she learned that
the true method of controlling Carthage was by invading Africa. The
principles involved in the contest, and the position of Rome at its
close, are shown by the terms of the treaty of the first Punic War--that
Carthage should evacuate every island in the Mediterranean, and pay a
war-fine of six hundred thousand pounds. In her devotion to the
acquisition of wealth Carthage had become very rich; she had reached a
high state of cultivation of art; yet her prosperity, or rather the mode
by which she had attained it, had greatly weakened her, as also had the
political anomaly under which she was living, for it is an anomaly that
an Asiatic people should place itself under democratic forms. Her
condition in this respect was evidently the consequence of her original
subordinate position as a Tyrian trading station, her rich men having
long been habituated to look to the mother city for distinction. As in
other commercial states, her citizens became soldiers with reluctance,
and hence she had often to rely on mercenary troops. From her the Romans
received lessons of the utmost importance. She confirmed them in the
estimate they had formed of the value of naval power; taught them how to
build ships properly and handle them; how to make military roads. The
tribes of Northern Italy were hardly included in the circle of Roman
dominion when a fleet was built in the Adriatic, and, under the pretence
of putting down piracy, the sea power of the Illyrians was
extinguished. From time immemorial the Mediterranean had been infested
with pirates; man-stealing had been a profitable occupation, great gains
being realized by ransoms of captives, or by selling them at Delos or
other slave-markets. At this time it was clear that the final mastery of
the Mediterranean turned on the possession of Spain, the great
silver-producing country. The rivalry for Spain occasioned the second
Punic War. It is needless to repeat the well-known story of Hannibal,
how he brought Rome to the brink of ruin. The relations she maintained
with surrounding communities had been such that she could not trust to
them. Her enemy found allies in many of the Greek towns in the south of
Italy. It is enough for us to look at the result of that conflict in the
treaty that closed it. Carthage had to give up all her ships of war
except ten triremes, to bind herself to enter into no war without the
consent of the Roman people, and to pay a war-fine of two millions of
pounds. Rome now entered, on the great scale, on the policy of
disorganizing states for the purpose of weakening them. Under pretext of
an invitation from the Athenians to protect them from the King of
Macedon, the ambitious republic secured a footing in Greece, the
principle developed in the invasion of Africa of making war maintain war
being again resorted to. There may have been truth in the Roman
accusation that the intrigues of Hannibal with Antiochus, king of Syria,
occasioned the conflict between Rome and that monarch. Its issue was a
prodigious event in the material aggrandizement of Rome--it was the
cession of all his possessions in Europe and those of Asia north of
Mount Taurus, with a war-fine of three millions of pounds. Already were
seen the effects of the wealth that was pouring into Italy in the
embezzlement of the public money by the Scipios. The resistance of
Perses, king of Macedon, could not restore independence to Greece; it
ended in the annexation of that country, Epirus and Illyricum. The
results of this war were to the last degree pernicious to the victors
and the vanquished; the moral greatness of the former is truly affirmed
to have disappeared, and the social ruin of the latter was so complete
that for long marriage was replaced by concubinage. The policy and
practices of Rome now literally became infernal; she forced a quarrel
upon her old antagonist Carthage, and the third Punic War resulted in
the utter destruction of that city. Simultaneously her oppressions in
Greece provoked revolt, which was ended by the sack and burning of
Corinth, Thebes, Chalcis, and the transference of the plundered statues,
paintings, and works of art to Italy. There was nothing now in the way
of the conquest of Spain except the valour of its inhabitants. After the
assassination of Viriatus, procured by the Consul Cæpio, and the
horrible siege of Numantia, that country was annexed as a province. Next
we see the gigantic republic extending itself over the richest parts of
Asia Minor, through the insane bequest of Attalus, king of Pergamus. The
wealth of Africa, Spain, Greece, and Asia, was now concentrating in
Italy, and the capital was becoming absolutely demoralized. In vain the
Gracchi attempted to apply a remedy. The Roman aristocracy was
intoxicated, insatiate, irresistible. The middle class was gone; there
was nothing but profligate nobles and a diabolical populace. In the
midst of inconceivable corruption, the Jugurthine War served only to
postpone for a moment an explosion which was inevitable. The Servile
rebellion in Sicily broke out; it was closed by the extermination of a
million of those unhappy wretches: vast numbers of them were exposed,
for the popular amusement, to the wild beasts in the arena. It was
followed closely by the revolt of the Italian allies, known as the
Social War--this ending, after the destruction of half a million of men,
with a better result, in the extortion of the freedom of the city by
several of the revolting states. Doubtless it was the intrigues
connected with these transactions that brought the Cimbri and Teutons
into Italy, and furnished an opening for the rivalries of Marius and
Sylla, who, in turn, filled Rome with slaughter. The same spirit broke
out under the gladiator Spartacus: it was only checked for a time by
resorting to the most awful atrocities, such as the crucifixion of
prisoners, to appear under another form in the conspiracy of Catiline.
And now it was plain that the contest for supreme power lay between a
few leading men. It found an issue in the first triumvirate--a union of
Pompey, Crassus, and Cæsar, who usurped the whole power of the senate
and people, and bound themselves by oath to permit nothing to be done
without their unanimous consent. Affairs then passed through their
inevitable course. The death of Crassus and the battle of Pharsalia left
Cæsar the master of the world. At this moment nothing could have
prevented the inevitable result. The dagger of Brutus merely removed a
man, but it left the fact. The battle of Actium reaffirmed the destiny
of Rome, and the death of the republic was illustrated by the annexation
of Egypt. The circle of conquest around the Mediterranean was complete;
the function of the republic was discharged: it did not pass away
prematurely.

[Sidenote: Ancient necessity for slave-wars.]

From this statement of the geographical career of Rome, we may turn to
reflect on the political principles which inspired her. From a remote
antiquity wars had been engaged in for the purpose of obtaining a supply
of labour, the conqueror compelling those whom he had spared to
cultivate his fields and serve him as slaves. Under a system of
transitory military domination, it was more expedient to exhaust a
people at once by the most unsparing plunder than to be content with a
tribute periodically paid, but necessarily uncertain in the vicissitudes
of years. These elementary principles of the policy of antiquity were
included by the Romans in their system with modifications and
improvements.

[Sidenote: Depopulation of countries after Roman conquest.]

[Sidenote: Atrocity of the Roman slave-laws.]

[Sidenote: Social effects of the Roman slave-system.]

The republic, during its whole career, illustrates the observation that
the system on which it was founded included no conception of the actual
relations of man. It dealt with him as a thing, not as a being endowed
with inalienable rights. Recognizing power as its only measure of value,
it could never accept the principle of the equality of all men in the
eye of the law. The subjugation of Sicily, Africa, Greece, was quickly
followed by the depopulation of those countries, as Livy, Plutarch,
Strabo, and Polybius testify. Can there be a more fearful instance than
the conduct of Paulus Æmilius, who, at the conquest of Epirus, murdered
or carried into slavery 150,000 persons? At the taking of Thebes whole
families were thus disposed of, and these not of the lower, but of the
respectable kind, of whom it has been significantly said that they were
transported into Italy to be melted down. In Italy itself the
consumption of life was so great that there was no possibility of the
slaves by birth meeting the requirement, and the supply of others by war
became necessary. To these slaves the laws were atrociously unjust.
Tacitus has recorded that on the occasion of the murder of Pedanius,
after a solemn debate in the senate, the particulars of which he
furnishes, the ancient laws were enforced, and four hundred slaves of
the deceased were put to death, when it was obvious to every one that
scarcely any of them had known of the crime. The horrible maxim that not
only the slaves within a house in which a master was murdered, but even
those within a circle supposed to be measured by the reach of his voice,
should be put to death, shows us the small value of the life of these
unfortunates, and the facility with which they could be replaced. Their
vast numbers necessarily made every citizen a soldier; the culture of
the land and the manufacturing processes, the pursuits of labour and
industry, were assigned to them with contempt. The relation of the slave
in such a social system is significantly shown by the fact that the
courts estimated the amount of any injury he had received by the damage
his master had thereby sustained. To such a degree had this system been
developed, that slave labour was actually cheaper than animal labour,
and, as a consequence, much of the work that we perform by cattle was
then done by men. The class of independent hirelings, which should have
constituted the chief strength of the country, disappeared, labour
itself becoming so ignoble that the poor citizen could not be an
artisan, but must remain a pauper--a sturdy beggar, expecting from the
state bread and amusements. The personal uncleanness and shiftless
condition of these lower classes were the true causes of the prevalence
of leprosy and other loathsome diseases. Attempts at sanitary
improvement were repeatedly made, but they so imperfectly answered the
purpose that epidemics, occurring from time to time, produced a dreadful
mortality. Even under the Cæsars, after all that had been done, there
was no essential amendment. The assertion is true that the Old World
never recovered from the great plague in the time of M. Antoninus,
brought by the army from the Parthian War. In the reign of Titus ten
thousand persons died in one day in Rome.

The slave system bred that thorough contempt for trade which animated
the Romans. They never grudged even the Carthaginians a market. It threw
them into the occupation of the demagogue, making them spend their
lives, when not engaged in war, in the intrigues of political factions,
the turbulence of public elections, the excitement of lawsuits. They
were the first to discover that the privilege of interpreting laws is
nearly equal to that of making them; and to this has been rightly
attributed their turn for jurisprudence, and the prosperity of advocates
among them. The disappearance of the hireling class was the immediate
cause of the downfall of the republic and the institution of the empire,
for the aristocracy were left without any antagonist, and therefore
without any restraint. They broke up into factions, involving the
country in civil war by their struggles with each other for power.

[Sidenote: The war system.]

The political maxims of the republic, for the most part, rejected the
ancient system of devastating a vanquished state by an instant,
unsparing, and crushing plunder, which may answer very well where the
tenure is expected to be brief, but does not accord with the formula
subdue, retain, advance. Yet depopulation was the necessary incident.
Italy, Sicily, Asia Minor, Gaul, Germany, were full of people, but they
greatly diminished under Roman occupation. Her maxims were capable of
being realized with facility through her military organization,
particularly that of the legion. In some nations colonies are founded
for commercial purposes, in others for getting rid of an excess of
population: the Roman colony implies the idea of a garrison and an
active military intent. Each legion was, in fact, so constructed as to
be a small but complete army. In whatever country it might be encamped,
it was in quick communication with the head-quarters at Rome; and this
not metaphorically, but materially, as was shown by the building of the
necessary military roads. The idea of permanent occupation, which was
thus implied, did not admit the expediency of devastating a country,
but, on the contrary, led to the encouragement of provincial prosperity,
because the greater the riches the greater the capacity for taxation.
Such principles were in harmony with the conditions of solidity and
security of the Roman power, which proverbially had not risen in a
single day--was not the creation of a single fortunate soldier, but
represented the settled policy of many centuries. In the act of conquest
Rome was inhuman; she tried to strike a blow that there would never be
any occasion to repeat; no one was spared who by possibility might
inconvenience her; but, the catastrophe once over, as a general thing,
the vanquished had no occasion to complain of her rule. Of course, in
the shadow of public justice, private wrong and oppression were often
concealed. Through injustice and extortion, her officers accumulated
enormous fortunes, which have never since been equalled in Europe.
Sometimes the like occurred in times of public violence; thus Brutus
made Asia Minor pay five years' tribute at once, and shortly after
Antony compelled it to do it again. The extent to which recognized and
legitimate exactions were carried is shown by the fact that upon the
institution of the empire the annual revenues were about forty millions
of pounds sterling.

[Sidenote: Value of gold and silver.]

The comparative value of metals in Rome is a significant political
indication. Bullion rapidly increased in amount during the Carthaginian
wars. At the opening of the first Punic War silver and copper were as 1
to 960; at the second Punic War the ratio had fallen, and was 1 to 160;
soon after there was another fall, and it became 1 to 128. The republic
debased the coinage by reducing its weight, the empire by alloying it.

[Sidenote: Connexion between debasement of coinage and political
decline.]

The science, art, and political condition of nations are often
illustrated by their coinage. An interesting view of the progress of
Europe might be obtained from a philosophical study of its numismatic
remains. The simplicity of the earlier ages is indicated by the pure
silver, such as that coined at Crotona, B.C. 600--that of the reign of
Philip of Macedon by the native unalloyed gold. A gradual decline in
Roman prosperity is more than shadowed forth by the gradual
deterioration of its money; for, as evil times befell the state, the
emperors were compelled to utter a false coinage. Thus, under Vespasian,
A.D. 69, the silver money contained about one fourth of its weight of
copper; under Antoninus Pius, A.D. 138, more than one third; under
Commodus, A.D. 180, nearly one half; under Gordian, A.D. 236, there was
added to the silver more than twice its weight of copper. Nay, under
Gallienus, a coinage was issued of copper, tin and silver, in which the
first two metals exceed the last by more than two hundred times its
weight. It shows to what a hopeless condition the state had come.

The Roman demagogues, as is the instinct of their kind, made political
capital by attacking industrial capital. They lowered the rate of
interest, prohibited interest, and often attempted the abolition of
debts.

[Sidenote: Indescribable depravity in the Roman decline.]

[Sidenote: Dissoluteness of the women, and avoidance of marriage.]

The concentration of power and increase of immorality proceeded with an
equal step. In its earlier ages, the Roman dominion was exercised by a
few thousand persons; then it passed into the hands of some score
families; then it was sustained for a moment by individuals, and at last
was seized by one man, who became the master of 120 millions. As the
process went on, the virtues which had adorned the earlier times
disappeared, and in the end were replaced by crimes such as the world
had never before witnessed and never will again. An evil day is
approaching when it becomes recognized in a community that the only
standard of social distinction is wealth. That day was soon followed in
Rome by its unavoidable consequence, a government founded upon two
domestic elements, corruption and terrorism. No language can describe
the state of that capital after the civil wars. The accumulation of
power and wealth gave rise to a universal depravity. Law ceased to be of
any value. A suitor must deposit a bribe before a trial could be had.
The social fabric was a festering mass of rottenness. The people had
become a populace; the aristocracy was demoniac; the city was a hell. No
crime that the annals of human wickedness can show was left
unperpetrated--remorseless murders; the betrayal of parents, husbands,
wives, friends; poisoning reduced to a system; adultery degenerating
into incests, and crimes that cannot be written. Women of the higher
class were so lascivious, depraved, and dangerous, that men could not be
compelled to contract matrimony with them; marriage was displaced by
concubinage; even virgins were guilty of inconceivable immodesties;
great officers of state and ladies of the court, of promiscuous bathings
and naked exhibitions. In the time of Cæsar it had become necessary for
the government to interfere, and actually put a premium on marriage. He
gave rewards to women who had many children; prohibited those who were
under forty-five years of age, and who had no children, from wearing
jewels and riding in litters, hoping by such social disabilities to
correct the evil. It went on from bad to worse, so that Augustus, in
view of the general avoidance of legal marriage and resort to
concubinage with slaves, was compelled to impose penalties on the
unmarried--to enact that they should not inherit by will except from
relations. Not that the Roman women refrained from the gratification of
their desires; their depravity impelled them to such wicked practices as
cannot be named in a modern book. They actually reckoned the years, not
by the consuls, but by the men they had lived with. To be childless, and
therefore without the natural restraint of a family, was looked upon as
a singular felicity. Plutarch correctly touched the point when he said
that the Romans married to be heirs and not to have heirs. Of offences
that do not rise to the dignity of atrocity, but which excite our
loathing, such as gluttony and the most debauched luxury, the annals of
the times furnish disgusting proofs. It was said, "They eat that they
may vomit, and vomit that they may eat." At the taking of Perusium,
three hundred of the most distinguished citizens were solemnly
sacrificed at the altar of Divus Julius by Octavian! Are these the deeds
of civilized men, or the riotings of cannibals drunk with blood?

[Sidenote: The whole system is past cure.]

The higher classes on all sides exhibited a total extinction of moral
principle; the lower were practical atheists. Who can peruse the annals
of the emperors without being shocked at the manner in which men died,
meeting their fate with the obtuse tranquillity that characterizes
beasts? A centurion with a private mandate appears, and forthwith the
victim opens his veins and dies in a warm bath. At the best, all that
was done was to strike at the tyrant. Men despairingly acknowledged that
the system itself was utterly past cure.

[Sidenote: Testimony of Tacitus.]

That in these statements I do not exaggerate, hear what Tacitus says:
"The holy ceremonies of religion were violated; adultery reigning
without control; the adjacent islands filled with exiles; rocks and
desert places stained with clandestine murders, and Rome itself a
theatre of horrors, where nobility of descent and splendour of fortune
marked men out for destruction; where the vigour of mind that aimed at
civil dignities, and the modesty that declined them, were offences
without distinction; where virtue was a crime that led to certain ruin;
where the guilt of informers and the wages of their iniquity were alike
detestable; where the sacerdotal order, the consular dignity, the
government of provinces, and even the cabinet of the prince, were seized
by that execrable race as their lawful prey; where nothing was sacred,
nothing safe from the hand of rapacity; where slaves were suborned, or
by their own malevolence excited against their masters; where freemen
betrayed their patrons, and he who had lived without an enemy died by
the treachery of a friend."

[Sidenote: Effects in the provinces. Free trade.]

[Sidenote: Intellectual advancements.]

But, though these were the consequences of the concentration of power
and wealth in the city of Rome, it was otherwise in the expanse of the
empire. The effect of Roman domination was the cessation of all the
little wars that had heretofore been waged between adjacent peoples.
They exchanged independence for peace. Moreover, and this, in the end,
was of the utmost importance to them all, unrestricted commerce ensued,
direct trade arising between all parts of the empire. The Mediterranean
nations were brought closer to each other, and became common inheritors
of such knowledge as was then in the world. Arts, sciences, improved
agriculture, spread among them; the most distant countries could boast
of noble roads, aqueducts, bridges, and great works of engineering. In
barbarous places, the legions that were intended as garrisons proved to
be foci of civilization. For the provinces, even the wickedness of Rome
was not without some good. From one quarter corn had to be brought; from
another, clothing; from another, luxuries; and Italy had to pay for it
all in coin. She had nothing to export in return. By this there was a
tendency to equalization of wealth in all parts of the empire, and a
perpetual movement of money. Nor was the advantage altogether material;
there were conjoined intellectual results of no little value.
Superstition and the amazing credulity of the old times disappeared. In
the first Punic War, Africa was looked upon as a land of monsters; it
had serpents large enough to stop armies, it had headless men. Sicily
had its Cyclops, giants, enchantresses; golden apples grew in Spain; the
mouth of Hell was on the shores of the Euxine. The marches of the
legions and the voyages of merchants made all these phantasms vanish.

[Sidenote: Disappearance of the Roman ethnical element.]

It was the necessary consequence of her military aggrandizement that the
ethnical element which really constituted Rome should expire. A small
nucleus of men had undertaken to conquer the Mediterranean world, and
had succeeded. In doing this they had diffused themselves over an
immense geographical surface, and necessarily became lost in the mass
with which they mingled. On the other hand, the deterioration of Italy
was insured by the slave system, and the ruin of Rome was accomplished
before the barbarians touched it. Whoever inquires the cause of the fall
of the Roman empire will find his answer in ascertaining what had become
of the Romans.

[Sidenote: Roman conquest produces homogeneous thought,]

The extinction of prodigies and superstitious legends was occasioned by
increased travel, through the merging of many separate nations into one
great empire. Intellectual communication attends material communication.
The spread of Roman influence around the borders of the Mediterranean
produced a tendency to homogeneous thought eminently dangerous to the
many forms of faith professed by so many different people.

[Sidenote: and revolutionizes religious ideas.]

After Tarquin was expelled the sacerdotal class became altogether
subordinate to the military, whose whole history shows that they
regarded religion as a mere state institution, without any kind of
philosophical significance, and chiefly to be valued for the control it
furnished over vulgar minds. It presented itself to them in the light of
a branch of industry, from which profit might be made by those who
practised it. They thought no more of concerning themselves individually
about it than in taking an interest in any other branch of lucrative
trade. As to any examination of its intellectual basis, they were not
sophists, but soldiers, blindly following the prescribed institutions of
their country with as little question as its military commands. For
these reasons, throughout the time of the republic, and also under the
early emperors, there never was much reluctance to the domestication of
any kind of worship in Rome. Indeed, the gods of the conquered countries
were established there to the gratification of the national vanity. From
this commingling of worship in the city, and intercommunication of ideas
in the provinces, the most important events arose.

[Sidenote: Imperialism prepares the way for monotheism.]

For it very soon was apparent that the political unity which had been
established over so great a geographical surface was the forerunner of
intellectual, and therefore religious unity. Polytheism became
practically inconsistent with the Roman empire, and a tendency arose for
the introduction of some form of monotheism. Apart from the operations
of Reason, it is clear that the recognition by so many nations of one
emperor must soon be followed by the acknowledgment of one God. There is
a disposition to uniformity among people who are associated by a common
political bond. Moreover, the rivalries of a hundred priesthoods
imparted to polytheism an intrinsic weakness; but monotheism implies
centralization, an organized hierarchy, and therefore concentration of
power. The different interests and collisions of multitudinous forms of
religion sapped individual faith; a diffusion of practical atheism,
manifested by a total indifference to all ceremonies, except so far as
they were shows, was the result, the whole community falling into an
unbelieving and godless state. The form of superstition through which
the national mind had passed was essentially founded upon the
recognition of an incessant intervention of many divinities determining
human affairs; but such a faith became extinct by degrees among the
educated. How was it possible that human reason should deal otherwise
with all the contradictions and absurdities of a thousand indigenous and
imported deities, each asserting his inconsistent pretensions. A god who
in his native grove or temple has been paramount and unquestioned, sinks
into insignificance when he is brought into a crowd of compeers. In this
respect there is no difference between gods and men. Great cities are
great levellers of both. He who has stood forth in undue proportions in
the solitude of the country, sinks out of observation in the solitude of
a crowd.

[Sidenote: Roman philosophy.]

[Sidenote: Varro. Lucretius.]

[Sidenote: Cicero.]

The most superficial statement of philosophy among the Romans, if
philosophy it can be called, shows us how completely religious sentiment
was effaced. The presence of sceptical thought is seen in the
explanations of Terentius Varro, B.C. 110, that the anthropomorphic gods
are to be received as mere emblems of the forces of matter; and the
general tendency of the times may be gathered from the poem of
Lucretius: his recommendations that the mind should be emancipated from
the fear of the gods; his arguments against the immortality of the soul;
his setting forth Nature as the only God to be worshipped. In Cicero we
see how feeble and wavering a guide to life in a period of trouble
philosophy had become, and how one who wished to stand in the attitude
of chief thinker of his times was no more than a servile copyist of
Grecian predecessors, giving to his works not an air of masculine and
independent thought, but aiming at present effect rather than a solid
durability; for Cicero addresses himself more to the public than to
philosophers, exhibiting herein his professional tendency as an
advocate. Under a thin veil he hides an undisguised scepticism, and,
with the instinct of a placeman, leans rather to the investigation of
public concerns than to the profound and abstract topics of philosophy.
As is the case with superficial men, he sees no difference between the
speculative and the exact, confusing them together. He feels that it is
inexpedient to communicate truth publicly, especially that of a
religious kind. Doubtless herein we shall agree when we find that he
believes God to be nothing more than the soul of the world; discovers
many serious objections to the doctrine of Providence; insinuates that
the gods are only poetical creations; is uncertain whether the soul be
immortal, but is clear that popular doctrine of punishment in the world
to come is only an idle fable.

[Sidenote: Quintus Sextius. Seneca.]

[Sidenote: Epictetus. Antoninus.]

[Sidenote: Maximus Tyrius].

[Sidenote: Alexander of Aphrodisias.]

It was the attribute of the Romans to impress upon every thing a
practical character. In their philosophy we continually see this
displayed, along with a striking inferiority in original thought.
Quintus Sextius admonishes us to pursue a virtuous life, and, as an aid
thereto, enjoins an abstinence from meat. In this opinion many of the
Cynical school acquiesced, and some it is said, even joined the
Brahmans. In the troublous times of the first Cæsars, men had occasion
to derive all the support they could from philosophy; there was no
religion to sustain them. Among the Stoics there were some, as Seneca,
to whom we can look back with pleasure. Through his writings he
exercised a considerable influence on subsequent ages, though, when we
attentively read his works, we must attribute this not so much to their
intrinsic value as to their happening to coincide with the prevalent
tone of religious thought. He enforces the necessity of a cultivation of
good morals, and yet he writes against the religion of his country, its
observances, and requirements. Of a far higher grade was Epictetus, at
once a slave and a philosopher, though scarcely to be classed as a true
Stoic. He considers man as a mere spectator of God and his works, and
teaches that every one who can no longer bear the miseries of life is
upon just deliberation, and a conscientious belief that the gods will
not disapprove, free to commit suicide. His maxim is that all have a
part to play, and he has done well who has done his best--that he must
look to conscience as his guide. If Seneca said that time alone is our
absolute and only possession, and that nothing else belongs to man,
Epictetus taught that his thoughts are all that man has any power over,
every thing else being beyond his control. M. Aurelius Antoninus, the
emperor, did not hesitate to acknowledge his thankfulness to Epictetus,
the slave, in his attempt to guide his life according to the principles
of the Stoics. He recommends every man to preserve his dæmon free from
sin, and prefers religious devotions to the researches of physics, in
this departing to some extent from the original doctrines of the sect;
but the evil times on which men had fallen led them to seek support in
religious consolations rather than in philosophical inquiries. In
Maximus Tyrius, A.D. 146, we discover a corresponding sentiment,
enveloped, it is true, in an air of Platonism, and countenancing an
impression that image worship and sanctuaries are unnecessary for those
who have a lively remembrance of the view they once enjoyed of the
divine, though excellent for the vulgar, who have forgotten their past.
Alexander of Aphrodisias exhibits the tendency, which was becoming very
prevalent, to combine Plato and Aristotle. He treats upon Providence,
both absolute and contingent; considers its bearings upon religion, and
shows a disposition to cultivate the pious feelings of the age.

[Sidenote: Ancient Physicians.]

Galen, the physician, asserts that experience is the only source of
knowledge; lays great stress on the culture of mathematics and logic,
observing that he himself should have been a Pyrrhonist had it not been
for geometry. In the teleological doctrine of physiology he considers
that the foundations of a true theology must be laid. The physicians of
the times exerted no little influence on the promotion of such views;
for the most part they embraced the Pantheistic doctrine. As one of
them, Sextus Empiricus may be mentioned; his works, still remaining,
indicate to us the tendency of this school to materialism.

[Sidenote: Philosophical atheism among the educated.]

Such was the tone of thought among the cultivated Romans; and to this
philosophical atheism among them was added an atheism of indifference
among the vulgar. But, since man is so constituted that he cannot live
for any length of time without a form of worship, it is evident that
there was great danger, whenever events should be ripe for the
appearance of some monotheistic idea, that it might come in a base
aspect. At a much later period than that we are here considering, one of
the emperors expressed himself to the effect that it would be necessary
to give liberty for the exercise of a sound philosophy among the higher
classes, and provide a gorgeous ceremonial for the lower; he saw how
difficult it is, by mere statesmanship to co-ordinate two such
requirements, in their very nature contradictory. Though polytheism had
lost all intellectual strength, the nations who had so recently parted
with it could not be expected to have ceased from all disposition to an
animalization of religion and corporealization of God. In a certain
sense the emperor was only a more remote and more majestic form of the
conquered and vanished kings, but, like them, he was a man. There was
danger that the theological system, thus changing with the political,
would yield only expanded anthropomorphic conceptions.

[Sidenote: Principles, to be effective, must coincide with existing
tendencies.]

History perpetually demonstrates that nations cannot be permanently
modified except by principles or actions conspiring with their existing
tendency. Violence perpetrated upon them may pass away, leaving, perhaps
in a few generations, no vestige of itself. Even Victory is conquered by
Time. Profound changes only ensue when the operating force is in unison
with the temper of the age. International peace among so many people
once in conflict--peace under the auspices of a great overshadowing
power; the unity of sentiment and brotherhood of feeling fast finding
its way around the Mediterranean shores; the interests of a vast growing
commerce, unfettered through the absorption of so many little kingdoms
into one great republic, were silently bringing things to a condition
that political force could be given to any religious dogma founded upon
sentiments of mutual regard and interest. Nor could it be otherwise
than that among the great soldiers of those times one would at last
arise whose practical intellect would discover the personal advantages
that must accrue from putting himself in relation with the universally
prevailing idea. How could he better find adherents from the centre to
the remotest corner of the empire? And, even if his own personal
intellectual state should disable him from accepting in its fulness the
special form in which the idea had become embodied, could there be any
doubt, if he received it, and was true to it as a politician, though he
might decline it as a man, of the immense power it would yield him in
return--a power sufficient, if the metropolis should resist, or be
otherwise unsuited to his designs, to enable him to found a rival to her
in a more congenial place, and leave her to herself, "the skeleton of so
much glory and of so much guilt."

[Sidenote: The coming Monotheism must be bounded by the limits of Roman
influence.]

Thus, after the event, we can plainly see that the final blow to
Polytheism was the suppression of the ancient independent nationalities
around the Mediterranean Sea; and that, in like manner, Monotheism was
the result of the establishment of an imperial government in Rome. But
the great statesmen of those times, who were at the general point of
view, must have foreseen that, in whatever form the expected change
came, its limits of definition would inevitably be those of the empire
itself, and that wherever the language of Rome was understood the
religion of Rome would prevail. In the course of ages, an expansion
beyond those limits might ensue wherever the state of things was
congenial. On the south, beyond the mere verge of Africa, nothing was to
be hoped for--it is the country in which man lives in degradation and is
happy. On the east there were great unsubdued and untouched monarchies,
having their own types of civilization, and experiencing no want in a
religious respect. But on the north there were nations who, though they
were plunged in hideous barbarism, filthy in an equal degree in body and
mind, polygamists, idolaters, drunkards out of their enemies' skulls,
were yet capable of an illustrious career. For these there was a
glorious participation in store.

[Sidenote: The new ideas coalesce with the old.]

Except the death of a nation, there is no event in human history more
profoundly solemn than the passing away of an ancient religion, though
religious ideas are transitory, and creeds succeed one another with a
periodicity determined by the law of continuous variation of human
thought. The intellectual epoch at which we have now arrived has for its
essential characteristic such a change--the abandonment of a
time-honoured but obsolete system, the acceptance of a new and living
one; and, in the incipient stages, opinion succeeding opinion in a
well-marked way, until at length, after a few centuries of fusion and
solution, there crystallized on the remnant of Roman power, as on a
nucleus, a definite form, which, slowly modifying itself into the
Papacy, served the purposes of Europe for more than a thousand years
throughout its age of Faith.

[Sidenote: Conduct of the Roman educated men at this period.]

In this abandonment, the personal conduct of the educated classes very
powerfully assisted. They outwardly conformed to the ceremonial of the
times, reserving their higher doctrines to themselves, as something
beyond vulgar comprehension. Considering themselves as an intellectual
aristocracy, they stood aloof, and, with an ill-concealed smile,
consented to the transparent folly around them. It had come to an evil
state when authors like Polybius and Strabo apologized to their compeers
for the traditions and legends they ostensibly accepted, on the ground
that it is inconvenient and needless to give popular offence, and that
those who are children in understanding must, like those who are
children in age, be kept in order by bugbears. It had come to an evil
state when the awful ceremonial of former times had degenerated into a
pageant, played off by an infidel priesthood and unbelieving
aristocracy; when oracles were becoming mute, because they could no
longer withstand the sly wit of the initiated; when the miracles of the
ancients were regarded as mere lies, and of contemporaries as feats of
legerdemain. It had come to an evil pass when even statesmen received it
as a maxim that when the people have advanced in intellectual culture to
a certain point, the sacerdotal class must either deceive them or
oppress them, if it means to keep its power.

[Sidenote: Religious condition of the intellectual classes in Rome.]

In Rome, at the time of Augustus, the intellectual
classes--philosophers and statesmen--had completely emerged from the
ancient modes of thought. To them, the national legends, so jealously
guarded by the populace, had become mere fictions. The miraculous
conception of Rhea Sylvia by the god Mars, an event from which their
ancestors had deduced with pride the celestial origin of the founder of
their city, had dwindled into a myth; as a source of actual reliance and
trust, the intercession of Venus, that emblem of female loveliness, with
the father of the gods in behalf of her human favourites, was abandoned;
the Sibylline books, once believed to contain all that was necessary for
the prosperity of the republic, were suspected of an origin more
sinister than celestial; nor were insinuations wanting that from time to
time they had been tampered with to suit the expediency of passing
interests, or even that the true ones were lost and forgeries put in
their stead. The Greek mythology was to them, as it is to us, an object
of reverence, not because of any inherent truth, but because of the
exquisite embodiments it can yield in poetry, in painting, in marble.
The existence of those illustrious men who, on account of their useful
lives or excellent example, had, by the pious ages of old, been
sanctified or even deified, was denied, or, if admitted, they were
regarded as the exaggerations of dark and barbarous times. It was thus
with Æsculapius, Bacchus, and Hercules. And as to the various forms of
worship, the multitude of sects into which the pagan nations were broken
up offered themselves as a spectacle of imbecile and inconsistent
devotion altogether unworthy of attention, except so far as they might
be of use to the interests of the state.

[Sidenote: Their irresolution.]

Such was the position of things among the educated. In one sense they
had passed into liberty, in another they were in bondage. Their
indisposition to encounter those inflictions with which their illiterate
contemporaries might visit them may seem to us surprizing: they acted as
if they thought that the public was a wild beast that would bite if
awakened too abruptly from its dream; but their pusillanimity, at the
most, could only postpone for a little an inevitable day. The ignorant
classes, whom they had so much feared, awoke in due season
spontaneously, and saw in the clear light how matters stood.

[Sidenote: Surrender of affairs in the illiterate classes,]

[Sidenote: and consequent debasement of Christianity in Rome.]

Of the Roman emperors there were some whose intellectual endowments were
of the highest kind; yet, though it must have been plain to them, as to
all who turned their attention to the matter, in what direction society
was drifting, they let things take their course, and no one lifted a
finger to guide. It may be said that the genius of Rome manifested
itself rather in physical than in intellectual operations; but in her
best days it was never the genius of Rome to abandon great events to
freedmen, eunuchs, and slaves. By such it was that the ancient gods were
politically cast aside, while the government was speciously yielding a
simulated obedience to them, and hence it was not at all surprizing
that, soon after the introduction of Christianity, its pure doctrines
were debased by a commingling with ceremonies of the departing creed. It
was not to be expected that the popular mind could spontaneously
extricate itself from the vicious circle in which it was involved.
Nothing but philosophy was competent to deliver it, and philosophy
failed of its duty at the critical moment. The classical scholar need
scarcely express his surprize that the Feriæ Augusti were continued in
the Church as the Festival St. Petri in Vinculis; that even to our own
times an image of the holy Virgin was carried to the river in the same
manner as in the old times was that of Cybele, and that many pagan rites
still continue to be observed in Rome. Had it been in such incidental
particulars only that the vestiges of paganism were preserved, the thing
would have been of little moment; but, as all who have examined the
subject very well know, the evil was far more general, far more
profound. When it was announced to the Ephesians that the Council of
that place, headed by Cyril, had decreed that the Virgin should be
called "the Mother of God," with tears of joy they embraced the knees of
their bishop; it was the old instinct peeping out; their ancestors would
have done the same for Diana. If Trajan, after ten centuries, could have
revisited Rome, he would, without difficulty, have recognized the drama,
though the actors and scenery had all changed; he would have reflected
how great a mistake had been committed in the legislation of his reign,
and how much better it is, when the intellectual basis of a religion is
gone, for a wise government to abstain from all compulsion in behalf of
what has become untenable, and to throw itself into the new movement so
as to shape the career by assuming the lead. Philosophy is useless when
misapplied in support of things which common sense has begun to reject;
she shares in the discredit which is attaching to them. The opportunity
of rendering herself of service to humanity once lost, ages may elapse
before it occurs again. Ignorance and low interests seize the moment,
and fasten a burden on man, which the struggles of a thousand years may
not suffice to cast off. Of all the duties of an enlightened government,
this of allying itself with Philosophy in the critical moment in which
society is passing through so serious a metamorphosis of its opinions as
is involved in the casting off of its ancient investiture of Faith, and
its assumption of a new one, is the most important, for it stands
connected with things that outlast all temporal concerns.

CHAPTER IX.

THE EUROPEAN AGE OF INQUIRY.

THE PROGRESSIVE VARIATION OF OPINIONS CLOSED BY THE INSTITUTION OF
COUNCILS AND THE CONCENTRATION OF POWER IN A PONTIFF. RISE, EARLY
VARIATIONS, CONFLICTS, AND FINAL ESTABLISHMENT OF CHRISTIANITY.

_The Trinitarian Controversy.--Story of Arius.--The Council of
Nicea._

_Necessity of a Pontiff in the West and ecclesiastical
Councils in the East.--Nature of those Councils and of
pontifical Power._

_The Period closes at the Capture and Sack of Rome by
Alaric.--Defence of that Event by St. Augustine.--Criticism on
his Writings._

_Character of the Progress of Thought through this
Period.--Destiny of the three great Bishops._

[Sidenote: Subject of the chapter.]

From the decay of Polytheism and the decline of philosophy, from the
moral and social disorganization of the Roman empire, I have now to turn
to the most important of all events, the rise of Christianity. I have
to show how a variation of opinion proceeded and reached its
culmination; how it was closed by the establishment of a criterion of
truth, under the form of ecclesiastical councils, and a system developed
which supplied the intellectual wants of Europe for nearly a thousand
years.

[Sidenote: Introduction to the study of Christianity.]

The reader, to whom I have thus offered a representation of the state of
Roman affairs, must now prepare to look at the consequences thereof.
Together we must trace out the progress of Christianity, examine the
adaptation of its cardinal principles to the wants of the empire, and
the variations it exhibited--a task supremely difficult, for even
sincerity and truth will sometimes offend. For my part, it is my
intention to speak with veneration on this great topic, and yet with
liberty, for freedom of thought and expression is to me the first of all
earthly things.

[Sidenote: Distinction between Christianity and ecclesiastical
organizations.]

But, that I may not be misunderstood, I here, at the outset,
emphatically distinguish between Christianity and ecclesiastical
organizations. The former is the gift of God; the latter are the product
of human exigencies and human invention, and therefore open to
criticism, or, if need be, to condemnation.

[Sidenote: Moral state of the world at this period.]

From the condition of the Roman empire may be indicated the principles
of any new system adapted to its amelioration. In the reign of Augustus,
violence paused only because it had finished its work. Faith was dead;
morality had disappeared. Around the shores of the Mediterranean the
conquered nations looked at one another--partakers of a common
misfortune, associates in a common lot. Not one of them had found a god
to help her in her day of need. Europe, Asia, and Africa were tranquil,
but it was the silence of despair.

[Sidenote: Unpitying tyranny of Rome.]

Rome never considered man as an individual, but only as a thing. Her way
to political greatness was pursued utterly regardless of human
suffering. If advantages accrued to the conquered under her dominion,
they arose altogether from incident, and never from her purposed intent.
She was no self-conscious, deliberate civilizer. Conquest and rapine,
the uniform aim of her actions, never permitted her, even at her utmost
intellectual development, to comprehend the equal rights of all men in
the eye of the law. Unpitying in her stern policy, few were the
occasions when, for high state reasons, she stayed her uplifted hand.
She might in the wantonness of her power, stoop to mercy; she never rose
to benevolence.

[Sidenote: Prepares the way for the recognition of the equality of all
men.]

When Syria was paying one third of its annual produce in taxes, is it
surprising that the Jewish peasant sighed for a deliverer, and eagerly
listened to the traditions of his nation that a temporal Messiah, "a
king of the Jews" would soon come? When there was announced the equality
of all men before God, "who maketh his sun to shine on the good and the
evil, and sendeth his rain on the just and the unjust," is it surprising
that men looked for equal rights before the law? Universal equality
means universal benevolence; it substitutes for the impersonal and
easily-eluded commands of the state the dictates of an ever-present
conscience; it accepts the injunction, "Do unto others as you would they
should do to you."

[Sidenote: Attitude of Paganism.]

In the spread of a doctrine two things are concerned--its own intrinsic
nature, and the condition of him on whom it is intended to act. The
spread of Christianity is not difficult to be understood. Its
antagonist, Paganism, presented inherent weakness, infidelity, and a
cheerless prospect; a system, if that can be called so, which had no
ruling idea, no principles, no organization; caring nothing for
proselytes; its rival pontiffs devoted to many gods, but forming no
political combination; occupying themselves with directing public
worship and foretelling future events, but not interfering in domestic
life; giving itself no concern for the lowly and unfortunate; not
recognizing, or, at the best, doubtfully admitting a future life;
limiting the hopes and destiny of man to this world; teaching that
temporal prosperity may be selfishly gained at any cost, and looking to
suicide as the relief of the brave from misfortune.

[Sidenote: Attitude of Christianity.]

On the other side was Christianity, with its enthusiasm and burning
faith; its rewards in this life, and everlasting happiness or damnation
in the next; the precise doctrines it by degrees gathered of sin,
repentance, pardon; the efficacy of the blood of the Son of God; its
proselytizing spirit; its vivid dogmas of a resurrection from the dead,
the approaching end of the world, the judgment-day. Above all, in a
worldly point of view, the incomparable organization it soon attained,
and its preaching in season and out of season. To the needy Christian
the charities of the faithful were freely given; to the desolate,
sympathy. In every congregation there were prayers to God that he would
listen to the sighing of the prisoner and captive, and have mercy on
those who were ready to die. For the slave and his master there was one
law and one hope, one baptism, one Saviour, one Judge. In times of
domestic bereavement the Christian slave doubtless often consoled his
pagan mistress with the suggestion that our present separations are only
for a little while, and revealed to her willing ear that there is
another world--a land in which we rejoin our dead. How is it possible to
arrest the spread of a faith which can make the broken heart leap with
joy?

[Sidenote: Its first organization.]

At its first organization Christianity embodied itself in a form of
communism, the merging of the property of the disciples into a common
stock, from which the necessary provision for the needy was made. Such a
system, carried out rigorously, is, however, only suited to small
numbers and a brief period. In its very nature it is impracticable on a
great scale. Scarcely had it been resorted to before such troubles as
that connected with the question of the Hebrew and Greek widows showed
that it must be modified. By this relief or maintenance out of the funds
of the Church, the spread of the faith among the humbler classes was
greatly facilitated. In warm climates, where the necessities of life are
small, an apparently insignificant sum will accomplish much in this way.
But, as wealth accumulated, besides this inducement for the poor, there
were temptations for the ambitious: luxurious appointments and a
splendid maintenance, the ecclesiastical dignitaries becoming more than
rivals to those of the state.

[Sidenote: Gradual sectarian divergences.]

From the modification which the primitive organization thus underwent,
we may draw the instructive conclusion that the special forms of
embodiment which the Christian principle from time to time has assumed,
and of which many might be mentioned, were, in reality, of only
secondary importance. The sects of the early ages have so totally died
away that we hardly recall the meaning of their names, or determine
their essential dogmas. From fasting, penance, and the gift of money,
things which are of precise measurement, and therefore well suited to
intellectual infancy, there may be perceived an advancing orthodoxy up
to the highest metaphysical ideas. Yet it must not be supposed that new
observances and doctrines, as they emerged, were the disconnected
inventions of ambitious men. If rightly considered, they are, in the
aggregate, the product of the uniform progression of human opinions.

[Sidenote: Early variation of opinions.]

[Sidenote: Eastern theology tends to Divinity,]

[Sidenote: Western to Humanity.]

Authors who have treated of the sects of earlier times will point out to
the curious reader how, in the beginning, the Church was agitated by a
lingering attachment to the Hebrew rites, and with difficulty tore
itself away from Judaism, which for the first ten years was paramount in
it; how then, for several centuries, it became engrossed with disputes
respecting the nature of Christ, and creed after creed arose therefrom;
to the Ebionites he was a mere man; to the Docetes, a phantasm; to the
Jewish Gnostic, Cerinthus, possessed of a twofold nature; how, after the
spread of Christianity, in succeeding ages, all over the empire, the
intellectual peculiarities of the East and West were visibly impressed
upon it--the East filled with speculative doctrines, of which the most
important were those brought forward by the Platonists of Alexandria,
for the Platonists, of all Philosophical sects, furnished most converts;
the West, in accordance with its utilitarian genius, which esteems the
practical and disparages the intellectual, singularly aided by
propitious opportunity, occupying itself with material aggrandizement
and territorial power. The vanishing point of all Christian sectarian
ideas of the East was in God, of those of the West in Man. Herein
consists the essential difference between them. The one was rich in
doctrines respecting the nature of the Divinity, the other abounded in
regulations for the improvement and consolation of humanity. For long
there was a tolerance, and even liberality toward differences of
opinion. Until the Council of Nicea, no one was accounted a heretic if
only he professed his belief in the Apostles' Creed.

[Sidenote: Foreign modifications of Christianity.]

A very astute ecclesiastical historian, referring to the early
contaminations of Christianity, makes this remark: "A clear and
unpolluted fountain fed by secret channels with the dew of Heaven, when
it grows a large river, and takes a long and winding course, receives a
tincture from the various soils through which it passes."

Thus influenced by circumstances, the primitive modifications of
Christianity were three--Judaic Christianity, Gnostic Christianity,
African Christianity.

[Sidenote: Judaic Christianity.]

Of these, the first consisted of contaminations from Judaism, from which
true Christianity disentangled itself with extreme difficulty, at the
cost of dissensions among the Apostles themselves. From the purely
Hebrew point of view of the early disciples, who surrendered with
reluctance their expectation that the Saviour was the long-looked-for
temporal Messiah, the King of the Jews, under which name he suffered,
the faith gradually expanded, including successively proselytes of the
Gate, the surrounding Gentiles, and at last the whole world,
irrespective of nation, climate, or colour. With this truly imperial
extension, there came into view the essential doctrines on which it was
based. But Judaic Christianity, properly speaking, soon came to an
untimely end. It was unable to maintain itself against the powerful
apostolic influences in the bosom of the Church, and the violent
pressure exerted by the unbelieving Jews, who exhibited toward it an
inflexible hatred. Moreover, the rapid advance of the new doctrines
through Asia Minor and Greece offered a tempting field for enthusiasm.
The first preachers in the Roman empire were Jews; for the first years
circumcision and conformity to the law of Moses were insisted on; but
the first council determined that point, at Jerusalem, probably about
A.D. 49, in the negative. The organization of the Church, originally
modelled upon that of the Synagogue, was changed. In the beginning the
creed and the rites were simple; it was only necessary to profess belief
in the Lord Jesus Christ, and baptism marked the admission of the
convert into the community of the faithful. James, the brother of our
Lord, as might, from his relationship, be expected, occupied the
position of headship in the Church. The names of the bishops of the
church of Jerusalem, as given by Eusebius, succeed to James, the brother
of Christ, in the following order: Simeon, Justus, Zaccheus, Tobias,
Benjamin, John, Matthew, Philip, Simeon, Justus, Levi, Ephraim, Joseph,
and Judas. The names are indicative of the nationality. It was the boast
of this Church that it was not corrupted with any heresy until the last
Jewish bishop, a boast which must be received with some limitation, for
very early we find traces of two distinct parties in Jerusalem--those
who received the account of the miraculous conception and those who did
not. The Ebionites, who were desirous of tracing our Saviour's lineage
up to David, did so according to the genealogy given in the Gospel of
St. Mathew, and therefore they would not accept what was said respecting
the miraculous conception, affirming that it was apocryphal, and in
obvious contradiction to the genealogy in which our Saviour's line was
traced up through Joseph, who, it would thus appear, was not his father.
They are to be considered as the national or patriotic party.

[Sidenote: Causes of the arrest of Jewish conversion.]

Two causes seem to have been concerned in arresting the spread of
conversion among the Jews: the first was their disappointment as
respects the temporal power of the Messiah; the second, the prominence
eventually given to the doctrine of the Trinity. Their jealousy of
anything that might touch the national doctrine of the unity of God
became almost a fanaticism. Judaic Christianity may be said to have
virtually ended with the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans; its
last trace, however, was the dispute respecting Easter, which was
terminated by the Council of Nicea. The conversion of the Jews had
ceased before the reign of Constantine.

[Sidenote: Gnostic Christianity.]

The second form, Gnostic Christianity, had reached its full development
within a century after the death of Christ; it maintained an active
influence through the first four centuries, and gave birth, during that
time, to many different subordinate sects. It consisted essentially in
ingrafting Christianity upon Magianism. It made the Saviour an emanated
intelligence, derived from the eternal, self-existing mind; this
intelligence, and not the Man-Jesus, was the Christ, who thus, being an
impassive phantom, afforded to Gnosticism no idea of an expiatory
sacrifice, none of an atonement. It was arrested by the reappearance of
pure Magianism in the Persian empire under Ardeschir Babhegan; not,
however, without communicating to orthodox Christianity an impression
far more profound than is commonly supposed, and one of which indelible
traces may be perceived in our day.

[Sidenote: Platonic Christianity.]

The third form, African or Platonic Christianity, arose in Alexandria.
Here was the focus of those fatal disputes respecting the Trinity, a
word which does not occur in the Holy Scriptures, and which, it appears,
had been first introduced by Theophilus, the Bishop of Antioch, the
seventh from the apostles. In the time of Hadrian, Christianity had
become diffused all over Egypt, and had found among the Platonizing
philosophers of the metropolis many converts. These men modified the
Gnostic idea to suit their own doctrines, asserting that the principle
from which the universe originated was something emitted from the
Supreme Mind, and capable of being drawn into it again, as they supposed
was the case with a ray and the sun. This ray, they affirmed, was
permanently attached to our Saviour, and hence he might be considered as
God. Thus, therefore, there were in his person three parts, a body, a
soul, and the logos; hence he was both God and man. But, as a ray is
inferior to the sun, it seemed to follow that the Christ must be
inferior to the Father.

[Sidenote: The Logos.]

In all this it is evident that there is something transcendental, and
the Platonizing Christians, following the habit of the Greek
philosophers, considered it as a mysterious doctrine; they spoke of it
as "meat for strong men," but the popular current doctrine was "milk for
babes." Justin Martyr, A.D. 132, who had been a Platonic philosopher,
believed that the divine ray, after it was attached to Christ, was never
withdrawn from him, and never separated from its source. He offers two
illustrations of his idea. As speech (logos), going forth from one man,
enters into another, conveying to him meaning, while the same meaning
remains in the person who speaks, thus the logos of the Father continues
unimpaired in himself, though imparted to the Christ; or, as from one
lamp another may be lighted without any loss of splendour, so the
divinity of the Father is transferred to the Son. This last illustration
subsequently became very popular, and was adopted into the Nicene Creed.
"God of God, Light of Light."

It is obvious that the intention of this reasoning was to preserve
intact, the doctrine of the unity of God, for the great body of
Christians were at this time monarchists, the word being used in its
theological acceptation.

[Sidenote: Permanence of Alexandrian ideas.]

Thus the Jewish and Gnostic forms both died out, but the African,
Platonic, or Alexandrian, was destined to be perpetuated. The manner in
which this occurred, can only be understood by a study of the political
history of the times. To such facts as are needful for the purpose, I
shall therefore with brevity allude.

[Sidenote: Spread of Christianity from Syria.]

[Sidenote: Modifications of organization become necessary.]

[Sidenote: Becomes antagonistic to Imperialism.]

[Sidenote: Persecution consolidates it.]

From its birthplace in Judea, Christianity advanced to the conquest of
the Roman world. In its primitive form it received an urgency from the
belief that the end of all things was close at hand, and that the earth
was on the point of being burnt up by fire. From the civil war it waged
in Judea, it emerged to enter on a war of invasion and foreign
annexation. In succession, Cyprus, Phrygia, Galatia, and all Asia Minor,
Greece, and Italy, were penetrated. The persecutions of Nero, incident
on the burning of Rome, did not for a moment retard its career; during
his reign it rapidly spread, and in every direction Petrine and Pauline,
or Judaizing and Hellenizing churches were springing up. The latter
gained the superiority, and the former passed away. The constitution of
the churches changed, the congregations gradually losing power, which
became concentrated in the bishop. By the end of the first century the
episcopal form was predominant, and the ecclesiastical organization so
imposing as to command the attention of the emperors, who now began to
discover the mistake that had hitherto been made in confounding the new
religion with Judaism. Their dislike to it, soon manifested in measures
of repression, was in consequence of the peculiar attitude it assumed.
As a body, the Christians not only kept aloof from all the amusements of
the times, avoiding theatres and public rejoicings, but in every respect
constituted themselves an empire within the empire. Such a state of
things was altogether inconsistent with the established government, and
its certain inconveniences and evils were not long in making themselves
felt. The triumphant march of Christianity was singularly facilitated by
free intercommunication over the Mediterranean, in consequence of that
sea being in the hands of one sovereign power. The Jewish and Greek
merchants afforded it a medium; their trading towns were its posts. But
it is not to be supposed that its spread was without resistance; for at
least the first century and a half the small farmers and land labourers
entertained a hatred to it, looking upon it as a peculiarity of the
trading communities, whom they ever despised. They persuaded themselves
that the earthquakes, inundations and pestilences were attributable to
it. To these incitements was added a desire to seize the property of the
faithful confiscated by the law. Of this the early Christians
unceasingly and bitterly complained. But the rack, the fire, wild beasts
were unavailingly applied. Out of the very persecutions themselves
advantages arose. Injustice and barbarity bound the pious but feeble
communities together, and repressed internal dissent.

[Sidenote: Defiant air of the young churches.]

[Sidenote: Opposition of the emperors.]

In several instances, however, there can be no doubt that persecution
was brought on by the defiant air the churches assumed as they gathered
strength. To understand this, we have only to peruse such documents as
the address of Tertullian to Scapula. Full of intolerant spirit, it
accuses the national religion of being the cause of all the public
calamities, the floods, the fires, the eclipses; it denounces the
vengeance of God on the national idolatry. As was the opinion of the
Christians at that time, it acknowledges the reality of the pagan gods,
whom it stigmatizes as demons, and proclaims its determination to expel
them. It warns its opponents that they may be stricken blind, devoured
by worms, or visited with other awful calamities. Such a sentiment of
scorn and hatred, gathering force enough to make itself politically
felt, was certain to provoke persecution. That of Decius, A.D. 250, was
chiefly aimed against the clergy, not even the bishops of Jerusalem,
Antioch, and Rome escaping. Eight years afterwards occurred that in
which Sextus, the Bishop of Rome, and Cyprian of Carthage perished.

[Sidenote: Position of things under Diocletian.]

[Sidenote: Imperial persecutions.]

[Sidenote: Their great political consequences.]

[Sidenote: Successful policy of Constantine.]

Under Diocletian it had become apparent that the self-governed Christian
corporations everywhere arising were altogether incompatible with the
imperial system. If tolerated much longer, they would undoubtedly gain
such strength as to become politically quite formidable. There was not a
town, hardly a village in the empire--nay, what was indeed far more
serious, there was not a legion in which these organizations did not
exist. The uncompromising and inexorable spirit animating them brought
on necessarily a triple alliance of the statesmen, the philosophers, and
the polytheists. These three parties, composing or postponing their
mutual disputes, cordially united to put down the common enemy before it
should be too late. It so fell out that the conflict first broke out in
the army. When the engine of power is affected, it behoves a prince to
take heed. The Christian soldiers in some of the legions refused to join
in the time-honoured solemnities for propitiating the gods. It was in
the winter A.D. 302-3. The emergency became so pressing that a council
was held by Diocletian and Galerius to determine what should be done.
The difficulty of the position may perhaps be appreciated when it is
understood that even the wife and daughter of Diocletian himself were
adherents of the new religion. He was a man of such capacity and
enlarged political views that, at the second council of the leading
statesmen and generals, he would not have been brought to give his
consent to repression if it had not been quite clear that a conflict was
unavoidable. His extreme reluctance to act is shown by the express
stipulation he made that there should be no sacrifice of life. It is
scarcely necessary to relate the events which ensued; how the Church of
Nicomedia was razed to the ground; how, in retaliation, the imperial
palace was set on fire; how an edict was openly insulted and torn down;
how the Christian officers in the army were compelled to resign; and, as
Eusebius, an eye-witness, relates, a vast number of martyrs soon
suffered in Armenia, Syria, Mauritania, Egypt, and elsewhere. So
resistless was the march of events that not even the emperor himself
could stop the persecution. The Christians were given over to torture,
the fire, wild beasts, beheading; many of them, in the moment of
condemnation, simply returning thanks to God that he had thought them
worthy to suffer. The whole world was filled with admiration. The
greatness of such holy courage could have no other result. An
internecine conflict between the disputants seemed to be inevitable.
But, in the dark and bloody policy of the times, the question was
settled in an unexpected way. To Constantine, who had fled from the
treacherous custody of Galerius, it naturally occurred that if he should
ally himself to the Christian party, conspicuous advantages must
forthwith accrue to him. It would give him in every corner of the empire
men and women ready to encounter fire and sword; it would give him
partisans, not only animated by the traditions of their fathers,
but--for human nature will even in the religious assert itself--demanding
retribution for the horrible barbarities and injustice that had been
inflicted on themselves; it would give him, and this was the most
important of all, unwavering adherents in every legion of the army.
He took his course. The events of war crowned him with success. He
could not be otherwise than outwardly true to those who had given him
power, and who continued to maintain him on the throne. But he never
conformed to the ceremonial requirements of the Church till the close of
his evil life.

The attempt to make an alliance with this great and rapidly growing
party was nothing new. Maximin tried it, but was distrusted. Licinius,
foreseeing the policy that Constantine would certainly pursue,
endeavoured to neutralize it by feebly reviving the persecution, A.D.
316, thinking thereby to conciliate the pagans. The aspirants for empire
at this moment so divided the strength of the state that, had the
Christian party been weaker than it actually was, it so held the balance
of power as to be able to give a preponderance to the candidate of its
choice. Much more, therefore, was it certain to prevail, considering its
numbers, its ramifications, its compactness. Force, argument, and
persuasion had alike proved ineffectual against its strength.

[Sidenote: Influence of the reign of Constantine.]

To the reign of Constantine the Great must be referred the commencement
of those dark and dismal times which oppressed Europe for a thousand
years. It is the true close of the Roman empire, the beginning of the
Greek. The transition from one to the other is emphatically and abruptly
marked by a new metropolis, a new religion, a new code, and, above all,
a new policy. An ambitious man had attained to imperial power by
personating the interests of a rapidly growing party. The unavoidable
consequences were a union between the Church and State; a diverting of
the dangerous classes from civil to ecclesiastical paths, and the decay
and materialization of religion. This, and not the reign of Leo the
Isaurian, as some have said, is the true beginning of the Byzantine
empire; it is also the beginning of the age of Faith in Europe, though I
consider the age of Inquiry as overlapping this epoch, and as
terminating with the military fall of Rome.

Ecclesiastical authors have made everything hinge on the conversion of
Constantine and the national establishment of Christianity. The medium
through which they look distorts the position of objects, and magnifies
the subordinate and the collateral into the chief. Events had been
gradually shaping themselves in such a way that the political fall of
the city of Rome was inevitable. The Romans, as a people, had
disappeared, being absorbed among other nations; the centre of power was
in the army. One after another, the legions put forth competitors for
the purple--soldiers of fortune, whose success could never remove low
habits due to a base origin, the coarseness of a life of camps--who
found no congeniality in the elegance and refinement of those relics of
the ancient families which were expiring in Rome. They despised the
military decrepitude of the superannuated city; her recollections they
hated. To such men the expediency of founding a new capital was an
obvious device; or, if indisposed to undertake so laborious a task, the
removal of the imperial residence to some other of the great towns was
an effectual substitute. It was thus that the residence of Diocletian at
Nicomedia produced such disastrous consequences in a short time to Rome.

[Sidenote: He resolves on removing the metropolis.]

After Constantine had murdered his son Crispus, his nephew Licinius, and
had suffocated in a steam-bath his wife Fausta, to whom he had been
married twenty years, and who was the mother of three of his sons, the
public abhorrence of his crimes could no longer be concealed. A
pasquinade, comparing his reign to that of Nero, was affixed to the
palace gate. The guilty emperor, in the first burst of anger, was on the
point of darkening the tragedy, if such a thing had been possible, by a
massacre of the Roman populace who had thus insulted him. It is said
that his brothers were consulted on this measure of vengeance. The
result of their counsel was even more deadly, for it was resolved to
degrade Rome to a subordinate rank, and build a metropolis elsewhere.

[Sidenote: He is a protector, but not a convert.]

Political conditions thus at once suggested and rendered possible the
translation of the seat of government: the temporary motive was the
vengeance of a great criminal. Perhaps, also, in the mental occupation
incident to such an undertaking, the emperor found a refuge from the
accusations of conscience. But it is altogether erroneous to suppose
that either at this time, or for many years subsequently, he was a
Christian. His actions are not those of a devout convert; he was no
proselyte, but a protector; never guiding himself by religious
principles, but now giving the most valuable support to his new allies,
now exhibiting the impartiality of a statesman for both forms of faith.
In his character of Pontifex Maximus he restored pagan temples, and
directed that the haruspices should be consulted. On the festival of the
birthday of the new city he honoured the statue of Fortune. The
continued heathen sacrifices and open temples seemed to indicate that he
intended to do no more than place the new religion on a level with the
old. His recommendation to the Bishop of Alexandria and to Arius of the
example of the philosophers, who never debated profound questions before
ignorant audiences, and who could differ without hating one another,
illustrates the indifferentism of his personal attitude, and yet he
clearly recognized his obligations to the party that had given him
power.

[Sidenote: His tendencies to Paganism.]

This conclusion is confirmed by the works of Constantine himself. They
must be regarded as far better authority than the writings of religious
polemics. A medal was struck, on which was impressed his title of "God,"
together with the monogram of Christ. Another represented him as raised
by a hand from the sky while seated in the chariot of the Sun. But more
particularly the great porphyry pillar, a column 120 feet in height,
exhibited the true religious condition of the founder of Constantinople.
The statue on its summit mingled together the Sun, the Saviour, and the
Emperor. Its body was a colossal image of Apollo, whose features were
replaced by those of Constantine, and round the head, like rays, were
fixed the nails of the cross of Christ recently discovered in Jerusalem.

[Sidenote: His relations to the Church.]

The position of a patron assumed by Constantine may be remarked in many
of the incidents of his policy. The edict of Milan gave liberty both to
Pagans and Christians; but his necessity for showing in some degree a
preponderance of favour for the latter obliged him to issue a rescript
exempting the clergy from civil offices. It was this also which led him
to conciliate the bishops by the donation of large sums of money for the
restoration of their churches and other purposes, and to exert himself,
often by objectionable means, for destroying that which they who were
around him considered to be heresy. A better motive, perhaps, led him to
restore those Christians who had been degraded; to surrender to the
legal heirs the confiscated estates of martyrs, or, if no heirs were to
be found, to convey them to the Church; to set at liberty those who had
been condemned to the mines; to recall those who had been banished. If,
as a tribute to the Christians, who had sustained him politically, he
made the imperial treasury responsible for many of their losses; if he
caused costly churches to be built not only in the great cities, but
even in the Holy Land; if he vindicated the triumphant position of his
supporters by forbidding any Jew to have a Christian slave; if he
undertook to enforce the decisions of councils by means of the power of
the state; if he forbade all schism in the Church, himself determining
the degrees of heresy under the inspirations of his ecclesiastical
entourage, his vacillations show how little he was guided by principle,
how much by policy. After the case of the Donatists had been settled by
repeated councils, he spontaneously recalled them from banishment; after
he had denounced Arius as "the very image of the Devil," he, through the
influence of court females, received him again into favour; after the
temple of Æsculapius at Ægæ had been demolished, and the doors and roofs
of others removed, the pagans were half conciliated by perceiving that
no steady care was taken to enforce the obnoxious decrees, and that,
after all, the Christians would have to accept the declarations of the
emperor for deeds.

[Sidenote: Consequences of building a new metropolis.]

In a double respect the removal of the seat of empire was important to
Christianity. It rendered possible the assumption of power by the
bishops of Rome, who were thereby secluded from imperial observation and
inspection, and whose position, feeble at first, under such singularly
auspicious circumstances was at last developed into papal supremacy. In
Constantinople, also, there were no pagan recollections and interests to
contend with. At first the new city was essentially Roman, and its
language Latin; but this was soon changed for Greek, and thus the
transference of the seat of government tended in the end to make Latin a
sacred tongue.

[Sidenote: The policy of Constantine.]

Constantine knew very well where Roman power had for many years lain.
His own history, from the time of his father's death and his exaltation
by the legions at York, had taught him that, for the perpetuation of his
dynasty and system, those formidable bodies must be disposed of. It was
for this reason, and that no future commander might do what himself and
so many of his predecessors had done, that he reduced the strength of
the legion from 6000 to 1500 or 1000 men. For this reason, too, he
opened to ambition the less dangerous field of ecclesiastical wealth and
dignity, justly concluding that, since the clergy came from every class
of society, the whole people would look to the prosperity of the Church.
By exempting the priesthood from burdensome municipal offices, such as
the decurionate, he put a premium on apostacy from paganism. The
interest he personally took in the Trinitarian controversy encouraged
the spreading of theological disputation from philosophers and men of
capacity to the populace. Under the old polytheism heresy was
impossible, since every man might select his god and his worship; but
under the new monotheism it was inevitable--heresy, a word that provokes
and justifies a black catalogue of crimes. Occupied in those exciting
pursuits, men took but little heed of the more important political
changes that were in progress. The eyes of the rabble were easily turned
from the movements of the government by horse-racing, theatres,
largesses. Yet already this diversion of ambition into new fields gave
tokens of dangers to the state in future times. The Donatists, whom
Constantine had attempted to pacify by the Councils of Rome, Arles, and
Milan, maintained a more than religious revolt, and exhibited the
bitterness that may be infused among competitors for ecclesiastical
spoils. These enthusiasts assumed to themselves the title of God's
elect, proclaimed that the only true apostolic succession was in their
bishops, and that whosoever denied the right of Donatus to be Bishop of
Carthage should be eternally damned. They asked, with a truth that lent
force to their demand, "What has the emperor to do with the Church, what
have Christians to do with kings, what have bishops to do at court?"
Already the Catholic party, in preparation of its commencing atrocities,
ominously inquired, "Is the vengeance of God to be defrauded of its
victims?" Already Constantine, by bestowing on the Church the right of
receiving bequests, had given birth to that power which, reposing on the
influence that always attaches to the possession of land, becomes at
last overwhelming when it is held by a corporation which may always
receive and can never alienate, which is always renewing itself and can
never die. It was by no miraculous agency, but simply by its
organization, that the Church attained to power; an individual who must
die, and a family which must become extinct, had no chance against a
corporation whose purposes were ever unchanged, and its life perpetual.
But it was not the state alone which thus took detriment from her
connection with the Church; the latter paid a full price for the
temporal advantages she received in admitting civil intervention in her
affairs. After a retrospect of a thousand years, the pious Fratricelli
loudly proclaimed their conviction that the fatal gift of a Christian
emperor had been the doom of true religion.

[Sidenote: His conversion and death.]

From the rough soldier who accepted the purple at York, how great the
change to the effeminate emperor of the Bosphorus, in silken robes
stiffened with threads of gold, a diadem of sapphires and pearls, and
false hair stained of various tints; his steps stealthily guarded by
mysterious eunuchs flitting through the palace, the streets full of
spies, and an ever-watchful police! The same man who approaches us as
the Roman imperator retires from us as the Asiatic despot. In the last
days of his life, he put aside the imperial purple, and, assuming the
customary white garment, prepared for baptism, that the sins of his long
and evil life might all be washed away. Since complete purification can
thus be only once obtained, he was desirous to procrastinate that
ceremony to the last moment. Profoundly politic, even in his relations
with heaven, he thenceforth reclined on a white bed, took no further
part in worldly affairs, and, having thus insured a right to the
continuance of that prosperity in a future life which he had enjoyed in
this, expired, A.D. 337.

[Sidenote: The Trinitarian controversy.]

In a theological respect, among the chief events of this emperor's reign
are the Trinitarian controversy and the open materialization of
Christianity. The former, commencing among the Platonizing
ecclesiastics of Alexandria, continued for ages to exert a formidable
influence. From time immemorial, as we have already related, the
Egyptians had been familiar with various trinities, different ones being
worshipped in different cities, the devotees of each exercising a
peaceful toleration toward those of others. But now things were greatly
changed. It was the settled policy of Constantine to divert ambition
from the state to the Church, and to make it not only safer, but more
profitable to be a great ecclesiastic than a successful soldier. A
violent competition, for the chief offices was the consequence--a
competition, the prelude of that still greater one for episcopal
supremacy.

We are now again brought to a consideration of the variations of opinion
which marked this age. It would be impossible to give a description of
them all. I therefore propose to speak only of the prominent ones. They
are a sufficient guide in our investigation; and of the Trinitarian
controversy first.

[Sidenote: Prelude of sectarian dissent.]

For some time past dissensions had been springing up in the Church. Even
out of persecution itself disunion had arisen. The martyrs who had
suffered for their faith, and the confessors who had nobly avowed it,
gained a worthy consideration and influence, becoming the intermedium of
reconciliation of such of their weaker brethren as had apostatized in
times of peril by authoritative recommendations to "the peace of the
Church." From this abuses arose. Martyrs were known to have given the
use of their names to "a man and his friends;" nay, it was even asserted
that tickets of recommendation had been bought for money; and as it was
desirable that a uniformity of discipline should obtain in all the
churches, so that he who was excommunicated from one should be
excommunicated from all, it was necessary that these abuses should be
corrected. In the controversies that ensued, Novatus founded his sect on
the principle that penitent apostates should, under no circumstances, be
ever again received. Besides this dissent on a question of discipline,
already there were abundant elements of dispute, such as the time of
observance of Easter, the nature of Christ, the millennium upon earth,
and rebaptism. Already, in Syria, Noetus, the Unitarian, had
foreshadowed what was coming; already there were Patripassians; already
Sabellianism existed.

[Sidenote: Arius, his doctrines.]

[Sidenote: Constantine attempts to check the controversy,]

[Sidenote: and summons the Council of Nicea.]

But it was in Alexandria that the tempest burst forth. There lived in
that city a presbyter of the name of Arius, who, on occasion of a
vacancy occurring, desired to be appointed bishop. But one Alexander
supplanted him in the coveted dignity. Both relied on numerous
supporters, Arius counting among his not less than seven hundred virgins
of the Mareotic nome. In his disappointment he accused his successful
antagonist of Sabellianism, and, in retaliation, was anathematized. It
was no wonder that, in such an atmosphere, the question quickly assumed
a philosophical aspect. The point of difficulty was to define the
position of the Son in the Holy Trinity. Arius took the ground that
there was a time when, from the very nature of sonship, the Son did not
exist, and a time at which he commenced to be, asserting that it is the
necessary condition of the filial relation that a father must be older
than his son. But this assertion evidently might imply subordination or
inequality among the three persons of the Holy Trinity. The partisans of
Alexander raised up their voices against such a blasphemous lowering of
the Redeemer; the Arians answered them that, by exalting the Son in
every respect to an equality with the Father, they impugned the great
truth of the unity of God. The new bishop himself edified the giddy
citizens, and perhaps, in some degree, justified his appointment to his
place by displaying his rhetorical powers in public debates on the
question. The Alexandrians, little anticipating the serious and enduring
results soon to arise, amused themselves, with characteristic levity, by
theatrical representations of the contest upon the stage. The passions
of the two parties were roused; the Jews and Pagans, of whom the town
was full, exasperated things by their mocking derision. The dissension
spread: the whole country became convulsed. In the hot climate of
Africa, theological controversy soon ripened into political disturbance.
In all Egypt there was not a Christian man, and not a woman, who did
not proceed to settle the nature of the unity of God. The tumult rose to
such a pitch that it became necessary for the emperor to interfere.
Doubtless, at first, he congratulated himself on such a course of
events. It was better that the provinces should be fanatically engaged
in disputes than secretly employed in treason against his person or
conspiracies against his policy. A united people is an inconvenience to
one in power. Nevertheless, to compose the matter somewhat, he sent
Hosius, the Bishop of Cordova, to Alexandria; but, finding that the
remedy was altogether inadequate, he was driven at last to the memorable
expedient of summoning the Council of Nicea, A.D. 325. It attempted a
settlement of the trouble by a condemnation of Arius, and the
promulgation of authoritative articles of belief as set forth in the
Nicene Creed. As to the main point, the Son was declared to be of the
same substance with the Father--a temporizing and convenient, but, as
the event proved, a disastrous ambiguity. The Nicene Council, therefore,
settled the question by evading it, and the emperor enforced the
decision by the banishment of Arius.

[Sidenote: The fortunes of Arius.]

"I am persecuted," Arius plaintively said, "because I have taught that
the Son had a beginning and the Father had not." It was the influence of
the court theologians that had made the emperor his personal enemy.
Constantine, as we have seen, had looked upon the dispute, in the first
instance, as altogether frivolous, if he did not, in truth, himself
incline to the assertion of Arius, that, in the very nature of the
thing, a father must be older than his son. The theatrical exhibitions
at Alexandria in mockery of the question were calculated to confirm him
in his opinion: his judgment was lost in the theories that were
springing up as to the nature of Christ; for on the Ebionitish, Gnostic,
and Platonic doctrines, as well as on the new one that "the logos" was
made out of nothing, it equally followed that the current opinion must
be erroneous, and that there was a time before which the Son did not
exist.

[Sidenote: His condemnation as a heretic.]

[Sidenote: The Nicene Creed.]

But, as the contest spread through churches and even families,
Constantine had found himself compelled to intervene. At first he
attempted the position of a moderator, but soon took ground against
Arius, advised to that course by his entourage at Constantinople. It was
at this time that the letter was circulated in which he denounced Arius
as the image of the Devil. Arius might now have foreseen what must
certainly occur at Nicea. Before that council was called everything was
settled. No contemporary for a moment supposed that this was an assembly
of simple-hearted men, anxious by a mutual comparison of thought, to
ascertain the truth. Its aim was not to compose such a creed as would
give unity to the Church, but one so worded that the Arians would be
compelled to refuse to sign it, and so ruin themselves. To the creed was
attached an anathema precisely defining the point of dispute, and
leaving the foreordained victims no chance of escape. The original
Nicene Creed differed in some essential particulars from that now
current under that title. Among other things, the fatal and final clause
has been dropped. Thus it ran: "The Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church
anathematizes those who say that there was a time when the Son of God
was not; and that before he was begotten he was not, and that he was
made out of nothing, or out of another substance or essence, and is
created, or changeable, or alterable." The emperor enforced the decision
of the council by the civil power; he circulated letters denouncing
Arius, and initiated those fearful punishments unhappily destined in
future ages to become so frequent, by ordaining that whoever should find
one of the books of Arius and not burn it should actually be put to
death.

[Sidenote: Arius received again into court favour,]

[Sidenote: and is poisoned.]

It might be thought that, after such a decisive course, it would be
impossible to change, and yet in less than ten years Constantine is
found agreeing with the convict Arius. A presbyter in the confidence of
Constantia, the emperor's sister, had wrought upon him. Athanasius, now
Bishop of Alexandria, the representative of the other party, is deposed
and banished. Arius is invited to Constantinople. The emperor orders
Alexander, the bishop of that city, to receive him into communion
to-morrow. It is Saturday. Alexander flees to the church, and, falling
prostrate, prays to God that he will interpose and save his servant from
being forced into this sin, even if it should be by death. That same
evening Arius was seized with a sudden and violent illness as he passed
along the street, and in a few moments he was found dead in a house,
whither he had hastened. In Constantinople, where men were familiar with
Asiatic crimes, there was more than a suspicion of poison. But when
Alexander's party proclaimed that his prayer had been answered, they
forgot what then that prayer must have been, and that the difference is
little between praying for the death of a man and compassing it.

[Sidenote: Constantine prepares for a new creed.]

The Arians affirmed that it was the intention of Constantine to have
called a new council, and have the creed rectified according to his more
recent ideas; but, before he could accomplish this, he was overtaken by
death. So little efficacy was there in the determination of the Council
of Nicea, that for many years afterward creed upon creed appeared. What
Constantine's new creed would have been may be told from the fact that
the Consubstantialists had gone out of power, and from what his son
Constantius soon after did at the Council of Ariminium.

[Sidenote: Spread of theological disputes.]

[Sidenote: Athanasius rebels against the emperor.]

[Sidenote: Steady aggression of the Church and crimes of ecclesiastics.]

So far, therefore, from the Council of Nicea ending the controversies
afflicting religion, they continued with increasing fury. The sons and
successors of Constantine set an example of violence in these disputes;
and, until the barbarians burst in upon the empire, the fourth century
wore away in theological feuds. Even the populace, scarcely emerged from
paganism, set itself up for a judge on questions from their very nature
incapable of being solved; and to this the government gave an impetus by
making the profits of public service the reward of sectarian violence.
The policy of Constantine began to produce its results. Mental activity
and ambition found their true field in ecclesiastical affairs. Orthodoxy
triumphed, because it was more in unison with the present necessity of
the court, while asserting the predominance of Christianity, to offend
as little as might be the pagan party. The heresy of Arius, though it
might suit the monotheistic views of the educated, did not commend
itself to that large mass who had been so recently pagan. Already the
elements of dissension were obvious enough; on one side there was an
illiterate, intolerant, unscrupulous, credulous, numerous body, on the
other a refined, better-informed, yet doubting sect. The Emperor
Constantius, guided by his father's latest principles, having sided with
the Arian party, soon found that under the new system a bishop would,
without hesitation, oppose his sovereign. Athanasius, the Bishop of
Alexandria, as the head of the orthodox party, became the personal
antagonist of the emperor, who attempted, after vainly using physical
compulsion, to resort to the celestial weapons in vogue by laying claim
to Divine inspiration. Like his father, he had a celestial vision; but,
as his views were Arian, the orthodox rejected without scruple his
supernatural authority, and Hilary of Poictiers wrote a book to prove
that he was Antichrist. The horrible bloodshed and murders attending
these quarrels in the great cities, and the private life of persons both
of high and low degree, clearly showed that Christianity, through its
union with politics, had fallen into such a state that it could no
longer control the passions of men. The biography of the sons of
Constantine is an awful relation of family murders. Religion had
disappeared, theology had come in its stead. Even theology had gone mad.
But in the midst of these disputes worldly interests were steadily kept
in view. At the Council of Ariminium, A.D. 359, an attempt was made to
have the lands belonging to the churches exempt from all taxation; to
his credit, the emperor steadfastly refused. Macedonius, the Bishop of
Constantinople, who had passed over the slaughtered bodies of three
thousand people to take possession of his episcopal throne, exceeded in
heresy even Arius himself, by not only asserting the inferiority of the
Son to the Father, but by absolutely denying the divinity of the Holy
Ghost.

[Sidenote: Two results of these events.]

As the fruits of these broils, two facts appear: 1st, that there is a
higher law, which the faithful may obey, in opposition to the law of the
land, when it suits their views; the law of God, as expounded by the
bishop, who can eternally punish the soul, must take precedence of the
law of Cæsar, who can only kill the body and seize the goods; 2d, that
there is a supremacy in the Bishop of Rome, to whom Athanasius, the
leader of the orthodox, by twice visiting that city, submitted his
cause. The significance of these facts becomes conspicuous in later
ages. Things were evidently shaping themselves for a trial of strength
between the imperial and ecclesiastical powers, heretofore allied. They
were about to quarrel over their booty.

[Sidenote: History of Papal supremacy.]

We have now to consider this asserted supremacy of the Bishop of Rome,
and how it came to be established as a political fact. We must also turn
from the Oriental variations of opinion to those of the West. Except by
thus enlarging the field to be traversed, we can gain no perfect
conception of the general intellectual tendency.

[Sidenote: Hellenized Christianity.]

For long after its introduction to Western Europe, Christianity was
essentially a Greek religion. Its Oriental aspect had become Hellenized.
Its churches had, in the first instance, a Greek organization, conducted
their worship in that tongue, and composed their writings in it. Though
it retained much of this foreign aspect so long as Rome continued to be
the residence, or was more particularly under the eye of the emperors,
it was gradually being affected by the influences to which it was
exposed. On Western Europe, the questions which had so profoundly
agitated the East, such as the nature of God, the Trinity, the cause of
evil, had made but little impression, the intellectual peculiarity of
the people being unsuited to such exercises. The foundation of
Constantinople, by taking off the political pressure, permitted native
peculiarities to manifest themselves, and Latin Christianity emerged in
contradistinction to Greek.

[Sidenote: Modified by Africanism.]

Yet still it cannot be said that Europe owes its existing forms of
Christianity to a Roman origin. It is indebted to Africa for them. We
live under African domination.

I have now with brevity to relate the progress of this interesting
event; how African conceptions were firmly established in Rome, and, by
the time that Greek Christianity had lost its expansive power and ceased
to be aggressive, African Christianity took its place, extending to the
North and West, and obtaining for itself an organization copied from
that of the Roman empire; sacerdotal prætors, proconsuls, and a Cæsar;
developing its own jurisprudence, establishing its own magistracy,
exchanging the Greek tongue it had hitherto used for the Latin, which,
soon becoming a sacred language, conferred upon it the most singular
advantages.

[Sidenote: Subordinate position of the early Roman Church.]

The Greek churches were of the nature of confederated republics; the
Latin Church instinctively tended to monarchy. Far from assuming an
attitude of conspicuous dignity, the primitive bishops of Rome led a
life of obscurity. In the earliest times, the bishops of Jerusalem, of
whom James, the brother of our Lord, was the first, are spoken of as the
heads of the Church, and so regarded even in Rome itself. The
controversy respecting Easter, A.D. 109, shows, however, how soon the
disposition for Western supremacy was exhibited, Victor, the Bishop of
Rome, requiring the Asiatic bishops to conform to the view of his Church
respecting the time at which the festival of Easter should be observed,
and being resisted therein by Polycrates, the Bishop of Ephesus, on
behalf of the Eastern churches, the feud continuing until the
determination of the Council of Nicea. It was not in Asia alone that the
growth of Roman supremacy was resisted. There is no difficulty in
selecting from ecclesiastical history proofs of the same feeling in many
other quarters. Thus, when the disciples of Montanus, the Phrygian, who
pretended to be the Paraclete, had converted to their doctrines and
austerities the Bishop of Rome and Tertullian the Carthaginian, on the
former backsliding from that faith, the latter denounced him as a
Patripassian heretic. Yet, for the most part, a good understanding
obtained not only between Rome and Carthage, but also among the Gallic
and Spanish churches, who looked upon Rome as conspicuous and
illustrious, though as no more than equal to themselves. At the Council
of Carthage St. Cyprian said, "None of us ought to set himself up as a
bishop of bishops, or pretend tyrannically to restrain his colleagues,
because each bishop has a liberty and power to act as he thinks fit, and
can no more be judged by another bishop than he can judge another. But
we must all wait for the judgment of Jesus Christ, to whom alone belongs
the power to set us over the Church, and to judge of our actions."

[Sidenote: Its gradual increase in wealth and influence,]

Rome by degrees emerged from this equality, not by the splendid talents
of any illustrious man, for among her early bishops none rose above
mediocrity, but partly from her political position, partly from the
great wealth she soon accumulated, and partly from the policy she
happened to follow. Her bishop was not present at the Council of Nicea,
A.D. 325, nor at that of Sardica, A.D. 345; perhaps on these occasions,
as on others of a like kind subsequently, the immediate motive of his
standing aloof was the fear that he might not receive the presidency.
Soon, however, was discerned the advantage of the system of appearing by
representatives. Such an attitude, moreover, offered the opportunity of
frequently holding the balance of power in the fierce conflicts that
soon arose, made Rome a retreat for the discomfited ecclesiastic, and
her bishop, apparently, an elevated and unbiased arbiter on his case. It
was thus that Athanasius, in his contests with the emperor, found a
refuge and protector. With this elevated position in the esteem of
strangers came also domestic dignity. The prodigal gifts of the rich
Roman ladies had already made the bishopric to be sought after by those
who esteem the ease and luxuries of life, as well as by the ambitious.
Fierce contests arose on the occurrence of vacancies. At the election of
Damasus, one hundred and thirty of the slain lay in the basilica of
Sisinnius: the competitors had called in the aid of a rabble of
gladiators, charioteers, and other ruffians; nor could the riots be
ended except by the intervention of the imperial troops.

[Sidenote: and early corruptions.]

It was none too soon that Jerome introduced the monastic system at
Rome--there was need of a change to austerity; none too soon that
legacy-hunting on the part of the clergy was prohibited by law--it had
become a public scandal; none too soon that Jerome struggled for the
patronage of the rich Roman women; none too soon that this stern
fanatic denounced the immorality of the Roman clergy, when even the
Bishop Damasus himself was involved in a charge of adultery. It became
clear, if the clergy would hold their ground in public estimation
against their antagonists the monks, that celibacy must be insisted on.
The doctrine of the pre-eminent value of virginity was steadily making
progress; but it cost many years of struggle before the monks carried
their point, and the celibacy of the clergy became compulsory.

[Sidenote: Necessity for an apostolic head.]

It had long been seen by those who hoped for Roman supremacy that there
was a necessity for the establishment of a definite and ascertained
doctrine--a necessity for recognizing some apostolic man, who might be
the representative of a criterion of truth. The Eastern system of
deciding by councils was in its nature uncertain. The councils
themselves had no ascertained organization. Experience had shown that
they were too much under the control of the court at Constantinople.

[Sidenote: Necessity for Councils or a pontiff.]

This tendency to accept the republican decisions of councils in the
East, and monarchical ones by a supreme pontiff in the West, in reality,
however, depended on a common sentiment entertained by reflecting men
everywhere. Something must be done to check the anarchy of opinion.

To show how this tendency was satisfied, it will be sufficient to
select, out of the numberless controversies of the times, a few leading
ones. A clear light is thrown upon the matter by the history of the
Pelagian, Nestorian, and Eutychian heresies. Their chronological period
is from about A.D. 400 to A.D. 450.

[Sidenote: The Pelagian controversy].

[Sidenote: Effect of Pelagianism on papal superiority.]

Pelagius was the assumed name of a British monk, who, about the first of
those dates, passed through Western Europe and Northern Africa, teaching
the doctrines that Adam was by nature mortal, and that, if he had not
sinned, he nevertheless would have died; that the consequences of his
sin were confined to himself, and did not affect his posterity; that
new-born infants are in the same condition as Adam before his fall; that
we are at birth as pure as he was; that we sin by our own free will,
and in the same manner may reform, and thereby work out our own
salvation; that the grace of God is given according to our merits. He
was repelled from Africa by the influence of St. Augustine, and
denounced in Palestine from the cell of Jerome. He specially insisted on
this, that it is not the mere act of baptizing by water that washes away
sin, sin can only be removed by good works. Infants are baptized before
it is possible that they could have sinned. On the contrary, Augustine
resisted these doctrines, resting himself on the words of Scripture that
baptism is for the remission of sins. The case of children compelled
that father to introduce the doctrine of original sin as derived from
Adam, notwithstanding the dreadful consequences if they die unbaptized.
In like manner also followed the doctrines of predestination, grace,
atonement.

Summoned before a synod at Diospolis, Pelagius was unexpectedly
acquitted of heresy--an extraordinary decision, which brought Africa and
the East into conflict. Under these circumstances, perhaps without a
clear foresight of the issue, the matter was referred to Rome as arbiter
or judge.

[Sidenote: Settlement of the Pelagian question by the Africans.]

In his decision, Innocent I., magnifying the dignity of the Roman see
and the advantage of such a supreme tribunal, determined in favour of
the African bishops. But scarcely had he done this when he died, and his
successor, Zosimus, annulled his judgment, and declared the opinions of
Pelagius to be orthodox. Carthage now put herself in an attitude of
resistance. There was danger of a metaphysical or theological Punic war.
Meantime the wily Africans quietly procured from the emperor an edict
denouncing Pelagius as a heretic. Through the influence of Count
Valerius the faith of Europe was settled; the heresiarchs and their
accomplices were condemned to exile and forfeiture of their estates; the
contested doctrine that Adam was created without any liability to death
was established by law; to deny it was a state crime. Thus it appears
that the vacillating papacy was not yet strong enough to exalt itself
above its equals, and the orthodoxy of Europe was for ever determined by
an obscure court intrigue.

[Sidenote: The Nestorian controversy.]

Scarcely was the Pelagian controversy disposed of when a new heresy
appeared. Nestorius, the Bishop of Antioch, attempted to distinguish
between the divine and human nature of Christ; he considered that they
had become too much confounded, and that "the God" ought to be kept
separate from "the Man." Hence it followed that the Virgin Mary should
not be regarded as the "Mother of God," but only the "Mother of
Christ--the God-man." Called by the Emperor Theodosius the Younger to
the episcopate of Constantinople, A.D. 427, Nestorius was very quickly
plunged by the intrigues of a disappointed faction of that city into
disputes with the populace.

[Sidenote: The doctrines of Nestorius.]

Let us hear the Bishop of Constantinople himself; he is preaching in the
great metropolitan church, setting forth, with all the eloquence of
which language is capable, the attributes of the illimitable, the
everlasting, the Almighty God. "And can this God have a mother? The
heathen notion of a god born of a mortal mother is directly confuted by
St. Paul, who declares the Lord to be without father and without mother.
Could a creature bear the uncreated?" He thus insisted that what was
born of Mary was human, and the divine was added afterwards. At once the
monks raised a riot in the city, and Cyril, the Bishop of Alexandria,
espoused their cause.

Beneath the outraged orthodoxy of Cyril lay an ill-concealed motive, the
desire of the Bishop of Alexandria to humble the Bishop of
Constantinople. The uproar commenced with sermons, epistles, addresses.
Instigated by the monks of Alexandria, the monks of Constantinople took
up arms in behalf of "the Mother of God." Again we remark the eminent
position of Rome. Both parties turn to her as an arbiter. Pope Celestine
assembles a synod. The Bishop of Constantinople is ordered by the Bishop
of Rome to recant, or hold himself under excommunication, Italian
supremacy is emerging through Oriental disputes, yet not without a
struggle. Relying on his influence at court, Nestorius resists,
excommunicates Cyril, and the emperor summons a council to meet at
Ephesus.

[Sidenote: Overthrow of Nestorianism by the Africans.]

[Sidenote: Worship of the Virgin Mary.]

To that council Nestorius repaired, with sixteen bishops and some of
the city populace. Cyril collected fifty, together with a rabble of
sailors, bath-men, and women of the baser sort. The imperial
commissioner with his troops with difficulty repressed the tumult of the
assembly. The rescript was fraudulently read before the arrival of the
Syrian bishops. In one day the matter was completed; the Virgin's party
triumphed, and Nestorius was deposed. On the arrival of the Syrian
ecclesiastics, a meeting of protest was held by them. A riot, with much
bloodshed, occurred in the Cathedral of St. John. The emperor was again
compelled to interfere; he ordered eight deputies from each party to
meet him at Chalcedon. In the meantime court intrigues decided the
matter. The emperor's sister was in after times celebrated by the party
of Cyril as having been the cause of the discomfiture of Nestorius: "the
Holy Virgin of the court of Heaven had found an ally of her own sex in
the holy virgin of the emperor's court." But there were also other very
efficient auxiliaries. In the treasury of the chief eunuch, which some
time after there was occasion to open, was discovered an acknowledgment
of many pounds of gold received by him from Cyril, through Paul, his
sister's son. Nestorius was abandoned by the court, and eventually
exiled to an Egyptian oasis. An edifying legend relates that his
blasphemous tongue was devoured by worms, and that from the heats of an
Egyptian desert he escaped only into the hotter torments of Hell.

So, again, in the affair of Nestorius as in that of Pelagius, Africa
triumphed, and the supremacy of Rome, her ally or confederate, was
becoming more and more distinct.

[Sidenote: The Eutychian controversy.]

A very important result in this gradual evolution of Roman supremacy
arose from the affair of Eutyches, the Archimandrite of a convent of
monks at Constantinople. He had distinguished himself as a leader in the
riots occurring at the time of Nestorius and in other subsequent
troubles. Accused before a synod held in Constantinople of denying the
two natures of Christ, of saying that if there be two natures there must
be two Sons, Eutyches was convicted, and sentence of excommunication
passed upon him. This was, however, only the ostensible cause of his
condemnation; the true motive was connected with a court intrigue. The
chief eunuch, who was his godson, was occupied in a double movement to
elevate Eutyches to the see of Constantinople, and to destroy the
authority of Pulcheria, the emperor's sister, by Eudocia, the emperor's
wife. On his condemnation, Eutyches appealed to the emperor, who
summoned, at the instigation of the eunuch, a council to meet at
Ephesus. This was the celebrated "Robber Synod," as it was called. It
pronounced in favour of the orthodoxy of Eutyches, and ordered his
restoration, deposing the Bishop of Constantinople, Flavianus, who was
his rival, and at the synod had been his judge and also Eusebius, who
had been his accuser. A riot ensued, in which the Bishop of
Constantinople was murdered by the Bishop of Alexandria and one
Barsumas, who beat him with their fists amid cries of "Kill him! kill
him!" The Italian legates made their escape from the uproar with
difficulty.

The success of these movements was mainly due to Dioscorus, the Bishop
of Alexandria, who thus accomplished the overthrow of his rivals of
Antioch and Constantinople. An imperial edict gave force to the
determination of the council. At this point the Bishop of Rome
intervened, refusing to acknowledge the proceedings. It was well that
Alexandria and Constantinople should be perpetually struggling, but it
was not well that either should become paramount. Dioscorus thereupon
broke off communion with him. Rome and Alexandria were at issue.

[Sidenote: Another advance of Rome to power through Eutychianism.]

In a fortunate moment the emperor died; his sister, the orthodox
Pulcheria, the friend of Leo, married Marcian, and made him emperor. A
council was summoned at Chalcedon. Leo wished it to be in Italy, where
no one could have disputed his presidency. As it was, he fell back on
the ancient policy, and appeared by representatives. Dioscorus was
overthrown, and sentence pronounced against him, in behalf of the
council, by one of the representatives of Leo. It set forth that "Leo,
therefore, by their voice, and with the authority of the council, in the
name of the Apostle Peter, the Rock and foundation of the Church,
deposes Dioscorus from his episcopal dignity, and excludes him from all
Christian rites and privileges."

[Sidenote: The rivalry of Constantinople.]

But, perhaps that no permanent advantage might accrue to Rome from the
eminent position she was attaining in these transactions, when most of
the prelates had left the council, a few, who were chiefly of the
diocese of Constantinople, passed, among other canons, one to the effect
that the supremacy of the Roman see was not in right of its descent from
St. Peter, but because it was the bishopric of an imperial city. It
assigned, therefore, to the Bishop of Constantinople equal civil dignity
and ecclesiastical authority. Rome ever refused to recognize the
validity of this canon.

[Sidenote: Rivalries of the three great bishops.]

In these contests of Rome, Constantinople, and Alexandria for
supremacy--for, after all, they were nothing more than the rivalries of
ambitious placemen for power--the Roman bishop uniformly came forth the
gainer. And it is to be remarked that he deserved to be so; his course
was always dignified, often noble; theirs exhibited a reckless scramble
for influence, an unscrupulous resort to bribery, court intrigue,
murder.

[Sidenote: Nature of ecclesiastical councils.]

Thus the want of a criterion of truth, and a determination to arrest a
spirit of inquiry that had become troublesome, led to the introduction
of councils, by which, in an authoritative manner, theological questions
might be settled. But it is to be observed that these councils did not
accredit themselves by the coincidence of their decisions on successive
occasions, since they often contradicted one another; nor did they
sustain those decisions only with a moral influence arising from the
understanding of man, enlightened by their investigations and
conclusions. Their human character is clearly shown by the necessity
under which they laboured of enforcing their arbitrary conclusions by
the support of the civil power. The same necessity which, in the
monarchical East, led thus to the republican form of a council, led in
the democratic West to the development of the autocratic papal power:
but in both it was found that the final authority thus appealed to had
no innate or divinely derived energy. It was altogether helpless except
by the aid of military or civil compulsion against any one disposed to
resist it.

No other opinion could be entertained of the character of these
assemblages by men of practical ability who had been concerned in their
transactions. Gregory of Nazianzen, one of the most pious and able men
of his age, and one who, during a part of its sittings, was president of
the Council of Constantinople, A.D. 381, refused subsequently to attend
any more, saying that he had never known an assembly of bishops
terminate well; that, instead of removing evils, they only increased
them, and that their strifes and lust of power were not to be described.
A thousand years later, Æneas Sylvius, Pope Pius II., speaking of
another council, observes that it was not so much directed by the Holy
Ghost as by the passions of men.

[Sidenote: Progressive variation of human thought manifested by these
councils.]

[Sidenote: Pontifical power sustained by physical force.]

Notwithstanding the contradictions and opposition they so frequently
exhibit, there may be discerned in the decisions of these bodies the
traces of an affiliation indicating the continuous progression of
thought. Thus, of the four oecumenical councils that were concerned
with the facts spoken of in the preceding pages, that of Nicea
determined the Son to be of the same substance with the Father; that of
Constantinople, that the Son and Holy Spirit are equal to the Father;
that of Ephesus, that the two natures of Christ make but one person; and
that of Chalcedon, that these natures remain two, notwithstanding their
personal union. But that they failed of their object in constituting a
criterion of truth is plainly demonstrated by such simple facts as that,
in the fourth century alone, there were thirteen councils adverse to
Arius, fifteen in his favour, and seventeen for the semi-Arians--in all,
forty-five. From such a confusion, it was necessary that the councils
themselves must be subordinate to a higher authority--a higher
criterion, able to give to them or refuse to them authenticity. That the
source of power, both for the council in the East and the papacy in the
West, was altogether political, is proved by almost every transaction in
which they were concerned. In the case of the papacy, this was well seen
in the contest between Hilary the Bishop of Arles, and Leo, on which
occasion an edict was issued by the Emperor Valentinian denouncing the
contumacy of Hilary, and setting forth that "though the sentence of so
great a pontiff as the Bishop of Rome did not need imperial
confirmation, yet that it must now be understood by all bishops that the
decrees of the apostolic see should henceforth be law, and that whoever
refused to obey the citation of the Roman pontiff should be compelled to
do so by the Moderator of the province." Herein we see the intrinsic
nature of Papal power distinctly. It is allied with physical force.

[Sidenote: The fall of Rome.]

In the midst of these theological disputes occurred that great event
which I have designated as marking the close of the age of Inquiry. It
was the fall of Rome.

[Sidenote: Spread of the barbarians.]

[Sidenote: Capture and sack of Rome by Alaric.]

In the Eastern empire the Goths had become permanently settled, having
laws of their own, a magistracy of their own, paying no taxes, but
contributing 40,000 men to the army. The Visigoths were spreading
through Greece, Spain, Italy. In their devastations of the former
country, they had spared Athens, for the sake of her souvenirs. The
Eleusinian mysteries had ceased. From that day Greece never saw
prosperity again. Alaric entered Italy. Stilicho, the imperial general,
forced him to retreat. Rhadogast made his invasion. Stilicho compelled
him to surrender at discretion. The Burgundians and Vandals overflowed
Gaul; the Suevi, Vandals, and Alans overflowed Spain. Stilicho, a man
worthy of the old days of the republic, though a Goth, was murdered by
the emperor his master. Alaric appeared before Rome. It was 619 years
since she had felt the presence of a foreign enemy, and that was
Hannibal. She still contained 1780 senatorial palaces, the annual income
of some of the owners of which was 160,000_l._ The city was eighteen
miles in circumference, and contained above a million of people--of
people, as in old times clamorous for distributions of bread, and wine,
and oil. In its conscious despair, the apostate city, it is said, with
the consent of the pope, offered sacrifice to Jupiter, its repudiated,
and, as it now believed, its offended god. 200,000_l._, together with
many costly goods, were paid as a ransom. The barbarian general retired.
He was insulted by the emperor from his fastness at Ravenna.
Altercations and new marches ensued; and at last, for the third time,
Alaric appeared before Rome. At midnight on the 24th of April, A.D. 410,
eleven hundred and sixty-three years from the foundation of the city,
the Salarian gate was opened to him by the treachery of slaves; there
was no god to defend her in her dire extremity, and Rome was sacked by
the Goths.

[Sidenote: Accusations of the Pagans against the Christians.]

Has the Eternal City really fallen! was the universal exclamation
throughout the empire when it became known that Alaric had taken Rome.
Though paganism had been ruined in a national sense, the true Roman
ethnical element had never given it up, but was dying out with it, a
relic of the population of the city still adhering to the ancient faith.
Among this were not wanting many of the aristocratic families and
philosophers, who imputed the disaster to the public apostasy, and in
their shame and suffering loudly proclaimed that the nation was justly
punished for its abandonment of the gods of its forefathers, the gods
who had given victory and empire. It became necessary for the Church to
meet this accusation, which, while it was openly urged by thousands, was
doubtless believed to be true by silent, and timid, and panic-stricken
millions. With the intention of defending Christianity, St. Augustine,
one of the ablest of the fathers, solemnly devoted thirteen years of his
life to the composition of his great work entitled "The City of God." It
is interesting for us to remark the tone of some of these replies of the
Christians to their pagan adversaries.

[Sidenote: The Christian reply.]

"For the manifest deterioration of Roman manners, and for the impending
dissolution of the state, paganism itself is responsible. Our political
power is only of yesterday; it is in no manner concerned with the
gradual development of luxury and wickedness, which has been going on
for the last thousand years. Your ancestors made war a trade; they laid
under tribute and enslaved the adjacent nations, but were not
profusion, extravagance, dissipation, the necessary consequences of
conquest? was not Roman idleness the inevitable result of the filling of
Italy with slaves? Every hour rendered wider that bottomless gulf which
separates immense riches from abject poverty. Did not the middle class,
in which reside the virtue and strength of a nation, disappear, and
aristocratic families remain in Rome, whose estates in Syria or Spain,
Gaul or Africa, equalled, nay, even exceeded in extent and revenue
illustrious kingdoms, provinces for the annexation of which the republic
of old had decreed triumphs? Was there not in the streets a profligate
rabble living in total idleness, fed and amused at the expense of the
state? We are not answerable for the grinding oppression perpetrated on
the rural populations until they have been driven to despair, their
numbers so diminishing as to warn us that there is danger of their being
extinguished. We did not suggest to the Emperor Trajan to abandon Dacia,
and neglect that policy which fixed the boundaries of the empire at
strong military posts. We did not suggest to Caracalla to admit all
sorts of people to Roman citizenship, nor dislocate the population by a
wild pursuit of civil offices or the discharge of military duties. We
did not crowd Italy with slaves, nor make those miserable men more
degraded than the beasts of the field, compelling them to labours which
are the business of the brutes. We have taught and practised a very
different doctrine. We did not nightly put into irons the population of
provinces and cities reduced to bondage. We are not responsible for the
inevitable insurrections, poisonings, assassinations, vengeance. We did
not bring on that state of things in which a man having a patrimony
found it his best interest to abandon it without compensation and flee.
We did not demoralize the populace by providing them food, games, races,
theatres; we have been persecuted because we would not set our feet in a
theatre. We did not ruin the senate and aristocracy by sacrificing
everything, even ourselves, for the Julian family. We did not neutralize
the legions by setting them to fight against one another. We were not
the first to degrade Rome. Diocletian, who persecuted us, gave the
example by establishing his residence at Nicomedia. As to the sentiment
of patriotism of which you vaunt, was it not destroyed by your own
emperors? When they had made Roman citizens of Gauls and Egyptians,
Africans and Huns, Spaniards and Syrians, how could they expect that
such a motley crew would remain true to the interests of an Italian
town, and that town their hated oppressor. Patriotism depends on
concentration; it cannot bear diffusion. Something more than such a
worldly tie was wanted to bind the diverse nations together; they have
found it in Christianity. A common language imparts community of thought
and feeling; but what was to be expected when Greek is the language of
one half of the ruling classes, and Latin of the other? we say nothing
of the thousand unintelligible forms of speech in use throughout the
Roman world. The fall of the senate preceded, by a few years, the origin
of Christianity; you surely will not say that we were the inciters of
the usurpations of the Cæsars? What have we had to do with the army,
that engine of violence, which, in ninety-two years gave you thirty-two
emperors and twenty-seven pretenders to the throne? We did not suggest
to the Prætorian Guards to put up the empire to auction.

"Can you really wonder that all this should come to an end? We do not
wonder; on the contrary, we thank God for it. It is time that the human
race had rest. The sighing of the prisoner, the prayer of the captive,
are heard at last. Yet the judgment has been tempered with mercy. Had
the pagan Rhadogast taken Rome, not a life would have been spared, no
stone left on another. The Christian Alaric, though a Goth, respects his
Christian brethren, and for their sakes you are saved. As to the gods,
those dæmons in whom you trust, did they always save you from calamity?
How long did Hannibal insult them? Was it a goose or a god that saved
the Capitol from Brennus? Where were the gods in all the defeats, some
of them but recent, of the pagan emperors? It is well that the purple
Babylon has fallen, the harlot who was drunk with the blood of nations.

"In the place of this earthly city, this vaunted mistress, of the world,
whose fall closes a long career of superstition and sin, there shall
arise "the City of God." The purifying fire of the barbarian shall
remove her heathenish defilements, and make her fit for the kingdom of
Christ. Instead of a thousand years of that night of crime, to which in
your despair you look back, there is before her the day of the
millennium, predicted by the prophets of old. In her regenerated walls
there shall be no taint of sin, but righteousness and peace; no stain of
the vanities of the world, no conflicts of ambition, no sordid hunger
for gold, no lust after glory, no desire for domination, but holiness to
the Lord."

[Sidenote: St. Augustine's "City of God."]

Of those who in such sentiments defended the cause of the new religion
St. Augustine was the chief. In his great work, "the City of God," which
may be regarded as the ablest specimen of the early Christian
literature, he pursues this theme, if not in the language, at least in
the spirit here presented, and through a copious detail of many books.
On the later Christianity of the Western churches he has exerted more
influence than any other of the fathers. To him is due much of the
precision of our views on original sin, total depravity, grace,
predestination, election.

[Sidenote: Life and writings of St. Augustine.]

In his early years St. Augustine had led a frivolous and evil life,
plunging into all the dissipations of the gay city of Carthage. Through
the devious paths of Manichæism, astrology, and scepticism, he at last
arrived at the truth. It was not, however, the Fathers, but Cicero, to
whom the good change was due; the writings of that great orator won him
over to a love of wisdom, weaning him from the pleasures of the theatre,
the follies of divination and superstition. From his Manichæan errors,
he was snatched by Ambrose, the Bishop of Milan, who baptized him,
together with his illegitimate son Adeodatus. In his writings we may,
without difficulty, recognize the vestiges of Magianism, not as regards
the duality of God, but as respects the division of mankind--the elect
and lost; the kingdoms of grace and perdition, of God and the devil;
answering to the Oriental ideas of the rule of light and darkness. From
Ambrose, St. Augustine learned those high Trinitarian doctrines which
were soon enforced in the West.

In his philosophical disquisitions on Time, Matter, Memory, this
far-famed writer is, however, always unsatisfactory, often trivial. His
doctrine that Scripture, as the word of God, is capable of a manifold
meaning, led him into many delusions, and exercised, in subsequent ages,
a most baneful influence on true science. Thus he finds in the Mosaic
account of the creation proofs of the Trinity; that the firmament spoken
of therein is the type of God's word; and that there is a correspondence
between creation itself and the Church. His numerous books have often
been translated, especially his Confessions, a work that has delighted
and edified fifty generations, but which must, after all, yield the
palm, as a literary production, to the writings of Bunyan, who, like
Augustine, gave himself up to all the agony of unsparing personal
examination and relentless self-condemnation, anatomizing his very soul,
and dragging forth every sin into the face of day.

The ecclesiastical influence of St. Augustine has so completely eclipsed
his political biography, that but little attention has been given to his
conduct in the interesting time in which he lived. Sismondi recalls to
his disadvantage that he was the friend of Count Boniface, who invited
Genseric and his Vandals into Africa; the bloody consequences of that
conspiracy cannot be exaggerated. It was through him that the count's
name has been transmitted to posterity without infamy. Boniface was with
him when he died, at Hippo, August 28th, A.D. 440.

[Sidenote: Propitious effect of Alaric's siege.]

When Rome thus fell before Alaric, so far from the provincial Christians
bewailing her misfortune, they actually gloried in it. They critically
distinguished between the downfall of the purple pagan harlot and the
untouched city of God. The vengeance of the Goth had fallen on the
temples, but the churches had been spared. Though in subsequent and not
very distant calamities of the city these triumphant distinctions could
scarcely be maintained, there can be no doubt that that catastrophe
singularly developed papal power. The abasement of the ancient
aristocracy brought into relief the bishop. It has been truly said that,
as Rome rose from her ruins, the bishop was discerned to be her most
conspicuous man. Most opportunely, at this period Jerome had completed
his Latin translation of the Bible. The Vulgate henceforth became the
ecclesiastical authority of the West. The influence of the heathen
classics, which that austere anchorite had in early life admired, but
had vainly attempted to free himself from by unremitting nocturnal
flagellations, appears in this great version. It came at a critical
moment for the West. In the politic non-committalism of Rome, it was not
expedient that a pope should be an author. The Vulgate was all that the
times required. Henceforth the East might occupy herself in the harmless
fabrication of creeds and of heresies; the West could develop her
practical talent in the much more important organization of
ecclesiastical power.

[Sidenote: The fate of the three great bishops.]

Doubtless not without interest will the reader of these pages remark how
closely the process of ecclesiastical events resembles that of civil. In
both there is an irresistible tendency to the concentration of power. As
in Roman history we have seen a few families, and, indeed, at last, one
man grasp the influence which in earlier times was disseminated among
the people, so in the Church the congregations are quickly found in
subordination to their bishops, and these, in their turn, succumbing to
a perpetually diminishing number of their compeers. In the period we are
now considering, the minor episcopates, such as those of Jerusalem,
Antioch, Carthage, had virtually lost their pristine force, everything
having converged into the three great sees of Constantinople,
Alexandria, and Rome. The history of the time is a record of the
desperate struggles of the three chief bishops for supremacy. In this
conflict Rome possessed many advantages; the two others were more
immediately under the control of the imperial government, the clashing
of interests between them more frequent, their rivalry more bitter. The
control of ecclesiastical power was hence perpetually in Rome, though
she was, both politically and intellectually, inferior to her
competitors. As of old, there was a triumvirate in the world destined to
concentrate into a despotism. And, as if to remind men that the
principles involved in the movements of the Church are of the same
nature as those involved in the movements of the state, the resemblances
here pointed out are sometimes singularly illustrated in trifling
details. The Bishop of Alexandria was not the first triumvir who came to
an untimely end on the banks of the Nile; the Roman pontiff was not the
first who consolidated his power by the aid of Gallic legions.

CHAPTER X.

THE EUROPEAN AGE OF FAITH.

AGE OF FAITH IN THE EAST.

_Consolidation of the Byzantine System, or the Union of Church
and State.--The consequent Paganization of Religion and
Persecution of Philosophy._

_Political Necessity for the enforcement of Patristicism, or
Science of the Fathers.--Its peculiar Doctrines._

[Sidenote: The age of Faith.]

The policy of Constantine the Great inevitably tended to the
paganization of Christianity. An incorporation of its pure doctrines
with decaying pagan ideas was the necessary consequence of the control
that had been attained by unscrupulous politicians and placemen. The
faith, thus contaminated, gained a more general and ready popular
acceptance, but at the cost of a new lease of life to those ideas. So
thorough was the adulteration, that it was not until the Reformation, a
period of more than a thousand years, that a separation of the true from
the false could be accomplished.

[Sidenote: Subdivision of the subject.]

Considering how many nations were involved in these events, and the
length of time over which they extend, a clear treatment of the subject
requires its subdivision. I shall therefore speak, 1st, of the Age of
Faith in the East; 2nd, of the Age of Faith in the West. The former was
closed prematurely by the Mohammedan conquest; the latter, after
undergoing slow metamorphosis, passed into the European Age of Reason
during the pontificate of Nicholas V.

In this and the following chapter I shall therefore treat of the age of
Faith in the East, and of the catastrophe that closed it. I shall then
turn to the Age of Faith in the West--a long but an instructive story.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: The paganization of Christianity.]

[Sidenote: Discovery of the true cross and nails.]

The paganization of religion was in no small degree accomplished by the
influence of the females of the court of Constantinople. It soon
manifested all the essential features of a true mythology and
hero-worship. Helena, the empress-mother, superintended the building of
monumental churches over the reputed places of interest in the history
of our Saviour--those of his birth, his burial, his ascension. A vast
and ever-increasing crowd of converts from paganism, who had become such
from worldly considerations, and still hankered after wonders like those
in which their forefathers had from time immemorial believed, lent a
ready ear to assertions which, to more hesitating or better-instructed
minds, would have seemed to carry imposture on their very face. A temple
of Venus, formerly erected on the site of the Holy Sepulchre, being torn
down, there were discovered, in a cavern beneath, three crosses, and
also the inscription written by Pilate. The Saviour's cross, being by
miracle distinguished from those of the thieves, was divided, a part
being kept at Jerusalem and a part sent to Constantinople, together with
the nails used in the crucifixion, which were also fortunately found.
These were destined to adorn the head of the emperor's statue on the top
of the porphyry pillar. The wood of the cross, moreover, displayed a
property of growth, and hence furnished an abundant supply for the
demands of pilgrims, and an unfailing source of pecuniary profit to its
possessors. In the course of subsequent years there was accumulated in
the various churches of Europe, from this particular relic, a
sufficiency to have constructed many hundred crosses. The age that could
accept such a prodigy, of course found no difficulty in the vision of
Constantine and the story of the Labarum.

[Sidenote: Political causes of paganization.]

Such was the tendency of the times to adulterate Christianity with the
spirit of paganism, partly to conciliate the prejudices of worldly
converts, partly in the hope of securing its more rapid spread. There is
a solemnity in the truthful accusation which Faustus makes to Augustine:
"You have substituted your agapæ for the sacrifices of the pagans; for
their idols your martyrs, whom you serve with the very same honours. You
appease the shades of the dead with wine and feasts; you celebrate the
solemn festivals of the Gentiles, their calends and their solstices; and
as to their manners, those you have retained without any alteration.
Nothing distinguishes you from the pagans except that you hold your
assemblies apart from them."

[Sidenote: Relative action of faith and philosophy.]

[Sidenote: The emperors resist their ecclesiastical allies.]

As we have seen in the last chapter, the course of political affairs had
detached the power of the state from the philosophical and polytheistic
parties. Joined to the new movement, it was not long before it gave
significant proofs of the sincerity of its friendship by commencing an
active persecution of the remnant of philosophy. It is to be borne in
mind that the direction of the proselytism, which was thus leading to
important results, was from below upward through society. As to
philosophy, its action had been in the other direction; its depository
in the few enlightened, in the few educated; its course, socially, from
above downward. Under these circumstances, it was obvious enough that
the prejudices of the ignorant populace would find, in the end, a full
expression; that learning would have no consideration shown to it, or
would be denounced as mere magic; that philosophy would be looked upon
as a vain, and therefore sinful pursuit. When once a political aspirant
has bidden with the multitude for power, and still depends on their
pleasure for effective support, it is no easy thing to refuse their
wishes or hold back from their demands. Even Constantine himself felt
the pressure of the influence to which he was allied, and was compelled
to surrender his friend Sopater, the philosopher, who was accused of
binding the winds in an adverse quarter by the influence of magic, so
that the corn-ships could not reach Constantinople; and the emperor was
obliged to give orders for his decapitation to satisfy the clamours in
the theatre. Not that such requisitions were submitted to without a
struggle, or that succeeding sovereigns were willing to make their
dignity tacitly subordinate to ecclesiastical domination. It was the aim
of Constantine to make theology a branch of politics; it was the hope of
every bishop in the empire to make politics a branch of theology.
Already, however, it was apparent that the ecclesiastical party would,
in the end, get the upper hand, and that the reluctance of some of the
emperors to obey its behests was merely the revolt of individual minds,
and therefore ephemeral in its nature, and that the popular wishes would
be abundantly gratified as soon as emperors arose who not merely, like
Constantine, availed themselves of Christianity, but absolutely and
sincerely adopted it.

[Sidenote: The Emperor Julian.]

[Sidenote: Persecutions of his successors.]

Julian, by his brief but ineffectual attempt to restore paganism,
scarcely restrained for a moment the course of the new doctrines now
strengthening themselves continually in public estimation by
incorporating ideas borrowed from paganism. Through the reign of
Valentinian, who was a Nicenist, and of Valens, who was an Arian, things
went on almost as if the episode of Julian had never occurred. The
ancient gods, whose existence no one seems ever to have denied, were now
thoroughly identified with dæmons; their worship was stigmatized as the
practice of magic. Against this crime, regarded by the laws as equal to
treason, a violent persecution arose. Persons resorting to Rome for the
purposes of study were forbidden to remain there after they were
twenty-one years of age. The force of this persecution fell practically
upon the old religion, though nominally directed against the black art,
for the primary function of paganism was to foretell future events in
this world, and hence its connexion with divination and its punishment
as magic.

[Sidenote: Necessity of learning to the bishops.]

[Sidenote: Growth of bigotry and superstition.]

But the persecution, though directed at paganism, struck also at what
remained of philosophy. A great party had attained to power under
circumstances which compelled it to enforce the principle on which it
was originally founded. That principle was the exaction of unhesitating
belief, which, though it will answer very well for the humbler and more
numerous class of men, is unsuited for those of a higher intellectual
grade. The policy of Constantine had opened a career in the state,
through the Church, for men of the lowest rank. Many of such had already
attained to the highest dignities. A burning zeal rather than the
possession of profound learning animated them. But eminent position once
attained, none stood more in need of the appearance of wisdom. Under
such circumstances, they were tempted to set up their own notions as
final and unimpeachable truth, and to denounce as magic, or the sinful
pursuit of vain trifling, all the learning that stood in the way. In
this the hand of the civil power assisted. It was intended to cut off
every philosopher. Every manuscript that could be seized was forthwith
burned. Throughout the East, men in terror destroyed their libraries,
for fear that some unfortunate sentence contained in any of the books
should involve them and their families in destruction. The universal
opinion was that it was right to compel men to believe what the majority
of society had now accepted as the truth, and, if they refused, it was
right to punish them. No one in the dominating party was heard to raise
his voice in behalf of intellectual liberty. The mystery of things above
reason was held to be the very cause that they should be accepted by
Faith; a singular merit was supposed to appertain to that mental
condition in which belief precedes understanding.

[Sidenote: Fanaticism of Theodosius.]

The death-blow to paganism was given by the Emperor Theodosius, a
Spaniard, who, from the services he rendered in this particular, has
been rewarded with the title of "The Great." From making the practice of
magic and the inspection of the entrails of animals capital offences, he
proceeded to prohibit sacrifices, A.D. 391, and even the entering of
temples. He alienated the revenues of many temples, confiscated the
estates of others, some he demolished. The vestal virgins he dismissed,
and any house profaned by incense he declared forfeited to the imperial
exchequer. When once the property of a religious establishment has been
irrevocably taken away, it is needless to declare its worship a capital
crime.

But not only did the government thus constitute itself a thorough
auxiliary of the new religion; it also tried to secure it from its own
dissensions. Apostates were deprived of the right of bequeathing their
own property. Inquisitors of faith were established; they were at once
spies and judges, the prototypes of the most fearful tribunal of modern
times. Theodosius, to whom the carrying into effect of these measures
was due, found it, however, more expedient for himself to institute
living emblems of his personal faith than to rely on any ambiguous
creed. He therefore sentenced all those to be deprived of civil rights,
and to be driven into exile, who did not accord with the belief of
Damasus, the Bishop of Rome, and Peter, the Bishop of Alexandria. Those
who presumed to celebrate Easter on the same day as the Jews he
condemned to death. "We will," says he, in his edict, "that all who
embrace this creed be called catholic Christians"--the rest are
heretics.

[Sidenote: Responsibility of the clergy in these events.]

[Sidenote: Massacre at Thessalonica.]

Impartial history is obliged to impute the origin of these tyrannical
and scandalous acts of the civil power to the influence of the clergy,
and to hold them responsible for the crimes. The guilt of impure,
unscrupulous women, eunuchs, parasites, violent soldiers in possession
of absolute power, lies at their door. Yet human nature can never, in
any condition of affairs, be altogether debased. Though the system under
which men were living pushed them forward to these iniquities, the
individual sense of right and wrong sometimes vindicated itself. In
these pages we shall again and again meet this personal revolt against
the indefensible consequences of system. It was thus that there were
bishops who openly intervened between the victim and his oppressor, who
took the treasures of the Church to redeem slaves from captivity. For
this a future age will perhaps excuse Ambrose the Archbishop of Milan,
the impostures he practised, remembering that, face to face, he held
Theodosius the Great to accountability for the massacre of seven
thousand persons, whom, in a fit of vengeance, he had murdered in the
circus of Thessalonica, A.D. 390, and inexorably compelled the imperial
culprit, to whom he and all his party were under such obligations, to
atone for his crime by such penance as may be exacted in this world,
teaching his sovereign "that though he was of the Church and in the
Church, he was not above the Church;" that brute force must give way to
intellect, and that even the meanest human being has rights in the sight
of God.

[Sidenote: Introduction of Patristicism.]

Political events had thus taken a course disastrous to human knowledge.
A necessity had arisen that they to whom circumstances had given the
control of public faith should also have the control of public
knowledge. The moral condition of the world had thus come into
antagonism with scientific progress. As had been the case many ages
before in India, the sacred writings were asserted to contain whatever
was necessary or useful for man to know. Questions in astronomy,
geography, chronology, history, or any other branch which had hitherto
occupied or amused the human mind, were now to be referred to a new
tribunal for solution, and there remained nothing to be done by the
philosopher. A revelation of science is incompatible with any farther
advance; it admits no employment save that of the humble commentator.

[Sidenote: Apology of the fathers for Patristicism.]

The early ecclesiastical writers, or Fathers, as they are often called,
came thus to be considered not only as surpassing all other men in
piety, but also as excelling them in wisdom. Their dictum was looked
upon as final. This eminent position they held for many centuries;
indeed, it was not until near the period of the Reformation that they
were deposed. The great critics who appeared at that time, by submitting
the Patristic works to a higher analysis, comparing them with one
another and showing their mutual contradictions, brought them all to
their proper level. The habit of even so much as quoting them went out
of use, when it was perceived that not one of these writers could
present the necessary credentials to entitle him to speak with authority
on any scientific fact. Many of them had not scrupled to express their
contempt of the things they thus presumed to judge. 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." In
such a spirit Lactantius holds the whole of philosophy to be "empty and
false." Speaking in reference to the heretical doctrine of the globular
form of the earth, he says: "Is it possible that men can be so absurd as
to believe that the crops and the trees on the other side of the earth
hang downward, and that men have their feet higher than their heads? If
you ask them how they defend these monstrosities? how things do not fall
away from the earth on that side? they reply that the nature of things
is such, that heavy bodies tend toward the centre like the spokes of a
wheel, while light bodies, as clouds, smoke, fire, tend from the centre
to the heavens on all sides. Now I am really at a loss what to say of
those who, when they have once gone wrong, steadily persevere in their
folly, and defend one absurd opinion by another." On the question of the
antipodes, St. Augustine asserts that "it is impossible there should be
inhabitants on the opposite side of the earth, since no such race is
recorded by Scripture among the descendants of Adam."

[Sidenote: The doctrines of Patristicism.]

Patristicism, or the science of the Fathers, was thus essentially
founded on the principle that the Scriptures contain all knowledge
permitted to man. It followed, therefore, that natural phenomena may be
interpreted by the aid of texts, and that all philosophical doctrines
must be moulded to the pattern of orthodoxy. It asserted that God made
the world out of nothing, since to admit the eternity of matter leads to
Manichæism. It taught that the earth is a plane, and the sky a vault
above it, in which the stars are fixed, and the sun, moon, and planets
perform their motions, rising and setting; that these bodies are
altogether of a subordinate nature, their use being to give light to
man; that still higher and beyond the vault of the sky is heaven, the
abode of God and the angelic hosts; that in six days the earth, and all
that it contains, were made; that it was overwhelmed by a universal
deluge, which destroyed all living things save those preserved in the
ark, the waters being subsequently dried up by the wind; that man is the
moral centre of the world; for him all things were created and are
sustained; that, so far as his ever having shown any tendency to
improvement, he has fallen both in wisdom and worth, the first man,
before his sin, having been perfect in body and soul: hence Patristicism
ever looked backward, never forward; that through that sin death came
into the world; not even any animal had died previously, but all had
been immortal. It utterly rejected the idea of the government of the
world by law, asserting the perpetual interference of an instant
Providence on all occasions, not excepting the most trifling. It
resorted to spiritual influences in the production of natural effects,
assigning to angels the duty of moving the stars, carrying up water from
the sea to form rain, and managing eclipses. It affirmed that man had
existed but a few centuries upon earth, and that he could continue only
a little longer, for that the world itself might every moment be
expected to be burned up by fire. It deduced all the families of the
earth from one primitive pair, and made them all morally responsible for
the sin committed by that pair. It rejected the doctrine that man can
modify his own organism as absolutely irreligious, the physician being
little better than an atheist, but it affirmed that cures may be
effected by the intercession of saints, at the shrines of holy men, and
by relics. It altogether repudiated the improvement of man's physical
state; to increase his power or comfort was to attempt to attain what
Providence denied; philosophical investigation was an unlawful prying
into things that God had designed to conceal. It declined the logic of
the Greeks, substituting miracle-proof for it, the demonstration of an
assertion being supposed to be given by a surprising illustration of
something else.

A wild astronomy had thus supplanted the astronomy of Hipparchus; the
miserable fictions of Eusebius had subverted the chronology of Manetho
and Eratosthenes; the geometry of Euclid and Apollonius was held to be
of no use; the geography of Ptolemy a blunder; the great mechanical
inventions of Archimedes incomparably surpassed by the miracles worked
at the shrines of a hundred saints.

[Sidenote: Intrinsic weakness of the Patristic system.]

Of such a mixture of truth and of folly was Patristicism composed.
Ignorance in power had found it necessary to have a false and
unprogressive science, forgetting that sooner or later the time must
arrive when it would be impossible to maintain stationary ideas in a
world of which the affairs are ever advancing. A failure to include in
the system thus imposed upon men any provision for intellectual progress
was the great and fatal mistake of those times. Each passing century
brought its incompatibilities. A strain upon the working of the system
soon occurred, and perpetually increased in force. It became apparent
that, in the end, the imposition would be altogether unable to hold
together. On a future page we shall see what were the circumstances
under which it at last broke down.

[Sidenote: It commences by extinguishing Greek science.]

The wonder-worker who prepares to exhibit his phantasmagoria upon the
wall, knows well how much it adds to the delusion to have all lights
extinguished save that which is in his own dark lantern. I have now to
relate how the last flickering rays of Greek learning were put out; how
Patristicism, aided by her companion Bigotry, attempted to lay the
foundations of her influence in security.

[Sidenote: Acts of the Emperor Theodosius.]

[Sidenote: Alexandrian libraries.]

[Sidenote: Library of Pergamus transferred to Egypt.]

In the reign of Theodosius the Great, the pagan religion and pagan
knowledge were together destroyed. This emperor was restrained by no
doubts, for he was very ignorant and, it must be admitted, was equally
sincere and severe. Among his early measures we find an order that if
any of the governors of Egypt so much as entered a temple he should be
fined fifteen pounds of gold. He followed this by the destruction of the
temples of Syria. At this period the Archbishopric of Alexandria was
held by one Theophilus, a bold, bad man, who had once been a monk of
Nitria. It was about A.D. 390. The Trinitarian conflict was at the time
composed, one party having got the better of the other. To the monks and
rabble of Alexandria the temple of Serapis and its library were doubly
hateful, partly because of the Pantheistic opposition it shadowed forth
against the prevailing doctrine, and partly because within its walls
sorcery, magic, and other dealings with the devil had for ages been
going on. We have related how Ptolemy Philadelphus commenced the great
library in the aristocratic quarter of the city named Bruchion, and
added various scientific establishments to it. Incited by this example,
Eumenes, King of Pergamus, established out of rivalry a similar library
in his metropolis. With the intention of preventing him from excelling
that of Egypt, Ptolemy Epiphanes prohibited the exportation of papyrus,
whereupon Eumenes invented the art of making parchment. The second great
Alexandrian library was that established by Ptolemy Physcon at the
Serapion, in the adjoining quarter of the town. The library in the
Bruchion, which was estimated to contain 400,000 volumes, was
accidentally, or, as it has been said, purposely burned during the siege
of the city by Julius Cæsar, but that in the Serapion escaped. To make
amends for this great catastrophe, Marc Antony presented to Cleopatra
the rival library, brought for that purpose from Pergamus. It consisted
of 200,000 volumes. It was with the library in the Bruchion that the
Museum was originally connected; but after its conflagration, the
remains of the various surviving establishments were transferred to the
Serapion, which therefore was, at the period of which we are speaking,
the greatest depository of knowledge in the world.

[Sidenote: The temple of Serapis.]

The pagan Roman emperors had not been unmindful of the great trust they
had thus inherited from the Ptolemies. The temple of Serapis was
universally admitted to be the noblest religious structure in the world,
unless perhaps the patriotic Roman excepted that of the Capitoline
Jupiter. It was approached by a vast flight of steps; was adorned with
many rows of columns; and in its quadrangular portico--a matchless work
of skill--were placed most exquisite statues. On the sculptured walls of
its chambers, and upon ceilings, were paintings of unapproachable
excellence. Of the value of these works of art the Greeks were no
incompetent judges.

[Sidenote: Quarrel between the Christians and pagans in Alexandria.]

[Sidenote: Theodosius orders the Serapion to be destroyed.]

[Sidenote: Statue of Serapis is destroyed.]

[Sidenote: Persecutions of Theophilus.]

The Serapion, with these its precious contents, perpetually gave umbrage
to the Archbishop Theophilus and his party. To them it was a reproach
and an insult. Its many buildings were devoted to unknown, and therefore
unholy uses. In its vaults and silent chambers the populace believed
that the most abominable mysteries were carried on. There were magical
brazen circles and sun-dials for fortune-telling in its porch; every one
said that they had once belonged to Pharaoh or the conjurors who strove
with Moses. Alas! no one of the ferocious bigots knew that with these
Eratosthenes had in the old times measured the size of the earth, and
Timocharis had determined the motions of the planet Venus. The temple,
with its pure white marble walls, and endless columns projected against
a blue and cloudless Egyptian sky, was to them a whited sepulchre full
of rottenness within. In the very sanctuary of the god it was said that
the priests had been known to delude the wealthiest and most beautiful
Alexandrian women, who fancied that they were honoured by the raptures
of the god. To this temple, so well worthy of their indignation,
Theophilus directed the attention of his people. It happened that the
Emperor Constantius had formerly given to the Church the site of an
ancient temple of Osiris, and, in digging the foundation for the new
edifice, the obscene symbols used in that worship chanced to be found.
With more zeal than modesty, Theophilus exhibited them to the derision
of the rabble in the market-place. The old Egyptian pagan party rose to
avenge the insult. A riot ensued, one Olympius, a philosopher, being the
leader. Their head-quarters were in the massive building of the
Serapion, from which issuing forth they seized whatever Christians they
could, compelled them to offer sacrifice, and then killed them on the
altar. The dispute was referred to the emperor, in the meantime the
pagans maintaining themselves in the temple-fortress. In the dead of
night, Olympius, it is said, was awe-stricken by the sound of a clear
voice chanting among the arches and pillars the Christian Alleluia.
Either accepting, like a heathen, the omen, or fearing a secret
assassin, he escaped from the temple and fled for his life. On the
arrival of the rescript of Theodosius the pagans laid down their arms,
little expecting the orders of the emperor. He enjoined that the
building should forthwith be destroyed, intrusting the task to the swift
hands of Theophilus. His work was commenced by the pillage and dispersal
of the library. He entered the sanctuary of the god--that sanctuary
which was the visible sign of the Pantheism of the East, the memento of
the alliance between hoary primeval Egypt and free-thinking Greece, the
relic of the statesmanship of Alexander's captains. In gloomy silence
the image of Serapis confronted its assailants. It is in such a moment
that the value of a religion is tried; the god who cannot defend himself
is a convicted sham. Theophilus, undaunted, commands a veteran to strike
the image with his battle-axe. The helpless statue offers no resistance.
Another blow rolls the head of the idol on the floor. It is said that a
colony of frightened rats ran forth from its interior. The kingcraft,
and priestcraft, and solemn swindle of seven hundred years are exploded
in a shout of laughter; the god is broken to pieces, his members dragged
through the streets. The recesses of the Serapion are explored.
Posterity is edified by discoveries of frauds by which the priests
maintain their power. Among other wonders, a car with four horses is
seen suspended near the ceiling by means of a magnet laid on the roof,
which being removed by the hand of a Christian, the imposture fell to
the pavement. The historian of these events, noticing the physical
impossibility of such things, has wisely said that it is more easy to
invent a fictitious story than to support a practical fraud. But the
gold and silver contained in the temple were carefully collected, the
baser articles being broken in pieces or cast into the fire. Nor did the
holy zeal of Theophilus rest until the structure was demolished to its
very foundations--a work of no little labour--and a church erected in
the precincts. It must, however, have been the temple more particularly
which experienced this devastation. The building in which the library
had been contained must have escaped, for, twenty years subsequently,
Orosius expressly states that he saw the empty cases or shelves. The
fanatic Theophilus pushed forward his victory. The temple at Canopus
next fell before him, and a general attack was made on all similar
edifices in Egypt. Speaking of the monks and of the worship of relics,
Eunapius says: "Whoever wore a black dress was invested with tyrannical
power; philosophy and piety to the gods were compelled to retire into
secret places, and to dwell in contented poverty and dignified meanness
of appearance. The temples were turned into tombs for the adoration of
the bones of the basest and most depraved of men, who had suffered the
penalty of the law, and whom they made their gods."

Such was the end of the Serapion. Its destruction stands forth a token
to all ages of the state of the times.

[Sidenote: St. Cyril.]

[Sidenote: Determines on supremacy in Alexandria.]

[Sidenote: Riots in that city.]

In a few years after this memorable event the Archbishop Theophilus had
gone to his account. His throne was occupied by his nephew, St. Cyril,
who had been expressly prepared for that holy and responsible office by
a residence of five years among the monks of Nitria. He had been
presented to the fastidious Alexandrians with due precautions, and by
them acknowledged to be an effective and fashionable preacher. His pagan
opponents, however, asserted that the clapping of hands and encores
bestowed on the more elaborate passages of his sermons were performed by
persons duly arranged in the congregation, and paid for their trouble.
If doubt remains as to his intellectual endowments, there can be none
respecting the qualities of his heart. The three parties into which the
population of the city was divided--Christian, Heathen, and Jewish--kept
up a perpetual disorder by their disputes. Of the last it is said that
the number was not less than forty thousand. The episcopate itself had
become much less a religious than an important civil office, exercising
a direct municipal control through the Parabolani, which, under the
disguise of city missionaries, whose duty it was to seek out the sick
and destitute, constituted in reality a constabulary force, or rather
actually a militia. The unscrupulous manner in which Cyril made use of
this force, diverting it from its ostensible purpose, is indicated by
the fact that the emperor was obliged eventually to take the
appointments to it out of the archbishop's hands, and reduce the number
to five or six hundred. Some local circumstances had increased the
animosity between the Jews and the Christians, and riots had taken place
between them in the theatre. These were followed by more serious
conflicts in the streets; and the Jews, for the moment having the
advantage over their antagonists, outraged and massacred them. It was,
however, but for a moment; for, the Christians arousing themselves under
the inspirations of Cyril, a mob sacked the synagogues, pillaged the
houses of the Jews, and endeavoured to expel those offenders out of the
city. The prefect Orestes was compelled to interfere to stop the riot;
but the archbishop was not so easily disposed of. His old associates,
the Nitrian monks, now justified the prophetic forecast of Theophilus.
Five hundred of those fanatics swarmed into the town from the desert.
The prefect himself was assaulted, and wounded in the head by a stone
thrown by Ammonius, one of them. The more respectable citizens, alarmed
at the turn things were taking, interfered, and Ammonius, being seized,
suffered death at the hands of the lictor. Cyril, undismayed, caused his
body to be transported to the Cæsareum, laid there in state, and buried
with unusual honours. He directed that the name of the fallen zealot
should be changed from Ammonius to Thaumasius, or "the Wonderful," and
the holy martyr received the honours of canonization.

[Sidenote: Hypatia.]

[Sidenote: The city of Alexandria.]

In these troubles there can be no doubt that the pagans sympathized with
the Jews, and therefore drew upon themselves the vengeance of Cyril.
Among the cultivators of Platonic philosophy whom the times had spared,
there was a beautiful young woman, Hypatia, the daughter of Theon the
mathematician, who not only distinguished herself by her expositions of
the Neo-Platonic and Peripatetic doctrines, but was also honoured for
the ability with which she commented on the writings of Apollonius and
other geometers. Every day before her door stood a long train of
chariots; her lecture-room was crowded with the wealth and fashion of
Alexandria. Her aristocratic audiences were more than a rival to those
attending upon the preaching of the archbishop, and perhaps contemptuous
comparisons were instituted between the philosophical lectures of
Hypatia and the incomprehensible sermons of Cyril. But if the archbishop
had not philosophy, he had what on such occasions is more
valuable--power. It was not to be borne that a heathen sorceress should
thus divide such a metropolis with a prelate; it was not to be borne
that the rich, and noble, and young should thus be carried off by the
black arts of a diabolical enchantress. Alexandria was too fair a prize
to be lightly surrendered. It could vie with Constantinople itself. Into
its streets, from the yellow sand-hills of the desert, long trains of
camels and countless boats brought the abundant harvests of the Nile. A
ship-canal connected the harbour of Eunostos with Lake Mareotis. The
harbour was a forest of masts. Seaward, looking over the blue
Mediterranean, was the great lighthouse, the Pharos, counted as one of
the wonders of the world; and to protect the shipping from the north
wind there was a mole three quarters of a mile in length, with its
drawbridges, a marvel of the skill of the Macedonian engineers. Two
great streets crossed each other at right angles--one was three, the
other one mile long. In the square where they intersected stood the
mausoleum in which rested the body of Alexander. The city was full of
noble edifices--the palace, the exchange, the Cæsareum, the halls of
justice. Among the temples, those of Pan and Neptune were conspicuous.
The visitor passed countless theatres, churches, temples, synagogues.
There was a time before Theophilus when the Serapion might have been
approached on one side by a slope for carriages, on the other by a
flight of a hundred marble steps. On these stood the grand portico with
its columns, its chequered corridor leading round a roofless hall, the
adjoining porches of which contained the library, and from the midst of
its area arose a lofty pillar visible afar off at sea. On one side of
the town were the royal docks, on the other the Hippodrome, and on
appropriate sites the Necropolis, the market-places, the gymnasium, its
stoa being a stadium long; the amphitheatre, groves, gardens, fountains,
obelisks, and countless public buildings with gilded roofs glittering in
the sun. Here might be seen the wealthy Christian ladies walking in the
streets, their dresses embroidered with Scripture parables, the Gospels
hanging from their necks by a golden chain, Maltese dogs with jewelled
collars frisking round them, and slaves with parasols and fans trooping
along. There might be seen the ever-trading, ever-thriving Jew, fresh
from the wharves, or busy negotiating his loans. But, worst of all, the
chariots with giddy or thoughtful pagans hastening to the academy of
Hypatia, to hear those questions discussed which have never yet been
answered, "Where am I?" "What am I?" "What can I know?"--to hear
discourses on antenatal existence, or, as the vulgar asserted, to find
out the future by the aid of the black art, soothsaying by Chaldee
talismans engraved on precious stones, by incantations with a glass and
water, by moonshine on the walls, by the magic mirror, the reflection of
a sapphire, a sieve, or cymbals; fortune-telling by the veins of the
hand, or consultations with the stars.

[Sidenote: Murder of Hypatia by Cyril.]

Cyril at length determined to remove this great reproach, and overturn
what now appeared to be the only obstacle in his way to uncontrolled
authority in the city. We are reaching one of those moments in which
great general principles embody themselves in individuals. It is Greek
philosophy under the appropriate form of Hypatia; ecclesiastical
ambition under that of Cyril. Their destinies are about to be fulfilled.
As Hypatia comes forth to her academy, she is assaulted by Cyril's
mob--an Alexandrian mob of many monks. Amid the fearful yelling of these
bare-legged and black-cowled fiends she is dragged from her chariot, and
in the public street stripped naked. In her mortal terror she is haled
into an adjacent church, and in that sacred edifice is killed by the
club of Peter the Reader. It is not always in the power of him who has
stirred up the worst passions of a fanatical mob to stop their excesses
when his purpose is accomplished. With the blow given by Peter the aim
of Cyril was reached, but his merciless adherents had not glutted their
vengeance. They outraged the naked corpse, dismembered it, and
incredible to be said, finished their infernal crime by scraping the
flesh from the bones with oyster-shells, and casting the remnants into
the fire. Though in his privacy St. Cyril and his friends might laugh at
the end of his antagonist, his memory must bear the weight of the
righteous indignation of posterity.

[Sidenote: Suppression of Alexandrian science.]

Thus, in the 414th year of our era, the position of philosophy in the
intellectual metropolis of the world was determined; henceforth science
must sink into obscurity and subordination. Its public existence will no
longer be tolerated. Indeed, it may be said that from this period for
some centuries it altogether disappeared. The leaden mace of bigotry had
struck and shivered the exquisitely tempered steel of Greek philosophy.
Cyril's acts passed unquestioned. It was now ascertained that throughout
the Roman world there must be no more liberty of thought. It had been
said that these events prove Greek philosophy to have been a sham, and,
like other shams, it was driven out of the world when detected, and that
it could not withstand the truth. Such assertions might answer their
purposes very well, so long as the victors maintained their power in
Alexandria, but they manifestly are of inconvenient application after
the Saracens had captured the city. However this may be, an intellectual
stagnation settled upon the place, an invisible atmosphere of
oppression, ready to crush down, morally and physically, whatever
provoked its weight. And so for the next two dreary and weary centuries
things remained, until oppression and force were ended by a foreign
invader. It was well for the world that the Arabian conquerors avowed
their true argument, the scimitar, and made no pretensions to superhuman
wisdom. They were thus left free to pursue knowledge without involving
themselves in theological contradictions, and were able to make Egypt
once more illustrious among the nations of the earth--to snatch it from
the hideous fanaticism, ignorance, and barbarism into which it had been
plunged. On the shore of the Red Sea once more a degree of the earth's
surface was to be measured, and her size ascertained--but by a
Mohammedan astronomer. In Alexandria the memory of the illustrious old
times was to be recalled by the discovery of the motion of the sun's
apogee by Albategnius, and the third inequality of the moon, the
variation, by Aboul Wefa; to be discovered six centuries later in Europe
by Tycho Brahe. The canal of the Pharaohs from the Nile to the Red Sea,
cleared out by the Ptolemies in former ages, was to be cleared from its
sand again. The glad desert listened once more to the cheerful cry of
the merchant camel-driver instead of the midnight prayer of the monk.

CHAPTER XI.

PREMATURE END OF THE AGE OF FAITH IN THE EAST.

THE THREE ATTACKS, VANDAL, PERSIAN, ARAB.

THE VANDAL ATTACK _leads to the Loss of Africa.--Recovery of
that Province by Justinian after great Calamities._

THE PERSIAN ATTACK _leads to the Loss of Syria and Fall of
Jerusalem.--The true Cross carried away as a Trophy.--Moral
Impression of these Attacks._

_Review of the Koran.--Reflexions on the Loss of Asia and
Africa by Christendom._

[Sidenote: Three attacks made upon the Byzantine system.]

I have now to describe the end of the age of Faith in the East. The
Byzantine system, out of which it had issued, was destroyed by three
attacks: 1st, by the Vandal invasion of Africa; 2nd, by the military
operations of Chosroes, the Persian king; 3rd, by Mohammedanism.

Of these three attacks, the Vandal may be said, in a military sense, to
have been successfully closed by the victories of Justinian; but,
politically, the cost of those victories was the depopulation and ruin
of the empire, particularly in the south and west. The second, the
Persian attack, though brilliantly resisted in its later years by the
Emperor Heraclius, left, throughout the East, a profound moral
impression, which proved final and fatal in the Mohammedan attack.

[Sidenote: The Vandal attack.]

[Sidenote: Conquest of Africa.]

No heresy has ever produced such important political results as that of
Arius. While it was yet a vital doctrine, it led to the infliction of
unspeakable calamities on the empire, and, though long ago forgotten,
has blasted permanently some of the fairest portions of the globe. When
Count Boniface, incited by the intrigues of the patrician Ætius, invited
Genseric, the King of the Vandals, into Africa, that barbarian found in
the discontented sectaries his most effectual aid. In vain would he
otherwise have attempted the conquest of the country with the 50,000 men
he landed from Spain, A.D. 429. Three hundred Donatist bishops, and many
thousand priests, driven to despair by the persecutions inflicted by the
emperor, carrying with them that large portion of the population who
were Arian, were ready to look upon him as a deliverer, and therefore to
afford him support. The result to the empire was the loss of Africa.

[Sidenote: The reign of Justinian.]

It was nothing more than might have been expected that Justinian, when
he found himself firmly seated on the throne of Constantinople, should
make an attempt to retrieve these disasters. The principles which led
him to his scheme of legislation; to the promotion of manufacturing
interests by the fabrication of silk; to the reopening of the ancient
routes to India, so as to avoid transit through the Persian dominions;
to his attempt at securing the carrying trade of Europe for the Greeks,
also suggested the recovery of Africa. To this important step he was
urged by the Catholic clergy. In a sinister but suitable manner, his
reign was illustrated by his closing the schools of philosophy at
Athens, ostensibly because of their affiliation to paganism, but in
reality on account of his detestation of the doctrines of Aristotle and
Plato; by the abolition of the consulate of Rome; by the extinction of
the Roman senate, A.D. 552; by the capture and recapture five times of
the Eternal City. The vanishing of the Roman race was thus marked by an
extinction of the instruments of ancient philosophy and power.

[Sidenote: His reconquest of Africa.]

The indignation of the Catholics was doubtless justly provoked by the
atrocities practised in the Arian behalf by the Vandal kings of Africa,
who, among other cruelties, had attempted to silence some bishops by
cutting out their tongues. To carry out Justinian's intention of the
recovery of Africa, his general Belisarius sailed at midsummer, A.D.
533, and in November he had completed the reconquest of the country.

[Sidenote: Dreadful calamities produced by him.]

This was speedy work, but it was followed by fearful calamities; for in
this, and the Italian wars of Justinian, likewise undertaken at the
instance of the orthodox clergy, the human race visibly diminished. It
is affirmed that in the African campaign five millions of the people of
that country were consumed; that during the twenty years of the Gothic
War Italy lost fifteen millions; and that the wars, famines, and
pestilences of the reign of Justinian diminished the human species by
the almost incredible number of one hundred millions.

[Sidenote: The Persian attack.]

[Sidenote: Fall and pillage of Jerusalem.]

[Sidenote: Triumphs of Chosroes.]

It is therefore not at all surprising that in such a deplorable
condition men longed for a deliverer, in their despair totally
regardless who he might be or from what quarter he might come.
Ecclesiastical partisanship had done its work. When Chosroes II., the
Persian monarch, A.D. 611, commenced his attack, the persecuted
sectaries of Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt followed the example of the
African Arians in the Vandal invasion, and betrayed the empire. The
revenge of an oppressed heretic is never scrupulous about its means of
gratification. As might have been expected, the cities of Asia fell
before the Persians. They took Jerusalem by assault, and with it the
cross of Christ; ninety thousand Christians were massacred; and in its
very birthplace Christianity was displaced by Magianism. The shock which
religious men received through this dreadful event can hardly now be
realized. The imposture of Constantine bore a bitter fruit; the sacred
wood which had filled the world with its miracles was detected to be a
helpless counterfeit, borne off in triumph by deriding blasphemers. All
confidence in the apostolic powers of the Asiatic bishops was lost; not
one of them could work a wonder for his own salvation in the dire
extremity. The invaders overran Egypt as far as Ethiopia; it seemed as
if the days of Cambyses had come back again. The Archbishop of
Alexandria found it safer to flee to Cyprus than to defend himself by
spiritual artifices or to rely on prayer. The Mediterranean shore to
Tripoli was subdued. For ten years the Persian standards were displayed
in view of Constantinople. At one time Heraclius had determined to
abandon that city, and make Carthage the metropolis of the empire. His
intention was defeated by the combination of the patriarch, who dreaded
the loss of his position; of the aristocracy, who foresaw their own
ruin; and of the people, who would thus be deprived of their largesses
and shows. Africa was more truly Roman than any other of the provinces;
it was there that Latin was last used. But when the vengeance of the
heretical sects was satisfied, they found that they had only changed the
tyrant without escaping the tyranny. The magnitude of their treason was
demonstrated by the facility with which Heraclius expelled the Persians
as soon as they chose to assist him.

[Sidenote: The moral impression of these events.]

In vain, after these successes, what was passed off as the true cross
was restored again to Jerusalem--the charm was broken. The Magian fire
had burnt the sepulchre of Christ, and the churches of Constantine and
Helena; the costly gifts of the piety of three centuries were gone into
the possession of the Persian and the Jew. Never again was it possible
that faith could be restored. They who had devoutly expected that the
earth would open, the lightning descend, or sudden death arrest the
sacrilegious invader of the holy places, and had seen that nothing of
the kind ensued, dropped at once into dismal disbelief. Asia and Africa
were already morally lost. The scimitar of the Arabian soon cut the
remaining tie.

[Sidenote: Birth of Mohammed.]

Four years after the death of Justinian, A.D. 569, was born at Mecca, in
Arabia, the man who, of all men, has exercised the greatest influence
upon the human race--Mohammed, by Europeans surnamed "the Impostor." He
raised his own nation from Fetichism, the adoration of a meteoric stone,
and from the basest idol-worship; he preached a monotheism which quickly
scattered to the winds the empty disputes of the Arians and Catholics,
and irrevocably wrenched from Christianity more than half, and that by
far the best half of her possessions, since it included the Holy Land,
the birthplace of our faith, and Africa, which had imparted to it its
Latin form. That continent, and a very large part of Asia, after the
lapse of more than a thousand years, still remain permanently attached
to the Arabian doctrine. With the utmost difficulty, and as if by
miracle, Europe itself escaped.

[Sidenote: His preaching,]

[Sidenote: and title to apostleship.]

Mohammed possessed that combination of qualities which more than once
has decided the fate of empires. A preaching soldier, he was eloquent in
the pulpit, valiant in the field. His theology was simple: "There is but
one God." The effeminate Syrian, lost in Monothelite and Monophysite
mysteries; the Athanasian and Arian, destined to disappear before his
breath, might readily anticipate what he meant. Asserting that
everlasting truth, he did not engage in vain metaphysics, but applied
himself to improving the social condition of his people by regulations
respecting personal cleanliness, sobriety, fasting, prayer. Above all
other works he esteemed almsgiving and charity. With a liberality to
which the world had of late become a stranger, he admitted the salvation
of men of any form of faith provided they were virtuous. To the
declaration that there is but one God, he added, "and Mohammed is his
Prophet." Whoever desires to know whether the event of things answered
to the boldness of such an announcement, will do well to examine a map
of the world in our own times. He will find the marks of something more
than an imposture. To be the religious head of many empires, to guide
the daily life of one-third of the human race, may perhaps justify the
title of a messenger of God.

[Sidenote: His delusions.]

Like many of the Christian monks, Mohammed retired to the solitude of
the desert, and, devoting himself to meditation, fasting, and prayer,
became the victim of cerebral disorder. He was visited by supernatural
appearances, mysterious voices accosting him as the Prophet of God; even
the stones and trees joined in the whispering. He himself suspected the
true nature of his malady, and to his wife Chadizah he expressed a dread
that he was becoming insane. It is related that as they sat alone, a
shadow entered the room. "Dost thou see aught?" said Chadizah, who,
after the manner of Arabian matrons, wore her veil. "I do," said the
prophet. Whereupon she uncovered her face and said, "Dost thou see it
now?" "I do not." "Glad tidings to thee, O Mohammed!" exclaimed
Chadizah: "it is an angel, for he has respected my unveiled face; an
evil spirit would not." As his disease advanced, these spectral
illusions became more frequent; from one of them he received the divine
commission. "I," said his wife, "will be thy first believer;" and they
knelt down in prayer together. Since that day nine thousand millions of
human beings have acknowledged him to be a prophet of God.

[Sidenote: His gradual antagonism to Christianity.]

[Sidenote: Institution of polygamy.]

Though, in the earlier part of his career, Mohammed exhibited a spirit
of forbearance toward the Christians, it was not possible but that
bitter animosity should arise, as the sphere of his influence extended.
He appears to have been unable to form any other idea of the Trinity
than that of three distinct gods; and the worship of the Virgin Mary,
recently introduced, could not fail to come into irreconcilable conflict
with his doctrine of the unity of God. To his condemnation of those Jews
who taught that Ezra was the Son of God, he soon added bitter
denunciations of the Oriental churches because of their idolatrous
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. Forbear this; it will
be better for you. God is but one God. Far be it from Him that he should
have a son." "In the last day, God shall say unto Jesus, O Jesus, son of
Mary! hast thou ever said to men, Take me and my mother for two gods
beside God? He shall say, Praise be unto thee, it is not for me to say
that which I ought not." Mohammed disdained all metaphysical
speculations respecting the nature of the Deity, or of the origin and
existence of sin, topics which had hitherto exercised the ingenuity of
the East. He cast aside the doctrine of the superlative value of
chastity, asserting that marriage is the natural state of man. To
asceticism he opposed polygamy, permitting the practice of it in this
life and promising the most voluptuous means for its enjoyment in
Paradise hereafter, especially to those who had gained the crowns of
martyrdom or of victory.

[Sidenote: Results of his life.]

Too often, in this world, success is the criterion of right. The
Mohammedan appeals to the splendour and rapidity of his career as a
proof of the divine mission of his apostle. It may, however, be
permitted to a philosopher, who desires to speak of the faith of so
large a portion of the human race with profound respect, to examine what
were some of the secondary causes which led to so great a political
result. From its most glorious seats Christianity was for ever expelled:
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.

[Sidenote: Causes of his success.]

It is altogether a misconception that the Arabian progress was due to
the sword alone. The sword may change an acknowledged national creed,
but it cannot affect the consciences of men. Profound though its
argument is, something far more profound was demanded before
Mohammedanism pervaded the domestic life of Asia and Africa, before
Arabic became the language of so many different nations.

[Sidenote: Civil weakness produced by ecclesiastical demoralization.]

The explanation of this political phenomenon is to be found in the
social condition of the conquered countries. The influences of religion
in them had long ago ceased; it had become supplanted by theology--a
theology so incomprehensible that even the wonderful capabilities of the
Greek language were scarcely enough to meet its subtle demands; the
Latin and the barbarian dialects were out of the question. How was it
possible that unlettered men, who with difficulty can be made to
apprehend obvious things, should understand such mysteries? Yet they
were taught that on those doctrines the salvation or damnation of the
human race depended. They saw that the clergy had abandoned the guidance
of the individual life of their flocks; that personal virtue or vice
were no longer considered; that sin was not measured by evil works but
by the degrees of heresy. They saw that the ecclesiastical chiefs of
Rome, Constantinople, and Alexandria were engaged in a desperate
struggle for supremacy, carrying out their purposes by weapons and in
ways revolting to the conscience of man. What an example when bishops
were concerned in assassinations, poisonings, adulteries, blindings,
riots, treasons, civil war; when patriarchs and primates were
excommunicating and anathematizing one another in their rivalries for
earthly power, bribing eunuchs with gold, and courtesans and royal
females with concessions of episcopal love, and influencing the
decisions of councils asserted to speak with the voice of God by those
base intrigues and sharp practices resorted to by demagogues in their
packed assemblies! Among legions of monks, who carried terror into the
imperial armies and riot into the great cities, arose hideous clamours
for theological dogmas, but never a voice for intellectual liberty or
the outraged rights of man. In such a state of things, what else could
be the result than disgust or indifference? Certainly men could not be
expected, if a time of necessity arose, to give help to a system that
had lost all hold on their hearts.

When, therefore, in the midst of the wrangling of sects, in the
incomprehensible jargon of Arians, Nestorians, Eutychians, Monothelites,
Monophysites, Mariolatrists, and an anarchy of countless disputants,
there sounded through the world, not the miserable voice of the
intriguing majority of a council, but the dread battle-cry, "There is
but one God," enforced by the tempest of Saracen armies, is it
surprising that the hubbub was hushed? Is it surprising that all Asia
and Africa fell away? In better times patriotism is too often made
subordinate to religion; in those times it was altogether dead.

[Sidenote: Conquest of Africa.]

Scarcely was Mohammed buried when his religion manifested its inevitable
destiny of overpassing the bounds of Arabia. The prophet himself had
declared war against the Roman empire, and, at the head of 30,000 men,
advanced toward Damascus, but his purpose was frustrated by ill health.
His successor Abu-Bekr, the first khalif, attacked both the Romans and
the Persians. The invasion of Egypt occurred A.D. 638, the Arabs being
invited by the Copts. In a few months the Mohammedan general Amrou wrote
to his master, the khalif, "I have taken Alexandria, the great city of
the West." Treason had done its work, and Egypt was thoroughly
subjugated. To complete the conquest of Christian Africa, many attacks
were nevertheless required. Abdallah penetrated nine hundred miles to
Tripoli, but returned. Nothing more was done for twenty years, because
of the disputes that arose about the succession to the khalifate. Then
Moawiyah sent his lieutenant, Akbah, who forced his way to the Atlantic,
but was unable to hold the long line of country permanently. Again
operations were undertaken by Abdalmalek, the sixth of the Ommiade
dynasty, A.D. 698; his lieutenant, Hassan, took Carthage by storm and
destroyed it, the conquest being at last thoroughly completed by Musa,
who enjoyed the double reputation of a brave soldier and an eloquent
preacher. And thus this region, distinguished by its theological acumen,
to which modern Europe owes so much, was for ever silenced by the
scimitar. It ceased to preach and was taught to pray.

In this political result--the Arabian conquest of Africa--there can be
no doubt that the same element which exercised in the Vandal invasion so
disastrous an effect, came again into operation. But, if treason
introduced the enemy, polygamy secured the conquest. In Egypt the Greek
population was orthodox, the natives were Jacobites, more willing to
accept the Monotheism of Arabia than to bear the tyranny of the
orthodox. The Arabs, carrying out their policy of ruining an old
metropolis and erecting a new one, dismantled Alexandria; and thus the
patriarchate of that city ceased to have any farther political existence
in the Christian system, which for so many ages had been disturbed by
its intrigues and violence. The irresistible effect of polygamy in
consolidating the new order of things soon became apparent. In little
more than a single generation all the children of the north of Africa
were speaking Arabic.

[Sidenote: Conquest of Syria and Persia.]

[Sidenote: The fall of Jerusalem.]

During the khalifates of Abu-Bekr and Omar, and within twelve years
after the death of Mohammed, the Arabians had reduced thirty-six
thousand cities, towns, and castles in Persia, Syria, Africa, and had
destroyed four thousand churches, replacing them with fourteen hundred
mosques. In a few years they had extended their rule a thousand miles
east and west. In Syria, as in Africa, their early successes were
promoted in the most effectual manner by treachery. Damascus was taken
after a siege of a year. At the battle of Aiznadin, A.D. 633, Kalid,
"the Sword of God," defeated the army of Heraclius, the Romans losing
fifty thousand men; and this was soon followed by the fall of the great
cities Jerusalem, Antioch, Aleppo, Tyre, Tripoli. On a red camel, which
carried a bag of corn and one of dates, a wooden dish, and a leather
water-bottle, the Khalif Omar came from Medina to take formal possession
of Jerusalem. He entered the Holy City riding by the side of the
Christian patriarch Sophronius, whose capitulation showed that his
confidence in God was completely lost. The successor of Mohammed and the
Roman emperor both correctly judged how important in the eyes of the
nations was the possession of Jerusalem. A belief that it would be a
proof of the authenticity of Mohammedanism led Omar to order the Saracen
troops to take it at any cost.

The conquest of Syria and the seizure of the Mediterranean ports gave to
the Arabs the command of the sea. They soon took Rhodes and Cyprus. The
battle of Cadesia and sack of Ctesiphon, the metropolis of Persia,
decided the fate of that kingdom. Syria was thus completely reduced
under Omar, the second khalif; Persia under Othman, the third.

[Sidenote: The Arabs become a learned nation.]

If it be true that the Arabs burned the library of Alexandria, there was
at that time danger that their fanaticism would lend itself to the
Byzantine system; but it was only for a moment that the khalifs fell
into this evil policy. They very soon became distinguished patrons of
learning. It has been said that they overran the domains of science as
quickly as they overran the realms of their neighbours. It became
customary for the first dignities of the state to be held by men
distinguished for their erudition. Some of the maxims current show how
much literature was esteemed. "The ink of the doctor is equally valuable
with the blood of the martyr." "Paradise is as much for him who has
rightly used the pen as for him who has fallen by the sword." "The world
is sustained by four things only: the learning of the wise, the justice
of the great, the prayers of the good, and the valour of the brave."
Within twenty-five years after the death of Mohammed, under Ali, the
fourth khalif, the patronage of learning had become a settled principle
of the Mohammedan system. Under the khalifs of Bagdad this principle was
thoroughly carried out. The cultivators of mathematics, astronomy,
medicine, and general literature abounded in the court of Almansor, who
invited all philosophers, offering them his protection, whatever their
religious opinions might be. His successor, Alraschid, is said never to
have travelled without a retinue of a hundred learned men. This great
sovereign issued an edict that no mosque should be built unless there
was a school attached to it. It was he who confided the superintendence
of his schools to the Nestorian Masué. His successor, Almaimon, was
brought up among Greek and Persian mathematicians, philosophers, and
physicians. They continued his associates all his life. By these
sovereigns the establishment of libraries was incessantly prosecuted,
and the collection and copying of manuscripts properly organized. In all
the great cities schools abounded; in Alexandria there were not less
than twenty. As might be expected, this could not take place without
exciting the indignation of the old fanatical party, who not only
remonstrated with Almaimon, but threatened him with the vengeance of God
for thus disturbing the faith of the people. However, what had thus been
commenced as a matter of profound policy soon grew into a habit, and it
was observed that whenever an emir managed to make himself independent,
he forthwith opened academies.

[Sidenote: Rapidity of their intellectual development.]

The Arabs furnish a striking illustration of the successive phases of
national life. They first come before us as fetich worshippers, having
their age of credulity, their object of superstition being the black
stone in the temple at Mecca. They pass through an age of inquiry,
rendering possible the advent of Mohammed. Then follows their age of
faith, the blind fanaticism of which quickly led them to overspread all
adjoining countries; and at last comes their period of maturity, their
age of reason. The striking feature of their movement is the quickness
with which they passed through these successive phases, and the
intensity of their national life.

[Sidenote: Causes of the spread of Mohammedanism.]

This singular rapidity of national life was favoured by very obvious
circumstances. The long and desolating wars between Heraclius and
Chosroes had altogether destroyed the mercantile relations of the Roman
and Persian empires, and had thrown the entire Oriental and African
trade into the hands of the Arabs. As a merchant Mohammed himself makes
his first appearance. The first we hear in his history are the journeys
he has made as the factor of the wealthy Chadizah. In these expeditions
with the caravans to Damascus and other Syrian cities, he was brought in
contact with Jews and men of business, who, from the nature of their
pursuits, were of more enlarged views than mere Arab chieftains or the
petty tradesmen of Arab towns. Through such agency the first impetus was
given. As to the rapid success, its causes are in like manner so plain
as to take away all surprise. It is no wonder that in fifty years, as
Abderrahman wrote to the khalif, not only had the tribute from the
entire north of Africa ceased, through the population having become
altogether Mohammedan, but that the Moors boasted an Arab descent as
their greatest glory. For, besides the sectarian animosities on which I
have dwelt as facilitating the first conquest of the Christians, and the
dreadful shock that had been given by the capture of the Holy City,
Jerusalem, the insulting and burning the sepulchre of our Saviour, and
the carrying away of his cross as a trophy by the Persians, there were
other very powerful causes. For many years the taxation imposed by the
Emperors of Constantinople on their subjects in Asia and Africa had been
not only excessive and extortionate, but likewise complicated. This the
khalifs replaced by a simple well-defined tribute of far less amount.
Thus, in the case of Cyprus, the sum paid to the khalif was only half of
what it had been to the emperor; and, indeed, the lower orders were
never made to feel the bitterness of conquest; the blows fell on the
ecclesiastics, not on the population, and between them there was but
little sympathy. In the eyes of the ignorant nations the prestige of the
patriarchs and bishops was utterly destroyed by their detected
helplessness to prevent the capture and insult of the sacred places. On
the payment of a trifling sum the conqueror guaranteed to the Christian
and the Jew absolute security for their worship. An equivalent was
given for a price. Religious freedom was bought with money. Numerous
instances might be given of the scrupulous integrity with which the Arab
commanders complied with their part of the contract. The example set by
Omar on the steps of the Church of the Resurrection was followed by
Moawiyah, who actually rebuilt the church of Edessa for his Christian
subjects; and by Abdulmalek, who, when he had commenced converting that
of Damascus into a mosque, forthwith desisted on finding that the
Christians were entitled to it by the terms of the capitulation. If
these things were done in the first fervour of victory, the principles
on which they depended were all the more powerful after the Arabs had
become tinctured with Nestorian and Jewish influences, and were a
learned nation. It is related of Ali, the son-in-law of Mohammed, and
the fourth successor in the khalifate, that he gave himself up to
letters. Among his sayings are recorded such as these: "Eminence in
science is the highest of honours;" "He dies not who gives life to
learning;" "The greatest ornament of a man is erudition." When the
sovereign felt and expressed such sentiments, it was impossible but that
a liberal policy should prevail.

Besides these there were other incentives not less powerful. To one
whose faith sat lightly upon him, or who valued it less than the tribute
to be paid, it only required the repetition of a short sentence
acknowledging the unity of God and the divine mission of the prophet,
and he forthwith became, though a captive or a slave, the equal and
friend of his conquerer. Doubtless many thousands were under these
circumstances carried away. As respects the female sex, the Arab system
was very far from being oppressive; some have even asserted that "the
Christian women found in the seraglios a delightful retreat." But above
all, polygamy acted most effectually in consolidating the conquests; the
large families that were raised--some are mentioned of more than one
hundred and eighty children--compressed into the course of a few years
events that would otherwise have taken many generations for their
accomplishment. These children gloried in their Arab descent, and, being
taught to speak the language of their conquering fathers, became to all
intents and purposes Arabs. This diffusion of the language was sometimes
expedited by the edicts of the khalifs; thus Alwalid I. prohibited the
use of Greek, directing Arabic to be employed in its stead.

[Sidenote: Causes of the arrest of Mohammedanism.]

[Sidenote: Necessary disintegration of the Arabian system.]

If thus without difficulty we recognise the causes which led to the
rapid diffusion of Arab power, we also without difficulty recognise
those which led to its check and eventual dissolution. Arab conquest
implied, from the scale on which it was pursued, the forthgoing of the
whole nation. It could only be accomplished, and in a temporary manner
sustained, by an excessive and incessant drain of the native Arab
population. That immobility, or, at best, that slow progress the nation
had for so many ages displayed, was at an end, society was moved to its
foundations, a fanatical delirium possessed it, the greatest and boldest
enterprises were entered upon without hesitation, the wildest hopes or
passions of men might be speedily gratified, wealth and beauty were the
tangible rewards of valour in this life, to say nothing of Paradise in
the next. But such an outrush of a nation in all directions implied the
quick growth of diverse interests and opposing policies. The necessary
consequence of the Arab system was subdivision and breaking up. The
circumstances of its growth rendered it certain that a decomposition
would take place in the political, and not, as was the case of the
ecclesiastical Roman system, in the theological direction. All this is
illustrated both in the earlier and later Saracenic history.

[Sidenote: Effect on the low Arab class.]

War makes a people run through its phases of existence fast. It would
have taken the Arabs many thousand years to have advanced intellectually
as far as they did in a single century, had they, as a nation, remained
in profound peace. They did not merely shake off that dead weight which
clogs the movement of a nation--its inert mass of common people; they
converted that mass into a living force. National progress is the sum of
individual progress; national immobility the result of individual
quiescence. Arabian life was run through with rapidity, because an
unrestrained career was opened to every man; and yet, quick as the
movement was, it manifested all those unavoidable phases through which,
whether its motion be swift or slow, humanity must unavoidably pass.

[Sidenote: Review of the Koran.]

[Sidenote: Its asserted homogeneousness and completeness.]

[Sidenote: The characters it ought, therefore, to have presented.]

Arabian influence, thus imposing itself on Africa and Asia by military
successes, and threatening even Constantinople, rested essentially on an
intellectual basis, the value of which it is needful for us to consider.
The Koran, which is that basis, has exercised a great control over the
destinies of mankind, and still serves as a rule of life to a very large
portion of our race. Considering the asserted origin of this
book--indirectly from God himself--we might justly expect that it would
bear to be tried by any standard that man can apply, and vindicate its
truth and excellence in the ordeal of human criticism. In our estimate
of it we must constantly bear in mind that it does not profess to be
successive revelations made at intervals of ages and on various
occasions, but a complete production delivered to one man. We ought,
therefore, to look for universality, completeness, perfection. We might
expect that it would present us with just views of the nature and
position of this world in which, we live, and that, whether dealing with
the spiritual or the material, it would put to shame the most celebrated
productions of human genius, as the magnificent mechanism of the heavens
and the beautiful living forms of the earth are superior to the vain
contrivances of man. Far in advance of all that has been written by the
sages of India, or the philosophers of Greece, on points connected with
the origin, nature, and destiny of the universe, its dignity of
conception and excellence of expression should be in harmony with the
greatness of the subject with which it is concerned.

We might expect that it should propound with authority, and definitively
settle those all-important problems which have exercised the mental
powers of the ablest men of Asia and Europe for so many centuries, and
which are at the foundation of all faith and all philosophy; that it
should distinctly tell us in unmistakable language what is God, what is
the world, what is the soul, and whether man has any criterion of
truth; that it should explain to us how evil can exist in a world the
Maker of which is omnipotent and altogether good; that it should reveal
to us in what the affairs of men are fixed by Destiny, in what by
free-will; that it should teach us whence we came, what is the object of
our continuing here, what is to become of us hereafter. And, since a
written work claiming a divine origin must necessarily accredit itself
even to those most reluctant to receive it, its internal evidences
becoming stronger and not weaker with the strictness of the examination
to which they are submitted, it ought to deal with those things that may
be demonstrated by the increasing knowledge and genius of man,
anticipating therein his conclusions. Such a work, noble as may be its
origin, must not refuse, but court the test of natural philosophy,
regarding it not as an antagonist, but as its best support. As years
pass on, and human science becomes more exact and more comprehensive,
its conclusions must be found in unison therewith. When occasion arises,
it should furnish us at least the foreshadowings of the great truths
discovered by astronomy and geology, not offering for them the wild
fictions of earlier ages, inventions of the infancy of man. It should
tell us how suns and worlds are distributed in infinite space, and how,
in their successions, they come forth in limitless time. It should say
how far the dominion of God is carried out by law, and what is the point
at which it is his pleasure to resort to his own good providence or his
arbitrary will. How grand the description of this magnificent universe
written by the Omnipotent hand! Of man it should set forth his relations
to other living beings, his place among them, his privileges, and
responsibilities. It should not leave him to grope his way through the
vestiges of Greek philosophy, and to miss the truth at last; but it
should teach him wherein true knowledge consists, anticipating the
physical science, physical power, and physical well-being of our own
times, nay, even unfolding for our benefit things that we are still
ignorant of. The discussion of subjects, so many and so high, is not
outside the scope of a work of such pretensions. Its manner of dealing
with them is the only criterion it can offer of its authenticity to
succeeding times.

[Sidenote: Defects of the Koran.]

[Sidenote: Its God.]

[Sidenote: Its views of man.]

Tried by such a standard, the Koran altogether fails. In its philosophy
it is incomparably inferior to the writings of Chakia Mouni, the founder
of Buddhism; in its science it is absolutely worthless. On speculative
or doubtful things it is copious enough; but in the exact, where a test
can be applied to it, it totally fails. Its astronomy, cosmogony,
physiology, are so puerile as to invite our mirth if the occasion did
not forbid. They belong to the old times of the world, the morning of
human knowledge. The earth is firmly balanced in its seat by the weight
of the mountains; the sky is supported over it like a dome, and we are
instructed in the wisdom and power of God by being told to find a crack
in it if we can. Ranged in stories, seven in number, are the heavens,
the highest being the habitation of God, whose throne--for the Koran
does not reject Assyrian ideas--is sustained by winged animal forms. The
shooting-stars are pieces of red-hot stone thrown by angels at impure
spirits when they approach too closely. Of God the Koran is full of
praise, setting forth, often in not unworthy imagery, his majesty.
Though it bitterly denounces those who give him any equals, and assures
them that their sin will never be forgiven; that in the judgment-day
they must answer the fearful question, "Where are my companions about
whom ye disputed?" though it inculcates an absolute dependence on the
mercy of God, and denounces as criminals all those who make a
merchandise of religion, its ideas of the Deity are altogether
anthropomorphic. He is only a gigantic man living in a paradise. In this
respect, though exceptional passages might be cited, the reader rises
from a perusal of the 114 chapters of the Koran with a final impression
that they have given him low and unworthy thoughts; nor is it surprising
that one of the Mohammedan sects reads it in such a way as to find no
difficulty in asserting that, "from the crown of the head to the breast
God is hollow, and from the breast downward he is solid; that he has
curled black hair, and roars like a lion at every watch of the night."
The unity asserted by Mohammed is a unity in special contradistinction
to the Trinity of the Christians, and the doctrine of a divine
generation. Our Saviour is never called the Son of God, but always the
son of Mary. Throughout there is a perpetual acceptance of the delusion
of the human destiny of the universe. As to man, Mohammed is diffuse
enough respecting a future state, speaking with clearness of a
resurrection, the judgment-day, Paradise, the torment of hell, the worm
that never dies, the pains that never end; but, with all this precise
description of the future, there are many errors as to the past. If
modesty did not render it unsuitable to speak of such topics here, it
might be shown how feeble is his physiology when he has occasion to
allude to the origin or generation of man. He is hardly advanced beyond
the ideas of Thales. One who is so untrustworthy a guide as to things
that are past, cannot be very trustworthy as to events that are to come.

[Sidenote: Its literary inferiority compared with the Bible.]

Of the literary execution of his work, it is, perhaps, scarcely possible
to judge fairly from a translation. It is said to be the oldest prose
composition among the Arabs, by whom Mohammed's boast of the
unapproachable excellence of his work is almost universally sustained;
but it must not be concealed that there have been among them very
learned men who have held it in light esteem. Its most celebrated
passages, as those on the nature of God, in Chapters II., XXIV., will
bear no comparison with parallel ones in the Psalms and Book of Job. In
the narrative style, the story of Joseph, in Chapter XII., compared with
the same incidents related in Genesis, shows a like inferiority.
Mohammed also adulterates his work with many Christian legends, derived
probably from the apocryphal gospel of St. Barnabas; he mixes with many
of his own inventions the scripture account of the temptation of Adam,
the Deluge, Jonah and the whale, enriching the whole with stories like
the later Night Entertainments of his country, the seven sleepers, Gog
and Magog, and all the wonders of genii, sorcery, and charms.

[Sidenote: Causes of its surprising influence.]

An impartial reader of the Koran may doubtless be surprised that so
feeble a production should serve its purpose so well. But the theory of
religion is one thing, the practice another. The Koran abounds in
excellent moral suggestions and precepts; its composition is so
fragmentary that we cannot turn to a single page without finding maxims
of which all men must approve. This fragmentary construction yields
texts, and mottoes, and rules complete in themselves, suitable for
common men in any of the incidents of life. There is a perpetual
insisting on the necessity of prayer, an inculcation of mercy,
almsgiving, justice, fasting, pilgrimage, and other good works;
institutions respecting conduct, both social and domestic, debts,
witnesses, marriage, children, wine, and the like; above all, a constant
stimulation to do battle with the infidel and blasphemer. For life as it
passes in Asia, there is hardly a condition in which passages from the
Koran cannot be recalled suitable for instruction, admonition,
consolation, encouragement. To the Asiatic and to the African, such
devotional fragments are of far more use than any sustained theological
doctrine. The mental constitution of Mohammed did not enable him to
handle important philosophical questions with the well-balanced ability
of the great Greek and Indian writers, but he has never been surpassed
in adaptation to the spiritual wants of humble life, making even his
fearful fatalism administer thereto. A pitiless destiny is awaiting us;
yet the prophet is uncertain what it may be. "Unto every nation a fixed
time is decreed. Death will overtake us even in lofty towers, but God
only knoweth the place in which a man shall die," After many an
admonition of the resurrection and the judgment-day, many a promise of
Paradise and threat of hell, he plaintively confesses, "I do not know
what will be done with you or me hereafter."

[Sidenote: Its true nature.]

The Koran thus betrays a human, and not a very noble intellectual
origin. It does not, however, follow that its author was, as is so often
asserted, a mere impostor. He reiterates again and again, I am nothing
more than a public preacher. He defends, not always without acerbity,
his work from those who, even in his own life, stigmatized it as a
confused heap of dreams, or, what is worse, a forgery. He is not the
only man who has supposed himself to be the subject of supernatural and
divine communications, for this is a condition of disease to which any
one, by fasting and mental anxiety, may be reduced.

In what I have thus said respecting a work held by so many millions of
men as a revelation from God, I have endeavoured to speak with respect,
and yet with freedom, constantly bearing in mind how deeply to this book
Asia and Africa are indebted for daily guidance, how deeply Europe and
America for the light of science.

[Sidenote: Popular Mohammedanism.]

As might be expected, the doctrines of the Koran have received many
fictitious additions and sectarian interpretations in the course of
ages. In the popular superstition angels and genii largely figure. The
latter, being of a grosser fabric, eat, drink, propagate their kind, are
of two sorts, good and bad, and existed long before men, having occupied
the earth before Adam. Immediately after death, two greenish, livid
angels, Monkir and Nekkar, examine every corpse as to its faith in God
and Mohammed; but the soul, having been separated from the body by the
angel of death, enters upon an intermediate state, awaiting the
resurrection. There is, however, much diversity of opinion as to its
precise disposal before the judgment-day: some think that it hovers near
the grave; some, that it sinks into the well Zemzem; some, that it
retires into the trumpet of the Angel of the Resurrection; the
difficulty apparently being that any final disposal before the day of
judgment would be anticipatory of that great event, if, indeed, it would
not render it needless. As to the resurrection, some believe it to be
merely spiritual, others corporeal; the latter asserting that the os
coccygis, or last bone of the spinal column, will serve, as it were, as
a germ, and that, vivified by a rain of forty days, the body will sprout
from it. Among the signs of the approaching resurrection will be the
rising of the sun in the West. It will be ushered in by three blasts of
a trumpet: the first, known as the blast of consternation, will shake
the earth to its centre, and extinguish the sun and stars; the second,
the blast of extermination, will annihilate all material things except
Paradise, hell, and the throne of God. Forty years subsequently, the
angel Israfil will sound the blast of resurrection. From his trumpet
there will be blown forth the countless myriads of souls who have taken
refuge therein or lain concealed. The day of judgment has now come. The
Koran contradicts itself as to the length of this day; in one place
making it a thousand, in another fifty thousand years. Most Mohammedans
incline to adopt the longer period, since angels, genii, men, and
animals have to be tried. As to men, they will rise in their natural
state, but naked; white winged camels, with saddles of gold, awaiting
the saved. When the partition is made, the wicked will be oppressed with
an intolerable heat, caused by the sun, which, having been called into
existence again, will approach within a mile, provoking a sweat to issue
from them, and this, according to their demerits, will immerse them from
the ankles to the mouth; but the righteous will be screened by the
shadow of the throne of God. The judge will be seated in the clouds, the
books open before him, and everything in its turn called on to account
for its deeds. For greater dispatch, the angel Gabriel will hold forth
his balance, one scale of which hangs over Paradise and one over hell.
In these all works are weighed. As soon as the sentence is delivered,
the assembly, in a long file, will pass over the bridge Al-Sirat. It is
as sharp as the edge of a sword, and laid over the mouth of hell.
Mohammed and his followers will successfully pass the perilous ordeal;
but the sinners, giddy with terror, will drop into the place of torment.
The blessed will receive their first taste of happiness at a pond which
is supplied by silver pipes from the river Al-Cawthor. The soil of
Paradise is of musk. Its rivers tranquilly flow over pebbles of rubies
and emeralds. From tents of hollow pearls, the Houris, or girls of
Paradise, will come forth, attended by troops of beautiful boys. Each
Saint will have eighty thousand servants and seventy-two girls. To
these, some of the more merciful Mussulmans add the wives they have had
upon earth; but the grimly orthodox assert that hell is already nearly
filled with women. How can it be otherwise since they are not permitted
to pray in a mosque upon earth? I have not space to describe the silk
brocades, the green clothing, the soft carpets, the banquets, the
perpetual music and songs. From the glorified body all impurities will
escape, not as they did during life, but in a fragrant perspiration of
camphor and musk. No one will complain I am weary; no one will say I am
sick.

[Sidenote: The Mohammedan sects.]

From the contradictions, puerilities, and impossibilities indicated in
the preceding paragraphs, it may be anticipated that the faith of
Mohammed has been broken into many sects. Of such it is said that not
less than seventy-three may be numbered. Some, as the Sonnites, are
guided by traditions; some occupy themselves with philosophical
difficulties, the existence of evil in the world, the attributes of God,
absolute predestination and eternal damnation, the invisibility and
non-corporeality of God, his capability of local motion: these and other
such topics furnish abundant opportunity for sectarian dispute. As if to
show how the essential principles of the Koran may be departed from by
those who still profess to be guided by it, there are, among the
Shiites, those who believe that Ali was an incarnation of God; that he
was in existence before the creation of things; that he never died, but
ascended to heaven, and will return again in the clouds to judge the
world. But the great Mohammedan philosophers, simply accepting the
doctrine of the Oneness of God as the only thing of which man can be
certain, look upon all the rest as idle fables, having, however, this
political use, that they furnish contention, and therefore occupation to
disputatious sectarians, and consolation to illiterate minds.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Effect of Mohammedanism on Christianity.]

Thus settled on the north of Africa the lurid phantom of the Arabian
crescent, one horn reaching to the Bosphorus and one pointing beyond the
Pyrenees. For a while it seemed that the portentous meteor would
increase to the full, and that all Europe would be enveloped.
Christianity had lost for ever the most interesting countries over which
her influence had once spread, Africa, Egypt, Syria, the Holy Land, Asia
Minor, Spain. She was destined, in the end, to lose in the same manner
the metropolis of the East. In exchange for these ancient and
illustrious regions, she fell back on Gaul, Germany, Britain,
Scandinavia. In those savage countries, what were there to be offered as
substitutes for the great capitals, illustrious in ecclesiastical
history, for ever illustrious in the records of the human
race--Carthage, Alexandria, Jerusalem, Antioch, Constantinople? It was
an evil exchange. The labours, intellectual and physical, of which
those cities had once been the scene; the preaching, and penances, and
prayers so lavishly expended in them, had not produced the anticipated,
the asserted result. In theology and morality the people had pursued a
descending course. Patriotism was extinct. They surrendered the state to
preserve their sect; their treason was rewarded by subjugation.

[Sidenote: Reflexions on the course of historic events.]

From these melancholy events we may learn that the principles on which
the moral world is governed are analogous to those which obtain in the
physical. It is not by incessant divine interpositions, which produce
breaches in the continuity of historic action; it is not by miracles and
prodigies that the course of events is determined; but affairs follow
each other in the relation of cause and effect. The maximum development
of early Christianity coincided with the boundaries of the Roman empire;
the ecclesiastical condition depended on the political, and, indeed, was
its direct consequence and issue. The loss of Africa and Asia was, in
like manner, connected with the Arabian movement, though it would have
been easy to prevent that catastrophe, and to preserve those continents
to the faith by the smallest of those innumerable miracles of which
Church history is full, and which were often performed on unimportant
and obscure occasions. But not even one such miracle was vouchsafed,
though an angel might have worthily descended. I know of no event in the
history of our race on which a thoughtful man may more profitably
meditate than on this loss of Africa and Asia. It may remove from his
mind many erroneous ideas, and lead him to take a more elevated, a more
philosophical, and, therefore, more correct view of the course of
earthly affairs.

CHAPTER XII.

THE AGE OF FAITH IN THE WEST.

_The Age of Faith in the West is marked by Paganism.--The
Arabian military Attacks produce the Isolation and permit the
Independence of the Bishop of Rome._

GREGORY THE GREAT _organizes the Ideas of his Age,
materializes Faith, allies it to Art, rejects Science, and
creates the Italian Form of Religion._

_The Value of the Italian Form of Religion determined from the
papal Biography._

[Sidenote: The Age of Faith in the West.]

From the Age of Faith, in the East, I have now to turn to the Age of
Faith in the West. The former, as we have seen, ended prematurely,
through a metamorphosis of the populations by military operations,
conquests, polygamy; the latter, under more favourable circumstances,
gradually completed its predestined phases, and, after the lapse of many
centuries, passed into the Age of Reason.

If so many recollections of profound interest cluster round Jerusalem,
"the Holy City" of the East, many scarcely inferior are connected with
Rome, "the Eternal City" of the West.

[Sidenote: Is essentially marked by the paganization of religion.]

The Byzantine system, which, having originated in the policy of an
ambitious soldier struggling for supreme power, and in the devices of
ecclesiastics intolerant of any competitors, had spread itself all over
the eastern and southern portions of the Roman empire, and with its
hatred of human knowledge and degraded religious ideas and practices,
had been adopted at last even in Italy. Not by the Romans, for they had
ceased to exist, but by the medley of Goths and half-breeds, the
occupants of that peninsula. Gregory the Great is the incarnation of the
ideas of this debased population. That evil system, so carefully
nurtured by Constantine and cherished by all the Oriental bishops, had
been cut down by the axe of the Vandal, the Persian, the Arab, in its
native seats, but the offshoot of it that had been planted in Rome
developed spontaneously with unexpected luxuriance, and cast its dark
shadow over Europe for many centuries. He who knew what Christianity had
been in the apostolic days, might look with boundless surprise on what
was now ingrafted upon it, and was passing under its name.

[Sidenote: Effects of the loss of Africa on events in Italy.]

In the last chapter we have seen how, through the Vandal invasion,
Africa was lost to the empire--a dire calamity, for, of all the
provinces, it had been the least expensive and the most productive; it
yielded men, money, and, what was perhaps of more importance, corn for
the use of Italy. A sudden stoppage of the customary supply rendered
impossible the usual distributions in Rome, Ravenna, Milan. A famine
fell upon Italy, bringing in its train an inevitable diminution of the
population. To add to the misfortunes, Attila, the King of the Huns, or,
as he called himself, "the Scourge of God," invaded the empire. The
battle of Chalons, the convulsive death-throe of the Roman empire,
arrested his career, A.D. 451.

[Sidenote: Fall and pillage of Rome.]

Four years after this event, through intrigues in the imperial family,
Genseric, the Vandal king, was invited from Africa to Rome. The
atrocities which of old had been practised against Carthage under the
auspices of the senate were now avenged. For fourteen days the Vandals
sacked the city, perpetrating unheard-of cruelties. Their ships, brought
into the Tiber, enabled them to accomplish their purpose of pillage far
more effectually than would have been possible by any land expedition.
The treasures of Rome, with multitudes of noble captives, were
transported to Carthage. In twenty-one years after this time, A.D. 476,
the Western Empire became extinct.

[Sidenote: Effects of the wars of Justinian.]

Thus the treachery of the African Arians not only brought the Vandals
into the most important of all the provinces, so far as Italy was
concerned; it also furnished an instrument for the ruin of Rome. But
hardly had the Emperor Justinian reconquered Africa when he attempted
the subjugation of the Goths now holding possession of Italy. His
general, Belisarius, captured Rome, Dec. 10, A.D. 556. In the military
operations ensuing with Vitiges, Italy was devastated, the population
sank beneath the sword, pestilence, famine. In all directions the
glorious remains of antiquity were destroyed; statues, as those of the
Mole of Hadrian, were thrown upon the besiegers of Rome. These
operations closed by the surrender of Vitiges to Belisarius at the
capture of Ravenna.

But, as soon as the military compression was withdrawn, revolt broke
out. Rome was retaken by the Goths; its walls were razed; for forty days
it was deserted by its inhabitants, an emigration that in the end proved
its ruin. Belisarius, who had been sent back by the emperor, re-entered
it, but was too weak to retain it. During four years Italy was ravaged
by the Franks and the Goths. At last Justinian sent the eunuch Narses
with a well-appointed army. The Ostrogothic monarchy was overthrown, and
the emperor governed Italy by his exarchs at Ravenna.

[Sidenote: Debased ideas of the incoming Age of Faith.]

But what was the cost of all this? We may reject the statement
previously made, that Italy lost fifteen millions of inhabitants, on the
ground that such computations were beyond the ability of the survivors,
but, from the asserted number we may infer that there had been a
horrible catastrophe. In other directions the relics of civilization
were fast disappearing; the valley of the Danube had relapsed into a
barbarous state; the African shore had become a wilderness; Italy a
hideous desert; and the necessary consequence of the extermination of
the native Italians by war, and their replacement by barbarous
adventurers, was the falling of the sparse population of that peninsula
into a lower psychical state. It was ready for the materialized
religion that soon ensued. An indelible aspect was stamped on the
incoming Age of Faith. The East and the West had equally displayed the
imbecility of ecclesiastical rule. Of both, the Holy City had fallen;
Jerusalem had been captured by the Persian and the Arab, Rome had been
sacked by the Vandal and the Goth.

[Sidenote: Steady progress of the papacy to supremacy.]

But, for the proper description of the course of affairs, I must retrace
my steps a little. In the important political events coinciding with the
death of Leo the Great, and the constitution of the kingdom of Italy by
the barbarian Odoacer, A.D. 476-490, the bishops of Rome seem to have
taken but little interest. Doubtless, on one side, they perceived the
transitory nature of such incidents, and, on the other, clearly saw for
themselves the road to lasting spiritual domination. The Christians
everywhere had long expressed a total carelessness for the fate of old
Rome; and in the midst of her ruins the popes were incessantly occupied
in laying deep the foundations of their power. Though it mattered little
to them who was the temporal ruler of Italy, they were vigilant and
energetic in their relations with their great competitors, the bishops
of Constantinople and Alexandria. It had become clear that Christendom
must have a head; and that headship, once definitely settled, implied
the eventual control over the temporal power. Of all objects of human
ambition, that headship was best worth struggling for.

[Sidenote: Its attitude toward the emperor.]

Steadily pursuing every advantage as it arose, Rome inexorably insisted
that her decisions should be carried out in Constantinople itself. This
was the case especially in the affair of Acacius, the bishop of that
city, who, having been admonished for his acts by Felix, the bishop of
Rome, was finally excommunicated. A difficulty arose as to the manner in
which the process should be served; but an adventurous monk fastened it
to the robe of Acacius as he entered the church. Acacius, undismayed,
proceeded with his services, and, pausing deliberately, ordered the name
of Felix, the Bishop of Rome, to be struck from the roll of bishops in
communion with the East. Constantinople and Rome thus mutually
excommunicated one another. It is in reference to this affair that Pope
Gelasius, addressing the emperor, says; "There are two powers which rule
the world, the imperial and pontifical. You are the sovereign of the
human race, but you bow your neck to those who preside over things
divine. The priesthood is the greater of the two powers; it has to
render an account in the last day for the acts of kings." This is not
the language of a feeble ecclesiastic, but of a pontiff who understands
his power.

[Sidenote: The Gothic conquest gives the pope an Arian master.]

The conquest of Italy by Theodoric, the Ostrogoth, A.D. 493, gave to the
bishops of Rome an Arian sovereign, and presented to the world the
anomaly of a heretic appointing God's vicar upon earth. There was a
contested election between two rival candidates, whose factions,
emulating the example of the East, filled the city with murder. The
Gothic monarch ordered that he who had most suffrages, and had been
first consecrated, should be acknowledged. In this manner Symmachus
became pope.

[Sidenote: The emperor and pope conspire against him.]

[Sidenote: The Gothic king detects them.]

Hormisdas, who succeeded Symmachus, renewed the attempt to compel the
Eastern emperor, Anastasius, to accept the degradation of Acacius and
his party, and to enforce the assent of all his clergy thereto, but in
vain. On the accession of Justin to the imperial throne, Rome at last
carried her point; all her conditions were admitted; the schism was
ended in the humiliation of the Bishop of Constantinople, it was said,
through the orthodoxy of the emperor. But very soon began to appear
unmistakable indications that for this religious victory a temporal
equivalent had been given. Conspiracies were detected in Rome against
Theodoric, the Gothic king; and rumours were whispered about that the
arms of Constantinople would before long release Italy from the
heretical yoke of the Arian. There can be no doubt that Theodoric
detected the treason. It was an evil reward for his impartial equity. At
once he disarmed the population of Rome. From being a merciful
sovereign, he exhibited an awful vengeance. It was in these transactions
that Boethius, the philosopher, and Symmachus, the senator, fell victims
to his wrath. The pope John himself was thrown into prison, and there
miserably died. In his remonstrances with Justin, the great barbarian
monarch displays sentiments far above his times, yet they were the
sentiments that had hitherto regulated his actions. "To pretend to a
dominion over the conscience is to usurp the prerogative of God. By the
nature of things, the power of sovereigns is confined to political
government. They have no right of punishment but over those who disturb
the public peace. The most dangerous heresy is that of a sovereign who
separates himself from part of his subjects because they believe not
according to his belief."

[Sidenote: The conspiracy matures.]

[Sidenote: Subjugation of the pope by the emperor.]

Theodoric had been but a few years dead--his soul was seen by an
orthodox hermit carried by devils into the crater of the volcano of
Lipari, which was considered to be the opening into hell--when the
invasion of Italy by Justinian showed how well-founded his suspicions
had been. Rome was, however, very far from receiving the advantages she
had expected; the inconceivable wickedness of Constantinople was brought
into Italy. Pope Sylverius, who was the son of Pope Hormisdas, was
deposed by Theodora, the emperor's wife. This woman, once a common
prostitute, sold the papacy to Vigilius for two hundred pounds of gold.
Her accomplice, Antonina, the unprincipled wife of Belisarius, had
Sylverius stripped of his robes and habited as a monk. He was
subsequently banished to the old convict island of Pandataria, and there
died. Vigilius embraced Eutychianism and, it was said, murdered one of
his secretaries, and caused his sister's son to be beaten to death. He
was made to feel what it is for a bishop to be in the hands of an
emperor; to taste of the cup so often presented to prelates at
Constantinople; to understand in what estimation his sovereign held the
vicar of God upon earth. Compelled to go to that metropolis to embrace
the theological views which Justinian had put forth, thrice he agreed to
them, and thrice he recanted; he excommunicated the Patriarch of
Constantinople, and was excommunicated by him. In his personal contests
with the imperial officials, they dragged him by his feet from a
sanctuary with so much violence that a part of the structure was pulled
down upon him; they confined him in a dungeon and fed him on bread and
water. Eventually he died an outcast in Sicily. The immediate effect of
the conquest of Italy was the reduction of the popes to the degraded
condition of the patriarchs of Constantinople. Such were the bitter
fruits of their treason to the Gothic king. The success of Justinian's
invasion was due to the clergy; in the ruin they brought upon their
country, and the relentless tyranny they drew upon themselves, they had
their reward.

[Sidenote: The paganization of religion proceeds.]

In the midst of this desolation and degradation the Age of Faith was
gradually assuming distinctive lineaments in Italy. Paganization, which
had been patronized as a matter of policy in the East, became a matter
of necessity in the West. To a man like Gregory the Great, born in a
position which enabled him to examine things from a very general point
of view, it was clear that the psychical condition of the lower social
stratum demanded concessions in accordance with its ideas. The belief of
the thoughtful must be alloyed with the superstition of the populace.

[Sidenote: Division of the subjects to be treated of.]

Accordingly, that was what actually occurred. For the clear
understanding of these events I shall have to speak, 1st, of the acts of
Pope Gregory the Great, by whom the ideas of the age were organized and
clothed in a dress suited to the requirements of the times; 2d, of the
relations which the papacy soon assumed with the kings of France, by
which the work of Gregory was consolidated, upheld, and diffused all
over Europe. It adds not a little to the interest of these things that
the influences thus created have outlasted their original causes, and,
after the lapse of more than a thousand years, though moss-covered and
rotten, are a stumbling-block to the progress of nations.

[Sidenote: Gregory the Great.]

Gregory the Great was the grandson of Pope Felix. His patrician
parentage and conspicuous abilities had attracted in early life the
attention of the Emperor Justin, by whom he was appointed prefect of
Rome. Withdrawn by the Church from the splendours of secular life, he
was sent, while yet a deacon, as nuncio to Constantinople. Discharging
the duties that had been committed to him with singular ability and
firmness, he resumed the monastic life on his return, with daily
increasing reputation. Elected to the papacy by the clergy, the senate,
and people of Rome, A.D. 590, with well dissembled resistance he
implored the emperor to reject their choice, and, on being refused,
escaped from the city hidden in a basket. It is related that the retreat
in which he was concealed was discovered by a celestial hovering light
that settled upon it, and revealed to the faithful their reluctant pope.
This was during a time of pestilence and famine.

Once made supreme pontiff, this austere monk in an instant resumed the
character he had displayed at Constantinople, and exhibited the
qualities of a great statesman. He regulated the Roman liturgy, the
calendar of festivals, the order of processions, the fashions of
sacerdotal garments; he himself officiated in the canon of the mass,
devised many solemn and pompous rites, and invented the chant known by
his name. He established schools of music, administered the Church
revenues with precision and justice, and set an example of almsgiving
and charity; for such was the misery of the times that even Roman
matrons had to accept the benevolence of the Church. He authorized the
alienation of Church property for the redemption of slaves, laymen as
well as ecclesiastics.

An insubordinate clergy and a dissolute populace quickly felt the hand
that now held the reins. He sedulously watched the inferior pastors,
dealing out justice to them, and punishing all who offended with
rigorous severity. He compelled the Italian bishops to acknowledge him
as their metropolitan. He extended his influence to Greece; prohibited
simony in Gaul; received into the bosom of the Church Spain, now
renouncing her Arianism; sent out missionaries to Britain, and converted
the pagans of that country; extirpated heathenism from Sardinia;
resisted John, the Patriarch of Constantinople, who had dared to take
the title of universal bishop; exposed to the emperor the ruin
occasioned by the pride, ambition, and wickedness of the clergy, and
withstood him on the question of the law prohibiting soldiers from
becoming monks. It was not in the nature of such a man to decline the
regulation of political affairs; he nominated tribunes, and directed the
operations of troops.

[Sidenote: His superstition.]

[Sidenote: He materializes religion.]

[Sidenote: His hatred of learning,]

[Sidenote: and expulsion of classical authors.]

No one can shake off the system that has given him power; no one can
free himself from the tincture of the times of which he is the
representative. Though in so many respects Gregory was far in advance of
his age, he was at once insincere and profoundly superstitious. With
more than Byzantine hatred he detested human knowledge. His
oft-expressed belief that the end of the world was at hand was
perpetually contradicted by his acts, which were ceaselessly directed to
the foundation of a future papal empire. Under him was sanctified that
mythologic Christianity destined to become the religion of Europe for
many subsequent centuries, and which adopted the adoration of the Virgin
by images and pictures; the efficacy of the remains of martyrs and
relics; stupendous miracles wrought at the shrines of saints; the
perpetual interventions of angels and devils in sublunary affairs; the
truth of legends far surpassing in romantic improbability the stories of
Greek mythology; the localization of heaven a few miles above the air,
and of hell in the bowels of the earth, with its portal in the crater of
Lipari. Gregory himself was a sincere believer in miracles, ghosts, and
the resurrection of many persons from the grave, but who, alas! had
brought no tidings of the secret wonders of that land of deepest shade.
He made these wild fancies the actual, the daily, the practical religion
of Europe. Participating in the ecclesiastical hatred of human learning,
and insisting on the maxim that "Ignorance is the mother of devotion,"
he expelled from Rome all mathematical studies, and burned the Palatine
library founded by Augustus Cæsar. It was valuable for the many rare
manuscripts it contained. He forbade the study of the classics,
mutilated statues, and destroyed temples. He hated the very relics of
classical genius; pursued with vindictive fanaticism the writings of
Livy, against whom he was specially excited. It has truly been said that
"he was as inveterate an enemy to learning as ever lived;" that "no
lucid ray ever beamed on his superstitious soul." He boasted that his
own works were written without regard to the rules of grammar, and
censured the crime of a priest who had taught that subject. It was his
aim to substitute for the heathen writings others which he thought less
dangerous to orthodoxy; and so well did he succeed in rooting out of
Italy her illustrious pagan authors, that when one of his successors,
Paul I., sent to Pepin of France "what books he could find," they were
"an antiphonal, a grammar, and the works of Dionysius the Areopagite."
He was the very incarnation of the Byzantine principle of ignorance.

[Sidenote: Gradual preparation for the debasement of religion.]

[Sidenote: Corruption of Christianity.]

If thus the misfortunes that had fallen on Italy had given her a base
population, whose wants could only be met by a paganized religion, the
more fortunate classes all over the empire had long been tending in the
same direction. Whoever will examine the progress of Christian society
from the earlier ages, will find that there could be no other result
than a repudiation of solid learning and an alliance with art. We have
only to compare the poverty and plainness of the first disciples with
the extravagance reached in a few generations. Cyprian complains of the
covetousness, pride, luxury, and worldly-mindedness of Christians, even
of the clergy and confessors. Some made no scruple to contract matrimony
with heathens. Clement of Alexandria bitterly inveighs against "the
vices of an opulent and luxurious Christian community--splendid dresses,
gold and silver vessels, rich banquets, gilded litters and chariots, and
private baths. The ladies kept Indian birds, Median peacocks, monkeys,
and Maltese dogs, instead of maintaining widows and orphans; the men had
multitudes of slaves." The dipping three times at baptism, the tasting
of honey and milk, the oblations for the dead, the signing of the cross
on the forehead on putting on the clothes or the shoes, or lighting a
candle, which Tertullian imputes to tradition without the authority of
Scripture, foreshadowed a thousand pagan observances soon to be
introduced. As time passed on, so far from the state of things
improving, it became worse. Not only among the frivolous class, but even
among historic personages, there was a hankering after the ceremonies of
the departed creed, a lingering attachment to the old rites, and,
perhaps, a religious indifference to the new. To the age of Justinian
these remarks strikingly apply. Boethius was, at the best, only a pagan
philosopher; Tribonian, the great lawyer, the author of the Justinian
Code, was suspected of being an atheist.

[Sidenote: Episcopal splendour and wickedness.]

[Sidenote: Paganisms of Christianity.]

[Sidenote: It allies itself to art,]

In the East, the splendour of the episcopal establishments extorted
admiration even from those who were familiar with the imperial court.
The well-ordered trains of attendants and the magnificent banquets in
the bishops' palaces are particularly praised. Extravagant views of the
pre-eminent value of celibacy had long been held among the more devout,
who conceded a reluctant admission even for marriage itself. "I praise
the married state, but chiefly for this, that it provides virgins," had
been the more than doubtful encomium of St. Jerome. Among the clergy,
who under the force of this growing sentiment found it advisable to
refrain from marriage, it had become customary, as we learn from the
enactments and denunciations against the practice, to live with
"sub-introduced women," as they were called. These passed as sisters of
the priests, the correctness of whose taste was often exemplified by the
remarkable beauty of their sinful partners. A law of Honorius put an end
to this iniquity. The children arising from these associations do not
appear to have occasioned any extraordinary scandal. At weddings it was
still the custom to sing hymns to Venus. The cultivation of music at a
very early period attracted the attention of many of the great
ecclesiastics--Paul of Samosata, Arius, Chrysostom. In the first
congregations probably all the worshippers joined in the hymns and
psalmody. By degrees, however, more skilful performers had been
introduced, and the chorus of the Greek tragedy made available under the
form of antiphonal singing. The Ambrosian chant was eventually exchanged
for the noble Roman chant of Gregory the Great, which has been truly
characterised as the foundation of all that is grand and elevated in
modern music.

[Sidenote: and rejects learning.]

With the devastation that Italy had suffered the Latin language was
becoming extinct. But Roman literature had never been converted to
Christianity. Of the best writers among the Fathers, not one was a
Roman; all were provincials. The literary basis was the Hebrew
Scriptures and the New Testament, the poetical imagery being, for the
most part, borrowed from the prophets. In historical compositions there
was a want of fair dealing and truthfulness almost incredible to us;
thus Eusebius naïvely avows that in his history he shall omit whatever
might tend to the discredit of the Church, and magnify whatever might
conduce to her glory. The same principle was carried out in numberless
legends, many of them deliberate forgeries, the amazing credulity of the
times yielding to them full credit, no matter how much they might
outrage common sense. But what else was to be expected of generations
who could believe that the tracks of Pharaoh's chariot-wheels were still
impressed on the sands of the Red Sea, and could not be obliterated
either by the winds or the waves? He who ventured to offend the public
taste for these idle fables brought down upon himself the wrath of
society, and was branded as an infidel. In the interpretation of the
Scriptures, and, indeed, in all commentaries on authors of repute, there
was a constant indulgence in fanciful mystification and the detection of
concealed meanings, in the extracting of which an amusing degree of
ingenuity and industry was often shown; but these hermeneutical
writings, as well as the polemical, are tedious beyond endurance; with
regard to the latter, the energy of their vindictive violence is not
sufficient to redeem them from contempt.

[Sidenote: Painting and sculpture.]

[Sidenote: Adopts a typical model of the Saviour,]

The relation of the Church to the sister arts, painting and sculpture,
was doubtless fairly indicated at a subsequent time by the second
Council of Nicea, A.D. 787; their superstitious use had been resumed.
Sculpture has, however, never forgotten the preference that was shown to
her sister. To this day she is a pagan, emulating in this the example of
the noblest of the sciences, Astronomy, who bears in mind the great
insults she has received from the Church, and tolerates the name of no
saint in the visible heavens; the new worlds she discovers are dedicated
to Uranus, or Neptune, or other Olympian divinities. Among the
ecclesiastics there had always been many, occasionally some of eminence,
who set their faces against the connexion of worship with art; thus
Tertullian of old had manifested his displeasure against Hermogenes, on
account of the two deadly sins into which he had fallen, painting and
marriage; but Gnostic Christianity had approved, as Roman Christianity
was now to approve, of their union. To the Gnostics we owe the earliest
examples of our sacred images. The countenance of our Saviour, along
with those of Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, appears on some of their
engraved gems and seals. Among the earlier fathers--Justin Martyn and
Tertullian--there was an impression that the personal appearance of our
Lord was ungainly; that he was short of stature; and, at a later period
Cyril says, mean of aspect "even beyond the ordinary race of men." But
these unsuitable delineations were generally corrected in the fourth
century, it being then recognised that God could not dwell in a humble
form or low stature. The model eventually received was perhaps that
described in the spurious epistle of Lentulus to the Roman senate: "He
was a man of tall and well-proportioned form; his countenance severe and
impressive, so as to move the beholders at once with love and awe. His
hair was of an amber colour, reaching to his ears with no radiation, and
standing up from his ears clustering and bright, and flowing down over
his shoulders, parted on the top according to the fashion of the
Nazarenes. The brow high and open; the complexion clear, with a delicate
tinge of red; the aspect frank and pleasing; the nose and mouth finely
formed; the beard thick, parted, and of the colour of the hair; the eyes
blue, and exceedingly bright." Subsequently the oval countenance assumed
an air of melancholy, which, though eminently suggestive, can hardly be
considered as the type of manly beauty.

[Sidenote: and of the Virgin.]

At first the cross was without any adornment; it next had a lamb at the
foot; and eventually became the crucifix, sanctified with the form of
the dying Saviour. Of the Virgin Mary, destined in later times to
furnish so many beautiful types of female loveliness, the earliest
representations are veiled. The Egyptian sculptors had thus depicted
Isis; the first form of the Virgin and child was the counterpart of Isis
and Horus. St. Augustine says her countenance was unknown; there
appears, however, to have been a very early Christian tradition that in
complexion she was a brunette. Adventurous artists by degrees removed
the veil, and next to the mere countenance added a full-grown figure
like that of a dignified Roman matron; then grouped her with the divine
child, the wise men, and other suggestions of Scripture.

[Sidenote: Consolidation of papal power in the West.]

[Sidenote: Roman Church anthropomorphized,]

[Sidenote: and necessarily becoming intolerant.]

While thus the papacy was preparing for an alliance with art, it did not
forget to avail itself of the vast advantages within its reach by
interfering in domestic life--an interference which the social
demoralization of the time more than ever permitted. A prodigious step
in power was made by assuming the cognizance of marriage, and the
determination of the numberless questions connected with it. Once having
discovered the influence thus gained, the papacy never surrendered it;
some of the most important events in later history have been determined
by its action in this matter. Perhaps even a greater power accrued from
its assumption of the cognizance of wills, and of questions respecting
the testamentary disposal of property. Though in many respects, at the
time we are now considering, the papacy had separated itself from
morality, had become united to monachism, and was preparing for a future
alliance with political influences and military power; though its
indignation and censures were less against personal wickedness than
heresy of opinion, toward which it was inexorable and remorseless, a
good effect arose from these assumptions upon domestic life,
particularly as regards the elevation of the female sex. The power thus
arising was re-enforced by a continually-increasing rigour in the
application of penitential punishments. As in the course of years the
intellectual basis on which that power rested became more doubtful, and
therefore more open to attack, the papacy became more sensitive and more
exacting. Pushed on by the influence of the lower population, it fell
into the depths of anthropomorphism, asserting for the Virgin and the
saints such attributes as omniscience, omnipresence, omnipotence.
Everywhere present, they could always listen to prayer, and, if
necessary, control or arrest the course of Nature. As it was certain
that such doctrines must in the end be overthrown, the inevitable day
was put off by an instant and vindictive repression of any want of
conformity. Despotism in the State and despotism in the Church were
upheld by despotism over thought.

[Sidenote: Origin of the alliance of the papacy and France.]

From the acts of Pope Gregory the Great, and his organization of the
ideas of his age, the paganization of religion in Italy and its alliance
with art, I have now to turn to the second topic to which this chapter
is devoted--the relations assumed by the papacy with the kings of
France, by which the work of Gregory was consolidated and upheld, and
diffused all over Europe.

[Sidenote: Military results of the Arabian wars.]

The armies of the Saracens had wrested from Christendom the western,
southern, and eastern countries of the Mediterranean; their fleets
dominated in that sea. Ecclesiastical policy had undergone a revolution.
Carthage, Alexandria, Jerusalem, Antioch, had disappeared from the
Christian system; their bishops had passed away. Alone, of the great
episcopal seats, Constantinople and Rome were left. To all human
appearance, their fall seemed to be only a question of time.

[Sidenote: Independence of the pope.]

The disputes of the Bishop of Rome with his African and Asiatic rivals
had thus come to an untimely end. With them nothing more remained to be
done; his communications with the emperor at Constantinople were at the
sufferance of the Mohammedan navies. The imperial power was paralysed.
The pope was forced by events into isolation; he converted it into
independence.

But independence! how was that to be asserted and maintained. In Italy
itself the Lombards seemed to be firmly seated, but they were Arian
heretics. Their presence and power were incompatible with his. Already,
in a political sense, he was at their mercy.

One movement alone was open to him; and, whether he rightly understood
his position or not, the stress of events forced him to make it. It was
an alliance with the Franks, who had successfully resisted the
Mohammedan power, and who were orthodox.

[Sidenote: Conditions of his alliance with the Franks.]

An ambitious Frank officer had resolved to deprive his sovereign of the
crown if the pope would sanctify the deed. They came to an
understanding. The usurpation was consummated by the one and consecrated
by the other. It was then the interest of the intrusive line of monarchs
to magnify their Italian confederate. In the spread of Roman principles
lay the consolidation of the new Frankish power. It became desirable to
compel the ignorant German tribes to acknowledge in the pope the
vicegerent of God, even though the sword must be applied to them for
that purpose for thirty years.

The pope revolted against his Byzantine sovereign on the question of
images; but that was a fictitious issue. He did not revolt against his
new ally, who fell into the same heresy. He broke away from a weak and
cruel master, and attached himself on terms of equality to a
confederate. But from the first his eventual ascendancy was assured. The
representative of a system which is immortal must finally gain supremacy
over individuals and families, who must die.

[Sidenote: The conversion of Europe.]

Though we cannot undervalue the labours of the monks, who had already
nominally brought many portions of Europe to Christianity, the passage
of the centre of the Continent to its Age of Faith, was, in an enlarged
political sense, the true issue of the empire of the Franks. The fiat of
Charlemagne put a stamp upon it which it bears to this day. He converted
an ecclesiastical fiction into a political fact.

[Sidenote: Three points for consideration.]

To understand this important event, it is necessary to describe, 1st,
the psychical state of Central Europe; 2nd, the position of the pontiff
and his compact with the Franks. It is also necessary to determine the
actual religious value of the system he represents, and this is best
done through, 3rd, the biography of the popes.

[Sidenote: The psychical change of Europe.]

1st. As with the Arabs, so with the barbarians of Europe. They pass from
their Age of Credulity to their Age of Faith without dwelling long in
the intermediate state of Inquiry. An age of inquiry implies
self-investigation, and the absence of an authoritative teacher. But the
Arabs had had the Nestorians and the Jews, and to the Germans the
lessons of the monk were impressively enforced by the convincing
argument of the sword of Charlemagne.

[Sidenote: Labours and successes of the monks.]

[Sidenote: Influence of devout women.]

[Sidenote: Conversion of Europe.]

The military invasions of the south by the barbarians were retaliated by
missionary invasions of the north. The aim of the former was to conquer,
that of their antagonists to convert, if antagonists those can be called
who sought to turn them from their evil ways. The monk penetrated
through their most gloomy forests unarmed and defenceless; he found his
way alone to their fortresses. Nothing touches the heart of a savage so
profoundly as the greatness of silent courage. Among the captives taken
from the south in war were often high-born women of great beauty and
purity of mind, and sometimes even bishops, who, true to their religious
principles, did not fail to exert a happy and a holy influence on the
tribes among whom their lot was cast. One after another the various
nations submitted: the Vandals and Gepidæ in the fourth century; the
Goths somewhat earlier; the Franks at the end of the fifth; the Alemanni
and Lombards at the beginning of the sixth; the Bavarians, Hessians, and
Thuringians in the seventh and eighth. Of these, all embraced the Arian
form except the Franks, who were converted by the Catholic clergy. In
truth, however, these nations were only Christianized upon the surface,
their conversion being indicated by little more than their making the
sign of the cross. In all these movements women exercised an
extraordinary influence: thus Clotilda, the Queen of the Franks, brought
over to the faith her husband Clovis. Bertha, the Queen of Kent, and
Gisella, the Queen of Hungary, led the way in their respective
countries; and under similar influences were converted the Duke of
Poland and the Czar Jarislaus. To women Europe is thus greatly indebted,
though the forms of religion at the first were nothing more than the
creed and the Lord's prayer. It has been truly said that for these
conversions three conditions were necessary--a devout female of the
court, a national calamity, and a monk. As to the people, they seem to
have followed the example of their rulers in blind subserviency,
altogether careless as to what the required faith might be. The
conversion of the ruler is naïvely taken by historians as the conversion
of the whole people. As might be expected, a faith so lightly assumed at
the will or whim of the sovereign was often as lightly cast aside; thus
the Swedes, Bohemians, and Hungarians relapsed into idolatry.

[Sidenote: Conversion of England.]

Among such apostasies it is interesting to recall that of the
inhabitants of Britain, to whom Christianity was first introduced by the
Roman legions, and who might boast in Constantine the Great, and his
mother Helena, if they were really natives of that country, that they
had exercised no little influence on the religion of the world. The
biography of Pelagius shows with what acuteness theological doctrines
were considered in those remote regions; but, after the decline of Roman
affairs, this promising state of things was destroyed, and the clergy
driven by the pagan invaders to the inaccessible parts of Wales,
Scotland, and Ireland. The sight of some English children exposed for
sale in the slave-market at Rome suggested to Gregory the Great the
attempt of reconverting the island. On his assuming the pontificate he
commissioned the monk Augustine for that purpose; and after the usual
exertion of female influence in the court of King Ethelbert by Bertha,
his Frankish princess, and the usual vicissitudes of backsliding, the
faith gradually won its way throughout the whole country. A little
opposition occurred on the part of the ancient clergy, who retained in
their fastnesses the traditions of the old times, particularly in regard
to Easter. But this at length disappeared; an intercourse sprang up with
Rome, and it became common for the clergy and wealthy nobles to visit
that city.

[Sidenote: Irish and British missionaries.]

Displaying the same noble quality which in our own times characterises
it, British Christianity did not fail to exert a proselytizing spirit.
As, at the end of the sixth century, Columban, an Irish monk of Banchor,
had gone forth as a missionary, passing through France, Switzerland, and
beyond the confines of the ancient Roman empire, so about a century
later Boniface, an Englishman of Devonshire, repaired to Germany, under
a recommendation from the pope and Charles Martel, and laboured among
the Hessians and Saxons, cutting down their sacred oaks, overturning
their altars, erecting churches, founding bishoprics, and gaining at
last, from the hands of the savages, the crown of martyrdom. In the
affinity of their language to those of the countries to which they went,
these missionaries from the West found a very great advantage.

It is the glory of Pope Formosus, the same whose body underwent a
posthumous trial, that he converted the Bulgarians, a people who came
from the banks of the Volga. The fact that this event was brought about
by a picture representing the judgment-day shows on what trifling
circumstances these successes turned. The Slavians were converted by
Greek missionaries, and for them the monk Cyril invented an alphabet, as
Ulphilas had done for the Goths. The predatory Normans, who plundered
the churches in their forays, embraced Christianity on settling in
Normandy, as the Goths, in like circumstances, had elsewhere done. The
Scandinavians were converted by St. Anschar.

[Sidenote: Influence of Charlemagne on these events.]

Thus, partly by the preaching of missionaries, partly by the example of
monks, partly by the influence of females, partly by the sword of the
Frankish sovereigns, partly by the great name of Rome, Europe was at
last nominally converted. The so-called religious wars of Charlemagne,
which lasted more than thirty years, and which were attended by the
atrocities always incident to such undertakings, were doubtless as much,
so far as he was concerned, of a political as of a theological nature.
They were the embodiment of the understanding that had been made with
Rome by Pepin. Charlemagne clearly comprehended the position and
functions of the Church; he never suffered it to intrude unduly on the
state. Regarding it as furnishing a bond for uniting not only the
various nations and tribes of his empire, but even families and
individuals together, he ever extended to it a wise and liberal
protection. His mental condition prevented him from applying its
doctrines to the regulation of his own life, which was often blemished
by acts of violence and immorality. From the point of view he occupied,
he doubtless was led to the conclusion that the maxims of religion are
intended for the edification and comfort of those who occupy a humbler
sphere, but that for a prince it is only necessary to maintain
appropriate political relations with the Church. To him baptism was the
sign, not of salvation, but of the subjugation of people; and the
foundation of churches and monasteries, the institution of bishoprics,
and increase of the clergy, a more trustworthy means of government than
military establishments. A priest must necessarily lean on him for
support, a lieutenant might revolt.

[Sidenote: Reflex action of converted Europe.]

If thus Europe, by its conversion, received from Rome an immense
benefit, it repaid the obligation at length by infusing into Latin
Christianity what was sadly needed--a higher moral tone. Earnestness is
the attribute of savage life. That divorce between morality and faith
which the southern nations had experienced was not possible among these
converts. If, by communicating many of their barbarous and pagan
conceptions to the Latin faith, they gave it a tendency to develop
itself in an idolatrous form, their influence was not one of unmitigated
evil, for while they lowered the standard of public belief, they
elevated that of private life. In truth, the contamination they imparted
is often over-rated. The infusion of paganism into religion was far more
due to the people of the classical countries. The inhabitants of Italy
and Greece were never really alienated from the idolatries of the old
times. At the best, they were only Christianized on the surface. With
many other mythological practices, they forced image-worship on the
clergy. But Charlemagne, who, in this respect, may be looked upon as a
true representative of Frankish and German sentiment, totally
disapproved of that idolatry.

[Sidenote: The conspiracy of the papacy and the Franks.]

2nd. From this consideration of the psychical revolution that had
occurred in Central Europe, I turn to an investigation of the position
of the papacy and its compact with the Franks.

[Sidenote: Position of the Franks and Saracens.]

[Sidenote: Relations of Charles Martel to the Church.]

Scarcely had the Arabs consolidated their conquest of Africa when they
passed into Spain, and quickly, as will be related in a subsequent
chapter, subjugating that country, prepared to overwhelm Europe. It was
their ambition and their threat to preach the unity of God in Rome. They
reached the centre of France, but were beaten in the great battle of
Tours by Charles Martel, the Duke of the Franks, A.D. 732. That battle
fixed the religious destiny of Europe. The Saracens did not, however,
give up their attempt. Three years afterward they returned into
Provence, and Charles was himself repulsed. But by this time their power
had expanded too extensively for consolidation. It was already giving
unmistakable tokens of decomposition. Scarcely, indeed, had Musa, the
conqueror of Spain, succeeded in his expedition, when he was arrested at
the head of his army, and ordered to give an account of his doings at
Damascus. It was the occurrence of such disputes among the Saracens in
Spain that constituted the true check to their conquest of France.
Charles Martel had permitted Chilperic II. and Thierry IV. to retain the
title of king; but his foresight of approaching events seems to be
indicated by the circumstance that after the death of the latter he
abstained from appointing any successor. He died A.D. 741, leaving a
memory detested by the Church of his own country on account of his
having been obliged to appropriate from its property sufficient for the
payment of his army. He had taken a tithe from the revenues of the
churches and convents for that purpose. The ignorant clergy, alive only
to their present temporal interests, and not appreciating the great
salvation he had wrought out for them, could never forgive him. Their
inconceivable greed could not bear to be taxed even in its own defence.
"It is because Prince Charles," says the Council of Kiersi to one of his
descendants, "was the first of all the kings and princes of the Franks
who separated and dismembered the goods of the Church; it is for that
sole cause that he is eternally damned. We know, indeed, that St.
Eucherius, Bishop of Orleans, being in prayer, was carried up into the
world of spirits, and that among the things which the Lord showed to
him, he beheld Charles tormented in the lowest depths of hell. The angel
who conducted him, being interrogated on this matter, answered him that,
in the judgment to come, the soul and body of him who has taken, or who
has divided the goods of the Church, shall be delivered over, even
before the end of the world, to eternal torments by the sentence of the
saints, who shall sit together with the Lord to judge him. This act of
sacrilege shall add to his own sins the accumulated sins of all those
who thought that they had purchased their redemption by giving for the
love of God their goods to holy places, to the lights of divine worship,
and to the alms of the servants of Christ." This amusing but instructive
quotation strikingly shows how quickly the semi barbarian Frankish
clergy had caught the methods of Rome in the defence of temporal
possessions.

[Sidenote: The epoch of Pepin.]

[Sidenote: His conspiracy with the pope.]

[Sidenote: Its results.]

Pepin, the son of Charles Martel, introduces us to an epoch and a policy
resembling in many respects that of Constantine the Great; for he saw
that by an alliance with the Church it would be possible for him to
displace his sovereign and attain to kingly power. A thorough
understanding was entered upon between Pepin and the pope. Each had his
needs. One wanted the crown of France, the other liberation from
Constantinople and the Lombards. Pepin commenced by enriching the clergy
with immense gifts, and assigning to the bishops seats in the assembly
of the nation. In thus consolidating ecclesiastical power he occasioned
a great social revolution, as was manifested by the introduction of the
Latin and the disuse of the Frankic on those occasions, and by the
transmuting of military reviews into theological assemblies. Meantime
Pope Zachary, on his part, made ready to accomplish his engagement, the
chaplain of Pepin being the intermedium of negotiation. On the demand
being formally made, the pope decided that "he should be king who really
possessed the royal power." Hereupon, in March, A.D. 752, Pepin caused
himself to be raised by his soldiers on a buckler and proclaimed King of
the Franks. To give solemnity to the event, he was anointed by the
bishops with oil. The deposed king, Childeric III., was shut up in the
convent of St. Omer. Next year Pope Stephen III., driven to extremity,
applied to Pepin for assistance against the Lombards. It was during
these transactions that he fell upon the device of enforcing his demand
by a letter which he feigned had been written by St. Peter to the
Franks. And now, visiting France, the pope, as an earnest of his
friendship, and as the token of his completion of the contract, in the
monastery of St. Denis, placed, with his own hands, the diadem on
Pepin's brow, and anointed him, his wife, and children, with "the holy
oil," thereby reviving the Jewish system of creating kings by
anointment, and imparting to his confederate "a divine right." Pepin now
finally defeated the Lombards, and assigned a part of the conquered
territory to the pope. Thus, by a successful soldier, two important
events had been accomplished--a revolution in France, attended by a
change of dynasty, and a revolution in Christendom--the Bishop of Rome
had become a temporal sovereign. To the hilt of the sword of France the
keys of St. Peter were henceforth so firmly bound that, though there
have been great kings, and conquerors, and statesmen who have wielded
that sword, not one to this day has been able, though many have desired,
to wrench the encumbrance away.

[Sidenote: The reign of Charlemagne.]

Charlemagne, on succeeding his father Pepin, thoroughly developed his
policy. At the urgent entreaty of Pope Stephen III. he entered Italy,
subjugated the Lombards, and united the crown of Lombardy to that of
France. Upon the pagan Saxons burning the church of Deventer, he
commenced a war with them which lasted thirty-three years, and ended in
their compulsory Christianization. As the circle of his power extended,
he everywhere founded churches and established bishoprics, enriching
them with territorial possessions. To the petty sovereigns, as they
successively succumbed, he permitted the title of counts. True to his
own and his father's understanding with the pope, he invariably insisted
on baptism as the sign of submission, punishing with appalling barbarity
any resistance, as on the occasion of the revolt, A.D. 782, when, in
cold blood, he beheaded in one day 4500 persons at Verden. Under such
circumstances, it is not to be wondered at that clerical influence
extended so fast; yet, rapid as was its development, the power of
Charlemagne was more so.

[Sidenote: He is crowned Emperor of the West,]

In the church of St. Peter at Rome, on Christmas-day, A.D. 800, Pope Leo
III., after the celebration of the holy mysteries, suddenly placed on
the head of Charlemagne a diadem, amid the acclamations of the people,
"Long life and victory to Charles, the most pious Augustus, crowned by
God, the great and pacific Emperor of the Romans." His head and body
were anointed with the holy oil, and, as was done in the case of the
Cæsars, the pontiff himself saluted or adored him. In the coronation
oath Charlemagne promised to maintain the privileges of the Church.

[Sidenote: and carries out his compact with the papacy.]

The noble title of "Emperor of the West" was not inappropriate, for
Charlemagne ruled in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Hungary. An inferior
dignity would not have been equal to his deserts. His princely
munificence to St. Peter was worthy of the great occasion, and even in
his minor acts he exhibited a just appreciation of his obligations to
the apostle. He proceeded to make in his dominions such changes in the
Church organization as the Italian policy required, substituting, for
instance, the Gregorian for the Ambrosian chant, and, wherever his
priests resisted, he took from them by force their antiphonaries. As an
example to insubordinates he, at the request of the pope, burnt some of
the singers along with their books.

[Sidenote: He declines image-worship,]

[Sidenote: but permits relic-worship.]

[Sidenote: His policy as respects slavery.]

The rapid growth of the power of Charlemagne, his overshadowing
pre-eminence, and the subordinate position of the pope, who had really
become his Italian lieutenant, are strikingly manifested by the event of
image-worship in the West. On this, as we shall in another chapter see,
the popes had revolted from their iconoclastic sovereigns of
Constantinople. The second Council of Nicea had authorized
image-worship, but the good sense of Charlemagne was superior to such
idolatry. He openly expressed his disapproval, and even dictated a work
against it--the Carolinian books. The pope was therefore placed in a
singular dilemma, for not only had image-worship been restored at
Constantinople, and the original cause of the dispute removed, but the
new protector, Charlemagne, had himself embraced iconoclasm. However, it
was not without reason that the pope at this time avoided the
discussion, for a profitable sale of bones and relics, said to be those
of saints but in reality obtained from the catacombs of Rome, had
arisen. To the barbarian people of the north these gloomy objects proved
more acceptable than images of wood, and the traffic, though
contemptible, was more honourable than the slave-trade in vassals and
peasant children which had been carried on with Jews and Mohammedans.
Like all the great statesmen of antiquity, who were unable to comprehend
the possibility of a highly civilized society without the existence of
slavery, Charlemagne accepted that unfortunate condition as a political
necessity, and attempted to draw from it as much benefit as it was
capable of yielding to the state. From certain classes of slaves he
appointed, by a system of apprenticeship, those who should be devoted to
the mechanical arts and to trade. It was, however, slavery and warfare
which, during his own life, by making the possession of property among
small proprietors an absolute disadvantage, prepared the way for that
rapid dissolution of his empire so quickly occurring after his death.

[Sidenote: The European slave-trade.]

Yet, though Charlemagne thus accepted the existence of slavery as a
necessary political evil, the evidences are not wanting that he was
desirous to check its abuses wherever he could. When the Italian dukes
accused Pope Adrian of selling his vassals as slaves to the Saracens,
Charlemagne made inquiry into the matter, and, finding that transactions
of the kind had occurred in the port of Civita Vecchia, though he did
not choose to have so infamous a scandal made public, he ever afterwards
withdrew his countenance from that pope. At that time a very extensive
child slave-trade was carried on with the Saracens through the medium of
the Jews, ecclesiastics as well as barons selling the children of their
serfs.

[Sidenote: Improvements of the physical state of the people.]

[Sidenote: State of the clergy.]

Though he never succeeded in learning how to write, no one appreciated
better than Charlemagne the value of knowledge. He laboured assiduously
for the elevation and enlightenment of his people. He collected together
learned men; ordered his clergy to turn their attention to letters;
established schools of religious music; built noble palaces, churches,
bridges; transferred, for the adornment of his capital, Aix-la-Chapelle,
statues from Italy; organized the professions and trades of his cities,
and gave to his towns a police. Well might he be solicitous that his
clergy should not only become more devout, but more learned. Very few of
them knew how to read, scarcely any to write. Of the first half of the
eighth century, a period of great interest, since it includes the
invasion of France by the Saracens, and their expulsion, there is
nothing more than the most meagre annals; the clergy understood much
better the use of the sword than that of the pen. The schools of
Charlemagne proved a failure, not through any fault of his, but because
the age had no demand for learning, and the Roman pontiffs and their
clergy, as far as they troubled themselves with any opinion about the
matter, thought that knowledge was of more harm than good.

[Sidenote: Private life of Charlemagne.]

[Sidenote: His relations with the Saracens.]

The private life of Charlemagne was stained with great immoralities and
crimes. He indulged in a polygamy scarcely inferior to that of the
khalifs, solacing himself with not less than nine wives and many
concubines. He sought to increase the circle of the former, or perhaps
it should be said, considering the greatness of his statesmanship, to
unite the Eastern and Western empires together by a marriage with the
Empress Irene. This was that Irene who put out the eyes of her own son
in the porphyry chamber at Constantinople. His fame extended into Asia.
The Khalif Haroun al Raschid, A.D. 801, sent him from Bagdad the keys of
our Saviour's sepulchre as a mark of esteem from the Commander of the
Faithful to the greatest of Christian kings. However, there was
doubtless as much policy as esteem in this, for the Asiatic khalifs
perceived the advantage of a good understanding with the power that
could control the emirs of Spain. Always bearing in mind his engagement
with the papacy, that Roman Christianity should be enforced upon Europe
wherever his influence could reach, he remorselessly carried into
execution the penalty of death that he had awarded to the crimes of, 1,
refusing baptism; 2, false pretence of baptism; 3, relapse to idolatry;
4, the murder of a priest or bishop; 5, human sacrifice; 6, eating meat
in Lent. To the pagan German his sword was a grim, but a convincing
missionary. To the last he observed a savage fidelity to his bond. He
died A.D. 814.

[Sidenote: Course of events after the death of Charlemagne.]

[Sidenote: Social condition of Europe.]

Such was the compact that had been established between the Church and
the State. As might be expected, the succeeding transactions exhibit an
alternate preponderance of one and of the other, and the degradation of
both in the end. Scarcely was Charlemagne dead ere the imbecile
character of his son and successor, Louis the Pious, gave the Church her
opportunity. By the expulsion of his father's numerous concubines and
mistresses, the scandals of the palace were revealed. I have not the
opportunity to relate in detail how this monarch disgracefully
humiliated himself before the Church; how, under his weak government,
the slave-trade greatly increased; how every shore, and, indeed, every
country that could be reached through a navigable river, was open to the
ravages of pirates, the Northmen extending their maraudings even to the
capture of great cities; how, in strong contrast with the social
decomposition into which Europe was falling, Spain, under her Mohammedan
rulers, was becoming rich, populous, and great; how, on the east, the
Huns and Avars, ceasing their ravages, accepted Christianity, and, under
their diversity of interests the nations that had been bound together by
Charlemagne separated into two divisions--French and German--and civil
wars between them ensued; how, through the folly of the clergy, who
vainly looked for protection from relics instead of the sword, the
Saracens ranged uncontrolled all over the south, and came within an
hair's-breadth of capturing Rome itself; how France, at this time, had
literally become a theocracy, the clergy absorbing everything that was
worth having; how the pope, trembling at home, nevertheless maintained
an external power by interfering with domestic life, as in the quarrel
with King Lothaire II. and his wife; how Italy, France, and Germany
became, as Africa and Syria had once been, full of miracles; how,
through these means the Church getting the advantage, John VIII. thought
it expedient to assert his right of disposing of the imperial crown in
the case of Charles the Bald (the imperial supremacy that Charlemagne
had obtained in reality implied the eventual supremacy of the pope); how
an opportunity which occurred for reconstructing the empire of the West
under Charles the Fat was thwarted by the imbecility of that sovereign,
an imbecility so great that his nobles were obliged to depose him; how,
thereupon, a number of new kingdoms arose, and Europe fell, by an
inevitable necessity, into a political chaos; how, since there was thus
no protecting government, each great landowner had to protect himself,
and the rightfulness of private war became recognised; how, through this
evil state, the strange consequence ensued of a great increase in the
population, it becoming the interest of every lord to raise as many
peasants as he could, offering his lands on personal service, the value
of an estate being determined by the number of retainers it could
furnish, and hence arose the feudal system; how the monarchical
principle, once again getting the superiority, asserted its power in
Germany in Henry the Fowler and his descendants, the three Othos; how,
by these great monarchs, the subjection of Italy was accomplished, and
the morality of the German clergy vindicated by their attempts at the
reformation of the papacy, which fell to the last degree of degradation,
becoming, in the end, an appanage of the Counts of Tusculum, and,
shameful to be said, in some instances given by prostitutes to their
paramours or illegitimates, in some, to mere boys of precociously
dissolute life; before long, A.D. 1045, it was actually to be sold for
money. We have now approached the close of a thousand years from the
birth of Christ; the evil union of the Church and State, their
rivalries, their intrigues, their quarrels, had produced an inevitable
result, doing the same in the West that they had done in the East;
disorganizing the political system, and ending in a universal social
demoralization. The absorption of small properties into large estates
steadily increased the number of slaves; where there had once been many
free families, there was now found only a rich man. Even of this class
the number diminished by the same process of absorption, until there
were sparsely scattered here and there abbots and counts with enormous
estates worked by herds of slaves, whose numbers, since sometimes one
man possessed more than 20,000 of them, might deceive us, if we did not
consider the vast surface over which they were spread. Examined in that
way, the West of Europe proves to have been covered with forests, here
and there dotted with a convent or a town. From those countries, once
full of the splendid evidences of Roman civilization, mankind was fast
disappearing. There was no political cause, until at a later time, when
the feudal system was developed, for calling men into existence.
Whenever there was a partial peace, there was no occasion for the
multiplication of men beyond the intention of extracting from them the
largest possible revenue, a condition implying their destruction. Soon
even the necessity for legislation ceased; events were left to take
their own course. Through the influence of the monks the military spirit
declined; a vile fetichism of factitious relics, which were working
miracles in all directions, constituted the individual piety. Whoever
died without bequeathing a part of his property to the Church, died
without confession and the sacraments, and forfeited Christian burial.
Trial by battle, and the ordeals of fire and boiling water, determined
innocence or guilt in those accused of crimes. Between places at no
great distance apart intercommunication ceased, or, at most, was carried
on as in the times of the Trojan War, by the pedlar travelling with his
packs.

[Sidenote: Expected end of the world, A.D. 1000.]

[Sidenote: Effects of the union of Church and state.]

In these deplorable days there was abundant reason to adopt the popular
expectation that the end of all things was at hand, and that the year
1000 would witness the destruction of the world. Society was dissolving,
the human race was disappearing, and with difficulty the melancholy
ruins of ancient civilization could be traced. Such was the issue of the
second attempt at the union of political and ecclesiastical power. In a
former chapter we saw what it had been in the East, now we have found
what it was in the West. Inaugurated in selfishness, it strengthens
itself by violence, is perpetuated by ignorance, and yields as its
inevitable result, social ruin.

And while things were thus going to wreck in the state, it was no better
in the Church. The ill-omened union between them was bearing its only
possible fruit, disgrace to both--a solemn warning to all future ages.

[Sidenote: Value of the new system estimated from the lives of the
popes.]

3d. This brings me to the third and remaining topic I proposed to
consider in this chapter, to determine the actual religious value of the
system in process of being forced upon Europe, using, for the purpose,
that which must be admitted as the best test--the private lives of the
popes.

[Sidenote: Apology for referring to the biography of the popes.]

To some it might seem, considering the interests of religion alone,
desirable to omit all biographical reference to the popes; but this
cannot be done with justice to the subject. The essential principle of
the papacy, that the Roman pontiff is the vicar of Christ upon earth,
necessarily obtrudes his personal relations upon us. How shall we
understand his faith unless we see it illustrated in his life? Indeed,
the unhappy character of those relations was the inciting cause of the
movements in Germany, France, and England, ending in the extinction of
the papacy as an actual political power, movements to be understood only
through a sufficient knowledge of the private lives and opinions of the
popes. It is well, as far as possible, to abstain from burdening systems
with the imperfections of individuals. In this case they are inseparably
interwoven. The signal peculiarity of the papacy is that, though its
history may be imposing, its biography is infamous. I shall, however,
forbear to speak of it in this latter respect more than the occasion
seems necessarily to require; shall pass in silence some of those cases
which would profoundly shock my religious reader, and therefore restrict
myself to the ages between the middle of the eighth and the middle of
the eleventh centuries, excusing myself to the impartial critic by the
apology that these were the ages with which I have been chiefly
concerned in this chapter.

[Sidenote: The popes from A.D. 757.]

On the death of Pope Paul I., who had attained the pontificate A.D. 757,
the Duke of Nepi compelled some bishops to consecrate Constantine, one
of his brothers, as pope; but more legitimate electors subsequently,
A.D. 768, choosing Stephen IV., the usurper and his adherents were
severely punished; the eyes of Constantine were put out; the tongue of
the Bishop Theodorus was amputated, and he was left in a dungeon to
expire in the agonies of thirst. The nephews of Pope Adrian seized his
successor, Pope Leo III., A.D. 795, in the street, and, forcing him into
a neighbouring church, attempted to put out his eyes and cut out his
tongue; at a later period, this pontiff trying to suppress a conspiracy
to depose him, Rome became the scene of rebellion, murder, and
conflagration. His successor, Stephen V., A.D. 816, was ignominiously
driven from the city; his successor, Paschal I., was accused of
blinding and murdering two ecclesiastics in the Lateran Palace; it was
necessary that imperial commissioners should investigate the matter, but
the pope died, after having exculpated himself by oath before thirty
bishops. John VIII., A.D. 872, unable to resist the Mohammedans, was
compelled to pay them tribute; the Bishop of Naples, maintaining a
secret alliance with them, received his share of the plunder they
collected. Him John excommunicated, nor would he give him absolution
unless he would betray the chief Mohammedans and assassinate others
himself. There was an ecclesiastical conspiracy to murder the pope; some
of the treasures of the Church were seized; and the gate of St.
Pancrazia was opened with false keys, to admit the Saracens into the
city. Formosus, who had been engaged in these transactions, and
excommunicated as a conspirator for the murder of John, was subsequently
elected pope, A.D. 891; he was succeeded by Boniface VI., A.D. 896, who
had been deposed from the diaconate, and again from the priesthood, for
his immoral and lewd life. By Stephen VII., who followed, the dead body
of Formosus was taken from the grave, clothed in the papal habiliments,
propped up in a chair, tried before a council, and the preposterous and
indecent scene completed by cutting off three of the fingers of the
corpse and casting it into the Tiber; but Stephen himself was destined
to exemplify how low the papacy had fallen: he was thrown into prison
and strangled. In the course of five years, from A.D. 896 to A.D. 900,
five popes were consecrated. Leo V., who succeeded in A.D. 904, was in
less than two months thrown into prison by Christopher, one of his
chaplains, who usurped his place, and who, in his turn, was shortly
expelled from Rome by Sergius III., who, by the aid of a military force,
seized the pontificate, A.D. 905. This man, according to the testimony
of the times, lived in criminal intercourse with the celebrated
prostitute Theodora, who, with her daughters Marozia and Theodora, also
prostitutes, exercised an extraordinary control over him. The love of
Theodora was also shared by John X.: she gave him first the
archbishopric of Ravenna, and then translated him to Rome, A.D. 915, as
pope. John was not unsuited to the times; he organized a confederacy
which perhaps prevented Rome from being captured by the Saracens, and
the world was astonished and edified by the appearance of this warlike
pontiff at the head of his troops. By the love of Theodora, as was said,
he had maintained himself in the papacy for fourteen years; by the
intrigues and hatred of her daughter Marozia he was overthrown. She
surprised him in the Lateran Palace; killed his brother Peter before his
face; threw him into prison, where he soon died, smothered, as was
asserted, with a pillow. After a short interval Marozia made her own son
pope as John XI., A.D. 931. Many affirmed that Pope Sergius was his
father, but she herself inclined to attribute him to her husband
Alberic, whose brother Guido she subsequently married. Another of her
sons, Alberic, so called from his supposed father, jealous of his
brother John, cast him and their mother Marozia into prison. After a
time Alberic's son was elected pope, A.D. 956; he assumed the title of
John XII., the amorous Marozia thus having given a son and a grandson to
the papacy. John was only nineteen years old when he thus became the
head of Christendom. His reign was characterized by the most shocking
immoralities, so that the Emperor Otho I. was compelled by the German
clergy to interfere. A synod was summoned for his trial in the Church of
St. Peter, before which it appeared that John had received bribes for
the consecration of bishops, that he had ordained one who was but ten
years old, and had performed that ceremony over another in a stable; he
was charged with incest with one of his father's concubines, and with so
many adulteries that the Lateran Palace had become a brothel; he put out
the eyes of one ecclesiastic and castrated another, both dying in
consequence of their injuries; he was given to drunkenness, gambling,
and the invocation of Jupiter and Venus. When cited to appear before the
council, he sent word that "he had gone out hunting;" and to the fathers
who remonstrated with him, he threateningly remarked "that Judas, as
well as the other disciples, received from his master the power of
binding and loosing, but that as soon as he proved a traitor to the
common cause, the only power he retained was that of binding his own
neck." Hereupon he was deposed, and Leo VIII. elected in his stead,
A.D. 963; but subsequently getting the upper hand, he seized his
antagonists, cut off the hand of one, the nose, finger, tongue of
others. His life was eventually brought to an end by the vengeance of a
man whose wife he had seduced.

[Sidenote: The papacy bought at auction A.D. 1045, by Gregory VI.]

After such details it is almost needless to allude to the annals of
succeeding popes: to relate that John XIII. was strangled in prison;
that Boniface VII. imprisoned Benedict VII., and killed him by
starvation; that John XIV. was secretly put to death in the dungeons of
the Castle of St. Angelo; that the corpse of Boniface was dragged by the
populace through the streets. The sentiment of reverence for the
sovereign pontiff, nay, even of respect, had become extinct in Rome;
throughout Europe the clergy were so shocked at the state of things,
that, in their indignation, they began to look with approbation on the
intention of the Emperor Otho to take from the Italians their privilege
of appointing the successor of St. Peter, and confine it to his own
family. But his kinsman, Gregory V., whom he placed on the pontifical
throne, was very soon compelled by the Romans to fly; his
excommunications and religious thunders were turned into derision by
them; they were too well acquainted with the true nature of those
terrors; they were living behind the scenes. A terrible punishment
awaited the Anti-pope John XVI. Otho returned into Italy, seized him,
put out his eyes, cut off his nose and tongue, and sent him through the
streets mounted on an ass, with his face to the tail, and a wine-bladder
on his head. It seemed impossible that things could become worse; yet
Rome had still to see Benedict IX., A.D. 1033, a boy of less than twelve
years, raised to the apostolic throne. Of this pontiff, one of his
successors, Victor III., declared that his life was so shameful, so
foul, so execrable, that he shuddered to describe it. He ruled like a
captain of banditti rather than a prelate. The people at last, unable to
bear his adulteries, homicides, and abominations any longer, rose
against him. In despair of maintaining his position, he put up the
papacy to auction. It was bought by a presbyter named John, who became
Gregory VI., A.D. 1045.

[Sidenote: Conclusion respecting this biography.]

More than a thousand years had elapsed since the birth of our Saviour,
and such was the condition of Rome. Well may the historian shut the
annals of those times in disgust; well may the heart of the Christian
sink within him at such a catalogue of hideous crimes. Well may he ask,
Were these the vicegerents of God upon earth--these, who had truly
reached that goal beyond which the last effort of human wickedness
cannot pass?

[Sidenote: The philosophical conclusion at last attained.]

[Sidenote: The evils imputed to the nature of papal election.]

Not until several centuries after these events did public opinion come
to the true and philosophical conclusion--the total rejection of the
divine claims of the papacy. For a time the evils were attributed to the
manner of the pontifical election, as if that could by any possibility
influence the descent of a power which claimed to be supernatural and
under the immediate care of God. The manner of election was this. The
Roman ecclesiastics recommended a candidate to the College of Cardinals;
their choice had to be ratified by the populace of Rome, and, after
that, the emperor must give his approval. There were thus to be brought
into agreement the machinations of the lower ecclesiastics, the
intrigues of the cardinals, the clamours of the rabble of Rome, and the
policy of the emperor. Such a system must inevitably break to pieces
with its own incongruities. Though we may wonder that men failed to see
that it was merely a human device, we cannot wonder that the emperors
perceived the necessity of taking the appointments into their own hands,
and that Gregory VII. was resolved to confine it to the College of
Cardinals, to the exclusion of the emperor, the Roman people, and even
of the rest of Christendom--an attempt in which he succeeded.

[Sidenote: Human origin of the papacy.]

No one can study the development of the Italian ecclesiastical power
without discovering how completely it depended on human agency, too
often on human passion and intrigues; how completely wanting it was of
any mark of the Divine construction and care--the offspring of man, not
of God, and therefore bearing upon it the lineaments of human passions,
human virtues, and human sins.

CHAPTER XIII.

DIGRESSION ON THE PASSAGE OF THE ARABIANS TO THEIR AGE OF REASON.

INFLUENCE OF MEDICAL IDEAS THROUGH THE NESTORIANS AND JEWS.

_The intellectual Development of the Arabians is guided by the
Nestorians and the Jews, and is in the Medical Direction.--The
Basis of this Alliance is theological._

_Antagonism of the Byzantine System to Scientific
Medicine.--Suppression of the Asclepions.--Their Replacement
by Miracle-cure.--The resulting Superstition and Ignorance._

_Affiliation of the Arabians with the Nestorians and Jews._

_1st. The Nestorians, their Persecutions, and the Diffusion of
their Sectarian Ideas.--They inherit the old Greek Medicine._

_Sub-digression on Greek Medicine.--The
Asclepions.--Philosophical Importance of Hippocrates, who
separates Medicine from Religion.--The School of Cnidos.--Its
Suppression by Constantine._

_Sub-digression on Egyptian Medicine.--It is founded on
Anatomy and Physiology.--Dissections and Vivisections.--The
Great Alexandrian Physicians._

_2nd. The Jewish Physicians.--Their Emancipation from
Superstition.--They found Colleges and promote Science and
Letters._

_The contemporary Tendency to Magic, Necromancy, the Black
Art.--The Philosopher's Stone, Elixir of Life, etc._

[Sidenote: Importance of the influence of the Arabians.]

The military operations of the Arabians, described in Chapter XI.,
overthrew the Byzantine political system, prematurely closing the Age of
Faith in the East; their intellectual procedure gave rise to an equally
important result, being destined, in the end, to close the Age of Faith
in the West. The Saracens not only destroyed the Italian offshoot, they
also impressed characteristic lineaments on the Age of Reason in Europe.

Events so important make it necessary for me to turn aside from the
special description of European intellectual advancement, and offer a
digression on the passage of the Arabians to their Age of Reason. It is
impossible for us to understand their action in the great drama about to
be performed unless we understand the character they had assumed.

[Sidenote: Their intellectual progress.]

In a few centuries the fanatics of Mohammed had altogether changed their
appearance. Great philosophers, physicians, mathematicians, astronomers,
alchemists, grammarians, had arisen among them. Letters and science, in
all their various departments, were cultivated.

[Sidenote: Their teachers were the Nestorians and Jews.]

A nation stirred to its profoundest depths by warlike emigration, and
therefore ready to make, as soon as it reaches a period of repose, a
rapid intellectual advance, may owe the path in which it is about to
pass to those who are in the position of pointing it out, or of
officiating as teachers. The teachers of the Saracens were the
Nestorians and the Jews.

[Sidenote: Their scientific progress was through medicine.]

It has been remarked that Arabian science emerged out of medicine, and
that in its cultivation physicians took the lead, its beginnings being
in the pursuit of alchemy. In this chapter I have to describe the origin
of these facts, and therefore must consider the state of Greek and
Egyptian medicine, and relate how, wherever the Byzantine system could
reach, true medical philosophy was displaced by relic and shrine-curing;
and how it was, that while European ideas were in all directions
reposing on the unsubstantial basis of the supernatural, those of the
Saracens were resting on the solid foundation of a material support.

When the Arabs conquered Egypt, their conduct was that of bigoted
fanatics; it justified the accusation made by some against them, that
they burned the Alexandrian library for the purpose of heating the
baths. But scarcely were they settled in their new dominion when they
exhibited an extraordinary change. At once they became lovers and
zealous cultivators of learning.

[Sidenote: Causes of their union with Nestorians and Jews.]

The Arab power had extended in two directions, and had been submitted to
two influences. In Asia it had been exposed to the Nestorians, in Africa
to the Jews, both of whom had suffered persecution at the hands of the
Byzantine government, apparently for the same opinion as that which had
now established itself by the sword of Mohammed. The doctrine of the
unity of God was their common point of contact. On this they could
readily affiliate, and hold in common detestation the trinitarian power
at Constantinople. He who is suffering the penalties of the law as a
heretic, or who is pursued by judicial persecution as a misbeliever,
will readily consort with others reputed to cherish similar
infidelities. Brought into unison in Asia with the Nestorians, and in
Africa with the Alexandrian Jews, the Arabians became enthusiastic
admirers of learning.

[Sidenote: Medicine becomes their neutral ground.]

Not that there was between the three parties thus coalescing a complete
harmony of sentiment in the theological direction; for, though the
Nestorians and the Jews were willing to accept one-half of the Arabian
dogma, that there is but one God, they could not altogether commit
themselves to the other, that Mohammed is his Prophet. Perhaps
estrangement on this point might have arisen, but fortunately a
remarkable circumstance opened the way for a complete understanding
between them. Almost from the beginning the Nestorians had devoted
themselves to the study of medicine, and had paid much attention to the
structure and diseases of the body of man; the Jews had long produced
distinguished physicians. These medical studies presented, therefore, a
neutral ground on which the three parties could intellectually unite in
harmony; and so thoroughly did the Arabians affiliate with these their
teachers, that they acquired from them a characteristic mental
physiognomy. Their physicians were their great philosophers; their
medical colleges were their foci of learning. While the Byzantines
obliterated science in theology, the Saracens illuminated it by
medicine.

[Sidenote: Byzantine suppression of medicine.]

[Sidenote: Substitution of public charities.]

When Constantine the Great and his successors, under ecclesiastical
influence, had declared themselves the enemies of worldly learning, it
became necessary for the clergy to assume the duty of seeing to the
physical as well as the religious condition of the people. It was
unsuited to the state of things that physicians, whose philosophical
tendencies inclined them to the pagan party, should be any longer
endured. Their education in the Asclepions imparted to them ideas in
opposition to the new policy. An edict of Constantine suppressed those
establishments, ample provision being, however, made for replacing them
by others more agreeable to the genius of Christianity. Hospitals and
benevolent organizations were founded in the chief cities, and richly
endowed with money and lands. In these merciful undertakings the
empress-mother, Helena, was distinguished, her example being followed by
many high-born ladies. The heart of women, which is naturally open to
the desolate and afflicted, soon gives active expression to its
sympathies when it is sanctified by Christian faith. In this, its
legitimate direction, Christianity could display its matchless
benevolence and charities. Organizations were introduced upon the most
extensive and varied scale; one had charge of foundlings, another of
orphans, another of the poor. We have already alluded to the parabolani
or visitors, and of the manner in which they were diverted from their
original intent.

[Sidenote: Gradual fall into miracle-cure.]

But, noble as were these charities, they laboured under an essential
defect in having substituted for educated physicians well-meaning but
unskilful ecclesiastics. The destruction of the Asclepions was not
attended by any suitably extensive measures for insuring professional
education. The sick who were placed in the benevolent institutions were,
at the best, rather under the care of kind nurses than under the advice
of physicians; and the consequences are seen in the gradually increasing
credulity and imposture of succeeding ages, until, at length, there was
an almost universal reliance on miraculous interventions. Fetiches, said
to be the relics of saints, but no better than those of tropical
Africa, were believed to cure every disorder. To the shrines of saints
crowds repaired as they had at one time to the temples of Æsculapius.
The worshippers remained, though the name of the divinity was changed.

[Sidenote: Closing of the schools of medicine and philosophy.]

Scarcely were the Asclepions closed, the schools of philosophy
prohibited, the libraries dispersed or destroyed, learning branded as
magic or punished as treason, philosophers 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 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 Serapion,
from James Watt, who has revolutionized 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 speculation, oppressing the
shelves of antique libraries, enveloped in dust, and awaiting the worm.

[Sidenote: Its deplorable results.]

[Sidenote: Insecurity of the Byzantine system.]

Never was a more disastrous policy adopted than the Byzantine
suppression of profane learning. It is scarcely possible now to realize
the mental degradation produced when that system was at its height. Many
of the noblest philosophical and scientific works of antiquity
disappeared from the language in which they had been written, and were
only recovered, for the use of later and better ages, from translations
which the Saracens had made into Arabic. The insolent assumption of
wisdom by those who held the sword crushed every intellectual
aspiration. Yet, though triumphant for a time, this policy necessarily
contained the seeds of its own ignominious destruction. A day must
inevitably come when so grievous a wrong to the human race must be
exposed, and execrated, and punished--a day in which the poems of Homer
might once more be read, the immortal statues of the Greek sculptors
find worshippers, and the demonstrations of Euclid a consenting
intellect. But that unfortunate, that audacious policy of usurpation
once entered upon, there was no going back. He who is infallible must
needs be immutable. In its very nature the action implied compulsion,
compulsion implied the possession of power, and the whole policy insured
an explosion the moment that the means of compression should be weak.

[Sidenote: Bigotry of the first Saracens.]

[Sidenote: The nobler policy soon pursued.]

It is said that when the Saracens captured Alexandria, their victorious
general sent to the khalif to know his pleasure respecting the library.
The answer was in the spirit of the age. "If the books be confirmatory
of the Koran, they are superfluous; if contradictory, they are
pernicious. Let them be burnt." At this moment, to all human appearance,
the Mohammedan autocrat was on the point of joining in the evil policy
of the Byzantine sovereign. But fortunately it was but the impulse of a
moment, rectified forthwith, and a noble course of action was soon
pursued. The Arab incorporated into his literature the wisdom of those
he had conquered. In thus conceding to knowledge a free and
unembarrassed career, and, instead of repressing, encouraging to the
utmost all kinds of learning did the Koran take any harm? It was a high
statesmanship which, almost from the beginning of the impulse from
Mecca, bound down to a narrow, easily comprehended, and easily expressed
dogma the exacted belief, and in all other particulars let the human
mind go free.

[Sidenote: The true causes of the preceding events.]

In the preceding paragraphs I have criticized the course of events,
condemning or applauding the actions and the actors as circumstances
seem to require, herein following the usual course, which implies that
men can control affairs, and that the agent is to be held responsible
for his deed. We have, however, only to consider the course of our own
lives to be satisfied to how limited an extent such is the case. We are,
as we often say, the creatures of circumstances. In that expression
there is a higher philosophy than might at first sight appear. Our
actions are not the pure and unmingled results of our desires; they are
the offspring of many various and mixed conditions. In that which seems
to be the most voluntary decision there enters much that is altogether
involuntary--more, perhaps, than we generally suppose. And, in like
manner, those who are imagined to have exercised an irresponsible and
spontaneous influence in determining public policy, and thereby fixing
the fate of nations, will be found, when we understand their position
more correctly, to have been the creatures of circumstances altogether
independent and irrespective of them--circumstances which they never
created, of whose influence they only availed themselves. They were
placed in a current which drifted them irresistibly along.

From this more accurate point of view we should therefore consider the
course of these events, recognizing the principle that the affairs of
men pass forward in a determinate way, expanding and unfolding
themselves. And hence we see that the things of which we have spoken as
though they were matters of choice were, in reality, forced upon their
apparent authors by the necessity of the times. But, in truth, they
should be considered as the presentations of a certain phase of life
which nations in their onward course sooner or later assume. In the
individual, how well we know that a sober moderation of action, an
appropriate gravity of demeanour, belong to the mature period of life; a
change from the wanton wilfulness of youth, which may be ushered in, or
its beginning marked, by many accidental incidents: in one perhaps by
domestic bereavements, in another by the loss of fortune, in a third by
ill health. We are correct enough in imputing to such trials the change
of character, but we never deceive ourselves by supposing that it would
have failed to take place had those incidents not occurred. There runs
an irresistible destiny in the midst of all these vicissitudes.

[Sidenote: Succession of affairs determined by law.]

We may therefore be satisfied that, whatever may have been the
particular form of the events of which we have had occasion to speak,
their order of succession was a matter of destiny, and altogether beyond
the reach of any individual. We may condemn the Byzantine monarchs, or
applaud the Arabian khalifs--our blame and our praise must be set at
their proper value. Europe was passing from its Age of Inquiry to its
Age of Faith. In such a transition the predestined underlies the
voluntary. There are analogies between the life of a nation and that of
an individual, who, though he may be in one respect the maker of his own
fortunes for happiness or for misery, for good or for evil, though he
remains here or goes there, as his inclinations prompt, though he does
this or abstains from that as he chooses, is nevertheless held fast by
an inexorable fate--a fate which brought him into the world
involuntarily so far as he was concerned, which presses him forward
through a definite career, the stages of which are absolutely
invariable--infancy, childhood, youth, maturity, old age, with all their
characteristic actions and passions, and which removes him from the
scene at the appointed time, in most cases against his will. So also it
is with nations; the voluntary is only the outward semblance, covering,
but hardly hiding the predetermined. Over the events of life we may have
control, but none whatever over the law of its progress. There is a
geometry that applies to nations, an equation of their curve of advance.
That no mortal man can touch.

[Sidenote: Arabian science in its stage of sorcery.]

We have now to examine in what manner the glimmering lamp of knowledge
was sustained when it was all but ready to die out. By the Arabians it
was handed down to us. The grotesque forms of some of those who took
charge of it are not without interest. They exhibit a strange mixture of
the Neo-platonist, the Pantheist, the Mohammedan, the Christian. In such
untoward times, it was perhaps needful that the strongest passions of
men should be excited and science stimulated by inquiries for methods of
turning lead into gold, or of prolonging life indefinitely. We have now
to deal with the philosopher's stone, the elixir vitæ, the powder of
projection, magical mirrors, perpetual lamps, the transmutation of
metals. In smoky caverns under ground, where the great work is
stealthily carried on, the alchemist and his familiar are busy with
their alembics, cucurbites, and pelicans, maintaining their fires for so
many years that salamanders are asserted to be born in them.

Experimental science was thus restored, though under a very strange
aspect, by the Arabians. Already it displayed its connexion with
medicine--a connexion derived from the influence of the Nestorians and
the Jews. It is necessary for us to consider briefly the relations of
each, and of the Nestorians first.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: The Nestorians.]

[Sidenote: They deny the virginity of the queen of heaven.]

[Sidenote: They begin to cultivate medicine.]

[Sidenote: The Arabs affiliate with them.]

In Chapter IX. we have related the rivalries of Cyril, the Bishop of
Alexandria, and Nestorius, the Bishop of Constantinople. The theological
point of their quarrel was whether it is right to regard the Virgin Mary
as the mother of God. To an Egyptian still tainted with ancient
superstition, there was nothing shocking in such a doctrine. His was the
country of Isis. St. Cyril, who is to be looked upon as a mere
ecclesiastical demagogue, found his purposes answered by adopting it
without any scruple. But in Greece there still remained traces of the
old philosophy. A recollection of the ideas of Plato had not altogether
died out. There were some by whom it was not possible for the Egyptian
doctrine to be received. Such, perhaps, was Nestorius, whose sincerity
was finally approved by an endurance of persecutions, by his sufferings,
and his death. He and his followers, insisting on the plain inference of
the last verse of the first chapter of St. Matthew, together with the
fifty-fifth and fifty-sixth verses of the thirteenth of the same Gospel,
could never be brought to an acknowledgment of the perpetual virginity
of the new queen of heaven. We have described the issue of the Council
of Ephesus: the Egyptian faction gained the victory, the aid of court
females being called in, and Nestorius, being deposed from his office,
was driven, with his friends into exile. The philosophical tendency of
the vanquished was soon indicated by their actions. While their leader
was tormented in an African oasis, many of them emigrated to the
Euphrates, and founded the Chaldæan Church. Under its auspices the
college at Edessa, with several connected schools, arose. In these were
translated into Syriac many Greek and Latin works, as those of Aristotle
and Pliny. It was the Nestorians who, in connexion with the Jews,
founded the medical college of Djondesabour, and first instituted a
system of academical honours which has descended to our times. It was
the Nestorians who were not only permitted by the khalifs the free
exercise of their religion, but even intrusted with the education of the
children of the great Mohammedan families, a liberality in striking
contrast to the fanaticism of Europe. The Khalif Alraschid went so far
as even to place all his public schools under the superintendence of
John Masué, one of that sect. Under the auspices of these learned men
the Arabian academies were furnished with translations of Greek authors,
and vast libraries were collected in Asia.

[Sidenote: Their great spread in the East,]

Through this connexion with the Arabs, Nestorian missionaries found
means to disseminate their form of Christianity all over Asia, as far as
Malabar and China. The successful intrigues of the Egyptian politicians
at Ephesus had no influence in those remote countries, the Asiatic
churches of the Nestorian and Jacobite persuasions outnumbering
eventually all the European Christians of the Greek and Roman churches
combined. In later times the papal government has made great exertions
to bring about an understanding with them, but in vain.

[Sidenote: and persecutions in the West.]

The expulsion of this party from Constantinople was accomplished by the
same persons and policy concerned in destroying philosophy in
Alexandria. St. Cyril was the representative of an illiterate and
unscrupulous faction that had come into the possession of power through
intrigues with the females of the imperial court, and bribery of eunuchs
and parasites. The same spirit that had murdered Hypatia tormented
Nestorius to death. Of the contending parties, one was respectable and
had a tincture of learning, the other ignorant, and not hesitating at
the employment of brute force, deportation, assassination. Unfortunately
for the world, the unscrupulous party carried the day.

[Sidenote: They inherit the old Greek medicine.]

By their descent, the Nestorians had become the depositaries of the old
Greek medical science. Its great names they revered. They collected,
with the utmost assiduity, whatever works remained on medical topics,
whether of a Greek or Alexandrian origin, from the writings of
Hippocrates, called, with affectionate veneration by his successors,
"The Divine Old Man," down to those of the Ptolemaic school.

[Sidenote: Origin of Greek medicine--Asclepions.]

[Sidenote: Hippocrates destroys the theological theory of disease.]

Greek medicine arose in the temples of Æsculapius, whither the sick were
in the habit of resorting for the assistance of the god. It does not
appear that any fee was exacted for the celestial advice; but the
gratitude of the patient was frequently displayed by optional gifts, and
votive tablets presented to the temple, setting forth the circumstances
of the case, were of value to those disposed to enter on medical
studies. The Asclepions thus became both hospitals and schools. They
exercised, from their position, a tendency to incorporate medical and
ecclesiastical pursuits. At this time it was universally believed that
every sickness was due to the anger of some offended god, and especially
was this supposed to be the case in epidemics and plagues. Such a
paralyzing notion was necessarily inconsistent with any attempt at the
relief of communities by the exercise of sanitary measures. In our times
it is still difficult to remove from the minds of the illiterate classes
this ancient opinion, or to convince them that under such visitations we
ought to help ourselves, and not expect relief by penance and
supplications, unless we join therewith rigorous personal, domestic,
municipal cleanliness, fresh air, and light. The theological doctrine of
the nature of disease indicated its means of cure. For Hippocrates was
reserved the great glory of destroying them both, replacing them by more
practical and material ideas, and, from the votive tablets, traditions,
and other sources, together with his own admirable observations,
compiling a body of medicine. The necessary consequence of his great
success was the separation of the pursuits of the physician from those
of the priest. Not that so great a revolution, implying the diversion of
profitable gains from the ancient channel, could have been accomplished
without a struggle. We should reverence the memory of Hippocrates for
the complete manner in which he effected that object.

[Sidenote: Writings of Hippocrates.]

Of the works attributed to Hippocrates, many are doubtless the
production of his family, his descendants, or his pupils. The
inducements to literary forgery in the times of the Ptolemies, who paid
very high prices for books of reputation, have been the cause of much
difficulty among critics in determining such questions of authorship.
The works indisputably written by Hippocrates display an extent of
knowledge answering to the authority of his name; his vivid descriptions
have never been excelled, if indeed they have ever been equalled. The
Hippocratic face of the dying is still retained in our medical treatises
in the original terms, without any improvement.

[Sidenote: His opinions.]

In his medical doctrine, Hippocrates starts with the postulate that the
body is composed of the four elements. From these are formed the four
cardinal humours. He thinks that the humours are liable to undergo
change; that health consists in their right constitution and proper
adjustment as to quantity; disease, in their impurities and
inequalities; that the disordered humours undergo spontaneous changes or
coction, a process requiring time, and hence the explanation of critical
days and critical discharges. The primitive disturbance of the humours
he attributed to a great variety of causes, chiefly to the influence of
physical circumstances, such as heat, cold, air, water. Unlike his
contemporaries, he did not impute all the afflictions of man to the
anger of the gods. Along with those influences of an external kind, he
studied the special peculiarities of the human system, how it is
modified by climate and manner of life, exhibiting different
predispositions at different seasons of the year. He believed that the
innate heat of the body varies with the period of life, being greatest
in infancy and least in old age, and that hence morbific agents affect
us with greater or less facility at different times. For this reason it
is that the physician should attend very closely to the condition of
those in whom he is interested as respects their diet and exercise, for
thereby he is able not only to regulate their general susceptibility,
but also to exert a control over the course of their diseases.

Referring diseases in general to the condition or distribution of the
humours, for he regards inflammation as the passing of blood into parts
not previously containing it, he considers that so long as those liquids
occupy the system in an unnatural or adulterated state, disease
continues; but as they ferment or undergo coction, various
characteristic symptoms appear, and, when their elaboration is
completed, they are discharged by perspiration or other secretions, by
alvine dejections, etc. But where such a general relief of the system is
not accomplished, the peccant humours may be localized in some
particular organ or special portion, and erysipelatous inflammation,
mortification, or other such manifestations ensue. It is in aiding this
elimination from the system that the physician may signally manifest his
skill. His power is displayed much more at this epoch than by the
control he can exert over the process of coction. Now may he invoke the
virtues of the hellebores, the white and the black, now may he use
elaterium. The critical days which answer to the periods of the process
of coction are to be watched with anxiety, and the correspondence of the
state of the patient with the expected condition which he ought to show
at those epochs ascertained. Hence the physician may be able to predict
the probable course of the disease during the remainder of its career,
and gather true notions as to the practice it would be best for him to
pursue to aid Nature in her operations.

[Sidenote: The character of his practice.]

It thus appears that the practice of medicine in the hands of
Hippocrates had reference rather to the course or career of disease than
to its special nature. Nothing more than this masterly conception is
wanted to impress us with his surprizing scientific power. He watches
the manner in which the humours are undergoing their fermenting coction,
the phenomena displayed in the critical days, the aspect and nature of
the critical discharges. He does not attempt to check the process going
on, but simply to assist the natural operation.

When we consider the period at which Hippocrates lived, B.C. 400, and
the circumstances under which he had studied medicine, we cannot fail to
admire the very great advance he made. His merit is conspicuous in
rejecting the superstitious tendency of his times by teaching his
disciples to impute a proper agency to physical causes. He altogether
discarded the imaginary influences then in vogue. For the gods he
substituted, with singular felicity, Impersonal Nature. It was the
interest of those who were connected with the temples of Æsculapius to
refer all the diseases of men to supernatural agency; their doctrine
being that every affliction should be attributed to the anger of some
offended god, and restoration to health most certainly procured by
conciliating his power. So far, then, as such interests were concerned,
any contradiction of those doctrines, any substitution of the material
for the supernatural, must needs have met with reprehension. Yet such
opposition seems in no respect to have weighed with this great
physician, who developed his theory and pursued his practice without
giving himself any concern in that respect. He bequeathed an example to
all who succeeded him in his noble profession, and taught them not to
hesitate in encountering the prejudices and passions of the present for
the sake of the truth, and to trust for their reward in the just
appreciation of a future age.

[Sidenote: His doctrine is truly scientific.]

With such remarks we may assert that the medical philosophy of
Hippocrates is worthy of our highest admiration, since it exhibits the
scientific conditions of deduction and induction. The theory itself is
compact and clear; its lineaments are completely Grecian. It presents,
to one who will contemplate it with due allowance for its times, the
characteristic quick-sightedness, penetration, and power of the Greek
mind, fully vindicating for its author the title which has been
conferred upon him by his European successors--the Father of
Medicine--and perhaps inducing us to excuse the enthusiastic assertion
of Galen, that we ought to reverence the words of Hippocrates as the
voice of God.

[Sidenote: The school of Cnidos.]

[Sidenote: Is destroyed by Constantine.]

[Sidenote: Classes of physicians.]

The Hippocratic school of Cos found a rival in the school of Cnidos,
which offered not only a different view of the nature of disease, but
also taught a different principle for its cure. The Cnidians paid more
particular attention to the special symptoms in individual cases, and
pursued a less active treatment, declining, whenever they could, a
resort to drastic purgatives, venesection, or other energetic means. As
might be expected, the professional activity of these schools called
into existence many able men, and produced many excellent works: thus
Philiston wrote on the regimen for persons in health; Diocles on hygiene
and gymnastics; Praxagoras on the pulse, showing that it is a measure of
the force of disease. The Asclepion of Cnidos continued until the time
of Constantine, when it was destroyed along with many other pagan
establishments. The union between the priesthood and the profession was
gradually becoming less and less close; and, as the latter thus
separated itself, divisions or departments arose in it, both as regards
subjects, such as pharmacy, surgery, etc., and also as respects the
position of its cultivators, some pursuing it as a liberal science, and
some as a mere industrial occupation. In those times, as in our own,
many who were not favoured with the gifts of fortune were constrained to
fall into the latter ranks. Thus Aristotle, than whom few have ever
exerted a greater intellectual influence upon humanity, after spending
his patrimony in liberal pursuits, kept an apothecary's shop at Athens.
Aristotle the druggist, behind his counter, selling medicines to chance
customers, is Aristotle the great writer, whose dictum was final with
the schoolmen of the Middle Ages. As a general thing, however, the
medical professors were drawn from the philosophical class. Outside of
these divisions, and though in all ages continually repudiated by the
profession, yet continually hovering round it, was a host of impostors
and quacks, as there will always be so long as there are weak-minded and
shallow men to be deluded, and vain and silly women to believe.

[Sidenote: Egyptian medicine. The Museum.]

[Sidenote: Philadelphus founds medicine on anatomy.]

[Sidenote: He authorizes dissection and human vivisection.]

[Sidenote: Physicians of the Alexandrian school.]

When the Alexandrian Museum was originated by Ptolemy Philadelphus, its
studies were arranged in four faculties--literature, mathematics,
astronomy, medicine. These divisions are, however, to be understood
comprehensively: thus, under the faculty of medicine were included such
subjects as natural history. The physicians who received the first
appointments were Cleombrotus, Herophilus, and Erasistratus; among the
subordinate professors was Philo-Stephanus, who had charge of natural
history, and was directed to write a book on Fishes. The elevated ideas
of the founder cannot be better illustrated than by the manner in which
he organized his medical school. It was upon the sure basis of anatomy.
Herophilus and his colleagues were authorized to resort to the
dissection of the dead, and to ascertain, by that only trustworthy
method, the true structure of the human body. The strong hand of Ptolemy
resolutely carried out his design, though in a country where popular
sentiment was strongly opposed to such practices. To touch a corpse in
Egypt was an abomination. Nor was it only this great man's intention to
ascertain the human structure; he also took measures to discover the
mode in which its functions are carried forward, the manner in which it
works. To this end he authorized his anatomists to make vivisections
both of animals, and also of criminals who had been condemned to death,
herein finding for himself that royal road in physiology which Euclid
once told him, at a dinner in the Museum, did not exist in geometry, and
defending the act from moral criticism by the plea that, as the culprits
had already forfeited their lives to the law, it was no injury to make
them serviceable to the interests of humanity. Herophilus had been
educated at Cos; his pathological views were those known as humouralism;
his treatment active, after the manner of Hippocrates, upon whose works
he wrote commentaries. His original investigations were numerous; they
were embodied, with his peculiar views, in treatises on the practice of
medicine; on obstetrics; on the eye; on the pulse, which he properly
referred to contractions of the heart. He was aware of the existence of
the lacteals, and their anatomical relation to the mesenteric glands.
Erasistratus, his colleague, was a pupil of Theophrastus and Chrysippus:
he, too, cultivated anatomy. He described the structure of the heart,
its connexions with the arteries and veins, but fell into the mistake
that the former vessels were for the conveyance of air, the latter for
that of blood. He knew that there are two kinds of nerves, those of
motion and those of sensation. He referred all fevers to inflammatory
states, and in his practice differed from the received methods of
Hippocrates by observing a less active treatment.

[Sidenote: Improvements in surgery and pharmacy.]

By these physicians the study of medicine in Alexandria was laid upon
the solid foundation of anatomy. Besides them there were many other
instructors in specialties; and, indeed, the temple of Serapis was used
for a hospital, the sick being received into it, and persons studying
medicine admitted for the purpose of familiarizing themselves with the
appearance of disease, precisely as in similar institutions at the
present time. Of course, under such circumstances, the departments of
surgery and pharmacy received many improvements, and produced many able
men. Among these improvements may be mentioned new operations, for
lithotomy, instruments for crushing calculi, for reducing dislocations,
etc. The active commerce of Egypt afforded abundant opportunity for
extending the materia medica by the introduction of a great many herbs
and drugs.

[Sidenote: Decline of Alexandrian medicine.]

The medical school of Alexandria, which was thus originally based upon
dissection, in the course of time lost much of its scientific spirit.
But the influence of the first teachers may be traced through many
subsequent ages. Thus Galen divides the profession in his time into
Herophilians and Erasistratians. Various sects had arisen in the course
of events, as the Dogmatists, who asserted that diseases can only be
treated correctly by the aid of a knowledge of the structure and
functions, the action of drugs, and the changes induced in the affected
parts; they insisted, therefore, upon the necessity of anatomy,
physiology, therapeutics, and pathology. They claimed a descent from
Hippocrates. Their antagonists, the Empirics, ridiculed such knowledge
as fanciful or unattainable, and relied on experience alone. These
subdivisions were not limited to sects; they may also be observed under
the form of schools. Even Erasistratus himself, toward the close of his
life, through some dispute or misunderstanding, appears to have left the
Museum and established a school at Smyrna. The study of the various
branches of medicine was also pursued by others out of the immediate
ranks of the profession. Mithridates, king of Pontus, thus devoted
himself to the examination of poisons and the discovery of antidotes.

What a fall from this scientific medicine to the miracle-cure which soon
displaced it! What a descent from Hippocrates and the great Alexandrian
physicians to the shrines of saints and the monks!

* * * * *

[Sidenote: The Jewish physicians.]

To the foregoing sketch of the state of Greek medicine in its day of
glory, I must add an examination of the same science among the Jews
subsequently to the second century; it is necessary for the proper
understanding of the origin of Saracen learning.

[Sidenote: Their emancipation from the supernatural.]

In philosophy the Jews had been gradually emancipating themselves from
the influence of ancient traditions; their advance in this direction is
shown by the active manner in which they aided in the development of
Neo-platonism. After the destruction of Jerusalem all Syria and
Mesopotamia were full of Jewish schools; but the great philosophers, as
well as the great merchants of the nation, were residents of Alexandria.
Persecution and dispersion, if they served no other good purpose,
weakened the grasp of the ecclesiastic. Perhaps, too, repeated
disappointments in an expected coming of a national temporal Messiah had
brought those who were now advanced in intellectual progress to a just
appreciation of ancient traditions. In this mental emancipation their
physicians took the lead. For long, while their pursuits were yet in
infancy, a bitter animosity had been manifested toward them by the
Levites, whose manner of healing was by prayer, expiatory sacrifice, and
miracle; or, if they descended to less supernatural means, by an
application of such remedies as are popular with the vulgar everywhere.
Thus, to a person bitten by a mad dog, they would give the diaphragm of
a dog to eat. As examples of a class of men soon to take no obscure
share in directing human progress may be mentioned Hannina, A.D. 205,
often spoken of by his successors as the earliest of Jewish physicians;
Samuel, equally distinguished as an astronomer, accoucheur, and oculist,
the inventor of a collyrium which bore his name; Rab, an anatomist, who
wrote a treatise on the structure of the body of man as ascertained by
dissections, thereby attaining such celebrity that the people, after his
death, used the earth of his grave as a medicine; Abba Oumna, whose
study of insanity plainly shows that he gave a material interpretation
to the national doctrine of possession by devils, and replaced that
strange delusion by the scientific explanation of corporeal derangement.
This honourable physician made it a rule never to take a fee from the
poor, and never to make any difference in his assiduous attention
between them and the rich. These men may be taken as a type of their
successors to the seventh century, when the Oriental schools were broken
up in consequence of the Arab military movements. In the Talmudic
literature there are all the indications of a transitional state, so far
as medicine is concerned; the supernatural seems to be passing into the
physical, the ecclesiastical is mixed up with the exact: thus a rabbi
may cure disease by the ecclesiastical operation of laying on of hands;
but of febrile disturbances, an exact, though erroneous explanation is
given, and paralysis of the hind legs of an animal is correctly referred
to the pressure of a tumour on the spinal cord. Some of its aphorisms
are not devoid of amusing significance: "Any disease, provided the
bowels remain open; any kind of pain, provided the heart remain
unaffected; any kind of uneasiness, provided the head be not attacked;
all manner of evils, except it be a bad woman."

[Sidenote: The Arabs affiliate with them.]

[Sidenote: Rise of Jewish physicians to influence.]

[Sidenote: They found medical colleges,]

[Sidenote: and promote science and literature.]

At first, after the fall of the Alexandrian school, it was all that the
Jewish physicians could do to preserve the learning that had descended
to them. But when the tumult of Arabic conquest was over, we find them
becoming the advisers of crowned heads, and exerting, by reason of their
advantageous position, their liberal education, their enlarged views, a
most important influence on the intellectual progress of humanity. Maser
Djaivah, physician to the Khalif Moawiyah, was distinguished at once as
a poet, a critic, a philosopher; Haroun, a physician of Alexandria,
whose Pandects, a treatise unfortunately now lost, are said to have
contained the first elaborate description of the small-pox and method of
its treatment. Isaac Ben Emran wrote an original treatise on poisons
and their symptoms, and others followed his example. The Khalif Al
Raschid, who maintained political relations with Charlemagne by means of
Jewish envoys, set that monarch an example by which indeed he was not
slow to profit, in actively patronising the medical college at
Djondesabour, and founding a university at Bagdad. He prohibited any
person from practising medicine until after a satisfactory examination
before one of those faculties. In the East the theological theory of
disease and of its cure was fast passing away. Of the school at Bagdad,
Joshua ben Nun is said to have been the most celebrated professor, the
school itself actively promoting the translation of Greek works into
Arabic--not alone works of a professional, but also those of a general
kind. In this manner the writings of Plato and Aristotle were secured;
indeed, it is said that almost every day camels laden with volumes were
entering the gates of Bagdad. To add to the supply, the Emperor Michael
III. was compelled by treaty to furnish Greek books. The result of this
intellectual movement could be no other than a diffusion of light.
Schools arose in Bassora, Ispahan, Samarcand, Fez, Morocco, Sicily,
Cordova, Seville, Granada.

[Sidenote: Intermingling of magic and sorcery.]

[Sidenote: Dedication of portions of matter and time to the
supernatural.]

[Sidenote: Origin of the week.]

Through the Nestorians and the Jews the Arabs thus became acquainted
with the medical science of Greece and Alexandria; but to this was added
other knowledge of a more sinister kind, derived from Persia, or perhaps
remotely from Chaldee sources, the Nestorians having important Church
establishments in Mesopotamia, and the Jews having been long familiar
with that country; indeed, from thence their ancestors originally came.
More than once its ideas had modified their national religion. This
extraneous knowledge was of an astrological or magical nature, carried
into practice by incantations, amulets, charms, and talismans. Its
fundamental principle was that the planetary bodies exercise an
influence over terrestrial things. As seven planets and seven metals
were at that time known--the sun, the moon, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter,
Venus, Saturn, being the planets of astrology--a due allotment was made.
Gold was held sacred to the sun, silver to the moon, iron to Mars, etc.
Even the portions of time were in like manner dedicated; the seven days
of the week were respectively given to the seven planets of astrology.
The names imposed on those days, and the order in which they occur, are
obviously connected with the Ptolemaic hypothesis of astronomy, each of
the planets having an hour assigned to it in its order of occurrence,
and the planet ruling first the hour of each day giving its name to that
day. Thus arranged, the week is a remarkable instance of the longevity
of an institution adapted to the wants of man. It has survived through
many changes of empire, has forced itself on the ecclesiastical system
of Europe, which, unable to change its idolatrous aspect, has encouraged
the vulgar error that it owes its authenticity to the Holy Scriptures,
an error too plainly betrayed by the pagan names that the days bear, and
also by their order of occurrence.

These notions of dedicating portions of matter or of time to the
supernatural were derived from the doctrine of a universal spirit or
soul of the world, extensively believed in throughout the East. It
underlies, as we have seen in Chapter III., all Oriental theology, and
is at once a very antique and not unphilosophical conception. Of this
soul the spirit of man was by many supposed to be a particle like a
spark given off from a flame. All other things, animate or inanimate,
brutes, plants, stones, nay, even natural forms, rivers, mountains,
cascades, grottoes, have each an indwelling and animating spirit.

[Sidenote: Alexandrian necromancy.]

Amulets and charms, therefore, did not derive their powers from the
material substance of which they consisted, but from this indwelling
spirit. In the case of man, his immaterial principle was believed to
correspond to his personal bodily form. Of the two great sects into
which the Jewish nation had been divided, the Pharisees accepted the
Assyrian doctrine; but the Sadducees, who denied the existence of any
such spirit, boasted that theirs was the old Mosaic faith, and denounced
their antagonists as having been contaminated at the time of the
Babylonian captivity, before which catastrophe, according to them, these
doctrines were unheard of in Jerusalem. In Alexandria, among the
leading men there were many adherents to these opinions. Thus Plotinus
wrote a book on the association of dæmons with men, and his disciple
Porphyry proved practically the possibility of such an alliance; for,
repairing to the temple of Isis along with Plotinus and a certain
Egyptian priest, the latter, to prove his supernatural power, offered to
raise up the spirit of Plotinus himself in a visible form. A magical
circle was drawn on the ground, surrounded with the customary
astrological signs, the invocation commenced, the spirit appeared, and
Plotinus stood face to face with his own soul. In this successful
experiment it is needless to inquire how much the necromancer depended
upon optical contrivances, and how much upon an alarmed imagination. But
if thus the spirit of a living man could be called up, how much more
likely the souls of the dead.

[Sidenote: These ideas originate in Pantheism.]

In reality, these wild doctrines were connected with Pantheism, which
was secretly believed in everywhere; for, though, in a coarse mode of
expression, a distinction seemed thus to be made between matter and
spirit, or body and soul, it was held by the initiated that matter
itself is a mere shadow of the spirit, and the body a delusive semblance
of the soul.

[Sidenote: The black art.]

In the eighth century, many natural facts of a surprising and
unaccountable description, well calculated to make a profound impression
upon those who witnessed them, had accumulated. They were such as are
now familiar to chemists. Vessels tightly closed were burst open when
tormented in the fire, apparently by some invisible agency; intangible
vapours condensed into solids; from colourless liquids gaudy
precipitates were suddenly called into existence; flames were disengaged
without any adequate cause; explosions took place spontaneously. So much
that was unexpected and unaccountable justified the title of "the occult
science," "the black art." From being isolated marvels unconnected with
one another, these facts had been united. The Chaldee notions of a soul
of the world, and of indwelling spirits, had furnished a thread on which
all these pearls, for such they proved to be, might be strung.

[Sidenote: The Arabians fall into these delusions,]

With avidity--for there is ever a charm in the supernatural--did the
Arabs receive from their Nestorian and Jewish medical instructors these
mystical interpretations along with true knowledge. And far from resting
satisfied with what their masters had thus delivered, they proceeded
forthwith to improve and extend it for themselves. They submitted all
kinds of substances to all kinds of operations, greatly improving the
experimental process they had been taught. By exposing various bodies to
the fire, they found it possible to extract from them more refined
portions, which seemed to concentrate in themselves the qualities
pertaining in a more diffuse way to the substances from which they had
been drawn. These, since they were often invisible at their first
disengagement, yet capable of bursting open the strongest vessels, and
sometimes of disappearing in explosions and flames, they concluded must
be the indwelling spirit or soul of the body, from which the fire had
driven them forth. It was the Chaldee doctrine realized. Thus they
obtained the spirit of wine, the spirit of salt, the spirit of nitre. We
still retain in commerce these designations, though their significance
is lost. When first introduced they had a strictly literal meaning.
Alchemy, with its essences, quintessences, and spirits, was Pantheism
materialized. God was seen to be in everything, in the abstract as well
as the concrete, in numbers as well as realities.

[Sidenote: and the Christians also.]

Anticipating what will have hereafter to be considered in detail, I may
here remark that it was not the Mohammedan alone who delivered himself
up to these mystic delusions; Christendom was prepared for them also. In
its opinion, the earth, the air, the sea, were full of invisible forms.
With more faith than even by paganism itself was the supernatural power
of the images of the gods accepted, only it was imputed to the influence
of devils. The lunatic was troubled by a like possession. If a spring
discharged its waters with a periodical gushing of carbonic acid gas, it
was agitated by an angel; if an unfortunate descended into a pit and was
suffocated by the mephitic air, it was by some dæmon who was secreted;
if the miner's torch produced an explosion, it was owing to the wrath of
some malignant spirit guarding a treasure, and whose solitude had been
disturbed. There was no end to the stories, duly authenticated by the
best human testimony, of the occasional appearance of such spirits under
visible forms; there was no grotto or cool thicket in which angels and
genii had not been seen, no cavern without its dæmons. Though the names
were not yet given, it was well understood that the air had its sylphs,
the earth its gnomes, the fire its salamanders, the water its undines;
to the day belonged its apparitions, to the night its fairies. The foul
air of stagnant places assumed the visible form of dæmons of abominable
aspect; the explosive gases of mines took on the shape of pale-faced,
malicious dwarfs, with leathery ears hanging down to their shoulders,
and garments of grey cloth. Philosophical conceptions can never be
disentangled from social ideas; the thoughts of man will always gather a
tincture from the intellectual medium in which he lives.

In Christendom, however, the chief application of these doctrines was to
the relics of martyrs and saints. As with the amulets and talismans of
Mesopotamia, these were regarded as possessing supernatural powers. They
were a sure safeguard against evil spirits, and an unfailing relief in
sickness.

[Sidenote: Transmutation of metals--Alchemy.]

[Sidenote: Philosopher's stone.]

A singular force was given to these mystic ideas by the peculiar
direction they happened to take. As there are veins of water in the
earth, and apertures through which the air can gain access, an analogy
was inferred between its structure and that of an animal, leading to an
inference of a similarity of functions. From this came the theory of the
development of metals in its womb under the influence of the planets,
the pregnant earth spontaneously producing gold and silver from baser
things after a definite number of lunations. Already, however, in the
doctrine of the transmutation of metals, it was perceived that to Nature
the lapse of time is nothing--to man it is everything. To Nature, when
she is transmuting a worthless into a better metal, what signify a
thousand years? To man, half a century embraces the period of his
intellectual activity. The aim of the cultivator of the sacred art
should be to shorten the natural term; and, since we observe the
influence of heat in hastening the ripening of fruits, may we not
reasonably expect that duly regulated degrees of fire will answer the
purpose? by an exposure of base material in the furnace for a proper
season, may we not anticipate the wished for event? The Emperor
Caligula, who had formerly tried to make gold from orpiment by the force
of fire, was only one of a thousand adepts pursuing a similar scheme.
Some trusted to the addition of a material substance in aiding the fire
to purge away the dross of the base body submitted to it. From this
arose the doctrine of the powder of projection and the philosopher's
stone.

[Sidenote: Transmutation and transubstantiation.]

This doctrine of the possibility of transmuting things into forms
essentially different steadily made its way, leading, in the material
direction, to alchemy, the art of making gold and silver out of baser
metals, and in theology to transubstantiation. Transmutation and
transubstantiation were twin sisters, destined for a world-wide
celebrity; one became allied to the science of Mecca, the other to the
theology of Rome.

[Sidenote: The elixir of life.]

[Sidenote: Potable gold.]

[Sidenote: Chemical waters.]

While thus the Arabs joined in the pursuit of alchemy, their medical
tendencies led them simultaneously to cultivate another ancient
delusion, the discovery of a universal panacea or elixir which could
cure all diseases and prolong life for ever. Mystical experimenters for
centuries had been ransacking all nature, from the yellow flowers which
are sacred to the sun, and gold his emblem and representative on earth,
down to the vilest excrements of the human body. As to gold, there had
been gathered round that metal many fictitious excellences in addition
to its real values; it was believed that in some preparation of it would
be found the elixir vitæ. This is the explanation of the unwearied
attempts at making potable gold, for it was universally thought that if
that metal could be obtained in a dissolved state, it would constitute
the long-sought panacea. Nor did it seem impossible so to increase the
power of water, as to impart to it new virtues, and thereby enable it to
accomplish the desired solution. Were there not natural waters of very
different properties? were there not some that could fortify the memory,
others destroy it; some re-enforce the spirits, some impart dulness,
and some, which were highly prized, that could secure a return of love?
It had been long known that both natural and artificial waters can
permanently affect the health, and that instruments may be made to
ascertain their qualities. Zosimus, the Panopolitan, had described in
former times the operation of distillation, by which water may be
purified; the Arabs called the apparatus for conducting that experiment
an alembic. His treatise on the virtues and composition of waters was
conveyed under the form of a dream, in which there flit before us
fantastically white-haired priests sacrificing before the altar;
cauldrons of boiling water, in which there are walking about men a span
long; brazen-clad warriors in silence reading leaden books, and sphinxes
with wings. In such incomprehensible fictions knowledge was purposely,
and ignorance conveniently concealed.

[Sidenote: The Arabs originate scientific chemistry.]

The practical Arabs had not long been engaged in these fascinating but
wild pursuits, when results of very great importance began to appear. In
a scientific point of view, the discovery of the strong acids laid the
true foundation of chemistry; in a political point of view, the
invention of gunpowder revolutionized the world.

[Sidenote: Gunpowder and fireworks.]

There were several explosive mixtures. Automatic fire was made from
equal parts of sulphur, saltpetre, and sulphide of antimony, finely
pulverized and mixed into a paste, with equal parts of juice of the
black sycamore and liquid asphaltum, a little quick-lime being added. It
was directed to keep the material from the rays of the sun, which would
set it on fire.

[Sidenote: Incombustible men.]

Of liquid or Greek fire we have not a precise description, since the
knowledge of it was kept at Constantinople as a state secret. There is
reason, however, to believe that it contained sulphur and nitrate of
potash mixed with naphtha. Of gunpowder, Marcus Græcus, whose date is
probably to be referred to the close of the eighth century, gives the
composition explicitly. He directs us to pulverize in a marble mortar
one pound of sulphur, two of charcoal, and six of saltpetre. If some of
this powder be tightly rammed in a long narrow tube closed at one end,
and then set on fire, the tube will fly through the air: this is
clearly the rocket. He says that thunder may be imitated by folding some
of the powder in a cover and tying it up tightly: this is the cracker.
It thus appears that fireworks preceded fire-arms. To the same author we
are indebted for prescriptions for making the skin incombustible, so
that we may handle fire without being burnt. These, doubtless, were
received as explanations of the legends of the times, which related how
miracle-workers had washed their hands in melted copper, and sat at
their ease in flaming straw.

[Sidenote: Arabian chemists.]

Among the Saracen names that might be mentioned as cultivators of
alchemy, we may recall El-Rasi, Ebid Durr, Djafar or Geber, Toghragé,
who wrote an alchemical poem, and Dschildegi, one of whose works bears
the significant title of "The Lantern." The definition of alchemy by
some of these authors is very striking: the science of the balance, the
science of weight, the science of combustion.

[Sidenote: Djafar discovers nitric acid and aqua regia,]

[Sidenote: and that oxidation increases weight.]

[Sidenote: He solves the problem of potable gold.]

To one of these chemists, Djafar, our attention may for a moment be
drawn. He lived toward the end of the eighth century, and is honoured by
Rhazes, Avicenna, and Kalid, the great Arabic physicians, as their
master. His name is memorable in chemistry, since it marks an epoch in
that science of equal importance to that of Priestley and Lavoisier. He
is the first to describe nitric acid and aqua regia. Before him no
stronger acid was known than concentrated vinegar. We cannot conceive of
chemistry as not possessing acids. Roger Bacon speaks of him as the
magister magistrorum. He has perfectly just notions of the nature of
spirits or gases, as we call them; thus he says, "O son of the doctrine,
when spirits fix themselves in bodies, they lose their form; in their
nature they are no longer what they were. When you compel them to be
disengaged again, this is what happens: either the spirit alone escapes
with the air, and the body remains fixed in the alembic, or the spirit
and body escape together at the same time." His doctrine respecting the
nature of the metals, though erroneous, was not without a scientific
value. A metal he considers to be a compound of sulphur, mercury, and
arsenic, and hence he infers that transmutation is possible by varying
the proportion of those ingredients. He knows that a metal, when
calcined, increases in weight, a discovery of the greatest importance,
as eventually brought to bear in the destruction of the doctrine of
Phlogiston of Stahl, and which has been imputed to Europeans of a much
later time. He describes the operations of distillation, sublimation,
filtration, various chemical apparatus, water-baths, sand-baths, cupels
of bone-earth, of the use of which he gives a singularly clear
description. A chemist reads with interest Djafar's antique method of
obtaining nitric acid by distilling in a retort Cyprus vitriol, alum,
and saltpetre. He sets forth its corrosive power, and shows how it may
be made to dissolve even gold itself, by adding a portion of sal
ammoniac. Djafar may thus be considered as having solved the grand
alchemical problem of obtaining gold in a potable state. Of course, many
trials must have been made on the influence of this solution on the
animal system, respecting which such extravagant anticipations had been
entertained. The disappointment that ensued was doubtless the reason
that the records of these trials have not descended to us.

[Sidenote: Rhazes discovers sulphuric acid.]

[Sidenote: Bechil discovers phosphorus.]

With Djafar may be mentioned Rhazes, born A.D. 860, physician-in-chief
to the great hospital at Bagdad. To him is due the first description of
the preparation and properties of sulphuric acid. He obtained it, as the
Nordhausen variety is still made, by the distillation of dried green
vitriol. To him are also due the first indications of the preparation of
absolute alcohol, by distilling spirit of wine from quick-lime. As a
curious discovery made by the Saracens may be mentioned the experiment
of Achild Bechil, who, by distilling together the extract of urine,
clay, lime, and powdered charcoal, obtained an artificial carbuncle,
which shone in the dark "like a good moon." This was phosphorus.

[Sidenote: Geological views of Avicenna.]

[Sidenote: His works indicate the attainment of the times.]

And now there arose among Arabian physicians a correctness of thought
and breadth of view altogether surprising. It might almost be supposed
that the following lines were written by one of our own contemporaries;
they are, however, extracted from a chapter of Avicenna on the origin of
mountains. This author was born in the tenth century. "Mountains may be
due to two different causes. Either they are effects of upheavals of the
crust of the earth, such as might occur during a violent earthquake, or
they are the effect of water, which, cutting for itself a new route, has
denuded the valleys, the strata being of different kinds, some soft,
some hard. The winds and waters disintegrate the one, but leave the
other intact. Most of the eminences of the earth have had this latter
origin. It would require a long period of time for all such changes to
be accomplished, during which the mountains themselves might be somewhat
diminished in size. But that water has been the main cause of these
effects is proved by the existence of fossil remains of aquatic and
other animals on many mountains." Avicenna also explains the nature of
petrifying or incrusting waters, and mentions ærolites, out of one of
which a sword-blade was made, but he adds that the metal was too brittle
to be of any use. A mere catalogue of some of the works of Avicenna will
indicate the condition of Arabian attainment. 1. On the Utility and
Advantage of Science; 2. Of Health and Remedies; 3. Canons of Physic; 4.
On Astronomical Observations; 5. Mathematical Theorems; 6. On the Arabic
Language and its Properties; 7. On the Origin of the Soul and
Resurrection of the Body; 8. Demonstration of Collateral Lines on the
Sphere; 9. An Abridgment of Euclid; 10. On Finity and Infinity; 11. On
Physics and Metaphysics; 12. An Encyclopædia of Human Knowledge, in 20
vols., etc., etc. The perusal of such a catalogue is sufficient to
excite profound attention when we remember the contemporaneous state of
Europe.

[Sidenote: Effect of the search for the elixir on practical medicine.]

The pursuit of the elixir made a well-marked impression upon Arab
experimental science, confirming it in its medical application. At the
foundation of this application lay the principle that it is possible to
relieve the diseases of the human body by purely material means. As the
science advanced it gradually shook off its fetichisms, the spiritual
receding into insignificance, the material coming into bolder relief.
Not, however, without great difficulty was a way forced for the great
doctrine that the influence of substances on the constitution of man is
altogether of a material kind, and not at all due to any indwelling or
animating spirit; that it is of no kind of use to practise incantations
over drugs, or to repeat prayers over the mortar in which medicines are
being compounded, since the effect will be the same, whether this has
been done or not; that there is no kind of efficacy in amulets, no
virtue in charms; and that, though saint-relics may serve to excite the
imagination of the ignorant, they are altogether beneath the attention
of the philosopher.

[Sidenote: Medical conflict between Europe and Africa.]

It was this last sentiment which brought Europe and Africa into
intellectual collision. The Saracen and Hebrew physicians had become
thoroughly materialized. Throughout Christendom the practice of medicine
was altogether supernatural. It was in the hands of ecclesiastics; and
saint relics, shrines, and miracle-cures were a source of boundless
profit. On a subsequent page I shall have to describe the circumstances
of the conflict that ensued between material philosophy on one side, and
supernatural jugglery on the other; to show how the Arab system gained
the victory, and how, out of that victory, the industrial life of Europe
arose. The Byzantine policy inaugurated in Constantinople and Alexandria
was, happily for the world, in the end overthrown. To that future page I
must postpone the great achievements of the Arabians in the fulness of
their Age of Reason. When Europe was hardly more enlightened than
Caffraria is now, the Saracens were cultivating and even creating
science. Their triumphs in philosophy, mathematics, astronomy,
chemistry, medicine, proved to be more glorious, more durable, and
therefore more important than their military actions had been.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE AGE OF FAITH IN THE WEST--(_Continued_).

IMAGE-WORSHIP AND THE MONKS.

_Origin of_ IMAGE-WORSHIP.--_Inutility of Images discovered in
Asia and Africa during the Saracen Wars.--Rise of Iconoclasm._

_The Emperors prohibit Image-worship.--The Monks, aided by
court Females, sustain it.--Victory of the latter._

_Image-worship in the West sustained by the Popes.--Quarrel
between the Emperor and the Pope.--The Pope, aided by the
Monks, revolts and allies himself with the Franks._

[Sidenote: Influence of the Arabians.]

The Arabian influence, allying itself to philosophy, was henceforth
productive of other than military results. To the loss of Africa and
Asia was now added a disturbance impressed on Europe itself, ending in
the decomposition of Christianity into two forms, Greek and Latin, and
in three great political events--the emancipation of the popes from the
emperors of Constantinople, the usurpation of power by a new dynasty in
France, the reconstruction of the Roman empire in the West.

The dispute respecting the worship of images led to those great events.
The acts of the Mohammedan khalifs and of the iconoclastic or
image-breaking emperors occasioned that dispute.

[Sidenote: Worship of relics and images.]

[Sidenote: Its rapid spread in Christendom.]

Nothing could be more deplorable than the condition of southern Europe
when it first felt the intellectual influence of the Arabians. Its old
Roman and Greek populations had altogether disappeared; the races of
half-breeds and mongrels substituted for them were immersed in
fetichism. An observance of certain ceremonials constituted a religious
life. A chip of the true cross, some iron filings from the chain of St.
Peter, a tooth or bone of a martyr, were held in adoration; the world
was full of the stupendous miracles which these relics had performed.
But especially were painted or graven images of holy personages supposed
to be endowed with such powers. They had become objects of actual
worship. The facility with which the Empress Helena, the mother of
Constantine the Great, had given an aristocratic fashion to this
idolatry, showed that the old pagan ideas had never really died out, and
that the degenerated populations received with approval the religious
conceptions of their great predecessors. The early Christian fathers
believed that painting and sculpture were forbidden by the Scriptures,
and that they were therefore wicked arts; and, though the second Council
of Nicea asserted that the use of images had always been adopted by the
Church, there are abundant facts to prove that the actual worship of
them was not indulged in until the fourth century, when, on the occasion
of its occurrence in Spain, it was condemned by the Council of
Illiberis. During the fifth century the practice of introducing images
into churches increased, and in the sixth it had become prevalent. The
common people, who had never been able to comprehend doctrinal
mysteries, found their religious wants satisfied in turning to these
effigies. With singular obtuseness, they believed that the saint is
present in his image, though hundreds of the same kind were in
existence, each having an equal and exclusive right to the spiritual
presence. The doctrine of invocation of departed saints, which assumed
prominence in the fifth century, was greatly strengthened by these
graphic forms. Pagan idolatry had reappeared.

[Sidenote: Simple fetiches replaced by images.]

[Sidenote: Bleeding and winking images.]

At first the simple cross was used as a substitute for the amulets and
charms of remoter times; it constituted a fetich able to expel evil
spirits, even Satan himself. This Being, who had become singularly
debased from what he was in the noble Oriental fictions, was an
imbecile and malicious though not a malignant spirit, affrighted not
only at pieces of wood framed in the shape of a cross, but at the form
of it made by the finger in the air. A subordinate dæmon was supposed to
possess every individual at his birth, but he was cast out by baptism.
When, in the course of time, the cross became a crucifix, offering a
representation of the dying Redeemer, it might be supposed to have
gathered increased virtue; and soon, in addition to that adorable form,
were introduced images of the Virgin, the apostles, saints, and martyrs.
The ancient times seemed to have come again, when these pictures were
approached with genuflexions, luminaries, and incense. The doctrine of
the more intelligent was that these were aids to devotion, and that,
among people to whom the art of reading was unknown, they served the
useful purpose of recalling sacred events in a kind of hieroglyphic
manner. But among the vulgar, and monks, and women, they were believed
to be endowed with supernatural power. Of some, the wounds could bleed;
of others, the eyes could wink; of others, the limbs could be raised. In
ancient times, the statues of Minerva could brandish spears, and those
of Venus could weep.

[Sidenote: Idolatry never extinguished in Greece and Italy.]

In truth, the populations of the Greek and Latin countries were no more
than nominally converted and superficially Christianized. The old
traditions and practices had never been forgotten. A tendency to
idolatry seemed to be the necessary incident of the climate. Not without
reason have the apologists of the clergy affirmed that image-worship was
insisted on by the people, and that the Church had to admit ideas that
she had never been able to eradicate. After seven hundred years of
apostolic labour, it was found that the populace of Greece and Italy
were apparently in their old state, and that actually nothing at all had
been accomplished; the new-comers had passed into the track of their
predecessors. It is often said that the restoration of image-worship was
owing to the extinction of civilization by the Northern barbarians. But
this is not true. In the blood of the German nations the taint of
idolatry is but small. In their own countries they gave it little
encouragement, and, indeed, hastened quickly to its total rejection. The
sin lay not with them, but with the Mediterranean people.

[Sidenote: Influence of the barbarians.]

Nor are those barbarians to be held accountable for the so-called
extinction of civilization in Italy. The true Roman race had prematurely
died; it came to an untimely end in consequence of its dissolute, its
violent life. Its civilization would have spontaneously died with it had
no barbarian been present; and, if these intruders produced a baneful
effect at first, they compensated for it in the end. As, when fresh coal
is added to a fire that is burning low, a still further diminution will
ensue, perhaps there may be a risk of entirely putting it out; but in
due season, if all goes well, the new material will join in the
contagious blaze. The savages of Europe, thrown into the decaying foci
of Greek and Roman light, did perhaps for a time reduce the general
heat; but, by degrees, it spread throughout their mass, and the bright
flame of modern civilization was the result. Let those who lament the
intrusion of these men into the classical countries, reflect upon the
result which must otherwise have ensued--the last spark would soon have
died out, and nothing but ashes have remained.

[Sidenote: Origin of Iconoclasm.]

Three causes gave rise to Iconoclasm, or the revolt against
image-worship: 1st, the remonstrances and derision of the Mohammedans;
2nd, the good sense of a great sovereign, Leo the Isaurian, who had
risen by his merit from obscurity, and had become the founder of a new
dynasty at Constantinople; 3rd, the detected inability of these
miracle-working idols and fetiches to protect their worshippers or
themselves against an unbelieving enemy. Moreover, an impression was
gradually making its way among the more intelligent classes that
religion ought to free itself from such superstitions. So important were
the consequences of Leo's actions, that some have been disposed to
assign to his reign the first attempt at making policy depend on
theology; and to this period, as I have elsewhere remarked, they
therefore refer the commencement of the Byzantine empire. Through one
hundred and twenty years, six emperors devoted themselves to this
reformation. But it was premature. They were overpowered by the populace
and the monks, by the bishops of Rome, and by a superstitious and wicked
woman.

[Sidenote: Inutility of miraculous images discovered in the Arab
invasions.]

[Sidenote: Destruction and sale of idols by the Arabs.]

It had been a favourite argument against the pagans how little their
gods could do for them when the hour of calamity came, when their
statues and images were insulted and destroyed, and hence how vain was
such worship, how imbecile such gods. When Africa and Asia, full of
relics and crosses, pictures and images, fell before the Mohammedans,
those conquerors retaliated the same logic with no little effect. There
was hardly one of the fallen towns that had not some idol for its
protector. Remembering the stern objurgations of the prophet against
this deadly sin, prohibited at once by the commandment of God and
repudiated by the reason of man, the Saracen khalifs had ordered all the
Syrian images to be destroyed. Amid the derision of the Arab soldiery
and the tears of the terror-stricken worshippers, these orders were
remorselessly carried into effect, except in some cases where the
temptation of an enormous ransom induced the avengers of the unity of
God to swerve from their duty. Thus the piece of linen cloth on which it
was feigned that our Saviour had impressed his countenance, and which
was the palladium of Edessa, was carried off by the victors at the
capture of that town, and subsequently sold to Constantinople at the
profitable price of twelve thousand pounds of silver. This picture, and
also some other celebrated ones, it was said, possessed the property of
multiplying themselves by contact with other surfaces, as in modern
times we multiply photographs. Such were the celebrated images "made
without hands."

[Sidenote: The Emperor prohibits image-worship.]

[Sidenote: The monks sustain it.]

It was currently asserted that the immediate origin of Iconoclasm was
due to the Khalif Yezed, who had completed the destruction of the Syrian
images, and to two Jews, who stimulated Leo the Isaurian to his task.
However that may be, Leo published an edict, A.D. 726, prohibiting the
worship of images. This was followed by another directing their
destruction, and the whitewashing of the walls of churches ornamented
with them. Hereupon the clergy and the monks rebelled; the emperor was
denounced as a Mohammedan and a Jew. He ordered that a statue of the
Saviour in that part of the city called Chalcopratia should be removed,
and a riot was the consequence. One of his officers mounted a ladder and
struck the idol with an axe upon its face; it was an incident like that
enacted centuries before in the temple of Serapis at Alexandria. The
sacred image, which had often arrested the course of Nature and worked
many miracles, was now found to be unable to protect or to avenge its
own honour. A rabble of women interfered in its behalf; they threw down
the ladder and killed the officer; nor was the riot ended until the
troops were called in and a great massacre perpetrated. The monks spread
the sedition in all parts of the empire; they even attempted to proclaim
a new emperor. Leo was everywhere denounced as a Mohammedan infidel, an
enemy of the Mother of God; but with inflexible resolution he persisted
in his determination as long as he lived.

[Sidenote: They accuse the emperor of atheism.]

His son and successor, Constantine, pursued the same iconoclastic
policy. From the circumstance of his accidentally defiling the font at
which he was being baptized, he had received the suggestive name of
Copronymus. His subsequent career was asserted by the monks to have been
foreshadowed by his sacrilegious beginnings. It was publicly asserted
that he was an atheist. In truth, his biography, in many respects,
proves that the higher classes in Constantinople were largely infected
with infidelity. The patriarch deposed upon oath that Copronymus had
made the most irreligious confessions to him, as that our Saviour, far
from being the Son of God, was, in his opinion, a mere man, born of his
mother in the common way. The truth of these accusations was perhaps, in
a measure, sustained by the revenge that the emperor took on the
patriarch for his indiscreet revelations. He seized him, put out his
eyes, caused him to be led through the city mounted on an ass, with his
face to the tail, and then, as if to show his unutterable contempt for
all religion, with an exquisite malice, appointed him to his office
again.

[Sidenote: Council of Constantinople prohibits image-worship.]

If such was the religious condition of the emperor, the higher clergy
were but little better. A council was summoned by Constantine, A.D. 754,
at Constantinople, which was attended by 388 bishops. It asserted for
itself the position of the seventh general council. It unanimously
decreed that all visible symbols of Christ, except in the Eucharist, are
blasphemous or heretical; that image-worship is a corruption of
Christianity and a renewed form of paganism; it directed all statues and
paintings to be removed from the churches and destroyed, it degraded
every ecclesiastic and excommunicated every layman who should be
concerned in setting them up again. It concluded its labours with
prayers for the emperor who had extirpated idolatry and given peace to
the Church.

[Sidenote: Uproar among the monks.]

[Sidenote: The emperor retaliates.]

But this decision was by no means quietly received. The monks rose in an
uproar; some raised a clamour in their caves, some from the tops of
their pillars; one, in the church of St. Mammas, insulted the emperor to
his face, denouncing him as a second apostate Julian. Nor could he
deliver himself from them by the scourging, strangling, and drowning of
individuals. In his wrath, Copronymus, plainly discerning that it was
the monks on one side and the government on the other, determined to
strike at the root of the evil, and to destroy monasticism itself. He
drove the holy men out of their cells and cloisters; made the
consecrated virgins marry; gave up the buildings for civil uses; burnt
pictures, idols, and all kinds of relics; degraded the patriarch from
his office, scourged him, shaved off his eyebrows, set him for public
derision in the circus in a sleeveless shirt, and then beheaded him.
Already he had consecrated a eunuch in his stead. Doubtless these
atrocities strengthened the bishops of Rome in their resolve to seek a
protector from such a master among the barbarian kings of the West.

[Sidenote: Re-establishment of image-worship by Irene the murderess.]

Constantine Copronymus was succeeded by his son, Leo the Chazar, who,
during a short reign of five years, continued the iconoclastic policy.
On his death his wife Irene seized the government, ostensibly in behalf
of her son. This woman, pre-eminently wicked and superstitious beyond
her times, undertook the restoration of images. She caused the patriarch
to retire from his dignity, appointed one of her creatures, Tarasius, in
his stead, and summoned another council. In this second Council of Nicea
that of Constantinople was denounced as a synod of fools and atheists,
the worship of images was pronounced agreeable to Scripture and reason,
and in conformity to the usages and traditions of the Church.

Irene, saluted as the second Helena, and set forth by the monks as an
exemplar of piety, thus accomplished the restoration of image-worship.
In a few years this ambitious woman, refusing to surrender his rightful
dignity to her son, caused him to be seized, and, in the porphyry
chamber in which she had borne him, put out his eyes. Constantinople,
long familiar with horrible crimes, was appalled at such an unnatural
deed.

[Sidenote: Resumption of Iconoclasm by the succeeding emperors.]

[Sidenote: Their Saracenic tastes.]

During the succeeding reigns to that of Leo the Armenian, matters
remained without change; but that emperor resumed the policy of Leo the
Isaurian. By an edict he prohibited image-worship, and banished the
Patriarch of Constantinople, who had admonished him that the apostles
had made images of the Saviour and the Virgin, and that there was at
Rome a picture of the Transfiguration, painted by order of St. Peter.
After the murder of Leo, his successor, Michael the Stammerer, showed no
encouragement to either party. It was affirmed that he was given to
profane jesting, was incredulous as to the resurrection of the dead,
disbelieved the existence of the devil, was indifferent whether images
were worshipped or not, and recommended the patriarch to bury the
decrees of Constantinople and Nicea equally in oblivion. His successor
and son, however, observed no such impartiality. To Saracenic tastes,
shown by his building a palace like that of the khalif; to a devotion
for poetry, exemplified by branding some of his own stanzas on his
image-worshipping enemies; to the composition of music and its singing
by himself as an amateur in the choir; to mechanical knowledge,
displayed by hydraulic contrivances, musical instruments, organs,
automatic singing-birds sitting in golden trees, he added an
abomination of monks and a determined iconoclasm. Instead of merely
whitewashing the walls of the churches, he adorned them with pictures of
beasts and birds. Iconoclasm had now become a struggle between the
emperors and the monks.

[Sidenote: Final restoration of image-worship by the Empress Theodora.]

Again, on the death of Theophilus, image-worship triumphed, and
triumphed in the same manner as before. His widow, Theodora, alarmed by
the monks for the safety of the soul of her husband, purchased
absolution for him at the price of the restoration of images.

Such was the issue of Iconoclasm in the East. The monks proved stronger
than the emperors, and, after a struggle of 120 years, the images were
finally restored. In the West far more important consequences followed.

[Sidenote: Image-worship in the West.]

[Sidenote: It is sustained by the pope,]

To image-worship Italy was devoutly attached. When the first edict of
Leo was made known by the exarch, it produced a rebellion, of which Pope
Gregory II. took advantage to suspend the tribute paid by Italy. In
letters that he wrote to the emperor he defended the popular delusion,
declaring that the first Christians had caused pictures to be made of
our Lord, of his brother James, of Stephen, and all the martyrs, and had
sent them throughout the world; the reason that God the Father had not
been painted was that his countenance was not known. These letters
display a most audacious presumption of the ignorance of the emperor
respecting common Scripture incidents, and, as some have remarked,
suggest a doubt of the pope's familiarity with the sacred volume. He
points out the difference between the statues of antiquity, which are
only the representations of phantoms, and the images of the Church,
which have approved themselves, by numberless miracles, to be the
genuine forms of the Saviour, his mother, and his saints. Referring to
the statue of St. Peter, which the emperor had ordered to be broken to
pieces, he declares that the Western nations regard that apostle as a
god upon earth, and ominously threatens the vengeance of the pious
barbarians if it should be destroyed. In this defence of images Gregory
found an active coadjutor in a Syrian, John of Damascus, who had
witnessed the rage of the khalifs against the images of his own country,
and whose hand, having been cut off by those tyrants, had been
miraculously rejoined to his body by an idol of the Virgin to which he
prayed.

[Sidenote: and by the Lombard king.]

But Gregory was not alone in his policy, nor John of Damascus in his
controversies. The King of the Lombards, Luitprand, also perceived the
advantage of putting himself forth as the protector of images, and of
appealing to the Italians, for their sake, to expel the Greeks from the
country. The pope acted on the principle that heresy in a sovereign
justifies withdrawal of allegiance, the Lombard that it excuses the
seizure of possessions. Luitprand accordingly ventured on the capture of
Ravenna. An immense booty, the accumulation of the emperors, the Gothic
kings, and the exarchs, which was taken at the storming of the town, at
once rewarded his piety, stimulated him to new enterprises of a like
nature, and drew upon him the attention of his enemy the emperor, whom
he had plundered, and of his confederate the pope, whom he had
overreached.

[Sidenote: Position of affairs at this time.]

[Sidenote: The Saracens dominate in the Mediterranean.]

[Sidenote: Causes of the alliance of the popes and the Franks.]

This was the position of affairs. If the Lombards, who were Arians, and
therefore heretics, should succeed in extending their sway all over
Italy, the influence and prosperity of the papacy must come to an end;
their action on the question of the images was altogether of an
ephemeral and delusive kind, for all the northern nations preferred a
simple worship like that of primitive times, and had never shown any
attachment to the adoration of graven forms. If, on the other hand, the
pope should continue his allegiance to Constantinople, he must be liable
to the atrocious persecutions so often and so recently inflicted on the
patriarchs of that city by their tyrannical master; and the breaking of
that connexion in reality involved no surrender of any solid advantages,
for the emperor was too weak to give protection from the Lombards.
Already had been experienced a portentous difficulty in sending relief
from Constantinople, on account of the naval superiority of the Saracens
in the Mediterranean. For the taxes paid to the sovereign no real
equivalent was received; but Rome, in ignominy, was obliged to submit,
like an obscure provincial town, to the mandates of the Eastern court.
Moreover, in her eyes, the emperor, by reason of his iconoclasm, was a
heretic. But if alliance with the Lombards and allegiance to the Greeks
were equally inexpedient, a third course was possible. A mayor of the
palace of the Frankish kings had successfully led his armies against the
Arabs from Spain, and had gained the great victory of Tours. If the
Franks, under the influence of their climate or the genius of their
race, had thus far shown no encouragement to images, in all other
respects they were orthodox, for they had been converted by Catholic
missionaries; their kings, it was true, were mere phantoms, but Charles
Martel had proved himself a great soldier; he was, therefore, an
ambitious man. There was Scripture authority for raising a subordinate
to sovereign power; the prophets of Israel had thus, of old, with oil
anointed kings. And if the sword of France was gently removed from the
kingly hand that was too weak to hold it, and given to the hero who had
already shown that he could smite terribly with it--if this were done by
the authority of the pope, acting as the representative of God, how
great the gain to the papacy! A thousand years might not be enough to
separate the monarchy of France from the theocracy of Italy.

[Sidenote: Revolt of the pope from the emperor.]

[Sidenote: Alliance of the pope and the Franks.]

The resistance which had sprung up to the imperial edict for the
destruction of images determined the course of events. The pope
rebelled, and attempts were made by the emperor to seize or assassinate
him. A fear that the pontiff might be carried to Constantinople, and the
preparations making to destroy the images in the churches, united all
Italy. A council was held at Rome, which anathematized the Iconoclasts.
In retaliation, the Sicilian and other estates of the Church were
confiscated. Gregory III., who in the meantime succeeded to the papacy,
continued the policy of his predecessor. The emperor was defied. A
fleet, fitted out by him in support of the exarch, was lost in a storm.
With this termination of the influence of Constantinople in Italy came
the imminent danger that the pope must acknowledge the supremacy of the
Lombards. In his distress Gregory turned to Charles Martel. He sent him
the keys of the sepulchre of St. Peter, and implored his assistance. The
die was cast. Papal Rome revolted from her sovereign, and became
indissolubly bound to the barbarian kingdoms. To France a new dynasty
was given, to the pope temporal power, and to the west of Europe a
fictitious Roman empire.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: The monks.]

The monks had thus overcome the image-breaking emperors, a result which
proves them to have already become a formidable power in the state. It
is necessary, for a proper understanding of the great events with which
henceforth they were connected, to describe their origin and history.

[Sidenote: Their first position]

In the iconoclastic quarrel they are to be regarded as the
representatives of the common people in contradistinction to the clergy;
often, indeed, the representatives of the populace, infected with all
its instincts of superstition and fanaticism. They are the upholders of
miracle-cures, invocation of saints, worship of images, clamorous
asserters of a unity of faith in the Church--a unity which they never
practised, but which offered a convenient pretext for a bitter
persecution of heresy and paganism, though they were more than half
pagan themselves.

[Sidenote: and subsequent improvement.]

It was their destiny to impress on the practical life of Europe that
mixture of Christianity and heathenism engendered by political events in
Italy and Greece. Yet, while they thus co-operated in great affairs,
they themselves exhibited, in the most signal manner, the force of that
law of continuous variation of opinion and habits to which all enduring
communities of men must submit. Born of superstition, obscene in their
early life, they end in luxury, refinement, learning. Theirs is a
history to which we may profitably attend.

[Sidenote: The first hermits.]

[Sidenote: Their self-denial.]

From very early times there had been in India zealots who, actuated by a
desire of removing themselves from the temptations of society and
preparing for another life, retired into solitary places. Such also were
the Essenes among the Jews, and the Therapeutæ in Egypt. Pliny speaks
of the blameless life of the former when he says, "They are the
companions of palms;" nor does he hide his astonishment at an immortal
society in which no one is ever born. Their example was not lost upon
more devout Christians, particularly after the influence of Magianism
began to be felt. Though it is sometimes said that the first of these
hermits were Anthony and Paulus, they doubtless are to be regarded as
only having rendered themselves more illustrious by their superior
sanctity among a crowd of worthies who had preceded them or were their
contemporaries. As early as the second and third centuries the practice
of retirement had commenced among Christians; soon afterwards it had
become common. The date of Hilarion is about A.D. 328, of Basil A.D.
360. Regarding prayer as the only occupation in which man may profitably
engage, they gave no more attention to the body than the wants of nature
absolutely demanded. A little dried fruit or bread for food, and water
for drink, were sufficient for its support; occasionally a particle of
salt might be added, but the use of warm water was looked upon as
betraying a tendency to luxury. The incentives to many of their rules of
life might excite a smile, if it were right to smile at the acts of
earnest men. Some, like the innocent Essenes, who would do nothing
whatever on the Sabbath, observed the day before as a fast, rigorously
abstaining from food and drink, that nature might not force them into
sin on the morrow. For some, it was not enough, by the passive means of
abstinence, to refrain from fault or reduce the body to subjection,
though starvation is the antidote for desire; the more active, and,
perhaps, more effectual operation of periodical flagellations and bodily
torture were added. Ingenuity was taxed to find new means of personal
infliction. A hermit who never permitted himself to sleep more than an
hour without being awakened endured torments not inferior to those of
the modern fakir, who crosses his arms on the top of his head and keeps
them there for years, until they are wasted to the bone, or suspends
himself to a pole by means of a hook inserted in the flesh of his back.

[Sidenote: Profound contemplation of God.]

[Sidenote: Aerial martyrs. Holy birds.]

Among the Oriental sects there are some who believe that the Supreme
Being is perpetually occupied in the contemplation of himself, and that
the nearer man can approach to a state of total inaction the more will
he resemble God. For many years the Indian sage never raises his eyes
from his navel; absorbed in the profound contemplation of it, his
perennial reverie is unbroken by any outward suggestions, the admiring
by-standers administering, as chance offers, the little food and water
that his wants require. Under the influence of such ideas, in the fifth
century, St. Simeon Stylites, who in his youth had often been saved from
suicide, by ascending a column he had built, sixty feet in height, and
only one foot square at the top, departed as far as he could from
earthly affairs, and approached more closely to heaven. On this elevated
retreat, to which he was fastened by a chain, he endured, if we may
believe the incredible story, for thirty years the summer's sun and the
winter's frost. Afar off the passer-by was edified by seeing the
motionless figure of the holy man with outstretched arms like a cross,
projected against the sky, in his favourite attitude of prayer, or
expressing his thankfulness for the many mercies of which he supposed
himself to be the recipient by rapidly striking his forehead against his
knees. Historians relate that a curious spectator counted twelve hundred
and forty-four of these motions, and then abstained through fatigue from
any farther tally, though the unwearied exhibition was still going on.
This "most holy aerial martyr," as Evagrius calls him, attained at last
his reward, and Mount Telenissa witnessed a vast procession of devout
admirers accompanying to the grave his mortal remains.

[Sidenote: The monks insist on celibacy.]

More commonly, however, the hermit declined the conspicuous notoriety of
these "holy birds," as they were called by the profane, and, retiring to
some cave in the desert, despised the comforts of life, and gave himself
up to penance and prayer. Among men who had thus altogether exalted
themselves above the wants of the flesh, there was no toleration for its
lusts. The sinfulness of the marriage relation, and the pre-eminent
value of chastity, followed from their principles. If it was objected to
such practices that by their universal adoption the human species would
soon be extinguished, and no man would remain to offer praises to God,
these zealots, remembering the temptations from which they had escaped,
with truth replied that there would always be sinners enough in the
world to avoid that disaster, and that out of their evil works good
would be brought. St. Jerome offers us the pregnant reflection that,
though it may be marriage that fills the earth, it is virginity that
replenishes heaven.

[Sidenote: Grazing hermits.]

If they were not recorded by many truthful authors, the extravagances of
some of these enthusiasts would pass belief. Men and women ran naked
upon all fours, associating themselves with the beasts of the field. In
the spring season, when the grass is tender, the grazing hermits of
Mesopotamia went forth to the plains, sharing with the cattle their
filth, and their food. Of some, notwithstanding a weight of evidence,
the stupendous biography must tax their admirers' credulity. It is
affirmed that St. Ammon had never seen his own body uncovered; that an
angel carried him on his back over a river which he was obliged to
cross; that at his death he ascended to heaven through the skies, St.
Anthony being an eye-witness of the event--St. Anthony, who was guided
to the hermit Paulus by a centaur; that Didymus never spoke to a human
being for ninety years.

[Sidenote: Insane hermits.]

From the Jewish anchorites, who of old sought a retreat beneath the
shade of the palms of Engaddi, who beguiled their weary hours in the
chanting of psalms by the bitter waters of the Dead Sea; from the
philosophic Hindu, who sought for happiness in bodily inaction and
mental exercise, to these Christian solitaries, the stages of delusion
are numerous and successive. It would not be difficult to present
examples of each step in the career of debasement. To one who is
acquainted with the working and accidents of the human brain, it will
not be surprizing that an asylum for hermits who had become hopelessly
insane was instituted at Jerusalem.

[Sidenote: Causes of hallucinations.]

The biographies of these recluses, for ages a source of consolation to
the faithful in their temptations, are not to be regarded as mere works
of fiction, though they abound in supernatural occurrences, and are the
forerunners of the dæmonology of the Middle Ages. The whole world was a
scene of dæmoniac adventures, of miracles and wonders. So far from being
mere impostures, they relate nothing more than may be witnessed at any
time under similar conditions. In the brain of man, impressions of
whatever he has seen or heard, of whatever has been made manifest to him
by his other senses, nay, even the vestiges of his former thoughts, are
stored up. These traces are most vivid at first, but, by degrees, they
decline in force, though they probably never completely die out. During
our waking hours, while we are perpetually receiving new impressions
from things that surround us, such vestiges are overpowered, and cannot
attract the attention of the mind. But in the period of sleep, when
external influences cease, they present themselves to our regard, and
the mind submitting to the delusion, groups them into the fantastic
forms of dreams. By the use of opium and other drugs which can blunt our
sensibility to passing events, these phantasms may be made to emerge.
They also offer themselves in the delirium of fevers and in the hour of
death.

[Sidenote: Supernatural appearances.]

It is immaterial in what manner or by what agency our susceptibility to
the impressions of surrounding objects is benumbed, whether by drugs, or
sleep, or disease, as soon as their force is no greater than that of
forms already registered in the brain, those forms will emerge before
us, and dreams or apparitions are the result. So liable is the mind to
practise deception on itself, that with the utmost difficulty it is
aware of the delusion. No man can submit to long-continued and rigorous
fasting without becoming the subject of these hallucinations; and the
more he enfeebles his organs of sense, the more vivid is the exhibition,
the more profound the deception. An ominous sentence may perhaps be
incessantly whispered in his ear; to his fixed and fascinated eye some
grotesque or abominable object may perpetually present itself. To the
hermit, in the solitude of his cell, there doubtless often did appear,
by the uncertain light of his lamp, obscene shadows of diabolical
import; doubtless there was many an agony with fiends, many a struggle
with monsters, satyrs, and imps, many an earnest, solemn, and manful
controversy with Satan himself, who sometimes came as an aged man,
sometimes with a countenance of horrible intelligence, and sometimes as
a female fearfully beautiful. St. Jerome, who, with the utmost
difficulty, had succeeded in extinguishing all carnal desires,
ingenuously confesses how sorely he was tried by this last device of the
enemy, how nearly the ancient flames were rekindled. As to the reality
of these apparitions, why should a hermit be led to suspect that they
arose from the natural working of his own brain? Men never dream that
they are dreaming. To him they were terrible realities; to us they
should be the proofs of insanity, not of imposture.

[Sidenote: Delusions created by the mind.]

If, in the prison discipline of modern times, it has been found that
solitary confinement is a punishment too dreadful for the most hardened
convict to bear, and that, if persisted in, it is liable to lead to
insanity, how much more quickly must that unfortunate condition have
been induced when the trials of religious distress and the physical
enfeeblement arising from rigorous fastings and incessant watchings were
added? To the dreadful ennui which precedes that state, one of the
ancient monks pathetically alludes when he relates how often he went
forth and returned to his cell, and gazed on the sun as if he hastened
too slowly to his setting. And yet such fearful solitude is of but brief
duration. Even though we flee to the desert we cannot be long alone. Cut
off from social converse, the mind of man engenders companions for
itself--companions like the gloom from which they have emerged. It was
thus that to St. Anthony appeared the Spirit of Fornication, under the
form of a lascivious negro boy; it was thus that multitudes of dæmons of
horrible aspect cruelly beat him nearly to death, the brave old man
defying them to the last, and telling them that he did not wish to be
spared one of their blows; it was thus that in the night, with hideous
laughter, they burst into his cell, under the form of lions, serpents,
scorpions, asps, lizards, panthers, and wolves, each attacking him in
own way; thus that when, in his dire extremity, he lifted his eyes for
help, the roof disappeared, and amid beams of light the Saviour looked
down; thus it was with the enchanted silver dish that Satan gave him,
which, being touched, vanished in smoke; thus with the gigantic bats and
centaurs, and the two lions that helped him to scratch a grave for Paul.

[Sidenote: Important religious results of cerebral sight.]

[Sidenote: A future world.]

[Sidenote: Immortality of the soul.]

The images that may thus emerge from the brain have been classed by
physiologists among the phenomena of inverse vision, or cerebral sight.
Elsewhere I have given a detailed investigation of their nature (Human
Physiology, chap, xxi.), and, persuaded that they have played a far more
important part in human affairs than is commonly supposed, have thus
expressed myself: "Men in every part of the world, even among nations
the most abject and barbarous, have an abiding faith not only in the
existence of a spirit that animates us, but also in its immortality. Of
these there are multitudes who have been shut out from all communion
with civilized countries, who have never been enlightened by revelation,
and who are mentally incapable of reasoning out for themselves arguments
in support of those great truths. Under such circumstances, it is not
very likely that the uncertainties of tradition, derived from remote
ages, could be any guide to them, for traditions soon disappear except
they be connected with the wants of daily life. Can there be, in a
philosophical view, anything more interesting than the manner in which
these defects have been provided for by implanting in the very
organization of every man the means of constantly admonishing him of
these facts--of recalling them with an unexpected vividness before even
after they have become so faint as almost to die out? Let him be as
debased and benighted a savage as he may, shut out from all communion
with races whom Providence has placed in happier circumstances, he has
still the same organization, and is liable to the same physiological
incidents, as ourselves. Like us, he sees in his visions the fading
forms of landscapes which are perhaps connected with some of his most
grateful recollections, and what other conclusion can he possibly derive
from these unreal pictures than that they are the foreshadowings of
another land beyond that in which his lot is cast. Like us, he is
revisited at intervals by the resemblances of those whom he has loved or
hated while they were alive, nor can he ever be so brutalized as not to
discern in such manifestations suggestions which to him are
incontrovertible proofs of the existence and immortality of the soul.
Even in the most refined social conditions we are never able to shake
off the impressions of these occurrences, and are perpetually drawing
from them the same conclusions that our uncivilized ancestors did. Our
more elevated condition of life in no respect relieves us from the
inevitable consequences of our own organization, any more than it
relieves us from infirmities and disease. In these respects, all over
the globe we are on an equality. Savage or civilized, we carry within us
a mechanism intended to present to us mementoes of the most solemn facts
with which we can be concerned, and the voice of history tells us that
it has ever been true to its design. It wants only moments of repose or
sickness, when the influence of external things is diminished, to come
into full play, and these are precisely the moments when we are best
prepared for the truths it is going to suggest. Such a mechanism is in
keeping with the manner in which the course of nature is fulfilled, and
bears in its very style the impress of invariability of action. It is no
respecter of persons. It neither permits the haughtiest to be free from
its monitions, nor leaves the humblest without the consolation of a
knowledge of another life. Liable to no mischances, open to no
opportunities of being tampered with by the designing or interested,
requiring no extraneous human agency for its effect, but always present
with each man wherever he may go, it marvellously extracts from vestiges
of the impressions of the past overwhelming proofs of the reality of the
future, and gathering its power from what would seem to be a most
unlikely source, it insensibly leads us, no matter who or where we may
be, to a profound belief in the immortal and imperishable, from phantoms
that have scarcely made their appearance before they are ready to vanish
away."

[Sidenote: Amelioration of monasticism.]

[Sidenote: Its final corruptions.]

From such beginnings the monastic system of Europe arose--that system
which presents us with learning in the place of ferocious ignorance,
with overflowing charity to mankind in the place of malignant hatred of
society. The portly abbot on his easy going palfrey, his hawk upon his
fist, scarce looks like the lineal descendant of the hermit starved
into insanity. How wide the interval between the monk of the third and
the monk of the thirteenth century--between the caverns of Thebais and
majestic monasteries cherishing the relics of ancient learning, the
hopes of modern philosophy--between the butler arranging his
well-stocked larder, and the jug of cold water and crust of bread. A
thousand years had turned starvation into luxury, and alas! if the
spoilers of the Reformation are to be believed, had converted visions of
loveliness into breathing and blushing realities, who exercised their
charms with better effect than of old their phantom sisters had done.

[Sidenote: The modifications of eremitism.]

[Sidenote: Number of anchorites.]

The successive stages to this end may be briefly described. Around the
cell of some eremite like Anthony, who fixed his retreat on Mount
Colzim, a number of humble imitators gathered, emulous of his
austerities and of his piety. A similar sentiment impels them to observe
stated hours of prayer. Necessity for supporting the body indicates some
pursuit of idle industry, the plaiting of mats or making of baskets. So
strong is the instinctive tendency of man to association, that even
communities of madmen may organize. Hilarion is said to have been the
first who established a monastic community. He went into the desert when
he was only fifteen years old. Eremitism thus gave birth to
Coenobitism, and the evils of solitude were removed. Yet still there
remained rigorous anchorites who renounced their associated brethren as
these had renounced the world, and the monastery was surrounded by their
circle of solitary cells--a Laura, it was called. In Egypt, the sandy
deserts on each side of the rich valley of the river offered great
facilities for such a mode of life: that of Nitria was full of monks,
the climate being mild and the wants of man easily satisfied. It is said
that there were at one time in that country of these religious recluses
not fewer than seventy-six thousand males and twenty-seven thousand
females. With countless other uncouth forms, under the hot sun of that
climate they seemed to be spawned from the mud of the Nile. As soon as
from some celebrated hermitage a monastery had formed, the associates
submitted to the rules of brotherhood. Their meal, eaten in silence,
consisted of bread and water, oil, and a little salt. The bundle of
papyrus which had served the monk for a seat by day, while he made his
baskets or mats, served him for a pillow by night. Twice he was roused
from his sleep by the sound of a horn to offer up his prayers. The
culture of superstition was compelled by inexorable rules. A discipline
of penalties, confinement, fasting, whipping, and, at a later period
even mutilation, was inflexibly administered.

[Sidenote: Spread of monasticism from Egypt.]

[Sidenote: Increase of the religious houses.]

From Egypt and Syria monachism spread like an epidemic. It was first
introduced into Italy by Athanasius, assisted by some of the disciples
of Anthony; but Jerome, whose abode was in Palestine, is celebrated for
the multitude of converts he made to a life of retirement. Under his
persuasion, many of the high-born ladies of Rome were led to the
practice of monastic habits, as far as was possible, in secluded spots
near that city, on the ruins of temples, and even in the Forum. Some
were induced to retreat to the Holy Land, after bestowing their wealth
for pious purposes. The silent monk insinuated himself into the privacy
of families for the purpose of making proselytes by stealth. Soon there
was not an unfrequented island in the Mediterranean, no desert shore, no
gloomy valley, no forest, no glen, no volcanic crater, that did not
witness exorbitant selfishness made the rule of life. There were
multitudes of hermits on the desolate coasts of the Black Sea. They
abounded from the freezing Tanais to the sultry Tabenné. In rigorous
personal life and in supernatural power the West acknowledged no
inferiority to the East; his admiring imitators challenged even the
desert of Thebais to produce the equal of Martin of Tours. The solitary
anchorite was soon supplanted by the coenobitic establishment, the
monastery. It became a fashion among the rich to give all that they had
to these institutions for the salvation of their own souls. There was
now no need of basket-making or the weaving of mats. The brotherhoods
increased rapidly. Whoever wanted to escape from the barbarian invaders,
or to avoid the hardships of serving in the imperial army--whoever had
become discontented with his worldly affairs, or saw in those dark times
no inducements in a home and family of his own, found in the monastery
a sure retreat. The number of these religious houses eventually became
very great. They were usually placed on the most charming and
advantageous sites, their solidity and splendour illustrating the
necessity of erecting durable habitations for societies that were
immortal. It often fell out that the Church laid claim to the services
of some distinguished monk. It was significantly observed that the road
to ecclesiastical elevation lay through the monastery porch, and often
ambition contentedly wore for a season the cowl, that it might seize
more surely the mitre.

[Sidenote: Difference of the Eastern and Western monk.]

[Sidenote: Legends of Western saints.]

Though the monastic system of the East included labour, it was greatly
inferior to that of the West in that particular. The Oriental monk, at
first making selfishness his rule of life, and his own salvation the
grand object, though all the world else should perish, in his maturer
period occupied his intellectual powers in refined disputations of
theology. Too often he exhibited his physical strength in the furious
riots he occasioned in the streets of the great cities. He was a fanatic
and insubordinate. On the other hand, the Occidental monk showed far
less disposition for engaging in the discussion of things above reason,
and expended his strength in useful and honourable labour. Beneath his
hand the wilderness became a garden. To a considerable extent this
difference was due to physiological peculiarity, and yet it must not be
concealed that the circumstances of life in the two cases were not
without their effects. The old countries of the East, with their
worn-out civilization and worn-out soil, offered no inducements
comparable with the barbarous but young and fertile West, where to the
ecclesiastic the most lovely and inviting lands were open. Both,
however, coincided in this, that they regarded the affairs of life as
presenting perpetual interpositions of a providential or rather
supernatural kind--angels and devils being in continual conflict for the
soul of every man, who might become the happy prize of the one or the
miserable prey of the other. These spiritual powers were perpetually
controlling the course of nature and giving rise to prodigies. The
measure of holiness in a saint was the number of miracles he had
worked. Thus, in the life of St. Benedict, it is related that when his
nurse Cyrilla let fall a stone sieve, her distress was changed into
rejoicing by the prayer of the holy child, at which the broken parts
came together and were made whole; that once on receiving his food in a
basket, let down to his otherwise inaccessible cell, the devil vainly
tried to vex him by breaking the rope; that once Satan, assuming the
form of a blackbird, nearly blinded him by the flapping of his wings;
that once, too, the same tempter appeared as a beautiful Roman girl, to
whose fascinations, in his youth, St. Benedict had been sensible, and
from which he now hardly escaped by rolling himself among thorns. Once,
when his austere rules and severity excited the resentment of the
monastery over which he was abbot, the brethren--for monks have been
known to do such things--attempted to poison him, but the cup burst
asunder as soon as he took it into his hands. When the priest
Florentius, being wickedly disposed, attempted to perpetrate a like
crime by means of an adulterated loaf, a raven carried away the deadly
bread from the hand of St. Benedict. Instructed by the devil, the same
Florentius drove from his neighbourhood the holy man, by turning into
the garden of his monastery seven naked girls; but scarcely had the
saint taken to flight, when the chamber in which his persecutor lived
fell in and buried him beneath its ruins, though the rest of the house
was uninjured. Under the guidance of two visible angels, who walked
before him, St. Benedict continued his journey to Monte Casino, where he
erected a noble monastery; but even here miracles did not cease; for
Satan bewitched the stones, so that it was impossible for the masons to
move them until they were released by powerful prayers. A boy, who had
stolen from the monastery to visit his parents was not only struck dead
by God for his offence, but the consecrated ground threw forth his body
when they attempted to bury it; nor could it be made to rest until
consecrated bread was laid upon it. Two garrulous nuns, who had been
excommunicated by St. Benedict for their perverse prating, chanced to be
buried in the church. On the next administration of the sacrament, when
the deacon commanded all those who did not communicate to depart, the
corpses rose out of their graves and walked forth from the church.

[Sidenote: The character of these miracles.]

Volumes might be filled with such wonders, which edified the religious
for centuries, exacting implicit belief, and being regarded as of equal
authority with the miracles of the Holy Scriptures.

[Sidenote: Rise and progress of monastic orders.]

Though monastic life rested upon the principle of social abnegation,
monasticism, in singular contradiction thereto, contained within itself
the principle of organization. As early as A.D. 370, St. Basil, the
Bishop of Cæsarea, incorporated the hermits and coenobites of his
diocese into one order, called after him the Basilian. One hundred and
fifty years later, St. Benedict, under a milder rule, organised those
who have passed under his name, and found for them occupation in
suitable employments of manual and intellectual labour. In the ninth
century, another Benedict revised the rule of the order, and made it
more austere. Offshoots soon arose, as those of Clugni, A.D. 900; the
Carthusians, A.D. 1084; the Cistercians, A.D. 1098. A favourite pursuit
among them being literary labour, they introduced great improvements in
the copying of manuscripts; and in their illumination and illustration
are found the germs of the restoration of painting and the invention of
cursive handwriting. St. Benedict enjoined his order to collect books.
It has been happily observed that he forgot to say anything about their
character, supposing that they must all be religious. The Augustinians
were founded in the eleventh century. They professed, however, to be a
restoration of the society founded ages before by St. Augustine.

[Sidenote: The Benedictines.]

The influence to which monasticism attained may be judged of from the
boast of the Benedictines that "Pope John XXII., who died in 1334, after
an exact inquiry, found that, since the first rise of the order, there
had been of it 24 popes, near 200 cardinals, 7000 archbishops, 15,000
bishops, 15,000 abbots of renown, above 4000 saints, and upward of
37,000 monasteries. There have been likewise, of this order, 20 emperors
and 10 empresses, 47 kings and above 50 queens, 20 sons of emperors, and
48 sons of kings; about 100 princesses, daughters of kings and
emperors; besides dukes, marquises, earls, countesses, etc.,
innumerable. The order has produced a vast number of authors and other
learned men. Their Rabanus set up the school of Germany. Their Alcuin
founded the University of Paris. Their Dionysius Exiguus perfected
ecclesiastical computation. Their Guido invented the scale of music;
their Sylvester, the organ. They boasted to have produced Anselm,
Ildefonsus, and the Venerable Bede."

[Sidenote: Civilization of Europe by the monks.]

[Sidenote: Their later intellectual influence.]

We too often date the Christianization of a community from the
conversion of its sovereign, but it is not in the nature of things that
that should change the hearts of men. Of what avail is it if a barbarian
chieftain drives a horde of his savages through the waters of a river by
way of extemporaneous or speedy baptism? Such outward forms are of
little moment. It was mainly by the monasteries that to the peasant
class of Europe was pointed out the way of civilization. The devotions
and charities; the austerities of the brethren; their abstemious meal;
their meagre clothing, the cheapest of the country in which they lived;
their shaven heads, or the cowl which shut out the sight of sinful
objects; the long staff in their hands; their naked feet and legs; their
passing forth on their journeys by twos, each a watch on his brother;
the prohibitions against eating outside of the wall of the monastery,
which had its own mill, its own bakehouse, and whatever was needed in an
abstemious domestic economy; their silent hospitality to the wayfarer,
who was refreshed in a separate apartment; the lands around their
buildings turned from a wilderness into a garden, and, above all, labour
exalted and ennobled by their holy hands, and celibacy, for ever, in the
eye of the vulgar, a proof of separation from the world and a sacrifice
to heaven--these were the things that arrested the attention of the
barbarians of Europe, and led them on to civilization. In our own
material age, the advocates of the monastery have plaintively asked,
Where now shall we find an asylum for the sinner who is sick of the
world--for the man of contemplation in his old age, or for the statesman
who is tired of affairs? It was through the leisure procured by their
wealth that the monasteries produced so many cultivators of letters,
and transmitted to us the literary relics of the old times. It was a
fortunate day when the monk turned from the weaving of mats to the
copying of manuscripts--a fortunate day when he began to compose those
noble hymns and strains of music which will live for ever. From the
"Dies Iræ" there rings forth grand poetry even in monkish Latin. The
perpetual movements of the monastic orders gave life to the Church. The
Protestant admits that to a resolute monk the Reformation was due.

[Sidenote: Their materialization of religion.]

With these pre-eminent merits, the monastic institution had its evils.
Through it was spread that dreadful materialization of religion which,
for so many ages, debased sacred things; through it that worse than
pagan apotheosis, which led to the adoration--for such it really was--of
dead men; through it were sustained relics and lying miracles, a belief
in falsehoods so prodigious as to disgrace the common sense of man. The
apostles and martyrs of old were forgotten; nay, even the worship of God
was forsaken for shrines that could cure all diseases, and relics that
could raise the dead. Through it was developed that intense selfishness
which hesitated at no sacrifice either of the present or the future, so
far as this life is concerned, in order to insure personal happiness in
the next--a selfishness which, in the delusion of the times, passed
under the name of piety; and the degree of abasement from the dignity of
a man was made the measure of the merit of a monk.

END OF VOL. I.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "History of the Intellectual Development of Europe, Volume I (of 2) - Revised Edition" ***

Home