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Text
JL
LECTURE
BY
COLONEL INGERSOLL.
Delivered in the Brooklyn Theatre on February 22, 1885, to
three thousand people.
Price One Penny.
LONDON :
THE PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY
' AU
28 Stonecutter Street.
�LONDON :
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY RAMSEY AND FOOTE,
AT STONECUTTER STREET. E.O.
�827*3
REAL BLASPHEMY.
-------------4-------------
Ladies and Gentlemen ¡—There is an old story of a
missionary trying to convert an Indian. The Indian
made a little circle in the sand and said, “ That is what
the Indian knows.” Then he made another circle a
little larger and said, “ That is what missionary knows,
but outside there the Indian knows just as much as
missionary.” I am going to talk mostly outside that
circle to-night. (Laughter.)
First—What is the origin of the crime known as
blasphemy ? It is the belief in a God who is cruel,
revengeful, quick-tempered and capricious ; a God who
punishes the innocent for the guilty ; a God who listens
with delight to the shrieks of the tortured and gazes
enraptured on their spurting blood. You must hold
this belief before you can believe in the doctrine of
blasphemy. You must believe that this God loves
ceremonies ; that this God knows certain men to whom
he has told all his will. It then follows that, if this
God loves ceremonies and has certain men to teach his
will and perform these ceremonies, these men must
have a place to live in. This place was called a temple,
�4
and it was sacred. (Laughter.) And the pots and
pans and kettles and all in it were sacred, too. No one
but the priests must touch them.
Then this God wrote a book, in which he told his
covenants to men, and he gave this book to priests to
interpret. While it was sacrilege to touch with the
hands the pots and pans of the temple, it was blas
phemy to doubt or question anything in the book. And
then the right to think was gone, and the right to use
the brain that God had given was taken away, and
religion was intrenched behind that citadel called blas
phemy. God was a kind of juggler. He did not wish
man to be impudent or curious about how he did
things. You must sit in audience and watch the tricks
and ask no questions. In front of every fact he has
hung the impenetrable curtain of blasphemy. Now,
then, all the little reason that poor man had is useless.
To say anything against the priests was blasphemy,
and to say anything against God was blasphemy ; to
ask a question was blasphemy. Finally, we sank to the
level of fetishism. We began to worship inanimate
things. If you will read your Bible, you will find that
the Jews had a sacred box. In it were the rod of Aaron
and a piece of manna and the tables of stone. To touch
this box was a crime. You remember that one time,
when a careless Jew thought the box was going to tip,
he held it. God killed him. (Laughter.) What a
warning to baggage smashers of the present day !—
(Great laughter.) We find also that God concocted a
hair-oil, and threatened death to any one who imitated
it. And we see that he also made a certain perfume,
and it was death to make anything that smelt like it.
It seems to me that is carrying protection too far—
(Laughter.)
�5
It has always been blasphemy to say,£< I do not know
whether God exists or not.” In all Catholic countries
it is blasphemy to doubt the Bible, to doubt the sacred
ness of the relics. It always has been blasphemy to
laugh at a priest, to ask questions, to investigate the
Trinity. In a world of superstition, reason is blas
phemy. In a world of ignorance, facts are blasphemy.
In a world of cruelty, sympathy is a crime ; and in a
world of lies, truth is blasphemy.
Who are the real blasphemers ? Webster offers the
definition : “ Blasphemy is an insult offered to God by
attributing to him a nature and qualities differing from
his real nature and qualities and dishonoring him.
A very good definition, if you only know what his
nature and qualities are. (Laughter.) But this is not
revealed ; for, studying him through the medium of
the Bible, we find him illimitably contradictory. He
cammands us not to work on the Sabbath day, because
it is holy. Yet God works himself on the Sabbath day
The sun, moon and stars swing round in their orbits,
and all the creation attributed to this God goes on as
on other days.
He says, Honor thy father and mother ; and yet this
God, in the person of Christ, offered honors and glory
and happiness an hundredfold to any who would desert
their father and mother for him. “ Thou shalt not kill,”
yet God killed the firstborn of Egypt, and he com
manded Joshua to kill all his enemies, not sparing old
or young, man, woman or child—even an unborn child.
“ Thou shalt not commit adultery,” he says, and yet
this God gave the wives of defeated enemies to his
soldiers of Joshua’s army. Then again he says, “ Thou
shalt not steal.” By this command he protected the
inanimate property and the cattle of one man against
�6
the hand of another, and yet this God who said “ Thou
shalt not steal,” established human slavery. The pro
ducts of industry were not to be interfered with, but
the producer might be stolen as often as possible.
“ Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.”
And yet the God who said this said also, “ I have sent
lying spirits unto Ahab.” The only commandment
he really kept was “ Thou shalt have none other gods
but me.”
Is it blasphemous to describe this God as malicious ?
You know that laughter is a good index of the character
of a man. You like and rejoice with the man whose
laugh is free and joyous and full of good will. You
fear and dislike him of the sneering laugh. How does
God laugh ? He says, “ I will laugh at their calamity
and mock at their misfortunes,” speaking of some who
have sinned. Think of the malice and malignity of
that in an infinite God when speaking of the sufferings
he is going to impose upon his children ! You know
that it is said of a Roman emperor that he wrote laws
very finely, and posted them so high on the walls that
no one could read them, and then he punished the people
who disobeyed the laws. That is the acme of tyranny :
to provide a punishment for breach of laws the
existence of which was unknown. Now we all know
that there is a sin against the Holy Ghost which will not
be forgiven in this world nor in the world to come.—
Hundreds of thousands of people have been driven to
the insane asylum by the thought that they had com
mitted this unpardonable sin. Every educated minister
knows that that part of the Bible is an interpolation,
but they all preach it. What that sin against the Holy
Ghost is, is not specified. I say, “ Oh ! but my good
God, tell me what this sin is.” And he answers,—
�“ Maybe, now, asking is the crime. Keep quiet.” So
I keep quiet and go about tortured with the fear that I
have committed that sin.
Is it blasphemy to describe God as needing assistance
from the Legislature ? (Laughter.) Calling for the aid
of a mob to enforce his will here ? Compare that God
with a man—even with Henry Bergh. (Applause.)
See what Mr. Bergh has done to awaken pity in our
people and call sympathy to the rescue of suffering
animals. And yet our God was a torturer of dumb
beasts. Is it blasphemy to say that our God sent the
famine and dried the mother’s breast from her infant’s
withered lips ? Is it blasphemy to say that he is author
of the pestilence ; that he ordered some of his children
to consume others with fire and sword ? Is it blas
phemy to believe what we read in the 109th Psalm ?
If these things are not blasphemy, then there is no
blasphemy. If there be a God, I desire him to write
in the book of judgment opposite to my name that I
denied these lies for him. (Great applause).
Let us take another step ; let us examine the Presby
terian Confession of Faith. If it be possible to commit
blasphemy, then I contend that the Presbyterian creed
is most blasphemous, for, according to that, God is a
cruel, unrelenting, revengeful, malignant, and utterly
unreasonable tyrant. I propose now to pay a little
attention to that creed. First, it confesses that there is
such a thing as a light of Nature. It is sufficient to
make man inexcusable, but not sufficient for salvation;
just light enough to lead men to hell. Now imagine a
man who will put a false light on a hill-top to lure a
ship to destruction. What would we say of that man ?
What can we say of a God who gives this false light
of Nature which, if its lessons are followed, results in
�8
/
hell ? That is the Presbyterian God. I don’t like
him. (Laughter.) Now it occurred to God that the
light of Nature was somewhat weak, and he thought
he’d have another burner. (Great laughter.) There
fore he made his book and gave it to his servants, the
priests, that they might give it to man. It was to be
accepted not on the authority of Moses, or any other
writer, but because it was the word of God. How do
you know it’s the word of God ? You’re not to take
the word of Moses, or David, or Jeremiah, or Isaiah, or
any other man, because the authority of their work
has nothing to do with the matter ; this creed expressly
lets them out. (Laughter.) How are you to know
that it is God’s word ? Because it is God’s word. Why
is it God’s word ? What proof have we that it is God’s
word ? Because it is God’s word.
Now, then, I find the next thing in this wonderful
confession of faith of the Prespyterians is the decree
of predestination.
“ III. By the decree of God, for the manifestation of his glory,
some men and angels are predestinated unto everlasting life, and
others foreordained to everlasting death.
“IV. These angels and men, thus predestinated and fore
ordained, are particularly and unchangeably designed; and their
number is so certain and definite, that it cannot be either increased
or diminished.
“ V. Those of mankind that are predestinated unto life, God,
before the foundation of the world was laid, according to his
eternal and immutable purpose, and the secret counsel and good
pleasure of his will, has chosen in Christ unto everlasting glory,
out of his mere free grace and love, without any foresight of
faith or good works, or perseverance in either of them, or any
other thing in the creature, as conditions, or causes moving him
thereunto ; and all to the praise of his glorious grace.
I am pleased to assure you that it is not necessary to
understand this. (Laughter.) You have only to believe
it. (Laughter.) You see that by the decree of God some
�9
men and angels are predestinated to heaven and others
to eternal hell, and you observe that their number is so
certain and definite that it can neither be changed nor
altered. You are asked to believe that billions of years
ago this God knew the names of all the men aud women
whom he was going to save. Had ’em in his book,
that being the only thing except himself that then
existed. He had chosen the names by the aid of the
secret council. The reason they called it secret was
because they knew all about it. (Laughter.) In making
his choice, God was not all bigoted. He did not choose
John Smith because he foresaw that Smith was to be a
Presbyterian and was to possess a loving nature, was to'
be honest and true and noble in all his ways, doing
good himself and encouraging others in the same. Oh,
no ; he was quite as likely to pick Brown in spite of
the fact that he knew long before that Brown would be
a wicked wretch. You see he was just as apt to send
Smith to the devil and take Brown to heaven—and all
for “ His glory.” This God also blinds and hardens—
Ah ! he’s a peculiar God. If sinners persevere, he will
blind and harden and give them over at last to their
own wickedness instead of trying to reclaim them.
Now we come to the comforting doctrine of the total
depravity of man, and this leads us to consider how he
came that way. Can any person read the first chapters
of Genesis and believe them unless his logic was assas
sinated in the cradle ? We read that our first parents
were placedin a pleasant garden ; that they were given
the full run of the place and only forbidden to meddle
with the orchard ; that they were tempted as God knew
they were to be tempted ; that they fell as God knew
they would fall, and that for this fall, which he knew
would happen before he made them, he fixed the curse
�10
of original sin upon them, to be continued to all their
children. Why didn’t he stop right there ? Why
didn’t he ki-ll Adam and Eve and make another pair
who didn’t like apples ? Then, when he brought his
flood, why did he rescue eight people if their descend
ants were to be totally depraved and wicked ? Why
didn’t he have his flood first and drown the Devil ?
(Laughter.) That would have solved the problem and
he could then have tried experiments unmolested. The
Presbyterian Confession says this corruption was in all
men. It was born with them, it lived through their
life, and after death survived in the children. Well,
can’t man help himself ? No. I’ll show you. God’s
got him. (Laughter.) Listen to this.
Man, by his fall into a state of sin, hath wholly lost all ability
of will to any spiritual good accompanying salvation; so as a
natural man, being altogether averse from that good, and dead in
sin, is not able, by his own strength, to convert himself, or to pre
pare himself thereunto.
So that a natural man is not only dead in sin and unable
to accomplish salvation, but he is also incapable of
preparing himself therefor. Absolutely incapable of
taking a trick.—(Great laughter.) He is saved, if at all,
by the mercy of God. If that’s the case, then why
doesn’t he convert us all ? Oh! he doesn’t. He
wishes to send the most of us to hell—to show his
justice. (Laughter and applause.) Elect infants dying
in infancy are regenerate. So also are all persons
incapable of unbelief. That includes insane persons
and idiots, because an idiot is incapable of unbelief.
Idiots are the only fellows who’ve got the deadwood on
God. (Laughter and applause.) Then according to
this, the man who has lived according to the light of
Nature, doing the best he knew howto make this earth
�11
haPPy, will be damned by God because he never heard
of his son. Whose fault is it that an infinite God does
not advertise ? (Great laughter.) Something wrong
about that. I am inclined to think that the Presbyterian
Church is wrong. (Applause.) I find here how utterly
unpardonable sin is.
There is no sin so small but it is punished with hell,
and away you go straight to the deepest burning pit
unless your heart has been purified by this confession
of faith—unless this snake has crawled in there and
made itself a nest. Why should we help religion ? I
would like people to ask themselves that question.
(Loud applause.) An infinite God, by practising a
reasonable economy, can get along without our assist
ance. Loudly this confession proclaims that salvation
comes from Christ alone. What then becomes of the
savage who, having never known the name of Christ,
has lived according to the light of Nature, kind and
heroic and generous, and possessed of and cultivating
all the natural virtues ? He goes to hell. (Laughter.)
God, you see, loves us. (Laughter.) If he had not
loved us what would he have done ? The light of
Nature then shows that God is good and therefore to
be feared—on account of his goodness—(laughter)—to
be served and honored without ceasing. And yet this
creed says that on the last day God will damn any one
who has walked according to this light. It’s blasphemy
to walk by the light of Nature. (Laughter.)
The next great doctrine is on the preservation of the
saints. Now there are peculiarities about the saints.
(Laughter.) They are saints without their own knowledge or free will; they may even be down on saints—
(laughter)—but it’s no good. God has got a rolling
hitch on them, and they have to come into the kingdom
�12
sooner or later. (Laughter.) It all depends on whether
they have been elected or not. God could have made
me a saint just as easy as not, but he passed me by,
(Laughter.) Now you know the Presbyterians say I
trample on holy things. They believe in hell and I
come and say there is no hell. I hurt their hearts,
they say, and they add that I am going to hell myself.
(Laughter.) I thank them for that, but now let’s see
what these tender Presbyterians say of other churches.
Here it is : This confession of faith calls the Pope of
Rome Antichrist and a son of perdition. Now there are
forty Roman Catholics to one Presbyterian upon this
earth. Do not the Presbyterians rather trample on the
things that are holy to the Roman Catholics, and do
they respect their feelings ? But the Presbyterians have
a Pope themselves, composed of the Presbyters and the
preachers. This confession attributes to them the keys
of heaven and hell and the power to forgive sins.
“ The Lord Jesus, as king and head of his church, hath therein
appointed a government in the hand of church-officers, distinct
from the civil magistrate.
“IL To these officers the keys of the kingdom of heaven are
committed, by virtue whereof they have power respectively, to
retain and remit sins, to shut that kingdom against the impenitent
both by the word and censures; and to open it unto penitent
sinners, by the ministry of the gospel, and by absolution from
censures, as occasion shall require.
Therefore these men must be infallible, for God would
never be so foolish as to trust fallible men with the
keys of heaven and hell. I care nothing for their keys,
nor for any world those keys would open or lock. I
prefer the country. (Applause and laughter,) We
are told by this faith that at the last day all the men
and women and children who have ever lived on the
earth will appear in the self same bodies they have had
�13
when on earth. Every one who knows anything, knows
the constant exchange which is going on between the
vegetable and animal kingdom.
The millions of atoms which compose one of our
bodies have all come from animals and vegetables, and
they in their turn drew them from the animals and
vegetables which preceded them. The same atoms that
are now in our bodies have previously been in the
bodies of our ancestors. The negro from Central Africa
has many times been mahogany, and the mahogany has
many times been negro. (Laughter.) A missionary
goes to the cannibal islands, and a cannibal eats him,
and dies. The atoms which composed the missionary’s
body, may compose in a great part the cannibal’s body.
(Laughter.) To whom will those atoms belong on the
morning of the resurrection ? (Laughter.)
How did the Devil, who had always lived in heaven
among the best society, ever happen to become bad ?—
If a man surrounded by angels could become bad, why
cannot a man surrounded by devils become good ?
Here is the last Presbyterian joy. At the day of
judgment the righteous shall be caught up to heaven,
and shall stand at the right hand of Christ, and share
with him in judging the wicked. Then the Presbyte
rian husband may have the ineffable pleasure of judg
ing his wife and condemning her to eternal hell, and the
boy will say to his mother—echoing the command of
God—“Depart, thou accursed, into everlasting tor
ment !” Here will come a man who has not believed
in God. He was a soldier who took up arms to free the
slave, and who rotted to death in Anderville Prison
rather than accept the offer of his captors to fight against
freedom. He loved his wife and his children, and his
home and his native country and all mankind, and did
�14
all the good he knew. God will say to the Presbyte
rians, “ What shall we say to this man ?” and they
will answer, “ Throw him into hell !” (Laughter.)—
Last night there was a fire in Philadelphia, and at a
window fifty feet above the ground Mr. King stood
amidst flame and smoke, and pressed his children to
his breast one after the other, kissed them, and threw
them to the rescuers with a prayer. That was a man.
At the last day God takes his children with a curse,
and hurls them into eternal fire. That’s your God as
the Presbyterians describe him. Do you believe that
God—if there is one—will ever damn me for thinking
him better than he is ? If this creed be true, God is
the insane keeper of a mad-house.
We have in this city a clergyman who contends that
this creed gives a correct picture of God, and further
more says that God has the right to do with us what
he pleases—because he made us. If I could change
this lamp into a human being, that would not give me
the right to torture him, and if I did torture him, and
he cried out, “ Why torturest thou me ?” and I replied,
“ Because I made you,” he would be right in replying,
“ You made me, therefore you are responsible for my
happiness.” No God has a right to add to the sum of
human misery. And yet this minister believes an
honest thought blashemy ! No doubt he is perfectly
honest; otherwise he would have too much intellectual
pride to take the position he does. He says that the
Bible offers the only restraint to the saving passions of
man. In lands where there has been no Bible, there
have been mild and beneficent philosophers, like
Buddha and Confucius. Is it possible that the Bible
is the only restraint, and yet the nations among whom
these men have lived, have been as moral as we ? In
�15
Brooklyn and New York you have the Bible, yet du
you find that the restraint is a great success ? Is there
a city on the globe which lacks more in certain direc
tions than some in Christendom, or even the United
States ? (Laughter.)
What are the natural virtues of man ? Honesty, hos
pitality, mercy in the hour of victory, generosity. Do
we not find these virtues among some savages ? Do
we find them among all Christians ? (Applause.) I
am also told by these gentlemen that the time will
come when the Infidel will be silenced by society.
Why, that time came long ago. Society gave the hem
lock to Socrates. Society in Jerusalem cried out for
Barrabas, and crucified Jesus. In every Christian
country society has endeavored to crush the Infidel.
Blasphemy is a padlock which hypocrisy tries to put
on the lips of all honest men. At one time Christianity
succeeded in silencing the Infidel, and then came Dark
Ages, when all rule was ecclesiastical; when the air
was filled with devils and spooks ; when birth was a
misfortune, life a prolonged misery of fear and torment,
and death a horrible nightmare. They crushed the
Infidels, Galileo, Kepler, Copernicus, Bruno, wherever
a ray of light appeared in ecclesiastical darkness. But
I want to tell this minister to-night, and all others like
him, that that day is past. (Cheers and great applause.)
All the churches in the United States cannot even
crush me. (Renewed cheering.) The day for that has
gone, never to return. If they think they can crush
Freethought in this country, let them try it.
What must this minister think of you and the citzens
of this Republic when he says, “ Take the fear of hell
out of men’s hearts, and a majority of them will become
ungovernably wicked”? Oh! think of an angel in
�lieaven having to allow that he was scared there ! This
minister calls for my arrest. He thinks his God needs
help, and would like to see the police crush the Infidel.
I would advise Mr. Talmage—(hisses)—to furnish his
God with a rattle, so that when he is in danger again,
he can summon the police immediately ! (Laughter.)
I’ll tell you what is blasphemy. It is blasphemy to
live on the fruits of other men’s labor, to prevent the
growth of the human mind, to persecute for opinions’
sake, to abuse your wife and children, to increase in
any manner the sum of human misery. I’ll tell you
what is the true Bible. It is the sum of all the actual
knowledge of man, and every man who discovers a new
fact adds a new verse to this Bible. It is different
from the other Bible, because that is the sum of all that
its writers and readers do not know. (Applause.)
Printed and Published by Ramsey and Foote at 28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Title
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Real blasphemy : a lecture, delivered in the Brooklyn Theatre on February 22,1885, to three thousand people
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 16 p. ; 20 cm.
Notes: Date of publication from Stein (Item 6). Printed and published by Ramsey and Foote. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Progressive Publishing Company
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[1885]
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N387
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Blasphemy
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Real blasphemy : a lecture, delivered in the Brooklyn Theatre on February 22,1885, to three thousand people), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Blasphemy
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THE
BY
Q-. W. FOOTE.
. Second Edition, with a New Introduction.^
PRICE ONE PENNY.
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LQNDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
1884.
�INTR OR U C TI 0 N.
The following Essay was originally published, four years ago, under
the title of “ The Futility of Prayer.” I now republish it under the
more forcible title of “ The Folly of Prayer.” My object in this
change is not simply, as Hosea Biglow says, to “combine morrul truth
with phrases sich as strike,” although a great deal may be said for
that policy. The longer I live, the more deeply I feel the necessity of
attacking superstition in the plainest language. I am also convinced
that Heine was right when he said “ the superfluous is harmful.” Pro
gress is so huge a task, so arduous and painful, that any diversion of
human energy into unprofitable channels is a disaster. If Prayer is
futile, it is a folly.
This new edition gives me an opportunity of adding a little to my
Essay, of bringing it, so to speak, up to date. My space is limited,
and I must be succinct.
We are now in the midst of a political crisis. The Peers are showing
their historic qualities of selfishness, stupidity and arrogance. They
are trying to thwart the nation’s will with respect to the Franchise as
they have tried to thwart it with respect to every great reform in the
past. They seem bent on holding true to their evil traditions, and
proving themselves to the very end the obstinate foes of progress.
Fortunately, however, their day of doom is rapidly drawing near.
Never since the Long Parliament locked the door of the Upper House
and turned the Lords adrift has there been such a storm of indigna
tion against the Peerage. Mend them or end them, says Mr. Morley ;
and “ End them ” is the responsive shout from the people. Yes, the
Lords are happily wrecking their own craft. They will lose both ship
and cargo in the end. With their political power will go all hope of
retaining their bloated estates. Was there ever such fatuity since
the French nobles invited the Revolution ? If this is the way God
endues them with “ grace, wisdom and understanding,” it is a very
remarkable proof of the efficacy of prayer.
Candor compels me to admit, however, that her Majesty continues
to flourish in “ health and wealth,” according to the formula of our
Church Prayer Book. Yet we need not resort to prayer for an expla
nation of this fact. Her Majesty’s wealth is provided by the nation,
without any contribution by Providence ; and her health is protected
by the ease which our constitutional monarchy allows her to enjoy.
So far from trusting in the Lord, except at church, she never fails to
appeal to us for the support of her numerous offspring and their
extensive families. When our lavish generosity is considered, there
seems remarkably little scope for the bounty of Providence.
I omitted in my Essay to mention the recovery of the Prince of
Wales, many years ago, from gastric fever, and the national Thanks
giving Service held in St. Paul’s Cathedral. What wild orgies of
religious excitement were worked up by the London press, and notably
by that eminently pious journal the Daily Telegraph ! How we were
bidden to watch the great national wave of prayer surging against the
�THE FOLLY OF PRAYER.
“ These was,” says Luther in his Table Talk, “ a great
drought, as it had not rained for a long time, and the grain
in the field began to dry up, when Dr. M. L. prayed con
tinually and said finally with heavy sighs: 0 Lord, pray
regard our petition in behalf of thy promise. ... I know
that we cry to thee and sigh desirously ; why dost thou not
hear us ? And the very next night there came a very fine
fruitful rain.” From Luther to Sammy Hicks the Yorkshireman is a far cry, but an episode of his history somewhat
resembles this naive story of the great lieformer. Sammy
Hicks was a miller and a Methodist, and once while looking
forward to a Love Feast, at which cakes were consumed, he
was sorely troubled by a dead calm that lasted for days
together, and caused a complete stoppage of his windmill.
It so happened that all the flour was exhausted before the
calm was broken, and on the very eve of the Love Feast there
was none left for the cakes. In this extremity recourse was
had to prayer. Sammy himself, who excelled in that line,
petitioned Heaven for a breath of wind to fill his sails. In a
few moments the cheeks of the suppliants were fanned by a
gentle zephyr, which rapidly grew to a strong breeze.
Around went the sails of Sammy’s mill until enough flour
was ground to make the Love Feast cakes, when the wind
suddenly subsided and died away as miraculously as it came.
How amusing are both Luther and Sammy Hicks, in these
instances, to the educated minds of to-day! Yet amongst
the ignorant and those who are not imbued with the spirit
of Science, the old superstition of prayer still lingers, and ever
and anon betrays itself in speech and act. Whatever remnant
of superstition exists the priests are very careful to foster.
Accordingly, whenever an opportunity occurs, they stimulate
popular folly and make themselves the laughing-stock or
contempt of the wise and thoughtful. In Catholic countries
the miracles of the Middle Ages are even now, in this age
�Introduction.
iii.
throne of grace 1 Well, the Prince recovered, thanks to a good con
stitution and the highest medical skill. But the sky-pilots saw their
chance. They insisted that the Prince’s recovery was due to prayer.
They organised a huge farce at St. Paul’s, where in the nation’s name
they thanked God for his marvellous mercy. But curiously, amidst all
this delirium, the authorities retained a little sagacity. God was duly
thanked, but the doctors were not forgotten : one of them was knighted,
and all were handsomely rewarded. Deity had the empty praise, and
the physicians the solid pudding.
Since then we have seen the United States praying for the recovery
of their President. Week after week Science fought with Death over
his sick bed, and the awful struggle was watched by a trembling world.
Would he live, would he die ? “0 God, let him live,” prayed millions
in church and chapel. “ 0 God, spare him, my husband, my darling,”
cried the agonised wife. But his life ebbed slowly away amidst a
nation's prayers for his recovery. Why did not God save General
Garfield ? Is the Almighty a respecter of persons after all ? Or is he
so monarchical that he will not aid the President of a Republic? Can
Christians explain this without denying the efficacy of prayer or im
peaching the character of God ?
Now a word for the cholera. This frightful scourge has ravaged
France and Italy this summer and roused the latent superstition of the
people. In some cases the Catholics demanded religious processions
through the streets and public prayers to the Virgin. But the Secular
authorities firmly resisted this clamor, and they were sometimes backed
up by the higher priests, who knew that undue excitement and con
sequent exhaustion would only make the multitude easier victims to
the plague. The English press chronicled these cases of superstition
as they might record the eccentricities of the worshippers of Mumbo
Jumbo. Yet our Church Prayer Book has a definite form of “ prayer in
time of sickness.”
This leads me to enquire whether our sky-pilots are sincere. I fancy
not. Let us judge them by their practice instead of their profession.
What swarms of them invade our health resorts in summer! How
they all take a long holiday when they can ’ Go to fashionable water
ing-places like Bath, and observe the large floating population of sky
pilots in search of health and rich widows. When they fall ill they
act like other men. They consult Dr. Science instead of Dr. Provi
dence, and if possible scuttle off from the Lord’s vineyard to the seaside.
Faith is the same in both places, but the air is different. Prayer
works better with oxygen than with carbonic acid gas.
Trust in God and keep your powder dry, said Cromwell, Yes, but
will faith help you if you get your powder wet ? This is a very onesided doctrine. Well does James Thomson sing in “ Bill Jones on
Prayer”:—
Which seems to mean—You doth work.
God helpeth him who helps himself,
Have all the trouble and pains,
They preach to us as a fact,
Which seems to lay up G od on the shelf, While God, that ind o 1 en t grand 0 Id Turk,
Gets credit for the gains.
And leave the man to act.
I despair of improving on that.
can, once for all.
November 1, 1884.
It sums up the matter, as genius only
G. W. FOOTE.
�The Folly of Prayer.
5
of railways and electric telegraphs, repeated before the
shrines of new-fangled saints. Pilgrims journey to Lourdes
and other holy places, where the credulity of the multitude is
equalled by the imposture of their priests. The blood of St.
Januarius still liquifies annually at Naples, precious relics
heal all manner of diseases, and the Virgin appears to prayer
ful peasants and hysterical nuns. In England these things do
not happen, for there is not faith enough to make them
possible. Yet here also the Catholic priest gets souls out of
purgatory by the saying of masses which have to be duly
paid for; and our own Protestant priests, who have re
linquished almost every peculiar function of their office, still
retain one, that of standing between us and bad weather.
We may call them our Rain Doctors, a name applied to the
African medicine-men, who beat gongs and dance and shout,
to scare off the sun and bring down rain when the land is
parched with drought. The difference between a bishop of
the English Church praying for sunshine and an African
medicine-man howling for wet, is purely accidental and no
wise intrinsic. Intellectually they stand, on the same level,
the sole difference being that one goes through his perform
ance in a vulgar and the other in a high-bred fashion.
Perhaps there is another difference ; one may be honest and
the other dishonest, one sincere and the other hypocritical.
Cato wondered how two augurs could meet without laughter,
and probably it would be comical to witness the meeting of
two friendly parsons after a lusty bout of prayer for fine
weather.
In 1879 we were afflicted with a descent of rain scarcely
paralleled in the century. Through the spring and
through the summer the deluge persisted, and each month
seemed to bring more violent storms than its predecessor.
Yet our Rain Doctors kept quiet as mice. Perhaps they
reflected that it was scarcely politic to pray for sunshine
until the Americans had ceased to telegraph the approach of
fresh tempests. How different from the African Rain
Doctors, who will pray for rain while the sun glares torrid
and implacable, and no cloudlet mitigates the awful azure of
heaven! But, deceived by a brief spell of fine weather in
the middle of July, they suddenly plucked up courage and
proceeded to counsel Omniscience. The result was woeful.
On the very next Sunday after prayers for fine weather
�6
The Folly of Prayer.
began to be offered, a terrific storm burst over the land, and
for weeks after the rain was almost incessant. During one
week in August only seventeen hours of sunshine were
registered in London. The harvest was spoiled, about forty
million pounds’ worth of produce was lost to the country, and
farmers looked in the face of ruin. This was the answer to
prayer !
Yet the votaries of superstition and their priestly abettors
will not admit the futility of prayer. Their reasoning is like
the gambler’s “heads I win, tails you lose ” ! All the facts
that tell for their case are allowed to count, and all that
tell against it are excluded. If what they pray for happens,
that proves the efficacy of prayer ; if it does not happen, that
proves nothing at all. Such is the logic of superstition in
every age and clime.
Notwithstanding the occasional outbursts of our Rain
Doctors, it is evident that the doctrine of Prayer is being
gradually refined away, like many other doctrines of theology.
It originated in simpler times, when people thought that
something tangible could be got by it. Whenever danger or
difficulty confronted our barbarous ancestors, they naturally
looked to the. god or gods of their faith for assistance. If
any transcendental philosopher or mystical theologian had
told them that prayer was not a practical request but a
spiritual aspiration, they would have answered with a stare of
astonishment.
Even the New Testament embodies the
belief of the savage, although in a slightly refined form, and
the Lord’s Prayer contains a distinct request for daily bread.
Before the advent of science, when men ignorantly and
unskilfully wrestled with the manifold evils of life, their
prayers for aid were grimly earnest, and often the last cry of
despair. Fire, earthquake, flood, famine, and pestilence
afflicted them sorely; often they gazed blankly on sheer
ruin ; and in lifting their supplicating hands and eyes and
voice, they besought no spiritual anodyne, but a real outward
relief. The hand of supernatural power was expected to
visibly interpose on their behalf. Now, however, the idea of
prayer is greatly changed for all save a few fools or fanatics.
Educated Christians, for the most part, do not appear to think
that objective miracles are wrought in answer to prayer.
They think that now God only works subjective miracles, and
by operating upon men’s hearts, produces results that would
�The Folly of Prayer.
not happen in the natural course of things. According to
this subtler form of superstition, outward circumstances are
never interfered with, but our inward condition is changed to
suit them. Thus, if a ship were speeding onward to some
fatal danger of simoon or sunken reef, God would not alter
the circuit of the storm, or remove the rocks from the ship’s
path, but if he deigned to interpose would work upon the
captain’s mind and induce him to deviate from his appointed
course. If an innocent man were sentenced to be hung, God
would not break the rope or strike the executioner blind, but he
might influence the Home Secretary to grant a reprieve. Or
if in a thunder-storm we had sought the shelter of a tree,
God would not divert the lightning, although he might, just
before it struck the tree, whisper that we had better move on.
This last refinement of the doctrine of the efficacy of prayer
is very intelligible to the psychologist. Physical science has
thoroughly demonstrated the reign of law in the material
universe, and educated people are indisposed to look for
miracles in that direction, notwithstanding the occasional
attempts of our rain doctors to cure bad weather with spiritual
medicines. But mental science has produced much less effect.
Man’s mind is still supposed to be a chaos, haunted and
mysteriously influenced by a phantasmal free-will. Save by
a few philosophers and students, the reign of law is not sus
pected to obtain there. Accordingly, the miracles which
were thought to occur in the material world are now rele
gated to the spiritual world—a ghoul-haunted region wherein
there survives a home for them. Yet progress is being made
here also, and we may confidently predict that as miracles
have been banished from the domain of matter, so they will
be banished from the domain of mind. The reign of law, it
will be perceived, is universal within us as without us. It is
manifested alike in the growth of a blade of grass and in the
silent procession of the stars ; alike in tumult and in peace,
in the loud overwhelming storm or engulphing earthquake,
and in the soft-falling rain or golden sunshine, nurturing the
grass in a thousand valleys and ripening the harvest on a
thousand plains : and no less apparent in the noblest leaps of
passion and the highest flights of thought, but binding all
things in one harmonious whole, so that the brain of Shake
speare and the heart of Buddha acknowledge kinship with the
mountains, waves and skies.
�8
The Folly of Prayer.
Meanwhile the sceptic asks the believer in prayer to justify
it, and show that it is not a mere superstitious and foolish
waste of energy. The proper spirit in which to approach
this subject is the rational and not the credulous. The
efficacy of prayer is a question to be decided by the methods
of science. If efficacious, prayer is a cause, and its presence
may be detected by experiment or investigation. The ex
perimental method is the best, but there is difficulty in apply
ing it, as the believers perversely refuse to undertake their
share of the process. Professor Tyndall, on behalf (I think)
of Sir Henry Thompson, has proposed that a ward in some
hospital should be set apart, and the patients in it specially
prayed for, so that it might be ascertained whether more
cures were effected in it than in other wards containing
similar patients, and tended by the same medical and nursing
skill. This proposal the theologians fought shy of ; and one
of them (Dr. Litttedale) gravely rebuked Professor Tynda.ll
for presuming to think that God Almighty would submit to
be made the subject of a scientific experiment. Theologically
there is much force in this objection, although scientifically
and morally there is none. A universal Father would as
suredly welcome such a test of his goodness, but the proud
irascible God of theology would be sure to frown upon it, and
signalise his preference for the fine old plan of closing our
eyes while opening our mouths to receive his benefactions.
There is, however, a way to take him as it were by a side-wind.
There are certain things impossible even to omnipotence.
Sidney Smith (I think) said that God himself could not make
a clock strike less than one. Nor can any powei' revoke what
has already occurred.
“ Not heaven itself upon the past has power,”
as Dryden tells us. The past is irrevocable, and we may in
vestigate it for the purpose of ascertaining whether prayer
has been efficacious, without the least fear of being baffled by
any power in the heavens above, in the earth beneath, or in the
waters under the earth. People have prayed enough in the
past—far more, indeed, than they are likely to pray in the
future—and if we find that their prayers have been futile,
the whole question at issue must be considered as practically
decided in the negative.
Let us dismiss all appeals to individual experience, and deal
only with broad classes of facts. It is quite impossible in any
�The Folly of Prayer.
9
particular case to determine whether prayer has been answered
or not, even when the object besought has been wholly ob
tained. A single result is so often produced by a combination
of causes, some obvious and direct, and others obscure and
indirect, that we cannot absolutely say whether the natural
agencies have operated alone or in conjunction with a super
natural power. If after long and fervent prayers a precious
life has been spared, it cannot be affirmed that prayer was a
cause of the recovery, since the sick person might have re
covered without it. Nor, on the other hand, can it be affirmed
that prayer was not a cause, since the sick person might have
died without it. Our ignorance in such cases precludes us from
deciding one way or the other. The only way to neutralise this
is to examine general categories, to take whole classes of persons,
and see whether those who pray get what they ask for any
more than those who do not pray, or if classes of persons who
are prayed for by others are more favored than those who
enjoy no such advantage.
Pursuing this line of inquiry, Mr. Francis dalton, the author
of a remarkable work on “Hereditary Genius,” was led many
years ago to collect and collate statistics relative to the subject
of prayer, which he subsequently published in the Fortnightly
Review of August, 1872. Mr. Galton’s article did not, so far
as I am aware, attract the attention it deserved. Its facts and
conclusions are of great importance, and the remainder of my
own essay will be largely indebted to it.
Let us take first the case of recovery from sickness. It has
been frequently remarked that sickness is more afflictive than
death itself, and it is common for persons who suffer from it,
if they are at all of a religious turn of mind, to pray for relief
and restoration to health. Their relatives also pray for
them.
However pious men may be, they always submit
to Omniscience their own view of the case when their lives
are in the least degree endangered ; and however fer
vently they believe in the eternal and ineffable felicities of
heaven, they are scarcely ever content to leave this vale of tears.
They desire as long a continuance of life on this earth as the
sceptic does. Often, indeed, they repine far more than the
sceptic at the ordinance of fate. Now, as a matter of fact, is
it found that pious persons of a prayerful disposition recover
from sickness more frequently than worldly persons who are
not in the habit of praying at all ? If so, the medical pro
�10
The Folly of Prayer.
fession would long ago have discovered it, and prayer would
have taken a recognised place among sanative agencies. On
this point Mr. Galton writes as follows :—
“ The medical works of modern Europe teem with records of in
dividual illnesses and of broad averages of disease, but I have been
able to discover hardly any instance in which a medical man of any
repute has attributed recovery to the influence of prayer. There is
not a single instance, to my knowledge, in which papers read before
statistical societies have recognised the agency of prayer either on
disease or on anything else. The universal habit of the scientific world
to ignore the agency of prayer is a very important fact. To fully
appreciate the ‘ eloquence of the silence ’ of medical men, we must bear
in mind the care with which they endeavor to assign a sanitary value
to every influence. Had prayers for the sick any notable effect, it is
incredible but that the doctors, who are always on the watch for such
things, should have observed it, and added their influence to that of
the priests towards obtaining them for every sick man. If they abstain
from doing so, it is not because their attention has never been awakened
to the possible efficacy of prayer, but, on the contrary, that although
they have heard it insisted on from childhood upwards, they are unable
to detect its influence.”
It thus appears that prayer is a medicine only in the
pharmacopoeia of the priests. Many doctors rather dislike
it. A medical friend of mine, who hated the sight of a
parson, used always to keep any member of the clerical
fraternity waiting outside the sick-room door in extreme
cases, until it was certain that death would supervene. He
would then allow the reverend gentleman to go through his
performance, knowing that he could do no harm. My friend
said that when his patients required absolute repose their
nerves were often agitated in his absence by obtrusive and
officious priests.
A class of persons who are specially and generally prayed
for are kings and queens and other members of royal
families. A high value is always set on things which cost
a great deal. Royal personages are very expensive, and we
naturally esteem and love them according to their cost.
Animated by an amiable desire that they may long live to
spend the money we delight to shower upon them, we pray
that God will prolong their existence beyond that of ordi
nary mortals, “ Grant her in health and wealth long to
live,” is the prayer offered up for the Queen in our State
churches, and the same petition is made in hundreds of
Nonconformist chapels. If, then, there be any efficacy in
�The Folly of Prayer.
11
prayer, kings should enjoy a greater longevity than their
subjects. We do not, however, find this to be the case.
The average age of ninety-seven members of royal houses
who lived from 1758 to 1843, and survived their thirtieth
year was 54-04 years, which is nearly two years less than
the average age of the shortest-lived of the well-to-do
classes, and more than six years less than that of the longest.
Sovereigns are literally the shortest lived of all who have the
advantage of affluence. In their case it is evident that
prayer has been absolutely of no avail.
Another class of men very much prayed for are the
clergy. They pray for themselves, and as they all profess to
be called to the ministry by the Holy Ghost their prayers
should be unusually efficacious. If there be any faith capable
of removing mountains, they should possess it. If the
fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much, the fervent
prayer of a parson should avail exceedingly.
Now the
clergy pray not only for spiritual light and help, but also
for temporal blessings. They like to prosper here as well
as hereafter, and are adepts in the sublime art, reprobated
by Jesus but luminously expounded and forcibly commended
by Dr. Binney, of making the best of both worlds. They
believe in heaven, but are in no haste to get there, being
content to defer occupation of the heavenly mansions in
store for them until they can no longer inhabit the snug
residences provided for them here. With a laudable desire
to enjoy the bird-in-the-hand to the uttermost before resort
ing to the bird-in-the-bush, which is sure to await their
convenience, they naturally pray for health, and therefore
for long life, since health and longevity are inseparable
friends. Yet we do not find that they live longer than
their less pious brethren. The average age attained to by
the clergy from 1758 to 1843, according to Mr. Galton’s
statistics was 69-49 years, while that of lawyers was 68-14,
and of medical men 67-31. Here is a slight advantage on
the side of the clergy, but it is amply accounted for by the
greater ease and comfort so many of them enjoy, and the
general salubrity of their surroundings. The difference is,
however, reversed when a comparison is made between dis
tinguished members of the three classes—that is to say,
between persons of sufficient note to have had their lives
recorded in a biographical dictionary. Then we find the
�12
The Folly oj Prayer.
respective mean ages of the clergy, lawyers and doctors, are
66'42, 66
5
*1
and 67
0
*4,
the clergy being the shortest lived
of the three. Thus they succumb sooner than the members
of secular professions to a heavy demand on their energies.
Prayer does not protect them from sickness, does not recover
them when they are laid low. or in the least prolong their
precious lives. They are no more favored than the ungodly ;
one fate befalls them both. In their case also prayer has
been absolutely of no avail.
The same law obtains with regard *o missionaries. They
t
are not miraculously protected from sickness or danger,
from perils by night or the pestilence that walketh by day,
The duration of life among them is accurately proportioned
to the hazards of their profession. Yet theirs is a case
wherein prayer should be peculiarly effectual. Arriving in
a remote region of the earth, they are almost powerless until
they have acquired, a thorough knowledge of the language
and habits of the people. They are engaged in the Lord’s
work, ahd if any persons are watched over by him they
should be. Yet at dangerous stations one missionary after
another dies shortly after arrival, and their efforts are thus
literally wasted, while the work naturally suffers because
the Lord does not economise the missionary power -which
has been provided for it.
Ships also have sunk with
missionaries on board before they could even reach their
destination; and the Lord has so far refrained from work
ing subjective miracles on their behalf, that missionaries
have been in some cases digested in the stomachs of the
very savages whose souls they had journeyed thousands of
miles to convert.
Parents are naturally very anxious as to their offspring,
and it is to be presumed that the children of pious fathers
and mothers are earnestly and constantly prayed for. This
solicitude antedates birth, it being generally deemed a mis
fortune for a child to be still-born, and often a serious evil
for death to deprive it of baptism, without which salvation is
difficult if not impossible. In extreme cases the Catholic
Church provided for the baptism of the child in the womb.
Yet the prayers of pious parents are not found to exercise
any appreciable influence. Mr. Galton analysed the lists of
the Record and the Times of a particulai period, and the pro
*
portion of still-births to the total number of deaths was dis-
�The Folly of Prayer.
13
covered to be exactly the same in both. A more conclusive
test than this could scarcely be devised.
Our nobility are another class especially prayed for. The
prescription for their case may be found in the Church
Liturgy. In a worldly sense they are undoubtedly very
prosperous ; they live on the fat of the land, and enjoy all
kinds of privileges. But these are not the advantages we
ask God to bestow upon them; we pray “ that the nobility
may be endued with grace, wisdom and understanding.”
And what is the result? The history of our glorious
aristocracy shows them to have always been singularly
devoid of “grace,” in the religious sense of the word; and
they have manifested a similar plentiful lack of “ wisdom
and understanding.” Even in politics, despite their excep
tional training and opportunities, they have been beaten by
unprayed-for commoners. Cromwell, Chatham, Pitt, Fox,
Burke, Canning, all arose outside the sacred precincts of
nobility. Gladstone is the son of a Liverpool merchant,
and Earl Beaconsfield was the son of a literary Jew. In science,
philosophy, literature and art, how few aristocrats have dis
tinguished themselves 1 Further, as Mr. Galton points out,
“wisdom and understanding ” are incompatible with insanity.
Yet our nobility are not exempted from that frightful scourge.
On the contrary, owing to their intermarriages, and the lack
of those wholesome restraints felt in humbler walks of life,
they are peculiarly liable to it. Clearly the aristocracy have
not been benefited by our prayers.
Let us now turn to another aspect of the question. How
is it that insurance companies make no allowance for prayers ?
When a man wishes to insure his life, confidential questions
are asked about his antecedents and his present conditions,
but the question, “ Does he habitually pray ?” is never
ventured. Yet, if prayer conduces to health and longevity,
this question is of great importance; nay, of the very
greatest; for what are hereditary tendencies to disease, or
the physical effects of previous modes of living, to a man
under the especial protection of God ? Insurance offices, how
ever, eliminate prayer from their calculations.
They do
not recognise it as a sanitary influence, and this fact proves
that there is no efficacy in prayer or that its efficacy is so
slight as to be altogether inappreciable.
Suppose the owner of two ships, similarly built and rigged,
�14
The Folly of Prayer.
and bound for the same port, wanted to insure them for the
voyage ; and suppose the one ship had a pious captain and
crew taken red-hot from a Methodist prayer-meeting, while
the captain and crew of the other ship, although excellent
seamen, never entered a place of worship, never bent their
knees in prayer, and never spoke of God except to take his
name in vain. Would any difference be made in the rate of
insurance ? Assuredly not. And if the owner, being a
soft-headed sincere Christian, should say to the agent: “ But,
my dear sir, the ship with the pious captain and crew, who
will certainly pray for their safety every day, runs much
less risk than the other, for the Lord has promised that he
will answer prayer, that he will watch over those who trust
him, and that whatsoever they ask, believing, that they shall
receive,” what would the answer be ? Probably this : “My
dear sir, as a Christian I admit the truth of what you say,
but I can’t mix up religion with my business. That sort of
thing is all very well in church on Sunday, you know, but it
doesn’t do any other day of the week down in the City.”
The decline and final extinction of belief in ordeals and
duels is an episode in the history of prayer. Both these
superstitious processes were appeals to God to decide what
was indeterminable by human logic. In the ordeal of jealousy,
so revoltingly set forth in the fifth chapter of Numbers,
the same curious concoction was given to all suspected wives,
and the difference in the effect produced was attributable
solely to the interposition of God. The same idea prevailed
in other forms during the chaotic Middle Ages, notably in
connection with the witch mania. Some idea of the critical
ability which accompanied it may be gathered from the fact
that “ witches” were often tied at the hands and feet,
and thrown into the nearest pond or river: if they swam
they were guilty, and at once burnt or hung, and if they
sank they were innocent, but of course they were drowned!
The duel was explicitly sanctioned and sometimes com
manded by the ecclesiastical and secular authorities, and it
■was devoutly believed that God would give the victory to
the just and overthrow the wrong. This belief has died out,
but a reflex of it exi-ts in the fond idea, not yet wholly
discarded, that the God of battles fights on the side of his
favorites. Only the simpletons think thus, and only the
charlatans of clericalism abet them. All the praying in the
�15
The Folly of Prayer.
world is powerless against superior tactics, more scientific
arms, greater numbers, and better discipline. Victory, as
Napoleon remarked, is on the side of the heaviest battalions ;
and prayer, as a counteractant to such advantages, is just as
efficacious as the celebrated pill to cure earthquakes.
Driven from all tangible strongholds by inevitable logic,
the believers in prayer take final refuge in their cloudcitadal of faith. They maintain that there is a spiritual if not
a material efficacy in prayer, that communion with God exalts
and purifies their inner nature, and thus indirectly influences
the course of events. “Certainty,” says a man of magnificent
genius, though not a Materialist, “it does alter him who
prays, and alters him often supremely, changing despair into
hope, confusion into steady light, timidity into confidence,
cowardice into courage, hatred into love, and the genius
of compromise into the spirit of martyrdom. * Far be it.
from me to deny this. It is attested by the life and death of
many a patient saint and martyred hero. But the God
communed with has been aftei’ all not a person, but a lofty
ideal, varying in each according to the greatness and
purity of his nature. A similar communion, in essence
the very same, is possible to the Humanitarian, who feels
himself descended from the endless past, bound to the
living and working present, and in a measure the paren'i
of an endless future. His ideal of an ever-striving and ever
conquering Humanity, emerging generation after generatiointo loftier levels, and leaving at its feet the lusts and follie
of its youth, serves him instead of a personal God; and i
moments snatched from the hot strife of the world he ca.
commune with it, either through its great poets and prophe"
or solely through the vision of his own higher self, which
essential humanity within him, and thus find serenity r
the ennoblement of resolve. This communion, into wh i
religions prayer may ultimately merge, will survive, beca X
while inspiring it does not outrage intellect and fact. Tlie
laws of nature will not be suspended to suit our needs for—
“ Nature with, equal mind
Sees all her sons at play;
Sees man control the wind,
The wind sweep man away!
Allows the proudly riding and the foundered bark.” f
(
* Dr. Garth Wilkinson: “ Human Science and Divine Revelation,” p. 380.
t Matthew Arnold: “ Empedocles on Etna.”
J
-
qq
�16
The Folly of Prayer.
But “the music born of love,” as another poet tells us, will
“ ease the world’s immortal pain.” Finding no help outside
ourselves, seeing no Providence to succor and comfort the
afflicted, no hand to lift up the down-trodden and establish
the weak, to wipe the tear from sorrowing eyes and convey
balm to wounded hearts; knowing that except we listen the
wail of human anguish is unheard, and that unless we give
it no aid can come ; we shall feel more imperative upon us
the duties and holy charities of life. If the world’s misery
cannot be assuaged by fatherly love from heaven, all the more
need is there for brotherly lo^e on earth.
A P .P E N I) I X.
The following table of longevities was prepared by Mr.
Galton from a Memoir by Dr. Guy in the Journal of the Sta
tistical Society (Vol. xxii., p. 355) :—
Mean Age attained by Males of various classes who had
survived their 30th year, from 1758 to 1843. Deaths
by Accident or Violence are excluded,
Average. Eminent
*
Men.
Members of Royal Houses
97 in number
Clergy...................................... 945
Lawyers
294
99
Medical Profession
244
English aristocracy
1,179
Gentry ...
1,632
"rude and Commerce ...
513
fficers in tho Royal Navy ... 366
higlish Literature and Scionco 395
99
\ fficers of the Army ...
569
99
A me Arts
239
99
64-04
69-49
6814
67-31
67-31
70-22
68-74
68-40
67 55
67-07
65-96
66-42
66-51
67-07
65-22
64-74
* The eminont mon are those whoso lives are recorded in Chambers’s
Biography, with some additions from the Annual Register.
Printed and Published by Rainsey and Foote at 2S Stonecutter Stree', E.C
�
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The folly of prayer
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Edition: 2nd ed.
Place of publication: London
Collation: iii, [4]-16 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: Includes bibliographical references. New introduction by the author, signed November 1 1884. First published 1880 under title 'The futility of prayer'. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Foote, G. W. (George William) [1850-1915]
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1884
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Religious practice
Prayer
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Prayer
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Text
NATIONALSECUL^got^
TRUE RELIGION
BY
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL
Price Twopence.
LONDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISH I’NG COMPANY
28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
1892.
<
\ ”
r* **
'
1
�INTRODUCTION.
On Thursday evening, January 14, 1892, the Unitarian Club
of New York, held its annual dinner at Sherry’s. Colonel
Ingersoll was one of the guests, and in response to the toast
of “ The Ideal,” he delivered a speech which was reported
verbatim in the next day’s Evening Telegram, and is here
reproduced without alteration or addition.
�TRUE RELIGION.
Mr. President, Ladies, and Gentlemen,—
In the first place, I wish to tender my thanks to this
club for having generosity and sense enough to invite me to
speak this evening. (Laughter.) It is probably the best
thing the club has ever done. (Renewed laughter.) You
have shown that you are not afraid of a man simply because
he does not happen to agree entirely with you—(applause)—
although in a very general way it may be said that I come
within one of you. (Continued laughter.)
So I think not only that you have honored me—that I
most cheerfully and gratefully admit—but, upon my word, I
think that you have honored yourselves. (Laughter and
applause.) And imagine the distance the religious world has
travelled in the last few years to make a thing of this kind
possible! (Applause.) You know—I presume everyone of
you knows—that I have no religion, not enough to last a
minute—(laughter)—none whatever—that is, in the ordinary
sense of that word. And yet you have become so nearly
civilised—(a smile)—that you are willing to hear what I have
to say; and I have become so nearly civilised—(audible
smiles)—that I am willing to say what I like. (Laughter
and applause.)
RESPECT FOR UNITARIANS.
And, in the second place, let me say that I have great
respect for the Unitarian Church. (Applause.) I have
great respect for the memory of Theodore Parker. (Renewed
applause.) I have great respect for every man who has
assisted in reaving the heavens of an infinite monster.
(Repeated applause.) I have great respect for every man
who has helped to put out the fires of hell. (Loud applause.)
In other words, I have great respect for every man who has
tried to civilise my race. (Applause.)
The Unitarian Church has done more than any other
church—and maybe more than all other churches—to substi-
�4
True Religion.
tute character for creed—(applause)—and to say that a man
should be judged by his spirit, by the climate of his heart,
by the autumn of his generosity, by the spring of his hope;
that he should be judged by what he does, by the influence
that he exerts rather than by the mythology he may believe.
(Loud applause.) And, whether there be one God or a mil
lion, I am perfectly satisfied that every duty that devolves
upon me is within my reach. (Continued applause.) It is
something that I can do myself, without the help of anybody
else, either in this world or any other. (Great applause.)
BELIEVE IN A GOD WHO IS A GENTLEMAN.
Now, in order to make myself plain on this subject—I
think I was to speak about the Ideal—I want to thank the
Unitarian Church for what it has done, and I want to thank
the Universalist Church too. (Applause.) They at least
believe in a God who is a gentleman—(laughter and ap
plause)—that is much—more than was ever done by an
orthodox church. (Applause.) They believe at least in a
heavenly father who will leave the latchstring out until the
last child gets home—(applause and laughter)—and as that
lets me in—especially the reference to the “ last ”—I have
great respect for that church. (Applause.)
THE STANDARD IS HIS REASON.
But, now I am coming to the Ideal; and in what I may
say you may not all agree. I hope you won’t —(laughter),—
because that would be to me evidence that I am wrong.
You cannot expect everybody to agree in the right, and I
cannot expect to be really in the right myself. (Continued
laughter.) I have to judge with the standard called my
reason, and I do not know whether it is right or not; I will
admit that. (Prolonged laughter.) But, as opposed to any
other man’s, I will bet on mine. (Great laughter.) That
is to say, for home use. (Laughter and applause.) In
the first place, I think it is said in some book—and if I
am wrong there are plenty here to correct me—that “ The
fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” I think a
knowledge of the limitations of the human mind is the
beginning of wisdom, and, I may almost say, the end of it—
to really understand yourself. (Applause.)
Now, let me lay down this proposition No. 1:—The
imagination of man has the horizon of experience; and
�True Religion.
5
beyond experience or nature man cannot go, even in
imagination. Man is not a creator. He combines; he adds
together; he divides; he subtracts; he does not create,
even in the world of imagination. Let me make myself a
little plainer :—Not one here—not one in the wide, wide
world—can think of a color that he never saw. No human
being can imagine a sound that he has not heard, and no
one can think of a taste that he has not experienced. He
can add to—that is, add together—combine ; but he cannot,
by any possibility, create.
EVERY MAN AN IDEALIST.
Man originally, we will say—go back to the age of
barbarism—and you need not go far —(laughter) :—our
own childhood, probably, is as far as 4s necessary; but go
back to what is called the age of savagery. Every man
was an idealist, as every man is to-day an idealist. Every
man in savage or civilised time, commencing with the
first that ever crawled out of a cave and pushed the hair
back from his forehead to look at the sun—commence with
him and end with Judge Wright—the last expression on
the god question—and from that cave to the soul that
lives in this temple everyone has been an idealist and has
endeavored to account in some way for what he saw and
for what he felt; in other words, for the phenomena of
nature.
The cheapest way to account for it by the rudest savage
is the very way it has been accounted for to-night. What
makes the river run ? There’s a god in it. What makes
the tree grow? There’s a god in it. There’s god in the
tree ? What makes the stars shine ? There’s a god in it.
What makes the sun rise? Why, he’s a god himself
•—(laughter);—and the moon.
And what makes the
nightingale sing until the air is faint with melody? There’s
a god in it.
GODS OE MANY KINDS.
They commenced making gods to account for everything
that happens—gods of dreams and gods of love and friend
ship, and wars and heroism and courage. Splendid ! They
kept making more and more. The more they found out in
Nature, up to a certain point, the more gods they needed;
and they kept on making gods until almost every wave of the
�a
True Religion.
sea bore a god. Gods on every mountain, and in every vale
and field, and by every stream! Gods in flowers, gods in
grass; gods everywhere! All accounting for this world, and
for what happened in this world.
Then, when they had got about to the top, when their
ingenuity had been exhausted, they had not produced any
thing, and they did not produce anything beyond their own
experience. We are told that they were idolators. That is a
mistake, except in the sense that we are all idolators. They
said, “ Here is a god; let us express our idea of him. He is
stronger than a man is; let us give him the body of a lion.
He is swifter than a man is; let us give him the wings of an
eagle. He is wiser than a man is ”—and when man was very
savage he said, “ Let us give him the head of a serpent. A
serpent is wonderfully wise; he travels without feet; he
climbs without claws; he lives without food, and he is of the
simplest conceivable form.”
REPRESENTED THEIR IDEAS.
And that was simply to represent their idea of power, of
swiftness, of wisdom. And yet this impossible monster was
simply made of what man had seen in Nature, and he put the
various attributes or parts together by his imagination. He
created nothing. He simply took these parts of certain
beasts, when beasts were supposed to be superior to man in
some particulars, and in that way expressed his thought.
You go into the Territory of Arizona to-day, and you will
find there pictures of God. He was clothed in stone, through
which no arrow could pierce, and so they called God the
Stone-Shirted, whom no Indian could kill. That was for the
simple and only reason that it was impossible to get an arrow
through his armor. They got the idea from the armadillo.
Now, I am simply saying this to show that they were
making gods for all these centuries, and making them out of
something they found in nature. Then, after they got through
with the beast business, they made gods after the image of
man. And they are the best gods, so far as I know, that
have been made.
The gods that were first made after the image of man
were not made after the pattern of very good men ; but they
were good men according to the standard of that time,
because, as I will show you in a moment, all these things are
�True Religion.
7
relative. The qualities or things that we call m ercy, justice,
charity and religion are all relative. There was a time when
the victor on the field of battle was exceedingly merciful if
he failed to eat his prisoner ; he was regarded as a very
charitable gentleman if he refused to eat the man he had
captured in battle. (Laughter.) Afterward he was regarded
as an exceedingly benevolent person if he would spare a
prisoner’s life and make him a slave.
GODS BEGAN TO DIE.
So that—but you all know it as well as I do, or you
wouldn’t be Unitarians—all this has been simply a growth
from year to year, from generation to gen eration, from age
to age. And let me tell you the first thing about these gods
that they made after the image of men. After a time there
were real men on the earth who were better than these gods
in heaven. (Applause.)
Then those gods began to die, one after another, and
dropped from their thrones. The time will probably come
in the history of this world when an insurance company can
calculate the average life of gods as well as they do now of
men. (Laughter and applause.) Exactly! because all these
gods have been made by folks. And, let me say right here,
the folks did the best they could. I do not blame them,
(Laughter.) Everybody in the business has always done his
best. (Laughter.) I admit it. (Renewed laughter.) I
admit that man has travelled from the first conception up to
Unitarianism by a necessary road. Undei’ the conditions he
could have come up in no other way. I admit all that. I
blame nobody. (Laughter.) But I am simply trying to tell,
in a very feeble manner, how it is.
Now, in a little while, I say, men got better than their
gods. Then the gods began to die. Then we began to find
out a few things in nature, and we found out that we were
supporting more gods than were necessary—that fewer gods
could do the business—(laughter)—and that, from an
economical point of view, expenses ought to be cut down.
(Renewed laughter and applause.) There were too many
temples, too many priests, and you always had to give tithes
of something to each one, and these gods were about to eat
up the substance of the world.
�8
True Religion.
And there came a time when it got to that point that either
the gods would eat up the people or the people must destroy
some gods, and of course they destroyed the gods—one by
one—and in their places they put Forces of Nature to do the
business—Forces of Nature that needed no church, that
needed no theologians. Forces of Nature that you are under
no obligation to; that you do not have to pay anything to
keep working. (Laughter.) We found that the attraction
of gravitation would attend to its business, night and day,
at its own expense. (Laughter and applause.) There was a
great saving. (L aughter.) I wish it was the same with all
kinds of law, so that we could all go into some useful business,
including myself. (Eenewed laughter.)
A HIT AT PKESBYTEKIANS.
I say they found this. So, day by day, they dispensed
with this expense of deities; and the world got along just
as well—a good deal better. (Laughter.) They used to
think—a community thought—that if a man was allowed to
say a word against a deity that the God would visit his ven
geance upon the entire nation. But they found out, after
awhile, that no harm came of it; so they went on destroying
the gods. Now all these things are relative; and they
made gods a little better all the time—I admit that—till we
struck the Pr esbyterian, which is probably the worst ever
made. The Presbyterians seem to have bred back. (Laughter
and applause.)
But no matter. As man became more just, or nearer just;
as he became more charitable, or nearer charitable—his god
grew to be a little better and a little better. He was very
bad in Geneva—the three that we then had. They were
very bad in Scotland—horrible 1 Very bad in New England
—infamous! (Laughter). Might as well tell the truth
about it—very bad ! And then men went to work, finally, to
civilise their gods, to civilise heaven, to give heaven the
benefit of fre edom of this brave world. That’s what we did.
(Laughter and applause.) We wanted to civilise religion
—civilise what is known as Christianity. And nothing on
earth needed civilisation more; and nothing needs it more
than that to-night. (Applause.) Civilisation! I am not so
much for the freedom of religion as I am for the religion of
freedom. (Applause.)
�True Religion.
9
Now there was a time when our ancestors—good people,
away back, all dead, no great regret expressed at this meeting
on that account—there was a time when our ancestors were
happy in their belief that nearly everybody was to be lost,
and that a few, including themselves, were to be saved.
(Laughter and applause.) That religion, I say, fitted that
time. It fitted their geology. It was a very good running
mate for theii’ astronomy. (Laughter.) It was a good match
for their chemistry. (Renewed laughter.) In other words
they were about equal in every department of human ignoanee. (Laughter.)
And they insisted that there lived up there somewhere—
generally up—exactly where nobody has, I believe, yet seen a
Being—an infinite person “ without body, parts or passions.”
And yet without passions he was angry at the wicked every
day. Without body he inhabited a certain place, and without
parts he was, after all, in some strange and miraculous
manner, organised, so that he thought.
A GOOD SERVANT.
And I don’t know that it is possible for any one here—I
don’t know that any one here is gifted with imagination
enough to conceive of such a Being. Our fathers had not
imagination enough to do so, at least, and so they said of this
God that he loves and he hates; he punishes and he rewards;
and that religion has been described perfectly to-night by
Judge Wright as really making God a monster and men poor
hopeless victims. And the highest possible conception of the
orthodox man was, finally, to be a good servant—just lucky
enough to get in—feathers somewhat singed, but enough left
to fly. That was the idea of our fathers. And then came
these divisions, simply because men began to think.
And why did they begin to think ? Because in every direc
tion, in all departments, they were getting more and more
information. And then the religion did not fit. When they
found out something of the history of this globe they found
out that the scriptures were not true. I will not say not
inspired, because I do not know whether they are inspired or
not. It is a question, to one, of no possible importance,
whether they are inspired or not. The question is, “ Are
they true P” If they are true, they do not need inspiration;
�10
True Religion.
and if they are not true inspiration will not help them. So
that is a matter that I care nothing about.
On every hand, I say, they studied and thought. They
began to gi’ow—to have new ideas of mercy, kindness, justice ;
new ideas of duty—new ideas of life. The old gods, after we
got past the civilisation of the Greeks—past their mythology,
and it is the best mythology that man has ever made—the
best (aftei’ we got past that), I say—the gods cared very little
about women. Woman occupied no place in the state—no
place by the hearth, except one of subordination, and almost
of slavery. So the early churches made God after that image
who held women in contempt. It was only natural (I am not
blaming anybody)—they had to do it, it was part of the
must! (Laughter.)
THE COLONEL’S TROUBLE.
Now, I say that we have advanced up to the point that we
demand, not only intelligence, but justice and mercy, in the
sky; we demand that—that idea of God. (Applause.) Then
comes my trouble—my trouble. I want to be honest about
it. Here is my trouble—and I want it also understood that
if I should see a man praying to a stone image or to a stuffed
serpent, with that man’s wife or daughter or son lying at the
point of death, and that poor savage on his knees imploring
that image or that stuffed serpent to save his child or his
wife, there is nothing in my heart that could suggest the
slightest scorn, or any other feeling than of sympathy—any
other feeling than that of grief that the stuffed serpent could
not answer the prayer and that the stone image did net feel.
I want that understood. (Applause.) And wherever man
prays for the right—no matter to whom or to what he prays;
where he prays for strength to conquer the wrong, I hope his
prayei’ may be heard ; and if I think there is no one to hear
it I will hear it, and I am willing to help answer it to the
extent of my power. (Loud applause.)
So I want it distinctly understood that that is my feeling.
But here is my trouble :—I find this world made on a very
cruel plan. I do not say it is wrong—I just say that it is
the way it seems to me. I maybe wrong myself, because this
is the only world I was evei- in; I am provincial. This grain
of sand and tear they call the Earth is the only world I have
ever lived in. And you have no idea how little I know about
�True Religion.
11
the rest of this universe; and you never will know how little
I know about it until you examine your own minds on the
same subject. (Laughter.)
HIS HOPE.
The plan is this :—Life feeds on life. Justice does not
always triumph. Innocence is not a perfect shield. There
is my trouble; there is my trouble. No matter, now,
whether you agree with me or not; I beg of you to be honest
and fair with me in your thought as I am towards you in
mine. That is my trouble.
I hope, as devoutly as you, that there is a power somewhere
in this universe that will finally bring everything as it should
be. I take a little consolation in the “ perhaps ”—in the
guess that this is only one scene of a great drama, and that
when the curtain rises on the fifth act, if I live that long, I
may see the coherence and the relation of things. But, up
to the present writing—or speaking—I do not. I do not
understand it—a God that has life feed on life ; every joy in
the world born of some agony ! I do not understand why in
this world, over the Niagara of cruelty, should run this flood
of blood. I do not understand it. (Applause.) And, then
—why does not justice always triumph ? Why is not
innocence a perfect shield ? These are my troubles.
Suppose a man had control of the atmosphere, knew
enough of the secrets of nature, had read enough in “ Nature’s
Infinite Book of Secrecy ” so that he could control the rain
and wind; suppose a man had that power, and suppose that
last year he kept the rain from Russia and did not allow the
crops to ripen, when hundreds of thousands are famishing
and when little babes are found with their lips on the breasts
of dead mothers! What would you think of such a man ?
Now, there is my trouble. If there be a God, he understood
this. He knew when he withheld his rain that the famine
would come. He saw the dead mothers, he saw the empty
breasts of death and he saw the helpless babes. There is my
trouble. I am perfectly frank with you, and honest. That is
my trouble.
Now, understand me. I do not say there is no God. I do
not know. As I told you before, I have travelled but very
little—only in this world.
There was a missionary went to the Indians and talked to
�12
True Religion.
them awhile, and one Indian, I thought, made quite a remark.
He took a stick and made a little circle in the sand, and he
said, “ That is what Indian knows.” Then he made a larger
circle around that and said, “ That is what whiteman knows.”
But out here—outside of the circles—Indian knows just as
much as white man. (Laughter and applause.)
he don't know.
I want it understood that I do not pretend to know. I say
I think. And to my mind the idea expressed by Judge
Wright so eloquently and so beautifully is not exactly true.
I cannot conceive of the God he endeavors to describe,
because he gives to that God will, purpose, achievement,
benevolence, love, and no form—no organisation—no wants.
There’s the trouble. No wants 1 And let me say why that
is a trouble—anybody can move to adjourn now at any
moment—(laughter)—I will tell you why that is a trouble.
Man acts only because he wants. You civilise man by in
creasing his wants, or as his wants increase he becomes
civilised. You find a lazy savage who would not hunt an
elephant tusk to save your life. But let him have a few tastes
of whiskey and tobacco, and he will run his legs off for tusks.
(Laughter.) You have given him another want and he is
willing to work. (Renewed laughter.) And they nearly all
started on the road toward Unitarianism—that is to say,
toward civilisation—in that way. You must increase their
wants. (Applause.)
The question arises, “ Gan an infinite being want any
thing ? ” If he does, and cannot get it, he is not happy. If
he does not want anything, I cannot help him. I am under
no obligation to do anything for anybody who does not need
anything and who does not want anything. Now, there is
my trouble. I may be wrong, and I may get paid for it some
time—(laughter)—but that is my trouble.
I do not see—admitting that all is true that has been said
about the existence of God—I do not see what I can do for
him; and I do not see either (I give my word of honor) what
he can do for me, judging by what he has doae for others. I
do not.
And then I come to the other point, that religion so called
explains our duties to this supposed being, and we do not
even know that he exists, and no human being has got ima,-
�True Heligion.
13
gination enough to describe him, or to use such words that
you understand what he is trying to say. I have listened
with great pleasure to Judge Wright this evening, and I
have heard a great many other beautiful things on the same
subject—none better than his. But I never understood them
—never. (Laughter.)
WHAT IS RELIGION?
Now then, what is religion ? I say religion is all here in
this world—right here—and that all our duties are right
here to our fellow men; that the man that builds a home,
marries the girl that he loves, takes good care of her; likes
the family; stays home nights as a general thing; pays
his debts; tries to find out what he can; gets all the ideas
and beautiful things that his mind will hold; turns a part of
his brain into a gallery of the fine arts : has a host of statues
there and paintings; then has another niche devoted to
music; a magnificent dome, filled with winged notes that
rise to glory. Now the man who does that gets all he can
from the great ones dead; swaps all the thoughts he can with
the ones that are alive; true to the ideal that he has got here
in his brain, he is what I call a religious man, because he
makes the world better, happier ; he puts the dimples of joy
in the cheeks of the one he loves, and he lets the gods run
heaven to suit themselves. (Great laughter and applause.)
And I am not saying that he is right; I do not know.
(Laughter.)
That is all the religion that I have. It is to make some
body else happier if I can. I do not mean to take any great
trouble about it, but if I can do it easily—(prolonged laughter)
—that, it seems to me, is all there is of real religion.
I divide this world into two Glasses—the cruel and the
kind ; and I think a thousand tim es more of a kind man than
I do simply of an intelligent man. I think more of kindness
than I do of genius. I think more of real good human nature
in that way—of one who is willing to lend a helping hand
and who goes through the world w ith a face that looks likes
its owner was willing to answei’ a decent question—I think a
thousand times more of that than I do of being theologically
right; because
do not care whether I am theologically
right or not. (Daughter.) It is something that is not worth
talking about, because it is something that I never, never,
�14
True Religion.
never will understand ; and every one of you will die and you
won’t understand it, either—until after you die, at any rateI do not know what will happen then.
THE DREAM OF IMMORTALITY.
I am not denying anything. There is another ideal, and it
is a beautiful ideal. It is the greatest dream that ever entered
the heart or brain of man—the Dream of Immortality. It was
born of human affection. It did not come to us from heaven.
It was born of the human heart. And when he who loved
kissed the lips of her who was dead there came into his
heart the dream “We may meet again.” (Applause.)
And let me tell you that Hope of Immortality never
came from any religion. That Hope of Immortality has
helped make religions. It has been the great oak around
which have climbed the poisonous vines of superstition—
that Hope of Immortality is the great oak. (Tong continued
applause.)
And yet the moment a man expresses a doubt about
the truth of Joshua or Jonah or the other three fellows in a
furnace, up hops some pOor little wretch and says, “ Why,
he doesn’t want to live any more; he wants to die and
go down like a dog, and that is the end of him and his
wife and children.” (Laughter and applause.) They really
seem to think that the moment a man is what they call
an Infidel he has no affections, no heart, no feeling, no
hope—nothing—nothing. Just anxious to be annihilated.
But if the orthodox creed be true, and I have to make my
choice between heaven and hell, I make my choice to-night.
I take hell. (Great laughter and applause.) And if it
is between hell and annihilation, I take annihilation.
WHY HE CHOSE HELL.
I will tell you why I take hell in making the first choice.
We have heard from both of those places—heaven and hell—
according to the New Testament. There was a rich man in
hell, and a poor man, Lazarus, in heaven. And there was
another gentleman by the name of Abraham. ' And the rich
man in hell was in flames, and he called for water, and they
told him they couldn’t give him any. No bridge I But they
did not express the slightest regret that they could not give
him any water. Mr. Abraham was not decent enough to say
he would if he could; no, sir; nothing. It did not make any
�True Religion.
15
difference to him. (Laughter.) But this rich man in hell—
in torment—his heart was all right, for he remembered his
brothers; and he said to this Abraham, “ If you cannot go,
why send a man to my five brethren, so that they will not
come to this place I” Good fellow, to think of his five
brothers when he was burning up. Good fellow 1 Best fellow
we ever heard from on the other side—in either world.
(Great laughter and applause.)
So, I say, there is my place. And, incidentally, Abraham
at that time gave his judgment as to the value of miracles.
He said, “ Though one should arise from the dead he wouldn’t
help your five brethren 1” “ There are Moses and the pro
phets.” No need of raising people from the dead. (Laughter.)
That is my idea, in a general way, about religion ; and I
want the imagination to go to work upon it, taking the per
fections of one church, of one school, of one system, and
putting them together, just as the sculptor makes a great
statue by taking the eyes from one, the nose from another,
the limbs from another, and so on ; just as they make a great
painting of a landscape by putting a river in this place
instead of over there, changing the location of a tree, and im
proving on what they call nature—that is to say, simply by
adding to, taking from, that is all we can do. But let us go
on doing that until there shall be a church in sympathy with
the best human heart and in harmony with the best human
brain. (Applause.)
HIS IDEA or RELIGION.
And, what’s more, let us have that religion for the world
we live in. Right here! (Applause.) Let us have that
religion until it cannot be said that they that do the most
work have the least to eat. Let us have that religion here
until hundreds and thousands of women are not compelled to
make a living with the needle that has been called “ the asp
f or the breast of the poor,” and to live in tenements, in filth
where modesty is impossible. (Applause.)
I say, let its preach that religion here until men will be
ashamed to have forty or fifty millions, or any more than they
need, while their brethren lack bread, while their sisters die
from want. (Great applause.) Let us preach that religion
here until man will have more ambition to become wise and
good than to become rich and powerful. (Applause.) Let
�16
True Religion.
us preach that religion here among ourselves until there are
no abused and beaten wives. (Applause.) Let us preach
that religion until children are no longer afraid of their own
parents, and until there is no back of a child bearing the
scars of a father’s lash. (Continued applause.) Let us preach
it, I say, until we understand and know that every man does
as he must, and that, if we want better men and women, we
must have better conditions. (Loud applause.)
TRY AND GET A LITTLE RELIGION.
Let us preach this grand religion until everywhere—the
world over—men are just and kind to each other. (Renewed
applause.) And then, if there be another world, we will be
prepared for it. (Applause.) And if I come iato the presence
of an Infinite, good and wise Being, he will say : “ Well you
did the best you could. You did very well indeed. There is
plenty of work for you to do here. Try and get a little higher
than you were before.” (Applause.) Let us preach that one
drop of restitution is worth an ocean of repentance.
And if there is a Life of Eternal Progress before us, I
shall be as glad as any other angel to find that out. (Laughter
and applause.)
But I will not sacrifice the world I have for one I know not
of. (Great applause.) I will not live here in fear, when I
do not know that that which I fear lives. (Applause.)
I am going to live a perfectly free man. I am going to
reap the harvest of my mind, no matter how poor it is
—(laughter)—whether it is wheat or corn or worthless weeds.
(Renewed laughter.) And I am going to scatter it. (Laughter
and applause.) Some may “ fall on stony ground.” (Laughter.)
But I think I have struck good soil to-night. (Prolonged
laughter and applause.)
And so, ladies and gentlemen, I thank you a thousand
times for your attention. I beg that you will forgive the
time that I have taken, and allow me to say, once more, that
this event marks an epoch in Religious Liberty in the United
States. (Loud and prolonged applause.)
Printed by G. W. Foote, at 28 Stonecutter Street, London, E.C.
�
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True religion
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
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Collation: 16 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Address delivered before the New York Unitarian Club, 14 Jan. 1892, and reprinted from next day's Evening Telegram. Printed by G.W. Foote. No. 4d in Stein checklist. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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c /• =-■% z
NATIONAL SECUL^SOOErtZ ft?
Social Salvation
Jag Stttnon
BY
COLONEL R. G. INGERSOLL.
(Delivered on Nov. 14th, 1886.)
PRICE TWOPENCE.
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
28 Stonecutter Street, E.O.
1889.
�LONDON :
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY G. W. POOTE,
AT 28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
�Social Salvation.
Ladies and Gentlemen,—
In the greatest tragedy that has ever been written
by man—in the fourth scene of the third act—is the
best prayer that I have ever read; and when I say “ the
greatest tragedy,” everybody familiar with Shakespeare
will know that I refer to “ King Lear.” After he has
been on the heath, touched with insanity, coming sud
denly to the place of shelter, he says :
I will pray first, and then I will sleep.”
And this prayer is my text :
“ Poor naked wretches, whereso’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your unhoused heads, your unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend
From seasons such as this ? Oh, I have ta’en
Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may’st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.”
That is one of the noblest prayers that ever fell from
human lips. If nobody has too much, everybody will
have enough I
I propose to say a few words upon subjects that are
near to us all, and in which every human being oughq.
to be interested—and if he is not, it may be that his wife
will be, it may be that his orphans will be ; and I would
like to see this world, at last, so that a man could die
and not feel that he left his wife and children a prey to
the greed, the avarice, or the necessities of mankind.
There is something wrong in our government where they
who do the most have the least. There is something
wrong when honesty wears a rag, and rascality a robe ;
when the loving, the tender, eat a crust, while the in
famous sit at the banquets. I cannot do much, but I can
at least sympathise with those who suffer. There is one
thing that we should remember at the start, and if I can
�4
Social Salvation.
only teach you that, to-night—unless you know it already
—I shall consider the few words I may have to say a
wonderful success.
I want you to remember that everybody is as he must
be. I want you to get out of your minds the old nonsense
of “ free moral agency ” ; then you will have charity for
the whole human race. When you know that they are
not responsible for their dispositions, any more than for
their height; not responsible for their acts, anv more than
they are for their dreams ; when you finally understand
the philosophy that everything exists by an efficient
cause, and that the lightest fancy that ever fluttered its
painted wings in the horizon of hope was as necessarily
produced as the planet that in its orbit wheels about the
sun—when you get to understand this, I believe you will
have charity for all mankind.
Wealth is not a crime; poverty is not a virtue—
although the virtuous have generally been poor. There
is only one good, and that is human happiness ; and he
only is a wise man who makes himself happy.
I have heard all my life about self-denial. There never
was anything more idiotic than that. No man who does
right practises self-denial. To do right is the bud, and
blossom, and fruit of wisdom. To do right should always
be dictated by the highest possible selfishness. No man
practises self-denial unless he does wrong. To inflict an
injury upon yourself is an act of self-denial. To plant
seeds that will forever bear the fruit of joy is not an act
of self-denial. So this idea of doing good to others only
for their sake is absurd. You want to do it, not simply
for their sake, but for your own ; because a perfectly
civilised man can never be perfectly happy while there
is one unhappy being in this universe.
Let us take another step. The barbaric world was
rewarded for acting sensibly. They were promised
rewards in another world if they would only have self
denial enough to be virtuous in this. If they would
forego the pleasures of larceny and murder ; if they
would forego the thrill and bliss of neanness here, they
would be rewarded hereafter for that self-denial. I have
exactly the opposite idea. Do right, not to deny your
self, but because you love yourself, and because you love
others. Be generous, because it is better for you. Be
�Social Salvation.
5
just, because any other course is the suicide of the soul.
Whoever does wrong plagues himself, and when he reaps
that harvest, he will find that he was not practising self
denial when he did right.
Now, then, as I say, if you want to be happy yourself,
if you are truly civilised, you want others to be happy.
Every man ought, to the extent of his ability, to increase
the happiness of mankind, for the reason that that will
increase his own. No one can be really prosperous un
less those with whom he lives share the sunshine and
the joy.
The first thing a man wants to know and be sure of is
when he has got enough. Most people imagine that the
rich are in heaven, but, as a rule, it is gilded hell. There
is not a man in the city of New York with genius enough,
with brains enough, to own five millions of dollars. Why?
The money will own him. He becomes the key to a safe.
That money will get him up at daylight; that money will
separate him from his friends ; that money will fill his
heart with fear ; that money will rob his days of sunshine
and his nights of pleasant dreams. He cannot own it.
He becomes the property of that money. And he goes
right on making more. What for ? He does not know.
It becomes a kind of insanity. No one is happiei’ in a
palace than in a cabin. I love to see a log house. It is
associated in my mind always with pure, unalloyed
happiness. It is the only house in the world that looks
as though it had no mortgage on it. It looks as if you
could spend there long, tranquil autumn days ; the air
filled with serenity ; no trouble, no thoughts about notes,
about interest—nothing of the kind; just breathing free
air, watching the hollyhocks, listening to the birds and
to the music of the spring that comes like a poem from
the earth.
It is an insanity to get more than you want. Imagine
a man in this city, an intelligent man, say, with two or
three millions of coats, eight or ten millions of hats, vast
warehouses full of shoes, billions of neckties, and imagine
that man getting up at four o’clock in the morning, in the
rain and snow and sleet, working like a dog all day to
get another necktie ? Is not that exactly what the man
of twenty or thirty millions, or of five millions, does
to-day ? Wearing his life out that somebody may say,
�6
Social Salvation.
“ How rich he is! ” What can he do with the surplus ?
Nothing. Can he eat it? No, Make friends? No.
Purchase flattery and lies ? Yes. Make all his poor
relations hate him? Yes. And then what worry I
Annoyed, his poor little brain inflamed, you see in the
morning paper “ Died of apoplexy.” This man finally
began to worry for fear he would not have enough to
live clear through.
So we ought to teach our children that great wealth is
a curse. Great wealth is the mother also of crime. On
the other hand are the poor. And let me ask to-night,
Is the world for ever to remain as it was when Lear
made his prayer ? Is it ever to remain as it is now ? I
hope not. Are there always to be millions whose lips
are white with famine ? Is the withered palm to be
always extended, imploring from the stony heart of
respectable charity, alms ? Must every man who sits
down to a decent dinner always think of the starving ?
Must everyone sitting by the fireside think of some poor
mother, with a child strained to her breast, shivering in
the storm ? I hope not. Are the rich always to be
divided from the poor.—not only in fact, but in feeling ?
And that division is growing more and more every day.
The gulf between Lazarus and Dives widens year by
year, only their positions are changed—Lazarus is in
hell, Dives is in the bosom of Abraham.
And there is one thing that helps to widen this gulf.
In nearly every city of the United States you will find
the fashionable part and the poor part. The poor know
nothing of the fashionable part, except the outside splen
dor ; and as they go by the palaces, that poison plant
called envy springs and grows in their poor hearts. The
rich know nothing of the poor, except the squalor and
rags and wretchedness, and what they read in the police
records, and they say, “ Thank God, we are not like
those people ! ” Their hearts are filled with scorn and
contempt, and the hearts of the others with envy and
hatred.
There must be some way devised for the rich
and poor to get acquainted. The poor do not know how
many well-dressed people sympathise with them, and
the rich do not know many noble hearts beat beneath
rags. If we can ever get the loving poor acquainted
�Social Salvation.
7
■with the sympathising rich, this question will be nearly
solved.
, T„
In a hundred other ways they are divided. It any
thing should bring mankind together it ought to be a
conn in on belief. In Catholic countries that does have a
softening influence upon the rich and upon the poor.
They believe the same. So in Mohammedan countries
they can kneel in the same mosque, and pray to the
same God. But how is it with us ? The Church is not
free. There is no welcome in the velvet for the rags.
Poverty does not feel at home there, and the con sequence
is, the rich and poor are kept apart, even by their religion.
I am not saying anything against religion, I am not on
that question, but I would think more of any religion
provided that even for one day in the week, or for one
hour in the day, it allowed wealth to clasp the hand of
poverty, and to have, for one moment even, the thrill of
genuine friendship.
In the olden times, in barbaric life, it was a simple
thing to get a living. A little hunting, a little fishing,
pulling a little fruit, and digging for roots—all simple ;
and they were nearly all on an equality, and comparatively
there were fewer failures. Living has at last become
complex. All the avenues are filled with men struggling
for the accomplishment of the same thing.
(l Emulation hath a thousand sons that
One by one pursue ; and if you hedge from
The direct forthright, they, like an entered tide,
All sweep by and leave you hindmost. Or, like
A gallant horse, fallen in the front rank, „
You become pavement for the abject rear.”
The struggle is so hard. And justjexactly as we have
risen in the scale of being, the per cent of failures has
increased. It is so that all men are not capable of getting
a living.
They have not cunning enough, intellect
enough, muscle enough—they are not strong enough.
They are too generous, or they are too negligent and
then some people seem to have what is called ‘ bad
luck”—that is to say, when anything falls they are
under it; when anything bad happens it happens to them.
And now there is another trouble. Just as life becomes
complex and as everyone is trying to. accomplish
certain objects, all the ingenuity of the brain is at work
�Social Salvation.
to get there by a shorter way, and, in consequence, this
has become an age of invention. Myriads of machines
have been invented—every one of them to save labor.
If these machines helped the laborer, what a blessing
they would be !
But the laborer does not own the
machine ; the machine owns him. That is the trouble.
In the olden time, when I was a boy, even, you know
how it was in the little towns. There was a shoemaker
—two of them—a tailor or two, a blacksmith, a wheel
wright. I remember just how the shops used to look.
I used to go to the blacksmith shop at night, get up on
the forge, and hear them talk about turning horse-shoes.
Many a night have I seen the sparks fly and heard the
stories that were told. There was a great deal of human
nature in those days ! Everybody was known. If times
got hard, the poor little shoemakers made a living
mending, half-soling, straightening up the heels. The
same with the blacksmith ; the same with the tailor.
They could get credit—they did not have to pay till the
next January, and if the could not pay then, they took
another year, and they were happy enough. Now, one
man is not a; shoemaker. There is a great building—
several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of machinery,
three or four thousand people—not a single mechanic in
the whole building. One sews on straps, another greases
the machines, cuts out soles, waxes threads. And what
is the result? When the machines stop, three thousand
men are out of employment. Credit goes. Then come
want and famine, and if they happen to have a little
child .die, it would take them years to save enough of
their earnings to pay the expense of putting away that
little sacred piece of flesh. And yet, by this machinery
we can. produce enough to flood the world. By the
inventions in agricultural machinery the United States
can feed all 'he mouths upon the earth. There is not a
thing that man uses that can not instantly be over
produced to such an extent as to become almost worth
less ; and yet, with all this production, with all this
power to create, there are millions and mHlions in abject
want. Granaries bursting, and famine looking into the
doors of the poor! Millions of everything, and yet
millions wanting everything and having substantially
nothing!
�Social Salvation.
9
Now, there is something wrong there. We have got
into that contest between machines and men, and if ex- .
travagance does not keep pace with ingenuity, it is
going to be the most terrible question that man has ever
settled. I tell you, to-night, that these things are worth
thinking about. Nothing that touches the future of our
race, nothing that touches the happiness of ourselves or
our children, should be beneath our notice. We should
think of these things—must think of them—and we
should endeavor to see what justice is finally done
between man and man.
My sympathies are with the poor. My sympathies
are with the working men of the United States. Under
stand me distinctly. I am not an Anarchist. Anarchy
is the reaction from tyranny. I am not a Socialist. I
am not a Communist. I am an Individualist. I do not
believe in tyranny of government, but I do believe
in justice as between man and man.
What is the remedy ? Or, what can we think of—for
do not imagine that I think I know. It is an immense,
and almost infinite, question, and all we can do is to
guess. You have heard a great deal lately upon the
land subject. Let us say a word or two upon that. In
the first place I do not want to take, and I would not
take, an inch of land from any human being that belongs
to him. If we ever take it, we must pay for it—condemn
it and take it—do not rob anybody. Whenever any man
advocates justice, and robbery as the means, I suspect
him.
No man should be allowed to own any land that he •
does not use. Everybody knows that—I do not care
whether he has thousands or millions. I have owned a
great deal of land, but I know just as well as I know I
am living that I should not be allowed to have it unless
I use it. And why ? Don’t you know that if people
could bottle the air, they would ? Don’t you know that
there would be an American Air-bottling Association ?
And don’t you know that they would allow thousands
and millions to die for want of breath, if they could not
pay for air? I am not blaming anybody. I am just
telling how it is. Now, the land belongs to the children
of Nature. Nature invites every babe that is born into
this world. And what would you think of me, for
�10
Social Salvation.
instance, to-night, if I had invited you here—nobody
had cha rged you anything, but you had been invited—
and when you got here you had found one man pre
tending to occupy a hundred seats, another fifty, and
another seventy-five, and thereupon you were compelled
to stand up—what would you think of the invitation ?
It seems to me that every child of nature is entitled to
his share of the land, and that he should not be compelled
to beg the previlege to work the soil, of a babe that
happened to be born before him. And why do I say
this ? Because it is not to our interest to have a few
landlords and millions of tenants..
The tenement house is the enemy of modesty, the
enemy of virtue, the enemy of patriotism. Home is
where the virtues grow. I would like to see the law so
that every home, to a small amount, should be free, not
only from sale for debts, but should be absolutely free
from taxation,' so that every man could have a home.
Then we will have a nation of patriots.
Now suppose that every man were to have all the
land he is able to buy. The Vanderbilts could buy to
day all the land that is in farms in the state of Ohio—
every foot of it. Would it be for the best interest of that
state to have a few landlords and four or five millions of
serfs ? So, I am in favor of a law finally to be carried
out—not by robbery but by compensation, under the
right, as the lawyers call it, of eminent domain—so that
no person should be allowed to own more land than. he
uses. I am not blaming these rich men for being rich.
I pity the most of them. I had rather be poor with a
little sympathy in my heart, than to be rich as all the
mines of the earth and not have that little flower of pity
in my breast. I do not see how a man can have hundreds
of millions and pass every day people that have not
enough to eat. I do not understand it. I presume I
would be just the same way myself. There is something
in money that dries up the sources of affection, and the
probability is, it is this : the moment a man gets .money,
so many men are trying to get it away from him that
in a little while he regards the whole human race as his
enemy, and he generally thinks that they could be rich,
too, if they would only attend to business as he has.
Understand, I am not blaming these people. There is a
�Social Salvation.
11
good deal of human nature in us all. You. remember
the story of the man who made a speech at a Socialist
meeting, and closed it by saying “ Thank God, I am no
monopolist,” but as he sank to his seat said, But I wish
to the Lord I was I” We must remember that these rich
men are naturally produced. Do not blame them, blame
the system I
Certain privileges have been granted to the few by the
Government, ostensibly for the benefit of the many ,
and whenever that grant is not for the good of the
many, it should be taken from the few—not by force,
not by robbery, but by estimating fairly the value of
that property, and paying to them its value, because
everything should be done according to law and in
order.
What remedy, then, is there ? First, the great weapon
in this country is the ballot. Each voter is a sovereign.
There the poorest is the equal of the richest. His vote
will count just as many as though the hand that cast it
controlled millions. The poor are in the majority in this
country. If there is any law that oppresses them, it is
their fault. They have followed the fife and drum of
some party. They have been misled by others. No
man should go an inch with a party—no matter if. that
party is half the world and has in it the greatest intel
lects of the earth—unless that party is going his way.
No honest man should ever turn round and join any
thing. If it overtakes him, good. If he has to hurry up
a little to get to it, good. But do not go with anything
that is not going your way ; no matter whether they call
it Republican, or Democrat, or Progressive Democracy
—do not go with it unless it goes your way.
The ballot is the power. The law should settle these
questions—between capital and labor—many of them ;
but I expect the greatest good to come from civilisation,
from the growth of a sense of justice ; for I tell you,
to-night, a civilised man will never want anything for
less than it is worth ; a civilised man, when he sells a
thing, will never want more than it is worth ; a really
and truly civilised man would rather be cheated than to
cheat. And yet, in the United States, good as we are,
nearly everybody wants to get everything for a little less
than it is worth, and the man who sells it to him wants
�12
Social Salvation.
to get a little more than it is worth, and this breeds ras
cality on both sides. That ought to be done away with.
There is one step toward it that we will take : we will
finally say that human flesh, human labor, shall not
depend entirely on “supply and demand.” That is
infinitely cruel. Every man should give to another
according to his ability to give, and enough that he may
make his Jiving and lay|something by for the winter of
old age.
Go to England. Civilised country they call it. It is
not. It never was. I am afraid it never will be. Go
to London, the greatest city of this world, where there
is the. most wealth, the greatest glittering piles of gold.
And yet one out of every six in that city dies in a hos
pital, a workhouse, or a prison. Is that the best that we
are ever to know ? Is that the last word that civilisa
tion has to say ? Look at the women in this town sewing
for a living, making cloaks that sell for 45 dollars for
less than 45 cents! Right here—here, amid all the
palaces, amid the thousands of millions of property—
here ! Is that all that civilisation can do ? Must a poor
woman support herself or her child, or her children, by
that kind of labor, and do we call ourselves civilised ?
Did you ever read that wonderful poem about the sewing
woman ? Let me tell you the last verse :
“ Winds that have sainted her, tell ye the story
Of the young life by the needle that bled,
Making a bridge over death’s soundless waters,
Out of a swaying, soul-cutting thread—•
Over it going, all the world knowing
That thousands have trod it, foot-bleeding, before :
God protect all of us, should she look back
From the opposite shore ! ”
I cannot call this civilisation. There must be some
thing nearer a fairer division in this world
You can never get it by strikes. Never. The first
strike that is a great success will be the last strike,
because the people who believe in law and order will put
it down when they think it approaches success.. It is no
remedy. Boycotting is no remedy. Brute force is no
remedy. This has got to be settled by reason, by candor,
by intelligence, by kindness; and nothing is perma
nently settled in this world that has not for its corner
�Social Salvation.
13
Stone justice, and is not protected by the profound
conviction of the human mind.
This is no country for Anarchy, no country for Com
munism, no country for the Socialist. Why ? Because
the political power is equally divided. ‘What other
reason ? Speech is free. What other ? The press is
untrammeled. And that is all that the right should
ever ask—a free press, free speech, and the protection
of person. That is enough. That is all I ask. In a
country like Russia, where every mouth is a bastile and
every tongue a convict, there may be some excuse.
Where the nobles and the best are driven to Siberia,
there may be a reason for the Nihilist. In a country
where no man is allowed to petition for redress, there
is a reason, but not here. This—say what you will
against it—this is the best government ever founded by
the human race I Say what you will of parties, say
what you will of dishonesty, the holiest flag that ever
kissed the air is ours!
Only a few years ago morally we were a low people—
before we abolished slavery—but now, when there is no
chain except that of custom, when every man has an
opportunity, this is the grandest government of the
earth. There is hardly a man in the United States to
day of any importance, whose voice anybody cares to
hear, who was not nursed at the loving breast of poverty.
Look at the children of the rich. My God, what a
punishment for being rich ! So, whatever happens, let
every man say that this government, and this form of
government, shall stand.
“ But,” say some, “ these working men are dangerous.”
I deny it. We are all in their power. They run all the
cars. Our lives are in their hands almost every day.
They are working in all our homes. They do the
labor of this world. We are all at their mercy, and yet
they do not commit more crimes, according to
number, than the rich. Remember that. I am not
afraid of them. Neither am I afraid of the monopolists,
because, under our institutions, when they become hurt
ful to the general good, the people will stand it just to a
certain point, and then comes the end—not in anger,
not in hate, but from a love of liberty and justice.
Now, we have in this country another class. We call
�14
Social Salvation.
them “ criminals.” Let us take another step. It is not
enough to raise the feeble up. We must support them
after. Recollect what I said in the first place—that
every man is as he must be. Every crime is a necessary
product. The seeds were all sown, the land thoroughly
plowed, the crop well attended to, and carefully har
vested. Every crime is born of necessity. If you want
less crime, you must change the conditions. Poverty
makes crime. Want, rags, crusts, failure, misfortune—
all these awake the wild beast in man, and finally he
takes, and takes contrary to law, and becomes a criminal.
And what do you do with him? You punish him.
Why not punish a man for having the consumption ?
The time will come when you will see that that is just
as logical. What do you do with the criminal ? You
send him to the penitentiary. Is he made better ?
Worse. The first thing you do is to try to trample out
his manhood, by putting an indignity upon him. You
mark him.- You put him in stripes. At night you put
him in darkness. His feelings for revenge grow. You
make a wild beast of him, and he comes out of that
place branded in body and soul, and then you won’t Jet
him reform if he wants to. You put on airs above him,
because he has been in the penitentiary. The next time
you try to put on airs over a convict, let me beg of you
to do one thing. Maybe you are not as bad as I am, but
do one thing ; think of all the crimes you have wanted
to commit; think of all the crimes you would have
committed if you had had the opportunity ; think of all
the temptations to which you would have yielded had
nobody been looking ; and then put your hand on your
heart and say whether you can justly look with scorn
and contempt even upon a convict. None but the
noblest should inflict punishment, even on the basest.
Society has no right to punish any man in revenge—no
right to punish any man except for two objects—-one,
the prevention of crime ; the other the reformation of
tne criminal. How can you reform him ? Kindness
is the sunshine in which virtue grows.
Let it be
understood by these men that there is no revenge, let it
be understand too that they can reform. Only a little
while ago I read of a young man who had been in a
penitentiary and came out. He kept* it a secret, and
■
�Social Salvation.
15
went to work for a farmer. He got in love with the
daughter, and wanted to marry her. He had nobility
enough to tell the truth—he told the father that he had
been in the penitentiary. The father said, “ You cannot
have my daughter, because it would stain her life.”
The young man said, “Yes, it would stain her life,
therefore I will not marry her.” In a few moments
afterward they heard the report of a pistol, and he was
dead. He left just a little note, saying, “lam through.
There is no need of my living longer, when I stain with
my life the ones I love.” And yet we call our society
civilised. There is a mistake.
I want that question thought of. I want all my
fellow-citizens to think of it. I want you to do what
you can to do away with all unnecessary cruelty. There
are, of course, some cases that have to be treated with
what might be called almost cruelty ; but if there is the
smallest seed of good in any human heart, let kindness
fall upon it until it grows, and in that way I know, and
so do you, that the world will get better and better day
by day.
Let us, above all things, get acquainted with each
other. Let every man teach his son, teach his daughter,
that labor is honorable. Let us teach our children. It
is your business to see that you never become a burden
on others. Your first duty is to take care of yourselves,
and, if there is a surplus, with that surplus help your
fellow-man ; that you owe it to yourself above all things
not to be a burden upon others. Teach your son
that it is not only his duty, but his highest joy, to
become a home-builder, a home-owner. Teach your
children that by the fireside is the real and true happi
ness of this world. Teach them that whoever is an idler,
whoever lives upon the labor of others, whether he is a
pirate or a king, is a dishonorable person. Teach them
that no civilised man wants anything for nothing, or for
less than it is worth; that he wants to go through this
world paying his way as he goes, and if he gets a little
ahead, an extra joy, it should be divided with another, if
that other is doing something for himself. Help others
to help themselves.
And let us teach that great wealth is not great happi
ness ; that money will not purchase love ; it never did,
�16
Social Salvation.
and never can, purchase respect; it never did, and never
can, purchase the highest happiness. I believe with
Robert Burns :
“ If happiness have not her seat
And centre in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest.”
We must teach this, and let our fellow-citizens know that
we give them every right that we claim for ourselves.
We must discuss these questions and have charity, and
we will have it whenever we have the philosophy that all
men are as they must be, and that intelligence and kind
ness are the only levers capable of raising mankind.
Then there is another thing. Let each one be true to
himself. No matter what his class, no matter what his
circumstances, let him tell his thought. Don’t let his
class bribe him. Don’t let him talk like a banker because
he is a banker. Don’t let him talk like the rest of the
merchants, because he is a merchant. Let him be true
to the human race instead of to his little business—be
true to the ideal in his heart and brain, instead of to his
little present and apparent selfishness—let him have a
larger and more intelligent selfishness, not a narrow and
ignorant one.
So far as I am concerned, I have made up my mind
that no organisation, secular or religious, shall own me.
I have made up my mind that no necessity of bread, or
roof, or raiment shall ever put a padlock on my lips. I
have made up my mind that no hope, no preferment, no
honor, no wealth, shall ever make me for one moment
swerve from what I really believe, no matter whether it
is to my immediate interest, as one would think, or not.
And while I live, I am going to do what little I can to
help my fellow-men who have not been as fortunate as
I have been. I shall talk on their side, I shall vote on
their side, and do what little I can to convince men that
happiness does not lie in the direction of great wealth,
but in the direction of achievement for the good of them
selves and for the good of their fellow-men. I shall do
what little I can to hasten the day when this earth shall
be covered with homes, and when by the fireside of the
world shall sit happy fathers and mothers and children.
Printed and Published by G. W. Foote, at 28 Stonecutter Street, London, E.O.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Social salvation : a lay sermon
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 16 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: No. 44e in Stein checklist, but dated 1889. Lecture likely to have been given November 14th, 1886. [Information from WorldCat]. Printed and published by G.W. Foote. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Progressive Publishing Company
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1889
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N396
N397
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Social problems
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Social Problems-United States
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Text
National secular sor—v
MRS. BESANT’S
THEOSOPHY
BY
G. W. FOOTE.
Price Twopence.
LONDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
1889.
�MRS. BESANT’S THEOSOPHY.
For a considerable time I have seen that Mrs. Besant
was gradually drifting away from Secularism. I said
nothing, because I had no right to, nor would it have
been useful to do so. I was not in her confidence, so
that I could not speak with her on the subject ; and
my conviction of the change which was coming over
her was not grounded on anything that could be laid
before the public ; it was forced upon me by a hundred
indications, as though a hundred fingers, at different
times and places, all pointed in the same direction.
This conviction filled me with pain for many reasons.
I admired Mrs. Besant’s eloquence and abilities, and
still more her generous and enthusiastic character.
These are naturally of great service to whatever cause
she espouses. She was also a woman, and that fact
weighed even more heavily. There is no other lady of
the first rank on the Freethought platform, and in the
present transition state of society women are the best
missionaries. Until both sexes take an equal part in
public affairs, and in the promotion of principles, and
while audiences chiefly consist of men, a lady speaker
will exercise an influence quite out of proportion to
her intellect and information ; for difference of sex
tells unconsciously, and from the lips of a woman,
especially if young or engaging, even commonplaces are
apt to pass with men as revelations, and faulty logic is
wonderfully convincing.
Buc what I most admired in Mrs. Besant was her
courage. I regard this as the supreme virtue, and by
no means a simple one, for it includes many high
qualities. Mrs. Besant is a brave as well as a good woman.
I have special reasons for saying so, and the writing of
this pamphlet is one of the most painful duties I have
ever undertaken. Much
I respect Mrs. Besant, I
�Mrs. Betant’s Theosophy.
3
have a higher respect for truth ; much as I regard her
feelings, I have a deeper regard for the interests of
the Freethought party. There are times, and this is one
of them, when persons must yield to principles ; and
in such cases it is both honest and merciful to speak
with the utmost plainness.
Although the change I observed in Mrs. Besant gave
me pain, I will now say that it gave me no surprise.
Among all her fine qualities she has not the gift of origi
nality. She seems to me very much at the mercy of her
emotions, and especially at the mercy of her latest friends.
A powerful engine, she runs upon lines laid down for her.
Only on this theory can I account for the suddenness
of her changes. Nothing could exceed the vehemence
with which she attacked Socialism and Socialists after
the Bradlaugh-Hvndman debate, but what a brief time
elapsed before she was a thorough convert to what she
so denounced I Still more sudden is her latest revo
lution. The news fell upon the Freethought party
like a bolt from the blue. Without a word of warning,
without a public sign of change, Mrs. Besant printed
an article in the National Reformer, which, while it
puzzled most of its readers, showed them conclusively
that she had renounced the greater part of her previous
teaching. There was apparently no gradation in the
change. At one leap she left Atheism and materialism
and plunged into the depths of the wildest Pantheism
and spiritualism. Reviewing anonymously Madame
Blavatsky’s “ Secret Doctrine ” in the Pall Mall Gazette
of April 25, she concluded by saying “ Of the truth in it
our superficial examination is insufficient to decide.”
Yet in less than six weeks—or two months at the out
side—she was a Fellow of the Theosophical Society I
Surely no intellect like Mrs. Besant’s could undergo
such rapid changes by itself. Madame Blavatsky on
the one side, and Mr. Herbert Burrows on the other,
may supply the explanation.
Mrs. Besant said nothing on this subject at the
National Secular Society’s Conference on June 9,
although she must have contemplated, and perhaps,
written, her Theosophical article in Lucifer. Appa
rently she did not even take Mr. Bradlaugh into her
�4
Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
confidence. He speaks of her conversion to Theosophy
as wrought “ with somewhat of suddenness, and with
out any interchange of ideas with myself.”*
I must also express my opinion that Mrs. Besant has
treated the Freethought party very cavalierly. Men
and women with whom she had worked so long were
entitled to an explanation. Those she had for years
misled, if her new opinions were true, were even
entitled to hear her regret the misfortune. But she
recognised no such obligation. “ It is not possible,”
she simply said, “ for me here to state fully my reasons
for joining the Theosophical Society.”! Yet only a
few days afterwards she wrote “ Why I Became a
Theosophist ” in the Star.
I turned to this article with eagerness ; I read it
with disappointment. The “ Why ” .was a complete
misnomer. Mrs. Besant afforded not the slightest ex
planation. I do not want her to tell me what Theo
sophy is—for that is all she does, and very inadequately,
in the Star article. I do not want her to restate as
though they were true, positions she formerly assailed
as false. Both parties know there is an inside and an
outside of every position. I want to|know why Mrs.
Besant passed over from one side to the other. All she
does is to show me a map.
Suppose, for instance, I went over to Christianity.
Would it explain why /believed in the Resurrection if
I put forward the stock arguments in its favor ? My
friends would be entitled to know what change had
taken place in me. They would expect to be informed
why an argument once looked false and now looks true.
Was something overlooked? Has a new light fallen
upon the subject ? These are questions demanding an
answer, and they might be answered honestly even if
unsatisfactorily.
Amidst all her changes Mrs. Besant remains quite
positive. It does not occur to her that a person who has
been mistaken once may be mistaken twice or thrice.
The fact that she held one thing yesterday, and holds
the opposite to-day, does not shake her self-assurance.
* National Reformer, June 30, 1889 (p. 409).
t Ibid
�Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
o
She does not pause and let time decide whether her
new views are permanent. Previous mistakes do not
suggest hesitation and self-mistrust. Every time she
changes her course she asks others to follow her with
perfect confidence.
It is unpleasant to write thus, and I would hold my
hand if I were not apprehensive that Mrs. Besant
might lead Freethinkers astray. Her procedure on her
conversion'to Socialism was a warning. She used the
Freethought platform, as I think, in an unjustifiable
manner. Shethad not made it ; none of us made it;
it has been made by hundreds of workers through
more than one generation. Yet Mrs. Besant insisted
on using it to the uttermost for the ventilation of her
new views, on the principle, I suppose, that the end
justifies the means.
She advocated Socialism in
Secular halls, but not Secularism in Socialist meeting
places. I feel, therefore, the danger which now
threatens our party, and I speak out simply from a
desire to guard it, as far as I may, from this deadly
peril. If we are to have a Theosophical agitation
carried on in our midst there will be discord and
division; and I, for one, even at the risk of being mis
understood, or incurring Mrs. Besant’s enmity, prefer
to take time by the forelock on this occasion.
From the terms of her eulogy on Madame Blavatsky,
I infer that this lady is (at present) Mrs. Besant’s
guide, philosopher and friend. She takes Theosophy
on trust from “the most remarkable woman of her
time one\who asks for no reward but “ trust,” which
is what every mystery-monger starts with, and leads to
everything else ; one who has “ left home and country,
social position and wealth,” in order to bring us lessons
from “ the Wise Men of the East.”
Has Mrs. Besant made inquiry into these things, or
has she succumbed, body and soul, to the spell of the
sorceress ? Where is Madame Blavatsky’s home, what
is her country, what was her social position, and what
the extent of her wealth ? Many persons would like
these questions answered.^ Twenty years ago Madame
Blavatsky was practising as a spiritist “ mejum ” in
America. In 1872 she gave seances in Egypt. Three
�6
Mrs. Besa/nt’s Theosophy.
years later she started the Theosophical Society. In
India she was cordially welcomed, and many signs and
wonders attended her steps. None of them, it is true,
were of the slightest use to mankind. Cigarettes and
broken saucers played a leading part in the “ mani
festations.” The miracles were investigated on behalf
of the Society for Psychical Research by Mr. R. Hodg
son, who went out for the purpose, and reported them
as “ part of a huge fraudulent system.”* A fuller
exposure is the pamphlet by Madame Coulomb, one of
Madame Blavatsky’s friends.f This lady reveals the
whole mystery of sliding panels, hidden holes, and
secreted articles whose position was indicated by the
spirits who placed them there! The letters from
Madame Blavatsky to her chere amie are those of a
thorough-paced adventuress. She repudiated them as
forgeries, but she does not vindicate herself in the
law courts, and the letters certainly came from a more
clever and fertile brain than Madame Coulomb’s.
What has passed between Mrs. Besant and Mde.
Blavatsky I know not, nor am I anxious for informa
tion ; but the fact is public that the neophyte has been
greatly influenced by The Secret Doctrine, a bulky
work in two quarto volumes, containing nearly 1500
pages. An admirable review of this ponderous first
half of the new revelation has been written by my
colleague, Mr. J. M. Wheeler, whose knowledge of
Brahminism and Buddhism, as well as of general
“ occult ” literature, it would take Mrs. Besant many
years of close study to rival. For my own part, I
cannot say that I have read these volumes ; but I have
looked through them, and read some portions carefully.
Where it touches upon matters I am more or less
familiar with, the work seems a terrible jumble of
second-hand knowledge and first-hand pretence. How
ever Mrs. Besant could read some of it without a
guffaw at Mde. Blavatsky’s credulity, or disgust at her
arrogance, passes my comprehension. The mysterious
* Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, vol. iii., p. 210.
t Some Account of my Intercourse with Madame Blavatsky from
1872 to ISSp dy Madame Coulomb. London: Eliot Stock.
t Freethinker, July 14, 1889.
�Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
7
Book of Dzyan, which forms the basis of this revela
tion, and from which seven enigmatic stanzas are
translated as a sample, and as much as the feeble
Western intellect can stand at present, is boldly
declared to be of such antiquity that a later book, 5,000
years old, is juvenile in comparison. We are intro
duced to a Thibetan monastery, far away among hills
that no European foot has ever trodden, with sub
terranean galleries and halls containing books which
£ould not “ find room even in the British Museum.”
This mistress of Theosophy assures us that monsters
are still “ bred from human and animal parents,” and
refers us for proof to unspecified “ medical records.”
She denounces Darwinism, and will not hear of our
ape-like ancestry. Her theory of apes is that they are
the offspring of bestiality between men and animals !
The pineal gland is the atrophied “ third eye,” a fact
apparently not discovered by Theosophists until
scientific speculation had arisen on the subject. But
this third eye was really the first. Man had one eye
to begin with, somewhere at the top or the back of his
head ; the two eyes in front were developed after
wards, and the original optic atrophied away. But if
man had at first only one eye, he was compensated by
Having four arms. Such is the biological wisdom of
this amazing book!
Mde. Blavatsky banters the geologists smartly on
ffieir chronological differences. She could tell them
the true chronology “ an she would.” Meanwhile she
does something safer ; she reveals the chronology of
the future. The Americans are the founders of the
coming race. About 25,000 years hence they will
really begin business. Europe and the whole Aryan
race will be destroyed, and after “ many hundreds of
milleniums ” the Sixth-Root Race will be perfected.
Mde. Blavatsky and Prophet Baxter are in the same
line, but two of that trade never agree.
Natural Selection, we are told, is an exploded doc
trine. Haeckel, Huxley and Btichner, whom Mrs.
Besant has translated, are “ the intellectual and moral
murderers of future generations.” Haeckel, indeed, is
more than wicked ; he is “ idiotic.” Atheists and
�8
Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
materialists, if versed in anatomy, are “hopelessly
insane.” This statement, I presume, after Mrs. Besant’s
conversion, will be modified in any future edition.
Mde. Blavatsky speaks of the “materialised forms
which are sometimes seen oozing out of the bodies of
certain mediums.” This was a primeval mode of
sexless procreation, before the race fell into carnality,
and it “ cannot fail to be suggestive to the student.”
Indeed it cannot ! If Mrs. Besant has swallowed this
Wisdom of the East, it is no wonder that Mr. Bradlaugh
“looks to possible developments of her Theosophic
opinions with the very gravest misgiving.”
Leaving Mde. Blavatsky’s book for the present, I
come to what Mrs. Besant herself says about Thesophy.
In the first place it is Oriental. But that is not special,
for all our Western religions came from the East.
Many years ago Mrs. Besant rejected the Oriental
creed in which she was nurtured. She now accepts
another, and I fear just as blindly. Yet she thought
herself out of the first, and perhaps she will think
herself out of the second.
“ The Orient,” Mrs. Besant tells us, “begins to study
the universe just where the Occident ceases to study,”
which is a pretty way of saying that the Orient has an
insatiable appetite for metaphysics, while the Occident
has developed a taste for science and positive methods.
The result is that while the East is searching with the
patience of a million jackasses for hidden wisdom,
the West is master of scientific knowledge and practical
wisdom, and is thus able to rule the East with striking
facility. The grip of fact is the secret of mastery.
All this Eastern philosophy, except in some of its
ethical aspects, is like the German’s account of the
camel, developed from his inner consciousness. Only
the poverty of the human imagination prevents there
being a thousand different theories of the universe, past,
present, and to come, all equally sound, and all equally
hollow. That Theosophy, or Esoteric Buddhism, hangs
together, goes for nothing. Catholicism hangs together,
Calvinism hangs together, Swedenborg’s elaborate
mysticism hangs together; and for the same reason
that a drama, a novel, or a romance hangs together;
�Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
9
because the imagination has its laws as well as the
intellect, and construction is construction whether the
materials are fancies or facts.
Western positive philosophy discourages the spinning'
of systems, spider-like, out of ourselves. It deals with
the How, not with the Why, and takes its stand on the
relativity of knowledge. Every sentient being learnswhat it does learn by using its intelligence upon the
evidence of its senses. All knowledge, therefore, is
necessarily phenomenal. What noumena, or things in
themselves, may be, or whether they exist at all, are
idle and indifferent questions. Sugar is sweet, and if
we know nothing, and can know nothing of substance,
the sweetness is all the same.
Mrs. Besant has been satisfied with this philosophy
hitherto, but now she yearns for something higher.
She is impatient at the thought that “ the Why
ever eludes us,” that “causes remain enwrapped in
gloom.” She follows a vibration along a nerve until
she comes to a sensation in the brain. Formerly she
was satisfied with the phenomenal succession ; now
she asks for “ the causal link.” She admits that science
cannot give it ; and she might have added that since
the days of David Hume it has been obvious to experientialists that the “causal link” is a figment of
imagination. She regards its absence, or rather its
occultness, as a chasm and as a blank wall ; but the
latter metaphor has her preference, for she presently
sees Theosophy coming down (where from ?) as “ a
fairly long ladder,” and tries hex- “ luck at scaling it.”
I hope she will pardon me for leaving her there.
Scaling the Infinite is a pretty long climb. According
to a more commonplace metaphor, Mrs. Besant is trying
to get out of her own skin.
She admits as much, indeed, for the sublime investi
gation of causal links requires “ further mental equip
ment than that normally afforded by the human body.”
This is enough to daunt common people, but Mrs.
Besant introduces her “ Eastern sages ” who have
superior faculties, and can see through millstones and
into the middle of next week. They wield mysterious
powers “miraculous to the ordinary person.” Mrs.
�10
Mrs. Besant’t Theosophy.
Besant instances clairvoyance, mesmerism, and hypno
tism as abnormal faculties ; but clairvoyance has never
been established as a fact, and nothing has transpired
in mesmerism and hypnotism which goes beyond the
power the operator exerts through the patient’s
imagination.
These “ Eastern sages,” or Mahatmas, dwell on such
lofty planes of thought and power that, like men on
mountains, they have to be very careful what they
drop down. A big truth might floor us all, so they
dribble out a little at a time. “ Ultimately,” says Mrs.
Besant, “ in the course of myriad generations, the
whole race will reach this higher plane.” What an
elevation it must be ! Three hundred thousand years,
at least, must elapse before the mass of us will arrive
there! Theosophy cuts up the cake of Time in
remarkably big slices.
Some of the hidden wisdom of the Initiates, Adepts,
Arhats, Mahatmas, or Masters, has “ filtered out during
the last few years,” and here it is in The Secret
Doctrine. Mr. Wheeler describes it as “ a complete
hodge-podge of Yogi philosophy, Esoteric Buddhism,
Ignatius Donelly, Ragon and Eliphas Levi.” Mde.
Blavatsky is widely read in the barren literature of
occultism, has a good memory, a ready command of
her resources and a facile pen. But we look in vain
for method and lucidity. Dr. Tylor’s Primitive Culture
is a work of scientific genius ; Mde. Blavatsky’s Secret
Doctrine is the work of an accomplished charlatan.
Hidden wisdom is an easy thing to boast of. The
showman may enjoy a boundless reputation who is
never obliged to draw the curtain. Were the Adepts
to speak out, the world would see whether they are so
much wiser than Homer, JEscyhlus, Plato, Aristotle,
Virgil, Lucretius, Dante, Spinoza, Bacon and Shake
speare. The really great and wise men have poured
fourth their wisdom royally, like the sovereign sun
that sheds its glorious rays on all, leaving everything
to profit as it can.
As a matter of fact, except for its pretentious orient
alisms, there is nothing in Theosophy, as Mrs. Besant
has accepted it, which she could not have picked up
�Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
11
in the benighted West. That man’s Ego is immortal
is the current doctrine of Christendom. That Nature
is the manifestation of intelligence is taught almost
universally. Mesmerism is a commonplace of evening
entertainments Second-sight once abounded in the
Scotch highlands. Materialised spirit forms turn up
at ordinary seances. “ Mejums ” carry on daily commu
nication with the spirit world. The mystic number
seven flourishes in the Bible. Karma itself, with
out the doctrine of transmigration, is taught by
every great moralist; thoughts and deeds become habits,
■and habit is second nature.
Freethinkers will note the immense change in Mrs.
Besant’s views. She has “ no personal God,” but, “ the
universe is essentially Intelligence.” Matter is Maya,
illusion ; the Theosophist, like the Berkleyan idealist,
■“ seeks in the mental and spiritual planes of being the
causes of the material effects.” Mrs. Besant has turned
right about face ; and, once started on this new path,
there is no saying where she will go.
Besides her “ essentially Intelligence ” universe, or
perhaps I should say in it, Mrs. Besant has now a
multitude of “ intelligent beings ” other than mankind,
whose operations we mistake for “ the forces of nature.”
After death our Ego re-incarnates itself, again and again,
until it has purified itself from desire, when re-incarna
tion is no longer neccessary, and “ a man passes on to
higher planes of being.” Those who have thus passed
■on are a part of the “ intelligent beings ” aforesaid.
Spiritism, of course, is the logical issue of this fanci
ful philosophy. Theosophists seem all infected with
this melancholy superstition, which flourishes in gross
luxuriance among savages ; and it is to be feared that
Mrs. Besant will not escape the contagion.
Spiritism was not brought in by Theosophy, nor
was the doctrine of re-incarnation. Mrs Besant might
have learned it without the aid of Mde.' Blavatsky.
The transmigration of souls was a special feature of
the religion of ancient Egypt. It was taught by Plato.
It was received among the Jews ; witness Herod’s
exclamation about Jesus—“This is John the Baptist,
whom I beheaded.” The demons who took up their
�12
Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
abode in “ possessed ” persons were also supposed to be
the souls of deceased wicked men. Metempsychosis
was gravely satirised in the seventeenth century by Dr.
Donne in a remarkably learned and powerful poem.
The pre-existence of the soul, which is an aspect of
the same doctrine, is insisted on in Wordsworth’s
great Ode on Immortality, where the poet adopts Plato’s
doctrine of reminiscence. Tennyson refers to the
forgetfulness in one incarnation of our experience in
previous ones.
Some draught of Lethe doth await,
As old mythologies relate,
The slipping through from state to state.
These literary references are not recondite, and I cannot
help feeling surprised at Mrs. Besant’s being struck,
through the agency of the Theosophic sorceress, with
the charming novelty of very ancient doctrines.
Still less do I understand her deception as to the
sacred number seven, which is so frequent in Theoso
phy. Mrs. Besant accepts the “ sevenfold nature of
man ” from the Wise Men of the East through the
prophetess Blavatsky ; and, having swallowed one
seven, I suppose she will not scruple at the rest. This
seven business, like lunacy, comes from the moon.
Early men found out the lunar twenty-eight days ; they
halved that number and found fourteen ; they halved
this and found seven ; they tried to halve that and
failed. This indivisible number was also connected
with sexual periodicities, and thus it became mysterious
and sacred. This accounts for its constant recurrence
in religious systems.
According to Mde. Blavatsky “ the number of
Monads is necessarily finite and limited.” They
arrived on this earth (from somewhere) in emigrant
streams long ago, but in time this planet got stocked.
Mr. Sinnett indulges in an innocent speculation as to
their number. This is still undecided, though it is
agreed that the number is large enough to necessitate
an interval of centuries between one incarnation and
another. Mde. Blavatsky says “ many centuries.” Mr.
Sinnett says “ fifteen hundred years at least.” Theo
�Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
13
sophy, it appears, though, supernally wise, is rather
vague in its arithmetic.
A principal doctrine of Buddhism is Karma, and
this is a leading tenet of Theosophy. “ Karma,” Mrs.
Besant says, “ is the expression of eternal justice,
whereby each reaps exactly as he has sown. It is the
impersonal law of retribution, distributing the fruit of
good and bad actions. During one incarnation is
Wrought the Karma which shall mould the circum
stances of the next, so that each man beautifies or mars
his own future. None can escape from the operation
of Karma, nor modify it save by the creation of fresh.
Karma presides, so to speak, over each re-incarnation,
so that the Ego passes into such physical and mental
'©nvironment as it deserves.”
Thus the problem of evil no longer disturbs Mrs.
Besant. She now sees nothing but “ eternal justice.”
Karma, says Mde. Blavatsky, reconciles us to “ the
terrible and apparent injustice of life.” According to
Mr. Sinnett “ the great inequalities of life ” are per
fectly explained. Each of us gets exactly what he
deserves, aud grumblers should reflect that suffering
and degradation are simply “ a new way to pay old
debts.” The subtle Sinnett relaxes, however, in the
■case of accidents. Cripples, and children injured at
birth, are victims of those little disorders that will
happen in the best regulated families ; but there is
■consolation in the thought that “ the undeserved suffer
ing of one life is amply redressed under the operation
of the Karmic law in the next, or the next.” Beautiful!
“ Blessed are ye that mourn now, for ye shall be com
forted.”
How Mrs. Besant reconciles Karma with Socialism
I leave her to explain. I am not a devotee of Socialism
myself, but I respect its objects if I dissent from its
policy. But if each man “reaps exactly as he has
■sown,” if each Ego goes into “ such physical and mental
environment as it deserves,” the Socialist—and, indeed,
■.every social reformer—is fighting against Karma ;
while denunciation of landlords, capitalists, and all
privileged persons, is silly screaming against “ eternal
justice.” Thus, at least, it appears to me. But I do
�14
Mrs, Besant’s Theosophy.
not dogmatise ; I am open to learn ; and I will listen
to what answer Mrs. Besant brings me from the WiseMen of the East.
Theosophy, of course, like every other system, has
its moral aspects, and Mrs. Besant deems them super
latively beautiful. I do not share her admiration ; on
the contrary, I regard the ethics of Theosophy as
detestable.
Mrs. Besant gravely tells us that Altruism “ differen
tiates ” Theosophy from “ all other systems as though
disinterestedness and self-sacrifice were not heard of
before the gospel of Blavatsky ; as though, indeed, she
had not herself written a pamphlet on Auguste Comte,,
whose maxim was Vivre Pour Autrui—Live For
Others. Altruism has existed in every ethical system.
No sane person thinks of neglecting its august claims.
Religious systems, however, have a knack of carrying
everything to excess, and Theosophy is no exception to
the rule. Mrs. Besant is not satisfied with giving
society as well as the individual its rights. Self is not
only to be subordinated to the general good, it is “ to
be destroyed.” We must be “ wholly selfless,” we
must “ kill out all personal desires.” Could anything
be more grotesque ? Could anything be more perni
cious ? Such a philosophy, if carried out, would reduce
its devotees to the flabbiest sentimentality and the most
hopeless impotence. Fancy, for instance, the attempt
to perpetuate the race, not by sexual desire, but by
altruistic principles! It is individual passion that
moves us. Without it we should stagnate, decay, and
perish. Every individual is necessarily the centre of
his own world. The difference between good and bad
men is a question of circumference. How many are
included in the range of one’s sympathies ? The selfish
man includes few, the unselfish man many, the true
saint all. Even then the imagination, which again is
individual, interposes its limitations. Thus we are
profoundly moved by calamities at home, and read of
calamities in distant, and especially alien countries,
with scarcely a sigh.
We may liken the individual and the social instincts
to the centrifugal and centripetal forces which keep
�Mrs. Besant’s lheosophy.
15
the earth revolving in its orbit. Mrs. Besant would
abolish the centrifugal force and shoot the earth into
the sun. This magnificent imperialism may have its
charms, but the majority of sensible people prefer a
compromise in the shape of Home Bule.
“ Identifying the individual with the all ” is a finesounding phrase. The doctrine, however, is that of
ascetics in all ages and climes. As a mood it has its
value ; it is suicidal as a philosophy. The mystics who
cut themselves off from society, immured themselves
in cells or hermitages, sought for “ purification,”
trampled upon “ self,” and tried to extinguish all
“personal desire,” were identifying themselves with,
God. Theosophy substitutes “ the all ” for God, but it
is the same old process with a new name.
The final ethical developments of Theosophy are
suggested by Mrs. Besant, and they should be carefully
noted. Within the Theosophical Society there is an
“inner circle” of those who desire to enter on “the
Path.” For “obvious reasons” Mrs. Besant says little
about this doubly esoteric circle. The reasons may be
“ obvious ” to her, but twenty people, I venture to say,
would give twenty different guesses. However, we
must take what is vouchsafed. The inner circle, it
appears, must “ abstain from all intoxicants ”—not in
cluding Theosophy ; and “ the use of meat is dis
countenanced.” So far there is nothing very “ occult ”
in the prescription. Teetotalism is at least as old as
the Nazarites, and is a rule of Mohammedanism ; while
Vegetarianism, also a very ancient practice, is spreading
quite independently of Theosophy.
The third point is the critical one. Those who
mean to pursue the Path “ must lead a celibate life.”
That is the centre of gravity of all these “ spiritual,r
systems. The poor flesh is to be mortified, whipped,
and suppressed. The spirit is to be all in all. At a
single bound Mrs Besant reaches the sexual doctrine
of St. Paul. All her old teaching on this pc int is cast
to the winds. Page on page of her pamphlet on Mar
riage must be cancelled to bring it into conformity
with the new doctrine. Marriage is now a mere con
cession to human weakness. Celibacy is the counsel
�16
Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy.
of perfection. The sacred names of husband and wife,
father and mother, are to be deposed as usurpers. At
the very best they are only to be tolerated. It is idle
to reply that celibacy is only for the “ inner circle.”
If it be the loftiest rule of life, it should be aimed at
by all.
Celibacy is not the loftiest rule of life. Physically,
mentally, and morally, it is attended with the gravest
dangers. What it has led to in pietist circles is only
too well known. Turned out of doors, nature climbs
in at the window. The frustration of honest instinct
makes men and women flighty and feverish, or fills
them with the malaise of unsatisfied yearning. Dis
used functions avenge themselves, and the body
becomes a hospital or a churchyard of effete, vicious,
nr cadaverous organs.
Spiritism on the one side, and celibacy on the other,
are the evil angels of Theosophy. I will not venture
to speculate on where they may lead an ardent and
devoted nature like Mrs Besant’s. She is not an adven
turess, and is more likely to be the victim than the
mistress of this superstition. Others may be only
partially deluded, and sufficiently free to find influence
and profit in ministering to the credulity of their dupes.
But Mrs Besant is made of different stuff. She will go
on “ the Path ” with perfect confidence ; she will
preach and proselytise. What will be will be ; the
end I cannot foresee or avert. Yet I will cherish a
hope that a lady so gifted, so eloquent, so devoted, and
so brave, may some day see that Theosophy itself is
Maya, or illusion, and return to the sound and bracing
philosophy that once guided and inspired her.
Printed and Published by G. W. Foote, 28 Stonecutter Street, London, E.C.;
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018
Publisher
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Pamphlet
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Mrs Besant's theosophy
Creator
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Foote, G. W. (George William) [1850-1915]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 16 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: Includes bibliographical references. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
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Progressive Publishing Company
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1889
Identifier
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N254
Subject
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Theosophy
Rights
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Mrs Besant's theosophy), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Annie Besant
NSS
Theosophy
-
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PDF Text
Text
NATIONAL SE
ART
AND
MORALITY
BY
COL ROBERT G. INGERSOLL.
REPRINTED EROM
THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW.
Price Twopence.
LONDON :
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY
28 Stonecutter Street, E.O,
�LONDON :
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY G. W. EOOTE,
28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
�& '2.6 4 5
N333
Art and Morality.
Abt is the highest form of expression, and exists for
the sake of expression. Through art thoughts become
visible. Back of the forms is the desire, the longing,
the brooding, creative instinct, the maternity of mind,
the passion that gives pose and swell, outline and
color.
Of course there is no such thing as absolute beauty
or absolute morality. We now clearly perceive that
beauty and conduct are relative. We have outgrown
the provincialism that thought is back of substance, as
well as the old Platonic absurdity, that ideas existed
before the subjects of thought. So far, at least, as
man is concerned, his thoughts have been produced by
his surroundings, by the action and inter-action of
things upon his mind ; and so far as man is concerned,
things have preceded thoughts. The impressions that
these things make upon us are what we know of them.
The absolute is beyond the human mind. Our know
ledge is confined to the relations that exist between the
totality of things that we call the universe and the
effect upon ourselves.
�4
*
Art and Morality.
Actions are deemed right or wrong according to ex
perience and the conclusions of reason. Things are
beautiful by the relation that certain forms, colors, and
modes of expression bear to us. At the foundation of
the beautiful will be found the fact of happiness, the
gratification of the senses, the delight of intellectual
discovery and the surprise and thrill of appreciation.
That which we call the beautiful wakens into life
through the association of ideas, of memories, of ex
periences—through suggestions of pleasure past and
the perception that the prophecies of the ideal have been
fulfilled.
Art cultivates and kindles the imagination, and
quickens the conscience. It is by imagination that we
put ourselves in the place of another. When the
wings of that faculty are folded, the master does not
put himself in the place of the slave ; the tyrant is not
locked in the dungeon, chained with his victim. The
inquisitor did not feel the flames that devoured the
martyr. The imaginative man, giving to the beggar,
gives to himself. Those who feel indignant at the
perpetration of wrong, feel for the instant that they are
the victims; and when they attack the aggressor they
feel that they are defending themselves. Love and
pity are the children of the imagination.
A little while ago I heard a discussion in regard to
the genius of George Eliot. The gentleman who
appeared as her champion took the ground that she was
a very great novel st, a most wonderful writer, and
gave as a reason that her books were written with a
distinct moral purpose; that she was endeavoring to
inculcate the value of character of integrity, of an
�Art and Morality,
5
absolute and utter devotion to duty, to the glory and
heroism of self-denial; that she did not create charac
ters for the sake of Art, but that under all, and in all,
and over all, was the desire to teach and enforce some
moral truth.
Upon this very question George Eliot has given her
views with great force and beauty : “ On its theoretic
and perceptive side, morality touches science; on its
emotional side, art. Now, the products of art are
great in proportion as they result from that immediate
prompting of innate power which we call genius, and
not from labored obedience to a theory or rule; and
the presence of genius, or innate prompting, is directly
opposed to the perpetual consciousness of a rule. The
action of faculty is imperious/ and excludes the reflec
tion why it should act. In the same way, in proportion
as morality is emotional, i.e., has affinity with art, it
will exhibit itself in direct sympathetic feeling and
action, and not as the recognition of a rule. Love does
not say, ‘ I ought to love ’; it loves. Pity does not
say, ‘ It is right to be pitiful ’; it pities. Justice does
not say, ‘ I am bound to be justJ ; it feels justly. It
is only where moral emotion is comparatively weak,
that the contemplation of a rule or theory mingles with
its action, and in accordance with this we think experi
ence, both in literature and life, has shown that the
minds which are pre-eminently didactic, which insist
on a ‘lesson/ and despise everything that will not
convey a moral, are deficient in sympathetic emo
tion.” ....
“ A certain poet is recorded to have said that he
‘ wished everything of his burned that did not impress
�6
Art and Morality.
some moral; even in love-verses it might be flung in
by the way?
“ What poet was it who took this medicinal view
of poetry? Dr. Watts, or James Montgomery, or
some other singer of spotless life and ardent piety ?
Not at all. It was Waller. A significant fact in
relation to our position, that the predominant didactic
tendency proceeds rather from the poet’s perception
that it is good for other men to be moral, than from
any overflow of moral feeling in himself. A man who
is perpetually thinking in apothegms, who has an unintermittent flux of admonition, can have little energy
left for simple emotion.”
This tendency, this “ disposition to see a rebuke or a
warning in every natural object,” was called by George
Eliot the “ pedagogic fallacy ”; and yet a gentleman
well acquainted with her writings gives a reason for the
admiration he entertains for her genius that she would
have repudiated with the greatest warmth.
Nothing to the true artist, to the real genius, is so
contemptible as the “ medicinal view.”
John Quincy Adams had the goodness to write his
views about some of the plays of Shakespeare. He read
“ Othello,” and read it for the purpose of finding out
what lesson Shakespeare was endeavoring to teach.
Mr. Adams gravely tells us that the play was written
for two purposes; first, to impress upon the minds of
men and maidens that no one should marry out of his
or her blood; and second, that where a girl married
contrary to the wishes of her parents she rarely ever
came to any good. He regarded Shakespeare very
much as he did a New England minister, and supposed
�Art and Morality.
1
that he wrote “ those plays ” for the purpose of inducing
children to mind their mothers.
Probably Mr. Adams believed that “ Romeo and
Juliet ” was written for the one purpose of bringing
vividly before the mind the danger of love at first sight,
and that “ Lear,” the greatest tragedy in human speech,
was produced to show that fathers could not safely
divide their property among their children.
Our fathers read with great approbation the mechani
cal sermons in rhyme written by Milton, Young and
Pollok, Those theological poets wrote for the purpose
of convincing their readers that the mind of man is
diseased, filled with infirmities, and that poetic poultices
and plasters tend to purify and strengthen the moral
nature of the human race.
Poems were written to prove that the practice of
virtue was an investment for another world, and that
whoever followed the advice found in those solemn,
insincere and lugubrious rhymes, although he might
be exceedingly unhappy in this world, would with
great certainty be rewarded in the next. These
writers assumed that there was a kind of relation
between rhyme and religion, between verse and virtue;
and that it was their duty to call the attention of the
world to all the snares and pitfalls of pleasure. They
wrote with a purpose. They had a distinct moral end
in view. They had a plan. They were missionaries,
and their object was to show the world how wicked it
was and how good they, the writers, were. They could
not conceive of a man being so happy that everything
in nature partook of his feeling; that all the birds
were singing for him, and singing by reason of his joy ;
�8
A rt and Morality.
that everything sparkled and shone and moved in the
glad rhythm of his heart. They could not appreciate
this feeling. They could not think of this joy guiding
the artist’s hand, seeking expression in form and color.
They did not look upon poems, pictures, and statues as
results, as children of the brain fathered by sea and
sky, by flower and star, by love and light. They were
not moved by gladness. They felt the responsibility
of perpetual duty. They had a desire to teach, to
sermonise, to point out and exaggerate the faults of
others and to describe the virtues practised by them
selves. Art became a colporteur, a distributor of tracts,
a mendicant missionary whose highest ambition was to
suppress all heathen joy.
Happy people were supposed to have forgotten, in
a reckless moment, duty and responsibility. True
poetry would call them back to a realisation of their
meanness and their misery. It was the skeleton at the
feast, the rattle of whose bones had a rhythmic sound.
It was the forefinger of warning and doom held up in
presence of a smile.
These moral poets taught the unwelcome truths, and
by the paths of life put posts on which they painted
hands pointing at graves. They loved to see the pallor
on the cheek of youth, while they talked, in solemn
tones, of age, decrepitude, and lifeless clay.
Before the eyes of love they thrust, with eager hands,
the skull of death. They crushed the flowers beneath
their feet and plaited crowns of thorns for every brow.
According to these poets, happiness was inconsistent
with virtue. The sense of infinite obligation should be
perpetually present. They assumed an attitude of
�Art and Morality.
9
superiority. They denounced and calumniated the
reader. They enjoyed his confusion when charged
with total depravity. They loved to paint the suffer
ings of the lost, the worthlessness of human life, the
littleness of mankind, and the beauties of an unknown
world. They knew but little of the heart. They did
not know that without4 passion there is no virtue and
that the really passionate are the virtuous.
Art has nothing to do directly with morality or
immorality. It is its own excuse for being; it exists
for itself.
The artist who endeavors to enforce a lesson becomes
a preacher; and the artist who tries by hint and sug
gestion to enforce the immoral, becomes a pander.
There is an infinite difference between the nude and
the naked, between the natural and the undressed.
In the presence of the pure, unconcious nude, nothing
can be more contemptible than those forms in which
are the hints and suggestions of drapery, the pretence
of exposure, and the failure to conceal. The undressed
is vulgar, the nude is pure.
The old Greek statues, frankly, proudly nude, whose
free and perfect limbs have never known the sacrilege
of clothes, were and are as free from taint, as pure, as
stainless, as the image of the morning star trembling
in a drop of perfumed dew.
Morality is the harmony between act and circum
stance. It is the melody of conduct. A wonderful
statue is the melody of proportion. A great picture
is the melody of form and color. A great statue does
not suggest labor; it seems to have been created as a
joy. A great painting suggests no weariness and no
�10
Art and Morality.
effort; the greater, the easier it seems. So a great and
splendid life seems to have been without effort. There
is in it no idea of obligation, no idea of responsibility or
of duty. The idea of duty changes to a kind of
drudgery that which should be, in the perfect man, a
perfect pleasure.
The artist, working simply for the sake of enforcing
a moral, becomes a laborer. The freedom of genius is
lost, and the artist is absorbed in the citizen. The
soul of the real artist should be moved by this melody
of proportion as the body is unconsciously swayed by
the rhythm of symphony. No one can imagine that
the great men who chiselled the statues of antiquity
intended to teach the youth of Greece to be obedient to
their parents. We cannot believe that Michael Angelo
painted his grotesque and somewhat vulgar “ Day of
Judgment ” for the purpose of reforming Italian
thieves. The subject was in all probability selected by
his employer, and the treatment was a question of art,
without the slightest reference to the moral effect, even
upon priests. We are perfectly certain that Oorot
painted those infinitely poetic landscapes, those cottages,
those sad poplars, those leafless vines on weather-tinted
walls, those quiet pools, those contented cattle, those
fields flecked with light, over which bend the skies,
tender as the breast of a mother, without once thinking
of the ten commandments. Tnere is the same difference
between moral art and the product of true genius, that
there is between prudery and virtue.
The novelists who endeavor to enforce what they
are pleased to call “ moral truth,” cease to be artists.
They create two kinds of characters—types and cari
�Art and Morality.
11
catures. The first never has lived, and the second
never will. The real artist produces neither. In his
pages you will find individuals, natural people, who
have the contradictions and inconsistencies inseparable
from humanity. The great artists u hold the mirror
up to nature,” and this mirror reflects with absolute
accuracy. The moral and the immoral writers that
is to say, those who have some object besides that of
art—use convex or concave mirrors, or those with un
even surfaces, and the result is that the images are
monstrous and deformed. The little novelist and the
little artist deal either in the impossible or the excep
tional. The men of genius touch the universal. Their
words and works throb in unison with the great ebb
and flow of things. They write and work for all races
and for all time.
It has been the object of thousands of reformers to
destroy the passions, to do away with desires ; and could
this object be accomplished, life would become a burden,
with but one desire; that is to say, the desire for ex
tinction. Art in its highest forms increases passion,
gives tone and color and zest to life. But, while it
increases passion, it refines. It extends the horizon.
The bare necessities of life constitute a prison, a dun
geon. Under the influence of art the walls expand,
the roof rises, and it becomes a temple.
Art is not a sermon, and the artist is not a preacher.
Art accomplishes by indirection. The beautiful refines.
The perfect in art suggests the perfect in conduct. The
harmony in music teaches without intention the lesson
of proportion in life. The bird in his song has no
moral purpose, and yet the influence is humanising.
�12
Art and Morality.
The beautiful in nature acts through appreciation and
sympathy. It does not browbeat, neither does it
humiliate. It is beautiful without regard to you.
Roses would be unbearable if in their red and per
fumed hearts were mottoes to the effect that bears eat
bad boys and that honesty is the best policy.
Art creates an atmosphere in which the proprieties,
the amenities, and the virtues unconsciously grow. The
rain does not lecture the seed. The light does not
make rules for the vine and flower.
The heart is softened by the pathos of the perfect.
The world is a dictionary of the mind, and in this
dictionary of things genius discovers analogies, resem
blances, and parallels amid opposites, likeness in differ
ence, and corroboration in contradiction. Language is
but a multitude of pictures. Nearly every word is a
work of art, a picture represented by a sound, and this
sound represented by a mark, and this mark gives not
only the sound, but the picture of something in the
outward world and the picture of something within the
mind, and with these words which were once pictures,
other pictures are made.
The greatest pictures and the greatest statues, the
most wonderful and marvellous groups, have been
painted and chiselled with words. They are as fresh
to-day as when they fell from human lips. Penelope
still ravels, weaves, and waits ; Ulysses’ bow is bent,
and through the level rings the eager arrow flies ; Cor
delia’s tears are falling now. The greatest gallery of
the world is found in Shakespeare’s book. The pictures
and the marbles of the Vatican and Louvre are faded,
crumbling things, compared with his, in which perfect
�Art and Morality.
13
color gives to perfect form the glow and movement of
passion’s highest life.
Everything except the truth wears, and needs to
wear, a mask. Little souls are ashamed of nature.
Prudery pretends to have only those passions that it
cannot feel. Moral poetry is like a respectable canal
that never overflows its banks. It has weirs through
which slowly and without damage any excess of feeling
is allowed to flow. It makes excuses for nature, and
regards love as an interesting convict.
Moral art
paints or chisels feet, faces, and rags. It hides with
drapery what it has not the genius purely to portray.
Mediocrity becomes moral from a necessity which it
has the impudence to call virtue. It pretends to regard
ignorance as the foundation of purity and insists that
virtue seeks the companionship of the blind.
Art creates, combines, and reveals. It is the highest
manifestation of thought, of passion, of love, of intui
tion. It is the highest form of expression, of history
and prophecy. It allows us to look at an unmasked
soul, to fathom the abysses of passion, to understand
the heights and depths of love.
Compared with what is in the mind of man, the
outward world almost ceases to excite our wonder. The
impression produced by mountains, seas, and stars is
not so great, so thrilling, as the music of Wagner.
The contellations themselves grows small when we read
“ Troilus and Cressida,” “ Hamlet” or “ Lear.” What
are seas and stars in the presence of a heroism that
holds pains and death as nought ? What are seas and
stars compared with human hearts ? What is the
quarry compared with the statue ?
�14:
Art and Morality.
Art civilises because it enlightens, develops,
strengthens, and ennobles. It deals with the beautiful,
with the passionate, with the ideal. It is the child of
the heart. To be great it must deal with the human.
It must be in accordance with the experience, with the
hopes, with the fears, and with the possibilities of man.
No one cares to paint a palace, because there is nothing
in such a picture to touch the heart. It tells of
responsibility, of the prison of the conventional. It
suggests a load, it tells of apprehension, of weariness
and ennui. The picture of a cottage, over which runs
a vine, a little home thatched with content, with its
simple life, its natural sunshine and shadow, its trees
bending with fruit, its hollyhocks and pinks, its happy
children, its hum of bees, is a poem—a smile in the
desert of this world.
The great lady, in velvet and jewels, makes but a
poor picture. There is not freedom enough in her life.
She is constrained. She is too far away from the sim
plicity of happiness. In her thought there is too much
of the mathematical. In all art you will find a touch
of chaos, of liberty; and there is in all artists a little
of the vagabond—that is to say, genius.
The nude in art has rendered holy the beauty of
woman. Every Greek statue pleads for mothers and
sisters. From these marbles came strains of music.
They have filled the heart of man with tenderness and
worship. They have kindled reverence, admiration,
and love. The Venus de Milo, that even mutilation
cannot mar, tends only to the elevation of our race.
It is a miracle of majesty and beauty, the supreme idea
of the supreme woman. It is a melody in marble. All
�Art and Morality.
15
the lines meet in a kind of voluptuous and glad content.
The pose is rest itself. The eyes are filled with
thoughts of love. The breast seems dreaming of a child.
The prudent is not the poetic; it is the mathemati
cal. Genius is the spirit of abandon ; it is joyous, irre
sponsible. It moves in the swell and curve of billows;
it is careless of conduct and consequence. For a
moment the chain of cause and effect seems broken;
the soul is free. It gives an account not even to itself.
Limitations are forgotten; nature seems obedient to the
will; the ideal alone exists ; the universe is a symphony.
Every brain is a gallery of art, and every soul is, to
a greater or less degree, an artist. The pictures and
statues that now enrich and adorn the walls and niches
of the world, as well as those that illuminate the pages
of its literature, were taken originally from the private
galleries of the brain.
The soul—that is to say the artist—compares the
pictures in its own brain with the pictures that have
been taken from the galleries of others and made visible.
This soul, this artist, selects that which is nearest per
fection in each, takes such parts as it deems perfect,
puts them together, forms new pictures, new statues,
and in this way creates the ideal.
To express desires, longings, ecstacies, prophecies, and
passions in form and color; to put love, hope, heroism,
and triumph in marble ; to paint dreams and memories
with words ; to portray the purity of dawn, the inten
sity and glory of noon, the tenderness of twilight, the
splendor and mystery of night, with sounds; to give
the invisible to sight and touch, and to enrich the com
mon things of earth with gems and jewels of the mind
—this is Art.
�B»
WORKS BY COLONEL R. G. INGERSOLL.
MISTAKES OF MOSES
.....................
...
Superior edition, in cloth ...
Only Complete Edition published in England.
DEFENCE OF FREETHOUGHT
Five Hours’ Speech at the Trial of C. B.
Reynolds for Blasphemy.
REPLY TO GLADSTONE
...
With a Biography by J. M. Wheeler.
ROME OR REASON ? Reply to Cardinal Manning
CRIMES AGAINST CRIMINALS
FAITH AND FACT. Reply to Rev. Dr. Field
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THE LIMITS OF TOLERATION
A Discussion with Hon. F. D. Coudert and
Gov. S. L. Woodford.
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GOD AND MAN.
Second Reply to Dr. Field
THE DYING CREED
THE HOUSEHOLD OF FAITH
DO I BLASPHEME ?
. THE CLERGY AND COMMON SENSE
THE GREAT MISTAKE
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MYTH AND MIRACLE
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SOCIAL SALVATION
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WHY AM I AN AGNOSTIC ?
WHY AM I AN AGNOSTIC ?
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Progressive Publishing Co., 28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Pamphlet
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Art and morality
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 15 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: Reprinted from the North American Review. "Works by Colonel R.G. Ingersoll" listed on back cover. Not in Stein checklist, but cf his Nos. 183 and 194. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Progressive Publishing Company
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1890
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NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
UTILITARIANISM
BY
JEREMY BENTHAM.
Price Threepence.
LONDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,.
28 Stonecutter. Street, E.O.
1890.
�LONDON:
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY G. W. FOOTE,
28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
�Mo Co
PUBLISHER ’S
NOTE.
The following reprint is from Bentham’s Introduction to the
Principles of Morals and Legislation. This is one of his most
important and characteristic works. The first edition was
printed in 1780, and published in 1789. “A New Edition,
corrected by the Author ” was published in 1823. This ex
explains the different styles observable in the footnotes.
Bentham’s early writing was lucid and direct, his plater
writing was somewhat turbid and much involved.
This reprint comprises the first two chapters of Bentham’s
work. Two or three footnotes, of no present importance or
application, -have been omitted. For .the sake of convenience
two very long footnotes to the second chapter have been
printed as appendices.
A title had to be selected for the reprint, and Utilitarianism,
has been chosen. There is no danger of its being confused
with the larger work of John Stuart Mill.
��CHAPTER I.
OF THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY.
L Nature has placed mankind under the governance of
two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them
alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as to determine
what we shall do. On the one hand the standard of right and
wrong, on the other the chain of causesand effects, are fastened to
their throne. They govern us in all we do, in all we say, in all
we think : every effort we can make to throw off our subjection,
will serve but to demonstrate and confirm it. In words a man
may pretend to abjure their empire: but in reality he will
remain subject to it all the while. The principle of utility
*
recognises this subjection, and assumes it for the foundation
of that system, the object of which is to rear the fabric of
felicity by the hands of reason and of law. Systems which
* Note by the Author, July 1822.
To this denomination has of late been added, or substituted, the
greatest happiness or greatest felicity principle : this for shortness, instead
of saying at length that principle which states the greatest happiness of
all those whose interest is in question, as being the right and proper,
and only right and proper and universally desirable, end of human action :
of human action in every situation, and in particular in that of a func
tionary or set of functionaries exercising the powers of Government. The
word utility does not so clearly point to the ideas of pleasure and pain as
the words happiness and felicity do : nor does it lead us to the considera
tion of the number of the interests affected ; to the number, as being the
circumstance, which contributes, in the largest proportion, to the forma
tion of the standard here in question ; the standard of right and wrong,
by which alone the propriety of human conduct, in every situation, can
with propriety be tried. This want of a sufficiently manifest connexion
between the ideas of happiness and pleasure on the one hand, and the idea
of utility on the other, I nave every now and then found operating, and
with but too much efficiency, as a bar to the acceptance, that might
otherwise have been given, to this principle.
�6
Uti litarianism.
attempt to question it, deal in sounds instead of sense, in
caprice instead of reason, in darkness instead of light.
But enough of metaphor and declamation : it is not by such
means that moral science is to be improved.
II. The principle of utility is the foundation of the present
work; it will be proper therefore at the outset to give an ex
plicit and determinate account of what is meant by it. By
the principle of utility is meant that principle which approves
*
or disapproves of every action whatsoever, according to the
tendency which it appears to have to augment or diminish the
happiness of the party whose interest is in question : or, what
is the same thing in other words, to promote or to oppose that
happiness. I say of every action whatsoever; and therefore
not only of every action of a private individual, but of every
measure of government.
III. By utility is meant that property in any object, whereby
it tends to produce benefit, advantage, pleasure, good, or happi
ness (all this in the present case comes to the same thing) or
(what comes again to the same thing) to prevent the happening
of mischief, pain, evil, or unhappiness to the party whose
interest is considered : if that party be the community in
general, then the happiness of the community: if a particular
individual, then the happiness of that individual.
IV. The interest of the community is one of the most
general expressions that can occur in the phraseology of
morals : no wonder that the meaning of it is often lost. When
it has a meaning, it is this. The community is a fictitious body,
composed of the individual persons who are considered as con
stituting as it were its members. The interest of the com
* The word principle is derived from the Latin principium : which
seems to be compounded of the two words primus, first, or chief, and
cipium, a termination which seems to be derived from capio, to take, as in
mancipium, municipium; to which are analogous auceps, forceps and
Others. It is a term of very vague and very extensive signification : it is
applied to any thing which is conceived to serve as a foundation or
beginning to any series of operations : in some cases, of physical opera
tions ; but of mental operations in the present case.
The principle here in question may be taken for an act of the mind ; a
sentiment; a sentiment of approbation ; a sentiment which, when applied
■ to an action, approves of its utility, as that quality of it by which the
measure of approbation or disapprobation bestowed upon it ought to be
governed.
�Uti litarianism.
7
munity then is, what ?—the sum of the interests of the several
members who compose it.
V. It is in vain to talk of the interest of the community,
without understanding what is the interest of the individual.
*
A thing is said to promote the interest, or to be for the interest,
of an individual, when it tends to add to the sum total of his
pleasures : or, what comes to the same thing, to diminish the
sum total of his pains.
VI. An action then may be said to be conformable to the
principle of utility, or, for shortness sake, to utility (meaning
with respect to the community at large) when the tendency it
has to augment the happiness of the community is greater than
any it has to diminish it.
VII. A measure of government (which is but a particular
kind of action, performed by a particular- person or persons)
may be said to be conformable to or dictated by the principle
of utility, when in like manner the tendency which it has to
augment the happiness of the community is greater than any
which it has to diminish it.
VIII. When an action, or in particular a measure of govern
ment, is supposed by a man to be conformable to the principle
or utility, it may(be convenient, for the purposes of discourse, to
imagine a kind of law or dictate, called a law or dictate of
utility: and to speak of the action in question, as being con
formable to such law or dictate.
IX. A man may be said to be a partisan of the principle of
utility, when the approbation or disapprobation he annexes to
any action, or to any measure, is determined by and propor
tioned to the tendency which he conceives it to have to augment
or to diminish the happiness of the community: or in other
words, to its conformity or unconformity to the laws or dictates
of utility.
X. Of an action that is conformable to the principle of utility,
one may always say eithei- that it is one that ought to be done,
©r at least that it is not one that ought not to be done. One
may say also, that it is right it should be done ; at least that it
is not wrong it should be done : that it is a right action; at
least that it is not a wrong action. When thus interpreted, the
* Interest is one of those words, which not having any superior genus,
eannot in the ordinary way be defined.
�Utilitarianism.
words ought, and right and wrong, and others of that stamp,
have a meaning: when otherwise, they have none.
XI. Has the rectitude of this principle been ever formally
contested? It should seem that it had, by those who have not
known what they have been meaning. Is it susceptible of any
direct proof ? it should seem not: for that which is used to
prove everything else, cannot itself be proved: a chain of
proofs must have their commencement somewhere. To give
.such proof is as impossible as it is needless.
XII. Not that there is or ever has been that human creature
breathing, however stupid or perverse, who has not on many,
perhaps on most occasions of his life, deferred to it. By the
natural constitution of the human frame, on most occasions of
their lives men in general embrace this principle, without
thinking of it: if not for the ordering of their own actions, yet
for the trying of their own actions, as well as of those of other
men. There have been, at the same time, not many, perhaps,
even of the most intelligent, who have been disposed to embrace
it purely and without reserve. There are even few who have
not taken some occasion or other to quarrel with it, either on
account of their not understanding always how to apply it, or
on account of some prejudice or other which they were afraid
to examine into, or could not bear to part with. For such is
the stuff that man is made of : in principle and in practice, in
a right track, and in a wrong one, the rarest of all human
qualities is consistency.
XIII. When a man attempts to combat the principle of
utility, it is with reasons drawn, without his being aware of it,
from that very principle itself. His arguments, if they prove
*
anything, prove not that the principle is wrong, but that,
according to the applications he supposes to be made of it, it is
misapplied. Is it possible for a man to move the earth ?
Yes ; but he must first find out another earth to stand upon.
XIV. To disprove the propriety of it by arguments is im
possible ; but, from the causes that have been mentioned, or
from some confused or partial view of it, a man may happen to
_ * “ The principle of utility (I have heard it said), is a dangerous prin
ciple : it is dangerous on certain occasions to consult it.” This is as
much as to say, what ? that it is not consonant to utility, to consult
utility : in short, that it is not consulting it, to consult it.
�Utilitarianism.
9
be disposed not to relish it. Where this is the case, if he
thinks the settling of his opinions on such a subject worth the
trouble, let him take the following steps, and at length, perhaps,
h® may come to reconcile himself to it.
1. Let him settle with himself, whether he would wish to
discard this principle altogether; if so, let him considei’ what
it is that all his reasonings (in matters of politics especially)
can amount to ?
2. If he would, let him settle with himself, whether he would
judge and act without any principle, or whether there is any
other he would judge and act by ?
3. If there be, let him examine and satisfy himself whethei’
the principle he thinks he has found is really any separate in
telligible principle; or whether it be not a mere principle in
words, a kind of phrase, which at bottom expresses neither
more nor less than the mere averment of his own unfounded
sentiments ; that is, what in another person he might be apt to
call caprice?
4. If he is inclined to think that his own approbation or dis
approbation, annexed to the idea of an act, without any regard
to its consequences, is a sufficient foundation for him to judge
and act upon, let him ask himself whether his sentiment is to
be a standard of right and wrong, with respect to every other
man, or whether every man’s sentiment’has the same privilege
©f being a standard to itself ?
5. In the first case, let him ask himself whether his prin
ciple is not despotical, and hostile to all the rest of human race ?
6. In the second case, whether it is not anarchial, and
whether at this rate there are not as many different standards
of right and wrong as there are men ? and whether even to the
same man, the same thing, which is right to-day, may not
(without the least change in its nature) be wrong to-morrow ?
and whether the same thing is not right and wrong in the same
place at the same time ? and in either case, whether all argu
ment is not at an end ? and whether, when two men have said,
* I like this,” and “ I don’t like it,” they can (upon such a
principle) have anything more to say ?
7. If he should have said to himself, No : for that the senti
ment which he proposes as a standard must be grounded on
reflection, let him say on what particulars the reflection is to
�10
Utilitarianism.
turn ? if on particulars having relation to the utility of the act,
then let him say whether this is not deserting his own prin
ciple, and borrowing assistance from that very one in opposition
to which he sets it up : or if not on those particulars, on what
other particulars ?
8. If he should be for compounding the matter, and adopting
his own principle in part, and the principle of utility in part,
let him say how far he will adopt it ?
9. When he has settled with himself where he will stop, then
let him ask himself how he justifies to himself the adopting it
so far ? and why he will not adopt it any farther ?
10. Admitting any other principle than the principle of
utility to be a right principle, a principle that it is right for a
man to pursue; admitting (what is not true) that the word
right can have a meaning without reference to utility, let him
say whether there is any such thing as a motive that a man can
have to pursue the dictates of it: if there is, let him say what
that motive is, and how it is to be distinguished from those
which enforce the dictates of utility; if not, then lastly let
him say what it is this other principle can be good for ?
�Uti litarianism.
11
CHAPTER II.
OF PRINCIPLES ADVERSE TO THAT OF UTILITY.
I. If the principle of utility be a right principle to be
governed by, and that in all cases, it follows from ’what has
been just observed, that whatever principle differs from it in
any case must necessarily be a wrong one. To prove any other
principle, therefore, to be a wrong one, there needs no more
than just to show it to be what it is, a principle of which the
dictates are in some point or other different from those of the
principle of utility : to state it is to confute it.
II. A principle may be different from that of utility in two
ways: 1. By being constantly opposed to it: this is the case
with a principle which may be termed the principle of asceti
*
cism 2. By being sometimes opposed to it, and sometimes
not, as it may happen : this is the case with another, which
may be termed the principle of sympathy and antipathy.
III. By the principle of asceticism I mean that principle,
which, like the principle of utility, approves or disapproves of
any action, according to the tendency which it appears to have
* Ascetic is a term that has been, sometimes applied to monks. It comes
from a G-reek word which signifies exercise. The practices by which
monks sought to distinguish themselves from other men were called their
exercises. These exercises consisted in so many contrivances they had
for tormenting themselves. By this they thought to ingratiate them
selves with the Deity. For the Deity, said they, is a Being of infinite
benevolence : now a Being of the most ordinary benevolence is pleased
to see others make themselves as happy as they can : therefore to make
ourselves as unhappy as we can is the way to please the Deity. If any
body asked them, what motive they could find for doing all this ? Oh ! said
they, you are not to imagine that we are punishing ourselves for nothing :
we know very well what we are about. You are to know, that for every
grain of pain it costs us now, we are to have a hundred grains of pleasure
by and by. The case is, that God loves to see us torment ourselves at
present; indeed he has as good as told us so. But this is done only to
try us, in order just to see how we should behave : which it is plain he
could not know, without making the experiment. Now then, from the
satisfaction it gives him to see us make ourselves as unhappy as we can
make ourselves in this present life, we have a sure proof of the satis
faction it will give him to see us as happy as he can make us in a life to
come.
�12
Utilitarianism.
to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose
interest is in question; but in an inverse manner: approving
of actions in as far as they tend to diminish his happiness;
disapproving of them in as far as they tend to augment it.
IV. It is evident that any one who reprobates any the least
particle of pleasure, as such, from whatever source derived, is
pro tanto a partisan of the principle of asceticism. It is only
upon that principle, and not from the principle of utility, that
the most abominable pleasure which the vilest of malefactors
ever reaped from his crime would be to be reprobated, if it
stood alone. The case is, that it never does stand alone; but
is necessarily followed by such a quantity of pain (or, what
comes to the same thing, such a chance for a certain quantity
of pain), that the pleasure in comparison of it, is as nothing:
and this is the true and sole, but perfectly sufficient, reason for
making it a ground for punishment.
V. There are two classes of men of very different com
plexions, by whom the principle of asceticism appears to have
been embraced; the one a set of moralists, the other a set of
religionists. Different accordingly have been the motives
which appear to have recommended it to the notice of these
different parties. Hope, that is the prospect of pleasure, seems
to have animated the former : hope, the aliment of philosophic
pride : the hope of honor and reputation at the hands of men.
Fear, that is the prospect of pain, the latter : fear, the offspring
of superstitious fancy : the fear of future punishment at the
hands of a splenetic and revengeful Deity. I say in this case
fear: for of the invisible future, fear is more powerful than
hope. These circumstances characterise the two different
parties among the partisans of the principle of asceticism ; the
parties and their motives different, the principle the same.
VI. The religious party, however, appear to have carried it
farther than the philosophical: they have acted more con
sistently and less wisely. The philosophical party have
scarcely gone farther than to reprobate pleasure : the religious
party have frequently gone so far as to make it a matter of
merit and of duty to court pain. The philosophical party have
hardly gone farther than the making pain a matter of indiffer
ence. It is no evil, they have said: they have not said, it is a
good. They have not so much as reprobated all pleasure in
�Utilitarianism.
13
tike tamp. They have discarded only what they have called
the gross ; that is, such as are organical, or of which the origin
is easily traced up to such as are organical: they have even
cherished and magnified the refined. Yet this, however, not
under the name of pleasure : to cleanse itself from the sordes
of its impure original, it was necessary it should change its
name : the honorable, the glorious, the reputable, the becoming,
the honestum, the decorum, it was to be called: in short, any
thing but pleasure.
VII. From these two sources have flowed the doctrines from
which the sentiments of the bulk of mankind have all along
received a tincture of this principle; some from the philo
sophical, some from the religious, some from both. Men of
education more frequently from the philosophical, as more
suited to the elevation of their sentiments : the vulgar more
frequently from the superstitious, as more suited to the narrow
ness of their intellect, undilated by knowledge : and to the
abjectness of their condition, continually open to the attacks
of fear. The tinctures, however, derived from the two sources,
would naturally intermingle, insomuch that a man would not
always know by which of them he was most influenced : and
they would often serve to corroborate and enliven one another.
It was this conformity that made a kind of alliance between
parties of a complexion otherwise so dissimilar : and disposed
them to unite upon various occasions against the common
enemy, the partisan of the principle of utility, whom they
joined in branding with the odious name of Epicurean.
VIII. The principle of asceticism, however, with whatever
fWarmth it may have been embraced by its partizans as a rule of
private conduct, seems not to have been carried to any consider
able length, when applied to the business of government. In a
few instances it has been carried a little way by the philosophical
party ; witness the Spartan regimen. Though then, perhaps, it
maybe considered as having been a measure of security : and an
application, though a precipitate and perverse application, of
the principle of utility. Scarcely in any instances, to any con
siderable length, by the religious: for the various monastic
orders, and the societies of the Quakers, Dumplers, Moravians,
and other religionists, have been free societies, whose regimen
Bo man has been astricted to without the intervention of his
�14
Ut i litarian ism.
own consent. Whatever merit a man may have thought there
would be in making himself miserable, no such notion seems ever
to have occurred to any of them, that it may be a merit, much less
a duty, to make others miserable : although it should seem that
if a certain quantity of misery were a thing so desirable, it would
not matter much whether it were brought by each man upon
himself, or by one man upon another. It is true, that from the
same source from whence, among the religionists, the attach
ment to the principle of asceticism took its rise, flowed other
doctrines and practices, from which misery in abundance was
produced in one man by the instrumentality of another : wit
ness the holy wars, and the persecutions for religion. But the
passion for producing misery in these cases proceeded upon
some special ground : the exercise of it was confined to persons
of particular description: they were tormented, not as men,
but as heretics and infidels. To have inflicted the same
miseries on their fellow-believers and fellow-sectaries, would
have been as blameable in the eyes even of these religionists,
as in those of a partisan of the principle of utility. For a man
to give himself a certain number of stripes was indeed meri
torious : but to give the same number of stripes to another
man, not consenting, would have, been a sin. We read of
saints, who for the good of their souls, and the mortification
of their bodies, have voluntarily yielded themselves a prey to
vermin : but though many persons of this class have wielded
the reins of empire, we read of none who have set themselves
to work, and made laws on purpose, with a view of stocking
the body politic with the breed of highwaymen, housebreakers,
or incendiaries. If at any time they have suffered the nation
to be preyed upon by swarms of idle pensioners, or useless
placemen, it has rather been from negligence and imbecility,
than from any settled plan for oppressing and plundering of
the people. If at any time they have sapped the sources of
national wealth, by cramping commerce, and driving the
inhabitants into emigration, it has been with other views, and
in pursuit of other ends. If they have declaimed against the
pursuit of pleasure, and the use of wealth, they have commonly
stopped at declamation: they have not, like Lycurgus, made
express ordinances for the purpose of banishing the precious
metals. If they have established idleness by a law, it has
�Utilitarianism.
15
been not because idleness, the mother of vice and misery, is
itself a virtue, but because idleness (say they) is the road to
holiness. If under the notion of fasting, they have joined in
the plan of confining their subjects to a diet, thought by some
to be of the most nourishing and prolific nature, it has been
not for the sake of making them tributaries to the nations by
whom that diet was to be supplied, but for the sake of mani
festing their own power, and exercising the obedience of the
people. If they have established, or suffered to be established,
punishments for the breach of celibacy, they have done no
more than comply with the petitions of those deluded rigorists.
who, dupes to the ambitious and deep-laid policy of their
rulers, first laid themselves under that idle obligation by
a vow.
IX. The principle of asceticism seems originally to have been
the reverie of certain hasty speculators, who having perceived,
(Jr fancied, that certain' pleasures, when reaped in certain cir
cumstances, have, at the long run, been attended with pains more
than equivalent to them, took occasion to quarrel with every
thing that offered itself under the name of pleasure. Having
then got thus far, and having forgot the point which they set
out from, they pushed on, and went so much further as to think
it meritorious to fall in love with pain. Even this, we see, is
at bottom but the principle of utility misapplied.
X. The principle of utility is capable of being consistently
pursued; and it is but tautology to say, that the more con
sistently it is pursued, the better it must ever be for human
kind. The principle of asceticism never was, nor ever can
be, consistently pursued by any living creature. Let but one
tenth part of the inhabitants of this earth pursue it consistently,
and in a day’s time they will have turned it into a hell.
XI. Among principles adverse to that of utility, that which
*
at this day seems to have most influence in matters of govern
ment, is what may be called the principle of sympathy and
antipathy. By the principle of sympathy and antipathy, I
mean that principle which approves or disapproves of certain
actions, not on account of their tending to augment the happi
ness, nor yet on account of their tending to diminish the
See Appendix I.
�16
Utilitarianism.
happiness of the party whose interest is in question, but merely
because a man finds himself disposed to approve or disapprove
of them: holding up that approbation or disapprobation as a
sufficient reason for itself, and disclaiming the necessity of
looking out for any extrinsic ground. Thus far in the general
department of morals : and in the particular department of
politics, measuring out the quantum (as well as determining
the ground) of punishment,by the degree of the disapprobation.
XII. It is manifest, that this is rather a principle in name
than in reality : it is not a positive principle of itself, so much
as a term employed to signify the negation of all principle.
What one expects to find in a principle is something that points
out some external consideration, as a means of warranting and
guiding the internal sentiments of approbation and disappro
bation : this expectation is but ill fulfilled by a proposition,
which does neither more nor less than hold up each of those
sentiments as a ground and standard for itself.
XIII. In looking over the catalogue of human actions (says
a partisan of this principle) in order to determine which of
them are to be marked with the seal, of disapprobation, you
need but to take counsel of your own feelings : whatever you
find in yourself a propensity to condemn, is wrong for that
very reason. For the same reason it is also meet for punish
ment : in what proportion it is adverse to utility, or whether it
be adverse to utility at all, is a matter that makes no difference.
In that same proportion also is it meet for punishment: if you
hate much, punish much : if you hate little, punish little :
punish as you hate. If you hate not at all, punish not at all:
the fine feelings of the soul are not to be overborne and
tyrannised by the harsh and rugged dictates of political utility.
XIV. The various systems that have been formed concerning
the standard of right and wrong, may all be reduced to the
principle of sympathy and antipathy. One account may serve
for all of them. They consist all of them in so many con
trivances for avoiding the obligation of appealing to any external
standard, and for prevailing upon the reader to accept of the
author’s sentiment or opinion as a reason for itself. The
phrases different, but the principle the same.
*
See Appendix II.
�Utilitarianism.
17
XV. It is manifest, that the dictates of this principle will
frequently coincide with those of utility, though perhaps with
out intending any such thing. Probably more frequently than
not: and hence it is that the business of penal justice is carried
on upon that tolerable sort of footing upon which we see it
carried on in common at this day. For what more natural or
more general ground of hatred to a practice can there be, than
the mischievousness of such practice ? What all men are
exposed to suffer by, all men will be disposed to hate. It is
far yet, however, from being a constant ground : for when a
man suffers, it is not always that he knows what it is he suffers
by. A man may suffer grievously, for instance, by a new tax,
without being able to trace up the cause of his sufferings to the
injustice of some neighbor, who has eluded the payment of an
old one.
XVI. The principle of sympathy and antipathy is most apt
to err on the side of severity. It is for applying punishment
in many cases which deserve none : in many cases which
deserve some, it is for applying more than they deserve.
There is no incident imaginable, be it ever so trivial, and so
remote from mischief, from which this principle may not extract
a ground of punishment. Any difference in taste : any differ
ence in opinion : upon one subject as well as upon another.
No disagreement so trifling which perseverance and altercation
will not render serious. Each becomes in the other’s eyes an
enemy, and, if laws permit, a criminal. This is one of the
*
*_King James the First of England had conceived a violent antipathy
against Arians : two of whom he burnt. This gratification he procured
himself without much difficulty : the notions of the times were favorable
to it. He wrote a furious book against Vorstius, for being what was
called an Arminian : for Vorstius was at a distance. He also wrote a
furious book called A Counterblast to Tobacco, against the use of that drug
which Sir Walter Raleigh had then lately introduced. Had the notions
of the times co-operated with him, he would have burnt the Anabaptist
and the smoker of tobacco in the same fire. However he had the satis
faction of putting Raleigh to death afterwards, though for another crime
Disputes concerning the comparative excellence of French and Italian
music have occasioned very serious bickerings at Paris. One of the
parties would not have been sorry (says Mr. D’Alembert) to have
brought government into the quarrel. Pretences were sought after and
Urged. Long before that, a dispute of like nature, and of at least equal
warmth, had been kindled at London upon the comparative merits of two
©omposers at London ; where riots between the approvers and disapprovers of a new play are, at this day, not unfrequent. The ground of
quarrel between the Big-endians and the Little-endians in the fable, was
B
�18
Utilitarianism.
circumstances by which the human race is distinguished (not
much indeed to its advantage) from the brute creation.
XVII. It is not, however, by any means unexampled for this
principle to err on the side of lenity. A near and perceptible
mischief moves antipathy. A remote and imperceptible mis
chief, though not less real, has no effect. Instances in proof of
this will occur in numbers in the course of the work. It
would be breaking in upon the order of it to give them here.
XVIII. It may be wondered, perhaps, that in all this while
no mention has been made of the theological principle; meaning
that principle which professes to recur for the standard of right
and wrong to the will of God. But the case is, this is not in
fact a distinct principle. It is never anything more or less
than one or other of the three before-mentioned principles presenting itself under another shape. The will of God here
meant cannot be his revealed will, as contained in the sacred
writings : for that is a system which nobody ever thinks of
recurring to at this time of day, for the details of political
administration : and even before it can be applied to the details
of private conduct, it is universally allowed, by the most
eminent divines of all persuasions, to stand in need of pretty
ample interpretations ; else to what use are the works of those
divines ? And for the guidance of these interpretations, it is
also allowed, that some other standard must be assumed. The
will then which is meant on this occasion, is that which may
be called the presumptive will: that is to say, that which is
presumed to be his will on account of the conformity of its
dictates to those of some other principle. What then may be
this other principle ? it must be one or other of the three men
tioned above : for there cannot, as we have seen, be any more.
It is plain, therefore, that, setting revelation out of the questipn,
no light can ever be thrown upon the standard of right and
wrong, by anything that can be said upon the question, what
is God’s will. We may be perfectly sure, indeed, that what
not more frivolous than many an one which has laid empires desolate.
In Russia, it is said, there was a time when some thousands of persons
lost their lives in a quarrel, in which the government had taken part,
about the number of fingers to be used in making the sign of the cross.
This was in days of yore: the ministers of Catherine II. are better
instructed than to take any other part in such disputes, than of preventing
the parties concerned from doing one another a mischief.
�Utilitarianism.
19'
ever is right is conformable to the will of God: but so far is
that from answering the purpose of showing us what is right,that it is necessary to know first whether a thing is right, in
order to know from thence whether it be conformable to the
will of God.
*
XIX. There are two things which are very apt to be con
founded, but which it imports us carefully to distinguish :—the
motive or cause, which, by operating on the mind of an indi
vidual, is productive of any act: and the ground or reason
which warrants a legislator, or other bystander, in regarding
that act with an eye of approbation. When the act happens,,
in the particular instance in question, to be productive of
effects which we approve of, much more if we happen to
observe that the same motive may frequently be productive, inother instances, of the like effects, we are apt to transfer our'
approbation to the motive itself, and to assume, as the just
ground for the approbation we bestow on the act, the circum
stance of its originating from that motive. It is in this way
that the sentiment of antipathy has often been considered as a
just ground of action. Antipathy, for instance, in such or such
a case, is the cause of an action which is attended with good
effects: but this does not make it a right ground of action in
that case, any more than in any other. Still farther. Not only
the effects are good, but the agent sees beforehand that they
will be so. This may make the action indeed a perfectly righ
action : but it does not make antipathy a right ground of action
* The principle of theology refers everything to God’s pleasure. Bu
what is God’s pleasure ? God does not, he confessedly does not now
either speak or write to us. How then are we to know what is his
pleasure ? By observing what is our own pleasure, and pronouncing it
to be his. Accordingly, what is called the pleasure of God, is and must
necessarily be (revelation apart) neither more nor less than the good
pleasure of the person, whoever he be, who is pronouncing what he
believes, or pretends, to be God’s pleasure. How know you it to be God’s
pleasure that such or such an act should be abstained from? whence
come you even to suppose as much ? “ Because the engaging in it would,
I imagine, be prejudicial upon the whole to the happiness of mankind ” ■
says the partisan of the principle of utility : “ Because the commission of
it is attended with a gross and sensual, or at least with a trifling and
transient satisfaction ” ; says the partisan of the principle of asceticism :
“ Because I detest the thoughts of it ; and I cannot, neither ought I to
be called upon to tell why,” says he who proceeds upon the principle of
antipathy. In the words of one or other of these must that person neces
sarily answer (revelation apart) who professes to take for his standard
the will of God.
�20
TJti litarianism.
For the same sentiment of antipathy, if implicitly deferred to,
may he, and very frequently is, productive of the very worst
■effects. Antipathy, therefore, can never be a right ground of
action. No more, therefore, can resentment, which, as will be
seen more particularly hereafter, is but a modification of anti
pathy. The only right ground of action, that can possibly
subsist, is, after all, the consideration of utility, which, if it is
a right principle of action, and of approbation, in any one case,
is so in every other. Other principles in abundance, that is,
other motives, may be the reasons why such and such an act
has been done : that is, the reasons or causes of its being
done : but it is this alone that can be the reason why it might
or ought to have been done. Antipathy or resentment requires
always to be regulated, to prevent its doing mischief: to be
regulated by what ? always by the principle of utility. The
principle of utility neither requires nor admits of any other
regulator than itself.
�IJtilitarianism.
21
APPENDIX I. to CHAPTER II.
[Bentham’s long footnote to “Among principles adverse,” in Section XT.,
is here printed as an Appendix.]
The following Note was first printed in January 1789.
It ought rather to have been styled, more extensively, the
principle of caprice. Where it applies to the choice of actions
to be marked out for injunction or prohibition, for reward or
punishment (to stand, in a word, as subjects for obligations to
be imposed), it may indeed with propriety be termed, as in the
text, the principle of sympathy and antipathy. But this apellative does not so well apply to it, when occupied in the choice
of the events which are to serve as sources of title with respect
to rights: where the actions prohibited and allowed, the obli
gations and rights, being already fixed, the only question is,
under what circumstances a man is to be invested with the one
or subjected to the other ? from what incidents occasion is to
be taken to invest a man, or to refuse to invest him, with the
on®, or to subject him to the other? In this latter case it may
more appositely be characterised by the name of the phantastic
principle. Sympathy and antipathy are affections of the
sensible faculty. But the choice of titles with respect to rights,
especially with respect to proprietary rights, upon grounds un
connected with utility, has been in many instances the work,
not of the affections but of the imagination.
When, in justification of an article of English Common Law,
calling uncles to succeed in certain cases in preference to
fathers, Lord Coke produced a sort of ponderosity he had dis
covered in rights, disqualifying them from ascending in a
straight line, it was not that he loved uncles particularly, or
hated fathers, but because the analogy, such as it was, was
what his imagination presented him with, instead of a reason,
and because, to a judgment unobservant of the standard of
utility, or unacquainted with the art of consulting it, where
affection is out of the way, imagination is the only guide.
�22
Utilitarianism.
When I know not what ingenions grammarian invented the
proposition Delegatus non potest delegare, to serve as a rule of
law, it was not surely that he had any antipathy to delegates
of the second order, or that it was any pleasure to him to think
of the ruin which, for want of a manager at home, may befal
the affairs of a traveller, whom an unforeseen accident has
deprived of the object of his choice : it was, that the incon
gruity, of giving the same law to objects so contrasted as
active and passive are, was not to be surmounted, and that
-atus chimes, as well as it contrasts, with -are.
When that inexorable maxim (of which the dominion is no
more to be defined, than the date of its birth, or the name of
its father, is to be found), was imported from England for the
government of Bengal, and the whole fabric of judicature was
-crushed by the thunders of ex post facto justice, it was not
surely that the prospect of a blameless magistracy perishing
in prison afforded any enjoyment to the unoffended authors of
their misery; but that the music of the maxim, absorbing the
whole imagination, had drowned the cries of humanity along
with the dictates of common sense. Fiat Justitia, ruat coelum,
®ays another maxim, as full of extravagance as it is of har
mony : Go heaven to wreck—so justice be but done :—and
what is the ruin of kingdoms, in comparison of the wreck of
heaven ?
So again, when the Prussian chancellor, inspired with the
wisdom of I not what Roman sage, proclaimed in good Latin,
for the edification of German ears, Servitus servitutis nondatur
[Cod. Fred. tom. ii., par. 2., liv. 2., tit. x., § 6, p. 308] it was
not that he had conceived any aversion to the life-holder who,
during the continuance of his term, should wish to gratify a
neighbor with a right of way or water, or to the neighbor who
should wish to accept of the indulgence; but that, to a juris
prudential ear, -tus -tutis sound little less melodious than -atus
-are. Whether the melody of the maxim was the real reason
of the rule, is not left open to dispute : for it is ushered in by
the conjuction quia, reason’s appointed harbinger: quia ser
vitus servitutus non datur.
Neither would equal melody have been produced, nor indeed
could similar melody have been called for, in either of these
instances, by the opposite provision : it is only when they are
�Utilitarianism.
23
opposed to general rules, and not when by their conformity
they are absorbed in them, that more specific ones can obtain
a separate existence. Delegatus potest delegare, and Servitus
servitutis datur, provisions already included under the
general adoption of contracts, would have been as unnecessary
to the apprehension and the memory, as, in comparison of their
energetic negatives, they are insipid to the ear.
Were the inquiry diligently made, it would be found that
the goddess of harmony has exercised more influence, however
latent, over the dispensations of Themis, than her most dili
gent historiographers, or even her most passionate panegyrists,
seem to have been aware of. Every one knows, how, by the
ministry of Orpheus, it was she who first collected the sons of
wen beneath the shadow of the sceptre: yet, in the midst of
continual experience, men seem yet to learn, with what suc
cessful diligence she has labored to guide it in its course.
Every one knows that measured numbers were the language
of the infancy of law : none seem to have observed, with what
imperious sway they have governed her maturer age. In
English jurisprudence in particular, the connexion betwixt law
and music, however less perceived than in Spartan legislation,
is not perhaps less real nor less close. The music of the Office,
though not of the same kind, is not'less musical in its kind,
than the music of the Theatre ; that which hardens the heart,
than that which softens it—sostenutos as long, cadences as
sonorous; and those governed by rules, though not yet pro
mulgated, not less determinate, Search indictments, pleadings,
p roceedings in chancery, conveyances : whatever trespasses
you may find against truth or common sense, you will find
none against the laws of harmony. The English Liturgy,
justly as this quality has been extolled in that sacred office,
possesses not a greater measure of it, than is commonly to be
found in an English Act of Parliament. Dignity, simplicity,
brevity, precision, intelligibility, possibility of being retained
or so much as apprehended, every thing yields to Harmony.
Volumes might be filled, shelves loaded, with the sacrifices
that are made to this insatiate power. Expletives, her ministers
in Grecian poetry, are not less busy, though in different shape
and bulk, in English legislation—in the former they are mono
syllables, in the latter they are whole lines.
�24
Utilitarianism.
To return to the principle of sympathy and antipathy: a
term preferred at first, on account of its impartiality, to the
principle of caprice. The choice of an appellative, in the
above respects too narrow, was owing to my not having at that
time extended my views over 1he civil branch of the law, any
otherwise than as I had found it inseparably involved in the
penal. But when we come to the former branch we shall see
the phantastic principle making at least as great a figure there,
as the principle of sympathy and antipathy in the latter.
In the days of Lord Ooke the light of utility can scarcely be
said to have as yet shone upon the face of Common Law. If
a faint ray of it, under the name of the argumentum ab inconvenienti, is to be found in a list of about twenty topics exhi
bited by that great lawyer as the co-ordinate leaders of that
all-perfect system, the admission, so circumstanced, is as sure
a proof of neglect, as, to the statues of Brutus and Cassius,
exclusion was a cause of notice. It stands neither in the front
nor in the rear, nor in any post of honor; but huddled in
towards the middle, without the smallest mark of preference.
[Ooke, Littleton, 11. a.] Nor is this Latin inconvenience by
any means the same thing with the English one. It stands dis
tinguished from mischief: and because by the vulgar it is
taken for something less bad, it is given by the learned as
something worse. The law prefers a mischief to an inconveni
ence, says an admired maxim, and the more admired, because
as nothing is expressed by it, the more is supposed to be
understood.
Not that there is any avowed, much less a constant opposi
tion, between the prescriptions of utility and the operations o f
the common law—such constancy we have seen to be too much
even for ascetic fervor. [Supra, par. x.] From time to time instinct
would unavoidably betray them into the paths of reason
instinct which, however it may be cramped, can never be killed
by education. The cobwebs spun out of the materials brought
together by “ the competition of opposite analogies,” can never
have ceased being warped by the silent attraction of the
rational principle, though it should have been, as the needle
is by the magnet, without the privity of conscience.
�Uti litarianism.
25
APPENDIX II. to CHAPTER II.
[Bentham’s second long footnote to the end of Section XIV. is also
printed here as an appendix.]
It is curious enough to observe the variety of inventions
that men hit upon, and the variety of phrases they have brought
forward, in order to conceal from the world, and, if possible,
from themselves, this very general and therefore very par
donable self-sufficiency.
1. One man says, he has a thing made on purpose to tell him
what is right and what is wrong ; and that it is called a moral
sense: and then he goes to work at his ease, and says, such
a thing is right and such a thing is wrong—why ? “ because
my moral sense tells me it is.”
2. Another man comes and alters the phrase : leaving out
moral, and putting in common, in the room of it. He then tells
you, that his common sense teaches him what is right and
wrong, as surely as the other’s moral sense did: meaning by
common sense, a sense of some kind or other, which, he says,
is possessed by all mankind : the sense of those, whose sense
is not the same as the author’s, being struck out of the account
as not worth taking. This contrivance does better than the
other; for a moral sense, being a new thing, a man may feel
about him a good while without being able to find it out: but
common sense is as old as the creation; and there is no man
but would be ashamed to be thought not to have as much of it
as his neighbors. It has another great advantage : by appear
ing to share power, it lessens envy: for when a man gets up
upon this ground, in order to anathematise those who differ
from him, it is not by a sic volo sic jubeo, but by a velitis
'jubeatis.
3. Another man comes, and says, that as to a moral sense
indeed, he cannot find that he has any such thing; that however he has an understanding, which will do quite as well-
�26
Utilitarianism.
This understanding, he says, is the standard of right and
wrong : it tells him so and so. All good and wise men under
stand as he does : if other men’s understandings differ in any
point from his, so much the worse for them : it is a sure sign
they are either defective or corrupt.
4. Another man says, that there is an eternal and immutable
Rule of Right: that that rule of right dictates so and so : and
then he begins giving you his sentiments upon any thing that
comes uppermost: and these sentiments (you are to take for
granted) are so many branches of the eternal rule of right.
5. Another man, or perhaps the same man (it’s no matter)
says, that there are certain practices conformable, and others
repugnant, to the Fitness of Things; and then he tells you, at
his leisure, what practices are conformable and what repug
nant : just as he happens to like a practice or dislike it.
6. A great multitude of people are continually talking of the
Law of Nature ; and then they go on giving you their sentiments
about what is right and what is wrong; and these sentiments,
you are to understand, are so many chapters and sections of
the Law of Nature.
7. Instead of the phrase, Law of Nature, you have sometimes
Law of Reason, Right Reason, Natural Justice, Natural Equity,
Good Order. Any of them will do equally well. This latter
is ‘ most used in politics. The three last are much more
tolerable than the others, because they do not very explicitly
claim to be any thing more than phrases: they insist but
feebly upon the being looked upon as so many positive
standards of themselves, and seem content to be taken, upon
occasion, for phrases expressive of the conformity of the thing
in question to the proper standard, whatever that may be. On
most occasions, however, it will be better to say utility : utility
is clearer, as referring more explicitly to pain and pleasure.
8. We have one philosopher, who says, there is no harm in
any thing in the world but in telling a lie: and that if, for
example, you were to murder youi' own father, this would only
b e a particular way of saying, he was not your father. Of
course, when this philosopher sees any thing that he does not
like, he says, it is a particular way of telling a lie. It is
saying, that the act ought to be done, or may be done, when,
i n truth, it ought not to be done.
�Utilitarianism.
9. The fairest and openest of them all is that sort of man
who speaks out, and says, I am of the number of the Elect:
now God himself takes care to inform the Elect what is right:
and that with so good effect, and let them strive ever so, they
cannot help not only' knowing it but practising it. If there
fore a man wants to know what is right and what is wrong, he
has nothing to do but to come to me.
It is upon the principle of antipathy that such and such acts
are often reprobated on the score of their being unnatural: the
practice of exposing children, established among the Greeks
and Romans, was an unnatural practice. Unnatural, when it
means any thing, means unfrequent: and there it means some
thing ; although nothing to the present purpose. But here it
means no such thing: for the frequency of such acts is perhaps
the great complaint. It therefore means nothing; nothing I
mean, which there is in the act itself. All it can serve to
express is, the disposition of the person who is talking of it :
the disposition he is in to be angry at the thoughts of it. Does
it merit his anger? Very likely it may : but whether it does
or no is a question, which, to be answered rightly, can only be
answered upon the principle of utility.
Unnatural is as good a word as moral sense, or common
sense ; and would be as good a foundation for a system. Such
an act is unnatural; that is, repugnant to nature : for I do not
like to practise it; and, consequently, do not practise it. It is
therefore repugnant to what ought to be the nature of every
body else.
The mischief comfnon to all these ways of thinking and
arguing (which, in truth, as we have seen, are but one and the
same method, couched in different forms of wordsj is their
serving as a cloke, and pretence, and aliment, to despotism :
if not a despotism in practice, a despotism however in dis
position : which is but too apt, when pretence and power offer,
to show itself in practice. The consequence is, that with
intentions very commonly of the purest kind, a man becomes
a torment either to himself or his fellow-creatures. If he be
of the melancholy cast, he sits in silent grief, bewailing their
blindness and depravity : if of the irascible, he declaims with
fury and virulence against all who differ from him; blowing
the coals of fanaticism, and branding with the charge of
�28
Utilitarianism.
corruption and insincerity, every man who does not think, or
*
profess to think, as he does.
If such a man happens to possess the advantage of style, his
book may do a considerable deal of mischief before the nothing
ness of it is understood.
These principles, if such they can be called, it is more
frequent to see applied to morals than to politics : but their
influence extends itself to both. In politics, as well as morals,
a man will be at least equally glad of a pretence for deciding
any question in the manner that best pleases him, without the
trouble of inquiry. If a man is an infallible judge of what is
right and wrong in the actions of private individuals, why not
in the measures to be observed by public men in the direction
of those actions ? Accordingly (not to mention other chimeras)
I have more than once known the pretended law of nature set
up in legislative debates, in opposition to arguments derived
from the principle of utility.
“ But is it never, then, from any other considerations than
those of utility, that we derive our notions’of right and wrong?”
I do not know : I do not care. Whether a moral sentiment
can be originally conceived from any other source than a view
of utility, is one question: whether upon examination and
reflection it can, in point of fact, be actually persisted in and
justified on any other ground, by a person reflecting within
himself, is another : whether in point of right it can properly
be justified on any other ground, by a person addressing him
self to the community is a third. The two first are questions
of speculation: it matters not, comparatively speaking, how
they are decided. The last is a question of practice : the
decision of it is of as much importance as that of any can be.
“ I feel in myself,” (say you) “ a disposition to approve of such
or such an action in a moral view : but this is not owing to any
notions I have of its being a useful one to the community. I do
not pretend to know whether it beauseful one or not : it may be,
for aught I know, a mischievous one.” “ But is it then,” (say I)
“ a mischievous one ? examine; and if you can make yourself
sensible that it is so, then, if duty means anything, that is,
moral duty, it is your duty at least to abstain from it: and
more than that, if it is what lies in your power, and can be
done without too great a sacrifice, to endeavor to prevent it.
�Utilitarianism.
29
It is not your cherishing the notion of it in your bosom, and
giving it the name of virtue, that will excuse you.”
“ I feel in myself,” (say you again) “ a disposition to detest
such or such an action in a moral view; but this is not owing
to any notions I have of its being a mischievous one to the
community. I do not pretend to know whether it be a mis
chievous one or not: it may be not a mischievous one : it may
be, for aught I know, an useful one.”—“May it indeed,” (say I)
“an useful one ? but let me tell you then,that unless duty, and
right and wrong, be just what you please to make them, if it
really be not a mischievous one, and anybody has a mind to
do it, it is no duty of yours, but on the contrary, it would be
very wrong in you, to take upon you to prevent him : detest it
within yourself as much as you please; that may be a very
.good reason (unless it be also a useful one) for your not doing
it yourself: but if you go about, by word or deed, to do any
thing to hinder him, or make him suffer for it, it is you and
not he, that have done wrong; it is not youi- setting yourself
to blame his conduct, or branding it with the name of vice,
that will make him culpable, or you blameless. Therefore, if
you can make yourself content that he shall be of one mind,
and you of another, about that matter, and so continue, it is
well: but if nothing will serve you, but that you and he
must needs be of the same mind, I’ll tell you what you have
to do: it is for you to get the better of you antipathy, not
for him to truckle to it.”
�I
�
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Utilitarianism
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Bentham, Jeremy [1748-1832]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 29 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Reprinted from Bentham's 'Introduction to the principles of morals and legislation' (1789). Publisher's advertisements at the end. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Progressive Publishing Company
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1890
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Utilitarianism
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Utilitarianism
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NATIONAL SECULAR SUCuii x
CRIMES
OF
CHRISTIANITY.
G. W. FOOTE
AND
J.
M. WHEELER.
LONDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY
28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
1885.
*
<
*
�LONDON:
PRINTED BY RAMSEY AND FOOTE, AT
14 CLERKENWELL GREEN, E.O.
�PREFA 0 E.
An Irish orator was once protesting his immaculate
honesty before a suspicious audience of his country
men. “Gintlemin,”he exclaimed, displaying his dexter
palm, “ thur’s a hond that niver tuk a broibe.” Where
upon a smart auditor cried, “ How about the one
behoind yer back ?”
Our purpose is to show the hand behind the back.
The task is by no means a pleasant one, but we sacrifice
our feelings on the altar of liberty and progress.
Christianity is plausible and fair-spoken to-day, al
though it occasionally emits a fierce flash of its devilish
old spirit. Its advocates are no longer able to crush
opposition ; they are obliged to answer its arguments,
or at least to make a show of defending their own
doctrines. They scruple at damning heretics, and
blandly expect a reciprocation of the courtesy. Feeling
that the tendency of modern thought is against them,
and afraid to resist it, they bend before it rather than
break. Their only object is to weather the storm at
any cost, even by sacrificing large quantities of their
freightage.
We do not believe that Christianity will weather the
storm ; in our opinion it is unrepealably doomed.
Nevertheless, as earnest Freethinkers, we feel incum
bent on us the duty of assisting in its destruction. We
are anxious that, as religions die of being found out,
Christianity shall be seen in its true light. We desire
that it shall not be judged by its present promises, but
by it past performance. We wish to show the people
�Prefaee.
iv.
what it was in the evil days of its supremacy, when
opportunity matched inclination, and it acted according
to the laws of its nature, unchecked by science, freethought and humanity.
Adversity tries a man, says the proverb. True, but
not like prosperity. No man is really known until he
possesses power, and the same may be said of religions.
They should be tested, not by what they pretend in
their weakness, but by what they do in their strength.
American statesmen are expected to show a good
“record
the citizens judge them by their past. We
want the same test applied to Christianity, and we
publish the following treatise as a sample of its
“ record.”
Eloquence is less our aim than truth. What we
wish to be heard is, not our own voice, but the voice of
history. We therefore let the historian speak whenever
possible, and we always appeal to the best authorities,
so that our little work may be a kind of text-book,
trustworthy from title to imprint, and a guide to the
student as well as instructive to the common reader.
Eloquence is good in its way, but there is little need
of it here, for Christianity is damned by facts ; facts
that are hard as adamant and unshakeable as an Alp.
May, 1885.
G. W. Foote.
J. M. Wheeler.
�Price Id.
PART I.
CHRIST
to
CONSTANTINE.
When Jesus Christ had disappeared from this world,
in what manner it is beside our purpose to discuss, the
Jewish sect he had founded continued to assemble at
Jerusalem. They were not then called Christians, but
we will anticipate history by giving them that desig
nation. The infant Church was under the leader
ship of Simon Peter, and it observed the communistic
maxims which Jesus had enjoined. Every member
sold his property and paid the proceeds into the
common exchequer.
One married couple, however, named Ananias and
Sapphira, retained a portion of the price of their estate
for their private use. This having come to the know
ledge of Peter, he taxed them in succession with their
offence, and each fell down dead in his presence.
Their corpses were immediately buried by the godly
young men who were waiting in the chamber of exe
cution. No investigation into the affair appears to have
been made by the authorities, but if such a thing had
occurred in an age of coroner’s inquests, it is possible
that Peter would have met another fate than leaving
the world with his head downwards.
Paul’s treatment of dissentients was very similar.
He smote Elymas with blindness as “a child of the
devil,” and charitably “ delivered ” Hymenseus and
Alexander “ unto Satan,” perhaps with the opinion that
only the Grand Inquisitor of the Universe could ade
quately punish them for blasphemy and backsliding.
The other apostles were imbued with the same
amiable spirit. Even in the lifetime of their master
they continually disputed who should be greatest, and
were only pacified by his informing them that they
should all occupy twelve equal thrones of judgment
over Israel.
�6
Crimes of Christianity.
After his death their differences grew more acrimo
nious. John, in his Revelation, scowls at Paul and his
Gentile following, who “ say they are Jews and are not,
but are of the synagogue of Satan.” He denounces the
doctrines of Nicolas, one of the seven first deacons of the
Church, as hateful; and he expresses his detestation
of the Laodiceans by saying that the Almighty would
spue them out of his mouth. Paul returns the com
pliment by “ withstanding ” Peter, and sneering at
James and John as “seeming to be pillars,”the former
of whom retorts that Paul is a “ vain man.” Paul
vehemently tells the Galatians : “ If any man preach
any othei’ gospel unto you than that ye have received,
let him be accursed.” Even “the beloved disciple,” in
his second Epistle, manifests the same persecuting
spirit :
“ If there come any unto you and bring not this doctrine, re
ceive him not into your house, neither bid him God speed. For
he that biddeth him God speed is partaker of his evil deeds.”
In the very first century Christianity was split into
many petty sects, each denouncing the other as teach
ing false doctrine. The early Nazarenes, who kept
to the Jewish law, were called Ebionites, or contemp
tible people. The Ebionites denounced the Paulinists,
and declared that Paul was an impostor who became
a Christian because he w7as not allowed to marry a
Jewish woman. In an epistle of Peter to James, pre
fixed to the Clementine Recognitions, and as genuine
as any other portion of the writings ascribed to Peter,
Paul is alluded to as “ the enemy,” and the author of
lawless and foolish teachings. Of the Recognitions
itself, a work ascribed to Clement, and undoubtedly
belonging to the first era of Christian history, the
author of “ Supernatural Religion ” says :
“ There cannot be a doubt that the apostle Paul is attacked in
it as the great enemy of the true faith, under the hated name of
Simon, the magician, whom Peter followed everywhere for the
purpose of unmasking and confuting him. He is robbed of the
title of 1 Apostle of the Gentiles,’ which, together with the honor
of founding the Churches of Antioch, of Laodicea, and of Rome,
is ascribed to Peter. All that opposition to Paul which is
implied in the Epistle to the Galatians and elsewhere (1 Cor. i., 11,
12 ■ 2 Cor. xi., 18—20; Philip, i., 15, 16) is here realised and
�Crimes of Christianity.
7
exaggerated, and the personal difference with Peter to which
Paul refers is widened into the most bitter animosity.”*
Irenaeus, in the second century, in his work against
Heretics, stigmatises them with the most abusive
epithets, and accuses them of the most abominable
crimes. He calls them “ thieves and robbers,” “ slip
pery serpents,” “ miserable little foxes,” and so forth,
and declares that they practise lewdness in their
assemblies.
Tertullian, in the third century, displays a full
measure of bigotry, with an added sense of exultation
over the sufferings in reserve for his pagan opponents.
“ How shall I admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when
I behold so many proud monarchs and fancied gods groaning in
the lowest abyss of darkness ; so many magistrates who perse
cuted the name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they
ever kindled against the Christians ; so many sage philosophers
blushing in red-hot flames with their deluded scholars ; so many
celebrated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but
of Christ; so many tragedians, more tuneful in the expression
of their own sufferings!” f
The pious Father continues at some length in the
same strain.
Jerome, in the next century, exhibits a still more
execrable spirit than Tertullian, exhorting the Chris
tians to direct their bigotry against their dearest
relations :
“If thy father lies down across thy threshold, if thy mother
uncovers to thine eyes the bosom which suckled thee, trample on
thy father’s lifeless body, trample on thy mother’s bosom, and,
with eyes unmoistened and dry, fly to the Lord, who calleth
thee.”
This detestable advice, unfortunately, did not flow
from Jerome’s natural moroseness ; it was the logical
result of his Savior’s command to the disciples to leave
all and follow him.J
*Vol. II., p. 34.
f Gibbon, chap. xv. See Tertullian’s “ De Spectaculis,” chap. xxx.
j “ If any man come unto me and hate not his father, and mother,
and wife', and children, and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life
also, he cannot be my disciple ” (Luke xiv., 26).
�8
- Crimes of Christianity.
The scope of our work does not permit a larger array
of illustrations. We have, however, given enough to
show that the hateful spirit of bigotry’and persecution
animated the Christian Church from the beginning.
It gathered strength with the progress of time, and it
was sufficiently developed, when Constantine and
Theodosius sought the destruction of Paganism, to
assist and applaud them in executing their design.
Our contention in this respect is powerfully sup
ported by the following passage from Lecky :
“ All that fierce hatred which, during the Arian and Donatist
controversies, convulsed the Empire, and which in later times
has deluged the world with blood, may be traced in the Church
long before the conversion of Constantine. Already, in the
second century, it was the rule that the orthodox Christian should
hold no conversation, should interchange none of the ordinary
courtesies of life, with the excommunicated or the heretic.”*
Long before Constantine, the Christian Church had
employed all its resources against heretics. It possessed
no power of punishing them by fines, torture or death,
but it threatened them with hell in the next world and
excommunicated them in this. “ Heretics,” says Dr.
Gieseler,t “ were universally hated as men wholly cor
rupt and lost,” and the Church pronounced against
them her sharpest penalties. These were indeed merely
spiritual, but they were transformed into temporal
punishments as soon as Christianity was able to effect
the change. We shall have to treat this subject more
fully when we deal with the rise of the Papacy.
Before exhibiting to our readers the first capital
crime of Christianity, in establishing itself by the un
scrupulous use of force on the ruins of Paganism, we
think it necessary to refer to the Agapae or Love-feasts,
which appear to have disgraced the early Church. Even
in the time of Paul the celebration of the Eucharist
was the occasion of some scandal.$ We learn from
Justin Martyr, Minutius Felix and others, that the
Pagans accused the Christians of indulging in orgies of
* “History of European Morals,” vol. i., p. 451.
f Gieseler's “Ecclesiastical History,” sec. 74.
f 1 Cor. v., 1 ; xi., 21; Jude 12.
�Crimes of Christianity.
9
gross licentiousness in their secret festivals, which
were held at night. Justin Martyr, while repu
diating the charge on behalf of the orthodox, was care
ful to add of the heretics : “ Whether or not these people
commit those shameful and fabulous acts—the putting
out the lights, indulging in promiscuous intercourse,
and eating human flesh—I know not.”* Theodoret, in
his work on “ Heretic Fables,” charges them all with
lewdness,“such that even stage-players were too modest
to describe it, or to hear it described,” and he asserts
that they had exceeded and eclipsed the greatest
proficients in wickedness. Eusebius says of the Carpocratians, that they gave occasion of reproach to the
gospel, and that it was chiefly owing to them that
Christians were charged with promiscuous lewdness
and other crimes in their assemblies. Origen also puts
the crimes with which Christians were charged to the
account of the Ophites and Cainites. Yet the evidence
of Justin Martyr proves that such charges were brought
against the Christians before these sects existed. The
accusations were made by those who had been Chris
tians themselves, in places as far apart as Lyons, Rome,
and Asia Minor. Trials took place before competent
tribunals, and the Christians were punished. When we
know that the Agapse were prohibited by several Coun
cils on account of the scandals to which they gave rise,
it is difficult to exonerate the early Christians from
these grave charges. Much of the persecution to which
they are alleged to have been subject perhaps arose
from these secret midnight meetings.
The sensuality of the early Christians sometimes
mocked their ascetic doctrines. Gibbon remarks :
“ Since desire was imputed as a crime and marriage was tole
rated as a defect, it was consistent with the same principles to
consider a state of celibacy as the nearest approach to the divine
perfection. It was with the utmost difficulty that ancient Rome
could support the institution of six vestals ; but the primitive
Church was filled with a greater number of persons of either sex
who had devoted themselves to the profession of perpetual
chastity. A few of these, among whom we may reckon the
* Justin Martyr, Apology i., 26.
�10
Crimes of Christianity.
learned Origen, judged it most prudent to disarm the tempter.
*
Some were insensible and some were invincible against the
assaults of the flesh. Disdaining an ignominious flight, the
virgins of the warm climate of Africa encountered the enemy in
the closest engagement; they permitted priests and deacons to
share their bed, and gloried amidst the flames of their unsullied
purity. But insulted nature sometimes vindicated her rights,
and this new species of martyrdom served only to introduce a
new scandal into the Church.”-}-
Following Gibbon, Mr. Lecky pens this delectable
passage, which may be commended to the attention of
the “ unco guid ” :
“ In the time of St. Cyprian, before the outbreak of the
Decian persecution, it had been common to find clergy pro
fessing celibacy, but keeping, under various pretexts, their
mistresses in their houses ; and after Constantine, the complaints
on this subject became loud and general. Evagrius describes
with much admiration how certain monks of Palestine, by ‘ a
life wholly excellent and divine, had so overcome their passions
that they were accustomed to bathe with women.’ Virgins and
monks often lived together in the same house, and, with a curious
audacity of hypocrisy, which is very frequently noticed, they
professed to have so overcome the passions of their nature that
they shared in chastity the same bed.” J
Dr. Todd, in his learned life of St. Patrick, quotes
from the “ Lives of the Irish Saints ” the legend of a
curious contest of chastity between St. Scathinus and
St. Brendan, in which the former eventually triumphed.
Jortin tells us of one Robert D’Arbrisselles, a wild
enthusiast and field preacher of the twelfth century,
who “drew after him a crowd of female saints with
whom he used to lie in bed, but never touch them, by
way of self-denial and mortification.Ӥ The learned
and sagacious Jortin remarks that “austerities of this
kind seem to suit the fanatical taste.” Modern history
furnishes us with many examples. During the Reforma
tion, for instance, the Anabaptists emulated the primi
tive costume of Adam and Eve.*
§
* Origen, although, fond of allegorising Scripture, followed literally
the hint in Matthew six., 12, and castrated himself to become a eunuch
for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.
f “ Decline and Fall,” chap. xv.
J Vol II., p. 159.
§ Jortin, “ Remarks on Ecclesiastical History,” vol. iii., p 218.
�Crimes of Christianity.
11
While Christianity was slowly propagating itself
among the Gentiles, after the fall of Jerusalem, the
Pagan world did not exhibit any striking need of its
' "
’a succession of wise rulers
ed in peace and splendor.
period in the history of the
of the human race was most
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Chap. iii.
I
�10
Crimes of Christianity.
learned Origen, judged it most prudent to disarm the tempter.
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tion, for instance, the Anabaptists emulated the primi
tive costume of Adam and Eve.
* Origen, although fond of allegorising Scripture, followed literally
the hint in Matthew xix., 12, and castrated himself to become a eunuch
for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.
f “ Decline and Fall,” chap. xv.
I Vol II., p. 159.
§ Jortin, “ Remarks on Ecclesiastical History,” vol. iii., p 218.
�Crimes of Christianity.
11
While Christianity was slowly propagating itself
among the Gentiles, after the fall of Jerusalem, the
Pagan world did not exhibit any striking need of its
salutary influence. Under a succession of wise rulers
the Roman Empire flourished in peace and splendor.
Gibbon justly remarks that:
“ If a man. were called to fix the period in the history of the
world during which the condition of the human race was most
happy and prosperous, he would without hesitation name that
which elapsed from the death of Domitian to the accession of
Commodus.”*
Now Domitian died A.D. 96 and Commodus succeeded
to the purple in A.D. 180. It was during this very
period.that Christianity produced its Scriptures, and
made its first conquests. How utterly false and absurd,
then, is the orthodox pleathat Christianity, with all its
faults, came to redeem mankind from intellectual dark
ness and moral depravity!
Lecky observes that “from the death of Marcus
Aurelius [A.D 180], about which time Christianity
assumed an important influence in the Roman world,
the decadence of the Empire was rapid and almost
uninterrupted.” We should like to know how this
fact can be accounted for except on the theory that
Christianity helped to destroy the existing civilisation.
Metaphorically, if not literally, it made men eunuchs
for the kingdom of heaven ; and the energy. which
should have been devoted to repelling barbarism and
defending the Empire was wasted on frivolous theo
logical disputes or expended in the pursuit of priestly
ambition. Even at the time of Julian, vigorous and
systematic efforts might have still saved the Empire
from dissolution ; but the great “ Apostate’s ” glorious
career came to an untimely end, and the Persian spear
which drew his life-blood, ensured the triumph of the
pale Galilean and the ruin of Rome.
We now approach the most critical period of the
history of Christianity, when through the patronage
of Constantine it obtained the means of forcing itself
upon mankind. Christianity took three centuries to
convert a twentieth of the inhabitants of the Roman
Chap. iii.
�12
Crimes of Christianity.
Empire by the arts of persuasion ; but it convertel
the other nineteen-twentieths in les3 than a century
by the unscrupul >us use of bribery, imprisonment,
torture and massacre.
Hobbes summarises this change quaintly but con
cisely in a few pregnant lines :
“ When Constantine the Great, made so by the assistance and
valor of the Christian soldiers, had attained to be the only Roman
Emperor, he also himself became a Christian, and caused the
temples of the heathen gods to be demolished, and authorised
Christian religion only to be public.”*
Cardinal Newman expresses the Catholic view of this
momentous change with equal clearness and brevity.
“Constantine’s submission of his power to the Church,”
he says, “ has been a pattern for all Christian monarchs
since, and the commencement of her state establish
ment to this day.”t
Let the reader now follow us in investigating the
character of Constantine, his conversion to Christianity,
and the forcible imposition of his adopted creed upon
his Pagan subjects.
The real founder of Christianity has been the sub
ject of eulogy and reprobation, the former bestowed by
the Christians whom he protected and favored, and
the latter by the Pagans whom he deserted and op
pressed. Our object will be to relate the truth, without
extenuating his crimes or setting down aught in
malice.
Before appealing to Gibbon, Mosheim, Jortin,
Schlegel and other authorities, we may perhaps ven
ture to give a rapid summary of Constantine’s worst
characteristics by the master-hand of Voltaire :
“ He had a father-in-law, whom he impelled to hang himself;
he had a brother-in-law, whom he ordered to be strangled; he
had a nephew twelve or thirteen years old, whose throat he
ordered to be cut; he had an eldest son, whom he beheaded ; he
had a wife, whom he ordered to be suffocated in a bath. An old
Gallic author said that ‘ he loved to make a clear house.’
* Works, vol. iv., p. 391.
f J. H. Newman, “ Two Essays on Miracles,” p. 273.
+ Voltaire, “Philosophical Dictionary,” article Constantine.
�Crimes of Christianity.
13
These atrocious crimes, which cannot be disputed,
were perpetrated after Constantine became a Christian,
nr at least after he extended his patronage to the
Church. Before he embraced or patronised Christi
anity, his character was less sullied, and he appeared
incapable of such enormities. The following is Gib
bon’s description of Constantine at this period :
“ The person, as well as the mind, of Constantine, had been
enriched by nature with her choicest endowments. His stature
was lofty, his countenance majestic, his deportment graceful;
his strength and activity were displayed in every manly exercise,
and, from his earliest youth to a very advanced season of life,
he preserved the vigor of his constitution by a strict adherence
to the domestic virtues of chastity and temperance. He de
lighted in the social intercourse of familiar conversation ; and
though he might sometimes indulge his disposition to raillery
with less reserve than was required by the severe dignity of his
station, the courtesy and liberality of his manners gained the
hearts of all who approached him. ... In the despatch of busi
ness his diligence was indefatigable. ... In the field he infused
his own intrepid spirit into the troops, whom he conducted with
the talents of a consummate general.”*
Let us now behold Gibbon’s picture of the heroin
his decline, after he had presided at Church councils
and worshipped the divinity of Christ :
“ In the life of Augustus we behold the tyrant of the republic
coverted almost by imperceptible degrees into the father of his
country and of human kind. In that of Constantine we may
contemplate a hero, who had so long inspired his subjects with
love and his enemies with terror, degenerating into a cruel and
dissolute monarch, corrupted by his fortune, or raised by con
quest above the necessity of dissimulation. The general peace
which he maintained during the last fourteen years of his reign
was a period of apparent splendor rather than of real prosperity ;
and the old age of Constantine was disgraced by the opposite
yet reconcileable vices of rapaciousness and prodigality. The
accumulated treasures found in the palaces of Alaxentius and
Licinius were lavishly consumed; the various innovations intro
duced by the. conqueror were attended with an increasing
^fcpense; the cost of his buildings, his court and his festivals
required an immediate and plentiful supply; and the oppression
of the people was the only fund which could support the
magnificence of the sovereign. His unworthy favorites, enriched
by the boundless liberality of their master, usurped with impunity
Chap, xviii.
�14
Crimes of Christianity.
the privilege of rapine and corruption. A secret but universal
decay was felt in every part of the public administration, and
the emperor himself, though he still retained the obedience,
gradually lost the esteem, of his subjects. The dress and manners
which, towards the decline of his life, he chose to affect, served
only to degrade him in the eyes of mankind. The Asiatic pomp
which had been adopted by the pride of Diocletian assumed an
air of softness and effeminacy in the person of Constantine. He
is represented with false hair of various colors, laboriously
arranged by the skilful artists of the times ; a diadem of a new
and more expensive fashion; a profusion of gems and pearls, of
collars and bracelets; and a variegated flowing robe of silk
most curiously embroidered with flowers of gold. In such
apparel, scarcely to be excused by the youth and folly of
Elagabalus, we are at a loss to discover the wisdom of an aged
monarch and the simplicity of a Roman veteran. A mind thus
relaxed by prosperity and indulgence was incapable of rising to
that magnanimity which disdains suspicion and dares to forgive.
The deaths of Maximian and Licinius may perhaps be justified
by the maxims of policy as they are taught in the schools of
tyrants ; but an impartial narrative of the executions, or rather
murders, which sullied the declining age of Constantine, will
suggest to our most candid thoughts the idea of a prince who
could sacmfice, without reluctance, the laws of justice and the
feelings of nature to the dictates either of his passions or of his
interest.” *
There can be no doubt that the character of Constantine
deteriorated rather than improved under the influence
of Christianity. Our greatest master of grave and
temperate irony says that
“ He pursued the great object of his ambition through the
dark and bloody paths of war and policy; and, after the victory,
he abandoned himself, without moderation, to the abuse of his
fortune. Instead of asserting his vast superiority above the
imperfect heroism and profane philosophy of Trajan and the
Antonines, the mature age of Constantine forfeited the reputa
tion which he had acquired in his youth. As he gradually ad
vanced in the knowledge of truth, he proportionally declined
in the practice of virtue ; and the same year of his reign in which
he convened the Council of Nice was polluted by the execution,
or rather murder, of his eldest son.’ f
This is Gibbon’s way of saying that as Constantine
became a better Christian he became a worse criminal.
The reader is probably anxious to be informed of
Chap, xviii.
f Gibbon, chap. xx.
�Crimes of Christianity.
15
the details of these crimes. The father-in-law that
Constantine strangled was the emperor Maximian,
whom, in February, A.D. 310, he defeated and captured
at Marseilles. The brother-in-law whom he punished
with the same fate was his rival Licinius, who fell into
his hands after the siege of Byzantium, in A.D. 324,
and who was secretly executed after being publicly
pardoned. The deaths of these relatives may be ex
plained by the rules of statecraft, but no such excuse
can be offered with respect to the other victims of
Constantine’s cruelty. In July, A.D. 325, he publicly
disgraced and privately murdered his eldest son
Crispus, for no other crime than his virtues and his
reputation. The Csesar Licinius, a nephew of Con
stantine, was involved in the ruin of Crispus and
shared his fate, notwithstanding his youth and amiable
manners, and the tears and entreaties of his mother.
The first Christian emperor soon afterwards com
pleted the list of his domestic murders by suffo
cating his wife Fausta in “ the steam of a bath, which,
for that purpose, had been heated to an extraordinary
degree.” This unfortunate lady was accused of
adultery, and “ her condemnation and punishment,”
says Gibbon, “were the instant consequences of the
charge.” After the commission of these atrocious
crimes, it is no wonder that the people were discon
tented, and that satirical verses were affixed to Con
stantine’s palace-gate comparing him with the bloody
and ferocious Nero.
If we have mainly relied on Gibbon for our portrait
of Constantine, it is only because that greatest of
historians was an artist as well as a scholar. Instead of
presenting a mass of confused details, he gives us a.
finished picture ; and his accuracy, no less than his
skill, is the wonder and admiration of succeedingwriters. Although he was himself a disbeliever in
Christianity, his treatment of Constantine is “ remark
ably just, and he is more generous to the first Christian
emperor than Niebuhr or Neander.”* A hasty glanceat the cruel and sanguinary laws which he introduced
J C. Morison, “ Gibbon” (English Men of Letters) p. 127.
�16
Crimes of Christianity.
into the Roman code will prove that, however zealous
for religion, the first Christian emperor showed a scan
dalous contempt for humanity.
Constantine made a law against the gladiatorial
shows, which however continued until Honorius sup
pressed them in A.D. 403. We may well suspect his
sincerity in enacting this law when we remember that
during his administration in Gaul, after a signal victory
over the Franks, he exposed several of their princes to
the wild beasts in the amphitheatre of Treves. He
also abolished tbe cruel punishment of breaking the
legs of criminals and branding their faces ; and he
prohibited crucifixions, probably out of deference to
the sentiment of his Christian subjects. But he
ordered delators’ tongues to be cut out, and molten
lead to be poured down the throats of those who
connived at the abduction of virgins, the principal
offenders being cast to the beasts or burnt alive. “ He
appointed this punishment,” says Jortin, “ for various
offences. To burn men alive became thenceforward a
very common punishment, to the disgrace of Christi
anity. At last it was thought too cruel for traitors,
murderers, poisoners, parricides, etc., and only fit for
*
heretics'
Never before had this devilish punishment been in
flicted judicially. Tradition or legend affirmed that
Phalaris roasted men in a brazen bull, but this was the
act of a ferocious tyrant, who tortured men for his sport.
It was reserved for the first Christian emperor to delibe
rately insert this cruelty in the Roman code. 1 he Church
in subsequent ages took ample advantage of the oppor
tunity which' Constantine created, and remorselessly
burnt heretics at the stake for the glory and honor of
God.
* Vol. II., p. 137.
Progressive Publishing C o l.pany, 28 Stonecutter Street, London.
�NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
part
n] GRIMES OF CHRISTIANITY. [Peke 1d
CONSTANTINE TO JOVIAN.
CONSTANTINE’S conversion to Christianity has been
fixed at various dates. Cardinal Newman rashly asserts
that he was converted by his vision of the luminous
cross on his march to Rome to attack Maxentius in
A.D. 312, and his subsequent victory over the emperor
at the Milvian Bridge. But this famous “vision” is
merely a myth. It is derived from a doubtful work of
Eusebius. That inventive father, in his de Vita Con
stantan, alleges that the emperor, in a private conver
sation, related to him the following story of this won
derful apparition, which he confirmed with an oath :—
“ About the middle hours of the day, as the sun began to verge
towards its setting, he-.^v in the heavens, with his own eyes, the
sun surmounted with the trophy of the cross, which was composed
of light, and had a legend annexed, saying, By this conquer.
And amazement seized him and the whole army at the sight, and
the beholders wondered as they accompanied him in the march.
And he said he was at a loss what to make of this spectre, and as
he pondered and reflected upon it long, night came upon him by
surprise. After this, as he slept, the Christ of God appeared to
him, together wi h the sign before seen in the heavens, and bade
him make a representation of the sign that appeared in the
heavens, and to use that as a protection against the onsets of his
enemies. And as soon as it was day, he arose, related the wonder
to his friends ; and then assembling the workers in gold and
precious stones, he seated himself in the midst of them, and des
cribing the appearance of the sign, he bade them imitate it in
gold and precious stones. This we were once so fortunate as to
set our eyes upon.”*
'
?
Eusebius then gives a full description of this sacred
standard, called the Labarum. The shaft was a .long
spear, surmounted by a crown of gold, bearing. “ the
mysterious monogram, at once expressive of the figure
* Murdoch, footnote
Mosheim, Vol. I., p. 289-290.
B
�18
Crimes of Christianity.
of the cross and the initial letters of the name of Christ
and the silken veil, depending from a transverse beam,
“was curiously inwrought with the images of the
reigning monarch and his children.”
According to Voltaire, some authors pretend that
Constantine saw this vision at Besam^on, others at
Cologne, some at Treves, and others at Troyes. Car
dinal Newman is silent on the matter, but he allows
that there were disputes among early Christian writers
whether the apparition was that of the monogram
without the cross, or the cross without the monogram.
But more serious difficulties remain. Constantine’s
“ vision ” is not mentioned by a single Father of the
fourth and fifth centuries, none of whom appears to
have been acquainted with the work in which Eusebius
relates it. Eusebius himself says nothing about it in
his Ecclesiastical History, written twelve years after
the event. Why did Eusebius first hear of it in a
private conversation with Constantine twenty-five
years after it occurred, when it was seen by the whole
army as well as by the emperor. And what necessity
was there for Constantine to “ confirm with an oath ”
a fact of such publicity ?
Gibbon justly remarks that “ the nicest accuracy is
required in tracing the slow and almost imperceptible
gradations by which the monarch declared himself the
protector, and at length the proselyte of the church.”
It is certain that Constantine continued in the practice
of Paganism until his fortieth year. He celebrated his
victory over Maxentius at Rome according to the
ancient rites; and later still, as Gibbon ironically
observes, “ He artfully balanced the hopes and fears
of his subjects, by publishing in the same year two
edicts ; the first of which enjoined the solemn obser
vance of Sunday, and the second directed the regular
*
consultation of the Auruspices.”
Constantine and Licinius, in their edict of Milan
(A.D. 313), granted their subjects “the liberty of follow
* It is remarkable that Constantine calls the Lord’s Day dies solis.
He evidently wished to patronise Christianity as a powerful religion,
without offending the ears of his Pagan subjects, who, although less
admirably organised, were still more numerous.
�Crimes of Christianity.
19
ing whatever religion they please.” They expressly
included the Christians, but this was probably owing to
their having been so recently persecuted by Diocletian.
Relying on Eusebius’s questionable Life of Con
stantine, Gibbon says that after the defeat of Licinius
(A.D. 324) the conqueror “immediately, by circular
letters, exhorted all his subjects to imitate, without
delay, the example of their sovereign, and to embrace
the divine truth of Christianity.”
Constantine’s presiding at the Council of Nice (A.D.
325) does not prove that he was then a Christian.
Zosimus relates that he asked the Pagan priests to
absolve him from the guilt of murdering his son, his
nephew and his wife, and that on their refusal he
embraced the more accommodating creed of their
rivals, and cleansed himself in the expiatory blood of
Christ. Gibbon considers this an anachronism, but
Schlegel says “there is, perhaps, some degree of truth
in the story.” It is certain that Constantine had curious
notions of Christianity long after the Council of Nice,
and in one of his discourses, as Gibbon remarks, “ he
dwells with peculiar complacency on the Sybilline
verses and the fourth eclogue of Virgil.” It is still
more remarkable that the first Christian Emperor was
not really a member of the Church until a few days
before his death, when for the first time he received the
sacrament of baptism. Constantine may have hesitated
between Paganism and Christianity until then, or he
may have deferred his baptism till he had no more
occasion for sinning, in order to ensure a safe passage
to heaven.
The motives which induced Constantine to protect
the Christians, and afterwards to favor them, were such
as usually animate the rulers of mankind. He first
granted them toleration, as Schlegel remarks, “ not
from a sense of justice, or from magnaminity, and still
less from any attachment to the Christian religion, but
from principles of worldly prudence. He wished to
attach the Christians to his party.” The judicious
Mosheim conjectures that “the emperor had discern
ment to see that Christianity possessed great efficacy,
and idolatry none at all, to strengthen public authority
�20
Crimes of Christianity.
and to bind citizens to their duty.”* Gibbon expresses
the same opinion in his ironical manner. “ The throne
of the emperor,” he says, “ would be established on a
fixed and permanent basis if all their subjects, em
bracing the Christian doctrine, should learn to suffer
and to obey.” Voltaire, in his most impious poem,
charges Constantine with making the altars of the
Church a convenient footstool to his throne. The
Christians, it is true, “ still bore a very inadequate pro
portion to the inhabitants of the empire ; but among a
degenerate people, who viewed the change of masters
with the indifference of slaves, the spirit and union of
a religious party might assist the popular leader, to
whose service, from a principle of conscience, they had
devoted their lives and fortunes.”t
Voltaire’s opinion is perhaps correct, that Constantine
“ put himself at the head of Christianity without being
a Christian.” He naturally patronised a religion which
inculcated passive obedience to princes, and maintained
his divine right to rule according to the principles of
despotism. Paganism never lent itself in this manner
to the ambition of tyrants ; its Olympus was a kind of
Republic, and it was always favorable to popular
liberty. The literature of Greece and Rome breathed
an unquenchable spirit of freedom, which ill suited
the policy of an absolute despot in an empire which
had lost every vestige of its ancient freedom. Con
stantine had the sagacity to perceive that Christianity
was more adapted to his purpose. He patronised it,
therefore, not as a philosopher, but as an emperor ; and
finding that it realised his most sanguine expectations,
he eventually decided to impose it upon all his subjects
and to extirpate every other faith.
It is a signal illustration of the persecuting spirit
which is inherent in all theologies, that the Christian
clergy, who had only a few years before bitterly com
plained of their proscription, joyously assisted Con
stantine in his suppression of Paganism. Their almost
incredible arrogance is proved by the fact that Pagan
ism was still the religion of the vast majority of their
Vol. I., p. 288.
f Gibbon, chap. xx.
�Crimes of Christianity.
21
fellow-subjects. Gibbon’s estimate of the number of
Christians at this time, although nibbled at by Milman,
has never been seriously impaired :
“According to the irreproachable testimony of Origen, the
proportion of the faithful was very inconsiderable, when com
pared vtith the multitude of an unbelieving world ; but, as we
are left without any distinct information, it is impossible to
determine, and it is difficult even to conjecture, the real numbers
of the primitive Christians. The most favorable calculation,
however, that can be deduced from the examples of Antioch and
of Rome will not permit us to imagine that more than a twentieth
part of the subjects of the empire had enlisted themselves under
the banner of the Cross before the important conversion of Con
*
stantine.
What an edifying spectacle to the philosopher ! Behold
the religion of the meek and lowly Jesus, whose yoke
was easy and his burden light, forced by its professors
down the throats of their Pagan neighbors, who out
numbered them by nearly twenty to one 1
Let us also reflect that Christianity introduced the
systematic persecution of heresy and unbelief. Such
a principle was entirely foreign to Paganism.
The
Roman law tolerated every form of religion and every
system of philosophy. Its impartiality was so absolute
that the Pantheon of the eternal city afforded niches to
all the gods of the empire ; yet when Tiberius was
asked to allow the prosecution of a Roman citizen for
blaspheming the gods he replied : “No, let the gods
defend their own honour.” We do not deny that the
Christians were persecuted, although we challenge their
exaggerated account of their sufferings. But their
partial and occasional persecutions were prompted by
political motives. They were regarded as members of
a secret society, at once offensive to their Pagan neigh
bors and dangerous to the State ; and although they
were sometimes punished, their doctrines were never
proscribed. The principle of persecution was first in
fused into the Roman law by Constantine. According
to Renan :
“We may search in vain the whole Roman la before Con
stantine for a single passage against freedom of thought, and the
Chap. xv.
�22
Crimes of Christianity.
history of the imperial government furnishes no instance of a
prosecution for entertaining an abstract doctrine.” *
Christianity inaugurated a new era of mental slavery.
By forcibly suppressing dissent and establishing an
Inquisition for detecting heretics, she carried tyranny
into the secret recesses of the mind. “ She thus,” as
Draper says, “took a course which determined her
whole future career, and she became a stumbling-block
in the intellectual advancement of Europe for more
than a thousand years.”
Constantine’s policy manufactured Christians whole
sale, for the masses of such an age were easily seduced
or driven. The discreet Mosheim, while not attri
buting “ the extension of Christianity wholly to these
causes,” allows that “ both the fear of punishment and
the desire of pleasing the Roman emperors were cogent
reasons, in the view of whole nations as well as of
individuals, for embracing the Christian religion.”!
*
Jortin likewise remarks that “along with those who
were sincere in their profession, there came a multitude
of hypocrites and nominal Christians.Gibbon tells
us how the people were bribed :
“ The hopes of wealth and honors, the example of an emperor,
his exhortations, his irresistible smiles, diffused conviction among
the venal and obsequious crowds which usually fill the apart
ments of a palace. The cities which signalised a forward zeal
by the voluntary destruction of their temples were distinguished
by municipal privileges and rewarded with popular donatives ;
and the new capital of the East gloried in the singular advantage
that Constantinople was never profaned by the worship of idols.
As the lower ranks of society are governed by imitation, the
conversion of those who possessed any eminence of birth, of
power, or of riches, was soon followed by dependent multitudes.
The salvation of the common people was purchased at an easy
rate, if it be true that, in one year, twelve thousand men were
baptised at Rome, besides a proportionable number of women and
children, and that a white garment, with twenty pieces of gold,
had been promised by the Emperor to every convert.Ӥ
Concurrently with, these bribes, Constantine devoted
much of his energy and wealth to increasing the power
and splendor of the Church. “ He gave to the clergy,”
* “ Les Apotres,” first edition, p. 315.
f Vol. I., p. 305
J Vol. IL, p. 25.
§ Chap. xx.
�Crimes of Christianity.
23
says Schlegel, “the former privileges of the Pagan
priests, and allowed legacies to be left to the churches,
which were everywhere erected and enlarged. He was
gratified with seeing the bisdops assume great state ;
for he thought the more respect the bishops commanded,
the more inclined the Pagans would be to embrace
Christianity.”* Jortin remarks that the Emperor was
possessed with the building siririt, and spent immense
sums on palaces and churches, which obliged him to
burden his people with taxes.f Gibbon satirically says
that “ Constantine too easily believed that he should
purchase the favor of Heaven if he maintained the idle
at the expense of the industrious, and distributed
among the saints the wealth of the republic.He
gave to the bishops the privilege of being tried by
their peers, and their episcopal brethren were their
judges, even when they were charged with a capital
crime. He originated the notion that clerical im
punity was better than a public scandal, and declared
that if he surprised a bishop in the act of adultery, he
should cast his imperial mantle over the holy sinner.
Montesquieu alleges that Constantine even ordained
that, in the legal courts the single testimony of a bishop
should suffice, without hearing other witnesses. §
Constantine’s penal laws in favor of Christianity were
still more influential. He condemned those who should
should speak evil of Christ to lose half their estate. His
laws against various heresies may be seen in the Jus
tinian code. So far did he advance in true godliness,
under the inspiration of the bishops and clergy, that he
issued a decree for the demolition of all heretical tem
ples in the following elegant strain :
“ Know ye, Moravians, Valentinians, Marcionites, Paulinians
and Cataphrygians, that your doctrine is both vain and false.
O ye enemies of truth, authors and counsellors of death, ye spread
abroad lies, oppress the innocent, and hide from the faithful the
light of truth. . . . That your pestilential errors may spread no
further, we enact by this law that none of you dare hereafter to
meet at your conventicles, nor keep any factious or superstitious
meetings, either in public buildings or in private houses, or in*
§
* Mosheim, Vol. I.,p. 291.
f Vol. II., p. 69.
J Chap xx.
§ “L'Esp’"*’ des Lois,-’ Book 29, chap. xvi.
�24
Crimes of Christianity.
secret places ; but if any of you have a care for the true religion,
let them return to the Catholic Church. . . . And that our
careful providence for curing these errors may be effectual, we
have commanded that all your superstitious places of meeting,
your heretical temples (if I may so call them), shall be, without
delay or contradiction, pulled down or confiscated to the
Catholic Church.”
Such is the language, and such are the acts, which made
Constantine “a pattern to all succeeding monarchs.”
The emperor’s reign was distracted by the famous
Arian controversy. Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria,
and his presbyter Arius, had a fierce and bitter dis
pute about the Trinity, the former contending that the
Son was equal, and the latter that he was inferior, to the
Father. According to Jortin
“ Alexander wrote a circular letter to all bishops, in which he
represented Arius and his partisans as heretics, apostates, blas
phemers, enemies of God, full of impudence and impiety, fore
runners of Antichrist, imitators of Judas, and men whom it was
not lawful to salute, or bid God speed.”*
This is merely the language of bigotry, for Sozomen
acknowledges that these reprobates were learned, and
to all appearance good men. As the quarrel grew in
flamed, the soldiers and inhabitants joined in it, and
much blood was shed in and about the city. Constantine
wrote Alexander and Arius a long letter, bidding them
be more peaceable. But as the controversy spread
through the empire, he at length resolved (A.D. 325) to
summon a Council of the Church at Nice in Bythinia
to determine between them. After much wrangling,
which Constantine peremptorily ended, the bishops and
ecclesiastics discussed the subject of the Trinity. It
was finally resolved by a majority that the Father and
the Son were of the same substance, and not of like sub
stance. The famous Nicene Creed was drawn up for
subscription, with an addendum declaring that—
“ The Holy Catholic and Apostlic Church anathematises those
who say 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
another substance or essence, and is created or changeable or
alterable.”!
Vol. II, p. 27.
f Jortin, Vol. II, p. G6.
�Crimes of Christianity.
25
The Council of Nice only envenomed the dispute,
for, as Gibbon observes, the emperor “extinguished
the hope of peace and toleration from the moment that
he assembled three hundred bishops within the walls
of the same palace.” Constantine ratified the Nicene
■Creed, and issued the following decree against the
minority :
“ Since Arius hath imitated wicked and ungodly men, it is
just that he should undergo the same infamy with them. As,
therefore, Porphyrius, an enemy of godliness, for his havingcomposed wicked books against Christianity, hath found a fit
ting recompense in being infamous and having all his impious
writings quite destroyed, so also it is now my pleasure that
Arius and those of his sentiments shall be called Porphyrians,
so that they may have the appellation of those whose manners
they have imitated. Moreover, if any book composed by Arius
•shall be found, it shall be delivered to the fire, that not only
his evil doctrine may be destroyed, but that there may not be
the least remembrance of it left. This also I enjoin, that if
anyone shall be found to have concealed any writing composed
by Arius, and shall not immediately bring it and consume it in
the fire, death shall be his punishment: for as soon as ever he is
taken in this crime, he shall suffer capital punishment. God
preserve you.”
God preserve you! is a fine piece of irony, coming
after a menace of death for reading an heretical book.
Let it also be noticed that the first great Council of the
Christian Church resulted in the first promulgation of
the death penalty against heretics.
Ten years afterwards Constantine veered round and
favored the Arians. He repeatedly commanded Atha
nasius, the Archbishop of Alexandria, to receive Ari us
into the Catholic communion, but that extraordinary
man refused to comply with the emperor’s will. At
the Council of Tyre (A.D. 335) an Arian majority con
demned Athanasius to degradation and exile for having,
as they alleged, whipped or imprisoned six bishops,
and murdered or mutilated a seventh ; and the great
Archbishop found shelter for nearly two years in the
court of Treves.
Meanwhile Arius came to an untimely end. Con
stantine ordered Alexander, the Athanasian bishop of
■the capital, to receive the heresiarch into communion
�26
Crimes of Christianity.
on the following Sunday. On the Saturday the bishopfasted and prayed, and in his church he besought God
to avert the evil, even by taking Arius away.
*
Thu
next day, as Arius was on his way to the church,
he entered a house to attend to a call of nature, where,
according to Athanasius, his bowels burst out. He was
at any rate found dead, and the Athanasians saw a
divine judgment in his sudden fate. “ But when
Alexander’s party,” says Draper, “ proclaimed that his
prayer had been answered, they forgot what that
prayer must have been, and that the difference is little
between praying for the death of a man and compassing
it.”f
Gibbon says that “ those who press the literal narra
tive of the death of Arius must make their option be
tween poison and miracle.'" He evidently inclines to
the former'choice, and he is followed in this by Draper.
Cardinal Newman regards the death of Arius as a
Church miracle. Jortin says, “ surely it is not im
possible that amongst his numerous enemies there
might be one who would not scruple to give him a dose,
and to send him out of the way.”J The cautious Mos
heim adopts the same view. “ When I consider,” he
says, “ all the circumstances of the case, I confess that
to me it appears most probable, the unhappy man lost
his life by the machinations of his enemies, being des
troyed by poison. An indiscreet and blind zeal in
religion has, in every age, led on to many crimes worse
than this.Ӥ
Constantine himself died in the following year
(May 22nd, A.D. 337) at Nicomedia. His body was
laid in state for several days, and finally interred with
gorgeous rites. According to Jortin, he had the honor
of being the first Christian who was buried in a church.
The true believers paid almost divine honor to his
name, his tomb, and his statue, and called him a saint
equal to the apostles. And as the clergy had bestowed
upon him, during his life, the most fulsome praise
* Newman, “ Two Essays on Miracles,” p. 328.
f Draper’s “ Intellectual Development of Europe,” Vol. I., p. 279.
J Vol. II., p. 63.
§ Vol. I., p. 396.
�Crimes of Christianity.
27
even when he was committing the most flagitious
crimes, so now, after his death, they had the effrontery
to declare that God had endued his urn and statue with
miraculous powers, and that whosoever touched them
were healed of all diseases and infirmities.
*
On the death of Constantine, Athanasius was restored
to his primacy by Constantine the younger. He imme
diately, says Moshiem, began to expel the Arians and
to restore the churches to the Catholic faith. Disturb
ances ensued, and Constantius (who, upon succeeding
to the throne in the East, proceeded to walk in his
father’s footsteps by slaughtering his relations), being
a semi-Arian, again expelled the primate of Alexandria.
Constans, Emperor of the West, “ who, in the indul
gence of unlawful pleasures, still professed a lively
regard for the orthodox faith,”t espoused his cause
and threatened war upon his brother Constantius if
Athanasius were not restored to his patriarchate.
Constantius yielded, but on the death of his brother,
two councils, at Arles (353) and Milan (355), confirmed
the expulsion of Athanasius, all the bishops who re
fused to subscribe to the sentence being suspended
from office and banished by the Emperor. Athanasius
refused to abdicate, and his church was entered by the
Duke of Egypt at the head of five thousand soldiers
(February 9, 363).
“ The doors of the sacred edifice yielded to the impetuosity
of the atttack, which was accompanied with every horrid circum
stance of tumult and bloodshed ; but as the bodies of the slain
and the fragments of military weapons remained the next day
an unexceptionable evidence in the possession of the Catholics,
the enterprise of Syrianus may be considered as a successful
irruption, rather than an absolute conquest. The other churches
of the city were profaned by similar outrages ; and, during at
least four months, Alexandria was exposed to the insults of a
licentious army, stimulated by the ecclesiastics of a hostile fac
tion. Many of the faithful were killed, who may deserve the
name of martyrs, if their deaths were neither provoked nor
revenged; bishops and presbyters were treated with cruel
ignominy; consecrated virgins were stripped naked, scourged
and violated; the houses of wealthy citizens were plundered;
and, under the mask of religious zeal, lust, avarice and private
Jortin, Vol. II., p. 71.
f Gibbon, chap. xxi.
�28
Crimes of Christianity.
resentment were gratified with impunity, and even with ap
plause.”*
i'
Athanasius escaped, but many of his adherents were
tortured and killed in the hope of finding him. Constantius offered a reward for Athanasius, dead or alive,
denouncing him as “ an impostor, a corruptor of men’s
souls, a disturber of the city, a pernicious fellow, one
convicted of the worst crimes, not to be expiated by
his suffering death ten times over.” Athanasius re
torted that the Emperor was an Arian idolator, a hang
man, and one capable of all kinds of rapine, violence
and murder.
Liberius, the Bishop of Rome, who had refused
to sanction the exile of Athanasius, was himself
banished, and Felix put in his place. The people,
however, demanded the return of Liberius, and, upon
making his submission to the Emperor, he was restored.
’Gibbon says:
“ After some ineffectual resistance, his rival was expelled from
• the city by the permission of the Emperor and the power of the
opposite faction. The adherents of Felix were inhumanly mur
dered in the streets, in the public places, in the baths, and even
in the churches; and the face of Rome, upon the return of a
Christian bishop, renewed the horrid image of the massacres of
Marius and the proscriptions of Sy 11a. ’f
In the archbishopric, of Alexandria was placed
George of Cappadocia, the person who, after an in
famous career, became the patron saint of England.
Emerson thus describes him :
“ George of Cappadocia, bom at Epiphany, in Cicilia, was a
low parasite, who got a lucrative contract to supply the army
with bacon. A rogue and informer, he got rich, and was forced
to run from justice. He saved his money, embraced Arianism,
collected a library, and got promoted by a faction to the epis
copal throne of Alexandria. When Julian came, A.D. 361,
George was dragged to prison; the prison was burst upon by
the mob, and George was lynched, as he deserved. And this
precious knave became, in good time, Saint George of England,
patron of chivalry, emblem of victory and civility, and the pride
•of the best blood of the modern world.”J
* Gibbon, chap. xxi.
f Chap. xxi.
J Emerson's “ English Traits,” Works, vol. iv., p. 123.
�Crimes of Christianity.
29-
Gibbon remarks :
“ In the use, as well as in the acquisition, of power, the tyrant
George disregarded the laws of religion, of justice and of
humanity; and the same scenes of violence and scandal which
had been exhibited in the capital were repeated in more than
ninety episcopal cities of Egypt.”*
This worthy, not satisfied with violence against the
clergy of the opposing faction, caused the widows of
the Athanasian party to be scourged on the soles of
their feet, the virgins to be stripped naked and then
flogged with the prickly branches of palm-trees, or to
be slowly scorched over fires till they abjured their
creed.+
Although St. Athanasius had reason to complain
of persecution, he evidently thought it an excellent
thing for others. In a letter to Epictetus, Bishop of
Corinth, he says : “ I wonder your piety suffers these
heresies, and that you did not immediately put those
heretics under restraint and propose the true faith tothem ; that if they would not forbear to contradict
they might be declared heretics ; for it is not to be
endured that these things should be either said or
heard amongst Christians.” And in another place he
says “ that they ought to be held in universal hatred
for opposing the truth ; ” and comforts himself that
the emperor, upon due information would put a stop
to their wickedness, and that they would not be long
lived.
In Constantinople the triumph of Christianity
ensured the same prevalence of fanaticism as at Rome
and Alexandria. After the death of Alexander, the
episcopal throne was disputed by Paul and Macedonius.
In the space of fourteen years the former was five times
driven from the throne. He was cast into, prison, left
six days without food, and eventually strangled
.
*
The inauguration of Macedonius to the See of Con
stantinople was graced by the slaughter of about three
thousand persons. J So great was his zeal that he not
* Chap. xxi.
t St. Athanasius, “ Historical Treatises,’' Pusey’s Library of the
Fathers, pp. 192—284.
+ Milman’s “ History of Latin Christianity," vol. ii., p. 422
�• 30
Crimes of Christianity.
only compelled the reluctant to attend church but
gagged their mouths and compelled them to receive the
*
sacrament.
As the civil and military forces were at
the command of his cruelty it was under no restraint.
“ The delicacy of virgins, guilty of no crime but non■conformity, was not allowed to shield them from
violence ; they suffered for their obstinacy by having
their breasts squeezed between heavy and sharp pieces
of wood, or scorched by the application of heated irons
and roasted eggs.”t
Socrates, the Church historian, tells us that “ by the
intestine war among the Christians, Constantinople was
kept in a state of perpetual turbulence, and the most
atrocious outrages were perpetrated whereby many
lives were lost.”J
Africa was equally disturbed by the factions between
the rival bishops Caecilian and Donatus, whose followers
^afflicted its provinces above three hundred years, the
feud being only extinguished when Christianity was
•overcome by Mohammedanism. Excommunicated by
the Church of Rome, the Donatists boldly excommuni
cated all other churches than their own.
“ Whenever they acquired a proselyte, even from the distant
provinces of the east, they carefully repeated the sacred rites of
baptism and ordination ; as they rejected the validity of those
which he had already received from the hands of heretics or
schismatics. Bishops, virgins, and even spotless infants, were
subjected to the disgrace of a public penance before they could
be admitted to the communion of the Donatists. If they ob
tained possession of a church which had been used by their
Catholic adversaries, they purified the unhallowed building with
the same jealous care which a temple of idols might have re
quired. They washed the pavement, scraped the walls, burnt
the altar, which was commonly of wood, melted the conse
crated plate, and cast the holy Eucharist to the dogs, with every
circumstance of ignominy which could provoke and perpetuate
the animosity of religious factions.Ӥ
Among the Donatists, the Circumcelliones for a time
abstained, in obedience to the evangelical command,
* Socrates, Ec. Hist. Book II., chap. xxx.
f Clarke, History of Intolerance, Vol. I., p. 303; 1820.
chap xxi.
J Hist. Ecclest., ii., 12
§ Gibbon, chap. xxi.
Gibbon,
�Crimes of Christianity.
31
from the use of the sword, beating to death those
who differed from their theological opinions with
massive clubs, to which they gave the significant
name of Israelites, and the well-known sound of
*
“ Praise be to God,” which they used as their war-cry,
diffused consternation over the unarmed provinces of
Africa. Many of these fanatics were possessed with
the desire of martyrdom, which, in common with most
•of the early Christians, they deemed the sure passport
to eternal bliss. They would rudely disturb the
festivals and profane the temples of Paganism in order
to excite revenge. Gibbon rightly observes :
“ In the actions of these desperate enthusiasts, who were ad
mired by one party as the martyrs of God, and abhorred by the
other as the victims of Satan, an impartial philosopher may dis
cover the influence and the last abuse of that inflexible spirit,
which was originally derived from the character and principles
of the Jewish nation.”}
The contrast between the reign of this emperor and
that of his successor, the pagan J ulian, forcibly suggests
that Jesus indeed came to bring fire and sword. Julian
decreed universal tolerance, nor did he visit a single
Christian with punishment on account of his religion.
The only means he used to combat the growing super
stition was to write against it, and throughout his short
but beneficent reign he afforded convincing proof of
the superiority of his Paganism to the Christianity of
his predecessors. No sooner however w’as the Christian
Jovian on the throne than once more the spirit of
bigotry burst into open violence. In Rome the
rival bishops, Damasus and Ursinus, disputed by
force of arms. Damasus, marching at the head of his
own clergy and hired gladiators, prevailed, leaving one
hundred and thirty-seven dead bodies in the church.J
No wonder the famous Richard Baxter says, of the
bishops of this period :
“ Their feuds and inhuman contentions were so many and so
odious that it is a shame to read them Multitudes of cities had
bishops set up against bishops, and some cities more than two or
three, the people reviling and hating each other and sometimes
* Tillemont, Memoires d’Hist. Eccles. TomejVL, pp. 88—98
t Gibbon, ehap. xxi.
J Gibbon, chap. xxv.
�32
Crimes of Christianity.
fighting tumultously unto blood for their several prelates. The
Christian world was made as a cock-pit and the Christian
religion made a scorn by the contention of the bishops.”*
Jovian made a disgraceful treaty with Persia, and
retired to Antioch, where he indulged his disposition
for pleasure. The contending leaders of various sects
hastened to his court. Gibbon racily tells how
“ The highways of the East were crowded with Homoousian,
and Arian, and semi-Arian, and Eunomian bishops, who struggled
to outstrip each other in the holy race ; the apartments of the
palace resounded with their clamors ; and the ears of their prince
were assaulted, and perhaps astonished, by the singular mixture
of metaphysical argument and passionate invective.’ f
The emperor declared for the orthodox doctrines
established at the Council of Nice, and his decision
carried with it the conversion of many Arian bishops.
Although professing tolerance, he repealed the wise
edicts of Julian which ^moderated the power of
the clergy, and restored and enlarged their eccle
siastical immunities from the duties of, citizen
ship.
He re-established Athanasius on the archiepiscopal throne of Alexandria. In return he was
promised by that prelate that his orthodox devo
tion would be rewarded with a long reign. The pro
phecy failed. Jovian died after reigning but seven
months. Yet the success of Christianity was assured,
and the emperors who • succeeded him all continued,
though with unequal zeal, the extirpation of Paganism.
Gibbon tells us that already, in many cities, the temples
were shut or deserted, and the philosophers who had
taught in the reign of Julian “ thought it prudent to
shave their beards and disguise their profession.” The
triumph of Christianity meant the fall of philosophy,
the decline of civic spirit, and the long succeeding
night of the Dark Ages.
* Treatise on Episcopacy, p. 24.
f Chap. xxv.
Progressive Publishing Company 28 Stonecutter Street, London.
�NATIONAL SECULAR SOCF7™
CRIMES'OF CHRISTIANITY.
ATHANASIUS
TO
->
HYPATIA.
In the reign of Valens, the Trinitarian party set up
Evagrius as patriarch of Constantinople. The Arian
party elected Demophilus. A contest ensued in which
the Arians triumphed. Evagrius was driven out and
his adherents were subjected to a variety of outrage:;.
Eighty presbyters of the party went to carry a com
plaint to Valens, then in Nicomedia, but the ship they
embarked in was purposely set on fire and deserted,
and the whole company of ecclesiastics perished.
*
About the same time, Gregory Nazianzen complained
of being attacked by the Arians of Constantinople.
Ancient women, he says, worse than Jezebels, young
nuns, common beggars, and monks like old goats,
issuing out of their monasteries, armed with clubs
and stones, attacked him and his flock in their
church, and did much mischief. He Sid not scruple
to retaliate and advocate the persecution of the Arians,
^5 also incited Nectarius to persecute the Apollinarists,
which was done accordingly^^
. ,
Upon the ascension of ‘Theodosius (379), the ortho
dox party again triumphed, Demophilus, the Arian
patriarch of Constantinople, being then banished.
Theodosius convoked the Council of Constantinople,
which admitteJU^he Holy Ghost to all the honors of
the Trinity, and anathematised all heretics, denouncing
by namejfche Eunomians, the Anomians, the Arians,
the Semi-Arians, the Eudoxians, the Marcellians, the
Photinians, the Apollinarists, the Macedonians, the
Sabbatians, the Novatians, the Montanists, the Quartodecimani, the Tetratites, and the Sabellians.
* Socrates, Ec. Hist., Vol. IV., pp. 13—16; Milner’s “ History of the
Church of Christ,” Vol. I., p. 609.
t Jortin, Vol. IL, pp. 317—319.
. .
4
*
�34
Crimes of Christianity.
When the council was ended, the Emperor put forth
two edicts against heretics, the first prohibiting their
holding assemblies in public places or private houses,
the second forbidding them to meet in fields or villages,
and ordaining that the building or ground used for
that purpose should be confiscated. Gibbon tells us :
“ In the space of fifteen years, he promulgated at least fifteen
severe edicts against the heretics, more especially against those
who rejected the doctrine of the Trinity ; and to deprive them
of every hope of escape, he sternly enacted that if any laws or
rescripts should be alleged in their favor, the judges should con
sider them as the illegal productions either of fraud or forgery.”*
The penal statutes were directed both against here
tical ministers and their congregations ; the former
were exposed to the heavy penalties of exile and con
fiscation if they presumed to preach the doctrines or to
practise the rites of their “ accursed ” sects, the latter
were disqualified from the possession of honorable or
lucrative employments. “Their religious meetings,
whether public or secret, by day or by night, in cities
or in the country, were equally proscribed by the
edicts of Theodosius ; and the building or ground
which had been used for that illegal purpose was
forfeited to the Imperial domain.”f
All who did not agree with Damasus, the Bishop of
Rome, and Peter the Bishop of Alexander, were
ordered to be driven into exile and deprived of civil
rights.
In Constantinople, where there were many Arians,
especially among the Goths, who had been converted
by the Arian Ulfilas,j: Gaina, one of the officers, peti
tioned for a church for his co-religionists. Saint
Chrysostom bitterly inveighed against the tolerance of
heresy, and urged the laws of Theodosius. The
saint carried his point, and the consequence was an
insurrection of the Goths in the city of Constanti* Chap, xxvii
+ Gibbon, chap, xxvii.
| Ulfilas, srirnamed by Constantius “ the Moses of the Goths,” made
for them a translation of the Scriptures from which he had the
prudence to exclude the bocxs of Samuel and Kings, lest their warlike
contents should be found to stimulate the ferocity of the barbarians.
�Crimes of Christianity.
35
nople, which nearly ended in the burning of the imperial
palace and the murder of the emperor, and actually
led to the cutting off of all the Gothic soldiers and the
burning of their church with great numbers of persons
in it who fled thither for safety and were locked in to
prevent their escape.
Similarly, at Milan, the empress Justina, a patroness
of Arianism, and a Jezebel, as St. Ambrose calls her,
interceded with her son, Valentinian II., to permit the
Arians to have one church for worship in that city.
St. Ambrose flatly refused, declaring that all the
churches belonged to the bishop ; and, as the Christian
populace threatened insurrection, the haughty prelate
prevailed.
St. Epiphanius boasted of having caused by his
information seventy women, some of high rank, to be
sent into exile for their Gnostic heresies, from which
he had himself recanted. He saved himself from the
fate of his co-religionists by turning evidence against
them on the outbreak of the persecution. When the
empress Eudoxia recommended to his prayers her son
Theodosius the younger, who was dangerously ill, this
fanatical saint sent her word that the child should re
cover if she would get the Origenists and the works of
Origen condemned.
*
St. Epiphanius pursued even
the orthodox Saint Chrysostom with his malice, and
piously wished that he might die in banishment, as
indeed he did. St. Chrysostom was not behind him in
Christian courtesy. “ I hope you will not live to re
turn to your own city,” he declared ; and the kindly
wish was equally fulfilled.
Theod osius ordered that the heretics called Encratites,
Saccophori and Hydroparastatae, should be punished
summo supplicio et inexpiabili poena. And for the de
tection of such persons he appointed Inquisitors, who
were thus instituted for the first time.f
The guilt of the Quartodecimani, who perpetrated the
atrocious crime of celebrating Easter on the day of the
Jewish Passover, and of the Manichaeans and Audians,
* Jortin, Vol. II., p. <326.
f Jortin, Vol, II., p. 320; Gibbon, chap, xxvii.
�36
rimes oj Christianity.
was esteemed of such magnitude that it could only be
expiated by the death of the offender.
In the West, after the Council of Saragosa (381), had
condemned the errors of Priscillian, Bishop of Avila,
in Spain, he and his followers were prosecuted, chiefly
at the instigation of Ithacius, Bishop of Sassuba, and
charged with magic and numerous impieties. Pris
cillian and his friends went to Rome to justify them
selves, but Damasus would not admit them even into
his presence. They then repaired to Milan to beg the
same favor of St. Ambrose. .He also refused to give
them a hearing. Ithacius, and other bishops of like
mind, managed so well with the western usurper,
Maximius, that he condemned Priscillian and his chief
followers to be tortured and executed. Among these
were Matronius (called Latronian by Sulpitius Severus
and Gibbon), a poet who is said to have rivalled the
fame of the ancients ; Felicissimus, Julianius and a
noble, learned lady, named Euchrotia. Others had
their goods confiscated and were banished to the
Scilly Islands.
*
From this treatment of heretics we may infer the
sentiments held towards Jews and Pagans.
St.
Ambrose, who by his zeal and inflexibility acquired
supremacy over the mind of Theodosius, induced that
monarch to abolish the altar of Victory which remained
the symbol of Paganism in the hall of the Roman
Senate.
Symmachus, the Pagan who opposed him, was dis
graced and banished. Theodosius then proposed to
the Senate, according to the forms of the republic, the
important question whether the worship of Jupiter or
that of Christ should be the religion of the Romans.
Gibbon says—
“ The liberty of suffrages, which he affected to allow, was de
stroyed by the hopes and fears that his presence inspired; and
the arbitrary exile of Symmachus was a recent admonition that
it might be dangerous to oppose the wishes of the monarch. On
a regular division of the Senate, Jupiter was condemned and de• * Dupin, “Ecclesiastical Writers, Priscillian.” Neander, VoL IV.,
p. 505
�Crimes of Christianity.
37
graded by the sense of a very large majority ; and it is rather
surprising that any members should be found bold enough to
declare by their speeches and votes that they were still attached
to the interest of an abdicated deity.”*
The proof of the ascendancy of St. Ambrose over
Theodosius was seen not only in his making him do
penance for the wanton massacre of seven thousand
persons at Thessalonica, but in a matter much less to
the Father’s credit. The Governor of the East reported to
Theodosius that a synagogue of the Jews and a
church of the Valentinians had been burnt by the
Christian populace at the instigation of the bishop.
Theodosius gave orders that the synagogue should be
rebuilt at the bishop’s charge. Thereupon St. Ambrose
wrote to him a letter which is still extant,f declaring
that the order was not consistent with the emperor’s piety,
defending the action of the bishop and those who burnt
the synagogue and maintaining the unlawfulness of re
building it. He further declared that he would have
done the same thing at Milan if God had not antici
pated him by burning the Jewish synagogue himself,
and even threatened to deprive the emperor of com
munion if he did not recall the order. The pious
monarch complied with the will of the inflexible
ecclesiastic and excused the incendiaries from making
restitution.^: The same saint, in advocating the plun
der of the vestal virgins and the Pagan priests, main
tained the doctrine that it is criminal for a Christian
state to grant any endowment to the ministers of any
but the orthodox religion,§ and he expressly praised
and recommended the zeal of Josiah in the destruction
of idolatry.
Dean Milman, in his “ History of Latin Christianity,”
gives to St. Ambrose all the credit or discredit of
extinguishing Paganism. He says :
“ It was Ambrose, the Bishop of Milan, who enforced the final
sentence of condemnation against Paganism ; asserted the sin, in
* Chap, xxviii.
f Epistle XL.
t Jortin, Vol. II., p. 226, and Dupin, “History of Ecclesiastical
Writers: Ambrose.”
§ Epistle XVIII.
�38
Crimes of Christianity
a Christian Emperor, of assuming any Imperial title connected
with Pagan worship ; and of permitting any portion of the public
revenue to be expended on the rites of idolatry. It was Ambrose
tv ho forbade the last marks of respect to the tutelar divinities of
Rome in the public ceremonies.”*
When Theodosius had become sole master of the
Roman empire, after the death of Valentinian II., he pro
ceeded with the utmost zeal to extirpate the Pagan
religion. At first the inspection of the entrails of
victims and magical rites had been made capital
offences, but now (in A.D. 391) he issued an edict for
bidding all sacrifices by the most severe punishment, and
even prohibiting the entering into the Temple. In
A.D. 392 all immolations were forbidden to any person
of whatever rank, under pain of death, and all other
acts of idolatry under forfeiture of the house or land
in which the offence was committed. Even the use of
harmless garlands, frankincense and libations of wine
was condemned. To hang up a simple chaplet was to
incur the forfeiture of an estate. Worse still, the Lares
and Penates, the household gods, around which clus
tered the tender ancestral associations of Paganism,
were included in these rigorous proscriptions, and
those who failed to reveal offenders and bring them to
punishment were threatened with penal ties, f Jortin
candidly remarks :
“ One would think that the Emperor intended to turn all his
Christian subjects into informers and pettifoggers, and to set
them, like so many spies and eavesdroppers, to peep into the
dwellings of the Pagans, and to see whether they paid any reli
gious honors to their household gods.”f
If the French Freethinkers were not only to close
the churches and proscribe the performance of mass
as a penal offence, but were also to punish the private
use - of rosaries and relics, and the hanging up of
religious pictures in the home, we should have a
parallel to the high-handed proceedings of Christians
* Vol. I., p. 101.
t Milman’s “ History of“Christianity,” Vol. III., 64.
xxviii.
t Vol. II., p. 339
Gibbon, chap,
�Crimes of Christianity.
89
towards their opponents as soon as ever they found
themselves invested with power.
Christians universally deemed it their duty to
suppress and destroy idolatry, and the sanguinary laws
of the Jews, and the example of their dealing with
idolators, were frequently held up as the models for
Christian conduct. Lecky, in his “ History of European
Morals,” observes that:
“A large portion of theological ethics was derived from
writings in which religious massacres, on the whole the most ruth
less and sanguinary upon record, were said to have been directly
enjoined by the deity, in which the duty of suppressing idolatry
by force was given a greater prominence than any article of the
moral code, and in which the spirit of intolerance has found its
most eloquent and most passionate expressions. Besides this
*
the destiny theologians represented as awaiting the misbeliever
was so ghastly and so apalling as to render it almost childish to
lay any stress upon the earthly suffering that might be inflicted
in the extirpation of error.”
“ The new religion, unlike that which was disappearing, claimed
to dictate the opinions as well as the actions of men, and its
teachers stigmatised as an atrocious crime the free expression of
every opinion on religious matters diverging from them.',-f-
In the reign of Valens laws had been published
ostensibly against sorcery, but really directed against
Pagan philosophy and learning. Dean Milman tells
us :—
“ So severe an inquisition was instituted into the possession of
magical books, that, in order to justify their sanguinary proceed
ings, vast heaps of manuscripts relating to law and general
literature were publicly burned, as if they contained unlawful
matter. Many men of letters throughout the East, in their
terror, destroyed their whole libraries, lest some innocent or
unsuspected work should be seized by the ignorant or malicious
informer, and bring them unknowingly within the relentless
penalties of the law.” J
Theodosius also decreed that “all writings whatever
which Porphyry or anyone else has written against
* “ Do not I hate them, 0 Lord, that hate thee ? yea, I hate them
with a perfect hatred.”
t Vol. I., pp 420, 454.
J “ History of Christianity,” Book III,, Vol. III., chap, vii., p. 43.
�40
Crimes of Christianity.
the Christian religion, in the possession of whomsoever
they shall be found, shall be committed to the fire.”
Thus were the evidences of Christianity effectually
established, and the opposition of learned and philo
sophical Pagans overcome. Draper says of the eccle
siastics of that time :
“ A burning zeal rather than the possession of profound learn
ing 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. Through
out 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 was heard in the
dominating party to raise his voice on behalf of intellectual
liberty.”*
Draper also remarks : “ 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.”
St. Augustine was the most renowned theologian of
that age, and of him Mr. Lecky observes :
“ For a time he shrank from, and even condemned, persecu
tion ; but he soon perceived in it the necessary consequence of
his principles. He recanted his condemnation ; he flung his
whole genius into the cause ; he recurred to it again and again,
and he became the framer and the representative of the theology
of intolerance.
“ The arguments by which Augustine supported persecution
were, for the most part, those which I have already stated. Some
of them were drawn from the doctrine of exclusive salvation, and
others from the precedents of the Old Testament. It was
merciful, he contended, to punish heretics, even by death, if this
could save them or others from the eternal suffering that awaited
the unconverted. Heresy was described in Scripture as a kind'
of adultery ; it was the worst species of murder, being the murder
Vol. I., pp. 301, 302
�Crimes of Christianity.
41
of souls ; it was a form of blasphemy, and on all these grounds.
might justly be punished. If the New Testament contained no
examples of the apostles employing force, this was simply be
cause in their time no priest had embraced Christianity. But
had not Elijah slaughtered with his own hand the prophets of
Baal? Did not Hezekiah and Josiah, and the king of Nineveh,
and Nebuchadnezzar, after his conversion, destroy by force
idolatry within their dominions, and were they not expressly
commended for this piety ? St. Augustine also seems to have
originated the application of the words ‘ Compel them to come
in’ to religious persecution.”*
Of St. Jerome, Jortin remarks :
“ If we should say that Jerome was a persecutor, we should
do him no wrong ; we have it under his own hand.”f
With these views animating their ablest men, and
with a bigoted and priest-led emperor upon the
throne, the Christians felt themselves authorised to
avenge on the Pagan edifices any infraction of the
persecuting imperial edicts. Theodosius authorised
Cynegius, Prefect of the East, to shut the temples, to
seize or destroy the instruments of idolatry, to abolish
the privileges of the priests, and to confiscate the con
secrated property, for the benefit of the emperor, of the
Church and of the army. J He further decreed that, if any
of the Governors of Egypt so much as entered a temple,
he should be fined fifteen pounds of gold. The Chris
tians were not satisfied with this. As long as the
temples remained, the Pagan fondly cherished the
secret hope that an auspicious revolution, a second
Julian, might again restore the altars of the gods ; and
the earnestness with which they addressed their un
availing prayers to the throne increased the zeal of
Christians to extirpate without mercy the root of super
stition. Moreover, as Dean Milman observes :
“The Christians believed in the existence of the heathen
deities, with, perhaps, more undoubting faith than the heathens
themselves. The daemons who inhabited the temples were spirits
of malignant and pernicious power, which it was no less the in
* “ History of Rationalism in Europe,” Vol. II., p. 23—25.
f Vol. II., p. 324.
j Gibbon, chap, xxviii.; Etienne Chastel, “ Histoire de la Destruc
tion du Paganisme dans l’Empire du Orient. Ouvrage couronne par
l’Academie,” p. 190; Paris, 1856.
�42
Crimes oj Christianity.
terest than the duty of the Christian to expel from their proud
•and attractive mansions.”*
The canons of Gregory and Basil, as well as the
severe edicts of Theodosius against apostacy, by which
all who, having once become Christians, afterwards
returned to Paganism, were made outlaws, show that
Paganism was often secretly cherished by converts.!
Dean Milman proceeds to relate how,
“ Soon after the accession of Theodosius, the Pagans, particu
larly in the East, saw the storm gathering in the horizon. The
monks, with perfect impunity, traversed the rural districts, de
molishing all the unprotected edifices. In vain did the Pagans
•appeal to the episcopal authority ; the bishops declined to repress
the over-active, perhaps, but pious zeal of their adherents.
In Gaul, the celebrated St. Martin of Tours went
from place to place, with a band of faithful monks,
burning temples and destroying the sacred places.S
Tillemont tells us “ he was persuaded, as almost all the
saints were, that the end of the world was at hand.” ||
His life was speedily regarded as a model for the imita
tion of all devout Christians.^ In Syria the divine and
excellent Marcellus, as the Bishop of Apamea is styled
by the church historian, Theodoret, resolved to level with
the ground the Pagan temples within his diocese. He
himself set fire to one temple, but, while his followers
went to bum another, a band of rustics caught and
burnt him.
**
Gibbon tells us that “ the synod of the
province pronounced, without hesitation, that the holy
Marcellus had sacrificed his life in the cause of God.”
The stately temple at Edessa, one of the most magnifi
cent edifices in the world, was seized by a troop of
monks and soldiers and completely destroyed. The
Pagan orator, Libanius, who, as the minister of Julian*
**
§
* “ History of Christianity,” Book III., chap, viii., VoL III., p. 62,
f Fleury, “ Histoire du Christianisme,” Book XIX., chap, xxxiii.;
Chastel, p. 184.
J “ History of Christianity,” Vol. III., p. 65.
§ Gibbon, chap, xxviii.; Count A. A. Beugnot, “Histoire de la De
struction du Paganisme en Occident, VoL I., p. 299.
|| Chap, x., p. 340.
Beugnot, p. 363
** Et. Chastel, p. 200; Gibbon, chap, xxviii
�Crimes of Christianity
43
had exhibited a spirit of tolerance even more remark-able than that of his master, in a letter to the emperor,
pleaded the peasants’ cause with courage, dignity and
*
pathos.
He recalled the illustrious origin and asso
ciation of the temples which were, he said, to the pea
sants the symbol and manifestation of religion—the
solace of their troubles, the most sacred of their joys.
To destroy their temples was to annihilate their dearest
associations ; the tie that linked them to the dead would
be severed ; the poetry of life, the consolation of labor,
the source of faith, would be destroyed. Conversions,
as the result of such persecution, were but acts of hypo- crisy. Libanius even condescended to appeal to
motives of taste to- save the gorgeous and artistic
monuments of antiquity, and he suggested that, if
alienated from religious uses and let for profane pur
poses, they might be a productive source of revenue.
But the eloquence and arguments of the Pagan
orator were wasted on unheeding ears. Although the
emperor at first did not direct the destruction of the
temples, the monks were permitted to take the law in
their own hands with impunity.
Gibbon tells us :
“ In almost every province of the Roman world an army of
fanatics, without authority and without discipline, invaded the
peaceful inhabitants ; and the ruin of the fairest structures of
antiquity still displays the ravages of those barbarians, who alone
had time and inclination to execute such laborious destruction.”
The Christian barbarians went to work in a spirit of
ferocity, regardless of all that had made Pagan
civilisation valuable. They denied not only liberty of
worship, but what they had been allowed to the full
by Paganism—liberty of thought and expression. They
have ever since denied it, and not even yet is the free
dom that was lost by the triumph of Christianity fully
recovered. To the true believer objects of art and cul
ture were but vanities, seducing from the claims of
another world. Eunapius informs us that the monks
led the Goths through Thermopylae into Greece, and
* Libanius pro Templis.
Europe,” ii., 20)
(See Leeky, “ History of Rationalism in
�44
Crimes of Christianity.
rejoiced in their devastation of the classic monuments
of Greek art.
*
‘‘After the edicts of Theodosius,” says Gibbon, “had
severely prohibited the sacrifices of the Pagans, they
were still tolerated in the city and temple of Serapis.”
The ruins of this noble edifice may still be distinguished
at Alexandria. It “rivalled the pride and magnifi
cence of the Capitol,” and “its stately halls and
exquisite statues displayed the triumph of the arts.”
The great Museum within its precincts became the
favored seat of science and learning, to which philo
sophers flocked from all parts of the world. Botanical
gardens, zoological menageries, anatomical and astro
nomical schools, and chemical laboratories, afforded
ample provision for study. There were also two
splendid libraries, containing over seven hundred
thousand volumes, which had been collected at im
mense labour and expense. The Alexandrine school
produced some of the most distinguished men in the
history of science ; such as Euclid the geometer,
Archimedes the mechanist, Eratosthenes the astro
nomer, Apollonius who is said to have invented the
first clock, Hero who seems to have invented the first
steam-engine, and Hippocrates the father of medicine.
But this great scientific school had expired before the
age of Theodosius, although Alexandria still sheltered
the relics of Greek philosophy, and the Serapion pre
served the learning of antiquity upon its shelves.
The Archbishop of Alexandria at this period was
Theophilus, who is described by Gibbon as “ the per
petual enemy of peace and virtue ; a bold, bad man,
whose hands were alternately polluted with gold and
with blood.”f Jortin says that “ he was a .man of parts,
and a consummate knave.” “ Socrates, Palladius, and
othei’ writers,” he adds, “agree in describing Theophi
lus as a prelate guilty of perjury, calumny, violence,
persecution, lying, cheating, robbing, bearing false
witness.”]: Jortin elsewhere describes him as a “ cove
tous and violent prelate,” who “ employed the basest
* Chastel, p. 215.
t Chap, xxviii.
J Vol. 111., pp. 48, CT
�Crimes of Christianity.
5
ingenuity and the most scandalous tricks to revenge
himself” on those who “could not approve his vile
behavior
and, indeed, “ there was nothing of which
he was not capable.” As a persecutor, he was ex
ceedingly active and unscrupulous. He assembled
a council at Alexandria in A.D. 399, and pro
cured the condemnation of the works of Origen.
He then ordered the excommunication of all who
approved them, and with an armed force drove the
monks from the mountains of Nitria. His malice was
*
also directed against Chrysostom. By the private in
vitation of the empress Eudoxia, whom the great
preacher had reviled as Jezebel, “ Theophilus landed
at Constantinople, with a stout body of Egyptian
mariners, to encountei’ the populace ; and a train of
dependent bishops, to secure, by their voices, the
majority of a synod.”f Chrysostom was summoned to
the Council of Chalcedon, but he “refused to trust
either his person, or his reputation, in the hands of his
implacable enemies.” He was therefore condemned
as contumacious and deposed from his archbishopric.
His arrest and banishment were the result of this
sentence. But he was soon recalled and avenged.
“ The first astonishment of his faithful people,” says
O-ibbon, “ had been mute and passive : they suddenly
rose with unanimous and irresistible fury. Theophilus
escaped ; but the promiscuous crowd of monks and
Egyptian mariners were slaughtered without pity in
the streets of Constantinople.”^:
It was reserved for this fighting prelate to destroy
the Alexandrine library in the name of Christ. After
a bloody dispute between the Christians and the
Pagans, in which the latter defended their temple with
desperate courage, an imperial rescript of Theodosius
ordered the immediate destruction of the idols of
Alexandria. Headed by their archbishop, the Chris* Jortin Vol, III., p. 84 ; Mosheim, Vol. I., p. 368. The decision of
Theophilus was supported by the Catholic Church, and the writings
of Origen are still of disputed authority. According to Bayle, manj
Romish divines believe this Father is in hell, while others maintain
that he is in heaven.
+ Gibbon, chap, xxxii.
J Chap, xxxii.
�46
Crimes of Christianity.
tians began the holy enterprise. The great temple of
Serapis was reduced to a heap of rubbish, and the-,
battle-axe of a Christian soldier shattered the hugeidol, whose limbs were ignominiously dragged through
the streets.
*
Not content with this ravage, the arch
bishop turned his attention to the library, which “ was
pillaged or destroyed ; and nearly twenty years after
wards the appearance of the empty shelves excited the?
regret and indignation of every spectator whose mind
was not totally darkened by religious prejudice.”!
Dr. Smith seeks to exonerate Theophilus and his.
pious-rabble from this crime. “ It would appear,” he
says, “ that it was only the sanctuary of the god that,
was levelled with the ground, and that the library, the
halls, and other buildings in the consecrated ground,
remained standing long afterwards.” He “ concludes’*
that the library “ existed down to A.D. 638,” when, ac
cording to Amrou, it was burnt by the order of the
caliph Omar.j: But Gibbon easily disposes of this
fabulous story. The destruction of books is repugnant
to the spirit and the precepts of Mohammedanism, and
the early historians of the Saracenic capture of Alex
andria do not allude to such an incident.
Theophilus was succeeded in the see of Alexandria
by his nephew Cyril, who flourished from A.D. 412 to
A.D. 444. His first exploit was characteristic of his.
family and his profession. “ He immediately,” says
Socrates, “ shut up all the Novatian churches in Alex
andria, took away all their plate and furniture, and all
the goods and chattels of their bishop, Theopemptus.”^
He next attacked the Jews, who numbered forty
thousand.*
§
* Gibbon cites from Pliny a story which is too good to be missed..
“ Is it true" (said Augustus to a veteran of Italy, at whose house hesupped) “ that the man who gave the first blow to the golden statu&of Anaitis was instantly deprived of his eyes and his life
“ I was
that man ” (replied the clear-sighted veteran), and you now sup oie
one of the legs of the goddess.”
f Gibbon, chap, xxviii.
f Milman's “ Gibbon,” Dr. Smith’s edition: Editor's notes, Vol. Ill
p. 419, and Vol. VI., pp. 337—338.
§ Book VII., chap. vii.
�Crimes of Christianity.
47
“ Without any legal sentence, without any royal mandate, the
patriarch, at the dawn of day, led a seditious multitude to theattack of the synagogues. Unarmed and unprepared, the Jews,
were incapable of resistance; their houses of prayer were
levelled with the ground, and the episcopal warrior, after re
warding his troops with the plunder of their goods, expelled
from the city the remnant of the unbelieving nation.”*
Jortin alleges that the Jews began the quarrel, but hecensures, no less severely than Gibbon, the “ insolent
behavior ” of this soldier of the cross.
Orestes, the Roman governor, who protested against
Cyril’s usurpation of the secular power, was assaulted
in the streets by “ wild beasts of the desert ” in the
form of Christian monks. His face was wounded by
a stone, but the monk who cast it was seized and
executed. Cyril buried him with great honor,
preached his funeral sermon, changed his name from
Ammonius to Thaumasius, the ivonderful, and elevated
a rebel and an assassin into a martyr and a saint.
Cyril was by no means a man of genius. He held
that “ Christians ought to believe without inquiring toocuriously, and that a man must be a Jew to insist upon
reasons and to ask how on mysterious subjects, and
that the same how would bring him to the gallows.”f
According to Jortin, “ his writings overflow with
trash,” and “ his sermons are flat and tiresome to the
last degree.”^ Yet a comely person and a musical
voice acquired for him the fame of a popular preacher
and his reputation was heightened by a “ band of para
sites, who used to praise him and clap him when he
preached.Ӥ His pride was incensed, however, by thefame of a Pagan rival, whom he removed by the
method of assassination.
“ Hypatia, the daughter of Theon the mathematician, wasinitiated in her father’s studies; her learned comments have
elucidated the geometry of Apollonius and Diophantus, and she
publicly taught, both at Athens and Alexandria, the philosophy
of Plato and Aristotle. In the bloom of beauty, and in the-*
§
* Gibbon, chap, xlvii.
f Bibliotheque Universelie,” vii., 54.
J Vol. III., p. 107.
§ Jortin, Vol. III., p. 107 ; Gibhon, chap, xlvii.
�48
Crimes of Christianity.
maturity of wisdom, the modest maid refused her lovers and
instructed her disciples; the persons most illustrious for their
rank or merit were impatient to visit the female philosopher ;
and Cyril beheld, with jealous eye, the gorgeous train of horses
and slaves who crowded the door of her academy. A rumou®
was spread among the Christians, that the daughter of Theon
was the only obstacle to the reconciliation of the prefect and the
archbishop; • arid that obstacle was speedily removed. On a
fatal day, in the holy season of Lent, Hypatia was torn from her
chariot, stripped naked, dragged to the church, and inhumanly
butchered by the hands of Peter the reader, and a troop of
savage and merciless fanatics: her flesh was scraped from her
bones with sharp oyster-shells, and her quivering limbs wer^
delivered to the flames. The just progress of inquiry and'
punishment was stopped by seasonable gifts ; but the murder
pf Hypatia has imprinted an indelible stain on the character and
religion of Cyril of Alexandria.
*
‘
Dr. Smith accuses Gibbon of exaggeration,. and says
that “ her throat was probably cut with an oyster
shell,” as though the supposition diminished the
heinousness of her murder. Jortin says that “ Cyril
was strongly suspected of being an instigator of this
iniquity,” and that “ neither Socrates nor Valesius has
dropped one word in his vindication,.” while Damascius
openly accuses him of the crime.f
So perished this young and beautiful woman, a vic
tim to the envy and bigotry of a Christian priest, who
was unworthy to touch the hem of her garment. ^She
typified in her own sweet person the witchery and the
magic of Greece. With Hypatia philosophy itself ex
pired in the intellectual metropolis of the world. There
was henceforth. no shelter for the lovers of wisdom ;
the world was prostrate at the feet of the Church ; and
the Dark Ages, swiftly approaching, buried almost
every memory of what was once noble and lovely in
the antiquity of thought.
. * Gibbon, chap, xlvii.
f Vol. III., p. 106, 107.
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Crimes of Christianity
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Foote, G. W. (George William) [1850-1915]
Wheeler, J. M. (Joseph Mazzini) [1850-1898]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: iv, 5-48 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Newspaper cutting inserted at p.11: Letter to the editors of the National Reformer headed The story of the fall, by A. Pomeroy. Includes bibliographical references. In three parts (p. i-iv, 5-16; [17]-32; [33]-48). Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Text
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY
OH THE
WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS
BY
LORD BACON.
Price One Shilling
--------- ——_—————
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V»\GR£At ST HELENS
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IV E
PUBLISHING
28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
��B
AbJOSt
NATIONAL SECULAR SOCiRt y
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY
OR THE
WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS
BY
LORD bacon.
LONDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
28 Stonecutter, Street, E.O,
1891.
�LONDON:
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY G. W. FOOTE,
28 STONECUTTER, STREET, E.C.
�Pagan Mythology
OR
THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.
PREFACE.
The earliest antiquity lies buried in silence and
oblivion, excepting the remains we have of it in sacred
writ. This silence was succeeded by poetical fables,
and these, at length, by the writings we now enjoy ; so
that the concealed and secret learning of the ancients
seems separated from the history and knowledge of the
following ages by a veil, or partition wall of fables,
interposing between the things that are lost and those
that remain.
Many may imagine that I am here entering upon a
work of fancy, or amusement, and design to use a
poetical liberty, in explaining poetical fables. It is
true, fables in general are composed of ductile matter,
that may be drawn into great variety by a witty'talent
or an inventive genius, and be delivered of plausible
meanings which they never contained. But this pro
cedure has already been carried to excess ; and great
numbers, to procure the sanction of antiquity to, their
own notions and inventions, have miserably wrested
and abused the fables of the ancients.
Nor is this only a late or unfrequent practice, but of
ancient date, and common even to this day. Thus
Chrysippus, like an interpreter of dreams, attributed
�4
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
the opinions of the Stoics to the poets of old ; and the
chemists, at present, more childishly apply the poetical
transformations to their experiments of the furnace.
And though I have well weighed and considered all
this, and thoroughly seen into the levity which the
mind indulges for allegories and allusions, yet I cannot
but retain a high value for the ancient mythology.
And, certainly, it were very injudicious to suffer the
fondness and licentiousness of a few to detract from
the honor of allegory and parable in general. This
would be rash, and almost profane ; for, since religion
delights in such shadows and disguises, to abolish them
were, in a manner, to prohibit all intercourse betwixt
things divine and human.
Upon deliberate consideration, my judgment is, that
a concealed instruction and allegory was originally
intended in many of the ancient fables. This opinion
may, in some respect, be owing to the veneration I
have for antiquity, but more to observing that some
fables discover a great and evident similitude, relation,
and connection with the thing they signify, as well in
the structure of the fable as in the propriety of the
names whereby the persons or actors are characterised;
insomuch, that no one could positively deny a sense
and meaning to be from the first intended, and pur
posely shadowed out in them. For who can hear that
Fame, after the giants were destroyed, sprung up as
their posthumous sister, and not apply it to the clamor
of parties and the seditious rumors which commonly
fly about for a time upon the quelling of insurrections ?
Or who can read how the giant Typhon cut out and
carried away Jupiter’s sinews—which Mercury after
wards stole and again restored to Jupiter—and not
presently observe that this allegory denotes strong and
powerful rebellions, which cut away from kings their
sinews, both of money and authority ; and that’ the
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
5
way to have them restored is by lenity, affability, and
prudent edicts, which soon reconcile, and as it were
steal upon the affections of the subject ? Or who, upon
hearing that memorable expedition of the gods against
the giants, when the braying of Silenus’s ass greatly
contributed in putting the giants to flight, does not
clearly conceive that this directly points at the mon
strous enterprises of rebellious subjects, which are
frequently frustrated and disappointed by vain fears
and empty rumors ?
Again, the conformity and purport of the names is
frequently manifest and self-evident. Thus Metis,
the wife of Jupiter, plainly signifies counsel ; Typhon,
swelling; Pan, universality ; Nemesis, revenge ; etc.
Nor is it a wonder, if sometimes a piece of history or
other things are introduced, by way of ornament; or
if the times of the action are confounded; or if part
of one fable be tacked to another ; or if the allegory
be new turned ; for all this must necessarily happen,
as the fables were the inventions of men who lived in
different ages and had different views ; some of them
being ancient, others more modern ; some having an
eye to natural philosophy, and others to morality or
civil policy.
It may pass for a farther indication of a concealed
and secret meaning, that some of these fables are so
absurd and idle in their narration as to show and pro
claim an allegory, even afar off. A fable that carries
probability with it may be supposed invented for
pleasure, or in imitation of history ; but those that
could never be conceived or related in this way must
surely have a different use. For example, what a
monstrous fiction is this, that Jupiter should take Metis
to wife, and as soon as he found her pregnant eat her
up, whereby he also conceived, and out of his head
brought forth Pallas armed. Certainly no mortal could,
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
but for the sake of the moral it couches, invent such
an absurd dream as this, so much out of the road of
thought!
But the argument of most weight with me is this,
that many of these fables by no means appear to have
been invented by the persons who relate and divulge
them, whether Homer, Hesiod, or others; for if I
were assured they first flowed from those later times
and authors that transmit them to us, I should never
expect anything singularly great or noble from such
an origin. But whoever attentively considers the
thing will find that these fables are delivered down
and related by those writers, not as matters then first
invented and proposed, but as things received and
embraced in earlier ages. Besides, as they are diferently related by writers nearly of the same ages, it
is easily perceived that the relators drew from the
common stock of ancient tradition, and varied but in
point of embellishment, which is their own. And
this principally raises my esteem of these fables,
which I receive, not as the product of the age, or
invention of the poets, but as sacred relics, gentle
whispers, and the breath of better times, that from the
traditions of more ancient nations came, at length, into
the flutes and trumpets of the Greeks. But if any one
shall, notwithstanding this, contend that allegories are
always adventitious, or imposed upon the ancient
fables, and no way native or genuinely contained in
them, we might here leave him undisturbed in that
gravity of judgment he affects (though we cannot help
accounting it something dull and phlegmatic), and if it
were worth the trouble, proceed to another kind of
argument.
Men have proposed to answer two different and
contrary ends by the use of parable ; for parables serve
as well to instruct or illustrate as to wrap up or envelop,
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7
so that though, for the present, we drop the concealed
use, and suppose the ancient fables to be vague, un
determinate things, formed for amusement, still the
other use must remain, and can never be given up.
And every man, of any learning, must readily allow
that this method of instructing is grave, sober, or
exceedingly useful, and sometimes necessary in the
sciences, as it opens an easy and familial- passage to
the human understanding, in all new discoveries that
are abstruse and out of the road of vulgar opinions.
Hence, in the first ages, when such inventions and con
clusions of the human reason as are now trite and
common were new and little known, all things
abounded with fables, parables, similes, comparisons,
and allusions, which were not intended to conceal, but
to inform and teach, whilst the minds of men con
tinued rude and unpractised in matters of subtility
and speculation, or even impatient, and in a manner
uncapable of receiving such things as did not directly
fall under and strike the senses. For as hieroglyphics
were in use before writing, so were parables in use
before arguments. And even to this day, if any man
would let new light in upon the human understanding,
and conquer prejudice, without raising contests,
animosities, opposition, or disturbance, he must still go
in the same path, and have recourse to the like method
of allegory, metaphor, and allusion.
To conclude, the knowledge of the early ages was
either great or happy ; great, if they by design made
this use of trope and figure ; happy, if, whilst they
had other views, they afforded matter and occasion to
such noble contemplations. Let either be the case, our
pains, perhaps, will not be misemployed, whether we
illustrate antiquity or things themselves.
The like indeed has been attempted by others ; but
to speak „ ingenuously, their great and voluminous
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
labors have almost destroyed the energy, the efficacy,
and grace of the thing, whilst, being unskilled in
nature, and their learning no more than that of com
mon-place, they have applied the sense of the parables
to certain general and vulgar matters, without reaching
to their real purport, genuine interpretation, and full
depth. For myself, therefore, I expect to appear new
in these common things, because, leaving untouched
such as are sufficiently plain and open, I shall drive
only at those that are either deep or rich.
I.—CASSANDRA, OR DIVINATION.
EXPLAINED OF TOO FREE AND UNSEASONABLE ADVICE.
The Poets relate that Apollo, falling in love with
Cassandra, was still deluded and put off by her, yet
fed with hopes, till she had got from him the gift of
prophecy ; and having now obtained her end, she flatly
rejected his suit. Apollo, unable to recall his rash
gift, yet enraged to be outwitted by a girl, annexed
this penalty to it, that though she should always
prophesy true, she should never be believed ; whence
her divinations were always slighted, even when she
again and again predicted the ruin of her country.
Explanation.—This fable seems invented to express
the insignificance of unreasonable advice. For they
who are conceited, stubborn, or intractable, and listen
not to the instructions of Apollo, the god of harmony,
so as to learn and observe the modulations and measures
of affairs, the sharps and fiats of discourse, the
difference between judicious and vulgar ears, and the
proper times of speech and silence, let them be ever so
intelligent, and ever so frank of their advice, or their
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9
counsels ever so good and just, yet all their endeavors,
either of persuasion or force, are of little significance,
and rather hasten the ruin of those they advise. But,
at last, when the calamitous event has made the
sufferers feel the effect of their neglect, they too late
reverence their advisers, as deep, foreseeing, and faith
ful prophets.
Of this we have a remarkable instance in Cato of
Utica, who discovered afar off, and long foretold, the
approaching ruin of his country, both in the first con
spiracy, and as it was prosecuted in the civil war
between Csesar and Pompey yet did no good the while,
but rather hurt the commonwealth, and hurried on its
destruction, which Cicero wisely observed in these
words : “ Cato, indeed, judges excellently, but pre
judices the state; for he speaks as in the common
wealth of Plato, and not as in the dregs of Romulus.”
II.—TYPHON: OR A REBEL.
EXPLAINED OF REBELLION.
The fable runs, that Juno, enraged at Jupiter’s
bringing forth Pallas without her assistance, incessantly
solicited all the gods and goddesses, that she might
produce without Jupiter : and having by violence and
importunity obtained the grant, she struck the earth,
and thence immediately sprung up Typhon, a huge
and dreadful monster, whom she committed to the
nursing of a serpent. As soon as he was grown up,
this monster waged war on Jupiter, and taking him
prisoner in the battle, carried him away on his
shoulders, into a remote and obscure quarter: and
there cutting out the sinews of his hands and feet, he
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
bore them off, leaving Jupiter behind miserably
maimed and mangled.
But Mercury afterwards stole these sinews from
Typhon and restored them to Jupiter. Hence, recover
ing his strength, Jupiter again pursues the monster;
first wounds him with a stroke of his thunder, when
serpents arose from the blood of the wound : and now
the monster being dismayed, and taking to flight,.
Jupiter next darted Mount JEtna upon him, and
crushed him with the weight.
Explanation.—This fable seems designed to express
the various fates of kings, and the turns that rebellions
sometimes take, in kingdoms. For princes may be
justly esteemed married to their states, as Jupiter to
Juno ; but it sometimes happens, that, being depraved
by long wielding of the sceptre, and growing tyrannical,
they would engross all to themselves ; and slighting
the counsel of their senators and nobles, conceive by
themselves ; that is, govern according to their own
arbitrary will and pleasure. This inflames the people,
and makes them endeavor to create and set up some
head of their own. Such designs are generally set on
foot by the secret motion and instigation of the peers
and nobles, under whose connivance the common sort
are prepared for rising : whence proceeds a swell in
the state, which is appositely denoted by the nursing
of Typhon. This growing posture of affairs is fed by
the natural depravity, and malignant dispositions of
the vulgar, which to kings is an envenomed serpent.
And now the disaffected, uniting their force, at length
break out into open rebellion, which, producing infinite
mischiefs, both to prince and people, is represented by
the horrid and multiplied deformity of Typhon, with
his hundred heads, denoting the divided powers ; his
flaming mouths, denoting fire and devastation; his
girdles of snakes, denoting sieges and destruction ; his
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11
iron hands, slaughter and cruelty ; his eagle’s talons,
rapine and plunder ; his plumed body, perpetual
rumors, contradictory accounts, etc. And sometimes
these rebellions grow so high, that kings are obliged,
as if carried on the backs of the rebels, to quit the
throne, and retire to some remote and obscure part of
their dominions, with the loss of their sinews, both of
money and majesty,
But if now they prudently bear this reverse of
fortune, they may, in a short time, by the assistance of
Mercury, recover their sinews again; that is, by becom
ing moderate and affable ; reconciling the minds and
affections of the people to them, by gracious speeches
and prudent proclamations, which will win over the
subject cheerfully to afford new aids and supplies, and
add fresh vigor to authority. But prudent and wary
princes here seldom incline to try fortune by a war,
yet do their utmost, by some grand exploit, to crush
the reputation of the rebels: and if the attempt
succeeds, the rebels, conscious of the wound received,
and distrustful of their cause, first betake themselves
to broken and empty threats, like the hissings of
serpents ; and next, when matters are grown desperate,
to flight. And now, when they thus begin to shrink,
it is safe and seasonable for kings to pursue them with
their forces, and the whole strength of the kingdom ;
thus effectually quashing and suppressing them, as it
were by the weight of a mountain.
III.—THE CYCLOPS : OR THE MINISTERS OF
TERROR.
EXPLAINED OF BASE COURT OFFICERS.
It is related that the Cyclops, for their savageness
and cruelty, were by Jupiter first thrown into Tartarus,
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
and there condemned to perpetual imprisonment ; but,
that afterwards, Tellus, persuaded Jupiter it would be
for his service to release them, and employ them in
forging thunderbolts. This he accordingly did ; and
they, with unwearied pains and diligence, hammered
out his bolts, and other instruments of terror, with a
frightful and continual din of the anvil.
It happened long after, that Jupiter was displeased
with .ZEsculapius, the son of Apollo, for having, by the
art of medicine, restored a dead man to life ; but con
cealing his indignation, because the action in itself
was pious and illustrious, he secretly incensed the
Cyclops against him, who, without remorse, presently
slew him with their thunderbolts ; in revenge whereof,
Apollo, with Jupiter’s connivance, shot them all dead
with his arrows.
Explanation.—This fable seems to point at the
behavior of princes, who, having cruel, bloody,
and oppressive ministers, first punish and displace
them; but afterwards, by the advice of Tellus, that is,
some earthly-minded and ignoble person, employ them
again, to serve a turn, when there is occasion for
cruelty in execution, or severity in exaction : but these
ministers being base in their nature, whet by their
former disgrace, and well aware of what is expected
from them, use double diligence in their office ; till,
proceeding unwarily, and over-eager to gain favor, they
sometimes, from the private nods and ambiguous orders
of their prince, perform some odious or execrable
action : When princes, to decline the envy themselves,
and knowing they shall never want such tools at their
back, drop them, and give them up to the friends and
followers of the injured person; thus exposing them,
as sacrifices to revenge and populai’ odium : whence
with great applause, acclamations, and good wishes to
the prince, these miscreants at last meet with their desert.
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13
IV.—NARCISSUS : OR SELF-LOVE.
Narcissus is said to have been extremely beautiful
and comely, but intolerably proud and disdainful ; so
that, pleased with himself, and scorning the world, he
led a solitary life in the woods ; hunting only with a
few followers, who were his professed admirers,
amongst whom the nymph Echo was his constant
attendant. In this method of life it was once his fate
to approach a clear fountain, where he laid himself
down to rest, in the noonday heat ; when, beholding
his image in the water, he fell into such a rapture and
admiration of himself, that he could by no means be got
away, but remained continually fixed and gazing, till
at length he was turned into a flower, of his own name,
which appears early in the spring, and is consecrated
to the infernal deities, Pluto, Proserpine, and the Furies.
Explanation. —This fable seems to paint the behavior
and fortune of those who, for their beauty, or other
endowments, wherewith nature (without any industry
of their own) has graced and adorned them, are extra
vagantly fond of themselves : for men of such a
disposition generally affect retirement, and absence
from public affairs ; as a life of business must neces
sarily subject them to many neglects and contempts,
which might disturb and ruffle their minds : whence
such persons commonly lead a solitary, private, and
shadowy life ; see little company, and those only such
as highly admire and reverence them ; or, like an echo,
assent to all they say.
And they who are depraved, and rendered still fonder
of themselves by this custom, grow strangely indolent,
unactive, and perfectly stupid. The Narcissus, a spring
flower, is an elegant emblem of this temper, which" at
first flourishes, and is talked of, but when ripe, frus
trates the expectation conceived of it.
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
And that this flower should be sacred to the infernal
powers, carries out the allusion still farther ; because
men of this humor are perfectly useless in all respects ;
for whatever yields no fruit, but passes, and is no more,
like the way of a ship in the sea, was by the ancients
consecrated to the infernal shades and powers.
V.—THE RIVER STYX: OR LEAGUES.
EXPLAINED OE NECESSITY, IN THE OATHS OR SOLEMN
LEAGUES OF PRINCES.
The only solemn oath, by which the gods irrevocably
obliged themselves, is a well-known thing, and makes
a part of many ancient fables. To this oath they did
not invoke any celestial divinity, or divine attribute,
but only called to witness the river Styx; which, with
many meanders, surrounds the infernal court of Dis.
For this form alone, and none but this, was held
inviolable and obligatory: and the punishment of
falsifying it, was that dreaded one of being excluded,
for a certain number of years, the table of the gods.
Explanation.—This fable seems invented to show
the nature of the compacts and confederacies of princes ;
which, though ever so solemnly and religiously sworn
to, prove but little the more binding for it : so that
oaths in this case seem used, rather for decorum, repu
tation, and ceremony, than for fidelity, security, and
effectuating. And though these oaths were strengthened
with the bonds of affinity, which are the links and ties
of nature, and again, by mutual services and good
offices, yet we see all this will generally give way to
ambition, convenience, and the thirst of power ; the
rather, because it is easy for princes, under various
specious pretences, to defend, disguise, and conceal
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15
their ambitious desires and insincerity ; having no
judge to call them to account. There is, however, one
true and proper confirmation of their faith, though no
celestial divinity; but that great divinity of princes,
Necessity ; or, the danger of the state ; and the securing
of advantage.
This necessity is elegantly represented by Styx, the
fatal river, that can never be crossed back. And this
deity it was, which Iphicrates the Athenian invoked
in making a league: and because he roundly and
openly avows what most others studiously conceal, it
may be proper to give his own words. Observing that
the Lacedsemonians were inventing and proposing a
variety of securities, sanctions, and bonds of alliance,
he interrupted them thus : “ There may, indeed, my
friends, be one bond and means of security between
us ; and that is, for you to demonstrate you have
delivered into our hands such things as that if you
had the greatest desire to hurt us you could not be
able.” Therefore, if the power of offending be taken
away, or if by a breach of compact there be danger of
destruction or diminution to the state or tribute, then
it is that covenants will be ratified, and confirmed, as
it were, by the Stygian oath, whilst there remains an
impending danger of being prohibited and excluded
the banquet of the gods ; by which expression the
ancients denoted the rights and prerogatives, the
the affluence and the felicities, of empire and dominion.
VI.—PAN : OR NATURE.
EXPLAINED OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY,
The ancients have, with great exactness, delineated
universal nature under the person of Pan. They leave
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
his origin doubtful ; some asserting him the son of
Mercury, and others the common offspring of all
Penelope’s suitors. The latter supposition doubtless
occasioned some later rivals to entitle this ancient
fable Penelope ; a thing frequently practised when the
earlier relations are applied to more modern characters
and persons, though sometimes with great absurdity
and ignorance, as in the present case ; for Pan was one
of the ancientest gods, and long before the time of
Ulysses; besides, Penelope was venerated by antiquity
for her matronal chastity. A third sort will have him
the issue of Jupiter and Hybris, that is, Reproach.
But whatever his origin was, the Destinies are allowed
his sisters.
He is described by antiquity, with pyramidal horns
reaching up to heaven, a rough and shaggy body, a
very long beard, of a biform figure, human above, half
brute below, ending in goat’s feet. His arms, or
ensigns of power, are, a pipe in his left hand, composed
of seven reeds; in his right a crook; and he wore for
his mantle a leopard’s skin.
His attributes and titles were the god of hunters,
shepherds, and all the rural inhabitants ; president of
the mountains ; and, after Mercury, the next messenger
of the gods. He was also held the leader and ruler of
the Nymphs, who continually danced and frisked about
him, attended with the Satyrs and their elders, the
Sileni. He had also the power of striking terrors,
especially such as were vain and superstitious ; whence
they came to be called panic terrors.
Few actions are recorded of him, only a principal
one is, that he challenged Cupid at wrestling, and was
worsted. He also catched the giant Typhon in a net,
and held him fast. They relate farther of him, that
when Ceres, growing disconsolate for the rape of Prosperine, hid herself, and all the gods took the utmost
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17
pains to find her, by going out different ways for that
purpose, Pan only had the good fortune to meet her,
as he was hunting, and discovered her to the rest. He
likewise had the assurance to rival Apollo in music ;
and in the judgment of Midas was preferred ; but the
judge had, though with great privacy and secrecy, a
pair of ass’s ears fastened on him for his sentence.
There is very little said of his amours ; which may
• seem strange among such a multitude of gods, so pro
fusely amorous. He is only reported to have been
very fond of Echo, who was also esteemed his wife ;
and one nymph more, called Syrinx, with the love of
whom Cupid inflamed him for his insolent challenge ;
so he is reported once to have solicited the moon to
accompany him apart into the deep woods.
Lastly, Pan had no descendant, which also is a
wonder, when the male gods were so extremely pro
lific ; only he was the reputed father of a servant-girl
called Iambe, who used to divert strangers with her
ridiculous prattling stories.
This fable is perhaps the noblest of all antiquity, and
pregnant with the mysteries and secrets of nature.
Pan, as the name imports, represents the universe,
about whose origin there are two opinions, viz., that it
either sprung from Mercury, that is, the divine word,
according to the Scriptures and philosophical divines,
or from the confused seeds of things. For they who
allow only one beginning of all things, either ascribe
it to God; or, if they suppose a material beginning,
acknowledge it to be various in its powers ; so that the
whole dispute comes to these points ; namely, either
that nature proceeds from Mercury, or from Penelope
and all her suitors.
The third origin of Pan seems borrowed by the
Greeks from the Hebrew mysteries, either by means of
the Egyptians, or otherwise ; for it relates to the state
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
of the world, not in its first creation, but as made
subject to death and corruption after the fall; and in
this state it was, and remains, the offspring of God and
Sin, or Jupiter and Reproach. And therefore these
three several accounts of Pan’s birth may seem true,
if duly distinguished in respect of things and times.
For this Pan, or the universal nature of things, which
we view and contemplate, had its origin from the
divine Word and confused matter, first created by God
himself, with the subsequent introduction of sin, and
consequently corruption.
The Destinies, or the natures and fates of things, are
justly made Pan’s sisters, as the chain of natural causes
links together the rise, duration, and corruption ; the
exaltation, degeneration, and workings ; the processes,
the effects, and changes, of all that can any way happen
to things.
Horns are given him, broad at the roots, but narrow
and sharp at the top, because the nature of all things
seems pyramidal; for individuals are infinite, but
being collected into a variety of species, they rise up
into kinds, and these again ascend, and are contracted
into generals, till at length nature may seem collected
to a point. And no wonder if Pan’s horns reach to the
heavens, since the sublimities of nature, or abstract
ideas, reach in a manner to things divine ; for there is
a short and ready passage from metaphysics to natural
theology.
Pan’s body, or the body of nature, is, with great pro
priety and elegance, painted shaggy and hairy, as repre
senting the rays of things ; for rays are as the hair, or
fleece of nature, and more or less worn by all bodies.
This evidently appears in vision, and in all effects or
operations at a distance; for whatever operates thus
may be properly said to emit rays. But particularly
the beard of Pan is exceedingly long, because the rays
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19
of the celestial bodies penetrate, and act to a prodigious
distance, and have descended into the interior of the
earth so far as to change its surface ; and the sun him
self, when clouded on its upper part, appears to the eye
bearded.
Again, the body of nature is justly described biform,
because of the difference between its superior and
inferior parts, as the former, for their beauty, regularity
of motion, and influence over the earth, may be pro
perly represented by the human figure, and the latter,
because of their disorder, irregularity, and subjection
to the celestial bodies, are by the brutal. This biform
figure also represents the participation of one species
with another ; for there appear to be no simple natures ;
but all participate or consist of two: thus man has
somewhat of the brute, the brute somewhat of the
plant, the plant somewhat of the mineral; so that all
natural bodies have really two faces, or consist of a
superior and an inferior species.
There lies a curious allegory in the making of Pan
goatfooted, on account of the motion of ascent which
the terrestrial bodies have towards the air and heavens ;
for the goat is a clambering creature, that delights in
climbing up rocks and precipices ; and in the same
manner the. matters destined to this lower globe
strongly affect to rise upwards, as appears from the
clouds and meteors.
Pan’s arms, or the ensigns he bears in his hands, are
of two kinds—the one an emblem of harmony, the
other of empire. His pipe, composed of seven reeds,
plainly denotes the consent and harmony, or the con
cords and discords of things, produced by the motion
of the seven planets. His crook also contains a fine
representation of the ways of nature, which are partly
straight and partly crooked ; thus the staff, having an
extraordinary bend towards the top, denotes that the
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
works of Divine Providence are generally brought
about by remote means, or in a circuit, as if somewhat
else were intended rather than the effect produced, as
in the sending of Joseph into Egypt, etc. So likewise
in human government, they who sit at the helm
manage and wind the people more successfully by
pretext and oblique courses, than they could by such
as are direct and straight; so that, in effect, all sceptres
are crooked at the top.
Pan’s mantle, or clothing, is with great ingenuity
made of a leopard’s skin, because of the spots it has ;
for in like manner the heavens are sprinkled with
stars, the sea with islands, the earth with flowers, and
almost each particular thing is variegated, or wears a
mottled coat.
The office of Pan could not be more livelily expressed
than by making him the god of hunters ; for every
natural action, every motion and process, is no other
than a chase: thus arts and sciences hunt out their
works, and human schemes and counsels their several
ends ; and all living creatures either hunt out their
aliment, pursue their prey, or seek their pleasures, and
this in a skilful and sagacious manner. He is also
styled the god of the rural inhabitants, because men in
this situation live more according to nature than they
do in cities and courts, where nature is so corrupted
with effeminate arts, that the saying of the poet may
be verified—
----- pars minima est ipsa puella sui.
He is likewise particularly styled President of the
Mountains, because in mountains and lofty places the
nature of things lies more open and exposed to the eye
and the understanding.
In his being called the messenger of the gods, next
after Mercury, lies a divine allegory, as next after the
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21
Word of God, the image of the world is the herald of
the Divine power and wisdom, according to the
expression of the Psalmist, “ The heavens declare the
glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handi
work.”
Pan is delighted with the company of the Nymphs ;
that is, the souls of all living creatures are the delight
of the world ; and he is properly called their governor,
because each of them follows its own nature as a leader,
and all dance about their own respective rings, with
infinite variety and never-ceasing motion. And with
these continually j oin the Satyrs and Sileni; that is, youth
and age : for all things have a kind of young, cheerful?
and dancing time ; and again their time of slowness,
tottering, and creeping. And whoever, in a true light,
considers the motions and endeavors of both these
ages, like another Democritus, will perhaps find them
as odd and strange as the gesticulations and antic
motions of the Satyrs and Sileni.
The power he had of striking terrors contains a very
sensible doctrine ; for nature has implanted fear in all
living creatures ; as well to keep them from risking
their lives, as to guard against injuries and violence ;
and yet this nature or passion keeps not its bounds, but
with just and profitable fears always mixes such as are
vain and senseless ; so that all things, if we could see
their insides, would appear full of panic terrors. Thus
mankind, particularly the vulgar, labor under a high
degree of superstition, which is nothing more than a
panic-dread that principally reigns in unsettled and
troublesome times.
The presumption of Pan in challenging Cupid to the
conflict, denotes that matter has an appetite and ten
dency to a dissolution of the world, and falling back
to its first chaos again, unless this depravity and
inclination were restrained and subdued by a more
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
powerful concord and agreement of things, properly
expressed by Love or Cupid ; it is therefore well for
mankind, and the state of all things, that Pan was
thrown and conquered in the struggle.
His catching and detaining Typhon in the net
receives a similar explanation ; for whatever vast and
unusual swells, which the word typhon signifies, may
sometimes be raised in nature, as in the sea, the clouds,
the earth, or the like, yet nature catches, entangles,
and holds all such outrages and insurrections in her
inextricable net, wove as it were of adamant.
That part of the fable w'hich attributes the discovery
of lost Ceres to Pan whilst he was hunting—a happi
ness denied the other gods, though they diligently and
expressly sought her—contains an exceeding just and
prudent admonition ; namely, that we are not to expect
the discovery of things useful in common life, as that of
corn, denoted by Ceres, from abstract philosophies, as
if these were the gods of the first order,—no, not
though we used our utmost endeavors this way,—but
only from Pan, that is a sagacious experience and
general knowledge- of nature, which is often found,
even by accident, to stumble upon such discoveries
whilst the pursuit was directed another way.
The event of his contending with Apollo in music
affords us a useful instruction, that may help to humble
the human reason and judgment, which is too apt to
boast and glory in itself. There seem to be two kinds
of harmony—the one of Divine Providence, the othei’
of human reason ; but the government of the world,
the administration of its affairs, and the more secret
Divine judgments, sound harsh and dissonant to human
ears or human judgment; and though this ignorance
be justly rewarded with asses ears, yet they are put on
and worn, not openly, but with great secrecy; nor is the
deformity of the thing seen or observed by the vulgar.
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
23
We must not find it strange if no amors are related
of Pan besides his marriage with Echo ; for nature
enjoys itself, and in itself all other things. He that
loves desires enjoyment, but in profusion there is no
room for desire ; and therefore Pan, remaining content
with himself, has no passion unless it be for discourse,
which is well shadowed out by Echo or talk, or when
it is more accurate, by Syrinx or writing. But Echo
makes a most excellent wife for Pan, as being no other
than genuine philosophy, which faithfully repeats his
words, or only transcribes exactly as nature dictates ;
thus representing the true image and reflection of the
world without adding a tittle.
It tends also to the support and perfection of Pan or
nature to be without offspring ; for the world generates
in its parts, and not in the way of a whole, as wanting
a body external to itself wherewith to generate.
Lastly, for the supposed or spurious prattling daughter
of Pan, it is an excellent addition to the fable, and
aptly represents the talkative philosophies that have at
all times been stirring, and filled the word with idle
tales, being ever barren, empty, and servile, though
sometimes indeed diverting and entertaining, and
sometimes again troublesome and importunate.
VII.—PERSEUS : OR WAR.
EXPLAINED OF THE PREPARATION AND CONDUCT
NECESSARY TO WAR.
“ The fable relates, that Perseus was despatched from
the east by Pallas, to cut off Medusa’s head, who had
committed great ravage upon the people of the west ;
for this Medusa was so dire a monster as to turn into
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
stone all those who but looked upon her. She was a
Gorgon, and the only mortal one of the three, the other
two being invulnerable. Perseus, therefore, preparing
himself for this grand enterprise, had presents made
him from three of the g.ods : Mercury gave him wings
for his heels ; Pluto, a helmet ; and Pallas, a shield
and a mirror. But though he was now so well
equipped, he posted not directly to Medusa, but first
turned aside to the Grese, who were half-sisters to the
Gorgons. These Greae were gray-headed, and like old
women from their birth, having among them all three
but one eye, and one tooth, which as they had occasion
to go out, they each wore by turns, and laid them down
again upon coming back. This eye and this tooth they
lent to Perseus, who now judging himself sufficiently
furnished, he, without further stop, flies swiftly away
to Medusa, and finds her asleep. But not venturing his
eyes, for fear she should wake, he turned his head
aside, and viewed her in Pallas’s mirror; and thus
directing his stroke, cut off her head; when im
mediately, from the gushing blood, there darted
Pegasus, winged. Perseus now inserted Medusa’s head
into Pallas’s shield, which thence retained the faculty
of astonishing and benumbing all who looked on it.”
This fable seems invented to show the prudent
method of choosing, undertaking, and conducting a
war ; and, accordingly, lays down three useful precepts
about it, as if they were the precepts of Pallas.
(1) The first is, that no prince should be oversolicitous to subdue a neighboring nation ; for the
method of enlarging the empire is very different from
that of increasing an estate. Regard is justly had to
contiguity, or adjacency, in private lands and posses
sions ; but in the extending of empire, the occasion,
the facility, and advantage of a war, are to be regarded
instead of vicinity. It is certain that the Romans, at
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
25
the time they stretched but little beyond Liguria to the
west, had by their arms subdued the provinces as far
as Mount Taurus to the east. And thus Perseus readily
undertook a very long expedition, even from the east
to the extremities of the west.
The second precept is, that the cause of the war be
just and honorable ; for this adds alacrity both to the
soldiers, and the people who find the supplies : pro
cures aids, alliances, and numerous other conveniences.
Now there is no cause of war more just and laudable
than the suppressing of tyranny, by which a people
are dispirited, benumbed, or left without life and
vigor, as at the sight of Medusa.
Lastly, it is prudently added, that as there were
three of the Gorgons, who represent war, Perseus
singled her out for his expedition that was mortal ;
which affords this precept, that such kind of wars
should be chose as may be brought to a conclusion,
without pursuing vast and infinite hopes.
Again, Perseus’s setting-out is extremely well adapted
to his undertaking, and in a manner commands success ;
he received despatch from Mercury, secrecy from
Pluto, and foresight from Pallas. It also contains an
excellent allegory, that the wings given him by
Mercury were for his heels, not for his shoulders;
because expedition is not so much required in the first
preparations for war, as in the subsequent matters, that
administer to the first; for there is no error more
frequent in war, than, after brisk preparations, to halt
for subsidiary forces and effective supplies.
The allegory of Pluto’s helmet, rendering men
invisible and secret, is sufficiently evident of itself ;
but the mystery of the shield and the mirror lies
deeper, and denotes, that not only a prudent caution
must be had to defend, like the shield, but also such
an address and penetration as may discover the strength,
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
the motions, the counsels, and designs of the enemy ;
like the mirror of Pallas.
But though Perseus may now seem extremely well
prepared, there still remains the most important thing
of all ; before he enters upon the war, he must of
necessity consult the Grese. These Grese are treasons ;
half, but degenerate sisters of the Gorgons ; who are
representatives of wars : for wars are generous and
noble ; but treasons base and vile. The Grese are
elegantly described as hoary-headed, and like old
women from their birth ; on account of the perpetual
cares, fears, and trepidations attending traitors. Their
force, also, before it breaks out into open revolt, con
sists either in an eye or a tooth ; for all faction
alienated from a state, is both watchful and biting ;
and this eye and tooth are, as it were, common to all
the disaffected ; because whatever they learn and know
is transmitted from one to another, as by the hands of
faction. And for the tooth, they all bite with the
same ; and clamor with one throat; so that each of
them singly expresses the multitude.
These Grese, therefore, must be prevailed upon by
Perseus to lend him their eye and their tooth; the eye
to give him indications, and make discoveries; the
tooth for sowing rumors, raising envy, and stirring up
the minds of the people. And when all these things
are thus disposed and prepared, then follows the action
of the war.
He finds Medusa asleep; for whoever undertakes a
war with prudence, generally falls upon the enemy un
prepared, and nearly in a state of security; and here
is the occasion for Pallas’s mirror : for it is common
enough, before the danger presents itself, to see exactly
into the state and posture of the enemy; but the
principal use of the glass is, in the very instant of
danger, to discover the manner thereof, and prevent
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27
consternation ; which, is the thing intended by Per
seus’s turning his head aside, and viewing the enemy
in the glass.
Two effects here follow the conquest : 1. The darting
forth of Pegasus; which evidently denotes fame, that
flies abroad, proclaiming the victory far and near.
2. The bearing of Medusa’s head in the shield, which
is the greatest possible defence and safeguard ; for one
grand and memorable enterprise, happily accomplished,
bridles all the motions and attempts of the enemy,
stupifi.es disaffections, and quells commotions.
VIII.—ENDYMION: OR A FAVORITE.
EXPLAINED OE COURT FAVORITES.
The goddess Luna is said to have fallen in love with
the shepherd Endymion, and to have carried on her
amours with him in a new and singular manner; it
being her custom, whilst he lay reposing in his native
cave, under Mount Latmus, to descend frequently from
her sphere, enjoy his company whilst he slept, and
then go up to heaven again. And all this while
Endymion’s fortune was no way prejudiced by his
unactive and sleepy life, the goddess causing his flocks
to thrive, and grow so exceeding numerous, that none
of the other shepherds could compare with him.
Explanation.—This fable seems to describe the
tempers and dispositions of princes, who, being
thoughtful and suspicious, do not easily admit to their
privacies such men as are prying, curious, and vigilant,
or, as it were, sleepless; but rather such as are of an
easy, obliging nature, and indulge them in their
pleasures, without seeking anything farther; but
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
seeming ignorant, insensible, or, as it were, lulled
asleep before them. Princes usually treat such persons
familiarly ; and, quitting their throne dike Luna, think
they may with safety unbosom to them. This temper
was very remarkable in Tiberius, a prince exceeding
difficult to please, and who had no favorites but those
that perfectly understood his way, and, at the same
time, obstinately dissembled their knowledge, almost
to a degree of stupidity.
The cave is not improperly mentioned in the fable ;
it being a common thing for the favorites of a prince
to have their pleasant retreats, whither to invite him,
by way of relaxation, though without prejudice to
their own fortunes ; these favorites usually making a
good provision for themselves.
I or though their prince should not, perhaps, promote
them to dignities, yet, out of real affection, and not
only for convenience, they generally feel the enriching
influence of his bounty.
IX.—THE SISTERS OF THE GIANTS: OR FAME.
EXPLAINED OF PUBLIC DETRACTION.
The poets relate, that the giants, produced from the
earth, made war upon Jupiter, and the other gods, but
were repulsed and conquered by thunder ; whereat the
earth, provoked, brought forth Fame, the youngest
sister of the giants, in revenge for the death of her
sons.
Explanation.—The meaning of the fable seems to
be this : the earth denotes the nature of the vulgar
who are always swelling, and rising against their rulers,
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
,
29
and endeavoring at changes. This disposition, getting
a fit opportunity, breeds rebels and traitors, who, with
impetuous rage, threaten and contrive the overthrow
and destruction of princes.
And when brought under and subdued, the same
vile and restless nature of the people, impatient of
peace, produces rumors, detractions, slanders, libels,
etc., to blacken those in authority ; so that rebellious
actions and seditious rumors, differ not in origin and
stock, but only as it were in sex ; treasons and rebel
lions being the brothers, and scandal or detraction the
sister.
X.—ACTEON AND PENTHEUS: OR A
CURIOUS MAN.
EXPLAINED OF CURIOSITY, OR PRYING INTO THE SECRETS
OF PRINCES AND DIVINE MYSTERIES.
The ancients afford us two examples for suppressing
the impertinent curiosity of mankind, in diving into
secrets, and imprudently longing and endeavoring to
discover them. The one of these is in the person of
Acteon, and the other in that of Pentheus. Acteon,
undesignedly chancing to see Diana naked, was turned
into a stag, and torn to pieces by his own hounds.
And Pentheus, desiring to pry into the hidden
mysteries of Bacchus’s sacrifice, and climbing a tree
for that purpose, was struck with a phrensy. This
phrensy of Pentheus caused him to see things double
particularly the sun, and his own city Thebes, so that
running homewards, and immediately espying another
Thebes, he runs towards that; and thus continues
incessantly tending first to the one, and then to the
other, without coming at either.
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
Explanation. —The first of these fables may relate
to the secrets of princes, and the second to divine
mysteries. For they who are not intimate with a
prince, yet against his will have a knowledge of his
secrets, inevitably incur his displeasure ; and therefore,
being aware that they are singled out, and all oppor
tunities watched against them, they lead the life of a
stag, full of fears and suspicions. It likewise fre
quently happens that their servants and domestics
accuse them, and plot their overthrow, in order to
procure favor with the prince ; for whenever the king
manifests his displeasure, the person it falls upon must
expect his servants to betray him, and worry him
down, as Acteon was worried by his own dogs.
The punishment of Pentheus is of another kind ;
for they who, unmindful of their mortal state, rashly
aspire to divine mysteries, by climbing the heights of
nature and philosophy, here represented by climbing a
tree,—their fate is perpetual inconstancy, perplexity,
and instability of judgment. For as there is one light
of nature, and another light that is divine, they see, as
it were, two suns. And as the actions of life, and the
determinations of the will, depend upon the under
standing, they are distracted as much in opinion as in
will; and therefore judge very inconsistently, or con
tradictorily ; and see, as it were, Thebes double ; for
Thebes, being the refuge and habitation of Pentheus,
here denotes the ends of actions : whence they know
not what course to take, but remaining undetermined
and unresolved in their views and designs, they are
merely driven about by every sudden gust and impulse
of the mind.
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
31
XI.—ORPHEUS : OR PHILOSOPHY.
EXPLAINED OF NATURAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY,
Introduction.—The fable of Orpheus, though trite
and common, has never been well interpreted, and
seems to hold out a picture of universal philosophy ;
for to this sense may be easily transferred what is said
of his being a wonderful and perfectly divine person,
skilled in all kinds of harmony, subduing and drawing
all things after him by sweet and gentle methods and
modulations. For the labors of Orpheus exceed the
labors of Hercules, both in power and dignity, as the
works of knowledge exceed the works of strength.
Fable.—Orpheus having his beloved wife snatched
from him by sudden death, resolved upon descending
to the infernal regions, to try if, by the power of his
harp, he could re-obtain her. And, in effect, he so
appeased and soothed the infernal powers by the
melody and sweetness of his harp and voice, that they
indulged him the liberty of taking her back, on con
dition that she should follow him behind, and he not
turn to look upon her till they came into open day ;
but he, through the impatience of his care and affection,
and thinking himself almost past danger, at length
looked behind him, whereby the condition was
violated, and she again precipitated to Pluto’s regions.
From this time Orpheus grew pensive and sad, a hater
of the sex, and went into solitude, where, by the
same sweetness of his harp and voice, he first drew the
wild beasts of all sorts about him ; so that, forgetting
their natures, they were neither actuated by revenge,
cruelty, lust, hunger, or the desire of prey, but stood
gazing about him, in a tame and gentle manner, listen
ing attentively to his music. Nay, so great was the
power and efficacy of his harmony, that it even caused
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
the trees and stones to remove, and place themselves
in a regular manner about him. When he had for a
time, and with great admiration, continued to do this,
at length the Thracian women, raised by the instigation
of Bacchus, first blew a deep and hoarse-sounding
horn, in such an outrageous manner, that it quite
drowned the music of Orpheus. And thus the power
which, as the link of their society, held all things in
order, being dissolved, disturbance reigned anew;
each creature returned to its own nature, and pursued
and preyed upon its fellow, as before. The rocks and
woods also started back to their former places ; and
•even Orpheus himself was at last torn to pieces by
these female furies, and his limbs scattered all over
the desert. But, in sorrow and revenge for his death,
the river Helicon, sacred to the Muses, hid its waters
under ground, and rose again in other places.
Explanation.—The fable receives this explanation.
The music of Orpheus is of two kinds; one that
appeases the infernal powers, and the other that draws
together the wild beasts and trees. The former pro
perly relates to natural, and the latter to moral
philosophy, or civil society. The reinstatement and
restoration of corruptible things is the noblest work of
natural philosophy ; and, in a less degree, the preser
vation of bodies in their own state, or a prevention of
their dissolution and corruption. And if this be
possible, it can certainly be effected no other way than
by proper and exquisite attemperations of nature ; as
it were by the harmony and fine touching of the harp.
But as this is a thing of exceeding great difficulty, the
end is seldom obtained ; and that, probably, for no
reason more than a curious and unseasonable im
patience and solicitude.
And, therefore, philosophy, being almost unequal to
the task, has cause to grow sad, and hence betakes
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
33
itself to human affairs, insinuating into men’s minds
the love of virtue, equity, and peace, by means of
eloquence and persuasion ; thus forming men into
societies ; bringing them under laws and regulations ;
and making them forget their unbridled passions and
affections, so long as they hearken to precepts and
submit to discipline. And thus they soon after build
themselves habitations, form cities, cultivate lands,
plant orchards, gardens, etc. So that they may not
improperly be said to remove and call the trees and
stones together.
. And this regard to civil affairs is justly and regularly
placed after diligent trial made for restoring the mortal
body; the attempt being frustrated in the end—
because the unavoidable necessity of death, thus evi
dently laid before mankind, animates them to seek a
kind of eternity by works of perpetuity, character,
and fame.
It is also prudently added, that Orpheus was after
wards averse to women and wedlock, because the
indulgence of a married state, and the natural affec
tions which men have for their children, often prevent
them from entering upon any grand, noble, or meri
torious enterprise for the public good ; as thinking it
sufficient to obtain immortality by their descendants,
without endeavoring a.t great actions.
And even the works of knowledge, though the most,
excellent among human things, have their periods ;
for after kingdoms and commonwealths have flourished
for a time, disturbances, seditions, and wars, often
arise, in the din whereof, first the laws are silent and
not heard ; and then men return to their own depraved
natures—whence cultivated lands and cities soon
become desolate and waste. And if this disorder con
tinues, learning and philosophy is infallibly torn to
pieces ; so that only some scattered fragments thereof
c
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
can afterwards be found up and down, in a few places,
like planks after a shipwreck. And barbarous times
succeeding, the river Helicon dips under-ground ; that
is, letters are buried, till things having undergone
their due course of changes, learning rises again, and
shows its head, though seldom in the same place, but
in some other nation.
XII.—CCELUM : OR BEGINNINGS.
EXPLAINED OF THE CREATION, OR ORIGIN OF ALL THINGS.
The poets relate, that Coelum was the most ancient
of all the gods ; that his parts of generation were cut
off by his son Saturn; that Saturn had a numerous
offspring, but devoured all his sons, as soon as they
were born ; that Jupiter at length escaped the common
fate; and when grown up, drove his father Saturn into
Tartarus ; usurped the kingdom; cut off his father’s
genitals, with the same knife wherewith Saturn had
dismembered Ccelum, and throwing them into the sea,
thence sprung Venus.
Before Jupiter was well established in his empire,
two memorable wars were made upon him : the first
by the Titans, in subduing of whom Sol, the only one
of the Titans who favored Jupiter, performed him
singular service ; the second by the giants, who being
destroyed and subdued by the thunder and arms of
Jupiter, he now reigned secure.
Explanation.—This fable appears to be an enigmati
cal account of the origin of all things, not greatly
differing from the philosophy afterwards embraced by
Democritus, who expressly asserts the eternity of
matter, but denies the eternity of the world ; thereby
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
35
approaching to the truth of sacred writ, which makes
chaos, or uninformed matter, to exist before the six
days’ works.
The meaning of the fable seems to be this : Ccelum
denotes the concave space, or vaulted roof that incloses
all matter, and Saturn the matter itself, which cuts off
all power of generation from his father ; as one and
the same quantity of matter remains invariable in
nature, without addition or diminution. But the
agitations and struggling motions of matter first pro
duced certain imperfect and ill-joined compositions of
things, as it were so many first rudiments, or essays of
worlds ; till, in process of time, there arose a fabric
capable of preserving its form and structure. Whence
the first age was shadowed out by the reign of Saturn ;
who, on account of the frequent dissolutions, and
short durations of things, was said to devour his
children. And the second age was denoted by the
reign of Jupiter ; who thrust, or drove those frequent
and transitory changes into Tartarus—a place expres
sive of disorder. This place seems to be in the middle
space, between the lower heavens and the internal
parts of the earth, wherein disorder, imperfection,
mutation, mortality, destruction, and corruption, are
principally found.
Venus was not born during the former generation of
things, under the reign of Saturn ; for whilst discord
and jar had the upper hand of concord and uniformity
in the matter of the universe, a change of the entire
structure was necessary. And in this manner things
were generated and destroyed, before Saturn was dis
membered. But when this manner of generation
ceased, there immediately followed another, brought
about by Venus, or a perfect and established harmony
of things ; whereby changes were wrought in the
parts, whilst the universal fabric remained entire and
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
undisturbed. Saturn, however, is said to be thrust
out and dethroned, not killed, and become extinct ;
because, agreeably to the opinion of Democritus, the
world might relapse into its old confusion and dis
order, which Lucretius hoped would not happen in his
time.
But now, when the world was compact, and held
together by its own bulk and energy, yet there was no
rest from the beginning ; for first, there followed con
siderable motions and disturbances in the celestial
regions, though so regulated and moderated by the
power of the Sun, prevailing over the heavenly bodies,
as to continue the world in its state. Afterwards there
followed the like in the lower parts, by inundations,
storms, winds, general earthquakes, etc., which, how
ever, being subdued and kept under, there ensued a
more peaceable and lasting harmony, and consent of
things.
It may be said of this fable, that it includes philo
sophy ; and again, that philosophy includes the fable ;
for we know, by faith, that all these things are but the
oracle of sense, long since ceased and decayed ; but the
matter and fabric of the world being justly attributed
to a creator.
XIII.—PROTEUS : OR MATTER.
EXPLAINED OP MATTER AND ITS CHANGES.
Proteus, according to the poets, was Neptune’s herds
man ; an old man, and a most extraordinary prophet,
who understood things past and present, as well as
future : so that besides the business of divination, he
was the revealer and interpreter of all antiquity, and
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
37
secrets of every kind. He lived in a vast cave, where
his custom was to tell over his herd of sea-calves at
noon, and then to sleep. Whoever consulted him had
no other way of obtaining an answer but by binding
him with manacles and fetters ; when he, endeavoring
to free himself, would change into all kinds of shapes
and miraculous forms; as of fire, water, wild beasts,
etc.; till at length he resumed his own shape again.
Explanation. —This fable seems to point at the
secrets of nature, and the states of matter. For the
person of Proteus denotes matter, the oldest of all
things, after God himself ; that resides, as in a cave,
under the vast concavity of the heavens. He is repre
sented as the servant of Neptune, because the various
operations and modifications of matter are principally
wrought in a fluid state. The herd, or flock of Proteus,
seems to be no other than the several kinds of animals,
plants, and minerals, in which matter appears to diffuse
and spend itself; so that after having formed these
several species, and as it were finished its task, it seems
to sleep and repose, without otherwise attempting to
produce any new ones. And this is the moral of
Proteus’s counting his herd, then going to sleep.
This is said to be done at noon, not in the morning
or evening ; by which is meant the time best fitted and
disposed for the production of species, from a matter
duly prepared, and made ready beforehand, and now
lying in a middle state, between its first rudiments and
decline ; which, we learn from sacred history, was the
case at the time of the creation ; when, by the efficacy
of the divine command, matter directly came together,
without any transformation or intermediate changes,
which it affects ; instantly obeyed the order, and
appeared in the form of creatures.
And thus far the fable reaches of Proteus, and his
flock, at liberty and unrestrained. For the universe5
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
with the common structures and fabrics of the creatures,
is the face of matter, not under constraint, or as the
flock wrought upon and tortured by human means.
But if any skilful minister of nature shall apply force
to matter, and by design torture and vex it, in order to
its annihilation, it, on the contrary, being brought
under this necessity, changes and transforms itself into
a strange variety of shapes and appearances; for
nothing but the power of the Creator can annihilate, or
truly destroy it ; so that at length, running through
the whole circle of transformations, and completing its
period, it in some degree restores itself, if the force be
continued. And that method of binding, torturing, or
detaining, will prove the most effectual and expeditious,
which makes use of manacles and fetters ; that is, lays
hold and works upon matter in the extremest degrees.
The addition in the fable that makes Proteus a
prophet, who had the knowledge of things past, present,
and future, excellently agrees with the nature of matter;
as he who knows the properties, the changes, and the
processes of matter, must of necessity understand the
effects and sum of what it does, has done, or can do,
though his knowledge extends not to all the parts and
particulars thereof.
XIV.—MEMNON: OR A YOUTH TOO FORWARD.
EXPLAINED OF THE FATAL PRECIPITANCY OF YOUTH.
The poets made Memnon the son of Aurora, and
bring him to the Trojan war in beautiful armor, and
flushed with popular praise; where, thirsting after
farther glory, and rashly hurrying on to the greatest
enterprises, he engages the bravest warrior of all the
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39
Greeks, Achilles, and falls by his hand in single
combat. Jupiter, in commisseration of his death, sent
birds to grace his funeral, that perpetually chanted
certain mournful and bewailing dirges. It is also
reported, that the rays of the rising sun, striking his
statue, used to give a lamenting sound.
Explanation. —This fable regards the unfortunate
end of those promising youths, who, like sons of the
morning, elate with empty hopes and glittering out
sides, attempt things beyond their strength : challenge
the bravest heroes ; provoke them to the combat; and
proving unequal, die in their high attempts.
The death of such youths seldom fails to meet with
infinite pity; as no mortal calamity is more moving
and afflicting, than to see the flower of virtue cropped
before its time. Nay, the prime of life enjoyed to the
full, or even to a degree of envy, does not assuage or
moderate the grief occasioned by the untimely death
of such hopeful youths ; but lamentations and bewailings fly, like mournful birds, about their tombs, for a
long while after; especially upon all fresh occasions,
new commotions, and the beginning of great actions,
the passionate desire of them is renewed, as by the
sun’s morning rays.
XV.—TYTHONUS : OR SATIETY.
EXPLAINED OF PREDOMINANT PASSIONS.
It is elegantly fabled by Tythonus, that being exceed
ingly beloved by Aurora, she petitioned Jupiter that
he might prove immortal, thereby to secure herself the
everlasting enjoyment of his company; but through
female inadvertence she forgot to add, that he might
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
never grow old ; so that, though he proved immortal,
he became miserably worn and consumed with age,
insomuch that Jupiter, out of pity, at length trans
formed him to a grasshopper.
Explanation.—This fable seems to contain an
ingenious description of pleasure ; which at first, as it
were, in the morning of the day, is so welcome, that
men pray to have it everlasting, but forget that satiety
and weariness of it will, like old age, overtake them,
though they think not of it; so that at length, when
their appetite for pleasurable actions is gone, their
desires and affections often continue; whence we
commonly find that aged persons delight themselves
with the discourse and remembrance of the things
agreeable to them in their better days. This is very
remarkable in men of a loose, and men of a military
life ; the former whereof are always talking over their
amours, and the latter the exploits of their youth ; like
grasshoppers, that show their vigor only by their
chirping.
XVI.—JUNO’S SUITOR : OR BASENESS.
EXPLAINED OF SUBMISSION AND ABJECTION.
The poets tell us, that Jupiter, to carry on his love
intrigues, assumed many different shapes ; as of a bull,
an eagle, a swan, a golden shower, etc.; but when he
attempted Juno, he turned himself into the most
ignoble and ridiculous creature—even that of a
wretched, wet, weather-beaten, affrighted, trembling,
and half-starved cuckoo.
Explanation.—This a wise fable, and drawn from
the very entrails of morality. The moral is, that men
should not be conceited of themselves, and imagine
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41
that a discovery of their excellences will always render
them acceptable; for this can only succeed according
to the nature and manners of the person they court, or
solicit ; who, if he be a man not of the same gifts and
endowments, but altogether of a haughty and con
temptuous behavior, here represented by the person of
Juno, they must entirely drop the character that carries
the least show of worth, or gracefulness ; if they pro
ceed upon any other footing, it is downright folly ; nor
is it sufficient to act the deformity of obsequiousness,
unless they really change themselves, and become
abject and contemptible in their persons.
XVII.—CUPID : OR AN ATOM.
EXPLAINED OF THE CORPUSCULAR PHILOSOPHY.
The particulars related by the poets of Cupid, or
Love, do not properly agree to the same person ; yet
they differ only so far, that if the confusion of persons
be rejected, the correspondence may hold. They say,
that Love was the most ancient of all the gods, and
existed before everything else, except Chaos, which is
held coeval therewith. But for Chaos, the ancients
never paid divine honors, nor gave the title of a god
thereto. Love is represented absolutely without pro
genitor, excepting only that he is said to have proceeded
from the egg of Nox ; but that himself begot the gods,
and all things else, on Chaos. His attributes are four,
viz.—1, perpetual infancy ; 2, blindness ; 3, nakedness;
and 4, archery.
There was also another Cupid, or Love, the youngest
son of the gods, born of Venus; and upon him the
attributes of the elder are transferred, with some degree
of correspondence.
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
Explanation.—This fable points at, and enters, the
cradle of nature. Love seems to be the appetite, or
incentive, of the primitive matter ; or, to speak more
distinctly, the natural motion, or moving principle, of
the original corpuscles, or atoms; this being the most
ancient and only power that made and wrought all
things out of matter. It is absolutely without parent,
that is, without cause : for causes are as parents to
effects ; but this power or efficacy could have no natural
cause ; for, excepting God, nothing was before it; and
therefore it could have no efficient in nature. And as
nothing is more inward with nature, it can neither be
a genus nor a form; and therefore, whatever it is, it
must be somewhat positive, though inexpressible.
And if it were possible to conceive its modus and pro
cess. yet it could not be known from its cause, as
being, next to God, the cause of causes, and itself
without a cause. And perhaps we are not to hope that
the modus of it should fall, or be comprehended, under
human inquiry. Whence it is properly feigned to be
the egg of Nox, or laid in the dark.
The divine philosopher declares, that “ God has
made everything beautiful in its season ; and has given
■over the world to our disputes and inquiries : but that
man cannot find out the work which God has wrought,
from its beginning up to its end.” Thus the summary
or collective law of nature, or the principle of love,
impressed by God upon the original particles of all
things, so as to make them attack each other and come
together, by the repetition and multiplication whereof
•all the variety in the universe is produced, can scarce
possibly find full admittance into the thoughts of men,
though some faint notion may be had thereof. The
Greek philosophy is subtile, and busied in discovering
the material principles of things, but negligent and
languid in discovering the principles of motion, in
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
43
■which the energy and efficacy of every operation
consists. And here the Greek philosophers seem per
fectly blind and childish ; for the opinion of the Peri
patetics, as to the stimulus of matter, by privation, is
little more than words, or rather sound than significa
tion. And they who refer it to God, though they do
well therein, yet they do it by a start, and not by
proper degrees of assent; for doubtless there is one
summary, or capital law, in which nature meets,
subordinate to God, viz., the law mentioned in the
passage above quoted from Solomon; or the work
which God has wrought from its *beginning up to its
end.
Democritus, who farther considered this subject,
having first supposed an atom, or corpuscle, of some
dimension or figure, attributed thereto an appetite,
desire, or first motion simply, and another compara
tively, imagining that all things properly tended to
the centre of the world; those containing more matter
falling faster to the centre, and thereby removing, and
in the shock driving away, such as held less. But this
is a slender conceit, and regards too few particulars;
for neither the revolutions of the e celestial bodies, nor
the contractions and expansions of things, can be
reduced to this principle. And for the opinion of
Epicurus, as to the declination and fortuitous agitation
of atoms, this only brings the matter back again to a
trifle, and wraps it up in ignorance and night.
Cupid is elegantly drawn a perpetual child ; for com
pounds are larger things, and have their periods of
age; but the first seeds or atoms of bodies are small,
and remain in a perpetual infant state.
He is again justly represented naked; as all com
pounds may properly be said to be dressed and clothed,
or to assume a personage ; whence nothing remains
truly naked, but the original particles of things.
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
The blindness of Cupid, contains a deep allegory ;
for this same Cupid, Love, or appetite of the world,
seems to have very little foresight, but directs his
steps and motions conformably to what he finds next
him, as blind men do when they feel out their way;
which renders the divine and over-ruling Providence
and foresight the more surprising ; as by a certain
steady law, it brings such a beautiful order and
regularity of things out of what seems extremely
casual, void of design, and, as it were, really blind.
The last attribute of Cupid is archery, viz., a virtue
or power operating at a distance ; for everything that
operates at a distance, may seem, as it were, to dart, or
Shoot with arrows. And whoever allows of atoms and
vacuity, necessarily supposes that the virtue of atoms
operates at a distance ; for without this operation, no
motion could be excited, on account of the vacuum
interposing, but all things would remain sluggish and
unmoved.
As to the other Cupid, he is properly said to be the
youngest sons of the gods, as his power could not take
place before the formation of species, or particular
bodies. The description given us of him transfers the
allegory to morality, though he still retains some
resemblance with the ancient Cupid ; for as Venus
universally excites the affection of association, and the
desire of procreation, her son Cupid applies the affec
tion to individuals ; so that the general disposition
proceeds from Venus, but the more close sympathy
from Cupid. The former depends upon a near approxi
mation of causes, but the latter upon deeper, more
necessitating and uncontrollable principles, as if they
proceeded from the ancient Cupid, on whom all
exquisite sympathies depend.
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45
XVIII.—DIOMED : OR ZEAL.
EXPLAINED OE PERSECUTION, OR ZEAL FOR RELIGION.
Diomed acquired great glory and honor at the Trojan
war, and was highly favored by Pallas, who encouraged
and excited him by no means to spare Venus, if he
should casually meet her in fight. He followed the
advice with too much eagerness and intrepidity, and
accordingly wounded that goddess in her hand. This
presumptuous action remained unpunished for a time,
and when the war was ended he returned with great
glory and renown to his own country, where, finding
himself embroiled with domestic affairs, he retired
into Italy. Here also at first he was well received and
nobly entertained by King Daunus, who, besides other
gifts and honors, erected statues for him over all his
dominions. But upon the first calamity that afflicted
the people after the stranger’s arrival, Daunus imme
diately reflected that he entertained a devoted person
in his palace, an enemy to the gods, and one who had
sacrilegiously wounded a goddess with his sword,
whom it was impious but to touch. To expiate, there
fore, his country’s guilt, he, without regard to the laws
of hospitality, which were less regarded by him than
the laws of religion, directly slew his guest, and com
manded his statues and all his honors to be razed and
abolished. Nor was it safe for others to commiserate
or bewail so cruel a destiny ; but even his companions
in arms, whilst they lamented the death of their leader,
and filled all places with their complaints, were turned
into a kind of swans, which are said, at the approach
of their own death, to chant sweet melancholy dirges.
Explanation.—This fable intimates an extraordinary
and almost singular thing, for no hero besides Diomed
is recorded to have wounded any of the gods. Doubt
less we have here described the nature and fate of a
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man who professedly makes any divine worship or
sect of religion, though in itself vain and light, the
only scope of his actions, and resolves to propagate it
by fire and sword. For although the bloody dissen
sions and differences about religion were unknown to
the ancients, yet so copious and diffusive was their
knowledge, that what they knew not by experience
they comprehended in thought and representation.
Those, therefore, who endeavor to reform or establish
any sect of religion, though vain, corrupt, or infamous
(which is here denoted under the person of Venus),
not by the force of reason, learning, sanctity of man
ners, the weight of arguments, and examples, but
would spread or extirpate it by persecution, pains,
penalties, tortures, fire and sword, may perhaps be
instigated hereto by Pallas, that is, by a certain rigid,
prudential consideration, and a severity of judgment,
by the vigor and efficacy wffiereof they see thoroughly
into the fallacies and fictions of the delusions of this
kind; and through aversion to depravity and a wellmeant zeal, these men usually for a time acquire great
fame and glory, and are by the vulgar, to whom no
moderate measures can be acceptable, extolled and
almost adored, as the only patrons and protectors of
truth and religion, men of any other disposition seem
ing, in comparison with these, to be lukewarm, meanspirited, and cowardly. This fame and felicity, how
ever, seldom endures to the end ; but all violence,
unless it escapes the reverses and changes of things by
untimely death, is commonly unprosperous in the
issue ; and if a change of affairs happens, and that sect
of religion which was persecuted and oppressed gains
strength and rises again, then the zeal and warm
endeavors of this sort of men are condemned, their
very name becomes odious, and all their honors ter
minate in disgrace.
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
4:7
As to the point that Diomed. should be slain by his
hospitable entertainer, this denotes that religious dis
sensions may cause treachery, bloody animosities, and
deceit, even between the nearest friends.
That complaining or bewailing should not, in so
enormous a case, be permitted to friends affected by
the catastrophe without punishment, includes this
prudent admonition, that almost in all kinds of wicked
ness and depravity men have still room left for com
miseration, so that they who hate the crime may yet
pity the person and bewail his calamity, from a
principle of humanity and good nature ; and to forbid
the overflowings and intercourses of pity upon such
occasions were the extremest of evils ; yet in the cause
of religion and impiety the very commiserations of
men are noted and suspected. On the other hand, the
lamentations and complainings of the followers and
attendants of Diomed, that is, of men of the same sect
or persuasion, are usually very sweet, agreeable, and
moving, like the dying notes of swans, or the birds of
Diomed. This is also a noble and remarkable part of
the allegory, denoting that the last words of those who
suffer for the sake of religion strongly affect and sway
men’s minds, and leave a lasting impression upon the
sense and memory.
XIX.—DAEDALUS : OR MECHANICAL SKILL.
EXPLAINED OF ARTS AND ARTISTS IN KINGDOMS
AND STATES. •
The ancients have left us a description of mechanical
skill, industry, and curious arts converted to ill uses,
in the person of Daedalus, a most ingenious but
execrable artist. This Daedalus was banished for the
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
murder of his brother artist and rival, yet found a kind
reception in his banishment from the kings and states
where he came. He raised many incomparable edifices
to the honor of the gods, and invented many new con
trivances for the beautifying and ennobling of cities
and public places, but still he was most famous for
wicked inventions. Among the rest, by his abominable
industry and destructive genius, he assisted in the fatal
and infamous production of the monster Minotaur,
that devourer of promising youths. And then, to
cover one mischief with another, and provide for the
security of this monster, he invented and built a
labyrinth ; a work infamous for its end and design?
but admirable and prodigious for art and workmanship.
After this, that he might not only be celebrated for
wicked inventions, but be sought after, as well for
prevention, as for instruments of mischief, he formed
that ingenious device of his clue, which led directly
through all the windings of the labyrinth. This
Daedalus was persecuted by Minos with the utmost
severity, diligence, and inquiry ; but he always found
refuge and means of escaping. Lastly, endeavoring to
teach his son Icarus the art of flying, the novice,
trusting too much to his wings, fell from his towering
flight, and was drowned in the sea.
Explanation.—The sense of the fable runs thus.
It first denotes envy, which is continually upon the
watch, and strangely prevails among excellent artificers;
for no kind of people are observed to be more im
placably and destructively envious to one another than
these.
In the next place, it observes an impolitic and im
provident kind of punishment inflicted upon Daedalus
—that of banishment; for good workmen are gladly
received everywhere, so that banishment to an excellent
artificer is scarce any punishment at all; whereas other
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
conditions of life cannot easily flourish from home.
For the admiration of artists is propagated and increased
among foreigners and strangers ; it being a principle
in the minds of men to slight and despise the mechani
cal operators of their own nation.
The succeeding part of the fable is plain, concerning
the use of mechanical arts, whereto human life stands
greatly indebted, as receiving from this treasury
numerous particulars for the service of religion, the
ornament of civil society, and the whole provision and
apparatus of life; but then the same magazine supplies
instruments of lust, cruelty, and death. For, not to
mention the arts of luxury and debauchery, we plainly
see how far the business of exquisite poisons, guns,
engines of war, and such kind of destructive inven
tions, exceeds the cruelty and barbarity of the Minotaur
himself.
The addition of the labyrinth contains a beautiful
allegory, representing the nature of mechanic arts in
general ; for all ingenious and accurate mechanical
inventions may be conceived as a labyrinth, which, by
reason of their subtilty, intricacy, crossing, and inter
fering with one another, and the apparent resemblances
they have among themselves, scarce any power of the
judgment can unravel and distinguish ; so that they
are only to be understood and traced by the clue of
experience.
It is no less prudently added, that he who invented
the windings of the labyrinth, should also show the
use and management of the clue ; for mechanical arts
have an ambiguous or double use, and serve as well to
produce as to prevent mischief and destruction ; so
that their virtue almost destroys or unwinds itself.
Unlawful arts, and indeed frequently arts themselves,
are persecuted by Minos, that is, by laws, which pro
hibit and forbid their use among the people ; but
D
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
notwithstanding this, they are hid, concealed, retained,
and everywhere find reception and sknlking-places ; a
thing well observed by Tacitus of the astrologers and
fortune-tellers of his time. “ These,” says he, “ are a
kind of men that will always be prohibited, and yet
will always be retained in our city.”
But lastly, all unlawful and vain arts, of what kind
soever, lose their reputation in tract of time; grow
contemptible and perish, through their over-confidence,
like Icarus ; being commonly unable to perform what
they boasted. And to say the truth, such arts are
better suppressed by their own vain pretensions, than
checked or restrained by the bridle of laws.
XX.—ERICTHONIUS : OR IMPOSTURE.
EXPLAINED OF THE IMPROPER USE OF FORCE IN NATURAL
(PHILOSOPHY.
The poets feign that Vulcan attempted the chastity
of Minerva, and impatient of refusal, had recourse to
force; the consequence of which was the birth of
Ericthonius, whose body from the middle upwards was
comely and well-proportioned, but his thighs and legs
small, shrunk, and deformed, like an eel. Conscious
of this defect, he became the inventor of chariots, so
as to show the graceful, but conceal the deformed part
of his body.
Explanation.—This strange fable seems to carry this
meaning. Art is here represented] under the person of
Vulcan, by reason of the various uses it makes of fire ;
and nature under the person of Minerva, by reason of
the industry employed in her works. Art, therefore,
whenever it offers violence to nature, in order to
conquer, subdue, and bend her to its purpose, by
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51
tortures and force of all kinds, seldom obtains the end
proposed ; yet upon great struggle and application,
there proceed certain imperfect births, or lame abortive
works, specious in appearance, but weak and unstable
in usd ; which are, nevertheless, with great pomp and
deceitful appearances, triumphantly carried about and
shown by impostors. A procedure very familiar, and
remarkable in chemical productions, and new mecha
nical inventions ; especially when the inventors rather
hug their errors than improve upon them, and go on
struggling with nature, not courting her.
XXI.—DEUCALION : OR RESTITUTION.
EXPLAINED OF A USEFUL HINT IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY
The poets tell us that the inhabitants of the old
world being totally destroyed by the universal deluge,
excepting Deucalion and Pyrrha, these two, desiring
with zealous and fervent devotion to restore mankind,
received this oracle for answer, that “ they should
succeed by throwing their mother’s bones behind
them.” This at first cast them into great sorrow and
despair, because, as all things were levelled by the
deluge, it was in vain to seek their mother’s tomb ;
but at length they understood the expression of the
oracle to signify the stones of the earth, which is
esteemed the mother of all things.
Explanation. —This fable seems to reveal a secret of
nature, and correct an error familiar to the mind; for
men’s ignorance leads them to expect the renovation or
restoration of things from their corruption and remains,
as the phoenix is said to be restored out of its ashes ;
which is a very improper procedure, because such kind
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
of materials have finished their course, and are become
absolutely unfit to supply the first rudiments of the
same things again; whence, in cases of renovation,
recourse should be had to more common principles.
XXII.—NEMESIS : OR THE VICISSITUDE OF
THINGS.
EXPLAINED OF THE REVERSES OF FORTUNE.
Nemesis is represented as a goddess venerated by
all, but feared by the powerful and the fortunate. She
is said to be the daughter of Nox and Oceanus. She is
drawn with wings, and a crown ; a javelin of ash in
her right hand ; a glass containing Ethiopians in her
left; and riding upon a stag.
Explanation.—The fable receives this explanation.
The word Nemesis manifestly signifies revenge, or
retribution ; for the office of this goddess consisted in
interposing, like the Roman tribunes, with an “ I forbid
it,” in all courses of constant and perpetual felicity, so
as not only to chastise haughtiness, but also to repay
oven innocent and moderate happiness with adversity ;
as if it were decreed, that none of human race should
be admitted to the banquet of the gods, but for sport.
And, indeed, to read over that chapter of Pliny wherein
he has collected the miseries and misfortunes of
Augustus Cassar, whom of all mankind one would
judge most fortunate,—as he had a certain art of using
and enjoying prosperity, with a mind no way tumid,
light, effeminate, confused, or melancholic,—one cannot
but think this a very great and powerful goddess, who
could bring such a victim to her altar.
The parents of this goddess were Oceanus and Nox ;
that is, the fluctuating change of things, and the obscure
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
53
and secret divine decrees. The changes of things are
aptly represented by the Ocean, on account of its
perpetual ebbing and flowing ; and secret providence
is justly expressed by Night. Even the heathenshave
observed this secret Nemesis of the night, or the
difference betwixt divine and human judgment.
Wings are given to Nemesis, because of the sudden
and unforeseen changes of things ; for, from the earliest
account of time, it has been common for great and
prudent men to fall by the dangers they most despised.
Thus Cicero, when admonished by Brutus of the
infidelity and rancor of Octavius, coolly wrote back,
111 cannot, however, but be obliged to you, Brutus, as
I ought, for informing me, though of such a trifle.”
Nemesis also has her crown, by reason of the invi
dious and malignant nature of the vulgar, who generally
rejoice, triumph, and crown her, at the fall of the
fortunate and the powerful. And the javelin in her
right hand, it has regard to those whom she has actually
struck and transfixed. But whoever escapes her
stroke, or feels not actual calamity or misfortune, she
affrights with a black and dismal sight in her left
hand ; for doubtless, mortals on the highest pinnacle
of felicity have a prospect of death, diseases, calamities,
perfidious friends, undermining enemies, reverses of
fortune, etc., represented by the Ethiopians in her
glass. Thus Virgil, with great elegance, describing the
battle of Actium, says of Cleopatra, that, “ she did not
yet perceive the two asps behind her ” ; but soon after,
which way soever she turned, she saw whole troops of
Ethiopians still before her.
Lastly, it is significantly added, that Nemesis rides
upon a stag, which is a very long-lived creature ; for
though perhaps some, by an untimely death in youth,
may prevent or escape this goddess, yet they who
enjoy a long flow of happiness and power, doubtless
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
become subject to her at length, and are brought to
yield.
XXIII.—ACHELOUS : OR BATTLE.
EXPLAINED OF WAR BY INVASION.
The ancients relate, that Hercules and Achelous being
rivals in the courtship of Deianira, the matter was
contested by single combat; when Achelous having
transformed himself, as he had power to do, into
various shapes, by way of trial; at length, in the form
of a fierce wild bull, prepares himself for the fight;
but Hercules still retains his human shape, engages
sharply with him, and in the issue broke off one of
the bull’s horns ; and now Achelous, in great pain and
fright, to redeem his horn, presents Hercules with the
cornucopia.
Explanation.—This fable relates to military expedi
tions and preparations ; for the preparation of war on
the defensive side, here denoted by Achelous, appears
in various shapes, whilst the invading side has but one
simple form, consisting either in an army, or perhaps a
fleet. But the country that expects the invasion is
employed infinite ways, in fortifying towns, blockading
passes, rivers, and ports, raising soldiers, disposing
garrisons, building and breaking down bridges, pro
curing aids, securing provisions, arms, ammunition,
etc. So that there appears a new face of things every
day ; and at length, when the country is sufficiently
fortified and prepared, it represents to the life the form
and threats of a fierce fighting bull.
On the other side, the invader presses on to the fight,
fearing to be distressed in an enemy’s country. And
if after the battle he remains master of the field, and
has now broke, as it were, the horn of his enemy, the
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
55
besieged, of course, retire inglorious, affrighted, and
dismayed, to their stronghold, there endeavoring to
secure themselves, and repair their strength ; leaving,
at the same time, their country a prey to the conqueror,
which is well expressed by the Amalthean horn, or
cornucopia.
XXIV.—DIONYSUS : OR BACCHUS.
EXPLAINED OF THE PASSIONS.
The fable runs, that Semele, Jupiter’s mistress,
having bound him by an inviolable oath to grant her
an unknown request, desired he would embrace her in
the same form and manner he used to embrace Juno ;
and the promise being irrevocable, she was burnt to
death with lightning in the performance. The embry
however, was sewed up, and carried in Jupiter’s thigh
till the complete time of its birth ; but the burthen,
thus rendering the father lame, and causing him pain,
the child was thence called Dionysus. When born, he
was committed for some years, to be nursed by Pros
erpina ; and when grown up, appeared with so effe
minate a face, that his sex seemed somewhat doubtful.
He also died, and was buried for a time, but afterwards
revived. When a youth, he first introduced the culti
vation and dressing of vines, the method of preparing
wine, and taught the use thereof ; whence becoming
famous, he subdued the world, even to the utmost
bounds of the Indies. He rode in a chariot drawn by
tigers. There danced about him certain deformed
demons called Cobali, etc. The Muses also joined in
his train. He married Ariadne, who was deserted by
Theseus. The ivy was sacred to him. He was also
held the inventor and institutor of religious rites and
ceremonies, but such as were wild, frantic and full of
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corruption and cruelty. He had also the power of
striking men with frenzies. Pentheus and Orpheus
were torn to pieces by the frantic women at his orgies ;
the first for climbing a tree to behold their outrageous
ceremonies, and the other for the music of his harp.
But the acts of this god are much entangled and con
founded with those of Jupiter.
Explanation.—This fable seems to contain a little
system of morality, so that there is scarce any better
invention in all ethics. Under the history of Bacchus
is drawn the nature of unlawful desire or affection,
and disorder; for the appetite and thirst of apparent
good is the mother of all unlawful desire, though ever
so destructive, and all unlawful desires are conceived
in unlawful wishes or requests, rashly indulged or
granted before they are well understood or considered,
and when the affection begins to grow warm, the
mother of it (the nature of good) is destroyed and
burnt up by the heat. And whilst an unlawful desire
lies in the embryo, or unripened in the mind, which
is its father, and here represented by Jupiter, it is
cherished and concealed, especially in the inferior part
of the mind, corresponding to the thigh of the body,
where pain twitches and depresses the mind so far as
to render its resolutions and actions imperfect and
lame. And even after this child of the mind is con
firmed, and gains strength by consent and habit, and
comes forth into action, it must still be nursed by
Proserpina for a time; that is, it skulks and hides its
head in a clandestine manner, as it were under ground,
till at length, when the checks of shame and fear are
removed, and the requisite boldness acquired, it either
assumes the pretext of some virtue, or openly despises
infamy. And it is justly observed, that every vehement
passion appears of a doubtful sex, as having the strength
of a man at first, but at last the impotence of a woman.
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57
It is also excellently added, that Bacchus died and rose
again ; for the affections sometimes seem to die and beno more ; but there is no trusting them, even though
they were buried, being always apt and ready to rise
again whenever the occasion or object offers.
That Bacchus should be the inventor of wine carries
a fine allegory with it; for every affection is cunning
and subtile in discovering a proper manner to nourish
and feed it; and of all things known to mortals, wine
is the most powerful and effectual for exciting and
inflaming passions of all kinds, being indeed like a.
common fuel to all.
It is again with great elegance observed of Bacchus,,
that he subdued provinces, and undertook endless
expeditions, for the affections never rest satisfied with
what they enjoy, but with an endless and insatiable
appetite, thirst after something further. And tigers
are prettily feigned to draw the chariot; for as soon as.
any affection shall, from going on foot, be advanced to
ride, it triumphs over reason, and exerts its cruelty,,
fierceness, and strength against all that oppose it.
It is also humorously imagined, that ridiculous
demons dance and frisk about this chariot; for every
passion produces indecent, disorderly, interchangeable,
deformed motions in the eyes, countenance, and
gesture, so that the person under the impulse, whether
of anger, insult, love, etc., though to himself, he may
seen grand, lofty, or obliging, yet in the eyes of others
appears mean, contemptible, or ridiculous.
The Muses also are found in the train of Bacchus,,
for there is scarce any passion without its art, science,,
or doctrine to court and flatter it ; but in this respect
the indulgence of men of genius has greatly detracted
from the majesty of the Muses, who ought to be the
leaders and conductors of human life, and not the
handmaids of the passions.
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
The allegory of Bacchus falling in love with a cast
mistress, is extremely noble ; for it is certain that the
affections always court and covet what has been rejected
upon experience. And all those who by serving and
indulging their passions immensely raise the value of
enjoyment, should know, that whatever they covet and
pursue, whether riches, pleasure, glory, learning, or
anything else, they only pursue those things that have
been forsaken and cast off with contempt by great
numbers in all ages, after possession and experience.
Nor is it without a mystery that the ivy was sacred
to Bacchus, and this for two reasons : first, because ivy
is an evergreen, or flourishes in the winter; and
secondly, because it winds and creeps about so many
things, as trees, walls, and buildings, and raises itself
above them. As to the first, every passion grows fresh,
strong, and vigorous by opposition and prohibition, as
it were by a kind of contrast or antiperistasis, like the
ivy in the winter. And for the second, the predominant
passion of the mind throws itself, like the ivy, round
all human actions, entwines all our resolutions, and
perpetually adheres to, and mixes itself among, or even
overtops them.
And no wonder that superstitious rites and cere
monies are attributed to Bacchus, when almost every
ungovernable passion grows wanton and luxuriant in
corrupt religions ; nor again, that fury and frenzy
should be sent and dealt out by him, because every
passion is a short frenzy, and if it be vehement, lasting,
and take deep root, it terminates in madness. And
hence the allegory of Pentheus and Orpheus being
torn to pieces is evident ; for every headstrong passion
is extremely bitter, severe, inveterate, and revengeful
upon all curious inquiry, wholesome admonition, free
counsel and persuasion.
Lastly, the confusion between the persons of Jupiter
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59
and Bacchus will justly admit of an allegory, because
noble and meritorious actions may sometimes proceed
from virtue, sound reason, and magnanimity, and
sometimes again from a concealed passion and secret
desire of ill, however they may be extolled and praised,
insomuch that it is not easy to distinguish betwixt the
acts of Bacchus and the acts of Jupiter.
XXV.—ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES :
OR GAIN.
EXPLAINED OF THE CONTEST BETWIXT ART AND NATURE.
Atalanta, who was exceeding fleet, contended with
Hippomenes in the course, on condition that if Hippomenes won, he should espouse her, or forfeit his life if
he lost. The match was very unequal, for Atalanta
had conquered numbers, to their destruction. Hippo
menes, therefore, had recourse to stratagem. He
procured three golden apples, and purposely carried
them with him : they started ; Atalanta outstripped
him soon ; then Hippomenes bowled one of his apples
before her, across the course, in order not only to make
her stoop, but to draw her out of the path. She,
prompted by female curiosity, and the beauty of the
golden fruit, starts from the course to take up the apple.
Hippomenes, in the mean time, holds on his way, and
steps before her ; but she, by her natural swiftness,
soon fetches up her lost ground, and leaves him again
behind. Hippomenes, however, by rightly timing his
second and third throw, at length won the race, not by
his swiftness, but his cunning.
Explanation.—This fable seems to contain a noble
allegory of the contest betwixt art and nature. For art
here denoted by Atalanta, is much swifter, or more
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expeditious in its operations than nature, when all
obstacles and impediments are removed, and sooner
arrives at its end. This appears almost in every
instance. Thus fruit comes slowly from the kernel,
but soon by inoculation or incision ; clay, left to itself,
is a long time in acquiring a stony hardness, but fs
presently burnt by fire into brick. So again in human
life, nature is a long while in alleviating and abolish
ing the remembrance of pain, and assuaging the troubles
of the mind ; but moral philosophy, which is the art
of living, performs it presently. Yet this prerogative
and singular efficacy of art is stopped and retarded to
the infinite detriment of human life, by certain golden
apples ; for there is no one science or art that con
stantly holds on its true and proper course to the end,
but they are all continually stopping short, forsaking
the track, and turning aside to profit and convenience,
exactly like Atalanta. Whence it is no wonder that
art gets not the victory over nature, nor, according to
the condition of the contest, brings her under sub
jection ; but, on the contrary, remains subject to her,
as a wife to a husband.
XXVI.—PROMETHEUS : OR THE STATE OF MAN.
EXPLAINED OF AN OVER-RULING PROVIDENCE, AND OF
HUMAN NATURE.
The ancients relate that man was the work of Pro
metheus, and formed of clay ; only the artificer mixed
in with the mass, particles taken from different animals.
And being desirous to improve his workmanship, and
endow, as well as create, the human race, he stole up
to heaven with a bundle of birch-rods, and kindling
them at the chariot of the Sun, thence brought down
fire to the earth for the service of men.
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61
They add, that for this meritorious act Prometheus
’was repayed with ingratitude by mankind, so that,
forming a conspiracy, they arraigned both him and his
invention before Jupiter. But the matter was other
wise received than they imagined ; for the accusation
proved extremely grateful to Jupiter and the gods,
insomuch that, delighted with the action, they not only
indulged mankind the use of fire, but moreover
conferred upon them a most acceptable and desirable
present, namely, perpetual youth.
But men, foolishly overjoyed hereat, laid this present
•of the gods upon an ass, who, in returning back with
it, being extremely thirsty, strayed to a fountain. The
serpent, who was guardian thereof, would not suffer
him to drink, but upon condition of receiving the
burden he carried, whatever it should be. The silly
.ass complied, and thus the perpetual renewal of youth
was, for a drop of water, transferred from men to the
race of serpents.
Prometheus, not desisting from his unwarrantable
practices, though now reconciled to mankind, after
they were thus tricked of their present, but still con
tinuing inveterate against Jupiter, had the boldness to
attempt deceit, even in a sacrifice, and is said to have
•once offered up two bulls to Jupiter, but so as in the
hide of one of them to wrap all the flesh and fat of
both, and stuffing out the other hide only with the
bones ; then in a religious and devout manner, gave
Jupiter his choice of the two. Jupiter, detesting this
sly fraud and hypocrisy, but having thus an opporunity of punishing the offender, purposely chose the
mock bull.
And now giving way to revenge, but finding he
could not chastise the insolence of Prometheus without
afflicting the human race (in the production whereof
Prometheus had strangely and insufferably prided him
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self), he commanded Vulcan to form a beautiful and
graceful woman, to whom every god presented a certain
gift, whence she was called Pandora. They put into
her hands an elegant box, containing all sorts of
miseries and misfortunes ; but Hope was placed at the
bottom of it. With this box she first goes to Pro
metheus, to try if she could prevail upon him to receive
and open it; but he, being upon his guard, warily
refused the offer. Upon this refusal, she comes to hisbrother Epimetheus, a man of a very different temper,
who rashly and inconsiderately opens the box. When
finding all kinds of miseries and misfortunes issued
out of it, he grew wise too late, and with great hurry
and struggle endeavored to clap the cover on again ;
but with all his endeavor could scarce keep in Hope,,
which lay at the bottom.
Lastly, Jupiter arraigned Prometheus of many
heinous crimes : as that he formerly stole fire from
heaven; that he contemptuously and deceitfully
mocked him by a sacrifice of bones ; that he despised
his present, adding withal a new crime, that he
attempted to ravish Pallas : for all which, he was
sentenced to be bound in chains, and doomed to per
petual torments. Accordingly, by Jupiter’s command,
he was brought to Mount Caucasus, and there fastened
to a pillar, so firmly that he could no way stir. A
vulture or eagle stood by him, which in the daytime
gnawed and consumed his liver ; but in the night thewasted parts were supplied again ; whence matter for
his pain was never wanting.
They relate, however, that his punishment had an
end; for Hercules sailing the ocean, in a cup, or
pitcher, presented him by the Sun, came at length to
Caucasus, shot the eagle with his arrows, and set
Prometheus free. In certain nations, also, there wereinstituted particular games of the torch, to the honor
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63
of Prometheus, in which they who ran for the prize
carried lighted torches ; and as any one of these torches
happened to go out, the bearer withdrew himself, and
gave way to the next ; and that person was allowed to
win the prize who first brought in his lighted torch to
the goal.
Explanation. —This fable contains and enforces
many just and serious considerations; some whereof
have been long since well observed, but some again
remain perfectly untouched. Prometheus clearly and
expressly signifies Providence ; for of all things in
nature, the formation and endowment of man was
singled out by the ancients, and esteemed the peculiar
work of Providence. The reason hereof seems,
1. That the nature of man includes a mind and under
standing, which is the seat of Providence. 2. That
it is harsh and incredible to suppose reason and mind
should be raised, and drawn out of senseless and irra
tional principles ; whence it becomes almost inevitable,,
that providence is implanted in the human mind in
conformity with, and by the direction and the design
of the greater over-ruling Providence. But, 3. The
principal cause is this : that man seems to be the thing
in which the whole world centres, with respect to final
causes; so that if he were away, all other things would
stray and fluctuate, without end or intention, or become
perfectly disjointed, and out of frame ; for all things,
are made subservient to man, and he receives use and
benefit from them all. Thus the revolutions, places,
and periods, of the celestial bodies, serve him for dis
tinguishing times and seasons, and for dividing the
world into different regions ; the meteors afford him
prognostications of the weather ; the winds sail our
ships, drive our mills, and move our machines; and
the vegetables and animals of all kinds either afford
US matter for houses and habitations, clothing, food,
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
physic, or tend to ease, or delight, to support, or refresh
us : so that everything in nature seems not made for
itself, but for man.
And it is not without reason added, that the mass of
matter whereof man was formed, should be mixed up
with particles taken from different animals, and
wrought in with the clay, because it is certain, that of
all the things in the universe, man is the most com
pounded and recompounded body ; so that the ancients
not improperly styled him a Microcosm, or little world
within himself. For although the chemists have
absurdly, and too literally, wrested and perverted the
elegance of the term microcosm, whilst they pretend
to find all kind of mineral and vegetable matters, or
something corresponding to them, in man, yet it
remains firm and unshaken, that the human body is of
all substances the most mixed and organical ; whence
it has surprising powers and faculties : for the powers
of simple bodies are but few, though certain and quick;
as being little broken, or weakened, and not counter
balanced by mixture : but excellence and quantity of
energy reside in mixture and composition.
Man, however, in his first origin, seems to be a
defenceless naked creature, slow in assisting himself,
and standing in need of numerous things. Prometheus,
therefore, hastened to the invention of fire, which
supplies and administers to nearly all human uses and
necessities, insomuch that, if the soul may be called
the form of forms, if the hand may be called the
instrument of instruments, fire may as properly be
•called the assistant of assistants, or helper of helps; for
hence proceed numberless operations, hence all the
mechanic arts, and hence infinite assistances are
afforded to the sciences themselves.
The manner wherein Prometheus stole this fire is
^properly described from the nature of the thing; he
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being said to have done it by applying a rod of birch
to the chariot of the Sun : for birch is used in striking
and beating, which clearly denotes the generation of
fire to be from the violent percussions and collisions of
bodies ; whereby the matters struck are subtilised,
rarefied, put into motion, and so prepared to receive
the heat of the celestial bodies ; whence they, in a
clandestine and secret manner, collect and snatch fire,
as it were by stealth, from the chariot of the Sun.
The next is a remarkable part of the fable, which
represents that men, instead of gratitude and thanks,
fell into indignation and expostulation, accusing both
Prometheus and his fire to Jupiter,—and yet the accusa
tion proved highly pleasing to Jupiter; so that he, for
this reason, crowned these benefits of mankind with a
new bounty. Here it may seem strange that the sin of
ingratitude to a creator and benefactor, a sin so heinous
as to include almost all others, should meet with appro
bation and reward. But the allegory has another view,
and denotes, that the accusation and arraignment, both
of human nature and human art among mankind,
proceeds from a most noble and laudable temper of the
mind, and tends to a very good purpose ; whereas the
contrary temper is odious to the gods, and unbeneficial
in itself. For they who break into extravagant praises
of human nature and the arts in vogue, and who lay
themselves out in admiring the things they already
possess, and will needs have the sciences cultivated
among them, to be thought absolutely perfect and
complete, in the first place, show little regard to
the divine nature, whilst they extol their own
inventions almost as high as his perfection. In the
next place, men of this temper are unserviceable and
prejudicial in life, whilst they imagine themselves
already got to the top of things, and there rest, without
farther inquiry. On the contrary, they who arraign
E
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and accuse both nature and art, and are always full of
complaints against them, not only preserve a more just
and modest sense of mind, but are also perpetually
stirred up to fresh industry and new discoveries. Is
not, then, the ignorance and fatality of mankind to be
extremely pitied, whilst they remain slaves to the
arrogance of a few of their own fellows, and are
dotingly fond of that scrap of Grecian knowledge, the
Peripatetic philosophy; and this to such a degree, as
not only to think all accusation or arraignment thereof
useless, but even hold it suspect and dangerous ? Cer
tainly the procedure of Empedocles, though furious—
but especially that of Democritus (who with great
modesty complained that all things were abstruse;
that we know nothing; that truth lies hid in deep pits;
that falsehood is strangely joined and twisted along
with truth, etc.)—is to be preferred before the con
fident, assuming, and dogmatical school of Aristotle.
Mankind are, therefore, to be admonished, that the
arraignment of nature and of art is pleasing to the
gods; and that a sharp and vehement accusation of
Prometheus, though a creator, a founder, and a master,
obtained new blessings and presents from the divine
bounty, and proved more sound and serviceable than a
diffusive harangue of praise and gratulation. And let
men be assured that the fond opinion that they have
already acquired enough, is a principal reason why
they have acquired so little.
That the perpetual flower of youth should be the
present which mankind received as a reward for their
accusation, carries this moral : that the ancients seem
not to have despaired of discovering methods, and
remedies, for retarding old age, and prolonging the
period of human life, but rather reckoned it among
those things which, through sloth and want of diligent
inquiry, perish and come to nothing, after having been
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67
once undertaken, than among such as are absolutely
impossible, or placed beyond the reach of the human
power. For they signify and intimate from the true
use of fire, and the just and strenuous accusation and
conviction of the errors of art, that the divine bounty
is not wanting to men in such kind of presents, but
that men indeed are wanting to themselves, and lay
such an inestimable gift upon the back of a slow-paced
ass ; that is, upon the back of the heavy, dull, lingering
thing, experience; from whose sluggish and tortoise
pace proceeds that ancient complaint of the shortness
of life, and the slow advancement of arts. And
certainly it may well seem, that the two faculties of
reasoning and experience are not hitherto properly
joined and coupled together, but to be still new gifts of
the gods, separately laid, the one upon the back of a
light bird, or abstract philosophy, and the other upon
an ass, or slow-paced practice and trial. And yet good
hopes might be conceived of this ass, if it were not for
his thirst and the accidents of the way. For we
judge, that if any one would constantly proceed, by a
certain law and method, in the road of experience, and
not by the way thirst after such experiments as make
for profit or ostentation, nor exchange his burden, or
quit the original design for the sake of these, he might
be a useful bearer of a new and accumulated divine
bounty to mankind.
That this gift of perpetual youth should pass from
men to serpents, seems added by way of ornament, and
illustration to the fable ; perhaps intimating, at■ the
same time, the shame it is for men, that they, with
their fire, and numerous arts, cannot procure to them
selves those things which nature has bestowed upon
many other creatures.
The sudden reconciliation of Prometheus to man
kind, after being disappointed of their hopes, contains
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PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
a prudent and useful admonition. It points out the
levity and temerity of men in new experiments, when,
not presently succeeding, or answering to expectation,
they precipitantly quit their new undertakings, hurry
back to their old ones, and grow reconciled thereto.
After the fable has described the state of man, with
regard to arts and intellectual matters, it passes on to
religion ; for after the inventing and settling of arts,
follows the establishment of divine worship, which
hypocrisy presently enters into and corrupts. So that
by the two sacrifices we have elegantly painted the
person of a man truly religious, and of an hypocrite.
One of these sacrifices contained the fat, or the portion
of God, used for burning and incensing; thereby
denoting affection and zeal, offered up to his glory. It
likewise contained the bowels, which are expressive of
charity, along with the good and useful flesh. But the
other contained nothing more than dry bones, which
nevertheless stuffed out the hide, so as to make it
resemble a fair, beautiful, and magnificent sacrifice;
hereby finely denoting the external and empty rites
and barren ceremonies, wherewith men burden and
stuff out the divine worship,—things rather intended
for show and ostentation than conducing to piety.
Nor are mankind simply content with this mock
worship of God, but also impose and father it upon
him, as if he had chosen and ordained it. Certainly
the prophet, in the person of God, has a fine expostu
lation, as to this matter of choice :—“ Is this the
fasting which I have chosen, that a man should afflict
his soul for a day, and bow down his head like
bulrush ?”
After thus touching the state of religion, the fable
next turns to manners, and the conditions of human
life. And though it be a very common, yet is it a just
interpretation, that Pandora denotes the pleasures and
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
69
licentiousness which the cultivation and luxury of the
arts of civil life introduce, as it were, by the instru
mental efficacy of fire; whence the works of the
voluptuary arts are properly attributed to Vulcan,
the God of Fire. And hence infinite miseries and
calamities have proceeded to the minds, the bodies,
and the fortunes of men, together with a late repentance;
and this not only in each man’s particular, but also in
kingdoms and states ; for wars, and tumults, and
tyrannies, have all arisen from this same fountain, or
box of Pandora.
It is worth observing, how beautifully and elegantly
the fable has drawn two reigning characters in human,
life, and given two examples, or tablatures of them,
under the persons of Prometheus and Epimetheus.
The followers of Epimetheus are improvident, see not
far before them, and prefer such things as are agreeable
for the present; whence they are oppressed with
numerous straits, difficulties, and calamities, with
which they almost continually struggle; but in the
meantime gratify their own temper, and, for want of a
better knowledge of things, feed their minds with
many vain hopes ; and as with so many pleasing
dreams, delight themselves, and sweeten the miseries
of life.
But the followers of Prometheus are the prudent,
wary men, that look into futurity, and cautiously
guard against, prevent, and undermine many calamities
and misfortunes. But this watchful, provident temper,
is attended with a deprivation of numerous pleasures,
and the loss of various delights, whilst such men debar
themselves the use even of innocent things, and what
is still worse, rack and torture themselves with cares,
fears, and disquiets ; being bound fast to the pillar of
necessity, and tormented with numberless thoughts
(which for their swiftness are well compared to an
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eagle), that continually wound, tear, and gnaw their
liver or mind, unless, perhaps, they find some small
remission by intervals, or as it were at nights ; but
then new anxieties, dreads, and fears, soon return
again, as it were in the morning. And, therefore,
very few men, of either temper, have secured to them
selves the advantages of providence, and kept clear of
disquiets, troubles, and misfortunes.
Nor indeed can any man obtain this end without the
assistance of Hercules; that is, of such fortitude and
constancy of mind as stands prepared against every
event, and remains indifferent to every change ;
looking forward without being daunted, enjoying the
good without disdain, and enduring the bad without
impatience. And it must be observed, that even Pro
metheus had not the power to free himself, but owed
his deliverance to another ; for no natural inbred force
and fortitude could prove equal to such a task. The
power of releasing him came from the utmost confines
of the ocean, and from the sun ; that is, from Apollo,
or knowledge ; and again, from a due consideration of
the uncertainty, instability, and fluctuating state of
human life, which is aptly represented by sailing the
ocean. Accordingly, Virgil has prudently joined these
two together, accounting him happy who knows the
causes of things, and has conquered all his fears,
apprehensions, and superstitions.
It is added, with great elegance, for supporting and
confirming the human mind, that the great hero who
thus delivered him sailed the ocean in a cup, or pitcher,
to prevent fear, or complaint; as if, through the
narrowness of our nature, or a too great fragility
thereof, we were absolutely incapable of that fortitude
and constancy to which Seneca finely alludes, when
he says, “ It is a noble thing, at once to participate in
the frailty of man and the security of a god.”
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We have hitherto, that we might not break the
connection of things, designedly omitted the last crime,
of Prometheus—that of attempting the chastity of
Minerva—which heinous offence it doubtless was, that
caused the punishment of having his liver gnawed by
the vulture. The meaning seems to be this,—that
when men are puffed up with arts and knowledge,
they often try to subdue even the divine wisdom and
bring it under the dominion of sense and reason,
whence inevitably follows a perpetual and restless
rending and tearing of the mind. A sober and humble
distinction must, therefore, be made betwixt divine
and human things, and betwixt the oracles of sense
and faith, unless mankind had rather choose an here
tical religion, and a fictitious and romantic philosophy.
The last particular in the fable is the Games of the
Torch, instituted to Prometheus, which again relates
to arts and sciences, as well as the invention of fire,
for the commemoration and celebration whereof these
games were held. And here we have an extremely
prudent admonition, directing us to expect the per
fection of the sciences from succession, and not from
the swiftness and abilities of any single person ; for he
who is fleetest and strongest in the course may perhaps
be less fit to keep his torch alight, since there is danger
of its going out from too rapid as well as from too slow
a motion. But this kind of contest, with the torch,
se'ems to have been long dropped and neglected ; the
sciences appearing to have flourished principally in
their first authors, as Aristotle, Galen, Euclid, Ptolemy,
etc.; whilst their successors have done very little, or
scarce made any attempts. But it were highly to be
wished that these games might be renewed, to the
honor of Prometheus, or human nature, and that they
might excite contest, emulation, and laudable endeavors,
and the design meet with such success as not to hang
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tottering, tremulous, and hazarded, upon the torch'of
any single person. Mankind, therefore, should be
admonished to rouse themselves, and try and exert
their own strength and chance, and not place all their
dependence upon a few men, whose abilities and
capacities, perhaps, are not greater than their own.
These are the particulars which appear to us shadowed
out by this trite and vulgar fable, though without
denying that there may be contained in it several
intimations that have a surprising correspondence with
the Christian mysteries. In particular, the voyage of
Hercules, made in a pitcher, to release Prometheus,
bears an allusion to the word of God, coming in the
frail vessel of the flesh to redeem mankind. But we
indulge ourselves no such liberties as these, for fear of
using strange fire at the altar of the Lord.
XXVII.—ICARUS and SCYLLA and CHARYBDIS :
OR THE MIDDLE WAY.
EXPLAINED OF MEDIOCRITY IN NATURAL AND MORAL
PHILOSOPHY.
Mediocrity, or the holding a middle course, has been
highly extolled in morality, but little in matters of
science, though no less useful and proper here ; whilst
in politics it is held suspected, and ought to be employed
with judgment. The ancients described mediocrity
in manners by the course prescribed to Icarus ; and in
matters of the understanding by the steering betwixt
Scylla and Charybdis, on account of the great difficulty
and danger in passing those straits.
Icarus, being to fly across the sea, was ordered by
his father neither to soar too high nor fly too low, for,
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
73
as his wings were fastened together with wax, there
was danger of its melting by the sun’s heat in too high
a flight, and of its becoming less tenacious by the
moisture if he kept too near the vapor of the sea. But
he, with a juvenile confidence, soared aloft, and fell
down headlong.
Explanation.—The fable is vulgar, and easily inter
preted ; for the path of virtue lies straight between
excess on the one side, and defect on the other. And
no wander that excess should prove the bane of Icarus,
exulting in juvenile strength and vigor ; for excess is
the natural vice of youth, as defect is that of old age;
and if a man must perish by either, Icarus chose the
better of the two ; for all defects are justly esteemed
more depraved than excesses. There is some mag
nanimity in excess, that, like a bird, claims kindred
with the heavens; but defect is a reptile, that basely
crawls upon the earth. It was excellently said by
Heraclitus, “ A dry light makes the best soul ” ; for if
the soul contracts moisture from the earth, it perfectly
degenerates and sinks. On the other hand, moderation
must be observed, to prevent this fine light from
burning, by its too great subtilty and dryness. But
these observations are common.
In matters of the understanding, it requires great
skill and a particular felicity to steer clear of Scylla
and Charybdis. If the ship strikes upon Scylla, it is
dashed in pieces against the rocks ; if upon Charybdis,
it is swallowed outright. This allegory is pregnant
with matter ; but we shall only observe that the force
of it lies here, that a mean be observed in every
doctrine and science, and in the rules and axioms
thereof, between the rocks of distinctions and the
whirlpools of universalities ; for these two are the
bane and shipwreck of fine geniuses and arts.
�74
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
XXVIII.—SPHINX : OR SCIENCE.
EXPLAINED OF THE SCIENCES.
They relate that Sphinx was a monster, variously
formed, having the face and voice of a virgin, the
wings of a bird, and the talons of a griffin. She
resided on the top of a mountain, near the city Thebes,
and also beset the highways; Her manner was to lie
in ambush and seize the travellers, and having them in
her power, to propose to them certain dark and per
plexed riddles, which it was thought she received from
the Muses, and if her wretched captives could not solve
and interpret these riddles, she with great cruelty fell
upon them, in their hesitation and confusion, and tore
them to pieces. This plague having reigned a long
time, the Thebans at length offered their kingdom to
the man who could interpret her riddles, there being
no other way to subdue her. (Edipus, a penetrating
and prudent man, though lame in his feet, excited by
so great a reward, accepted the condition, and with a
good assurance of mind, cheerfully presented himself
before the monster, who directly asked him, “ What
creature that was, which being born four-footed, after
wards became two-footed, then tbree-footed, and lastly
four-footed again ?” CEdipus, with presence of mind,
replied it was man, who, upon his first, birth and infant
state, crawled upon all fours in endeavoring to walk ;
but not long after went upright upon his two natural
feet; again, in old age walked three-footed, with a
stick ; and at last, growing decrepit, lay four-footed
confined to his bed ; and having by this exact solution
obtained the victory, he slew the monster, and, laying
the carcass upon an ass, led her away in triumph ; and
upon this he was, according to the agreement, made
king of Thebes.
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
75
Explanation.—This is an elegant, instructive fable,
and seems invented to represent science, especially as
joined with practice. For science may, without
absurdity, be called a monster, being strangely gazed
at and admired by the ignorant and unskilful. Her
figure and form is various, by reason of the vast variety
of subjects that science considers; her voice and
countenance are represented female, by reason of her
gay appearance and volubility of speech ; wings are
added, because the sciences and their inventions run
and fly about in a moment, for knowledge, like light
communicated from one torch to another, is presently
caught and copiously diffused; sharp and hooked
talons are elegantly attributed to her, because the
axioms and arguments of science enter the mind, lay
hold of it, fix it down, and keep it from moving or
slipping away. This the sacred philosopher observed,
when he said, “ The words of the wise are like goads
or nails driven far in.” Again, all science seems
placed on high, as it were on the tops of mountains
that are hard to climb ; for science is justly imagined
a sublime and lofty thing, looking down upon igno
rance from an eminence, and at the same time taking
an extensive view on all sides, as is usual on the tops
of mouniains. Science is said to beset the highways,
because through all the journey and peregrination of
human life there is matter and occasion offered of
contemplation.
Sphinx is said to propose various difficult questions
and riddles to men, which she received from the
Muses ; and these questions, so long as they remain
with the Muses, may very well be unaccompanied with
severity, for while there is no other end of contem
plation and inquiry but that of knowledge alone, the
understanding is not opposed, or driven to straits and
difficulties, but expatiates and ranges at large, and
�76
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
even receives a degree of pleasure from doubt and
variety; but after the Muses have given over their
riddles to Sphinx, that is, to practice, which urges and
impels to action, choice, and determination, then it is
that they become torturing, severe, and trying, and,
unless solved and interpreted, strangely perplex and
harass the human mind, rend it every way, and
perfectly tear it to pieces. All the riddles of Sphinx,
therefore, have two conditions annexed, namely, dila
ceration to those who do not solve them, and empire to
those that do. For he who understands the thing
proposed obtains his end, and every artificer rules over
his work.
Sphinx has no more than two kinds of riddles, one
relating to the nature of things, the other to the nature
of man ; and correspondent to these, the prizes of the
solution are two kinds of empire,—the empire over
nature, and the empire over man. For the true and
ultimate end of natural philosophy is dominion over
natural things, natural bodies, remedies, machines, and
numberless other particulars, though the schools, con
tended with what spontaneously offers, and swollen
with their own discourses, neglect, and in a manner
despise, both things and works.
But the riddle proposed to CEdipus, the solution
whereof acquired him the Theban kingdon, regarded
the nature of man ; for he who has throughly looked
into and examined human nature, may in a manner
command his own fortune, and seems born to acquire
dominion and rule. Accordingly, Virgil properly
makes the arts of government to be the arts of the
Romans. It was, therefore extremely apposite in
Augustus Caesar to use the image of Sphinx in his
signet, whether this happened by accident or by design ;
for he of all men was deeply versed in politics, and
through the course of his life very happily solved
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
77
abundance of new riddles with regard to the nature of
man ; and unless he had done this with great dexterity
and ready address, he would frequently have been
involved in imminent danger, if not destruction.
It is with the utmost elegance added in the fable,
that when Sphinx was conquered, her carcass was laid
upon an ass; for there is nothing so subtile and
abstruse, but after being once made plain, intelligible,
and common, it may be received by the slowest
capacity.
We must not omit that Sphinx was conquered by a
lame man, and impotent in his feet; for men usually
make too much haste to the solution of Sphinx’s riddles;
whence it happens, that she prevailing, their minds are
rather racked and torn by disputes, than invested with
command by works and effects.
XXIX.—PROSERPINE : OR SPIRIT.
EXPLAINED OF THE SPIRIT INCLUDED IN NATURAL BODIES.
They tell us, Pluto having, upon that memorable
division of empire among the gods, received the
infernal regions for his share, despaired of winning
any one of the goddesses in marriage by an obsequious
courtship, and therefore through necessity resolved
upon a rape. Having watched his opportunity, he sud
denly seized upon Proserpine, a most beautiful virgin,
the daughter of Ceres, as she was gathering narcissus
flowers in the meads of Sicily, and hurrying her to his
chariot, carried her with him to the subterraneal
regions, where she was treated with the highest rever
ence, and styled the Lady of Dis. But Ceres missing
her only daughter, whom she extremely loved, grew
pensive and anxious beyond measure, and taking a
�78
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
lighted torch in her hand, wandered the world over in
quest of her daughter,—but all to no purpose, till, sus
pecting she might be carried to the infernal regions, she,
with great lamentation and abundance of tears, impor
tuned Jupiter to restore her ; and with much ado pre
vailed so far as to recover and bring her away, if she had
tasted nothing there. This proved a hard condition
upon the mother, for Proserpine was found to have
eaten three kernels of a pomegranate. Ceres, however,
desisted not, but fell to her entreaties and lamentations
afresh, insomuch that at last it was indulged her that
Proserpine should divide the year betwixt her husband
and her mother, and live six months with the one and
as many with the other. After this, Theseus, and
Perithous, with uncommon audacity, attempted to
force Proserpine away from Pluto’s bed, but happening*
to grow tired in their journey, and resting themselves
upon a stone in the realms below, they could never
rise from it again, but remain sitting there for ever.
Proserpine, therefore, still continued queen of the
lower regions, in honor of whom there was also added
this grand privilege, that though it had never been per
mitted any one to return after having once descended
thither, a particular exception was made, that he who
brought a golden bough as a present to Proserpine,
might on that condition descend and return. This
was an only bough that grew in a large dark grove, not
from a tree of its own, but like the mistletoe, from
another, and when plucked away a fresh one always
shot out in its stead.
Explanation. —This fable seems to regard natural
philosophy, and searches deep into that rich and
fruitful virtue and supply in subterraneous bodies,
from whence all the things upon the earth’s surface
spring, and into which they again relapse and return.
By Proserpine the ancients denoted that ethereal spirit
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
79
shut up and detained within the earth, here represented
by Pluto,—the spirit being separated from the superior
globe, according to the expression of the poet. This
spirit is conceived as ravished, or snatched up by the
earth, because it can no way be detained, when it has
time and opportunity to fly off, but is only wrought
together and fixed by sudden intermixture and commi
nution, in the same manner as if one should endeavor to
mix air with water, which cannot otherwise be done
than by a quick and rapid agitation, that joins them
together in froth whilst the air is thus caught up by
the water. And it is elegantly added, that Proserpine
was ravished whilst she gathered narcissus flowers,
which have their name from numbedness or stupefac
tion ; for the spirit we speak of is in the fittest dis
position to be embraced by terrestrial matter when it
begins to coagulate, or grow torpid as it were.
It is an honor justly attributed to Proserpine, and
not to any other wife of the gods, that of being the
lady or mistress of her husband, because this spirit
performs all its operations in the subterraneal regions,
whilst Pluto, or the earth, remains stupid, or as it were
ignorant of them.
The aether, or the efficacy of the heavenly bodies,
denoted by Ceres, endeavors with infinite diligence to
force out this spirit, and restore it to its pristine state.
And by the torch in the hand of Ceres, or the aether, is
doubtless meant the sun, which disperses light over
the whole globe of the earth, and if the thing were
possible, must have the greatest share in recovering
Proserpine, or reinstating the subterraneal spirit. Yet
Proserpine still continues and dwells below, after the
manner excellently described in the condition betwixt
Jupiter and Ceres. For first, it is certain that there
are two ways of detaining the spirit, in solid and
terrestrial matter,—the one by condensation or obstruc
�80
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
tion, which is mere violence and imprisonment ; the
other by administering a proper aliment, which is
spontaneous and free. For after the included spirit
begins to feed and nourish itself, it is not in a hurry
to fly off, but remains, as it were, fixed in its own
earth. And this is the moral of Proserpine’s tasting
the pomegranate ; and were it not for this, she must
long ago have been carried up by Geres, who with her
torch wandered the world over, and so the earth have
been left without its spirit. For though the spirit in
metals and minerals may perhaps be, after a particular
manner, wrought in by the solidity of the mass, yet
the spirit of vegetables and animals has open passages
to escape at, unless it be willingly detained, in the way
of sipping and tasting them.
The second article of agreement, that of Proserpine’s
remaining six months with her mother and six with
her husband, is an elegant description of the division
of the year ; for the spirit diffused through the earth
lives above-ground in the vegetable during the summer
months, but in the winter returns under-ground again.
The attempts of Theseus and Perithous to bring
Proserpine away, denotes that the more subtile spirits,
which descend in many bodies to the earth, may
frequently be unable to drink in, unite with themselves,
and carry off the subterraneous spirit but on the con
trary be coagulated by it, and rise no more, so as to
increase the inhabitants and add to the dominion of
Proserpine.
The alchemists will be apt to fall in with our inter
pretation of the golden bough, whether we will or no,
because they promise golden mountains, and the resto
ration of natural bodies from their stone, as from the
gates of Pluto ; but we are well assured that their
theory has no just foundation, and suspect they have
no very encouraging or practical proofs of its sound
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
81
ness. Leaving, therefore, their conceits to themselves,
we shall freely declare our own sentiments upon this
last part of the fable. We are certain, from numerous
figures and expressions of the ancients, that they
judged the conservation, and in some degree the reno
vation, of natural bodies to be no desperate or impossible
thing, but rather abstruse and out of the common road
than wholly impracticable. And this seems to be their
opinion in the present case, as they have placed this
bough among an infinite number of shrubs, in a.
spacious and thick wood. They supposed it of gold,
because gold is the emblem of duration. They feigned
it adventitious, not native, because such an effect is to
be expected from art, and not from any medicine or
any simple or mere natural way of working.
XXX.—METIS : OR COUNSEL.
EXPLAINED OF PRINCES AND THEIR COUNCIL.
The ancient poets relate that Jupiter took Metis to
wife, whose name plainly denotes counsel, and that he,
perceiving she was pregnant by him, would by no
means wait the time of her delivery, but directly
devoured her; whence himself also became pregnant,
and was delivered in a wonderful manner ; for he from
his head or brain brought forth Pallas armed.
Explanation.—This fable, which in its literal sens©
appears monstrously absurd, seems to contain a stat©
secret, and shows with what art kings usually
carry themselves towards their council, in order
to preserve their own authority and majesty not
only inviolate, but so as to have it magnified and
heightened among the people. For kings commonly
F
�82
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
link themselves, as it were, in a nuptial bond to their
council, and deliberate and communicate with them
after a prudent and laudable custom upon matters of
the greatest importance, at the same time justly con
ceiving this no diminution of their majesty ; but when
the matter once ripens to a decree or order, which is a
kind of birth, the king then suffers the council to go
on no further, lest the act should seem to depend
upon their pleasure. Now, therefore, the king usually
assumes to himself whatever was wrought, elaborated,
or formed, as it were, in the womb of the council
(unless it be a matter of an invidious nature, which he
is sure to put from him), so that the decree and the
execution shall seem to flow from himself. And as
this decree or execution proceeds with prudence and
power, so as to imply necessity, it is elegantly wrapt
up under the figure of Pallas armed.
Nor are kings content to have this seem the effect of
their own authority, free will, and uncontrollable
choice, unless they also take the whole honor to themselves, and make the people imagine that all good and
wholesome decrees proceed entirely from their own
head, that is, their own sole prudence and judgment.
.—THE SIRENS : OR PLEASURES.
EXPLAINED OF MEN’S PASSION FOR PLEASURES.
Introduction.—The fable of the Sirens is, in a vulgar
sense, justly enough explained of the pernicious incen
tives to pleasure ; but the ancient mythology seems to
us like a vintage ill-pressed and trod; for though
something has been drawn from it, yet all the more
excellent parts remain behind in the grapes that are
untouched.
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
83
Fable.—The Sirens are said to be the daughters of
Achelous and Terpsichore, one of the Muses. In their
early days they had wings, but lost them upon being
conquered by the Muses, with whom they rashly con
tended ; and with the feathers of these wings the
Muses made themselves crowns, so that from this time
the Muses wore wings on their heads, excepting only
the mother to the Sirens.
These Sirens resided in certain pleasant islands, and
when, from their watch-tower, they saw any ship
approaching, they first detained the sailors by their
music, then, enticing them to shore, destroyed them.
Their singing was not of one and the same kind, but
they adapted their tunes exactly to the nature of each
person, in order to captivate and secure him. And so
destructive had they been, that these islands of the
Sirens appeared, to a very great distance, white with
the bones of their unburied captives.
Two different remedies were invented to protect
persons against them, the one by Ulysses, the other by
Orpheus. Ulysses commanded his associates to stop
their ears close with wax; and he, determining to
make the trial, and yet avoid the danger, ordered him
self to be tied fast to a mast of the ship, giving strict
charge not to be unbound, even though himself should
entreat it; but Orpheus, without any binding at all,
escaped the danger, by loudly chanting to his harp the
praises of the gods, whereby he drowned the voices of
the Sirens.
Explanation.—This fable is of the moral kind, and
appears no less elegant than easy to interpret. For
pleasures proceed from plenty and affluence, attended
with activity or exultation of the mind. Anciently
their first incentives were quick, and seized upon men
as if they had been winged, but learning and philosophy
afterwards prevailing, had at least the power to lay the
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
mind under some restraint, and make it consider the
issue of things, and thus deprived pleasures of their
wings.
This conquest redounded greatly to the honor and
ornament of the Muses ; for after it appeared, by the
example of a few, that philosophy could introduce a
contempt of pleasures, it immediately seemed to be a
sublime thing that could raise and elevate the soul,
fixed in a manner down to the earth, and thus render
men’s thoughts, which reside in the head, winged as it
were, or sublime.
Only the mother of the Sirens was not thus plumed
on the head, which doubtless denotes superficial learn
ing, invented and used for delight and levity ; an
eminent example whereof we have in Petronius, who,
after receiving sentence of death, still continued his
gay frothy humor, and, as Tacitus observes, used his
learning to solace or divert himself, and instead of such
discourses as give firmness and constancy of mind, read
nothing but loose poems and verses. Such learning
as this seems to pluck the crowns again from the
Muses’ heads, and restore them to the Sirens.
The Sirens are said to inhabit certain islands, because
pleasures generally seek retirement, and often shun
society. And for their songs, with the manifold artifice
and destructiveness thereof, this is too obvious and
common to need explanation. But that particular of
the bones stretching like white cliffs along the shores,
and appearing afar off, contains a more subtile allegory,
and denotes that the examples of others’ calamity and
misfortunes, though ever so manifest and apparent,
have yet but little force to deter the corrupt nature of
of man from pleasures.
This allegory of the remedies against the Sirens is
not difficult, but very wise and noble : it proposes, in
effect, three remedies, as well against subtile as violent
�PAGAN MYTHOLOGY.
85
'■mischiefs, two drawn from philosophy and one from
^religion.
The first means of escaping is to resist the earliest
temptation in the beginning, and diligently avoid and
cut off all occasions that may solicit or sway the mind ;
. and this is well represented by shutting up the ears, a
kind of remedy to be necessarily used with mean and
vulgar minds, such as the retinue of Ulysses.
But noble spirits may converse, even in the midst of
pleasures, if the mind be well guarded with constancy
and resolution. And thus some delight to make a
severe trial of their own virtue, and thoroughly acquaint
themselves with the folly and madness of pleasures,
without complying or being wholly given up to them ;
which is what Solomon professes of himself when he
■closes the account of all the numerous pleasures he
gave a loose to, with this expression—“ But wisdom
. still continued with me.” Such heroes in virtue may,
therefore, remain unmoved by the greatest incentives
to pleasure, and stop themselves on the very precipice
of danger ; if, according to the example of Ulysses,
they turn a deaf ear to pernicious counsel, and the
flatteries of their friends and companions, which have
the greatest power to shake and unsettle the mind.
But the most excellent remedy, in every temptation,
is that of Orpheus, who, by loudly chanting and
resounding the praises of the gods, confounded the
voices, and kept himself from hearing the music of
the Sirens; for divine contemplations exceed the
pleasures of sense, not only in power but also in
;■ sweetness.
���■
��FREETHOUGHT PUBLICATIONS.
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND CATECHISM EXAMINED
By Jeremy Bentham. With a Biographical Preface by
J. M. Wheeler -------FREE WILL AND NECESSITY. By Anthony Collins
Reprinted from 1715 ed., with Preface and Annotations by
G. W. Foote, and a Biographical Introduction by J. M.
Wheeler.
Superior edition, on superfine paper, bound in cloth
TSE ESSENCE OF RELIGION. By Ludwig Feuerbach
IS SOCIALISM SOUND? Four Nights’Public Debate between
Annie Besant and G. W. Foote
.
.
Superior edition, in cloth ------CHRISTIANITY AND SECULARISM. Four Nights’ Public
Debate between G. W. Foote and the Rev. Dr. J. McCann Superior edition, in cloth ------DARWIN ON GOD. By G. W. Foote
....
Superior edition, in cloth ------INFIDEL DEATH-BEDS. By G. W. Foote. Second edition.
Much enlarged -------Superior edition, on superfine paper, bound in cloth
LETTERS TO THE CLERGY. By G. W. Foote. 128pp.
BIBLE HEROES. By G. W. Foote. First series, in elegant
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LIBERTY AND NECESSITY. By David Hume A REFUTATION OF DEISM. In a Dialogue. By Shelley.
With an Introduction by G. W. Foote R. FORDER, 28 Stonecutter Street, London, E.C.
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Dublin Core
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Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Title
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Pagan mythology, or the wisdom of the ancients
Creator
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Bacon, Francis [1561-1626]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 85 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Stamp on front cover: 'M. Steinberger,4,5, & 6 Great St Helens, London, E.C'. Printed and published by G.W. Foote. Publisher's list on back cover. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
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Progressive Publishing Company
Date
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1891
Identifier
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N051
Subject
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Mythology
Paganism
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Mythology
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Paganism
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LIVE
TOPICS.
[The following is the report of an interview between
Mr George Macdonald, of the New York Truthseeker}
and Colonel Robert Ingersoll. The questions are, of
course, put by the former, and the answers given by
the latter.]
Q. Shall you attend the Albany Freethought
Convention ?
A. I have agreed not only to be present^ but to
address the Convention, on Sunday, the 13th. of
September. From all I hear, the Convention is going
to be a success. I am greatly gratified to know that
the interest in the question of intellectual liberty is
growing from year to year. Everywhere I go it
seems to be the topic of conversation. No matter
upon what subject people begin to talk, in a little
while the discussion takes a religious turn, and
people who a few moments before had not the slightest
thought of saying a word about the churches, or about
the Bible, are giving their opinions in full. I hear
discussions of this kind in all the public conveyances,
at the hotels, on the piazzas at the seaside—and
they are not discussions in which I take any part,
because I rarely say anything upon these questions
except in public, unless I am directly addressed.
There is a general feeling that the Church has
ruled this world long enough. People are beginning
to see that no amount of eloquence, or faith, or erudi
tion, or authority can make the records of barbarism
�satisfactory to the heart and brain of this century.
They have also found that a falsehood in Hebrew is
no more credible than in plain English. People at
last are beginning to be satisfied that cruel laws were
never good laws, no matter whether inspired or un
inspired. The Christian religion, like every other
religion depending upon inspired writings, is wrecked
upon the facts of Nature. So long as inspired writers
confined themselves to the supernatural world ; so
long as they talked about angels, and Gods, and
heavens, and hells ; so long as they described only
things that man has nevei* seen, and never will see,
they were safe, not from contradiction, but from
demonstration. But these writings had to have a
foundation, even for their falsehoods, and that founda
tion was in Nature. The foundation had to be some
thing about which, somebody knew something, or
supposed they knew something. They told some
thing about this world that agreed with the then
general opinion. Had these inspired writers told the
truth about Nature—had they said that the world re
volved on its axis, and made a circuit about the sun
—they could have gained no credence for their state
ments about other worlds. They were forced to agree
with their contemporaries about this world, and there
is where they made the fundamental mistake.
Having grown in knowledge, the world has dis
covered that these inspired men knew nothing about
this earth; that the inspired books are filled with
mistakes—not only mistakes that we can contradict,
but mistakes that we can demonstrate to be mistakes.
Had they told the truth in their day about this earth,
they would not have been believed about other worlds,
because their contemporaries would have used their
own knowledge about this world to test the knowledge
of these inspired men. We pursue the same course;
and what we know about this world we use as the
standard, and by that standard we have found that
the inspired men knew nothing about Nature as it is.
�t
Finding that they were mistaken about this world,
we have no confidence in what they have said about
another. Every religion has had its philosophy about
this world, and every one has been mistaken. As
education becomes general, as scientific modes are
adopted, this will become clearer and clearer, until
“ ignorant as inspiration ” will be a comparison.
Q. Have you seen the memorial to the New York
legislature, to be presented this winter, asking for
the repeal of such laws as practically unite Church
and State ?
A. I have seen a memorial asking that church pro
perty be taxed like other property; that no more
money should be appropriated from the public treasury
for the support of institutions managed by, and in the
interest of, sectarian denominations; for the repeal
of all laws compelling the observance of Sunday as a
religious day. Such memorials ought to be addressed
to the legislatures of all the states. The money of
the public should only be used for the benefit of the
public. Public money should not be used for what a
few gentlemen think is for the benefit of the public.
Personally, I think it would be for the benefit of the
public to have Infidel or scientific—which is the same
thing—lectures delivered in every town in every
state, on every Sunday; but knowing that a great
many men disagree with me on this point, I do not
claim that such lectures ought to be paid for with
public money. The Methodist church ought not to
be sustained by taxation, nor the Catholic, nor any
other church. To relieve their property from taxation
is to appropriate money, to the extent of that tax,
for the support of that church. Whenever a burden
is lifted from one piece of property, it is distributed
over the rest of the property of the state, and to
release one kind of property is to increase the tax on
all other kinds.
There was a time when people really supposed
that churches were saving souls from the eternal
�5
wrath of a God of infinite love. Being engage d in
such a philanthropic work, and at that time nob ody
having the courage to deny it—the church being allpowerful—all other property was taxed to supp ort
the church; but now the more civilised part of t he
community, being satisfied that a God of infinite lo ve
will not be eternally unjust, feel as though the
church should support herself. To exempt the
church from taxation is to pay a part of the priest
salary. The Catholic now objects to being taxed to
support a school in which his religion is not taught.
He is not satisfied with the school that says nothing
on the subject of religion. He insists that it is an
outrage to tax him to support a school where the
teacher simply teaches what he knows. And yet
this same Catholic wants his church exempted from
taxation, and the tax of an Atheist or of a Jew
increased, when he teaches in his untaxed church
that the Atheist and Jew will both be eternally
damned I Is it possible for impudence to go further ?
I insist that no religion should be taught in any
school supported by public money; and by religion
I mean superstition. Only that should be taught in
a school that somebody can learn and that somebody
can know. In my judgment, every church should
be taxed precisely the same as other property. The
church may claim that it is one of the instruments of
civilisation and therefore should be exempt. If you
exempt that which is useful, you exempt every trade
and every profession. In my judgment, theatres
have done more to civilise mankind than churches;
that is to say, theatres have done something to
civilise mankind—churches nothing. The effect
of all superstition has been to render man bar
barous. I do not believe in the civilising effects of
falsehood.
There was a time when ministers were supposed to
be in the employ of God, and it was thought that
God selected them with great care—that their pro
�6
fession had something sacred about it. These ideas
are no longer entertained by sensible people. Ministers
should be paid like other professional men, and those
who like their preach should pay for the preach.
They should depend, as actors do, upon their popu
larity—upon the amount of sense, or nonsense, that
they have for sale. They should depend upon the
market like other people, and if people do not want
to hear sermons badly enough to build churches and
pay for them, and pay the taxes on them, and hire
the preacher, let the money be diverted to some other
use. The pulpit should no longer be a pauper. I do
not believe in carrying on any business with the con
tribution box. All the sectarian institutions ought
to support themselves. There should be no Methodist,
or Catholic, or Presbyterian hospitals or orphan
asylums. All these should be supported by the State.
There is no such thing as Catholic charity or Metho
dist charity. Charity belongs to humanity, not to
any particular form of faith or religion. You will
find as charitable people who never heard of religion
as you can find in any church. The State should pro
vide for those who ought to be provided for. A few
Methodists beg of everybody they meet—send women
with subscription papers, getting money from all
classes of people, and nearly everybody gives some
thing for politeness or to keep from being annoyed;
and when the institution is finished, it is pointed at
as the result of Methodism ! Probably a majority of
the people in this country suppose that there was no
charity in the world until the Christian religion was
founded. Great men have repeated this falsehood
until ignorance and thoughtlessness believe it. There
were orphan asylums in China, in India and in Egypt,
thousands of years before Christ was born; and there
certainly never was a time in the history of the whole
world when there was less charity in Europe than
during the centuries when the Church of Christ had
absolute power. There were hundreds of Moham
�7
medan asylums before Christianity had built ten in
the entire world.
All institutions for the care of unfortunate people
should be secular—should be supported by the State.
The money for the purpose should be raised by tax
ation, to the end that the burden may be borne by
those able to bear it. As it is now, most of the
money is paid, not by the rich, but by the generous,
and those most able to help their needy fellow
citizens are the very ones who do nothing. If the
money is raised by taxation, then the burden will fall
where it ought to fall, and these institutions will no
longer be supported by the generous and emotional,
and the rich and stingy will no longer be able to
evade the duties of citizenship and of humanity.
Now, as to the Sunday laws, we know that they
are only spasmodically enforced. Now and then a
few people are arrested for selling papers or cigars.
Some unfortunate barber is grabbed by a policeman
because he has been caught shaving a Christian on
Sunday morning. Now and then some poor fellow
with a hack, trying to make a dollar or to feed his
horses, or to take care of his wife and children, is
arrested as though he were a murderer. But in a few
days the public are inconvenienced to that degree,
that the arrests stop and business goes on in its ac
customed channels, Sunday and all.
Now and then society becomes so pious, so virtuous,
that people are compelled to enter saloons by the
back door; others are compelled to drink beer with
the front shutters up; but otherwise the stream that
goes down the thirsty throats is unbroken. The
ministers have done their best to prevent all recrea
tion on the Sabbath. They would like to stop all the
boats on the Hudson and on the sea—stop all the
excursion trains. * They would like to compel every
human being that lives in the city of New York to
remain within its limits twenty-four hours each Sun
day. They hate the parks; they hate music; they
�8
hate anything that keeps a man away from church.
Most of the churches are empty during the summer,
and now most of the ministers leave themselves, and
give over the entire city to the Devil and his emis
saries. And yet if the ministers had their way, there
would be no form of human enjoyment except prayer,
signing subscription papers, putting money in con
tribution boxes, listening to sermons, reading the
cheerful histories of the Old Testament, imagining
the joys of heaven and the torments of hell. The
church is opposed to the theatre, is the enemy of the
opera, looks upon dancing as a crime, hates billiards,
despises cards, opposes roller-skating, and even enter
tains a certain kind of prejudice against croquet.
Q. Do you think that the orthodox Church gets
its ideas of the Sabbath from the teachings of Christ ?
J. I do not hold Christ responsible for these
idiotic ideas concerning the Sabbath. He regarded
the Sabbath as something made for man—which was
a sensible view. The holiest day is the happiest day.
The most sacred day is the one in which have been
done the most good deeds. There are two reasons
given in the Bible for keeping the Sabbath. One is
that God made the world in six days, and rested on
the seventh. Now that all the ministers admit that
he did not make the world in six days, but that he
made it in six “ periods/"’ this reason is no longer
applicable. The other reason is that he brought the
Jews out of Egypt with a “ mighty hand."’"’ This
may be a very good reason still for the observance of
the Sabbath by the Jews, but the real Sabbath, that
is to say, the day to be commemorated, is our Satur
day, and why should we commemorate the wrong
day ? That disposes of the second reason.
Nothing can be more inconsistent than the theories
and practice of the churches about the Sabbath. The
cars run Sundays, and out of the profits hundreds of
ministers are supported. The great iron and steel
works fill with smoke and fire the Sabbath air, and
�9
the proprietors divide the profits with the churches.
The printers of the city are busy Sunday afternoons
and evenings, and the presses during the nights, so
that the sermons of Sunday can reach the heathen
on Monday. The servants of the rich are denied the
privileges of the sanctuary. The coachman sits on
the box out-doors, while his employer kneels in
church, preparing himself for the heavenly chariot.
The iceman goes about on the holy day, keeping
believers cool, they knowing at the same time that
he is making it hot for himself in the world to come.
Christians cross the Atlantic, knowing that the ship
will pursue its way on the Sabbath. They write
letters to their friends knowing that they will be
carried in violation of Jehovah's law, by wicked men.
Yet they hate to see a pale-faced sewing-girl enjoy
ing a few hours by the sea; a poor mechanic walking
in the fields ; or a tired mother watching her children
playing on the grass. Nothing ever was, nothing
ever will be, more utterly absurd and disgusting than
a Puritan Sunday. Nothing ever did make a home
more hateful than the strict observance of the
Sabbath. It fills the house with hypocrisy and the
meanest kind of petty tyranny. The parents look*
sour and stern, the children sad and sulky. They
are compelled to talk upon subjects about which they
feel no interest, or to read books that are thought
good only because they are stupid.
Q. What have you to say about the growth of
Catholicism, the activity of the Salvation Army, and
the success of revivalists like the Bev. Samuel Jones ?
Is Christianity really gaining a strong hold on the
masses ?
A. Catholicism is growing in this country, and it
is the only country on earth in which it is growing.
Its growth here depends entirely upon immigration,
not upon intellectual conquest. Catholic emigrants
who leave their homes in the Old World because they
have never had any liberty, and who are Catholics
�10
for the same reason, add to the number of Catholics
here, but their children’s children will not be
Catholics. Their children will not be very good
Catholics, and even these immigrants themselves, in
a few years, will not grovel quite so low in the pre
sence of a priest. The Catholic Church is gaining
no ground in Catholic countries.
The Salvation Army is the result of two things—
the general belief in what are known as the funda
mentals of Christianity and the heartlessness of the
Church. The Church in England—that is to say, the
Church of England—having succeeded—that is to say,
being supported by general taxation—that is to say,
being a successful, well-fed parasite—naturally neg
lected those who did not in any way contribute to
its support. It became aristocratic. Splendid
churches were built; younger sons with good voices
were putin the pulpits; the pulpit became the asylum
for aristocratic mediocrity, and in that way the
Church of England lost interest in the masses, and
the masses lost interest in the Church of England.
The neglected poor, who really had some belief in
religion, and who had not been absolutely petrified
by form and patronage, were ready for the Salvation
Army. They were not at home in the Church. They
could not pay. They preferred the freedom of the
street. They preferred to attend a church where
rags were no objection. Had the Church loved and
labored with the poor, the Salvation Army never
would have existed. These people are simply giving
their idea of Christianity, and in their way endeavor
ing to do what they consider good. I don’t suppose
the Salvation Army will accomplish much. To im
prove mankind you must change conditions. It is
not enough to work simply upon the emotional nature.
The surroundings must be such as naturally produce
virtuous actions. If we are to believe recent reports
from London, the Church of England, even with the
assistance of the Salvation Army, has accomplished
�11
but little. It would be hard to find any savage
country with less morality. You would search
long in the jungles of Africa to find greater de
pravity.
I account for revivalists like the Rev. Samuel Jones
in the same way. There is in every community an
ignorant class—what you might call a literal class—who believe in the real blood atonement., who believe
in heaven and hell, and harps, and gridirons—who
have never had their faith weakened by reading com
mentators or books harmonising science and religion.
They love to hear the good old doctrine; they want
hell described; they want it described so that they
can hear the moans and shrieks ; they want heaven
described ; they want to see God on a throne, and
they want to feel that they are finally to have the
pleasure of looking over the battlements of heaven
and seeing all their enemies among the damned.
The Rev. Mr. Munger has suddenly become a re
vivalist. According to the papers he is sought for
in every direction. His popularity seems to rest
upon the fact that he brutally beat a girl twelve
years old because she did not say her prayers to suit
him. Muscular Christianity is what the ignorant
people want. I regard all these efforts—including
those made by Mr. Moody and Mr. Hammond—as
evidence that Christianity, as an intellectual factor,
has almost spent its force. It no longer governs the
intellectual world.
Q. Are not the Catholics the least progressive ?
And are they not, in spite of their professons to the
contrary, enemies to republican liberty ?
A. Every church that has a standard higher than
human welfare is dangerous. A church that puts a
book above the laws and constitution of its country,
that puts a book above the welfare of mankind, is
dangerous to human liberty. Every church that puts
itself above the legally expressed will of the people
is dangerous. Every church that holds itself under
�12
greater obligation to a pope than to a people is dan
gerous to human liberty. Every church that puts
religion above humanity—above the well-being of
man in this world—is dangerous. The Catholic
Church may be more dangerous, not because its doc
trines are more dangerous, but because, on the aver
age, its members more sincerely believe its doctrines,
and because that Church can be hurled as a solid
body in any given direction. For these reasons it
is more dangerous than other churches; but its doc
trines are no more dangerous than those of the Pro
testant churches. The man who would sacrifice the
well-being of man to please an imaginary phantom
that he calls God, is also dangerous. The only safe
standard is the well-being of man in this world.
Whenever this world is sacrificed for the sake of
another, a mistake has been made. The only God
that man can know is the aggregate of all beings
capable of suffering and of joy within the reach of
his influence. To increase the happiness of such
beings is to worship the only God that man can
know.
Q. What have you to say to the assertion of Dr.
Deems that there were never so many Christians as
now ?
A. I suppose that the population of the earth is
greater now than at any other time within the his
toric period. This being so, there may be more
Christians, so-called, in the world than there were a
hundred years ago. Of course, the reverend doctor,
in making up his aggregate of Christians, counts all
kinds and sects—Unitarians, Universalists, and all
the other “ ans,” and “ ists,” and “ ics/; and “ ites,”
and “
But Dr, Deems must admit that only a
few years ago most of the persons he now calls
Christians would have been burnt as heretics and
infidels. Let us compare the average New York
Christian with the Christian of two hundred years
ago. It is probably safe to say that there is not now
�13
in the city of New York a genuine Presbyterian
outside of an insane asylum. Probably no one could
be found who will to-day admit that he believes
absolutely in the Presbyterian Confession of Faith.
There is probably not an Episcopalian who believes in
the Thirty-nine Articles. Probably there is not an in
telligent minister in the city of New York, outside of
the Catholic church, who believes that everything in
the Bible is true. Probably no clergyman, of any
standing, would be willing to take the ground that
everything in the Old Testament—leaving out the
question of . inspiration—is actually true. Very
few ministers now preach the doctrine of
eternal punishment.
Most of them would
be ashamed to utter that brutal falsehood.
A large majority of gentlemen who attend
church take the liberty of disagreeing with the
preacher. They would have been very poor Christians
two hundred years ago. A majority of the ministers
take the liberty of disagreeing, in many things, with
their Presbyteries and Synods. They would have been
very poor preachers two hundred years ago. Dr.
Deems forgets that most Christians are only nomi
nally so. Very few believe their creeds. Very few
even try to live in accordance with what they call
Christian doctrines. Nobody loves his enemies. No
Christian, when smitten on one cheek, turns the other.
Most Christians do take a little thought for the
morrow. They do not depend entirely upon the
providence of God. Most Christians now have greater
confidence in the average life insurance company
than in God—feel easier, when dying, to know that
they have a policy, through which they expect the
widow will receive ten thousand dollars, than when
thinking of all the Scripture promises. Even church
members do not trust in God to protect their own
property. They insult heaven by putting lightningrods on their temples. They insure the churches
against the act of God. The experience of man has
�14
shown the wisdom of relying on something that we
know something about, instead of upon the shadowy
supernatural. The poor wretches to-day in Spain,
depending upon their priests, die like poisoned flies
—die with prayers between their pallid lips—die in
their filth and faith.
Q. What have you to say on the Mormon question ?
A. The institution of polygamy is infamous and
disgusting beyond expression. It destroys what we
call, and what all civilised people call, “ the family.”
It pollutes the fireside, and, above all, as Burns
would say, “ petrifies the feeling.” It. is however,
one of the institutions of Jehovah. It is protected
by the Bible. It has inspiration on its side. Sinai,
with its barren, granite peaks is a perpetual witness
in its favor. The beloved of God practiced it, and,
according to the sacred word, the wisest man had,
I believe, about seven hundred wives. This man
received his wisdom directly from God. It is hard
for the average Bible-worshipper to attack this in
stitution without casting a certain stain upon his own
book.
Only a few years ago slavery was upheld by the
same Bible. Slavery having been abolished, the
passages in the inspired volume upholding it have
been mostly forgotten ; but polygamy lives, and the
polygamists, with great volubility, repeat the passages
in their favor. We send our missionaries to Utah,
with their Bibles, to convert the Mormons. The
Mormons show, by these very Bibles, that God is on
their side. Nothing remains now for the missionaries
except to get back their Bibles and come home. The
preachers do not appeal to the Bible for the purpose
of putting down Mormonism. They say : “ Send
the army.” If the people of this country could only
be honest, if they would only admit that the Old
Testament is but the record of a barbarous people,
if the Samson of the nineteenth century would not
allow its limbs to be bound by the Delilah of Super
�15
stition, it could with one blow destroy this monster.
What shall we say of the moral force of Christianity
when it utterly fails in the presence of Mormonism ?
What shall we say of a Bible that we dare not read
to a Mormon as an argument against legalised lust,
or as an argument against illegal lust ?
o I am opposed to polygamy. I want it extermi
nated by law; but I hate to see the exterminators
insist that God, only a few thousand years ago, was
as bad as the Mormons are to-day. In my judg
ment, such a God ought to be exterminated.
Q. What do you think of men like the Rev, Henry
Ward Beecher and the Rev. R. Heber Newton'? Do
they deserve any credit for the course they have
taken ?
A. Mr. Beecher is evidently endeavoring to shore
up the walls of the falling temple. He sees the
cracks; he knows that the building is out of plumb ;
he feels that the foundation is insecure. Lies can
take the place of stones only so long as they are
thoroughly believed. Mr. Beecher is trying to do
something to harmonise superstition and science.
He is reading between the lines. He has discovered
that Darwin is only a later Saint Paul, or that Saint
Paul was the original Darwin. He is endeavoring
to make the New Testament a scientific text-book.
Of course he will fail. But his intentions are good.
Thousands of people will read the New Testament
with more freedom than heretofore. They will look
for new meanings ; and he who ^ooks for new mean
ings will not be satisfied with the old ones. Mr.
Beecher, instead of strengthening the walls, will
make them weaker.
There is no harmony between religion and science.
When science was a child, religion sought to strangle
it in the cradle. Now that science has attained its
youth, and superstition is in its dotage, the trem
bling, palsied wreck says to the athlete : “ Let us be
friends.” It reminds me of the bargain the cock
�wished to make with the horse: “ Let us agree not
to step on each other’s feet.” Mr. Beecher, having
done away with hell, substitutes annihilation. His
doctrine at present is that only a fortunate few are
immortal, and that the great mass return to dream
less dust. This, of course, is far better than hell,
and is a great improvement on the orthodox view.
Mr. Beecher cannot believe that. God would make
such a mistake as to mAvmen doomed to suffer
eternal pain. Why^ I asl^should God give life to
men whom he knows are unworthy of life ? Why
should he annihilate hisVnistakes ? Why should he
make -mistakes that needajfe.ihilation ?
It can hardly-be said that Mr.'Beecher’s idea is a
new one. It was taught, with an addition, thousands
of years ago, in India, and the addition almost
answers my objection. The old doctrine was that
only the soul that bears fruit, only the soul that
bursts into blossom, will, at the death of the body,
rejoin the infinite, and that all other souls—souls
not having blossomed—will go back into low forms,
and make the journey up to man once more, and
should they then blossom and bear fruit, will be held
worthy to join the infinite, but should they again
fail, they again go back; and this process is repeated
until they do blossom, and in this way all souls at
last become perfect. I suggest that Mr. Beechei’
make at least this addition to his doctrine.
But allow me to say that, in my judgment, Mr.
Beecher is*doing gi^at good. He may not convince
many people that he is right, but he will certainly
•convince a great many peopje that Christianity is
wrong.
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Printed and. Published by GF. W. Foote, at 28 Stonecutter Street, London.
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Description
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
Creator
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018
Publisher
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Pamphlet
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Live topics
Creator
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
Macdonald, George
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 16 p. : ill. (front port.) ; 19 cm.
Notes: Report of an interview between George Macdonald, of the New York Truthseeker, and Ingersoll. Portrait of Ingersoll on front cover. No. 49a in Stein checklist. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
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Progressive Publishing Company
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1885
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
N371
N372
N373
Subject
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Christianity
Rights
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Live topics), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
Format
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Christianity